NHL 31

The reason I don’t feel much resistance to talking about a relationship with someone of the same sex is that the relationship between Dylan and Joeon is like a very thin thread. If we were connected like a complex spider web through mutual acquaintances, I would have felt breathless just thinking about a future after cutting ties, but now, if communication with him is cut off, it simply ends there. There couldn’t be a simpler or lighter relationship than this.

No one would know about what happened between the two of us, and it will remain buried in our memories, disappearing just like that. A guy like Dylan wouldn’t be the type to proudly talk about the fact that he met a man of the same gender. If so, it’s not entirely a loss.

A type who had never been tangled in a wide yet shallow web of human relationships. A partner who possesses conditions far removed from the vague shadow of an intangible woman that I had imagined keeping the seat next to me when I daydreamed about the future.

I know that we are both too ill-suited for each other to attach a grandiose title like “lover.”

Dylan McClain is a special guest in Joeon’s life in many ways, but he is just as unpredictable and lacks consistency in the relationship.

Therefore, Joeon did not need to take this seriously. Being able to satisfy curiosity and then drift apart is something he, too, can do. This was also an adaptation mechanism to protect himself.

Like an army that is cautious with every step, but never retreats once it charges, Dylan had already pushed right up to Joeon’s nose. And in the blink of an eye, Joeon was swept away by him. That likely wouldn’t be any different in the future.

“This stop is Union Station.”

Having heard the announcement, Joeon woke from his idle thoughts and stood up. He got off, leaving a resolve that was nothing special in a mundane place that held no meaning.

It was a commute light enough to be forgotten after eating takeout pho for lunch.

The fireplace where flames surged like curtains and the winter forest beyond the window, stuck with piles of snow, were things he had already buried in the back of his memories.

🏒🥅

「I have a game tomorrow. Would you like to come watch?」

A message arrived from Dylan early Wednesday morning. It included a link where I could check the tickets.

On the day of the game, Joeon headed to the stadium as soon as he finished work. Despite the cold, which neared minus 15 degrees Celsius, the heat of the people was surprisingly intense, and the stadium was a chaotic mix of cold and warmth, like a cauldron that had just been fired up.

“In today’s lineup, Hunter has dropped to the third line, and Kevin Matt, Dylan McClain, and Ian Hunter have been set as centers, respectively. It’s likely an effort to distribute offensive power.”

“That’s correct. Marino, who replaced Hunter on the first line, has been in great form lately, so it seems they are trying out this arrangement. Since it’s an experimental attempt, there are, of course, fans who won’t be convinced. However, the second line with McClain has such great chemistry between line mates that dropping Hunter to the third line is the better choice.”

“There are already many trade rumors as it is, and the Polar Bears are no exception, so it looks like there will be more experimental lineup changes in the future.”

As I passed through the hallway, the voices of the commentators could be heard from not far away. In a space set up in one corner, I saw dazzling lights, cameras, and two large men filling the space in front of them.

People poked their heads in front of the camera one by one as they passed. Worried that my face might be caught on the broadcast, Joeon covered his mouth with his palm and hurried his steps. In his other hand, he held poutine with pieces of cheese and hot gravy sauce drizzled over fries.

As soon as I returned to my seat, I heard the cheers of the crowd. Judging by the fact that the end was filled with disappointment and regret, it seemed the shot had ended in failure.

From Joeon’s seat, the opposing team’s goalpost wasn’t very visible. However, it was a much lower level than the seat Dylan had gifted me last time, so I was closer to the players.

The surrounding spectators were in a chaotic atmosphere, busy screaming and banging on the glass wall like rude visitors seeing a zoo for the first time just because the players came near. It was clear that they were doing so because they were excited to see the players they admired right in front of them, rather than because of the content of the game. It was certainly a perfect place to relieve stress.

Less than a minute after the game started, I could see Dylan, who had been substituted and stepped onto the ice. An atmosphere distinctly different from when we exchanged eye contact from a distance during the pre-game warm-up practice was surrounding him.

A serious expression, eyes burning with a competitive spirit, and an aggressive play style revealed a thirst for victory.

He was nowhere to be found, the one who had been practicing sluggishly as if playing a game. The attacker who makes you feel reassured when he is a colleague, but causes your neck to tense up with anxiety and fear the moment you turn him into an enemy—that was the true nature of hockey player Dylan McClain.

When the first period was about half over, the Polar Bears broke the tense 0-0 tug-of-war and scored the opening goal. It was Dylan’s first goal, where he quickly pushed the puck between the goaltender’s heel and the goalpost as soon as the right winger sent a pass.

I had anticipated the score from the immediate reaction of the people sitting in front of the goal, but it was a movement so fast that it was difficult to follow with the naked eye. Even after checking the slow-motion replay shown on the electric board, Dylan’s explosive reaction speed was at a surprising level.

Perhaps that was why Joeon couldn’t react properly even when Dylan came near the vicinity where he was sitting, quite far from the goalpost, and performed a celebration by pointing at the stands. Shortly after, I smiled a beat late, watching his blue helmet as he was surrounded by fellow players in celebration.

I just hoped my stupid smile wasn’t caught on the broadcast.

🏒🥅

After the game ended and the people cleared out, the stadium was covered in silent darkness. By the time the stadium, once hot with heat, was cooling down, Joeon was sitting in the passenger seat of a vehicle neatly parked in a deserted parking lot.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, as I had ridden in it once before. It was just that the waiting felt awkward.

The driver’s seat was pushed back with the seat lowered as much as possible, hinting at the driver’s large frame, and a subtle scent lingered inside. It was similar to the smell I had caught when I encountered him just after he finished showering, following his message to come near the media room after the game.

Having received the car keys from him, Joeon was waiting, having heard nothing more than his instruction to go ahead as he would join him as soon as he finished his interview. It wasn’t originally a promise to meet him separately, but since I had received the ticket, I felt I should say goodbye properly.

On one hand, Dylan’s attitude, speaking as if a meeting after the game was a matter of course, bothered me.

Starting that day, the moment we crossed the line, the relationship had already begun to change. But Joeon was not yet prepared for anything.

I ruffled my complicated hair and let out a sigh, and then, amidst loud noise in the distance, Dylan appeared in gym clothes. He had left all his equipment in the locker room, so he was empty-handed. Finding Joeon through the car window, he approached with a smile on his face. Against the backdrop of the gloomy parking lot’s white lighting, he was turning the drab cement floor into a runway at a sportswear brand’s fashion show. Joeon’s brow narrowed tightly as he watched him.

“Sorry. Did you wait?”

“Just… about 30 minutes.”

Joeon’s reply was listless. It was true that the waiting had been boring. Dylan, who had leaned his face in close to check Joeon’s complexion, rolled his sparkling eyes to scan various parts of his stiff face.

“It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I missed you.”

As Dylan said that, he took Joeon’s hand and kissed the back of it. When Joeon turned his head away smoothly to hide his reddened face, Dylan smacked his lips and stepped back.

“I’m really sorry I’m late. Shall we go now?”

“…Why did you tell me to wait?”

“Yes? To go on a date, of course. Do you happen to have plans with someone else right now?”

“At this hour? Of course not.”