You, Again || YeonGyu

The sun peeked gently through the curtains, spilling warm light across the room. It reminded Beomgyu of home—too soft, too safe, too real.

He stirred beneath the covers, blinking sleepily. As his senses returned, he felt something... different.

His arms were wrapped around something firm.

No, not something.

Someone.

He tilted his head slightly, nose brushing against soft cotton. His eyes widened as he registered what he was holding: a chest. A body. His arms were tucked around a waist. A familiar warmth pressed against him.

Yeonjun.

Oh. Right.

Memories of last night came rushing in. The argument. The couch. The strange figure outside. Crawling into Yeonjun without a second thought. The safety of being near him, even after everything.

He didn't move.

Instead, he stared ahead, letting the silence wrap around them like a second blanket.

Did Yeonjun really say he loved me?
Or was that just the haze of hurt and sleep?

Slowly, he tilted his chin up.

Yeonjun was still asleep. Peacefully, almost childlike. His arms had somehow found their way around Beomgyu during the night, one draped loosely over his waist. His lips were parted just slightly in a soft pout, his breathing calm and steady.

Beomgyu's chest tightened.

How could anyone stay mad at a face like this?

He found himself smiling.

For a second, just a second, he let himself wonder. Let himself feel.

His fingers hesitantly moved, brushing against Yeonjun's collarbone. He brought one arm up, wrapping it loosely around Yeonjun's neck and slowly leaned in—

But stopped.

Just inches away.

His breath caught.

This isn't right.

Not yet.

He sighed quietly and slipped out of Yeonjun's hold as carefully as he could, making sure not to wake him.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, just looking back. The lump of blankets, the warm light, the boy sleeping like nothing ever broke between them.

Then he got up.

Classes. Right. Reality still exists.

He went through his morning routine like muscle memory—shower, clothes, brushing his hair, packing his bag. His fingers moved out of habit, but his mind stayed back in that room.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he was met with an unexpected sight: a sticky note on the fridge, barely hanging on.

He peeled it off and read it.

    I know what I did last night was terrible.
I made you an apology breakfast—just microwave it later.
Maybe we can talk about it when you're ready.
—YJ

Beomgyu smiled.

So that's why Yeonjun didn't wake up with him this morning.

He opened the fridge and found the breakfast neatly prepared: pancakes, scrambled eggs with bacon, and a glass of juice beside the leftover pizza. His heart clenched a little.

He ate quietly, not rushing.

The house felt still—too still—but not in a lonely way. More like... something in the air was waiting.

Before heading out, Beomgyu grabbed a pen and scribbled a note on a loose page from his notebook. He folded it neatly and left it on the table beside Yeonjun's now-cold coffee mug.

    Thanks for the breakfast, hyung.
But this doesn't mean I've forgiven you for what happened last night.
I'm off to school now—maybe we'll talk later.
If you leave my house, please lock the door.
There's a spare key behind the TV.

    Love,
—Cbg

He hovered for a second—unsure if he should've signed it with "love."

But he didn't take it back.

Beomgyu slipped out the door, the morning sun casting long shadows behind him.

And for the first time in a while, he didn't feel like he was running away.