Well...second posting within a month. Even I didn't expect it would happen, but here we are. This came about while listening to the song "Iris", performed by the Goo Goo Dolls. The subject matter in this one centers around the decision not to be a parent and how it can affect one's relationships with their significant others, friends, family and even those who are practically strangers. Please be thoughtful leaving comments. Events in this story are based on real life experiences. I really hope you guys enjoy this story.
With the latest live performance having just wound down to a close, a young guitarist with striking blue eyes and even more striking blue highlights in his hair is warily packing up his instrument and trying to ignore the excitable chatter amongst his bandmates. It's not that he isn't just as ecstatic as the rest of the band that their most recent song has sprung to number one in local charts, it's just that he doesn't much feel like another night of celebration with everyone else in tow. Honestly, his tight schedule is starting to wear his nerves to the point of breaking. This happens every so often -the crowds and the noise just become too overbearing- and when it does, he knows it's time to take a step back from it all. So, when they've all exited the venue and the others invite him along as predicted, he politely excuses himself, citing being tired and wanting some rest as a reason.
Finally able to break with the rest of the group, the young man breathes a sigh of relief and shoves his hands in his pockets, honestly shocked that such an excuse worked in the first place. Technically, it wasn't exactly a lie. He is tired after all -but not so much on a physical level as a mental one. While they all wait for a taxi, he turns away from the group, making his way down the street toward his apartment as chatty groups of teenagers and couples pass him by. The sound of the car engines and conversations of passersby only serve to further cloud his muddled mind. He knows all he needs is a quiet place to lose himself in his own head space for a bit. Given enough time, he'll be ready for upcoming outings with the others.
For the time being though, they need not know his story about being too tired to go out was mostly a cover for simply needing some alone time. What other means does a natural introvert like himself have to decline to attend social events? Though he's always prided himself on being straight-forward and honest, it might be just a little too honest to say 'You guys are wearing me out, and I'm not up for the same conversations we always have about how your kids are doing, sorry.'
Who wouldn't take offense to that? Anyone would be likely to get the impression that he hates hearing about their lives and doesn't want to spend any time with them at all. It's only logical to conclude such a statement would make your loved ones angry. He needs space and alone time, but that doesn't mean he hates anyone. Sure, some topics begin to wear thin on his patience after hearing about them enough, but that doesn't mean he hates it or never wants to hear it. No, lest anyone assume otherwise, he adores his sister and his friends. He also enjoys hearing about how their families are, just maybe not at the frequency at which they like to talk about it. And he does like being social, but only up to a certain point. A point he had well surpassed a few weeks ago.
He makes his way down the busy Paris street, pausing with interest when he spies the sign for a pub on the other side of the road. Okay, maybe it won't be the quietest place on earth, but rum and coke sounds like just the thing to help take the edge off this pent-up anxiety and drown out the noise of his crowded world. Taking a quick glance in either direction, he decides he has just enough time in between oncoming cars to get across and makes a break for it.
Hearing the bells above the door as they signal his entrance, he is hit with the noise of the corner jukebox playing classic rock n' roll interlaced with the rowdy conversations of the crowded establishment's patrons. Several groups take up the booth space while the tables are filled with pairs or single people, leaving seating space only at the counter. With one other person sitting by herself near the window side of the counter working on what looks like her second mojito, Luka seats himself at the opposite end, thankful to find space around the only other person here who doesn't appear to want social interaction. He eases his guitar case off his shoulder and tucks it in to the small space in front of his seat, waiting for the bartender to come by and collect his order. to entertain himself in the downtime, he pulls out his phone an opens a gaming app.
"Hey man," Says the voice of a young man approaching him from behind the counter, "What can I get ya?"
"Rum and coke. I like it strong if you can make it that way." Not bothering to look up from his the word scramble game he's begun to play on his phone, Luka's response is bland and disinterested as he prepares to hand over his ID. He doesn't want to come off as rude, but he'd rather not be dragged into a conversation. Not to mention the frustrating fact that he still has to even fish out his ID. Currently twenty-four years old, the young artist is yet astounded by the sheer number of places he goes for a drink that still card him. Glancing up quickly from the phone screen, he studies his refection in the glass case behind the counter holding the numerous bottles of alcohol, idly wondering if he really appears that young.
"No need for this." To his surprise, the bar attendant pushes his ID back in his direction and finally captures Luka's full attention. Looking up at the young man with his red-framed glasses, chocolate brown hair and eyes and familiar mischievous smile, Luka recognizes him for the first time. "Hey man, grats on hitting number one. How ya been, dude?"
"Oh, hey Nino." He recalls meeting Nino, introduced to him as one of Marinette's friends as a teenager. Neither is a name he's heard in quite some time. "Thanks. What are you doing here?" As he makes some idle chit chat to catch up with this old acquaintance, he absently wonders what Marinette has been doing these last few years. He'd been invited to their wedding around a year ago, but aside from being too busy with many personal things at the time to think of attending, he can't really say he wanted to go. Get one thing straight right off the bat, he's never been a big fan of weddings in the first place. Who actually enjoys all that over the top performance art and wasted money for the sake of a single afternoon full of dull conversation with people you'd never spend time with otherwise? On no level does that appeal to him.
To be polite though, he sent back the invitation marked as 'decline to attend.' He knew it would be a stressful enough day for everyone involved without having to worry about the possibility of someone showing up without an RSVP. After all, he may harbor some mild lingering bitterness over the past, but he still wouldn't do anything to cause Marinette undue stress.
"Your rum and coke." Nino slides the glass across the counter and Luka catches it easily, nodding his thanks. Shutting down the app, he slides the cell phone back into the pocket of his ripped black jeans.
"So, how is Marinette?" The inquiry flies out before he can stop it. He almost spits out his drink in surprise at his own remark as Nino shoots him a questioning glance.
"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Confused, Luka stares at the young man standing in front of him for a long moment before Nino finally tosses his thumb over his shoulder, sighing. Following the direction indicated, Luka's eyes land on the young woman he noticed when he first came in. As his eyes fall upon her, her head turns ever so slightly in his direction, giving him a brief look at her face before she goes back to texting on her phone.
