Archive of Our Own ^beta

Luka shifted and glanced down at the girl next to him. He drowned out the hubbub around him and focused on her. The hair was flowing perfectly over her shoulder in gentle waves. He followed the sparkly champagne coloured shadow on her eyes and the lovely slope of her upturned nose. She looked gorgeous in a powder pink dress. It was her colour, always has been. Luka knew she was a beautiful woman, he just hadn't had a second to think about it lately. 

Not until now. 

Although, now it wasn’t a good moment to think about it either. Not when Marinette was introducing herself to his family with a darling smile and prepossessing presence. 

The timeline of how they ended up there was a tad bit complicated to say the least, but in the end it was all Luka’s fault. He messed up speaking and not thinking, a thing which didn’t happen very often to him. Luka was quite cool and deliberate most of the time, a striking contrast to his parents. He had the calmness of the sea in him. However, open water was easily disturbed by the storm and sometimes Luka found himself in the middle of it. Talking of parents, he’d like to put some blame on Anarka too. 

He had been stressing over the project for a while. He loved music and he loved sharing his passion. He adored the kids who were as music-obsessed as him. They were great, however two weeks away from the recital the nerves levels were spiking. Even with his calm demeanour, he was going to lose his mind if someone didn’t show up to the practice again. He was going to rip his hair out if the brass section was going to enter the whole three bars late for a hundredth time. Not even jamming with his guitar helped to release the tension. 

It was safe to say life was quite hectic.

Fortunately, in the restless state he got a message from his mother. Ankara Couffaine wasn’t a woman to abide by the rules, but the text reminded him it was the last day to RSVP for his cousin's wedding. Luka at once groaned underneath his breath, but thanked her for the reminder regardless. He was pretty sure Anarka did it only because she loved weddings, or really, the receptions. She thrived for a good party and the parties with the Couffaines were explosive, quite often literally. 

Luka had planned to confirm as soon as possible, otherwise he'd forget. Although, in his current state of mind Luka thought of declining the invitation. This parents-charity recital was truly sucking the life out of him. Not to mention his band’s gig two days after it, he wasn’t sure why he even agreed to it.

But in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t good enough of an excuse. The recital was going to be performed weeks before the wedding. The vacation would start and he was going to have some nice spare time.

Luka also liked Raymonde, a thing that didn’t happen very often with his mother’s side of the family. Well, that was a lie. He liked a few more people there. His mother had seven siblings, it was a lot to choose from. It was just that Anarka was quite a colourful person to say the least and not everybody in the family took a liking to her and the outlook she had on the world. Luka on the other hand, loved his mother to pieces no matter what, so it was a bit of a them-against-us situation.

He dialled the number Anarka had sent him and as soon as he heard the voice on the other side his blood ran cold. He thought of hanging up while he still hadn't made a sound. It was too late as Aunt Yvette called out his name and he wondered how the fuck did that woman knew it was him without saying a word. Luka bit his tongue to stop from asking. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply counting to five in his head. 

It was funny how Mond was one of Luka’s favourite cousins whilst her mother was the worst person in his whole family. And Luka’s father was absent most of his life, so that said a lot.

Yvette was an actual devil sent from the very depths of hell. Ever since they were kids she had some kind of problem with both of Anarka’s twins. She tried to pick up on Juleka’s behaviour and appearance since she was about five. Obviously like every good, older twin brother Luka did everything he could to steer her ugly attention from his little sister to himself. 

That's how Luka ended up with aunt Yvette on his ass since he was about eight. She always had a problem with him. If she didn’t, she would easily find one. She was demonising him on a regular basis and there wasn’t a family gathering where Luka wouldn’t get scolded for something he didn’t do because of her. 

Actually a few times he did what he was accused of, but to his defence he was a fed up rebellious teenager. He had every right to do so, and he was his mother's son after all. 

Aunt Yvette often used Luka as a diving board to show off her youngest daughter, Noemie. She was constantly praising her at Luka’s expense. Noemie was the twins' age by a hair, born at the very end of December. Once on the way back from grandma's birthday Anarka snapped saying aunt Yvette got pregnant on purpose as soon as she found out she was pregnant. Luka was willing to believe that. Yvette was a painful attention seeker and there was no other person who captured everybody’s attention like Anarka Couffaine. 

Especially twenty year old Anarka Couffaine showing up at the step of her family house after a year… with a pregnant belly of five months. 

It was safe to say that aunt Yvette had a beef with Luka's mother. Although, it was one-sided and he ended up a victim of it. Anarka asked him multiple times if he wanted her to have a conversation with the woman. But knowing his mother Luka actually begged her not to. They didn’t need a broken nose and disowning from the family… even if Anarka was already disowned twice.

Luka just grew a thick skin and tried not to care.

Aunt Yvette had always made fun of him during family gatherings. Nobody reacted, or they laughed with her because it was socially acceptable to do so, especially at his teenage fashion choices and pierced ears. 

The older Couffaine twin was also constantly directly compared to Noemie. Throughout his whole education, because yes, Luka was a good student, but not on scholarship like Noemie. Later in work because Luka worked in music and he ‘played gigs’ living an average life, not like Noemi who was doing an internship in one of those skyscrapers in La Défense. 

His social life had always been compared to that of the girl’s too. Luka was quiet, uptight and frankly quite weird, when Noemi was confident, bold and decisive. A bunch of times she was made uncomfortable by the comparison too. Less and less with time as it turned out Noemi was taking after her mother not only by looks. 

So Luka wasn’t thrilled to hear Aunt Yvette’s grating, annoying voice filtering through his phone speaker. 

“Luka! I’m so happy you’re calling!” she exclaimed and he had to move the speaker away from his ear. He slowly blinked trying to garner the equilibrium. 

“Yeah,” Luka responded. “I wanted to confirm mine–,” he stumbled over his own words and cursed himself internally for it, just another thing she could pick on. “That I will be there for Mond’s wedding,” he corrected and heard the woman exhale through nose. It reminded Luka how much she hated that nickname for her daughter. It quite literally made her red on the face. “Kind of running into the deadline. I’m so sorry, busy life,” he said, putting on a fake smile as if the woman was in front of him.

He hoped it would translate over the phone. He heard her hum, probably checking some boxes, maybe writing it down.  

“I’m guessing you’re not bringing a plus one, then?” she asked and before Luka could even confirm, she was continuing her little jibe. “That’s a misfortune,” she chuckled. “Did you know that Noemie got engaged three months ago? He’s such a handsome young man, in residency,” she boasted. 

She didn’t see but it earned an eye roll from Luka. He was fine with it, though. He wasn't Noemi and didn't care about her. He had many other things to worry about. Luka opened mouth to confirm not bringing a plus one.

“And you?” Yvette asked before he could even speak. “Still alone,” she didn’t even question, but stated. “You should get yourself together. Nobody will want a man without prospects, living in cloud-cuckoo-land. I still cannot believe your mother let you go into music after she did it and ended up like that, but at least you won’t come back home knocked-up. I won't even mention Juleka and the fact that she's bringing her girlfriend. I wanted to ask how your mother could have allowed it. But it's your mother, this world is completely hopeless.”

Luka felt his hand form into a fist. The black painted nails dug into the fleshy part of his palm. He drank his aunt’s words which were filled with venom. Luka felt something in his body snap, turns out nothing changes, especially this dumb, old homophobic hag. He could've shouted into the phone defending his mother’s good name and sister's relationship. He could've waited in silence until she called him and Juleka bastards. 

But none of that happened. 

“Actually, I will be bringing my fiancée,” Luka lied into the phone without any emotion. 

He acted like the comment didn't hurt, or bothered him. It caused his blood to boil, but the woman didn’t have to know it. He knew she'd take great pleasure in it. On the other side Luka heard noise which assured him that aunt Yvette was shocked and found speechless by his declaration, probably choking on air. 

“I hope it’s not a problem,” he added after a second of silence, a stupid smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“You've got engaged?” Yvette asked in disbelief and Luka wanted to laugh at her amazement, or maybe it was outrage. She sounded distraught for sure. Was Luka ruining her perfect vision? 

“Oh… Yeah!” he said, acting confused, but happy. The tone indicated him being absolutely smitten. He looked around the cafe he’d been eating lunch at. “We’ve been for like, six months now. Hasn’t Mom told you?” Luka asked as if he was engaged for real and Anarka knew. 

“No?!” aunt Yvette exclaimed, she sounded outraged. Luka felt a chuckle bubbling in his throat. 

This woman was easily the most self-righteous person to exist. This was what was happening when things didn’t go according to her plan. She wanted to mock and ridicule him, talk utter shit on his family and she couldn't now. Luka would call it karma if he didn’t just crudely lie to her.

“Oh, I guess she wanted us to break the news,” Luka let out unbothered by her tone, a big grin on his face. “Sorry, I really have to go. I’m in a bit of a rush like I said, busy life. See you at the wedding!” he chirped to the phone and immediately hung up not waiting for an answer. 

As soon as he hit the red button it dawned upon him. Luka did not have a fiancée. Hell, he didn't even have a girlfriend, or someone who could be a contender to be his girlfriend. Nonetheless, now he had a wedding in four weeks where he was supposed to have a fiancé of six months. When that thought settled nicely with him, he brought the phone back to his face and chose a number to call. 

“Mom?” he asked when he heard her pick up. “Mom, I fucked up big time,” Luka said as the full picture presented in his mind. 

It wasn’t a mess up. It was a grandiose fuck up. The biggest in his life probably. Maybe it would’ve been better to yell on the phone about how she should keep his mother's name out of her mouth. And how he didn’t gave a fuck about what she thought of his career choice and Juleka's love life. 

“I was confirming the wedding but aunt Yvette answered the phone and I want you to know that I was so good,” he pointed out, because this thing happening wasn’t his intention. He also knew his mother despised liars, he did too. That was partially why he couldn’t believe it was so easy for him to lie just like that. “Then she started about a plus one and Noemie being engaged and I was fine with it! But then, Mom, like always she had to be a–, and I couldn’t take it–,” he spoke quickly. The words spilled from his mouth rapidly like a waterfall. It wasn’t often Luka spoke with such urgency, word salad leaving his lips. He was stopped by Anarka’s voice. 

“Did you finally tell her to fuck off?” she asked as casually as ever, although there was a hint of smirk in her voice. 

“Mom!” he groaned and Anarka was known to be forward like that. He wasn't even surprised by her saying it. “No. I– I think worse? I told her I have a fiancée,” he said, frowning to himself. It caused a wrinkle to pop between his brows. He felt like a child about to be scolded, but nothing came out of his mother’s mouth. So Luka bit his lip and added, “Of six months.”

“Well, then you have to find yourself a fiancée of six months for Raymonde's wedding,” Anarka said casually after a dozen seconds as if the way out was that easy. 

Luka wasn’t sure if she heard him right. On the other hand, what did he expect from Anarka Couffaine? This woman wasn’t known for giving advice. She strongly believed in her kids working out their problems themselves and stepped in only in critical situations. It was her chosen parenting method. Luka couldn’t count up how many times in his life he heard, “Well, you have to work it out now, my boy.” 

He stared ahead. Through the window a quiet street was languidly moving and the realisation came in rushing. He couldn’t take his words back, not with aunt Yvette. He couldn’t go and say he had lied, or worse, ask his mother to tell her sister-in-law that her son is a liar. It would mean Luka giving Yvette a bye as well as another reason to eat away at him. It would destroy his family life forever. He wouldn't be able to show his face at any family function ever.

“Fuck,” Luka mumbled. Where was he going to find a fake fiancée? He needed to talk to Juleka. 

The most logical way would be for Luka to ask one of his friends to be his fake-pretend fiancée for about three days. But Luka was pushing twenty six and most of his friends were around that age too. An age where, contrary to Luka, they had real fiancés or long-time partners like Rose and Juleka, or even spouses like Ivan and Mylène. Of course Luka had single friends, but after a quick damage assessment none of them fit the boxes nor were willing. It was a big thing to ask for. It wasn’t just, “Come to a wedding with me. It was, “Come to a wedding with me where you pretend to be my fiancée.” 

When he explained the situation to Juleka she started laughing hysterically. Mostly because Luka kept to himself part where Yvette was a bitch about her relationship and sexuality. He was sure that if she knew about it, she'd be fuming right now. Luka watched as his sister barely caught breaths between laughs. She was wheezing, “There’s no way!”

“Juleka, have some empathy,” Rose scolded her, but a smile was tugging on the corners of her mouth too. “He looks hopeless.” 

Luka had to admit the situation was straight up ridiculous. It felt like it was taken out from some low-budget rom-com. However, being the one in it he didn’t find it nearly as entertaining or funny as some did. To be honest it was quite tragic, actually. He was hopeless exactly like Rose had said. 

“What are you going to do?” the blonde asked him as Juleka calmed down from her fit of laughter. Luka just sat there with no answer, a wrinkle between his brows. He was going to get a permanent crease there by the age of thirty if life planned to keep on treating him this way. As to Rose’s question, he had no clue. 

The most obvious way out would be to find a stranger and just hire them to be his fake fiancée. That idea presented further problems, though. How and where does he find a person who would like to take such a gig? It wasn’t a one night stand he could meet in a nightclub, or on a dating app. Luka was supposed to introduce that person to his family. He didn’t want a pig in a poke. He didn’t really care about outward appearance, but they had to have at least a bit of good presence and likeable character. How in the burning hell was he suppose to find such a person in the streets and convince them to spend a weekend with his family? 

“Dunno,” Luka mumbled emotionlessly. He was tired. First work, now that stupid wedding. His blank stare was stuck on the creamy wall Rose had adorned with photos. “I have a month, which in a grand scheme of things seems like quite a long time. But it’s not enough to meet the love of my life and propose to her,” he said, still staring at the wall. “I might get into some kind of accident a few days before the wedding,” he added after a second of thinking. 

Rose glanced at him with terror in the eyes because from the tone of his voice Luka sounded like he actually took the idea as a way out. 

