Thanks to my betas for this chapter, lizzimagic from Miraculous Discordance and chatbugg from The Miraculous Writers' Circle on Discord.
Reconciliation. Reassurance. And rapprochement.
Marinette sat hunched on a beam of the Eiffel Tower, suited up in mask and spots. One foot dangled idly in the air while the other was hooked under her knee. She gazed across the city skyline, struck by the lights shining against the leaden curtain of an overcast night. Despite its beauty, the view evoked a feeling of melancholy, as if the dark clouds were an oppressive void sucking the warmth and brightness from the city itself. Or perhaps that was just a reflection of her mood.
Luka had come by her apartment early that morning, as promised. Despite the coffee he had brought as a peace offering, their conversation left her drained. His apology had been sincere, accompanied by a dozen long-stem roses and – of course! – his guitar. After exchanging awkward hellos and meaningless pleasantries in the doorway, they made their way to the pink chenille sofa in Marinette's living area.
The silence continued between them, stretching on for an uncomfortably long time. Marinette knew she would have to be the one to break it, even though she was still upset over Luka's accusation the night before. "I realise I can be flaky and forgetful sometimes, and I'm working on it, I really am. But I have never, never, been unfaithful." Except when a love-themed akuma had forced her and Chat to get more intimate than was strictly professional, but everyone in Paris had long accepted that akuma kisses didn't count.
"I know, Marinette. It just feels like we've been a bit like this," Luka explained with a mournful expression, playing a sad little chord sequence in a minor key. "But we should be like this," this time delivering a brighter set of chords with a more relaxed expression. "Do you understand?"
"I do. I really do. We've barely had time for each other these past few weeks. That's why I wanted us to have a quiet dinner together. So we could reconnect." Marinette reached to take Luka's hand.
He squeezed hers in response. "I'd like to try again, my Melody. Sometimes I can't believe you and I have come this far, and I think I let things build up in my head too much." Luka's usually clear, smooth voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability.
"Me too," she sympathised. "What about tomorrow night? Let's go out this time." Marinette forced a smile. She wasn't sure how she ended up being the one to reassure him in this conversation but chose not to dwell on it.
Luka hummed his agreement and then leaned in to press his lips to hers. For his part, it was an urgent kiss full of emotion, tinged with regret. Marinette could tell he wanted to go further but couldn't muster the energy to reciprocate Luka's passion. The aftertaste of coffee on his breath reminded her she was late for work.
Marinette pulled away slightly, ignoring the disappointed sound her fiancé made in response. "Sorry, Luka, but I need to get to work. We got a new batch of orders yesterday, and I don't want to be fashionably late!" God, her partner really was the worst influence.
Luka only smiled indulgently at her. Marinette knew the pun was weak but couldn't help thinking Chat would have loved it regardless. As often as Luka called her a funny girl, he rarely laughed when she tried to joke around with him. It wasn't like the banter she shared with her partner.
"Come on then, Melody. I'll walk you."
Marinette allowed Luka to help her up, and although she still felt conflicted, they had left her apartment hand in hand.
The ring of steel-shod boots on the girder beside Ladybug startled her back into the present, but the turmoil of her memory remained.
"Hey, Kitty," she offered quietly, barely above a whisper. "Do you think they ever worry?" she let out with a sigh.
"Think who worries, LB?" Chat replied, confused but patient.
"The lights. Do you think they worry about being swallowed by the night?"
Chat contemplated the cityscape before them. "They're just like you, Milady. Your beauty illuminates the darkness of even this black cat's heart." He affected a deep bow, one hand pressed to his chest while the other extended lavishly with a flourish. Chat didn't often call her by that old nickname anymore, but he would pull it out on nights like this when he thought she needed cheering up. The flirting was an embedded part of their dynamic, with cheeky comments and outrageous posturing signifying his affection rather than a serious attempt to woo her.
