A LUXY Conversation with a Debatable Amount of Eye Contact
Been doing assignments and exams all week, so Iām doing all my LUXY week content late. Hereās my day one (on day 5 lol).Ā āEye Contactā. @luxyweek .
This is the same Universe as:Ā
1. āTHIS IS WHY XY ISNāT ALLOWED TO WEAR SHIRTS WITH TEXT ON THEMā - A comedy oneshot about a shirt selection gone awry.Ā
2.Ā ā ONESHOT ā
- In which Bob Roth and Anarka Couffaine are now ādrinking buddiesā and XY stays over on the houseboat. Luka hates him. Luka hates him SO much.Ā
3.Ā āTHIS IS WHY LUKA SHOULDNāT LOSE HIS MIND AND COOK DINNERā
Ā - A chaotic comedy/unique horror crack-scenario from the POV of a 26 y/o Marinette.
From start to finish this experience had been living Hell for Luka, and as more and more time passed by, Luka began to mirror his feelings about this whole ordeal with his body language; leaning on doorways, brooding, with his arms folded- sitting near Bob and his mother as they attempted to play poker on the deck, with his guitar, but ONLY electing to ātuneā. At some points it seemed as though Bob was about ready to say something in reaction to his purposeful intermissions, but Anarka somehow managed to grasp the old manās attention back whenever his moustache-endowed lips begged to open.
The worst part about Bob and Anarka hanging out so much recently, wasnāt even the presence of the producer in his home space. For the most part, Bob just minded his business and didnāt really acknowledge Anarkaās adult live-in son. It was Bobās OWN live-in son that was actually the problem, and this was specifically because the SOB (Son of a Bob) had not only brazenly stolen his bandās music, pissed off his former love, AND gotten him Akumatized on multiple occasions, but was now rubbing his decorated fingers all over Lukaās equipment. He figured, save from physical violence, the best he could do was try to drive the company away at the source, hence the live tuning entertainment, but⦠there was apparently no budging.
One particular night, after playing the same four-note riff about a quarter of a thousand times, Luka begrudgingly picked up his guitar and headed downstairs to call it a night. Now, as much has heād been worried about XY snooping about and digging through his equipment, it hadnāt occurred to him until now just what an inattentive, easily distractible person could do to his bedroom.
The air was suddenly deathly quiet, as his footsteps creaked the pastel floorboards, body allowing for an involuntary shudder as he approached the poorly-designed door handle to his bedroom. After hefting the majority of his bodyweight into it, he opened the door.
Luka just about had a heart attack when he realised XY was not there. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He worked out how to turn the doorhandles? Heād just figured Xavier was too stupid to consider turning it with both hands. So much for that, itās not like that guy could not be trusted on such a delicate vehicle-slash-home. God forbid the asshole got into the controls or sunk the boat.
It was definite. He had to be found, and that was not an action Luka had voluntarily elected for in the past. Though there was an extreme sense of urgency, Luka, of course, did not forget to stop and gently tuck his guitar under the sheets of his bedāleaning over once the instrument looked cosy, to kiss it good night. The strings rung out in tangy appreciation, and thatās how he knew he did a good job. God, heād make a great father- but that was a thought for later. NOW, at least, he should probably redirect his attention to finding the hidden celebrity.
Just as he rammed back through the door, he saw the guy. Xavier was just standing there, staring blankly, with a half-eaten cup of noodles in one hand, and chopsticks in the other.
āWhat are you looking for?ā He inquired, twisting more noodles onto his chopsticks. Luka stared egregiously at the man, first thinking āheās eating my foodā, and then āhe can use chopsticks??ā. He would have figured, with the guy being XY and all, he would have just mistaken them for, like, rectal thermometres or something. ā¦You know, after consideration, he should probably start hiding everything that a second-grader wouldnāt recognise. Especially eating utensils.
āYou.ā Luka replied cautiously, a hand lingering on the doorframe. To be honest, he was still completely spun from the situation, and watched at half-attention as XY continued slurping up the ādles.
āThatās sweet. Want an autograph?ā After blowing out the steam of his last bite, XY pecked an air kiss in Lukaās general direction, although his eyes were still fully focal on the food. It irritated Luka a lot, that the guy didnāt even have the decency to look him in the eye when he mock-kissed at him. Like, really. Where is the etiquette? Didnāt XY learn this in bully school? Luka bit the inside of his cheek for a moment.
āNo thanks, Iām fine.ā The words were civil, the tone was tense. It at least earned a double-brow raise from the disk jockey, but still no eye-contact.
