#queuekanette

The older Marinette swiped her arm up behind her to close the portal, her other hand in a fist against her chest, then stumbled across the room towards her younger self. She was panting, exhaustion vivid in her wide eyes as her hand came down on the younger's shoulder, squeezing it so desperately that it hurt.

It was as if all the pain in her future self's expression was being transferred directly to her. The other Marinette couldn't even speak when she tried, her eyes shutting tight and she struggled to get back enough air to say something to her.

The mask across her face appeared to be having its limits tested as her brows soared high, and her mouth could only force out two words: “Save us.”

Ladybug stared in horror, waiting for an elaboration, but it didn't come. Instead, she saw the consciousness start to leave her other self's gaze, eyes rolling up and legs giving out below her.

With the extra strength given by the ladybug miraculous, Ladybug could easily support the weight falling against her, though the horror kept her unnerved enough that her own unsteady legs stumbled back. Her body hit the desk behind her and she heard a distinct tink sound, indicative of something having fallen to the floor, but she ignored it to focus on her future self.

She was given almost no information, yet her brain felt overloaded. Where was Bunnyx? Why would her future self come all by herself? Was the timeline in danger?

No answer could come without waiting for the unconscious Marinette to wake up, however. Needing someone else to talk to in that moment, she cried out, “T-Tikki! Detransform me!”

The light washed over her, and the strength went with it. She didn't fall over, but had to slowly maneuver herself down to the floor. Tikki, though wide-eyed at the two Marinette, awkwardly tried to assist by grabbing at any loose fabric the future Marinette had and flying upwards.

Sitting on the floor with her future self against her, heart pounding anxiously at everything she didn't know, Marinette asked no one in particular, “What happened...?”

Tikki didn't have an answer, but looked over at something Marinette couldn't see. She blinked, staring like she wasn't quite sure what she was looking at, then gasped, “M-Marinette! Look—!”

She directed a paw in the direction that Marinette had heard the sound before. As Marinette turned to look at it, she noticed that the hand her future self had kept against her chest had fallen open on the floor.

It was clear what had tumbled out when she saw that the black cat miraculous was lying not even a meter away from them.

——-

Marinette didn't move for a long time. If she retransformed or put in the extra bit of effort, she probably could've moved her future self somewhere more comfortable, but the mental weight kept her down more than the physical.

Tikki, meanwhile, silently hovered around the two in worry.

Marinette touched her future self's cheek, noting that she still looked troubled while unconscious. She tried to imagine how long whatever led to this had gone on for; if there would've been dark circles under those closed eyes without the mask.

“...Mnnn,” the future Marinette whined, her breath visibly picking up again as she stirred. She swallowed, her eyelids opening slowly at first and taking in her present self. There was a pause, then her eyes widened as she pulled herself back. “Sorry!”

If Marinette wasn't already sure that this was her from the future, she was now.

"You're... me, right?" she asked anyway, pointing at the both of them. "From the future?"

Her future self nodded, though was in the middle of massaging her temple, probably from getting up so fast. "Yeah." She smiled weakly, eyes surveying the room semi-warily. "You can call me Nette if that's easier. Thankfully, it looks like nothing's going to happen for now."

“...R-right.” Marinette tensed, not feeling reassured in the slightest. Raising a hand towards where the portal had been, she questioned, “And, uh... what would've happened if nothing wasn't what happened just now? You came here in such a rush.”

'Nette' looked exhausted all over again, her hand hovering over the pocket where Marinette assumed the rabbit watch was. Gaze wandering to the black cat ring on the floor as well, she admitted, “I had to. I had to get away with them before anyone could stop me.”

Shocked, Marinette leaned forward, her hands on the floor in front of her for support. “Bunnyx and Chat were compromised?!”

“Ha,” Nette let out, but there wasn't any joy nor concern in it. Rather, she looked resigned. “No, unless it counts if they were compromised to me. You already know who Bunnyx is anyway.”

There weren't any words that could come to Marinette's mouth right then. She had to cycle through what she'd just heard several times to confirm what'd been said, at which point she pushed herself up off the floor to stand up. She didn't have the room to back away due to the desk, but she wanted to.

Tikki had the questions Marinette couldn't bring herself to put forward, flying at Nette with a raised voice to ask, “You took their miraculouses?! Why?! How could you—”

“Marinette.”

Ignoring Tikki entirely, Nette slid herself towards Marinette to keep herself lower than her. Reaching out, she took Marinette's stiff hands in her own and squeezed, her sad eyes and furrowed brows conveying regret and conflict all at once.

Staring up at her, she pleaded, “Hear me out, please. I'm not going to pretend like this'll be easy to process - none of it will be - but everything will make sense if you just listen."

Her grip was strong. At the same time, Marinette felt she could've pulled away if she wanted to, yet she couldn't bring herself to do so. It wasn't so much about curiosity, but that Nette's expression seemed as if the world might end if she didn't.

She recognized that face - the feeling of being alone, yearning so dearly for someone to rely on - and she hated that she did. She'd finally stood up to her bully of many years due to having to take charge as Ladybug, and had kept telling herself all this time that she would keep moving forward in that direction if she was willing to deal with the struggle. What doesn't kill you and all that.

Yet, the woman in front of her didn't appear like someone who'd come out of a fire with skin made of stone; it was someone who'd emerged with visible burns and was still dealing with the pain.

“...Okay,” she uttered, scared yet feeling like it was the right decision to go along with it.

Nette smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Really.”

Marinette freed a hand so she could wave her off - it felt weird being thanked by herself - then helped Nette up so they could go across the room together. They sat in the seating area in front of the window, and Marinette could tell that her future self hadn't been there in a while from how awkward she seemed and the way she looked around. The idea that Nette might feel nostalgic like she thought so fondly of not-so-simple “simpler times” was unnerving.

“Marinette,” Tikki called out, flying towards the two warily. “I don't like this. What if this is a trap?”

Not looking at her, Nette pointed out, “You sense yourself, don't you? So you know I have the real ladybug miraculous. If I wanted to make a wish, I wouldn't have bothered coming here, would I?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to Marinette and said, “Tikki should leave.”

“Why?” Marinette wondered, conflicted as she looked back and forth at the two.

“Yeah, why?” Tikki echoed. “If this is so dangerous...”

Nette finally made eye contact with Tikki, but it wasn't friendly. “This is a guardian-to-guardian discussion. It's not for kwami to hear.”

That was when Marinette realized: Nette hadn't detransformed since she'd arrived. She bit her lower lip, able to tell that there'd be no backing down from this either. Addressing Tikki, she said, “There's cake in the fridge downstairs.”

Crossing her arms, Tikki pouted, but both Marinette remained firm. Relenting to the suggestion, she turned around and headed off by phasing through the floor.

Nette sighed, a noticeable amount of tenseness leaving her shoulders. “It wasn't a complete lie. We're guardians and this is a Marinette-to-Marinette talk.” She grinned self-deprecatingly. “Isn't that terrible? We hate lies, but we've just gotten used to telling them when it's convenient.”

Marinette shifted uncomfortably, unable to say anything to that. She'd hoped at some point in her life that she either wouldn't have to lie anymore or it wouldn't hurt so much if they were “necessary lies.”

That hope shattered once she realized who Monarch was, and who she would have to keep it from.

“You asked what might've happened if nothing happened before,” Nette began. She sat back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with a frown. “Marinette, the universe is falling apart.”

“What...?” She put a hand to her chest, struggling to imagine that concept. “H-how? How does the universe just—fall apart? When did it happen?”

Clasping her hands together on her lap, Nette continued, “I don't know exactly when, but definitely before we were born. It's been going on forever, and we never realized it.”

“Forever?” Marinette recoiled, having expected it to be something that took place in the future. “Then—what did it? What do we need to do to stop it?”

“That's just it,” Nette replied with a shrug. “I don't know how to stop it, and what caused it just comes from everything I've considered so far. It's the only explanation that makes sense, but it'll be hard to prove to anyone but you.”

In other words, she'd gone to the past to talk it out with another Marinette, because two heads were better than one even if that head was your own from the past. Perspectives and thought processes changed with time, Marinette supposed.

“A-alright, wow," she muttered, rubbing her cheek anxiously. She took a breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever her future self was about to drop. “I...I'm ready, I think. What's your theory?”

“Before I answer, I want to ask you a question,” Nette told her. She paused, gaze dropping to her pocket. “Didn't you ever find Bunnyx's existence weird?”

“Bunnyx?” Marinette tilted her head. “No? What about her?”

“Time only exists all at once in the rabbit's portal, but the past has to exist first for the future to happen. That's obvious, right?” A small nod came as the reply. “Then what about Chat Blanc?”

The mere mention of Chat Noir's akumatized form made Marinette's throat tighten up. She massaged her neck, eyes wavering at the memory.

Only able to offer her a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder for comfort, Nette continued, “That couldn't have happened in this timeline without a Bunnyx to stop it, or neither of us would be here right now. So the question becomes—” She gestured towards the rabbit ears atop her head. “—when did Bunnyx happen?”

Marinette started to answer, as the present Alix was Bunnyx even now, but then the paradox hit: not only was there no Bunnyx by the time Chat Blanc happened, but the Alix of that time would've been dead along with everyone else. By that logic, that nightmare of a timeline should've been the end of her life, unless someone from the past had somehow sensed something amiss and approached her instead. The fact that it was a Bunnyx from the future...

Nette nodded at her, seeing the thought play out without it needing to be voiced. Raising her index finger, she stated, “There had to be a timeline where it never happened for you to meet her.” Then, she raised the index finger of her opposite hand as well. “Now we're here, in a timeline that's not supposed to exist.”

“That doesn't make sense!” Marinette shouted, unwilling to believe it. “Like you said, we're here, aren't we?”

“Gabriel Agreste made a wish,” Nette reminded her, crossing her legs, “and you know what happens when people make a wish. If it was as simple as trading the last few - what, hours? - of his life and whatever Emilie had to bring Nathalie back to full health, then you wouldn't have seen that light. Reality itself has to be rewritten whenever a wish is made: the universe is destroyed and created all over again to fit that wish, supposedly.”

Remembering Chat Blanc and when it took place, Marinette argued, “Adrien's dad made the wish after... what happened.”

“I didn't say it was his wish,” Nette pointed out. She pushed herself up, walking over to the black cat ring that was still on the floor. Picking it up, she turned to Marinette and showed it to her. “People have been making wishes since these have been created, and I think Master Fu was wrong. When he explained it to us, he said that someone would've lost their humanity to give Markov humanity, but there's no such thing as an equal trade when it comes to wishes. If it was the other way around and it was someone willing to lose their humanity to give it to someone else, is that fair? They're both getting what they want, so there wouldn't be any downside then, would there?”

Doing her best to follow along, Marinette admitted, “I...I don't know?”

“And if someone a wisher doesn't know dies so someone they care about is brought back, then that's not equal either.” Nette held up the ring, turning it around to examine it. “The game has always been rigged, against us and the kwami. The butterfly miraculous ended up in someone else's hands, and I bet that's not because of the wish.”

“What—” Marinette had to stop to inhale, realizing that she hadn't been breathing. “What do you mean...?”

“These...these things,” Nette scoffed, holding the ring at arm's length like it disgusted her, “are a prison. Kwami have to obey their masters and we treat it like it's normal. They need us to be able to use their powers without causing a disaster, and they don't have a choice if someone wants to make a wish. If you're the villain, isn't that system practically made for you?”

Marinette said nothing, but the horror was slowly settling onto her face. She covered her mouth with a hand.

“And it can't be that easy to rewrite our universe either; not without leaving things behind.” Outstretching her arm towards some paper and writing utensils resting on the nearby desk, Nette stated, “When we erase our sketches, there's always something left. Maybe it's the effort we had to put into getting rid of it, or our memory of what was there before, or the eraser getting worn down.”

Marinette began to understand the concept from there. The logic behind time travel, when it came to the rabbit, often eluded her to the point where it seemed better not to think about it at all, but the metaphor of an artist's sketch was easy enough to grasp. Perhaps even more apt, the more she considered it, would've been an author writing a story.

The words on the page were time itself, the last word on the page was the present, and everything before was the past. As for the future, considering the phrase about it not being "set in stone," it was the fluid nature of a writer's thoughts of what they wanted to write, but hadn't written yet. Time travelers could access that future, but it was more pliable and likely to change than the past or present.

Whenever a wish was made or a time traveler affected the timeline, it was equivalent to the writer going back and erasing some of the words they wrote, then rewriting something in its place. One could see the faint outline that something was there before, barring cases like Chat Blanc where they weren't just "changed" but erased in full.

So deep in thought that she was unable to look at her future self, Marinette said behind her hand, “You're saying that no rewrite is perfect. You can't destroy everything without anything left over.”

“Exactly.”

“...Someone made a wish,” she concluded, starting to piece everything together herself. “I mean, there were a lot of wishes, and our universe got worse with every one of them, but Chat never got akumatized in the timeline before this new mystery wish. In the, uh—first timeline we don't remember, we gave Alix the rabbit miraculous at some time, somewhere, then that wish happened, and it changed everything enough for Chat Blanc to happen in this new timeline.”

Then came the obvious question: who? Who would make a wish, what had crumbled in the process, and what would've been left behind to prove it?

Just as she went to voice any of those, Marinette heard a shuffling noise that made her look up. Nette had retrieved her diary and phone, balancing the latter on the former so she could still hold onto the ring. She returned to Marinette's side to sit down next to her again, a solemn look on her face.

Marinette had a terrible feeling, even worse than everything that'd come before.

“I know you remember, because I can't forget either,” Nette said. ”What did Chat Blanc say was the cause of all that destruction?”

It came back to her so easily, because of course she couldn't forget. He'd said it was their love that...

“...No.” Marinette shook her head aggressively. “I-I wasn't—not back then! Now I'm even dating—“

Raising the hand with the cat miraculous, Nette curled her fingers around it to keep it in her fist. “I'm sorry. It all adds up when you put together what I know... and who he is.” Her face was apologetic, pitying even. “Like father, like s—”

“No!”

Marinette stood up, physically putting distance between the two of them. She shut her eyes and clamped her hands over her ears, pacing around the room that suddenly seemed too small.

“I can't hear you!” she yelled. “Adrien isn't Chat Noir, and he wouldn't do that! It's something else, it has to be!”

The only thing she could hear then was the panicked pounding of her heart and her own rapid breathing. A hand grabbed hold of her arm, but she struggled against it, crying out when she tried to pull away and her side hit the table.

“Marinette!” Nette called out desperately, managing to pull Marinette's arms apart so she could hear her again. “I know, I know you don't want to believe it! I'm you, don't you think I did everything I could to come up with any other explanation?!”

All that escaped Marinette at first was a pathetic squeak. Her future self seemed to loom over her like the reality being offered to her, and she couldn't get away from it. She could only do her best to fight back, fists tight as she wrenched her arms away. “So—so what then? What would he even wish for?!”

Nette, seeing how on edge she was, stepped back. “...I can't say for sure.”

“See?! So how can you—”

“Because no one can know, not even him,” she cut in. “He had to have reset time, and that affected the future that you—that we had.”

This was all going somewhere, and it wasn't anywhere good. Marinette could practically sense it, which left her completely on edge.

"You think we weren't in love," she ground out, still shaking. "That's why what happened with Chat only happened here."

Nette stared at her tenderly, then made her way back to the window seat. Gesturing to it, she told her, "Come on, sit back down."

Marinette didn't respond, standing stubbornly in place as a refusal.

Nette sighed, but didn't force her. "I don't think we were in love before, no." She hesitated, eyes taking in Marinette's already-rigid stance on this before adding, "I don't think we're in love now either."

Marinette's head tipped up, gaze narrowed. "Stop it."

It was hard to say whether it was a threat or a plea, but Nette continued on regardless.

"Adrien is a sentimonster. He was created using the peacock miraculous. There's a reason he's as pretty as he is, and I'd bet it's the same reason he aces just about whatever Gabriel puts him up to." She walked up to Marinette with purpose. "He was designed that way."

"Stop it!" Huffing, Marinette countered, "Even if you were right, that doesn't change that everyone adores Adrien. You think they'd do that if he was so 'fake'?"

She couldn't believe this was happening right now. The fact that the woman arguing with her was her future self meant that they both understood what it was like to be around and with Adrien, so how could she stand there and say such things?

Yet, Nette forged on, "I wonder about it. Is it really just a coincidence how everyone likes him so much and he can make friends so easily? Is it really just a coincidence how the guys were willing to lie and abandon their own girlfriends to throw him a party, when some of them barely talked to him? Is it really just a coincidence that he fell in love with Kagami when Gabriel planned on getting them together anyway?"

"But he's not anymore!" Marinette burst out. "He's in love with us, like we're in love with him!"

Over the course of their conversation, she'd noted that Nette had made every attempt to sound neutral or impassive when she could (with varying degrees of success), probably with the thought that it would stir up more emotion or make the revelations all the worse. However, her expression darkened at Marinette's words, so much so that Marinette flinched.

"Is that what you think love is?" Nette questioned in a low voice. "Feeling - or knowing - that your boyfriend is so helpless with emotions that he needs to be protected from them? Letting yourself suffer so that he doesn't have to? Deciding that you have to keep those secrets no matter how terrible it feels? Or are you just waiting for your memory to get erased when you make Alya the next guardian so you don't have to think about it anymore? Is that really the happy ending we dreamed about?"

For every argument, Nette would have a retort; Marinette realized it at that moment. As Nette had implied, she'd thought about all of this longer and harder, because she had to go through all the same mental hurdles when dealing with everything she'd discovered.

"...That's the thing about sentimonsters," Nette said bitterly. "We get to decide how to feel about them. No matter how much I told myself that he's different, because he was made to be a human, we mourned the Ladybug sentimonster that Nathalie made without doing it for the Nino that Gabriel made. They were made with the same thing in mind, so it was only how those situations panned out that mattered in the end. Maybe sentimonsters really have emotions, or maybe they just learn and react depending on what's going on around them. People 'fall in love' with AIs too, like the kind in those Alliance rings, but there's nothing real there; those people just think so."

She glanced outside, the bright sunny skies in sharp contrast with the emotional turmoil Marinette was going through. Nette rubbed at her heart, as if trying to ease the phantom pain of her counterpart's heartache.

"If you ask me, sentimonsters only 'love' within their limits. You should be familiar with it too." Her hand dropped to her yoyo, her thumb running along the edge where the two pieces met. "You could've revealed everything, but you didn't, and by protecting Gabriel, you were protecting Tomoe too."

"I didn't want Kagami to get hurt," Marinette uttered weakly. "Her mom did terrible things, but—but Kagami still cares about her."

"Of course she does. She's a sentimonster that Tomoe made," Nette reminded her. "Is it that Kagami feels like she should care about her, or that she can't help caring about her? Felix's dad didn't care about Felix, so of course Felix wouldn't care about him either."

"So..." Marinette sucked in a breathe. "What they want is based on the person who created them, and what they learn?"

"Or the person holding their object, and the authority in their lives." Reluctantly, Nette told her, "It's pretty obvious when you think about it. Adrien 'fell for' Ladybug, but is that really just a coincidence when Gabriel was so obsessed with getting the ladybug miraculous? When he and Kagami broke up, who did he go for next?"

The person who was secretly Ladybug, Marinette thought, but couldn't bring herself to say.

