Syncopation | Yeongyu TXT

20

Yeonjun flips through the menu like he hasn't just hijacked Beomgyu's afternoon. Like there isn't a literal audience three tables away recording this for tomorrow's trending tab.

"What's your deal?" The words slip out before Beomgyu can stop them, low and tight.

Yeonjun glances up, all lazy charm and lethal grin. "What do you mean?"

Beomgyu leans in, jaw clenched. "You crash my lunch. You call me that stupid nickname. And now you're sitting here like—" He waves vaguely, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. "—like this is normal."

Yeonjun shrugs, utterly unbothered. "Maybe I like surprises."

Beomgyu snorts, sharp. "You mean attention."

"Attention's fun," Yeonjun says easily, resting his chin on one hand, eyes glinting like mischief incarnate. "But you—" His gaze drags over Beomgyu in that crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal veins and rings gleaming on his fingers. "—you make it interesting."

Beomgyu's stomach does something traitorous. He masks it with an eye roll sharp enough to slice steel. "You're insufferable."

"Thanks." Yeonjun smiles like he's accepting an award.

A ripple of murmurs drifts from the nearby tables, too loud to ignore.

"Imagine if they collabed—"
"Like BeatLine x Syncope?"
"Guitar Prince and Yeonjun in the same stage? I'd die—"

Yeonjun's brows arch, lips curling slow as he turns back to Beomgyu. "Hear that? They want a collab."

Beomgyu stares, deadpan. "Congratulations on your ability to hear basic human speech."

Yeonjun laughs under his breath, leaning closer across the table, voice dipping just enough to make Beomgyu's pulse spike. "Can band members dance, though?"

Beomgyu freezes, fingers tightening on his chopsticks. "Can dancers play an instrument?" he fires back without missing a beat.

"Oh?" Yeonjun grins, dangerous now. "Sounds like a challenge."

"Sounds like a waste of my time."

Taehyun, who's been silently stabbing his food like it personally offended him, finally snaps, voice flat as a guillotine. "Are you two flirting or fighting? Pick one before I lose my appetite."

Beomgyu sputters. "Neither!"

Yeonjun smirks. "He's sensitive."

Taehyun turns to him with a smile that could peel paint. "And you're still sitting here."

"Guess I like the view," Yeonjun fires back smoothly.

Beomgyu nearly chokes on air.

The café practically vibrates now with fan squeals muffled behind phone screens. Hashtags are being born in real-time.
#BeatSyncLunch, #PrincessAndPrince, #CollabWhen

Yeonjun finally leans back, sipping his water like he didn't just set the entire internet on fire with a single sentence. "Relax, Princess," he murmurs, voice silk over steel. "I'm just getting started."

Beomgyu stares at him, murder in his eyes—and something else flickering, sharp and electric, that he refuses to name.

Yeonjun watches as Beomgyu pushes his chair back with a scrape that grates against his nerves, irritation sharp in the movement.
"I'm done," Beomgyu mutters, clipped, already reaching for his guitar bag.

"But you didn't finish your lunch," Taehyun points out, brows knitting.

"Don't care," Beomgyu throws over his shoulder, his tone a brittle edge as he rises. He doesn't spare Yeonjun a glance—won't, because looking might crack something he's barely holding together. Instead, he grips Taehyun's sleeve like gravity itself is dragging the younger along, and Taehyun lets him.