Minsung

BOY LOVE. The picture is NOT mine. Long ago, before mortals learned to name the constellations, there stood in a forgotten temple two statues said to be older than the gods themselves. One was the Gilded Serpent, a figure carved with scales across his marble skin, adorned in golden bands that shimmered like sunlit water. The other was the Laurel-Born, a tall guardian crowned with a wreath of eternal gold. The myth tells that these were not statues at all, but punished deities caught in a moment of forbidden devotion. The Serpent was once a trickster god of transformation—beautiful, rebellious, always slipping between forms, always testing the will of the heavens. The Laurel-Born was a warrior of dawn, sworn to order and light, sculpted from the first morning rays. They were opposites: chaos and law, shadow and radiance, a serpent and a soldier. Yet they loved each other in secret, meeting where the boundary between day and night thinned. When the heavens discovered their bond, the gods feared what the union of chaos and order might bring. So they froze the lovers in stone—not to destroy their love, but to trap it forever. The Serpent was carved sitting, the moment he reached up to touch the warrior’s face. The Laurel-Born was frozen mid-lean, his hand resting protectively at the serpent’s waist. Their eyes locked, inches apart, eternally on the verge of a kiss they could never complete. But the legend whispers that on nights when the moon is at its thinnest and the air trembles with old magic, the gold on their bodies doesn’t just shine-it pulses. Like a heartbeat trying to begin again. Some say the curse is weakening. Some say the gods’ fear was right all along. And some believe that if the lovers ever finish the moment they were sculpted in the world will change. For better or for worse, no one agrees. They awoke Minho is the one carrying Jisung. His eyes covered by his hair. Han has scars all over his body.