"And then Kagami ended up with Felix, who looks so much like Adrien that he can disguise himself as him. When a sentimonster can't get what they want - what they need - they'll seek out any replacement they can to fill a hole that can't be filled, like with Emilie." Nette swallowed, a dark look on her face. "Because I don't think Gabriel was the only reason Adrien went after us."

"I-I don't get it," Marinette lied.

The truth was that she didn't want to get it.

"You remember Simon Says, don't you? We went to get Adrien, and saw the picture on his computer of his mom." Not making eye contact, Nette asked, "What did Adrien say about it? About us?"

"That we had her—" Marinette's eyes wavered, her hands covering her mouth in abject disgust. She felt ill, the blissful ignorance she'd had at what she'd seen as a compliment having made her ignore all the red flags that came with it.

He'd compared her to his mother. All those times she took a leadership role over Chat to be "above" him, or viewed Adrien as someone who needed to be babied, she was enabling an association with the woman who created him, the very thing he'd been seeking out but couldn't have.

As if it were fate, Marinette's phone started ringing, the screen turning on to indicate the incoming call. Both of them looked to see Adrien's contact there, his image "pure" and "perfect" while the typical ringtone urged Marinette to answer it.

She didn't. She wasn't even sure that she could move. Her legs were entirely stiff, her hand blindly reaching out for her chair to sit in it.

Nette silently moved forward and grabbed the chair herself, sliding it into just the right spot so Marinette could collapse onto it. The two didn't say anything for a minute, the sound of the phone going off being the only thing to fill the silence.

Marinette waited for it to stop, unable to do so much as think while she could still hear it. Burying her face in her hands, she choked out, "How could you say all that? Why'd you have to tell me? We worked so hard to get here. If it's all a lie, then it was—"

"—for nothing," Nette confirmed. There was no cheer in her voice at having gotten through even a little bit to her present self; the sting of her own words affected her as much as it did when she'd initially thought them herself.

Marinette shook her body from side to side in adamant denial. Her head swam at the memories rushing through her, all of the humiliations she'd faced on her road to confessing to the Adrien Agreste.

Nette's tone shifted back to sympathy. "I know where your head's at right now. He was our everything, and I hate how it had to be that way."

Marinette heard the strange emphasis on the words, as well as the retreating footsteps, and peeked through her fingers to watch as Nette went back to the window seat. She'd almost forgotten about the diary and phone her future self had grabbed, and her diary specifically was brought over to her.

"There was a lucky charm we used to have. Remember?"

Marinette lowered her hands further down her face, eyeing the diary in concern. "Yeah? We gave it to Adrien."

"We loaned it to Adrien," Nette corrected, flipping open the diary. She skimmed its pages, then stopped and pointed at one of them. "It says so in here."

"What?" Marinette straightened as the book was brought down to her level. She couldn't wait and grabbed it herself, setting it on her lap as her hand hit the page. "No, right here, it says—"

Borrow. She'd let him borrow her lucky charm. She tried to remember all the way back to that moment, swearing that it had to be different.

He'd definitely smiled at the gesture... hadn't he? She got a headache whenever she thought about it.

"I told you that I don't know what wish he made," Nette said, "but I can guess what it might've been. I bet he liked the idea of friends giving him gifts just for him, and the wish makes that happen."

Put more simply, they still had some form of free will, but the wish's effect on the universe could shift and change things on a whim. Memories must've been easier to "adjust" than the diary, or maybe it hadn't mattered since she didn't read it until now.

Or, as Nette had suggested, the universe was falling apart the more wishes were made. Keeping the world consistent with itself became more impossible as time went on, so not everything lined up.

Marinette couldn't tear her eyes away from the diary page, in the middle of fighting the cognitive dissonance going on in her mind. "...Why? Why me? Why us?"

Nette departed for the window seat again, but kept talking to her. "I'm still speculating, but I think Adrien did want us in our old timeline. The way Chat felt about Ladybug probably carried over if he was the one who made the wish."

"But we didn't like him back then," Marinette pointed out. "Why didn't the wish affect us?"

"One, because dating us as heroes wasn't what he really wanted. If you think about it, Marinette is everything he could ask for: we have nice parents who could dote on him, we were the ones who helped him stand up to his dad, and we're someone who tries to protect everyone, especially people we care about."

"...And the second thing?" she wondered, not sure if she was ready but jumping in anyway.

Nette gestured at her transformed self. "It's the risk, like what could've happened when Sass used Second Chance that day."

Marinette remembered that. No one knew all the details, but she knew what had been about to happen before: she was going to let Viperion figure out Chat Noir's identity, so they set up a situation that he could Second Chance away.

Except Adrien was Chat Noir, and given how she acted around him... oh no.

Nette nodded. "It's a lot more risky to date as superheroes. We would be out more, we'd be letting our guard down on patrols to focus on each other, and maybe we'd even give in and reveal our identities. It'd be the perfect opportunity for Gabriel to take advantage of."

"Then he figures out Chat's identity," Marinette groans. "And Adrien figures out his."

Looking back at Chat Blanc, she felt like such a fool. She had so many steps to figure out how Chat could've discovered her identity, when actually it was only one step. Likewise with the Second Chance situation, of course she'd eventually reveal herself to Chat after learning he's Adrien.

"You think the wish protects him from learning about his dad?" she asked, though feeling like the answer was obvious at that point.

"Something like that, but..."

Nette let out a heavy exhale, and Marinette heard her retreat to the window seat once more, this time for the phone. She watched her slide her finger across the screen to unlock it, then tap a few times to access whatever she was searching for.

When the phone was turned around to face her, she didn't need to get closer to recognize what was on it: an image of herself grinning with the wall of Adrien pictures in the background.

"I thought this was a coincidence too." Nette pointed at the pictures themselves. "Sometimes we took some off, sometimes we added them, sometimes we didn't remember adding so many at all, but on the day that TV camera showed up..."

Marinette cringed, not needing to be reminded, and hid herself again behind her hands. "There were tons."

"Right, but I don't think that's by chance. It's terrible, but the best way for the wish to keep us close to Adrien when we were too nervous to confess was to make sure we'd never forget about him, at least until he wanted to date 'Marinette' and it was safe."

She had flashbacks from that alone: being unable to sleep from embarrassing herself over Adrien, having nightmares about embarrassing herself over Adrien when she did sleep, and her friends who brought him up even when she wanted to do her own thing. The way her life revolved around him almost perfectly, which seemed innocent and lovely at first, slowly became something she dreaded.

It hadn't stopped after they dated either. No matter what she did, things always circled back around to Adrien, and the big secret that was Gabriel's role as Monarch ensured that it would stay that way.

Could it have gone further than that? The supposed “love of her life” had wound up in her class, and him being Chat Noir meant that he would’ve been the only boyfriend she could’ve had that she wouldn’t have to abandon during akuma attacks.

"...Marinette," Nette called, her gentle tone somehow causing more anxiety rather than less. "I need you to look at me for this."

It was getting hard to breathe, but Marinette was determined to see this through. She uncovered her face and saw Nette standing there, one hand notably closed in a fist: the cat miraculous, most likely.

Nette laid the phone down on the diary, which she shut and placed aside on the desk. Her free hand went towards Marinette in an offer to help her up, and Marinette took it despite her confusion. Nette pulled her up into a stand, a look on her face that implied that the worst was yet to come.

Marinette honestly couldn't imagine how it could get worse.

"We've stayed on as Ladybug for a long time," Nette began. "Sometimes it feels like forever. I've had days where I've wondered why I still do it, or if someone else could do it better. Then I remember Master Fu, all the belief everyone has in me, and how hard I've tried to be the best hero I can. I feel guilty, like I have to stay strong for everyone else no matter how miserable it makes me, or it'd be—"

"—for nothing..." Marinette uttered, echoing their conversation about pursuing Adrien.

Nette smiled sadly. "Honestly? It would've been more responsible to give the miraculous to someone else. I thought it was weird whenever Tikki said I was the best, because either she was lying, the other heroes were just that bad, or..."

Or it was another way of keeping her attached to Chat Noir. As long as she felt obligated to be Ladybug, then Chat would have "his lady" around as much as he wanted. Likewise, as the conversation had already uncovered, every time she'd thought about how much she needed him or couldn't be Ladybug without him, that was the wish ensuring that he would remain Chat Noir. Kuro Neko happening right after him giving up his ring hadn't been a coincidence that made her feel like she'd betrayed him, it was a setup. Any act that would've gotten their miraculouses revoked under normal circumstances always ended up just okay enough so they would stay together.

"You have it half-right," Nette told her, having been watching the way Marinette's expression fluctuated. Her free hand went up to grip Marinette's shoulder in reassurance, but wasn't very reassuring.

"What?" Marinette wondered, almost frustrated by this point. Her world had already been thoroughly obliterated by that point, so, "What else is left?"

"Adrien's wish. We can't go back and see it ourselves, but I feel like I know what it is," Nette spoke. "In the first timeline, definitely around when we became adults, he must've found about about Gabriel's identity and it destroyed him. Then, he used the miraculouses to make a wish: he asked to be happy, with us."

"I... oh." Marinette's brows furrowed, unsure how else to take that other than an awkward, "Okay?"

She supposed that she should've felt glad, but she'd been prepared for much worse. The wish made sense and it was impressive that her future self had figured it out, as it explained her obsession with both Adrien and keeping Gabriel's identity a secret from him, but she was rather underwhelmed.

"...W-wait," she then uttered, a chill going up her spine.

Whenever a wish was made, a price had to be paid to balance the universe: a life for a life, or humanity for someone else's humanity.

In this case, it was happiness for someone else's happiness. If Adrien had wished to be happy, then someone...

then she had to be miserable in return.

Marinette had yelled and lost her cool a few times during Nette's explanation, but had managed to not completely break down thus far. She'd dealt with so much over the course of being Ladybug that she'd become numb to things she thought she wouldn't be able to get used to, and cried so hard that she thought she couldn't anymore.

She was wrong.

Nette, seeing her mind rapidly spiraling, pulled her into an embrace. The hug was tight, but safe, keeping Marinette firmly tethered to the moment they were in.

After all, Nette had gone through those emotions before her. She knew exactly what it was like.

"I'm going to tell you what I wish someone could've told me," she whispered. "It's not your fault, Marinette. You didn't deserve all the trauma you went through. You're not a villain and everything that happened to you wasn't some sort of insane cosmic justice. It's a messy universe, and you're just a girl who got caught up in it."

Marinette cried. It started as mere watery eyes, but soon turned into full-on bawling in the arms of her future self. Questions she'd had for so long about herself and the world around her had been answered, but not in any of the ways she'd hoped.

Yet, she would never have wished to go back to blissful ignorance. The knowledge hurt, but she wanted so desperately for that very same knowledge to have power.

——-

Eventually, Marinette could breathe again. The room didn't feel so small anymore, and her tears had dried. She'd started coping at some point too, her anguish twisting into some form of mocking laughter at the hand she'd been dealt, because what else could she do but laugh at the absurdity of the cards stacked against her?

She'd never known that there could be such a thing as an “incredibly depressing relief,” but they'd found it. She wasn't just unlucky, she didn't merely fumble into mistakes by things she never could've seen coming, and she wasn't a catastrophe waiting to happen. She was destined to screw up, whether to guilt her, isolate her, cause her to become dependent on Chat Noir for comfort, or all of the above. Everything going so perfectly for Felix when he took Adrien's place wasn't some clever strategy; things would've inevitably worked out for him from the start.

That, and the realization that Adrien - Chat Noir - was going to leave Paris for months without telling her, when she'd tried so hard to stay or at least have backup plans when the same opportunities were presented to her. What other secrets had he kept from her, after he'd complained about her not telling him everything?

Had the wish protected him there as well?

“...So that's it,” she breathed out with a humorless chuckle, now understanding Nette's reactions over the course of the whole conversation. She stepped away with a shrug, head hung in defeat. “I-it's over then. There's nothing we can do. We'll fail no matter what.”

Nette frowned. Shaking her head, she went forward and knelt down to put herself back in Marinette's view. “I don't think so; not yet, anyway. I want to believe that we still have a chance.”

“How?” she demanded, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “The wish is always going to work against us.”

“But Adrien never got his mother back,” Nette reminded her. When there was no recognition of the relevance in response, she asked, “What made it so Emilie didn't come back in the end?”

Confused, Marinette answered, “His dad. He didn't wish for her to come back.”

Nette pointed at her and nodded. “A wish overwriting a wish. Adrien's wish might've made it so Emilie did come back one day - that was even Gabriel's plan all along - but once the power was actually in his hands, he got to wish for something different.“

“And? What does that mean for...” Marinette trailed off, eyes slowly going wide at the implications and darting down to the closed fist around the cat miraculous. With a quiet gasp, she noted, “You want us to make a wish.”

“I know it sounds insane,” Nette acknowledged, reaching for Marinette's hand and holding it close, “but this whole thing sounds insane, so we'll have to beat it at its own game.”

Recoiling as much as she could given their positions, Marinette stammered, “Y-you're crazy! What if that just makes everything worse?!“

“It won't.” Nette squeezed the hand she held. “This has to work. This is our only way out.”

Marinette then recalled what Nette had told her before passing out: “Save us.” While it definitely was referring to the entire universe too, as she initially thought, it was now clear what Nette meant in the grand scheme of things: saving the both of them from the unshakeable hell they'd ended up in.

“You still have it in you,” Nette continued. She pressed the cat miraculous into Marinette's palm, then curled her fingers over it. “I know you do. There has to be a wish to fix everything.”

“You—” So that was why Nette had come all this way; it hadn't been a lie when she'd told Tikki that she hadn't planned on making a wish, but still, “You want me to make it?! Why not you? Why don't you do it? You're older and wiser and everything!”

Rather than conceding the point, Nette questioned with a forced smile, “Do you want the truth...?”

Marinette faltered, but nodded hesitantly.

Nette covered Marinette's hand in both of hers, then brought it to her forehead. “I've lost all faith in myself. Is that really a surprise, when just about everything we've done turned out so wrong?” She exhaled slowly. “I've deferred so many decisions as Ladybug because of how terrified I am that I'll be wrong. You have no idea how long I've lived with this; what had to have been behind everything. I kept second-guessing myself over and over, or told myself that I was just trying to find an excuse for how incompetent I was, until I couldn't take it anymore.”

She shook and let out a sobbing noise without any tears left to shed, unveiling how truly fragile she was in all of this. The name 'Nette' hadn't just been a casual nickname to make things easier for the two of them, it'd been Nette's way of telling Marinette who she was as an adult: a mere fraction of her former self.

Marinette thought back to when she'd first become Ladybug, standing confidently on the Eiffel Tower with a promise to protect everyone. She'd conquered her fear of Chloe not long after, and life seemed so good.

Yet, it was all downhill from there, and was never going to get better. She felt the black cat ring pressing into her palm, knowing deep down that it was do or die.

“...A...alright,” she said shakily, but she meant it. “I'll do it. I'll try, for us, for the world.”

Nette peeked up at Marinette, hope finally lighting up her eyes, then let go. It really seemed like she believed in—well, herself, but when taking into account the heavy burden being the one to solve all problems had been, being able to entrust the task to someone better qualified must've felt heavenly.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know better than anyone else how much pressure this is.”

“N-no, what do you mean? It'll be fine!” Marinette insisted, doing her best to bounce back and hype herself up. Opening her hand to look at half the world's fate in her very palm, she let out a nervous giggle. “T-the worst part'll be having to go back to being single, right?”

“...Hm.” Nette smiled, mirroring the giggle but without the same nerves. “Is that really what you think? You've done so well at putting everything else together.”

Marinette's head shot up. “H-huh?“ She dropped herself down to her future self's level. “Isn't that it?”

“Do you think we would've become an adult without dating anyone?” Nette asked in reply. Looking off to the side as if reminiscing, she reminded her, “That was one of the things that stumped me, because we're romantics at the end of the day. If there wasn't Adrien, there had to be someone else, right?”

“Then who?” Marinette urged, the revelations from before having already left her dizzy. “There's no one else in Paris we like that way.”

“In Paris,” Nette emphasized, drawing an imaginary line under the words she spoke. “I know it's been hard for us to love people because of what happened with Kim; we feel like we have to know everything about someone before we start dating them, so we're scared of it going wrong if we don't.” She brought her legs up near her chest, resting her arms on her knees. “But wasn't there one boy where it was different; where we were drawn to him from the start and were comfortable around him without worrying about knowing every part of his life?”

There wasn't a single other thought that crossed Marinette's mind. Her mouth automatically responded, “Luka.”

Another bomb had dropped, but at the same time, of course it was Luka. She'd nearly thought she didn't like him specifically because she felt at ease around him, which was wild thinking back on the logic in that. Perhaps it'd just been easier not to think of it due to how terrible their break-up had gone.

With the wish, it all checked out to the point that she didn't need it spelled out for her. Luka would've naturally been the second counterbalance to complete Adrien's wish too: for Adrien to be happy, someone had to be miserable, and for Adrien to gain the status of her boyfriend, someone had to lose it.

Nevertheless, some remnant had to have been left in her heart; that was why Luka was the exception to her trauma. After all, one didn't go all the way to nearly kissing someone that they only felt friendly towards, which left the final question of—

“Marinette,” Nette called. then prompted the next thought with, “What happened after we learned that Adrien had a crush on Kagami and we told our friends?”

“...The girls started arguing,” Marinette said slowly, a hand hovering over the lower half of her face. “They didn't want us to give up on him even though he was happy with someone else.”

“And when we were talking to Tikki about if Luka might be more than a friend?”

“Frozer. He interrupted us,” she gasped.

A memory came to mind of her and the others on the Liberty. Jagged Stone had shown up, and she'd thoroughly humiliated herself by giving Adrien all the focus instead of Luka. She recalled specifically asking Tikki, “Why did I do that?” as if she'd sensed something wrong in that moment, as even the biggest Adrien blinders shouldn't have stopped her from seeing the glaringly obvious.

Yet it did, and now she knew why. There was something wrong, which all came back to Adrien. She was literally incapable of not thinking about him due to the wish.

Nette continued, “Someone else interrupted too when we tried to kiss for the first time, and we usually beat him so easily that he was a joke.”

Mr. Pigeon. Marinette's heart started to pound hard in her chest. “I—I thought we did defeat him easily, but when I got back to Luka, the—”

The whole movie was over. All those akuma and sentimonsters that just so happened to come in at the worst times, thus keeping her from enjoying her dates with Luka, were intentional. Luka's issues with secrets had also never come up before and were the exact reason for the tension between them, which was what led her to breaking up with him in the first place.

Marinette's mind raced, eyes darting left and right with no real target. She began to rethink every interaction she'd had with Luka and how it could've been sabotaged. What once seemed like a message from the universe that it wasn't meant to be suddenly became the exact opposite.

She'd be so depressed after the breakup, she could barely get out of bed. She felt hopeless that she couldn't date him due to her Ladybug duties, and Tikki had insisted at the time that she couldn't help...

until it was Adrien rather than Luka. How had it never dawned on her before? Was it only because her future self gave her such knowledge that everything appeared so clear?

“When Monarch found out Luka knew,” she muttered to herself, “it was because of how much he tried not to get akumatized.”

“Isn't that odd?” Nette pretended to wonder, as they both knew the answer. “Luka tried to resist the akuma before he became Truth too, but Gabriel somehow didn't think about it back when Luka didn't know our identity; he even figured out that he knew both ours and Adrien's instead of just one, and then...?”