“It’s not hard to get hit by a car in Paris,” he hummed but there wasn't a hint of joking. Juleka, who sat on the sofa opposite of him, stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Rose let out a shriek. 

“Have you perhaps gone insane?!” Juleka screamed. It made Luka peel his eyes away from the pictures on the wall. “You got yourself in a shit situation, but it’s not worth risking your life,” she stated, punctuating her words so they would penetrate through Luka’s skull straight to his brain. He looked at her with gutted eyes. 

“Listen, we will help you find someone. In a week you’re going to have a beautiful fiancée so your dumbass aunt can finally shut the fuck up,” Rose stated, but Luka was sceptical. He didn’t need some of Juleka’s stuck up model friends to do him a favour. Unfortunately, he didn't have any other way out so he gave them a chance. 

It couldn’t do harm, right?

Throughout the following days Juleka and Rose were hard at work searching for someone. They carefully sorted through the people, friends and acquaintances. No one was good enough, would be willing, or fit Luka. And the last thing had to be taken into consideration, because Juleka knew he wouldn’t say a word if they matched him up with someone he didn’t like. 

Rose browsed Instagram and even her ancient Facebook page in hopes of someone showing up here. There was one person, but she cursed herself for even thinking of it in the first place. The search circled back to her anyway and three days later Luka got a message from Juleka saying, “What about Marinette?” 

It made him stop in the middle of the pavement. He couldn't believe his own eyes and the name which was displayed on his phone screen. He couldn’t believe Juleka’s audacity to even think of that and suggest it to him. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” said the message sent back to her in a response. Juleka and Rose must’ve lost their minds if they thought putting Luka's ex as a candidate to play his fake fiancée was a good idea. He couldn’t even begin with how wrong it was. 

It had been over three years since they broke up and Luka liked to think he was over her. He believed the wound in his heart was healed. 

The truth was, the scar tissue was still fresh and he still couldn’t even bring himself to date anyone new. Luka wasn’t going to go back to Marinette and ask her for help. He wasn’t going to sink so low. 

Then again it turned out Luka was going down like a stone and a drowning man would clutch at a straw. 

In an act of ultimate desperation he sent a message to the number which should’ve been wiped out of his phone three years ago. As soon as it went though he wanted to turn back time and undo the action. It didn't even matter that the wedding was less than two weeks away. He re-read the long message summarising the whole situation with an offer at the end. It read like a pathetic cry for help.

It was.

Luka felt like he was dying. He dwelled over the phone only to realise that the answer might never come. He wasn't sure if that revelation calmed his nerves or enflamed them even more. 

The pity party came to an abrupt stop when his phone buzzed. Luka felt his heart rise to his throat. He didn’t even want to see the answer, his body acted without permission, though. The message on the screen said, “Is this a joke?” 

Luka wished it was. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Luka Couffaine really wished it was all a sick and twisted joke. He hoped someone would jump out of the bushes and scream that he was punk’d. The best person for it would be Juleka, she always pulled off insane shit like that. 

Right now was the perfect moment to do it while he sat on a park bench, waiting for Marinette to show up. And by the way, that had to be a part of the prank too. It was surreal, something he could dream of and it would turn into a nightmare really fast. The type that would cause him to wake up abruptly, heavy breathing with an uneasy heart. 

“Luka?” he heard behind his back. He turned so fast he nearly got a whiplash. “Hello,” Marinette said just… standing there. 

Luka stared at her without a word for a few long seconds. He hadn't seen her in three years, cut him some slack. 

Luka reckoned that people didn’t change much in their twenties, but Marinette did. She still was Marinette, but somehow looked even more mature, dignified.

“Hi,” he said, scrambling up from his seat.

There was an awkward pause. He extended his hand to shake and Marinette squeezed it lightly. That felt even more awkward. He was shaking hands uptight, business style with a woman who used to kiss him breathless. 

“Fancy sitting down?” Luka asked, pulling his hand out of the grip which was going on for way too long. He noticed Marinette staring at his face. 

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, sounding a little disoriented like she was pulled up to the surface from beneath the water. 

She took a seat next to Luka and the silence fell on them. 

Uncomfortable. 

Marinette played with her fingers, while he glanced at the pond ahead. Luka was grateful for the park filled with screaming kids, it lessened the awkwardness just a bit. 

“So-,” Marinette began but was interrupted by Luka starting to talk at the same time. 

“This is really awkward-,” he said and as soon as he realised he cut in on Marinette he stopped. “Oh, sorry,” he said, looking at the girl who was already staring at him. They caught each other’s eyes and Luka couldn't help but to feel a bit lightheaded. The sky blue eyes were observing him scrupulously. “You wanted to say something,” he swallowed and turned his eyes back to the water. 

If Luka wasn’t twenty five, he’d blush at Marinette studying his face so shamelessly. It was almost like she was searching and noting the changes that occurred over the past three years. Luka imagined there weren’t that many. He still felt and looked the same way as when they were breaking up.

Marinette had already counted up a dozen. 

“No,” Marinette said. The shame finally reached her consciousness. She quickly looked away from Luka, staring at the distant pond as well. She suddenly felt stupid and childish. She started playing with the hem of her skirt and heard Luka take a deep breath.

“Are you going to do it?” the man asked. Luka still didn’t know what Marinette's answer would be. 

She had already known the whole story and aunt Yvette. She was aware of all her sins against Luka from all the way back when they were dating. Luka didn’t have anything else to tell her. He wasn’t going to get on his knees and beg. He didn’t stoop that low. 

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” came out of Marinette’s mouth after a moment. Luka felt weight being lifted off his shoulders, but he didn’t show it. He didn’t gasp and grasp at Marinette’s waist pulling her off the ground to spin her around. He just exhaled and smiled at her. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, the relief could be heard in his voice. Marinette knew that tone. She knew Luka. She loved that man at some point in her life after all. 

“When is it?” Marinette asked even though she knew. Luka wrote it in the message. 

She just didn't want the conversation to stagnate, leaving them in silence once again. It could have a tragic outcome. For example she could say something without thinking Marinette-style, or don’t say anything, overthinking also Marinette-style. 

“In a week,” he answered. The date was burned in his mind. Luka was counting down the days as if it was his execution day.

“We have to get a ring fast then, huh,” Marinette said with a small smile tugging on the corner of her mouth. 

Luka glanced at her and felt a grin fight its way on his lips as well. She always was a helpful angel girl, everyday superhero. His gorgeous, gorgeous girl. 

“Thank you,” he repeated softly. 

It was a relief after a constant state of anxiety for the past month. Maybe in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that serious. Still, Luka made himself believe he’d die if he didn’t find someone and he'd be forced to admit to lying. He wouldn’t be able to live with the humiliation and the pin of a liar.

“I’m going to repay somehow,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Marinette said almost immediately. She stared into his eyes steel blue, she felt her heart soften in her chest.

“Do you want to get ice cream?” he asked, nodding to the direction of the nearby booth. A small smile found its way on his lips. 

Gentle.

Just like Luka. 

“I think we should catch up. I feel like I should know what has been going on in the past three years if I’m your fiancé,” he explained himself quickly, aware he didn’t want to sound like he was hitting on her in any way.

“Sure,” Marinette answered after a second. “We should catch up,” she added and Luka shot up to his legs standing over her.

They walked in silence, one that Marinette was so scared of. 

Luka pushed his hands into the front pockets of the jeans as if he was trying to make himself smaller, take less space than he already did with his broad shoulders and tall statue. He looked tired, she hadn’t seen him look like that for a while. She hadn’t seen him at all for a while in the first place. What was she even thinking about?

Marinette wasn't sure why she agreed to this. She blamed that fucking Mother Teresa thing in her, always helping. Yeah, why did she even get there? It had to be the urge to see Luka after the years that was too strong. Either this or she had, and always will, a soft spot for him. It was for sure her subconscious doing something she wouldn't fully agree with.

She desperately wanted to blame something she hadn’t had influence over. The subconscious reasoning was great for that. 

Marinette opened her mouth multiple times before shutting it without a word. She was a great overthinker and Luka was very well aware of that. He became deft in keeping her brain in reins, so it didn’t run off thinking of the worst outcome. 

She was horrible, it was no wonder they broke up. She constantly needed help and reassurance, otherwise she'd fall into panic and anxiety. Nobody would want to live that, or love someone like that. She was stuck in her head, like right now when she didn’t even realise they were at the spot already. 

Luka checked out the variety of ice cream flavours behind the glass and she just comprehended their surroundings.

“Hello, can I get a strawberry and lemon in a cone? And the second one would be two scoops of raspberry sorbet in a cup, please,” he said, not looking at Marinette once. 

She felt weird warmth spreading across her chest at the fact that Luka remembered her order, three years after their breakup. Well, maybe it wasn’t that much time. Marinette still remembered a variety of little facts about Luka. His favourite food, song, film, game, café in Paris. It was hard to forget them.

“What if I hate strawberry ice cream now?” Marinette asked with a grin as she leaned against the freezer, throwing Luka a challenging look. The man glanced at her with furrowed brows, a wrinkle between them. Marinette felt her hand twitch to smooth it out, it was bad. 

“You'd never hate strawberry ice cream, Marinette,” Luka let out, faking seriousness although there was a hint of hesitation in his voice. The vendor handed him the order and he passed it to Marinette. He was a bit unsure about it now. 

“You're right,” she hummed with a smile and the tension which creeped between Luka’s shoulders melted away. 

“So what did you do in the past three years?” Luka asked and pushed a spoonful of sorbet into his mouth. 

He watched as Marinette twirled the cone in her hands. She looked nervous and Luka knew there was a bomb inside her head, even worse than his own. He was so fucking selfish for ever asking her to do this, just stupid.

Marinette didn’t know how to answer. For the better part of the past three years she… struggled. She lived from sunrise to sunset, crawled into her bed and wondered where she went wrong to deserve this. She was better now, not the best she ever was, but she was living and not just existing anymore. The regret about mistakes, misunderstandings and feelings that had taken place was still here, just fuzzier. 

“A little bit of everything,” she spoke softly and vaguely. Marinette stole a quick glance at Luka and could see that he wasn't satisfied with her response. “I finished the internship at Style Queen and dipped as soon as the contract let me,” she said and licked at her ice cream, it was starting to melt. Luka hummed in understanding, he was relieved she had freed herself from that awful place. “Looking for a job in my field turned out to be a bit of a struggle,” she continued and stared at the wood of the picnic table they occupied. “I fell back on parent’s bakery, worked there for over half a year, I think,” Marinette knew her story wasn’t thrilling. It was quite pathetic actually, she was pathetic. “It did me good, it really did. Last year Nonna took me on one of her journeys,” she mentioned and shrugged her shoulders a little. 

Luka watched her with confusion, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. In his head Marinette was already so far above and elusive, soaring under stars. Instead he listened about how painfully bound to Earth she was. Luka had the whole story written for her and not a single point coincided. He started to wonder if he even knew Marinette.

“I travelled a bit,” Marinette continued and looked up to the rustling leaves above them. It felt like she was doing everything not to look at him. “Nonna dragged me across southern Europe, although we spent most of the time in Italy,” a gentle smile graced her features at the brought back memories. “I found myself in Genoa again,” Marinette hummed and Luka's heart skipped a beat. Marinette refrained from spilling that it wasn't the same without Luka. How the lack of his presence made the city less appealing.  

“What do you do now?” Luka asked, his heart started to hurt. 

He couldn’t just go back and reminisce on the best moments he had with Marinette, not right now or ever. He wasn’t a masochist, but his mind seemed to be. All he could see behind his eyelids as he blinked was a baby blue sundress Marinette wore throughout that summer. 

“I found a job at a couture house as a seamstress. It’s far from the dream of a designer, but I still work in fashion, with clothes so I’m happy… kinda,” Marinette mumbled the last part and licked the ice cream that melted and started to drip down her fingers.  

“That’s great,” Luka said, acting like he didn't hear the last word. He ate his sorbet which was turning into coloured water like Marinette’s ice cream. “How are other things?”

Marinette glanced at him, catching eye contact for the first time in a while. 

“What things?” she asked and swallowed. She straightened her posture a bit. 

Don’t make me say it. Luka begged inside his head as she gave him a once-over.

“You know exactly what,” he uttered after swallowing the thickened saliva that gathered in his mouth.

“What do you expect me to say, Luka?” Marinette laughed with a slight tilt in her voice. “That your crazy delusions were right when I told you from the start they weren’t?” she asked with disbelief. “Don’t piss me off,” she grumbled and licked her ice cream. Luka averted his eyes like a scolded kid.

Marinette called them delusions, but it was fucking hard loving a girl who loved someone else. Luka would rather let her go than live in that trap. He was suffocating knowing he wasn’t the love of her life all the while she was his. He couldn’t hold her back and most importantly he couldn’t make her love him. 

“What have you been doing?” Marinette asked, making his eyes shoot up from the runny sorbet he was abusing in the cup. She acted like that exchange had never happened. “Apart from lying to your aunt,” she quipped and he tried to smile at it.

“Apart from lying to my aunt,” Luka hummed humorously, accepting the second chance she was willing to give him. “Not much, really. I got a job and hated it, so I got a different job which I like most of the time,” he said. He played with the wooden spoon and glanced up at her. Luka could still see the tiniest amount of annoyance fade from her face.

It was the reason why they broke up in the first place. Luka’s delusions that Marinette was still in love with Adrien. He wasn’t jealous, he was just convinced he was standing in the way of her happiness and true love. It didn’t matter how badly Luka loved Marinette. He could bottle up those feelings for her happiness. 

Luka was like that. He put others before himself. It made Marinette furious. She cried and screamed that she loved him and that Adrien lived in the past, but he wasn’t listening. Thus, she did what Luka wanted her to do. She packed her things and walked out of his life overnight. One big confrontation destroyed their relationship and left them both heartbroken. 

Marinette should’ve fought back, but she didn’t. She was tired. She was so goddamn tired of fighting this uphill battle with demons inside Luka’s head. Maybe that made her a bad person. Marinette didn’t even know what she was supposed to do to prove to him that she loved him and only him. Wasn’t her devotion to him over the three years of their relationship telling enough?

