Beomgyu stares at the notebook, jaw tight. He wants this—wants to play, to write, to shove his music into the world's face until it drowns out the screaming circus outside. But control? That's a myth. He learned that the hard way.
With a low exhale, he sets the pen down and grabs his phone. Time to face the devil.
Instagram loads like a guillotine blade. Notifications explode across the screen: mentions, tags, edits set to songs he hates now because they feel like teeth gnawing his nerves. He scrolls through the chaos—
#PrincessAndThePrinceLIVE trending.
Comments shrieking about collabs, duet rumors, "festival domination."
"What the hell..." Beomgyu mutters under his breath, scrolling deeper.
Then he sees it.
A comment under one of his old posts.
"Heard the King said music sounds better live 👀 are you two performing together??"
Beomgyu freezes. Blinks. "The... King?"
Curiosity claws up his spine like a parasite. Against every ounce of self-preservation, he taps the tag: @yawnjun.
The account slaps him in the face with curated chaos—mirror selfies, behind-the-scenes clips, thumbnails of a life dripping charisma. Everything Beomgyu isn't. Everything he doesn't want to be.
And then the story.
A photo of sneakers against a studio mirror, mic stand looming in frame. Caption scrawled casual, smug as sin.
"Music sounds better live 😉"
Beomgyu stares at it, pulse ticking hot and sharp in his throat.
Collab rumors? He started this crap? Of course he did.
His first instinct is to close the app, hurl the phone, bury himself in blankets until the sun explodes. But then—
Taehyun's voice again, low and merciless.
"Take the terms back."
Fine. Terms reclaimed.
Beomgyu taps Reply.
His thumbs hover for half a beat before flying.
Five words. No emojis. No smile. Just sharpened steel disguised as lowercase politeness.
"don't get your hopes up."
He stares at it for half a second. Hits send. Locks the screen before his brain can wrestle his pride into retreat.
Somewhere across campus, Yeonjun's phone pings.
Beomgyu imagines the grin spreading across that annoyingly perfect face and feels bile rise like bad coffee.
But under it, buried deep—
Something else hums. Something like the first note before the song drops.
Yeonjun's phone buzzes once.
He glances at the screen—and freezes.
Message request. From @beomnote.
The grin creeps up slow, sharp, inevitable.
"Well, well," he murmurs, sliding a finger over the screen to accept. "The Princess speaks."
He opens the message.
Five words. All lowercase. No punctuation, no emoji.
don't get your hopes up
Yeonjun laughs—quiet at first, then full-bodied enough to make Soobin glance over from the couch.
"What?" Soobin asks, deadpan.
"Nothing," Yeonjun says, already typing, grin slicing wider. "Just winning."
@yawnjun:
wow. breaking the vow of silence? honored.
@beomnote:
delete your story.
@yawnjun:
delete... the art? tragic. but no.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
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...
