In this chapter, Marinette's support network rallies around her and her family in the wake of her mother's diagnosis. This chapter is about needing others -letting them be there for you- when facing tragedy or working through trauma. This chapter explores the idea that grief isn't always going to be a linear path, continuing an upward trend steadily toward improvement. Rather it looks at just how messy and complex it can end up being -with many ups and downs -where some moments are better than others and some are worse than others. This is a reminder that's its okay, because all people work through difficulty differently.
To any regular readers: Though it is still Saturday, I'm sorry for the late upload. I do normally post updates in the morning on Saturday. I was away for the past week and only just got back in town.
Chapter Twelve
Can't Do It Alone
Once the couple is finished enjoying and cleaning up after their breakfast, she gathers up her things and he acts as a chauffeur one more time, shuttling her back to her place for the day. No conversation takes place during the short drive to her duplex. She is turned away and he must focus on the road, making her current thoughts and feelings something of a mystery. Pulling up along the curb and throwing the vehicle into park, the young guitarist turns to look at his passenger. Already in the process of preparing to get out, the woman offers no parting words or her usual abundance of gratitude for his help. Her expression is blank, blue eyes suddenly appearing much stonier and grayer as she gets ready to climb out of the passenger side door.
His lips curve down into a frown. Her silence is becoming increasingly perturbing.
He cares not one bit for being thanked, knowing that he'd do everything exactly the same way all over again if he had to. He's happy to support her in whatever way she needs. It's more bothersome because he knows the woman well enough to identify an outpouring of gratitude as her typical behavior and the absence of that behavior is more than just a little disconcerting. Combined with many other things, it makes him wonder if it's really okay to leave her by herself.
Her fingers just barely connect with the handle when she feels Luka's large hand settle over hers. Startled, the young designer turns back to the man to see what he might be trying to accomplish.
Their eyes connect.
She watches him, her expression caught between surprised and quizzical.
"If you need anything…anything at all, you can always call me. I'll do whatever I can." Though he's aware her condition has improved greatly since the early morning hours, Luka is still attuned to her grief and heartache. Her pain isn't something any person has hope of resolving entirely. All he can do is try and be there to support her as she needs it. Though he knows that, he finds himself still thinking it isn't enough. Nowhere near enough.
Teeth sink down into his lower lip, alpine eyes narrowing out of sheer frustration. His brow tents. This detestable concoction of powerlessness, helplessness and resentment begins to bubble up within him as he watches a dull, mirthless smile ghost across her lips before quickly fading away.
He continues to hold her gaze, waiting for a reply of some variety.
A sigh fills the brief silence that follows his declaration, the sound of it wistful and resigned and he jumps as her hand suddenly is pulled out from under the weight of his own.
Her eyes slide away from his, as she turns away, head drooping down as her shoulders slump. Her lower lip begins to tremble, brow knotting as she makes a concerted effort to swallow the tears. The grief she's been slowly processing since the early morning seems to come in waves. Right now, the sadness has hit its peak and is beginning to roll over, in the same way a wave crashes along the shore. But it isn't only sadness. This man is unwaveringly kind and gentle and his support is profoundly touching, knowledge which only supplies her emotionally fragile mind with more material to feed upon.
For a split second, he suspects she may forego a response entirely and exit the car.
That isn't something he's willing to abide. It's so entirely unlike her that every alarm bell begins ringing inside his mind at once.
Just as he lifts his hand off the storage compartment which separates their seats to reach for her, she turns back in his direction once more, and he freezes at the look on her face.
Tears well up in those blue eyes, her lower lip quivering even as she offers him a warm and grateful smile.
"Y-you're freaking perfect, do you know that?" The words pass over her lips sounding strangled as she struggles against an oncoming torrent of tears to get them out.
His breath hitches as he maintains his connection with those emotion-filled and tear-brimmed baby blues. Unconsciously, he reaches out, pulling her in against his shoulder and into something of a half embrace. His arm wraps around her shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into her skin through her shirt, closing into a tight fist around a handful of the fabric. In that same instant, her arms encircle his body as well, her small hands hot as she squeezes him in return, her forehead roughly nuzzling against the ball of his shoulder. There are many words that could be spoken right now, but all of them seem somehow empty and meaningless compared to the action he's just taken. Convinced this hug is the most reliable format with which he can convey the multitude of things he wants her to know, his hold on her tightens, fingers massaging the area where they rest. His lips fall against the top of her head, the kisses placed in a deliberately rough, heavy manner, in another bid to convey his feelings without words.
A bittersweet smile brightens her features, understanding his message with ease.
'I'm here, so depend on me. Lean on me. You're not alone.'
This firm embrace lasts another few minutes before she breaks away. After a brief exchange of goodbyes, Marinette sees herself to her front door.
Once past the front door, she leans back against it and soon finds herself sinking to her knees, exhausted. On autopilot, she brings her knees up against her chest, leaning her head down onto them as she feels the tears well up in her eyes. In seconds, she chokes on sob after sob, hot tears streaking down over her cheeks and wetting the leggings she's had on since yesterday afternoon. At first, she'd been in shock. Then it all closed in on her and she'd thankfully had Luka there for support and companionship. She'd cried until it seemed as though all the tears had dried up last night, soothed by the calming presence of another person -of Luka. But now she's all alone. And there's just no stopping the torrent once it begins.
For the longest time, she has no strength to move from the place her body has sunk into, even despite how uncomfortable the wooden floor is to sit on. As the tears continue to stream, her mind wonders through the seemingly endless list of things that need done today. Minute by minute, huddled in a ball on the floor inside her front door, even the most menial task seems insurmountable. She has a business to run and money to make, but she knows that it won't be possible in this state.
