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One of the first times Hyuna felt it was in the bathroom.
A cold, simmering, biting pain in her left leg—but it wasn’t there. It was gone, it had been gone.
She clutches the sink till her knuckles turn an alarming shade of white, gritting her teeth till it hurts.
Jesus Christ.
Hyuna never expected it to appear like this, out of nowhere, at such a random time. Though she’s grateful she’s alone, the thought of someone seeing her like this makes her nauseous.
Just as the pain begins to fizzle away, it comes back about ten times harsher. Stronger, even.
Tears threaten to escape Hyuna’s eyes, she doesn’t understand how this is happening. It makes no sense, sure she’s read about it before, in those pamphlets and articles they give you at the doctor, but feeling it on your own is a whole new type of experience.
She wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
The pain throbs in the empty space between the ground and her upper thigh, otherwise known as what used to be her left calf and knee.
She hates it. She hates that the accident never fails to haunt her. She hates that she decided to go out that day, that she entered that car. She hates it all.
Hyuna leans over the sink, her breath coming out in quick short gasps. “Damn it,” she says.
Her eyes prick with hot tears once more, though this time Hyuna can’t fight them down. The pain wafts through her, like needles tingling down her skin, scraping, pulling and twisting at her nerves.
It reminds her of the accident; she remembers it all too well, the day her life flipped in on itself completely. The day she changed.
One moment she was happily going to the store for some cheap makeup supplies, the next she was in the back of an ambulance, barely conscious and her leg congealed with blood and rough black chips of tarmac.
That day’s too vague, but also too sickeningly vivid for her to bear. She hates it.
She hated the way people looked at her, those pitiful stares and sorry glances. Like that would make her feel better.
It’s not like they were the ones who lost their fucking leg.
She lets the tears fall from her eyes, watching them splatter against the ceramic bowl of the sink. Her vision blurs, but Hyuna doesn’t try to stop it. She allows herself to cry, just this once.
She deserves a break.
Pushing herself off the sink, Hyuna lowers herself to the floor with a painful grunt. She lands a bit too rough on the tiles for her liking—the cold flooring sends more spikes dancing across her skin.
She sits there for a while, staring at the ceiling with her head against the door. The tears trace down her cheeks and neck then to her chest, catching at the hem of her vest. Then, she slowly lies down flat on the floor, reluctantly pressing her side against the white tiles.
More tears slip across her face.
She hates this.
Soon time flies by, Hyuna lies there for what feels like minutes or a few hours—she can’t tell anymore, all she knows is that it’s cold and her leg hurts like a bitch.
She reaches her hand up from the floor and grasps at her arm, digging in her nails till small crescent moons indent themselves on her skin.
Hyuna curls in on herself, the tears don't stop, they won’t stop, no matter how hard she tries. They’re the only warmth she feels, albeit feeble.
The bathroom door opens not too long after, there’s only one person she knows it could be.
Luka.
She doesn’t want him to see her like this, her pride won’t take it…and yet, there’s a small selfish part of her that wants him to. It wants him to stay, to care, to listen—it wants him.
It’s shameful, she can’t stand it.
The door shuts with a gentle ‘click’ and Luka pauses for a moment, staying silent. Hyuna can feel his gaze track over her pitiful body, though she doesn’t try to hide.
Luka bends down and makes his way to the floor, settling for the spot beside her and facing her back. He places a hand on her shoulder. “Hyuna,” he begins.
No reply.
“What’s wrong?”
Still no reply.
His grip tightens on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before he moves to her hair, tucking a messy strand behind her ear. He presses a soft kiss into the side of her cheek, but she doesn’t move.
Luka’s brows furrow. “You should get off the floor, you’ll catch a cold,” he tries, voice threaded with concern.
Hyuna attempts to reply, but no words come out, it hurts too much—the pain, the remembering. She clamps her mouth shut and tightens her grip on her arm.
Luka notices quickly, prying her hand from its place and taking it in his. She accepts it immediately. He strokes the other hand over her head, smoothing over her hair, careful not to jostle her too much.
“Should I get a blanket, Hyuna?” he asks patiently, not stopping his movements.
“…No,” she manages, her voice barely above a whisper. But Luka understands nonetheless, offering a small nod.
