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Chapter 108: Weight on Fingers
When Min-jun placed the pizza, the cheese that had stuck to his hand had already cooled and lost its stretchiness. Joon-ho examined that hand closely. A hand that wasn’t trembling, nor clenched in a fist. Just a hand that was there, slowly unfolding on the table.
“What do you want from me, hyung?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho, upon hearing the question, tapped his cola glass repeatedly, a subtle movement that spoke volumes. It was as if he was arranging his thoughts, or perhaps hiding what he didn’t want to say.
“What do I want from you?”
Joon-ho asked back.
“Yes,”
“What I want from you now is…”
Joon-ho paused, the silence stretching out. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. 15 seconds. Under the fluorescent lights, the two faced each other, neither speaking.
“I want you yourself,”
Joon-ho finally said.
“Myself?”
Min-jun asked back.
“The you of this moment. The you who doesn’t lie. The you who doesn’t deceive yourself even as you repeat lies,”
Joon-ho continued.
“Hyung is deceiving himself right now,”
Min-jun said quietly. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Joon-ho’s face contorted, a minuscule distortion, but Min-jun caught it. A glimpse of inner turmoil surfacing.
“Hyung is…”
Min-jun said slowly.
“Does hyung know he’s lying and continues to do so?”
Joon-ho didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up a piece of pizza again. Not to eat, but to move his hand, to not stay still.
“Were all the words hyung said to me last night lies?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho’s fingers touched the edge of the pizza, and cheese flowed between his thumb and index finger.
“Not all of it was a lie,”
Joon-ho finally said.
“Some were true, and some were lies,”
“Which parts were true, and which were lies?”
Min-jun asked.
“The part where I said I wanted to see you, that’s true. The part where I said I wanted to see your basement, that’s also true. And the part where I said I wanted to see the mold on your ceiling, that’s true as well,”
Joon-ho said slowly.
“But the part where I said I wanted to save you… that might be a lie. Because I couldn’t even save myself,”
Min-jun felt something move in his chest as he heard those words. It wasn’t pain, but a kind of realization. Joon-ho was looking at him, at his most bare and vulnerable parts, and not trying to hide it.
“If hyung can’t save himself…”
Min-jun said.
“How can he save me?”
Joon-ho put the pizza down, this time not wiping his hand. The cheese remained on his fingers as he placed them on the table.
“It’s not about saving you, Min-jun,”
Joon-ho said.
“It’s about seeing himself through you,”
“What does it mean to see yourself?”
Min-jun asked.
“It means seeing the choices I could have made. The choices I should have made. The choices I didn’t make,”
Joon-ho replied.
“By seeing you, I wish you wouldn’t end up like me. I wish you wouldn’t become like me,”
Those words hung in the air of the pizza parlor, under the fluorescent light, above the noise of the street. Min-jun began to melt those words slowly in his heart.
“Hyung is…”
Min-jun said.
“Is hyung lying to himself right now?”
Joon-ho looked out the window once more. Shinlim-ro at 11 am. Students were starting to come out, carrying backpacks, heading to cafes, or to the library. Each student carried their own lies, unaware.
“Hyung isn’t lying right now. What hyung is saying is…”
Joon-ho said slowly.
“What hyung could have said,”
“What could have been said?”
Min-jun asked back.
“Something he could have said to someone, at some moment. Something hyung could have said but didn’t,”
Joon-ho continued.
Min-jun looked at Joon-ho’s face again, the face that had been cleaned up from the morning’s shave and shower. But the dark circles under his eyes remained, hiding something deep. Deep fatigue, deep self-reproach, deep regret.
“To whom should hyung have said those words?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his hand, the hand on the table, the hand with cheese on it. And he placed it in front of his face, as if trying not to see.
“Hyung…”
Min-jun said.
“Does hyung not want to see himself?”
Joon-ho’s hand came down, back to the table, next to Min-jun’s hand. Not touching, just next to it. About 10 centimeters apart. But in that distance, there was something. An attempt to bridge the gap, or the fear of not being able to.