She thought that maybe if Luka wasn’t willing to fight for her. If it was so easy for him to give her up for another man, maybe they were never meant to be. No matter how much her heart hurt and soul screamed. 

“I joined a band,” Luka suddenly said, remembering another vital part of his life. He had to fill it up somehow, so he hadn’t had time to think about Marinette. “We recorded one song, put it on YouTube. It got like ten views, didn't even bother putting it on Spotify. We still play club gigs sometimes, though,” he explained, tapping the spoon against the paper rim of the cup. 

“You’re in a band?” Marinette asked in a slightly surprised but way more excited voice. 

She didn’t know why she was surprised. Luka and music went hand in hand, of course he ended up in a band. He was in one while they were dating until it split. 

“Yeah, it’s called Fraudulent Medieval Apostle," Marinette held back a scoff, of course it was. "We usually play at bars and clubs. Although we got a twenty five minute spot at the festival organised by the City Council next month. It’s quite exciting,” he smiled gently. Over the past three years there were moments when even the music couldn’t make him feel alive. Still the band only did him good, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. 

“Do you have any videos?” Marinette asked. Luka nodded and went to pull out his phone. “I don’t know if I should ask about the name. I’m sure it’s some kind of obscure music world reference I didn’t get the memo of,” she smiled and Luka pushed his phone across the table to her. 

“Actually, it’s not,” Luka admitted, the tiniest bit of amusement lacing his tone. “It’s totally made up. There’s no reference here, just random words we saw on our way to the bar one night,” he explained his mind wandering back to the argument with his bandmates over whether the word cancerous should be in the name as they passed a poster encouraging taking part in cancer screenings. “For a while we performed under the name ‘The Band’, there was a way more famous one named that before, though,” Luka joked and watched as Marinette took his phone and tapped on the screen. 

The sound, slightly distorted, filled the space between them. Marinette propped her chin on her hand as she watched the video. A gentle smile graced her features, she didn’t say anything just soaked in the recording and music. Her head bobbed gently to the sound, but nothing major. 

Marinette had always been a supporter of his music, the biggest one. She didn’t care whether Luka played thrash metal, tapped into jazz fusion or plucked his guitar in the sounds of contemporary folk music. She was always there to tell him it sounded good. She wasn’t the best to get feedback from, but she was great at maintaining high morale. Luka often told her she could tell him if she disliked something, but every time she just responded that she liked everything his mind and fingers came up with. 

“It sounds great,” Marinette praised with a grin, eyes wandering from the phone screen to Luka’s face. He didn’t expect anything else from her.

“Thanks, we try our best,” he joked and played with the spoon in his hand. He was splitting the wood at the handle. He was probably going to end up with a splinter. That was on his constant need to fidget. “Not everybody is as nice as you. Some middle-aged drunk men at bars can be very cruel,” he confessed playfully and Marinette chuckled, glancing at him. 

Luka watched as her finger slid across the screen in muscle memory, so casually. His arm twitched, he wanted to open his mouth but it was too late. Another video was playing and Marinette was watching it closely. A shiver ran down Luka's spine as the song progressed. 

“You sing?” she asked with lips falling agape staring at him. 

“Occasionally,” he responded, trying to cut the topic short. 

Luka reached for his phone and blocked the screen so his recorded voice wouldn’t play anymore. He hated hearing it back. Marinette watched as he did so with a look Luka could only describe as pain. 

“Good, people should be able to hear you,” she said after clearing her throat. The ice cream in her hand was dripping down the cone and her finger. Sweet strawberry and sour lemon mixing, making her fingers sticky. 

“Where did Gina take you?” Luka asked after a moment of awkward silence. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. This might’ve been a nightmare, everything that has led to this. Asking Marinette for help was his greatest mistake. He should’ve backed out while he still could. 

“Balkans,” she said, fighting with a napkin that was already as sticky as her fingers. “And Italy, mostly Italy,” she added before licking the ice cream. She hoped nothing had dripped on her dress.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Marinette was late. She was always late and Luka was painfully aware of that. Never punctual, that gene was just non-existent in her DNA sequence. 

She nudged her way through the crowd. She was late because one of the prototypes was sewn wrong and it caused a whole lot of things to come crashing. 

Contrary to popular belief, Marinette didn’t like being late. It stressed her out. She walked faster passing another slow pedestrian. The kitten heels she was wearing let out furious clicking. She took a sharp turn and could see Luka from afar. He was leaning against the building casually, waiting for her. 

“I’m here,” Marinette gasped as soon as she reached him. She inhaled and realised how breathless the power walk made her. 

Luka turned around at the sound. The corner of his mouth tugged in a grin. He was in a better mood than four days ago when they met for the first time.

“No need to hurry, I would’ve waited,” he assured, but even if Luka waited, Marinette wouldn't want to be late. “Or did just seeing me make you breathless,” he joked with a sly smile after a second. He couldn’t help himself. Marinette rolled her eyes, adjusting her breathing and the bag sliding off her shoulder.

Luka’s mood changed drastically once they walked down the street to the restaurant where they were supposed to have dinner and talk over the details of their fake engagement story. It was closed and Luka found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. They could look for some other place, there were hundreds of cafes and bistros in Paris. That would be normal and a perfect way out. 

“I live one stop from here,” he blurted before he could even think as they stared at the closed sign on the door.

It felt like Luka wasn’t using this big piece of meat in his head called brain lately. He was also getting a severe case of speaking before thinking. First his aunt, now Marinette who was nodding in agreement to stop at his place. Luka didn’t want Marinette over at his place. 

Fuck! 

It was actually the last thing he wanted. 

He didn’t want to see her there and remember her there. Luka knew that even after a short one-time visit she’d leave an imprint on his flat. It was one of the places where he didn’t have any memories of her and he liked to keep it that way. He didn’t want Marinette to leave her shoes at the door and her purse next to his keys. Luka was afraid his brain would like that image too much. Marinette in his space. He was scared of latching onto that perfect picture. 

Luka had to sweep those thoughts under the carpet because they were in the tiny hallway anyway. Exactly like he predicted, Marinette was taking off her shoes and her pink crossbody leather bag sat on the console next to where his keys always lay. She was her usual attentive self taking in the decor. Luka noted how her gaze lingered on the framed pictures on the wall. 

He didn’t say anything as she roamed around the living space like a cautious animal. She stopped at every image, poster, or picture. She investigated his CD collection while he quietly cursed himself for owning only cheap instant coffee. He looked to see her staring at his guitar pick collection. It hadn't changed much since she last saw it. It was virtually the same apart from The Strokes pick he snatched at a concert last year. 

“It’s a nice flat,” Marinette called out, turning to him. She moved graciously between his furniture, very un-Marinette like. Luka was waiting for a bang and crash as she stumbled and dropped something, but it didn’t happen. “Looks small, but very homely,” she added from the sofa. 

“Thank you,” Luka said. He rummaged through the cabinets and refrigerator in search of something he could serve her. The best he got was a box of cookies which was opened for at least now. Not something he could give to the daughter of a baker.

“Just coffee will be good,” Marinette's voice carried over the kitchen counter. Luka bit his lip, just coffee will have to do. There was no other option. 

When he caught sight of Marinette again she was sitting with one leg tucked under her. She was eyeing guitars in the corner of the room and looked troubled by them. Luka glanced in their direction and saw the culprit, he swallowed uncomfortably. 

Well, that for sure made him look like an asshole.

The electric guitar Marinette has given him for his twenty-first birthday stood on the rack next to the other two. The problem was that the hand-painted design Marinette did on its body was gone. The guitar was fully teal, not a sign of intricate cobra.

“Coffee for you, with sugar because I don’t have cream, sorry,” Luka said, putting it down on the low table.

He could try and explain himself, but it was useless anyway. Everything was useless. He sat down on a chair across from Marinette. He was keeping the needed distance. Not that she would want to look at him right now anyway. 

“It’s fine. I grew into drinking it black,” she breathed, peeling her eyes away from the guitar stand to him. “So you gave up on a boat?” 

“Yeah, kind of…” Luka said, watching Marinette’s face for a second. He got caught in her eyes once again. She was so good at hiding hurt from everyone, but her eyes spilled the truth. “Maybe in the future, now I’m living on land. It’s easier,” he explained and picked on the nail polish on his thumb. “Just pay rent and don’t worry about your house sinking cause rust is a bitch,” he tried to chuckle, but it came out weak. Marinette smiled nevertheless and stirred her coffee. 

Luka made it for her in his favourite cup. She didn’t know it. He didn’t clock it himself until she brought it to her glossy lips. 

“They’re going to ask us about each other,” Marinette said after a moment. “Your aunt for sure,” she pointed out and Luka hummed in agreement.

He couldn’t wrap his head around how talking with Marinette was so awkward, but still incredibly easy. The silence between them made him want to claw his eyes out, but then they jumped into a simple conversation that made him believe they could be friends again and forever. All the same, their talks were plagued with misunderstandings. Nothing was right, but also not everything was wrong. It was a mess. 

“We’ve been friends for six years and dated for three, so I think I already know more stuff about you than aunt Yvette,” Marinette pointed out with a grin. She was so good at pretending to be unbothered. Luka would almost believe it if he didn’t learn to read the signs. 

“We dated for three years, three years ago,” Luka corrected, looking at her. “People tend to change, Marinette,” he said with a note of reverie to his voice.

Marinette wanted to scream. 

Who was he, Luka Couffaine, a man who was delusional enough to believe she still loved her high school sweetheart, to tell her that people changed? Why didn’t he believe in the tendency to change in people when she told him Adrien was a dumb crush she out-grew?

He was a goddamn hypocrite, that was who he was. She hated that she loved him. Luka and his stupid moral superiority. She wanted to smash his head open.

“I won’t stand in the way of true love,” was what he said. 

Oh, fuck off!

Fuck him and the utter bullshit he was spewing. Marinette’s hands balled up into fists involuntarily. It made her blood boil every time she thought about their break up. That, or she turned into a mess with mascara streaks on her cheeks. 

Luka on the other hand regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. He lied, people didn’t change and he was a great example of it. He was still the same person he was three years ago. He liked to think of himself as different, experienced, moved on, in his prime.

He wasn’t. 

He still loved Marinette like no one else in his life. Her reappearance made him understand it even more. He had experienced a cruel encounter with the truth. 

“Do they?” Marinette asked exasperated, her eyebrow twitched. 

“Yes, they do,” Luka stated straight away, nervous.

Except for me Marinette, because I love you to pieces. I always did and I always will. 

Luka didn’t say that because he still had some dignity left. 

“Good, I’d hope they do,” Marinette said coldly. 

Luka glanced up at her to see her blue eyes icier than ever, a shiver ran down his spine. He felt something pierce his heart. Marinette hoped he changed, she hoped he didn’t love her anymore. Luka didn’t know if he could take it. It felt like a bullet straight to the stomach. 

Marinette blinked and said, “I could say so many things right now Luka, but I won’t. I won't, because I don't think either of us is ready to hear what I’m thinking.”

Luka wasn’t inside Marinette’s head to know what was on her mind. He actually didn't want to be here, his imagination of her thoughts was already awful. He didn’t want to know the truth that could be even more gut-wrenching. He was afraid it would shatter him and Luka was already broken for far too long. 

He still had a hard time believing she wasn't taken. In Luka's mind Marinette was a perfect person, simply flawless. He couldn’t comprehend that there wasn’t someone to love her madly amidst he was gone. 

It was a dream to be able to love Marinette. 

Luka woke up himself from that dream. All because his damned self-consciousness mixed with the stupid moral superiority complex. 

“We need to have a story,” Marinette said, pulling Luka out of his head. He stared at her slightly confused. “For when they ask us about how we met, how long we've been dating, how we got engaged,” she explained quickly and Luka nodded, he wasn’t fully there. 

The mood had soured thanks to their exchange and the overwhelming wave of feelings coming over him. He was the same overthinker Marinette was, he just hid it better. 

“I think we should follow real life,” Luka proposed and shifted in his seat, trying to relax and clear his mind. “By that I mean the original timeline of our relationship,” he explained and watched Marinette play with the spoon in her cup. “This way we don’t need to create some crazy new stories and we won’t get caught up in lies.”

“That would mean we’ve been in some kind of relationship for seven years, since I was nineteen,” Marinette pointed out. “I’d like to think I would get to know more of your family in that time span. I already basically lived on Liberty, it'd be a matter of time until I got to know more people,” she said and Luka nodded, fair point. They were dating for three years and in that time Marinette met his closest family. She’d for sure meet more of them if they continued. 

“I mean, we could say we broke up, like we did,” Luka noted. 

Their breakup was horribly painful, agonising even. It happened like a thunderstorm. The build up to it was stuffy, sweltering like a day leading up to it. They both had been uncomfortable, unable to think, on edge. 

Luka was stuck in his head with thoughts hunting him for weeks now like a dry spell. There wasn’t a loom of dark clouds overhead, they showed up out of nowhere carried by the cold wind. The wind let them take a breath and caused the words to spill from Luka’s mouth. 

The rain came as Marinette listened and she tried to reassure him, but it was all for nothing, Luka wasn’t willing to listen. He had set up his mind and there was nothing she could've done. It wasn’t just another gentle shower, it was a thunderstorm. The words fell like lightning fast, harsh and they found themselves in the eye of the storm. 

Marinette couldn't stand it so she grabbed her things and ran out. Luka didn’t want her there anyway. 

For both of them it felt like the sun didn’t come out for months after that. 

Luka did those things believing it was better for Marinette. Whether it really was, only time could tell. And the past three years have told a lot. It just depended on whether he wanted to listen.

“And then what?” Marinette scoffed, glancing at Luka. “We met again and decided we were wrong? I mean, wrong to the point where not only did we get together, but engaged?” she asked. Her voice was saturated with scepticism. She had that look on her face Luka knew. It spelled clearly how she smelled bullshit. 

