It was nights like this when he found himself gasping for air, hands gripping his bed sheets as his skin was illuminated by what little moonlight seeped through the curtains. His chest heaved as his breath escaped his lungs, beads of sweat dripping down his chest. It was nights like these when his heart would pound so hard against his ribcage, he thought it may escape. Always the seemingly peaceful nights, the nights when the stars would twinkle against their dark backdrop and the moon would glow softly around them. It was these nights, when all was quiet on the outside, he was fighting a raging battle of nightmares and horrific memories.

And it was always the same nightmare. Darkness always surrounded him and the sounds were crystal clear, the same way they had been so long ago. He and his love were lying in bed, like they had every night for at least two years. He woke with a start. His beloved was missing and the interior of his home was in shambles. His ears caught the sound of a stilling heartbeat. He ran. Through the town into the trees, dodging roots and branches. He always came to a halt when his eyes fell upon his lover, bloodstained and covered in gashes. His beautiful porcelain skin now cracked with some heartless soul's abuse. And every time, every single damn time, he would run for his dying love.. But it never seemed like he could get there in time before omeone struck the final blow that would cause Hansol to jolt awake.

With a sigh, he kicked his legs off the bed and stood, shuffling through his apartment to get a glass of water. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip of the water, meandering his way back to his bedroom to drag a pillow and blanket into the living room. Hansol set the glass down on the coffee table. Tossed the pillow and blanket on the couch and flopped in them, curling up as he the television to maybe catch something interesting to watch. A soft hum passed thin lips as he flipped through the channels. Moments passed and he was already growing impatient. Hansol propped himself up on his elbow, reached out to pick his glass up from the table and took a quick drink before replacing the glass in its original position.

Fingers pressed a few buttons on the remote and the television was changed to a music channel. As much as he enjoyed more modern day music, he needed something more calming. Classical. He would just envision little fairies floating about, dancing a glittery way through the air. Luckily, it didn't take him long to drift back into sleep. And this time, without those haunting memories.

The siren woke, just a few short hours later. The sun beamed through the curtains, what little space allowed, it's rays landing on his face and the floor. He stretched his arms above his head as he sat up, a little groan escaping his lips. A thin hand trailed through his hair as he pushed himself from the couch, sauntering his way to the bathroom. Might as well get a shower in before he headed out for the studio.

Hansol wasn't exactly tall, but he was decently muscular. He didn't appear to be any older than maybe 22. His hair was a caramel color, at least for the time being. He'd been thinking of changing it, but he never knew what to. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he noted the dark circles beneath his eyes. Index fingers lifted to poke at them as his cheeks puffed out. These fleeting nightmares, he's had them before, but never so many times in such a short amount of time. For awhile, it was once every couple of decades. And then it stopped suddenly. He thought he was in the clear up until about two months ago. That's when they returned, and with no mercy as they came every night.

His morning routine went as usual. Shower, breakfast, brush teeth, get dressed. He wore a fitted white tee shirt and a pair of slightly baggy jeans that hung a bit loosely from his hips. Hansol popped a snap back on and slid his feet into a pair of black socks just before scurrying to the front door, keys and wallet in hand. He carefully slid his feet into a pair of black nike hightops. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips, leaving his home to stroll his way to the studio.

Hansol had made a few friends during his time here and on during his walk he waved to a couple of them who happened to be passing by. The streets sure were busy this morning. Or perhaps he really wasn't getting as early of a start as he'd thought. And really, he was fine with that. The siren found himself falling into his own thoughts, only to be ripped from them when his frame knocked into another.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry--" Hansol began,  turning and holding a hand out to help the other up. But as soon as his eyes processed what was in front of him, his muscles froze. This guy... He was gorgeous. Plump lips, perfect hair, his skin was flawless, and his eyes, oh god his eyes. Hansol felt a sharp pain in his chest. Not only was this boy flawless, but he looked exactly like his beloved from some time ago.

During his time in thought, yet again, the poor soul Hansol had knocked graciously took his hand and pulled himself up. "It's alright.." The lovely male gave a nod and pat at his clothes, dusting himself off. He happened to catch Hansol staring, almost in a star struck manner. Shifting awkwardly, he pat at Hansol's arm. "I'm alright but are you?"

The siren gave a few quick blinks, shaking the cobwebs from his mind. "I--" Teeth bit into his lower lip as he took a quick step back. "I'm Hansol, actually--" He seemed to stumble over his words and a stupid little grin graced his lips. He was so happy to see him again but that pain in his chest reminded that him that the other wouldn't remember... Wouldn't know of their past together.

"Hansol... It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Byungjoo." The seemingly flawless male flashed a gloriously bright smile. Hansol couldn't feel his heart flutter, his knees grow weak. He didn't want this, not now. Oh but his voice.. It still rang softly like bells. And those soundwaves, always so pretty...

"You as well, Byungjoo.." It was nice to meet him, in a sense. Nice to see him again, really. After a century of living with a hole in his chest, he'd found him again.. Sort of.