Explore a new world with aliens and the torturous lives of human in harmony with music. From heartbreak to pure romance, perhaps a hint of spice to heat up your life, with your favorite alien stage characters.
Summary: Watching in the backstage as you got beaten up by your competitor sent a spiral of feelings inside Luka. When he sees you unawake from it all in the infirmary, Luka ponders over his thoughts.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: thoughts of murder, reader getting physically assaulted on stage.
☕ I'm gonna have some content warning from now on and might add to the recent one shots. This one's a good time to write as I got to slowly explore Luka's nature more. Hope y'all liked this one!
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Luka have been taught from a young age how to control the beating of his heart. Mainly, because it was a good factor when he was bound in competitions, like alien stage for example. It had been one that helped him soar the stage from the last season, earning him on the top, the ruler of the stage on the 49th season.
He remembered vividly how his father insistently trained him. In a room he's comfortable in, a watch wrapped around his wrist that tracked his heartbeat. Breathing lessons were under his training, albeit it wasn't part of the intensive ones. Though he usually needed more time with that certain lesson than the others because it has its connection with the mentioned heart rate that only with singing on stage it helped, but also with his respiratory disorder.
By that, he grew up to be composed and relaxed at times that he wanted to be. He was charismatic. Certainly, he shouldn't be compared to a vulnerable fellow when he showed his quiet nature, because even when he was quiet as an innocent lamb, his golden eyes and sharp mind would always have that cunning spark within.
Although that all seemed to shallow down.
Luka stood on the backstage with arms crossed. Minutes before your performance, he had high hopes of you winning this round. You held a passion that he'd boast that no one could ever compete from. It was in your everything that spoke through it. Fierce passion it was, as your eyes would burn with fire every time you're set on the stage.
But now as he was on the back of the stage, with arms crossed as he stood watching over the screen where you were being assaulted by your singing competitor—he could not help but feel his heart beat quicken.
He could only watch from that same screen as you get beaten up like that.
He could only watch as your back fell on the ground with a harsh push, while the assaulter straddled you and used their microphone to bat your face with it. Frustration might it have been your rival's urge to brutally pounce at you like that. When the voting struck that it had been you who had won, they jumped at you as if you cheated somehow and you were undeserving with that title.
Their face full of rage sent Luka's own to spiral inside his chest, for them to touch you and abuse you because of their insecurity—Luka had this urge to strangle the assaulter until they'd die with air knocked out from their lungs. He'd take pleasure on the way that their skin would turn pale and their eyes would roll back, a sign of forced death that he'd put that person in—although, he knew better than to run up on stage and pull you away from them.
At the same time of course, he was worried about your predicament. You were fighting back, he knew that you wouldn't just let yourself get pounced like that, but you weren't exactly that strong. You've had enough strength to cover your hands on your face to avoid the hit that came your way.
The assault did not last for long, he stared at the screen as the bots shot them dead and with the last bits of your strength—you stood up from your position, only for you to lose balance as he was certain, that you have fainted. Luka's breathing was becoming labored and his heart never stopped to quicken, his fingers clenched into a fist.
The darkness that covered his eyes slowly went away as those golden eyes was replaced with concern.
His wrist watch sounded a reminder as he calmly walked away from the screen, his destination towards where you might have been.
He knew that you'd be in the infirmary. Your alien owner would be kind enough to have there, and indeed when he had been through the corner of the hall, he saw them talking to another alien which he might presume was your now dead assaulter's owner. He waited until they were out of sight as he observed intently that it looked like to be a heated talk.
When it was only the bots that were outside, he proceeded to walk towards room and waited for the automatic door to be opened, none of the bots were alarmed by his presence, have never batted an eye as they stared straight ahead.
Upon entering, he was met with the sight of your form on the patient bed. Eyes closed though eyebrows creased, and lips parted slightly. He walked to the chair that was beside the bed quietly, as to not let the sound of the heels of his shoes interrupt your rest. When he got a little closer and was near enough to study each inch of your face, a frowned etched its way on his lips.
Your face was bruised up, your right eye was purple and your forehead was bandaged. A pitiful sight that he didn't want to see, but already expected after that assault on stage.
Merely joining the competition could make him lose you. Winning meant you'd live, and dying meant you'd lost. Even when he had high hopes for you, he knew you had the capabilities, he could not help but imagine what it would be like for him to lose you this twisted singing battle. It was a thought crossed his mind multiple times and at that he did feel guilty. That only meant that there was a part of him that considered you would lose, you would die—but it was inevitable for him to worry.
Afterall, you were his boyfriend and his everything.
He had every amount to worry about you—the same amount as you would worry about him. But to think that he might have lost you today, not because of losing but being assaulted for winning. The face of who attacked you entered his mind and ever so slowly, the rage was flowing through his veins.
But he sighed, shakily at that, to compose himself.
Knowing that if ever you found out he had a murderous intent, he'd see that disappointed look on his face. That didn't matter now, not when the one he wanted to murder was already dead.
He took your hand softly from the soft surface of the bed and interlocked his fingers around yours and softly squeezed them for comfort. An action that he wanted a reassurance from that you'd always be here with him. Luka could have every wishes in the world but the only one he'd ever wish was to have you by his side. For whatever twisted of a man he's become and the life that was set for the two of you, you were the one to balance.
Luka waited for more on an hour for you to wake upand just as when his eyes were about to give up and flutter close for sleep, he felt your hand twitch around his own. All the sleepiness that have been overtaking his body went away as he fixed his posture on his seat, staring at your pained face. You blinked blearily at first, looking like you had no idea where you were. Your head scanned to your left, ahead, down, and to your right where your eyes finally met his.
The blonde man had a relieved look on his face—too soft even— a huge contrast to his murderous gaze against a screen an hour ago. When you mumbled his name in a confused tone, his heart melted at the sight of you.
He got closer to your hand and pressed his cheek against your skin, chuckling at the way that you were still a little out of it. Despite the various injuries that were stuck to your face for now, you still looked cute at the moment that it sent his heart to skip a beat. The monitor watch wrapped around his wrist beeped.