“Luka had to leave Paris.” Marinette stood so fast that she nearly gave herself vertigo, needing to get off the energy currently brewing inside of her by moving around. She gestured around at nothing while she walked, rambling, “I-I need to go. I have to do something. Before I do anything else, I have to see—”

She spun around to say it directly, since she'd have to put everything on hold to go see Max first to be as discreet as possible, but stopped when Nette had stood up too and was already holding the horse miraculous out to her. She was again reminded, who would know her better than herself?

Her future self, all smiles, asked, “You'll say hello for me, right?”

Marinette rushed forward, quite literally hugging herself. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Nette squeezed her tight, nearly lifting her off the floor in the process. ”You don't have to thank me. Remember, this is for the both of us, and it'll be you that saves the world in the end.”

“But...” Pulling back, Marinette gave her a once-over. “What'll happen after I make the wish? Are you going to disappear, or just... change like before?”

“I don't know.” Nette looked wholly unbothered despite the uncertainty, grabbing both of Marinette's shoulders and tilting her head. “But no matter what happens, your life is our life. Live it for both of us without regrets, okay?”

The thought that only one of them might ultimately get to live free pained Marinette, but there wasn't anything either of them could do about it. Taking her future self's hands off her shoulders, Marinette held them one last time with resolve, conveying her acceptance with a sad smile.

Then, she turned, separating for the last time as she shouted, “Tikki! Come on, we have to go!”

“...Marinette,” Nette called out from behind her.

Marinette looked over her shoulder at her, conflicted on whether she should hope for more good news or fear more bad.

Instead, her future self simply said, “Ask him how it happened.”

——-

No one was there when Pegabug teleported herself into Luka's home in Brazil, or at least no one in the room she was in. As she undid the fusion to bring herself back to normal Ladybug, she stowed the horse miraculous away in her yoyo and looked around to check for any sign that someone had been there recently.

Truthfully, she didn't have much of a plan. She just needed to see Luka. Her head was a jumbled mess and she had to talk to the one person who might help her clear her mind.

There were doubts she had about it, though not towards Luka specifically. She'd had a hard time following Nette's rapid explanations, and that was at least with the experiences of being the one all the utter nonsense happened to.

How could she even open that conversation?

”Hey, Luka, so I got a visit from me from the future and apparently the world is falling apart. I wasn't into Adrien before, but I still gave out miraculouses like with Bunnyx, okay? Then at some point, me and you probably started dating in the future until Adrien - by the way, I know he's Chat Noir now, it's fine - made a wish on the miraculouses that changed time so he got to be happy and me and you weren't dating anymore.

”There's also this bad timeline that Bunnyx-from-the-changed-future-that's-technically-the-changed-present-part-of-the-timeline and I got rid of where there was an akumatized Chat Noir, which is how we know that there was a first timeline because otherwise we'd all be dead. I'm obsessed with Adrien now because of his wish and that's also why my life sucks, why everything's more messed up than it already was, and why we couldn't be together like we were before.

”Don't worry though, because even though every wish anyone's ever made before is ruining everything, I'm going to come up with the perfect wish to make everything better.

“Anyway, so how was your day?”

Ladybug sighed into her hands, praying to any god she could think of that this would be the last major hurdle she would have to face. She pictured Nette, worn down but still having the hope to root for her, and tried to find comfort in that.

Her biggest fear the longer she thought about Luka's potential reactions was him being in Brazil. While the timeline hadn't been kind to her, she wasn't sure how it'd treated him outside of their dating. In addition, as she'd only remembered once she'd gotten there, he'd told her that he had a girlfriend.

The thought was crushing, albeit understandable. Who wouldn't love Luka, and what bigger tragedy was there than a boy with so much love in his heart than to have no one to give it to?

What if he was happy exactly where he was and didn't care about what might've been lost? What if she'd have to change the already-impossible-seeming wish to match that, as consideration for all the effort he'd put towards her? What if the wish would mean undoing his relationship with Jagged?

What if, what if, what if. All the thoughts were ultimately pointless and served little other purpose than to give her more anxiety until he actually—

“Marinette?“ The sound of a door shutting followed. “What are you doing here?”

Her head jerked up from her hands to see Luka standing there, his eyes wide and confused but not displeased by her being there. Sass must've been elsewhere, probably having a little snack break in the kitchen.

The fact that she'd been called 'Marinette' rather than 'Ladybug' told her that it was safe to talk comfortably without worrying about anyone else hearing, and that made her smile if nothing else.

“Luka.”

His name escaped her lips without her meaning to. She wasn't sure how she'd said it either but, judging by his expression, it caught him off-guard.

“Is everything okay?” He took a few steps towards her, diligently scanning her face. “Did something happen?”

He was a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one, dressed in the familiar calm blues she adored so much regardless of if the clothes were from Brazil or Paris. She wanted nothing more than to collapse in his arms and vent, like that day Adrien and Kagami had been “coincidentally” placed to throw her off, all so she would nearly lose the Miracle Box to Gabriel and actually lose Master Fu to his memory loss. She took the same number of footsteps as Luka to get closer to him, thoroughly tempted, but stopped before she could reach him.

“Nothing happened,” she replied, then shrugged meekly and corrected to, “Or, everything happened, a lot of bad stuff actually, but it didn't happen yet? So I think it'll be okay, I think.”

He tilted his head, but accepted the answer. “Alright. Well, I'm here whenever you need me, even if I'm far away.”

“Right.“ She thought fondly of the offer. She knew how it felt to work so hard to try and make the right decisions, to not be a burden on anyone, and to be helpful in any way possible. Luka was that sort of person all the time.

She just needed to make sure of the specifics.

“I...I wanted to ask,” she began, staring at the ground and the distance still between them. “Are you happy?”

“Happy?” he echoed.

“Happy here.” She waved her hands around. “In Brazil, with Penny and Jagged.”

“...Yeah.” He smiled, the faint hint of confusion still on his face. “Why wouldn't I be? You know me, I can find great music anywhere I go.”

He'd hesitated, and part of her hoped she hadn't been imagining it. She dared to take another step, pressing further, “But are you as happy as you've ever been?”

His brows rose, and it was obvious he was starting to sense that something was up. His focus shifted to her waist, where she was fidgeting with her fingers. “Marinette, seriously, is there anything wrong?”

“No—yes... sorry.” She rubbed her forehead, contemplating if she might have to go at this from a different angle. “There are a lot of choices I have to make, and things I have to figure out. I wanted to come see you and thought it might help.”

“Oh.” His smile widened, pleased to be needed. “Sure. Ask me anything.”

(Ask him how it happened,) Nette's voice rang in Ladybug's head. It hadn't been specific, but somehow she knew what it meant.

Certain of little else than that this was the right path to take, she locked eyes with him and questioned, “How did you figure out mine and Chat Noir's identities?”

He didn't answer immediately, which was suspicious all on its own. She remembered Nette's speculations on Adrien's wish and wondered how much it affected Luka too.

“I really need to know,” she stressed. “Life or death kind of know.”

He paused, always having had problems saying “no” to her, then nodded. Raising his arms up to chest level, he rubbed at the disguised snake bangle on his wrist and began explaining, “It was when we were fighting Wishmaker.”

That made sense to her. The most likely scenario for Luka to have seen or figured it out was when he was Viperion, and he hadn't participated in that many battles between their break-up and him admitting that he knew.

She also recalled that he had lied to her then that he'd seen nothing, and she now had an inkling of why he would.

Urging him to continue, she prompted, “Then?”

His gaze lingered on hers, but broke as he continued, “I saw Chat Noir standing there when Wishmaker tried to shoot him. He wasn't moving, so I had to protect him, and the shot I deflected hit you.“ He rotated the bangle in a rare show of nerves. “When I went back to try again, I tried to tell Chat Noir to avoid it so I could go with you, but...”

He let himself get hit, in other words, but Luka was too nice to use that exact accusation. Ladybug's memory of back then wasn't perfect, but she recalled enough of the battle that he hadn't used Second Chance on. When she knew what she knew now, how “funny” was it that a shot like that would happen to hit her? Viperion was always so careful otherwise.

That wish really wanted him gone, even when they weren't dating anymore. She let out a bitter laugh through her nose, then it escaped out of her mouth as well.

“That...” She raised a hand to her face to try and contain herself, shaking her head in what could no longer be called disbelief anymore. “Yeah, that sounds like him. If it'd been me—but because it was him, Adrien just—“

Luka's mouth dropped open, catching more than enough of her scrambled thoughts. “Adrien? You know? Since when?”

The gravity of what might've actually been going on while he was in Brazil seemed to hit him, not that she'd given enough away in the first place for it to register until then. Her casual attitude about it probably hadn't helped.

“I just found out,” she told him. With a dramatic flourish of her hand, she added, “We're over, me and him.”

Luka stared, not having any words. She couldn't blame him, as Adrien had been her whole life for a while, and had remained as such until about half an hour ago.

When Luka could finally get himself to speak again, he lowered his head and admitted, “I-I thought you'd fallen into rhythm with each other; that you'd found harmony.”

(Is that really what you think love is?) Ladybug recalled, and smiled sadly. “No offense, Luka, but I think you need to get your ears checked.”

He let out a small, strained noise from the back of his throat. It was obvious she hadn't been trying to actually insult him, but it must've been jarring for her to talk about Adrien that way compared to the last time they'd seen each other.

“...I can't really blame you though,” she acknowledged, running her hands up her face, through her bangs, then back down again. “It's complicated, and I mean ex-treme-ly complicated.”

She'd put extra emphasis on the syllables and it still didn't feel like enough to fully convey everything. While she wanted to hear his answer to her question about happiness, she supposed it wasn't fair to leave out so much the context that he blatantly needed.

“Here.” She extended her hand to him. “You're gonna want to sit down for this.”

When he reached out and accepted her hold, she maintained the careful distance between them and brought him over to the nearby couch before reluctantly letting go. They then stood there for a solid few seconds before realizing that they were waiting for the other to sit down first. Eventually, they gave up on the stalemate and sat at the same time.

Not knowing where else to begin, Ladybug started off by talking about the time portal that had opened up in her room...

——-

Luka sat patiently throughout her entire story, staying as quiet as possible barring a few questions at the beginning. She tried to start slowly to pace things out, adding her own input or speculation every now and then where she thought it might be useful. Letting Nette's explanations sit in her mind helped her grasp them in a way she hoped she could convey best to him.

Had someone been watching from the outside, it was apparent when things started to get more unbelievable and crazy based on Luka's reactions alone. He stopped asking anything in favor of simply absorbing, his pupils shrank, his hands started fidgeting with his clothes without a guitar to touch, and at one point his mouth was perpetually open like it'd gotten stuck that way. She might've found it funny if the situation had been less serious.

Before everything happened, people on both sides of her identity said that she and Adrien were ”made for each other.” It was a little scary, wondering how much was because of the wish and how much was the people around her being themselves. That was why she had to do whatever she could to fix things, so she wouldn't have to doubt people or question how real their intentions were.

It made her wonder about Luka himself as well. While he'd encouraged her in her relationship with Adrien, there were distinct things that made him stand out from everyone else: the way he supported her, the way he never blamed her, and the way he always tried so hard to see things from her perspective. When she really thought about it, it was the same way a boyfriend would act with a girlfriend he knew and was close to for a long time.

If that was the case, was Nette's theory really true? Had enough of the old timeline lingered? How did their first interaction go if she still had love trauma, and how long must they have been dating for her to move on from it?

She voiced no such questions to him herself, keeping the details of their potential past (or future?) a secret for the time being. It wouldn't do to bring it up when she was so uncertain about what his life in Brazil was like.

When Ladybug had finished explaining the situation to Luka, he didn't say anything right away. She shifted her legs in concern, watching him and trying to gauge what must've been going on in his head, but his expression looked completely blank.

After counting to ten in her head and confirming that he remained speechless, she leaned over to get closer to him. “...Luka.” She pressed a finger to his chin and closed his gaping mouth. “I know it's a lot, but please say something.”

His mouth fell open again, but then he blinked himself back to reality at her voice. Shaking his head, he took a deep, steadying breath and put a hand to his chest, uttering, “I'm sorry.”

“Huh?“ That was not on the list of things she'd thought he might say. “What for?”

“...I don't know. I—you're right, it's a lot, but you were the one it affected the most and I didn't help.”

“That's not true!” she gasped in offense. “You're always helping me!”

“But if I hadn't helped you with Adrien—”

“The whole universe is screwed up, Luka. It's not just me, or you.”

He'd heard her, but his hand gripped the crook of his neck hard, so much so that she could see the way his skin gave. Fearing he might hurt himself, she grabbed his wrist and pulled it away with a scolding look, only returning to her original position when she noticed how close she'd gotten to him.

He let out a heavy exhale. “I keep thinking back on everything that happened. When I try to remember why I did things the way I did, it feels like there are gaps in my memory.”

“Me too.” She brought a fist to her chest, trying not to shake too much. “That's why I have to fix this with the wish.”

“That can't be easy,” he said with a tone that knew very well that he couldn't convince her out of it. He stood up, extending his hand to her as she'd done for him before. “Come on. Have you eaten anything or had something to drink?”

She startled at that, having not given a single thought to eating or drinking, and was reminded again of their potential timeline together. She reached out to drop her hand onto his, hesitated, then sheepishly took just his fingers in her hand instead.

Unable to make eye contact for a moment, she stared at her lap as she asked again, “Are you at your happiest here? Do you like it more in Brazil than Paris?”

“Why are you wondering about that so much?”

“Since we have no idea what the wish'll be yet, we don't know what'll happen when I make it.“ She ran her thumb anxiously across his fingers. “Everything could change, or time could get reset again, and then you'd lose your home here with your dad and Penny.”

He dismissed that immediately. “You shouldn't be thinking about that. Even if time goes back that far, I could still meet my dad again.”

“But...” Her lips pressed together, barely containing the worry she had until she finally looked up at him and burst out, “But your girlfriend! What about her? I don't want either of us to have any regrets when I make the wish, but if I undo what happened, you really might never see her again, ever!”

Luka's brows got lost in his bangs, as if somehow the thought of this girlfriend of his hadn't occurred to him. Ladybug frowned adamantly at him, her grip on his fingers firm in her resolve to not let him drop the subject again.

The atmosphere was strange in a way she couldn't describe, neither of them moving for a long moment. It puzzled her, because he didn't seem worried or sad or fearful about the possibility she'd presented. On the contrary, he almost looked embarrassed.

“...I'm sorry,” he told her, staring at their touching hands. Before she could chide him for apologizing over nothing a second time, he admitted, “I lied to you. I don't have a girlfriend.“

“You—you what? You? Don't have? A girlfriend?” Having learned that her fretting had been over a nonexistent person, she felt as if she'd lost her balance despite being sat down. “But why? I mean, yeah, why would you lie, but why don't you have one at all? It made sense. That's why I was—I was just so sure that someone like you...”

There was a twitch in the hand she held, the uncertainty that was so unlike Luka. Again, he was silent, but he did pull his hand back to take her hand properly in his. She let him, not seeing a reason to be concerned about it anymore, but was entirely struck by how he brought her to her feet and guided her towards the door without a word.

“Luka?” she called. “Luka? Are you okay?

He kept walking. She considered calling out again despite the apparent futility of it, yet his footsteps began to slow the closer they got to the door. She slowed her pace with him, staring intensely at the back of his head as she wondered what could've been going on in his mind. Without seeing his face, all she had to go off of was the way he gripped her hand like he didn't want her to let go.

She didn't.

They were a single step away from leaving the room when he'd come to a total stop. She heard him breathe, as well as a slight jingling sound when his free hand came up to toy with his necklaces. Idly, she thought of the necklace she'd gifted him, and hoped he still had it.

Then, he spoke up.

“...I love you.” Turning to face her, he confessed, “I've never stopped loving you, Marinette.”

Her eyes went wide. Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed and nearly choked on her own saliva.

He continued, “I lied so you wouldn't worry about me, but you're right. Since we don't know what'll happen, we shouldn't have any regrets, and I'd regret not telling you how much you mean to me.”

She'd remained stuck on the fact that he still loved her more than anything else. He got closer to her, or at least that was what she thought until she realized that her body was pitching forward. She plowed directly into his chest and he caught her easily, keeping her pressed against him.

She sighed contently and wrapped her arms around him, but feigned a pout as she lightly hit his back. “You had me worried anyway, and it was over nothing.”

“I know.” The apologetic smile he had on was evident in his tone. “I shouldn't have kept anything from you after what happened. I don't care if it was me or the wish or what that made me do what I did, but I might've been able to stay in Paris with you if I told you from the start that I knew you were Ladybug.”

“Oh, trust me.” She chuckled nervously. “It was probably for the best. You missed out on all the embarrassments.”

He countered easily, “But I missed you.”

She blushed in return. “...I missed you too.”

That was the kind of openness that only a boyfriend who knew her for a long time could have, she thought. There wasn't any reason to hold back now.

However, as she went to say it, Luka spoke first to tell her, “Honestly, I missed you in Paris whenever I couldn't see you anyway. Maybe it sounds like a cheesy song, but sometimes, I feel like I missed you even before we met.“

She looked up at him in surprise, clutching the fabric of his clothes tightly. “You mean, like we already knew each other?”

He mirrored her expression, his eyes searching her reaction. A moment later, he asked with a gentle awe, “What did Nette tell you?”

Smiling and keeping one arm around him, she reached up and cupped his cheek. “She thinks we were dating before the wish happened. That's why we're so... us. It couldn't have been anyone else but you.”

She felt the breath he let out at the revelation. He almost spoke up, but opted instead to turn his head towards her hand, using his own hand to keep it there as he hid the lower half of his face with it.

His expression was difficult to place, though the blush there told her it wasn't all bad. Was he happy to hear that they could've had a happy life, or upset that it might've been taken away from them? Maybe it was both, but she had the feeling that even he wasn't quite sure himself.

She could relate. She'd gone through the exact same thing. She considered their current embrace and thought about how often they could've done it in what was essentially another life. Every time she kissed his cheek like it was no big deal or touched him without freaking out, how much of it was the them of now and the them of back then?

Could they have it again?

There wasn't a right moment to ask, given the way Luka was reacting and still reacting. Stroking along his skin with her thumb, Ladybug said tenderly, “I think you need that water just as much as me now.”

He nodded against her hand, reluctantly letting her go. They didn't fully separate, his arm around her not unlike that day at the TV studio where they defended their music video, and his free hand opened the door so they could leave.

Sass was indeed in the kitchen once they arrived there, not eating any longer but lounging in a teacup. He raised an arm to greet the two of them, his tail swishing innocently back and forth.

...A little too innocently.

“Were you listening?” Ladybug asked, then jumped when it registered that Luka had asked the same thing. They glanced at each other and exchanged a sheepish yet fond smile.

“I'm not going to do anything,” Sass assured. “You're the guardian, after all.”

She was glad that he wouldn't interfere, but frowned as she insisted, “It shouldn't matter if I'm the guardian or not. You have more experience than anyone else with going back and changing things, so should have a say.”

“Thank you,” he responded with a toothy grin, twisting in the teacup so he could prop his forearms up onto the edge. “Still, we kwami may not have organs like you do, but it would nevertheless be heartless for me to try and stop you.”

