The air in the practice room was thick with the scent of sweat and floor wax, the mirrors blurred by the humidity of seven bodies moving in sync for six hours straight. We had just finished the final run-through of Black Swan, and I was buzzing—that post-rehearsal high where my muscles felt like liquid and my heart was a drum.
Namjoon-hyung was standing by the speaker, leaning over to check the playlist on his phone. He looked tired but beautiful, his hair damp and pushed back, his chest heaving under a soaked gray hoodie.
"Good job today, JK," he said, not looking up, his voice that deep, gravelly baritone that always seemed to ground me.
"You too, Hyung," I panted. I walked over, intending to give him a playful nudge or a "fighting" pat on the shoulder. At the exact moment I leaned in, he turned his head quickly to say something else.
It happened in a heartbeat.
My momentum carried me forward just as his face swung around. Instead of my shoulder hitting his arm, my mouth landed squarely, firmly, against his.
The world stopped. The music, the distant chatter of the other members, the hum of the AC—everything vanished. There was only the soft, startling pressure of his lips against mine. He tasted like lemon Gatorade and salt.
I froze. My eyes went wide, staring right into his, which were blown open in absolute shock. For three seconds, neither of us moved. My heart didn't just beat; it thrashed against my ribs. I'm kissing Namjoon. I'm kissing my leader. I'm kissing the man I've looked up to since I was thirteen.
I scrambled back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, my face erupting in a heat so intense I thought I might actually catch fire.
"I—I—Hyung! I'm so—I didn't—" I stammered, my hands flying to my mouth as if I could push the sensation back in.
Namjoon stood frozen, one hand still hovering over the phone. He blinked slowly, his fingers rising to touch his lower lip. His tan skin was flushing a deep, dusty rose.
"Jungkook-ah," he breathed. He wasn't angry. He sounded... dazed. "That was... accidental, right?"
"YES! Completely! I was just—you turned—and I was leaning—" I was vibrating with nerves, my brain a chaotic mess of oh god and his lips were so soft. "Please don't hate me. I'm so sorry. I'm a klutz, I'm an idiot—"
"Hey," he cut me off, stepping toward me. I instinctively took a step back, hitting the mirror. Namjoon stopped, a small, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—the one I had just felt against mine. "Relax. I don't hate you. It's just... physics. High velocity, bad timing."
I looked down at my shoes, my ears ringing. "Right. Physics. Just a collision."
"But," Namjoon said, his voice dropping an octave, making me look up. He was watching me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. He took one more step, closing the gap until I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "It wasn't a bad collision, Jungkook."
My stomach did a slow, heavy flip. "It wasn't?"
He reached out, his thumb grazing my jawline for a split second before he pulled back, tucking his hands into his pockets. "No. But maybe next time, let's try it when we aren't both covered in practice sweat, hm?"
He gave me a quick, dimpled wink, grabbed his water bottle, and headed toward the door. "Don't overthink it, Guk. See you at the dorm."
I stayed pinned to the mirror for a long time, my fingers tracing my own lips. The "accident" was over, but the way I felt—the electric hum in my blood and the sudden, desperate wish that he'd come back—that was no accident at all.