He removes his hands from their place and she stalls momentarily, finding herself missing his touch more than she knew humanely possible. Before she knows it, he’s ushering her to sit up in place and slipping his zip-up over her.
“Is this okay?” he questions, pulling up the zip to rest just above her collarbones. “It’s all I have at the moment—y’know, being in the bathroom and all.”
She blinks. “Luka…”
“Don’t try to make this a lecture about my health, Hyuna. I’m fine.”
“But—“
“This isn’t about me right now. It’s about you, let me help you.”
Her mouth clips shut and she grips at the sleeves of his hoodie. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” He raises a brow. “Sorry for what exactly?”
“For this—for being like this.”
He sighs and laces their fingers together, resting them in her lap. “Don’t say that Hyuna.”
“I hate it.”
He hums softly, beckoning her to continue speaking.
“My leg—the left one. It…I—I can’t describe or even say how, but it hurts.”
He squeezes her hand, moving closer. “Hyuna...”
“I hate it, Luka. So much,” she says, barely choking back a sob. “I want it back, I want it to stop.”
Luka’s hands find her back slowly, bringing her into a gentle hug, he doesn't speak, just listens, allowing her to continue.
She places her head on his shoulder, tears streaming and hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. “It’s not fair.”
He holds her a little tighter. “I know.”
“I hate it.”
He hums and rubs soothing circles into her back, nestling his head into her hair. Every time she cries or talks he listens, he holds her for as long as she needs. He presses reassuring kisses into her head and wipes her tears—even if they come back again.
He won’t leave.
Soon, they adjust themselves to sit properly. Luka’s backs against the door, his arms loosely around her and Hyuna slouches against his chest, her ear comforted by the sound of his heartbeat. The pain had lessened now, fizzling out into a small buzzing sensation below her thigh.
Hyuna fiddles with the fabric of his shirt. “Luka.”
“Mm?”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with me like this.”
“Hyuna, don’t.”
She sighs and places more of her weight on him. “I can’t help it.”
Luka doesn’t respond immediately, pausing to roll the ends of her hair over his purple fingertips. “No, you’re stubborn. But, you can let me help you. I owe you more than you could imagine, so please…don’t apologise for things you’re not at fault for.”
She looks down. “Okay.”
He kisses the crown of her head. “Thank you,” he mumbles into her hair.
Hyuna’s face feels a little bit warmer, her mood lifted a fraction. “Tell me a story.”
“A story?”
“Yes, a story. I need a distraction.”
“Right, let’s see…” Luka says, looking up towards the wall in mock contemplation. “Ah, I have the perfect one. It all started many eons ago—“
Hyuna sorts. “Sounds like some fairy tale shit.”
“Hey, no interrupting. You ask and I deliver.”
She lays her palm flat on his chest. “Okay, go on.”
Luka coughs and drops his voice an octave, attempting to sound as dramatic as possible. “Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a Prince. One whose beauty knew no bounds and intellect had no limits. His hair was spun like strands of golden silk and his face was carved like a Greek statue.”
“Are you just describing yourself?”
Luka groans. “No. Anyway, one day the Prince went out of the palace, on his trusty steed…named uh, Dewey?”
Hyuna grins.
“He made his way to a forest far from home, and met a woman, a gorgeous one.”
She raises a brow sarcastically. “Oh really? What did she look like?”
“Like the sun.”
She falters, but Luka continues, “Her hair was long and soft, her skin youthful and her features sharp. Her eyes were a striking blue—like the sky, but better. She carried an air of radiance and warmth about her that I myself can’t begin to describe. Her laugh was contagious and warm. She’s beautiful.”
“You changed the tense.”
“I did.”
A warm expression overcomes Hyuna’s face, and for the first time today she laughs. Her throat may be sore from crying, but she can’t help it. Luka’s ridiculous, and she loves him for it.
It’s exactly what she needs.
Luka smiles. “Better now?”
Her laughter dies down and she looks up at him, her eyes still slightly puffy and red from crying. “Sing me a song and I might be.”
He fixes a strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek. “Of course, take your pick.”
She leans into his palm with a grin. “Something from the eighties.”
Luka chuckles softly. “Anything for you.”