Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That melody—the one that had gone from a pleasant earworm to a source of torment since the day Adrien had heard his friend idly playing it, perched with one hip on the stage platform half-nestled behind an amp during a jam session one day—

Luka was playing it again, stopping again in the same spot to pick out random notes that didn’t seem to align. The other half of the notes danced in Adrien’s mind, just beyond reach, like koi glinting under the surface of a lake. If he tried, he was sure he could catch those notes and put them on a page. He’d already played them countless times without thinking, so it would be a simple matter of translating from his fingers to his brain to black markings on staves.

By the way Luka’s brow was scrunched in a picture of frustration, he was sure the other boy would appreciate it.

Adrien shook his head, face heating up. No. He wasn’t ready for that, not in the slightest. He opened his senses to dull his mind to the surfacing melody, taking in the gentle sway of the boat, the sound of something metal—chimes?—tinkling somewhere not too far off, the slight wind that made Luka’s baggy overshirt billow and settle.

“Working on that song again?” Adrien took a step toward Luka.

Luka looked up, as if surprised that someone else was present, before his eyes widened in mortification.

“Sorry,” he muttered, setting his guitar on the round wooden table. “I didn’t mean to space out there. It’s just been bothering me…”—he snorted—“as usual. I guess I got carried away.”

“No problem… welcome back to planet Earth.” Adrien grinned to show he was teasing, and lowered himself into a chair. It was a little too low, making him slouch by default. He twined his fingers over his belly, feeling awkward.

Shouldn’t this feel different? More natural? More exciting, maybe? He snuck a glance at Luka. He wasn't loath to admit that his friend was good-looking, and Adrien liked him as a person, but he wasn’t swooning or anything. It wasn’t like he wanted to… kiss him or anything.

“So… the song. How’s it going?” he asked vaguely, hoping the question would get Luka to talk.

Luka blew out a frustrated sigh, the corners of his mouth pulling down as he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. “I can’t figure out the rest, and I can’t end it with what I have—it sounds incomplete. Like it’s leading up to something, but when I get to the key change, it just—nothing feels right. Everything I try is too bland, or weird—it doesn’t click the way the first part did.”

“Oh.” Adrien stared at his hands, spinning his signet ring around his finger. “I’m sure you’ll get it eventually—everything you write sounds amazing.” He tried to sound sincere, even though he knew it wasn’t true, and that it was entirely his own fault Luka couldn’t finish the song.

Luka gave him a lopsided smile from his reclined position, cracking his eyes open. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” His tone was glum, and he looked like he still had reservations.

That didn’t sit right with Adrien. Regardless of this whole soulmate thing, he was adamant about Luka’s talent, and wasn’t about to let one measly song deal a blow to his self-esteem. He straightened, against the pull of gravity in the sloping chair, elbows on his knees, and turned up his enthusiasm. “You don’t believe me? Seriously, you’re a genius. Why don’t you try writing a different song and coming back to it later?”

“Usually, I’d call that a good idea, but it’s been three years, and I’ve written dozens of songs—maybe more than a hundred—and I still haven’t been able to finish this one. This is the one I want to finish—I need it out of my system.” Luka let out an ironic laugh. “I’ve got half a song running in my head for three years.”

Adrien gulped, and took a deep breath. Three years. Three years of unresolved creative tension, which only Adrien could put to rest. That was a lot of pressure. He wasn’t sure if he could deliver… and he was still trying to wrap his mind around this.

He definitely wasn’t ready.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?” Adrien partially closed his book to peer over Luka’s shoulder at the laptop he had perched on his crossed legs.

“Just editing a video.” Luka shifted the screen slightly to show Adrien. The paused interface displayed a shot of Luka’s torso, from the waist to the chin, centered on his guitar. Luka never showed his face in his solo videos.

“I didn’t know you were good with computers,” Adrien remarked with interest. He had known Luka for three years and called him a ‘friend,’ but from all he had learned in the handful of brief hangout sessions they’d had since Adrien discovered they shared a soulmate song three weeks ago, he realized he had stopped surface-deep without ever really bothering to get to know Luka before.

Luka grimaced. “Good? Not so much. Usually Marinette does the editing, but since I make so many videos, I figured I should pull my own weight and learn how to do it myself. It’s nothing special, though. I usually just clean up the audio, slap on an intro and outro, and call it done.”

“Still… it’s really cool that you can do it at all.” It was only after the words left Adrien’s mouth that he noticed a touch of jealousy creeping into his tone.

And he was a little jealous. Of how Luka and Marinette could do things and have projects together. Of Kitty Section as a whole. It felt like an exclusive club for which Adrien didn’t have a pass. Though Luka often assured him that he was welcome, Adrien’s father would never let him perform onstage with a grungy rock band, let alone feature in YouTube videos that could be seen worldwide, so the odd jam session here or there was the best he could hope for.

Luka shrugged. “I’m sure you could do it too. It’s simple—anyone can learn.” He smiled and reached out a hand, settling it on Adrien’s arm. Somehow, the warm gesture had the power to transform Adrien’s jealousy into hope.

“Maybe…” The cogs in Adrien’s head started turning. “Maybe I can learn. And then I could get more involved with Kitty Section…” His command-center-style desktop was certainly qualified for the job.

“You should,” Luka encouraged.

“Maybe I could even record some of my songs,” Adrien thought aloud. “With an artsy camera angle that hides my face and my room. Father would never know it was me.” He snickered.

“You’ve written music?” Luka perked up, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

Adrien blinked, realizing he’d never shared that with Luka before. “Uh, not exactly, but… sort of?” A dusting of pink stole across his cheeks. “Just… piano covers of pop songs and songs from movies, stuff like that. Nothing truly original like what you churn out.”

“Well, I’d love to hear anything you’ve come up with,” Luka invited. “I’m sure it’s brilliant. You’re really talented, Adrien.”

“Maybe next time I come over,” Adrien muttered self-consciously, the tips of his ears burning.

“Whenever you’re ready. And going back to what you were saying before—go for it. Video editing is easy, and the channel could definitely use some solo piano.” Shooting a sunny smile at Adrien, Luka turned his attention back to his laptop.

Luka was always so supportive. It felt good for someone to not immediately shoot his ideas down for once.

Adrien reopened his book—Nabokov’s Speak, Memory —but the dull cloud of pain surrounding his head made it difficult to concentrate. The headache seemed to intensify as he forced his eyes to focus on the lines of letters marching across the page, and two tender areas above his left temple began to throb.

Resentment soured his chest. Leave it to his father to take even his mental escape away from him. At least he was here with Luka. He didn’t really need to take refuge in a book right now—the Couffaine houseboat, with its enveloping L-shaped couch, warm palette of colors, and perpetual sway, was enough of a refuge.

With that thought, he gave up the fight. Reclining against the back of the sofa with a sigh, he let the book fall open-faced on his chest, and shut his eyes. It felt nice to be able to just relax, instead of feeling guilty about showing weakness.

“Adrien? You okay?”

Adrien felt the sofa shift, and peeked at Luka. He had set the laptop aside and was gazing at Adrien in concern.

“Perfectly fine,” Adrien murmured. “Just can’t focus on reading at the moment.”

Even that much of an admission felt like freedom. Adrien Agreste wasn’t supposed to feel dull and unfocused. His mind was supposed to be sharp as a sabre, his wit quick, his emotions in check—at all times. God forbid he’d admit that he was temporarily incapable of doing such a basic thing as reading.

But Luka made him feel like he was allowed to slacken his poise.

“You’re not sick, are you?” Luka twisted to fold one leg in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, to give Adrien his attention. He touched Adrien’s forehead with the back of his hand, and part of Adrien relished being fussed over, even if it wasn’t necessary. “If you want to take a nap or something, that’s fine. Or… if there’s something that you want to talk about, I can listen.”

Usually, Adrien would just smile and pretend nothing was wrong. He didn’t need to vomit his problems on other people and make them clean up the mess. His life was his own mess, and he knew how to put up a polished front regardless of what was going on inside his mind.

Luka was different, though. His calm and attentive nature, like a mild, sun-kissed sea that embraced and cleansed, made Adrien feel like he could absorb Adrien’s problems and defuse them without anyone having to get hurt.

“It’s not really a big deal—” Adrien halted, realizing he was falling into his usual pattern of nonchalance despite feeling like it was okay to be honest. He dropped the smile that he had automatically plastered over his lips. Maybe he was being selfish, but he wanted to be honest with Luka. He shook off the fake act like waking from sleep paralysis and opened his mouth again to release the venom that had been building in his chest.

“All right, so I’m a little upset. I had a photoshoot earlier, and my father wasn’t pleased with the results. He said I looked too pretty, and I needed to turn up the heat. I’m getting older and I can’t keep doing pretty-boy ads. They want sex appeal. He said the reason I couldn’t do it was because I didn’t care enough and I wasn’t trying.” He laughed, a mix of bitterness and empty humor. Despite the honesty of his words, he couldn’t turn off the instinct to blow air into his words, as if they weren’t important.

He left out the part of the story that led to the bruises on his scalp.

Luka let out a dry laugh.

The laugh jarred Adrien. He hadn’t been expecting Luka to laugh. He was thirsty for sympathy, maybe a hug. The laugh pricked like a thistle, a pretty thing covered in barbs—and up went Adrien’s defenses.

“Too pretty, indeed,” Luka went on, his lip still curled in amusement. “Most people would envy you that. Seriously, though, that sucks, Adrien. You’re still only sixteen—you still have time to grow into it. Your father needs to cut you a break.”

Any sympathy in Luka’s words rolled off Adrien’s heart like water off a duck’s back as his first utterances slammed against it like a battering ram. Too pretty, indeed. Most people would envy you.

Adrien knew people envied him, without the reminder. Maybe Luka envied him. Maybe Luka thought he was acting spoiled and entitled to be complaining about something that other people would consider a blessing. What kind of delusion had gripped Adrien to make him believe Luka would understand how he felt?

His jaw stiffened, his eyes falling to his lap, and he ran his fingers over the corners of his book. He was tempted to get up without a word and leave.

To hell with this soulmate thing. If Luka was supposed to be his soulmate, how could he not understand what Adrien needed right now? How could he say such insensitive words? How could he act like Adrien was just joking around when he was actually baring his soul? He was supposed to see through his light demeanor. He was supposed to be the one who could see the real Adrien, accept him, comfort him… 

This is why Adrien didn’t open up to people. This is why he faked his way through life with a smile. How had he deluded himself into thinking that someone might actually be able to understand him and support him? He was better off without making himself vulnerable and daring to hope that he could actually connect with someone.

“Adrien?” Luka’s eyes narrowed to slits and his irises went dark as stormy skies as he leaned toward Adrien, puzzled and alarmed about his clear agitation. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Adrien tucked the book under his arm and looked around for his bag, tone light and false. “I need to get home. Nathalie said she could cover for me until six, but after that I’m walking on thin ice.”

