10 October 2020

Prompt: Silence

Character/Pairing: Dingo King (OC), Luka Couffaine

Rating: T / PG-13 / Teen

Notes: Really I don't know what else you'd be expecting with a prompt like that…

"I need you to say something," Luka says, sounding so small compared to…well. He's never been as loud or as big as Dingo, but Dingo's never heard him sound so small and fragile before, either.

This was supposed to be Kitty Section's big break. A good thing. Things had been going so well for two weeks now…

"I don't know what to say, Lu," he finally says, shrugging a little helplessly. Luka hugs his knees tighter to his chest, curls in on himself a bit more.

"I need to hear something," Luka continues, though it's muffled by his knees. "I can't do si…quiet."

And Dingo supposes it's true. The Liberty is never quiet, not really, but Luka's cabin is painfully so, especially compared to how it was when Dingo had first gotten there. It wasn't even the usual music that could be heard always coming from somewhere. The TV in the common area had been set to some news channel, the reporters' voices a constant droning in the background. His phone had been playing Jagged Stone's last album on his amp. On the desk he shared with Juleka, his laptop had been opened to some tutorial channel on YouTube – another voice to drown out the sil…quiet. The old radio in the corner had even been tuned to France Info, some interview with some famous so-and-so playing against it all. Luka had turned most of it all off when Dingo had walked in with tacos (because after almost two years as a delivery boy Luka couldn't stand pizza) and every intention to distract his best mate from what had been plaguing him all week.

Because Luka had been plagued. Anyone would be. Hell, Dingo had been surprised to see him at school on Monday after…

Most people took at least a day, even if their…even if they weren't one of the bad ones. To process.

But Luka had insisted it was better. The boat had been too quiet, after…he needed the voices. He needed to hear people talking, a lot of people talking, to remember they could. To remind himself he had no say over what those voices got to say, anyway.

The TV from the common area is still droning on, but the Captain's home (she'd been staying closer to home than usual lately) and had switched it to some music channel. They're playing a documentary on Van Halen.

"Please just talk," Luka groans, sounding miserable. "You never shut up. Why are you shutting up now?"

"I don't know what to say, do I?" Dingo sniffs, pulling at a loose thread on the comforter. "It's not like it's happened to me. I wasn't there."

"…I could've hurt her," Luka says, barely loud enough to be heard, and Dingo sighs. He tips over, bumping his shoulder against Luka's side.

"No, you really couldn't," he says. "I may not know first-hand, but people talk, Lu. Akumas might run on your darker emotions, but it's still you."

"That is not helping," Luka bites, and Dingo nudges him again.

"My point," he continues, and he flicks Luka's temple for good measure, "is that no matter how angry you were. No matter what you think you could have done. No matter what you did. It was still you, Luka. You would never hurt Marinette."

Luka doesn't say anything. Dingo sighs. He keeps talking.

"Besides, it's not like you took her voice," he says. "Though I would have loved to see Ladybug's face when you took hers. You realize if she hadn't tricked you, you might've actually been the akuma to win?"

Luka still says nothing. Luka can't. He doesn't share the dreams, the snippets and fragments of what he thinks are memories, that make him think Dingo's wrong. That only reinforce the suspicions he's had 'til now. That make him think he did steal Marinette's voice, and that he did hurt her, but that maybe he wouldn't have taken Ladybug's earrings anyway. He hopes he wouldn't have. He hopes, if Sil…if the akuma really was him under it all, he would have realized. He wouldn't have….he would have fought. Right?

He's too far into his head, and it's too quiet, and for the first time since the Music Festival even that clear, piercing melody that's been playing on constant loop in his head isn't enough to make him feel better. To drown out the echoes of voices still there and the quiet of ones still not.

"Just…say something," he begs, his knuckles blanching against the grip on his knees. "Please."