Here it is! The prompts for the first ever Luxy Week!
Prompts:
May 24th: Eye Contact
May 25th: Heroics
May 26th: Style Swap
May 27th: Collaboration
May 28th: Kwami Swap (”Swap”)
May 29th: Serenade
May 30th: AU
Rules:
When posting, you can either tag @luxyweek or post on #luxyweek2k20
If you don’t see your work on this blog, just sent an ask. It’s completely possible that I just miss your work.
You can include other characters and ships, but just make sure that the focus is Luxy
This isn’t hate on other ships, but they get their own weeks/months as well and we don’t want to take appreciation from Luxy
No ship hating or salt allowed
This is supposed to be a fun event with a crack ship, so please keep hate an salt AWAY from whatever you decide to contribute
NSFW.....
You can create NSFW works, but just know if it’s not under a cut then it will not be reblogged. If you do include it please age up the characters, sothey are at least 18.
If you have any questions about anything, feel free to send an ask to this blog.
Special thanks to @chatnoirinette for letting me use her glitter Luka picture!
LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Eight
@luxyweek
Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Eight: Serenade
“I think that went pretty well,” Luka remarked, hoping that XY would agree, as they drove back from dinner with the Agreste-Dupain-Chengs.
It had been their second dinner with Luka’s family in the month since they’d been officially dating, and, in Luka’s opinion, it had gone fairly smoothly.
“Yeah, I think so,” XY responded laconically, eyes on the road.
“Hugo, for one, adores you,” Luka added, fishing for more feedback. “Adrien told me that he was asking when you could come over and play again, and he was so excited when Adrien told him you were coming for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, yeah?” XY chuckled, a wide grin spreading out on his lips. “Good. I’m glad he likes me. I like him too. He’s…he’s really great, Six-Strings.”
“I’m just glad you two get along…. You and Adrien seem to be warming up to one another too,” Luka observed, laughing as XY pulled a face. “Admit it. You’re growing on each other.”
XY shrugged. “He’s all right. He just…he really rubs it in, how close you two are.”
Luka’s amusement dissipated quickly into a frown. “Prune, did he say something to you?”
XY shook his head. “No. He’s been perfectly nice. It’s just…little things. The way he looks at you, the little touches, little brushes of shoulders, hands, the inside jokes…stuff like that. He doesn’t pass up an opportunity to remind me that he was there first.”
Luka pursed his lips and considered his response for a solid minute before giving it. “You know, I don’t think that Adrien’s behavior is really directed at you in any way. I think it’s more about his own insecurity.”
XY quirked an eyebrow even as his eyes remained locked in the forward position. “Him? Insecure? What’s he got to be insecure about?”
“…His whole life, Adrien’s father has been berating him and telling Adrien all the ways he isn’t good enough.”
XY’s shoulders tensed as a pang of sympathy shot through him.
Luka let the statement hang there for a bit until he was sure it had sunk in. “Before you, Adrien always wanted me to move in with them, be an official part of the family. He’s happy that I’m happy, but he’s not happy that you’re the one making me happy. I think he’s afraid of losing me, so try to be nice to him, please, and not take anything he does too hard.”
XY nodded slowly. “So…he feels like I’m a threat?”
“Probably,” Luka sighed, seeing that it would take a lot of time and hard work to keep up with the various moving pieces that were his love life. He was willing to put the effort in, though.
“I know it’s difficult,” Luka acknowledged, “but try not to focus too much on how much longer I’ve known Adrien. You and I are building our own memories together, and, before you know it, we’ll be ten years in the future exchanging little glances and sharing inside jokes and kidding around about things from the past.”
XY’s heart warmed just imagining it.
“Let’s just enjoy where we are in our relationship in the here and now and not worry so much about my relationships with Marinette or Adrien. I know that’s hard, but…” Luka reached out and rested a hand on XY’s thigh, squeezing lightly.
XY nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I…I don’t think it’s ever going to be easy sharing you with them, but…I’m happy with you, so…”
Luka leaned across the console and placed a butterfly kiss on XY’s cheek. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
XY scoffed. “You aren’t the problem. Putting up with Adrien is the hard part.”
“He’ll be easier once he gets to know you better,” Luka assured. “You’ve only met four or five times.”
Six times. Once at Luka’s apartment that fateful day, twice for dinner with the Agreste-Dupain-Chengs, three times for coffee chaperoned by Hugo and Luka.
“Yeah,” XY reluctantly agreed. “You’re probably right. He’s not awful besides being all touchy-clingy with you, so…maybe one day we’ll be friends. It was fun tonight talking with him about Chopin.”
Luka breathed a quiet sigh of relief, beginning to rub his thumb back and forth slowly on XY’s thigh. “Thank you for trying.”
XY shrugged, playing it off nonchalantly. “If it’s what I’ve got to do to make my man happy, I’ll make friends with the pretty boy…. At least his jokes are hilarious.”
Luka groaned. “Marinette and I were both kind of horrified tonight when you and Adrien started punning at one another. I think she’s going to punish me for introducing you two.”
The teasing expression quickly fell from XY’s face. “Marinette still doesn’t like me.”
“She will eventually. Just give her time, Xavier-Yves,” Luka soothed. “Adrien is forgiving to a fault, even things that other people would find unforgiveable, but Marinette takes a little more time. She doesn’t know you well, so she’s still wary. She’ll come around. She’s got a good heart, and she’s kind and understanding, so it’s only a matter of time before she realizes it’s ridiculous to hold you accountable for something your father did ten years ago. Give her time. She’ll realize that you’re not the person she thinks you are.”
XY pursed his lips, flipping on his turn signal. “Yeah. I hope so. It would make everything easier if we all could get along…especially with another baby on the way.”
Luka blew out a slow breath, giving XY’s thigh another squeeze before retracting his hand. “Yeah. Seeing you and Hugo getting along so well has done a lot to soften Adrien up towards you. I’m hoping Marinette will go the same way. If she just had a little bit more free time to get to know you…”
“We’ll get there,” XY promised, taking a turn at reassuring Luka.
There was a comfortable stretch of silence, and then XY got up the courage to ask, “…Do you think…that the baby is yours? Adrien seems to think so.”
Luka bit his lip. “Statistically? Probably.” He hesitated. “…Do you know what the word ‘asexual’ means?”
XY frowned, eyes flickering to Luka for a second before going back to the road. “Someone who doesn’t have sex?”
Luka rolled his lip back and forth between his teeth, trying to think of the best way to explain. “It’s more…asexual people don’t experience sexual desire. It’s kind of like how I told you I’m demi, so I don’t experience sexual desire for someone until I have an emotional connection with them, until I feel like I’m in love. Asexual people fall in love but never experience that sexual desire. Some can and do have sex out of love for their partners, to make their partners happy, but asexual people don’t have that need for sex like other people do.”
“Okay,” XY replied, nodding slowly. “Okay. I think I get it, but…why exactly are we talking about this?”
“Adrien is asexual,” Luka sighed. “He and Marinette have figured out ways of compromising and making things work for them over the years, and they do do a variety of physically intimate things, but it’s rare that they do it in a way that would get Marinette pregnant. If Marinette’s pregnant, statistically, the baby is mine.”
XY’s eyes went wide. “Oh. All right…. Okay…. And…how do you feel about the baby being yours?”
A wide grin stretched Luka’s lips from one side of his face to the other. He put a hand over his mouth as he laughed, giddy at the thought. “Ecstatic? I love Hugo so much, and the prospect of another child is…I just wish I could be more a part of their everyday lives. I wish I could be a better father. Growing up, I didn’t…” Luka choked at the memories of the man he had called “Father” abandoning them when Luka was ten. “…I just want to do better for my own kids. I know they have Adrien, but—”
“—Luka,” XY cut him off, removing one hand from the steering wheel to take hold of Luka’s. “You’re a good dad. Trust me. Hugo’s a happy kid, and he loves you to pieces. I know it’s not ideal, but you’re making it work. You’re doing a good job.”
Luka swallowed hard as tears started to stream down his cheeks. “…Y-Yeah?”
“Yeah,” XY stressed, giving Luka’s hand another squeeze before letting go to return it to the wheel. “Yeah, you are, and we’re going to figure out some way for you to do even better with this next kid. We’ve got five months to come up with a plan of how we can make you feel like a better father this next time. We’ll figure this out.”
Luka rubbed at his face with both hands, scrubbing away the tears. He nodded, taking heart in XY’s conviction. “Thank you. I can’t even tell you how much your support means to me, Xavier-Yves.”
“It’s okay, Six-Strings,” XY assured, a proud smile making his lips curl up at the edges. It felt good to be able to do something for someone he cared about. “I’ve got you.”
The car became quiet as XY signaled that he was about to parallel park in the tiny space between two other cars on the side of the street out front of Luka’s flat.
Luka bit his lip as XY started to back the car into the space. “Xavier-Yves?”
“Hm?” XY hummed as he craned his neck to watch what he was doing out the back side window.
“How do you feel about the baby coming?” Luka had to wonder. He knew that XY genuinely liked Luka, and he knew that XY got along well with Hugo, but he wasn’t sure how XY felt about his boyfriend having a baby on the way with other people.
“Excited,” XY chuckled, a big, goofy grin coming to his lips. “I love kids, and watching you with Hugo is always super hot. I’m down for more of that. I’m happy for the things that make you happy,” he added in such an honest, unrehearsed tone.
Luka’s heart melted a little at the realization that his boyfriend really was amazing. He’d found one of the good ones.
