Jon ascended the stairs, away from the noise of the football team currently occupying his living room. The shirt was really starting to get uncomfortable, rubbing against his chest with each step. What was with this fabric? It was making his nipples feel so sensitive. He pausing to glance down at the shirt front, he swore he could see their buds, poking against the fabric
But he could not let himself get distracted. Jon steeled himself, suffering through the remaining steps up the stairs, as weird and bothersome as that felt. By the time he got to the upstairs hall he was half jogging, desperate to get this over with. On instinct he reached a door and headed inside, before stopping inside to catch his breath. The shirt was chaffing just horribly now, the discomfort leaving his chest feeling raw and his breathing coming heavier than it should. But no, he needed to focus.
When Jon did, he saw that he had made a wrong turn. Rather than pivot into his own room, he had instead stepped into Zoe's bedroom. His sister's abode (and abode was a good word for it) was done up with all her usual goth accent--dark violet paint on the walls, occult paraphernalia and macabre images thrown up as decoration, and retro vinyl player surrounded by heavy metal records.
Jon's first thought was to back out immediately. This wasn't his intended destination, and Zoe was usually quite territorial of her room. But then, just the walk up here had taken a lot out of him, and for some reason the prospect of going just a little further to his own room the notion was oddly daunting. And besides, some stray instinct made Jon feel that Zoe wouldn't mind. And he could find what he needed here, right?