Stupid, Adrien thought. Stupid to let himself get weak, stupid to think that venting about what was wrong would end in anything but regret. He should just keep his problems to himself, and hanging around with Luka wasn’t going to help him do that.

“Wait, Adrien.” Luka put a hand on his arm, urging him not to go. “Did I say something wrong?”

Adrien bit his lip, looking away. He was tempted to deny it, because he was fairly positive Luka generally meant well. Yet, he felt hurt and betrayed enough by the implications behind Luka’s words not to resist hurling back a bit of the poison that had entered his veins.

“You laughed,” Adrien accused stiffly. “I was actually really hurt by what my father said. I don’t appreciate being told that people would envy me. You don’t understand—” Tears threatened, and he shut his mouth. He knew he was acting out of line. Maybe it was the blows to his head that made him feel raw and sensitive, wanting to be coddled and not laughed at. It was too late now to undo his behavior. Now he really was acting like a spoiled child. He should just leave before this spiraled even further out of control.

Luka’s mouth fell open as a chill of realization ran through him. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” he gasped in horror. “I didn’t mean—it’s just, you are pretty, Adrien, and young, that’s all! I said it fondly—it was meant to be a compliment— the last thing I intended was to dismiss what you were saying!”

Luka ran his hands through his hair, feeling the futility of the words spilling out of his mouth. He realized, only too belatedly, that Adrien had been far from okay since he’d come over that day. Luka had clearly stepped onto a minefield and managed to hurt Adrien badly.

He should have intuited how Adrien was feeling and had the sense not to treat him lightly. Knowing just how upset Adrien was would have sucked every pinch of humor out of him, even irony—he would have known better than to laugh. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Adrien, to kick him when he was down. “God, Adrien, I didn’t mean to make light of what you were telling me, not at all!”

Without responding, Adrien stood and picked up his bag from beside the sofa, slinging it over his shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The words that came to mind weren’t pleasant, and would only make the situation worse. He didn’t blame Luka, but he couldn’t forgive him, either—not yet, anyway.

The silence hurt Luka more than words probably would have.

“Hold on—” He leapt to his feet, following Adrien to the stairs. “Adrien, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please don't go.”

Whatever negative implications Adrien had drawn out of the words—Luka had surely intended none of them. All he wanted was to be a supportive friend, to cheer Adrien up with light jokes, to give him sympathy and encouragement. Surely Adrien would understand that he meant no harm, wouldn’t he?

The look Adrien gave Luka as he glanced over his shoulder said otherwise. Luka’s heart withered, and he shrank back, feeling lower than scum.

“If I were a slug, I’d throw salt on myself to show you how sorry I am,” he murmured darkly. “Please forgive me…”

“I’m not mad at you, just hurt.” Adrien’s voice was soft and steady, devoid of fire. Missing was any acknowledgment of forgiveness. He began ascending the steps.

Luka’s hands balled into fists as he watched Adrien’s retreating back, drowning deeper by the moment in self-loathing. Merde. Why did he keep doing this? It wasn’t the first time an off-handed remark of his had dealt unintended damage. He could see there was no use in continuing to apologize. Regardless of his intentions, the hurt had been inflicted and couldn’t be taken back.

Silently, he followed Adrien onto the upper deck, ten paces behind, and watched him leave on foot with broad steps, back held straight, maintaining an air of dignity in the wake of his dolor.

By contrast, Luka’s shoulders drooped, the tempest raging inside him a contrast to his wilted disposition.

“What just happened?” Juleka’s disinterested-sounding monotone reached him from the lawn chairs, where she sat cross-legged, painting details onto her latest figurine.

“I hurt him,” Luka despaired. “I’m the worst person on the face of this earth.”

“Oh, please. You?” Juleka scoffed lightly without looking up from her project. “I doubt you actually hurt him. Stop beating yourself up.”

Luka wasn’t persuaded. “I definitely hurt him,” he muttered hopelessly. 

“He’ll get over it,” Juleka returned. “Just give him time.”

Luka sighed, burning in his own personal hell. He wished he could extract the shard of hurt he had shot unknowingly into Adrien’s heart, turn it into powder, and drink it so it could cut him up instead. How had words he meant softly turned into a weapon?

He had come to cherish his friendship with Adrien—he knew Adrien came to him as an escape from a difficult home life, and he wanted to be a source of comfort, but he had just ruined everything in a moment of thoughtless idiocy. He had managed to singlehandedly destroy the fledgling trust taking root between them.

Feeling sick, Luka trudged back down the steps and picked up his guitar. Sinking onto the couch beside his abandoned laptop, he slammed it closed, disdainful of any activity that wasn’t showing Adrien how sorry he was.

Eyes closed and driven by the undirected need to do something, he began to strum chords. The words ‘I’m sorry’ sounded hollow and weak, frivolous, a mockery of what he felt. If Adrien would let him play it, the song would speak for him instead. He poured his sorrow and remorse into the song, letting his fingers dig viciously into the strings, much harder than necessary. Let composing this song be painful.

Chapter Text

Adrien collapsed against the car’s leather interior with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, disturbing the meticulously-styled waves into his preferred state of casual disarray. Reflexively, his hand gravitated to his phone, which he had left tucked in the door compartment for the duration of the photoshoot.

“Did the shoot not go well?” Nathalie prompted from the passenger seat, watching him through her sun-visor mirror.

“It went fine,” Adrien answered noncommittally, in a tone that said he didn’t feel like chatting. He straightened slightly and smoothed out his forehead—his sour mood must be showing if Nathalie had deemed it necessary to ask. He didn’t want her making any negative reports to his father.

“Very well,” Nathalie responded, just as perfunctorily, and let the conversation die.

Adrien wasn’t sure if she couldn’t tell that he was actually upset, or if she just didn’t care, but either way, this was normal for them. They didn’t talk about feelings.

He turned his attention back to his phone and tapped the screen to check for notifications.

… Nothing. Well, except for a “hey dude sup” from Nino and some solicitation emails from websites he’d inadvertently subscribed to.

Nothing from Luka, though.

Adrien knew it would be just as easy to contact Luka himself, but petulant stubbornness stayed his hand. If Luka was really so sorry, why hadn’t he said anything since yesterday? He had probably moved on and forgotten the whole incident. Adrien was the only one who still cared.

Heaving a sigh, Adrien threw his phone onto the cushion beside him and reclined against the seat back, chin up. Over the curves of his cheekbones, he saw Nathalie raise an eyebrow as she peered at him through the mirror, but she made no comment. He closed his eyes so he could pretend she wasn’t scrutinizing his every move.

Adrien asked himself why he was even letting the misunderstanding with Luka get him so down. He knew Luka hadn’t intended to belittle him. He knew he could send Luka a message right now and their friendship would surely pop right back to normal. It was that easy—and yet, it wasn’t easy at all.

Why did the fact that Luka wasn’t contacting him now make him feel so betrayed? Why had one ill-placed laugh hurt him so much?

It was all because of that stupid song. Adrien felt like he’d opened Pandora’s box. Now that the idea of Luka being his soulmate had firmly planted itself in his mind, it was slowly taking over his entire psyche, like hairline cracks in a pane of glass emanating from a single point of impact.

It was silly. Maybe soulmates weren’t even real. Anyway, how could they possibly be soulmates when they felt so out of sync right now?

A dull vibration tickled Adrien’s thigh through the seat cushion. Trying to quell the hope that bubbled up in his chest— don’t get excited, Adrien—he picked up the phone in trembling fingers to take a look.

It was a text from Luka—buzz—now two.

Luka: hi adrien
Luka: sorry to bother you again

As he held the phone, blinking at the messages and wondering what to make of them, yet another text came in.

Luka: would you have time to meet up for five minutes? now, or… whenever you’re free? i know you’re busy but i promise it won’t be long.

Adrien attributed his quickening heartbeat to the mild shock of the discovery that Luka hadn’t just dismissed him and carried on with his life. The ‘sorry to bother you’ was uncharacteristically meek—did he think Adrien was still angry with him?

He wasn’t, really. Not angry, anyway—but residual hurt still surrounded the memory like sore skin around a wound. He felt like he had uncovered Luka’s true, unfiltered mind. He felt like Luka didn’t consider his problems real problems, but only pretended to sympathize to appease him, while secretly thinking him ridiculous. He also knew that probably wasn’t true, but it was difficult for his brain to convince his gut when he felt like he’d eaten a bad nut every time he replayed the conversation in his mind.

He wondered why Luka wanted to meet, what he had planned that would only take five minutes.

Despite mild reluctance that tempted him to just lock the phone and shut down, Adrien decided to accept Luka’s branch of peace.

Adrien: Sure. Where?

Luka: im at the fountain near your house

Adrien glanced out the window to gauge how far they were from the house. They would be passing the fountain soon. “Hey, Nathalie?”

“Yes, Adrien?”

“Can you drop me off at the Fontaine du Palmier? I just need to meet a friend for a few minutes. I’ll just walk home when we’re finished.”

“All right, we can drop you off, but Viktor and I will wait in the car until you’re finished. There’s no need for you to walk home alone,” Nathalie reasoned.

“Nathalie…” Adrien set his jaw. “I’m not a kid anymore, and no one’s going to accost me between the park and the house. It’s literally across the street.”

“Adrien.” A warning tone colored Nathalie’s voice. “On the contrary, the walk between the park and the house would be a perfect opportunity for a potential assailant. They know your destination, and there’s only one gate—you would be at your most vulnerable.”

Adrien’s brow lowered in frustration. Nathalie was right, but he did not want witnesses to this talk with Luka. “Please, Nathalie,” he implored. “Park outside the gate and watch me from there, if you have to.”

Nathalie leveled him with a cool, disapproving gaze that said, ‘What is the point of you having a bodyguard if you’re going to be so reckless?’

Adrien looked back unflinchingly. He refused to be cowed out of a social life. He had decided that the day he resolved to force himself into public school no matter what.

With a sigh, Nathalie buckled, nodding her approval at Viktor. “The Place du Chatelet, please,” she murmured to him, more quietly.

“Thanks, Nathalie.” Relaxing against the seat in relief, Adrien took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to see Luka.

All things considered, he regretted the blip in their friendship and wanted their easy rapport back. It helped that Luka was taking initiative… He hoped Luka wouldn’t hate him for kicking up a fuss over a small offense that he hadn’t even meant.

The car pulled up to the fountain, and Adrien got out, waving a brief goodbye before slamming the door shut.

He turned his attention to the blue-haired boy sitting on the lip of the fountain, facing out toward the Seine with his back toward the roadway. Good—at least the structure of the fountain would block them from Nathalie’s prying eyes.