“Yeah, why not?” he questioned. “Breaking up with someone is not a forever thing. You can break up and get back together, people do it like all the time. People even get divorced and then decide it was a mistake,” Luka said like it was the most obvious thing ever. He wasn’t sure if he believed his own words. 

People did that. Maybe. He liked to think people did that. It would mean there was hope. For people that means! Not for anyone else in particular, of course.

They could possibly do that, spin such lie and Luka’s family would believe it if they put it nicely. It was an easy, somewhat logical way out. That's why Marinette said yes to blurring a line between lies and their actual life, altering reality. She had a feeling she might regret that later, but tried not to worry about it. It was too late to worry and too late to back out. Whatever was going to occur was a future Marinette problem. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Time not only flew, it soared and suddenly it was two in the afternoon on Friday. Marinette was in Luka’s old beat-up car, the same one he drove when they were still together. The Parisian sprawl was slowly disappearing behind their back and in that moment it was entirely too late to chicken out. Marinette was going to be Luka’s fiancée, for a weekend. She didn’t know which part of that sentence was worse.

The car was filled with music, because of course it was. She was driving with Luka. If the stereo wasn’t bleeding with sounds the second he turned the key in ignition, it would be a real reason to worry. The noise of progressive rock saved them from uncomfortable silence. 

Marinette’s eyes were glued to the landscape. She tried not to think about how they did this when they were a couple. Getting in the car and driving aimlessly with music playing. 

Luka’s finger on the steering wheel tapped to the rhythm of the song. Marinette saw him bob his head a little when she stole a glance at him. God, this man was made out of music. She was pretty sure that if he cut himself, he wouldn’t bleed red, but eighth notes. It was one thing he truly loved, he’d die without music. 

Marinette had never even stood a chance in stealing his heart away from the sound of music. She heard Luka mumble the lyrics underneath his breath and her heart tightened.

“Who’s going to be there?” Marinette asked, suddenly trying to get out of her head. She shouldn’t overthink. They weren’t even on the road for an hour.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, startled by the question and he took a look at her. “Mond and her husband-to-be, bridesmaids, some of the family that wouldn’t be able to arrive tomorrow like us and some of their friends, I guess,” he said after a moment of thought, sounding slightly detached from reality. 

“Are you nervous?” the question left Marinette’s mouth as she peeked at Luka. 

“I don’t know, maybe,” he said, eyes trained on the road. Marinette’s went back to the green French landscape behind the side window. 

“Don’t worry, I will put on my best act. Aunt Yvette is going to want me to marry her daughter instead,” Marinette joked in hopes of lightning up the mood and making herself forget. Luka chuckled, it was a ridiculous concept. 

“Who wouldn’t, Marinette?” he asked lightly with a gentle breath and she bit her lip. The person who wouldn’t was sitting right next to her. “And thanks… just don’t tell anyone you’re my fake fiancée and maybe let me hold your hand a few times, so we look coupley enough. Not overbearing, though, we’re leaving that to the newlyweds,” he said, turning his head to her with a slight grin. 

“Okay,” Marinette hummed, returning a cheeky smile. “So when did you propose to me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“February nineteenth, I was planning on proposing on Valentine’s Day, but decided it was too cliché. That's why I waited four days, brought you breakfast in bed and proposed. Right there, in bed. We joke how I didn’t even get on one knee,” Luka recited the made up story they had concocted.

“Exactly,” she hummed. “And when they ask for pictures?” 

“I say that I have pictures of the ring, but none of us,” Luka explained as they established. “We were too caught up in a moment to think about taking pictures. Although, I still like the we-had-sex-right-after excuse much better,” he said with a teasing grin. 

“Luka, I am not telling your middle aged aunts that I don’t have pictures of our proposal because we had sex,” Marinette scolded him with a hint of playful outrage in her voice. 

“I mean, it's a valid excuse,” he bumbled. 

It would be a valid excuse, a very believable one to that. Marinette couldn’t bear the embarrassment, though. 

“Luka!” she shouted, it instantly morphed into laughter and the man next to her chuckled as well. 

“Okay, okay. No sex,” Luka said, Marinette shook her head with a big smile stretching across her lips. “We wait until marriage,” he quipped after a moment of silence and she had to say it was quite comedic. “Just two twenty six year old virgins,” he hummed, looking at her with joyous sparkles in his eyes. Marinette snorted at his comment. 

She missed it. 

She missed Luka being able to make her smile or laugh so effortlessly. It was so, so easy for him. He knew what strings to pull on to tickle her brain. It was almost like Luka knew her inside out. 

It was also the reason for tremendous amounts of pain when they broke up. Luka wasn’t only Marinette’s love, he was her best friend too. 

The heartbreak they went through maimed them on many different levels. Some people said the anguish caused by falling out with a friend is as painful as having one’s heart broken. 

It had happened simultaneously to them. 

But in this small moment, in Luka’s car, they joked and laughed and in just that instant Marinette felt more alive than she ever had in the entirety of the past three years. 

When silence fell back on them, the lack of conversation didn’t feel awkward anymore. It was natural and she felt comfortable, like she always did with Luka. 

Once he got out of the car Luka immediately heard someone shout his name. He turned around looking for the source. He saw Mond on the porch, she waved at him before stumbling down the stairs. She caught him in a hug before he could even think.

“Luka,” she laughed, squeezing him. A chuckle escaped Luka’s mouth at her eager greetings. “I’m so happy you’re here! I haven’t seen you in ages,” she pulled away and looked at him from an arm's length like an auntie. 

“If you say something along the lines of me growing into a handsome young man, I’m going to deck you. I don’t even care we're not children anymore,” Luka threatened playfully and got a good look at her face as well. 

He could tell she was excited, visibly happy about the wedding, marriage. Luka would be too, he wondered if he'd ever be able to, though. He could see a bit of fatigue in Mond's eyes, especially the bags under them. 

“You can’t break my arm again. I’m getting married tomorrow,” she said with a hint of challenge in her voice. She knew that topic annoyed Luka very easily. 

“I’ve never broken your arm,” he said at once, defending himself. 

It was true, he didn’t break Raymonde’s arm. She did it herself. Maybe, Luka had been the one to egg her to jump from one wooden post to another and watched her fail and fall. He didn’t break her arm, though. He only planted a stupid idea in her head. 

“Yes, you did,” she argued, but before Luka could defend himself she changed the topic. “And who’s that?” she asked with a teasing smile. She glanced at Marinette, who was getting their luggage, and then back at Luka. He should help her, he was looking like an asshole right now. 

“That’s my– fiancée,” he said, looking at Marinette. She caught the two staring at her when she shut the boot. She waved at them gently. Luka smiled at her and waved back like an absolute idiot. “Marinette,” he added after a second, realising he kind of spaced out. 

“Mm, I see,” Raymonde hummed, a teasing smile didn't leave her face. 

“What?” Luka asked, a tad confused. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she dismissed and looked like she knew something that Luka didn’t. “Go help her get your stuff, I will get you a room key,” she said and Luka nodded.

“Will you take that, please? I will get the dustbags,” Marinette asked, putting the duffel bag on the suitcase. 

“I could’ve taken this out of the car,” Luka said, his head motioning to her suitcase and his bag she had taken out of the boot. 

“I have hands and muscles, Luka,” Marinette told him and turned to the car to take out the dustbags with her dress and his suit.

“I’m very aware of that,” he sighed quietly. 

He was once crazy about those back muscles that went into strong arms. He swallowed and pushed the suitcase across the cobblestones of the parking lot.

Marinette caught up to him carrying two dust covers. Raymonde was already waiting for them with a keycard. She introduced herself to Marinette with a smile.

“There's a dinner with some other early guests at quarter past six, so you have some time to rest after your drive,” she said and quite literally scattered, looking at her phone while shouting an excuse and something about the florist. 

The moment Luka closed the door of their room he heard a quiet, “For fuck’s sake,” leave Marinette’s mouth.

“What’s up?” he asked, walking deeper into the room to see her standing in the middle of it. The room was nice, quite big and sunny. If Luka was seeing correctly, they even got a small balcony.

“There’s only one bed,” Marinette pointed out, gesturing to the queen-sized mattress. Luka blinked a few times, staring at her. 

“We’re engaged. Did you expect them to put us in a twin room?” he questioned, a hint of disbelief laced his tone. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Marinette mumbled.

She realised she might've said the dumbest shit, but it wasn’t like she didn’t on a daily basis. She was kind of known for her word salads after all. 

“No sex until marriage, or something,” she said alluding to their conversation in the car.

Also the little thing that Marinette wasn't Luka's fiancée at all. She was in fact his ex. So maybe, you know, having to sleep in one bed with him wasn't her dream living conditions, or something? 

“It's okay, if you're uncomfortable, I can sleep in a–,” Luka said and started moving to the bathroom, but when he opened the door he frowned. “There’s no bathtub,” he muttered more to himself. 

His options were being reduced very fast. There was no way he was going to sleep on the floor. There were a bunch of times in his life when he had to do it and he always felt like death the next day. Marinette frowned. 

“No, no. We can sleep together," she assured, but she was holding back. "In a bed,” she added quickly and pointed to the mattress, squashing the double entendre before it could even settle. “It’s big enough for both of us,” Marinette stated. 

Even if it wasn't, they had experience from spending together uncountable nights on the twin sized bed in Luka’s cabin. They would easily fit.

“Yeah, but–,” Luka tried to protest. He was starting to understand Marinette's inhibitions. Sleeping with your ex wasn't exactly the most sensible thing to do, morally and emotionally, for Luka at least. 

“We slept together before, Luka,” Marinette pointed out and he bit on his lip, digesting the situation. “In all the possible meanings of that sentence,” she added, like she wanted to make Luka feel better or worse, he didn’t know. “It really doesn’t matter if we sleep in the same bed for two nights.”

“Fine, okay,” Luka breathed defeat after what felt like hours and milliseconds at the same time. 

It was only two nights. They'll probably get knocked out almost immediately. It wasn’t like he had to fall asleep with Marinette’s head pressed against his chest. Fuck, this was dumb! If he was already lying he should’ve spun another one and asked for a double-bed room.  

“Great,” Marinette smiled.

“Great,” he repeated after her. “Now excuse me,” he said and before she could blink the man was falling on the bed face-first into the mattress. “Oh, that’s nice,” he groaned, muffled by the comforter. “C’mon, try,” he patted on the mattress next to him encouraging Marinette to take the space. 

After sitting on her ass for nearly four hours she wasn’t going to say no. She plopped on the bed next to him. 

“Oh, yeah, that is nice,” Marinette agreed with her cheek pressed to the soft fabric.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Luka asked with his face still pushed into the mattress. He really wanted to take a nap.

Marinette nodded with a hum and Luka kicked his shoes off and hoisted himself to the pillows. Marinette took a second longer taking off her shoes and the sweater she was wearing.

“See, there's still room,” she yawned, tapping on the gap between them as she laid down. 

Luka hummed in acknowledgment before closing his eyes and dozing off almost immediately. The drive here was exhausting for no reason. Or maybe the reason was lying right beside him. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When Marinette woke up she wasn’t sure where she was, what time it was, or what she was doing in there. She forced her other eye open and her brain started to become conscious again. She blinked repeatedly realising that the blue spot in front of her was Luka and his unruly hair. She started looking for her phone, ten to six on the screen worked like a bucket of ice-cold water. They were supposed to be at the dinner in approximately twenty minutes. 

“Oh, shit,” she mumbled to herself and shot up from the bed. “Shit, shit, shit,” she repeated and looked around the room.

Clothes, she thought at first. Then she turned around and noticed Luka still sleeping soundly. He looked so calm, so perfect. The essential Luka. 

“Luka,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from sleep, he didn’t react. “Luka, wake up,” Marinette said again, this time louder. She could see him stir while she fought with the zipper, opening her suitcase. “Luka we are late, you have to wake up,” she added, pulling out a sundress that was appropriate for a dinner like that. At least she hoped it was appropriate.

“What?” Luka murmured, his brain still mostly asleep. When he saw Marinette with a dress it started to connect. “Fuck,” left his lips, although he didn’t move nearly as fast as her. He rolled over on the bed and groaned. “What time is it?” Luka asked, sitting up. 

Marinette spared him a glance. He had always been such an exasperated princess when woken up. He was even worse than her and she had almost always slept-in late in her teenage days.

“Now, probably like five to six,” Marinette said and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Luka slowly picked himself up from the bed. He pulled out one of his plain black tees over his head and hoped it was good enough for the dinner. He ran his finger through the hair, trying to fix the damage the nap did to it. He knocked on the bathroom in hopes of washing the rest of sleep off his face.

“You have such a bedhead,” Marinette told him as soon as she opened the door for him. Luka only grumbled, clearly his fingers weren’t as good as a comb. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Marinette, noticing the scattered makeup on the counter. She held a mascara wand in her hand.  

“Yes, actually, lipstick and done,” she hummed, diving back into her baggie. “And are you ready?” Marinette asked as he splashed his face with water. It was cold and horrible, but it certainly woke him up more. 

“I will in a second,” he said with a towel to his face. 

“No, I mean are you ready to have a fake fiancée?” Marinette specified and Luka lowered the towel slowly to look at her.

Was he ready? 

He didn’t think he was. On the other hand, he didn’t think he’d ever be. Luka didn’t want to introduce a fake fiancée and lie to his family. He wasn’t good at lying, he had a horribly fragile conscience, too. But if he had to lie to his family, he was happy it was Marinette who he was lying with. 

“Are you ready to play being madly in love with me?” Marinette continued this time joking with a sly smile, lingering at the door. Her words snapped Luka out of his thoughts. 

“I thought you were supposed to play being madly in love with me,” Luka answered, stressing the pronouns with a grin spreading across his face to match Marinette's attitude. 

“Oh, yes I will,” Marinette shouted playfully from the room. “It’s not like it would be hard,” she mumbled to herself and dropped the lip gloss into her purse.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It turned out Luka definitely wasn’t ready. They walked downstairs and he felt an invisible force, like a wall stop him from entering the restaurant. He never wanted to lie to his family, the sheer concept of lies was repulsive to him. He always wanted the truth, no matter how hurtful it was. Yet there he was, spinning not only a little fib, but a whole fucking sham. 