Luka turned to Ladybug and translated, “He means that he trusts you to make the right decision; kwami were just trained to give authority to guardians, so it's hard to say. Leaving everything how it is would be disastrous in its own way.”

He left her side to retrieve the two glasses of water, meaning it was just her and Sass staring each other down. She was conflicted, even while knowing he'd heard everything.

“Aren't you worried?” she asked. “Anything could happen. Whatever the wish is going to be, it won't be like any other one.”

“I doubt it would be any more harmful than the ones that have come before,” he argued.

”...What about Luka? If the wish changes enough, he might not become Viperion. You won't get to see each other again.”

He hummed, then acknowledged, “That would be a shame.”

“So—”

“But, you're Ladybug. You've pulled out of horrible situations before, and I believe your best intentions can shine through.”

Luka returned, passing her the glass of water and giving Sass an approving look. “Now you see why Sass gets along so well with me.”

She shook her head at the both of them, focusing on taking a sip of her drink. In her opinion, Luka had far too much trust in her, and that seemed to have rubbed off on Sass. While their lack of worry helped her worry less, it broke her heart to think of holders who might've been separated from their kwami friends.

Then, she thought of Nooroo, who'd been through not one but two villains in her time as Ladybug alone. Certainly, there were more happy kwami she knew than unhappy, but it seemed like some unbreakable endless cycle for the Miracle Box to never come back together again. Why else would the butterfly just so happen to end up in the hands of someone who would use it for evil?

There had to be a way - there had to - to either avoid a downside or at least keep everyone safe, happy, and together.

“Marinette,” Luka called. He waited for her to lift her face from her glass to look at him, then said entirely unprompted, “Do you know why string instruments are my favorite?”

“Uh?” She blinked at him, trusting that this was relevant somehow but not knowing how. “Isn't it because the guitar was your first instrument?”

“That's part of it.” He took a swig of water, then set his glass aside. Departing only briefly, he returned with an acoustic guitar strapped to his torso. Unphased by the puzzled looks he was getting from both Ladybug and Sass, he plucked a single note. “I love the vibration of the string when it's played, like how the Liberty barely moves from one place but still sways from being on the water. It's relaxing.”

She felt his hand touch hers and watched as he guided it to where the strings began on the guitar's body. Putting her fingertips against the strings themselves, his other hand moved higher towards the headstock, where the strings ended.

With his free hand, he pointed from where her hand was to his. “The parts of a string instrument are connected, and that vibration—”

He plucked another note, and this time she felt it.

“—goes all the way from one end to the other. It doesn't matter how long the string looks, the reaction stretches across the entire thing. That's us.” One by one, he started plucking each string and counted off, “My mom, my dad, Jule, Sass, Penny, and you. It doesn't matter what you do or how many wishes you make, because it won't change that we played beautiful music together.”

Her eyes stung, lips wobbling with emotion. Sliding her fingertips from the top string down to the bottom, she uttered, “Luka...”

“So don't worry, Marinette. I don't care whether we go back to how things were before the wish or create something new.” He put his hand upon hers on the guitar, keeping a fingertip on the same string that she was on and moving their hands along the whole length of it. “We're one.”

“We're one,” she echoed in a whisper, and she clung to that notion of his like it was a lifeline. Neither of them could've said what the tether he spoke of truly meant - whether sensorial, emotional, spiritual, or some mix of the three - but it wasn't important.

Even if they didn't remember it, even if what they had was undone, their time together had been precious. In the same way kwami couldn't be sensed while resting inside a dormant miraculous, nor could they be comprehended in the past when the miraculouses had yet to be created, they were there, existing in a profound, metaphysical—

Ladybug froze, an epiphany striking like lightning. Her grasp on the room around them left her for a solitary moment, and with it went the grasp on her water as well.

Not missing a beat, Luka caught the glass mid-air and set it aside. Eyes never leaving her, he removed the guitar from himself and put it down on the floor so he could get closer to her without anything in-between them.

“I know,” she gasped, her body vibrating not unlike the strings he'd plucked. Jumping up, she exclaimed, “I know, I know, I know what I need to wish for!”

Luka held onto her shoulders to keep her stable. Her astonishment was rubbing off on him and he urged, “Where's the other miraculous?”

Her breathing picked up as she frantically reached for the yoyo at her hip. In her haste, she failed attempts at pressing the button once, twice, then a third time until finally getting it open. She nearly thrust her entire arm inside in her efforts to get to the black cat ring, clutching it with her whole hand and bringing it back out into the open.

Was this it? She felt - knew - that she had the right answer, but it was terrifying as well. Even as she tried to slip the cat ring onto her finger, she found that she was shaking too much to manage it.

Luka requested gently, “Give it to me. I'll help you,” then took her right hand in his. She dropped the ring onto his waiting palm, and he kept her hand steady so he could prepare to slide it on.

The edge of the ring had barely touched her fingertip before she pulled back, clasping one hand against the other at her waist.

“Wait, wait! T-there's one more thing. It's important.” She forcefully blew out a breath, making hesitant eye contact. “Luka, about what happened with us...”

He kept the ring carefully in his fingers. “Us from the other timeline? Or this one?"

"...Yes?" She shrugged, not knowing how else to explain it. "Just—listen. We must've worked out back then, and I didn't want to say or do or ask anything if we might forget each other too, but..."

She grabbed the hand not holding the miraculous, her blush returning at what she felt was an embarrassing thing to think about when the world was at stake.

"If everything resets, and we don't remember anything about us, will... will you fall in love with me again? And if we do remember, will you kiss me?"

It was the closest thing to a confession since she'd arrived. While he'd been wholly direct with his own feelings, she'd stalled only because the nature of the crumbling universe was so tentative. Now that there was suddenly an end in sight, she had to act or risk never getting anywhere with him again.

To her surprise, Luka chuckled at the question. He shifted his hand, fingers sliding across her palm until his fingertips touched hers, then he intertwined their fingers entirely. With a loving hold, he brought the back of her hand against his heart and kept it there.

"I'll kiss you," he promised, "because I'm never going to forget the way you make me feel, Marinette. The lyrics to your song are already written on my heart."

Her own heartbeat synced with the rapid beating of his. She would've kissed him herself right there if they both hadn't already been testing the universe as it was.

Her body had relaxed by then, and while she could've put the ring on herself at that point, she let him finish what he'd started. Sass, who had been otherwise uninvolved in their little moment thus far, flew over as Luka held her hand in place.

Ladybug didn't know if it was some sort of kwami custom, or maybe something only Sass did, but he laid his tiny body along the back of Luka's hand while his tail curled around hers. Their eyes met and she felt that he was communicating something, but couldn't quite figure out what.

A blessing? Well wishes? A goodbye? Maybe it was beyond her understanding entirely.

As the cat miraculous was slid onto her finger, she called upon the fusion and transformed. Luka's hand kept holding hers for support and Sass remained wrapped around them both. Channeling her full focus into what she was about to do, she hoped for little else than that she might remember this moment; that there was just enough leftover magic for her to hang onto the good she was given.

All the while, her wish was vivid at the forefront of her mind.

I wish the miraculouses never existed.

——-

Marinette's phone alarm startled her awake, the blanket practically soaring off of her like a bird taking flight as she sat up. She blinked, breathing heavily, then looked down at the phone at her side in confusion.

She could've sworn that she'd changed the alarm sound recently.

Not trusting herself to avoid getting into a snoozing loop, she reluctantly picked up her phone and dismissed the alarm, but something wasn't quite right. She squinted, the mental fog called morning still hanging over her, and that was when she noticed the date.

It was the first day of the school year; that first day of the school year.

She remembered. Granted, the memories were more like a puzzle with missing pieces, but there were enough that it could be formed into a complete (albeit smaller) image.

She recalled Master Fu, becoming Ladybug, and the kwami. She recalled conquering her fear of her bully, mastering her talents, and the struggle to balance her schedule. Finally, she recalled her future self encouraging her to live happily, Luka's hand holding hers as she made her wish, and the broken timeline they'd tried to repair after it'd been tampered with by...

...?

Her mind drew a blank when she tried to come up with a name or face, but she supposed that it could've been someone random that she didn't know the name of. Her head didn't hurt when she thought about it anyway; on the contrary, it'd never felt more clear, akin to a migraine that she didn't know she had finally being cured.

She wondered if it was a sign. Had she actually done it? Did the wish work?

She got up and wandered around her room, noticing that the things she vaguely remembered making in the future weren't there. It should've been unfortunate to have to make them all over again, but she didn't see a reason to complain if she accomplished her goal.

"...Are you free?" she asked the empty room, so used to having a tiny companion by her side that it felt natural to do.

No answer came, or at least not a verbal one. It was difficult to put into words, but the world around her felt fuller, more vivid somehow. As she went about her day, she could've sworn that the presence of the kwami was around her even though she couldn't sense them.

Tikki's luck when her breakfast didn't turn into an utter disaster like the last timeline, Trixx's mischief when she accidentally greeted her father so loud that he dropped dough onto the island and got flour all over himself, and Daizzi's happiness when said flour-coated father gifted her macarons to share with her class...

The bakery's bell rang above her as went outside with the intent to get to school early. When she looked to her left across the street, Master Fu wasn't there, as if the signature moment that snowballed her life into unrest was completely unknown to the world. To her, it might as well have been a long nightmare she'd finally woken up from.

Now, she was just a normal girl with a normal life.

Raising her head skywards in fascination, Marinette remembered Sass wrapped almost protectively around her and Luka's hands. Had she been brought back in time due to her wish, or had Sass's presence somehow changed things? Perhaps he'd only suspected what the results would be and had tried to convey as much to her: enjoy your Second Chance.

She swallowed the mixed emotions that caused her, thankful regardless of the circumstances but regretful that she'd never get to say so face-to-face. Acknowledging that she'd have to accept it as a necessary result of what she did, she turned to start heading down the sidewalk.

She hadn't taken a single step before a familiar sound reached her ears, one that she knew didn't line up with the previous timeline. She spun to face the opposite direction, an open hand up near her ear as she listened.

Plucked strings from a guitar were forming a melody, and it was coming from the park. Someone was playing music, except she knew that there was only one person it could've been.

No one else knew her song.

The light for the crosswalk turned green to indicate that she could walk, but Marinette ran. She went across the sidewalk, over the street, and into the park with a speed worthy of someone who'd been a superhero at one point. The whole time, she kept thinking that there was no way, so scarred from times made nonexistent that she'd been certain she'd have to be the only one living with the memories, if she'd had them at all.

Yet, when she stood there at the entrance to the park, he was there. Luka was sitting on the edge of the water fountain, eyes closed and playing her melody. A butterfly had also descended and perched nearby as if it was a tiny audience member, creating a beautiful scene that made her feel breathless.

For what was probably the tenth time that day, a flood of questions came to her. What was he doing there? Didn't he have to go to school too? Had he come all this way just to see her?

Then, Luka's eyes opened halfway to look at her, taking in her shock with fond amusement. Grinning confidently, he mouthed out to her: I told you.

With that, all of the questions - unanswerable or otherwise - that she'd had over the course of the morning were promptly discarded when she realized one simple fact: she did not care.

She ran to him, her rapid steps giving him just enough time to put his guitar off to the side so she could jump at him. In a way that somehow didn't send both of them directly into the water, her body collided with his and she thoroughly straddled him, enjoying the warmth of their embrace.

She had him. He was familiar, safe, and she didn't have to wait or make plans to see him after all.

Luka laughed melodically, then slowly raised his hands from her back and called out a simple, "Hey."

Though confused why he'd let go so quickly, her head came off his shoulder so she could smile at him. His hands went up to cup her face as she greeted in return, "Hey? What—"

He pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers, never one to have an overdue promise even though the kiss itself was long, long overdue. As for Marinette, she melted into it automatically, her body responding as though she'd done it a million times before.

As her final revelation of this whole experience, she noted that this was why she couldn't have kissed him in the previous timeline. She knew the feeling of his lips, and the recognition came at her in waves from the contact: kisses pressed against her temple on stressful days, clumsy kisses just barely missing her mouth on sleepy nights, sweet kisses that tasted like they'd shared the same drink, and kisses with chapped lips during cold winters that swiftly turned into kisses smelling of lip balm.

Luka had insisted that he didn't care what form they took in their new lives and that they didn't have to go back to whatever they had. While Marinette agreed in principle, she silently made her own promise to the both of them: she wanted all that and more, so much more that they would struggle to fit all that joy into one timeline.

There weren't any more magical accessories for her to use, nor could she do any more wishes to make it happen, but she was happy with that. They would get by on their own, and that was better to her than any magic.

Having a baby born without soulmarkings was so rare that it had left both the doctors and her parents stunned, as they'd never seen it before. The latter still had markings they'd yet to determine the match to, so they'd naturally assumed it to be their own daughter, only to then find that wasn't the case at all.

They raised her just the same, but Marinette knew she was different. When they greeted each other, she saw them touch the other's matching mark, the literal symbol of their bond together. She had no such thing, so affection tended to be generic, like a pat on the head or a simple smile. She still felt like they saw her as a daughter with or without the mark, but she couldn't deny the meaning of not having soulmarkings herself.

Either she had some sort of once-in-a-generation condition that affected not just her skin but other people who could've shared marks with her, or...

She was unlovable, and would never be truly close to anyone.

As a child, she was in denial about it. She took markers and drew on her skin to try and create her own soulmarkings. She would have to wash it off afterwards, but in a sad, twisted way, it was her first step into art.

Bullying was almost inevitable, as it was all too easy to prey on her insecurities over her lack of soulmarkings. Schools were never good at stopping bullying to begin with, but Marinette always wondered if they were bad with her specifically because of what the bullying focused on.

They couldn't deny that she had no soulmarkings, and she felt treated like an "other," separate from the rest of society.

As she got older, she didn't stop worrying about it exactly, but she became numb to the harsh words that others had for her. Her friend group was also limited, as few were willing to befriend someone they didn't have the reassurance of marking with. Being talented only served as a double-edged sword for her, as she never knew who wanted to be her friend for genuine reasons and who just wanted something out of it.

Stepping into the role of Paris's superheroine, Ladybug, was... strange, to say the least. Suddenly, the vast majority of her skin was hidden away by her bodysuit, and no one cared about her soulmarkings. They still assumed that she had them, but there was no evidence that she didn't.

She couldn't say a thing, having to hear people speculate how "loved" she must be - especially by her flirtatious partner - while knowing that she would out her identity if she dared speak up. She was numb to the comments, yes, but bitter to the people who took their soulmarkings for granted.

The rich model boy in her class was one of those people. She didn't hate him, she wasn't jealous, but he was oblivious to social cues and didn't have much of a filter when it came to the obvious. The act of giving her an umbrella apparently made them friends, with his logic appearing to be that, since she had no soulmarkings, that meant she was "available" to everyone as someone to be close to.

It was an odd similarity between her and her superhero partner who "couldn't see her soulmarkings" and therefore concluded that they could match.

That was her life for a while: saving Paris, dealing with bullies and the occasional curious stranger who couldn't keep their thoughts in their own head, and making friends only after making certain they didn't have any ulterior motives.

Luka was one of those friends, genuine in everything he did and nice to everyone for no other reason than to be nice. Having to be so careful with people meant that Marinette was fairly good at reading people, and there wasn't a hint of ill intent in his eyes.

"We don't have to be friends," she'd told him regretfully, rubbing her bare arm and looking at the various markings he had on his body. "I mean, we don't... match. I don't match with anybody."

"Do you have to?" Luka asked with a shrug. "You don't for me."

Her nose scrunched up as she squinted at him, hopeful but wary.

"You don't have to see something to know it's there, right?" He picked up his guitar, playing a few notes with a smile on his face. "I've been surrounded by music for as long as I can remember. I can't see the notes, but I know how songs can make me feel. Isn't that how it is for you and other people?"

She didn't answer at first, but slid closer to look at his guitar. Their arms brushed, but he remained still and calm despite the way the outer corner of his eyelids creased up at the contact.

"...Technically," she began, not quite sure if she was making a joke or not, "you can see the notes on the paper."

He chuckled, but turned his head to her so he could counter with, "You're the paper then, Marinette. I see the notes, I have enough experience to know what they sound like, and I think I'm going to like it. Isn't that enough?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her gaze dropping briefly to where some of his bare skin was as if a soulmark would magically appear there. It didn't, and he was right: she had to judge everyone without her own soulmarkings to reference, but it was rare to find someone who did the same for her.

"...Yeah," she answered softly. "It's enough."

She was happy with that. There was a simplicity in them simply being without any thought or concern about soulmarkings. For a little bit, it was like soulmarkings didn't even exist, and she didn't care why or how she didn't have them.

She'd hoped it could've stayed that way.

——-

The week that Feast was defeated was one of the worst in Marinette's life. Truthfully, though she hadn't wanted to assume it as the case, there was a single person she'd met who she'd never seen a soulmark on: Master Fu. It was considered impolite to ask about a person's unseen soulmarks, though public perception was generally against hiding them.

Marinette had just thought he covered his for personal reasons. She never would've guessed that he too didn't have any, nor would she have thought of the reason.

When the Order of the Guardians returned thanks to Miraculous Ladybug, Master Fu told her the truth: that all people destined to be guardians didn't have soulmarkings. It wasn't because of some magical inclination they had, nor because their soulmarkings were for creatures who couldn't have them themselves.

No. It was because guardians were never meant to have attachments. They were made and raised to be loners dedicated to their job.

Master Fu tried to assure her that he wouldn't implement the "less appealing" teachings that he was given whilst training her, but Marinette could barely follow any of it. She'd become content with the handful of friends she felt she could have without soulmarkings, and that she may never know why she had such a "condition" in the first place. The worst case scenarios she'd always considered was that she was unlovable, or that something was wrong with her in such a way that she could never be able to properly love someone.

The truth was worse. It wasn't that she couldn't be loved, nor love people back; it was that she wasn't meant for either. She was destined to not have love nor give it.

She didn't remember how the conversation ended, nor the trip back to her house, nor how her parents greeted her upon her return, if they even greeted her at all. She remembered stories where the main character was given powers or told they were part of some prophecy, and it was treated as some special, nice, grand thing, yet she felt overwhelmed and confused all the way back to her room.

She hid under the covers to hide from the world, hide from the weight of the revelation, and from what appeared like the inevitable future she would have to face. She sobbed, but quietly so as to not alert her parents that anything was wrong. She didn't want them to worry, and Ladybug - the apparent next Guardian of the Miraculouses - wasn't supposed to have people that close to her anyway.

She'd never wanted a soulmarking more badly than that day.

——-

Marinette remained lost for what to do during the weeks that followed. She didn't want to do nothing about it, but she'd been rolling with the punches since she was born: the judgment, the bullying, and her terrible, almost spiteful-seeming luck. This felt like the same thing, a metaphorical shrug of here we go again where she had little other choice than to go along with it.

However, it was different when she actually pictured it. She imagined her life already being laid out for her, of having to live with the pressure of protecting the Miracle Box from anyone who might seek them, of never being able to make mistakes without dire consequences, and of needing to find a protégé to drop that very same fate onto.

Then, eventually, forgetting all of it, essentially throwing all of her work away and having to wonder where her life went.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't. She had to get herself out of the rut she'd been put into, somehow, anyhow.

Even if that meant taking drastic measures.

