Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT

01

Monday, 8:04 a.m.

Something cold and wet smacks Beomgyu square in the face.

He wakes up swinging like a startled alley cat, limbs thrashing, hair in violent rebellion. Vision blurred, heartbeat screaming, he blinks until the blurry ghost leaning over him becomes his roommate.

Except Taehyun looks way too smug to be a ghost.

"Morning, Sleeping Useless," Taehyun says in his usual calm but judgmental tone, holding the weapon: a sweating water bottle. Droplets trail down Beomgyu's cheek like tears for his lost dignity. "Rise and shine. Class started—" He checks his phone with the flair of someone announcing war. "—eight minutes ago."

Beomgyu groans like a man on death row. "I hate time. I hate you. I hate academia as a concept."

"Great, you can write a paper on that in class," Taehyun deadpans, already tossing a black hoodie at his face. "Get up. Move. Breathe oxygen like a functional human."

Beomgyu flops back dramatically onto his pillow, yanking the hoodie over his head like a death shroud. "I can't. I have... influenza. Bird flu. Something terminal. Tell my professors I died nobly, holding my guitar."

"You died from being pathetic," Taehyun replies, kicking an empty ramen cup that skitters under the bed. "And from practicing until three a.m. again."

"It was two-forty," Beomgyu mutters.

"Oh wow, what restraint," Taehyun says flatly, pulling the curtains open. The sunlight sucker-punches Beomgyu in the eyes. He hisses like a feral cat.

"You're heartless."

"No, I'm realistic." Taehyun starts buttoning his shirt like he's auditioning for Most Responsible Roommate 101. "Which is why I know you're about to fake a cold."

"I'm sick."

"You're a clown."

Before Beomgyu can respond, his phone detonates with the loudest guitar riff ringtone known to mankind. Beomgyu curses in three languages, fumbling for it like it's an armed grenade.

"KAI," he groans when the call connects. "For the love of God, whisper."

"GYU-GYU-GYU!" Kai screams like an air raid siren. "You're awake! Perfect! Bro, listen—band practice this Friday. We've got a new track. It's a monster. It needs YOU."

"No," Beomgyu says immediately, his soul leaving his body. "I'm not joining your drum cult."

"Excuse you, we're an elite sonic powerhouse!" Kai gasps like a Victorian maiden. "Picture it—Beomgyu on guitar, Kai on drums, the crowd chanting your name—"

"Sounds like hell." Beomgyu flops back onto his pillow. "Delete this hallucination."

Taehyun, now calmly eating cereal from the box like a judge at an execution, adds helpfully, "You can't even wake up for Music Theory. How will you attend band practice?"

"Traitor!" Kai shrieks. "You're supposed to save him, Taehyun!"

"Tell him I'm contagious," Beomgyu mutters, eyes closed.

"You're not contagious."

"WHO HAS BIRD FLU?!" Kai screeches through the speaker.

"Nobody!" Taehyun yells back.

"EVERYBODY," Beomgyu groans. "Campus is doomed. Cancel the band."

Kai: "Stop faking illnesses and embrace destiny!"
Beomgyu: "Destiny can kiss my—"
"Language," Taehyun interrupts, like the mom friend he swore he'd never be.