the secret of kemet. taekook (complete)

𓀄‬⁴⁶. ghosts of the past

The soft glow of a laptop screen illuminated Jungkook’s face, casting gentle shadows across his sharp jawline.

He sat on the edge of his bed, legs folded beneath him, lost in his thoughts as his fingers glided over the keyboard.

it was past midnight, the night so calm and tranquil.

The quiet hum of the machine filled the room, punctuated only by the occasional click of keys.

His black-rimmed glasses perched neatly on his nose, framing his deep, thoughtful eyes.

His tousled hair, dark as midnight, fell across his forehead, a few rebellious strands curling over the edge of his glasses.

His lips, slightly parted in concentration, twitched occasionally as if he were shaping words aloud in his mind.

His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he leaned into his work, the fabric of his simple white t-shirt stretching taut against his chest, hinting at the solid muscle beneath.

He wore grey sweatpants, loose around his hips, resting comfortably on his athletic legs.

The soft fabric clung just enough to trace the lines of his thighs, muscular and toned, yet relaxed as he sat in thought.

Jungkook’s fingers paused, hovering above the keyboard, his brow furrowing slightly.

it was just him, the quiet hum of his thoughts, and the soft glow of his laptop.

He glanced at the words on the screen, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips—his latest book, the fruit almost a decade with archeology and discoveries.

a little satisfied, he set aside his laptop and stood up with a small casual stretch to his sore muscles. he needed some coffee to keep up.

Jungkook wandered into the kitchen, his body craving the warmth of coffee as the weight of his thoughts pressed against his temples.

He filled the kettle, the soft sound of running water oddly soothing in the stillness of the night.

The subtle clink of ceramic cups followed as he moved on autopilot, his mind still half-focused on the words he’d been weaving into his new book.

But something drew his attention—a figure beyond the glass doors leading to the veranda.

Jungkook’s hand froze, the coffee forgotten as his gaze drifted toward Taehyung, standing beneath the pale glow of the moon.

Bathed in silver light, Taehyung looked ethereal, like a dream in the cool night air.

His short black, silky hair, tousled by the breeze, moved gently, each strand catching the moon’s glow.

His profile was serene, his delicate features softened by the moonlight, yet sharp in their perfect symmetry—his nose, straight and proud, and his lips, slightly parted as if he were quietly breathing in the night.

its fair to say Jungkook found himself unable to look away.

It was as if time had paused, and the rest of the world blurred around Taehyung’s still figure, leaving only the soft, distant sound of wind rustling the leaves and the quiet thrum of Jungkook’s heartbeat, which seemed to grow louder with each passing second.

His breath hitched, chest tightening with a mixture of awe and something deeper, something more intimate.

something he hadn't felt for a long time. something only Tyung managed to stirr inside of him.

Taehyung, unaware of the gaze on him, leaned against the railing of the veranda, his long fingers resting lightly on the cold metal.

The breeze tugged playfully at his oversized sweater, which hung loosely on his frame, the fabric swaying like the gentle waves of the ocean.