Sure enough, it really is her. Those blue bell eyes are unmistakable. He has never forgotten how pretty he thought she was, but for some reason right now she's almost unrecognizably gorgeous. The dark blue hair he remembers her often tying up in pig tails in their teen years is much longer these days, hanging freely just below her shoulders. Her smile hasn't changed at all and takes him back through time to when that smile was like a melody he had constantly stuck in his head. The spring dress she wears hugs her body in all the right ways. He feels a brief flash of shame for all his bitter thoughts up to this point as butterflies dance in his stomach.
Just like that, any hope of spending the evening alone with his own thoughts and a glass of rum and coke is completely gone. Though he still harbors a slight bitterness in regards to everything transpired in the past, Luka feels those emotions begin to fade as he watches the girl, still punching the screen of her phone with her thumbs. His eyes fall to the glass in his hand. Raising it to his lips, he takes several long swallows, contemplating the concept of walking over there before placing the glass back on the counter. Is it okay after all this time? He hasn't talked to her in years and technically speaking, he did refuse to attend her wedding. It was not really out of malice toward her or Adrien that he didn't go so much as it had to do with his own situation at the time. Still, maybe she will feel hurt that he didn't want to be there for her in one of her supposed happiest moments. Maybe she resents him for it. She had been one of his closest friends at one point, so it wouldn't be totally out of the question. Swallowing nervously, Luka wonders what he's going to say to her after all this time even if he does muster up the nerve to actually walk over and talk to her. So many things can go wrong.
But he decides that that screw it- he's gonna get up and go at least say hello and that's that. If she wants to tell him to leave her be, she will. Snatching his glass from the counter, he takes another long drink before getting to his feet. As he takes a step toward her, Nino speaks up again.
"Hey dude," Luka's head snaps back in the direction of the other young man, who now appears somewhat thoughtful, "Handle with care okay? She's kinda hurting right now."
While he has no clue what Nino could possibly mean, Luka nods in response before heading in Marinette's direction. He pauses beside her for a second, choosing his words.
"Is this seat taken?" Well, that's not exactly what he wanted to lead with, but it'll have to do. Looking up from her phone, those blue orbs fall upon him. He hears the small gasp as she realizes who he is and then just about has the wind knocked from his lungs as she envelops him in a tight hug. It isn't one of the many different responses to his sudden presence he had imagined. It's far better. He'll gladly take it.
"Luka!" She exclaims as she pulls back, her bright smile causing his heart rate to momentarily quicken. "Its so good to see you!"
"It's…good to see you too…" Breathless, he manages a reply after she pulls away from the embrace and sinks into the bar stool beside her.
"Oh, congratulations on your single! I listen to your music all the time." Well aware that her use of the word 'your' is in reference to the entire band, it does not stop the rush of happiness he feels.
"Thanks." In an attempt to stamp down the excitement, he decides to change the subject. "Congratulations to you too, on your marriage I mean. Sorry I couldn't make…" Marinette's reaction stills him, stopping his words even as they leave his lips. His mouth snaps closed. Her overall disposition does a one-eighty when the word 'marriage' comes tumbling out of his mouth and into the space between them. Every ounce of positive energy she had been exuding only seconds before is sapped from the atmosphere as if it never existed. Her smile disappears, replaced by a frown. Her shoulders slump. Her gaze falls away from him, expression downcast.
Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on here. Obviously, they've had a big fight and she's wrestling with her point of view. All his newly married friends -his sister included- in the band went through a period like that where they were still learning how to be married and in the process, got under each other's skin. He can't even begin to recall the number of times Juleka and Rose would get into such a verbal brawl he thought he'd shortly be breaking up a physical fight or ducking for cover. Not to mention all the times they simply didn't speak at all…for several days. And don't even get him started on Maylene and Ivan – there's not enough time in a day to open that can of worms.
While he can't say he wants to know all the details of her spat with Adrien, he does want to support her in this time of need. So, he swallows his pride. After all these years, he can play the 'moral support' role just one more time, can't he? "What happened?"
"I...asked for a divorce." With this, she picks up her mojito and downs the rest all in one go. The background noise of the bar seems to instantly fade to silence, as if all the other patrons suddenly and simultaneously disintegrate. These words seem to suck all the life from the room.
Well damn. Maybe it does take a genius, because never expected those to be the next words out of her mouth. A petty argument? Sure. A typical lover's quarrel? Of course. Her and Adrien completely exiting their marriage altogether? Surely not something he saw coming. Shocked and honestly now uncomfortable as well, Luka lifts his glass to his lips and polishes off the last of his own drink, then quickly turns back toward the counter.
"Can I get another one?" He calls out, waiting to turn back toward Marinette until Nino nods a reply.
"My thoughts exactly." She says, tone resigned, and then calls out for another beverage of her own. He watches her twirling the empty mojito glass in a slow circle in front of her before she pushes it to the side along with the first empty drink.
"Can…I ask what happened?" Her comments and actions leave Luka honestly not sure whether he's curious enough to want a reply or not. As the young woman draws in a deep breath, he takes in her actions and observes carefully.
"Lots of things…" As if too exhausted to continue, Marinette's voice trails off, trembling as though tears are close behind the words. A wave of color washes over her face and she leans her head in her hand, posture indicating shame. At the very least, it's clear she doesn't want to state specifics here "…it was my fault…"
Jaw now fallen somewhat slack, he hesitates for a moment before reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. Her lower lip begins to tremble, tugging violently on his heartstrings. Given the current sight in front of him, the guitarist must admit he feels overcome with the compulsion to wrap her in a tight hug and offer his reassurance but quickly decides that that kind of affection will be a bit too much. Too much for him? Too much for her? Too much for them both? Well, the answer to that question remains to be seen.
In place of a hug, he gently rubs her shoulder and keeps his derogatory thoughts about Adrien inside his own mind. Wasn't that guy was supposed to make her happy for the rest of her life? Wasn't he supposed to cherish and love her? It was supposed to be 'in sickness and in health, until death' and all that jargon, right? So then what happened? Luka may have been hurt when she chose Adrien, but, aware he was also a good person who would treat her well, he'd had no right to complain nor to stand in their way. That's why he'd been at least accepting of her decision. If the guy had been a flat-out jerk, he would have happily and eagerly given voice to his objections. But Adrien never struck him as that type. That's partly why it's so difficult to forgive the idea that she's sitting alone in a bar at this hour on the verge of tears, drowning her troubles in alcohol. As if he needed the reminder, he glances over to where the two empty mojito glasses sit on the counter just as Nino sets a new drink down in front of each of them.