This whole thing could have also stemmed from something entirely different. Luka simply didn’t even want to talk to his extended family. He didn’t feel connected to them enough. They caused him a lot of disappointment in his adolescence and even if he tired he still nursed a grudge. 

So he didn’t want to catch up on last, he didn’t even know how many, years. He didn’t want to socialise, smile, nod and laugh at their improper jokes. 

He was always an outcast in this family. All three of them were, Mom and Juleka. The bastard children and their mother who was too much for everyone. 

Why did he even say yes to being here? If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have to lie about having a loving fiancée in the first place. All of his problems would have vanished without a trace. 

On the other hand, how could he miss Mond’s wedding? They were an inseparable pair of rascals as kids. Every family gathering ended up with them in some kind of trouble, serious or not. And the best of it all was that aunt Yvette couldn’t demonise Luka because her own daughter, who importantly was older than Luka, always had a finger in that pie. 

Luka felt something brush against his knuckles. He didn’t even realise he came to a halt right before the archway leading to the restaurant, his subconscious was messing with him. His gaze wandered to his hand and watched how Marinette’s fingers found their way between his. His eyes followed Marinette’s arm, until he met her face. She smiled at him softly and Luka felt a gentle squeeze, he squeezed back. 

The message was clear. It was going to be okay. Of all the people who could’ve played his fake fiancée, Marinette was the best one. 

And probably the worst one too.

They took a seat and Luka looked around, muscles tense. He didn’t know a bunch of people, but he immediately identified Raymonde’s closest family. Aunt Yvette and uncle Alexandre, Noemie. He caught his two cousins and Juleka with Rose. 

The sight of them dispelled some nervous energy, it certainly helped Marinette a bit too. She knew someone other than him in the room. It helped their lie too. 

They greeted a bunch of people and Luka introduced Marinette with a smile. She was already charming them with her gorgeous smile and attentive blue eyes. What a pretty girl, Luka could fall in love…

Never mind. 

They met more people, the groom and a bunch of his family as well as Noemie’s fiancé Charles. Marinette whispered to Luka how the guy seemed like an absolute douchebag when they finished talking to them. Luka chuckled and shushed her, but had to agree on that one with her. Charles didn’t make a good impression. He hoped Marinette did better. He knew Marinette did better. 

“So Marinette… what do you do in life?” aunt Yvette asked suddenly while they were eating. Marinette looked up from her plate with a mouthful and chewed faster, so she could answer. Luka beat her to it. 

“Marinette works in fashion,” he said looking at her. He was ready for a dig about Marinette’s job. This woman had no taste and Luka knew it. She could find something wrong with everything and everyone. 

He must’ve visibly tensed up, because he felt Marinette's hand on his thigh under the table. He nearly jumped at the sudden, unexpected contact. It took his mind off aunt Yvette for a second. When Luka saw her open her mouth to speak, he did first. 

“And she still finds time to help her parents at the bakery sometimes,” he added, peeking at Marinette with a small smile that was returned. 

“Yes, although I do it more as a thank you to them. Especially ever since they started hiring help,” she grinned before letting go of Luka’s thigh and digging into her food again. 

Aunt Yvette didn’t ask for anything else for a while, at least not a question specifically directed at Marinette. It was more of a casual conversation and catching up.

“I’m quite disappointed you didn’t introduce Marinette to us earlier, Luka,” she said entitled towards the end of the dinner. “You didn’t let us know about the engagement, either,” she tried to guilt-trip him. 

Luka wanted to ask her why she was so disappointed. Was it because this way she couldn’t make sure Noemie gets married faster than Luka? With her rank, rotten mind he wouldn't be surprised if it was probably the reason. 

“Life in Paris is quite hectic,” Marinette noted loudly, replying to her comment. “We didn’t even have time to ourselves, moreover for family,” she explained, defending Luka. 

She was there to play his fake fiancée, after all. Marinette also knew too many stories about aunt Yvette. Way too many of them contained frustration and someone’s tears. She wasn’t going to let the woman make Luka feel inferior. It looked to work as her comment seemed to shut the woman down for the rest of the night. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

They fell asleep in the same bed.

They both had inhibitions about it. But in the end Marinette just pulled the covers all the way under her chin and turned away from Luka mumbling something along the lines of goodnight. And Luka was a grown man who could deal with his feelings, but he still fell asleep on the edge of the mattress like an offended child. 

When Marinette opened her eyes she wasn’t met with a mess of blue hair. Instead she felt strands in the corner of her mouth and puffs of warm air bouncing across her collarbone. Luka’s head was lying on her chest, his forehead at the height of her lips. His chin pressed to her cleavage, almost a standard way of how they used to sleep together.

Foggy minded, Marinette came to a conclusion she didn’t want to deal with that, not now. So she just closed her eyes, deciding to get a bit more sleep. Luka mumbled something incomprehensible at her slight shift and pulled her even closer, his arm closing around her tighter. 

He woke up an hour later and felt his heart jump all the way to his throat when he realised he was wrapped around Marinette. His cheek was pressed against her collarbone, nose burrowed in her neck. Luka opened his eyes wide as he slowly connected that his pillow wasn’t this bony and definitely didn’t move under him.

The warmth of Marinette’s skin had to be equal to hellfire with how quickly Luka was untangling himself from the embrace. He only slowed down once he saw her stir a little and moved carefully not to wake her up. The alarm hadn't even gone off yet and the last thing Luka needed right now was an awkward tension, because he woke up all cuddled up with his ex. 

He stared at her frozen in time for a second. She looked so peaceful and gorgeous. She always was. Luka used to have a habit of watching her while she was asleep. There was just something about the serenity on her face. 

Face that he was obsessed with because she was stunning. Luka swore she had to be kissed on the forehead by Aphrodite, or some other goddess of beauty. Nobody would ever give him back the minutes, hours he spent counting up the freckles across her nose or the time he wasted tallying up every single of her eyelashes. 

He felt his heart stutter and snapped out of the zone. Luka immediately turned on his heel and went to the bathroom. He closed the door and groaned looking to the off-white ceiling. His eyes fluttered as he took a deep breath that turned out to be entirely too shaky. 

The bathroom mirror saw him go through a million emotions and five different stages of breakdown. He felt like throwing up and passing out at once, because all of the sudden everything became way too real. 

He was sure his heart was in his throat. He felt it there, maybe throwing it up would be good. He wouldn’t have to deal with it going all crazy in his chest. He stared at his own reflection and all things in his head concluded in a single thought.

He was the biggest idiot on the planet Earth. 

“Rise and shine!” Luka sang-sung coming out of the bathroom. He acted like his whole world didn’t do a backflip there. He glanced at Marinette who was now curled up on her side. “I’m going to shower,” he said, trying to act normal like nothing happened. Because virtually nothing really happened. “I think it’s clever if we start moving now, so we don’t have to rush later,” he added, because he left like he needed to justify everything. 

“I need to pee first,” Marinette said sleepily and scrambled up from the bed. 

Luka watched her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t seem aware that fifteen minutes ago Luka was all cuddled up with her. He felt some kind of relief at that. 

Why did it have a bitter aftertaste, though? 

But it was fine he wasn’t letting the old feelings get the best of him. Not with Marinette’s fingers interlaced with his, or her hand on his thigh under the table. Not even with all of their limbs intertwined in the morning. Luka wasn’t going.

Today they were just friends and tomorrow when the wedding will be old news and over. So will be his contact with Marinette. 

“Wow, I haven’t seen that forehead in years,” Luka laughed as he stepped out of the bathroom. 

Marinette glanced at him while struggling with her bangs. He was standing with only a towel around his hips. In her mind’s eye Marinette could see herself screeching and covering her eyes. She saw Luka way more naked though, so screaming bloody murder didn’t happen. But it didn’t mean she didn’t feel herself blushing a bit. 

“Yeah, I get it," she snorted. "At least my hair isn’t crumbling because I’ve been abusing it with bleach ever since I was fifteen,” Marinette responded, securing the roller on her forehead. She did everything to seem unaffected by his presence. “How is it like knowing you’ll be bald by thirty-five?” she asked with a challenging look, turning the teasing on its head. 

“Ouch, low blow, Marinette, low blow,” Luka chuckled, shaking his head. Marinette turned back to the mirror, a sly smile on her lips. “Brutally attacked and I only wanted to ask a question,” he said with a palm pressed to his chest, playing overly hurt. Marinette looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you maybe, perhaps, in possession of a razor?” he asked speciously so he wouldn’t have to admit to forgetting to pack his. Marinette laughed. 

“It’s your lucky day. I am,” she said and dove into her toiletry bag. Luka wouldn't say it was his lucky day, he'd just say Marinette was a chronic over-packer. 

She was about to hand the razor to Luka, but before the man could take it she pulled her hand back. 

“Did you learn to shave?” came out of her mouth. 

“What?” Luka asked, confused.

“You’ve heard me,” Marinette said. 

“I’ve always known how to shave,” he stated and extended his hand to grab the razor. 

That was a lie. He grew up without a father. Nobody ever taught him how to do it properly and YouTube how-to’s only went so far. 

“No, I mean will you come out of that bathroom clean-shaven and without a bleeding gash?” Marinette asked, stressing the conjunction. Luka frowned at her. 

“Yes?” he said slow and unsure. 

“I will shave you,” Marinette decided. She put the razor back on the table. 

“What?!” Luka exclaimed.

“Don’t act like I haven’t done that before,” she pointed out, dismissing his surprise.

Yeah, Marinette did that before. That was right, but Luka never thought it would happen again and certainly not at the age of twenty six. Luka was definitely capable of shaving without any cuts. He didn’t argue because… he didn’t want to. The urge he couldn’t name, maybe selfishness, wanted for Marinette to take care of him like that.

His stupid feelings wanted Marinette’s focused eyes and petite hands on his face, moving with precision. Something in that action spelled love between its motions, at least to Luka it did. Taking care of someone like that was love, but maybe if it was so easy for Marinette to offer then for her it wasn’t. 

No love in holding a razor and spreading shaving cream across someone’s face. 

As soon as Marinette put her foot down, she wondered what came over her to do so. She couldn’t find any other explanation than Luka’s presence, he was already messing with her head. But for the sake of her own sanity Marinette made herself believe she just didn’t want Luka introducing her to his family with a bloody cut on his face. 

Her hands were gentle, but moved Luka’s head with firmness. She was soft with his face and certain with the razor. His steel-coloured eyes watched Marinette’s focused face. He re-learnt about the sweet scrunch of her nose as she concentrated. He missed being able to take her in so shamelessly and watched her hustle, dance around, until she straddled him.

Luka’s hands went to her hips and held onto them. If Marinette ever asked, it was for support, but in reality he did it without thinking. He allowed himself to stare more, falling in the same trap he did in the morning. Marinette didn’t seem to get any older, almost like her beauty was shut in a glass box. She was gorgeous, effortlessly.

There was no way nobody fell in love with her while he was gone. Luka couldn’t believe it, it still didn't compute. A stranger in the streets? Someone had to. How was it possible not to?

How did one resist such beauty? 

Luka had a hard time doing so, his fingers pressed deeper into her hips in an attempt. There was a raging desire in his heart and soul to touch Marinette in more meaningful ways. He felt like a soldier in combat with his own body as it begged him to grab Marinette's face, kiss her until they were both breathless. No one in the whole world knew how Luka missed those lips and what he’d do to taste them again. 

He was ready to fall to his knees when Marinette’s mouth fell agape in focus and the tip of her tongue prodded on the bottom lip. It wasn't fair. Luka felt dizzy, but that wasn't new. Marinette has had an ability to make his head spin just by her presence ever since he saw her for the first time.

“All done, baby smooth,” Marinette joked light-heartedly. 

Luka couldn't say when it all happened. He felt a shiver run down his spine when she caressed freshly shaven skin. It felt a little bit too real to have Marinette on his lap holding her hips, while she had his face in her hands. This could've been them.

Could've. 

The sudden eye contact didn't help the situation. Luka stared into Marinette's eyes and she looked down at him. They were suspended in the spacetime for a moment, then a noise outside pulled them away. Marinette cleared her throat and got off Luka's lap.

“Thanks,” Luka mumbled and got up. He looked in the mirror. In the reflection his pupils seemed dilated. He looked disoriented like he had been spun around a bunch of times and his brain wasn't back in its place yet. 

“I’ll get my things,” Marinette mumbled. “I still need a shower.”

It was silent between them after that, like something had shifted. Marinette did her makeup as Luka polished his shoes for the lack of a better pastime. 

The air seemed to be heavy as they danced around each other. Luka silently struggled with the buttons on his cuffs. He turned away as Marinette took off her clothes to change into the dress. 

“Um,” she awkwardly cleared her throat to get his attention. “Can you zip me up?” she asked softly. 

Luka turned around to see her looking tentatively, her arms pressed to her chest holding up the dress. Baby pink with ruffles and drapes, so Marinette-like. 

“Yeah,” he breathed and took a step towards her. Marinette turned around and Luka had to get it together. 

It was just one night. He could do it. 

Luka swallowed at the expanse of pale skin of her back. He did everything in his power not to touch it as his finger stuttered at the soft edge of the dress. The mole under her left shoulder, Luka blinked trying not to think about it. 

The zipper was tiny and he heard Marinette suck up the air as he grabbed it. The smallest brush of his fingertips against her spine did that. Luka closed his eyes for a millisecond and did everything not to sigh. He zipped it up as fast as he could without breaking the dress. The skin and the band of her bra disappeared behind the soft silky fabric. White lace his brain supplied uselessly, but Marinette’s lingerie was none of his business anymore.

She thanked him quietly and moved out of his arm’s reach quickly. She hung over the mess they left on the chest of drawers and put on the engagement ring. Marinette froze and stared at her hand as it sat here. She wore it to dinner yesterday, but it was just now she realised what it was. 