Her mind has no energy to expend on panicking over how to accomplish any task not vital to maintain life. There is only one thing to do. Searching out her phone, the weeping woman texts Alya to ask for extensions on the clothing requests from friends of friends. What today needs to be about is rest and recuperation. Throw on some pajamas and vegetate in front of the TV. Maybe watch old re-runs of the Golden Girls. Eat a pint of chocolate ice cream. Put that to-do list on a back burner and let the turbulence inside her mind begin to settle out.
In no time at all there is a reply to her text.
Her reporter friend wonders if she is okay.
A loaded question indeed.
The bluenette takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before typing out a quick reply. However, seeing the words on the screen after she hits send brings about a whole new wave of grief and the tears to match it. Normally, Marinette is not someone who would want her friend to worry for her. But today, she lacks the energy to hide her pain. She isn't. She's not okay at all.
After another several minutes, Marinette does manage to pick herself up from the spot in front of the door and heads to her bedroom, changing into a baggy tee-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. She plugs her phone in, having noticed the device has gone strangely quiet after the last message she'd sent to her friend. A wry grin tugs up at one corner of her mouth. Alya must not know what to say. Then again, who would?
Leaving the phone behind in the bedroom and heading back to the living room, her body sinks wearily into her sofa and she turns on the TV. She goes straight for the Golden Girls marathon. Thirty minutes pass and a new episode is just starting when the front door of her duplex swings open. As far as she was aware, she wasn't expecting company. What exactly is going on?
Jumping out of her skin, the young woman springs into a sitting position. Carefully, she peeks into the entryway from her vantage point, spotting Alya standing there with bags full of snacks and drinks.
Wordlessly, the redhead heads into the living room and drops her haul onto the coffee table before sinking into the couch next to her best friend and pulling the woman into the second tight embrace of the day.
By the time Marinette opens her mouth to say something, she is crying again. Alya holds onto her, crying with her friend as the two of them grieve together.
As the day wears on, one by one, each and every one of her friends shows up, bearing some sort of offering in the form of food or drink. It isn't long before the entire crew is gathered in her living room, going through a repetitive cycle of mourning for her situation and offering condolences to binging the multitude of snacks to laughing together at the Golden Girls re-runs.
By the end of the evening, Marinette feels the edge beginning to lift away from her overwhelming despair. It still hurts like hell but knowing that she doesn't have to face this alone -that she will have a support network of made up of Luka, her father and all her friends- helps immensely.
The day passes into night, and they all end up passing out in their various spots in her living room.
When the next morning dawns, it is raining heavily outside. A phone call from her father prompts her to go and see him. Unsure she can face this encounter alone, the bluenette asks if anyone would be able to tag along on this visit. Nathaniel has school in another hour, so he can't go today, but promises to visit later. Alex and Max both have work. Kim has family thing he needs to deal with. Alya and Nino, however, both opt to go with her.
After the others have taken their leave, Marinette, Alya and Nino pile into Marinette's small sedan and head for the Dupain-Cheng bakery.
It's clear right from the moment they arrive that the last twenty-four hours of Tom's life has been about as painful as hers. He has bags under his weary eyes. Normally an outgoing man, today he looks as though he's never heard the word 'enthusiasm' before in his life. His posture is somewhat slouched, a dead giveaway that his sleep quality had been very poor the last two nights. She hadn't been thinking about it, but she regrets parting ways at the hospital. If she had been more aware at the time, she would have easily realized what needed to be done. They both went through something heart-breaking and just like her, he probably could have used some support. Instead, he had unfortunately spent the day alone yesterday. Guilt stirs within her as she makes her way through the lobby, her friends close by her side.
Meeting her father's eyes -full of grief and exhaustion very much like her own- tells her asking how he's doing is pointless. Not well is the obvious answer. The other two young people in the room seem to be having a similar revelation when she turns to glance back at them, taking note of the guilt which plays in their respective expressions. They've known each other so long that the relationship has become more akin to that of extended family, rather than simply Marinette's friends. They all know what this moment calls for and wordlessly converge on the older man, wrapping him up in a tight group hug. His large arms manage to envelop all of them at once in return, completing this silent moment in which they rally around their loved ones to show the much needed comfort and support that is called for.
On this day, the bakery remains closed. The door is locked, barring the usual clientele from entering. The usual smell of baking pastries is notably absent. The lights are off and the lobby is silent, a grim reminder of the idea that this scene may become much more common. Or, even worse, the norm. No one dare bring it up for fear merely speaking the words aloud might somehow become an incantation which brings about the eventuality.
The four of them have breakfast together, enjoying some of the leftover baked goods from the last batches to have gone in the oven prior to Sabine's hospitalization. The atmosphere is gloomy, a silence having fallen between the four of them.
"What happens now?" At length, Alya is the first to speak up in a tender tone, eyeing Tom worriedly as she awaits a reply.
"We're gonna fight. Every minute, for as long as Sabine wants to keep fighting." Though tinged with hints of the devastation he's feeling, his voice comes out more confident and assured than any of the others have ever heard it. Determination flashes in her father's eyes as they flick over from the redhead to meet Marinette's.
"Is there anything we can do?" This time, it is Nino who speaks up.
Suddenly, the look on Tom's face shifts into something of a knowing smirk. Uh-oh. That face her father is making -Marinette knows it well.
After a moment, he says exactly the words she'd been expecting she might hear.
"Either of you interested in learning how to bake?"
Though Marinette has her reservations about asking friends to do something that takes them so far out of their way, both Nino and Alya are eager to help and enthusiastically rally behind Tom.
