Price of Silence

Yeehyeon carried two mugs of freshly brewed coffee to the table and set one down in front of Jun.

"Thank you for the coffee."

"It's too little as a thank-you for the beef bourguignon. It was genuinely delicious."

"I made an extra portion while I was making mine anyway. I'm the one who's grateful you ate with me. It doesn't taste the same when you eat alone."

Yeehyeon recognized the consideration Jun had shown — adding a little spice to suit his palate — and was thankful for it. But knowing that saying so outright would only embarrass him, he conveyed his gratitude with a quiet smile instead.

The exhibition hall had closed and the office staff had gone home, leaving the entire building in a comfortable quiet. Occasionally, the sounds of ordinary life drifted through — someone running the tap in the bathroom, the soft rhythm of footsteps on the stairs, the sound of a door opening and closing.

"Hyung… you seem so unafraid of showing yourself in your work."

"……"

Jun, who had been holding his mug in both hands and gazing down at the table, lost in thought, suddenly spoke.

"When I look at it… I feel like my existence is being held. When someone shows themselves honestly first, it becomes a little easier for me to be honest too."

Jun laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck, seeming embarrassed by his own words. Yeehyeon smiled back at him.

"Didn't they say it failed to resonate because it was too personal?"

"If it failed to resonate, then why did it sell as soon as it was hung, and why are so many people coming to see it?"

Jun shook his head firmly.

"I can't please everyone anyway. The fact that I can reach people who understand my work and find comfort in it — that alone is remarkable enough."

Yeehyeon watched Jun lower his gaze with something that looked like envy in it, and spent a quiet moment lifting his mug to his lips without speaking.

He knew well that Jun had been struggling for a long time to find a breakthrough in his work, which made it difficult to say anything carelessly. This was especially true because he empathized deeply with those struggles — he had gone through similar periods himself and was still moving his brush through uncertainty with every stroke.

But precisely because of that, he wanted to summon the courage to speak honestly rather than stay silent just because the subject was hard.

"There are probably more universal stories that more people can connect with. I don't know for certain, but perhaps those make for better paintings, more valuable ones. But… I'm just doing my best to paint what I can paint right now, what I have to paint right now. Anything beyond that is outside my current ability, so I'm trying to focus only on what I can do."

Meeting Jun's earnest gaze, Yeehyeon carefully added what he had been hesitating to say, wondering if he was saying too much. He felt he owed Jun the honesty that he wasn't some warrior fighting anxiety purely through his own strength.

"Scars are part of who we are… someone once told me I didn't have to paint over them to hide them, or try to overcome them cleanly like a hero. Because of that, I think I was able to find the courage… to show myself."

Jun's expression shifted — it looked as though he knew exactly who had said those words — and then, a moment later, he fixed Yeehyeon with a gaze that carried a faint challenge.

"Hyung, why does your boyfriend never come to see you?"

"Because… I don't let him."

Yeehyeon ran a finger along the rim of his mug and offered a faint smile.

"Why? Don't you miss him?"

It had been just over a year since anyone had asked him anything this direct. People who knew both Yeehyeon and Liu hadn't deliberately avoided mentioning Liu in front of Yeehyeon, but they hadn't tried to pass on news of his current life either. Where Yeehyeon and Liu's private relationship was concerned, they acted as though it simply hadn't happened. The Liu that came up in their conversations was only Phantom's director, a Liu connected to each of them individually.

Though he felt a little sorry for Jun, whenever Jun circled around the subject of his boyfriend, Yeehyeon could feel it faintly — that his love and his relationship were still ongoing, that Liu was still, in some real sense, his 'boyfriend.'

Confronted with the blunt question of whether he missed him, a wave of longing swelled at the edges of his heart, threatening to spill — the way a child who has bravely dusted themselves off after a fall suddenly feels tears well up the moment someone asks kindly if they're all right.

That was why he couldn't answer right away. He responded with an ambiguous smile and took a sip of his coffee.

He tried to smile, but to Jun it may have looked worse than crying. Jun, clearly regretting the question, quickly shifted the subject, deliberately brightening his tone.

"Hyung, do you have plans for Christmas? Are you going out with Yuni nuna?"

Yeehyeon traced the surface of his mug and shook his head with a smile. Even now the three of them sometimes shared a meal or a drink together, but Michelle and Yuni nuna were an official couple these days — one that could easily go out on their own without needing to include him.