āYou know,ā Xavier began, āyouāre really mean to me.ā Luka was more than taken aback. He had never been called mean in his LIFE. Not by anybody, and not at any point. He felt his flesh freeze under his skin, stomach wobbling with tense anxiety. The worst part about it was that he couldnāt even say that it was untrue. Heād been nothing but a jerk to XY since heād gotten there, and even before. ā¦Maybe they had some old beef, and he didnāt care for Xavierās taste, but⦠he had to admit, out of the two of them, the guy had been pretty civil this whole time.
āOh Godā, Luka realised. āThe asshole might have been me all alongā. It was physically nauseating to him, and he struggled to find anything to say. All he could do was stare intensely at the guy.
At the silence, Xavier finally lifted his gaze, double-taking-in Lukaās stunned face with pleasure.
āSee! You totally know it too! I knew I wasnāt wrong!ā He seemed delighted to have struck a chord (haha). Luka swallowed, shaking his head through throbbing confusion.
āIām not mean.ā It was the only thing he could think to say, though it was tense, almost like a question. XY nodded, getting through another mouthful of noodles.
āNo, I know. I didnāt say you were mean, I said you were mean to me.ā He elaborated, moving to rest his shoulder on the doorframe, next to Lukaās hand. āAnd because I know that youāre, like, this SUPER goody-goody guy to everybody else, itās kinda, like⦠twice as mean that youāre only being like this to me.ā
The shock didnāt fade in Luka, but the already-seated distaste for XY caused him to swallow the guilt for a singular moment.
āIām just being myself. Itās pretty hard to get me to dislike somebody, but, yeah, someone being amoral is one of the things I canāt stand.ā ā¦He couldnāt forget. XY was worse, and in action. He was a thief, and a liar, and a senseless egotist who didnāt care about music, or other people. āYouāre the one whoās⦠mean.ā
Xavier didnāt flinch. His voice fluttered away, casual as can be.
āYeah, Iām mean, but Iām not mean to you.ā
The polar opposite of Luka, apparently. ā¦And yeah, maybe there was a point there. Heād been suspiciously tame around Luka, despite being incredibly judgemental of everybody else. No where near what Luka had anticipated when heād found out heād be in the presence of XY again.
He wondered why that was.
āā¦Yeah, but why?ā Well, that was an easy way to coax an answer. Maybe he was just too lazy to fight with him, or⦠maybe XY was, like, in love with him or something, like that lady that kept ordering pizzas at his last job.
He scrunched his face at the thought.
XY shrugged, draining the cup of its broth and then moving to place it on a barrel within arms-reach.
āThatās not an answer.ā Well, not really. At least not one that satiated Lukaās curiosity. With a pained sigh, Xavier waved his hands back and forth like he was using his hands for invisible pinball. He seemed to be considering his reasoning.
āā¦I donāt know, dude. I just donāt feel like that toward you. ā¦I mean, itās not you, itās me. I just need a little time to focus on myself-ā
āYou donāt feel... mean toward me? Wh---Are you using breakup lines?ā Luka stared incredulously. A light in XYās mind popped, and bright realisation appeared on his face.
āOh, shaa! I guess I was just copying my old convos.ā
It took all of Lukaās willpower to not slug XY right in the face. His fists balled, but he let out a long breath. One of these days, he really should to get back into meditation, lest he be in jail for hot-blooded murder due to some rage fit.
āā¦XY-ā
āItās because I respect you.ā
Luka paused, opening his eyes to meet a strong blue gaze from the other artist.
āWhat?ā Wire-pitched numbness took over the fuzz in the guitaristās head.
āYour music, and stuff. ā¦Like, it was good enough for someone like me to draw inspiration from.ā XY shrugged once again. āInspirationā, yeah, right. He tried that line years ago as well, if he recalled correctly. ā¦Still, there was something weirdly flattering about it.
āOh.ā Thanks. Say thanks, Luka. āā¦ā¦ā¦What the fuck.ā
That wasnāt it. ā¦But still, the unexpected reaction made XY laugh out loud, chuckling hysterically in waves that he evidently couldnāt contain. Luka watched blankly at his reaction, his neck feeling itchy all of a sudden, and his face very red- a reaction surprisingly hard to evoke within him.
When he watched XY straighten his posture and finally wipe the tears from his eyes, a smile of his own peeked out, but soon faded to neutral in stubbornness; a natural response, whenever Xavier made eye-contact.
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