For the next couple weeks, Alya and Nino work alternating shifts in the Dupain-Cheng bakery, becoming essentially regular employees. The training starts off with the simpler tasks -upkeep and maintenance of the storefront, stocking and inventory and basic housekeeping. It takes a couple weeks, but soon both of Marinette's friends are learning how to bake simple breads and cakes and they take on the responsibility for regularly making these things and keeping them stocked. Celebrations of each new mastered skill are had along the way -keeping morale high among the grieving. A high five here, a hug there. Before they know it, a full month has passed, this working routine taking them from a motley crew of people with a similar goal to a real team -a cohesive unit. Between Marinette, Nino and Alya, six of the seven days of each week are covered, and the bakery has returned to something close to business as usual.
Marinette slips her dirty apron off, grinning as she waves goodbye to Alya and Nino for the evening. Tossing the soiled article over her shoulder, she calls out a goodbye to her father, smiling as she exits through the storefront and double checks the lock on her way. As she heads to her car, it becomes suddenly clear to her that even in spite of all that has happened, working with her father and two of her best friends every day has really lifted her spirits. Though there are sad realities to face, difficult decisions to make and tough visits with her mother impending, with this new routine, she's been feeling more invigorated with each passing day. A couple of weeks ago if she'd been asked, she wouldn't have held out too much hope that her mental state would improve, but now she's feeling genuine joy.
"Marinette!" A familiar male voice calls out to her just as she reaches her car door and she freezes, a smile tugging up on the corner of her mouth. Eyes moving in the direction of the voice, they come upon Luka, who is headed along the sidewalk in her direction. He had texted her earlier to let her know he'd worked a shift at the music shop, which is close to the bakery. She suspected they might be off at around the same time, but is happy it worked out to actually be the case.
"Luka!" Moving away from her car and heading in his direction, she meets up with him just outside the front of the bakery. Leaning down, he gives her a quick peck on the lips. She finds herself feeling a little flushed as this is still a new component in their relationship, but she is absolutely delighted nonetheless.
"Have you been doing okay?" Though Luka speaks the words through a jovial grin, he still harbors concern for her well-being. The night the incident occurred is somehow even scarier in retrospect. They have only been able to get together one time since the night at the hospital, and at that point she was definitely still feeling crushed under the weight of this situation with her mom. The tone of her messages in-between get-togethers is a promising indication that she's feeling a bit better, but he needs to hear her say it to feel more comfortable about it all.
"You know...I've been feeling pretty good, actually."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Alya and Nino are helping out at the bakery," She pushes aside some stray hairs the breeze had blown into her face, "it's different without Maman, but it has been really good for all of us to work together at keeping things going, I think."
"That's awesome," his grin only broadens as he hears the certainty in his girlfriend's tone, "It's great things are working out with the bakery, but I'm even happier that you're feeling less overwhelmed. I've...been worried."
Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the door the bakery swings open with such force that it nearly crashes into the wall. Marinette and Luka both very nearly jump out of their own skin, turning to look at the front of the building, where Tom now stands, wearing a look that is somehow at once concerned and relieved. His eyes catch Marinette's as the bluenette looks on, her expression stunned.
"M-Marinette...I'm glad I caught you...I..." His breathing is a little short, as if he'd made a mad dash to catch up to her and the words make it out only a few at a time as he tries to express his thought until he notices that his daughter has company. "Oh, sorry son..." The larger man straightens up, his expression dampening as he recognizes his daughter's company. "I'll only bit a minute."
Sneaking an appraising glance at Luka, the designer takes note of his sudden abundance of tension and then whirls back to face her father, hoping to get her boyfriend out of this situation quickly so history won't repeat itself.
"What is it, papa?" The question flies out in a rush as she meets her father's eyes.
The older man takes a long, deep breath and releases it, his eyes shifting in Luka's direction quickly before responding to the question. It's hard not to notice how stiff the lad's posture looks, his eyes wide and still following Tom's movements.
"I think you left with the key for the safe. Could you just check your pockets for me?"
"Oh...Uh, yeah sure!" After a quick search of each pocket, she finally finds the object in question, tucked away in the left side of the apron. She hands it over, then hastily makes to excuse herself any Luka. "Alright, well, I'll see you next week, papa."
"Okay sweetie," His gaze again shifts to Luka, "I'll see you later son."
"Let's get going." She knows she's gotta get him moving quickly, or he'll just end up completely shutting down again.
"Wait...Mr. Dupain..." He had frozen on instinct when Tom first appeared, barreling through the front door in a frenzy, but now that he's had enough time to reflect, he remembers there's something he needs to say.
Both Tom and Marinette freeze in place, each turning their startled gaze on the third party standing in the street with them. Just before Luka begins speaking, his eyes shift in Marinette's direction. As he casts this sideways look at his girlfriend, a silent apology hangs in his eyes. Her mouth falls open just as his eyes turn back to meet her father's. Though his heart still beats like a mad thing in his chest, this time, he swallows his reservations, choosing to push ahead despite his hang-ups.
"Sir, I'm so-" He winces when the other man's voice cuts in.
"Tom." Even with a soft tone, the poor young man still winces in response to this correction. What exactly has he been through?
"Excuse me?" Luka shifts in place a little, an eyebrow arching questioningly.
"Just call me Tom, son." He tries again, happy to see a reduced fear response with this second statement.
"Oh, uh...right, okay. Tom, then. I just...I want to say I'm sorry. I know I maybe came off as rude the first time we met and I'd like to try and improve upon that first impression, if it's okay. I...I have a past, and there are certain things that still bother me-" The larger man begins to move again and instantly Luka snaps his mouth shut, taking a step backwards unconsciously.
