.precious cargo
@jihyoxdr
It’s well past midnight when Taeyong slips silently through the dormitory doors. This in itself is hardly unusual-- he has a habit of training late into the night or spending his free time sneaking off to work in the city. In fact, he hasn’t even had a chance to change from his workout clothes, still clad in a pair of sweats and a loose tank that sticks to his chest with cooling sweat. He’s wearing a jacket over the tank, his hood lifted to cover damp hair and zipper raised further than the warm July weather warrants, but that’s not too odd of a sight either. Taeyong tends to favor layers to mask his slight build.
What is unusual is the way that he’s holding a hand tucked close to his chest, almost as if cradling something inside his hoodie.
He’s careful not to let the door close too loudly behind him when he enters, bracing it with his back as he lets the door slowly, quietly click back into place. He keeps his shoulders pressed against it as his sharp eyes scan the hall ahead of him for any signs of life. At this hour, most of the other cadets should already be settled in their bunks for the night, but he knows better than to count on that. He’s walking proof that there are exceptions to every rule.
Movement against his palm draws his attention to the bundle he’s holding tucked against his chest, and his eyes soften. “Just a little further,” he assures, voice pitched low so not to wake anyone. He adjusts his jacket to tuck a little grey ear back beneath it.