——-

Leaving her note on the kitchen counter, Marinette adjusted the bags hanging off her shoulders and the hood over her head before heading out the living room door. She went down the stairs, took a fleeting glance at the bakery, then resisted the urge to hear the signature bell one last time as she pushed the door open.

Her eyes were rimmed red and tired, but she forged on. It was a little cold and it was hard to tell if it was from nerves or not.

She winced briefly at the wind hitting her face and shook it off. She steeled herself up, about to take her first step into the night when—

"Marinette."

Marinette jumped up in surprise with a yelp. Spinning around, she clutched her chest to see the source of the familiar voice.

"L-Luka?!" she cried out in alarm.

He stood with his back against the wall, then pushed off of it to approach her. Her heart pounded, but she couldn't place her own feelings on him being there.

On one hand, she felt like a toddler who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar, but on the other, it was so nice just to see him.

"W—" It took a second to bring herself down from the shock to talk to him. "What are you doing here...?"

He frowned. "You haven't been yourself lately. I didn't want to make you talk about it if you didn't want to, but today... you looked like you wanted to cry. I was worried, and—" His eyes flicked up towards her balcony. "I went for a walk and saw that your light was still on, even though there's school tomorrow. I didn't know what was going on, but... I thought I should stick around just in case."

In other words, he was so concerned about her that he couldn't sleep. She felt terrible about it and, upon a closer look, noticed the way that very concern had worn his face out. She'd been thinking so hard about what to do that it hadn't occurred to her that anyone might worry about her.

"Sorry," she murmured, gripping and twisting one of her bag's straps.

His gaze zeroed in on her fidgeting hands, then to the bags at her sides. "...You're leaving."

She couldn't deny the observation when he'd read her so well. Looking away, she confirmed, "I'm leaving."

She'd avoided telling anyone because of this. She didn't want to involve anyone in her Ladybug-related business, and the time it would've taken to explain combined with the risk of crying all over again were just too much.

Yet, Luka was there, and this was her last chance to get anything out. She already stopped trusting destiny, and she wouldn't have counted on it to bring him when she silently wanted to see him.

In that case, maybe it was okay.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette dared to ask, "Do you want to listen?"

She suspected that her body relaxed on some level, given the relieved look on his face. Even Luka must've struggled with not pushing people at times; he'd still hoped she wouldn't keep her burdens to herself.

He walked back to the wall he'd been leaning against, shrugged off his jacket, and laid it down on the sidewalk. Sitting down next to it, he gestured to the jacket for her to sit on. She didn't comment on getting his jacket dirty, merely accepting the thoughtfulness as she walked over.

She let the very literal weight of her bags fall off of her, as well as the metaphorical weight as she took her position next to him. She didn't even know where to start, but eventually, she let her mouth open with whatever might spill out with it.

She told him about growing up without a soulmarking, about stumbling her way into being Ladybug, and about having to handle a world that she'd felt so long like she didn't belong in.

At one point, she shook at the vulnerability she was letting out after so long, and her gaze unconsciously dropped to the area between them. Luka's hand was resting there, his palm facing upwards in a silent offer, and it'd probably been there for a while; it was a place she wouldn't have seen it from unless she sought out the comfort herself.

Her hand sliding against his, they gripped tightly at each other. Though Luka's face was careful in the way it expressed itself during her story, she could tell how he felt by how much he held her hand and the microexpressions from his brows or lips twitching. He didn't want to distract her and she appreciated it.

She carried on with the story, finally getting into the more important details. There was Master Fu, Feast, the Order of the Guardians, and finally the reason for her lack of any soulmarkings. She thought she might cry again, but she must've run out of tears by then.

It was hard to tell if their shaking joined hands were due to her or him though. At the very least, when she leaned against him, he leaned back, so she knew he wasn't put off by her for whatever reason.

"...So the Order of the Guardians know where I am right now," she finished, "and since this is my destiny, they wouldn't accept it if I just quit. They'll try to find me and force me to be guardian."

"That's why you're running away," Luka noted, gaze dropped to the ground. "If they don't know where you are, they can't come after you."

"Right. It's not the best plan ever, but at least I'm taking something of mine back." She smiled sadly, aware of how depressing it was that she had to take such drastic measures. "It doesn't have to be forever either, I'll hide until I know they'll leave me alone. If they never do, then I can still do all my dreams, just... quietly, under a different name. It's not like I'm crazy about the spotlight anyway."

She clutched his hand tighter and was a little worried that it'd hurt, but Luka didn't say anything about it. He let her continue.

I'm planning on talking to Jagged Stone and Penny first. I was already in the middle of doing some work for them, so even if they can't help hide me, they deserve to know how hard things are going to be to stay in touch."

She paused, noting Luka's face. He'd tried not to react much, but he suddenly looked troubled.

He turned his head to make eye contact with her, pointing out, "And you're doing this on your own. Aren't you worried about how miserable that's going to be?"

She faltered. Of course she considered that, but him saying it out loud felt like he was scolding her.

"...It's better than staying here," was all she could argue with. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Take me with you."

The response was so instant and unexpected that she almost didn't properly grasp it. She could only conclude that she must've heard wrong. "What? T-take who? With who?"

"I want to come with you." He adjusted his legs so he could comfortably turn to face her. Still gripping her hand, he reached over her lap to grab the other one as well. "You're my friend, Marinette, and you don't have to be alone in this."

Her heart stuttered, both horrified and touched by the thought. She shook her head, her fingers twitching as she considered pulling away but didn't. "Luka, I can't. You can't. You already have a whole life here, and maybe soulmarkings don't mean anything to you, but you still..."

Her eyes drifted down to his forearms. Though he held her hands so firmly, the soulmarkings across his arms were those he shared with his sister and mother.

That was why it further puzzled her when he chuckled at her implication. Staring wide-eyed at him, she wordlessly asked for clarification.

"You've already marked my soul yourself," he told her, bringing one of her hands closer. Positioning it against his neck, he moved her thumb so she could feel his pulse.

It was fast, and she couldn't fully determine why. Was he anxious for what they were about to do? Was he scared that she'd reject his offer? Or...

"Luka..."

A question lingered in her mind, but she didn't voice it. Their emotions were both running high and it didn't feel right to ask it in the heat of the moment.

"...Okay," she said instead. She unconsciously stroked his neck in a grateful gesture and felt his pulse pick up again, but pretended not to notice. "Come with me, please."

He nodded, smiling softly as he lowered the hand on his neck down to her lap. "I'll go get my stuff. Is Penny going to be up soon?"

"Yeah. That's what I've been waiting for, but first..."

She didn't finish, but opened her purse to reveal the tiny miraculous box.

Luka didn't comment on it, but understood. "We can meet up in front of the hotel."

"Yeah. I'll call you if anything happens."

"Me too."

The discussion ended there, and Luka pushed himself up with his free hand. His other still held Marinette's until he began walking, distance forcing them to let go of each other.

She watched him go and was about to get up herself, but remembered as her fingers touched denim, "Oh, Luka! Your jacket!"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I'll get it when we see each other again."

He could've easily turned around to retrieve it, but something in Marinette felt that it was like an unspoken promise: his way of confirming that he'd be with her soon. She stood up fully and hugged it to her chest, staring at Luka's back until he disappeared around a corner.

Her grip on the fabric tightened. Suddenly, she felt a little better about what they were doing.

It'll be okay, Luka's voice told her in her head, and she believed it.

——-

When the bar was already underground when it came to how Marinette felt about her luck, she supposed anything that didn't involve them dying in the streets could've passed, but things nevertheless went better than she'd expected.

Jagged and Penny had been open to keeping the two of them hidden away., thankfully. They'd owed Marinette for her work as Ladybug and Jagged was not going to let the talent he cherished be left on the streets. She could also continue to do commission work for them if she stayed close.

Also, no one would believe that someone like Jagged would be willing to deal with hiding two kids at all times. Penny did joke about actually having a "third" kid to look after, but it was obvious how she really felt about him. Jagged had also been all too eager to let Luka aboard when Marinette teased that Luka was a better guitarist than even him.

It took time to figure out the finer details, like letting them continue their education and how to ensure that Marinette's work wasn't so obviously hers, but they slowly fell into something comfortable.

Initially, Marinette had wondered if she'd made a mistake. The grass is always greener and the devil you know, and all; it was easy to wonder if the life she'd led before, hellish as it may have been, would be better than diving into something unknown.

She didn't wonder anymore. She still wasn't a normal girl with a normal life, but she got to focus on herself. It was almost strange having free time again, to the point where she had to stop herself from trying to fill it with extra work that she didn't have to do.

It made her all the more thankful for Luka being there, as he kept her from getting too lost in her own head. When her thoughts went to dark places, he'd suddenly have a new tune for her to listen to, or want to talk about anything and everything.

The worst cases were when she was doom scrolling. She'd try to seek out information on the new ladybug hero, how they were doing, and if she may have just unnecessarily burdened someone else with a job she was meant to have. Jagged, Penny, and Luka had all plucked the phone from her hands at least once because of it, and Luka in particular seemed to catch the warning signs.

Whenever she fell into a slump and couldn't find her phone, she suspected he was behind it. After all, it always conveniently reappeared again once she was feeling better, in spots she swore she'd checked multiple times.

Not once did he show any sign that he had regrets about going with her either. She knew he could still call his family whenever he wanted, but she'd waited months for him to get homesick and it never happened. Rather, he seemed happy to be there.

With every brush of their hands as they passed each other in a room, the glances to check the other's taste during meals, and the morning greetings that quickly became habit, Marinette started to understand the depth of his feelings. The modest thing to say was that she didn't know what she was doing, but he never hid what made him happiest when it came to her.

She showed genuine investment in his music, including the way he integrated it into his speech in what most saw as "odd." She contrasted his calm, quiet personality with something excitable and loud. She made him laugh in a way people wouldn't have expected out of him.

After settling into her new life, she could admit to herself that she liked him too. She'd always been aware of the big something she felt for him, but hadn't jumped to act with the whole everything she had to deal with.

Maybe it was time to change that.

——-

"Luka!" Marinette called out from the couch, legs crossed up on the cushion and her sketchbook on her lap. Her face was pink, but she simply reminded herself to breathe and kept as much cool as she could.

Footsteps sounded from behind her, light but faster than usual, and Luka popped into her view. His guitar was around his back, but he swung it to his front as he sat down next to her with a smile.

Playing a happy tune, he then asked, "What is it, Marinette?"

She'd mulled it over for days, weeks, a full month over what grand gesture she was going to pull in order to say everything she wanted to him. She got stuck on every idea, not satisfied and throwing one out after the next whilst being confused on why there was such a roadblock in the first place. It was Luka, it wasn't supposed to be complicated.

Except that was just it: they'd never needed the over-the-top or blatant to say anything to each other. Once she remembered that, it was obvious what to do.

"I'm working on a new design," she explained, her nerves making her hesitate for just a moment before showing him her sketchbook. "What do you think?"

The design itself was simple in concept, but detailed in its execution: vines snaking left and right with flowers and music notes fitting perfectly against them. It was like the flowers were growing out of the vines at the music's command.

"It's beautiful. I love the way the vines are weaving with the notes," he praised, not even taking his eyes off of it. The fact that it clearly represented them both wasn't lost on him, but the depth of its purpose escaped him. "What's it for? Are you making a new shirt?"

"No." She breathed up, mustering her courage. "It's... for a tattoo."

Luka continued staring at the design as though he hadn't heard her, but then his widening eyes found hers in a delayed reaction. What truly gave his emotions away was a startled 'twang' he accidentally plucked from his guitar, his gaze only leaving hers so he could settle his palm against the vibrating string.

He could be unexpectedly cute for such a mature guy. In the time they spent basically living together, Marinette saw so many more sides of him: his tired self with messy hair in the morning, his shyness when Jagged complimented him, and his pink cheeks whenever she caught him off guard. She loved all of it, and it only furthered her resolve in what she was doing.

She raised the sketchbook, its upper edge against her chin. Confirming what he was already putting together, she clarified, "I want to get a matching tattoo with you."

It would never be a soulmarking, and they both knew that. Soulmarkings had a magic-like vibrancy to their appearance, and thus looked noticeably different from tattoos. It wasn't about impressing anyone or making a statement to the world: it was about them, and what he said to her that day they ran away.

Luka's gaping mouth finally closed shut, and he lifted the guitar from his lap. He didn't break eye contact with her, making for a semi-clumsy attempt to set his instrument aside to free himself of it.

It was the most careless she'd ever see him be with it.

Sliding closer to her, close enough that she could notice the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, he wondered aloud, "Does it mean what I think it does?"

She beamed at him, nodding confidently. "You marked me too. Right here."

She offered her hand to him, and he almost automatically dropped his hand onto it. His other hand took the sketchbook from her, only not putting it down right away so he could look at the design again.

Once he'd properly set the sketchbook on the table, Marinette guided his hand to her neck, imitating the motion he did to her outside of the bakery. She slid his thumb into place against her pulse, making sure to look at him as she said, "I'm just sorry I made you wait."

"No," he countered immediately. His voice was breathless, still awed by her sneaky little plan, but he managed to get out, "I was never waiting. I don't care what part of our duet we're in; it's all perfect to me."

It was such a Luka response and she loved him all the more for it. She gave him her free hand in a wordless offer, and he repeated putting it against his neck.

"Are you really going to be okay with a big tattoo all over your neck?" she asked softly as they leaned towards each other.

Truthfully, it wasn't a genuine question. She had no need to doubt his feelings for her, so it was rhetorical and entirely playful.

It hadn't been like that at first. While he'd wondered if his sister had been pranking him by telling him the wrong animal, Marinette was genuinely delighted by the gift and confirmed the same to him. He was happy too, as she had a sort of "companion" to keep her company no matter where she was.

A year or so passed by after that, and they were both growing up. Marinette was already notably less stressed just from not being in Paris, but she was becoming more direct as well.

That often came in the form of rambling about her "old life," drawing a firm separation between the then and now. Whether it was through a text, a call, or video, he eagerly listened to all of it.

"Two kids," she'd told him. "I decided that I only want two kids, not three. I'm rethinking all the names too."

"Oh?"

"Come on, Luka." She laughed. "I was a teenager with teenager dreams, thinking of dramatic romances with weak knees and blond babies, like I could control what hair they had and what gender they were when they were born."

"You're being realistic?" he'd teased affectionately, not commenting on the fact that she was technically still a teenager. "You deserve to have your fantasy."

"Hey, I've been overdoing it for basically my whole life. I know myself better now, and the blonds? It wasn't happening."

He wasn't sure why she was telling him so, but he was happy to hear anything and everything she had to say. If she wanted to be more open and was comfortable doing so, that was perfectly fine.

Besides, he knew enough about dominant and recessive genes to understand why the blond kids didn't check out, so it made sense.

Point being, she was growing more confident by the day and threateningly more beautiful with each call. Tucking his feelings away where no one could see them wasn't something he was capable of, but she never seemed to mind. Perhaps knowing he liked her made her feel good, and who was he to complain if that was the case?

Then came the cuddling.

Luka, generally speaking, was not the type to be jealous of anyone, but apparently that didn't extend to anything. That thing was the very plushie he'd given her, and he started to see it more and more.

He thought initially that she was just showing off that she'd gotten it and was using it. From what he'd been told, it'd helped her sleep after all, and she always hurried away to get it from her bedroom whenever they called each other.

She really didn't have to, and she especially didn't have to keep cuddling the thing so openly in front of him. He dared to suggest once that she didn't have to do it to assure him that she loved the gift, but she insisted that she was just "making up for lost time."

He concluded then that it would lessen eventually - that she would come to decide that whatever "lost time" she decided existed would be made up for - but it didn't. He even saw the snake plushie start to appear as soon as the video call started, barely in view of the camera like it'd been there a while beforehand.

Resting on the couch, her already lying on it in bed, across the length of her desk... he'd seen it in just about every room except the bathroom. It wasn't forced either; it looked like it belonged there and she acknowledged its existence with a pat on its head whenever she wasn't outright squeezing it.

All while asking him how he was and what he was doing, all while her eyes sparkled and she flashed him enough smiles to keep him going for the next decade at minimum. He'd just given her the plush sincerely, sure, but he didn't expect her to use it to such an extent.

There was some wear and tear over the years as well, yet was always repaired by her own hand. At particular angles, he could see stitches that were oddly visible, ones that he was certain she could've hidden with her skills but chose not to for whatever reason.

It reminded him of a scar he had on the back of his upper arm. It happened during a particularly bad fall when she crashed into him, leading her to apologize to the point of tears. It hadn't reassured her much at the time with all the profuse bleeding, but he'd insisted that it was fine; that he simply had a mark to remind him of her.

Somehow, she'd appeared to take that to heart with the visible evidence of a well-loved plush.

On one day in particular, he'd called her unprompted for a casual chat. She was half a world away, but he was eager to talk to her even if he was tired. She warned him that she was fresh out of the shower and he wasn't bothered by it: if she needed to blow-dry her hair or whatever, he understood.

Then the video call initiated, and he was suddenly wide awake.

Marinette was only mostly dressed, dressed in her pants and bra but missing her shirt, and her hair was indeed somewhat damp from the shower. She propped up her phone on the table so she could plop herself down on the couch and talk to him from afar.

Simultaneously, she picked up the snake plush next to her and cuddled it. She nuzzled it while greeting him casually, her legs crossed in such a way to fondly squish the tail of the snake under her thighs.

It took Luka a second longer to respond than usual, not just because of how she was dressed, but how okay she was presenting herself to him that way. He didn't have female friends who were comfortable enough with him to do that, though technically he did now.

Perhaps he wouldn't have been so jealous of an inanimate object if he had a better name for whatever this was; whatever was currently between them.

Leaving it as simply being happy that she was that relaxed around him, he was about to come up with a topic about anything except what was in front of him when she spoke first.

"Did you find a place for the hair dye I sent you yet?"

It was an odd topic to him, only because his current hair dye had obviously not faded. It was a shame, admittedly, because she'd been so thoughtful in sending him a brand that he couldn't get where he was, just for him to try it.

"No," he admitted. "I haven't decided. I want to find the perfect spot for it."

"Oh." She frowned, somehow disappointed. "So you haven't even opened the box?"

Luka paused, brows raised and eyes narrowed as he tried to piece together the reaction. Suspecting something, he left his phone briefly to go retrieve the box in question, and this time realized that the tape one might expect to keep the box shut was already gone. As he returned to sit back down with his phone, he also heard a distinct noise of a foreign object moving inside the container.

Marinette was grinning excitedly as she watched him fiddle with the lid, her legs pressing together and squeezing the snake plush further. It was a little distracting and he tried not to pay attention to it.

The lid opened, and Luka saw something shine in the corner of the box. It was an awkward fit for his hand, so he took out the bottle of hair dye first and tipped the box over above his waiting hand.

The object fell into his palm, and he stared for a long time before uttering, "This..."

"It's a key to my house! Just in case you're ever over here."

God.

——-

Marinette wasn't the only one who could jump at a chance presented to her. The moment Luka had to decide where he might vacation for a little break, he could think of no better place to soothe his woes than near Marinette.

At the same time, he wanted to surprise her while taking every precaution so that she wasn't uncomfortable. He wouldn't ask to stay with her unless she wanted it, and already had potential hotels lined up otherwise. In addition, he planned on being casual and less physical than they were normally since they hadn't seen each other in person for so long, just so they could get used to it again.

