Work Text:
Luka sighed, watching as Marinette ran away yet again. She had a project to work on that was due soon, she'd said. Something she'd apparently forgotten about until that moment, when they were supposed to share one of Andre's ice creams. Convenient, wasn't it?
The ground shook beneath his feet as an akumatized victim, looking like a giant lollipop person collapsed to the ground. What was Hawk Moth even planning to do with that one? He thought idly. Thankfully, Marinette ran in the opposite direction.
Wait. Luka squinted in the direction Marinette ran. That wasn't the way to the bakery. The bakery was on the side of town under attack. Luka's mind raced. Was Marinette ok? Why'd she go that way? Was she safe? His mind went back and forth between being worried and wondering if she'd lied to him. It sometimes felt like she couldn't wait to get away from him.
Before he could even puzzle out what to do, the miraculous cure swept through Paris, repairing everything. He sighed, throwing away the ice cream he no longer had an appetite for and walking back toward the houseboat. He had band practice to go to, after all.
There was a ringing in his ears as he took back control of his senses. Looking around he was in Marinette's room, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in front of him. What had happened?
As he walked toward the Liberty, he reached in the back of his mind, trying to recall what had happened. He'd been akumatized, that much was true. The only "secret" Marinette seemed to have was her love for Adrien, which was nothing he didn't know.
But it still seemed like something was missing. What else was he forgetting? He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Surely, there was something else. When he opened his eyes again, he frowned. He knew there was something else he had to have found out, but he couldn't recall it.
Sighing yet again, for what felt like the millionth time that day, Luka thought of the only "secret" Marinette kept from him. Maybe that was why she kept making excuses on why she couldn't be around him. Maybe she just wasn't ready to move on. Maybe there was a part of her that wanted to try and love him, but she wasn't ready to love him fully. Maybe she was afraid of loving someone new.
He took out his phone and sent her a text, asking her to meet him by the Seine. Maybe it just wasn't their time, yet.
Luka stared at the pick Marinette had given him, signed by Jagged Stone. Their favorite artist. He plopped down on his bed, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, and felt a weight on his heart. It hurt knowing that him and Marinette didn't end up lasting. Perhaps it was just the timing of it all. Maybe later on, Marinette would be ready to take a chance with someone new. But he knew it wasn't the time right now.
A nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him he still hadn't figured out what new truth he'd figured out while akumatized. But what could it have been? Did he finally find out who his father was?
His heartbeat quickened. What if that was it? He held out the guitar pick Marinette had given him, the object the akuma had been in. Maybe if he stared hard enough, it would give him answers. He almost scoffed at the thought, before his mind halted to a stop.
The guitar pick was signed by Jagged Stone. Jagged Stone. Sitting up, Luka blinked at the album cover Marinette had designed not long before. It couldn't be. But what if it was true?
He had to find out.
Luka knew he'd find Jagged Stone performing at Prince Ali's birthday, so he had to confront him there. Arriving a couple hours before the performance, Luka squeezed around the rushing people setting everything up. If anyone thought he was out of place, they didn't say anything. Or maybe they were much to busy to notice. Either way, Luka soon found himself around twenty feet away from the man that may have been his father.
Staring up ahead at Jagged Stone, he thought of the man he idolized. Could he really have been the very same man that had left him, his sister, and his mother all by themselves so many years ago? Luka frowned. If so, he wasn't much of a man to idolize.
Jagged caught his eye, and froze, motioning to someone to hold on and walked toward him. This was it. The moment of truth. Before Luka could open his mouth, Jagged spoke hesitantly, "Do you remember?"
"So, it's true?" Luka asked. "You're the man who left us? The man who chose to leave and never look back even though he had a family to look after?"
The rockstar stared for a moment, looking...remorseful? "I just wasn't ready for a family. I had dreams--"
At this, Luka's blood boiled, his eyes vision blurring with the tears that gathered in his eyes. "So you left? Because you had dreams and aspirations and for some reason that meant not being where you should've been?"
"Luka--"
"My whole life I looked up to you. I thought, 'Man, wouldn't it be nice to have a career like Jagged Stone.' But now?" He scoffed, tears threatening to spill over, "I think you're pathetic."
"Luka, I'm sorry," the weak man in front of him pleaded.
Clenching and unclenching his fists to calm down, Luka shook his head. "I'm afraid sorry just isn't enough." With that, he turned, wiping at his tears hurriedly as he walked away.
It wasn't until a whole week later that Jagged Stone appeared at the Liberty. His mom wasn't pleased to see him, from what Luka could tell. He heard her voice, irritated and strained. Even if he couldn't tell what they were discussing, he knew it couldn't be good.
Luka decided to ignore it, strumming his guitar louder than before. He winced when he pressed his fingers down too hard, eyeing his blisters. After playing almost nonstop since being akumatized, the blisters on his fingers had popped and reformed twice already. But he couldn't bring himself to stop.
A knock on his door made him pause to look at the doorway. There stood his absentee father. Luka looked at his guitar, unimpressed. He heard footsteps draw closer, but didn't dare look at the man entering his room.
"Luka," Jagged Stone said, hesitantly, "I know you probably don't want to see me right now, but... I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I was young and stupid--reckless, even." There was a pause, and when the man continued, Luka heard a tentative, awkward smile in his voice. "If you ever wanna hang out, maybe have a jamming session, I would love to get to know you." There was a rustling of paper then, "I'm putting this on your desk. It's my number if you ever want to shoot me a text."
Luka waited until the footsteps receded to look up again. He stood, staring at the piece of paper of his desk from a distance. Should he take Jagged's offer? Or would throwing the paper away be a better option? He crossed the distance, grabbing the paper tightly with a frown.
"Don't throw that away," Juleka mumbled from the doorway. Luka glanced at her, then back at the paper. "Or you can," she said, an air to her voice that told him she shrugged, "and then you'll lose your only opportunity to get the father-son relationship you seemed to always want. It's up to you."
When Luka glanced back up to the doorway, she was gone.
Sighing, he contemplated his choices as he sat back down on his bed. Did he even still want to form a relationship with his dad? (Could he even call him that?) He wasn't sure anymore. He was just angry. Angry at Jagged Stone for leaving, angry at his mom for never telling him, angry at all the secrets that had been kept from him lately.
But, maybe when he calmed down, he would want to get to know the rockstar that left. Maybe he could get some tips for playing the guitar. Maybe he could get advice on whether pursuing music was a good idea. So, Luka folded up the paper and placed it in the back of a drawer in his desk. Maybe one day, he would be ready to reach out.