Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT

17

The filming set is quieter now, echoing faintly with the hum of cleanup—crew dismantling LED panels, wiping down mirrors, voices muffled to a low drone. Yeonjun slides back into view as casually as he left it, thumbs scrolling lazily through the storm still detonating on his phone. Notifications bloom bright and rapid-fire, comments scrolling faster than he can track.

"CHOI BEOMGYU?! PRINCESS CONFIRMED??"
"I NEED Yeonjun's reaction to all these edits ASAP."
"Is this rivals-to-lovers?? My delulu mind says yes 🥹"

He chuckles faintly to himself, but it doesn't settle in his chest the way it usually does. Instead, a quieter question gnaws beneath the amusement, lingering stubbornly at the back of his mind.

What the hell happened to you yesterday, Beomgyu?

"Welcome back, King," Wooyoung drawls sarcastically from across the floor, stuffing a jacket into his bag. "Did you manage to visit another dimension again?"

Yeonjun doesn't look up, shrugging nonchalantly. "Had some stuff to handle. Application things."

Heeseung arches an eyebrow, halfway through wiping sweat off his neck. "Ah, choreographer boy finally making moves?"

Yeonjun smirks, slipping easily back into his role. "Always."

"You think you'll actually get it?" Felix asks lightly, eyes wide and innocent even as his smile glitters teasingly. "I mean, RhythmWorks is kind of a big deal, right?"

Yeonjun scoffs softly, confidence bleeding into every syllable. "I'm kind of a big deal too. Perfect match, no?"

The group laughs, rolling their eyes, the tension dissolving easily as the team starts moving out, voices rising with chatter and teasing. Yeonjun trails behind, head tilted slightly, catching one last glance at the darkened floor—the space that hours ago was electric with applause and screams, now empty and echoing.

He feels a strange tug in his chest, something sharp and bittersweet.

They walk back slowly toward the practice room, shoes squeaking faintly against polished floors. It's familiar—maybe too familiar now, like an outfit worn too often, threadbare but still clinging comfortably.

As they reach the room, Felix nudges Yeonjun lightly, eyes glinting mischievously. "Planning on hiding up here again? Waiting for your guitar prince to show up?"

Yeonjun barks a laugh, shoving Felix's shoulder playfully. "He's shy, remember?"

"So you keep saying," Soobin murmurs from behind, eyes suspiciously sharp. "And yet, you seem to find him everywhere."

Yeonjun ignores that pointed comment, grinning as he sets down his bag. "You all head home first. I'm staying back—I need a solo recording for the RhythmWorks application."

There's a quiet ripple among the members. Gunwook hesitates, frowning slightly. "Does that mean... you're planning on leaving BeatLine?"

Yeonjun pauses, turning slowly. He doesn't miss the flicker of unease in the younger member's eyes. He shrugs, tone carefully casual. "Eventually, we all leave, right? BeatLine was never meant to be permanent. It's just a stepping stone."

Wooyoung's lips twitch, thoughtful. "Stepping stone to what?"

"Bigger stages," Yeonjun answers immediately, voice firm, gaze steady. "Something that lasts beyond college. BeatLine is temporary—it's ours for now, but it was never built for forever."

The silence that follows is brief, sharp, and understanding. Heeseung claps Yeonjun's shoulder once, firmly. "We know. You'll kill it."

Yeonjun smirks, casual again. "Obviously."