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The small bell above the door tinkled it’s cheerful greeting as Luka made his way past the threshold of Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. He smiled at its merry chuckle, a sweet welcome to all that would enter, and thought about how such small pleasures made the world a more vibrant place. Heading towards the pastry cases, he was soon shown another.
Mme. Cheng’s smile changed ever so slightly, from the bright and polite expression reserved for a repeat customer, into something warmer as he walked up. Bidding ‘adieu’ to the elderly matron with a small basket now carrying a crusty loaf of Paris’s finest, she turned concerned brown eyes to the young man.
“Oh Luka, I’m glad you’re here.” After a quick bise, she brought him behind the counter, not so far that she couldn’t see the display cases, but with a bit more privacy than the register. “She’s locked herself in her room for the last 3 days. We’re getting worried.” The sharp dissonance in her normally tranquil heart-song betrayed how anxious she was for her daughter.
He knew Marinette was in the midst of a creative spiral, having spoken with his raven-haired girlfriend two nights before. He understood Marinette’s desire to create, but sympathized with the Dupain-Cheng’s plight. Marinette wasn’t the most careful of her own health at the best of times. When caught up in an artistic frenzy, well, he doubted she was eating or resting well.
So, when Mme. Cheng called the houseboat asking if he could come to the patisserie and talk Marinette down, to eat at the very least, he grabbed his guitar case, hopped on his bike, and made his way over as fast as he could.
Luka rested a hand on Mme. Cheng’s shoulder and, with a calm smile, assured her he would help take care of Marinette. The relieved look in her eyes filled him with warmth. He was happy that he could help quell the older woman’s worry over her ambitious daughter. Proud that he was trusted by her parents to take care of their kind and selfless daughter whom they knew was working herself to ruin.
He headed upstairs after a quick wave to Mr. Dupain, and steadied his heart for the confrontation ahead. He knew that Marinette would be over-working herself in her manic rush to finish the gifts she planned to present to everyone this holiday season. He knew his spirited and generous girlfriend would put up a fight over such mundane necessities as ‘sleep’ and ‘food’. He could just imagine her beautiful blue eyes flashing at him in betrayal as he tried to convince her to lay down whatever project she was working on.
He took a fortifying breath as he approached the final staircase heading up to her attic room. She needed to take better care of herself, and if she wouldn’t do so for her own sake then he’d have to take matters into his own hands.
Knocking loud enough to be heard over the sewing machine he could hear whirring above, Luka waited with baited breath. He hoped Marinette wasn’t so focussed on her task that she blocked out the rest of the world. Her home - their city - deserved better than to be pushed behind a curtain of busywork.
“I’ll be down later, maman.” Was called to him with a brief pause in the sound of her sewing machine.
Quickly, before she could take it up again, he called back to her, “I’m sure you will, but I was hoping to come up and spend some time with you before you did.” There was a scramble and a thumping noise before the door opened up revealing the tired and disbelieving eyes of his Melody.
“Luka?” she questioned, as if unsure he was really there.
“Ma-ma-Marinette?” he questioned right back with a teasing lilt to his lips. Taking in the dark circles bruising her eyes and her pale complexion, Luka swore to himself that he would see to it that Marinette rested within the hour.
“What are you doing here? It’s – uh,” Marinette turned to look at her monitor for a quick time check, “11-o’clock. Shouldn’t you be at practice right now?”
Luka huffed quietly to himself as he realized Marinette had lost an entire day to her craft. “I would be, if it was Saturday. But, seeing as how it’s Sunday, I thought I would spend some time with my girlfriend. That is, if you don’t mind me hanging out with you while you work.”
“Oh! Of course not.” Marinette stepped back from the head of the stairs and let Luka into her room.
Taking in the explosion of fabric all over her room Luka couldn’t help but chuckle. There was half a shirt pinned to her mannequin, scraps of different outfits hanging from the steps and mirror, and at least three embroidery hoops loaded by her chaise.
Taking in the chaos of her room Marinette let loose a matching chuckle from embarrassment. “Sorry about the mess, I’ve been a little, uh, busy?”
Stepping forward he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then looked down into nervous eyes and reassured, “No worries, Marinette. You’ve seen the Liberty, I’m no stranger to the craziness that comes with creation.”
Even exhausted, her smile could light up a room.
She gave him a quick hug before rushing to her chaise to clear off a space for him to sit. “Here, give me a second to just –“, a few squeaks were heard as she rushed to gather up the pinned blocks of fabric that were draped over the back. He assumed that meant some of those pieces were meant for his gift, and she was trying her best to hide them from view before he spoiled the surprise.
Giving her a few moments to squirrel away what she needed to hide, Luka turned his focus to putting down his guitar case on an open bit of floor. Taking out his acoustic guitar, he made sure that all of the strings were taut and in tune before turning back around to face a slightly jumpy Marinette with a too-wide grin.
“Here you are, nice and clear for you with definitely no presents or projects in your way. Why don’t you take a seat?” He shook his head with a small smile at her over-acting, but made his way to the chaise and sat down. With him situated, Marinette sank down into her rolling chair and turned back to her machine.