The original plan had been to head back to Luka’s flat for a movie and a night of snuggling after dinner with the Agreste-Dupain-Chengs, but they decided to skip the movie and head straight to bed.
As they wrestled around on top of the sheets, the kiss got hotter and more frantic. Clothing articles started to hit the floor, and XY pulled back, needing to do a status check before Luka’s urgency gave XY the wrong idea about where this was headed.
“Hey, Luka?” he gasped.
“Ngh,” Luka grumbled, lifting his head to try to reconnect his lips with XY’s.
“Do you…love me?” XY tentatively whispered.
Luka froze, some clarity coming back into his eyes.
“I mean, it’s okay if your feelings aren’t there yet,” XY assured, genuinely meaning it. “It’s just that, if they’re not, we should probably slow things down before I get too worked up.”
Luka looked away, a funny feeling roiling around in his gut. He swallowed. “It’s…It’s not just what I feel.”
Because if it were solely based on Luka’s feelings for XY, Luka had been ready to make love to his boyfriend for going on two weeks now. The problem was that Luka wasn’t sure of XY’s feelings for him. Yes, Luka knew that XY was completely in earnest, but…he couldn’t help but worry that this was going to get old for XY eventually. XY could do a lot better than Luka with all of his baggage. XY was a treasure who could make someone an amazing partner, and one day XY was going to shake off the self-doubt inflicted upon him by his father and figure that out. Once that happened, he’d leave Luka, and then what would Luka do?
It was better to hold back, keep XY at arm’s length, keep himself from falling too far so that—
“—Six-Strings,” XY called, gently taking Luka’s face by the chin and turning his head so that he’d be forced to meet XY’s gaze. “Get out of your own head and talk to me. If it’s not just about what you’re feeling, then what is it about? I know I don’t always get things right away, but try me. Explain it. You’re good at explaining things so that I get them, and I want to get this, okay?”
Luka bit his lip, studying XY’s face for a moment before slowly beginning to nod. “It’s not just a matter of whether I’m in love. Once I get to that level with someone, my body starts responding, and I start to want to go further physically, but…”
XY was frowning down at him, furrowing his brow so hard, hanging on Luka’s every word in an attempt to understand. “But what? You’re saying that…you have started to think about me like that, but there’s another problem?”
Luka averted his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”
XY tried to contain the trill of excitement and joy that rushed through his body at that one-word admission.
Luka loved him. Loved him. But he couldn’t get carried away just yet. There was still a problem to solve.
“So what’s wrong? What else needs to happen?” he pressed, eager to resolve the issue.
Luka chewed nervously on the inside of his lip. “I…only sleep with people who are in love with me.”
XY arched an eyebrow. “You think I don’t love you?”
“No. Yes?” He looked back at XY, searching his lagoon-like eyes in the dark. “I don’t know. I’m…I’m not saying that what you feel for me isn’t real or good enough. I know that you do truly care about me. I know that things between us are serious, we’re both serious, but…I’m…”
“You’re?” XY prompted, reaching down to stroke Luka’s face from his hairline to his jaw.
Luka swallowed. “I’m scared you’re going to move on. It’s been four months, more or less, since things between us started, and I’m afraid that you’re going to get fed up with me and all the crap I put you through and find someone who doesn’t have a pair of lovers and two kids in tow, someone who can love just you. I don’t want to get attached just to lose you.”
XY pushed himself up, extended an arm, and stretched to reach his phone on the nightstand. “Come on,” he coaxed, scooting up to the head of the bed to prop himself up on the pillows. He patted the bed beside him.
Luka frowned but crawled up to the top of the bed to snuggle up to XY’s side. “What are we doing?”
“I’m proving that I love you and I’m not likely to stop loving you any time soon so there’s nothing to be afraid of,” XY reported matter-of-factly, so certain, so sure of himself.
Luka rested his head on XY’s shoulder and peered curiously as XY thumbed through his phone to find a song.
XY’s finger hovered over a track called Blue.
He pursed his lips, hesitating. “I kind of wrote a song about you. It’s sort of amateurish, and Dad said it wouldn’t sell, but…I was inspired by your laugh,” he explained, nuzzling Luka’s hair. “I was having a bummer day, feeling like my life got all flipped on its side, so I went to the Place des Vosges, and I was sitting listening to the birds and the other people and feeling the sun on my skin and thinking about you and your laugh and your eyes and how you made me feel and…” He took a deep breath and pressed on the song. “This is what I came up with.”
Luka closed his eyes and listened hard, letting the notes wash over him.
It wasn’t a good song, honestly. It was really repetitive and not like XY’s music that Luka had listened to recently. The melody never really evolved into something transcendent but, rather, kept going with minor changes here and there. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the music XY had been making when he and Luka had first met, though.
It was a little confused and not skillful, but there was something in the song, a glimmer of promise, a spark of inspiration. Luka could feel a little piece of XY in the music, and it made him smile. There was real feeling in the music, real emotion.
Luka could hear the laughter, feel the warmth XY felt for his subject. It was by no means well done, but Luka could see the imagery XY had been trying to evoke. The sun was setting in a lovely smear of warm shades, and the birds were twittering to one another as they flew overhead. The wind blew, carrying the echoes of a jazzy saxophone in from the distance.
Children played not far away, reminiscent of Mussorgsky’s Tuileries (Children Quarreling at Play) from Pictures at an Exhibition without seeming to be aware of the existence of the piece. There were no quotations from Mussorgsky’s work, but XY’s song felt similar in some respects, capturing the essence of the children, their laughter and squawks intermingling with the main theme of Luka’s laughter.
And XY had gotten Luka’s soft, self-conscious laugh just right.
It wasn’t a good song, but it was an earnest song. The feelings in the music got across to Luka, and that was the important part.
“That was really sweet,” Luka hummed as the song came to an end. He turned his head to give his boyfriend’s neck a smooch. “You wrote this for me? What’s it called?”
XY chuckled, giving Luka a squeeze. “It’s called Blue. It wasn’t so much for you as about you, inspired by you. You were the one who made me believe I could write it.”
“It was interesting,” Luka remarked, keeping his criticisms to himself. It was obviously an experiment, and that was okay. Luka experimented too, and it wasn’t like the song was bad. Luka knew his boyfriend was a talented musician who could do better, but there was no reason to say so when XY had literally immortalized Luka’s laugh in music. It was a romantic gesture, and Luka appreciated it.
“It sounds kind of like your old style,” he added thoughtfully. “Thinking of experimenting with retro techniques?”
XY shook his head. “Luka,” he answered tenderly, “I wrote this song ten years ago.”
“You…what?” Luka pushed himself up to sitting so that he could look at XY’s face.
XY shrugged and smiled simply. “I wrote this the day I met you. I was super bummed about how things went down and my dad calling me an idiot on live TV and getting tied up and having to deal with my dad’s bad mood over the whole thing, so I went to the park to get some space and think, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
Luka blushed. “Did I really make that much of an impression? I mean, I kind of blew up at you. I wouldn’t expect you to have a very good opinion of me after that.”
XY slipped his hand into Luka’s and gave it a squeeze. “It was what you said afterward in the hall outside the dressing rooms when you found out I’d ripped off your song because I had writer’s block.”
Luka frowned, finally willing to admit, “I don’t remember. That day is kind of a blur. I was wiped after the akumatization, so I sort of remember bumping into you in the hall, but I don’t recall what I said. Sorry.”
XY looked a little disappointed but shrugged and kept smiling. “It’s okay, Six-Strings. No worries. You told me how you got inspiration from everything around you just by keeping your ears open. You taught me about putting myself into the music and told me that I could make authentic music too if I put the work in.”
“I did?” Luka responded softly, straining his memory to call up the hazy scene.
XY nodded, his goofy grin making a reappearance. “I think that was the first time someone told me I could make music just for fun and that was okay. I don’t get a lot of encouragement, so you telling me you thought I could make good music like you did…that meant a lot.”
“And then you made that song?” Luka demanded, heart starting to beat a syncopated rhythm as he began to put the pieces together. “That same day?”
XY rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I got the idea and started working on it that day. It took me, like, a week to get it how I wanted it. It was hard. I didn’t spend that much time on my music before that. I didn’t care so much before that.”
“Xavier-Yves,” Luka breathed in a hushed, awed tone. “That’s amazing. The fact that that was your first attempt and you did so well…” He shook his head, a wide grin spreading over his face. “I am so proud of eighteen-year-old Xavier-Yves.”
XY’s face heated up, and he looked away, unable to keep his own blazing smile under wraps. “Yeah?”
“Definitely. You did such an awesome job. It’s killer, Prune.”
XY laughed at Luka using the expression “killer”. “It’s not that good. It’s not like what I can do now.”
“No, but that’s not the point.” Luka waved away XY’s protests. “The point is, on your first try, you hit it out of the park. I wish I could have heard it back then and encouraged you more. I’m sure your dad didn’t.”
XY winced. “No. No, he didn’t, but…it’s okay. I just remembered you telling me as you turned to go that you hoped I found the song inside of me, and…that was enough. My dad was only interested in what would sell, but you told me to find what I liked, so…I just kept trying to make stuff that I was happy with, hoping that I could show it to you one day and maybe that you’d like it.”
“Oh, Prune,” Luka cooed, leaning in for a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so glad you put the hard work in and found your music.”
“Thanks,” XY chuckled, stroking Luka’s cheek. “It means a lot to me, it really does, Six-Strings, but making you proud isn’t why I showed you that song.”
