@khjaeism { starter! }
Perhaps, it had been rather foolish of him to wander outside among snowy atmosphere in nothing more than hoodie and tattered jeans, to think it’d be sufficient enough fabric to make journey from his Itaewon loft to studio that resided four or five blocks down. Granted, dancer should have noted those lingering stare of concern darted his way, yet, he’d never been one to care for what others thought if it did not pertain to dance itself. Jaxon finds regret in his careless decision after he’s made trip and found himself inside studio confines -- a sniffling mess, digit half frozen, and previous fever (one he’d thought was done with) seemingly flaring high once more. Palm comes to forehead, pushing back bangs, as soft pants of warm breath are gusted outward in a rasp tone. He feels like shit, that much is apparent, digit shaking and frame crouched down in order to keep himself from staggering more than he should.
Concerns from employee that has been assigned in front desk of studio’s sign in, pushed away with wave of hand and after a moment he’s shifting to stand instead of facing further abashment in lobby. Groan, however, slips past parting tier the second he slips into assigned studio room; duffle bag that’d been weighing upon shoulder tossed to side in careless manner before he’s reaching in coat pocket to retrieve mobile -- already dialing number without second thought. While other line proceeds to ring into ear, Jaxon finds himself kneeling once more, forehead pressing to knee as a slow breath is exhaled; partially shaken. “Hyung...” he doesn’t bother for opposite end to respond, digit brushing through lock once again when head finally lifts, pupil adjusting to studio lighting, “...can you bring me something warm to drink?” for a brief moment, air is tugged into and held within cheek, childish gesture made only to fade as quick as it’d occurred, “...and hurry up... before I kick the bucket.”