"Then… you'll be attending 'The Hands' party again this year, like last year?"

"Yeah, unless something unexpected comes up, probably."

'Late Blooming' was also preparing a small gathering, but that was scheduled a few days before Christmas. The party 'The Hands' held on Christmas Eve was a formal event — inviting patrons, clients, and gallery friends who visited the exhibition hall regularly but didn't buy work — and all affiliated artists were strongly expected to attend unless they had other plans.

"What about New Year's? I saw the Arc de Triomphe countdown last year… Would you be interested in a private party instead? Nothing grand — just tickets sold at a bar, and a friend of mine works there. It's on the second floor near the Eiffel Tower, so the atmosphere should be nice."

"Uh… I might have other plans by then."

"Oh? Well, I can't force you. Ben seems to be at loose ends lately — maybe I'll ask him to come with me."

Jun was clearly curious about the vague, possibly nonexistent plans, but he simply drank his coffee in silence and didn't press.

And Yeehyeon had nothing more to say on the matter.

He had sent a message, but Liu wasn't a free man. Even if he'd received the painting, his situation might not allow him to come rushing over — or perhaps, perhaps he was simply exhausted now, and the message might not stir anything in him anymore.

He believed the latter wasn't true. But a two-percent sliver of anxiety refused to let go.

"Are you bothering Yeehyeon again?"

The kitchen door burst open. Ben. Passing behind Jun, he roughly rubbed the younger man's chin the way a mischievous older brother might torment his youngest sibling. Yeehyeon smiled at Jun, who was swatting his hand away with an irritated look, and said,

"Jun made dinner for me."

Ben, pouring the last of the coffee from the machine into a mug, glanced over.

"Beef bourguignon?"

Did he recognize it by smell? Yeehyeon nodded, slightly surprised. Ben let out a knowing snort, leaned back against the shelf, and brought the mug to his lips.

"So that's why you were practicing so much — to make it for him."

"Ben!"

Jun's face flushed crimson all the way up his neck. He turned on Ben with an indignant glare. Ben seemed entirely unbothered, walked over to the table with his mug, and ruffled Jun's hair.

"Going out somewhere?"

To give Jun a moment to recover, Yeehyeon changed the subject with a question aimed at Ben. He had been curious anyway — Ben was dressed unusually neatly.

"Going for an interview."

Ben sat down across from Jun, leaving one chair between them, and replied as though it were nothing.

"An interview…?"

"A photography studio is looking for an assistant. I sent in my résumé. They scheduled me for this time, so I must be a pretty good fit, don't you think?"

"A photography studio… all of a sudden, why?"

Jun asked hesitantly.

"I've always been interested in photography, honestly. For someone like me — impulsive, instinctual — doesn't photography suit me better than painting, which requires you to sit still and really confront yourself? And if I become a fashion photographer, I get to shoot gorgeous, beautiful people all day long."

Ben draped an arm over the back of his chair and spoke in his usual laid-back way, sipping his coffee with a grin.

"Why? You still have a few months of leeway. Or have you already decided to leave? Have you talked to Reed about it?"

"I can't just sit here without results. I should give the opportunity to people with more potential than me."

Ben said it cleanly, as if it were someone else's business entirely, while still messing up Jun's hair. Then he stood, washed his mug, and left the room without lingering — telling Jun to wish him luck on his way out.

Jun, who had been struggling to find his own breakthrough, fell noticeably quieter after that, as though the situation had landed a little too close to home.

During his more than a year at 'The Hands,' Yeehyeon had seen several colleagues leave for failing to show results, and several new faces arrive to fill their places. Some gave up and left on their own even while opportunities remained; others signed with major galleries within a few months and departed early.

If the goal were simply to keep painting, a hobby would be enough. But to communicate with the world through one's work required a certain level of recognition — and that couldn't be achieved by sitting alone in a room, focused only on painting.

Since coming here, he had come to understand more clearly what Liu had done for his affiliated artists, why marketing mattered, and how fortunate it was for an artist to encounter a gallery like Phantom. But the harder truth was that not everyone got the chance to meet a dealer like 'The Hands' or Phantom.

Watching Jun's young face lost in thought, Yeehyeon unconsciously raised the mug to his lips. The coffee had gone cold, and it tasted more bitter now than it had when it was warm.