Thank you as always for your support. I'm glad so many people are enjoying this! I honestly didn't think that many people would take notice, so thank you!


Day Nine: Needle and Thread

With a new packet of strings tucked safely in his pocket, Luka checked his phone again as he stepped out of the shop. He was still puzzling over Marinette's last few texts.

Whats your favourite hot chocolate flavour?

Like mint or cinnamon or orange or plain?

Mine too!

He'd texted back, asking why she wanted to know, but she hadn't replied. There was a small part of him that hoped maybe it was a way of asking him out for a hot drink, but it was a rather roundabout way of doing it even by Marinette's standards. So, he pushed that part of him down, muted it. Besides, he was hoping she would drop by at some point to grab those guitar strings. He remembered her curiosity about what they were made of, and what he did with them when he changed them.

"Throw them away, usually."

"Oh. Could, uh, could I have one or two? I have an idea for something I want to create…"

"Sure. I'll let you know when these go. Shouldn't be long; I've had them for months now."

No new messages since her hot chocolate question. He thought about dropping another text—she often forgot to reply and frequently needed prodding—but suddenly a blur of red swung past him, twisted in midair, and smacked into a brick wall. Ladybug tumbled to the ground, rubbing her head.

"Oww," she muttered, dazed.

"Ladybug!" Luka hurried to offer her a hand up, which she accepted immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" She blinked twice, looked down as though checking her outfit, then at her hand still holding is and quickly withdrew. "I just, mistimed that, haha…"

"Is there an akuma?" he asked, glancing around quickly for signs of trouble. But there was no thumping or crashing, no giant robots or enslaved minions or questionably-dressed villains.

Ladybug shook her head rapidly. "No no no! I was just out, uh, patrolling. You know, checking for trouble but as everything's fine here I'll just be going!" She grinned, pulling her mouth a little too wide—there was something familiar about it but when he tried to place it he only came up with fog, like a bass-line from a forgotten song.

Before he could think of a response, or even say goodbye, Ladybug flicked her yo-yo and disappeared down a narrow side-street. Strange; Ladybug seemed a lot flightier than she had in the past. With both Anarka and Bob Roth's akumatisations she was so collected and mature. But today…

Another twang of familiarity, but Luka couldn't force his mind to focus on it. Even if he could, he didn't have time to linger on it as moments later he spotted Marinette running down the road, waving to him.

"Luka!" she called. "I just saw Ladybug...there isn't an akum—WAH!" She slipped on the icy pavements and landed heavily on the ground.

With something akin to déjà vu, Luka sprinted over and offered her his hand. "Are you okay, Marinette? That looked like a nasty fall…"

"I'm fine." She managed a smile and a laugh as she scrambled to her feet, leaning heavily on his hand. "More slippery than I thought."

"Yeah, I slipped on the way down here." He tugged on his sleeve and showed her the large hole in both his hoodie and jumper at the elbow. "Somehow tore right through my favourite hoodie."

Marinette traced the whole with her fingers; the feel of her cold skin against his nearly made him shiver. "If you like, I can try and fix it. I just need some needle and thread."

"You don't have to—"

"Luka!" she chastised. "It's cold! You might get frostbite on your elbow and have to have it amputated!"

"...I might get my elbow amputated?" he repeated, smothering his grin.

"Yeah, and then how will you play guitar?" she pointed out, her serious mouth clashed with her amused eyes.

Luka sighed. "Alright, you can fix my clothes. In return I'll give you my old guitar strings."

"You were going to give them to me anyway."

"Maybe I changed my mind. I am a pirate after all," he replied winking.

Marinette snorted and rolled her eyes. "Pirates can't wink," she said. "They don't have enough eyes."

They began the ten minute walk back to the houseboat. Luka asked about her hot chocolate texts, but Marinette turned her flushing face away and merely waved them off as a random question she had thought of.

Soon enough they were in Luka's room, Marinette laughing as he tried to subtly tidy up by kicking clothes under his bed and pull his duvet a little straighter. Chaos may reign supreme on the deck, and Luka by no means cared for keeping his room immaculate, but that didn't mean he wanted Marinette to see quite how messy he could let it become.

But Marinette simply slipped off her coat—unsurprising as it was still damp from when she'd slipped over—and threw herself on his bed to wrap his blanket around her.

