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He opened the door for Marinette and gently escorted her inside.
She looked around, surveying every detail. The baby blue of the accent wall. The furniture in all of its strange varieties of makes that still somehow fit together. The assortment of decorations from the little black cat figurine that had been a joke housewarming gift from friends to her potted plants lined up at the wide windows—still tenderly cared for, even in her absence. All things that were part of the home. All things that made the home their own.
And yet, not a single hint of warmth came to her eyes.
“This is…my house?”
Ours, he didn’t say.
After all the things they had experienced throughout the years—the monsters they’d fought, the battles they’d won, the people they’d saved…
It seemed so surreal that it was something as simple as a car accident that would take her down.
She stepped through the entryway into the main room—tentative. Unsure. Like she didn’t think she belonged. Her grip on her cane tightened, belying her anxiety.
He rested a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. Allowing her to use him as her other support as she was forced to confront a home she didn’t know and memories she couldn’t recall.
“Just…take a bit of time to familiarize.” He whispered.
I will be with you every step of the way.
She took a breath but nodded before moving forward, and for a second—
Standing tall, wearing her suit like armor, her shoulders broad and head high in steely determination even in the face of overwhelming odds—
Luka could see the courageous young woman he loved in this stranger’s frame.
For her part, Marinette was…handling the circumstances if nothing else.
She stepped away from him, standing with only her cane and her one good leg for support. Rather than immediately head for the couch or any place to rest, she wandered the room, taken in by the all of the remnants of a person she used to be.
There was an array of frames along the wall as she passed, each containing memorabilia from newspaper clippings to artwork to awards. She gave them a cursory glance, none of them really standing out. At most, she barely touched one that contained a pink ribbon—
“Isn’t this a bit much? And a bit silly?”
Alya had gasped in mock outrage. “Girl, this is your own design house! We have to have a ribbon cutting ceremony to make it official! Otherwise, what have our years of labor been for?”
Marinette giggled. “You mean my labor?”
“Hey, don’t forget who did the interviews.” The other woman said with a wink.
More giggling.
“Of course, of course! I never would have gotten this far without you. Any of you.”
“And don’t forget it!” More giggling. “And besides, a happy opening is a sign of a happy beginning. This is your dream, girl! Go all out and enjoy it becoming real!”
“Okay, okay! So how will we do this?”
Luka smiled as he brought over the fancy scissors.
—pink ribbon, a couple inches thick, contained in a frame along with a picture of a group of strangers standing outside a building.
He carefully took their bags back to their his room, allowing her a moment to reflect and himself time to gain some composure.
To think it would be a car accident that did this. Not some epic villain battle, no. A stupid car accident because of her insistence on meeting him at the airport and some idiot who decided to run a red light. He'd consider laughing if he wasn't on the verge of breaking down…
But…she needed him. More than ever now.
When he returned, she was standing at the wall aligning with the window, lightly touching the dollhouse that was stationed there.
“Do we…did we have kids?”
“No.” Not yet.
It was grand—a four storied house with five rooms on each floor, each fully furnished in different ways. Its outside had the design of a cozy cottage, with walls were painted with a soft pink as well as white doors and window shutters. All of which were moveable, to her amazement.
“Where did we even get something like this?”
It had been a labor of love.
She hadn’t wanted to leave the kwamis stuck in the Miracle Box with no idea of the happenings in the world. And as they had begun spending more time outside, Marinette had been insistent that the kwamis deserved their own space outside of the Box. It had taken her weeks to make it—and multiple failed attempts.
She gave them their own home within hers. She’d wanted them to feel welcome.
It may very well have been the first time the little gods had cried.
“It was…a project.”
She frowned, but didn’t speak further. Her gaze turned to the nearby shelf on the adjoining wall. Holding a number of books. A single bin full of yarn for knitting. Two guitars rested along the side.
“Luka, it’s beautiful, but…why?”
“Why not?” He smiled.
“But…I’m not much of a guitar player. You know that. I’m not like you, Mr. Top 20 three-weeks-in-a-row. I still don’t know how to play the guitar.”
She moved to put it back in its case, but he pulled her back and into his lap along with the guitar. Her squawk of surprise only made him grin, and he placed a kiss to her head.