“Oh,” Luka whispered.
“I was proving that I loved you and that I was going to keep loving you for a long time,” XY reminded.
Luka’s whole face started to burn. “Ten years. You’ve had feelings for me this whole time?”
XY nodded, tussling Luka’s hair. “I thought you were hot when you and Marinette came to confront Dad and me, so when you encouraged me with my music and really seemed to believe in me, I just toppled over the cliff for you. I’ve been following your career ever since. I came to Kitty Section concerts back when you guys played in parks and took donations instead of charging admission. I watched all your interviews and bought all your fan merch. I had a monster fanboy crush on you for years.”
“And your crush wasn’t destroyed when you met me in person again?” Luka laughed, unable to believe what he was hearing.
XY shook his head fondly. “You really have zero self-esteem, My Love.”
Luka’s insides turned to hot goo at the epithet, and he let out a little squeak of, “No?”
“In person, you only made me love you more,” XY assured.
“Even after the whole mishap with finding out about Marinette and Adrien last month?” Luka couldn’t quite get himself to believe it.
XY gave Luka’s nose a playful bop. “I love you more and more every day, you goof. Here. Listen to the song I wrote for you last week. See if it clears anything up. It’s called Epiphany in Blue.”
Luka snuggled back up against XY’s side as the song started to play. He closed his eyes and let the stark, vulnerable notes swirl around him.
The music was a lot more raw and exposed than other songs he had heard by XY. The sound was different too. It was all still digital, but instead of the usual synthetic beats, the melody was carried by an electric violin singing an aching song of longing and want that reminded Luka a little bit of the mournful theme in the Second Movement of Dvořák’s Symphony No. 9 “From the New World”.
The song got a little bit more hopeful as more digitized instruments joined in, playing a motif Luka recognized as his laugh from the previous song, Blue.
An easy bossa nova beat started up, eventually transforming into a triumphant, exuberant, soaring melody that burst like a firework into being with horns, strings, and woodwinds all blazing.
The song slowly wound down into a content bossa nova once more, ending on a soft, affectionate reiteration of the laugh motif.
Luka took his time opening his eyes, feeling totally overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within him.
XY gently wiped Luka’s tears from his cheeks and pressed an undemanding kiss to the side of Luka’s head. “You always say that you talk better with your instrument, but…I don’t know if I was able to really get across my feelings in the song. What did you think?”
Luka sat up and pulled XY in, smashing their lips together in a heated answer, letting his frantic movements speak for him.
A few minutes later when Luka did break away, he gasped, “I love you…. I love you…so, so much…. And I want to keep loving you for as long as you’ll have me.” He swallowed as he looked deep into XY’s eager eyes. “And you feel the same, don’t you?”
He didn’t need to ask. He already knew.
XY nodded, a deliriously happy smile stuck to his lips. “I’d like to keep loving you forever, if that’s okay?”
“Forever is wonderful,” Luka confirmed, pulling XY back into the kiss.
The
End
Epilogue
XY and Adrien gradually get to know one another and become friends. They enjoy each other’s sense of humor and love pranking one another. Eventually, they decide that the best way for Luka to feel like a better father is for Luka to be more present in the kids’ lives. Adrien wins Marinette over regarding having Luka move in with them. They buy a bigger house, and Marinette, Adrien, Luka, and XY all move in together just in time for Emma to be born. They each have their own rooms so that they have private space for work and hobbies. Adrien and Marinette have a bedroom, and Luka and XY have a bedroom. Adrien and Luka float between beds.
Adrien doesn’t become romantically involved with XY, but they do become snuggle buddies, since they both suffer from an affection deficit from their childhoods, and the two occasionally work together to gang up on and take care of Luka. Sometimes Adrien and XY tell people that they’re brothers because that’s how they grow to think of one another.
Marinette and XY eventually become friends, but nothing romantic happens between them. Tom and Sabine unofficially adopt XY, so XY finally gets to have the parents he deserves.
XY adores children, and he does a great job with Emma once she’s born and Louis too a couple years later. Hugo and XY become fast friends. The kids call him Uncle Xavier-Yves, but they introduce him to people as their third dad, and that makes XY melt on the inside. They all live happily ever after.
I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Eye Contact
HAPPY LUXY WEEK!!!!!!
Here is the start of my multichaptered luxy fic that I hope you all will enjoy! Special thanks to @macaronsforchat for betaing every chapter in this fic and the Adrien Protection Squad for helping me figure out XY’s character. I appreciate all the help.
Summary: All XY wanted was a little revenge. That’s all. Why couldn’t things just go as planned?
Read on AO3
“Look I would love to go and record music, but I’m getting my hair voluministically shiny today,” XY said to his agent over the phone.
He couldn’t really remember why he even had an agent. His dad always took care of everything for him, from his popularity right down to his music. It didn’t make sense for XY to waste his agent’s time on something his dad already did.
On the other end of the phone, his agent spluttered, not really forming a coherent word. At least not one XY could understand. Instead of letting him talk, XY interrupted, “You know what. I don’t really think I need you around anymore, so you’re…”
XY trailed off as a biker sped past him on the road. He wasn’t really sure what drew him to the biker. Perhaps it was how fast he was going, or maybe it was the lightning blue pieces of his hair. But XY knew it was those eyes, the ones that were a startling cerulean blue. They captivated him and reminded him of his favorite hair gel. The one that allowed him to shape his hair in a cone.
He was snapped out of the moment when the biker sped right through a puddle. The puddle itself was pretty large, so it caused a large splash when the biker went through it. The splash ended up soaking XY completely, making his hair flop flat onto his face. The biker continued on as if he hadn’t just ruined XY’s hair and clothes.
“THAT WAS NOT CASH MONEY DUDE!!!” XY shouted at the biker.
The biker ignored him, probably too scared to own up to his actions, but XY caught the name of the delivery company on the back. ‘Speed Bunnies.’ It sounded kind of sketch to XY, but it probably explained why the biker didn’t see him. But if the biker’s manager heard about what his employee did, then he would probably get fired.
No, that wouldn’t work. If the manager was anything like the biker, his complaint would be ignored.
If XY wanted revenge, he would have to do something himself. A good punishment would be to do the exact same thing to him.
“Hello?? Xavier??” The muffled sounds from his phone reminded him of the conversation he was having.
“I gotta go, Paul,” XY said, bringing the phone to his ear.
“But my name is Ste-”
---
"Hello, this is Jarl, spelled with a ‘j’ pronounced as a ‘y’. Welcome to Speed Bunnies, may I take your order?" the man on the other line wheezed out. He sounded so bored and done with his job that XY couldn’t help but feel this was a cover for some shady business.
"Yes, hi, is this where you guys sell meth?” He didn’t feel like beating around the bush. If he busted a whole meth operation, he would become even more famous. He could already imagine it: XY the talented singer and detective extraordinaire.
"Sir, this is a fried chicken store.” The man sighed. “I know our logo is questionable, but we do not sell meth.”
“Oh, well, in that case, can you send your blue-haired delivery boy, the cute one, to Le Grand Paris. I don’t care what he brings, just make sure it’s yummy. The order name is under Yves. Thanks,” XY instructed, hanging up on the guy, Yawn. It didn’t really matter. His plan was in motion. Now he just had to make sure that he had a bucket of water for the delivery guy. He’ll know what it’s like to have his clothes and hair ruined.
----
Maybe he shouldn’t have hung up on Jean. It had been about 45 minutes since XY had placed his order, and no one from the shop had appeared.
Figuring they probably just ignored his order, XY stood from his spot behind a pillar. He bent down to pick up the bucket of water he had just for the blue-haired biker. He would just have to find someone else to dump the water on. It couldn’t go to waste.
Just as XY was about to make his way to the elevator, the same guy from before walked in with a large brown paper bag. He still had his helmet on which covered the top of his head, which made it hard for XY to get a good idea of what he looked like.
If the guy wasn’t good-looking enough, it would be pointless to dump the water on him, since he wouldn’t care about his appearance either way. After all, everything was dependent on him understanding what XY went through.
XY quickly ducked back behind the pillar to avoid being spotted. The guy must’ve seen XY’s movement because he looked in the direction of the pillar. XY was able to catch his stunning blue eyes again. The sheer beauty of the eyes froze him in place, causing a flurry of emotions to run through him.
The guy didn’t spot XY behind the pillar, so he continued on to the front desk. When he reached the receptionist, he dropped the paper bag on the counter and took off his helmet.
It was like slow motion when he took off his helmet. The guy shook out his hair so dramatically; it was as if he was begging XY to run his fingers through it.
“What are you doing?” a nasally voice asked from behind XY.
Scrambling to turn around, XY almost spilled his bucket of water. He promptly became confused as he came face to face with a blonde Ladybug and red-headed Chat Noir with glasses.
“Ladybug!? Chat Noir!? What are you doing here?” XY hoped that she hadn’t noticed him staring at the delivery boy. That would totally hurt his image.
The girl flushed, almost embarrassed about something, but XY couldn’t fathom what Paris’ superhero would be embarrassed about. “I, uh, I am making sure there aren’t any akumas out and about. You looked awfully suspicious staring at that delivery boy, so I had to make sure.” She paused, thinking for a minute. “Don’t tell anyone I was here. Hawkmoth might catch on.”
XY nodded his head furiously in agreement. Satisfied, ‘Ladybug’ smiled and turned towards the elevator.
