Jimin a

– Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

There was almost no fresh air left in the room. Two months of training had erased the boundaries of politeness: now the artist himself and the lead dancer communicated through close contact, interaction, and touching right during the dance. Jimin, staggering with fatigue, watched in the mirror before another run-through as Yoongi peeled the wet tape from his neck. He didn't turn around, but his tense shoulders made it clear he felt his artist's heavy gaze.

During the final run-through, Yoongi grabbed Jimin by the waist too abruptly. His fingers dug into his sides, crumpling the fabric of his shirt. Jimin didn't flinch; instead, he deliberately leaned his head back against the dancer's shoulder, letting his wet neck catch the dancer's hot, ragged breath. Yoongi didn't let go in time. He slowly moved his hand higher, to his shoulder blades, lingering there for an extra second. It didn't feel like star worship, more like a quiet test of how far he'd be allowed to go.

When the music faded, they sank to the floor. Jimin unceremoniously stretched out his legs, throwing one over Yoongi's knee. Yoongi didn't even flinch, merely squeezing his ankle as usual, kneading the sore muscle with short, firm movements. Yoongi stared straight ahead, but his entire attention was focused on this simple physical contact.

Jimin licked a salty drop from his upper lip and narrowed his eyes mockingly:

– Maybe you should stretch something other than my ankle? You don't look tired at all, I see.

grueling workouts