The script

10- The Fail

Taehyung arrived before the sun even crested the LA skyline, hoping that the early hour would give him a few precious moments of peace. He wasn't expecting Jungkook to be there, and, thankfully, he wasn't.

The studio felt quieter than usual. The makeup trailer was lit in soft white, warm enough to dull the tension thrumming under Taehyung's skin. He kept his head down as he walked past the craft table, grabbed a bottle of water, and slipped into the farthest makeup chair like he was trying to become furniture.

Maybe today would be quiet. Maybe today, his body would forget.

But as soon as he settled, he heard footsteps behind him slow, confident.

Jungkook.

Of course.

"Early start," Jungkook said casually, voice smooth as ever. He sat down in the chair next to him like nothing had changed, like Taehyung hadn't spent the entire night unable to stop replaying every sound he'd heard through those paper-thin hotel walls.

The breathy groans. The low growl. The unhurried rhythm of it. The thought of Jungkook's hand wrapped around himself, how big it was, how he might look doing it. How he might sound if someone else were under him instead.

Taehyung adjusted the collar of his hoodie and kept his eyes glued to his phone.

"Rough night?" Jungkook added, sipping from a takeout coffee cup.

Taehyung didn't respond.

"You look flushed."

Taehyung faked a yawn. "Didn't sleep much."

The makeup artist hummed. "That's Hollywood for you."

Jungkook's eyes flicked up, and he smiled, just a little. "Mm. Some of us were busy."

Taehyung's scent patch started heating again, warmth blooming across his skin.

He excused himself the second his base makeup was done.

In the bathroom, he peeled off the warming patch and slapped on a new one with trembling fingers. He gritted his teeth as it cooled. He didn't want to need this. He didn't want to feel this way at all.

Especially not because of Jungkook.

Their first scene of the day was a tense dialogue exchange short lines, long pauses, simmering emotion.

Taehyung was a disaster.

He stumbled on his blocking twice. Fumbled his second line. Missed his mark completely during the second take, bumping into Jungkook's chest. The contact sent a jolt through his body, and he jumped back like he'd touched a stove.

"Cut!" the director called, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Reset!"

Jungkook leaned in a little, tone almost gentle. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Taehyung snapped, brushing past him.

But he wasn't.

He couldn't stop hearing it, that low moan. The growl at the end. His own hips had bucked when he heard it last night, grinding into the mattress with shameful need. And Jungkook had to know. Had to feel the way Taehyung reacted whenever they were close.

He needed to get a grip.

During lunch, Taehyung picked a corner table in the back, hoodie pulled low over his face, headphones in but not playing anything. He chewed on a granola bar and hoped the hour would pass quietly.

It didn't.

Jungkook sat down across from him without a word. Popped the tab on an energy drink.

Taehyung didn't even look up.