"Careful," Luka warned. "I left that guitar string somewhere on my bed. You know, the one that nearly blinded me…"

Marinette patted the bed around her then pulled out a steel string from the folds. She placed it on the other side of the bed, out of the way, and smiled. "If you give me your clothes then I can get on with fixing them while you change your strings."

"Alright," he said, grabbing another jumper from a pile on the floor. She was still smiling at him, so he quietly coughed and arched his eyebrows. It wasn't that he particularly minded changing his top in front of her, but…

Predictably, as soon as Marinette realised what was going on, she squeaked, blushing heavily, and ducked beneath the blanket. Luka chuckled and quickly changed, tugging off his hoodie and jumper and slipping on the other one. Then, bundling up the clothes, he called Marinette's name. As soon as she emerged, he threw the clothes at her still-red face.

Bullseye. She blinked and pouted. "Hey!"

"Sorry." Luka laughed. "I'll go get that needle and thread. I'm sure we've got a sewing kit around here somewhere… I'll be right back."


Marinette waited until Luka had left the room before pressing her burning face into his jumper and moaning quietly. Silly Marinette with her silly brain, not thinking as usual. She shook her head to dislodge the embarrassment and turned her attention to Luka's clothes. The hole in the jumper was more of a cut, easy enough to sew back together. But the hoodie sported a larger hole, one that would need a patch to avoid an obvious mark. She'd have to ask Luka if he had any spare fabric she could use, or else she'd have to take it home and repair it there—she was sure she had some old scraps that would blend well.

As she thumbed the ripped clothes, she noticed Tikki emerge from the coat, where she had been hiding in one of the pockets, and land on her shoulder. "Why didn't you go through with the plan, Marinette?"

Marinette sighed and shrugged. "I just...I couldn't, Tikki. It didn't feel right. I didn't feel like it was me, like they were my feelings anymore."

"Do you still love Adrien?"

Marinette wanted to say yes. She wanted to hold on to what was, what felt like it had always been. But she couldn't; the word lodged in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers tightened around a fistful of fabric.

"No," she whispered.

Something ripped inside her. Like a stone sewn into her heart had been torn out, leaving her feeling light. Too light, because now there was a hole in her chest, an emptiness. As though part of her very identity had been in that stone.

Tikki, receptive as ever, patted her cheek. "Does that mean you love Luka?"

"L-love? L-Luka?"

She liked him, certainly. Who wouldn't? He was handsome, kind, funny, selfless… But did she love him?

She thought she'd loved Adrien, but now she wasn't so sure. She didn't know what love even was anymore.

"How am I supposed to know, Tikki?"

"You left Adrien, who you've been pursuing for over two years now, and ran straight to Luka. Isn't that love?"

Marinette didn't know. But her mind felt too clogged up with emotions to think, and the hole in her heart hurt, so she pulled out her phone to distract herself. Unsurprisingly, there was a long list of messages from the group chat, and it was still growing.

Alya: wat do u mean plans off?

Alya: everyones in place
Alya: Marinetteeeee! u coward!

Rose: oh no! D: r u ok marinette?

Mylène: should i keep distracting gorilla?

Alya: come on marinette
Alya: when will u have anothr chance like this?!

Alya: mari!

Alya: i burnt my tongue downing that coco

Alix: wait wait wait

Alix: so im waring this stupd costume for nothing!

Rose: i still think you look cute alix :)

Alix: why couldnt juleka be here again?
Alix: if the plans off im going home
Alix: its freezing

Mylène: adrien found us!
Mylène: hes looking for the kitten too!

Mylène: wat do i do!?

Alix: run!
Alix: lol

Alya: marinette! i know ur reading these!
Alya: where r u?
Alya: y did u bail?

Marinette switched off her phone and tucked it in her bag. She'd have to tell them sooner or later. Tell them what though? That she'd bailed on Adrien because she'd fallen out of love with him? Or because she'd fallen for Luka? Or both?

She groaned and pressed her hands to the side of her head. "Ughhh, why is this so hard?"

But Tikki didn't reply; Tikki was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she heard a mumble from the doorway.

"Marinette?"

It was Juleka, bundled up in black jeans and a too-big jumper, her visible eye wide and confused.

