Chapter Text
It was late in the evening, the gentle winds of the Seine rocking the Couffaine houseboat into a peaceful night as the sun hovered towards the horizon. The Kitty Section weekly practice had been earlier in the day, but by now everything was rigged down and packed below decks, and the band was saying their goodbyes up by the gangplank; Juleka and Luka stood on board, with Anarka Couffaine waving from the doorway; and Ivan and Rose had made their way to land, along with Mylène, all six of them throwing out goodbyes like rice at a wedding.
But when Marinette tried to get on the gangplank, she felt Luka’s hand grab her wrist. “Marinette,” he said, “could I talk to you, just for a moment?”
“I… uh, sure! I can stay.” She looked into his eyes, searching for some kind of clue as to what he could want, but found her concentration slipping on his icy blue irises. Not only that: she was also keenly aware that everyone else now had their gazes fixed on the two of them. “A little bit, I mean! I don’t want to impose, it’s late, and I have school in the morning, haha, but we can talk a little while.”
She knew herself that her grin was too waxy to come across as sincere, but Luka didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a little private. Could we go downstairs?” He gave Juleka a loaded look – not a crass one, but one that said, This is important. Trust me.
“Um… Okay. Sure. That’d be fine.”
“Okay! Bye, then, Marinette, we’ll see you tomorrow!” Rose’s voice rang out from the pier. The other two joined in, too, and waved with arms raised as they walked up the banks. Juleka, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded back to Luka, blew a shy kiss towards Rose, and went to join Anarka in the kitchen.
“Sooooo… what’s this about?” Marinette asked, a little uneasy on her feet. But Luka frowned. Not the smile he’d usually give her.
“Downstairs,” he repeated, firmly. “Come.” But while his behaviour was certainly unusual, it was still… Luka. Definite, but with gentle edges, like a charcoal drawing. He led her down below decks with resolute steps but his hand didn’t clench; his voice had been definite but not brash; and his mouth hadn’t smiled, but his eyes had still been laden with concern.
When they got down to his bedroom, he let go of her and indicated for her to sit down on the bed. His acoustic guitar lay there near the wall, half discarded after some solo practice, it seemed. The bed hadn’t been made properly. A book lay open, lopsided, pages down on the pillow. A guitar pick lay on top of it. The title was Body and Soul. She sat down, gingerly, placing her purse in her lap, looking up at him as he took a seat in his spinny chair and pulled it closer.
“How are you doing, Marinette,” he asked, a bit softer now.
“I… I’m good. Yeah.” The thing was: she thought she was. She definitely had been before, up until he took her aside. But the way he asked, the fact he asked at all, made her feel like she shouldn’t be good.
He sighed. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, serious. “It’s… well, I’ve kept a secret from you for a while. And I should have told you sooner.”
Every muscle in her body tensed, every blood cell froze into place in her veins. Was Luka going to make another confession of love? No, he couldn’t, he had always been so gentle about that, he wouldn’t do it like this – or would he? If it was, how could she let him down gently? She’d have to, but how could she do it without any risk of Monarch sending another one of his Megakumas? Or was this something else? Was it something about Adrien? Or what if it was something personal to him? Was he going to leave the country or something? No, he would have told everyone, not just…
And her head was still rushing through possibilities when he looked her in the eyes and said, in a quiet voice that nonetheless rang loudly enough to silence every thought in her head: “I know you’re Ladybug, Marinette.”
“I… Me, Ladybug? No, haha, why would you think that?” And she kept going like that, even though she knew it to be pointless: There hadn’t been a shred of doubt in what he’d said. “I’m just a normal girl, with a normal life. Why would you think I’m Ladybug? I’m nothing like her…“
“Do you remember when you gave me the Miraculous of the Snake, when we fought Wishmaker?” His mouth curled a little now, not into a smile, but like a leaf fluttering in the wind. “Afterwards, you asked me if I had to use my power at any point, and I – I lied. I said Wishmaker didn’t hit any of you. But… you were hit, Marinette. I saw it, and I saw – you. But I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t… want to have to forget that I knew.”
And Marinette felt the boat crumble around her, fading into rust and peeling off into the river, leaving her exposed to the whole city. He knew, and he’d known for a long time. “You… never said anything,” she whispered.
“No.”
And in the back of her head, questions raced, or rather they spun around, without direction and without aim. Questions like, if Luka knew, did someone else know too? Had she transformed or detransformed in front of others, but they’d stayed silent? Were there other people out there carrying her secret alongside her? Did Cat Noir know? Had he seen her at some point, had he followed her somewhere but held out of sight? Would any of them tell Monarch? If Luka saw her that day, both Cat Noir and Monarch would’ve seen her, too – could they unlock those memories somehow, and find their way back to her? And – and what if Luka had told someone…
“I haven’t told anyone else, Marinette.” He was looking down at his hands, wringing them all the while. She had never seen him like this before – self-conscious, regretful. Afraid to look her in the eye. “I… couldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t even tell Juleka. I know how important your secret is.”
“Luka…”
“I’m only telling you because I didn’t want to keep it a secret from you. You’re the first and the last person who ever hears it from me. And – I’m sorry.”
“No, Luka, don’t… I asked you to help because we needed you.” She stretched her hand out, but let it fall back on the bed – he was too far away. “It’s my own fault I got caught in Wishmaker’s attack. You did what you were supposed to.”
But… she couldn’t convince herself that she meant it. She couldn’t think it was okay that somebody knew without her knowing about it. Even though the fault was her own. The secret was important. More important than anything.
The water gently lapped up against the boat’s hull. It was a small noise, unassuming, just a natural part of being below decks on the Seine. But it was also insistent, grating. A reminder that things were constantly grinding on outside her control. The boat required maintenance. And eventually, it would fall apart, and you would have to board a new one, because the old one wasn’t cutting it any more. A small wave wasn’t dangerous, but lots of them over time…
“Also, Marinette. I’m sorry I got akumatised those times. I know now why you had to keep secrets. Of course you couldn’t tell me the truth. And I ended up putting an even bigger weight on your shoulders.” He looked up at her, finally. A frown furrowed his lips for a moment, but he sounded sincerely happy as he said: “But… thanks for still trusting me to be Viperion.”
“I… Luka…” She tried to form the words to reassure him, but they weren’t even strung together in her own head. He was apologising to her, and she didn’t deserve it. “I’m the one who should be sorry – because…” because she was supposed to be a hero, because she was meant to protect Paris and everyone who lived there, because she was supposed to keep her identity a secret, because Luka had trusted her with his heart, and she had failed with all of those things. And she opened her mouth again, trying to push all of that from inside her brain to outside her mouth, but it wouldn’t go anywhere.
“Marinette. I don’t need an apology from you. Okay?” He reached out a hand towards her but stopped a little ways away, finally extending the index finger and touching her cheek. “I just want you to be okay.”
But that was something she knew she could never promise him. Not when she was only barely keeping herself together.
And outside the hull, the endless waves kept lapping, digging their way deeper, and deeper, and deeper still.