NHL 37

Joeon finally felt the inclination to criticize his own attitude toward life. He felt it was a waste and a shame that time had passed by in such a slipshod manner without him achieving anything. He thought it would have been better if he had carved more memories of swimming happily in the water rather than the memories of struggling beneath the surface of the burden he felt.

Joeon rushed to pounce on Dylan’s lips to drive away the negative stray thoughts that were trying to push out the warm emotion and take their place. Perhaps surprised that he had approached first, Dylan hesitated for a moment. But soon, he opened his lips and accepted him gently.

Every time they paused to catch their breath, Dylan would stroke his cheek and throw out a joke, telling him to take it easy. Hidden by the sound of the swirling wind, Joeon pretended not to hear him, hugging Dylan’s neck like a thirsty man and clinging to him fiercely. Right now, he was starving for his affectionate comfort.

“Joeon, your cheeks are frozen solid. Let’s go inside now.”

That was until Dylan, having barely regained his sanity, forcibly pulled him away and stopped him.

The first kiss of the New Year was as bittersweet and hot as a match flame in the bitter cold.

🏒🥅

His short-trimmed nails barely managed to pierce the tough rind. As the juice splattered, a refreshing citrus scent spread through the air. It was already the fifth one. Beside a mound of peels that had piled up in no time, a box of Moroccan tangerines sat on the table.

For nearly an hour, with the game broadcast turned on through his computer since he didn’t have a television, Joeon had been constantly keeping his hands busy with snacks to hide his nervousness. Every time Dylan’s handsome face appeared on the broadcast screen, Joeon would swallow the tangerine he hadn’t even finished chewing without realizing it.

In the middle of a fierce battle, Dylan, who looked as if he were shooting a sports movie all by himself, had a serious face with his lips pressed into a hard line, perhaps because the game wasn’t going his way—his usual bright appearance was nowhere to be seen. He radiated an aura with a distinctly different atmosphere from when he showed a soft impression in front of Joeon.

In fact, his playstyle today was also rough and aggressive. The fact that he was radiating a sharper atmosphere than when he played in his home arena was clearly a move to gain the upper hand so he wouldn’t be looked down upon in the away territory.

Although it was a seriousness that showed in every game, Dylan as a player felt like a completely different person from the Dylan he was with when they were alone. While he was having such thoughts and peeling another tangerine, the players from the two teams collided heavily. A fierce physical fight ensued to gain possession of the puck.

“That was a huge collision just now. Toronto continues to possess the puck. Dylan McClain leads it into the offensive zone. He fires a shot, but it goes over the net. The second period is about to pass the seven-minute mark. The game is still 2-2.”

Dylan, who had fired the shot in a hurry, bit down on his mouthguard with eyes full of regret. Soon, an advertisement began to play with music, and his dark expression disappeared. Joeon was lost in thought while listening to the gambling site commercial music that repeated so often it became tedious during every ad break. He was in the middle of recalling the last time he saw him.

The day after they unintentionally confirmed each other’s stripped-bare bodies. The night they spent the countdown to the New Year together, watching fireworks burst over the CN Tower while sitting on the balcony fully armed in winter jackets. The moment they shared their first kiss of the New Year. The burning emotion that not even the freezing cold could tear the two apart.

No, perhaps it was the cold that nudged them from behind? Because after that, they sat attached to the sofa for a long time under the excuse of warming each other up by rubbing their frozen arms with their palms, and they hugged each other for a long time.

Stuck together as if they had been one body from the start, the two of them put on a boring movie and fell into a doze, only to move to the bedroom later and fall asleep tightly clinging to each other. In his sleep, Dylan’s hand, hugging Joeon from behind, pressed firmly against the area around his chest, pulling his body toward his own. Because his heart was pounding violently beneath his palm, Joeon couldn’t fall into a deep sleep.

All these things were a series of unplanned, impulsive choices. However, he didn’t regret it now. The kisses he shared with Dylan felt good, and the skinship beyond that, though bashful, wasn’t bad either.

Throwing away the calculator that had occupied his mind and just being swept away by Dylan’s wave was also worth doing. Even if the anxiety lurking in a corner of his heart occasionally made Joeon fearful.

Still, thinking that he couldn’t burden him at his house for several days, Joeon returned home the very next day carrying the gear Dylan had bought for him. Dylan, who had driven him to the front of his house, looked quite disappointed when he wasn’t invited inside. But there was nothing for it. He had a premonition that if he let Dylan into his house, they would end up stuck together for another 24 hours. He was afraid of what line they would cross this time if that happened.

His speed was so fast that it was too much for Joeon to keep up with. If their bodies were attached, their lips would naturally attach too, and if that happened, Dylan’s hand would sooner or later grope Joeon’s naked body, and the area that had been breached once quickly became his occupied territory. There was now only one place left on Joeon’s body that he hadn’t invaded.

He didn’t know if Dylan had the intention to move to a stage beyond that, but at least Joeon felt with his whole body the threat of a strange temperament that would come loitering around and hovering about him. Since he had no intention of challenging that far for the time being, he had fled to his house in a hurry while looking for an opportunity. That was as far as his curiosity-filled playing with fire went.

The expression Dylan had when he saw him last that day.

The awkward smile he wore while nodding powerlessly with moist eyes that looked as if he were genuinely hurt, saying, “I see,” pricked Joeon over and over like a needle of guilt. Joeon had seen Dylan off, wished him well on his away game, and turned away coldly.

That was four days ago.

Unfortunately, for the first game of the New Year held at the home arena, he couldn’t get a ticket for a decent seat due to the holiday and weekend rush, so his plan to watch it in person failed. Just like before, he had no choice but to send Dylan to Seattle without a chance to even see his face by bumping into him somewhere in the arena. After that, he went even further south, to places where the temperatures remained above freezing even in mid-winter.

Thinking of him, his gaze turned to the helmet and protective gear he had left in front of the entrance. Joeon imagined a 6-foot-5-inch frame in the space, which felt empty because there wasn’t much furniture.

He had felt it before when he visited to hand over the commemorative puck, but Joeon’s house was narrow for Dylan. Although it wasn’t like Dylan’s unit, the ceilings were high, so it must have been a problem of the narrow space. Dylan’s house, located on the penthouse floor, had more rooms and was much larger than Joeon’s space. If not that, was it a difference in interior design?

Joeon hurriedly erased the afterimage of Dylan, which felt awkward no matter where he drew it in his house.

The empty space was filled by the commercial music of the casino site that repeated to the point of being sickening. The moment he pressed the mute button with the intention of turning up the sound when the game resumed, a surprisingly terrible silence flowed.

Joeon suddenly realized the fact that he hadn’t said a single word all day. Suddenly, an intensely cold loneliness charged into his heart without hesitation. Dylan, reflected on the screen within reach if he stretched out his hand, felt so very far away. Is that emptiness, which felt as if it had become completely hollow, another word for longing?

‘Should I try calling him first when the game is over?’

No, he must be exhausted after a rough and grueling game, so it would be right to let him rest well. He couldn’t be a nuisance just because they had gotten a little closer.

Just then, his phone vibrated with a low sound. He was puzzled, as he didn’t have many people to exchange private messages with. Checking his phone, Joeon sat up straight from the slumped position he had been leaning in. An email had arrived from his landlord, to whom he had sent the rent not long ago.

The landlord’s email, which began with a wish for a Happy New Year, followed up the statement that he had well received the rent sent a few days ago, and then led to the bad news that as prices were gradually rising these days, an increase in rent was inevitable.