“Uh, Ladybug, do you happen to know who that guy was?” He just wanted to get his revenge. This attempt didn’t work, but he was sure the next one would. Besides, it’s not like there’s something more to his want for revenge.
“I don’t associate myself with pathetic delivery boys,” she responded. Flipping her hair, ‘Ladybug’ continued her walk to the elevator. ‘Chat Noir’ on the other hand hesitated following after his partner.
“That’s, uh, that’s Luka Couffaine. I think he’s an aspiring musician,” ‘Chat’ informed him. XY was a bit surprised at his feminine sounding voice but didn’t think too much of it, and he ran off after his partner.
He had what he needed. The name of his tormentor, Luka Couffaine.
----
After picking up his order from the front desk, XY headed upstairs to look up Luka. He was determined to learn everything about him, so he could find the perfect way to get him back.
Three pages on Google later, XY learned that Luka was a guitarist in a band called Kitty Section. He found that he was about XY’s age. Based on the photos, he could tell that Luka was a ladies’ man. He was just that handsome.
Pulling up the group’s website, XY scrolled through to see if there was any way he could meet this dude and learn more. A pop up for a concert in the park appeared on the page. He was about to close it but noticed that the ad was for Kitty Section, and the concert would be tomorrow. The perfect way to meet Luka to gather more information.
Luka Couffaine had no idea what he was getting into when he splashed XY.
Fic summary: Luka Couffaine is known for his saint-like composure, but five seconds with Xavier-Yves Roth is enough to make him completely lose his cool. And yet, after the two meet again at Le Grand Paris, they somehow find themselves spending more time together—which either means that something is going on between them, or Luka Couffaine has officially gone crazy. (According to his friends, it’s a bit of both.)
Rating: T
Word count: 4545
___________________________________
“Thanks for staying to help,” Marinette murmurs to Luka, as she picks up a macaron with a pair of tongs and sets it on a businessman's plate. “I know you only came to the hotel to make a delivery.”
“It’s fine,” Luka says. Pouring another glass of punch, he smiles awkwardly at the businessman, then sets the glass alongside a dozen others. “You needed help, so I’m happy to be here.”
Normally, Luka would stay as far away from a catering event as possible. These sorts of things are always crowded and cramped, loud with chattering, and he tends to prefer quieter, emptier spaces. But the moment he’d walked into the hotel and seen Marinette off to the side wearing a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d resolved to stay and make her job easier.
So far, nothing too bad has happened. From what Marinette has told him, it’s some sort of business conference, which would explain why everyone is wearing suits and ties. Luka feels woefully underdressed in his hoodie and sneakers, but Marinette has assured him that no one will notice what he’s wearing underneath the apron.
The calm shatters when a familiar magenta-haired woman rushes up to the table, slipping between two people in line.
“Oh, Marinette,” Penny says. “Thank goodness. I thought I saw you down here earlier.”
“Penny!” Marinette says, eyes wide. “Um, what is it? Does Jagged need something?”
“There was a meeting earlier with some music folks. Somehow, Jagged and XY ended up in the same room, and…” Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, Bob Roth is in another meeting, and neither one of them are listening to me. I assume since you’ve dealt with both of them before…?”
Marinette offers Penny a strained smile. “Say no more! I’ll see what I can do.” She glances at Luka. “Do you want to come? I know you’re a fan of Jagged, but…”
But you got akumatized the last time you spoke to Xavier-Yves Roth and his father. That’s probably what Marinette is too nice to say out loud.
Luka clenches his jaw. “I’ll come with you. Maybe the sight of my face will remind XY to watch himself.” Belatedly, he remembers that Penny is still standing there. He clears his throat. “I’m not going to cause any trouble, I promise.”
Penny just smiles. “I’m sure you two can handle them. Oh, and here—give me that apron, Marinette. I’ll take over while you deal with the problem upstairs.”
Marinette slips off the apron and passes it over to Penny. “What floor?”
“Fourth,” Penny says. “Room 412.”
“Got it.”
Marinette takes off at a sprint toward the elevators, leaving Luka to throw his apron on the table and follow her. They stick to the perimeter of the room, avoiding the crowds of people milling around the center.
“You don’t have to help, you know,” Marinette says, as they wait for the elevator. “I know you and XY aren’t on great terms.”
Luka folds his arms across his chest. He’s used to people thinking that he’s calm and collected, so he doesn’t appreciate the implication that he can’t handle a confrontation with someone who has two letters for a name.
Well, technically it’s just a stage name, but still. How does no one else see how stupid it is?
“I’m fine,” Luka assures her. “I know I didn’t handle things well last time. But I’ve learned from that mistake—I won’t let the Roths get under my skin.”
The elevator dings, and he and Marinette step inside.
Silence falls between them. Now, of all times, Luka is reminded of the fact that Marinette never really responded to his confession. He hasn’t exactly retracted it, and she hasn’t explicitly rejected it, so where do they stand, exactly?
While he’s sure that he still has a crush on her, anyone with half a brain can see that she and Adrien are a perfect match. (Of course, anyone with half a brain could also see that the two of them are probably Ladybug and Chat Noir, so maybe the people of Paris just aren’t that smart.) Luka has a feeling that any romance he starts with Marinette will ultimately lead to her realizing that Adrien is the one for her, and he’s not too interested in being a relationship catalyst.
But Luka is also someone who says what he means, so he’s not going to take back a confession that’s still technically true. Unfortunately, that has resulted in the current awkward silence, where Luka can feel the anxiety rolling off Marinette in waves. No doubt she’s worried that he’ll try to make a move.
Should he say something? No, because what if she’s not thinking that? Then he’ll just seem weird and anxious.
Luka sighs to himself. He wishes that people were easier to understand. Do they really think that his musical talent makes up for the fact that other human beings are a mystery to him? It’s a good cover, he supposes: being able to play a few bars based on a person’s aura, in a smooth way that makes them think he understands them. Why, yes, fellow human, I completely understand you! Listen to this G-major chord! I heard it in your heart.
It’s not a lie, though—Luka does understand emotions. He just doesn’t understand the thoughts that come with them.
Fortunately, Luka’s musings fill up the time it takes to get to Room 412, sparing him from any awkward exchanges with Marinette.
“Yeah, Fang!” an accented voice—unmistakably Jagged Stone’s—yells. “You want this cell phone? Been a while since you had some crunchy technology, huh?”
“Give it back!” another voice whines. Luka rolls his eyes. There’s no question that’s Xavier-Yves Roth.
Marinette glances at Luka, then knocks on the door.
“Why should I give it back?” Jagged snaps. “You were going to post a picture of me with the caption Ragged Stone. I’m not a has-been! I’m rock-‘n-roll!”
Luka sighs. “Is he always like this?”
“Pretty much,” Marinette says. Her foot taps rapidly against the carpeted floor, and she knocks again. “Uh, Jagged! It’s Marinette Dupain—”
The door flies open, and Luka’s sort-of-idol Jagged Stone is standing on the other side, signature guitar slung over his shoulder. “Marinette!” he says, his accent butchering the r in her name. He grabs her shoulder and shoots her a finger gun. “Great! I’m so glad you’re here. Deux-letters here is trying to harass me with his Instagram or whatever. Do me a favor and keep an eye on him? I’m all fired up now, so I need to get a drink or something.”
“Um.” Marinette leans around Jagged and peers inside. “You didn’t actually feed XY’s cell phone to Fang, did you?”
“Nah. I’ve got it right here. I only destroy my property, you know? I’m not a vandal.” Jagged pulls the phone from his pocket and drops it into Marinette’s hand. Then his eyes fall on Luka. “Oh, hey! You’re Marinette’s guitar friend. Luka, right? Sorry for arguing with your mom that one time. You’ve got talent. We should work together sometime! Any friend of Marinette’s is a friend of mine.”
He pats Luka on the shoulder, then squeezes between him and Marinette. Grabbing his guitar, he starts playing it as he walks toward the elevator, filling the hallway with the sound of rock ‘n roll.
Luka stares after him, slightly dazed. “Did he just say he wanted to work with me sometime?”
“He did!” Marinette says. “And he’ll keep his promise, too. Jagged is a good guy.” She purses her lips and puffs out a breath. “But we’ve got a bigger problem.”
“Right,” Luka says, sighing. “Babysitting XY?”
“And Fang,” Marinette says. “Jagged left him here, and I doubt he and XY get along.”
Grimacing, Luka looks through the doorway at Jagged’s pet crocodile. Fang is lounging on a sofa, yellow eyes fixed on XY, who’s draped across an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. XY looks every bit as infuriating as Luka remembers; his lazy pose makes Luka’s fists clench involuntarily.
“Stupid crocodile,” XY says, pouting. He grabs a pillow from behind his back and chucks it at Fang.
Fang growls and catches the pillow in his mouth, his large teeth instantly ripping it to shreds. Soon, all that’s left is a few shreds of fabric and stuffing that have fluttered to the ground.
Luka glares at XY. “Why would you throw something at a crocodile?”
XY shrugs. “It’s just a dumb lizard. Hey, are you room service? I want something to eat.”
Luka deeply inhales through his nose, calling on years of meditation to keep himself calm. “No, I…” He trails off as Fang crawls off the couch and starts plodding toward XY. “Uh.”
Marinette presses XY’s phone into Luka’s hand and rushes forward. “Fang!” she says, in the high-pitched way a person might talk to a puppy. “Hey, there! Who’s a good crocodile?”
