This is a Lukanette fic with an akuma and fair warning for mentions of abuse and bullying. Hope you guys enjoy (this is mostly just a cute drabble)! Also I am technologically inept so like, I canât figure out how to make a link to my Ao3??? But if you want to check it out, my username is the same!
Purple was her and him, it was them.
But purple was also the color of anger, of heartbreak.
It was the color his father screamed through the house until his voice went raw and it was the color his knuckle turned after punching the wall. Purple is what his mother cloaked herself in when he left, like her whole body turned bruised with grief. Purple is the color his sister wore until she turned it from mourning into bravery and learned how to love again despite the fear. Purple danced from his fingertips and stained his cheeks as sobs clung to his bedroom walls. Purple is what he has to protect himself fromâ his past from leaking out and his sensitive heart from twisting into colorless knots, his anger from striking, his sister meant to be held instead of frightened. Purple was sorrow, it was aching and cruel and merciless.
Purple was not meant to be happy, wasnât meant to them.
Because Marinette is so many shades of pink that it leaves Luka breathless, but sheâs always a bubble-gum glow when she sees him.
Thatâs when sheâs herself.
Thatâs when sheâs happy.
And itâs because of him.
Him whoâs a blueâ dark enough some days to drown his soul, dark and deep and enough of an ocean blue that he could sweep the world away in a tsunami and not even care. A cyan blue when calm, when he teases his sister, when he meditates to his guitar. But heâs a soft azure when heâs with her; indigo when she cries and a blazing navy when sheâs hurt. Her laughter makes him go bright blue and her smile melts him into the color of the sky at midday.
And purple is still not a happy color, still not something sheâd choose.
She wants yellow instead.
Sheâd be happy with yellow. With someone other than him.
And he wants her to be happyâ so thereâs no room for purple.
Besides, he thinks, purple just ruins things and she deserves to be safe.
âLovely?â Marinette pokes his cheek, making the musician blink up at her at the sound of what the tiny bluenette has chosen to call him for months now. That and âsweetieâ. âAre you okay?â
âYour freckles are darker than usual.â Is all Luka can say, eyes drifting over her slightly pink-tinged cheeks as the little freckles stand out.
When he glances down, he sees the frown on her lipsâ theyâre pink tooâ and feels the uncertain skip in the best of her song. It makes him sigh.
âDonât worry about me, Melody.â Luka gently reaches up and tugs a loose strand of hair behind her ear, not wanting it to block her beautiful electric eyes. âI just have a lot on my mind, thatâs all.â
âAre you sure?â Marinette tilts her head and it takes almost all his self restraint not to awe out loud at how adorable she is. âIâm here to talk if youâre not.â
âIâm sure.â He chuckles, ruffling her hair even though his heart aches. Yellow. She likes yellow, not blue. âWant to hear a song Iâve been working on?â
âOf course.â His melody smiles softlyâ the same smile that makes his heart beg to never let it endâ and motions for him to continue. âWhatâs it about?â
Luka smirks, âYouâll see.â
Marinette gives him a look thatâs somewhere between âWhy donât you just tell me?â and âWhat are you waiting for?â and it makes his smirk broaden into a grin, lips tugging up at the sides as her nose crinkles.
Theyâre sitting across from each other on Marinetteâs balcony and the sunrise is orange and red and pinkâ and it makes Luka feel something heâs too scared to feel alone but doesnât ask or pry. He sits there patiently and he plays his guitar for the girl he fell in love with.
If she was happy, being friends would be easier.
If she was happy, he wouldnât mind yellow.
If she was happy⌠would it be worth it?
Now theyâre laughing and talking and teasing and it makes his heart melt in his chest because she isnât happy with him how he wants to be happy with her, but sheâs still happy.
Itâs more than enough and itâs worth it a thousand times over.
Her eyes twinkle in Parisâ lights and the sun makes her hair glimmer as it flows around her shoulders andâ god sheâs so beautiful and she doesnât even realize how much she affects him and god, sheâs smiling and her freckles are drowning under her blush and heâs drowning under his own love and he canât handle it but god, he would do anything for her.
And it isnât fair and it never will be fair because heâs blue and sheâs pink but she doesnât want him, she doesnât want anything but to become the soft color of a peach with yellow.
Peach would look good on herâ a gentle color with no chance of going dark. Yellow is too bright, too easy to love for that. Too nice of a color to make peach anything less than what she would hope.
And purple is still a dangerous color.
Purple is still dark, itâs still unstable. He knows why she doesnât want purple but he wants it. He wants the mulberry shape of bruise-kissed lips and magenta blushes and mauve-colored winks and he wants to love her so much that itâs painful.
She crawled so far into his heart that all his walls crashed down into a dusty cloud of pink, and that pink mixed until she was in his lungs and he was breathing her in with every breath. He doesnât need oxygenâ he just needs her.
But now itâs midday and the sky is the color of his eyes whenever he looks at her and thereâs nothing dark or hard about it. Itâs a soft color and a soft feeling and it expands even when the sunâ even when the thoughts of yellowâ try to break through.
Itâs midday and theyâre still laughing.