Luka was looking at his phone, and Adrien realized belatedly with an ‘Oops’ that he had never texted Luka back. Yet, the other boy had waited for him, even without a guarantee that he would come. The thought softened Adrien’s heart, and he almost smiled as he approached.

“Hey, Luka.”

Luka looked up. His expression was pinched with worry, his aquamarine eyes strained with barely-concealed distress. “You came,” he gasped in surprise, getting to his feet.

“Of course—why wouldn’t I?” Adrien feigned lightness only half-heartedly.

“I had reasons to be worried you wouldn’t. You haven’t been responding to my messages, so I thought…” Luka stepped toward Adrien, but halted mid-movement as if having changed his mind, and sat back down, gesturing for Adrien to join him. Adrien noted that his midnight blue acoustic guitar was propped against the rim of the fountain on his other side.

Adrien sat, twisting the beaded charm attached to his phone around in his fingers. “What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry.” Luka’s voice was low and smooth, thick with sincerity. “I feel horrible for hurting you. I didn’t know how to express how much, so… I wrote you a song. If it doesn’t make you feel too uncomfortable… may I play it for you?”

The words came out haltingly, less collected than was usual for Luka. The subtle difference was enough to let Adrien know how heavily the ‘fight’ lay on Luka’s conscience.

Adrien was temporarily at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t known their friendship was deep enough to affect Luka in such a way, and Luka writing a song for him seemed like something out of a teen television drama—utterly unrealistic. Did people do that for each other? “Um… go ahead.” As if he would refuse.

“Thank you,” Luka exhaled. Released from the burden of uncertainty, he picked up his guitar and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind of the scene around him to enter a different headspace. Fingers poised over the strings, he put his left hand into position and began to play.

A plucked series of rapid, minor arpeggios flowed like a running river beneath a yearning melodic line.

Luka kept his eyes closed, not wanting to observe Adrien’s reaction lest a trickle of hesitation taint the purity of the song. He didn’t expect anything from Adrien, not even forgiveness. All he wanted was to convey how he felt. All his ‘I’m sorry’s sounded brittle and insincere. He didn’t know if Adrien would receive all that he had poured into the song, but this was all he had.

As he listened, Adrien took in Luka’s visage, his gaze roaming over Luka’s brow, down his nose, to his thin lips pressed together. His eyelids were gently closed, ending in a faint dusting of black eyelashes. If it hadn’t been for the slight crease between his brows hinting concentration, his expression would have looked neutral, impassive.

The soprano notes reached for resolution, suspensions and subtle dissonances creating beats of tension that agitated the air, reverberating in Adrien’s heartstrings.

It occurred to Adrien that Luka wasn’t the most physically expressive person. His voice always sounded calm, almost bored even—and until Luka was really angry (something Adrien had only seen once), he seemed to wear the same mildly-pleasant expression most of the time. After hanging around him more, Adrien had learned to pick up on the little clues that denoted Luka’s mood fluctuations—tension or lack thereof in the corners of his mouth and the space between his eyebrows, how brightly his eyes gleamed, the lift of his cheekbones.

It occurred to Adrien that Luka compensated for his lack of physical expression with his music. That music was his language, just as some people used their words or their bodies to communicate. It occurred to Adrien that he had not glimpsed Luka’s true mind when Luka had laughed and spoken tactless words. Rather, he had witnessed a mistake.

The notes seemed to jostle one another, and interrupted cadences never seemed to resolve, like a chain of unsatisfying sighs.

This, the music, was Luka’s mind, and it told of compassion, acceptance, longing, sadness, and—dare he think it?—love.

As the song washed over Adrien like warm sunlight, something inside him began to stir, as if the plaintive melody had found its way under his skin and nudged the raw core of his soul. It was an open hand, entreating him to grasp on and go together. His chest started to feel heavy, and tears began to well up in his eyes.

He realized it was because Luka was opening himself up to Adrien, placing himself at Adrien’s mercy. No one had ever shown him such soft vulnerability before. Usually, confrontations with people were like fencing matches, or play-acting. This was different. This was a boy giving Adrien a piece of himself, to do with it whatever Adrien wished.

When the song ended, Luka opened his eyes slowly, as if drifting out of a reverie—then, when it seemed his senses had fully returned, he put the guitar down in a hasty motion.

“That’s it,” he muttered apologetically, twirling a drawstring of his hoodie vest around his finger. His gaze was downcast, and his cheeks tinged faintly with rose-pink. “I… don’t know if it actually turned out the way I wanted, but… I hope you felt how sorry I am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I just had to do something to prove that I’m not…”

Shyly raising his eyes to meet Adrien’s for the first time since he had finished the song, Luka was so taken aback by Adrien’s awe-struck expression, glassy with unshed tears, that he forgot where his sentence was heading and just stared for a moment.

“That was incredible, Luka,” Adrien breathed. “You really wrote that… for me?”

“Yeah.” Luka shoved his hands in the pockets of his vest. “I know it’s not perfect, but… that's about how I feel. I’m sorry if you think it’s weird that I—”

Adrien put a hand on Luka’s arm to shut him up. “Stop… it’s not weird. No one’s ever written me a song before. I’m… really touched, actually. Thank you.”

Luka gave him a half smile.

Adrien could tell he was still sad and feeling horrible, which made him feel guilty enough that he started to forget why he was hurt in the first place. “Hey, Luka, I’m not mad at you. Okay?”

Now, he just wanted to see Luka cheer up.

“I know… but you’re hurt,” Luka returned in a low voice. “I really wasn’t laughing at you.”

Adrien sighed. “I mean… yes, I was hurt, and I know you didn’t mean anything by laughing and by what you said. I know you were just being light-hearted and it was probably a throwaway comment.” He looked at his hands. “It’s just, when you said people would envy me, it made me feel like… maybe you didn’t understand why I was upset. Like maybe some hidden part of you thought I had no right to complain.”

Luka looked horrified. “Adrien—no!”

Adrien’s lips quirked up at the corners. “I know now you didn’t mean it that way.”

Luka relaxed a bit.

“And honestly,” Adrien went on, “at the time, it really hurt, because… it’s usually not easy for me to open up to people, and talking about stuff that upsets me is still a pretty new thing. But I’ve always found it really easy to talk to you, compared to anyone else I’ve met.”

 “Really? It is?” Luka perked up at this last bit, the words escaping before he could check himself in favor of letting Adrien continue. “Or… was?” He revised with a wince, a knife of regret sliding into his gut as he considered that maybe he’d ruined that, and Adrien would start filtering his words around him now.

“Yeah… it is,” Adrien assured. When Luka’s expression continued to look strained, Adrien put a hand on his forearm. “—Look, Luka, I’m only telling you all this to explain why I got upset, but I don’t blame you. And honestly, I’ll admit that I was being a bit of a drama queen—I’m fine, and we’re good. You don’t have to worry and beat yourself up so much.”

“You’re really okay?” Luka inquired hesitantly, turning his wrist so he could grasp Adrien’s forearm back in a gesture of solidarity. “We’re okay?”

“Yes.” Adrien offered a small, warm smile.

“… Good.” Luka didn’t sound completely certain that he believed Adrien, but some tension fled from his face. “Go on with your explanation, then.”

“Well… I just started to feel like, maybe you couldn’t understand me after all, and I was stupid to get my hopes up and loosen my guard around you. I started thinking that maybe there are some things that I shouldn’t talk to even you about, and I should filter my words more, and be more careful around you.”

Adrien’s feelings made sense, but the admission hurt Luka. “You don’t have to hide anything from me,” he protested with a frown. “You can just be yourself. I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.”

“I know, it’s just… this is something that has always bothered me, you know? Being so rich. Having my own driver and all. Being so-called ‘good looking and famous.’” He said it with scorn. “It’s sort of a sore spot. I know my life circumstances are objectively pretty good compared to most of the people around me… Like, people would be personally offended if I complained about anything, because that would be ungrateful of me. But I can’t help but be bothered and sad sometimes, and… it’s nice to be able to talk to someone who won’t judge me for that or rub it back in my face how fortunate I am.”

I thought that person was you, was left unsaid.

“Money and looks aren’t the only things that matter, Adrien,” Luka assured softly. “In fact… they hardly matter at all. Just because you’re fortunate in some ways doesn’t mean you can’t be unhappy or have a bad day. I’m really sorry for implying that your problem was petty, or making you feel like it wasn’t okay to be human in front of me. I should have known you were upset and been more compassionate. I was stupid… I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t stupid, I just shouldn’t have expected you to be a mind-reader,” Adrien laughed, a little self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry, too.”

Luka gave Adrien’s forearm a comforting squeeze, warmth radiating from his palm. “I just want you to know… I meant it when I said you could talk to me about anything, all right? No limits.”

Adrien nodded, his defenses thawing further.

Luka shifted his weight, breaking his hold on Adrien’s arm. Something about him didn’t quite look at ease.

“What’s wrong?” Adrien asked. He thought everything was resolved now.

Luka searched Adrien’s eyes, his own like deep pools of ocean that concealed worlds beneath. “I just hope that what happened hasn’t… changed things between us.”

“Changed things?” Adrien’s eyebrows rose in confusion. “What do you mean?”

As if only to seek comfort from it, Luka pulled his guitar onto his lap and leaned on it, but didn’t make any move to play. He drummed his fingers lightly on the painted wooden body.

“How do I put this?” He gazed out toward the Seine, thoughtful. “Ever since we met, I’ve felt a sort of… connection with you? As in, it’s really easy to talk to you, which isn’t something I can say about most of the people I’ve met. I know we were never all that close, but… I cherish your friendship. I was really glad when you started coming over to the boat more often to hang out. For years, I’ve wanted to get to know you better, but you’ve always been so busy, so…” he trailed off. “I never really pushed it. I mean, all of Paris knows how busy you are, so I never thought you’d want to spend time with me, of all people.”

“What do you mean, you, of all people? The brilliant, talented Luka Couffaine? Who wouldn’t want to spend time with you?” Adrien nudged Luka, lips stretched in a grin.

In spite of his light-hearted jesting, the notes of the soulmate song drifted to the surface of Adrien’s mind again, casting a shadow of solemn curiosity. That connection Luka spoke about—was that what it meant to be someone’s soulmate? For the space between them to feel comfortable, safe, easy, like an oasis in the middle of an emotional desert? The eye in the middle of a storm? That one place where everything made sense? Because that’s what Luka felt like for him.

(And yes—they were back in that place. All the doubts that had cropped up in Adrien’s mind had melted away, one by one, in Luka’s presence.)

Adrien’s cheeks warmed, thinking about it. Luka didn’t know, but the fact that he was acknowledging something special about their relationship made it all more real, not just in Adrien’s head, and that scared him a little.

“But on a serious note, I… feel the same way,” Adrien confessed, his tone naked and honest, almost in a whisper. He was afraid to say anything more on that topic. “And to answer your question, no, I don’t think anything has changed between us… for the worse, anyway.”

