Luka felt his hands shake as he walked into the gallery room, his heart beating too fast like it wanted to jump out of his chest. His eyes kept darting to the side, avoiding any chance of meeting Eliot’s. But, of course, Eliot was everywhere. It wasn’t even about seeing him anymore; it was just... knowing he was there, knowing that everything had changed and Luka hadn’t been able to do a single thing about it.
He grabbed a pencil from his bag and started sketching quickly, not even thinking about the lines, just needing something to do with his hands. The paper was too white. The canvas was too empty. It was all wrong.
Luka hated the way his thoughts kept going back to that one moment. The one where Eliot stopped looking at him the way he used to. The way they used to be.
“You’re late.”
Luka almost jumped out of his skin. He looked up, and there, standing in front of him, was Eliot. He was dressed in that business suit, his hair perfect, his eyes unreadable.
Luka felt his stomach drop. “I—uh, I was just... getting my things ready.” He hated how small he sounded, how unimportant he felt in front of Eliot. Why did it still hurt so much?
Eliot didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at the sketch on the easel. It wasn’t finished. It was barely started.
“Looks good,” Eliot said, his voice as calm as ever, like he wasn’t standing there, acting like everything was fine. Luka didn’t know if he wanted to punch him or run away. Maybe both.
“Yeah, it’s not—” Luka stopped himself, clenching his fists. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just pretend to be okay when everything felt so wrong. “It’s not done.”
Eliot nodded. “You’ll finish it. You always do.”
Luka felt the anger burn in his chest. Why did Eliot always sound so sure of him? Why did it feel like he was the one holding everything together while Luka was just... falling apart?
The silence between them stretched out like a rubber band about to snap. Luka wanted to say so many things—Why did you leave me? Why do you act like nothing happened? Why does it still hurt this much? But nothing came out. Instead, he just stood there, feeling stupid.
Eliot looked at him again, and this time, there was something different in his gaze. Something distant, like maybe Eliot had the same thoughts, the same regrets. But Luka didn’t want to look too closely. He couldn’t.
“So,” Eliot said, breaking the silence, “you’ve done well for yourself. You’re an artist now.” His tone wasn’t mocking, but it felt like it could be. Like Eliot was somehow above it all.
Luka gritted his teeth. “Yeah. It’s... what I’ve been working for.”
“Right. I always knew you’d get there.”
The words stung. Luka didn’t know why. They weren’t meant to hurt, but they did. It was like Eliot was trying to be nice, but Luka couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just... empty.
There was a long pause, and Luka could feel his chest tightening. He was done. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to see Eliot looking at him like they were still the same people from before. They weren’t. He wasn’t the same.
“Listen,” Luka finally said, his voice shaking a little, “I don’t... I don’t know what you want from me.”
Eliot’s face flickered with something—surprise? Confusion? Maybe guilt. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. “I don’t want anything from you, Luka,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “I’m just here for the artwork.”
Luka swallowed hard. "I guess that’s all we are now, huh? Just... business."
Eliot didn’t say anything. Luka wasn’t sure if he was supposed to apologize, or if Eliot was waiting for him to say something else. But Luka couldn’t. He couldn’t apologize for still feeling everything he had felt when they were kids. The way they used to talk for hours about nothing. The way Eliot used to look at him like he was enough. But that was gone now. It had been gone for a long time.
Luka turned his back to him, staring at the unfinished drawing. The image was still too blurry. It didn’t look like anything.
“I should get back to it,” Luka said, trying to sound calm. Trying to sound like he didn’t care, even though everything in him was screaming.
Eliot didn’t move. Luka could feel him standing there, probably thinking, probably wondering if he should say something more. But Luka didn’t want him to. He didn’t need him to.
Eliot sighed softly. “If you need anything...” His voice trailed off, and Luka felt the bitterness rise in his throat. He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn’t.
He just nodded, keeping his back turned. “Yeah. Thanks.”
When Luka heard Eliot’s footsteps fade away, he felt that familiar emptiness settle in. It wasn’t just anger anymore. It was something deeper. Something harder to shake.
Everything was so different now. Eliot was a stranger. Oliver was a stranger. And Luka? Luka was still holding on to something that didn’t even exist anymore.
But the pain? That was still there. And it didn’t look like it was going anywhere.
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