They agreed that Marinette would bring one of her rings as a placeholder and she did. But it was at this moment she realised it was a ring Luka bought her years ago. It came with the whole set and it was a gift without special occasion. 

She felt something rise in her throat. How did she not notice this? Was the universe playing a joke on her? Her heart started beating faster and the pink stone blinked at her. The silver ring was cold against her skin, but it burned her heart. 

That feeling persisted, especially when Luka loosely intertwined their fingers in front of the church’s gate. Marinette acted as if she wasn’t bothered by it. Luka nodded and smiled at a few family members as they passed them. 

“Luka!” they heard behind them and Luka looked around. He was thankful to see his mother, Anarka immediately caught him in a giant hug. 

“Mom,” he greeted softly and hugged back. She looked eclectic as ever. When he let go Anarka’s eyes turned to Marinette who smiled at her. “My fiancée we were talking abo–,” he started and moved his hand as if to show Marinette. But Anarka was staring at her already, he wasn't able to finish the sentence because she cut in.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said. Her tone was distinctly different, cold and sharp, the Captain's one. She looked her up and down. 

Marinette’s smile faded at the name and Anarka's attitude towards her. She shifted in her strappy heels, sinking father into the ground. 

“Cap–,” Marinette began, bobbing her head a bit, but she didn’t even let her finish the same way she did with Luka.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again, not after what you did to my son,” she said, arms crossed on chest in the essential Anarka way.

The resentment and defiance was clear on her face and in body language. All of the sudden Marinette felt something prickly, like a barbed wire, stuck in her throat. It was the statement and Capitan’s glaring, piercing eyes. 

She was a scary woman when you got on her wrong side. Marinette felt like it was a matter of seconds until tears would well up in her eyes. 

“Mom, it was–,” Luka broke in embarrassed by his mother’s behaviour. Anarka once again interrupted him rudely. 

“A joint decision, I know,” she acknowledged and glanced at Luka, who wished for the ground to swallow him. His mother didn’t seem to catch it, she turned around to Marinette opening her mouth once again. “It doesn’t change how you were–”

“Mom, not now, please,” this time Luka cut on her with a steel in his voice. “It’s not the time, or place,” he added as the woman looked him in the eyes. Luka saw her swallow and think for a second, thankfully someone shouted her name and she excused herself without any further remarks. 

“Uh,” Marinette breathed after she left, her eyes still following the direction Anarka went. “So I fell out of favour with your mother, it seems,” she swallowed, a bit shocked, a bit stunned, maybe even a bit scared.

“I’m sorry about that,” Luka said, his eyes moved from his mother to Marinette. She was wearing a frown and such confusion on her face. Luka bit the inside of his cheek at that. “Do you want to go inside?” he offered, nodding to the entrance of the church. 

“I think she hates me,” Marinette mumbled, looking at Luka with disbelief. “Your mother hates me, Luka,” she whispered as the realisation settled in. She could cry, your crime had to be serious for Capitan to hate you and somehow Marinette did it. Luka glanced at her with soft eyes. “She used to love me.”

“And don't worry about it,” Luka said and took a step in the direction of the church, tugging on Marinette’s hand. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The wedding was… a wedding. Marinette hasn’t been to one in ages, but it seemed like everything went according to plan. Raymonde looked stunning in the dress walking down the aisle and the groom, Adam, looked speechless when he saw her. Marinette pointed that out to Luka, whispering in his ear.

“Oh, he’s down bad,” she chuckled quietly to him. Luka just barely heard it over the music. He glanced at Marinette, she was wearing a soft smile. 

“You’d be too,” Luka responded and watched Mond. He could see her grin toothily at Adam. “Marrying a girl you dated for seven years,” he added, staring at the two at the altar.

Luka was right. She'd be thrilled to marry someone she loved and dated for years. She didn’t even have to think about it hard, her example was next to her. In her university days she was convinced she'd end up married to him. And it was so fucking stupid, but even after all this time, after the break up, the idea of marrying Luka was still attractive. 

“I thought they were never gonna get married,” Luka hummed to her after a second. Maybe the whispering between them wasn’t quiet enough, because a woman in the pew threw them a dirty look. 

The ceremony was flawless. Nobody stuttered during vows and nobody stood up when the preacher asked the assembled to speak or forever hold their peace. That probably only ever happened in movies. Although Marinette had always lived with incomprehensible paranoia of it happening to her. Whether it be one of her friends deciding to pull an insane prank, or one of her exes that would turn out to be absolutely crazy and choose to ruin her special day.

She glanced at Luka. 

She had to make sure this man was getting nowhere near the church on her wedding day. For the sake of her own sanity. Marinette was just the right amount of emotionally unstable and if Luka crashed her wedding… Well, she was insane enough to run off with him. 

But this wasn't Marinette's wedding and nobody was going to crash it. It was Mond's wedding and the worst part was still ahead of Luka and Marinette. 

The reception.

Luka became aware how horrific the situation was when he left the bathroom. He looked around the venue and right in the middle of it Marinette was chatting with his grandmother. Luka's breath hitched, he wasn’t planning on introducing his fake fiancée to his grandmother. Actually, that was like the last thing he wanted to do. 

Afterall, Luka had a conscience and deceiving his grandmother was definitely a hit too hard to it. He could lie to the aunt he hated, to the cousins he saw once a decade, but not to this woman. 

What next? Life would make him kick a puppy? 

Luka wasn’t morally grey, but lying to his grandmother was just straight up painting him black, not even faded one. It was naive, but he hoped to dance around her the whole party never once mentioning or introducing Marinette. But it looked like Marinette introduced herself.

“Nana!” he exclaimed and went straight for a hug with the surprised, almost startled woman. She wrapped arms around him and Luka locked eyes with Marinette over her shoulder, shooing her away with a wave of hand. “So good to see you,” he laughed and pulled away. She scanned Luka's face and body up and down. 

“Luka, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said, caressing his cheek like he was just a child. “You look all grown up now,” she added with a smile, rubbing his arms down to hold his hand. “Although a bit tired, aren’t you, dear?” she hummed, observing his face, deconstructing him under her careful eyes. 

“I think everybody in this world is,” Luka responded with a faint smile. He glanced at Marinette who was chatting with Juleka and people she met at the dinner last night. He sighed in relief, his grandmother looked in that direction as well. 

“So a fiancée,” the woman hummed with a smile spreading across her face. “I wish you called me to share the news. I know how to use a telephone. I'm sure you do too,” she joked, her smile fading a bit, although her eyes were still sparkling. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, squeezing her hands gently. “So much was happening, I haven’t even told Mom for a while,” he lied, justifying his action. 

He never called because he had never got engaged. And he was a big fucking idiot. God, where's the shovel, he should start digging his own grave. 

“You were always so busy and doing a million different things. It’s fine,” he assured and stared at his face for a second before sighing. “Not giving up blue, huh?” she asked with a grin alluding to his hair. 

“Nana,” Luka groaned and the woman chuckled softly. She squeezed his hand before letting go of it. 

“Fine,” she smiled. “And please, tell Marinette that she didn’t have to introduce herself, not every single person pushing eighty has dementia,” she winked at him. Luka stood rooted for a second thinking what the hell did she mean by that. He watched her look around, catching another grandchild to question.

It took him a dozen seconds to find the right memory. Marinette knew Luka’s closest family, Anarka and Juleka. She was a frequent visitor on Liberty, a resident even. What had seemed to slip both their minds was his grandmother and the fact that she had a pleasure to, well, encounter Marinette. It was all the way back at their relationship's heyday, they were twenty two and unbearable.

“Excuse me guys, but I will steal this girl for a second,” Luka joked as he approached the group Marinette was chatting with, swiping her away.

“You met my grandmother before,” Luka hissed through the teeth when they were out of earshot.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she remembers. It’s all under control,” Marinette said, calmly. She already panicked talking with the woman, she just composed herself.

“She does remember,” Luka screamed in a whisper. Marinette stared at her with furrowed brows. “She just told me,” he said. Marinette looked at the woman chatting with someone across the room. Luka tugged on her arm to stop her from gaping so evidently. “Marinette,” he scolded. 

“It’s fine. The story is that we dated before. It even helps our case,” Marinette assured. 

She understood how this could be potentially bad for them, but it could be good too. They just had to stay away from Luka’s grandma. If they ended up in a conversation with her, it'd be best if it was two on one. Without doing anything stupid, like telling a story that didn’t match, everything was going to be fine. 

“Marinette, she knows how fucking inseparable we were,” Luka panicked and he wasn’t one to panic. It took a lot to push him over the edge, but when he did, he became inconsolable. “We literally couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves that summer.”

Marinette fought the urge to roll her eyes at rewriting the history. It was Luka who couldn’t hold his hands to himself. She was too fucking stressed about meeting his extended family to be that. But she had to agree, she often fell into Luka’s touch and it seemed like she was attached to him by the hip.

“It's fine,” Marinette repeated. “Every couple has a honeymoon phase and that was ours,” she said, even though in their relationship much more than only that summer felt like a honeymoon phase. “And even if it still kept on going… I think it would be inappropriate to make out at someone’s wedding, anyway,” she noticed. Luka took a deep breath and nodded. He didn’t have any other option, really.

“It's just,” he sighed and looked around to make sure no one could overhear them. “In this whole fake fiancée fiasco… I forgot about her,” he mumbled while taking a glance at his grandmother beaming as she talked to one of her toddler grand-grandchildren. “Lying about it to some relatives I see once in a blue moon doesn’t feel bad, but her,” he stopped and bit on the inside of his cheek. “She’s going to be crushed when she finds out we broke off the engagement… or worse that it was never true,” Luka muttered looking down at Marinette. She gave him a sad smile. 

“It’s too late to opt out now, Luka. We’re already here and it’s gonna be okay,” Marinette whispered to comfort him. 

Her hand twitched to go to his face and caress it, she fought back the urge. She watched as Luka nodded and once again glanced at his grandmother. She was looking at him with the softest, motherly smile. Luka had to smile back. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

They were seated at a round table with a few of Luka's cousins, Noemie and her fiancé were there too. Marinette introduced herself to new people and charmed them before the first course got even served. Luka was slightly absent, though. Juleka and Rose were shooting him worried glances. This was a catastrophe waiting to happen and Luka was dumb for setting up so nicely.

Marinette talked and joked over the meal and Luka watched her. She listened so tentatively and smiled nodding sweetly. She talked with passion and joked effortlessly. Marinette was always a star, incredibly witty and intelligent. It wasn’t hard to get enchanted by her. He was the greatest example of that. The first time he saw her, he fell under her spell immediately.

They raised a toast to the newlyweds and apart from the guilt Luka felt about lying to his grandmother everything was going fine. But he should've known something was coming. Nothing in Luka Couffaine's life was easy and straightforward. 

There was a tradition in the groom's family where newlyweds raised a toast to the affianced. The superstition attached to it swore it was going to make them marry faster and love stronger. Marinette thought that it was fine, even nice. Luka thought it was unnecessary. 

Their views aligned when it was pointed out that they were supposed to stand up and kiss during the toast. Every engaged couple was supposed to, but it felt like it was secretly aimed at them. Luka decided it had to be a way of divine punishment for all the lies he spun.

He looked at Marinette with dread passing through his eyes. The last thing he needed now was facing the repercussions of kissing her. 

He felt Juleka’s burning eyes on him. 

God, it was probably so entertaining to her. He was going to kill Rose for even thinking of proposing Marinette for this sham. 

“I think we will pass on that one,” Luka said with an awkward smile. Noemie and his fiancé were already standing, as well as another couple from their table. Marinette nodded in agreement with him and shifted in her seat in discomfort. 

“What?” Maxine asked, disappointed and surprised. “C’mon guys, it’s for good luck!” she added.

“No, I think it will be better if we–,” Marinette argued, backing Luka’s statement. It didn’t work because she was interrupted.  

“Don't be party poopers!” shouted a person whose name Luka didn’t even remember. He saw how Rose perked up at their comment. Her and Juleka definitely found crazy entertainment in his miserableness. “Shut up, stand up, and kiss. Quick before you miss it,” the person said sternly. 

And suddenly Luka was a lanky teenager again, because he was giving into peer pressure. He looked at Marinette who bit her lip and slowly stood up. She appeared equally perplexed, but what were they to do? Tell the whole table they weren't going to kiss because what? They weren't really together? What was Luka supposed to say? 

“Yeah, sorry guys! We won’t be kissing, because actually, this isn’t my fiancée, ha-ha! It’s my ex-girlfriend, Marinette. But she mercifully agreed to pretending to be one tonight. And all that, because I couldn’t keep my cool on the call with the bride’s mother, so I ended up lying about being engaged to make her shut the fuck up for once.”

Go to hell! 

Marinette swallowed thickly when Luka cupped her cheek and shifted her chin to look at him. They locked eyes and she seemed unsure. Yeah, Luka couldn't possibly imagine why. Killing himself in font of everyone truly seemed like a better option, because what the fuck. 

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered so quietly that only Marinette heard. 

Was Marinette sure? Idiotic question.

No, she wasn’t.

“Yeah, just kiss me,” she whispered back despite her better reckoning. Marinette glanced at the newlyweds delivering their speech. All of the attention was on them anyway. They were going to survive.

So he did.

His hands held her face so gently, a feather touch, but his lips were pressed firmly by contrast. Marinette let her fingers wander to Luka’s jaw, she stroked the smooth skin. The kiss was simple and short, but their lips moved in a way that showed they’ve never forgotten how to work each other’s bodies.

Luka’s morning daydreams of Marinette’s mouth came true. The daydreams of lips he thought he would never taste again. 

He did. 

But what now? He was fighting off deep, scary feelings about Marinette quite well. The kiss was a swift burial to all of his efforts. He knew that the moment those pink lips were pressed against his, he’d crumble. He was already falling apart with delicate touches and brushing hands. Luka was just acting all brave and unbothered. But this? This was the end.

Marinette felt like a firework exploded against her spine, like blood bubbled up in her veins. The fire was everywhere. Luka, on the other hand, was drowning. He wanted to grab Marinette’s neck and kiss her harder, deeper, swallow her whole. He wanted to push his tongue past her lips and make out with her until they were both breathless. 

