Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT

04

Beomgyu wakes up to the sound of hell itself.

Or, more accurately, to the sound of his phone vibrating like a jackhammer against his nightstand.

He groans, face buried in his pillow. "...What time is it? Why is my bed shaking? Am I possessed?"

The buzzing doesn't stop. It grows louder, angrier, like the phone is trying to claw its way into another dimension. He fumbles blindly, swiping at air until his fingers close around the culprit. The screen lights up, searing his retinas.

302 new notifications.

Beomgyu squints. "What the..."
For a split second, he wonders if someone died. Or worse—if he's dead and these are all condolence DMs.

Taehyun chooses this moment to kick the door open, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, hair perfectly unbothered. "Rise and shine, Cryptid Boy. You missed—" He freezes mid-smirk when he sees Beomgyu hunched over his phone, eyes wide like he's reading his own obituary.

"What's with the murder face?" Taehyun mutters, padding over to peek.

Beomgyu doesn't answer. He's too busy tapping one notification—just one, because curiosity killed the cat and apparently it's coming for him too.

The Instagram app opens.

And there it is.

@beomnote
Followers: 98,542
(+87,000 overnight)

Beomgyu stares. Blinks. Screams.

The sound that leaves his throat is part banshee, part dying vacuum cleaner. The phone launches from his hands like it personally insulted his ancestors, bounces off the mattress, and lands on the floor with a dramatic thud.

"WHAT THE HELL," he wheezes, clutching his chest. "WHAT—WHY—HOW—TAEHYUN—WHAT DID YOU DO—"

"Me?" Taehyun blinks, toothbrush still dangling. "Bro, did you join a cult while I was asleep?"

"WHY DOES MY INSTAGRAM LOOK LIKE IT'S ON DRUGS?!" Beomgyu dives for the phone like it's a live grenade, snatches it up, and scrolls furiously.

His once-quiet notifications? Carnage.
Comments flooding every old post:
"BENCH GUY?? ARE YOU SINGLE??"
"DROP THE LOW BUN ROUTINE, KING."
"Imagine being this fine AND talented. Unfair."

And the DMs—God. The DMs. Hundreds of requests stacked like a cursed Jenga tower.

Beomgyu makes a noise that might be words, might be a cry for help. "WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!"

Taehyun spits into the sink from laughing too hard. "Define wrong."

"I DIDN'T EVEN POST ANYTHING. I WENT TO BED LOOKING BROKE AND WOKE UP LIKE THIS. WHY."

Taehyun leans in, eyes dancing with pure evil. "Maybe people finally realized you're hot."

"Shut UP." Beomgyu rakes both hands through his hair, pacing the room like a man preparing for trial. "No, seriously. Explain. Now."

Before Taehyun can deliver the roast of the century, the phone rings. Beomgyu nearly drops it again when Kai's name flashes across the screen.

He answers with the grace of a hostage. "WHAT."

Kai's voice blasts so loud the RA two doors down probably hears it.
"BEOMGYU. WHAT THE HELL. DID YOU JOIN A CULT OR DID YOU SELL FEET PICS?!"

Beomgyu squeezes his eyes shut. "It's too early for this—"

"HOLY—do you know how hard I tried to make our band page hit 1k followers and you just—. BRO. BRO. WHAT DID YOU DO."

"NOTHING!" Beomgyu shouts, nearly foaming at the mouth. "I ATE KIMBAP AND SLEPT. SINCE WHEN IS THAT A CRIME?!"