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"Fuck. I think a worm just slithered into my boots," Jeongguk grumbled with a grimace, trudging shortly behind Namjoon. The thick mud squelched beneath their feet and gooey droplets had squirted up on particularly hard steps, splashing the two men in the face. Both had rivulets of watery dirt underneath their knees tickling the skin.
Namjoon glanced back. "It's probably just mud," he reassured.
"Feels like we're walking through glue. The ground keeps trying to eat my feet up." Jeongguk moaned when a wet leaf hit him in the chin. Their hair was soaked with rain and residue of dirt that would surely crust up by the time they reached the house — if they ever did at this rate, as it seemed they'd been struggling for hours — and it would be a pain to get out.
"I'm already one with the ground, Gguk. They swallowed up these flip-flops back at the start. I'm not even sure if they're on my feet anymore or buried under the mud behind us," Namjoon said. Jeongguk snorted and hurried up his pace, squinting through the skeletal trees whistling in the heavy wind and pelting rain.
"I see the silhouette of the house. We'll be there in a few—" A yelp cut the younger of the two off as he flew to the ground face first. Namjoon turned back with a concerned gasp, nearly tumbling over himself when the mud delayed his legs, but when Jeongguk lifted his upper half up, a noise between a choke and a laugh escaped from the teacher's throat when he caught the sight of Jeongguk.
Grumbling laughter continued to spill from Namjoon's chest when Jeongguk opened up his eyes, two bright white circles in the middle of clumpy mud. It looked almost comical and the harsh wind and clashes of thunder and violent rain had momentarily been forgotten — until Jeongguk let out an unmistakably clear painful whine.
The last bubbles of laughter faded. Namjoon crouched down beside Jeongguk who was holding himself up by his arms. There, even in the grey light and rush of nature, was Jeongguk's foot twisted unnaturally beside a broken branch disguised with the brown ground.
"Your ankle," Namjoon whispered.
"Is it broken? Fuck, don't let it be broken—" Jeongguk hissed when Namjoon's gentle fingers brushed against it.
Namjoon looked mildly relieved. "It's not broken. I think it's just sprained."
Jeongguk cursed. "That's still over a month in bandages."
Guilt overwhelmed Namjoon. Jeongguk was a choreographer. The worst thing that could happen is damage to his legs. Namjoon should've made sure the path was clear even if he was barely managing himself in non-salvageable sandals, after all, he was the older one and the one leading.
"I'm sorry, Gguk. Do you have any sessions coming up?" Namjoon asked.
"Not until mid December for the Christmas performance," Jeongguk answered, breathy little ah ah ah's coming from his mouth as Namjoon helped him sit up, successfully covering Jeongguk in more wet mud that was surely seep through the thin jeans and stain them permanently.