“If hyung sees himself, hyung has to know what he is,”
Joon-ho said.
“And hyung doesn’t want to know because then hyung would have to change,”
“What does it mean to change?”
Min-jun asked.
“It means to stop lying,”
Joon-ho replied.
The waiter approached, asking if they were done with the pizza or needed anything else. Joon-ho shook his head in refusal. The waiter left.
“If hyung stops lying, what happens?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho fell silent for a while, under the fluorescent light, above the street noise. And then he opened his mouth.
“If hyung stops lying, hyung becomes a victim. All the lies hyung has told become just lies. All the choices hyung has justified become mere escapes. Everything hyung thought was right becomes a realization that hyung was just pushed aside by someone,”
Joon-ho said.
“And at that moment, hyung won’t be able to stand himself,”
“Is hyung enduring that now?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho didn’t answer. Instead, he spread his fingers, the fingers with cheese on them. Five fingers, each one unfolding on the table.
“What did hyung want from me yesterday night?”
Min-jun asked.
“What hyung wanted from you was…”
Joon-ho said slowly.
“To see what hyung could do through you. To see what hyung couldn’t do,”
“What couldn’t hyung do?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho looked out the window again, at Shinlim-ro as noon approached, the sunlight growing stronger. People became clearer under that light, each with their own lies.
“What hyung couldn’t do was…”
Joon-ho said.
“To stop lying,”
Min-jun realized something as he heard those words. It was a realization, not pain.
“Hyung wants me to stop lying, right?”
Min-jun asked.
“Hyung wants you not to become like him. Not to repeat lies. Not to deceive yourself,”
Joon-ho said.
“And what about hyung?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho bent his fingers, curling them as if to enclose himself again. Like he was trying to protect himself once more.
“Hyung is already late. Hyung has deceived himself for too long. Even if hyung stops lying now, all the lies hyung has told will remain within him. They will become his bones, his flesh, his blood,”
Joon-ho said.
“But you can still do it. You can stop lying. You can see yourself truly,”
“What does it mean to see oneself?”
Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho looked at his hand on the table, the hand with cheese on it. A hand that wasn’t trembling, nor clenched. Just a hand that was there.
“To see oneself means…”
Joon-ho said.
“To acknowledge all one’s weaknesses. To acknowledge all one’s failures. To acknowledge all one’s lies. And to love oneself despite all that,”
Min-jun felt something move in his heart as he heard those words. It was a realization, a comprehension of what Joon-ho had been trying to convey, what Joon-ho had wanted from him.
“The words hyung is saying to me now…”
Min-jun said slowly.
“Are they the words hyung wanted to hear from someone?”
Joon-ho’s face contorted again, more clearly this time, as if some inner pain was finally surfacing.
“Were they the words hyung wanted to hear from someone before?”
Min-jun continued.
Joon-ho didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand and covered his face, his fingers rubbing his eyes, a faint trace of something flowing between his fingers.
The fluorescent light of the pizza parlor continued to shine above them. Shinlim-ro was approaching noon. And in that light, the two sat in silence, a silence that was not of lies, but of truth. Both realized, for the first time, that such a silence was possible.
Joon-ho lowered his hand from his face and placed it back on the table, this time towards Min-jun’s hand. The distance was still 10 centimeters, but something had changed. The attempt to bridge the gap had turned into courage.
“Min-jun,”
Joon-ho called out his name.
“Yes?”
Min-jun replied.
“Hyung has a promise to you. That…”
Joon-ho said.
“Hyung won’t lie to you anymore. From now on, hyung will tell you the truth, as much as hyung can,”
Min-jun heard those words and slowly moved his hand forward on the table, reducing the distance.
5 centimeters.
His fingers unfolded, like a flower blooming, towards Joon-ho’s hand. The air flowed between them, and Shinlim-ro’s sunlight passed through, a warm, golden light.
2 centimeters.
Joon-ho’s fingers also moved, slowly unfolding towards Min-jun’s hand. It was as if they were magnets, attracted to each other.
And then—
Their fingers touched.