Tom steps forward, his eyes soft and his expression empathic, but halts as he notices the flinch, the slight backing away and the way the other man clenches his jaw. The lad is making an effort to try and improve the nature of his relationship with Tom -attempting to start from scratch and build something new and hopefully better, but he's clearly terrified. The burly man would be remiss to not acknowledge the severity of this young man's complex. It's painfully obvious he suffers from a panic or anxiety disorder that is similar to Marinette's condition.
"Maybe I'm wrong, but you have some kind of panic or anxiety disorder, right?"
Surprised, the fear melts away from the musician's expression as he realizes Tom sees his struggle and understands it. It helps seeing the understanding look in those kind and soulful eyes. His voice held no contempt or judgement as he inquired. By the second, Luka feels his confidence beginning to build back up again. Shaking off the nerves, Luka nods his confirmation.
"Son, there's no need to apologize. I know very well that it isn't something you have any control over." As the word pass out over his lips, the large man's eyes flick in Marinette's direction, a soft smile quirking his lip up before his eyes move back in the direction of the person he speaks to.
After a silent moment, a smile finally tugs up on the young man's lips, brightening his expression. The seriousness melts away. The fear fades into non-existence. A wave of gratitude ripples through him.
"Thank you. Both you and your daughter have been incredibly kind and thoughtful." His smile softens into something more awkward and tinged with accents of bashfulness.
"Good to know that I did something right then." Tom shoots the person in question a quick look of approval before returning his focus once more to the musician. "If that's all, then I should head back in and lock up the deposit."
"Actually, there's one other thing." The volume turned up slightly, these words carry with them a more urgent inflection as they fly out of his mouth.
He can feel Marinette's eyes practically boring holes into his body, her stare is that intense. He swallows harshly, seeing the look in Tom's eyes sharpen just a little. He takes a few seconds to get the words in order before they leave his mouth, his fingers tightly gripping the strap of the backpack he carries with him to work.
"We haven't been able to talk because I've got all these hang-ups, but I want you to know I'm serious about being with Marinette," His neck burns with heat as these words make their way out. "I care a lot about her, I'm happy with her, and I want to keep trying to make her happy."
"Is this you asking for my blessing, son?"
"Papa!" Marinette's scolding tone comes at exactly the same moment he responds to Tom's question.
"Oh go- that's not...N-no!" He simply hadn't realized how his words might be interpreted until he'd been asked this question, but now that he has, this entire interaction immediately feels irredeemably awkward. "I...well...uhm..."
"Relax!" Tom bellows through a roaring laugh, almost seeming to double over as his amusement overtakes him. "It was a joke, though I guess it was a bad one." The rest of the explanation flies out as Tom collects his emotions.
"Ah...yeah..." He hears the words, but they do little to calm Luka's excessive embarrassment.
Tom excuses himself after another few moments, leaving the two young people alone once again. After a momentary hesitation, Luka glances at his girlfriend from the corner of his eyes. The warm smile she wears as she looks at him makes him chuckle to himself.
"Amused?" He questions, finding her happiness endearing.
It seems he's under the impression her obvious joy is due to her father's misunderstanding and he isn't completely wrong. She is happy to have been present during such a sweet moment. There is another reason behind the woman's reaction, though.
"No...ah, well, yes but...there's another reason I'm happy." Though she clarifies, she understands why that was his go-to response.
"Oh? Explain?" By the minute, he grows more interested in hearing her answers.
"Oh, well, honestly I'm just really happy to see that maybe bothering you a little less. It sounds funny to say, but," stepping in closer, she grins happily up at her boyfriend "I'm proud of you. That was brave."
"Well, when it comes to bravery, I've had a pretty good example to follow lately."
"If you're talking about me, I'm gonna have to disappoint. I'm really not very brave." It doesn't feel great to admit you're a bit of a coward, but when something is true, it's still true whether pleasant or not. And it is true. She's terrified of so many things -judgement and rejection, for starters. She's terribly preoccupied with those worries. "I'm afraid of a lot of things."
"Bravery isn't the absence of fear. Doing something even when you're afraid of what might happen is what makes you brave. Since we met, I've seen you do that a lot." Chuckling softly to himself, he suddenly realizes it's actually kind of this relationship's origin story. If she hadn't confronted him because she was too afraid, they wouldn't be here now. "It's pretty much the reason we met in the first place."
Her eyes widen as it dawns on her that he's right. This is the first time she's ever looked at that night from this perspective. It actually feels really good to have her actions reframed this way. It feels good to be called brave and it feels better getting his honest thoughts on the matter. But now that she can see the slightest hint of a teasing grin pulling up on his lips, she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of saying so.
"I thought we were talking about you." An eyebrow arched in challenge, she folds her arms over her chest.
He has to resist the urge to laugh a second time. That indignation is awfully endearing.
"I can multi-task." After a minute, swayed by the expression she wears -which is caught somewhere between indignant and amused- he reaches out and pulls her into a quick but tight hug.
As she cuddles into his chest, arms also wrapped around his larger body, she begins thinking about her plans for the following day. This will be the first time she's seen her mom since the night of the diagnosis, and she doesn't expect it will be easy to bear with. Ordinarily, she would have asked Alya or Nino, but that isn't an option this time around.
"Luka?" Hesitation colors her tone as she calls his name, not bothering to back out of the hug.
"Mhm." Jaw clenching, his arms tighten around her. The worry in her tone is obvious and with everything going on in her life lately, it's easy to guess what it relates to.
"I'm going to visit maman at the hospital tomorrow." With her friends helping at the bakery in her stead, she can't really ask for them to tag along as support. "Do you think..."
When she trails off into silence, Luka interjects with a guess as to what the rest of her question might have been.