"Hi, Juleka." Marinette waved, forced a smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh…I'm—oh!" She held up the jumper, using her fingers to show the rip. "I'm fixing a rip in Luka's jumper!"

Juleka watched her silently, eye as intense and unblinking as an owl. Then she mumbled something barely legible, but Marinette was able to pick out a few words. 'Adrien', 'cafe','operation'.

Marinette got the gist. "I couldn't do it," she said. "It wasn't right."

Juleka flashed her a quick smile—a relieved smile? Then she glanced at something outside the room, waved, and disappeared. Moments later, Luka returned with a small box.

"Hey, found the sewing kit," he said, placing the box on the bed. "I hope it has everything you need...are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You seem a little...sad," he said. "No, melancholy, or…" He pressed his lips together, gaze flickering to the guitar. "I can't think of the word."

"I know what you mean," Marinette replied. "And I'm fine. Just, uh, I lost something today. But I think I'm better off without it."

He nodded, but his mouth dipped into a slight frown. "If you're sure you're okay."

"I am. Thank you."

"Good."

He dropped into the chair by his desk and opened up a little laptop. After plugging in a few wires and flicking some switches, music began blaring from the twin speakers set up on each end. Not Jagged Stone. Less rocky, more intricate guitar work, like a complicated needle pattern. Luka dropped the volume, pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music changed. Still guitar but softer, slower.

"I usually play all the songs I have on my laptop on a random loop," he said. "Hard rock to Scottish folk. Sometimes hearing two different styles next to each other can inspire something new. Let me know if you don't like something and I'll skip it."

They both fell silent to concentrate on their work. As Luka pulled his guitar onto his lap and began carefully undoing the remaining strings, Marinette rifled through the sewing box for a needle and the correct colour thread. Unlike the rest of the boat, the sewing box was organised, as though it had never been used. Which, she supposed, may well have been the case.

As she predicted, the jumper was easy to repair. A few stitches to hold it together, then finer needle work to secure and hide the rip. Fortunately, she found a spool of thread in nearly the same colour as the jumper. By the time she had finished, Luka was done restringing his guitar and now quietly played it alongside the music pouring from his speakers. He stopped, however, when he noticed her holding up the jumper.

"That was quick," he remarked.

"It's only a small rip," she returned. "Have a look. Is it alright?"

Although she held the jumper out for him to take, he instead moved to sit on the bed. "Wow. That's amazing. You can hardly see it…"

She flushed with pleasure as he admired her handiwork. After a few seconds, he folded the jumper—sloppily—and threw it at his chair.

"I'm having a little trouble with the hoodie," Marinette admitted. "The rip's a lot bigger and more frayed, so I can't sew it together so easily. I could put in a patch but I'll need some fabric. If you like I can take it home to do it…"

"Does it matter what kind of fabric?" he asked. "I know I've got some old clothes around here that you could use." He ducked out of sight to search under his bed, and eventually emerged with a pull-out storage box. Inside, amongst cords and music books, were a few items of clothing which he grabbed and dumped on the mattress. "Have a look. Actually, feel free to take some of it home if you like. I was going to take this all to a charity shop but never got around to it."

As she pulled the clothes nearer to furtle through, Luka clambered next to her and nudged her shoulder.

"Oi, let me in."

"What?"

"It's cold," he said, nudging her again. "You're hogging the blanket."

Marinette glared at him, but nonetheless she uncurled the blanket and threw part of it over him too and tried not to flush when he scooted slightly closer. Just close enough to feel his body heat and smell his deodorant. She swallowed thickly and concentrated on the job at hand.

She discarded a few articles straight away for being white, which wouldn't look right against the grey-blue hoodie. One was a close match colour-wise, but was just a little too pale. She ummed over a red shirt, but ultimately settled on a pair of joggers in medium grey. Different enough to contrast against the hoodie, but it still toned well.

"Could you pass me the—oh." Luka was already holding out the pair of scissors from the sewing kit. "Thanks."

He watched her as she worked. Even simple tasks like cutting a square of grey fabric from the joggers and snipping the frayed ends in the sleeve's rip he observed intently. She'd half-sewn the makeshift patch on when he spoke.

"How, uh, how do you do that?" he asked, a little flustered. Embarrassed, perhaps?