In rare moments of weakness, Ladybug wished he would try to romance her again. She knew it was a vain hope, but a part of her longed to recapture the playful innocence of their youth before it was stolen by Hawkmoth, akumas, and adult responsibilities.
Banishing such treacherous thoughts, she responded with a wan smile before looking down at her hand. Ladybug turned it over and back, flexing her fingers with each movement. She had never been one to wear a lot of jewellery as a civilian and was still unaccustomed to the feel of her engagement ring. It was surprising how the sensation persisted even after she transformed. She repeated the motion of her hand a few more times, slowly and deliberately, testing it. The appendage seemed heavier than she remembered, weighed down by an unseen force.
Chat sat down beside her, bumping shoulders good-naturedly. "Penny for your thoughts, LB?" he asked gently.
"It's just….civvie stuff, Chaton." She paused before clarifying, "Personal civvie stuff."
Ladybug had been reluctant to share details of her private life with him ever since they were teenagers. She knew part of him disagreed with her for both strategic and personal reasons, but he understood she took their responsibilities seriously and respected her wishes. Marinette had taken to heart the fear instilled by their kwamis for the sake of security, and then losing Master Fu added to both her doubts and her burden.
However, she would sometimes let down her guard when the stresses of her life bubbled to the surface. "I've got four ears to listen, Bug. And two shoulders, one to lean on and one cry on." He made the same offer he always did, clearly sensing her need to talk but allowing her to decide how much or how little she wanted to say.
Pressing against his side for warmth, Ladybug relaxed against her partner. They sat in comfortable silence, staring into the night for several minutes, when she finally spoke, "We had a fight."
From the hardening of Chat's posture, it was clear he realised who she was talking about. He slowly relaxed and reached around to hold her gently as she vented her frustrations of the past few weeks, shorn of any detail that might compromise her identity.
"I know he's always had some lingering jealousy over the guy I used to like, but I honestly thought we were past that. It's not fair of me to expect more trust than I can offer him yet, but I've never given him reason to doubt me like that," Ladybug finally concluded, relieved to have unburdened herself.
"Give yourself some credit, Bug. It's amazing that you've made it work as well as you have. It can't be easy for either of you with the secrets we have to keep. I've only had one semi-serious relationship, and it fell apart because I was forced to hide so much of myself. That's when I decided I would only pursue someone if I could imagine it going the distance." Chat stared at the horizon, suddenly wistful.
Ladybug's relief morphed into regret and concern at his lapse into silence. "Oh! I'm sorry, Chat. I didn't mean to unload on you like that."
"Don't worry about it, Bug," he shrugged. "I will always be here for you." He pulled her in for a side hug. "Just give yourself time. You'll work things out if it's meant to be with your petit ami."
Ladybug giggled at his exaggerated pronunciation of the childish endearment. She sometimes got the impression Chat didn't think her boyfriend – fiancé, but she hadn't revealed that yet – was good enough for her, but he was always supportive of her choices. She wondered if his opinion would change if he learned it was one of their teammates. "Thanks, Minou. You're a good friend."
"I can be pretty catastic when I want to be." He smirked when she dug a sharp elbow into his ribs as retaliation for the pun.
Adrien heard the bell ring as he pushed open the door, a deeper and more sombre tone than he was accustomed to at the bakery. He looked around the shop, instruments of all kinds displayed along the walls and hanging from the ceiling. One side was dominated by guitars of every shape and size imaginable, from traditional timber acoustics to brightly coloured electric double-necks. More classical stringed instruments nestled in a back corner, from violins to lutes, even a harp. On the opposite side were brass and woodwinds, shifting into percussion, with a large drum kit on a raised section in the centre. A selection of keyboards and keytars hung towards the back, with an upright piano jammed next to the counter.
Adrien waved to Juleka, who was flicking through a magazine while leaning against the till. In pride of place behind her hung an autographed Jagged Stone Stratocaster and limited edition pick collection framed in the rock star's signature gold and purple.
