SPM 1

I never imagined that our reunion would turn into such a mess.

Thud, thump… The sound of a thin body carelessly hitting and sliding down the empty emergency stairwell echoed hollowly.

Clammy, sweaty fingers roughly swept over his face and hair, gripping and tugging. In truth, he didn’t even know what this dry washing was for—he only felt the sensation of urgent breathing leaking through the gaps between his disheveled skin and features as Ian buried his head between his knees.

I can’t breathe…

Knowing it was a mild shock and slight hyperventilation reaction, this makeshift solution was the only thing he could do. Like a small animal burying its head in a rabbit hole, Ian curled up even tighter, struggling to regain slow breaths while endlessly thinking about where and how everything had gone wrong.

He had never intended to have such a negative impact on each other, especially not to make the whole world buzz with cheap gossip-like stories and turn his life into something messy and noisy.

“Imprinting, seriously…”

The director’s aged voice that leaked through the door crack continued for quite some time after that.

But Ian had no idea how it all ended.

At that moment, as if that anger was directed at him, he was confused by a mix of guilt as Terrence’s imprinting target and the strange, complicated feelings entangled with it. He had no idea how to accept the reality he was facing.

So he had run away.

But making his escape meaningless, the door opened immediately. Along with the sound of the heavy emergency exit door moving, a low voice called out to him.

“Ian.”

A voice that was both welcome and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?”

Right, he knew he would be found out immediately like this.

Strangely, Terrence Hunt had always been able to find exactly where he was, ever since they first met in high school. It was truly a ghostly talent.

“Ian Bailey.”

Bailey. Bailey, right. There was a time when he was called that.

At the voice that still called him by his former surname, Ian slowly steadied his breathing and barely lifted his head from his knees to look at Terrence.

He looked completely unfazed, unbelievable for someone who had just received the director’s one-sided anger.

Ian stared blankly at the sight of large, heavy hands slowly extending from his statue-like massive body. His eyelids blinked several times like rapid shutter clicks as he watched that form slowly bending toward him. Though it could have been threatening, perhaps due to the slow movement, it wasn’t scary at all—rather, it seemed like a helping hand, gentle as in the old days.

Lost in memories of the past and staring blankly, Ian found himself being lifted up by Terrence, who had been crouched in the corner of the emergency stairwell. He was easily stood upright on the floor, fluttering like a paper doll.

Terrence slowly tilted his head diagonally and asked again.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

It was still amazing, just as it had been before, how he could move so languidly yet not look sluggish at all. Rather, he knew that those unhurried movements were proof of perfect control over his own body.

“…No.”

He tried to hide the fact that he had been dizzy and unable to properly control his body just moments before. Hoping his face would look normal, Ian forced his mouth corners upward.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Did Terrence Hunt really have some ability to see through the truth? Or was he himself as transparent and easy to read as glass?

“I just had something to think about for a moment.”

“Let me see.”

Not believing his excuse, Terrence examined his body here and there as if investigating for injuries, even going so far as to lift him up slightly and put him down—it was absurd.

While wondering if a grown man’s body could be lifted so easily, it wasn’t incomprehensible. Ian was just under 180cm with an average male build, but his counterpart was nearly 2 meters tall.

6 feet 5 inches and 230 pounds packed with muscle. These were quarterback Terrence Hunt’s physical specs.

The heavy weight wasn’t from fat. It was just a massive frame with muscles sleekly attached all over his body, capable of explosive speed covering 10 yards per second.

Compared to Ian’s moderately lean build, it was an incomparably solid, truly typical quarterback’s body. So for him, lifting Ian would be as easy as an elephant picking up a biscuit.

But right now, it was too much.

Ian lightly grabbed and lowered the hands that were still holding him, looking up at Terrence. Then he asked carefully.

“…Did you have to tell the director right now?”

Of course, Ian was well aware that Terrence’s imprinting was currently the hottest topic on social media.

But right now, the NFL Draft—a massive event across the country where new players are recruited—was just around the corner. Not only the director, but also the general manager and front office staff of the Wolves organization Ian belonged to were all busy and frantic.

Moreover, if they revealed the weakness of the team’s starting quarterback at this point…

Ian’s eyes squeezed shut as he imagined the worst-case scenario.

“You haven’t gotten a definitive diagnosis from a doctor yet.”

“…”

“After getting a clear diagnosis, I mean, after the draft is over and you’ve discussed it with the director, wouldn’t that have been okay…”

Had he unknowingly shown a desperate expression of wanting to deny reality? Terrence’s brow furrowed as if displeased. He might be showing more displeasure now than he had in front of the director earlier.

In fact, Terrence Hunt was generally indifferent to this and that, basically taciturn and close to having a cold personality. It was unlike a football player who was used to expressing anger with his whole body.

