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Chapter Text

The air smelled of lemon and expensive alcohol.
The terrace rented by Chloé was huge, crowned with neon lights attached to the corners of the floor and warm light bulbs above their heads.
There were at least 100 people, all budding university students and a few bodyguards on the ground floor.
“Who's my favourite barmaid?”
Chloé's ringing voice echoed off the walls of the small makeshift kiosk, with its roof made of dried palm leaves and bamboo walls that softly resonated with 2000s music. 
“You know I hate you, right?”
Marinette was behind the counter, a shaker in one hand and a glass trembling in the other. She had been put behind the counter by her own roommates, even though she kept repeating that she was a designer, not a bartender.
“Darling! You're breaking my heart like this, and you don't want anyone to know, do you? Am I right, Adrien?” 
The boy shrugged with a smile. Sitting at the bar, he tried to help Marinette as much as he could. He handed her some mint leaves to put in what was supposed to be a mojito. 
“I don't think there's gin in that stuff,” he commented, stifling a laugh. 
“Marinette, love, you know I'd drink anything you make without batting an eyelid, but if someone orders vodka, you can't palm them off with rum.” Chloé said, batting her long, glossy eyelashes with irritating slowness. 
Marinette snorted, stopping mid-air and then closing the gin bottle.
“I'll say it again; I'm not good with alcohol. Are you and Alya deaf in one ear or something?”
But Chloé smiled at her again.
“Come on, at least you have your Prince Charming to help you.” She patted Adrien on the back before walking away to greet other students. He said nothing, just smiled at her with the look he used to give her between the school desks when they were kids.
“It doesn't look so bad. And besides, if you mess up, just say they're artistic cocktails.”
Marinette laughed, shaking her head.
“You should be back here, not me. It's enough that I know how to make a vodka lemon.”
“Only because there are two ingredients, and they're in the name. But if you made it, I'd even drink flavoured gasoline.”
Adrien stared at her for a moment too long, his gaze softened by sincere thoughts.  His eyes were slightly shiny, not from alcohol, and his curved eyebrows betrayed him.
“Adrien...” Marinette murmured, blushing. Not with the shyness of years past. He still made her smile, but her knees no longer trembled, at least not always.
For a while, they just stared at each other.  Adrien's green eyes were like magnets, bright and shiny, and she didn't even notice that the patio door had opened again.

“Oh my god, I can't believe it.”
Alya’s voice came from afar.  
Nino, next to her, raised an eyebrow. “But weren't you in Greece?”
”He came back yesterday. And I forced him to come here with me,” Juleka replied behind them, her voice calm and low.
Luka appeared in the doorway, along with a gust of warm air and a strange salty smell.
He had a calm smile, hooded eyes with sharp black eyeliner, and hair with slightly shorter blue tips.
Alya smiled, as if she had just seen a vision. She opened her arms in welcome, and Luka didn't hesitate to put his arm around her shoulders.
“Long time no see, rockstar. Have you become so famous that you don't let anyone know you're back?”
“Just because I love surprises,” he laughed, but his eyes were fixed on the crowd, searching for something—or someone.
It didn't escape Alya's gaze.
“Of course she's here. Stuck at the kiosk,” she smiled slyly, “why not scare her a little...” she whispered, and a shiver ran down his spine.
He hadn't seen her in so long, his heart had been in his stomach since the night before, when he had set foot in Paris airport.
Luka nodded, swallowing more loudly than expected, but didn't move right away. He stood with Alya and Nino chatting, letting the atmosphere envelop him a little.
Juleka had moved in his place, interrupting Marinette's quiet laughter at one of Adrien's inappropriate jokes, when she sat down next to him at the bar.
“Juleka! Are you having fun? Where's Rose?”
Adrien's voice was louder than usual, proof that he had had at least two drinks. She smiled, looking first at him, then at Marinette longer than normal.
“Somewhere dancing with Alix. Actually, Mari. Would you make me two cocktails?” 
Marinette turned, still smiling. “Sure! Tell me what you like, so I try not to poison you.”
Juleka shrugged. “I really don't know what my brother likes... you do it, you know him better.”

Time seemed to stand still.
It was as if every word Juleka uttered was a stone thrown into a perfectly calm lake, and the echo seemed to spread across the terrace. Adrien also stood still for a few seconds, his eyes wide, staring into Juleka's perfectly calm ones.
Marinette turned pale. The glasses almost slipped from her hands.
“Did you say... your brother?”
”That's right.”
A voice behind her made her tremble. Marinette turned slowly. Storm-coloured eyes were fixed on hers, just as she remembered them, the same as ever.
Perhaps more... subtle, or clearer, or more lucid. But they penetrated her flesh as if he had never left.
“Hello, Marinette.”
Her heart was beating fast, too fast, and she feared she was about to faint.

