NHL 25

“Yes.”

Joeon nodded, hiding his face in the blanket. He could not say no when he was asked with such a cute attitude.

Dylan got up, found the cell phone in Joeon’s coat, and brought it over.

“By any chance, do you have to go to work today?”

“…A little late to be asking. If you had checked last night, would you not have tormented me so persistently?”

“Oh. Of course. No, I cannot be sure, though.”

Joeon muttered, tapping on his cell phone.

“It is fine. I can just call in sick and say I have a cold. It is the end of the year anyway, so no one will care.”

Watching the brilliantly shining light-brown eyes narrow into slits, Dylan savored a piece of the peaceful morning.

The messy hair covering his forehead in its own style, the lips puckered out like a duck’s as he concentrated on the messenger with his manager, and the sunlight that warmed the entire scene and the cloudless, clear winter sky were blurring the line between reality and unreality.

Soon, Joeon put down his cell phone, met Dylan’s eyes, and then shoved his forehead back into the blanket with a groan. Dylan bit his tongue to keep the question swirling in his mouth from popping out on its own. Seeing Joeon, who, unlike himself, seemed not at all pleased with this morning, made his heart pound with needless anxiety.

Just then, Joeon thumped his forehead against Dylan’s chest.

“…Are you good at making pancakes?”

A muffled, mumbling voice came from inside the blanket. Dylan hugged the head of hair, as fluffy as a puppy’s fur, and lowered his lips onto it.

“Of course. My skills have been verified by my nephews. Coffee? Or juice?”

“Coffee, please.”

“Got it. Come out when you are ready.”

Dylan whispered in a lighthearted voice and left the room. Only after all signs of his presence had disappeared did a face pop out from the bedding. Joeon stared toward the kitchen, from where clattering sounds were coming, then slowly sat up.

“…Man up.”

Joeon slapped his own cheek with his palm to wake himself up.

“Let’s get a grip.”

Then, as he was picking up and putting on his underwear, Dylan returned with some comfortable clothes in his hand.

“You can wear these.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Embarrassed to be in his underwear, Joeon quickly snatched the clothes from his hand and put them on. He had intended to move nimbly, but in reality, his movements were quite sluggish.

When he hurriedly washed his face and came out, Dylan, who was in the kitchen, stopped making coffee and looked back at Joeon.

“Your face is not completely dry.”

“Ah, this is to help me wake up a bit.”

“Should I wake you up?”

Joeon looked at Dylan with wary eyes, thinking he might try some kind of shock therapy like a surprise touch. However, unlike what he had worried about, Dylan walked past Joeon, went into the dressing room, and came back out.

“What is that?”

“This.”

Dylan held out his fist. In his hand, which had seemed empty, there was something that looked like a small, unidentifiable piece of candy. The moment he brought it close to his nose, the pungent smell of ammonia hit him. It was a sharp and stimulating smell, enough to pierce through to the brain.

Seeing Joeon let out a shriek, Dylan clutched his stomach and laughed. He was bursting into a fit of laughter, squatting on the floor like a child who had succeeded in a childish prank. Thanks to him, Joeon almost fell backward over the chair.

“What is that? What on earth is this smell?”

“This is smelling salts—ammonium carbonate crystals.”

“What?”

“It is what athletes smell before a game to focus. The smell is so strong that one whiff of this will snap you awake.”

“I said coffee would be enough!”

Dylan laughed for a long while, even wiping away the tears that formed in his eyes, at how funny Joeon’s reaction was.

“I will make you coffee right away. If you want to wake up in the meantime, smell this.”

While Dylan turned his back and began the full-scale production of pancakes, Joeon stealthily picked up the smelling salts and, sniff, took a whiff. The powerful ammonia smell was indeed perfect for waking up his drowsy mind. Vowing to get his revenge someday, Joeon hid the item in his pocket.

Dylan’s pancakes were very delicious, and the coffee he had brewed himself was also superb. He ended up taking an unscheduled day off on the last day of the year, but it was not as bad as he had thought.

He had believed there was a certain charm to going to work at the end of the year when everyone else was resting, but now that he was actually taking a break, he could not have felt more at ease.

“When is your next game?”

“I do not have a game until tomorrow. I have to go the day after, though.”

“Is it in Toronto?”

“Yes, thankfully.”

Dylan expertly flipped a perfectly round pancake and sat down across from Joeon. That was the last of the batter.

“But I have to catch a flight right after the game ends. I have to go to the Midwest.”

Joeon slowly nodded.

“But I will be playing in Toronto again.”

