Byun Hana and Byun BaekHyun were in their twenties.

They were in Venice. They were in love.

For their honeymoon.

--

She remembered most fondly, when they'd go in the subway and busk on the sides of people's lives, hoping for spare change and a smile. Their apartment doesn't really feel like, theirs, in a sense that his presence still lingers like the odor of burnt toast. She guessed that they were so used to had two of everything that it was only natural that he'd fall in love with another girl. 

He wanted to be a writer. He was a writer. He bought a moleskin and told her that he'd wrote their story inside and it'll be the best love story the world had ever seen. She wondered if he still writing. Or had he torn out her chapters to make room for a new story. 

Hana always loved falling asleep in his arms and waking up to BeakHyun's face. She woke up alone. The bed was cold. She found herself stuck in a perpetual cycle, of sleeping and not wanting to wake up, hoping, wishing, that perhaps he'd woke up and he'd be beside her. But now she had learned, that no matter how many dandelions he destroyed, how many petals he pick off and no matter how many stars he wished on; it won't changed the fact that he's gone and she's still here.

When Hana is asleep, everything stops. She often dream about him. About them. 

She doesn't remembered much, a blur of '' I love you''. She's not really sure. She had these dreams before. It seems to be the only place where she still hers and he still his. 

But it's only a dream. And she had already woken up.

But figuring out, it was a nightmare and it seems so real but maybe it was because she couldn't found the dreams that she had on.