"Everything okay over here?" Her friend inquires in a hushed tone, trying to maintain the integrity of the private conversation. Luka looks to Marinette for a reply, his hand falling from her shoulder and quickly finding the glass on the counter for another few sips of the liquid courage he needs more and more by the second. It definitely does not feel like everything is okay. Getting up, paying for the drink and excusing himself is starting to look like a good choice. Turns out, trying to talk with her may have been a bad call after all. Instead of striking up a friendly conversation, all he's managed to do is drag her into a painful dialogue.
But, before he can dwell on it too much, Marinette nods and lifts her head to glance at her friend behind the counter, who returns her small nod with a sympathetic smile. Luka freezes at the sight of tears welling up in her eyes. As he watches the sorrow play within her features, a white-hot rush of anger overtakes him, one which he must quickly snuff out. He dulls the anger with another sip of the stinging drink in his hand.
"Let me know if I can get you anything else." Nino's tone is tender. He lingers for a moment before being called upon by another patron who has just settled into a seat at the other end of the bar.
Now left to themselves again, the pair seem to find words much more difficult to come by. Luka eyes her carefully for a few seconds before lowering his gaze to his cup and taking another slow sip from his glass. Staring down at it, he gradually becomes very aware that he doesn't know what he should do to comfort her. He can't say with confidence that it'll all be alright right now- it's not as though he can predict the future. It also doesn't feel right to bring up his own feelings on the matter, because none of this is about him. Even if he were to call Adrien a total jerk who doesn't deserve her or make some other mean-spirited comment, he's pretty sure he'd just end up making her angry. As he continues to stare at the glass, an idea occurs to him. He offers her the cup, meeting her eyes when the young fashion designer appears baffled.
"It might be a bit bitter for your liking," The guitarist informs the girl who slowly reaches out and takes hold of the offering, "But it seems like the best I have to give right now."
A moment passes where no words are exchanged between the two young people. The background noise from the other patrons and jukebox music fill the pregnant pause. For the first time in too long, a smile stretches over her features before she raises the glass to her lips and takes a long drink. As he suspected, the potency of the beverage makes her cough and wince, but she appears nonetheless grateful for the gift.
"Thanks Luka." Handing the glass back to him, she then continues to nurse her own. Small glass that it is, and with the pace she has been consuming her drinks tonight, it does not take all that long for her to reach the bottom.
He follows suit, quickly polishing off the last little bit left in the bottom of the cup and then sets it along with enough money to cover both of their orders on the counter. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's just the heady rush he's getting from seeing her again but, whatever the case, he is feeling a bit more bold than usual. Sliding down off the bar stool and collecting his guitar case from the ground, the young artist swings it back over his shoulder. Watching over his shoulder, he sees the sadness creep into her expression once more. Turning in her direction again, he holds out his hand, offering his assistance in helping her to get down off her own seat. The way she stares at his hand, bewildered, tells him that some elaboration is in order.
"Let's get out of here," The guitarist begins with an encouraging smile, "We can go for a walk, or I can just walk with you until you get to your house and while we're on our way, you can talk about whatever you want. I'll listen." Marinette's eyes rise from his outstretched arm and come to meet his as another smile begins to form on her lips.
"Okay…sounds good." Though her reply is quiet, she does not sound hesitant at all to follow him. It's a relief to know he wasn't coming on too strong.
Her slender fingers barely graze his palm and he closes his hand around them, squeezing. Pulling the young woman along behind him, he calls over his shoulder for Nino to keep the change. Nino only has enough time to shout back some incomprehensible words before the two are out of earshot in the crowded building.
Leading them out onto the sidewalk in the cool air of the early summer Paris night, he immediately feels it as she shivers in response to the breeze. Upon witnessing her less than subtle trembling, he slides his guitar carefully off his shoulder to the ground and then removes the leather jacket he wears, draping the thick clothing over her shoulders. The awestruck look in her eyes stills him. Suddenly flushed, he runs a hand through his hair. Is this more than he should do?
"You've been through enough lately," He explains, searching for the will to maintain eye contact with her, "You're due a little kindness, don't you think?" It couldn't be any more lame, but still seems to do the trick as she smiles bashfully and slips her arms through the over-sized sleeves, snuggling into the excess of fabric around the collar. This is the point at which he averts his gaze, feeling a bit ashamed that he's more pleased about seeing her enjoying being wrapped up in his clothing than he ought to be.
"So…which way are we going?" The musician asks, changing the subject before he catches himself thinking stupid things again.
"My apartment is this way." She turns in the opposite direction of the way he had them facing and they both begin walking. He sneaks a couple of glances at her out of the corner of his eyes, hoping against hope that she doesn't remain silent for the entirety of their walk to her place.
Marinette doesn't disappoint, seeming almost eager to talk now that they aren't in the pub. "It's only been a few weeks since we finalized all the paperwork. It doesn't seem real." The dejected tone comes creeping back into her voice once more. He watches her expression carefully as she speaks.
"Can I ask…why? You guys seemed…" The way she draws her bottom lip in between her teeth does not go unnoticed. In combination with the crease in her brow from trying to hold back tears, it's a very effective way to make him bite back whatever words he was about to use. "…well, you know…"
"It was me." The young designer states simply, leaving him unsure as to whether it's really okay to pry any further. Does she not want to discuss it? Somehow, he gets the sense that she does and the real reason she hesitates is that she is trying too hard to hold it all together. Or maybe she has something she'd rather not discuss while in pubic. Either way, curiosity is eating at him. Despite his growing interest, instead of pressing her further, he waits until she seems to have calmed down to see if she will continue on her own or not. "In combination with a few other things…I changed my mind about something pretty big after we were married. I don't think I can blame him for changing his mind about me, since it's something we both thought we wanted going in…"
At this point, Marinette pauses, eyeing him carefully. He'd be lying if he doesn't say he feels a bit scrutinized during this long moment where she appears to be searching his expression for something. Returning her lengthy gaze with one of his own, he spies a very distinct kind of hesitation in her tense expression. The way she stares at him is almost as if she's asking his permission to express her next thought. It's difficult to ascertain if the hesitation comes from a place of protecting herself or trying to decide how much to refine her words before she continues. The first makes sense given her situation but the second...it seems somewhat out of character if it is indeed her motivation here. In the time that they spent together all those years ago, he never her knew her to hold back her thoughts when they were important or needed to be heard. Maybe time has changed her. But then again, maybe this is a situation where she simply needs a little bit of a push to get her talking again. She clearly has so much to say. It would be a shame if she quit now.