They laugh until their sides hurt and Luka doesnât even remember why but when he looks at the way Marinetteâs head tilts back with a loud giggle he finds that he doesnât care.
Midday doesnât last forever, though, and neither does the feeling of being drunk on happiness. Purple comes crashing in with sharp edges and a wicked laugh and draped in gold garments and purple is the color of the mask theyâre wearing and purple is the color of fear that seizes Lukaâs heart when it tries to hurt her.
When it threatens to make them relive their most painful memories or when their lives changed forever.
When he thinks about his father; the purple yells bouncing around their home, the bruises, the injuries he had to hide, the hits meant for his sister but left orchid-colored marks against him instead.
When he knows that sheâs been hurt a lot too.
When he knows that both of them have things they never want to experience again.
Akumas were common and they were always thrumming with energy and he knew that they werenât in control of themselvesâ that Hawkmoth had his manipulative claws digging into their mindsâ but it doesnât help the rage that contorts and twists in his veins because how dare they try to hurt the girl he loves.
So he fights for her and she fights for him but theyâre just two teenagers and they werenât supposed to be a team and what were they supposed to do when the world feels like it's falling down onto them?
Luka felt like he was drowning but that wasnât what scared him.
What scared him was looking to his right and seeing that Marinette was drowning too. That his eyes were growing heavy and he couldnât breathe and he felt so weak but he reached out for her anywayâ he reached out and everything went numb when their fingertips touched.
It felt like he was flying, flashes and colors and smells jerking him from one place to the next and it couldâve been years since his feet had touched the ground by the time that Luka crashed into the cold, plasticy feeling of whatever was under him.
Coughing, he sat up in a blind frenzy, blinking repeatedly as his senses tried to grapple his surroundingsâ skin feeling too tight to fit his panic.
âMelody?â Luka pushed himself to stand, knees shaking but not as bad as his voice. âMelody, where are you? Marinette!â Seeing her groaning behind him, the musician only sees a wave of pink before heâs already crouched next to her and holding her face in his hands.
Sheâs cold and her face is scrunched up like she tasted a lemon.
But sheâs breathing, sheâs aliveâ and it makes relief puncture his lungs and for a heavy sigh to escape him.
âL-Luka?â Marinetteâs eyes slowly blinked open, mouth parting in some form of a dazeâ as if sheâs looking right through him. âWhat⌠the akuma! No, oh no. This is, this is bad! I canât be trapped here, I have to get back! And, god, Luka. I need to get back to Luka.â
âMelody, itâs okay, Iâm right here.â Luka shuffled closer, both of them sitting side to side now as his hands calmingly ran up and down her arms, confused as to why she wasnât looking at him. âWeâll be okay. Ladybug and Chat Noir will fix everything andââ
âNo, no.â She clutched at her head with a groan, not acknowledging his words, blue eyes filling with terror and guilt. âIf Iâm here then, thenâ Tikki?â Watching her suddenly whirl around and stand up gave Luka whiplash and he wondered how she didnât even stagger after being teleported to⌠wherever they were. âTikki, I really need you!â
Tikki? Whoâs that? Luka blinked a couple times, hands itching by his sides to just drag her back to him and never let go.
Heâs blue and sheâs pink but purple would be okay if sheâs safe. Purple would be okay, for just a moment, if he could hold her. If he could make sure nothing elseâ no one elseâ could hurt her.Â
âOkay, okay, this is fine,â Marinette said to herself and Luka watched, unsure of what to do if she couldnât see, hear, or feel himâ seemingly anyway since she gave so indication that she knew he was there. âChat Noir will fight that Akuma or find a way to break me out of here and everything will be fine. He knows who I am. Heâll figure it out.â
Chat Noir? Why would Chat Noir focus on getting her out then just winning the fight and cleansing the Akuma with Ladybug?
Luka was a Couffaine, chaos ran in his blood and he was used to life throwing a curveball and painful things his way, used to going with the flow and preparing for the worst, used to figuring things out on his own.
But honestly? This was giving him a headache.
âMelody?â He stands up and tries again, only for a wave of purple to explode around them as the scenery flashes around them, their bodies now side by side as theyâre forced to move through wherever this Akumaâs power is taking them.
Theyâre off to the side, his Melody not too far away and she clutches at her hands to her chest breathing heavy as she stares at what looks like a playground around them, and he can smell the wood chips underneath them and the wet soil, puddles here and there as drops of water drip from the trees.
He blinks again and recognizes it.Â
The playground from the first school he went to, when he was five or six and still so scared of everything and anyone that he avoided people at all costsâ blending in with the background and making no friends.
But this wasnât from his memory.
âMari,â Luka looks down and wishes he could hold her, but she still canât see him or feel him. Theyâre trapped together but theyâre still so far apart. He sighs, looking around more and frowning. âWhy would one of your worst memories be on a playground?â
As expected, she didnât answer.
Then Luka sees herâ a short little five-year-old with a shy smile and a pink overalls that are too big for her and a white shirt underneath, dark hair into pigtails and blue eyes nervously taking in all the other kids playing.