It would've been a shame to show up without actually getting to use the key she'd so thoughtfully given him, so he enacted his surprise plan. He arrived in the area during the middle of the night, following the instructions on his phone to ensure he was going the right way, and eventually arrived at Marinette's house. There wasn't a question as to if he was in the right place or not, as he'd seen Marinette's home enough times from the cute little tours she'd given him.

He quietly approached the door and pulled out the key from his pocket. It still had the bow Marinette had tied through the hole usually meant for a keyring, and he caught himself grinning as he stared at it.

It slipped into the lock easily enough and the door unlocked with a satisfying 'click.' He opened it carefully, wincing at the brief creak it made, then peeked inside to confirm that all the lights were off.

They were, meaning that either Marinette was definitely asleep or he needed to talk to her about moving around in the dark. Satisfied, he quietly closed the door behind him and set his things down nearby, ensuring that they were in a spot that made it look like he wasn't sticking around or planning to unpack.

As if he'd been there hundreds of times before, he smoothly walked throughout the house, the memories of Marinette's little tours doing more for him than even a map would if he had one.

The only thing he'd yet to decide on was how to greet her. He knew she would easily recognize him, but he didn't want to just be some guest in her home.

Recalling a few times that she'd skipped breakfast over inspiration striking, he decided to make it for her. It was still far too early to start, but he could familiarize himself with the ingredients and kill some time until she woke up.

He'd entered the living room, partway to the kitchen, when familiar colors and a hint of movement jumped out at him from the corner of his vision. He looked over, and was surprised to see Marinette there on the couch, sleeping the night away.

She was cuddling the snake plush too, of course. She was using it as a pillow in conjunction with something to wrap her arms and legs around to squeeze.

Luka didn't move for a moment, knowing he shouldn't approach, but his legs slowly took him in her direction. He bent down to take her in, his heart aching with how much he'd missed seeing her in person.

Had he had her approval, he would've made plans to move closer to her as soon as possible, never mind the consequences of upheaving his entire life.

She looked peaceful. It was always hard to tell over the phone, but now he could be sure that there was more color to her face and less exhaustion visible under her eyes.

He was going to leave it there and let her sleep, but then Marinette shifted on the couch, letting out a tiny noise as she squeezed the snake plush tight to herself.

"Mmm... Luka..."

"Ah—"

He clamped a hand over his mouth before any further sound could leave him. He had no idea why she would've mumbled his name in her sleep, but it got his mind racing.

Was she dreaming about him? Did the snake plush just remind her of him that much? Could she sense his presence even while asleep

He was determined not to move until he was certain that she was sound asleep, but alas, she whined and began to stir.

Slowly, her eyes opened, and Luka was already preparing apologies for having woken her. She squinted, her eyes trying to adjust to what was largely darkness before landing on him.

Neither said anything for a few seconds, but Marinette suddenly started beaming at him.

Her arm reached for his, fingers gliding smoothly across his faded scar as she pulled him down towards her. Her gaze was soft and loving as she cooed, "My snake~"

He couldn't reply nor question her, not having the time when she pushed herself up just enough to kiss him, like it was normal to her.

It was short, it was sweet, and it was only interrupted by Marinette pulling back to yawn. Her head drifted back and forth groggily before falling down again, face deep in the snake plush.

Luka stared in amazement and confusion, but something finally clicked for him. Marinette's very lips had pressed the last puzzle piece together in his head.

Looking her over one more time to make sure she was asleep again, Luka turned and finally headed towards the kitchen. His face tinted pink, he went over to the dining table and sat himself down, though thoroughly tempted to stick his face in the freezer.

He had hours still to wait for Marinette to properly wake up, meaning hours to contemplate how absolutely dumb he'd been and how to make it up to her in the morning.

Now, Luka wouldn't have pretended that he didn't have any interest in her. He thought she was cute, brave, creative, and resourceful, but it wasn't any of his business who she liked and he didn't want to risk making things complicated if he didn't have to. If the others knew, he'd either make them feel bad or be pitied by them, and he'd grown up accepting that it was better to help himself emotionally rather than expect others to do so. Meditation helped with that, and he'd become someone who very rarely needed such help, so he could worry about his sister and the people around him instead.

Ergo, the idea that Marinette might've liked Adrien didn't have much impact on him, but the only thing about that was how what he saw and what he heard were clashing. He could've sworn that Marinette's gaze on Adrien didn't look like admiration, yet he could always hear the girls' unsubtle whispers in the background about how "hopeless" she was and their pondering over how they could give her a little "push."

Maybe he just didn't know her as well as her friends did. That made sense, though something nagged at him in the back of his mind. He just couldn't think of any other reason for why she'd look at him like that.

——-

It was a bit too warm on the Liberty that day, but Luka didn't particularly mind it. His way of distracting himself tended to be losing himself in the music, and he felt like the band was improvising well enough and having fun on top of that. Adrien was only halfway on the wavelength from having not been able to attend for a time due to his schedule, but music wasn't about perfection.

On occasion, Luka's eyes happened to find Marinette's and they'd flash each other a fond smile, but then she'd turn her head away and went back to staring at Adrien with a narrowed gaze. He wondered if the apology for teasing her hadn't fully resolved things between them, or if she was simply that distracted. Making a mental note of it, he decided to talk to her later about it if they had any time alone.

He'd hate for there to be any negative feelings between himself and one of Juleka's friends, especially with a girl he was so fond of.

At one point in the afternoon, just as the heat was at its peak, Marinette suddenly stood up and raised a hand to earn everyone's attention. "I'll go below deck and get drinks! Anyone want anything?"

The whole group perked up at the offer, some immediately blurting out a request for water, soda, or other such drinks. Luka could barely keep up, but she handled it without complaint, nodding along like a skilled waitress who didn't need to write anything down to take orders.

Then, she turned away and ran off, disappearing behind the cabin. He thought she was absolutely sweet, though kept his face carefully schooled so as to not tip anyone off.

Apparently, he hadn't had to, because there wasn't a moment long enough to begin missing her before the girls had started up again, huddling together and discussing how Marinette had left because she was shy around Adrien and they had to help her out. He hated his hearing at times like these and just tried to ignore them, strumming his guitar idly and telling himself that it was absolutely none of his business.

The first to leave the huddle was Rose, who jumped up and strolled over to Adrien with a beaming smile. She clasped her hands together, batting her eyelashes as she called, "Adrien~! Do you mind going to help Marinette? Those are a lot of drinks to carry all by herself!"

"Uh?" He blinked and looked over her head at the other girls, who all proceeded to mirror Rose's delicate prayer hands in their silent plea. He cast a glance at Ivan - clearly the superior option for the job - but shrugged and accepted. "Sure?"

None of your business. None of your business. None of your business, Luka repeated in his head, in the process of playing every easy melody he knew at five times its normal speed. You don't know her like they do.

Nevertheless, he watched Adrien from out of the corner of his vision. He still had the semi-awkward way of walking as he wandered to the other end of the deck, having not explored the houseboat enough to be familiar with it. The boy even peeked into the cabin to check it, then kept going when he realized that the stairs were right next to it.

Luka was about to start on his twentieth melody, but then a shriek followed by a thud came from below deck. It was loud enough that everyone collectively jumped, and he would've dropped his guitar if it weren't for the strap.

While the rest of the group exchanged wide-eyed, confused looks, he was on the move. He ran across the houseboat, took off his guitar and dropped it off on a chair as he passed it, then circled around the cabin to go downstairs.

When he arrived there, he saw Marinette in a panic and Adrien frantically trying to calm her down. There was also a guitar on the floor between the two of them with a noticeable crack around the bottom edge, which was just enough for Luka to figure out what had likely happened.

Rather than addressing it right away, he turned his gaze back up and called firmly, "Adrien."

Adrien flinched, then turned to face him. Luka moved aside and gestured to the staircase because, regardless of what had happened, he wasn't helping Marinette's emotional state.

There was hesitation, but Adrien soon yielded to the unspoken order and hunched over, reluctantly trudging past him. Luka closed the door once Adrien was gone to keep everyone else out, then turned his attention to Marinette.

"I-I'm so sorry!" she stammered, gesticulating in every direction as she tried to explain herself. "I just—I was getting the drinks and saw it lying there, and I picked it up, and I wasn't expecting Adrien to show up, and—"

She was still rambling, her voice growing louder, faster, and more high-pitched the closer he got to her. He calmly went forwards and knelt down to inspect the guitar himself, his fingertips outlining the crack to gauge its seriousness.

"Marinette."

"I know I shouldn't be touching your stuff! I was just curious because—but I know that's no excuse to—"

He stood, grabbing her gently by the arms and making firm eye contact. "You have my permission then."

She paused, staring at him for a few seconds, then went, "H-huh? Why?"

He let go of her with a smile, gesturing at the guitar's supposed injury. "This is an easy fix anyway, and it's not a problem if I gave you permission, right?"

"But I didn't have it when I picked it up before..."

"Then I'm extending my permission to before I gave it to you." He tilted his head, grinning wider. "So there's no problem now, right?"

She was speechless, her lips pursing at her lack of argument to the flawless logic. He could see the big 'Why?!' still written all over her face, threatening to burst out of her mouth had she not kept it closed.

He grabbed the guitar and stepped away to put it aside on the couch, then faced her to ask, "Can you play? Is that why you picked it up?"

"...No," she mumbled, turning her head away from him.

There it was. The face. He'd see that very same expression directed towards Adrien.

His curiosity doubled—no, tripled, though the reminder of Adrien made him switch the topic. "I'm sorry, by the way. The guitar's my fault too; I should've stopped the girls from sending Adrien down here."

Her head darted up at him in shock, then she covered her face with a hand and groaned in exasperation. "So that's why."

"...They told me you like him," he admitted. Normally, he wouldn't have thrown the others under the bus, but if she hadn't consented to them telling him, then—

She gasped. "I don't! They just think I do because I avoid him and don't usually do that with guys! Besides, I already like—" She cut herself off with a strangled choking noise, replacing the rest of the words with frantic arm gestures.

"Did he do something to you?" he questioned worriedly, fingers twitching. "To make you avoid him?"

"That's..." She whined, hunching over with her arms going slack. "No, he didn't do anything. Adrien—he's fine. I'm just petty."

"You? Petty?" He couldn't imagine it.

She straightened back up, rubbing an arm in discomfort. "Adrien has everything I could ever want: money for all the fabric in the world, an easy in into the fashion industry, and he's close to the Gabriel Agreste since that's his dad." She threw her arms up dramatically, letting them hit her sides when they came back down. "I don't want to be close to him either because I want to earn that place, but then I still get upset when he's just given things because he's Adrien. You even..."

She trailed off, blushing in shame as she ducked her head. He stepped towards her, bending over to try and be at her level.

"What did I do?" he wondered in a whisper. "Please, Marinette? Tell me. I want to know."

"You— She squeaked, trying to lower her head further to let her bangs hide as much of her face as possible to him. Her voice was quiet, like she was a little blue-eyed black mouse rather than a person, but he couldn't have not heard what she said.

"...You even gave him a spot on the band, right after meeting him."

Luka froze at that. He nearly lost his sense of balance too, because all the questions, worries, and speculations he'd had over the whole situation came crashing down all at once.

Marinette hadn't liked Adrien at all, nor had she been upset with Luka himself for something he did. On the contrary, she'd been jealous of him giving a spot on the band to Adrien and not her, despite her not playing an instrument.

She continued on, trying to explain herself further, "When we met, you told me all about music and feelings and words, and I wanted to learn how to see it the way you did. I can't really afford a guitar, but I've been watching videos online! I just didn't want to say anything because you're so good and I didn't want to play in front of you if I was bad, then I saw your guitar when I came down to get the drinks so I..."

He thought he'd become an expert at keeping his expression in check, but he slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the smile that was currently testing the limits of how wide he could grin. He'd told himself that he didn't care if Marinette liked someone else, but the thought that she'd act in such a way over him, to be jealous over this and simultaneously wanting to get closer to understanding him, it—

It was actually the cutest thing he'd ever heard.

"L-Luka?" she called out, hesitantly scanning the parts of his face that she could still see. "It's okay if you're mad. I'm really, really sorry."

Her concern just managed to drag him back down to Earth from how light he felt. He let his hand drop, making her jump from the warmth he was conveying with his smile.

"I'm honored, actually. I've never had someone get so interested in music because of what I've said about it. They usually just think I'm weird."

"Really?" She looked stunned as though it was unbelievable, and he loved her all the more for it. "I know I'm not that normal myself. Still..."

He shrugged, adding lightly, "My mom says that being normal is for boring people anyway."

The corners of her lips went up in an amused smile, the anxiety she'd had before finally released. He took the opportunity to get closer to her, the front of their shoes nearly bumping into each other.

"How about this? Maybe you can't be in the band yet if you can't play, but I could teach you." He gestured at the room around them. "That's better than being in the band, since it only has to be the two of us: no one else can play a note in it."

Her mouth formed a little 'o', her eyes sparkling. "You teach?! I had no idea!" She grabbed him by the shoulders as if to shake him. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

He chuckled, nearly breaking out into a full-on laugh. "I didn't know you wanted lessons!"

"...Oh." She backed away from him in embarrassment. "Right."

He closed the distance between them again. "Besides, I didn't give lessons before. This'll be my first time teaching someone."

It was adorable how she fluctuated so easily between emotions: how she burst out of the shame she felt just a second ago, a hand in front of her mouth and the other flapping excitedly at her side in a way she clearly tried to hide yet couldn't.

"When can we start?" she urged on. "I'll be a good student, I swear! I'm ready to learn from a musical master!"

He tried to calm the orchestra in his heart before he too needed to learn new instruments. "How about now?"

"Now?" Her brows shot up. "Now now? Right now? As in—"

She fumbled around with her purse, snatching up her phone and bringing it uncomfortably close to her face to stare at the time.

Peeking over it to meet his gaze, she inquired, "3:47 PM?"

He nodded happily. "We don't have to be on a strict schedule, do we?"

"I guess not," she uttered, awed. However, her eyes briefly shot past him to something off to the side, and she jumped enough to where he heard the sound of her soles against the hardwood floor. "Uh, make that 3:48! I almost forgot!"

He followed her vision to the bar, where a tray of drinks was still resting. He could tell who they were for based on the color and size of the cups she'd chosen.

Cute.

Marinette put her phone back in her pocket and went to walk past him, but Luka's arm almost unconsciously shot out to stop her. He'd gotten an idea, and went over to the drinks himself.

He couldn't say if it was due to Marinette's presence or the sheer joy of the truth behind their misunderstanding, but he was feeling extra confident at that moment.

"I'll take it." Picking up the tray, he secured it in one arm so that he could open the door with his free hand. Then, looking at Marinette from over his shoulder, he said, "If you go back up there without me, I might get jealous."

Above all else, he found himself using his power for Marinette. It had nothing to do with his bias (mostly), but one reason was that she was unlucky. Another person might insist that she was a klutz, but he'd prefer to say that "her instrument wasn't designed to play the notes she came up with."

The other reason was that she was his girlfriend, the guardian of the miraculouses, so he saw her often. He wasn't trying to score any extra points with her by "abusing" his power, but she had enough burdens and stressors to where he preferred her time with him to be as nice as possible. He caught her waist when she tripped, played missed notes properly whenever he was distracted by her very presence, and focused even down to icing cookies.

The last one had been his current role for their time together. They were at her house in the kitchen, the cookies having just cooled down from the oven so they could ice them. Marinette was watching him and had carefully instructed him on how to do it, but listening and absorbing weren't the same as putting it into action.

Go outside of where he intended? Reset. Accidentally put a little too much in one spot? Reset. Lose a bit of icing when he was adjusting his grip? Reset.

He normally wouldn't have gone to such extremes, but Marinette wanted to try the cookies he'd iced. He recalled her telling him before that presentation could play an important role in taste depending on circumstances, and he would've hated for her to have a subpar cookie after all the work they put into making them.

Perhaps it was his own fault. He'd grown so used to rewinding that he became reliant on it, but he did genuinely want to make good cookies for her.

Then, on what was probably his tenth reset, he heard a giggle from Marinette at his side. It jarred him so much that he drew his icing right off the cookie, which meant resetting again to undo it.

The giggling increased, though this time with her covering her mouth to suppress it. That simply wasn't normal, as everyone had always behaved exactly as they did before upon resets, at least until he did something different. She was reacting the moment the reset occurred.

Luka tried to make sense of it, eyeing her out of the corner of his vision as she tried so hard to suppress her giggles. Whenever he reset, their positions did too, so they were in the same pose at the time he'd reset to; she'd called it "going back to a savestate," which was apparently a gaming thing.

However, her actions weren't like an NPC in-game who got wrapped up in a reset and were going through the same motions for a hundredth time; she was like his player two who sat by his side and had watched him load that savestate.

"...Marinette," he began, pulling back from his designated task to look at her. "Do you know when I reset?"

She was still trying to suppress her giggling, but her eyes widened at the question and made her try harder. She forced out a cough, cleared her throat, and blushed noticeably as she hesitantly made eye contact with him.

"...Yeah," she admitted from behind her hand. "Sorry. It's a guardian thing; I still can't tell the difference when you use Second Chance as Viperion, but I go through the resets like you do when you're not transformed."

That was a step up from what he'd expected. He thought she was only vaguely aware whenever he reset, but she was actually just as conscious as he was.

"I—" His jaw dropped in horror, imagining her in the middle of working whenever he reset and her having to redo little bits of it over and over. "I'm sorry."

"W-what?" She blinked rapidly, shaking her head at him. "No, Luka, you didn't know! I'm the one who's sorry for not telling you!"

He frowned, acknowledging her point but not understanding why she'd do that, or rather not do that. It sounded like an inconvenience no matter how he looked at it.

Blushing in embarrassment, she went closer to him, one hand on his arm while the other rested on the hand he was holding the bag of icing with. Meekly, she explained, "I'm usually the one always trying to make everything perfect for everybody else. You're the first guy - the first anyone - who's tried so hard to make things perfect for me. I was worried you'd stop if you knew that I knew, and you were just so... cute?" She ducked her head. "I know guys don't usually like being called that."

Luka honestly hadn't had an opinion on being called "cute" until that day, but if it was Marinette doing it, then it was absolutely delightful. On the other hand, he wasn't sure how to feel about the idea that she would've kept such a secret from him.

Her eyes scanned his face, picking apart the various emotions there, then she frowned. "I'm really sorry for not telling you. I would've loved your cookies no matter what, and I wasn't trying to deceive you or anything."

"It's not that. I'm not mad or anything." He put down the icing bag so he could hold her hand. "I'll never stop wanting to make things as perfect for you as possible. I'm just a little sad."

"Sad?" she echoed, seeming torn between being happy that he wasn't going to stop doting on her and regretful that she'd made her own boyfriend upset in some way.

"If I knew before that you went through my resets too, I would've done things differently, that's all." He glanced at the oven's clock to check the time. "Like... how long do we have until our date's over? You said that your parents wanted to take you out to eat since it's been a while?"

"Uh?" She didn't catch onto why he was asking, but stared at the clock anyway and replied, "Ten minutes? That's still enough to eat the cookies we made after we ice them."

With a chuckle, he bent over and cupped her cheek with his free hand, running his thumb over her lips. "We have a lot more time than that now."

"What...? Oh!"

