[yoongi/jungkook] ; mic drop

[toughkookie]

they've been practicing for two hours already, and jungkook needs a fucking break. it's hard work and it doesn't help that the room they're in is shit, there's no kind of air circulation, nothing but heavy heat and he knew that this kind of shit, this kind of life wasn't glamorous before he ever took a step into it but still, fuck. he's already soaked through the black tshirt he wore today and he can feel the way that the sweat runs over his skin (and that's after dumping the last bottle of water over his head, relishing in the few moments of sweet relief before it started all over again).

who would have known that even something like this, even underground dancing would lead to this kind of shit. long hours of practice, perfecting, and sure, he asked for it when he agreed to join the crew. he asked for it when hoseok made him one of the lead dancers, and he proved himself. he wanted to prove himself. he can do it, he knows he can, can do this choreography better than most of the rest of the guys in here at this point so fuck it - if he needs another ten, he'll take another ten. and if it turns into fifteen, maybe even twenty, well - he couldn't possibly give less of a fuck. definitely not when he's sat up against the wall, leaning against it, downing half a water bottle in one go and idly watching while hoseok goes over the same eight count again with the rest of them, wondering how the hell it can be so difficult and simultaneously thanking it all for the opportunity to breathe and take a drink. as it stands, his breath is still coming in slight pants, muscles tingling as he runs a hand through his hair, damp from a mixture of water and sweat. he's contemplating emptying the rest of this bottle over his head too, letting his head fall back against the wall and closing his eyes in the meantime, because fuck. he deserves it. he knows he does.