The sensation was electric. Joon-ho felt it, the slight warmth of Min-jun’s fingertips, the stickiness of the pizza cheese, and the pulse of the blood flowing underneath.
A hand with cheese on it touched a clean hand.
Joon-ho’s hand was clean, washed before leaving for work. But behind that cleanliness, how many lies had he hidden? How many people had he deceived with those clean hands?
On the other hand, Min-jun’s hand was dirty, from holding the pizza. There was tomato sauce on his fingers, and mozzarella cheese under his nails. A dirty hand, but one without lies.
A tired hand and a new hand met.
Joon-ho’s palm had wrinkles, not from age, but from fatigue. A hand that was always tense, never relaxing. So it didn’t know how to unwind.
Min-jun’s hand was still soft, with skin that still had elasticity. A hand that was still open to new things.
A hand of lies and a hand of truth.
## Part 1: Moment of Realization
Joon-ho lowered his hand, from his face.
The movement was slow, like swimming through water. His hand dropped, and he felt the cool, plastic table beneath his fingertips. A cheap table, with many scratches, but in this moment, it was where his hand needed to be.
He spread his fingers on the table, his left hand, with black grime under his fingernails from yesterday’s work. This hand had received so many lies, had deceived so many people.
And now, he was extending it towards Min-jun.
“Min-jun,”
Joon-ho called his name.
“Yes?”
Min-jun replied, his voice cautious, like he was handling glass.
“Hyung has a promise to you. That…”
Joon-ho said, his voice trembling. He needed to say this, to make this promise, to prove that he could change.
“Hyung will not lie to you anymore. From now on, hyung will tell you the truth, as much as hyung can,”
It was a promise, a vow, a commitment to honesty, no matter how hard.
## Part 2: Shrinking Distance
Min-jun slowly moved his hand forward on the table.
The distance was closing, 10 centimeters, 5 centimeters, 2 centimeters, and finally, their fingers touched.
The sensation was electric, a spark of connection that went beyond words.
## Part 3: Meaning of Contact
Joon-ho felt the touch, the contact of their hands.
It was a simple physical touch, yet it was so much more. It was a break from all the lies, a step into truth.
And his fingers began to wrap around Min-jun’s, slowly, cautiously, like handling something fragile.
## Part 4: Visual Evidence
The fluorescent light above them continued to shine.
Cold and indifferent, like a hospital light, revealing everything, leaving no room for hiding.
Shinlim-ro’s noon sunlight entered through the window.
A warm, golden light that filled the space, making everything seem clearer, more defined.
And in that light, their hands remained connected.
## Part 5: Language of Silence
No one spoke.
Time passed, minutes ticking by, but the importance of time was lost in this moment.
There was no need for words.
This moment said everything.
Whenever Joon-ho tried to speak, Min-jun’s fingers would tighten around his, a silent message to be quiet, to just be.
## Part 6: Questions and Answers
Joon-ho slowly opened his mouth.
“Min-jun,”
He called out the name, needing to say it, to make this moment real.
“Can hyung ask you something?”
Min-jun’s fingers tightened around Joon-ho’s, a silent yes.
“What do you want now?”
Joon-ho asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Min-jun’s response was a squeeze of his hand, a silent answer that spoke volumes.
“Now…”
Min-jun said, his voice low.
“I want to be here with hyung,”
“Until when?”
Joon-ho asked, his heart racing in anticipation.
“Until hyung lets go,”
Min-jun replied, his voice firm, a promise of waiting, of enduring.
## Part 7: Meaning of Hands
Joon-ho heard the answer and tightened his hand around Min-jun’s.
It was a promise, a vow, a commitment to change, to be truthful.
The pressure of their hands was a promise, a proof of their commitment to each other.
## Part 8: Final Moment
And so they sat there.
Under the fluorescent light of the pizza parlor.
The cold, indifferent light shone down on them, revealing everything, but in this moment, it didn’t matter.
In the warm, golden light of Shinlim-ro’s noon sun, their hands remained connected, a symbol of their promise, their commitment to truth and to each other.