“That just means you’ll have more opportunity to learn.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“Do you play?” She had asked, curious as she looked over the two guitars.
He smiled bitterly.
“Wow,” Dingo whistled as he peeked through the curtains. “Quite a crowd out there.”
“I’m not sure I can do this.” Luka muttered.
It had been one thing when he had been playing with Kitty Section. But the band had gone their separate ways and now he was playing center stage.
“No worries. It’s only your first show. If you choke, who will even remember?”
He sighed. “Yeah, see, that? That’s not helping.”
“I’ll tell you something that will, though…” Dingo trailed off with a smirk. Before Luka could react, the other wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him to view the opening in the curtain.
“Dingo!”
“Take a look!”
Luka glared at his friend—or tried, but Dingo’s grip around his neck really kept him from turning in any direction besides the one the other wanted.
Dingo, for his part, didn’t even have the grace to look back, instead grinning at something through the curtain.
“A certain little lady in the center seat of the middle row.”
Luka froze. And immediately, his eyes glanced over the crowd, searching for…
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
A bright neon pink sign with his name.
Her smile.
He breathed.
“Mari…”
Dingo clapped him on the back and released him.
“If you can’t play for your fans, play for her. You know she’ll always listen…”
“Yeah.” He answered.
What else could he say?
He’d built up his music career over years. For all that she had been busy with her own design house, she had still be there for him every step of the way. Supporting him. Inspiring him.
And now only one of them still knew that.
“Congratulations on the release of your new single!”
Ah.
He winced as the flashing lights hit him.
For all the time he spent on tour, he would never get used to this.
“Thank you.”
He knew better than to respond. It wouldn’t be enough. It was like an avalanche of questions and microphones barreling down on him.
“Mr. Couffaine! How do you feel about your ranking on the Music’s Top Ten?”
“Is there any truth to the rumors that you are doing a collaboration piece with Jagged Stone?”
“Are you really having an illicit affair with XY?”
“Luka Couffaine, you just completed the last stop of your world tour! What are you going to do now?”
Finally, the one question he wanted to answer.
“I have someone to see.”
It had been both a dismissal and an explanation as he took his leave to wait for his ride.
Tomorrow was their anniversary, after all. He’d managed to schedule the end of his tour to give him just enough space to make it back in time to spend it with her.
Marinette was probably already waiting at the airport at this moment.
Or at least…she should have been?
He checked his watch. Was he early? A bit, but not by much…it had been a little last minute for her, though. Maybe she was caught in traffic?
His phone rang. Was that her?
“Hello?”
“…”
“…”
“…what?”
He winced and turned away, trying to fight back the burning in his eyes.
Maybe she saw his reaction because she went silent as well. The tension of the room heightened, near to the point of stifling. For all that he wanted to reach out to her, there was a distance between them that felt…impassible.
He heard her move further into the room. Closer to the kitchen, it sounded like. He listened as something seemed to slide briefly across the countertop, as if she had picked up something for a closer look. Despite his better judgement, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned to see—
It had been hell. The date. The entire day. Hell. To the point he was convinced that some higher powers were giving a sign that this relationship wasn’t meant to be.
Except it wasn’t a sign, it was a fucking billboard.
He’d had it all planned out. Picking her up in his new car. They would have dinner together, followed by a movie, coffee and dessert at a nice little cafe he’d heard good things about, then a stroll by the Seine.
Except whatever higher power up there hated him, apparently.
First the car—the brand new (okay, only slightly used) car he’d recently purchased wouldn’t start, so he’d had to ride his bike to reach her. This meant the restaurant was a no go, meaning his reservation that he’d put in a good month in advance went to waste. Marinette had suggested they just walk to the movie which he was fine with, except that it started raining and the theater in question suffered a power outage. Desperately trying to salvage the night, he’d led her to the cafe anyway only to find they had apparently gone out of business the day before.
Luka was…done. He was just done. He’d apologized profusely and tried to call a cab for her before he’d walk home in the rain so he could scream into his pillow.
Suffice to say, he was pretty sure the date was a bust. And would likely be the first and last he’d ever get with her.
But while he’d been on the phone discovering that traffic was backed up and even THAT much of the night wasn’t going to go right either, Marinette had noticed a little souvenir kiosk under an awning nearby. He hadn’t known what specifically had caught her eye, but when she returned, it was with a thermos of tea she had brought from home and two little mugs she’d just purchased—both with their own different engravings.