Bizarrely, Fang stops and almost seems to smile at her. The song “Never Smile at a Crocodile” plays in Luka’s head, and even though he trusts Marinette to handle things, he can’t help but be slightly concerned.
Marinette pats her thighs and beckons Fang toward her, then starts backing toward a door off to the side. “Fang, do you want a bath? Some nice water? I bet that would feel nice. Why don’t we get you in the bath while we wait for Jagged?”
Apparently bath and Jagged are two of the words Fang knows, because he changes course and walks after Marinette to the bathroom.
“That was unbelievably stupid,” Luka tells XY.
“What do you mean?” XY says, waving a hand as he stares at the carpet. He doesn’t even have the decency to make eye contact with Luka when they’re talking. “Your girlfriend’s got it handled. I figured she would.”
“She’s not my—never mind. I’m not talking to you. It will just make me angry.”
Luka folds his arms across his chest and scans the room, waiting for Marinette to finish drawing Fang’s bath. He can hear the sound of running water echoing from the bathroom, though the noise isn’t as soothing as it could be when he knows it’s for a crocodile bath.
“How am I making you angry?” XY asks. “I’m just sitting here.”
It’s the WAY you’re sitting, Luka almost says, before he realizes how dumb that sounds. Instead, he just shrugs and stares at what little he can see of the bathroom through the open door. All he can make out is Marinette’s shoe and a giant crocodile tail, but it’s better than looking at XY’s face.
“Hey, can I have my phone?” XY asks.
“Why are you asking me?” Luka snaps.
“Because you’re holding it?”
Luka glances down at his hand, where sure enough, he is holding the phone Marinette gave him. The case is covered in some sort of obnoxious bling that makes Luka’s eyes burn. “Oh. Sorry.” Luka crosses over to XY’s chair and holds out the phone. “Here.”
XY grabs it from his hand without looking at him. “Thanks.”
Immediately, XY’s phone starts beeping, and a second later, an alarm tone goes off on Luka’s own cell phone. He digs it out of his pocket and sighs.
“What was that?” Marinette asks, running out of the bathroom with water dripping from her hands.
“Akuma alert,” Luka says flatly.
If his suspicions are correct, he knows exactly how this is about to go.
Marinette squeaks. “I, um—have to—macarons! Penny has no idea how to hold the macarons, and I…need to…go teach her.” She sprints across the room and pauses in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m really sorry, Luka. I hate to leave you two—”
“Go ahead,” Luka says, trying not to sound too resigned. “I know the…uh, macarons are important.”
With a nod, Marinette runs into the hallway and pulls the door shut behind her.
Luka wanders across the room to glance out the ornate hotel window. From this spot on the fourth floor, he can see part of the Place des Vosgues, along with some familiar houses and stores.
As he looks outside, though, he can feel eyes on him. It’s hard to describe—similar to when he senses a person’s mood—but someone is definitely staring at him.
Praying that it is not a hungry crocodile, he slowly turns around.
XY’s blue eyes are fixed on him, staring out from beneath his ridiculous blond hair. His brow is creased ever so slightly, almost with an expression of trepidation. But, well, why would XY be afraid of Luka? Luka’s the one whose career could be ended in an instant by XY’s capricious father. Luka doesn’t have the power to do anything to XY.
Luka stares back, hoping that XY gets the message. Don’t mess with me or my friends.
XY nods slowly and goes back to fiddling with his phone.
Luka’s fingers itch for his guitar, but of course, he didn’t bring it with him, since he thought this would be a quick delivery stop. Mirroring XY, he pulls out his own phone and pulls up his contacts. Surely there’s someone he can text to pass the time…
Adrien Agreste’s name stares back at him from the top of the list. Luka considers it—Adrien is pretty fun to talk to, and would definitely sympathize with Luka’s current plight—but then he realizes that if Adrien is Chat Noir, he’s probably busy fighting the akuma right now.
XY clears his throat. “Uh, you play bass?”
Luka scrolls further through his contacts, because surely XY isn’t talking to him. But when he glances up, XY’s eyes are fixed on him again.
“Me?” Luka says. “I play guitar.”
“Right,” XY says. “That’s the one with six strings.”
Luka barely resists rolling his eyes. “Yeah.”
XY doesn’t respond, so Luka goes back to his phone. He pulls up the Ladyblog and skims it for updates: apparently the akuma is some sort of food-themed monster stomping throughout the city, and Ladybug has yet to summon her Lucky Charm. Based on past data, Alya has projected the battle to last twenty minutes, and advises civilians to stay inside to avoid being trampled.
Really, though, wouldn’t it be better outside? XY isn’t outside. Luka will gladly risk getting crushed by an angry hamburger man if it means escaping this awkwardness.
“And you, uh,” XY says. “You’re in that cat band?”
Luka sighs, keeping his eyes on his phone. “Kitty Section, yeah.”
He braces himself for some taunt about the name—which Luka will fiercely defend, because cats are excellent, thank you very much—but instead XY just says, “Oh, that rings a bell.”
“It should,” Luka says, gritting his teeth, “since we’re the band you and your father stole from.”
“Stole is kind of harsh,” XY says. “I prefer inspired by.”
Luka glares at him. “Is that a joke?”
XY shrugs.
“Have you ever had an original musical thought?” Luka asks, before he can stop himself.
To his frustration, XY gives another shrug. “Eh. Everything’s unoriginal, you know?”
Technically, that’s true, and Luka would agree if the phrase was coming from an actual artist. But it’s coming from XY. Scowling, Luka says, “There’s a difference between unoriginal and plagiarized, you know.”
In Luka’s head and in front of his bathroom mirror, he’s played out this scenario dozens of times, and in those imaginary conversations, he has said much more insulting things to XY. Of course, Luka would never actually say any of those cruel things…but XY is testing his patience.
When he thinks about it, though, XY hasn’t done anything wildly offensive today, except make very unwanted small talk. And that’s infuriating in its own way. Luka wishes he would do something bad, so that his irritation felt more justified.
“Yeah, sorry,” XY says. “I didn’t realize that was illegal.”
“It’s not the illegal part that bothers me,” Luka says. He wonders if he should even bother trying to explain what’s actually wrong. “It’s that my friends and I worked hard on that song, and Marinette worked hard on those costumes, and your father threatened us and undermined our work. But it makes sense that legality is all you two are concerned about. After all, you can’t make as much money if your father is in jail.”
He bites down on his tongue the moment the words are out. Does XY just bring out the worst in Luka? Or does Luka have less self-control than he thought?
“I mean, yeah, we wouldn’t want to get sued,” XY says. He’s now tossing a TV remote up and down, catching it with one hand. He won’t meet Luka’s eyes, which might be for the better; if he did, he’d see Luka’s brief moment of guilt over snapping at him. “Besides, coming up with stuff is hard.”
“So you understand why we were upset,” Luka says slowly.
What, exactly, did he do to deserve this conversation? Is it the fact that he’s flirted with both Marinette and Adrien? Is the universe somehow blaming him for keeping those two apart? Because, if so, that’s wildly unfair. Marinette and Adrien could be the last two people on earth, and they’d still find a way to be oblivious about their feelings for each other.
“You could have been flattered,” XY says. “We thought your stuff was good enough to steal—um, borrow. Or…yeah.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Luka asks in disbelief.
Maybe XY is wearing noise-cancelling earbuds that Luka can’t see. Maybe that’s how he manages to be so utterly tone-deaf.
“Yeah,” XY says. “Why? Am I talking too loud?”
Luka sighs. “You’re surrounded by music. You perform all the time. You must be able to come up with something on your own.”
Distantly, he thinks maybe he should give up on this conversation. He’s wasting his energy on XY. There are some people who just don’t get it, and this wouldn’t be the first time Luka has exhausted himself for a lost cause. (For instance: trying to convince his mother that maybe some laws are worth following for the public good, and that it might be a bad idea to install actual cannons on the Liberty.)
“Maybe,” XY says with another shrug. Luka thinks his shoulders must be pretty toned from all the shrugging he does. “But why bother, you know? The computers write lyrics and tunes that people like. Guaranteed success. Seems stupid to write my own stuff.”
If success was all that mattered when it came to music, maybe—and for XY and his father, that’s probably the case.
Luka’s curiosity gets the best of him, and he asks, “Have you ever tried to write your own songs?”
“Yeah, once.”
Luka frowns. Is this the set-up for a joke? Is there a punchline? XY doesn’t seem clever enough to set up a joke, given that Ragged Stone was the best insult he could come up with.
XY stops tossing the remote and holds it in his hand, fiddling with the buttons. “When I was eleven, I wrote a few songs and showed them to my dad.” Luka almost asks, Then why didn’t you keep doing that? but XY answers him in the next breath. “He said they were garbage. And I mean, he’d know, right? He’s, like, a music genius.”
Luka has doubts about how much of a music genius Bob Roth is, but he supposes it makes sense that eleven year-old XY would think that. Even now, XY probably conflates success and money with ingenuity.
But Luka’s mind is hung up on one word, blaring in his ears on repeat: GARBAGE.
Luka doesn’t want to have sympathy for XY. Sometimes, people are just rude and nasty, and they don’t deserve Luka’s pity. Unbidden, though, his brain is conjuring up a scene: a little blond kid with less-ridiculous hair, wide-eyed and hopeful, showing his father his songs—only to be told that they’re horrible.
Maybe that’s not how it went down. Maybe XY didn’t care about the rejection. But Luka has a feeling that, deep under XY’s blaisé exterior, he still remembers the pain of being told that his creations were worthless.