"You can tell me anything you want, you know. I'll listen." The words are simple and direct, much like the point of the assurance he's trying to offer. You can trust me with your feelings. "I'm not going to judge you."
As she opens her mouth to speak, her footfalls slow to a stop against the pavement. Following suit, Luka looks up to see a rather large high-rise towering above them. This must be her apartment building. It was a much shorter walk here than he realized. He doesn't feel ready to abandon this conversation yet, but he also can't bring himself to ask to go inside. Suddenly finding himself with another predicament on his hands, he fidgets anxiously with the strap of his guitar case and watches her, feeling a rush of heat roll up his neck and creep over his ears. As much as he may want to help her or at least hear her out, it would probably just be best to continue this conversation at another time. It's late, they've both had a few drinks now and he doesn't want to put himself into an even more awkward position. Just as Luka is about to excuse himself, Marinette cuts through his thoughts.
"If you want to come up, we can talk for a while." The bashful tone and slight redness on her face are both good indicators that she is thinking about similar things. What's the harm if she's inviting him up for a chat? She looks nervous but not uncomfortable and the soft smile the woman shoots his way lets him knows she's trying to be thoughtful toward him as well. Worries instantly quelled, the musician simply nods and follows her through the front doors, into the lobby and across the room to the elevator doors. The elevator ride to her floor is somewhat awkward, neither of them sure what kind of conversation they should be having right now, if any. At least, Luka knows for sure he has no idea what to say to her as he heads up floor by floor to her apartment with her in the middle of the night. Stealing a glance at her makes him feel all-the-more awkward, as she seems more-or-less unfazed. Marinette quietly reads something on her phone while his gaze shifts to helplessly watch the indicator lights on the wall, following the painfully slow ascent to her floor.
After what feels like an eternity in the elevator followed by the longest walk ever, they stand in front of the door to her apartment. The woman briefly searches for her keys before she lets them both inside the well-kept and trendy one-bedroom apartment and flips on the overhead lights. Making a bee line for the fridge, she takes out a beer and tosses it his way without asking what he'd like first, then chooses an iced tea for herself. Judging from the fact that she tossed him more alcohol, he'd say it's a good wager that he's in for an awful long discussion. Sinking into a chair opposite hers at the kitchen table, Luka watches as she takes a deep breath before speaking and cracks open the drink.
"How do you feel about kids?" Stunned by her seemingly random query, Luka chokes swallowing a mouthful of the beer. Offering him a napkin for his chin, Marinette appears embarrassed under his astounded gaze. "Sorry…bad start…I know. What I mean to say is…I don't want any kids."
"You're right…that was a vast improvement over the first try. Totally clears things up." He teases, only realizing his blunder when her facial features fall into a frown. "Sorry Marinette, I know it's not a good time for sardonic comments. I'll shut up, so go ahead." He can't help but indulge himself in a brief flash of pride when his comment makes her chuckle to herself.
"Adrien and I constantly fought because I really never felt ready to have kids." His eyes widen at these words. This time there's no room for doubt in his mind. It would be near impossible to misread the direction this conversation is headed in. Her eyes flash with a mixture of frustration, anger, sadness and even a little resentment as she slowly sips on her tea.
"At first I thought I just needed time, but I didn't know how to tell him when he seemed so excited about the whole idea...so I kept…trying to stall. Maybe at the time I thought I wanted to just enjoy being married for a while, but he was eager start trying for a baby. He kept looking for reasons and I kept making excuses." His grip on the can in his hand tightens as she tells him her story. Boy, doesn't all this just sound so familiar? As much as he would love to interject with thoughts of his own, Luka remains a silent observer, taking in her thoughts, but offering no feedback. There are so many things he wants to say. So many. Out of respect though, he continues to hold the words in. This is her story and he said he would let her tell it. He takes another long sip of his beer.
"The timing wasn't right - we were both too busy, needed to settle into being married first. It took me several months, but I eventually realized…I just didn't want to. No matter how much I used to think about it in theory…In reality...I…didn't want it. I tried to…talk to him. But by that time, he'd already become distant, and was snappy and short with me, so we just ended up getting in more arguments rather than working anything out…that's why…I told him we needed to…end things…" Her voice wavers. He feels his fingertips digging small divots into the aluminum can.
By this point in her little spiel, her breaths and shoulders are shaky, and her eyes are once again filling with tears. "That's why…it's my fault…" If he thought the brief pang of anger he stamped down while they talked in the bar was hard to handle, it pales in comparison to surge of pure rage flooding his senses at present. He's acutely aware he has his own experiences that may be clouding his better judgement, but there's also no denying that, even after all this time, it still really gets under his skin when someone causes her this much distress. Watching her slowly crumbling into a heartbroken and blubbering mess across the table from him in the quiet kitchen, his annoyance and anger bubble over and he just can't hold his tongue any longer.
"That asshole!" The outburst flies forth before he has a chance to review and filter it, his beer can also taking some abuse as he lifts it and then slams it down against the tabletop in his temper tantrum. A big mistake. Marinette's indignant gaze is so sharp that he'd swear he just insulted her, not Adrien. He watches shamefully as her mood only becomes all-the-more dour, her grip on the half-empty plastic tea bottle in her hand tightening until her knuckles are white.
Okay, rewind. Everyone just stay calm. Let's try that again. He clears his throat.
"Sorry. It's not my place to say that." 'Even if I do think it's well deserved.' He examines her body language carefully for a few seconds, confident that he can continue only when the anger in her expression begins to fade. The ticking of the wall clock is the only sound cutting the silent tension lingering in the room as he carefully chooses his next set of words. "It irritates me that he would try to pressure you like that. It isn't fair to you that now you're the one who feels guilty over it when he should."
"We both agreed we wanted to be parents," She points out.
"People are complicated and they change. The things we want change too," He takes a sip of the beer mid-rebuttal, "It isn't right for anyone to treat you as if you owe them the rights to your mind or your body just because you're in a relationship."
