The warm glow of the pendant lights bathed the nearly empty café in a soft amber hue. Chairs were flipped onto tables, dishes stacked, the espresso machine humming one last breath before silence.
Huening Kai wiped down the counter, sneaking glances at Yeonjun, who still sat near the window — the same place he'd been since the afternoon. Soobin noticed too but said nothing, only exchanging a look with Kai and Taehyun.
Beomgyu stood by the shelf near the pastry display, carefully placing the last of the leftover sweets into a box. His expression was quieter now — less guarded, but not exactly open either.
"We're closing," Soobin said gently, approaching the window where Yeonjun sat. "But… you can stay a bit longer if you need."
Yeonjun looked up, something unreadable in his eyes. He gave a small nod.
Soobin turned to Beomgyu, voice calm, "We'll wait outside. Take your time."
Huening Kai glanced between the two before pulling Taehyun toward the door. "We'll be just out front if you need anything," he added, trying to keep things light. But his eyes lingered a second too long on Beomgyu, worry flickering behind his usual calm.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the café in a near hush — just the soft hum of the fridge, the quiet clink of a teacup as Beomgyu moved toward the table.
He sat across from Yeonjun, arms folded lightly on the table, the quiet between them almost unbearable. There was no one else around now — no more hiding behind customers, or friends, or time.
Yeonjun inhaled deeply, grounding himself. His voice, when it came, was rough with hesitation.
"So… how have you been?" he asked, trying not to sound like he was grasping. "These six years... the US… was it okay?"
Beomgyu looked away, a soft breath slipping from his nose. "It was… lonely," he admitted, though his tone didn't seek pity. "Cold at first. Strange. Like starting over on an empty page."
He fiddled with a napkin, eyes distant. "But I managed. I survived. Did what I was told. Studied hard. Graduated early." He paused, then added with a hollow chuckle, "Even made my parents proud, finally."
Yeonjun's chest tightened. "I'm glad you made it through," he said softly, eyes fixed on Beomgyu. "But… I'm sorry you had to go through it like that. Alone."
Beomgyu didn't respond at first. His silence was enough to answer it.
Yeonjun leaned forward, voice lowering. "Did you ever… find someone new?"
Beomgyu's fingers froze. His eyes met Yeonjun's — unreadable, distant, but holding something just beneath the surface.
"Yeah," he lied smoothly, blinking once. "I did."
A beat passed.
Yeonjun didn't speak — didn't move. But something visibly cracked behind his eyes. He tried to smile, tried to pretend it didn't pierce him.
"I'm happy for you." His voice barely passed as a whisper.
Beomgyu's expression didn't change. He looked calm, almost too calm — the kind of calm that cost something to wear.
"You shouldn't be," he finally said, looking Yeonjun dead in the eyes. "Because part of me wanted you to be hurting just as much."
Yeonjun's lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. The weight of Beomgyu's honesty dropped like stone between them.
"Six years," Beomgyu continued, voice hoarse now. "Six years of pretending I was okay. Six years of wondering why I wasn't enough to make you choose me. Six years of reliving the way you looked at me in that office — like I was just… a problem."
Yeonjun closed his eyes for a moment. Pain lined every crease of his face.
"You were never a problem. You were—"
"Then why did you treat me like one?" Beomgyu cut in, not angry, just… exhausted. "You wanted that promotion so bad you threw me, Soobin, everyone under the bus. You let your ambition drown everything we had."
"I know," Yeonjun rasped. "I know I ruined it. And every day I asked myself what kind of person I became. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Even after I got what I wanted, I felt… nothing. Just guilt. And I wanted to fix things but…" he let out a bitter breath, "by the time I tried, you were already gone."
The room felt even quieter.
"I used to imagine you showing up out of nowhere," Yeonjun confessed. "Even though I didn't deserve it. I wanted one more chance. Just one. And now you're here, and I can't tell if I should be grateful or terrified."
Beomgyu's voice was low, but unwavering. "I'm not the same person you knew, Yeonjun."
"I know," Yeonjun said. "But I'm not the same either."
Silence hung between them. Beomgyu glanced at the door — where Kai, Soobin, and Taehyun had vanished to give them space. His throat bobbed once.
"I still think about you," Yeonjun said quietly. "Every single day. Not just because I miss you. But because I hate who I became, and I know I don't deserve you anymore."
Beomgyu blinked rapidly, but his eyes stayed dry. His voice cracked slightly.
"You're right," he said. "You don't."
Yeonjun nodded slowly, the words cutting deep — but not unexpected.
Beomgyu looked at him again — really looked. And beneath the hurt, the betrayal, the years apart, something flickered.
Not forgiveness. Not yet.
But the pain had been acknowledged. The truth had been spoken.
And in that raw, bleeding silence, there was finally room to breathe.