Luka was never still.

From the moment he could walk, he was always moving—dancing, spinning, running ahead only to turn back, eyes shining with unspoken words. His energy was endless, his smile as bright as the artificial lights that lined the sterile halls of the facility.

And then there was the way he looked at you.

Obvious, undeniable. His golden eyes sought them out the moment they entered a room, his restless movements slowing just enough to match their pace. If the others noticed—if they teased—Luka never cared. Subtlety had never been his strength.

He clung to praise like a lifeline, preening under the smallest acknowledgment. Even the most casual remark could send his heart into overdrive, the tips of his ears burning red as he tried to suppress the giddy energy that threatened to spill over.

His hands were always reaching—grabbing a sleeve, a wrist, the hem of a coat. Any excuse to stay close, to make sure they were there. And when he laughed, it was loud, carefree, too big for a place like this.

He never questioned why his chest felt tight when they looked away. Why the world seemed just a little dimmer when they weren’t near.

Luka had never known a life beyond the stage, beyond the performances. But if there was anything real in this place—anything worth chasing—it was you.