Chapter Text
The audition room was thick with the sent of polished wood, sweat and nreves – an atmusfere that clinged to my skin the moment I stept inside.
Overhead harsh lights blazed down so bright they made the edges of my vision ripple and blurr.
Across the far wall, mirors multiplied my reflection, each version of me standing a little to rigid, each one trying to hide just how exausted we already feel..
Then the music kicked in and the beat hammered up thru the floorboards relentless and sharp, sending vibrashuns straight threw the base of my prosthetic and into the bones of my good leg.
That first step – heel to floor – was always the hardest, for a split second every part of me had to agree to move the weight shift the balance the subtle snag where metal met flesh.
And then I moved.
The wood beneath my shoe was slick and cool catching on every pivot as if daring me to slip.
My breath fell into sync with the music my heart matching the rhythm like it had been waiting for this moment. But the prosthetik never let me forget it was their.
Every turn every push, it pressed back – not pain exactly but a sharp heavy pressure at the joint.
Dancing with it was like moving with a shadow that refused to let you forget it existed.
I spun shifting my weight forward the world tilted, wobbled then steadyed itself beneath me, my balance was cleaner than last week that had to count for something.
At the back of the room the choreographer sat perched on a folding chair clipboard balanced on one knee face a mask of practiced indifference.
I knew that look too well – impress me or I’ll forget you.
I jumped, twisted in the air, and landed hard.
My prosthetic struck the floor a heartbeat after my good leg sending a faint jolt up my side my teeth snapped together from the impact but I didn’t flinch not here not now.
The next sequence came faster sharp turns controlled kicks a slide across the floor that scraped at the sole of my shoe the music surged threw me pulling me forward even as my lungs started to burn.
For a moment it didn’t matter that my chest acked or that my leg buzzed like a live wire for a moment their was only the beat the mirror and the raw desperate need to prove myself.
When the music stopped I froze in my final pose arms outstretched chest heaving sweat trickling down my temple. The choreographer scribled something on the clipboard flashed a too-polished smile and said “We’ll be in touch.”
The polite sanitized version of no.
I gathered my bag in silence slipping out of the studio with my hair damp and clinging to my skin my prosthetic throbbing with that dull familier ache that always followed when I pushed to hard.
Outside the air was thick with the smell of rain heavy mettalic and uninviting.
I hated it not the gentle cinematic rain that glimmers under streetlights and makes everything look soft and magical.
No this was the kind that soaks threw your clothes clings to your skin and seeps into your bones.
My hair was plastered to my face my audition outfit stuck uncomfortably to my back and my sneakers squelched with every step.
I could still feel the smooth wood of the dance floor beneath my feet still hear the choreographers voice echoing “We’ll be in touch” in that practiced distant tone that always meant no.
Another audition another maybe another door that might never open.
I turned the corner too quickly and a puddle splashed up soaking my ankle.
“Ugh,” I muttered gripping my umbrella tighter I should of just gone home.
But the thought of returning to my apartment cold silent too clean made my chest ache in a way I didnt want to examine.
Thats when I heard it – a piano.
The sound drifted out from a little restaraunt tucked into the corner warm and alive despite the chill outside.
This wasnt the mechanical background music you hear in cafès it had weight emotion a pulse that tugged at something deep inside me.
I stopped caught off guard and pressed my hand to the fogged up window.
The resturant looked like a haven golden light spilled thru the misty glass pooling on the sidewalk.
Inside dark wood tables and mismatched chairs filled the space their surfaces worn smooth by years of use.
Candles flickered on nearly every table casting soft shadows across the walls.
Potted plants perched on shelves in the corners their leaves glowing in the warm light.
The air was thick with the sent of roasted coffee polished wood and something sweet maybe caramel from the desserts on the counter.
Couples and small groups murmured quietly their voices blending with the music until it felt like the piano was breathing with them.
And then I saw him.
A boy – no a man – at the piano.
Blond hair pulled back in a loose ponytail a few strands falling across his face.
His shoulders were lean posture relaxed but intentional fingers gliding over the keys like they belonged there. His eyes – golden bright framed by long lashes – were locked on the music.
His features were soft almost delicate but there was a steadiness beneath them a kind of quiet confidence I remembered to well.
Luka.
I didnt recognize him at first I was to caught up in the way he played – so fluid so alive.
When we were kids Luka played like a machine flawless precise but cold this was nothing like that.
The music breathed it lingered it reached out for something it reached out for me.
My chest tightened painfully familiar and dangerously close to hope.
I stayed there mesmerized.
The rain tapped gently against the window the city rushed by but none of it mattered.
The music pulled me in and I didnt want to leave.
Finally Luka lifted his hands from the keys letting the last chord disolve into the warm air.
The soft murmur of diners fluttered through the room and then he looked up.
He looked older leaner like someone who’d spent years carefully carving himself into something new.
But those golden eyes impossibly warm were the same. Too familiar too dangerous.
My throat went dry I hesitated suddenly aware of how tired and damp I looked how many years had sliped by since we last spoke.
The fight with Hyunwoo the silence the lost time they all pressed down on me like gravity.
I shouldnt be here I thought not like this not with him.
Then the music changed.
It wasnt gradual it was like a door slamming open. One moment Luka was playing what the resturant wanted polite forgettable background tunes the next his hands chased a melody that didnt belong here at all.
It was wild alive darting between sharp runs and soft pauses like it had its own heartbeat.