"How do I sew?" she clarified, pulling the needle to tighten the latest stitch.

"I'm pretty useless with this sort of stuff, but I should probably at least try fixing things when they tear instead of…"

"Throwing them in the Seine?" Marinette finished innocently. Luka replied with a mock-glower, making her giggle. "It's pretty easy. Here, I'll show you…"

First, she slowly, carefully, performed a simple stitch. Then, with the needle positioned between his fingers, she guided him in the same stitch. She didn't think about how close he was, how big his hands were beneath hers, the way his breath gently blew on his ear when he leaned closer for a better look.

"And there, see." Letting go of his hand, with an odd mixture of relief and loss, she pulled at the sleeve to showcase the strength of the patch. "Fixed."

"Thanks Marinette." He smiled, running a finger across the stitches. "You can tell where I did it. It's much messier than yours."

"That's because you're not as experienced as me," she said. "If you keep at it you'll be doing perfect stitches in no time! Then you can move onto fancier stuff like embroidery."

"Can you show me that too?" he asked. "I really liked the pattern you did on my hat; I wouldn't have had the first idea of how to go about it."

"I guess. Okay, um…" She looked back at the patch on the sleeve. It was functional, yes, but a little boring, a little rough. None of her usual Marinette flair. "I'll add some decoration to this patch if that's okay with you. What pattern would you like?"

Luka leaned back against the wall, his head thudding lightly on the plasterboard. His mouth was screwed to one side as he thought, and after a moment he flushed slightly. "Cherry blossoms," he said.

"Cherry blossoms?"

His smile pushed into his pink-dusted cheeks. "Yeah, cherry blossoms."

She knew she could easily embroider cherry blossoms because that's what she'd sewn onto her dress for the dance, and onto his shirt. And she knew that he knew she could do it. Was that why he picked them? Or—she looked again at his faint blush—did he just really like cherry blossoms?

"Sure," she said, rooting in the sewing box for new thread. Pale pink, cerise, black. She didn't let him touch this one because embroidery was difficult for a beginner, but he didn't mind. He seemed to enjoy just watching, leaning close, his face next to hers as she worked.

Embroidery had always been time-consuming, and after a while Luka volunteered to get some refreshments. Tea for her, in a mug with a cat in front of the moon, and hot blackcurrant squash for him.

She wrinkled her nose when she took an experimental sip of his drink. "It tastes like heated up medicine."

"We didn't have squash a lot when I was a kid," he said, rubbing the side of his mug where it was chipped, marring what looked like a flag with a blue cross. "It was always a special treat when we did, though, so if it was too cold for a chilled drink I used to heat it up."

"That's kind of sweet."

"I also used to put extra sugar in it."

"And that's disgusting."

Luka—mid-sip—choked on a laugh. "Yeah. Ma used to say the same thing... How's your embroidery going?"

"It's okay…" Marinette took a long sip of her tea then passed it back to Luka so he could put it on the desk. "I'm not used to sewing on two different materials at the same time, so it might be a little awkward in places…"

"I'm sure it'll be great."

"And if it's not, you can always throw it in the Seine," she teased.

She knew by the way his shoulders jolted and his mouth clamped shut that he was trying not to laugh. "If you're not careful I'll throw you in the Seine."

Finally, with the light outside the window beginning to darken, Marinette deemed the hoodie finished. She glanced at the jumper, still folded on top of the chair, then back at the hoodie's sleeve.

The first fix was neater. Barely noticeable unless under scrutiny. Back to how it was, how it had always been, how it always would be. But the second… The patch stood out, changed the hoodie completely. It wasn't trying to be the same as it was, but had transformed into something new. The scar was obvious, not forgotten or brushed aside, but one with the rest of the piece.

Marinette laid the hoodie out before them. The network of black branches curled around the edge of the patch, hiding the stitches, dotted with delicate pink buds which continued into the patch, caught by the wind. They echoed the night sky, each blossom a star. Andromeda. Lyra. Cassiopeia.

Marinette smiled as Luka raved about the pattern, blushed when he called her amazing, extraordinary, supremely talented. Her hand found her chest, found her heart beating beneath. The hole left by Adrien wasn't gone, never gone. Just patched over with cherry blossoms and stars.