The last thing he saw was the sparkle of realization in her gaze before the two of them closed their eyes and abandoned their cookies, all so they could get lost in kissing each other. What was barely a second to everyone else was a countless amounts of well used resets to them.

He wanted so badly to be hers. He wanted to slip the engagement ring onto her finger and gush about how much he loved her. He wanted to put into words what he could once only put into music.

The ring had already been purchased, and his knee was ready to drop at a moment's notice. He could've done it whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, as Marinette was well-known for being excited to get married since her teenage years.

Yet, in all of the infinite wisdom people so often saw in him, he hadn't foreseen the impatience he'd feel over the plan he'd had, a plan that required him to wait what were still months to ask her to marry him.

Even more painful was Rose's dress, which was close enough to Marinette's size that she decided to try it on in order to test its comfort. Oblivious to her boyfriend's suffering from seeing her dressed up without any fantasies involved, she'd handed him her phone to take pictures while parading around the room to show it off.

"Mm. The feel is good," she muttered, flapping around the skirt experimentally. Purposefully skipping around in an imitation of his soon-to-be sister-in-law, she observed, "It's got a good bounce too."

She looked over at him, his hands automatically snapping another photo to capture the warmth on her face at the sight of him. He'd gotten down on both knees to take a nice upward shot of the dress, but now had to suppress another urge to blurt out a proposal to her.

"What do you think?" she asked him, as if the answer wasn't written all over his face. "Do you think Rose'll like it?"

"She'll love it." He lowered the phone to appreciate her properly. "But she'll be disappointed when she puts it on and can't pull it off as well as you can."

Her face flushed pink, then she burst into delighted laughter whilst waving rapidly at him. "Don't tell Juleka that, or you'll be put on a list for insulting her fiance."

Walking over to the full-view mirror next, Marinette turned left and right to examine herself. Her long hair rested tauntingly over her shoulders as his hands always liked to do, and she bunched it up to hold it in a bun as a test.

She stuck her tongue out to the right as she looked herself over again, her head tilting up, down, and side to side. Then, she let her hair and sighed, lamenting, "I love making dresses and all, but geez, it really feels like everyone planned to get married this year. This is... what? The fifth one?"

(Do you want to be the sixth?) he kept himself from asking out loud. Nevertheless, he felt a pang of guilt in his stomach at the thought of what she might've been going through, her having sat through so many weddings while being unmarried herself.

That seemed too direct to ask though, so he went for something less obvious. The possibility of her being overworked seemed very real, so he inquired, "Is it too much?"

"Mm?" She turned her head to him, puzzled. "No. I just think it's so fast. It's not like the world is ending, so why's everyone in such a rush?"

He couldn't even respond to her words, his hands that held her phone dropping down onto his lap in his shock. Marinette turned her full body to him at the reaction, eyeing his bafflement.

Instead of being confused, she smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck in a show of embarrassment. "Is it that weird?"

(Yes?!) "No, I--"

"It's okay. I know it's weird for me. Just..." The hand rubbing her neck moved down, feeling around the waist area of the dress. "Life moves so fast, doesn't it? Especially for both of us."

He didn't have to ask her what that meant; they each had their fair share of times that had made it impossible to simply live in the moment. When he thought back, some years blurred together from how much had happened in them.

Marinette nodded approvingly at him, seeing that he was catching on, and continued, "But now it's all over. We can do things for ourselves, so there's no pressure or time limit or anything."

Reaching behind herself, she unzipped the back of the dress. She was wearing shorts and a tank top underneath, so she was still decent as she slipped out of the dress and put it aside. Then, going over to him, she pocketed her phone so she could run a hand along his thigh unimpeded.

"I want a wedding someday, but I want to get as much as I can out of this first. I'm definitely not tired of calling you my boyfriend, so we can just do a little bit of everything now and see if it's any different after we get married."

She spoke like he'd already proposed, like them being engaged was set in stone and she'd deemed him husband material long ago. It wasn't for that long after they'd met that he thought his feelings would remain unrequited, yet he was always awed that evidence for the opposite was right there in front of him.

He hadn't considered it her way either, and he felt a little bit like a hypocrite. There was a time in the past when Juleka had lamented to him that she and Rose were - at the time - nothing more than friends, and he'd gently critiqued the idea that she was viewing their friendship as little more than a means to an end. It was when he'd realized how serious his own romantic relationship was getting that his mind got caught up in marriage, always looking forward to a next step instead of staying within the here and now.

She was right; it was wonderful getting to call her his girlfriend, and he would miss that even though "wife" would be considered an improvement. He wanted to call her everything at once, really, but that wasn't the world they lived in.

Marinette smiled at him, slowly getting herself further down, and he shifted to cross his legs so she could welcome herself into the opening that created. Pressing a small, affectionate kiss to his face, she added, "It's not like I don't have plans for the wedding - I definitely want to start a new trend where my husband is the first to see me in my wedding dress - but I love where we are now too." With a tilt of her head, she wondered, "What about you?"

He hummed, hunching over to nuzzle the crook of her neck. In a whisper, which elicited a soft gasp from her at his breath against her neck, he replied, "I think so too."

Checking her phone, Marinette confirmed that it was just about time for the "date" to start. The nerves made her far more alert of the restaurant door just out of the corner of her eye, her head having darted over every time she caught it opening.

It'd been obvious thus far that none were her mystery man. The people who'd come through were either a couple, not a man, or the type of person that Jagged would never send to her. The latter was basically anyone who wore business attire or looked like they hated music and fun.

She started to convince herself that it might be better to leave - that the guy wasn't coming - when the door opened again and she finally spotted someone who would've fit Jagged's standards, at least visually.

The man was around Jagged's height, wore distressed pants, and had his hair highlighted in a way that looked very familiar. He scanned the room momentarily until his blue eyes met hers, and she shifted awkwardly at having been caught staring.

Thankfully, he looked unbothered as he turned towards her, making his way over at an easygoing pace. The closer he got, the more she took him in, and she realized that it wasn't just his hair that looked familiar, but his face too.

Jagged had mentioned once that his hair was natural...

The mystery man had barely gotten to her table - hadn't even said a word to her - when she pointed and blurted out, "Are you Luka? Jagged's son?"

His brows rose, lips parting momentarily before becoming a wide grin. "That's right. It's nice to finally meet you, Marinette."

"You know me too?" she asked, stunned for the second time since he'd arrived.

"Dad never stops singing your praises... sometimes literally." Sliding himself onto the chair across from her, he added, "I just didn't know it'd be you here, or that he talked about me too."

She looked him up and down, now that she had a face to put to the name. "Yeah, he does. He kept talking about his son Luka being off in another country while he was on tour, and how he was learning a new instrument or came up with a cool song."

For what felt like forever, Luka had been a big mystery to her, almost as much as he was to the rest of the world. Prior to working with Jagged at all, Marinette hadn't known a thing about Luka or that he existed at all, which was impressive in comparison to the rock star known just about everywhere. She almost felt like she was meeting someone from a fairy tale, or a person only spoken of in legends.

A myth man from a fairy tale who happened to be rather handsome as well.

"Sorry, by the way," he said, resting a forearm on the table and shrugging with his other arm. "I don't know if Dad thought it'd be a great idea to set this up for me, but it looks like you got roped into it."

"No--" She paused, shaking her head. "Well, yes, I got roped into it, but no, I don't know if he did it for you. He might've done it for me."

He chuckled. "I guess we'll never know then, huh?" Drumming idly with his fingers, he added, "Anyway, he'll live if nothing happens here, so you don't have to worry."

She waved off the notion. "I didn't really expect anything, so I'm not worried. I was more afraid you'd stand me up." Then, bringing her hand down and nearly smacking the table, she hurriedly insisted, "Not that I thought you would, since I didn't know who he'd send!"

He smiled, assuring her, "It's alright. I was just wondering why you thought nothing would happen. Bad break-ups?"

"That's..."

"You don't have to tell me if it's personal."

"It's not. I'm over anything 'bad' there." She made firm eye contact to show that she was being genuine about it. "It's me. I'm the problem."

"You?" Leaning back in his chair, he gestured at her and asked, "What's wrong with you?"

"I—"

Marinette stopped when a waiter approached, seeing as the "party of two" had finally come together. They ordered their drinks and were left with a menu for each of them.

Once they were alone again, she put her folded hands in front of her face, took a breath, then let it out slowly. "I have really unreasonable standards."

"...Doesn't everyone?" Luka wondered, underwhelmed by the answer. "I've heard enough love songs to know what people expect. Do you want a perfect guy or something?"

"Not exactly." She shifted her menu back and forth on the table, then glanced at it and had a thought for how to proceed. "Do you cook?"

"Hm?" He put a hand to his chin and looked off to the side. "Sometimes. I'm not that good, but I'll do it when I'm alone if I have to."

"Right." She nodded. "I'm the same way, but it's because cooking by myself is kind of... lonely? So I want a guy who will cook with me. It doesn't have to be all the time and he doesn't have to do the big stuff, I just think it'd be ni—what?"

He cleared his throat, attempting to stifle his giggling behind his hand. Having a hard time maintaining eye contact all of a sudden, he awkwardly apologized, "Sorry. I'm not laughing at you, but that isn't what I was imagining when you said unreasonable standards."

"I'm serious!" She crossed her arms at him, not getting why he couldn't see it. "It's like with sleeping; I need my guy to be okay with not always being the big spoon."

"Ahuh," he uttered to tell her he was still listening, though with an amused grin on his face as he rhythmically tapped on his menu.

"And sometimes it's not about spooning at all." She spread her arms out, then brought them back in to hug herself. "Sometimes I want to be face-to-face cuddling, you know? It depends on the mood!"

"So you have preferences," he stated simply.

"No." Pointing at him, she argued, "I'm making demands that the guy I'm with has to be a certain way or I don't like him."

"Alright. What are your other demands?"

Though squinting in confusion at his apparent interest, she was about to continue when the waiter arrived with their drinks: pink lemonade for her and iced tea for Luka. She realized then that they hadn't actually looked much at the menus, and admitted regretfully to the waiter, "We need another minute."

Luka raised a hand, adding on, "Can you bring me a glass that just has ice in it too?"

Marinette shot him a curious glance, but he didn't elaborate and the waiter didn't ask, merely accepting the minor request and heading off to fulfill it. She figured that Luka might've just wanted extra ice or something - he would've technically gotten less drink in his cup if he asked for more ice in the drink - so she let it go for the time being and turned her attention to the menu.

"I guess we should actually order something. Jagged said to put it on his card." She eyed the menu, like the options were in a foreign language. "Have you ever eaten here before?"

"Never," he admitted. "Why? You don't know what to order?"

"It all looks good?" She smiled weakly, wondering if the indecisiveness was annoying to him. "It's hard to pick just one, and I'm not going to order ten different things."

"What about two?" At her raised brow, he clarified, "We can pick two things we think we'll like and split them."

"Huh." The solution almost sounded too simple. "You're okay with that?"

He slid his menu over in response, opening it up and rotating it so they could both take a good look. They leaned forward simultaneously, tilting their heads as their hands fell upon opposite sides of it.

They spent the next minute or so debating on menu items, fingertips tracing under words as they discussed their personal tastes. She was pleased to find that his palate was similar enough to hers, briefly making her question if Jagged just liked the same types of people or being around Jagged made for the same types of people.

Regardless of the answer, they decided on two things to split and were ready by the time the waiter returned with Luka's cup of ice. Marinette waited until their menus were taken away and it was just the two of them, then recalled, "You asked me about my other demands?"

"Mhm~" He put an elbow up on the table, resting his chin on his hand as he appeared to be examining her with his eyes alone. His other hand was at his arm, a finger flicking back and forth across his skin. "Keep going."

Why was he enjoying this? Did Jagged put him up to it or something?

She tilted her head at him. "Well... talking? I want to make sure we get to talk every day if we can." Waving off some imaginary response, she added, "It's not about trust or anything. I just like to know if there's anything wrong that I can help with, or how his day was, and he can do the same for me."

"So," he began, "you want communication?"

"I had a lot of problems with it when I was younger," she told him, cringing at the memory. "I want to make sure it doesn't happen again. I wouldn't want us to misunderstand each other."

"That makes sense."

"Oh!" She clenched her fists. "And clothes! He needs to be okay with me making him clothes and accessories!"

He tried to muffle his reaction again, which came in the form of a choking sound. "You're making it sound like a threat."

"It is," she huffed, "so he has to be fine wearing what I make him. I'll make it work for his style and everything."

"And that's all?" he asked to confirm.

"What do you mean is that all?" She rubbed her cheek, thinking over her answer anyway. "But... yeah, those are the important things."

"Then—" Reaching out for his cup of ice and bringing it closer to himself, he looked at her with a hint of playfulness. "...is it my turn?"

"Your..." She almost jumped in her seat in shock. Given all the impressions she'd gotten of him so far, she never would've thought that he'd have his own requirements like she did. "Yeah, sure! I'm curious now."

She even leaned in to show her interest, hands clasped together on the table. In response, he smirked and pointed at her pink lemonade to ask, "Can I have some of your drink?"

The request made her more intrigued, and she slid her cup over to him with a nod. "Go ahead."

He brought her drink to one side of his cup of ice, his iced tea on the other side. With careful precision, he brought both drinks up and poured some of both into the cup of ice, which came with a tiny "ooo" from Marinette as the colors blended together.

"I like to share," he explained, putting his iced tea aside and passing her the other two cups. "If I'm going to have a girlfriend, I want us to be able to bring our lives together like we're the same string on one guitar. I'd never ask her to learn how to play an instrument or anything, but I'd like it if she tried to understand how I create like I'll try to understand how she creates."

"That... sounds really nice though?" she said, staring down at the mixed drink. Picking it up, she tipped it against her lips to take a sip, and the sweet, flowery, tart taste that filled her mouth wound up being delightful. She tried her pink lemonade by itself as well, but it didn't have the same layers as it did mixed with Luka's iced tea. "So you want a creative girlfriend?"

"Yeah." He held his hand out, and she passed him the mixed drink back so he could take a sip too. Looking wholly satisfied by it, he continued, "I might not seem like it, but I give a lot of physical contact with the people I love, so she'll have to like that."

She hummed, trying to imagine it, and couldn't help thinking that whatever girlfriend he'd get would be really lucky. He had a nice voice, so what must it be like for his potential partner to have sweet nothings whispered into her ear while he cuddled her?

"What else?"

Putting the mixed drink down between them, Luka warned her lightly, "You might think it's weird."

She pouted. "Try me. It's only fair since I told you everything I could think of."

He didn't bother arguing with her, instead looking pleased that she was so invested. "Well, I want someone who's going to worry about me. Dad's not the kind of guy to worry, and my friends didn't think I was someone to worry about.."

"There's nothing wrong with that," she said in defense of him.

He gave her a grateful smile for the support. "It'd be great to talk to her as much as I can too. If she wants to talk about our days or what I've been doing, then it just means she cares."

Marinette nodded vigorously in agreement, wholly onboard with Luka's so-called "demands" thus far. It was natural to agree, as she'd said the exact same thing a moment ago.

"And you know my dad," he noted. "He's picky about people; he usually either loves or hates them. My girlfriend would have to get along with him, so much that he'll gush about her all day and want her to work with him."

...wait.

"She has to be the kind of girl I want to write songs about, where her song'll be stuck in my head all day long."

Her wide eyes darted down towards his hands, recalling the movements his fingers had made over the course of their time together, that she'd previously passed off as something idle. "Luka..."

"I guess I get it from my dad, because I feel a lot even if I don't always show it. I don't have a lot of people I'm close to, but I know people, and I can get a read on them after talking to them for a little while." The corners of his eyes creased up in sincerity. "So if she thinks she's being unreasonable by wanting time together, wanting us to talk about how we feel, and wanting to dress me up, I don't have a problem with it if I like her enough."

"B-buh—" she stammered out, blushing in both shyness at his words and embarrassment at how obvious it should've been why he was entertained by her own wants. "You... why? You showed up not knowing who'd be here."

He answered easily, "Because I only knew about you from my dad, that he liked you and you were talented. I had to see you for myself to know if I was interested or not, and I wasn't interested in anyone else until I got here."

For a family with the last name Stone, their emotions sure did move fast, yet Marinette couldn't say she minded it. Luka, just like his dad and despite their obvious personality differences, didn't beat around the bush, preferring what was either brazenness or directness based on how someone interpreted it. It was so far removed from what she was used to, which went from guys who were only outright with their feelings because they thought she wouldn't refuse, all the way to guys who kept expecting her to pick up on their vague hints that they were interested in her.

Luka made it clear he wasn't expecting anything as he stood up from his chair, assuring her, "It's alright if it's too much. I know you wanted to get this over and done with, so if you want me to leave—"

"No!" She reached out and snagged one of his hands with both of hers, looking up at him in what was almost offense. "You can't! Not after you went and said that! Besides, I'm—"

Swallowing, she turned her head away, but wasn't willing to let go of his hand. She had no idea what she was doing, but felt she'd regret it if she released him.

"I'm too much too, so shouldn't we at least be too much together?"

His brows arched in a mixture of surprise and delight. Bringing his other hand up to place them over her two, he asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"...I don't know?" She gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Remember, I didn't think I was going to get this far."

He glanced at his chair, and now she could see the way his eyes brightened when he was looking at her. "How much do you care about what people see?"

"You mean PDA?" She blinked, then scoffed at the thought, one hand moving to brush at his bracelets like she was physically dusting away the idea. "Oh, I stopped caring about that a long time ago."

"Then can you move over?"

She watched him curiously, puzzled by the question as he went over to his chair. He grabbed the back of it but, rather than sitting down, he pulled it away from the table and gave it a little spin until it faced the way hers was facing.

The realization hit her just as much as the laugh that threatened to follow. The absurdity, however, didn't stop her from sliding herself to the side, the table just wide enough for their chairs to fit side-by-side if pushed together.

"Are you actually going to cuddle me here?" she asked in disbelief, though unable to stop smiling.

Sitting next to her, he replied nonchalantly, "We can do whatever you want. I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried."

That sounded like a challenge. She eyed him, noting his relaxed posture, his half-lidded eyes, and the slight wetness of his lips from the mixed drink they'd shared.

Nevertheless skeptical of his claim, she experimentally touched his arm, then went higher until her hand was at his shoulder. He didn't flinch or recoil at the contact, and in fact turned his upper body to give her the easiest access he could given their current positions.

It was as if he was giving himself to her as a present. It was ridiculous, it was insane, it was... refreshing.

Her other hand went against his chest, which was firm without being outright bulky. Her narrowed gaze kept on his face, but there weren't any oddities there that she could detect; at best, he was amused by her testing.

Her fingers glided onto and up his neck, which got a reaction out of him without it being a negative one: his eyes had shut, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he exhaled. It drew her attention back to his lips, where he was trying to suppress a goofy smile.

After the craziness that was her life up to this point, she had very little remaining of the rational part of her mind. After a mental debate with it that was more for formality than anything else, she threw all caution aside and took Luka's face in her hands.

If he wanted to be tested, then she would happily oblige him.

With mild difficulty due to his lack of preparedness and the cramped space they were in, Marinette kissed him. He didn't even freeze, a happy noise escaping him as he tried to pull her further in like she wasn't already glued to his side. She swung a leg over his lap, thinking that might make it easier, and while she couldn't say if it worked or not, it definitely added something to the experience.

