Thank you so much for your continued support. Here's the next instalment, fresh off the press! (Literally. I've only just finished writing it and haven't had a chance to proofread properly unfortunately D:)
Day Eleven: Melody
With the shortbread safely loaded onto a wide, slightly chipped plate, Marinette and Luka decided to head down to his bedroom where they could eat the warm treats, wrapped in his blanket. However, when they stepped out of the kitchen they found Juleka loitering in the corridor.
"Hey, Luka," she said, but her mouth fell into a hard frown when her gaze fell to Marinette. "Oh."
Luka glanced behind at Marinette then Juleka; he didn't like the hostility coming from his sister, or the way Marinette seemed to curl in on herself. "Hey, Jule," he said. "Something up?"
Juleka's eyes flickered back to him and she shifted her feet uncomfortably. "I need to talk to you about something."
It was clearly important if the way she fidgeted with her bracelet was anything to go by. But Marinette seemed just a nervous, perhaps even slightly desperate.
"Juleka," she murmured. "Please, let me explain… What Lila said, it wasn't true."
Ah, that's what upset Marinette. "Come on, Jule. Whatever happened, I'm sure we can work it out."
But Juleka only frowned deeper then, flicking her hair over her shoulder, she flounced down the corridor and disappeared into her room. Luka sighed and shot Marinette an apologetic smile.
"She'll calm down soon enough," he said. "Come on, let's enjoy these before they get cold."
As soon as they reached his room, Marinette made herself a nest out of his bed sheets, her face tensed in frustration. Luka perched on the bed next to her and deposited the plate of biscuits on the flattest bit of mattress he could find. He grabbed two, still warm, and held one up to her mouth.
"Open wide, lass," he said, trying to force a Scottish accent onto French. "Ye'll feel better wit' a bit o' Scotland down ye."
Marinette let out a reluctant giggle. "What was that meant to be?" she asked then squeaked when he pushed the biscuit past her slightly-parted lips. With a glare she took the biscuit from his hand and took a proper bite. "Mmm, these are good…"
"Yeah," he agreed, taking a bite of his own. Warm shortbread, slightly caramelised sugar, oats...they tasted like childhood and childhood tears dried by a mother's thumb. "So, I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"
Marinette shoved the rest of her biscuit in her mouth and chewed slowly. Then, as she swallowed, her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "It's just Lila being…" She faltered, face screwing up as she searched for the right phrase. Then, like a clogged tap suddenly clearing, the words gushed from her. "Lila! She keeps coming up with all this nonsense and—and people just believe her! And then when she says lies about me and I get all emotional about it because of course I do! So people think that I'm the one lying and when I call her out about it she's so calm and makes up more lies that of course everyone just believes like they're—they're sheep or something!"
Luka waited patiently for her to finish and passed her another biscuit, which she stuffed whole into her mouth. "Lila's the girl we saw at the dance, right? She said she'd made her dress too?"
By the way Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes, he figured that was another lie.
"What did she say this time?" he asked as she angrily munched the shortbread like her life was dependant on it. When she swallowed she huffed again.
"It's not what she said. I mean, it was because what she said was just ugh. But it was how Alya and Alix and Juleka all reacted! Like because Lila said just one thing I was suddenly this horrible person, and they didn't even give me a chance to explain anything!"
"Juleka?" he echoed. "Is that why you were so concerned about me talking to her? Was…" He frowned, remembering Juleka's words in the hallway. 'I need to talk to you about something.' "Was it about me?"
Marinette stiffened then groaned and leaned sideways, head falling against his shoulder. Hoping it was a comforting gesture, he slid his arm behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder, holding her as close as he dared.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," he said. "I'm just worried about you. That if you don't let someone in then you'll be...I don't think I could bear it if you were."
"I'm so scared I will be," she whispered. "I get so upset and angry. I'm terrified Hawkmoth is going to take advantage of it and I won't be able to fight back."
"Well, how about I show you some meditation techniques? Maybe it'll help you control your emotions a little more. At least, until you can get to a safe environment."
"You would do that for me?"
"Of course." He smiled, pulled her a little closer. "And if you find it doesn't work when you're next upset you can just call me. Even if it's three in the morning."
"I'm not going to call you at three in the morning, Luka."
"But if you need to...I'd rather be woken up and be able to help you than find out you needed me and I was asleep."
"Fine."
Meditation was unsurprisingly quite relaxing. He didn't play music, or count his breaths, or anything like that. Instead he just told her to find a comfortable but specific position to sit in, one that could be unique to meditation so that even the act of sitting would in itself become relaxing.
"Don't measure your breaths," he said quietly. He sat cross-legged beside her, hands on his knees, thumbs and forefingers pressed together. "Feel the air in your chest, keep breathing in until your lungs and full then slowly breathe out. Concentrate on the bed beneath you, your clothes against your skin."
She did as he said. Unable to think of another position, she merely copied his but let her hands dangle limply over her knees. She breathed in until her lungs were full, felt the cold air sting her throat, the weight in her chest when she exhaled again. The bed was soft beneath her, the fabric of her jeans warm against her wrists.
"Okay," she murmured. "Now what?"
"Well, that's a little more subjective," he replied. "My mind's always filled with music so I try to concentrate on my other senses. Try to see the patterns inside my eyelids or paint them with my own pattern. Anything that stops me trying to listen. We all need that break from whatever drives us, otherwise it becomes stale. I find the few minutes spent away from music helps me play better. I guess for you, you're so visual concentrate on a different sense? Listen to your heart beat or whatever other noises are around. Or smells or...I suppose taste would be pretty difficult."
Marinette laughed. "I can still taste that shortbread. I could concentrate on that?"