"You want me to go with you?" He moves back out of the embrace just enough that he can steal a quick look at her. She doesn't reciprocate though, remaining snuggled in against his chest as she holds onto him. Her arms tighten around his body as a single word in reply makes its way out.
"Y-yeah." The woman mutters, still hiding against the fabric of his shirt.
"Then I will."
This time, the resolute tone in his voice has piqued her interest and she backs off, tilting her head back to look up into his eyes. His normally piercing aqua eyes are alight with compassion, exuding a gentle warmth. His smile is somewhat bittersweet. His embrace is firm and reassuring. After just a few seconds of eye contact, a soft smile works its way over her features and she can't resist the impulse to lean in and place a small kiss to his cheek in a display of gratitude.
The two of them part ways for the night with the promise to discuss the details of tomorrow's hospital visit a little later. After climbing down into her car, the woman notices Luka waving her off and returns the gesture briefly before pulling away from the curb.
In spite of everything, she somehow does manage to get a decent night's sleep after getting home and settling in.
The following morning is cloudy, and the forecast calls for heavy rain and thunderstorms scattered throughout the day. Seems like the perfect ambiance to serve as a backdrop for what she expects will be a somber hospital visit. Her body feels heavy despite getting plenty of rest the night prior. Every moment feels like wading through quicksand. She sits down and tries to eat a quick breakfast, but honestly doesn't feel all that hungry and only manages to eat a protein bar and drink some coffee.
Around a half an hour later, a knock sounds on her front door, telling her that her entourage has arrived. Having been nearby already, takes a few quick steps toward the door and pulls it open, surprised to see a man standing on the other side who looks possibly even more worn out than she feels. His face is an immediate indicator that he hadn't got much sleep -handsome features marred by weariness.
As she opens her mouth to question him on the matter, her boyfriend brightens, offering a soft smile.
"Ready to go?"
The drive to the hospital is a quiet one -save for the frequent yawns coming from the man in the driver's seat. She catches herself glancing worriedly in his direction a few times, torn over whether she should ask him how he's doing.
Arriving at the hospital and heading to her mother's room, she finds herself freezing up as she reaches out to open the door. It's as if the weight of everything is restraining her, preventing any further action. After the diagnosis, she'd left in a state of shock and couldn't bring herself to stop by for visits after that. The thought of seeing her mom in this state -in these circumstances- is terrifying. In a way it feels like it will somehow solidify the reality of it all. Though it's been reality all along and nothing could make this situation more or less so, she still finds herself thinking this way.
With a slow breath in before letting the air out again, Marinette hopes in vain that it will steady her nerves enough to move forward.
After a couple of seconds, Luka's arms wrap gently around her waist from behind, his chin lowering into a resting place on her shoulder. With a quick glance in his direction, she takes in the worn-out and troubled expression he wears as he attempts to comfort her. Once again, she can't help but notice how deep the worry lines tenting his brows are. He looks as though he feels more upset this morning than she herself feels. Worried, she opens her mouth to ask again when he nuzzles in against her neck, his embrace tightening around her waist.
Her worry spikes as he clings to her and once more, she opens her mouth to ask if he's okay when...
"So...are you coming in or are you just going to keep cuddling?" Sabine's voice comes from inside the room.
Both the people in question jump, startled by the sudden sound.
"I'm very happy for you sweetie, but I'd like some of your time too, you know." Another slight jest at their expense prompts Marinette to instantly fling the door open, reflexively taking a step inside.
Her mother rests comfortably in the hospital bed but remains connected to an EKG unit and intravenous fluids. She's been continuously monitored since the night of her admission and life-saving treatment. Meeting her daughter's eyes as she and Luka enter the room, the older Dupain-Cheng woman offers a bright smile.
"Is this the young man I've heard about?" Having seen a reflection of the two of them from a mirror in the hallway, she is sure to make her first priority learning more about the nature of the relationship.
Marinette feels her cheeks redden, noticing Luka's gaze trailing in her direction from her periphery.
"Yes, maman."
"I was wondering when she might bring you by. It's nice to meet you. I'm Sabine."
"Luka Couffaine. It's great to meet you too, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng," with a warm smile brightening his features, Luka heads over and takes a seat next to the bed "I'd ask you how you've been, but I already know the answer to my question, so…" His eyes trail back across the room to his girlfriend, who still remains rooted to the spot just inside the door. Seeing her mother like this is hard for her and it looks like she still needs a minute to acclimate to the sight before her. He had hoped that taking the lead and approaching the bedside first might help to provide his companion with the confidence to do the same.
"Well, I'm better now that I've got company. It gets pretty boring sitting here all day with nothing to do." Though she's still in critical shape and has begun treatment, the woman appears to be in good spirits.
"That's part of the whole hospitalization deal, maman. But I hope they're taking good care of you." After a few minutes of standing and simply absorbing the moment, Marinette also heads over to her mother's bedside, taking a seat in a second chair set nearby.
"It's been as nice as being in a hospital can be," Sabine's expression warms into a broader smile as her eyes shift between Marinette and Luka "That's all pretty boring though. There's plenty of much more interesting things we can talk about. Like…you two…"
The bluenette woman's expression becomes rather embarrassed, her fingers fidgeting somewhat nervously. Flustered, she opens her mouth once or twice in an effort to speak before Luka takes notice of her unease.
An admiring grin tugs up on his lips as he quickly glances in her direction, absorbing the details of her behavior. For whatever reason, she's feeling especially bashful discussing this topic with her mother. Reaching out and taking hold of one of her fumbling hands, Luka offers a smile and a reassuring squeeze when she turns a questioning gaze his way. He can see her stress begin to fade and she mirrors his expression, casting a soft smile his way as well.
