poet | artist

@blunite 

perhaps it’s the spell that’s confusing him, maybe it’s the ingredients, maybe it’s all of the above. he’s the only one in the coven that never did spells & when he hears the door open he’s so relieved. “hyung!” his voice is loud, as always. “can you help me with this? it’s supposed to be a healing spell but… i don’t know what to do- it’s like math! it’s bullshit!”

                     POLITIC INTENT GLAZES TIRED EYES,   split in colour as the moon phases heaved and shoved him,  like the tides.  he worked nights,   and had nearly been wholly consumed by his exhaustion by the time he’d stepped off the bus near their apartment,  but minho’s enthusiasm was the flint to his steel,  sparked some modicum of energy back into his step.  he kicked his shoes off,   stepping onto the hardwood,  ‘ i think you must spend too much time looking at these books,  it must all blur together,  ‘  takes minimal strides to adjourn the distance between himself and his roommate,  peers down at the book in front of him,  ‘  ah… i think you need to mix the ashes of incense with the stub of a black candle and bury it, but you need to be precise with the placements of them, or else you might curse them,  ‘

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           THERE  WAS  A  SOLICITOUS  LOOK    in  fragmented  eyes,    moonlight  took  to  his  skin  like  fog  to  glass,    haunted  his  physique  and  made  a  miracle  of  him.    delicate  fingertips  dance  over  kyuhyun’s  shoulders,    compress,    a  firm  grip  with  which  he  sought  only  to  ground  his  distressed  partner.

            WHAT  WAS  HE  IF  NOT    a  pillar  to  his  friends,    if  he  didn’t  use  his  power  to  benefit  the  suffering  of  those  closest  to  him,    protect  them  with  power  that  radiated  from  him,    eddies  and  he  was  the  whirlpool.    he  pulled  the  younger  to  close  to  him,    cupped  the  back  of  his  head  despite  the  variance  in  height.

        “  i  know,    you  must  be  suffering…  “    he  hummed,    a  sadness  clinging  to  his  tongue,    syllables  laced  with  his  crystalline  care,    with  the  empathy,    not  pity,    of  a  friend,    “  we’re  here  for  you,    you  know?    minho-ssi  and  i.    let  us  help  you.  “