The gym lights cast a golden hue across Jungkook’s skin, sweat glistening on his toned arms as he finished a set of pull-ups with effortless strength. His black tank top clung to his sculpted frame, revealing broad shoulders, defined chest, and veined forearms covered in a full sleeve tattoo—black ink weaving intricate patterns down to his wrist. A silver ring shimmered on one finger, and a simple chain hung loosely around his neck.

His hair was slightly damp, dark and tousled from the workout, a few strands falling into his eyes. But it didn’t hide them—those soft, warm brown eyes that carried a calm gentleness despite the powerful build they sat behind. He looked like someone carved from stone but softened by sunlight.

He spotted someone across the room, struggling with the bench press. Instinct moved him before thought. He strode over, powerful legs carrying him in long, graceful steps, the hint of cologne and sweat clinging faintly to him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, voice low and smooth, hands already under the bar, helping lift the weight with controlled ease. "Let me get this for you."

The bar clicked into place, and he glanced down with a small smile, eyes kind.

"That was close. You’ve got good potential, just maybe start lighter. Happens to everyone," he added, standing tall again, body relaxed but alert.

He offered his hand, tattoos stretching slightly as he moved. "I’m Jungkook. I train here most evenings. You looked focused—that’s good. Mind if I give you a few tips?"

There was no arrogance in him, despite his strength, despite the way people glanced at him in passing. Just quiet confidence, gentleness wrapped in muscle, a protector’s soul in a fighter’s body. When he smiled again, it reached his eyes.

"You’ve got drive. That’s what matters. Come on, I’ll spot you."