You, Again || YeonGyu

After (errhhh ykyk) graduated, something quietly shifted inside Beomgyu. He never said it out loud, but that summer felt like the world had tilted on its axis. For weeks, he barely spoke to anyone. Not even Soobin. He buried himself in books, in late-night journaling, in the kind of silence that only comes when you miss something you were never brave enough to hold.

But he kept going. Because the guys words haunted him in the best way possible: "Don't neglect your studies."
So he didn't.

Beomgyu studied harder than he ever had. He kept writing, too. pages and pages of fiction that always ended up sounding a little too much like real life. His characters always seemed to carry familiar smiles. He started entering writing contests anonymously. One day, he won. Then another. Then an editor emailed him and asked if he'd consider turning one of his entries into a novel.

By second year of college, Beomgyu was publishing his first book under a pen name. He never told his professors. Only his closest friends knew. And even they had to find out by accident.

He took Creative Writing as his major—something he never thought he'd be brave enough to do. He also started volunteering part-time at a kindergarten for a school project and ended up falling in love with it. The kids made him laugh on days he didn't think he could. Some of them reminded him of his past self—quiet, wide-eyed, always thinking too much.

And now?

Beomgyu is 22. A published author. A part-time kindergarten teacher. A full-time daydreamer. He lives in a cozy apartment with books stacked higher than his head and instant noodles hidden behind his cereal boxes. He still wears oversized hoodies and drinks iced coffee even in winter.

He's the kind of person who leaves sticky notes on his mirror to remind himself that he's doing okay. He hasn't dated anyone since high school. He says he's waiting for something that feels right, even if he doesn't know what that is yet.

Sometimes, he rereads his old journal entries and laughs at how dramatic he used to sound. Other times, he cries. He says that's normal.

Because growing up isn't about forgetting what hurt.
It's about learning to carry it differently.

—

The scent of crayons, baby powder, and faintly burnt toast clung to the air as Beomgyu gently closed the lid of a pink glittery lunchbox. A note he wrote in a rush at 6 AM was taped inside: "You're a star today, Hana! Keep shining."

The little girl beamed up at him, two pigtails sticking out like antennas. "Teacher Gyu, do stars eat rice?"
Beomgyu blinked. "I mean... probably. Cosmic rice."
She nodded like it made perfect sense, then waddled off with her lunchbox and a mission.

He chuckled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. The bell rang for dismissal, but his shift wasn't over—not really. After changing out of the pastel yellow apron and waving goodbye to the last parent, he plopped onto the beanbag in the corner of the classroom.

His laptop lay open, half a paragraph blinking at him from his latest manuscript. The main character was stuck, emotionally constipated, and frustrating. "Why won't you just admit you miss him already?" he muttered, smacking his forehead with a pillow.

Still, he smiled. There was peace in this chaos. A strange joy in balancing teaching ABCs in the morning and crafting heart-wrenching fiction at night. It felt weirdly... perfect. Like maybe he was finally growing into his own life.

A child's crayon drawing peeked from his tote bag. him with a giant sunflower on his head and five hearts drawn around. He slipped it into his journal, like all the rest.

Beomgyu didn't think much about the past these days. Not because it didn't matter. But because the present, somehow, felt warm enough to hold.

—

(a/n : idrk where's this story going, like I'm lil confused💔)