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Luka tossed the crumpled paper over his shoulder, where it landed on the floor of his bunk in the Liberty with a papery thonk. He hated songwriter’s block.
He wrote with a calligraphy pen, curving the ink around the poetic words with practiced ease. Usually, being able to make physically beautiful lyrics made writing their contents easier, too.
But today, no such luck.
How could he fail to write a song about her? His Melody, the one who’d burst into his heart with all the vigor of a freight train. This block was maddening.
Then the girl in question popped her head into his bunk. “Luka?”
He turned from the pad of papers on his desk to her with a smile. “Hey, Marinette. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing, just checking in on you!” she said, approaching with her usual long stride. She almost tripped and then recovered her footing just as Luka reached out for her, standing from his chair. Marinette had all the grace of a baby gazelle. It was part of what made her so endearing to Luka. “Sorry!”
“Don’t be.” Just seeing her cheered him up. Luka couldn’t be down in the dumps with Marinette around.
Marinette reached him and tucked some of her own hair behind her ear. “So what are you up to?”
“Trying to write a song,” Luka said, gesturing over to the sea of crumpled paper. The sea was thoroughly depressing. He decided to concentrate on the radiant girl in front of him, in the hopes of his finding inspiration. “Not having much success, though.”
“Oh, I see. About anyone I know?”
She still doesn't know? Gosh, she's cute. Luka smirked, thinking he could make her nonplussed for once. It was her turn; he was always discombobulated around her. “Who do you think?”
Marinette blinked up at him. “No. Not…” She squeaked. “Me?”
“You fit in my poems like a perfect rhyme, Marinette,” Luka said, boldly stroking her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I couldn’t write a song about anyone but you right now.”
Marinette’s eyes widened. “Luka…”
“Yeah?”
Marinette swallowed hard. Then she smiled, bold and brilliant and beautiful, a smile so blinding that Luka also had to swallow. “Thank you.”
Ohhh, he was in trouble. “Sure.”