“So you’re saying we’re stronger?” The left corner of Luka’s mouth rose in a hopeful half-smile.

“Stronger,” Adrien nodded, then grinned. “Let’s forgive each other and move on. Shall we?”

“Only if you promise you’re okay.” Luka’s smile was still apologetic and half-hearted.

“Yeah. I promise.” Adrien reached out and clasped Luka’s hand, like the beginning of a handshake, but let their palms rest together comfortably, in a gesture of affection and acceptance. “Thanks for the song, Luka.”

“Thank you for listening to the song.” Clearly relieved, Luka tightened his hand around Adrien’s. “And for forgiving me.”

Adrien returned Luka's smile, feeling the doubts and worries flee from his heart like soot sprites from the light, as he basked in appreciation of this boy’s friendship. That much, at least, was simple and certain.

Chapter Text

Luka stepped into the shower, sighing in relief as the warm currents cut through the city grime and sweat. After six hours of biking around Paris, his muscles were fatigued. Not quite sore yet, but they would be tomorrow.

For the first four hours, he had been plagued by the incomplete song, which petered out without resolution each time, a key change leading to… nothing. Frustrating.

Adrien had been on his mind again— against his will, but there was no point in fighting it. The memories of laughing through silly jam sessions, working shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, and late-night conversations filled his thoughts: a parade of enticing visions marching to the sound of that maddeningly incomplete song.

Both—the song and Adrien—were impossible to banish from his mind. Even if he managed to distract himself for a little while, his mind would inevitably cycle back. 

Sometime in the last two hours, though, a new song had started up in his head, granting him temporary relief. It was still centered around Adrien, but it was one he might actually be able to finish, which made him feel better. He hummed the root line of the chord progression as he lathered his arms with soap.

Rinsing the last of the conditioner from his hair, Luka turned off the faucet and grabbed the towel hanging from the corner of the shower door.

In the silence of the bathroom, he thought he could hear plucked strings reverberating faintly beyond the door. No—it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him, spurred on by his eagerness to get his hands on his guitar. Juleka wasn’t in the habit of touching his stuff. He wrapped the towel around his waist.

As Luka opened the bathroom door, the steamy air cleared and he took one cool, dry breath before realizing the room wasn't empty. Adrien was sitting on his bed in jeans and a long-sleeved black Gabriel shirt, one leg propped up on his knee to support the body of Luka’s classical guitar. His hair fell into his face as he inspected the fingers of his left hand, splayed across the frets. His right hand hovered above the strings.

Luka’s heart warmed fondly at the sight. He loved that Adrien felt comfortable enough to come into his room and use his things without asking. “You never mentioned you were learning how to play,” he remarked.

Luka regretted opening his mouth when Adrien’s posture stiffed and he stood hastily, as if he had just noticed Luka standing there. He scrambled to set the guitar down against the wall where he found it.

“Sorry! Juleka told me you were in the shower, and—um, I guess it would’ve made more sense to wait on deck.” Adrien’s eyes flitted down, registering that Luka was clothed in nothing but a towel. “And I’m sorry for touching your guitar without asking. I’ll just—”

“Adrien, wait,” Luka said loudly enough to cut off Adrien’s rambling. He took a step forward.

Adrien paused halfway to the door and turned around. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you take the guitar?” He ran his fingers through his hair to clear a lock that was dripping on his cheekbone, self-conscious but not uncomfortable to be bare-chested in front of the other boy. “You can use it any time—no need to ask.”

“Oh, um… sure, thanks.” With a toothy grin, Adrien went back for the guitar before slipping out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Luka grabbed a clean outfit from the pile on top of his dresser—black ripped jeans and a faded Red Hot Chili Peppers tee-shirt—and lay it on his bed. As he shed the towel and ruffled it through his hair, he wondered what Adrien was doing on the boat.

Of course, he was happy to have Adrien over. He treasured time spent with Adrien, no matter the reason. Ever since the ‘fight’ a couple weeks ago, Adrien seemed to be coming over almost every day.

The problem was, a feeling of unease had begun to plague Luka. A gnawing feeling that Adrien only came over when there was something bothering him. A frustrating modeling session. A fight with his father. Stress over schoolwork. Worries about his friends. He didn’t always talk about whatever was going on, but Luka knew that Adrien came to him seeking a distraction.

Luka didn’t mind, and he was happy to distract Adrien from his problems, but that didn’t seem like the basis for a healthy relationship, whether that was a friendship, or—

Luka forcibly dismissed the thought before it could develop.

Part of him wished that, this time, there would be no complaint—that Adrien had simply come for Luka’s company, like the first time he came to visit alone.

What had brought him that time? Adrien had said he was just passing by, but Luka knew by now that Adrien would have no reason to be passing the houseboat without an escort.

When Luka came out of his room, Adrien was on the couch, sitting cross-legged with his phone on one knee. He played a short segment of a song, rewound the video he was watching to listen to the same segment again, paused it, then made several attempts to pluck it out on the guitar by ear. Luka smiled—the chord wasn’t quite right, but judging from the look on Adrien’s face, he already knew that, so Luka kept quiet. Isolating each note, Adrien moved his fingers up or down the frets to adjust. He was so focused he didn't even notice Luka had entered the room until he spoke up.

“You have a good ear,” Luka said with a smile, “but it might help to look up tabs.”

Adrien looked up, wide-eyed as one caught in the act, then laughed and relaxed, letting his arms drape comfortably over the guitar. “Right, tabs—I’ll try that next time. Anyway, that’s enough for now.”

“You don’t have to stop!” Luka shook his head, grinning. “It’s not like we have anything else to do. What are you learning?” The song playing on Adrien’s phone was unfamiliar and sounded like it was in a different language.

“Just a song from an anime,” Adrien said. “It’s fine, though—I was just fooling around while waiting for you. I’m not actually serious about learning it.”

“Why not? It sounded really good,” Luka encouraged.

“You don’t have to lie.” Adrien smiled. Luka could tell it was genuine because of the way his cheeks dimpled and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

That did a little to take the edge off his worry that there was something wrong.

“I mean it will sound good if you work at it a little,” Luka teased.

“Maybe some other time.” Still smiling, Adrien removed the guitar from his lap and propped it in the elbow of the L-shaped couch.

Stepping over a small amp, Luka plopped onto the couch himself and folded his legs into a pretzel. He sat close to Adrien, but not too close. Adrien watched him, face inscrutable as if he was thinking about something but making an effort not to let it show.

The silence grew a few beats too long, making Luka self-conscious.

He wanted to ask, “So, what’s up?” or, “What brings you here?” but everything that came to mind sounded too unwelcoming, as if implying that Adrien needed a reason to be over. Faced with the dilemma of what to say, he realized he never had to think about it because Adrien was usually the one leading the conversation.

A thought occurred to Luka: What if Adrien gets tired of always starting the conversations? Will he get bored of me and stop coming over?

He brushed it away, sucking in a re-centering breath through his nose. No point in letting self-deprecating thoughts crowd his mind. Whatever stress or annoyance had driven Adrien to the houseboat, Luka’s insecurities didn’t need to add to the burden.

What he really wanted to do was to reach for his guitar and try out that chord progression. He didn’t want Adrien to feel ignored, though, so he pocketed the feeling of dissatisfaction. Something in Adrien’s expression changed, and Luka’s worry spiked again. He was about to blurt out “What’s wrong?” when Adrien finally spoke.

“Your hair looks good like that.” A faint half-smile tugged at Adrien’s lips.

That wasn’t what Luka was expecting. His hand went up to his hair in surprise. “Hm? Wet, you mean?” And of course Adrien had been the one to start the conversation again—Luka mentally kicked himself for missing out on the opportunity.

“Swept back like that,” Adrien explained. “It’s a nice look on you. Didn’t know you had a widow’s peak.”

“Oh.” Luka touched the pointed dip of his hairline. “It’ll be back to normal soon, unfortunately.”

“There’s nothing unfortunate about that.” Adrien’s eyes sparkled, and his smile was wide. “I like your normal hairstyle, too.”

Adrien seemed more confident now, compared to his shy, jumpy demeanor when Luka had first walked out of the shower. Luka idly wondered whether he had flustered Adrien with the sight of his bare chest. You wish, he scoffed to himself.

Adrien sighed and leaned back against the sofa, chin tipped toward the ceiling. “So, Kagami confessed to me.”

Luka’s stomach soured. He and Adrien were just friends, and Luka suddenly felt foolish and immoral for even thinking about Adrien in any other way. He buried those thoughts deep in his mind. The thoughts he didn’t speak aloud may as well not exist. As much as he preferred to be honest and open, he also had a good poker face when he needed it. “She likes you?” he asked.

Adrien nodded, but his eyebrows were knit in a troubled expression. If Adrien wasn’t happy about that, Luka wondered to himself, did that mean he didn’t like Kagami back?

“Yeah, I think so,” Adrien said. “I mean, that's what she said, anyway.”

Luka frowned at Adrien’s reluctance. It was as if he didn’t believe someone could like him. Cautiously and a little afraid of the answer, he asked, “Well… what about you?”

To Luka’s relief, Adrien shook his head almost immediately. “I mean, she’s pretty. We get along and I like her as a person, but… I don’t know. The idea of dating her doesn’t feel right. And plus…”

“And plus…?”

Adrien pursed his lips and shook his head, staring intently at the posters across the room. 

“Is it Marinette?” Luka ventured. He knew Adrien had had a huge crush on her when he first started public school. Adrien said he was over her, but from the way he still talked about her, Luka wasn’t sure the feelings were actually gone.

“No,” Adrien answered slowly, “I’m mostly over her. I don’t think it would work out between us, anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Luka asks. “I think it could. You two get along, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but we’re awkward,” Adrien sighed, letting his head fall on Luka’s shoulder. “I mean— I’m awkward. She was one of my first friends, and I’ve always been so hypersensitive to her. I just feel like even if we did start dating, it would be really hard for me not to overthink everything.”

“Hmm. I guess that makes sense,” Luka said, willing his heart not to speed up from the gentle weight of Adrien’s head on his shoulder and the flaxen strands brushing his collarbone. He sat stock-still, as if afraid of scaring off a bird that had decided to alight on him.

He treasured the fact that Adrien could be like this with him, comfortable enough to relax, to touch—yet the fact that they were discussing the girls in Adrien’s life pressed like a large rock on his lungs.

It didn’t matter, though. Adrien’s trust was more important than verbalizing his own feelings. Even if there was no indication that Adrien saw Luka as anyone special. It was more likely that Adrien only came to him because he was available, easily accessible. Because he was patient, non-judgmental, and didn’t mind listening. 

Besides, Luka could understand the appeal of coming to the houseboat. There was no one to scrutinize Adrien here—he was free to just be Adrien. That didn’t mean there was anything special about Luka.