She passed the "I AM WEIRD" cup to him. Was…was this a joke? Was she saying something?
He wasn't sure what it was until he saw her blushing as she sipped from her own cup, clearly displaying the engraving of "I LOVE WIERD".
The night went wrong in so many ways. But there…huddling from the rain under the storefront tarp, sitting next to her...he felt warmer than the hot tea could have been responsible for.
She held the “I LOVE WEIRD” cup gingerly, staring at the porcelain as if it could tell her its secrets. But when nothing could be found, she set it back at its previous place and continued on.
Marinette’s gaze had moved on to the next item of interest. She peered into the various photographs lining the top of the nearby shelf. Each contained images of a young couple. A man with teal hair and a lip ring along with a woman with dark blue hair and earrings. The pictures varied—them hugging while bundled up in the winter season, him picking her up and her holding him tightly for balance, them dancing at an outdoor festival, them making silly faces in a photobooth. Each one of them smiling.
One that kept her attention, however, had the man in a tuxedo and the woman in a stunning floor length dress. It was white with an illusion neckline, and bore the images of petals. But the truly striking feature was the airbrushed effect at the bottom of the dress as it changed from white to vibrant teal and finally to black—a clear match to the hair of the man standing beside her.
It was a wedding.
She had said he inspired her dress. That she had made it with him in mind. He had believed her, of course. He never needed her to prove she loved him.
But oh, how his heart had sung seeing her like that. In his colors. Showing the world whom she belonged with.
He had barely heard anything the priest had said. He had to have stumbled in his vows at least twice. He was torn between burning to touch her and yet not wanting to dare to—that something so beautiful shouldn’t be touched.
He would never forget the way she had reached out for him instead and held his hands with hers as she said she wanted to start a life with him.
She picked up the picture.
“It’s beautiful.”
It’s her.
“It’s beautiful. And I can’t…I don’t…”
Like gravity had failed her, she collapsed rather than sat onto the sofa—
That ugly, ugly leather sofa that Jagged had insisted they take with them from Marinette’s brief stint as his personal designer.
“No, you keep it, Mari. You’re gonna need something to spruce up your new place.”
“Jagged, seriously. That thing is hideous and I don’t need it.”
“What are you talking about? It’s perfect! It’s leather! And sturdy! And you can even pull it out into more of a bed. Besides, who knows when you’ll be bringing a studly young man to your place and need something to ‘rock it’ in, eh?”
“Oh my god, Jagged, please don’t!”
“Ey, Luka! Come on, mi boy, back me up!”
“Luka, don’t you dare—!”
Luka, for his part, kept his focus on cleaning his equipment and wisely said nothing.
He moved to her side without thinking.
“Mari…”
“What…” She looked up at him, hopelessly lost. “What now? What do…we do?”
She held the picture frame to her, as if trying to fill the hole in her heart that once contained years worth of love.
“I don’t know what…I don’t know how to…”
She sobbed.
If the phone call had shattered his world, this had crushed the remaining pieces.
“What…what are you saying?”
The doctor sighed.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Couffaine. But the damage of the crash and the shock of the incident has led to some trauma. We are running tests, but there is no way to tell just how great the extent is or how long it will last.”
He barely heard the words for what they were. Percentages. Chances. Outcomes. Luck.
She’d always beaten the odds before, hadn’t she?
She could…
Surely, she could…
He barely noticed when the doctor had led him to the white—white, white horrible white room.
And the all too pale and shaken woman resting inside.
“Who are you?”
It was her eyes.
Her beautiful blue eyes.
But not a trace of familiarity.
“Hello, Marinette.”
He smiled, trying to not let tears fall.
“My name is Luka…”
He slowly moved to sit beside her, taking his wife into his arms like he always did.
It…wasn’t the same.
"It'll be okay..."
Throughout his life, Luka had always been a river. Slow. Steady. Constantly cutting a path through life and through the world.
Luka was a river.
But for Marinette, he had been her rock.
“We’ll make new ones.” He promised her.
Day by day. Moment by moment. He would stay with her and make new memories.
It wouldn’t replace what was lost.
But they would make it together.