( WARM THOUGHTS )
@nxinha
lead that fires through the skin and sinks it’s teeth into your shoulder leaves no mercy, with blood gushing against his pale skin and the head dizzyingly spurring im sehun with bruises and a bloody hole in his arm is looking for solace. looking for warmth in the midst of a hot carnival day.
battered weak, the mind fleshy and fragile what is he really doing here?
no longer hunting for the stretched smiles and unburdened laughs to hang in the late summer’s air, all he is, existing in this festival is a black hole of dark clothing with a bloody, beaten body. (yes, this very profound, very incredible superhuman was just mortal and in wounds.) his frail joints and his bruised skin tainting him purple sore his body only calls for drawn curtains and the cotton of his sheets.
not the mingling of bodies, held up laughter and merry company. something quite like the vision before him, weighing dread.
it doesn’t make sense that he’s here, in the cry of his muscles and throb of his arm in the thick of a crowd.
but it’s like magnetism, or something like that. because the crowd clears almost magically, comedically if anything to open up to some sort of celestial air of rule.
of course it opens up to a gorgeous hwang inha, skin again under the touch of sunlight and a bloody, battered and beaten im sehun struggling for that charming grin he seemed to have misplaced.
(what a joke.)