At the slightly downcast voice, he lifted his head and saw Dylan’s face, which was as gloomy as his somber tone. For some reason, it felt like an atmosphere where he had to comfort him. Joeon needlessly ran a hand through his hair and said in a nonchalant voice.

“If I can make it then, I will come see you.”

“Would you?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Dylan’s voice, now distinctly brighter, immediately shot back. Dylan had always seemed to have a tendency to hide his inner thoughts somewhere, but today he showed a rather honest reaction.

Joeon did not want to disappoint him, so he replied that he would gladly do so.

Insistently refusing and pushing away Joeon, who rushed to help with the cleanup, Dylan found him a little while later, having tired himself out wandering around the house, now comfortably lying in the armchair by the window. Joeon was taking a nap. Dylan pulled a nearby stool and sat beside him.

His partner, who had quite poor stamina, was fast asleep, exhausted from just the light petting of the previous night. To be tired from just that. He was worried about what was to come.

But separate from their bodies, which had grown much closer, he did not feel confident that Joeon had opened his heart to him. There were still too many things Dylan did not know about Joeon. One certain fact was that Joeon misunderstood himself.

At first, Dylan had also thought Joeon was simply quiet and introverted. Because he came from an Eastern country where respecting and obeying elders is considered a virtue. But the more time he spent watching Joeon, the more he saw a suppressed energy hidden behind his cautious demeanor.

For him to have come from so far away to study at a young age, there must have been an independent and enterprising part of him alive and breathing inside. Although Joeon had described himself as a coward who gives up quickly, he was still the one who had decided to take on the challenge of skating, something he had never learned before. Even though no one had pushed him, he had stepped onto the ice of his own will.

What Joeon lacked seemed closer to self-confidence than talent, background, or circumstances. Dylan hoped that Joeon would become a person who could have conviction in his own choices. And, he wished that instead of bottling up the thoughts in his heart, he would tell them to him and share them.

Had he perhaps still failed to gain his complete trust? He might be asking for too much.

Dylan stared at the smooth cheek with a serious expression. His gaze slowly moved to the twitching cheekbone. The eyes, so transparent that one could see right through them like a gem penetrated by light, were filled with Dylan.

“Oh, did I wake you? Was I staring too intensely?”

“I was not sleeping.”

“You can sleep if you were tired. Last night you did an incredible workout…”

“I said I was not sleeping.”

“You were not?”

“It is just that my eyes were a little dazzled, that is all. The sun is nice, though. It is hard to enjoy sunshine like this in the winter, after all.”

Dylan smiled quietly as if in agreement. Even before choosing the profession of an ice hockey player, Dylan had always liked winter, but he too was glad to see the sunlight. Moreover, for him, who stuck to the same time and same amount of exercise to maintain his usual routine even on his days off, the leisure of lazily enjoying the winter sun like this was unfamiliar and special.

It could not compare to the intensity of summer, but the light, as insignificant as a feather, tickled his heart.

“Then do you like summer more?”

The other person, who had been lost in thought, exhaled lazily as if he had never considered it, and slowly shook his head.

“Not particularly. I do not have many good memories in the summer.”

“I will have to try hard, then.”

“…At what?”

“It is nothing.”

As Dylan grinned, Joeon hurriedly averted his gaze. Unexpectedly, they had once again become as close as the space of a palm between their faces.

“In that case, you must like winter more, Joeon. It seems like you would have quite a few good memories. For example, ‘Christmas’…”

Joeon spotted the Christmas decorations in a corner of the living room, which seemed to have not yet been put away. And at a suddenly surfacing afterimage, he furrowed his brow.

When he thought of Christmas, Maya’s piping hot house always came to mind. The devout Maya considered Christmas important, and it was a big event for Maya’s family. Within that, Joeon sometimes got the impression that he was being saved by their warmth. Unfurrowing his brow, he twisted his lips up into a smirk and let out a short, scoffing laugh.

“Maybe so.”

At the same time, Joeon turned his head and threw out a joke.

“When else would I get to drive a Zamboni that costs over ten thousand dollars…”

As if he had been waiting for that exact moment, Dylan lunged in and devoured his lips. The lips that had touched gently and softly, with a bit of fondness, quickly pulled away. He did not engage in a messy kiss that would spoil the warm picture.

“…ever.”

“Joeon, you really are a smart person. You know the correct answer exactly.”

Joeon wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His flushed cheeks were half-hidden.

“…It is probably because my job is to calculate money. You might not know this, but I might actually be an incredibly calculating person.”