"If that helps."
They meditated for a while longer until the silence took form and wrapped around them like a shroud, and the sounds of the Seine were like weak lights struggling to permeate. Then she heard a crackling and opened her eyes to see Luka stretching his arms above his head.
"It's good to start with short sessions," he said, standing up. "Meditation can take it out of you if you go for too long. You need to build up a type of stamina, but it's really helpful."
She uncrossed her legs and stretched them before her, wincing her when knees clicked. "Thanks, Luka."
"And if you want a meditation buddy…"
"I'll be sure to call you at three in the morning," she replied, giggling when chuckled. Then her eyes fell on the guitar propped up in the corner of the room. Luka must have noticed her staring at it as he picked it up and grinned.
"Any requests?"
"Ummm…" She bit her lip. "You...you know the playlist you gave me?"
"Yeah."
"That last song. I really liked it. Could you play that?"
He looked surprised, but pleased. "The last one?"
"You called it Played on heartstrings."
"Ahh." He smiled, slightly flushed. "Fitting. It's your song, after all."
"My song?"
"Yeah." Luka rubbed the back of his head, averted his gaze as he sat down with the guitar gathered on his lap. He began plucking strings and turning the little pegs as he spoke. "Do you remember when we first met? You stumbled into my room and I played a little tune for you?"
"You said it was in my heart."
"Yeah. It's that. Well, it was. I've reworked it. Your heart's grown, so the song grew with you. I, um, I actually meant to put lyrics to it but…"
"Can I hear it now?"
"On one condition. You promise to tell someone about today. It doesn't have to be me, but someone. Don't keep it bottled up…"
"Okay," she muttered, defeated. He was right, she couldn't tell no one. That was the same as doing nothing, and doing nothing was letting Lila win. "I promise."
He smiled, relieved, and positioned the guitar in his hands, body cradled against his stomach, neck resting in his hand. And soon petals and starshine filled the room, sweeping and swirling like a summer breeze, keeping time with her own heart.
Then he began to hum. There was something oddly forlorn about it, something lost, like the wind over the sea.
As before, it was over too quickly. He gently set the guitar down. "Sorry, I'll finish the lyrics one day," he said. "Then I'll sing it to you as well."
"You don't have to. It's beautiful as it is."
"I'm glad you like it."
The light was shifting. Shadows stretched outside the window as the sunlight drained from the world. Marinette peered out through the glass at the orange glimmers on the water and the pink-smeared sky, vivid behind Paris' skyline. "Do you want to sit outside?" she asked. "It looks like a beautiful sunset."
"That sounds like a good idea," he replied. "Take the blanket and the biscuits. I'll go make us some hot chocolate, okay?"
"Shortbread? Hot chocolate? Live music?" Marinette laughed as she bundled up the blanket in her arms, careful not to let it trail on the floor lest she trip over it. "You're spoiling me. I won't want to leave."
"Would that be so bad?"
"Luka!"
Chuckling, he left the room. Marinette hurried after him with the plate balanced on the blanket, sticking her tongue out at him as she passed the kitchen, then headed up to the deck. It was messy as ever, but she found a nice spot looking over the western sky where she set up the blanket over two chairs. She then sat down in one of them, pulling the blanket up to her chin, and sighed, content.
If only she could do this every time Lila got to her.
She felt Tikki climb out of her purse and crawl up under the blanket and peer at her. "How are you feeling, Marinette?"
"A lot better. There's something about Luka that's just so...calming. You know? Like, when I'm with him...everything is just right."
Tikki giggled through a knowing grin, making Marinette blush at her own words.
But she couldn't deny it. Everything did feel right when she was with Luka. As much as her heart pounded and leapt whenever Adrien was around, here she felt like herself. And that herself was good enough. No need for elaborate plots just to talk to him. She only had to look at him and he already knew what she wanted to say.
Marinette grabbed a biscuit and gave it to the kwami, who disappeared back into the purse. Soon enough, Luka reemerged with two steaming mugs. "Sorry it's not mint-flavoured," he said, giving her one mug before awkwardly manoeuvring into the other chair.
"Never mind," she said, wrapping her fingers around the mug. "I'll take you out for a mint one another day."
"How could I say no?"
It was a different sort of silence that followed. Not like during meditation, where it wrapped so tightly it was nearly suffocating, but here it was more comfortable. Settled like water around their feet as the sky burned before them. Pink to orange, red bleeding through like a watercolour. She wondered what it sounded like to Luka, if anything.
"Earlier," she said before she could stop herself. "With Lila... she said, or implied, that I'm just using you to get Adrien jealous."
Luka took a long sip before replying. "Is that what you're doing?"
"No!" Marinette spluttered. "How could you—" she stopped when she realised he was laughing and pouted at him.
"Marinette," he said. "You are the most genuine person I know. Sometimes your emotions get the better of you, I won't pretend they don't. But I know you, and I know you would never do something like that. You're extraordinary, Marinette. Sincere as a melody."
Clear as a music note…
"Did...did you mean what you said?"
"Of course I mean it, Marinette. I know you'd never—"
"No, I mean—" she swallowed, shut her eyes. "After Silencer. When you said...about me…" She peeked open one eye, and nearly squeezed it shut again when she found Luka staring at her thoughtfully. Sadly, perhaps.
"Every word."
"Do...do you still mean it?"
"I do," he said. "Marinette, you're my melody."
In the clash of colours in the sky's fire, a moment of clarity like a water droplet.
She forced her eyes open, clutched her mug tighter in one hand and with the other reached for his. Their pinky fingers twined together. Her heart tried to march up her throat but she swallowed it down.
"Luka, you're my melody too."