Sabine simply watches the interaction, warmed by the affection the two of them have for one another.
Luka turns back to face the older woman, gently relaying the story from his own perspective.
"Well, we met at the beach. I didn't manage to escape the rain that night and went to hide under the closest place there was to keep from getting more drenched." He briefly pauses, reminiscing with an amused grin as Sabine looks on with interest and Marinette chuckles to herself. "It turns out that it was their campsite I crashed, and I scared Marinette while she was trying to go to sleep for the night."
Sabine laughs to herself, her eyes making it clear she finds this story in line with her daughter's behaviors.
"I'm surprised she let me hang around after making a first impression like that, but I'm glad she did," the smile can be heard in his words as Marinette's fingers thread through his "and she's one of the most compassionate, patient and understanding people I've met. It was incredibly lucky…meeting her."
By the end of the story, Sabine's eyes are absolutely alight with joy. She smiles brightly, glancing between the two younger people.
"Well, I'm glad Marinette is a woman who is good to others and considerate of their needs. I'm happy that she's good to you, and it's wonderful to see how happy you make her, too." The words fall from her mouth in a soft and peaceful tone. In the short few moments the three of them have spent in each other's company, she can see what good this relationship has done for the two young people thus far and what strong potential it has going forward.
As the man's eyebrows raise, the mother watches the subtle changes in his expression. Turning, he glances at the person beside him. Her eyes are bright and vivid, full of warmth and joy. She can't even manage to keep her expression straight and a grin pulls up on her lips. Her face is bright pink. Her hand squeezes his as she bites down on her lip, looking positively ecstatic.
With another person in the room -especially considering that the person in question is her mother- he struggles to remain stay calm. Her positive response to his retelling of events feels so incredibly good to see. He'd told her so not too long ago, and it remains true that he's always worried he isn't doing this right. Even despite the many times she has reassured him, he has all these uncertainties to overcome.
It's easier to dismiss his self-doubt as folly when he sees her respond the way she is now. He's sure that he's making mistakes but it's moments like this that make him believe they're mostly menial. At least, he must be hitting enough of the right markers for her. His heart rate is now jumping up in pace a little and he bites down on the inside of his cheek as his thumb brushes softly across her knuckles.
"It really puts my mind at ease to see how good you two are for each other. I'm happy for the two of you…" reaching out, she places a somewhat weak hand over Luka's, freezing in place as she sees his body go a little tense. his eyes widen and he catches his breath. That same moment, she lifts her hand away. Their eyes remain aligned and silent thoughts are exchanged between the pastry chef and the musician.
Sabine can't know what ails him, but the easy-going and laid-back attitude he'd brought into the room fades, leaving behind a very acute and barely disguised panic. Luka straightens up his body, taking a deep breath as a visible tremble overtakes him.
"Are you okay?" Maybe it's a senseless thing to ask, but the question flies out impulsively as she witnesses the young man's visceral reaction to a very innocuous touch.
Luka's mouth opens and a sound barely manages to tumble past his lips, but he just can't manage to make any words.
After a moment or two, Marinette is the one who speaks up, stepping in to explain on his behalf.
"I don't think he feels ready to talk about it," Marinette says, leaning over the arm of her chair as she squeezes his hand to check in and he jumps reflexively before meeting her eyes, "but he's working through some things right now."
Luka's expression softens into a grateful smile before he turns to Sabine, an apologetic look replacing the gratitude when he sees the older woman's distressed and questioning gaze shifting between Marinette and himself.
"I'm sorry I'm making everyone feel this way. I don't want to make other people feel like they need to treat me like I'm fragile…" Even though he's been told by so many different people that there's no reason to feel this way and that his reactions are to be expected, he just can't seem to control these feelings once they start happening.
"No, Luka…" Marinette tries, but seeing the way the frown lines deepen in his expression, she trails off into silence. Honestly, she doesn't know how to make him believe being there for him isn't a chore. Pressing her lips together, her line of sight turns down, gaze directed at her lap.
"Young man," Sabine's normally warm voice sounds firm and both pairs of blue eyes move in her direction "When you're going through something difficult, the people who love you want to support and help you. Don't feel bad for letting them."
Glancing between her mother's firm gaze and her boyfriend, she witnesses the moment his startled expression shifts into something softer, the smile which just barely touches his lips allowing a small measure of gratitude to peek through once more.
"You're not the first person to tell me that," beginning a reply, a small and somewhat self-deprecating smirk replaces the softer expression he'd worn "but a reminder is good for me every so often, so thank you." Seeing Sabine's kind eyes drift back in Marinette's direction, he realizes her mother's words hadn't been only for him. His own gaze also trails in the young designer's direction, finding her already watching him, a hopeful inquiry hanging in her bluebell eyes.
Though she appears to mostly be in agreement with her mother's statements and hopeful he's maybe taken some of it to heart, the slight tent in her brow and downward turn of her lip tells him that she might also feel a bit hurt.
As he opens his mouth to apologize, he realizes that's probably exactly what he shouldn't do. There are better, more fitting words to offer her. Words that more accurately describe his feelings. An warm smile replaces his curiosity.
"I really appreciate everything you do for me. Thank you," once he sees her face light up with a bright, real smile, Luka turns back to Sabine "that goes for both of you." This entire family has been so kind to him -Tom included despite Luka's fears preventing the two of them from building a better relationship.
"So, now that we have that all cleared up…I'd like to get to know you a bit better. Tell me some things about yourself, if you're comfortable. What are your goals? What is it you like to do?" Moving past that small moment, Sabine switches gears. If these two are as serious as it feels like they are about this relationship, then some 'getting-to-know-you' is in order.
