NHL 70

“I…. I wanted to change. I wanted to start over.”

“I know. That’s not a bad thing.”

Held in Dylan’s arms, Joeon sobbed, his shoulders heaving for a long time as if he were releasing a lifetime of pent-up resentment. When it finally began to subside, Dylan gently stroked Joeon’s hair and asked,

“What happened?”

After a long hesitation, Joeon muttered in a small voice,

“…I don’t want to talk about it right now. About the new company… it’s all over with them now.”

“That’s okay. It’s fine not to want to talk about it. You aren’t hurt anywhere, are you? That’s why I came all this way—I was worried. Your phone wouldn’t connect, Maya and Tony hadn’t heard from you…. What on earth happened? I was so worried.”

Perhaps jolted back to reality by the barrage of questions, Joeon pushed Dylan away and hardened his expression.

“It really has nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Why does it have nothing to do with me?”

Joeon opened his mouth to speak but swallowed his words and looked away. His gaze landed on the packed luggage bag in the corner. A hopeful assumption crossed Dylan’s mind a beat late.

“Are you planning to go back to Toronto?”

Joeon looked up. Dylan stared at the face he had missed so much for a long while before his gaze shifted over Joeon’s shoulder to the passport resting on the kitchen counter. It felt like an eyesore.

“No, I’m going back. To Korea.”

Dylan stared back and forth between Joeon’s face and the passport like someone who had forgotten how to speak. This was not part of his assumptions.

“A trip to… clear your head, or something?”

“No. No, I don’t even know. I’ll think about it once I get there. Maybe I’ll find a job there….”

“…Why?”

To Dylan, who asked with a look of utter incomprehension, Joeon replied in a rough voice,

“I’m tired of life here.”

“…Why?”

“Dylan.”

“Why on earth? You’re going to throw away everything you’ve built here and leave forever?”

“What have I built? I’ve never accomplished a single thing properly in my life since I was born.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You don’t know. You’re…”

Joeon hesitated, swallowed his words, and shook his head.

“I have nothing here. It wouldn’t matter if I threw it all away and started over from scratch.”

At those cold, heartless words, the thick glacier that had been supporting Dylan’s feet shattered and sank.

“Nothing?”

“…”

“It wouldn’t matter if you threw it all away and started over?”

“…Yeah. Maybe it’ll be different this time.”

“Is that why you came to Calgary, too? Because you wanted to throw everything away and live a new life? And now you want to do the same thing all over again, all the way in Korea?”

“Everyone wants to bury their failures and start life over sometimes. This time… it might be different.”

“Life isn’t a video game.”

Dylan stood up abruptly and reached over Joeon’s shoulder to snatch the green passport. Joeon tried to stop him in a panic, but the passport was already in Dylan’s grip.

“What are you doing? Give it back.”

As Joeon tried to fish the passport from Dylan’s arm, Dylan raised his hand high. Because he was so much taller, Joeon couldn’t reach it no matter how hard he tried.

“When is the flight?”

“Tomorrow. So give it back already.”

“Tomorrow?”

Dylan’s voice dropped low. He felt dizzy, as if the sky had collapsed and struck him on the head. Tomorrow meant that if he had been even one day late, Joeon would already be on a plane crossing the Pacific. Just one day!

“Give it to me. Now!”

“No.”

“Dylan!”

Hiding the passport behind his back, Dylan glared at Joeon with an angry face.

“You came here alone when you were seventeen and have lived here ever since. And you say you have nothing here? What’s in Korea, then? What have you built there?”

“At least my… my parents are there.”

“Are you planning to stay at your parents’ house?”

“My mother… allowed me to stay.”

“She ‘allowed’ it?”

“My family history is none of your business. Give me back the passport.”

The choice of vocabulary was subtle. Dylan began to piece together the puzzle of his own hidden speculations.

“Since you referred to it as your mother’s house, I assume the two of them aren’t living together. And it doesn’t seem like they both know you’re coming, either.”

“…”

Reading the rough story from Joeon’s silence, Dylan asked, his voice seething.

“Is that even a place you want to return to?”

“What exactly do you want to hear?”

“Shall I tell you? I’ve never once heard you talk about your family. Not even once. Not on Christmas, not on New Year’s, not on any special occasion. I’ve never seen you make a single phone call to any of them. Am I wrong?”

“…”

“Just because I don’t ask about your painful spots doesn’t mean I’m an idiot who knows nothing, Joeon. Do they even care for you as much as Maya and Tony do? Enough that you’d disappear like this without a trace?”

“Dylan!”

Joeon lifted his head as if mentioning their names was cowardly. His distorted eyes were full of guilt.

“You have so many people who love you, and you were going to turn your back on all of them and leave this coldly without a single word?”

Both of them realized that while Joeon was using Maya and Tony’s family as an excuse, Dylan was actually talking about himself.

“Stop… let’s stop.”

“You’re still just trying to run away!”

“Stop it!”

“I won’t accept this!”

With their emotions exploded, both men panted heavily, glaring at each other. Reddened eyes clashed in the air.

“Throw it all away and leave? Is that so easy for you? Just like that trash you threw away earlier? What about the people you leave behind?”

“That’s not what I meant about you and Maya’s family. I…”

“It’s the same.”

“…”

“To me, it sounds exactly the same.”

Only the sound of their heated, ragged breathing filled the empty house, which lacked even basic furniture. Dylan felt a wave of dizziness, as if the ground were falling away. It was a miserable feeling.

“…Dylan, I’m sorry if I hurt you. I… I was going to tell Maya and Tony later.”

“When? On the plane leaving Canada tomorrow? After you’d already crossed the ocean? Or were you going to wait until the police came looking for you after receiving a missing person report?”

“A missing person report… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you would think that far….”

However, despite Joeon’s apology, Dylan tucked the passport into his inner coat pocket and zipped it shut.

“If you want it back, come to my house. We’ll talk then. I have to go to LA tomorrow.”

Joeon blocked Dylan’s path as he turned to check his watch.

“No. Give it back and go.”

“I can’t do that. Report me if you want—do whatever you like. I don’t care. But you aren’t getting on that plane tomorrow.”

“I said give it to me!”

A scuffle broke out between the two. But the difference in weight class was too great. Besides, there was no way Joeon could overpower Dylan, a professional athlete.

Dylan tripped Joeon’s legs, pinned his shoulders to the floor, and climbed on top. Looking down at Joeon, he scanned the gaunt face with his eyes.

“I’ll compensate for the flight ticket. I’ll do anything else you want, too. But if you want to get it back, come find me yourself.”

“…You don’t have to go this far.”

“I’m sorry, Joeon.”

The moment Dylan’s eyes, which had been firm until just a moment ago, met Joeon’s wet gaze, his expression crumbled miserably.

“But I… I can’t let you go just like this right now.”

“…”

“I’m really sorry.”

Dylan truly walked out, passport in hand. Joeon lay on the cold, bare floor, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His cheek, where Dylan’s hand had last touched, was still burning hot.