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Luca

For two weeks, I’d been in a bad mood, but since finishing my film on Juri, I was pissed off.

It had been almost a week since I ran into him on the street.

After my flood of messages, I’d forbidden myself from writing to him anymore.

Now it was his turn. I was sure he’d reach out soon, but six days of radio silence had passed.

I was ten minutes early to meet Verena, so I smoked a cigarette by the cafeteria’s entrance.

I’d been trying to avoid such dead moments in the past few days, distracting myself with anything to keep from checking Juri’s profile.

I’d been successful at it; since no one else messaged me on WhatsApp, I rarely opened the app. But now, I was itching to know.

Did he even read my messages?

I’d sent him the last one on Friday night, just to apologize.

God! My heart ached! The tightness around my chest just wouldn’t let up.

I gave in and opened the app. I nervously took a drag of my cigarette and blew out the smoke.

My fingers were stiff from the cold, and the phone almost slipped from my hand.

My last message had been marked as read, but something had changed.

Juri’s profile picture. I tapped on it and saw a black screen.

What’s this all about?

He’s back in business and ready for orders.

What does this mean?

I stared at the black screen for a while, which wasn’t entirely black. It was more like someone had put their hand in front of the lens, as there was still a little light, but not enough to see anything.

My heart pounded heavily as I struggled to comprehend. By now, I’d learned one thing: Juri communicated with his customers through his account.

What happened?

I was sure something had happened. And whatever it was, it had to be serious.

If only the picture were white. But no, it’s black!

Fuck!

“Hey, Luca!”

Out of nowhere, Verena emerged in front of me.

Oh no , I really didn’t want to have this conversation now.

After greeting her politely, taking one final drag of my cigarette, I extinguished it in the ashtray by the entrance, and then reluctantly followed my mentor into the cafeteria.

Shortly after, I sat at the table with a cappuccino, looking at Verena’s hopeful expression.

I almost felt sorry for subjecting her to me.

I couldn’t even muster a smile and just sighed.

Verena retrieved her Moleskine and fine liner from her oversized leather bag and sipped her latte macchiato. She was aware by now that I didn’t care for small talk and preferred getting straight to the point.

“So? How’s it going? Did you finish the concept?”

I just made a disgruntled face. “Sorry. I got nothing. Since Monday, I've been contemplating canceling the appointment, but ultimately, it wouldn't have changed anything. I still have to write the concept.”

“Since you didn’t send me anything in advance, I assumed you’d been working on it until this morning.”

I stirred my cappuccino thoughtfully for a long time, watching the chocolate powder dissolve.

Inevitably, I thought of Juri, how I’d offered him hot chocolate when we first met, and he shamelessly asked for a second packet.

A smile crossed my lips, but the memory was pushed aside by the black profile picture, which dampened my mood again.

“Did you do anything over the holidays?” Verena asked cautiously.

“The whole time.”

“What were you working on?”

“Just on this … small project. Nothing special.”

“Do you have it with you?”

I always brought my laptop for our conversations, so I nodded.

“May I see it?”

“It’s not a final project, more like … a side project for the final project.”

“That doesn’t matter, I’d still like to see it.”

I hesitated, especially since these recordings were the reason Juri wasn’t talking to me anymore.

But on the other hand, I’d invested so many hours in this short film.

I’d even gotten permission from Serge to film in the back room of Exil.

Of course, nobody could be recognized in it, but just seeing the shadows of the people there contributed to the ideal atmosphere in the film.

And maybe it wasn’t a bad idea for Verena to take a look.

She didn’t know the whole issue behind it and was unbiased.

By now, I’d accepted that I had to add another semester for my final project, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get feedback from Verena on my work.

I booted up my laptop and opened the file in question.

“I’ve been working on nothing else for the past few weeks,” I explained. “It doesn’t have much to do with the original concept anymore.”

“Okay. I’m curious.”

“Maybe you should use these.” It was pretty loud in the cafeteria, so I handed her my noise-canceling headphones. Once Verena was ready, I hit play.

It hurt my heart to see Juri—even if it was just his hand or his chin. How many times did I have to watch the recordings to find the best parts? What came out of it meant so much to me. I didn't even care that I was jeopardizing my degree and having to add an extra semester.

I was surprised by how attentively Verena watched, completely forgetting her latte macchiato. She was so engrossed in the film that she didn’t even comment, just absorbing it all.

I knew those fifteen minutes were good, but it was a waste of time since the film would never be shown anywhere.

It was a mistake I was responsible for, and now I regretted not being honest with Juri from the start.

If I had briefed him on my ideas, explained on the first night that it wasn’t my intention to film his face, and why video recordings were important to me, he might have agreed.

However, I was sure he would never have opened up to me like he did.

If only I respected Juri’s wish and not made those recordings, he wouldn’t have stormed out of the apartment.

He wasn’t recognizable in any of the shots!

Only once did his lip piercing come into view.

Not even his black hair was visible. Mostly just his hands.

Sometimes with a cigarette between his fingers.

What made the film special was how he narrated and spoke.

His voice alone was captivating. The fact that his face wasn’t visible didn’t diminish the fillm’s impact.

I sighed inwardly. He had such a beautiful face. A cool demeanor if you didn’t know him, but as soon as you spent a little time with him, he let his guard down and opened up. And when he smiled at you, your heart melted. I was sure it wasn’t just me.

