As a Gyustan, I, of course, love every little last part of our dear leader Kim Sunggyu. Even if it weren’t a necessity to adore every tiny bit of him (there’s a contract; other Gyustans understand me), it’s not like it’s a burden or anything. I mean, this a man whose every last cell invites devotion. Just take a look at those hands!

My Gyu, those hands. I keep saying I will dedicate a chapter to those hands one day, but it’d be easier for me to just smear syrup all over my body and lay down on top of an ant hill. That’d be a cakewalk compared to trying to find the right words to describe those ten digits.

Mmm, and that back. I’d hate to see him leave, but I wouldn’t mind watching him go!

 (So cheesy, but so accurate. Don’t shoot me!)

Isn’t it patently unjust for a man to radiate iness even from the most ridiculous bits of his anatomy? I mean, who on Earth has a y clavicle? How did he pack so much iness into that little exposed dip between his neck and shoulder? Doesn’t that just beg for some…um, double-dipping? (I don’t know where I was trying to go with that pun. Assume something dirty and not appropriate for general audiences. And clever, of course).

Yes, our dearest leader is composed of nothing but lovable bits.

However, there is one portion of the Gyu’s spectacular anatomy that is wholly more spectacular than the other parts. It’s not just pretty; oh no, nothing as mundane as that. Although okay, they’re utterly pretty…

(Ahem, I’m going to need a moment to grab a paper towel several paper towels a whole roll of paper towels to wipe off my monitor.)

(I suspect I will be needing a few dozen rags for…uh, purposes…( to sop up the drool) during our discussion of this, but that’s okay. My mom’s cool with it.)

Yes, indeed, I’m talking about Sunggyu’s lips. Or as Shakespeare would describe them: Those lips that Love's own hand did make (Sonnet 145).

(And which Hoya’s hand apparently