He didn’t. 

They pulled apart from the innocent kiss and Luka felt Juleka’s deeming stare. The internal countdown had started and Luka decided he had five more minutes in Marinette's presence before he spirals into madness. He was knocked out by a sudden realisation that he could never stop loving Marinette. Never. 

Marinette sat down without a word, just an awkward clear of her throat. Rose was looking at them apologetically. But all Marinette could think of was the man next to her. It scared her shitless and she tried to sweep those thoughts under the rug. But they didn't fit and dangerous notions of what could’ve been if crawled out like a bunch of nasty bugs. 

She did her best to act as if nothing happened and fall back into the conversation. She did it better than Luka, who got stuck in his head. To the observant eye of his sister it was obvious and Juleka leaned in to whisper whether he was okay. Luka responded with yes, but his expression was nowhere near reassuring.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Will you dance with me?” Marinette asked when she caught Luka at their table for the first time in half an hour. 

He ran off from the table. He wasn’t hiding per se, he just wanted to stay away from her for a moment. Because Luka was a fucking idiot, who was full of shit. The guilt knocked on his conscience though and he realised he was an even bigger asshole. He was fucking awful inviting her to a wedding and then disappearing. 

“With all due respect Marinette, but you’re the biggest klutz I know,” Luka said with an arm draped over the back of the chair. 

“And you have two left feet,” Marinette shrugged with a grin, almost a sly one. She shouldn’t suffer at this party because his own feelings caught up to his ass. 

“Why do you want to dance then?” Luka asked. There was no reason for them to spin uselessly on the dancefloor and step on each other's toes. 

“Because it's fun and the right thing to do,” Marinette answered, sighing quietly. But she gave up on convincing him and fell into a seat next to him. “Are you going to leave the wedding without dancing even once?” she questioned. Luka made a face before biting on her lower lip. 

“Fine, one dance,” he agreed after a few seconds. It would be good for their lie, for Luka’s grandmother to see. Engaged people would dance together, a lot probably. He was doing it for the sake of the lie. They had to look believable after all. Right? Right. 

“One dance,” Marinette repeated with a gentle smile gracing her features. She quickly stood up and drew out a hand in invitation. “C'mon! Quick before the song ends!” she added, rushing Luka and when his hand was found in hers, she dragged him to the dancefloor. 

Luka immediately spun Marinette to the fast tempo song. They got about ten more seconds of it before it ended. Marinette looked slightly disappointed when it finished. Luka hated disappointment on her face. 

“Well, and that will be my one dance,” Luka scoffed as the song faded out completely.

“Wait, no,” Marinette protested, many people around them started leaving the dancefloor. “That wouldn’t be very nice,” she quickly justified. Another much slower song started to play. “Dance one full song with me?” she asked and Luka stared at her face, their eyes met for a second. Marinette had doe eyes, big, sparkling and full of sky blue. 

The dance floor thinned out. It caused them to move in slightly, no more dancing in the corner. Luka swayed them gently to the song he felt like he had heard before. 

“Is that Arctic Monkeys?” Marinette whispered to him, a bit surprised. 

She was staring at his chest and looking down to their feet occasionally. She glanced up asking the question and suddenly both of them were very aware of how close they were. It felt like the oxygen was cut out for a second, just like it did in the morning, in the bathroom. 

“Yeah, Mond's a fan,” Luka responded after that. She looked over his shoulder letting him fully lead their little sway. “She'd probably be marrying Alex Turner if she could,” he hummed, hoping it would get rid of the weird feeling in her chest. 

“Who wouldn’t?” Marinette giggled, looking up. Luka smiled as well, shaking his head slowly. They hadn't stepped on each other's toes, yet. 

Luka spun Marinette gently and slowly as the chorus filled the room with a sultry, dreamy voice and beautiful, rich instrumental. It was romantic and felt like newlyweds should dance to it as the last guests were leaving the party, not them. 

Not Luka and Marinette, two con artists.

Although, con artists sounded a bit too pretty. Frauds, crooks, liars. That's what they were. What Luka was, after all he took the blame. Marinette was only his accomplice. She was a fabricator by the right of commonality. 

Marinette's hand went back to Luka's shoulder. The other one was put there by Luka himself. He let go of her hand and his own went down to her waist. He held onto the soft, smooth fabric of her dress.

They were close, an inch between their torsos. Marinette was sure she could rest her temple against his collarbone and she fought off the urge to do so. She also did everything not to look at Luka's face and into his eyes, for the sake of them both. 

She looked over his shoulder and maybe it was even worse. Luka's mouth was next to her ear, she could feel his breath fan down her neck. What was even worse, she could hear him sing along the track. 

“She's a certified mind blower,” he hummed in his deep, low voice next to her ear. “It's not like I'm falling in love. I just want you to do me no good, and you look like you could,” he sang the words so quietly only Marinette was able to hear them and she felt goosebumps rise on her body. She wasn't sure if they were from lyrics or from Luka's breath on her neck and intense intimacy they have found themselves in.  

They swayed and rocked, but Luka never spun Marinette again. He had her arms thrown over his shoulders, basically clasped around his neck. Luka didn't want to let go, even when his brain was begging, screaming at him to do so. They made eye contact before the song finished. 

Marinette looked up from the black tie around his neck and watched Luka's lips move around the mumble of lyrics. 

“Come on, come on, come on, before the moment's gone.” She could barely hear them, but she could easily read them off his lips. Her eyes moved up, steel blue irises were already staring at her. 

“This reminds me of–,” Luka opened his mouth saying something, but he cut himself off before he could even finish. 

It also reminded Marinette. 

It reminded Marinette of many things. But the most it reminded her of the fact that she had never got over Luka and she never will. 

Luka felt like he was on his mother's boat the moment their eyes connected. The deck where they swayed like that and decided this had to be their first dance at the wedding because they both had two left feet. 

He really wanted to kiss her at that moment and for a second he thought he mindlessly voiced those thoughts like a jerk. He didn't, but the song was ending. 

Marinette blinked rapidly three times and her arms were no longer around Luka's neck. It took him longer to let go of Marinette's waist. It even felt like it took too long. He didn't want to let go of Marinette, he yearned for her. He was willing to admit it. 

God, he was a moronic loser. He did it to himself. Fuck!

“One dance,” Marinette said, but her voice sounded rough like she hadn't had a sip of water in days. 

“Yes,” Luka responded, although he wasn’t really aware. “Thank you,” he added, Marinette nodded acknowledging it. 

The next song never started, there was a break. They both awkwardly walked back to the table. Luka's hand itched to lay on Marinette's lower back, he fought it off.

He caught Juleka’s eyes on the way, attentive as ever. She stared at him with raised eyebrows and he looked away. He felt lightheaded and sick, he'd blame it on the spinning, but they didn’t even spin. He knew it was because of Marinette and his stupid little heart acting all crazy. It was the most imprudent idea to ask Marinette, of all people, to become his fake fiancée. 

They sat together and it wasn’t even a minute before she was grasping for her purse.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Marinette told him quietly and scrambled up from her seat. 

She needed to run away before she went insane, before someone noticed, before Luka noticed. Marinette kind of feared he already did, because she wasn't acting exactly sane. The look on his face, furrowed brows when she stood up it had her fight or flight was triggered. 

He knew, and he knew he was the reason.

Marinette shut the door to the cubicle and sat on the toilet. Hunched over, she pressed heels of her hands into the eyes until all she could see was TV static in black and red. She didn’t even care for her makeup. Marinette groaned, exhaling and leaning against the cold tile wall. She stared at her hands as her vision went back to normal. 

The ring.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Marinette groaned silently, looking to the ceiling so she wouldn't have to see it. 

Her agreeing to going to this stupid, dumb fucking wedding was probably the worst decision she has ever made. And that kiss and dance, something definitely flipped in her brain. She was breaking and she wanted to scream.

She got out of the bathroom, but she didn't come back to the table. Marinette had decided she needed something to survive the night, even though they were much closer to the end than start of the party. If it was acceptable for Luka to dip for a while, she could too. 

Marinette found her way to the bar. She had never been a drinker. She filled her body with alcohol as a coping mechanism a few times after her break up with Luka, but she strived away from that life. She barely drank now, living almost an abstainer life. But honestly fuck it, she deserved it today. For all she had been through. She leaned against the bar looking at newlyweds' custom cocktails, or at least their recommendation. 

“Hey, can I get three shots of vodka and,” Marinette once again checked out the little board with the names of cocktails. “Raymonde's favourite,” she decided and the bartender nodded. 

He poured her three shots with a bit of a concerned look. Marinette didn't say anything else to him. She realised she might’ve looked like a groom's distraught past lover. Because who on God's green earth is getting shots from the drink bar at a reception if not a heartbroken ex of a newlywed?

Well, she was here with her ex. So that checked out. The distraught part? Yeah, most likely. 

“To the bride,” Marinette mumbled and tilted her head, knocking back the first shot. She winced at the burn. “To the groom,” she said in the same monotone voice, swapping the glasses. “And to me surviving this nightmare of a night,” she chuckled before pouring the last shot down her throat.

“Raymonde's favourite,” the bartender said, placing the glass on the stone counter. 

“Thank you,” Marinette hummed, grabbing the drink. She chuckled, the drink was some whiskey-on-rocks type shit. Raymonde knew what’s good.

She leaned back, poking up from behind the column. She saw Luka still at their table engulfed in a conversation. Marinette didn’t want to go back there and she didn't really fucking badly. She just couldn’t be in Luka’s vicinity right now, so she sneaked out to the outdoor garden. 

There were quite a few people outside and Marinette didn't know a single one of them. But she was a social butterfly, especially after a drop of alcohol. She was seated on a garden couch talking to people, sipping on her drink before she could even properly think.

“So you’re a plus one to our Luka? Who would’ve thought,” one of the girls teased, propping chin on her palm. She raised her eyebrow and a big smile adorned her face. 

“Yeah, I’m–,” Marinette started and juggled her drink in her hands. “I’m his fiancée, actually,” she said and lifted her hand to show the ring on a finger. 

She was a bit tipsy after those three shots by the bar. Tipsy to the point where all of anxiety was obscured by nice white noise inside her head. Just enough that Luka didn’t seem like such a problem anymore. Well, that was quick. She would've been at the bar the moment they stepped into the venue if she knew alcohol had that effect. 

The girl grabbed her hand and studied the ring. She complimented it and Marinette smiled. Hell yeah it was pretty. She should've seen the necklace it came with. 

They fell back into the conversation with the rest of the group. Marinette got to know about some interesting news, like Noemie being quite unhappy with her fiancé. Marinette was told that in secret, as well as Clare expecting a baby. 

She had no clue who Clare was. 

She smiled, laughed, and shivered regretting leaving the shawl inside. The sun had already set and the stars did nothing to warm her skin. 

“I was looking for you,” Marinette heard and turned around so quickly she might’ve as well gotten a whiplash. Luka was staring at her with a worried face. Marinette tilted her head and smiled at him. “You disappeared all of the sudden,” Luka whispered to her.

Marinette gloomed at realisation. Maybe she went too far, vanishing without saying a word. But Luka did it to her too. Wasn’t it the same? 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, throwing her head back so she could see him better. She patted the end of the garden sofa. “It was getting a bit too loud and hot inside for me,” she lied as Luka perched where she showed him. 

Marinette wasn’t looking for quiet and if she did, this place certainly wasn’t it. Not with how many people gathered in the little lounge area, not with the boisterous laugh of the smokers. But she couldn’t tell Luka she was hiding from him.

“It’s fine,” Luka said and finally looked around at other people. He saw his two cousins observing him, when he caught them staring they acted as if they weren’t. He went back to Marinette who was still watching him. “Did you drink?” he asked, noticing her big glassy eyes. They usually didn’t gleam like that. 

“I’ve tried one drink from the bar,” Marinette responded, not really lying, more holding some things to herself. She didn't want to explain. Luka nodded and she shifted as a shiver ran down her spine at the cool breath of wind.

“Are you cold?” Luka asked, he and his attentive eyes. Always there to read her like a goddamn book. But he was stupid enough to not be able to read she loved him, fucking idiot. 

Marinette nodded and shook her head at the same time at his question. Seconds later jacked was thrown around her shoulders and the smell of Luka’s perfume engulfed her. She tugged on the lapels, getting buried in the blazer.

“You’ll get cold now,” Marinette pointed out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luka responded and threw his arm around Marinette’s shoulders. She leaned in a bit, resting her shoulder blade against Luka’s chest. Her hand mindlessly went to his leg, laying on his knee. The people knew they were engaged and being closer to Luka meant being warmer. Yeah, for sure that was it. 

“Luka, and how did you two get engaged?” someone asked and the whole group looked at them. “We are looking for inspiration for Vicky,” they laughed and a man with flushed cheeks was having his hair ruffled up by another man next to him. 

“Long story,” Marinette said, but Luka spoke at the same time.

“In bed,” he answered. 

“Long story in bed?” Oceanne questioned with a raised eyebrow. 

“I think we know what happened here,” someone joked, voice fuelled by innuendo. Everybody laughed and now Marinette felt an awful bubble-gum pink blush spread across her cheeks. She tried to hide her face.

“To our defence, it was breakfast in bed,” Luka tried to set the record straight, however his addition only caused more chuckles. 

“It’s okay, Lu. Don’t explain yourself,” they dismissed him. 

“That's true!” Marinette protested with that stupid blush on her cheeks and ears. “We just don't have any pictures,” she added, a little sly or maybe just a drunk smile tugged on the corner of her lips. 

Tipsy Marinette had much more fun. If people were going to sit, laugh and insinuate, she might’ve as well fuelled that fire for them. Yes, they had sex! She will tell them in detail! Luka gives amazing head!

“Yeah, and why's that?” Victor laughed. Marinette and Luka looked at each other with knowing smiles and faked angelic faces to the rest. The whole group erupted into laughter again. 

