Desideratum

Chapter 30

Moonlight shone through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows as she gazed outside at the unchanging scenery.

His skin was warm against her cheek and his arm was heavy around her waist. His entire overpowering presence engulfed her like a protective blanket. Yet she remained unable to succumb to unconsciousness.

Her mind was restless. Thoughts kept circling round and round and slowly driving her insane. No conclusions were reached; there was only torture. Her heart-rate hadn't lessened, either; it was as if a fist was there to squeeze her heart, over and over, so hard her breath hitched.

Her hand clenching around the soft, satin sheets, she chanced a glance at his sleeping face. He was resting on his back, one of his arms wrapped around her slim waist, the other slung over the mattress. The blanket covered his hips, but left his toned stomach exposed; his hair was spread over his face and the pillow, his expression relaxed, content in his slumber.

The breath seemed to leave her body and her lungs seemed to collapse into themselves at the sight.

She struggled to keep her breathing even as she slowly eased herself into a sitting position, but it was even more difficult than she had anticipated. Her hand trembled as she slowly ran her fingers over the length of his strong jaw-line. How was it that this one man held all of her dreams and all of her wishes into his powerful hands? How could he possibly mean everything after so long?

Squeezing her eyes shut, she bent her head and touched her lips to his temple, lingering.

How was it that she could taste her happiness but not reach out and grab it, keep it to herself where it should have remained from the very beginning? How was it that the world seemed so cruel to her now? For six years, she had worked herself to the point of not caring, to the point of being indifferent, and a split second was all it took to make everything she had tried so hard to build tumble down to her feet. A sob almost ripped from her throat, but she managed to hold it in.

Slowly, careful not to disturb his sleep, she eased out of his embrace. He didn't stir, and she moved to the side of the bed. Picking up her discarded dress, she slipped it on and moved out of the room, her feet padding soundlessly against the hardwood floor. Sliding the doors open, she walked out on the terrace and took a seat, curling into herself. Resting her forehead against her knees, she closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths to stop her meltdown. This wasn't the place, and it most definitely wasn't the time.

When Luka woke up, the sky was several shades lighter, and he was alone. His mind registered that fact the very moment his skin failed to perceive her body heat, and his brows furrowed. Stretching out his arm in hopes that he would find the woman he loved, he opened his eyes, bringing one of his hands up to rub the sleep away from them. He searched the darkened room for her presence, but he was unable to find it, and the fact disconcerted him more than he thought it should.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he quickly located his boxers and pulled them on, before making his way out on the terrace. There was something inside of him that had lured him out with a whisper, and he wasn't surprised to find her there, with her red dress on and a small bottle of water by her side. With the breeze running through her hair, she gazed out into the horizon; she had one leg propped up, her elbows resting on top of her knee, while her other was tucked beneath it.

She turned her head the moment she heard him open the door, a disarmed look in her eyes—yet one that was so sad at the same time.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, a small frown on his features, as he took a seat beside her. His hand immediately came up to brush locks of dark hair over her shoulder, before trailing down her spine to rest on her lower back. "Do you miss Cadence?" he ventured a guess when she remained silent.

"Yeah," she answered, her voice a soft whisper and somewhat chocked. But her eyes sent him a different message, and his confusion grew.

"Do you want to go home? He won't be there until tomorrow, but we can go if that makes you feel better." Brushing his hand over her cheek, he brought her close and buried his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. "Just don't leave my side again when we're sleeping." His lips brushed against her pulse, then her jaw.

Marinette closed her eyes.

"It's disorientating—waking up and not finding you there."

A quiet, sob-like gasp escaped her throat as she forced herself to remain still.

Luka pulled back, watching her with guarded brown eyes. "Do you want to leave?"

"No." She shook her head. "We can't leave until we put this in order, Luka."

He cupped her face into his warm hands, looking at her in the eye. His heart thumping frantically against his ribcage, he refused to believe what his mind was telling him.

Instead, he tried to smile. "Put what in order?" he asked.

Marinette closed her eyes. "This. What are we doing?"

"What do you mean what are we doing?"

"This… us… It can't happen, Luka," she whispered. "We can't be. Not again. I told you that."

