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“I haven’t been able to call Jimin for a while,” the boy says after a moment, picking at his fingertips again, nails catching on rough skin. “There’s no power here anymore..”
His voice is casual at first, but it frays at the edges the longer he speaks. Worry slips through in small, almost imperceptible ways—how Taehyung’s shoulders lift, how his fingers won’t stay still, how he keeps glancing toward nothing in particular.
“Hyung..do you think he’s okay?”