Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT

08

"I think joining them makes me visible," Beomgyu mutters. "And visibility is exactly what I don't want."

For a moment, neither speaks. The only sound is the hum of the old heater and the muted buzz of his phone—another notification, another reminder that hiding might not be an option anymore.

Finally, Taehyun sighs, tipping his chair back. "You know what I hoped? That someday you'd stop shrinking yourself. Stop acting like being seen is a crime. I just... didn't think the universe would throw you into the deep end like this."

Beomgyu stares at the floor, throat thick. He doesn't answer. He can't.

Because Taehyun's right. And it terrifies him.

While Beomgyu forces down half a kimbap just to shut Taehyun up, the campus feed continues detonating like a live grenade.

Post caption:
"BREAKING: Hood slipped. New hair alert. Confirmed K-drama vibes."

Comments:
"STOP GATEKEEPING HIS NAME."
"why does this look like a confession scene???"
"protect his privacy, y'all—"

Among the chaos, a single comment from @tyuniverse slides in like a knife:
"Privacy exists for a reason. Try respecting it."

It racks up likes quietly, swallowed by the flood.

Beomgyu doesn't see it. He doesn't touch his phone all night.
He just lies awake, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, thinking about deadlines and disasters and the one thing he can't stop hearing.
You can't control the noise. But you can control what you do next.

Morning comes like an unwelcome guest: loud, bright, and impossible to ignore.

Beomgyu lies facedown in his pillow, hoping consciousness will take the hint and leave him alone. No such luck—because the banging on the door starts before his brain fully boots up.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Open up, legends!"

Beomgyu groans into the sheets. "Oh God. No."

Taehyun, already awake and scrolling through something on his laptop, doesn't even look up. "Sounds like Kai."

"Sounds like my funeral," Beomgyu mutters, dragging the blanket over his head.

The door swings open anyway, because apparently Kai considers locks a suggestion.

"GOOD MORNING, ROCKSTARS!" Kai bursts in like a weather event—hair a mess, iced coffee in one hand, and a grin so wide it should require a permit. "Guess who's trending with Yeonjun again?"

Beomgyu makes a noise like a dying animal. "Get out."

"Guess who's already got fan cams and ship threads?" Kai sings, ignoring him. "BENCHLINE COUPLE IS REAL, BABY!"

"Get OUT," Beomgyu repeats, louder this time, reaching blindly for a pillow to throw.

Kai ducks, laughing, and plops into Taehyun's desk chair like he owns the place. "No can do. I'm here on official band business."

"Band?" Beomgyu cracks one eye open, glaring from the safety of his blanket cave. "I told you yesterday—"

"I know, I know," Kai cuts in, waving his coffee like a contract. "You 'can't.' You're 'not interested.' Blah blah blah. But hear me out: rehearsal room. Full setup. Mics. Amps. Drum kit. Everything you need to record your precious contest track. Free. No waitlist. No rental fees."

Beomgyu stares at him, pulse stuttering.
He hates that it sounds tempting.
Hates it more because Kai knows it.

"There's just one tiny condition," Kai adds, grin sharpening.