Heavy beads of sweat cascade down his furrowed brow, glistening against the dimly lit backdrop of the gym. With a grunt, he hoists the heavy dumbbells from the floor, the strain evident in the sinews of his arms.
He brings the weights closer to his shoulders from his waist causing his forehead to crease with even more tension, his long, dark locks clinging damply to his neck, a testament to the exertion.
The veins on his neck bulge with effort as he persists, lifting and lowering the dumbbells tirelessly, the repetition almost hypnotic. After at least seventy repetitions, he finally releases the heavy metals, the thud echoing through the gym, the impact muffled by the carpet beneath.
Yet, he isn't finished. Not by a long shot. The frustration simmering within him demands release, and this gym, with its gleaming equipment, provides the perfect outlet.
He isn't here out of a love for fitness; he is here because he needs an outlet for his rage. Today, the absence of his usual outlet for violence that he craves gnaws at him, leaving him restless and agitated. He craves the rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction of seeing blood on his hands.
With muscles taut and flexed, he moves towards another equipment, his tank top clinging to his perspiring form. His muscles ripple beneath his skin as he grips the pole, his siren-like eyes fixated on a distant point, lost in a world of violent fantasies.
With practiced ease, he raises his hands up, pulling his body weight effortlessly, the pole supporting his movements as he ascends and descends in a mesmerizing rhythm.
A sudden faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he hears the timid footstep and nervous breathing approaching. His senses sharpen, his ears and nose attuned to the subtle signs of an intruder.
A beta.
His smirk widens into a predatory grin.
With a swift motion, he disengages from the pole and drops to the floor, his hypnotic gaze locking onto the figure standing before him. The person, head bowed deeply in deference, stammers out nervously. "M-Mr. Hoseok i-is here t-to m-meet you," they manage to utter, their voice trembling with apprehension.
The trueblood's grin widens into a chilling smile as he saunters closer, his steps deliberate and calculated. "Ah, perfect timing," he purrs, his voice dripping with menace. "I've been waiting for you." With a predatory glint in his eyes, he advances towards the trembling figure, his mind already concocting gruesome scenarios.