Hefting his electric keyboard under one arm, Adrien grinned at his friend as he approached the counter. "Hey, Juleka. I saw the proofs from your shoot yesterday. You did really well."
"Thanks, Adrien," she offered him a shy smile from under her purple-streaked bangs. "It was a lot of fun, even with all the pasta references."
He laughed easily in response, "Vincent sure loves his spaghetti." The Italian photographer was unquestionably the best in the business, but he had a unique way of describing his artistic vision that new models often struggled to understand. He was glad Juleka had quickly picked up the nuances behind Vincent's signature expression.
Adrien had an ulterior motive for visiting the store, and his old keyboard provided as good an excuse as any. The conversation with Ladybug the other night opened his eyes to a possibility he hadn't considered. He knew she had been seeing the same guy on and off for several years. Adrien got the impression he travelled a lot and, from several unintentional hints dropped here and there, that she did most of the heavy lifting in their relationship. She was convinced he was a good person even if Adrien privately thought she could do better. And he seemed to make her happy, which was the only thing that really mattered. The same was true for Marinette's relationship with Luka.
Adrien suspected the musician was aware of his feelings for Marinette, even if the object of his affection was not. He was still so unused to the idea of Marinette's former crush that he hadn't connected it with Luka's recent nonchalance towards him. Luka was usually so calm and collected that Adrien thought his own awkwardness was entirely to blame. After hearing Ladybug's story, Adrien couldn't help wondering if something similar might be happening with his friends and that he had inadvertently contributed to Luka's recent akumatisation. Even though he might wish they would split up, he didn't want to be the cause of any pain or conflict between them either.
As Adrien lifted his keyboard onto the counter, he briefly wondered how someone as soft-spoken as Juleka fared in customer service. "I was hoping you guys could help me with this," he said, pressing soundlessly on one of the keys.
Juleka glanced over the keyboard with a practised eye, then called to her brother through a bead-curtained doorway. A few soft thunks could be heard, as of tools being placed carefully on a bench, before Luka appeared wearing safety glasses and a lacquer-stained apron.
"Hey, Luka," Adrien greeted him, ignoring how the other man tensed when they made eye contact. "There's something wrong with my keyboard. One of the keys is acting weird," he explained, tapping the offending component once more. This time the keyboard emitted a flat, distorted wheeze.
Luka's attention was immediately drawn to the instrument. "I haven't seen one of these in a long time," he muttered half to himself, distracted from his apparent discomfort with Adrien. Luka ran his fingers along the keyboard a few times, listening carefully to the notes as he did so, before flipping it over to unfasten the back plate with a small screwdriver retrieved from the pocket of his apron. He inspected the main circuit board, lifting some wires to ensure the connections were sound. After poking and prodding a few other components, Luka blew out the dust with a can of compressed air and cleaned the electrical contacts with cotton tips dipped in rubbing alcohol. Unfortunately, the key still only responded haphazardly after the device was reassembled.
Adrien sighed. "I've always liked this keyboard, but over the years, it has come to mean so much more to me than I expected. A lot of good memories."
"I'd like to help Adrien. I really would," Luka responded with a note of genuine sympathy. "Unfortunately, I can't do much more. I can provide basic maintenance on the mainstream 'boards, but the complexity of something like this is at another level. I don't think anybody supports this line anymore."
"I haven't been able to play it for a while because I was so busy. When I was finally free to devote the time it deserved, it just wasn't the same." Adrien let his shoulders slump. His past was littered with missed opportunities, thanks to his father.
"Rare instruments don't take well to being ignored," Luka admonished, leaning across the counter towards Adrien with a stern expression. "You have to look after them, or leave them to someone who will."
Adrien shifted his weight uneasily at the surprising rebuke. He had experienced much worse under Gabriel, but not from anyone he considered a friend. "I know, but it was out of my hands." He raised them in a conciliatory gesture. "I had hoped it would last while I was away, but I guess nothing stays the same."