Luka told himself he didn’t mind. If it meant he could be someone and something to Adrien, he would embrace the position of a supportive person by Adrien’s side.

“Yeah… maybe,” Adrien said in a distracted tone. “Hey, Luka…”

“Hm?”

Adrien lifted his head. When Luka met Adrien’s eyes, he saw that they were wide and looked strangely spooked.

“Are you okay?” Luka asked.

Instead of answering directly, Adrien ploughed forward with a question, as if fueled by a determination that blinded him to distractions. “What do you think about soulmates?

“… Soulmates?” Luka’s senses sharpened at the topic. “Why? Did you find yours?”

An unreasonable flicker of hope licked his heart like a hungry flame. He felt protective of these quiet, intimate moments with Adrien, wishing they’d be reserved for him alone. The idea of Adrien dating someone didn’t bother him as much as the thought of Adrien’s soul being connected to someone else’s.

With effort, he pushed away the thought, just like all the others—or tried to, anyway. Luka had already settled for not being the most prominent person in Adrien’s mind, and the ideas that teased his imagination were foolish ones.

Adrien looked aside, bangs falling in his face. “Um… something like that, maybe.”

Luka’s heart tripped anxiously at the nervousness in the gesture. What does he mean, ‘maybe?’ His mouth felt dry as he answered, “I won’t pry, but feel free to talk about it if you want.”

Adrien made eye contact this time, and Luka could now see a peony tint dusting his cheeks. His eyes danced side-to-side between Luka’s as he murmured, “It’s nothing specific. I just wondered if you believed in them, that’s all.”

It sounded like a lie, but Luka wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Well,” he answered in a practiced, even tone that belied the tension he felt, “I’d like to believe in them, but I don’t think I’ve met mine yet.”

For some reason, the hue of Adrien’s cheeks deepened and his gaze skittered away.

“So, this is just a hypothetical question, but…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What if you find out who your soulmate is, but you’re in love with someone else? What would you do?”

The skin on Luka’s face and neck prickled with an odd sensation, a mix of numbness and warmth. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be Adrien’s soulmate anymore. Dread was a gaping mouth in his gut that taunted, You’re his soulmate but he doesn’t want you.

“Some people don’t even believe soulmates are real,” Luka answered carefully. He felt uncomfortable advising Adrien one way or another when he felt so (wrongly) invested in the result. “You should trust your intuition,” he said, hoping that was enough.

“Right! Maybe they’re not real.” Adrien beamed a rehearsed smile, designed to brush sensitive topics under rugs. “Anyway, I’m not in love with anyone. I was just wondering what would happen if… if that happened to someone. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Luka parroted with a weak smile, both relieved and vaguely disappointed to let the topic go. Or vaguely disappointed in general.

Adrien reached over to fetch the guitar from its perch against the couch and held it out to Luka.

Luka took it, eyebrows raised.

“You’ve been looking at it,” Adrien explained. “There’s something you want to play, right?”

Luka laughed sheepishly. He hadn’t even noticed. “Yeah. I had some chords running through my head while I was working.” His fingers fell into place effortlessly around the neck of the guitar. It was his natural default, and he already felt better having the instrument hugged against his side, tucked between his elbow and thigh. “You don’t mind? I don’t want to ignore you.”

Adrien shook his head. “I like listening to you play! I never feel ignored when you do.” For a moment, his expression was soft. Then, he shook his head, as if coming back to the present moment from a distant thought. “But if you really want to make it up to me, we could play some ping pong later.”

The suggestion surprised Luka, coming out of the blue, and he laughed aloud. “Ping pong?”

“Don’t you have a ping pong table? We should make use of it.” Adrien grinned and cocked his head, bangs falling across his forehead endearingly.

“Yeah, we just need to clear it off,” Luka agreed.

Adrien gave a pleased nod and relaxed against the couch. “Are you going to play?”

Luka began to strum quiet chords, then tested them with a plucking pattern.

“Ooh, that sounds nice,” Adrien commented, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Luka’s chest tightened. He didn’t tell Adrien he was thinking of him when he came up with these chords. The thoughts he didn’t speak aloud may as well not exist, and they couldn’t put a burden on anyone. Instead, he would whisper them in a secret tongue to uncomprehending ears.

As long as the music cheered Adrien up, that was enough.

—

“Aren’t you hot in long sleeves?” Luka asked as Adrien ran after the wayward ball and caught it under his foot.

“I’m hot out of long sleeves, too.” Adrien struck a pose.

Luka blinked. Did Adrien really say that? “That isn’t what I—”

“I know! Sorry, dumb joke!” Adrien scooped up the ball and straightened, cheeks flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and physical activity.

“It’s okay,” Luka reassured, amused. “It wasn’t dumb.”

“Anyway, I’m fine—the fabric’s really light.” Adrien came over to Luka’s side of the table and stuck out his arm. “Feel.”

Luka touched Adrien’s clothed arm. The warmth of Adrien’s skin radiated through the fabric, which was, indeed, very thin. “You’re right,” Luka said simply, letting his fingertips linger.

But then, with the flash of white teeth and eyes smiling behind sun-bleached golden lashes, contact broke and they were back to the game.

Three volleys later, Adrien howled as his badly-angled paddle sent the ball into a wide arc that cleared Luka’s head. Both boys rushed to the railing and watched the ball flag in the breeze as it made the inevitable descent and landed in the Seine with a muted plop.

“Um. Sorry,” Adrien said.

“It’s fine!” Luka reassured immediately. “It happens all the time. Just let it be—we have other balls! I guess it’s pretty stupid to have a ping-pong table on—”

“No, no! I lost one of your balls and polluted the Seine,” Adrien protested. “Unforgivable! I’ll get it.”

“Get it?!” Luka’s head whipped to face Adrien, who was already pulling off his shirt.

“This water is clean, right?” Adrien asked as he tugged the shirt free of his head, then forearms, and swept back his mussed hair.

“The—what?” The appearance of Adrien’s bare torso had thrown off Luka’s train of thought. He was determined not to look and make Adrien suspect his motives, but the conscious effort to avoid looking distracted him from the conversation. Belatedly, Adrien’s question registered. “Wait, the water?”

“—Anyway, doesn’t matter. Be right back!” He climbed up atop the railing in two barefooted steps and leapt off with a whoop.

Luka rushed to the railing, gripping it in his hands and leaning out from the waist to watch a vortex of bubbles engulf Adrien’s lithe diving form. Was there anything Adrien wasn’t good at? “… Cleaner than it used to be, at least,” he murmured, then cursed softly under his breath.

Relative silence lapsed for a few moments before Adrien’s blond head resurfaced. He flung water left and right as he shook out his hair, gasping and laughing. “Did you see my dive?” he shouted up at Luka.

“Beautiful,” Luka shouted back.

Adrien looked around, treading water. “Where’s the ball? I lost sight of it!”

“Behind you!” Luka pointed. The disturbance from Adrien’s landing was pushing it away in small waves. “It’s getting away.”

Adrien about-faced, exclaimed “aha!” and paddled toward the bobbing white ball like a happy golden retriever. Catching it in his fingers, he held up his arm triumphantly and let out a joyful cry. “Mission accomplished!”

—

By the time Luka clasped Adrien’s hand to help him over the edge of the Liberty’s lower deck and retracted the emergency ladder, the other boy was already trembling. Though the air was warm, the water temperature was much cooler, and Luka imagined the breeze would feel chilly on wet skin.

“Shit, Adrien.” Luka threw the ladder haphazardly against the bulkhead, more concerned with Adrien than putting it back properly. “You shouldn’t have jumped in.”

“Are you kidding?” Adrien chuckled, though his voice wavered and his teeth chattered. “It was fun! I’ve never been in the Seine before.”

“Most Parisians have never been in the Seine before!” Luka retorted.

Anarka, who had heard the yelling and seen what the boys were up to, emerged from the salon with a multicolored towel bunched in her hands. She threw it over Adrien’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Maman.” Luka rubbed the towel into Adrien’s skin, both to sop up the wetness and to create enough friction to warm him up.

“Why don’t you get inside, boys?” Anarka suggested, herding them toward the salon doors. “You’ll be needing a shower, Adrien. Do you know how many people have died in that river?”

Adrien shuddered.

“Maman!” Luka snapped. “Don’t scare him.”

“I’m not scared,” Adrien said, pulling the towel tighter around him. “A shower sounds good, though.”

Juleka was at her desk reading a magazine when they entered the joint bedroom space. She looked up. “Hey, Adrien.”

“Hey,” Adrien said, voice wobbling more than before.

Luka slid the privacy divider closed, blocking Juleka from view.

“Try not to be too loud,” Juleka said through the divider.

“Gross.” Luka slapped the divider with his palm, and Juleka’s low chuckle came from the other side. Luka rolled his eyes before noticing that Adrien’s cheeks were pink.

“Did she mean—”

“It doesn’t matter what she meant!” Luka cut him off. He glanced at Adrien’s soaked pants, then suddenly remembered they probably cost thousands of euros. “Oh my gosh, your father’s going to kill us. Uh—you. But it’ll be my fault. We need to get those into the laundry.”

“Don’t worry!” Adrien didn’t seem anxious about his jeans, but he did start to remove them. He attempted with one hand, cold-crippled fingers struggling with the button. Two hands might have been easier, but he’d have to let go of the towel, and he was too cold for that.

Luka bit his lip, deliberating for a moment before stepping closer. “Here, let me help.”

Their fingers brushed, ice cold against warm, as Luka took over the task. Trying not to think too much about what he was doing, he freed the button and pulled down the zipper. Swallowing, he turned around and trained his eyes on the porthole. “The, um… you know where the shower is when you’re ready.”

“Right.” There was the sound of fabric shifting and wetly flopping onto the floor as Adrien stepped out of his pants.

When it sounded like he was free, Luka turned around to find himself once again face-to-face with Adrien’s gleaming, hairless chest—he had wrapped the towel around his waist. “Whoa,” escaped from Luka’s mouth before he could think. His eyes rose up to meet Adrien’s. “Sorry.”

A smirk danced across Adrien’s lips, shy but impish. “Don’t be.” He was still shaking.

Luka snatched the folded wet jeans from Adrien’s arms in his urgency to alleviate his chills. “I’ll put this in the wash while you’re in the shower,” he mumbled. “And I’ll get you a new towel.”

“Thank you,” Adrien said, then winked. “Still have no regrets, by the way.”

“Let’s hope you don’t get sick—maybe you’d have regrets then.” Luka grimaced. “Your father surely wouldn’t like that. Of course, you being sick would be bad enough by itself! But it would suck if you got in trouble—or if he found out you’ve been coming here.”

Adrien made a face of distaste. “It really would suck. Your place is like an oasis.”

“… You shouldn’t have jumped in,” Luka said again. He wouldn’t call Adrien stupid, but it had been a spectacularly reckless move.