“Well, maybe it's better if you don't know,” Luka said loudly over the laughter with a smug grin. He glanced at Marinette who slapped his thigh in a false embarrassment, earning them a few more chuckles. 

“And that's on our no sex until marriage,” Marinette giggled while straining her neck to whisper in Luka's ear. 

“You know I was never a fan,” Luka whispered back.

His face was merely inches away from Marinette's. She could count the tiniest moles on his face. Once upon a time Marinette had a habit of kissing the one on his cheek. Now she was too focused on a playful smile and mischievous eyes. They reflected the bright garden lights making them seem as if they were full of stars. Those eyes were focused on Marinette’s face and she looked up at him with her baby blues. 

All Luka could think about was: gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. 

He knew Marinette's face so well, yet it still left him breathless. If Marinette was a sunset he would be the one starting with pinks and purples that mix into soft yellows and fiery oranges. She'd be the one that faded graciously into deep blue as the sun hid behind the horizon. Luka was happy Marinette wasn't a sunset. It'd be cruel to see her beauty for half an hour on a random day and then never again, not the same at least. 

“Hey! And you lovebirds?” the voice snapped them out of their thoughts.

They were both floating, dreaming like this wasn't supposed to be a one time thing. Like they weren't just actors. As if tomorrow Luka wasn't going to drop Marinette off and never see her again like they planned. It didn't matter if their hearts screamed something else from the very beginning. 

“What?” Luka asked because they were looking at them. His voice was suddenly hoarse, even though he spoke normally minutes ago. God, they were staring at each other for so long. 

“Are you planning on getting married?” Oceanne asked and people watched them intently.

“They're engaged, of course they do! And looking at them, it's rather a question of when,” another person in the group said. Marinette could feel something weird in her stomach, something she couldn't really explain. 

“With the current wedding market,” she said after swallowing and ignoring the sensation inside. “I don't think so,” Marinette answered and felt Luka shift next to her. 

“Yeah, weddings look to be quite an expensive business,” Luka added to her response. 

It was prearranged. They knew people would ask about that. They couldn’t tell them a made up date, because in their plans this was the first and last time they would ever see Marinette. The date they could tell them though was one of their breakup. Tomorrow evening. 

“But if we were to get married,” Luka said after a moment, his hand gently rubbed Marinette’s shoulder. “We’d probably do it on some random Wednesday afternoon with a stranger off the street as a witness,” he chuckled. They never settled on that part of a lie. 

“Eloping?” someone asked, but Marinette barely heard them. 

She felt goosebumps arise on her arms, even with Luka’s blazer on. This was a thing Luka used to tell people in uni. He’d always tell them he’d marry Marinette on some weekday after the lectures when she finally breaks and says yes. Marinette never did. She believed they deserved a beautiful formal wedding with their friends and family watching.

Maybe she should’ve said yes. Maybe if she did their lives would look drastically different, or maybe she’d be a divorcée at twenty four. 

Marinette lived with many maybes in her life. She never took time to reconcile with lots of them. She hated the past, but she resented the future even more. It seemed ruthlessly pointless to her. She had no plans for it. She swallowed and looked at Luka, all the ones she ever had included him. She shook her head to reach consciousness again. 

Luka was leading her back inside. 

His hand was pressed against her lower back and he opened the door for her. Marinette felt very tired all of a sudden, her eyelids seemed so heavy. The people at the reception certainly thinned out. It was visible with a big venue that didn’t burst with life like it did two hours ago. 

They found their way to seats. The table was empty, a piece of cake on Marinette’s plate still untouched. The tiredness and alcohol in her system made her care less about doing everything in her power to stay away from Luka. She already gave up on it in the garden anyway. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed closing eyes for a second. 

“Are you tired?” Luka asked and wrapped an arm around her. He pulled her into his chest and an unintelligible hum left Marinette’s mouth. “You know we can leave now? We don’t have to stay here until the very end. We have a room,” he noted, his fingers moved across Marinette’s shoulder painting invisible swirls. 

“No, I’m fine,” Marinette responded, leaning into his chest but trying to open her eyes despite the harsh lighting. “Just a crisis of lucidity,” she mumbled and rubbed her eyes. 

“Are you sure?” Luka questioned trying to look at her. Marinette nodded into his torso. He opened his mouth again, “I haven’t told you but you look beautiful today.”

“Thank you,” Marinette whispered and looked up. Maybe it was a mistake because she was met with Luka’s eyes once again. She closed hers when his fingers brushed away a wisp of hair from her forehead. “You do too,” she said, opening eyes slowly. “Look very handsome today, I mean,” she stumbled over her words which caused a tiny smile to appear on Luka’s lips. Marinette saw herself kissing it away, firm lips holding back a smile against hers. 

She needed to be hospitalised. This for sure could be written off as some kind of insanity. She averted her eyes, suddenly taking a great interest in the cake on her plate. 

“Where’s everybody, by the way?” she asked, looking at the empty seats at their table

“A lot of people already left, said their goodbyes and all,” Luka said and shrugged. “Rose and Juleka are on the dance floor,” he pointed to the slither of it they could see. “Rose had finished her third glass of wine. You know she’s a lightweight, so now she terrorises Juleka dragging her all over the place,” he chuckled, shaking his head. Marinette smiled. 

“Poor Juleka,” Marinette giggled and grabbed her drink. She raised it offering to clink with Luka. The man grinned and gently hit the glass. If only Marinette knew Juleka was the reason behind her presence here, she wouldn’t have an ounce of sympathy.

“And to what was that?” Luka asked with a raised eyebrow and cheerful eyes. 

“I think it’s only right to say the newlyweds,” she hummed with a small smile. 

“I'm sorry,” Luka broke out, apologising out of nowhere. Marinette looked at him and he knew there was a question on her tongue. But Luka was quite sure she knew what he was apologising for. 

Luka didn't get a chance to explain because Rose and Juleka stumbled to the table. Not really, Rose walked with a spring in her step. Juleka looked a bit tired, though. Luka could see a huge grin splitting Rose’s face and sparkling drunk eyes. 

“Long time no see!” she exclaimed sitting down next to Marinette. She giggled and nodded, Rose was always such a cheerful drunk. Although Rose was always infectiously cheery. Juleka threw Marinette an apologetic look. “Where were you?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same,” Marinette responded, she glanced at Luka who watched the situation unfold with amusement. 

Rose never answered Marinette's remark. She put her elbows at the edge of the table with chin propped up on hand and seemed to zone out, staring blankly at her. 

“You’re a gorgeous woman, Marinette,” she said after a moment. She leaned in a bit closer to her with furrowed eyebrows as if to see Marinette better. 

“Thank you,” Marinette giggled slightly confused by the compliment. “I’m not gay, though, remember?” she asked Rose with a smile making way on her lips. Marinette could hear the muffled laughter of the other two at the table. Her words seemingly made Rose remember. She looked over to Luka who tried to contain his laughter as she sized him down.

“You’re very handsome too, Luka,” she acknowledged. Luka reacted the same way Marinette did. He chuckled, nodded his head and thanked her. “God, your kids could’ve been beautiful if only you weren’t such dumb fucking idiots and broke up,” she noted after a bit of silence, cogs in her head clearly working slower due to alcohol. Juleka stiffened and sucked a breath at her words. Luka stared at her like someone punched him in the gut. 

“That’s just life, Rose,” Marinette said after a few seconds of silence. Her tone was shaky, she glanced at Luka who squirmed in his place. 

God, the last thing Luka needed now was thinking about having and raising kids with Marinette, starting a little happy family. 

Rose deserved an award for planting that seed in his head. The Worst Sister-In-Law Award. Yeah, that would be perfect for her. 

“Life… purposelessly cruel and full of misunderstandings,” Rose sighed, staring at the plate in front of her. Her head propped on a hand fell forwards a little bit. 

With that Juleka decided it was their cue to go. Luka and Marinette decided to follow not long after. Rose’s words left a sour taste in both of their mouths. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Luka's head was becoming a mess really quickly, a bigger mess than it already was. Realistically, what did he have to lose now? He had already made a fool of himself and his heart. The people were basically gone and he was yearning for Marinette. What was the point in containing himself? They won't see each other again after this night. 

The way Marinette overtook his mind as if they were back in university was absurd. He remembered feeling like a kid in love back then, but he didn’t exactly feel like that right now. He felt confused and maybe even scared, but wasn't that normal? Marinette had caused him a plethora of emotions throughout his life. 

Scared and confused. 

He should've tried to run away and keep Marinette at bay. His heart always held superiority over him. Now, it wanted Marinette. It missed Marinette. It reached for her desperately.

Luka could try to fight it, run off and hide. He could scream, punch, and kick. But what would that achieve? After all, what the heart wanted was most important, it dictated how things were supposed to be. The real, raw feeling could never be covered by the haziness of logical thinking. 

Luka's heart wanted Marinette, it loved Marinette and it meant Luka loved Marinette. It was as easy as that.

But wasn't that something he already knew? 

He had never stopped loving her, not once for a second. Luka was born to love Marinette and he would die doing so. He had to face the fact that there was no other option for him. It was Marinette and always will be Marinette. His heart would always skip a beat for her, even in another lifetime. 

And wouldn't that be fucking romantic if he didn’t destroy everything? 

Luka stared as Marinette toed off her heels. He stood rooted while his mind was running circles. He was going to let it go free, he knew he might regret it. But not doing so he'd regret it too. 

“Marinette,” he broke the quietness of the rustling clothes. She turned around to look at him. “I’m so sorry, I tried,” he said. Marinette didn't understand what he was talking about. “I really tried.”

Luka was in front of her a second later and just as quick he was holding Marinette’s face in his hands, lips pressed against hers. It took her a second to register, her hands flew up. Luka could already feel them push against his chest, shoving him away, because truly what else could he expect. 

He didn't expect her hands to go to his neck. She kissed back. She was kissing him back and his mind cut out all rational thinking. 

Their teeth knocked against each other and Luka kissed her like he wanted during the toast. His arms wrapped around Marinette’s waist, and her fingers got lost in his hair. Luka explored her mouth and swallowed a sound she made. He didn’t want to let go. He wasn't going to let go. Not of her. 

Not again.

“Some idiot thought bringing an ex wouldn’t bring back the feelings,” Luka panted against Marinette’s lips when they pulled away.

He looked into Marinette's dilated pupils, her fingers tightened around his hair. She stared at him with slightly agape lips and wide open eyes. 

Oh, this sure at shit wasn’t happening to her now! 

“Fuck,” he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I love you, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you and you coming back to my life made me realise that. I might sound crazy because I spent last forty-eight hours doing everything to not relapse into you, but I did anyway because I’m a fucking idiot and I love you and now my emotions are getting the best of me and I still love you,” Luka said in one breath. 

Marinette just stared at him in silence. There was no reaction from her and Luka felt a sudden wave of regret hit him like a truck. His heart moved up his gullet and he felt like he was going to vomit. 

Fucking idiot. 

What was he thinking?

“I'm sorry,” he said and untangled his arms from around Marinette's waist. “God, I’m sorry,” he repeated with a slight tremble in his voice. “It was stupid, forget abou–,” he continued as he tried to free himself from Marinette's arms, but her hold around his neck was steel.

“No!” Marinette exclaimed when it finally dawned on her. “No,” she breathed after clearing her throat. 

Her grip on Luka’s hair loosened, she still gazed at him. Marinette wasn’t fully there, suspended in spacetime. She moved a bit of his hair behind his ear even though it didn't want to stay here.

She had never thought she would hear this, not again, not from Luka’s lips. It felt like one of her wildest dreams, or maybe a nightmare she woke up from in the past three years. She needed to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t asleep. If it was a nightmare Luka would start laughing and walk out the door, like he always did. 

But he didn't. It was all real. Marinette felt his hands and they were real, his breath. The room, the clock on the wall. She wasn't asleep. 

Luka. The love of her life. Her only one. He still loved her. Marinette loved him too. She loved him so goddamn much. There wasn't a singular word to describe it. 

“Marinette,” Luka's soft voice brought her back. He sounded worried and Marinette's eyes focused on him. “Mari, you're crying,” he whispered, his face showed concern. Only then Marinette felt the wet streaks, tears running down her cheeks.

“You love me,” she croaked, ignoring the flow down to her jawline. “You love me,” Marinette repeated with a bark of laughter at the end, like the weight of the words finally hit her. 

Her eyes moved chaotically, scanning Luka’s face to check this wasn't a mistake. Nothing about Luka's soft features changed. In his eyes Marinette could see gentleness that made her heart melt. Luka slowly reached for her face and wiped the tears away.

“I do,” he whispered with sweetness in his voice, there was a hint of fear too. His fingertips skimmed tenderly over the high cheekbones. 

“Why?” Marinette asked, her voice broke halfway through the word. Luka smiled at her, but it all felt bitter for some reason. His fingers still stroked Marinette's pale skin. 

“I think,” he said after a second and paused again. “I know,” he corrected himself. “You’re the one, Marinette,” Luka said as she stared into his eyes intensely. “The only one,” he whispered with confidence. 

Marinette felt another wave of tears amass on her waterline. She didn’t try to stop them, she couldn’t care less. She wrapped her arms around Luka abruptly. She pushed her body into his. Her hands grabbed onto Luka’s shoulder blades, holding him in a tight embrace, her face hidden in his neck. An unexpected sob shook her body, shaky breaths left her lips.

Luka could cry too. Fuck, he was crying and he didn’t even notice. 

“I love you, so, so much,” she choked out close to Luka's ear. “I’ve never stopped loving you, not even for a second,” she continued. “You’ve always had my heart, even before I met you,” she said, loosening the tight grip she had on Luka but still pressing close to him. His lips got buried in her hair. “I think I’m alive just for you,” she let out. 

Luka closed his eyes, cheek pressed to Marinette’s head. This wasn’t happening. The things he said, the things he was hearing. No more jumbled thoughts, only love. His love. 

He leaned back to see Marinette’s face. All of the sudden his life made sense again. It all fell into place. He moved and kissed her again that night. 

This time without regret.