"You'll need to find a way to change your tune. None of these," Luka gestured to the other keyboards on display, "are in the same league, but there's a keyboard specialist over on Rue d'Ivoire. She only deals in upper tier high maintenance models." He looked pointedly at Adrien. "You should talk to her. She might be just what you need."
Juleka snickered off to the side. "She'll eat him for breakfast if he's not careful."
The heat of embarrassment radiated through Adrien at their implication. "Thanks, you two. I'll keep it in mind," he chuckled dryly, hand rubbing the back of his neck while he groped for a change in topic. "How much?" he asked, finally landing on one.
"I couldn't do anything for you. No charge," Luka refused.
Adrien pulled a couple of notes from his wallet, leaned over the counter and tucked them into the register. "You still spent time on it. Don't undervalue yourself." He gathered up his keyboard, wishing the twins success with the store and reminding Juleka of their next photoshoot together.
Just before reaching the door, Adrien turned around. "Hey, Luka," he called. "All I have ever wanted is to see my friends happy. If you and Marinette do that for each other, then that is all I could hope for."
A moment of understanding passed between the two, and Luka's expression softened. "Thanks, Adrien. That means a lot."
Adrien nodded in acknowledgement and left the shop, satisfied his message had been understood even if delivering it split him in two.
Marinette sat at her kitchen bench, absently swirling the last of her coffee while reading through a pile of invitation samples and venue brochures that Luka had left for her. They all blurred together, very little to distinguish one from the other. Nothing spoke to her artistically, but she was determined to narrow down a short list of options. She had asked Luka to look after their wedding plans to appease his concerns. He jumped into the task with surprising enthusiasm, one of the rare instances he had taken charge of anything in their relationship. Marinette had little time or mental energy for anything besides the boutique and akuma attacks, so at least it was one less thing for her to stress over.
The first few days following their argument had been stilted and awkward, and then it was like a switch had flicked. Marinette didn't know what caused it, but Luka suddenly became more relaxed about her tardiness and understanding of her last-minute cancellations. She knew her random disappearances to battle Hawkmoth's villains had contributed to Luka's insecurities. In fairness, she was hanging out with another man, just not in the way Luka was worried about. Chat was her partner – her other half – in every sense that mattered, except romantically. Fate had decided that's all he would never be.
Marinette had faith that her future with Luka would be happy, that she wasn't settling. Luka was kind and generous and understanding, quietly supportive and steady. Loving him was easy and safe. He was easy to say yes to. Everything was easy with him because he didn't push, although sometimes it was too easy. He didn't push when she wanted him to, either, or when she needed him to. Talking with him, really talking about important things, was more difficult. He avoided conflict, retreating instead to music and metaphor, so she was left struggling to draw him out. Being forced to make most of the decisions in their relationship was tiring. Still, Luka organising the wedding was a step in the right direction for which she was grateful, even if it had been at her instigation.
After years of partnership with Chat, Marinette could feel all the places she and Luka didn't quite fit. She told herself those friction points would have been less noticeable if she had never been Ladybug, so she worked doubly hard to tolerate and accept them.
Draining the last vestiges of precious caffeine from her mug, Marinette returned to the scattered pamphlets before her. A bright yellow post-it on one of them caught her attention, Luka's messy scrawl telling her he knew the events coordinator at the place it advertised because they met while on tour. Without further thought, she tossed it on the 'yes' pile before moving on to the invitations.
Marinette knew that she loved Luka and that they could make a life together. She swore not to let herself get derailed by the panic spirals and second-guessing that usually plagued her thoughts. They would be happy together. She was sure of it.
Yeah, so I was wrong. This chapter was not part of my original outline but, after re-reading the draft of my next chapter, I realised I needed to fill in some gaps because the transition was too jarring.
It also didn't help that my computer chucked a hissy fit out of nowhere, slowing to a crawl.
If you know anything about electronic keyboards or music, then I apologise for my ignorance.
I'm also excited about the next chapter. I promise it's almost good to go. Just a bit of tweaking left (at least until I read it again).