[ ▸▸ ] – Tears were somewhat of a foreign substance to the boy, not necessarily his strongest suit in taking care of– to cry for the Angel, meant to assume the place of weakness in one’s demeanor. Due to such, he’d always strived to come forth as one with an exterior of… Titanium. Something strong, for lack of better term. However, could he truly be considered strong? A sincere rush of water plagued by salted substance had redeemed itself fresh– he was crying like a fucking baby because he knew
–he was well aware that for someone of his age and species– that he was weak. It was such a saddening thought, vining throughout his insecurities in such a way that the young male couldn’t hold himself back. Not from the pitch ebony screams that emitted from no one but himself. It was a gradual brush of talent that helped an individual through the overcome of another’s opinion; in comparison, it was truly remarkable to break past your own self-opinionated thrashes as opposed to the help and security granted to find upon by other souls reaching out to fight the ideas of someone opposing your presence.
But how could you help yourself, when it was almost impossible to face your faults?
“I’m not– these aren’t tears,” Taemin choked out from behind a pair of thin, cracked lips, abused by a line of pearly whites serving simply to apply harsh pressure upon the delicate lower petal. Clutching the thin fabric to his blanket, he pulled it over his shoulder, gaze averting subtly. “They’re really not, I swear–”
[ ◈ ] Feeling the sadness of others was not something with which Kibum was unfamiliar. He had spent many a time (read: hundred of years) soothing and healing those closest to him, and even those he’d just met. There were always reasons - reasons behind each and every solitary tear that made it’s way across another heartbroken cheek, and though there always things that he didn’t personally understand, each and every one he had encountered, save for a very select few, had been something he could fix.
Healing others and their torments had always brought him a deep sense of fulfillment, and a peace that could be matched by very few things - and so when he had felt, and nearly seen the familiar waves of sadness rolling off of the other, particularly someone that he was so close to, he felt himself being drawn closer, the familiar ache of wanting to heal and soothe filling him from the inside out. He took quiet, languid steps towards Taemin, who was covered strategically by a large blanket, as if to block out the hollowing sadness that had washed over him.
“It’s okay,” Kibum said, his voice more subdued than it’s usual timbre, “whether they are or not, it’s just me - no need to hide anything.” His soft pink lips curved upwards in a reassuring smile, and though the other wasn’t looking at him for the moment, he maintained his soothing nature, taking a carefully calculated seat near, but not too near the younger male. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me sob like a toddler on more than one occasion, right? I’m nothing if not a crybaby when I need to be.”
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