ripemuscat
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Reflexively, his eyes flickered toward Jungkook.
He was sitting next to Yoongi, surrounded by staff helping him remove his mic, patting away the sweat clinging to his clothes.
One of them held out a fresh shirt. As Jungkook pulled off the damp fabric, his abs came into full view—sculpted muscle, sweat tracing slow lines down his toned torso, the sharp definition of his frame illuminated under the bright lights.
His broad shoulders flexed slightly as he wiped his face with a towel, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly mesmerizing. Even in exhaustion, his presence commanded attention.
Taehyung’s breath hitched before he quickly looked away, heat creeping up his neck. His heart stuttered in his chest, an unwelcome betrayal of emotions he thought he had under control.
“Taetae, you okay?”
Jimin’s voice pulled him back. He turned, only to find Jimin watching him closely, brows slightly furrowed in curiosity.
“What?” Taehyung asked, feigning indifference.
Jimin squinted. “Your face just turned bright red.”
Bookmarked by ripemuscat
21 Mar 2025