Pulling away from her, he watched her with a lost look in his eyes.

She curled into herself, cold without his warmth, unprotected without his arms around her. But she continued. "I also told you the reason why. I can't do this to Cadence."

For a moment, he was silent, as the information sunk into his system. Then he sighed, shook his head, and smiled bitterly. "You can't do what to Cadence? You can't give him a family?"

She froze.

Luka looked away. "All this time, and I still don't know what it is about me that makes you think I don't care about him." Her eyes widened, and she hastened to deny that, "I never—"

"I do care about my child, Marinette," he said. "Even trying to justify that seems ridiculous. I may not have been there for the first six years of his life, but that doesn't mean I don't know how much of a big responsibility being a parent is. And to be honest, I'm getting tired of you constantly undermining that. Because maybe you do have more experience than me. Maybe you already know all the lessons I'm about to learn. But I would never do anything that could possibly hurt him. And what pisses me off even more is that you know that, Marinette. You know."

"I never said you didn't care about Cadence," she defended. "All I said—"

"You're more important," he interrupted her, and she reeled back as though he had slapped her. "There, I said it. You're more important, because right now, you're my priority. There's more for us out there. Do you understand that?" he asked, holding her gaze in such a way she almost shivered. "I want to fix things between us. I want us to have what we used to."

"What makes you think we can have that back?"

"What makes you think we can't?"

Marinette huffed a breath that was almost amused, and turned her gaze to the horizon. "You've always been ridiculously optimistic."

"And hasn't everything turned out alright?" he countered. "There came a time when I stopped believing… and I nearly screwed my life over. But then you came back, and… and you had Cadence with you." He smiled, despite the situation.

She turned her head back in his direction, her eyes softening at his expression—he seemed torn between pain and happiness, between desperation and resignation, and it took her breath away.

"You… you gave me something I never thought I could have—something I stopped dreaming about the moment you left. And I guess that… that since that day, since I saw you again—ever since then, I've been waiting for this moment. For the moment when I would get to have you—for real." Shaking his head, he seemed to snap out of his daze. "That's why I want you to think… seriously… about whether or not you want to be with me again. Look past everything and ask yourself if it's worth it… because it may." Shrugging, he brought his knees up and rested his elbows on them, looking down. "At least… I know it is, for me. And I know you're hurting more than I am and I know it's harder for you… but it wasn't easy for me, either."

"I never said it was, Luka," she whispered.

"I know what you said and what you didn't," he claimed. "The problem is that I can't tell what you're thinking. I'm not sure you even understand. This depends on us," he emphasized, gazing deep into her eyes. "If we want this to happen, we have to make it happen. And yes, it's a risk. But you think it was easy for me to bring you here, to push you, to beg you to welcome me back into your life? You think it was easy for me to take that chance knowing that I was the one to mess up in the past, knowing that it was my fault we broke up in the first place? No, Marinette, it was not. I could have fucked things up again, ruined everything we've been trying to build for all these months. But I risked it all for you, and I don't regret anything. But you need to be willing to do the same and you're not—and I don't get why, because I know you love me."

"I'm not going to deny that… that everything's been fine until now," she admitted. "The future looks bright and beautiful and maybe I'm crazy for not jumping at the opportunity, but Luka… those first couple of months? That year? It was amazing." She shook her head. "What if we're just not meant to be? Have you thought of that? Love doesn't always solve everything."

Luka huffed a breath. "Look, Marinette… I get that you're afraid. I understand. If you want to back out of this, fine. But don't hide behind an excuse like that because you're a coward."

With that, he stood, and never had a chance to look back as he walked back inside the bedroom. He pulled on his pants and shrugged on his shirt, and kept his head down and his hands in his pockets and as he made his way out of the suite and through the hallways until he arrived downstairs and started towards the beach.

The sky was slowly lightening, but the sun had yet to rise, so the sand felt pleasantly cool and soft beneath his bare feet.

He had been an idiot again. To be perfectly honest, he always was. Always thought he could solve everything. Always thought he could start over at any given moment. Looking back, he almost wanted to laugh at his own naiveté. There was only one person who mattered to Marinette now, and it wasn't him. It was Cadence. He'd wasted his shot and lost his place a long time ago. Marinette never gave second chances, so what made him believe that she would give him one?