"But I let him down Luka," She spits out, for some reason sounding annoyed with him now, "Of course I feel guilty. If I had just been honest up front…" The girl before him falls silent as he reaches out and softly places his hand over hers. As their eyes line up, he can tell she's challenging him to refute her. Challenge accepted. There's no reason for him to back down from his position. His gaze is pointed and assured as he speaks.
"Marinette, you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't do anything wrong. If you had been honest right away, the outcome wouldn't have been any different," He gently squeezes her fingers, biting his lip when a tear trails down her cheek, "Trust me. This is the kind of thing that makes or breaks a relationship." A brief set of memories flash through his mind, then are quickly overshadowed by the astonishment in her eyes.
"You're talking like you know what it's like." Even her tone of voice is incredulous. Her eyes fall to his hand resting atop hers on the table.
"I might…" He takes a long breath in and releases a heavy sigh, "Have some idea what it's like, yeah."
This time, she surprises the young man by giving his hand a gentle squeeze in return. His eyes snap to meet Marinette's empathetic gaze. As always, she is quick to offer an understanding smile, though she is reaching up to wipe away tears. "I'm sorry Luka."
"It's fine," Feeling a bit overwhelmed by her display of kindness, he draws his hand back and reminds himself that he shouldn't read too much into anything she says or does. 'This isn't about you. Remember that.' His internal monologue scolds. Bringing himself up onto his feet, his eyes quickly scan the room for an excuse to put some distance between Marinette and himself. Blue eyes fall to the nearly empty beer can he holds, and he concludes that's as good an excuse as any other. Now somewhat tipsy, Luka carefully makes his way over to the kitchen counter.
Turning back in her direction after quickly rinsing out the aluminum can and placing it upside down in the dish rack, he leans back into the wooden framing of the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. "I want you to know I'm on your side here. Right now, I bet it probably feels like no one else is…even your other friends. Maybe I haven't been the best friend up until now but you can trust me…" Another quick slide show of unpleasant memories plays momentarily in his mind as he finishes his thought, "…when I say that I totally get where you're coming from."
Marinette gives him another incredulous stare before she also abandons her seat at the table to come over and wash out her own empty drink container. Luka observes her expectantly as she leans onto the sink and lets out a lets out a sound caught somewhere in between a growl of frustration and a grunt of indignation.
"When I tried explaining it to Alya, she looked at me like I was insane. Basically said so, too," Marinette rubs circles into her forehead, a sour mixture of bitterness and irritation draping itself over her entire body like a shroud.
How many times is he going to be inundated with unwanted and melancholy memories tonight? Of course, it's only because he sees so much of himself from a year ago reflected in the stories she's sharing tonight. As if he needs the mental aid, his mind tosses out a few brief glimpses of a relationship he thought had been happy. Next up are a few snapshots of the many bitter arguments. The memory of the way people treated him then stings more than anything else even still, coming as it did from people who should have been his friends -his system of support. It's not difficult at all to recall the accusatory language directed at him from acquaintances or the unnecessary and over-the-top levels of concern that had come from his loved ones who it seems, felt it imperative to shower him with it. While he and Marinette each had their own unique circumstances for their breakups, Luka still finds it impossible not to draw his own comparisons.
"Yeah…" Marinette's bitterness seems to be catching. He manages to hold her gaze for a second, enough time to get the distinct impression that her thoughts are again very likely similar in nature to his own. "People can be...a little less than understanding about it." Well, that's putting it mildly.
"Mom and dad just looked worried and then complained about grandchildren, I got a lecture from Chloe about never finding someone that good again and even people I barely remember from school feel the need to comment, too," None of this surprises him in the least and he nods along with her words, quietly absorbing the venting of her frustrations. Her eyes fall upon him once more in the midst of her rambling, a look of realization crossing her features. "Your reaction is probably the only positive one I've gotten."
"That sounds familiar." Thinking back on the scornful reactions of his friends, how he wishes he had some version of himself available to talk to back when he was depressed and blaming himself for his bitter split from his ex-girlfriend. He can't even begin to say how helpful it would have been to have just one person who understood his feelings and tried to encourage him to be himself, even if his idea of happiness didn't quite match up with what everyone else expected it should have been. Not to mention how much more mentally and emotionally beneficial it would have been to have even on person come to his defense. As much as he loves his band mates, even they were borderline unhelpful -though less out of any unjustified anger toward him and more out of a lack of understanding- when it felt that his entire world had been turned inside out. Even to this day, they lack a general understanding of his thoughts, opinions and reasoning surrounding this matter.
A brief wave of self-satisfaction sweeps through him and he revels in the possibility that now he's able to be that kind of support for someone else. Tossing a grin her way, the young musician shifts his position against the counter in an effort to relieve the irritated area of his back it had been digging in to.
"How did you deal with all this?" She wonders, her pretty blue bell eyes downcast and her expression sullen. She laces her fingers together as she leans over the sink, one foot twisting back and forth into the tile below her flats.
"It kinda sounds like a cliche, but one day at a time, I guess." A total cliche, yet still the only prediction he can make for her. Looking back, immediately following the break-up, the musician really doesn't remember what it was that gave him the motivation to keep going every day. Perhaps he had simply placed his mind into autopilot. After some time had passed, he found a small local community in an online search of people who had experienced similar things and held very similar views to his own. That little group of people became the system of support, the means by which he could vent his pent-up frustrations and eventually, some of the best friends he's had. Would something like that help her? If he were to offer the group as a resource, it wouldn't be the worst coping mechanism for her to turn to.
Slowly, the two find themselves sinking down into sitting positions on the floor to get more comfortable. Next to him, she has her head resting atop her knees, her arms wrapped around her shins.
"Can I…ask what exactly happened with you?" The inquiry seems to startle them both.
Still, this question has been inevitable since he first approached her in the bar and they ventured into this crazy discussion. Even now he's hesitant to revisit this series of unpleasant events. He'd be remiss if he didn't acknowledge how much of it he'd rather forget entirely. With most any other person, he'd already be looking for a way out of answering. Not with Marinette though. The bluenette woman isn't the only person on earth capable of understanding his position and hearing him out, but she also won't offer petty judgments or ridicule. He feels a certain excitement knowing he can share his experiences and get feedback that isn't unwanted pity or unjustified anger. Sucking in a long, deep breath, Luka runs a hand through his hair and lets it all go again before collecting his thoughts to piece together this story.