Damn it. Now Luka has sympathy for XY.
“That’s ridiculous,” Luka says. He tells himself that he’s just angry on behalf of a fellow musician—because technically, XY is a fellow musician. “I can only imagine if my mom told me that my songs were garbage when I was eleven. I mean, they probably weren’t that good, but—”
“Your songs?” XY interrupts. Luka’s sympathy ebbs, replaced by the irritation he feels every time XY opens his mouth. Luka shouldn’t have mentioned his own music; now XY is going to criticize it, and of course his opinion doesn’t mean anything, but Luka will still be annoyed. “Nah, I don’t believe that. Your music’s good.”
It’s certainly not the most glowing compliment Luka has ever received, and it’s delivered with a shrug—and yet, Luka finds his cheeks warming slightly at the comment. Maybe because he never expected XY to actually compliment someone besides himself.
“Have you…heard my music?” Luka asks.
“Just the one song you played on that broadcast. The one we tried to…” XY trails off, and Luka stares at the side of his head, silently demanding him to finish the sentence. “You know.” Frowning, XY tosses the TV remote onto the sofa where Fang was previously sitting. “At least my dad thought your music was good enough to use.”
Luka winces. “I’m sorry.”
The moment the words leave his mouth, he can’t believe he said them. Did he just tell XY that he feels sorry for him?
“Don’t be sorry that you’re good,” XY says. “He knows talent when he sees it, right?”
“But that’s—that’s stupid,” Luka says, taking a step toward the couch. XY doesn’t look up at him. “Your father should have encouraged your music, or helped you to make it better. He shouldn’t have just—” He growls. “I’m not a big fan of him, so of course I’m not surprised, but that’s still unfair.”
XY tilts his head toward Luka, though he still doesn’t quite make eye contact. “So you’re a fan of me, then?”
“No,” Luka says flatly.
XY nods, seeming unbothered. “Anyway, that’s cool. No one’s ever gotten mad for me. Well, my dad yells at people to make them do things for me, I guess. Does that count?”
Luka resists the urge to facepalm. The way XY says such spoiled things so casually—is this how Adrien feels, dealing with Chloé all the time? Then again, Adrien and Chloé are friends, and Luka and XY certainly aren’t.
Although, if Adrien can be friends with Chloé, does that mean Luka could befriend someone like…?
No. Luka refuses to consider it. He’s not getting involved with someone this rude and high-maintenance. People might think Luka has the patience of a saint, but in fact, he does not. And why would he take XY under his wing, after he and his father tried to screw over Kitty Section? XY’s personal issues aren’t Luka’s problem, and it’s certainly not his responsibility to nurture XY’s creative side.
Xavier-Yves Roth is young, Luka’s conscience says. Of course he makes mistakes. His brain isn’t fully developed yet.
Neither is mine, Luka thinks back. Which is probably why I’m even considering something this stupid.
“You know,” Luka says slowly. “If you…did write another song, and wanted to run it by someone…”
XY is silent for a moment, and then he finally looks up at Luka with a quizzical expression. “You? You’ve never sold albums or topped a chart. You wouldn’t have any useful feedback.”
Ah. Yes. This is why Luka wasn’t going to get involved with XY. Luka sympathized with XY for having his father tell him his offerings were worthless—and then XY turned around and said the same insensitive thing to Luka.
So what if Luka hasn’t topped the charts with an album full of banal, soulless songs? At least he makes music he’s passionate about.
It occurs to Luka that XY isn’t looking at him with scorn in his eyes. He just looks confused, which means he doesn’t even realize that what he just said was insulting.
Since Luka is feeling charitable—and XY’s words are meaningless—he decides to shrug off the comment. “I’m not interested in songs that sell,” Luka says. “I was just offering a second set of ears.”
“Oh.” XY blinks. “I don’t really see what’s in it for me…but, yeah, I guess it could be good practice for you. You know, learning how to work with someone in the industry.”
This is not worth it, Luka thinks. You will gain nothing from helping him.
Be a charitable person, his conscience insists. Do something good without expecting anything in return.
Luka snorts to himself. He’s already helped Ladybug and Chat Noir save Paris several times as Viperion. Isn’t that enough charity for the year?
“What’s so funny?” XY asks.
“Nothing,” Luka says. “I was thinking of something else. I’ll…keep your offer in mind.”
“Sure,” XY says, going back to his phone. “I’m not usually this generous, so, you know—it’s a special offer. I bet a lot of people would be jealous.”
Luka sighs. XY might not know much about music, but he’s certainly talented at infuriating people.
Before Luka manages to think of a response that doesn’t involve scathing sarcasm, there’s a loud knock on the door.
“Luka? XY? It’s Marinette!”
Luka rushes over to the door, checking his phone as he does. According to the Ladyblog, the akuma was defeated about a minute ago.
He opens the door and Marinette runs inside, panting. “Sorry, the, uh—the…”
“Macarons,” Luka supplies.
“Right! Yes,” Marinette says. “But then I got distracted, and, uh—there was an akuma, did you hear? Crazy! I mean, not crazy, because Paris has had a lot of akumas, but, you know…”
“I’m glad you’re back,” Luka says.
Marinette nods, then leans forward and whispers, “How was XY?”
Luka shrugs. “About what you’d expect.”
That feels a bit disingenuous, though. Because XY isn’t quite what Luka expected. Yes, his attitude is infuriating, and he oozes upper-class shallowness—but Luka’s starting to realize that there might be a reason that XY acts the way he does.
Not that Luka intends to stick around long enough to find out.
XY groans and stands. “I guess that lame rock star isn’t coming back for his dumb lizard. You two can watch him. I’m going downstairs to get food or something.”
He crosses the room and brushes past Luka and Marinette without a word. His eyes meet Luka’s as he leaves—and there it is, again, that look of almost wariness.
Then he shrugs and leaves, and Luka and Marinette are alone with a crocodile in a bathtub.
“Thanks for not feeding him to the crocodile,” Marinette says.
“Yeah, well.” Luka shrugs. “I didn’t want to give my favorite rock star’s pet indigestion.”
A second later, they hear a grunt and a crack, followed by a tidal-wave splash; and for the moment, at least, Luka’s thoughts of Xavier-Yves Roth are forgotten.
Luka is fast to forgive. Sure, XY was the reason he got akumatized, and he was angry for a while about how he had hurt Marinette. But after getting to know the guy, Luka started to realize he wasn’t so bad. He was maybe even nice at times, and as much as Luka hated to admit it, he was actually pretty talented.
So, when Xavier asked Luka to collaborate with him on a new project, he jumped at the idea. Their styles of music weren’t the best match, and he found it a little odd working without the rest of his band, but he was always open to trying new things. The only problem was, the more time Luka spent working on this ‘new project’ with XY, the more he became convinced that he had no real plan in mind. They tended to sit around and talk instead of working on their music.
“So, you and that Mary Anne girl, are you together?” Xavier asked.
“It’s Marinette,” Luka corrected, and then said, “but no, we aren’t. We’re just friends.”
“And you don’t want to be anything more than friends?” He leaned back on the couch, which resided in his parent’s penthouse suite that they had been meeting in recently. Luka wasn’t usually one for such extravagance, but he liked the view. “Because you were pretty overprotective of her that day.”
Luka frowned, and the boy was starting to get on his nerves, which was difficult to do. “I guess I’m just protective of my friends. Plus, it was kind of all your fault.”
That seemed to bruise something inside Xavier, most likely his ego. “Sorry about that,” he said ever so quietly, then jumped up off the couch to hide his vulnerability. “So, any ideas about this song?”
Luka was glad he finally asked. “Actually yeah, I have a few.”
It was obvious Xavier tuned out after that, because it didn't take long for him to interrupt with another rather invasive question. “So you’re not seeing anyone?”
Luka was perturbed by the interruption, but hoped that if he kept answering Xavier’s questions, he would at some point stop asking them. “No, I’m not.”
“It’s just an attractive guy like you--” Xavier stopped talking once he realized what he had said. “I mean, you know. I just thought that you and Marinette were together, since you seemed to like her a lot.” His attempts to backtrack were less than convincing, and it seemed as if he knew this, because he mumbled out some excuse about needing to leave and ran into the other room in a hurry. Luka almost smiled. If it was true that Xavier was attracted to him, that would explain a lot. He followed him into the other room, which he remembered was his bedroom, but Xavier seemed to not want anything to do with him at that moment. “Leave me alone.” He yelled from the other side of the door.
Luka ignored him. “Do you have feelings for me?”
He was completely quiet.
“Because if so, I’d rather use this time getting to know you if we’re just going to procrastinate working on the “project” anyway.” At this point, Luka was convinced there never really was a project. It made more sense that Xavier merely wanted an excuse to spend time with him.
It took him a few moments, but Xavier opened the door a crack. “Getting to know each other?” He liked the idea.
“Well, actually, I already know you pretty well. You’re a whiny, spoiled, emotionally stunted little brat.” Luka joked, and it caused Xavier to shut the door on him again. But he wasn’t finished. “But I’m sure to you I’m just a broody, emotional guy with a guitar. And I’d like to know the real you, no matter how entitled the outside you is.” Luka liked to see the best in people, even those that seemed irredeemable on the outside.
Xavier finally opened the door all the way and stepped out. “Fine. You can come in.”
