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Chapter 105: The Language of Pizza and Silence
The pizza parlor near the school was a small, unassuming place called “Us.” The sign was faded, and the writing on the window was half-erased, but it still opened its doors at 10:30 am. When Min-Jun arrived, Joon-Oh was already inside, sitting at the most secluded table, staring out the window with the menu open in front of him.
Joon-Oh’s face looked different from when he left the semi-basement room the day before. The morning sunlight made his features more defined, and his eyes were clearer, as if he had made some decision overnight.
“Sit down,” Joon-Oh said, and Min-Jun took a seat, his eyes scanning the menu.
The smell of the pizza parlor wafted up to his nose – cheese, tomato sauce, and oil. It was a surprisingly pleasant aroma, a warmth that was absent in the streets of Sillim, where the smell of trash and mold usually filled the air.
“What do you want to eat?” Joon-Oh asked.
“Anything is fine,” Min-Jun replied.
Joon-Oh flipped through the menu, his finger pointing to an item – a Margherita pizza, the most basic option.
“Let’s get this. We can share it,” Joon-Oh said.
Min-Jun nodded, and Joon-Oh beckoned the waiter with a wave of his hand. This wasn’t a fancy restaurant, just a casual, affordable place for college students. Yet, Joon-Oh moved with the confidence of someone who had been here many times before.
“A Margherita pizza and two glasses of cola,” Joon-Oh ordered.
The waiter left, and only then did Joon-Oh and Min-Jun face each other. The table between them was empty, with only the two souls confronting each other on the white surface.
“Didn’t you sleep well last night?” Joon-Oh asked.
“Yeah,” Min-Jun admitted.
“Was the mold on the ceiling telling you something?” Joon-Oh asked again, his voice tinged with a hint of mockery, but not the kind that ridiculed Min-Jun – rather, it was self-deprecating.
“What about you? Did you sleep?” Min-Jun countered.
Joon-Oh raised one hand and placed it over his face, his fingers rubbing his eyes. The gesture revealed his fatigue, despite his tidy appearance from the morning shower and shave. Dark circles under his eyes told a different story.
“About an hour?” Joon-Oh said.
“Why didn’t you sleep?” Min-Jun asked.
“Because of you,” Joon-Oh replied, and his answer made Min-Jun’s heart skip a beat.
Min-Jun’s face went still, unsure of what to say. What was Joon-Oh doing?
“I was watching you. After you left last night,” Joon-Oh said.
“What were you…?” Min-Jun started but couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Wondering who you are, what you want, and why you’re stuck here,” Joon-Oh continued.
The cola arrived, and the waiter set down two glasses, the ice clinking. The sound interrupted their conversation.
After the waiter left, Joon-Oh picked up his glass and sipped his cola through the straw. Then he set it back down.
“Do you want to be an actor? Or do you want to be someone?” Joon-Oh asked.
The question struck Min-Jun’s heart because it was the very question he had been asking himself for four years. But hearing it from someone else’s lips made it different – it became unavoidable.
“Both,” Min-Jun replied.
“Is that possible?” Joon-Oh asked.
“I don’t know,” Min-Jun said honestly.
Joon-Oh listened to the answer and smiled faintly, a smile that was almost inaudible, like a laugh that only resonated within himself. Then, he looked at Min-Jun again.
“You asked me yesterday how I got out of that place,” Joon-Oh said.
“Yeah,” Min-Jun replied.
“What did I say?” Joon-Oh asked.
“’That you fought until your heart woke up… that you left through your heart,’” Min-Jun recalled Joon-Oh’s words.
“That was a lie,” Joon-Oh said abruptly.
Min-Jun’s face froze. A lie? Did Joon-Oh tell a lie, or did he just realize the truth now?
“Are you still trapped?” Min-Jun asked.
Joon-Oh looked straight into Min-Jun’s eyes, and Min-Jun could read a truth there – Joon-Oh was still trapped, but in a different kind of prison. Not the semi-basement room, but his own 34 years of life.
“When I look at you… I think I want to become someone, not just an actor,” Min-Jun said, more honestly than he expected.
Joon-Oh’s face broke into a genuine smile, reaching the corners of his eyes. It was a real smile, not a pretense.
“Then do that. Become someone, not just an actor. The acting will follow,” Joon-Oh said.
The pizza arrived, and Joon-Oh divided it into three pieces without using a knife, as if performing a ritual. The cheese was melted, the tomato sauce had seeped into the crust, and fresh basil sat at the center.
