You, Again || YeonGyu

The bed felt colder.

Yeonjun stirred under the sheets, blinking sleep out of his eyes. His arms instinctively reached out for the warmth he remembered holding last night—but there was nothing.

Just the soft indent where Beomgyu had been.

His eyes fluttered open.

Gone.

For a moment, he laid there, staring at the ceiling with a dull ache behind his eyes. Had he dreamed it? The weight of Beomgyu in his arms? The safety of silence between them?

He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair.

The clock read 7:46 AM.

Still a little early.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

He pushed himself out of bed, the wood floors cold against his feet as he wandered to the kitchen, expecting... hoping maybe Beomgyu was just in the other room.

But no.

Just the distant hum of the fridge and the echo of his own footsteps.

Until he saw it.

A small, folded note left on the dining table. Beside it was the now-empty plate he had prepared just hours ago.

Yeonjun reached for the paper, slowly unfolding it.

    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 stared at the word at the end.

Love.

It was the kind of word Beomgyu didn't toss around easily—not like the others. Not when it came to him.

Yeonjun bit the inside of his cheek, clutching the paper between his fingers as if it could hold him back from crumbling. A part of him wanted to smile. Another part wanted to run after Beomgyu and say everything—everything he couldn't the night before.

Instead, he just leaned back against the counter, the note still in his hands.

"He's still mad," Yeonjun whispered to no one, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "but he still called me hyung. And he ate the breakfast."

That was something.

He moved to the fridge and poured himself a glass of water. It felt too early to do anything else—too early to breathe too deeply.

But something inside him felt lighter. Like maybe... there was still a chance.

He took the note and carefully folded it back, placing it inside his wallet like a quiet promise.

Then, with a soft exhale, he turned to the sink and whispered,

"Talk to me later, Beomgyu. I'll wait."