“Hey,” Adrien said, circling Luka’s wrist with his chilled fingers.

An involuntary shudder shot up Luka’s arm and zinged down his back, only partly because of the cold. He tried not to think about the fact that he was holding Adrien’s pants—and probably briefs too—while Adrien was in front of him wearing only a towel.

“Relax—everything’s fine,” Adrien said, his voice steadier than before.

“I am relaxed,” Luka said, realizing at the same moment that he wasn’t. Thinking back to his meditation techniques, he released some of the tension in his shoulders and took a breath.

“I’ve never seen you worked up like this before.” Amusement sparkled in Adrien’s eyes.

Luka snorted. “You’ve never done something that crazy in front of me before. Hurry and get in the shower,” he admonished, shaking his hand free and giving Adrien a gentle shove toward the bathroom.

A dimple showed as Adrien smiled, close-lipped. “Going.”

As Adrien turned to enter the bathroom, Luka watched his back, feeling glum, until the door shut behind him. Your place is like an oasis. What if it stopped being like an oasis? If Adrien’s father found out, would he stop coming? Maybe he really did only visit the Couffaines because it was secret and safe.

Luka continued to hover around the door until he heard the tap turn on, then he let out a breath. Apparently he was more tense than he thought.

After throwing Adrien’s wet clothes in the laundry and retrieving his abandoned shirt from the upper deck, Luka settled onto the couch, sprawled out, and pulled the guitar onto his lap. The incomplete song was the only thing that would run through his mind when he was stressed. Instead of worrying about the transition, the ramp to nowhere, he played the familiar part over and over to soothe his nerves.

It didn’t help that this day had been full of little touches and tempting images. Luka didn’t want to think of Adrien as anything more than a friend. Of course Adrien was attractive, but Luka didn’t want attraction getting between them and making things awkward. It was putting him on edge.

Instead of erasing those images of Adrien from his mind, the song seems to make them dance behind his eyelids, more lively and enticing than before. It wasn’t even sexual—he just couldn’t stop thinking about him and wanting to be closer. When did Adrien become an obsession? What did it all mean?

Luka sighed and leaned back against the sofa, resting the guitar on his sternum as he continued to play. He stopped trying to fight the images in his mind. Taking another steadying breath, he let the vibrations from the guitar wash over him, reverberating in his bones.

Minutes later, Luka felt the couch shift and realized Adrien must have sat down. He felt Adrien’s knee bump his and opened his eyes.

It’s an odd role-reversal—Adrien coming to Luka after a shower just as he’d approached Adrien earlier that day, fresh faced and with dripping hair. Very odd indeed to smell his own cucumber verbena shampoo and body wash wafting off Adrien. It made him want to gather Adrien into his arms, pull his face close, and breathe in the fragrance straight from his skin. Luka sighed, resigned to the hopelessness of his thoughts, and set the guitar aside.

“I like that song,” Adrien said.

“Well, good—you’re the only one who’s going to get to hear it, since I’m never going to finish it,” Luka said dryly. A touch of vitriol entered his tone, and he instantly regretted it. “Sorry,” he said as a reflex.

Strangely, Adrien gave him a half smile that looked almost guilty. Luka guessed maybe Adrien felt bad for reminding him of the fact that the song wasn’t finished.

“I’m sorry for being so negative,” Luka said for good measure. “I know you meant that as a compliment.”

“No—it’s okay, you’re not being negative.” Adrien sat up straight. “Hey, can I play something?” It almost sounded like a non-sequitur, but from the way Adrien said it, it seemed to be an answer.

Luka blinked and held out the guitar by the neck. “Sure.” The crazy idea passed through Luka’s mind that maybe Adrien would try to finish the song.

Adrien shook his head at the guitar and got to his feet. “No, I mean on the piano.”

Moving with as much ease as if it had been his own living room, Adrien pulled a stool over to the keyboard. Luka followed, settling onto the large amp beside it, and pulled one knee into his chest.

Adrien began to play. The song sounded familiar, but Luka couldn’t place it until he recognized the theme from the Incomplete Song. He assumed Adrien had adopted it and woven it into his own composition. Adrien’s variation took the theme into a new emotional space. It felt enlightened, liberated—and then settled into a resolution that felt complete, at peace.

When Adrien finished, he looked at Luka with wide eyes and bated breath. “So?”

“Wow.” Luka let out a laugh—not one of amusement, but one of awed, respectful incredulity. “That was amazing… you’re really talented.”

Adrien looked puzzled. “Talented?”

“The way you took the theme and adapted it…” Luka shook his head. “I mean, you know how long that song has been torturing me. Years. But in just a few weeks, you’ve done it. You finished the song!”

Adrien looked crestfallen for a flash of a moment before a smile split his face. “Oh, right. Thanks.”

Something about Adrien’s responses confused Luka, but he was too excited about the song to dwell on it for long as he began to babble excitedly. “Seriously, thank you so much for sharing that. I think I could come up with a guitar part based on what you did… and if you wanted, maybe you could fill in the piano for the first half. Unless you think it sounds better for the piano to come in after the key change? We could play it together! This is amazing, Adrien.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Adrien answered half-heartedly.

Luka’s brow lowered. “Or—we don’t have to. Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume—I can come up with something myself. We don’t have to combine them.”

“No, that’s not it,” Adrien said.

Luka frowned. Standing from the amp, he lay a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “Adrien?”

“Yes?” Adrien put on his model-student smile and held Luka’s gaze, but his eyebrows were too expressive and Luka could see the tension between them.

That annoyed Luka. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me,” he stated bluntly. “Something’s been bothering you all day, and I don’t think it’s just Kagami. You can talk to me.”

Adrien licked his lips. “I… this song…” His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but Luka’s face.

Luka gave Adrien’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, caressing it with his thumb. He meant to give Adrien strength and remind him that despite his firm tone, he wasn’t angry—but Adrien seemed to shrink back.

Adrien gets up abruptly. “Sorry—do you think the laundry’s done?”

Laundry? Luka retracted his hand from Adrien’s shoulder, feeling disgruntled. He checked his phone. It had only been about twenty minutes since he had started the wash. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get it next time.” Adrien got up and crossed the room to fetch his bag from beside the sofa.

Luka felt a sense of déjà vu and dread, like sand slipping through his fingers. Adrien was in a rush to leave again, just like the day they had fought. “Wait. Won’t you get in trouble if you go back in those clothes?” He followed Adrien. “The wash is almost done, and the dryer will only be—uh, forty minutes. Is that too long? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“It’s fine,” Adrien said in a vague answer to all Luka’s questions as he hustled toward the stairs. “I’ll sneak in.”

“Wait—Adrien.” Luka wasn’t going to let Adrien escape again. He stepped in front of him, arms outstretched, blocking the staircase. “Please don’t do this again. Did I do or say something wrong? If so, I’m sorry, but please tell me. Let’s not repeat what happened last time.”

Adrien’s lips parted, as if Luka’s plea surprised him. He shook his head, expression softening as his cheeks colored slightly. “It’s not you, and I’m not mad. I’m sorry for being awkward. It’s… the song.”

“The song?” Luka’s brow furrowed. “What about the song? I said I liked it!”

Without breaking eye contact, Adrien lifted a hand and placed it onto the center of Luka’s chest. Luka’s heartbeat sped up as he felt the warmth of the splayed fingers through his shirt. He was sure Adrien could feel it, and the awareness of that just made his heart race faster.

Why was Adrien touching him like this? Luka lowered his arms slowly.

Slowly, as if scanning for something, Adrien’s hand moved up the column of Luka’s neck to the junction of his jaw, then the dip behind his earlobe. Luka’s chest heaved as he became conscious of his own breathing under Adrien’s attentive gaze.

Adrien’s fingertips traced the lower curve of Luka’s earlobe to nudge his earring.

“Adrien,” Luka’s lips formed, but Adrien was too close and too focused; his voice would have broken the moment, so no sound escaped.

“I came up with it… I can’t even remember when,” Adrien said. “Years ago.”

“Years…?” Luka’s mind was fuzzy because of the way Adrien was touching him, but through the haze of distraction he knew this didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean, years ago?”

Adrien took back his hand, then sucked in a breath and held it. Luka waited. “I recognized the theme when I heard you play it the first time.”

Recognized, he had said. Suddenly Luka thought about Adrien’s questions regarding soulmates, and everything clicked into place. They had each independently come up with compositions that fit together perfectly: the undeniable hallmark of a soulmate connection. “… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

What if you find out who your soulmate is, but you’re in love with someone else?

Oh no, Luka thought with horror. He wasn’t ready for this confirmation today. He didn’t want to know where he stood in this hypothetical. Heart hardening, he moved out of the way, allowing Adrien passage up the stairs. “I see,” was all he said.

Adrien didn’t move. He opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind about what he was about to say, because his expression shifted to something more unreadable. “I… guess I’ll be going,” he said.

Luka didn’t urge him a second time to wait for the laundry.

Adrien’s shoulder brushed Luka’s as he passed. Their fingers touched. Was it deliberate?

No, not deliberate. Stop reading into everything, Luka chastised himself. Maybe, he reasoned, Adrien had started coming because he felt obligated as Luka’s soulmate. Maybe he was looking for an out, for enough justification to ignore the cosmic message and move on with his life. He got that today. He got my permission, Luka thought bitterly.

And even now, knowing what he knew, he wouldn’t have changed anything. He hated the idea of keeping Adrien from pursuing whatever—or whomever—he really wanted. If the tension he had been seeing in Adrien all afternoon was due to the other boy feeling trapped by the soulmate connection—no, Luka would never want to perpetuate that. He didn’t mind letting Adrien go, even if it hurt.

Luka watched him go, sighed, and trudged over to the couch, curling up on it as if he were nursing a physical wound.

He hadn't anticipated that such acute misery would accompany the completion of the song.

Chapter Text

“Why so mopey?” Juleka clambered into a deck chair, crossed her legs, and pulled her bass onto her lap.

Luka looked up from the chord he was fingering. “I’m not moping.”

“Did something happen between you and Ken-doll?”

“Maybe,” Luka said elusively. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t want to lie, either.

Juleka stared at him without blinking.

“We’re soulmates, apparently,” he said, caving to his sister’s interrogation technique. Immediately, he started up the plucking pattern again to draw attention away from the statement he had dropped.

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Juleka didn’t question how he knew. Leaning on her bass, she hooked the curtain of her dark hair behind an ear. “I thought you liked him.”

Luka shrugged. “I mean, yeah, of course I like him. I don’t have a problem with being his soulmate.” Heat crept into his face, and he hoped it didn’t show.

“Does he have a problem with it?” Juleka pressed. “Is that why he hasn’t been coming over?”

“You know he’s busy,” Luka said, avoiding the question.

“True.”