“Eat,” Joon-Oh said.
Min-Jun took a piece and ate, feeling the heat and the taste. It was a sensation that made him feel alive, a proof of his existence.
As they ate in silence, the background music of the parlor filled the space, some pop song with English lyrics that Min-Jun couldn’t quite decipher. But he didn’t need to; the melody and the sound of their chewing were enough.
“What do you need now?” Joon-Oh asked suddenly, with food still in his mouth.
Min-Jun took another piece and swallowed before answering.
“Someone,” Min-Jun said.
“Who?” Joon-Oh asked.
Min-Jun looked at Joon-Oh, his eyes, his mouth, his hands – everything seemed to be waiting.
“My brother,” Min-Jun replied.
Joon-Oh took another piece of pizza and ate, slowly. His movements became slower, as if trying to prolong this moment.
“Why do you do all this for me?” Min-Jun asked.
Joon-Oh set down the pizza and wiped his fingers with a napkin, slowly and precisely, like he was organizing his thoughts.
“Because you show me that I can do something,” Joon-Oh said.
“What can you do?” Min-Jun asked.
“Save someone,” Joon-Oh replied.
The words dropped like a revelation, and Min-Jun saw something in Joon-Oh’s eyes – a failure from the past, a long time ago, something that still lingered.
“You too… need someone,” Min-Jun said, completing the thought.
Joon-Oh took a sip of his cola, the straw making a soft sound. In that action, everything was contained – acceptance, rejection, need, fear, hope, and despair, all mixed in one gulp of cola.
“Let’s be that someone for each other,” Joon-Oh said.
It wasn’t a question or a command; it was a statement of fact, like saying “the sun rises.”
Min-Jun nodded, not needing words. The fact that they were eating pizza together, in this space, was enough.
They finished the remaining pizza, and when only one piece was left, Joon-Oh looked at Min-Jun.
“What about this? You want it, or should I?”
This wasn’t just a question about the pizza; it was about the nature of their relationship. Should Min-Jun prioritize himself, or should he consider Joon-Oh first?
“You eat it,” Min-Jun said.
“No, you have it. I’m full,” Joon-Oh replied.
Min-Jun took the last piece and ate, in front of Joon-Oh. It felt like a ritual, as if Joon-Oh was feeding him, acknowledging his hunger.
After the meal, Joon-Oh paid, and they left the parlor. The outside sunlight was bright, 11:30 am. Still morning. But for Min-Jun, something inside had shifted from night to day, like a switch had been flipped.
“What’s next?” Joon-Oh asked.
“I don’t know,” Min-Jun replied.
“Let’s walk around then. Anywhere,” Joon-Oh suggested.
Min-Jun nodded, and they began walking along Sillim Road. Students were increasing in number, heading out for lunch after their morning classes at the library. No one paid attention to Min-Jun and Joon-Oh, just another couple of men walking together – a common sight in this area.
“Why did you become an actor?” Min-Jun asked as they walked.
Joon-Oh was a step ahead, Min-Jun following.
“For the same reason as you. To become someone. And I thought being an actor would make that possible,” Joon-Oh replied.
“But?” Min-Jun asked.
“It was a mistake. Being an actor and becoming someone are different things,” Joon-Oh continued.
“Did you become someone?” Min-Jun asked.
Joon-Oh stopped walking, looking back at Min-Jun. His face was in the sunlight, revealing all the lines and wrinkles of his 34 years.
“I’m still trying,” Joon-Oh said.
And they started walking again, side by side, at the same pace, toward the same goal.
The alleys of Sillim wrapped around them, filled with trash cans, vending machines, and old building walls. But for Min-Jun, these alleys no longer felt like a prison. They were just a path, a journey they were taking together.
Joon-Oh took Min-Jun’s hand, suddenly, without a word, as if it was the most natural thing to do.
Min-Jun held his hand, not letting go. And in that moment, he realized that his four years of solitude in the semi-basement room were over. But at the same time, something new was beginning.
“Brother,” Min-Jun said.
“Yes?” Joon-Oh replied.
“Thank you,” Min-Jun said.
Joon-Oh squeezed Min-Jun’s hand harder and said nothing. But in that silence, everything was conveyed – understanding, acceptance, and a promise to share the weight of their lives.
They continued walking, on the streets of Sillim, in the sunlight. And in that moment, it seemed like time had stopped. Like this was the center of their universe, the moment that would define their lives.
11:47 am, at a corner of Sillim Road, two people stood holding hands, and that moment felt eternal.