Disclaimer:I don't own Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Author's Note:It's the weekend, and I might update two consecutive chapters once I am done, but here's the first one.


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Chapter 2

Standing there now, in the middle of downtown New York, looking up at the pure white architecture that housed Marinette Dupain-Cheng's fashion house, he found it hard to remember what had been of his life ever since she left him. Achievements had been made, goals had been attained, and obligations had been fulfilled; he had played an active role into them all, but despite that, it would be nothing more than a lie, were he to say that he had actually managed to live without her. She was his everything—and without her there to guide him down the right path, to be by his side every step of the way, his life had lost its purpose.

Now, he stood there, his hands buried in his pockets, his teal eyes following a path up the stairs that would lead them to his destination. Nothing separated them now—nothing but a brick wall, a door he would have to open, a little effort he would have to put into finding her. He had been dreaming about this moment for years.

And yet, when put face to face with the daunting prospect of having to explain himself - to say that he at least had an idea about what to do next would be nothing more than a big, fat lie.

She was in there, he knew. Adrien Agreste himself had assured him that she would. He had told her everything about her, provided him with every last bit of information that he could. What he had failed to tell him, however, was how he should act in her presence, what he should do once he found her.

Regardless of that, he was already there, and he would not back down—never again.

The practical part of his plan—a key part in its entirety—was getting inside, which was an obstacle that his friend—ever the influential model and heir to the Gabriel line—had easily taken out of his way. He knew that Adrien had the same feelings for Marinette and he knows that the first year of Marinette being away from Paris, he tried wooing her, but Adrien noticed that nothing he did can make her smile like she used to. So, true to Adrien Agreste, he went back to Paris and find him, Luka, which was an easy feat and gave him the information needed for him to see her again and make amends. After all, nothing can make him smile like he used to than her.

Once inside, finding her came across as surprisingly easy. He followed the path he had been instructed by one of the helpful guards, and just when he began to think he might have gotten lost, he heard her voice—her beautiful, silky voice; the voice that had forever haunted his dreams; the voice that he had missed so much.

"Where are you?" She was talking on the phone. "Starbucks? Yeah, just get me a big cup of coffee—I don't know why, but I have a feeling I'll need it today. Thanks, Chloe. Bye."

He rounded the corner, and there she was, just as beautiful and perfect as he remembered. She was leaning against a massive, mahogany desk, her lithe figure clad in a little black and white dress that hugged her curves and reached down to her mid-thigh; matching high-heeled shoes adorned her long, slim legs. Eyes fixed on the screen of her expensive-looking phone, she did not acknowledge his presence for a while. It was only when she turned to face the door, placing her phone on the desk beside her, that her gaze finally fell on him, and he could continue to ogle her.

Her hair was a little longer than he remembered, but framing her face like it had always done, and just the same shade of midnight blue that he kept seeing flashes of in his dreams. Her beautiful blue eyes were framed by thick, long lashes, and accentuated by light, delicate make-up. Her mouth opened once, her tongue slipping out to wet her pink, soft-looking lips.

"Luka…" she breathed, a frown adorning her flawless features as her confused gaze sought his. For a brief moment, 'vulnerable' was the word to describe her. But then her back straightened and her eyes hardened, her lips settling in a firm line. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Marinette…" he tried to speak, but trailed off, unsure of what he was supposed to say. This was the hardest part—giving explanations. Although he was human, and thus made mistakes more often than not, most of them were not grave enough for him not to be able to escape the consequences with the help of his calm and carefree attitude. (Not to mention the fact that everybody knew he meant no harm, no matter what he did.) But this one mistake he had made five years ago had been catastrophic. To say that he was unsure of how to approach the problem would be a terrible understatement.

"Actually, how the hell did you get here, in the first place?" And it was painfully obvious that she was not going to make his job any easier. "You shouldn't have been granted entrance."

Swallowing heavily, he met her gaze. "Adrien," was the only thing he mustered saying—and the only thing she needed in order to realize what had happened.

She rolled her eyes. "Why?" she demanded.

"I…" once again, he tried to speak, but she interrupted him.

"You know what? Forget I even asked that question," she said, turning her back to him as she rounded her desk, taking a seat on her leather chair. "You and I have nothing to discuss. And if you came here in search for a fashion designer—which I doubt—then I will have to disappoint you, because either way, I'm very busy. New York Fashion Week is around the corner and there's a lot of models I have to dressed, not to mention the celebrities that wants things By Appointment. I—" she would have continued, but she caught herself in time. There was no need for her to draw this out. "You've come the wrong way," she finished.

"I came here to see you, Marinette," he confessed, and the soft tone he had used seemed to be at odds with her rare cold, determined voice.

Marinette's eyes rose to meet his once more. "And that was a mistake," she provided dismissively.

"Marinette, I—"

"You nothing," snapped. "I have no idea how you managed to find me—even with Adrien's help—and I don't know why you bothered with that, in the first place, but frankly, I very much doubt I could care less. I just want you to leave."


A/N: Well, if you're Mari, would you act like her upon meeting Luka again? Leave a review! Thanks!