Luka took a minute to listen to Marinette’s heart-song as he idly plucked a few notes. Her normally sweet and clear melody was being drowned in a jumbled tattoo. Whether it was from the exhaustion, the stress or the high expectations she set on herself, he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that she needed a break.
He knew he couldn’t force the issue, though. Marinette had a stubbornness that could rival his mother’s whenever the police came looking for her mooring license. No, he had to be careful in his approach, and not make any demands. Let Marinette come down from her creative high on her own, and be there to catch her when she finally started to fall.
So, he chose a song that complimented Marinette’s pace – the motor of her sewing machine playing rhythm, the timber of the acoustic guitar adding harmony, and a soft hum to suit the melody he could hear in his heart. It started fast with sporadic stops, trying to find a beat they could both attune to. After a few short minutes, Luka found they had started to match one another, as they often did when they worked closely. Though their mediums were different as could be, Luka and Marinette had found that they tended to create together in unexpected ways.
Oftentimes when Marinette was in a designing rut she would sit quietly nearby and listen as Luka tried out a new song, finding inspiration in the notes he played or the words he sung. Likewise, if Luka was stuck on a transition, he would watch Marinette while she worked, finding motivation of his own in her movements – the smooth draw of the needle and thread as she stitched, the fluttering of her hands as she pieced a new outfit together, or the unconscious dance as she bopped to a song only she could hear while she ironed. He could write ballads watching Marinette as she practiced her craft. The well of passion Marinette had within her was awe-inspiring, and Luka could well imagine writing a symphony in homage of her love of creation.
When he saw that they were working in tandem, he consciously dialled back on the tempo. Slowing his fingers as he switched from the rock song he was composing to a more easy-going, leisurely tune, he waited for Marinette to match his pace. Sure enough, though it was likely unconscious on her part, Marinette started to ease the pressure on the foot pedal and her sewing machine was going slower than the minute before. Taking a few more minutes to play a winding, dawdling song with no real form, Luka saw his moment to strike when Marinette let out a small yawn.
“Would you mind if I set the kettle off, downstairs? I think I’m in the mood for some tea.” Marinette hummed an affirmative as she eased a sleeve in place. Judging by the size of the sweater she was working on Luka had the feeling it was being made for Ivan.
He slipped downstairs and set to working making two cups of tea. He could count on Mme. Cheng having an assortment for any occasion, so he set to flipping through the bags neatly stacked in the small tea box by the kettle. He plucked two pouches from the box, one chamomile and the other lavender, and set the kettle to boil. While he waited, he had a quick look around the kitchen and made two small sandwiches for them to share. Knowing Marinette, she’d been getting by on day old croissants and the occasional cookie.
When everything was set, he loaded up a tray and carefully made his way back upstairs. Luck was on his side as Marinette had just sat back and started to pick out the basting for the sleeve she had just set in the hoodie she was working on. So, he brought the tray over to the chaise and called out to his distracted girlfriend.
“Come do that over here, so you can eat a few bites in between your seam ripping.” Luka motioned to the cups and plates neatly set up on the tray.
Marinette glanced over and Luka could hear her stomach growl. She narrowed her eyes, like she suspected a trap, but with a calm smile of reassurance Luka managed to coax Marinette over to the chaise. With a wave of his hand and a coy bow he presented the small meal, “Mademoiselle, your first course of an exquisite 7 course banquet prepared in your honour. A lovely aperitif of herbal lavender, prepared hot and with a non-alcoholic base, in accordance with mademoiselle’s age, along with a closed canape of the finest prosciutto and emmental with a…”
Luka couldn’t even finish his grandiose act before Marinette was laughing too loudly to hear him and almost tipping off the chaise. After offering his hand to help her regain her seat they settled neatly together with Marinette sitting at the head with her sewing on her lap and the tray within easy reach, while Luka perched on the end, his guitar across his lap.
He made sure to take a bite of the sandwich every other minute and to encourage Marinette to do the same, idly strumming the strings with his clean hand. When they had both finished Luka settled both his guitar and the tray to the side and cuddled up to Marinette at the head of the chaise. While neither of them had finished the tea he had ostensibly gone downstairs to make in the first place, the calming blend and small meal had started to work their magic.
Marinette welcomed Luka’s arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her hands had slowed throughout the last few minutes and as she finished with her seam ripping and Luka coaxed her to cuddle with him for a few minutes.
“It looks like you’ve made some great progress on your gifts Marinette. Everyone is going to love them.”
“I sure hope so. I-” a yawn interrupted what Marinette was going to say and before she could take up the conversation once more, Luka worked her hair free from the ribbons keeping them in pigtails. He worked his fingers through the loose strands and was rewarded with a hum against his shoulder.
Luka kept up his gentle ministrations as he felt her settle further against him. Not two minutes later her breathing had evened out.
Taking a deep breath Luka let himself relax further into the chaise. He contented himself by playing with the ends of her hair all the while listening to the slowing of her heartsong. Marinette was such a kind soul, giving her all for those she loved, and while he would never stop her from expressing her care for those around her, he resolved to make sure he would be here to help take care of her in turn.
As the afternoon sun warmed the room around them, Luka allowed himself to fall asleep to the tempo of Marinette’s breathing.