Luka was tired of fighting. He wanted her back, and nothing would change that, but he wasn't going to raise his voice in an attempt to make her see a point she refused to get even when he proved it. He wouldn't, because he simply couldn't. For a long time, he had blamed his exhaustion on his travels, on his stressful life, and he had been a complete fool to do that. She had been the one who affected him. Their relationship had been the one that affected him. Her absence, their lack of communication—that was what was wrong in his life, not the transition he had been forced to make from a laid back teenager to a responsible adult.

Luka and Marinette had enough reasons to fight. Every couple did. He was stubborn and she was stubborn and they were so different it seemed like the odds were against them from the very beginning, but that was so far from the truth it was laughable. That was what people saw. But it wasn't in their nature to fight with each other. Maybe argue occasionally on matters they both felt very strongly on, but not fight. Being mad with her and being away from her went against every fiber of his being. It was as if he was in a constant battle with himself.

And Luka couldn't take that anymore. He couldn't go through that again, and not because it would kill what was left of him that he had managed to recover over the years, but because, in a way, he had something else to live for now. He had Cadence. And if Marinette had been able to look at him for six whole years and consider him enough, then he would be able to, as well. He had to.

He heard the footsteps behind him a moment too late, just as her voice rang through the stillness of the night. "Luka!"

He stopped, and she came to stand in front of him, dark hair whipping forward around her face with the force of the wind. She didn't bother to brush it behind her ears. Instead, she spent a moment holding his gaze; then she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest, clinging to him.

Luka frowned, his mind a jumbled mess, but his arms seemed to act on their own accord as they immediately hugged her back, pulling her small body tighter against him. Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he inhaled her feminine scent.

"I don't get you, Marinette," he whispered into her hair.

"Sometimes, I don't get myself, either," she confessed as she pulled back a fraction, keeping her arms around him and looking at him in the eye. "But as I stand here now… I realize there's something that I do get—something that's always been clear. And that's that I love you. I love you like I never thought possible to love another person. I went six years without seeing you once and I feel like I love you even more now. And I don't want to lose you. I wouldn't stand that."

"You're never going to lose me again, Marinette." His eyes were strong and steady as they reassured her. "It's your choice whether or not you want to actually have me. I know I said I'd do everything in my power to win you over, but… I never knew—or I guess I wanted to ignore—how much you actually didn't want this. And if you're going to stick to that… fine. But you're not going to lose me, either way. I'm not disappearing from Cadence's life. And I'm never disappearing from yours again unless you want me to."

"I want everything, too," she whispered, tears as clear as day in her eyes. "I've always wanted everything with you… and I don't know if I dared to dream too much, because it's clear I haven't been meant for loving and being loved, but… but right here and right now, I can't bring myself to care. I try to, I really do, with every fiber of my being, but you're here and you're so close and you want the same thing and I… I just want to forget about everything."

Luka's eyes seemed to regain their sparkle as he took a step even closer and cupped her face into his hands. "Stop fighting, Marinette," he whispered. "I know it's not easy for you to go through this, but if only you could get yourself to trust me again… at least for a little bit—I'll regain the rest as we go. But, please… just give in."

She seemed torn as she rested her head on his shoulder and sagged against him.

His hand ran through her tangled dark locks. "Let's be happy, Marinette," he encouraged. "Let me make you happy."

There was a long period of silence from her part, and if he hadn't known any better, Luka would have thought she was ignoring him. But he did know better, and apart from that, he could feel her small form trembling against him, could see the tension in her shoulders and hear her irregular breathing. All the time, he kept his hand in her hair and his lips to her temple, his arm tight around her waist.

"Only if you promise me…" Her voice was a mere whisper when she finally spoke, turning to bury her face into the crook of his neck, her hands fisting the soft material of his shirt. "Promise me you'll never leave me again," she murmured. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said, gripping her with a sudden ferocity. "I promise," he repeated as he pulled her away from him so that he could look at her in the eye. "I won't ever leave you again. I won't ever hurt you again. I promise. Just give me a chance."

He kissed the tip of her nose, and she closed her eyes.

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there, and he noticed it. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, his face broke into a genuine grin.