He was gentle without treating her as though she were glass. It was more comparable to something new someone had gotten - been waiting a long time for, maybe didn't even know they wanted - and they wanted to cherish it. She didn't know where he'd gotten such gentlemanly manners from, but there was plenty of time to ask and learn about it.

Neither of them broke the kiss until they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat in their general direction. Marinette pulled back, having to blink a few times to get herself out of her haze, and saw the waiter standing there with their meals on a tray.

"Oh." She met Luka's gaze, which refused to leave her, then told the waiter, "You can just leave those there. We don't need anything else."

Not paid anywhere near enough to deal with the situation at hand, the waiter shrugged and went about setting their respective plates down on the table. Since consideration was given so that their food was comfortably within their reach, it left half the table looking overfilled and the other half seeming empty.

With a giggle, Marinette wrapped her arms around who was apparently her boyfriend now (boyfriend!) and joked, "I can't believe Jagged got his order before we did."

“Huh~” Juleka's tone lightened in a way that made Marinette squint, despite the fact that they couldn't see each other. “You know, you could always ask Adr—”

“Don't,” Marinette stressed. “I don't want to see another guy's 'perfect' model face for the rest of my life. They all look the same, Juleka, it's like a cult!”

Juleka cackled at that. “You just made it sound way cooler than it really is. I'd totally watch a horror movie where all the male models were in a cult.”

“I missed it when you mumbled and didn't make terrible suggestions,” Marinette countered jokingly, trying to sound as dramatically serious as possible.

“It's fine.” After calming down from her amusement, Juleka suggested, “If you need someone so bad, how about my brother?”

“Your—your... brother?” Marinette gaped. “You have a brother? Since when?!”

“...Since I was born?“ came the reply, complete with a snort. “Never came up before and he's kind of lowkey, but that sounds like what you want, right? He's not a close friend and he's not really a stranger, since you'd know him through me.”

“Yes,” she uttered, in awe of the fact that her request was even slightly feasible. Jumping up from the couch, she exclaimed, “Yes! Do you really think he'll agree?”

“He's never been able to say 'no' to me,” Juleka assured. Before any fretting could start over that, she added, “Relax. Luka will think it's cool, I swear.”

“Luka.” Marinette tested the name on her tongue and smiled. “Okay! Text me when he has some free time.”

“Mhm. I'll try to make sure it's not too late, so your creativity doesn't kill you by the time he gets there.”

——-

Marinette paced around the room, checking her phone once more to see the time. Luka was expected to arrive any minute now, and first impressions were important. She didn't want his friend's brother to think she was weird, or for him to tell Juleka about the absolute mess he might endure and that she shouldn't be friends with her anymore.

Thus, she was incredibly careful. She dressed nicely but casually, determined that she should wait a few seconds to answer the door so as to not look desperate, and practiced her friendly-without-being-too-friendly smile in the mirror. It was better to be over prepared than under, after all.

She was ready.

Right on time, a melodic knock sounded from the other side of the door. Marinette spun around, nearly rushing to answer, then remembered what she'd gone over with herself literal seconds ago and forced herself to take a breath.

“On my way!” she called out, then strolled over at an easy pace. Visions of what to expect flashed through her mind of what he might look like as she grabbed the doorknob, thoughts of long hair with purple highlights like his sister or that bit of goth aesthetic or even just red eyes—

Then she opened the door, and those expectations were shattered.

As opposed to Juleka, who looked like she could kill but was entirely harmless, Luka had a distinct softness that contrasted his punk look. He was slightly shorter than his model of a sister, but still noticeably taller than Marinette herself, the gentle blue eyes half-lidded at her under his blue-tipped bangs.

She didn't speak at first and neither did he. She hadn't even noticed how long they were both quiet, simply staring at each other, until Luka spoke up.

“...Hey. You're Marinette, right?” he asked. “I'm Juleka's brother, Luka, but I guess she already told you my name.”

“L-Luka. Yeah, right.” She nodded fervently. “I'm Marinette, but—well, you know that too. Come on in!”

She opened the door wide and moved to the side with it so he could come in. She watched as he moved past her, her eyes taking in his black fingernails, his bracelets, and his piercings with intense focus.

While she told herself it was to get a grasp of his preferred style, she couldn't deny that she was checking him out. Perfection had become a dirty word to her after years of thinking she could never make mistakes if she just tried harder and did better, which eventually extended to people who had a 'perfect' appearance like some god decided to play favorites. It stopped feeling like something to admire a long time ago.

Luka didn't have the perfect look, but he was undeniably him. She'd learned to read people for her work to avoid conflict with the more fussy types, and he had an energy she liked.

His footsteps were polite without being shy. He gave off confidence without being smug. When he turned to smile at her, it seemed naturally lopsided yet somehow cute at the same time.

Cute was not a word she thought she'd associated with a man around her age, especially not one she considered handsome. Perhaps it was the slight fluff of his hair and the way it framed the sides of his face that made her want to ruffle it.

She snapped herself out of it, realizing that being taken by someone's looks had never gone over well for her. She could appreciate the guy's appearance without getting swept up in him, then they'd get this done and wouldn't have to see each other again.

Closing the door, she apologized, ”Sorry that this is such short notice, by the way. I don't know if Juleka told you, but...”

“Oh, don't worry.” He leaned to the side and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I get it. The creativity bug needs fed, and it's a picky customer.”

She blinked, then pointed at him up and down. “You mean... you too?”

“I'm not a fashion designer,” he told her, “but music is my life. I've been doing it since I was little.”

“Me too! Just—not music, but fashion!” She practically bounced over to get closer to him. “That's amazing! What do you play?”

“Guitar.” He mimed holding one. “But I've tried a little bit of everything. String instruments are just my favorite.”

“I've never learned,” she admitted, a little sad that she wouldn't be able to fully understand him on that front. “I'm so unlucky; if I touch a guitar, I feel like one of the strings will snap off and hit me in the face.”

“Playing isn't for everyone,” he sympathized. “What about you? Are there any kinds of clothes you like making the most?”

She gasped, almost offended. “You can't expect me to choose! It'd be like choosing between my children!” Then, pausing, she shrugged and added lightly, “I might not have kids yet, but good fashion should live longer than them anyway.”

Chuckling, he gestured vaguely at the rest of the house, to which she nodded and began leading him. “What's good fashion? I wouldn't know, I just wear what I like.”

Pumping her fists up, she argued, “That's good fashion in its own way. If it's in style but you hate wearing it, does it even matter? I know that there are a lot of things that are trendy these days, but if you ask me...”

She carried on as they walked, not caring if she sounded fifty years older than she was as she lamented fashion from a decade ago that'd so sadly died out. She hadn't even registered that they'd slid comfortably into conversation without intending to.

It was the first time she felt like someone could empathize with her creative process, even though she did have creative friends. She'd heard once that there were different types of creative people and they all handled creativity differently, so she supposed it was like that.

Of course, just because she was attracted to Luka and they could relate didn't mean anything, right?

——-

"This might be uncomfortable,” Marinette warned, stretching out her trusty measuring tape, “especially if you've never done it before.”

“I'll live,” Luka promised, standing in the center of the room as she circled him. He outstretched his arms as if daring her to challenge his personal space.

Grinning, she stepped in front of him and wrapped the tape around his neck. “You've really never had someone take your measurements before?”

“Never. I just buy clothes at the store.“ His tone suddenly carried an extra bit of mirth as he eyed her. He waved a hand at the top of his head and said, "I know Jule was the one who set this up, but she'd probably joke that there's nothing to measure.”

"Ha." She mumbled the measurement to herself, then stepped aside to write it down. “If you're short, what does that make me?”

He was only able to shrug as a response. “I can't really complain. You should've seen her face when she realized that she outgrew me. I've never seen her confidence shoot up so fast.”

"Is it—oh, arm," she briefly requested when she returned to his side, then continued their conversation once she began measuring. “Is it because you're older than her? I don't have siblings, so I can't relate.”

“She's always looked up to me since we were kids. Now that we're grown up, I guess she likes getting to look down on me for once.” His voice sounded proud rather than sad. “It's great.”

She smiled, imagining that transition between the metaphorical looking up to the literal looking down. Departing to her desk again to write, she stated, “I didn't know her as long as you, but I remember back when she used to be so shy. It's crazy to think about.”

He nodded. "She never would've asked me to do this back when we were teenagers." Pausing as he watched her stand in front of him with her eyes directed at his chest, he asked, “Do you need me to take my shirt off?”

With a dismissive wave, she replied, “You can just lift it up.”

Though, the mention of Juleka's asking reminded Marinette of the near-paranoia she'd felt when the suggestion had been brought up to ask Luka in the first place, back when she hadn't known what he'd think about it. She debated on if it was worth mentioning, but mentally chided herself for the "ultimately do nothing" loop from her teenage years that she could still get stuck in.

Knowing it would bother her if she said nothing, she recalled aloud, "Juleka told me that you can't say 'no' to her. I was worried you might not've actually wanted to be here."

As he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and raised it just above chest level, he reassured her, “That's not it. She is my little... younger sister, and I want to make her happy, but she stopped putting up with how I am once we got older.”

Forcing herself to be normal for a minute at the sight of a semi-bare torso that she thought she'd gotten used to long ago, she wrapped the measuring tape around his chest. Her eyes flicked up questioningly to his face as she arched a brow at him. “How you are?”

“She feels like I never look out for myself. We only had one parent around the house, so I probably tried to cover for whatever anything Mom couldn't. Now she tries to spoil me like she's getting revenge or something.” He added with a hint of exasperation, “I let her because she wants to, but it never bothered me. I—”

“—just liked doing things for people?”

He blinked at her, and the sudden embarrassment that washed over her made her promptly forget the number she'd read off on the measuring tape. She fumbled meekly, hoping that she hadn't made things weird.

“I can relate, that's all. I burned myself out because I was so bad at knowing my limits and turning people down.” After checking the number again, she used going to the desk as an excuse to not look at him. “It made it easy for people to take advantage of me, so I had to get more careful about who my friends were. I still like making gifts and everything, but... I think it's better if two people can spoil each other, so they're equal.”

He hummed, mulling that over. “Maybe you're right. I like the sound of that: it's a duet instead of a solo.”

Despite her back turned to him, she swore she could sense his eyes on her and blushed.

Luka continued casually as if she hadn't been affected, “Anyway, I bet that's one of the reasons Jule asked me, but I really do want to be here. I never had a good excuse to meet the Marinette before.”

She turned to him warily. “The Marinette? I'm that infamous?”

“You're famous,” he corrected with a grin. “Jule loved modeling for you, and you broke her photo curse.”

“I didn't do anything special? That 'curse' was probably a lot of bad coincidences.” She started walking back to him, then briefly turned around to retrieve a water bottle. “Now I feel like I disappointed you or something.”

“Oh, I'm not disappointed,” he insisted, his soft admiring eyes never leaving hers. “Not even a little. Like I said, I'm happy to be here.”

He was really sweet, but she told herself that she had to calm down about it. There was no way he was being affected in the way she was - the stars simply never aligned for her like that - so he was probably the type of guy who was kind to everyone. She was the only one swooning, all over a handsome, caring guy who happened to understand her really well.

"T-thanks! Ah—here." She held out the water to him. "Getting measurements done is a thirsty job."

He eyed the bottle curiously and looked like he was about to reject it, but as if an invisible Juleka on his shoulder was chiding him right in his ear, he ended up accepting it instead. "You're sweet, Marinette. Thank you."

She deliberately ignored that he said what she'd thought about him a second ago and merely nodded. With her hand freed, she could retake the measuring tape and circle it around his waist.

Luka had been actively holding his shirt up the whole time, so he awkwardly adjusted it in an attempt to keep it from slipping while he opened the water bottle. He only stopped as a noise escaped him at his waist being measured, body stiffening.

"Sorry," he said. "It tickles a little."

Cute.

She assured, "Don't worry. It makes sense if you're not used to it. I'll be done in a second."

Despite her intense focus on the measurement for the admittedly nice waist, she caught sight from above of his shirt slipping downwards, as his hands were preoccupied with the water bottle and cap. All too used to moments like these, she pinched the measuring tape easily with one hand while her other shot up to keep the shirt in place. Her palm was pressed firmly against his chest in the process, but she maintained professionalism and went to check the number.

All the while, her heart was pounding against her palm, illogically affected by—wait, that wasn't her heart.

Marinette glanced up at her hand, which had ended right up against where Luka's heart was. It'd been easy for her desperately-denying brain to write it off for her own, which was beating just as much, but it was hard to deny what she was so physically aware of.

...Then, she denied it anyway, thinking that it must be dehydration.

——-

Luka excused himself after the measurements were done, "I'll be right back. I've gotta make a minor call."

Giving him an understanding nod, Marinette joked lightly, "A minor call? Or an A Minor call?"

His body visibly jerked forward as he choked, muffling a strangled laugh behind his hand. It took a good few seconds to compose himself enough to shoot her a bright smile, then he headed off to leave the room.

She waited until he was out of earshot to bury her red face in her hands, embarrassed. "An A Minor call? Seriously, Marinette?!"

At least he laughed, but that was almost worse, because she now had to contend with the fact that even his laugh was charming. She wanted to hear it more, preferably while right up against his chest so she could enjoy the rumble of it.

This was dangerous. Juleka had innocently suggested Luka out of the kindness of her heart, but Marinette was currently throwing that back in her face by being attracted to him. Juleka would probably think it was stupid, or wouldn't be comfortable letting it continue if she knew. The responsible thing to do would be to call her and say as much, then let whatever might happen afterwards happen.

Sighing and trudging over to her phone on the desk, Marinette mentally prepared herself for the upcoming call. She had Juleka on speed dial, but purposefully went to her contacts to stall for just a little longer.

She'd also been hoping for it to ring as long as possible, but it was answered so quickly that she jumped.

"Hey," Juleka greeted, but didn't wait for a response. "In a call right now. Go see Luka."

She promptly hung up.

Marinette blinked, pulling the phone away from her ear to stare at the screen. The call, if it could even be called that, was so short that she almost thought she'd imagined it, but the numbers blinking at her to indicate the literal seconds it lasted proved her wrong. She would've felt bad about interrupting Juleka's own call too, but weirdly enough, the voice she heard hadn't sounded annoyed at all.

It sounded... amused. How did Juleka know that Luka wasn't in the room anyway?

Acknowledging that she wouldn't get any answers by standing there, Marinette set about following Juleka's order. Luka had said that he was taking a minor call, which implied that it would be short and not something sensitive if she happened to overhear a bit of it. She wasn't planning on eavesdropping regardless, and figured that she could use any time left to come up with some sort of excuse for why the whole making him clothes thing might not be the best idea after all.

As she traversed her house, her ears managed to pick up Luka's voice saying her name, but the tone of it was entirely unlike the one he used with her. Anxious, Marinette followed the sound, wondering if he'd gotten sick of her after all.

"...That's different from what you did," Luka said to the person on the other line. "You set this up as a jam session, not a serious concert. I'm just supposed to be here as some guy that Marinette barely knows."

It was clear then who Luka was talking to. Marinette stopped walking as she saw him in the kitchen, his back facing her as he talked animatedly at his sister.

"Because I know you, and you know me, so there's no way you're innocent here." He paused to listen to the voice on the other line. "...My fault? Jule, I barely knew anything about her before today. Without hearing her song in person, how was I supposed to figure out that she was my—"

At that moment, he happened to turn around. Their eyes met and Marinette froze, belatedly realizing that she might've been about to hear something personal.

She pointed at the phone and weakly flapped her other arm up into the air, trying to convey, 'Juleka called me and told me to come see you, but I heard you talking about me and freaked out,' all in one gesture. She then waved meekly off to the side, asking without words if she should leave or not.

He stared at her, perhaps processing her presence, then shook his head to indicate that she could stay. When he aimed his gaze back towards the phone at his ear, it was still sharp, yet had noticeably softened now that he was aware who was nearby.

Rubbing the back of his neck in an awkwardness that seemed so unlike him, he took a breath and continued, "That she's exactly my type."

Marinette's heart, which felt like it'd dropped into her stomach a minute ago, jumped right back up to its rightful place with a flip. Her mouth dropped open in shock, her hand finding the other one as she stroked the palm that Luka's own heart had so strongly beat against.

He was attracted to her too. He wasn't just being nice, he'd been reacting to her with all the same feelings behind it. Whether she hadn't been able to tell due to denial or a difference in how they juggled attraction to someone, she couldn't bring herself to care which it was.

"It'd be one thing if you only did it to me, but Marinette clearly didn't know either. You left both of us in the dark," Luka scolded. Gripping the phone tighter as his brows came down in his exasperation, he stated, "That's why I'm going to talk to her about this; she deserves to know what you did and why. If she decides that she's uncomfortable or doesn't want to be around me after that, I'll leave—"

"You don't have to do that!" Marinette blurted out before she could stop herself.

He'd startled at her shout, having not expected her to give any input yet, but she'd already spoken up and carried on thusly.

"I'm not uncomfortable at all, so you don't have to go anywhere! Even if I already knew I was your—your type, I would've still wanted to meet you, and it wouldn't matter anyway because you're mine!" Her face flushed red at the slip up, and she hurriedly stepped forward and amended, "You're my type too!"

He didn't say anything, but slowly lowered the phone from his ear, his once-tight grip on it loosening enough to where it almost fell right out of his hand. Though she would've imagined that such an outburst would be a turn off, his gaze on her was unwavering.

What ultimately broke the silence then was not him, but Juleka from his phone. She laughed so loud that Marinette could hear it, reminded vaguely of a villain's laughter when their plan had finally come together.

At the very least, the sound inadvertently snapped Luka out of his trance. He glared at his phone, then ended the call and shoved it back into his pocket, a move that was hard to gauge in terms of where his emotions were.

Marinette momentarily considered leaving her own home to avoid the awkwardness she'd created, but then she caught sight of a faint blush on Luka's face as he cleared his throat, looking incredibly pleased.

"So," he began, chuckling lightly. "Yours, huh?"

She groaned, clapping a hand over her face. "Please forget about that."

"I don't know. I like it."

He approached, and she hadn't noticed how far away he'd felt until he was standing right in front of her. Offering a hand to her, he gave her an encouraging gaze that wasn't even slightly dissuaded by everything that just went down.

She wasn't used to this, especially not from someone she dated. The people who knew her when she was "more Marinette than usual" knew full well that it was a part of her, though put up with it like it was a bug to a good game that never got patched out. Those she dated treated it as a bug that would get patched eventually if they just waited long enough.

Luka didn't appear to be in either boat, seeing it as a feature rather than a bug, and it was a feature that he welcomed. She didn't understand it, because even if they clicked so easily, he seemed like the polar opposite of her in terms of personality.

Yet, she wanted to understand it, and her hand slowly slid into his. Their fingers intertwined, neither moving from their utterly bizarre place at the entrance of the kitchen.

"...What do we do now?" Marinette eventually asked, gesturing at their joined hands with her free one.

"We don't have to do anything," he supposed. "This is new for me."

"Me too." She let out half of a giggle, noting that they had another thing in common.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. After thinking it over for a moment, he suggested, "How about we just focus on the clothes for now? I still want an outfit from you."

"And then?" she prompted, wanting very much for there to be a then after the fact.

"Then..." He leaned down to her level temptingly. "I still won't like what Jule did to us, but I guess I'll have to thank her."