The notes climbed higher bolder and the whole room shifted with them.
Conversations faltered heads turned even the rain seemed to pause for a breath.
A man – older suited the kind who wore control like cologne strode toward the piano.
His shoes clicked against the wood stiff with irritation. He leaned in whispered something low but Luka didnt even glance up his fingers only moved faster, brighter, the jazz swelled warm and defiant filling the space like a storm in reverse – a quiet rebellion wraped in song.
“Stick to the set list”
the manager snapped louder now slicing thru the hush.
“Background music only.”
Lukas back straightened but he didnt stop.
His foot pressed harder on the pedal the sound growing fuller bolder. He hit a run of notes so quick and clean it made something twist behind my ribs.
He played like the piano was the only thing keeping him alive.
The managers face darkened voice tightening into a snarl.
“I said enough. Your done. Get out.”
Luka let the final chord hang in the air letting it ring out longer than it should like a bruise that wouldnt fade. Then slowly almost stubbornly he lifted his hands as if stopping was his choice.
The room seemed to exhale all at once conversation bubbling up in awkward bursts everyone pretending they hadnt just witnessed a small act of defiance.
He stood fingers brushing the edge of the piano for a moment before untying the black apron from his waste. It hung limp in his hands.
There was something in the way he moved careful restrained that made it clear this wasnt the first time hed walked out of a place that didnt want him.
The door swung open as he passed me letting in a rush of cold air that prickled against my damp skin.
His eyes were fixed ahead at first sharp and distant as if the music was still echoeing in his head.
And then his gaze caught mine recognition flickered hesitant careful familier.
I stepped inside before I could talk myself out of it. The warmth wraped around me a comfort I wanted to beleive in.
I cleared my throat. “That… was incredible. You play like no one else Luka.”
He didnt answer just gave the faintest tilt of his head a shadow of a smile before turning away the apron slipped from his hands as he disapeared into the narrow corridor behind the resturant.
I stayed where I was heart pounding fingers curled around the warm glass in my hand the echo of his music lingered in the air – and in me – long after he was gone.
Then my phone buzzed.
Hyunwoo.
My chest dropped guilt wrapping around me sharp as the rain outside.
I answered voice tentative.
“Hyunwoo…”
“Hyuna! How was the audition? Tell me everything!” His voice was brite steady warm – the kind of voice that used to make everything feel safe.
“It… went well” I said softly forcing a steadiness I didnt feel.
“I knew it! Im so proud of you. Really. But… you sound off. Are you okay?”
I swallowed glancing toward the corridor where Luka had vanished.
The warmth of the resturant the echo of his fingers on the piano the way hed looked at me – it all pressed into my chest.
Why was Luka even here? He was rich he didnt need to play in a tiny resturant.
Why now?
“Im fine” I lied my voice tighter than I wanted.
“Hyuna…” His voice softened concern threading through it.
“Youre lying. I can hear it. Whats wrong?”
I froze he could hear it he always could. My stomach twisted guilt clawed at me.
Id just been watching Luka – the boy I shouldnt even think about – not talking to him just… watching. And now
I was pretending everything was normal with Hyunwoo.
“I… I just…”
My throat tightened.
“I have a lot on my mind okay? The audition the… everything.”
“Everything?”
His voice was patient gentle but firm.
“Hyuna youre not telling me everything. Youre faking it arent you? I can hear it in your voice. Youre trying to sound okay but youre not.”
I bit my lip staring at the rain streaked window. He was right I was faking it I hated that he was right. Lukas presence made this call feel impossible.
My chest ached with every word I hadnt said.
“I… I have to go,”
I whispered the words tasting bitter.
My fingers shook as I ended the call cutting through Hyunwoos worried voice.
When I looked up the corridor was empty.
Luka was gone.
But the memory of his golden eyes the warmth of the piano and the guilt of talking to Hyunwoo while thinking of Luka pressed down on me like the rain outside.
I pulled my coat tighter and stepped out into the drizle the rain soaked through instantly cold and unrelenting.
“I hate the rain”
I muttered bitterness curling in my voice.
Not the kind that glows under streetlights not the kind that makes heartbreak look soft and cinematic.
No – this was the kind that clings that drags everything down with it.
The wind caught my umbrella tilting it just enough for water to slip down my collar icy against my skin.
The pavement shimmered under the streetlights puddles turning every step into a splash.
A car passed tires hissing on the wet asphalt and the city felt distant – like it belonged to someone else.
The rain seeped through the seams of my coat heavy and relentless.
My hair stuck to my cheeks my neck the corners of my mouth.
The air smelled of damp concrete and cheap perfume drifting from some late night café down the street.
Each step echoed louder than it should uneven – soft thud muted click.
My prosthetic always caught a little in the cold a constant reminder an invisible weight dragging behind me.
The world blurred in streaks of gray and gold as water dripped from the edge of my umbrella.
Guilt sat low and hot in my chest even as the rest of me went cold.
I hated how it felt heavy sticky.
I hated that just hearing Luka play had cracked something I thought Id sealed away years ago.
I hated that part of me quiet aching foolish still wanted him close.
The rain didnt wash any of that away it only pressed it deeper into my skin.
I tilted my head back letting a few stray drops hit my face and laughed under my breath a small bitter sound swallowed by the downpour.
“I really hate the rain”
I whispered again softer this time not a complaint more like a confession.