Can't Leave Until You Finish Eating
Late April. Gocheok Turkeys' underground parking lot. As Kim Hu-seong was about to hop into his car to head home, a familiar voice called out from behind.
“Hu-seong-ah~.”
Huh? He turned around to see Kim Se-rin, the cheerleader, beaming at him. She looked exhausted at a glance, but her smile somehow made her even more beautiful.
“Give me a ride home today too. I've been working six days straight, and I'm dying here.”
He grinned and nodded. “Sure thing. Hop in.”
He quietly popped the trunk, and Kim Se-rin tossed her carry-on inside. With that, they set off toward home.
“Sorry. I usually try not to ride with players, but I'm just too wiped out.”
“Yeah, I can tell. But if you're already like this, that's not good.”
“What do you mean?”
“It's not even summer yet.”
“Haha, true. But Gocheok's pretty cool anyway, so it's fine. It's just that I've been scheduled non-stop for two straight weeks of away and home games without a break.”
“They do that?”
Kim Se-rin let out a small sigh. “Well... the girls who aren't going to Taiwan have to pick up the slack a bit more.”
“Taiwan?”
“Yeah. A bunch of our cheerleaders are heading there. Our team's pretty popular, you know? A lot of them switched to the Turkeys because they wanted to perform in Taiwan too. The Gwangju Pigeons didn't like all the outside gigs before, so that's why they left. But now with the Turkeys, they don't care about external stuff, so things have changed.”
Oh... so that means...
“The ones who aren't going to Taiwan end up busier. And having to travel for all these away games is annoying. I came to a Seoul team because I wanted fewer trips out of town since I live here.”
“That does suck.”
“Of course, from the team's perspective, sending cheerleaders to Taiwan and taking a cut sounds great. I get it—everyone's just trying to make money. But it's still exhausting and frustrating.”
“...”
He felt a pang of guilt for no reason. Is it because I asked her not to go before...?
“...But Hu-seong-ah.”
“Yeah?”
“...”
Hm? Why'd she go quiet? When the light turned red and he stopped, he glanced over. Kim Se-rin was looking at him with worried eyes.
“Huh? Why are you staring like that?”
“I'm a little worried about you. I can vent like this because I have stuff to complain about... but you're killing it right now, yet your face looks full of worry and anxiety. You know you're on fire, right?”
“Well, yeah. But... this won't last long.”
“No way, that's ridiculous. You're doing so well.”
He gave a wry smile. “What's with that look? I know you like it when I'm all mopey, but this isn't the time for that.”
He hesitated for a moment, then glanced at her. “No game tomorrow—wanna grab a drink?”
“Huh...?”
Kim Hu-seong and Kim Se-rin ended up at a quiet little bar.
“How's this place?”
“Not bad... It's not too noisy. And... TV's got baseball on. Some baseball show right now.”
“Yeah. Decent background noise too. This spot's good.”
They settled in and ordered light beers. Soon, fresh draft and some basic dry snacks arrived.
“So... what's the problem?”
“Well...”
That was when it happened.
The praise kept pouring in. His shoulders felt heavier by the second.
“See? Nothing but good stuff. Why can't I hear any bad?”
Kim Se-rin squinted at the endless praise. “It's all smoke and mirrors. Once the problems come out... I'm done for.”
She shut her mouth as he spoke with a gloomy look.
“What problems?”
“I'm weak against breaking balls and slow fastballs. Teams are starting to figure it out, and that's why my homers are dropping.”
“Huh?”
Kim Se-rin, who knew her baseball, looked stunned.
“What happens then?”
“...Just the beginning of the slide.”
“You prepping for it? How do you fix those weaknesses?”
“Practicing breaking stuff... bulking up to handle slow fastballs. But even after a month of grinding practice and force-feeding myself, this feels like the end. Effort's not cutting it. That's why I look down.”
“...”
Kim Se-rin fell silent.
“So... that's why you're struggling. Looking ahead.”
“Yeah...”
“Is there anything I can—”
“Nah. Appreciate the thought.”
But she shook her head firmly. “Breaking balls are on you to grind out. Bulking up? That's different.”
“Huh? No matter how much I eat, it doesn't stick.”
That was when she flagged down the server. “We'll order here.”
She flipped open the menu and raised her hand. A middle-aged owner with a bored expression shuffled over. “What'll it be?”
“Everything on the left side, please?”
“Got it. Grilled chicken, chicken feet, and fried chicken coming up!”
She stared right at him after ordering.
“From now on, ride home with me every time.”
“But—”
“And after, we eat together. Every day.”
His heart skipped a beat. But he couldn't respond.
“Grilled chicken first.”
The food arrived quick. “You sure that's okay?”
“Yeah. It's fine. You, me—what's the harm? Not dating or anything, just meals. Who'd complain?”
...Yeah, if the team tried to stop it, I'd raise hell.
“True. Dig in?”
“Yep.”
She speared some grilled chicken with a fork and held it to his mouth. “Here, Hu-seong-ah, ahh~.”
“Huh?”
“Ahh, eat up.”
He chomped down awkwardly.
“Excuse me! More orders.”
Huh? More already?
“Everything on the right side too?” She pointed to the opposite page.
“Uh... you sure you can handle that?”
“No worries. He'll eat it. Athlete—can polish it off.”
Me!?
“Alright.” The owner nodded and headed off to punch in the extras.
“One of my worries is I can't pack away enough to gain weight.”
“Don't sweat it. You can eat it all.”
She grinned and hooked her leg around his under the table.
Whoa!?
“Can't leave till you finish it all. I'll feed you every bite.”
She grabbed another piece. “Ahh~ Hu-seong-ah.”
...Ahh~.