taehyung

The bathroom was stuffy with steam and the smell of burnt hair. Taehyung gripped the hot plates of his hair straightener for the hundredth time, trying to straighten the unruly strand at his temple. As soon as he let go, it immediately sprang back, curling into a stubborn coil. Taehyung hated it. He felt like his curls made his face look too soft, too awkward, and deprived him of the sternness he was striving for.

Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, silently watching the struggle. When Taehyung put down the straightener with a silent curse, Jungkook approached from behind. His fingers slowly dug into the thick, shampoo-scented mane.
"Are you fighting with yourself again?" Jungkook asked quietly, looking at Taehyung's reflection in the mirror.

• It's a shame. It suits you very well.
  Jungkook carefully twirled one curl around his finger, feeling its softness. He loved the way the hair tangled, the way it fell haphazardly across Taehyung's forehead, making him look like a god straight out of a painting. He leaned down, pressing his nose to the crown of his head, inhaling the scent of the hair and ignoring the displeased purse of his lips.
  Taehyung shrugged, but didn't pull away, continuing to look at his reflection with doubt.
• It's easy for you to say, Jungkook, you see aesthetics in this, but I see a poodle in the mirror who doesn't want to look serious at all.