You, Again || YeonGyu

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The noise of high school hallways was long gone now, replaced by the mechanical hum of college life. The sharp clatter of keyboards, the low buzz of vending machines, the shuffle of sneakers across linoleum floors.

Yeonjun stood in the middle of the engineering building lobby, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

So this was it.

No more uniforms. No more predictable schedules. No more glances across the chapel aisle or waiting by the school gate.

He was really here. And he was alone.

The first few weeks were overwhelming. Everyone was in a rush. Introductions that barely lasted five seconds, professors who spoke like equations were second languages, and group chats filled with academic memes he barely understood.

But Yeonjun had always been good at adapting.

He started working out more, waking up early to run before class. Not for anyone else, just to feel something again. The ache in his muscles reminded him he was still alive, even if everything around him felt distant and unfamiliar.

He made friends surprisingly fast. His smile, his charm, the way he laughed at even the driest jokes, people gravitated toward him.

But none of them knew about the nights he still dreamt about school hallways, or the chapel where he used to glance across the aisle and spot a certain someone's messy hair and sleepy smile.

No one knew about the boy in the hoodie whose name he hadn't said out loud in so long.

And then came her.

Yunjin.

He met her during a group project, late nights at the library, coffee-fueled brainstorms, quiet moments in between coding and scribbling on graph paper.

She was smart. And honest. The kind of person who didn't try to impress anyone. She had this way of teasing Yeonjun like they'd been friends for years.

It started simple. Sharing snacks. Sharing music. Walking each other halfway home.

Then came the night she brought him coffee even when she didn't have class. "Just because," she said.

That night, Yeonjun smiled at her like he hadn't smiled in a while.

It didn't take long before their dynamic shifted. The casual teasing turned softer. The glances lingered. They started sharing playlists, watching sunrises from the rooftop, even falling asleep on video calls when deadlines kept them awake.

People around them started to say it,

"friends-to-lovers vibes".

Maybe it was true.

But lately, everything had started to change.

They barely saw each other now. Calls were missed. Messages left on read. Excuses started piling up. "Sorry, I was busy." "Didn't mean to ignore you." "Let's talk later."

It stung more than he expected.

And sometimes, when he stared blankly at his calculus notes or pretended to laugh with his college friends, Yeonjun would wonder if he was just chasing something that never really filled the same space.

Because even now, after all this time, when he's alone in his dorm, and the world is quiet, he still thinks of that boy.

The one he left behind.