"Right now, I work in a music shop, but I think it'd be awesome to own a place like that of my own someday." Luka does his best to not wince at the line of questioning. This is still not a fun subject to discuss with new people. Carefully, he shifts his weight in the chair, trying to dispel some of the nerves.
"Do you play any instruments?" The pastry chef can't help but feel a certain kinship with this young man -in so far as they both share the desire to own and operate their own businesses.
"Mostly guitar -I've played since I can remember." This time, the emotion he feels is equal parts nervousness over what her response might be and joy derived from talking about his passion for music.
" And he's insanely talented," quickly interjecting, Marinette feels compelled to make sure people know this is the case "more than anyone I know of."
"I think that's probably an exaggeration." He's aware she's into his music, he simply doesn't possess the attitude necessary to talk up his own skills.
"It isn't. He's so good at it." Holding fast to her opinion, she must interject on his behalf again.
"Oh really? If you wanted to show off sometime, some live entertainment would be really nice." Sabine knows her daughter to be a quiet and reserved person -except in cases where she feels strongly about something and knows it needs to be said. If she's speaking up right now, it's because she believes in her boyfriend's musical abilities. If that's the case, she knows it's something she wants to hear.
"Then I'll keep that in mind." He feels the heat of a flush working its way across his nose and cheeks and breaks his eye contact with the older woman, eyes falling to his feet.
"Marinette, how are things going with your design business?" She turns her attention instead to her daughter, hopeful for one answer even while she knows exactly what it is Marinette is about to say.
"I'm more helping papa out at the bakery right now. Alya and I are talking about a new date for the website launch." Shifting a bit in her chair, the bluenette knows her mother won't care for this reply.
At this, Sabine predictably frowns.
"I don't like that you're putting off working on your goals, but I do appreciate the help." Her tone seems to come out a little darker than before, her fierce support of her child's aspirations taking a hit.
"It's no trouble. We're all working together to get things done. Alya and Nino have been helping us too, so things have been going pretty well." She tries one more time.
As she and her mother continue talking about these things, Luka turns to glance at Marinette. He'd known both of her friends have been helping out her parent's business, but the current thought that's cropped up hadn't occurred to him until now. He wonders briefly if she was merely being considerate of his needs and that's why she'd asked her friends to help, but not him.
This is also the first time he's thought about it from the perspective her mother had framed it -she really is putting off accomplishing what she wants to accomplish in favor of helping out her family. Her own business is probably taking quite a hit in order to keep the bakery operational. Though he'd offered support many times, he wishes he would have asked about taking on some work there. It seems so obvious now.
Their visit goes on for a little while longer before they excuse themselves for the day.
Hand in hand, the young couple heads back to Marinette's car.
Luka turns to her to bring up what's been on his mind, finding a relieved smile on her face as she swings his arm forward and back while they walk.
"I was afraid, but I feel kind of relieved now." Her tone is relaxed and even a little cheery as she tells him this.
"That's great…" Trailing off, he short breath before continuing "Marinette?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you just worried I'd be too uncomfortable working around your dad? Is that why you didn't ask for my help?"
She freezes, her smile fading and jaw falling slack as she stares at him.
"Well, it was papa who asked for their help, actually," the designer explains, watching as a sheepish expression passes over his features "I wasn't going to ask anyone…I didn't want to trouble anyone."
"Oh…" Well now he feels a little embarrassed. "I see…cause I was thinking…helping you guys out over there seems like the right thing to do."
"Are you sure you'll be okay with that?" She remembers just how frightened he was while meeting her dad outside the bakery last night, so Marinette isn't sure she feels okay accepting this offer -even if his heart is in the right place.
"It'll be good for me, I think. I need to get used to spending time with your dad since we'll be seeing more of each other. You could also use the help and I want to support you." What they have together is going well, so it's only right that he forge good relationships with those close to her, too.
"If you think it's okay, then sure…" suddenly, the memory of his troubled expression from earlier pops back into her mind. After a somewhat heavy sigh, she switches to the more pressing topic. "I wanted to ask…you looked...upset for most of the morning. Did something happen?"
He clears his throat pointedly.
"I…feel a little embarrassed to answer while we're still out here and all…" Reaching up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly, a grimace mars his features. "But…I have these dreams sometimes -about the past. I haven't for a long time until the last few days and now they're making me remember certain things…"
Seeing his body go a little tense as they stop in front of her car.
"It's okay, Luka," She soothes, holding his hand up to her lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his knuckles "you don't need to say more than that. I know it hurts. I'd never make you talk about things that you aren't ready to."
Though a smile touches his lips, it quickly fades into a more serious expression.
"Actually," this has been on his mind since he had woken up and wrestling with whether or not he wanted to talk about it has been souring his mood "I kind of…do want to talk."
Within the next half hour, the two of them are back at her duplex and she's in the midst of brewing a batch of coffee for them while he reclines back on her couch and watches a program playing on the TV.
"You want anything mixed in your coffee?" Glancing over her shoulder into the living room, she sees as the man jumps in place as he hears her question.
"Uh…baileys?" The question tumbles out with a dry laugh. He may want to try and calm some of his muddled and unpleasant feelings by talking through some of this with her but being aware of that doesn't make his nerves vanish.
"I don't have any…but I can spike it with Kahlua or whiskey." It might not taste the best, but she doesn't think he asks for alcohol so he can enjoy the flavor. He needs to dull some nerves.
"Whiskey, then."
"Damn." She retorts, tone equal parts amused and impressed as she pours them each a cup and then moves to the liquor cabinet to grab the bottle of whiskey. Filling a shot glass, she mixes in the whole quantity before taking both cups into the living room. Plopping down into a seat next to him on her couch, she places the mixed drink in front of him. He jumps again, noticeably wincing.