Compared to him at that age, she definitely looked more put together. Still kind, still adorable in that innocent kid way where they donât know how cruel the world is. In a way that he never got to experienceâ childhood ripped away by his fatherâs hands much too soon.
Kids he recognized as her now classmates and his sisterâs girlfriend, but not his sisterâ she went to school a year later than everyone elseâ were playing what looked to be kickball.
The Akuma also said life-changing memories, so many things wouldnât be bad? Maybe this is just when she made friends for the first time?
Luka hoped thatâs all it was.
But then, as the rest of her memory played out, he realized that was a too-soon assumption.
Sheâs five when she learns what itâs like to be bullied for the first time and goes home with a running nose and bruises from when Chloeâ god, he hated that girlâ pushed her into the concrete. Sheâs called Ugly Mari for the rest of the year and it breaks his heart as he realizes that this is what started her insecurity.
Sheâs seven when sheâs told sheâll never be loved and Luka watches as she cries in her fatherâs arms as she asks whatâs so wrong with her that no one wants to be friends. Mr. Dupain tells her that some people just donât have the same gentleness and warmth inside of them that she has.
Sheâs nine when she makes friends with her classmates and everyone learns to love the kind-hearted girl but ten when her best friend at the time says sheâs too much to handle. This is the year she learned to fold any pride she had into herself and hide it away next to her confidence.
Luka wants to scream at the world when he sees how scared she is of pushing people away because sheâs a little too smart, a little too clumsy, a little too late, a little too much.
Sheâs twelve when Chloe beats her up in the locker room and she goes home telling her parents that she fell down some stairs. Sheâs twelve when she makes her first successful shirt and it gets ripped up. Sheâs twelve and she cries herxcself to sleep because she doesnât feel like anyone will ever love her.
Sheâs seventeen now and sheâs watching herself at twelve years old and Luka sees the tears in her eyes and heâs on the floor crying just watching her feel worthless and he canât even hold her and tell her how sheâs the most amazing person he met.
Sheâs thirteen when she becomes Ladybugâ he learns that Tikki is her Kwamiâ and Lukaâs breath gets taken away at how brave she is but then is given back as his heart breaks all over again when he sees that sheâs so riddled with insecurities that she doesnât think she will be good enough to protect Paris.
He watches her make a mistake and she is so terrified that she gives away the earrings to Alya. He watches as she takes them back and helps her best friend. He watches as a cop berates her for getting them into this mess. He watches as she saves the same girl who made her feel unlovable for the last thirteen years of her life. He watches as sheâs confident for one of the first times and smirks as she takes down Stoneheart and all the butterflies.
He watches and heâs back to being the love-sick man he is as he sees his Melody, the one trapped here with him, watch herself without blinking.
Then she smiles and he feels so grateful that his heart aches because sheâs letting herself be proud and she might not be healed from the trauma of being bullied so harshly for years but sheâs strong and sheâs getting through it.
Itâs the next day she falls in love for the first time underneath a black umbrella and Luka sees the shy smile on her face and he scowls because pink and yellow donât mixâ even if it would make her happy. Pink and yellow is peach but sheâs nervous and so scared of messing up and yellow canât see it and he doesnât even deserve her.
Thereâs a couple battles and other heroes and small conversations here and there but their brief flashes and distant sounds but Marinette smiles anyways and waves when she sees the people she loves.
Luka sees it all and he doesnât know how he could ever stop loving this girl whoâs compassionate and sweet and protects everyone without complaining and no one can even properly appreciate her for it because no one knows.
And he loves her all the more.
Sheâs fourteen when she meets him and he watches himself play for her and he smiles as his Melody looks at the scene with a familiar tenderness in her eyes that leaves him breathless. He watches over the course of the year as they grow closer through her eyes, as he gets akumatized and as he is granted with the Snake Miraculous for the first time.
Luka sees as, even though he wasnât her first love, she fell in love with him.
Sheâs sixteen when she dies for the first time in a battle with an Akuma and Chat Noir is forced to take her earrings. Sheâs sixteen when she comes back from death with a smile and learns that her partner is Adrien Agreste. Sheâs sixteen when she found out her old crush is madly in love with her and she still chooses himâ she chooses Lukaâ anyway.
Sheâs seventeen and sheâs talking to Alya on the phone about how to tell him she wants him and it was this morning she did that, right before he came over, and then theyâre sitting with bright smiles and he notices how she looks at him when heâs looking at something elseâ only briefly, as even the devil knows heâd be damned if he could just keep his eyes off of her for more than a couple minutesâ and Luka is blown away with the knowledge.
The feeling is so purple that it makes him ache with the need to kiss her. Itâs the smell of her lavender shampoo and the color of an Iris and itâs warmth and gentle and a burning amethyst and it makes him cry all over again.
Heâs blue and sheâs pink and yellow isnât even an option anymore but that doesnât matter. She doesnât want yellow. She doesnât want to be peach. She just wants himâ she wants him and he wants her even more.
Purple was still dangerous.
But it was so, so beautiful.
Heâd never give it up because of what purple was.
Purple was her and him, it was them.