"I started dating someone around a year and a half ago. I made sure they knew where I stood on this up front. Everything seemed like it was going great. I thought we were happy…" He trails off, wincing involuntarily at the memory of his less than admirable behavior when she'd first begun pressing the issue of kids. "She never planned on sticking to the 'no kids' agreement we'd made. She said so herself during a fight, but she meant it. When she started to try and convince me why we should have children, it just started fights." Despite the topic at hand, the musician can't hold back the smile that creeps across his face as he feels his companion reach out and begin to comfortingly rub his shoulder. Stealing a quick glance at her expression, he finds those deep blue eyes alight with a strange mixture of intrigue and grief. Practically hanging on his every word. The urge to reach up and place his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers is nearly irresistible. The refrain he must exercise in this moment is a conscious and concerted effort. "After a few months and several huge fights, I found out she was cheating…" The memory itself isn't what triggers his sudden silence. That credit goes entirely to a pair of slender arms now encircling his chest. Her head rests gently against his shoulder as she speaks.
"I'm so sorry, Luka." The young woman soothes, empathy in her tone where pity would be if she were anyone else. One of her soft hands is now rubbing the same comforting circles against his collarbone. He swallows harshly, attempting to focus on anything other than the warmth of her body pressed against his side or the gentle ministrations of her fingers as she looks up at him with those piercing eyes from beneath her silky, dark hair.
"Yeah, well," 'Come on man, pull yourself together. You're not a kid anymore.' He scolds himself as he shifts his line of sight and stares down at his knees, trying to get his brain to refocus on the topic at hand. "It gets better…when I called out her on it, she told me she was pregnant. After that, she packed up and left."
Adorably, her nose scrunches up in disgust. A grin tugs up on the corner of his lip as he watches her display of obvious disdain. After a moment though, the disgusted look fades, transforming itself into an expression of realization, then one of curiosity.
"When I said how people acted when I told them why Adrien and I divorced, you made it seem like people treated you that way, too. Why would anyone think you're in the wrong here?" A fair question. That part of the whole mess hasn't been discussed yet.
"After she moved out, she started telling people that I gave her an ultimatum -forced her to choose between me and kids- and that when she wanted kids, I…became abusive. At least, that's what I heard from people who talked to her." It's not as if he didn't have his moments of anger in the midst of their numerous arguments. By his own admission, he was not always being gentlemanly and polite during those times. Who would be when saying things mostly born of frustration and anger? To actually harm someone over a difference of opinion though -such a thought had never once occurred to him. Unfortunately, though, that wasn't what several people believed at the time.
'What if Marinette believes that story of hers too?' His brain taunts. Glancing down at the woman cautiously, he wonders if admitting to people spreading such rumors about him is really a good call. It would be easy for anyone to doubt someone's character after hearing that other people were making such serious allegations.
True to form though, Marinette does not shy away. Embrace tightening around his chest, she shifts closer and leans against him more heavily as the cupboard creaks under the added pressure behind them. "That asshole. That's such obvious bullshit," The bitter words, uncharacteristic as they are coming from this particular girl, are funny enough on their own. Add in the call back to the point in their conversation at the table when he had his little fit of frustration and both young people end up chuckling in amusement. A brief flash of genuine enjoyment shines in her eyes as she smiles up at him. "Sorry for glaring at you earlier. I get why you reacted that way."
"I don't say harsh things without a good reason," He informs her quietly, maintaining the eye contact as he breaks into a playful grin, "Besides, the asshole totally deserved it."
"Luka!" The mocking tone and playful nudge in the side tell him this time her scolding is not to be taken seriously. A huff of amusement passes over his lips as she pulls back out of the embrace, her expression still full of interest. "So…what even is your opinion about kids?"
"Hmmm," After briefly glancing away to feign a moment of consideration he turns to her once more with an utterly diabolical grin on his face, "Babies pair great with white wine, but I prefer toddlers with red."
"Oh my god, Luka! No!" She snorts, giving him another playful shove as she tries and fails to resist a fit of giggles at his remarks. Seeing the genuinely happy smile and hearing her laugh so heartily for the first time this night makes his scolding for the dark humor all-the-more worth it. "You're terrible!"
"I prefer the term 'naughty' actually," As it would with a fan in the street, that natural playful flirtation passes over his lips with a small wink. It only takes a moment after seeing the stunned look on the designer's face to realize what the comment he just made means. What could have possibly possessed him that he thought flirting would be a good idea? Ears burning, he lowers his gaze to his lap. "S-sorry…I didn't mean anything by that…I…uhh…" Clearing his throat awkwardly as she squirms in her place next to him, he works up the nerve to continue. "To answer your question, I don't want to be a parent."
"Thanks for coming over and talking tonight." The tone of her voice indicates a closing of the previous discussion. It now sounds like she's working up to the point where she's going to dismiss him for the night. "I'm sorry you had to sit and listen to all my whining."
"You weren't whining. You needed to know someone was on your side…" Still anxious after that unintentional flirt, he clarifies his point of view while raking his fingers through his hair "…and I would have wanted someone to be that for me when I needed help. Besides, I just hate seeing you sad." He can't bring himself to see what kind of look his companion sports.
A few moments pass before he finally gathers the courage he needs to chance a peek in Marinette's direction. Fully expecting to find an uncomfortable look on her face, the expression he sees instead stops his breath, a feeling somewhat akin to a sudden burst of flames shooting through his core. Frozen in place, the young musician studies his friend carefully, unable to determine how serious she is. The intention he thinks he can recognize in her current body language…does she really mean it? More than that though, it is really okay with her?
He swallows as she shifts toward him, heart thudding in his chest. A tingle runs down along his spine as he takes in the heated, curious and somewhat apprehensive look playing in her features. A slow creeping warmth moves up the back of his neck when she bites down on her lip and eyes him with an intoxicating look of guarded interest. In those pools of deep blue lingers a single question that even he isn't sure he knows the answer to. Slowly, she continues to shift toward him, eyes ablaze with the same curious blend of intrigue and uncertainty. There, sitting on the kitchen floor of her apartment, the stillness of the late hour making it feel as if they are the only two people in the entire world, he can finally admit to himself something he has been denying inside his mind all night. Despite everything, all the time, all the distance, all the hard feelings of the past, he still...loves her.
