"Good. Maybe I'll rob your drum kit next."
"Joke's on you," Kai says, grin widening. "You'll get full access if you join. Studio space, mics, everything."
That makes Beomgyu pause mid-step.
Kai sees it. Pounces. "Yeah. You think we record in a cave? We've got real gear, man. You could... I don't know... use it for that secret contest thing you think I don't know about."
Beomgyu whips his head around. "You stalker."
Kai smirks. "You're bad at hiding ambition. And Instagram followers."
Beomgyu glares, but his brain is already doing math. Studio equipment. No rental fees. No waiting list. A chance to finish the song before the deadline.
This is not about fame, he tells himself. This is about survival.
He exhales slowly. "...I'll think about it."
Kai gasps like he just won a Grammy. "HOLY—wait, for real? You? Mr. 'I Hate People'? Thinking about joining a band?!"
"Don't push it," Beomgyu warns, tugging his hood again.
Kai grins so wide it should be illegal. "Fine. Take your time. But when you say yes—and you WILL—just know I called it."
Beomgyu mutters something obscene under his breath, but he can't stop the thought circling like a hawk:
If the band gets me closer to this song... maybe it's worth the chaos.
By the time Kai bounces away—probably to print T-shirts that say Guitar Prince World Tour, because of course he would—Beomgyu feels like he's been hit by a truck. A loud, glittery truck that runs on espresso and chaos.
He tugs his hood lower and slips into the crowd, head down, steps fast. The quad feels louder than usual. Or maybe it's just him, hyperaware of every laugh, every whisper. Like the whole campus is one giant speaker blasting his name.
Which is stupid. Nobody knows his name. Not yet.
He checks his phone again mid-stride. Bad idea.
Campus gossip page:
UPDATE: HOODED GUITAR PRINCE SEEN AGAIN 👀 STOP HIDING BESTIE
Attached: another blurry pic—him from ten minutes ago with Kai, captioned:
"This man is literally running from fame. Olympic level."
The comments are worse:
"someone tackle him and ask for an autograph."
"this hoodie has more lore than my thesis."
"NAME. DROP. NOW."
Beomgyu shoves the phone into his pocket before his soul exits his body.
The whole thing is insane. He didn't ask for this. Didn't want this. And yet—
Those comments echo in his skull.
"When's the next cover?"
"Give us the voice."
His chest tightens with something sharp. Want. Frustration. Hope twisted like barbed wire. Because this—this mess—could've been different if they noticed the music first. If that video hadn't turned him into some accidental aesthetic thirst trap.
He kicks at a loose pebble on the sidewalk, jaw tight.
Focus. Contest first. Song first. This isn't about them. It's about me finishing what I started.
But then Kai's voice slides back like a devil on his shoulder.
"Studio gear. Access. Full setup."
Beomgyu curses under his breath. Because damn it, he's right. Renting a campus studio is a bloodsport. Buying his own gear? Impossible. But a band setup? Free. Waiting. One "yes" away.
YOU ARE READING
Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT
FanfictionHe wasn't even playing. Just a notebook, a guitar on his side, and sunlight in his hair, and suddenly, Beomgyu's face is all over campus feeds. The internet crowns him the Guitar Prince. Too bad Yeonjun, the star of that dance video, hasn't forgiven...
