Walking down the street, Beomgyu felt the cold breeze wrap around him, making him shiver slightly. He tilted his head up toward the sky. The clouds were gray, heavy with the promise of rain. The weather suited him just fine. He never liked sunny days anyway. Warm seasons weren't his favorite. He always felt like he didn't belong under the sun, as though its light might scorch him—burn him to ash like a vampire exposed too long. Not that he thought of himself as Edward Cullen from Twilight, of course. But he knew how it sounded—strange, maybe even laughable.
Still, what he meant was that brightness didn't fit him. He wasn't the "sunny disposition" type anymore. He used to be. Once. But life had changed him. People change, especially after enduring things that wound them deeply. Pain forces evolution, reshapes people into versions of themselves they never imagined.
Everyone had their preferences. Likes and dislikes. People were all different, but Beomgyu felt like he was more different—like his very emotions, his demeanor, and even the way he saw the world were rooted in that difference. His interests weren't just hobbies. They reflected the very essence of who he was.
He imagined that by now, anyone listening to his thoughts would have already labeled him: unfriendly, cold, distant, maybe even passionless. And that was fine. That's what the world did. It judged. People looked at the surface—someone's face, posture, skin, clothes, or status—and made assumptions. That was life. But even so, judgments were often wrong. People made mistakes. No one was perfect. As the saying went: Don't judge a book by its cover.
Today marked the beginning of his second year in college. The first day of school—for most, something exciting. But not for him. Beomgyu felt nothing for it. School was just a loop: sit in class, listen, study, meet people, and wait until it's finally time to go home. Then do it all over again. Repetitive. Dull.
Sure, others found joy in making friends, learning new things, or creating memories. But he didn't. Not everyone loved school. Not everyone liked people. And not everyone wanted friends—because not all people could be trusted. He could already imagine what someone might think reading his thoughts: He's just negative. Cold. Always complaining.
But was he wrong? Could anyone truly say they knew what he had been through? Did they understand the pain that shaped him? Beomgyu didn't think so. He wasn't just whining—he was stating facts. The world was cruel. Most people were too blind to see the truth behind others' masks.
Sometimes, those who seemed kind were only pretending. Sometimes, they just wanted to use you. They'd smile to your face and insult you behind your back. Friends who gladly took your kindness, support, and attention were never there when you needed it. Not even one. And when you were broken, they left you—like a fallen leaf crushed under indifferent feet. Not all friendships were true. Some were shallow. Some were poison.
That was why he'd changed. He became more distant. More severe. He focused on himself, prioritized what truly mattered to him. Experience had hardened him—but not completely. Deep down, Beomgyu still had fragile places. Despite his serious demeanor, fear still clung to his heart. Fear of the future. Fear of being hurt again. So he built walls, kept others away. He'd rather be alone than exposed. He thought of himself as weak, an easy target—too soft for the world.
He could wear a mask, conceal his emotions, hide his true self. But no matter how much he tried to become colder, darker, more stoic, the truth always bled through. He was an open book—easy to read despite the mask. He might look tough, but inside, he was aching. Maybe he'd always be like this. Maybe he was destined to remain alone.
As he neared the school gates, he noticed people passing by, smiling and holding hands. Couples, no doubt—lost in each other's eyes, fingers intertwined, arms around shoulders. It looked sweet. Love, they called it.
But what was love, really? Beomgyu wasn't sure. He watched them laugh together and felt something twist inside his chest. Envy, perhaps. Was it possible he was craving the same affection? Even as someone who seemed cold and distant, he couldn't deny that a part of him longed for someone—someone who might pull him out of his misery and show him a different kind of light.
He scoffed. That would never happen. Not to someone like him. Who would ever love or accept him for who he was? That kind of thing was for other people—not for someone so full of self-doubt and insecurity. He hated the way he looked, hated his personality, hated how dull his life felt. He was convinced he was ugly. Useless. Worthless. Maybe his parents had been right all along.
But still, some small part of him fought against those thoughts. Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe he was being too hard on himself. He didn't know. He just wondered what the future held. Human beings were like that—always expecting something to change. Hoping for a shift, something good, something different.
Reaching his classroom building, he headed down the hall. Students clustered around their lockers, chatting and laughing. The sound of it grated on him, a constant buzz in his ears. He just wanted to get through the day and head home.
It took a few minutes, but eventually, he found his class. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he walked in quietly. The room was already half-filled with students. Some were talking, some were already on their phones, and a few were sleeping at their desks.
Beomgyu wasn't impressed. The atmosphere didn't sit right with him. Too loud. Too crowded. Too much.
Scanning the room, he spotted an empty seat near the windows and made his way there. Sitting down, he placed his hands on the desk and turned to look outside. The sky remained grey and overcast. The class hadn't even started, but he already felt the boredom creeping in.
Laughter erupted nearby. Students were already forming their little groups, laughing and joking around. He sighed quietly. He wished he could join in. He wished he had friends. But he didn't. All he could do was watch and pretend not to care. Maybe he should start talking to himself, just to fill the silence. Maybe he was crazy—but at least it would feel like someone was listening.
As he sat in thought, the classroom door opened and the teacher entered, causing the noise to die down. All eyes turned to the man holding a stack of books. He hadn't even spoken yet, but already students—especially the girls—were whispering and giggling.
"Oh my God, he's so cute."
"I wanna date him."
Beomgyu internally rolled his eyes. Of course. The obsession over looks again. As if someone's entire worth could be measured by appearance. Would they still be swooning if the teacher weren't handsome? Probably not.
"Good morning, everyone," the man said with a smile, dimples forming on his cheeks. "I'm your Biology teacher. My name is Choi Soobin. I hope we can all get along. Please be attentive in class."
More squeals followed. Beomgyu resisted the urge to groan. Yes, the teacher was good-looking, he admitted silently. But love wasn't just about appearances. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. People should fall for a person's heart, not just their face.
As the teacher began writing on the board, Beomgyu tuned out. He turned back to the window, eyes tracing the patterns of raindrops on the glass. Slowly, all the sounds in the room faded into the background. The chatter, the lecture, everything—until it felt like he was alone in a quiet world.
He didn't care about the lesson. He didn't want to be there. He let his mind drift.
And as he watched the rain fall gently from the sky, a quiet thought crossed his mind—haunting, uncertain, and full of sorrow:
Am I going to die still searching for my happy ending? Will I die alone? Will I always be like this... forever?