NHL 58

Joeon narrowed his eyes as if he had witnessed something strange. At the end of his gaze was a man jogging in a beanie and hoodie.

‘To think there’s a crazy guy jogging in shorts in this sub-zero weather. A Canadian indeed.’

He shook his head, but for some reason, the man raised his arms excitedly like an elementary school student crossing a crosswalk. As the man got closer, Joeon’s eyes widened. The madman jogging in shorts in the dead of winter was Dylan.

“Joeon, have you been well? It’s nice to see you like this.”

“Oh, yeah. Likewise.”

“What brings you here? What are you doing here?”

“Ah…. I came here to eat this at work.”

Joeon lifted the BeaverTail he was holding. There were teeth marks where he had bitten into it in a circle. Dylan stared intently at that spot. Even the shape resembled Joeon. Seeming to misunderstand Dylan’s gaze, Joeon hesitated and asked.

“Um, I’ve already started eating it, but… would you like a bite?”

Dylan didn’t decline; he leaned in and took a crunchy bite. Joeon had intentionally offered the intact part for him, but Dylan specifically tore into the part where the bite marks were clearly visible. Dylan chewed with his mouth closed and nodded.

“Hmm…. Joeon’s taste is Nutella and banana. I should’ve known when you put tons of maple syrup on your pancakes.”

Feeling embarrassed as if he had been pointed out for having the palate of a child, Joeon exclaimed defensively.

“I just ordered the most common one because I didn’t know what would be tasty.”

“It’s okay. Lots of people like this.”

“…Really?”

Like Lucas, for example. Dylan nodded, thinking of his five-year-old nephew.

Joeon, who looked incredibly young for his age, was now even more adorable as he chewed on the BeaverTail, and in his black padded jacket today, he looked like a little penguin. An impulse arose to immediately rub his lips and explore the sweet inside of his mouth.

A gust of wind blew, severely messing up Joeon’s hair and wafting a sweet scent mixed with the smell of soap. Joeon, squinting one eye as if something had gotten in it, looked as if he were winking at Dylan. Dylan reached out over Joeon’s shoulder.

Joeon, shrinking his shoulders, looked up with questioning eyes. The tip of the fur hood attached to his jacket lowered in front of him. Dylan, who had put the hood on him, muttered.

“You looked cold.”

Joeon blurted out his inner thoughts before he knew it.

“You know you look colder, right?”

Then, Joeon, who had sent his gaze to Dylan’s cheek which had turned reddish from the cold wind, dropped the corners of his eyes sadly. The scratch he had gotten from the previous game had turned into a scab. He watched him, worried if it might hurt, but Dylan, who had been holding onto the hood, felt his gaze fixed somewhere. Joeon paused and turned his head. Dylan’s blue eyes, with mysterious patterns like jewels engraved in the irises, were hotly staring at the area around his lips. It was a blatant gaze.

‘Don’t tell me, on the street….’

The moment he thought that couldn’t be true, a scent resembling the deep sea drew near, and warm flesh lightly grazed his lips before pulling away. It was the scent of the perfume Dylan used every day, named after himself.

A startled Joeon reflexively pushed Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan slowly licked his lower lip as if savoring the taste.

“There was chocolate on your lips.”

“…You could have just wiped that off with a napkin….”

He had been worried that someone might have seen them, but fortunately, the street visible behind Dylan was empty, with not even a shadow of a person to be found.

“Do you want to come to my place today?”

Joeon, brought to his senses by the low whisper, remained blankly silent for a long time. Then, very late, he gave an answer.

“…Yes.”

Dylan cast a fleeting glance over Joeon’s shoulder, then placed his palm on top of the hood and patted it a few times.

“Then I’ll be going now. You’ll have to go back soon, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Then see you later.”

Joeon waved his hand to say goodbye to the back of Dylan, who had turned around and was running back the way he came. The hand holding the BeaverTail was trembling. Only then did he worry that perhaps someone from his company might have seen them.

But since the hood was big, they probably wouldn’t have seen his face. Joeon pulled the hood down low and went in between some nearby trees for no reason. He intended to take off the hood there and return as if it hadn’t been him.

However, the moment he turned, Joeon had no choice but to stop walking immediately. Tyler was sitting on a bench, looking this way. With a meaningful smile on his lips.

Joeon hurriedly racked his brain to simulate the situation. From the angle where Tyler was sitting, he should have only been able to see Joeon’s back. If so, there was a possibility that he hadn’t seen anything.

He wanted to run away from the spot, but evasion was definitely not a wise choice right now. Joeon made a firm resolution and approached Tyler, determined to make a solid excuse as if nothing had happened.

“Tyler, what are you doing here alone?”

“I was just enjoying a kiss with the winter lake breeze.”

Tyler muttered in his characteristically slow, bard-like tone.

“You have a fiancé, what are you talking about…”

Joeon had a premonition that Tyler had witnessed everything.

“So, how did it taste?”

As he played along with his nonsense to change the subject, Tyler answered suggestively.

“Sweet, like chocolate banana.”

“Th, that’s just the BeaverTail you ate, isn’t it?”

“Or maybe I licked the chocolate off your lips that was left there by the lake breeze….”

Joeon cut off Tyler’s nonsense, which was threatening to get longer, and said.

“…Shut up, Tyler.”

Tyler immediately asked back.

“Why? Why should I?”

“You saw it wrong.”

“What?”

“Anything. You didn’t see anything.”

Tyler, who had been harboring a subtle smile, shrugged his shoulders.

“I have no prejudices, Joeon. Did you forget? This is Canada, not Korea. I respect all forms of love.”

“…”

“But I want to tell you just one thing.”

His expression, which was usually full of playfulness and ease, hardened somewhat seriously as he looked at Joeon.

“Ice hockey is… a significantly homophobic and racist sport.”

He got up from his seat and began to walk slowly toward the red hut. Joeon walked side-by-side with him.

“…What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

He stopped walking for a moment, turned to Joeon, and raised his eyebrows.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“…Thank you.”

“What are friends for?”

Joeon narrowed his eyes.

“Were we friends?”

Tyler, having returned to his usual expression, grabbed his chest and bounced around.

“Wow, that really hurt just now.”

Joeon ate the remaining BeaverTail with an awkward look and made an excuse.

“It was a joke.”

“No, I don’t think that was a joke.”

“Really. And like you said, I’m interviewing for jobs. Wish me luck.”

“That’s good. If it’s you, you’ll be able to go to a good place. I’m rooting for you.”

As if they had made a pact to keep quiet about what happened at the lakeshore, neither Tyler nor Joeon ever brought it up again.

After finishing the short event, Joeon thought about what Tyler had said all the way back to the office while working.

A homophobic and racist sport? Does that mean there are many players like that?

Even if the players are generally like that, he knows Dylan isn’t that kind of person. Because he hadn’t hesitated to get close to Joeon from the beginning.

Joeon shook his head and decided to focus on his work. Since Dylan had invited him to his place, he wanted to finish his work quickly and go.

But unlike his impatient heart, he hesitated for a very long time in front of Dylan’s condo after arriving there after work.

“Hey, are you coming in?”