And already my thoughts drifted back to that old geezer he disappeared with last Thursday.

Fuck!

Unable to take it anymore, I pulled out my cigarettes and gestured to Verena that I’d be outside for a moment. But it was so cold that it was anything but relaxing, and not five minutes later, I was back inside.

When the film ended, Verena leaned back and stared at me with a frozen expression. “That, Luca, is your diploma.”

I blinked my eyes in bewilderment as I tried to make sense of what she just said.

“Why didn’t you say you switched to documentary? This film is great. Add a concept to it, and then nothing will stand in your way to graduation.”

“Huh? No, you don’t understand. I only did this for myself. I didn’t want to …”

“Luca. I get it, you wanted to explore those endless back rooms. But you can still do that. This film here is unique! It raises questions. Gives insights into a foreign world and documents the life of a young man. With this, you’ll get an excellent grade!”

“The film has only brought me trouble so far,” I said meekly. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me here. The guy freaked out when he found out I filmed him. I did it exactly how you shouldn’t do it. He will never give me consent for that.”

“Listen, Luca. I can’t tell you what to do, but my recommendation is clear. You should talk to this young man because when I look at you, I believe you want nothing more than that.”

“That obvious?”

Verena nodded with a meaningful look. “Get his consent, then you’ll have your graduation secured. But we’ll have to revisit the concept. You’re not getting off that easy. It’s just part of it.”

***

I was at a loss but somehow relieved. Verena had given me a reason to reach out to Juri. However, the film was by no means my main concern. The black profile picture worried me much more than my graduation.

Thanks to Verena, I now had an entirely new perspective on this film.

I had been too deeply involved in the matter myself to realize how valuable these recordings were.

Whoever had the opportunity to gain such deep insight into this industry?

But it was the many conversations with Juri and Hector’s encouragement not to settle for the first answer that made this film possible in the first place.

Even if Juri refused to give his consent, I owed him a thank you, because what he had shared with me was not a given.

I had to talk to him. But more importantly, I wanted to see him and show him the film.

One thing was for sure, he had gotten a completely wrong impression.

The short clip he had seen was the only one of its kind and was even overlaid with pictures of the lakeside promenade at the end, so only his voice could be heard.

I absolutely had to correct the impression he had of the film.

Maybe then he wouldn’t look at me as if it were breaking his heart.

I was on the bus to training, repeatedly dialing Juri’s number and letting it ring until the voicemail kicked in. He just wasn’t picking up.

Did he block me?

I wasn’t sure if I could have called if he had. And since Juri wasn’t responding to my messages either, I had no other choice but to find him. After all, he might be planning to cut off contact forever. I couldn’t allow that. The thought choked me up.

When I was near Langstrasse, my body reacted almost automatically. I grabbed my bag, got off at the next stop, and walked to Erotic World. Since it was afternoon, Juri wouldn’t be working.

Outside the building, I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders.

You can do this. It’s about your future.

Juri had warned me not to show up here again, but how he intended to make good on his threats, he never told me—after all, I was the martial artist here.

With heavy legs, I climbed to the fourth floor.

The stairwell was unusually quiet, unlike last time when it had been much louder.

But that was also in the middle of the night.

The memory brought a smile to my face. The fact that Juri lived in a brothel was somehow too much, and I rubbed the incredulous grin off my face.

I stopped in front of his apartment door and paused for a moment. J. Vinzens was written above the bell. Alright, let’s do this. I pressed the button and waited.

Nothing happened. No sounds resonated from inside, so I knocked on the door.

Still nothing.

But then the neighboring apartment door swung open, revealing a tanned Latino with dark dyed hair.

“Looking for someone?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Uh … yeah. Juri. Is he here?”

“Dunno. He hasn’t been home since last Friday. If you see him, tell him he missed payday.”

“Where is he then?”

“If I knew that.” With a smirk, the man disappeared back inside and locked the door.

Since Friday? Once again, concern for Juri flared up inside me. First the black profile picture. And now he’s gone missing too. What the hell …?

Disheartened, I descended the stairs. On the way to the bus stop, I considered how I could find him. Today was Wednesday. I could have gone to the Gothic Party. Maybe his friend Clé would be there and would know where Juri was.

Friend …

Or maybe that long-haired singer will be better to speak with. What’s his name again? Noé?

He’d probably be easier to find, especially since he had played with his band at Exil. I mulled over the name of the band before taking out my phone and calling Serge.

“Don’t tell me you’re sick. It’s only Wednesday. You still have until Saturday to get better.”

I laughed because deep down he was a nice guy—just a bit too stressed. “Hello, Serge. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that. What’s up?”

“Last year before Christmas, there was that rock night at Exil. What was the name of the band with the long-haired singer again?”

“Are you talking about Nightrain?”

“Yeah, that must be it. Can you get me the singer’s phone number?”

“Luca, what’s this about? They’re playing at Exil again in two weeks.”

“Oh yeah? But I can’t wait that long.”

Serge scoffed as he raised his voice. “I can’t just give you his number like that. Anyone could come along.”

“It’s about a mutual friend. I’m really worried.”

There was silence at the other end of the line, then I heard Serge mumble something.

“Please!” I pleaded.

“Okay … But if I recall correctly, I only have the drummer’s number.”

“That’s totally fine! Thank you so much!”

“It might take a while. I’ve stored all the contacts in the office.”

“No problem. I’ll wait. But don’t forget!”