Luka took the suggestion and looked around Xavier’s room. At first glance, he might’ve merely reinforced his less-than-kind first impression of Xavier. His room was full of posters showing his own face, but as Luka looked closer, he saw hundreds of names signed on one in particular. “Who are all these people?” He asked, pointing at the poster.
Xavier seemed surprised that that was the first thing Luka noticed. He stepped behind Luka and put a hand on the poster, tracing each name with his finger. “Fans. They sent it to me a couple months ago. I’m sure it seems self-absorbed--”
“No.” Luka could actually see below the surface now. He could see the look of pride on Xavier’s face. “There’s nothing wrong with celebrating your own accomplishments, but this in particular is actually quite inspiring. And I can tell you really care for your fans.” He sat on the bed, and Xavier followed suit.
Xavier blushed. “You’re amazing, Luka. How do you just give everyone the benefit of the doubt like that?” Xavier wished he was better at seeing the best in people, or even better at dealing with people in general. Being famous so young wasn’t too great for his social skills.
“It’s hard, sometimes. But people like you give me hope.”
Xavier’s heart soared, and he realized Luka gave him hope too, but in a different way. “To tell you the truth, I do have feelings for you. You’re the first person who ever treated me like a person, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, wanting to feel something to hopefully counteract the embarrassment he was already feeling.
Luka didn't laugh, though, or even take pity. In fact, he looked just as embarrassed. “You’ve surprised me so many times, I’m almost used to it,” he said, getting up, and Xavier was content with leaving the conversation at that. But it seemed like Luka wasn’t. He stood in front of Xavier, his frame looming a few feet over him. “Can I kiss you?” Luka asked, and Xavier burst out laughing.
When he realized Luka was being serious, his eyes went wide. “You want to kiss me?”
“If you’re okay with it.”
“Well, of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” As soon as Xavier closed his mouth after uttering the last word, Luka kissed him, but it was short-lived. Xavier pushed the other boy off of him.
“Too much?” Luka asked, and Xavier nodded. His heart was beating too fast for his mind to catch up, and it was almost too much even to feel Luka grab a hold of his hand and stroke his thumb across each finger. “That’s okay. How about you tell me more about yourself?”
They spent the good part of two hours in Xavier’s room as he explained every little detail about the objects in his room. Xavier swore he learned more about Luka that day than he shared about his own life.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: T
Chapter Summary: XY goes to patch things up, but he needs some advice first.
Word Count: 3401 | Chapter 4/5
Notes: Sorry the chapter count keeps getting longer. I decided to add an epilogue, but this is the last main chapter. For @luxyweek day 6, Serenade
XXX
Luka flopped back in his bed. Had he been too harsh on XY back at the hotel? It wasn’t like XY had stood him up. He’d never promised to come back to the Liberty.
But questions kept repeating like an irritatingly catchy melody. XY had always wanted to spend time with him before, even if it was just to annoy him. What changed? Had they gotten too close at Nino’s house that night? Had their accidental cuddling scared him off?
Maybe he really just read too much into things. It wasn’t like Luka had much experience understanding people, even with his guitar. Maybe XY didn’t have any music in heart. Luka could’ve just been seeing what he wanted to see.
He wanted to see good in XY. The only one he had to blame was himself, for believing the other boy might have actually cared about him.
I’m just a sucker for blue eyes, he thought, his fingers plucking a melancholy melody.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t have XY’s number—foolishly, he’d only given the other boy his own—and he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by going back to the hotel again.
For the first time in months, the music in his heart fell silent.
XXX
“Martini! Marmalade! Marinade! Mar—whatever your name is! Help a homie out, please!” XY called up at the bakery’s balcony. He was going out on a limb here, but for whatever reason, Luka had been obsessed with the younger girl. Maybe she could help him patch things back up.
“You’re not my homie, XY!” She leaned over the railing and shouted back down at the street. “And it’s midnight! What the heck are you doing here?”
“I need your help!” he said. Admitting it made him feel stupid, but what was he supposed to do? Show up to Luka’s boat empty handed? No, XY had promised he’d make the most cash money music ever, impress Luka so hard that he fell head over heels, and then whisk him off into the sunset.
But step one: make the music. His first song had been a bust, and Luka would know if XY ripped something off. He’d probably expect it. So XY had his smaller synth packed up in a bag over his back, ready to take some more inspiration from Marmalade as soon as he could.
“Go away!” she called.
“You can’t tell me what to—! Uh, I mean—please, it’s important!”
She sighed so loudly he could hear it from the ground. Then she stomped back inside.
His shoulders fell. Of course she wouldn’t help him after he’d stolen her designs, poked through her room, and forgotten her name. He turned to trudge back to the hotel, his backpack feeling heavier than ever.
The click of a door opening stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh—oh! You—you’re gonna help me?”
“That depends”—Martini crossed her arms—“on what exactly you want help with.”
“Perspiration,” he answered quickly, and she glared. Oops. Was that the wrong word again?
“Is this some kind of prank? What, was ghosting Luka not enough for you?”
XY’s jaw dropped. “Ghosting—I did not ghost him!”
“Then why did Juleka tell me he’s been sulking for the last week? She says he won’t quit playing sad songs. And Wonderwall, for some reason. Anyway, she thinks it’s your fault, and even if I’m not in love with Luka, I am his friend. And you hurt him.”
She jabbed a finger at his chest, hitting his “XY” necklace. The chain clinked hollowly.
“I… he missed me? Really?” He’d joked with Luka about that when he came to the hotel today, but he didn’t think he meant it.
“I don’t know. It sounds like it.” She shook her head, her pigtails swishing around her neck. “I don’t know why, though. Anyway, what do you want? I was waiting on someone—er, I’m supposed to be in bed soon.”
“Ooooh, a late-night date?”
“XY.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He grimaced. Better not get even more on her bad side when he needed something from her. “Okay, here’s the deal. I told Lu I was gonna make him the most cash money music he’s ever heard. But… I suck.”
He sighed. There it was.
“I know he likes you,” he continued, “so I thought maybe you could give me some tips? Tell me what kind of vibes he’ll vibe with, that kind of stuff.”
Marinade blinked at him. “You’re…. trying to make Luka a song?”
“Yeah. I wasted a whole week on a track Dad said was trash, and now Lu’s mad and I don’t have anything to show for it.” His shoulders slumped.
“Wait, so you already made a song? That’s why you weren’t talking to Luka last week?”
“Duh. I couldn’t spoil the surprise. Not that it matters. Like I said, it’s garbage. Unsexy. Not vibin’ at all.”
“...Because your dad said so?” Her head tilted. Her voice was soft and gentle. That was probably one of the things Luka liked about her. It sounded nothing like XY’s own nasally voice. Maybe if he autotuned his vocals more…
“He knows what good music sounds like. That’s how he ended up with the number one and number two stars on his label.” Was XY back at number one again yet? After the Kiddy Session mess, he was probably down on sales. Stupid old Jacked Tone.
“Uh-huh. That’s how he ended up asking me to make Jagged’s album cover look like yours, and having you butcher Kitty Section’s style.”
“I didn’t butcher it.” Sure, it wasn’t his best rip-off job, but he’d only had a few days to pull it off. Dad had liked it more than his original song anyway.
“The point is, I don’t think your dad knows as much as he thinks he does.” Marmalade put a hand on his shoulder. “He might know what’s popular, but he doesn’t know how to match an artist with their own style. Jagged Stone is a rocker. I’m a designer. And you… what’s your style, XY? If you could do anything you wanted?”
He shrugged. “More of the same, I guess. The stuff my algorithm spits out. I mean, it sells, right?”
“Forget about that for a minute. What do you like to listen to?”
What did he like? Well…
“I do love some sick beats. And…” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “I did like the first song I made for Lu. But Dad said it’s garbage—”
“Your dad is the one who’s garbage,” Marinade growled, her fists clenching. “I think you could use a second opinion. Can I hear your song?”
His first instinct was to say no. Hadn’t he embarrassed himself enough? But it wasn’t like he really cared what she thought. She couldn’t insult him much worse than she already had.
“I guess.” He pulled out his phone and AirPods. It wouldn’t have the same effect as fancy headphones or Nino’s speakers, but then she could at least tell him it sucked and move on to giving him some real advice.
She stuck the AirPods in, and he hit play.
Surprise slammed over her face. She must be shocked that a number one (or number two, now) pop star would come up with something so stupid. Using her sewing machine noises? That pigeon man’s bird call? Really? No stars did that! He should’ve just stuck to the basic four chords, and left out lyrics like he usually did, and—
Oh no. The lyrics.
“Please don't tell Lu what I said,” he begged, hands clasped together over his phone.
She didn’t seem to be listening to him, though. She was—oh crap, she was tearing up. His song was so bad he’d made her cry!
He fumbled to hit pause, but Marinade’s hand closed over the screen first.
“You wrote this? For Luka?”
“He’s gonna hate it.” XY groaned. “I lied to him and made him hate me and I can’t even make one stupid song—”
“No, no, he’s not going to hate you! XY—you really like him, don’t you?”
“Pshaw, no.” He crossed his arms and turned up his nose. “Crushing on hot rockers is so ten minutes ago.”
Marinade blinked, then laughed. Of course she’d just make fun of him again. “If you say so. But if you change your mind, I think it would be worth telling him.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled halfheartedly. He’d probably ruined that chance today by lying to him. If he’d even had a chance in the first place.
“I’m serious! I can tell you put your heart into this song. Luka will see it, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You just wanna watch me crash and burn, don’t you?”