“I’ll be honest.” Luka stopped playing and sighed. “I kind of wish this soulmate idea didn’t exist. Our friendship was just fine, but now that we think the universe is trying to put us together, there are all these questions and expectations popping up.”

“Like whether you should be together just because the universe says so?”

Luka nodded. “He’s had enough of people telling him what to do. I wish I could tell him that I don’t care whether we’re soulmates or not. I don’t want that to affect our relationship.”

Juleka quirked a brow. “Why don’t you just tell him that, then?”

Luka looked off into the distance. “I guess I could.”

“Do it, bro.” Juleka poked his shin with the toe of her boot, then crossed her legs and propped up her bass. “What are you working on?”

“Just a new song.”

“Not that unfinished one?”

“Nah,” Luka said with a wry smile. If he told Juleka he could finish it now, she’d probably be overjoyed for him, after hearing about his struggle for years. But then he’d have to explain everything in more detail, and he didn’t really feel like it. “I’m sick of being stumped, so… yeah. I’m working on something new.”

“Lemme hear it.” Juleka leaned forward. “Let’s see if I can figure out the bass.”

—

Luka had come to accept that he loved Adrien, in a way that wasn’t purely platonic, but wasn’t quite romantic either. He didn’t have any goal to date him.

Besides, it wasn’t in Luka’s nature to fight for someone’s affections. L’amour est un oiseau rebelle —love wasn’t something you could tame. The heart would go where it pleased, and trying to force it in a certain direction would only foster contempt. It was something his mother instilled in him from a young age, and he never forgot it.

The last thing Luka wanted was for Adrien to think he expected anything just because they were soulmates.

So Luka stepped back from initiating contact with Adrien. He’d respond if Adrien reached out first, but he wanted to give Adrien the freedom to set the terms of their relationship.

Days crawled by where communication between them was sparse—just a couple memes and a picture of a ladybug Adrien captured during a photoshoot. Adrien didn’t say much in response to Luka’s replies, and Luka let the conversations die without pushing for more.

—

The following Sunday, Adrien showed up at the Liberty in fencing gear, duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and helmet under his arm. Luka was on the deck trying to film a video, so he noticed the boy jogging up along the bank before anyone else. With a muttered curse of surprise, he switched off the camera and ran to the gangplank.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty” was the first thing out of Adrien’s mouth when he stopped in front of Luka. He smiled tentatively, cheeks pink from his exertion. The weather was mild, but it was high noon and the sun cast a hot glare. Anyone was bound to overheat running in long sleeves and pants.

“It’s okay,” Luka said, unable to contain a grin at the sight of Adrien and relief at the fact that Adrien had found a reason to visit.

“I don’t have much time, but… I didn’t want to text this,” Adrien explained breathlessly. Sweat caught the light and sparkled as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad?” Luka’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Of course not! Why would I be mad at you?” He knew why Adrien would suspect that, and felt guilty. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered the possibility of Adrien misunderstanding his relative silence.

“Good.” Adrien seemed to deflate from relief, and his flushed cheeks dimpled in a grin. “I was worried. Anyway, I wish I could stay and talk, but I have to get home. See you later!”

Luka stood on the gangplank, bemused and waving as Adrien jogged away, gone as quickly as he had come.

—

After that, things went back to normal. They texted throughout the day, and now and then, Adrien would drop by to talk or play music. He reported that he’d ordered a camera and tripod to start recording his piano playing—he’d zoom in on the keys so no one would realize it was him—for split-screen collaboration videos. They shared earbuds, flat on their backs on the cabin roof, and picked songs to cover.

The word “soulmate” never came up between them again, and Luka stopped playing the song. He remembered what Adrien had played—not perfectly, but well enough that he could have composed a primitive accompaniment. But finishing the song didn’t matter anymore. It could be completed, but it didn’t have to be. Even if Adrien and Luka were soulmates, soulmates could be ignored. A person should be free to choose their own love.

Luka made peace with that and moved on.

And yes, in part, he was protecting himself from the pain he knew would follow if he dwelt on that song for too long. He worked on other songs and contented himself with Adrien’s friendship.

In mid-October, Luka remembered the folded-up white vinyl banner wedged behind a stack of boxes in the storage closet. It was an old stage backdrop Marinette had designed for a music festival, and cost a whole season’s worth of wages to get printed, but the wind had ripped a hole in it and it was mostly useless now.

Mostly useless. He checked the closet to make sure it was still there, in the spot he remembered it last—and there it was.

Excited by his plan, Luka called Adrien right away.

“Luka. Hey.” Adrien’s tone was flat.

Luka’s smile evaporated and a crinkle formed between his eyebrows. “Adrien? Are you okay?”

There was a pause, then Adrien answered, “Yeah, technically. I’m fine.”

“Technically,” Luka emphasized in a knowing tone. Back in his room, he slid back the divider to confirm that Juleka was out, then stretched out on his bed, pressing the phone to his ear. “What’s going on?”

“Just a fight with my father,” Adrien said glumly.

“I’m sorry… what happened?”

“The usual,” Adrien grumbled.

Luka frowned. He wasn’t sure exactly what the usual meant. Adrien had told him about some of the fights he and his father had, but Luka suspected there was a lot that he left out. He stayed silent, not wanting to pressure Adrien to talk about something that made him uncomfortable, but hoping he’d say more.

Adrien audibly took in a deep breath, as if waiting to see if he had Luka’s attention, before releasing a rapidfire avalanche of words.

“You know the field trip to Marseille I told you about last week? Well, he found out I went… apparently without asking him. Except I did. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to be disturbed. I texted and emailed him, and asked Nathalie to ask him, just in case he didn’t see—but he never got back to me, so I went anyway, and now he’s acting like I was sneaking around and intentionally deceived him.”

“What the hell?” Luka muttered.

“I mean, is it my fault I never get to see him and he ignores my attempts to contact him?” Adrien ranted on. “We had a graded assignment based on the trip—what else was I supposed to do when he didn’t answer? It was during school hours! He’s acting like I committed some horrible crime by leaving Paris!”

“That’s unbelievably ridiculous,” Luka said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m afraid I’m gonna wake up one of these days handcuffed to my bed,” Adrien moaned. “And Viktor will come and walk me like a dog to lessons and photoshoots.”

“He keeps you on a tight enough leash as it is,” Luka harrumphed.

Adrien sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry for whining at you. I was upset, but I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t apologize,” Luka said, rolling over onto his belly, propped on his elbows. “I’m happy to listen. Don’t worry, you’ll break free eventually—your father can’t control you forever.”

“I hope you’re right,” Adrien mumbled.

“I mean, the old man’s gotta die at some point,” Luka joked.

Adrien laughed. “That sounds like something Juleka would say.”

“Guess I’ve been spending too much time with her.” Luka smiled, glad to hear Adrien laughing. “You should come over and cure me of her bad influence—and so I can give you a big hug.”

“May I?” Adrien asked, his tone hopeful.

“Oh, yeah! That’s actually why I called you!” Luka sat up. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to leave the house, but it’s getting colder in the evenings, and this is one of the last nights we’ll be able to do this. You want to come over and watch a movie? I have this big banner that we can use as a projector screen.”

“You have a projector?”

Luka nodded even though Adrien couldn’t see. “Yeah, there was an old one in the closet. I tested it out with my laptop, though, and it still works.”

“I’d love to,” Adrien said wistfully.

“Don’t feel bad about saying ‘no’ if you can’t,” Luka said. “Sorry to torture you with the invitation if that’s the case, though.”

“Don’t apologize! I’m the one who asked,” Adrien laughed. “Thanks for inviting me. I’d love to come, really. I’ll have to ask Father—or bite the bullet and just tell him I’m going.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with him,” Luka said, feeling genuinely bad and frustrated on Adrien’s behalf.

“Eh. It’s fine.”

“So… eight p.m.?” Luka suggested.

“See you there,” Adrien promised with a bounce in his voice.

Luka noticed that he didn’t qualify with ‘I hope’ or anything along those lines. He was glad Adrien was becoming bolder about insisting on his decisions. “Bring a sleeping bag!” he added.

“Sleeping bag. Right. I’ll check if I have one.”

—

The first thing Luka did when Adrien arrived was give him a big, tight hug as promised, squeezing him around the middle and arching his back until Adrien’s feet lifted off the ground.

He could feel Adrien’s sides convulsing with laughter through the soft fabric of his black cashmere sweater.

Juleka finished tying a section of twine to the stage truss and looked up. “I knew it.”

“Knew what? There’s nothing to know.” Luka rolled his eyes and set Adrien on his feet, but he didn’t let go, shifting instead to a gentle hug. He rested his chin on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Luka.” Adrien’s arms, thrown over Luka’s shoulders, tightened in reciprocation.

“Look at you two being all lovey-dovey,” Juleka’s deadpan voice said from over Luka’s shoulder.

He let go of Adrien with a final pat to his back and turned to scowl at his sister. “Lay off, Jules. We’re not being lovey-dovey—he’s had a bad day and needed a hug.”

“It’s fine,” Adrien said, giving the sleeve of Luka’s hoodie a tug. “I don’t mind.”

Luka and Juleka both turned to him.

Adrien’s face turned pink, and his hand went from Luka’s sleeve to the back of his neck. “What?”

“I think you guys would be cute together.” Juleka’s lips flattened into a half-smile as she patted Adrien’s cheek. Gold fluttered as he blinked reflexively. “Have a nice movie night.”

“You’re not staying?” Adrien asked.

Juleka shrugged. “Why would I crash your date? Stage is done, so I’m out.”

“Thanks, Jules.” Luka squeezed her shoulder as she passed, ignoring the ‘date’ comment.

“Wow.” Adrien turned his attention to the stage. Luka and Juleka had stretched the vinyl banner backward across the front of the truss to form a plain white projection screen. “An outdoor movie theatre! This is amazing!”

“Sorry about the hole.” Luka sheepishly waved his hand in the direction of the L-shaped rip in the upper right quadrant. Juleka had run a needle and thread across it a few times to keep the flaps together, but the seam was still clearly visible.

“I like it,” Adrien grinned. “The Couffaine vibes are strong.”

Luka cuffed him playfully on the shoulder.

On the way down the stairs to get changed into pajamas, Luka realized something he’d missed and did a double-take, looking over his shoulder at Adrien. “Did I forget to tell you to bring a sleeping bag?” he wondered aloud.

“Huh? Oh, no—I checked, but I uh, don’t have one.” Adrien rubbed his neck. “I’ve never been camping or anything.”

“Oh, no problem!” Luka assured him. “We’ll figure something out. You can use Juleka’s or something.”

They quickly changed into their night clothes, and Luka rummaged in Juleka’s closet for her sleeping bag. Nothing.

He checked the storage room. Nothing.

He asked his mother, who was reading and drinking in the salon. “Oh, it’s probably in one of those boxes,” she said vaguely, unconcerned.