Lost in the rush of feel-good chemicals released inside his brain, he finds his earlier convictions slowly melting away like a late winter snowfall. His body seems to move under a willpower disconnected entirely from what his brain dictates he should be doing. His hand stretches toward her, the tiny tremble in his fingertips revealing the ongoing presence of overactive nerves. His index finger brushes against her lower jaw before his fingers work their way over her cheek and into the sleek hair tucked behind her ear. Foreheads resting against one another, the two exchange a pair of intensely heated glances. His heart still thrumming against his rib cage, he pulls his lower lip in between his teeth. Is this really okay? Is it okay to forgive himself a little for still being so helplessly in love with her? Is it okay to give in to his desire for her if she also wants this? Just as her hand begins to trail down the back of his neck and Luka releases his hold on his lower lip to allow his upper lip to gently brush against hers, the sense he seemed to abandon completely seconds prior returns to him.
What in the world has gotten into him? This is absolutely not okay. He squeezes his eyes shut, partly out of the regret he already feels from the moment he's about to give up but mostly from the deep-seeded disappointment he feels in himself. Wincing at his own lack of self-control, he releases a heavy sigh just before backing away. In so doing, Luka takes immediate notice of the wounded look on her face and the worry now clouding her eyes. Knowing that some part of her genuinely desires to kiss him -even to the point that she is hurt by his refusal to do so- makes it infinitely more difficult to exercise this pesky thing called self-discipline.
"I'm sorry Marinette…I can't…" Watching the disappointment take over her expression and body language is the second most frustrating part of all of this. If her thought process here is that she's offended him or that he doesn't want this, she's sorely mistaken. It's actually quite the contrary. He'd love nothing more than to draw her near and kiss her until they're both completely senseless. But to do so barely a month after she had been through a bad break up and signed divorce papers? To take advantage of her emotional vulnerability? No. He will not be the rebound guy, nor will he manipulate her. As much as he has always wanted her, he will not settle for being a cheap one-night stand. "I shouldn't."
"You're right…" It comes out in a sullen sigh a moment later. "I shouldn't have…"
At the same time, two voices fill the silence of the room with their innermost thoughts.
"I've never stopped loving you."
"It feels like I'm doing something wrong."
Equally stunned, two pairs of blue eyes line up. The ticking of the wall clock seems louder than ever before in the silence that follows. Why does hearing those words cut so deeply? He is understanding of the fact that she still loves Adrien. He always has been. He also knows the woman before him to be one of integrity and moral character, someone who would never willingly or intentionally do anything to harm another -much less someone she holds dear. Even though she is not doing anything wrong, it makes sense that she would think of her ex-husband first. You don't need to be a rocket scientist to know she still must harbor emotional loyalty to the person she didn't want to lose. Yet, still, it stings to hear it said so plainly.
"I know." The words are not said out of any anger toward the woman, but they do come out practically steeped in the emotion. Glancing up at the wall clock, he sees the hands indicating that it's around one thirty in the morning. In more ways than one, it's time to leave. "I should go."
Not wasting a single second, he scrambles up onto his feet and in a few quick strides is at the front door, guitar case slung over his shoulder. Collecting his jacket from the coat rack to the left of the door, he turns the locking mechanism before placing his hand on the handle. The equally quick footfalls behind him give him pause just as he's about to open the door. Sighing, the artist turns back to look at his designer friend.
Her blue eyes are clouded with hurt and are beginning to brim with tears once more. Yet another sight since their meeting earlier tonight that tugs fiercely on his heartstrings. What's worse is that this time, he has no one to be angry with other than himself. Unable to open his mouth to say anything under this distressed gaze of hers, he remains quiet as the young woman bites back her sadness and prepares to speak.
"You don't have to go," Voice breaking, she does her best to get through her own swelling emotions, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. It was me...you…didn't do…anything…wrong…" Despite her best efforts, the tears still come, rolling down her cheeks as she wipes them away in her frustration at not being able to keep it all together. "I'm so sorry...I don't want you to leave because…I feel like you'll never…come back…" When she says 'come back' he is aware it means she thinks he'll deliberately avoid her from this point forward. Lowering her head, she continues to wipe the tears away, trying desperately not to allow herself to sob in his presence.
He'd love to be able to say he already learned his lesson in setting and keeping boundaries after almost kissing her just moments ago. He'd love to, but he can't. Forget petty bragging rights in regards to self-restraint. When the woman you love is in tears before you and trying to accredit all the blame to herself in a moment of weakness you took part in, you don't stand idly by and do nothing. Sucking air through his teeth, Luka reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder before pulling her into a kind of half-embrace, her body lightly pressed against his side. He needs to comfort her, but too much contact might just break him again. He feels her go still with the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips. Slowly, his arm snakes around her shoulders.
After only a second, Luka pushes her back before she has a chance to respond to the hug. Her incredulous blue eyes stare up at him, searching for answers.
"I do have to go," The mortified look on her face is all the more motivation he needs to elaborate. "Look, maybe I haven't been around much in the last several years, but I won't just desert you if that's what you're thinking," Her eyes widen as he speaks, "I just…" 'Want more than one kiss...or one night,' Momentarily averting his eyes, he bites his lip and tries to gather together better words than those "Want you to have time to put your life back together." If what he saw in her eyes moments ago is real and meant to last, then he wants to give it time to grow naturally. Jumping the gun and going straight to something physical won't help matters. It could even jeopardize any chance he has of a future potential romantic relationship with her. He for one is not willing to gamble something that means that much to him on a single moment of weakness. However desirable that moment may be.
Reaching into his pocket quickly, he pulls out a pen. He grins when she gives him a quizzical look before asking for her hand. Slowly, she holds it out and he scribbles his number onto her skin.
Drawing her hand back, she stares at the freshly scribed numbers for a second before meeting his gaze again.
"Like I said, I'll stay in touch," Luka begins with a wink, placing his hand on the doorknob, "Call me or text…whenever. I won't always be able to get back to you right away, but I'll always answer." Her startled blue eyes blink once or twice before a small smile begins to appear on her face.
