His thumb hesitates over the trending thread pinned to the top:
[@ghostinplaintext | 24k Likes | 4.3k RTs]
"People think yesterday was rivalry? Look closer. This isn't hate. This is heartbreak."
🧵: a theory no one asked for (but you can't ignore).
Yeonjun taps. And the floor drops out from under him.
[1/7]
"Yeonjun and Beomgyu weren't rivals—they were dating. For months."
[2/7]
"Evidence: Yeonjun often absent from BeatLine hangouts around the same nights Beomgyu posted vague late-night captions."
Screenshots follow: his own Instagram stories—neon lights, empty roads, a single word: "Alive."
"God. He thought he was being poetic, not handing over ammunition."
[3/7]
"Beomgyu wanted to stay private. Yeonjun didn't. Tension brews. Then BOOM—Beomgyu shows up in BeatLine's viral dance video. Was it rebellion? A cry for attention? Either way, the relationship starts to crack."
[4/7]
"Yeonjun's captions were flirty, fight me."
A screenshot of his selfie: head tilted, smirk lethal, caption reading: 'Some storms are worth chasing.'
"Replies: OH. OH???"
Yeonjun's stomach knots, bile sharp at the back of his throat. He scrolls, faster now, even as every line feels like glass under his skin.
[5/7]
"The song seals it. This Is My Answer = Beomgyu's goodbye letter. Lyrics about silence, cold nights, waiting for someone who doesn't show. This wasn't random. This was heartbreak turned melody."
Yeonjun stops breathing. For a second, the words tilt, swim, blur—but they don't vanish. They just burn deeper.
He scrolls again.
[6/7]
"Yesterday's café fight? Final straw. Two people who loved hard, fought harder, and couldn't keep it behind closed doors anymore."
[7/7]
"Don't call it rivalry. Call it tragedy."
Yeonjun's grip tightens until the phone creaks.
What the hell is this?
Dating him? Fighting over going public? As if their entire mess of a connection—if you can even call it that—was some tragic love story worthy of fan cams and hashtags?
His pulse roars. Heat licks up his spine, burning out reason. He shoves the chair back hard enough to rattle the desk, grabs his jacket, and bolts.
The walk across campus is a blur of noise and neon. Voices hum at the edges of his awareness—soft gasps, sharp whispers—but Yeonjun doesn't slow. His thoughts are knives spinning in the dark.
They think we broke up. They think the song was about me. They think—fuck, they think there was an 'us.'
And the worst part? People are buying it. Eating it alive. Writing entire novels in quote tweets while the truth—messy, jagged, unmarketable—rots under the weight of their fantasies.
His chest tightens, breath sawing harsh as he climbs the stairs two at a time. The band building hums faint with music—a baseline pulse threading through the walls like veins.
He follows it. Lets it drag him down the hall until he finds the door. It doesn't take long for him to guess where Beomgyu is.
Laughter bleeds through first. Kai's loud bark, Yujin's soft trill. Then the music—a half-finished track looping like a heartbeat, stubborn and raw.
Yeonjun doesn't knock. He slams the door open so hard the hinges shriek.
The room freezes. Heads whip around. Kai's sticks clatter to the floor.
YOU ARE READING
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...