Of course, he also exploded like a volcanic eruption during games. His appearance of firing up his teammates when the match was heating up was incredibly passionate. But when he wasn’t wearing his uniform and equipment, he was like an upright glacier of a human who didn’t easily laugh or cry at anything.

There were times when he would freely express emotions outside the stadium, and that was only in front of Ian.

Strangely, it had been that way since before. Whether through words, actions, or expressions.

So at first, Ian had misunderstood for quite a while. He was certain he was being hated. Every time their eyes met, seeing those brows furrow deeply, he couldn’t think otherwise.

Of course, it was a prejudice that didn’t last long.

Ian pretended to straighten his body properly while stepping back a step or two from Terrence, who was standing closer than expected. Now it looked like strangers who had met in society were facing each other.

“I think you’re rushing too much. After going to a big hospital for thorough examination and getting diagnosed by a specialist, then again…”

“Are you telling me to waste all the precious rest time I barely got during the off-season for such trivial reasons?”

Despite trying to speak carefully to avoid offending him, contrary to his intention, Terrence’s gaze became sharper.

“No, what I mean is…”

He was about to crumple under the pressure. Although unintended, he was somehow positioned near the perpetrator side. His shoulders naturally drooped.

“Ian, listen carefully. I know my body best.”

Right, he’s a sports player boasting a $33 million salary. Ian knew very well how thoroughly he managed his condition. He just didn’t want to believe it.

“The emergency room’s preliminary test confirmed imprinting, and do you think I, who checks my pheromone flow daily, wouldn’t notice my body’s condition?”

His tone was quite incredulous.

Ugh… Ian couldn’t help but groan upon hearing that explanation.

“Don’t stay here any longer and go back to the office. We’ll talk about this more later.”

Suddenly unzipping his jersey, Terrence said.

“The weather’s still chilly.”

“…”

“Put it on.”

With those words, he handed over the outer garment he’d taken off.

Kindness occurring in the midst of such sharp tension. It was confusing whether it was cynical or affectionate, harsh or warm.

“No, I, I…”

“Hurry up.”

Before he could voice any refusal, Terrence wrapped his clothes around Ian’s shoulders. Without even putting his arms through, he zipped it all the way up as if binding a person whole, leaving Ian trapped inside his clothes.

Whether he was teasing or showing concern for the Omega he’d imprinted on in his own way was something only the person involved would know.

“Go carefully. I should head back to the training room now too.”

Before Ian could respond, Terrence finished what he had to say and flung open the emergency stairwell door. His other hand was already touching near Ian’s back.

Pat pat. Slowly turning his body toward the office direction and even patting his waist area. It was like the attitude one would have toward children.

Was he telling him to hurry and go? This too was definitely him controlling his strength, thinking he was gently soothing.

“See you when you get off work later.”

“Huh?”

Was that a stupid expression? A very faint laugh escaped from Terrence’s lips with a pfft.

“We’ll talk again then.”

“What, what about? What will we talk about?”

When people get too flustered, they stutter. He never thought he would be that person.

Actually, Ian usually didn’t act so foolishly. Having lived through various storms and eaten humble pie over the years, he was more often told he was sharp and quick-witted.

This stupid behavior was only in front of Terrence. Only in front of Terrence Hunt, who always flustered Ian and turned his life upside down.

“What else? We need to talk about our relationship. Since we’ve imprinted, things should be different from now on, shouldn’t they?”

Speaking as if it were obvious while snorting, Ian was left speechless.

How exactly was he planning to change their relationship by giving such advance notice?

“Now really go. Let’s meet after work.”

Before Ian could persuade or argue further, Terrence said everything he wanted to say, turned around, and walked away with heavy steps.

Ian couldn’t move until the massive figure disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor. It was because the sudden shock had drained too much of his strength.

But as soon as his figure completely disappeared, Ian belatedly noticed his own appearance.

“He wants me to go back to the office wearing this…?”

Sports wear with a number and name on it…? He wants me to openly show this in front of the front office people?

No one at this place knew that Ian Song, a new employee of the organization, and Terrence Hunt, the team’s quarterback, had known each other in the past and had personal connections.

Moreover, the front office Ian belonged to was full of typical desk employees.

Since it was a department that didn’t often encounter players, if they saw this, they would definitely think Ian had gone to the player locker room and stolen it. As soon as he returned like this, suspicious and doubtful glances would continue in silence. Within less than a day, he would obviously be branded as an extreme fan who had joined the company while hiding his identity.

Whether Terrence Hunt knew about this perfect situation for misunderstanding or not, Ian let out what must have been his umpteenth sigh.

Anyway, what should he really do about this situation? He had no idea what to do going forward, as if he had fallen into pitch-black darkness.

Taking off the forcibly worn clothes and hiding them in his arms, Ian’s back figure as he turned around and trudged back to his seat swayed precariously.