She shook her head, laughing again. Pretty shady, if you asked him. He should’ve asked Nino for help instead, but Marinade was the one Luka had liked.
“I don’t even know for sure if he likes dudes,” XY muttered, the toe of his sneaker scuffing the street.
“Don’t worry, he’s bi. I wouldn’t encourage you if you didn’t have a chance.”
His heart started doing the macarena. It was enough to get his hopes up again—except, he still only had the one garbage song.
“I need a new track. Something super sexy that’ll blow his boat out of the water!” He paced as he talked, hands flying through the air like over an invisible synth. “But ugh, I don’t have time! Lu already thinks I hate him ’cause I stopped coming over, but I can’t spoil the surprise. That wouldn’t be cash money at all.”
“XY, you don’t need to write a whole new song. I think yours is great just the way it is.”
His head snapped up, his hair bouncing from the force. “Wait, you do?”
“Uh-huh. Besides, if you keep waiting for the perfect moment, it’ll never come. Trust me.” She smiled sadly. “You’re better off being honest with your feelings if you can.”
His mouth opened, but before he could find any words, a crash rang out from the balcony above. He was pretty sure he heard a faint “owwww.”
Marinette glanced up and winced. “Well, would you look at the time! Thanks for stopping by good luck see ya!”
She darted back inside, leaving XY alone with the faint breeze trying to fight his hairspray.
“Huh. Guess it was a date after all.”
If he pulled this off, maybe he’d have a date by the end of the night, too.
XXX
THWUMP.
Luka bolted upright, instinctively reaching for the neck of his guitar before feeling silly. What was he going to do, beat off a burglar with his instrument? He’d probably just break it, which would be even worse than getting robbed.
“Lu!” A muffled voice shouted.
Oh no. Not a burglar. Luka knew who was going to be smushed against the window before he climbed out of bed and turned around. His heartsong sped up against his will.
He hadn’t been prepared to see XY so soon after their fight at his hotel room. Frankly, he hadn’t expected to see him at all. His hair was a mess, several clumps falling out of their meticulously-styled quiff. And he was still wearing Luka’s hoodie.
“Yo, don’t just stand there! Help a dude out!”
Luka was so startled that he didn’t even argue, just scrambled up the steps to the deck, his footfalls thump thump thumping in time with his heart’s pounding rhythm.
He came back. Why did he come back?
XY yelped as Luka hauled him onto the deck. Déjà vu pricked at him, but this time instead of sneering in disgust, XY fiddled with his backpack strap nervously.
“What are you doing here?” Luka asked, since XY was being surprisingly quiet. He didn’t bother tacking on the obvious “it’s almost one a.m.” since XY had already proven he had no concept of time.
“Uh… I’m here ‘cause… I wasn’t very cash money to you today.”
He frowned. “Yesterday, technically.”
“Whatever. Point is, I’m… sorry I lied to you.”
XY seemed to deflate, as if all his usual hot air finally left him. Maybe it was a side effect of his tousled hair making him look smaller, but in that moment he looked nothing like his usual sauntering self.
“It’s fine,” Luka mumbled. “It’s not like you promised to make your own music. I don’t know why I expected you to.”
“Huh? No, Lu—I did make my own music. That’s what I lied about. ’Cause Dad said it was trash and I was… I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, y’know? I wasn’t even going to tell you, but Marinade gave me some advice, and… whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. “Just—let me play you this track, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
Luka blinked, trying to follow XY’s rapid-fire words. He didn’t have much time to process, though, before XY pulled his synth out of his backpack and unfolded it. How did that clunky thing fit in there?
Then XY flipped a switch and pressed down on the keys, and music exploded from the Liberty. Had he—had he hacked the boat’s sound system?
“What did you do to my boat!” he shouted over the electronic sounds, but XY didn’t seem to hear. He was too focused on hitting the keys of his synth and belting out the first verse.
“You’ve got my heart flyin’ higher than a pigeon
Take me out we’ll go out to a kitchen
Stitch stitch stitch my heart is tickin’
Sit by me bro, come on and listen.”
Was that—? It was. Mr. Ramier’s bird call backed the track, somehow programmed into the synth. He was pretty sure that whirring noise was meant to emulate a sewing machine, too, which would explain the stitch stitch stitch. The noises should’ve felt jarring, but they blended strangely well with the upbeat melody.
And XY’s singing voice… Luka had never heard it un-autotuned. It didn’t sound anything like he expected. The nasal tone was still there, but it was clearer somehow. Like his heart and his words finally aligned.
“Woah, woah, you’re slick as a viper
Woah, woah, I start to perspire
Yo, you can call me a liar
But oh, oh, he’s got me inspired!”
He hit a high note that resonated in Luka’s bones. And those lyrics… did Luka hear them right? He was pretty sure he’d used “perspire” and “inspire” correctly, which was almost as shocking as the fact that he’d written an original song at all.
“Traffic cross the street, touch my hand,
Lost in your eyes, can’t see land
Take my breath away when you hold my face
Chords takin’ me higher than outer space!”
The bass dropped with that last line before the chorus repeated. XY’s energy ran through him; he could feel the yearning in his voice.
This was it. His heartsong. And, if it wasn’t just Luka’s hopeful imagination...
“Head on your chest, oh this is real
Cash money can’t buy the way I feel
Hope your hoodie’s not the only thing I steal
Wanna wake up staring into eyes so teal.”
XY looked up, meeting Luka’s wide-eyed gaze with a longing one of his own. His fingers stumbled over the synth’s keys, but he coughed and finished the last chorus, his voice shaking only slightly.
“Woah, woah, you’re slick as a viper
Woah, woah, I start to perspire
Yo, You can call me a liar
But oh, oh, he’s got me inspired!
“Oh, oh, I’m walking a wire,
Oh, oh, you’ve set me on fire,
Yo, you can call me a liar,
But oh, OH, you’ve got me inspired!”
Oh… oh. Luka’s heart stuttered as XY panted, hitting one last loud chord. It echoed off into the night’s silence. Luka was sure XY would hear his heart pounding now.
“So, what do you think? Pretty cash money or what?” His grin stretched too wide.
Luka swallowed, trying not to show just how much the unorthodox music affected him. “You finally learned what inspiration means.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I did.” He chuckled. “Does that mean you liked it?”
He tried to sound casual, but Luka still felt the trace of longing from him. Maybe even desperation. He’d bared his heartsong. No matter how nervous Luka might be to admit it, he had to be honest in return.
“Dude, that was amazing,” he said, stepping around the synth to rest a hand on XY’s shoulder. “Synths might not normally be my style, but I felt it. You were in the moment, putting your whole soul into it. What changed?”
“Huh?” He blinked, blue eyes wide. It was hard to resist the urge to sweep his loose strands of hair back under his headband.
“I mean, why didn’t you make music like this before? You couldn’t have learned how to do this all in a week. You never gave me a real answer before.” Luka had a guess, but even after the lyrics he’d heard, he didn’t want to assume too much. He made that mistake with Marinette already, and this time…
He didn’t want to lose XY again. He’d gotten used to his annoying presence. That was all.
(The beats hopping in his heart quickly battered down that denial.)
“Bro, really? Weren’t you listening?” XY frowned, almost looking hurt. “And people say I’m stupid.”
“Hey.”
XY there his hands in the air. “It’s you, bruh. You’re the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I’m singing—”
“Wait, isn’t that the Camp Rock song?”
“Shut up, I’m trying to make a meaningful love confession!”
Luka choked, his face flushing. “Love confession? You’re—you’re serious.”
XY stared at him like he was stupid. “What, you think I’d waste my time writing a whole song for just anyone?”
“No, I just…” He had thought XY was joking, or just messing with him. But it had been real. Luka hadn’t read too much into things after all. “I don’t know about love, but I—I can’t believe I’m saying this—I… might have a crush on you, XY.”
The other boy beamed, and Luka regretfully admitted it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
“Bro, I’ll take it!” XY threw his arms around his neck, and suddenly Luka had an armful of him. He smelled like hairspray and Doritos, and under that, something more subtle and hard to place.
Luka had the feeling he could get used to it.
XY suddenly pulled back, staring into Luka’s eyes again, but leaving his arms around his neck. “Wait, does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend? Do I get to kiss you? ’Cause I gotta admit you look like you could use some chapstick first—”
Luka pressed his lips to XY’s half to prove a point, half to shut him up, and half because he just wanted to. At the moment, his brain didn’t care that the math didn’t add up.
A quiet squeal startled him into pulling back. At first he thought it was XY’s, but he just looked stunned, his eyes half-lidded and a dumbstruck grin on his face.
“I’m gonna swoon now,” he said before swaying over.
Luka barely managed to catch him around his waist before he hit the deck. But if it wasn’t XY squealing, then—
“Rose!” He hissed, catching a flash of blonde hair ducking behind the speaker. Juleka blended in better with the dark, but the faint glow from her phone screen gave her away. “Jules! Are you—wait, are you recording us?”
Rose poked her head out, her fists balled up beside her cheeks. “We couldn’t help it! You two were just so cute!”
“I thought you’d want this for your wedding,” Juleka mumbled through a smirk.
XY sighed dreamily at that. “What do you think our wedding colors would be, Lu? Teal and purple?”
“I swear, if you don’t shut up I’ll drop you.”
“Aww, you just want me to fall for you agai—ACK!” XY thudded to the ground. “Ow… that wasn’t very cash money of you, babe.”
That was where Juleka’s video ended.
But for the new music playing in Luka’s heart, it was just the beginning.
