Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT

07

Yeonjun leans in, grin tilting lazy, voice dropping low. "So what is your real name, Princess? Or do I have to bribe the campus gossip account?"

"Good luck," Beomgyu mutters, adjusting his hood. "You'll need more than followers for that."

Meanwhile, Beomgyu's phone lies abandoned on the floor, call still open. Taehyun's voice crackles faintly from the speaker:
"Gyu?! Are you there?! Damn it—"

Then silence, broken only by a flood of notifications lighting the screen:

Campus Buzz: 'BREAKING: BENCH GUY + YEONJUN IN THE SAME HALLWAY 👀'
[Attached: grainy photo of Yeonjun's hand on Beomgyu's arm.]
Caption: 'When worlds collide, we win.'

Taehyun sees it minutes later on his own feed—and bolts like hell just opened.

Beomgyu exhales, finally steady enough to pull the hood tighter. But before he can step past, Yeonjun catches his wrist again.

"Not so fast, Taekbae." The smirk falters just slightly, replaced by something sharper—curiosity flickering like a pilot light. "Who are you really?"

"None of your—"

"BEOMGYU!"

The shout slices through the hall like a blade. Loud. Raw. Taehyun's voice.

Beomgyu flinches—visibly, violently.

And Yeonjun's mind snags on the name like a hook.
Beomgyu?

Slowly, his gaze slides back to the hooded boy staring at the floor like it's going to swallow him whole.

"Beomgyu," Yeonjun repeats under his breath, tasting it like a secret.
Not Taekbae. Not Princess. Beomgyu.

But before he can say more, the sound of running footsteps shatters the moment.

Beomgyu bolts—again. Hood tight, eyes dark, vanishing into the stairwell before Yeonjun even breathes.

And all Yeonjun can do is stand there, heart kicking hard, the name echoing in his head like the first beat of a song he didn't know he needed to hear.

Beomgyu doesn't stop running until the stairwell opens into a back exit and the world outside hits him like ice water again. He bends forward, palms braced on his knees, dragging air into lungs that still feel too small.

Footsteps thunder behind him. He tenses, ready to bolt again—
"Gyu!"

He looks up.
Taehyun.
Face flushed, eyes wild, panting like he just sprinted through the apocalypse.

Beomgyu tries for a smile. It cracks halfway. "You—you run track now?"

"Shut up," Taehyun snaps, grabbing his wrist and scanning him head to toe like he's expecting bullet wounds. "What the hell happened? You sound like you were dying on the phone!"

"I'm fine." Beomgyu forces his voice steady, even though his ribs still feel like they're playing percussion inside his chest. "Just... needed air."

"Air my ass," Taehyun growls, pulling the hood forward like he's sealing him in bubble wrap. "You were two seconds from a full-blown panic attack."

Beomgyu swallows. Doesn't deny it. Can't.

But before he can speak, the noise hits him again—a wave of shrieks and chatter swelling like a storm. He glances over Taehyun's shoulder and freezes.

The quad. The same crowd. Bigger now.
Phones up, faces turned, scanning every doorway like sharks scenting blood.

Beomgyu's breath catches, a cold fist squeezing his spine. "They're still—"