“Why am I the only one in this family who can keep track of things?” Luka grumbled. He hated when things went missing, and all of his own possessions had their own rightful places.

“Sorry for causing trouble,” Adrien said quietly as they went back out onto the deck in socks, armed with drinks and snacks they had picked up from the kitchen on the way back out.

They were both wearing long pants, and Luka had lent Adrien a hoodie to wear over his thin-seeming pajama shirt, but the air still felt cool.

“Don’t worry! There’s no trouble at all. We can share mine,” Luka suggested without thinking twice as he set down a cooler of seltzer drinks and unfurled his sleeping bag across the deck. “It’s pretty big, and really warm. Designed to withstand arctic weather.”

“Oh, um… sure,” Adrien said, sounding uncertain. He placed the snacks on the table.

“Unless that would weird you out,” Luka rushed to add. “We could just sit on it during the movie, and you could sleep on my bed tonight if you want.”

“No! Uh, it’s not weird,” Adrien said. “I don’t mind sharing. It’s kind of chilly, anyway.”

Luka’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Make yourself comfortable, then.” He handed Adrien a couple of large pillows and gestured toward the sleeping bag.

After Luka started the movie up, he found Adrien already nestled in the sleeping bag, holding open the flap for him. He slid in, careful not to touch the other boy more than necessary, so as not to make him feel uncomfortable. The makeshift projection screen, stretched across the stage truss, was easily visible with their backs propped against the pillows.

As the opening credits rolled, Adrien scooted closer and hooked his arm around Luka’s. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Luka answered, relaxing a bit.

Luka tried to focus on the movie. The storyline and the music were beautiful, but he couldn’t ignore the way Adrien’s leg pressed against his, every little shift of Adrien’s arm, and the way Adrien’s head occasionally got close enough to brush Luka’s cheek with his feathery hair.

It wasn’t sexual, but the closer Adrien was, the more Luka felt like he was drifting, drowning in his need for Adrien to stay there, right beside him. And that’s when it started to hurt that Adrien didn’t feel the same way he did.

Or did he? He was acting awfully comfortable. Was Adrien like this toward all his friends?

Stop—it shouldn’t matter, Luka chastised himself. He isn’t yours.

Except he could be. He should be, whispered back the part of his brain that knew they were soulmates.

Luka sighed, noticing the way the backs of his fingers brushed Adrien’s hip, feeling a lump in his throat.

When the ending credits finished and the screen went black, they didn’t get up. They lay tangled in one another, bathed in a wash of emotions from the film.

Adrien extricated his arm from between them and wiped at his face.

“I cried too,” Luka disclosed softly.

Adrien looked over, letting out a small laugh.

The screen had turned blue when it reached the end of the reel, casting an eerie glow over the deck. Luka shifted.

“Don’t get up,” Adrien pleaded, an arm and leg that had entangled with Luka’s tightening to keep him anchored.

“I’m not.” He hadn’t intended to. It was comfortable inside the sleeping bag, and the air was cold on their faces.

“Let’s just sleep out here,” Adrien mumbled, burying his head in Luka’s shoulder.

Luka laughed. “Are you sure? It’s cold.”

“Not like this.”

“True.”

Luka stared at the sky, content to have Adrien nuzzled into his side, and tried not to think about “Why?” or “What next?” This moment was what it was. He and Adrien were what they were—whatever that was.

“I used to sleep out here sometimes when Jules and I were fighting… or when I just wanted to sleep alone,” Luka shared, feeling comfortable to do so in this vulnerable moment.

“It must’ve been a nice escape,” Adrien remarked. “Though I’m a bit jealous that you have Juleka. I wish I had someone to sleep with.”

Luka snorted and elbowed Adrien.

“Not like that!” Adrien pouted.

“I’m kidding.” Luka shifted positions, instantly ashamed of the unwholesome joke and feeling the need to backpedal. He wrapped an arm around Adrien’s neck to pull him close and kiss him on the temple. “I’ll be your big brother if you want.”

Adrien was silent, and Luka got the vibe that he wasn’t too happy about the comment, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Or not,” Luka added in a guarded tone.

Adrien sighed, but didn’t look at Luka or say anything.

Luka’s mind wanted to explore what this response could mean, but he put up mental blinders. He didn’t want to overthink Adrien’s actions or try to read into them. He had made a decision to take a back seat and let Adrien define their relationship, and he was sticking to that. It probably didn’t mean what he hoped. Maybe he was hurting Adrien by talking about family when Adrien’s family life was so unpleasant.

“You okay?” He asked, testing the waters.

“I, um… I snuck out,” Adrien admitted, though the way he said it indicated that it probably wasn’t the foremost thought on his mind.

“I figured,” Luka answered. “You won’t get in trouble?”

Adrien shrugged. “No one knows to look for me here, so I think I’m safe.”

Luka fell quiet and listened for a few seconds. “Nope, no sirens yet.”

Adrien laughed.

“Seriously,” Luka teased, “I’m nervous hiding a fugitive rich model boy.”

Adrien laughed again, but this time it came out strained, as if he was only laughing out of obligation. “I’m sorry. If it’s really that stressful—”

“No, Adrien,” Luka said, “that’s not what I meant at all. I’m usually joking when I say things like that.”

“Sorry, I can’t tell sometimes.”

“Stop apologizing.” Luka’s arms around Adrien tightened. “I like it when you come over.”

“I like coming over,” Adrien returned.

Luka smiled. “Do you feel better now?”

“Hm?” Adrien sounded confused.

“About your father. What you told me about earlier.”

“Oh, yeah,” Adrien breathed, remembering. “Much better. Thanks, Luka.”

They lay in silence for a little while longer, and Luka started contemplating getting up to turn off the screen. He didn’t want to break contact with Adrien earlier than he had to, though, so he breathed in his scent—cologne mixed with boy—and tried to be content with the moment without getting ahead of himself.

“Do you ever actually sail this thing?” Adrien asked eventually.

“We used to,” Luka answered. “Don’t tell Maman I said this, but she isn’t as adventurous as she used to be.”

Adrien laughed at the comment. “That must have been awesome.”

Luka rolled his eyes. “Not as awesome as it seems—we’d just ride up and down the Seine. I used to have horrible seasickness, so I hated it.”

“That’s tragic,” Adrien moaned dramatically. “Do you still get sick?”

Luka shrugged. “We’ve been moored here for a while.”

“Can I come with you next time?” Adrien asked. “…If there is a next time, whenever that might be.”

Luka smiled, amused at Adrien’s adventurous spirit. “Maybe we should wait until you move out, so your father doesn’t try to arrest the pirates who kidnapped his son.”

“Let him try; we’d be miles away,” Adrien joked. “Being kidnapped by pirates sounds like a great plan, actually.”

Part of Luka wished he could kidnap Adrien, so he wouldn’t have to deal with his father anymore. But he didn’t say it out loud. He knew Adrien’s relationship with his father wasn’t that simple.

“I’m only kidding,” Adrien said after a pause. “I don’t hate my father. I know it’s been hard for him since Maman left.”

Luka’s breath hitched. Adrien rarely talked about his father beyond complaints, and he never talked about his mother. “She left?”

Adrien nodded. “I was about to leave for my fencing lesson, but I saw her in the garden and ran to give her a hug. She looked at me in a way that scared me, and kissed my forehead, but all she said was goodbye and have fun. When I got back, she was gone, and all her favorite belongings were gone too. She didn’t leave a note or anything. Father was at a fashion show in Italy…”

Luka tightened his hold on Adrien and pressed his head against the other boy’s in a gesture of warmth and support.

“She took the picture of me from her nightstand, so maybe she doesn’t hate me,” Adrien said quietly.

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” Luka sighed. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you.”

“I’m not mad at her,” Adrien murmured. “She and Father used to fight… I was too young to realize at the time, but I think she was miserable.”

“It was probably hard for her to leave you.”

“I hope that’s true. Maybe I’ll meet her again someday.” Adrien’s voice quivered.

“I hope so.” As he held Adrien in his arms, Luka wished more than ever that he could make his friend happy.

Adrien moved slightly, putting just enough distance between him and Luka that they could make eye contact. “You know… I’m not here because you’re my soulmate,” he admitted.

Luka’s lips parted slightly in surprise at the word ‘soulmate.’ He hadn’t expected Adrien to bring it up after avoiding the topic for so long. “I didn’t think that was why you came here,” he said cautiously. “But what do you mean?”

“I’m here because I love spending time with you,” Adrien whispered, as if it were a secret.

Luka stroked his hair, trying not to assume anything, then leaned forward to kiss Adrien’s forehead.

Adrien reached up and cupped Luka’s cheek so he couldn’t pull away, then tipped his head up and placed a gentle kiss on Luka’s lips.

Luka let out a soft gasp, heart tripping in syncopated rhythm.

“Remember my hypothetical question?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Luka answered. How could he forget? “About being in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate?”

His lips tingled, and he longed to ask about the meaning behind the kiss, but he waited.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for being sneaky,” Adrien said. “I didn’t like the thought of us spending time together just because we were ‘supposed’ to. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to spend time with me.”

“Obligated? It’s never been like that,” Luka said softly.

“I know.” Adrien skimmed his thumb across Luka’s cheekbone. “Anyway, I was afraid to tell you we were soulmates, afraid to confront my feelings. I didn’t want to tell you before I was sure it wouldn’t put you in a predicament. Sorry for acting so weird and causing a misunderstanding.”

Luka realized the question had been about him, not about Adrien—Adrien was insecure, not feeling trapped. He ran his fingers through Adrien’s hair comfortingly. “You don’t have to apologize. I was afraid you would feel trapped into being with me. Even now, you can still walk away if you want. The soulmate thing doesn’t really matter.”

“R-right.” Adrien pulled his hand back from Luka’s face. “It doesn’t matter.”

Registering the fear in Adrien’s eyes, Luka caught his hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss between his knuckles. “I’m not trying to chase you away,” he said. “All I mean is that you have the freedom to choose.”

Adrien’s face visibly relaxed. “I was confused at first, because the way I felt toward you didn’t feel like a ‘crush.’ The more time I spend with you, though, the more I realize that… I’m happy with you, happier than I’ve ever been before in my life. There’s no one else I’d rather have as a soulmate.”

“I feel the same way.” Luka’s right arm, which was thrown haphazardly around Adrien’s waist, tightened. “To answer your question more directly: I’m definitely not in love with anyone else, so there’s nothing to worry about. Even if you weren’t my soulmate, I’d still choose to be with you.”

Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t necessarily true. How could he say that with certainty? If he had a different soulmate, everything might be different. But what was the point in considering ‘what if’s?

The fact was, Luka didn’t have another soulmate. His soulmate was in his arms, and they were perfectly happy that way.

“I’d choose you, too,” Adrien sighed, nudging Luka’s nose with his before slipping closer to kiss him again.