"I'll…talk to you later then." A set of words caught somewhere between a statement and a question come out in a quiet mumble. Redness spreads across her cheeks.
A gentle smile takes over his own features as Luka watches the girl gaze bashfully toward the ground. "Yeah," He tells her, pulling open the door and stepping into the hallway, "Later, Marinette."
The next few weeks of his life pass rather uneventfully. His travel schedule with the rest of the group is keeping him very busy. All the same scenes and conversations as always. The same kinds of rabid fans sometimes taking their enjoyment of the group's music too far. Since that chance encounter in the pub though, there has been one welcome change in his routine. When the day's work is done and he turns in or takes a break, his phone will be indicating the messages he is always anticipating. Luka will always love what he does, but as crowded and loud as events are, his mind is muddled with the residual static noise of the venues when it's all over. Exchanging a set of messages with Marinette each day really seems to clear all of that agitation away. It also doesn't hurt that the two of them recently learned they have a very important viewpoint in common -that is the one revolving around their mutual desire to not have any children. It is a driving force in quite a few of their conversations.
Her early messages are full of questions. She's only experiencing these situations for the first time. He puts her in touch with the same group of people who had been his support in his time of need, happy when she seems to find comfort in going and visiting with them at meetups.
It's not until around a month and a half later, as he leaves a concert hall with the rest of his group, Luka feels the phone vibrating in his back pocket. Intending to ignore the device initially, his full attention is only drawn back to it by the repetitive vibrations that indicate a call. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he pulls the device from his back pocket, suddenly remembering that the group's manager was supposed to be getting in touch today to finalize some pending appearance details. Ready to get the conversation over with, he swipes to answer the call without even looking at the caller ID.
"Hello?" His voice echoes through the receiver. A nearly deafening silence follows until the caller on the other end finally speaks.
"L-Luka!" Stutters a feminine voice that makes his eyes widen in surprise.
Pulling the phone away from his ear and staring at the digital display, it clearly shows the name of the caller is Marinette. A rush of giddy child-like excitement washes over him as the same butterflies he'd felt in his stomach that night several weeks ago come back with a vengeance. He supposes he did say she could call whenever, but he didn't honestly expect her to do it. In truth, he'd been pleasantly surprised enough by her exchanging regular messages with him. After that meeting in the bar and the subsequent events, he honestly wasn't sure how she'd feel about conversing.
Still a little thrown off by the call, he waves the rest of the group off and leans on the wall of the building, a small grin tugging up on the corner of his lip.
"This is a surprise," He states, tone only half-teasing.
"Y-you said I could!" She blurts out, the same nervous stutter he remembers from all those years ago creeping back in.
"I did." The same grin continues to pull upward at the corner of his mouth as he replies to her. "So…is there a reason you called?" 'You know, aside from just wanting to hear my voice.' He swallows the flirty phrase before it can reach his lips. That's not a mistake he's willing to make twice, though the temptation is powerful.
"W-well…I-I didn't think you'd answer…" This shaky admission surprises him. It basically means she thought she'd just be leaving a message and likely wasn't intending on talking to him. At any rate, his ego is just ever so slightly bruised hearing her intention was not to speak with him. A little teasing in retribution is fair, right?
"I should let you go since you didn't want to talk anyway…later…" Before all the words are even out, the young woman's voice cuts him off through the receiver.
"Wait!" Voice breaking mid-way, her plea brings another playful grin to his features. "D-don't go…I…I uh…"
"I was kidding. I'm not hanging up," The young man explains, running a hand through his hair, "I…want to talk to you." Hearing the small gasp of surprise through the line, he switches the subject. "You still didn't answer my question."
"We-well…I wanted to say I was happy to get to see you again," Her timid explanation comes slowly, "I know it wasn't a great time since we mostly only talked about depressing things…but I…well, anyway, thank you. You really helped."
It's almost as if he's been unable to stop smiling since he picked up the phone. Warmed by the thought that he had been able to offer support even in spite of his own baggage and emotional turbulence, he offers a gentle reply.
"I'm glad," He gets the impression that reiterating her sentiments from the other night might not be the only reason for this phone call, "I was happy to."
"And…" Her voice trails off into silence on the other end of the line.
"And?" The gentle encouragement takes the form of a question.
"And I was wondering if…you can totally say no if you're not okay with it, obviously…" Marinette hesitates again, falling silent once more. For a second time this afternoon, Luka finds himself trying and failing to reign in his excitement. Heat rushes along the back of his neck and ears, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. No longer in strong control of his feelings, a single query comes tumbling out of his mouth of it's own accord.
"Is this…you asking me out?" The question prompts a short silence in which he can hear her fidgeting nervously in the background of the call.
"It's probably weird and you sort of already said no the other night…"
"What?" Cutting her off suddenly, he stares at the traffic-laden street as if someone out there had just made the ridiculous comment. Sure, he had backed out of that kiss out of respect to her recently dissolved marriage but…his eyes widen as realization hits him. 'Oh crap,' Had he somehow given her the impression that he's not interested? Even after admitting to his feelings and nearly kissing her? How? "Hang on a sec…I think maybe you misunder…"
"Still, do you want to see a movie or go get dinner sometime?" The girl manages to squeak out this question, stunning him to silence as if he hadn't been expecting it to be asked in the first place. His heart is not gentle as it thuds against his rib cage. The heat spread over his nose and cheeks is searing. He finds himself speechless, caught in between excitement at her question and embarrassment at his childish response to it. "I kinda wanted to catch up a little more. Ah but…only if you have time. I know you guys are busy right now. Oh, and only if you actually wanted to…"
"I'll go." Cutting abruptly through her anxious rambling, it would seem he's gotten over his momentary system shutdown. He hears her breath catch on the other end of the line. His eyes drift to a close as a content smile takes over his features. "Let me know where and when and I'll be there."
The call ends after a quick exchange regarding the location and she leaves him to check his schedule for any free time he has upcoming. Sliding the phone into his back pocket, he turns to catch up to the rest of the group, now waiting patiently gathered around their driver's car. Though he must endure teasing from his comrades, he can't do a thing about the pure joy he's currently feeling nor the dream-like state it's put him in. After all this time, maybe something real could be blossoming between Marinette and himself. No one can know what the future holds, but this is certainly the most hopeful he's felt about it. For now, that's all he needs.