"Are you okay?" Carefully reaching out, the young woman lays a hand on his shoulder blade and begins softly massaging the area.
In reply, he blows on the drink to cool it before lifting the cup to his lips and taking several long sips.
"I guess that answers that." Reaching out, she carefully lays a hand on his upper back and gently rubs the area. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yeah." His answer is curt.
"Do you need a minute?" In her estimation, it doesn't seem he's ready for this talk at all, though he insists he wants to.
"Yeah." Another one-word reply.
He really does feel like airing some of this will help him feel a little less upset, yet even still the topic is just difficult to discuss for various reasons. Probably the most relevant reason right now is that there's a lot of pain, fear and shame attached to his past. Things he's seen doctors and therapists for. Things he's tried many different types of therapy in order to try and resolve. Things he's taken up meditation and yoga as methods to center himself and relax when the memories become too difficult to cope with. Things he's not been able to rid himself of despite much effort in all these years.
"I…" Though he tries to open up some kind of monologue, none of the words come to him "I…this is…"
Her hand halts in the gentle rubbing motion against his shoulder, fingers curling in to give the ball of his shoulder a pointed squeeze. His eyes line up with hers.
"Luka, you don't need to force yourself. It won't do you any good. It might just make you feel worse."
"I…want to do this…I just…it's hard to say…" Sentences are becoming way harder to formulate and express coherently.
"Hey…stop and breathe. Okay?" Her blue eyes hold a serious light as their gazes remain in line.
He nods, pausing as his eyelids drift to a close. Her hand resumes the soft massage she's been giving to his shoulder. After a few seconds, the musician takes several long, deep breaths in before heaving a great, trembling sigh. She feels the tension in her own body begin to subside a bit at a time as his shoulders relax. Reaching out for the cup he'd set down on the table not too long ago, he brings it back up and takes another long drink.
"Would it be easier for you if I ask you things and you decide whether or not you're comfortable answering?" She still doubts that any of this is a good plan.
"Yeah…actually, that does sound good."
The positive reply gives her some hope. For these last couple months, she's been growing steadily more curious about several things and couldn't bring herself to ask when it's still so obviously raw and painful for him. He's giving her probably the best opportunity she's going to get to understand the past which caused the trauma he's currently suffering through.
There are two main things she wants to know more about, given he's amenable to the idea. The first is his obvious deference for personal autonomy. She knows respecting the boundaries of others is a matter of the highest priority for him and truly admires that quality in the man. Having consent and setting good boundaries should be a requisite in any relationship and is paramount in maintaining the health of said relationships. However, the way he carefully minds such things is especially acute. She hopes this will help her to understand why just a little bit better.
"So…it's hard not to notice that consent is kind of a big deal to you," she begins, watching carefully as he offers a small nod in return "and I really like that about you. It definitely isn't a complaint." Seeing a smile ghost across his features lets her know that he hasn't taken offense to her comments. "It just seems like…maybe…it's about more for you than just a strong personal preference. Is that right, or do you not want to answer?"
Straightening up a bit, his expression momentarily sours, those electric eyes darkening a shade or two. A reply is several moments in coming, but when it does, it's entirely what she expects.
"That's true." Hell, it's even something of an understatement to say he simply holds it in high regard. It's everything. Respect and communication are key points in a relationship, but if good boundaries reinforced by clear enthusiastic consent isn't maintained…there's nothing. You have nothing. From firsthand experience, he knows that isn't a real relationship. It's just abuse.
Before he can stop it an entire barrage of images -fragments and shards of unpleasant memories- pass through his mind's eye. As the seconds pass, the bits come together much like a puzzle -forming clearer and far more vivid images of the suffering and the pain. Unconscious of it, his body is responding in a way that resembles someone under threat of physical harm. His posture stiffens, his jaw clenches and his gaze falls to his lap. His breathing is ragged and he's shaking. It's like being right back in that dark place all over again.
She can see this escalating to a dangerous point. Even though she's had her hand on his shoulder the whole time, the man still flinches violently in response to the movement of her fingers. Immediately, she pulls back, very disheartened to see how far back even bringing this up has taken any progress he's tried to make.
His eyes line up with hers, the fear melding with a tremendous amount of guilt.
She takes a long, slow breath.
"We should stop this," Marinette picks up her coffee, finally taking her first drink now that it's cooled considerably "If you're not ready to talk, this is just going to hurt you way more than it's helps." Setting the mug down, she gets back to her feet. "We've had a stressful morning, so I think it would be good to relax with a movie and some popcorn. Does that sound okay?"
Lost for words, he only watches her as she starts to move away. He understands what she's trying to do and he does appreciate it but he still knows he needs to do this. He can't hold onto everything alone anymore – it has become too heavy to bear. Before him is a person willing to let him vent some of this crushing pressure that's threatening to destroy him from within. He doesn't possess the will or the fortitude to refuse that kind of help anymore.
"Wait…" He doesn't reach for her, but he doesn't need to as she whirls back to face him immediately "…I get why you think this looks bad. Trust me….it isn't fun. Even if I get there slowly, I need this…there's too much happening in my head and…I can't do it alone…"
In a split second, she's sitting net to him once again.
"Should I still ask questions, or just wait for you to talk?" Her eyes examine his downcast features.
"I'll just talk. Even though…I think you're right that I'm not ready…to say everything, I have to say something."
"Then, go ahead. I'll wait for you."
Several more seconds pass as the man gathers up his courage.
"First, I want you to know that this won't be easy to hear."
He meets her eyes, a deadly serious look reflected in those pools of ice blue.
She nods.
With a deep breath, he attempts to settle some of the turbulence within before he continues.