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Merely a name inscribed delicately in ink, HYUNA, and he was transported back to that moment.
It was a nondescript alley just outside their university. The oppressive heat of summer pressed down on them, the air thick and heavy. Luka had naught a crease on his angelic face but his stomach was folding. This 'goodbye' felt all-too different, and he couldn't stand the short distance between them. Yet every step he took forward, Hyuna took another back. Even as Luka battled through a coughing fit, Hyuna remained distant, Luka's usual vulnerability failing to bridge the gap between them.
"You don't... want me, Luka. You only want the idea of me. Whatever the fuck it is." Hyuna's words struck a chord within Luka. He had indeed yearned for the idea of her. Yet, how was that any different from wanting the same thought in the flesh?
“And that terrifies me waaaaay more than the shit I've ever fucked up.”
She stood resolute, a silent protest against their vicious cycle— she had always been the one taking bold strides and offering her hand. Each time, he eagerly accepted it, greedily intertwining his fingers with hers. She was the one puzzle he never tired of solving.
However, his hands now just grasped at emptiness, only the bitter taste lingering in his throat.
“What’s wrong with the way I like you?"
“Because I don't know, Luka..."
“What don't you know? Tell me.”
“I don't know what wrong I can't do, I don't know what right I can be. Can't you just—"
She came to a sudden halt, her words tapering off into an uneasy silence as she stood rooted on the spot. A flicker of hesitation danced in her eyes, the color of a dull sky; it betrayed the emotions swirling within her as she clenched her fist.
The pause stretched on, unsaid words hanging between them like a delicate web waiting to be shattered by the slightest breath.
When Hyuna moved, it was away from him. But he was Luka. He never lost sight of what or who he desired. If she thought he would simply let her slip away, she was mistaken. He was prepared to move mountains to feel her warm touch once more. Hyuna understood this well; instead of vanishing into obscurity, she chose fame.
Nine years slipped away with silent insistence. They both left behind the tentative steps of youth; the zenith they once chased together had lost its luster. Luka preferred calling their time as Music and Film university students as 'inspiration' or backstory, however the creative preferred unprecedented outcomes framed.
As far as Luka could tell, Hyuna was as successful as any independent artist could be, and while he's let her linger in him a few moments than he would have allowed, he believed he was over it. Luka had embraced his identity as a musician, no— they even called him a maestro, the way he made everything, 'music'. At one point, he started directing music videos, and in fact has been producing for two years now.
Sooner or later, their paths would have crossed. It would be fine now. He's over it.
He's over her.
Luka dismissed belief in ghosts, yet 'haunting' seemed apt for the woman who lingered like a specter in his mind's corridors—always stopping just shy of entering his room. He sensed her presence outside; no knock came at the door as he stared at the gap beneath it—no light conspiring to fuel his fantasies further. Now she haunted every billboard along his drive and every song on his playlist—even rock music which wasn't his usual choice.
He dared not speak her name aloud but silently mouthed it in desperation. A sudden text message broke his reverie. How had he become acquaintances with Dewey of all people? Isaac would have made more sense.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his teeth marks evident on the chewed pen. Returning to the folders awaiting review for tomorrow's reading session felt out of character for him; Luka didn't pine after things— he seized them without hesitation. He was not designed to yearn for what he could not have.
Releasing the bird from its cage had been his choice long ago; why backtrack now and undo all that he had worked so hard to achieve?
The shrill sound of the phone pierced through the quiet of the night, cutting through Luka's solitude like an unwanted intrusion. It was Dewey calling at an unforgivable hour, 9:30 PM, a time when most knew better than to disturb Luka. Ignoring the persistent ringing, Luka hesitated as the caller ID displayed Dewey's name, a warning in itself.
Against his better judgment, he finally answered with a deep rumble in his voice, "What's so important, Dewey?"
"LUKA-SSI, COME DRINK WITH ME."
"No."
"HYUNA'S HERE."
Fuck Dewey and his disregard for 9 PM. Fuck the cold reading, why would they need a cold reading for an MV? Fuck him getting dressed, heading straight for the bear trap; fuck— everything.