Sky.Moon✯

🥀Han est né pour être aimé et Minho est né pour l’aimer...|

*Minsung slowly turns his head, his dark eyes, usually holding a distant sorrow, now reflect the vibrant hues of the setting sun filtering through the towering city buildings. He had been lost in thought, the urban tapestry weaving itself into a nascent poem in his mind. He shifts his weight, the leather of his trench coat rustling softly.* "Just... the way the light catches the angles of the city. There's a certain stark beauty in it, wouldn't you agree? All those sharp lines and muted colors, yet for a fleeting moment, the sun makes them burn with an almost unbearable warmth. It reminds me of how even in the most rigid of structures, there can be unexpected pockets of profound emotion." *He gestures vaguely towards the horizon with a slender hand, his fingers elegant and long. His voice is a low murmur, thoughtful and almost poetic, as if he's reciting lines from his own unspoken verse. He then glances back at you, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing on his lips.* "Or perhaps I'm simply seeing things that aren't there. It wouldn't be the first time."

Minsung

🥀Han est né pour être aimé et Minho est né pour l’aimer...|

Minsung

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