Chapter Text

The light in the kiosk seemed too bright, the music too loud, or perhaps it was just the way he looked at her. 
Marinette felt her fingers tingle, her stomach twist as if someone had knocked her off balance.
“Luka…” She said it like a breath, almost not wanting to believe it. His name left her lips with the same hesitation as a memory never forgotten.
He gave a half-smile.  He was the same as ever, yet different. More mature. More tired. More... distant?
Adrien rose from his stool, his hesitant gaze darting between the two.  He smiled, uncertain.
“Welcome back, Luka. It's been a while.” Luka nodded, his eyes seeming to petrify Adrien on the spot.
“Yes. Too long.”
A strange silence fell between them, broken only by the music in the background and a bottle cap that flew off somewhere on the terrace. Adrien recoiled slightly, sitting further away from them, as if he had read something in their gaze.
He leaned his elbows on the counter, his fingers intertwined in front of his mouth. The drink Marinette had prepared for him was still there, untouched. The ice had almost completely melted, and the lime had lost its freshness.
A bit like him. He had smiled, of course. With the politeness he always had.  But inside, it was as if something had crumpled silently.

Luka approached, sitting down at the counter in front of Marinette. He looked at her expression as if searching for cracks in it.
“You look well.” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek.
“So do you. You're… taller,” she whispered, because saying incredibly more handsome seemed too much. He laughed.
“I'll let you make those cocktails, Marinette.’
Juleka smiled at her and walked away slowly, as if she had framed the scene from a book, satisfied. But Marinette didn't even hear her.
She was still looking into Luka's eyes, and his smile didn't fade.
“And you are...” His eyes wandered impurely over Marinette's entire figure. He lingered on her beautiful black dress with red polka dots, tight and shiny, with a terrible V-neckline and an unseemly slit on her legs veiled by tights.
Alya had forced her to wear it, telling her, ‘It's too beautiful not to wear. Besides, you made it, so show off your talent and beauty, girl!’
She blushed suddenly. “Bolder. It's a good thing, isn't it?” His voice was calm, like a song that never stopped playing.
She said nothing for a second. Her hands tingled, and a lump formed in her throat. 
Then, like a rubber band snapping, she dropped the glass in the sink and came out from behind the counter.  
Luka stiffened slightly as she approached. Marinette threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, tighter than she had intended. He seemed breathless for a moment. Then he hugged her back.  
His arm slipped naturally around her waist, and Marinette felt his calm breath against her temple. No words were needed. Time had simply... bent, not broken.
“You really are back,” she whispered. Luka nodded slowly. “Just from university. Greece. It wasn't Mars.”
Marinette laughed, still clinging to him, and only let go when she felt the need to actually breathe.
“You didn't even get in touch by mistake. I was hoping you'd send me some photos, some trace of your new song, but instead...” The words died in her throat. He looked down, guilty.
“I needed to... find inspiration, to understand if I was still me.”
“And did you find what you were looking for?” For a moment, they just looked at each other.
“Not entirely. But... I did understand one thing.”
“What?” Her voice came out in a whisper.
“That I had left something too important behind.” His fingers moved lightly across the counter, as if he were still playing his guitar. “Someone.” Marinette closed her eyes for a second. She wasn't ready. Or maybe she was, but she didn't want to be.
“Luka...” She took a step back, placing her hand on the counter for support.
"I wanted to see you. To tell you that you've never left my mind. And that I missed you." He said, as if he were predicting the weather. That was Luka, he didn't mince his words when it came to saying something sincere.
She laughed softly, bitterly and sweetly at the same time.
“I'd hate myself if I didn't tell you that I missed you too.” He didn't smile. His eyes grew even darker. 
“Then you can hate me.” They stared at each other.
The kiosk, the lights, the cocktails, the rum, and the music—everything seemed to have disappeared. Only their breaths, the distance, the unspoken time.
Then Marinette slipped behind the counter again and grabbed a glass. She filled it halfway with ice, and without looking at labels or recipes, she began to mix. When she handed it to him, he took it with both hands. He didn't taste it.
“What is it?”  
“I don't know. But I made it myself. And you would drink gasoline.” He laughed. Softly. And drank.

Something in Adrien's stomach churned as soon as he heard Marinette's words in the distance. Gasoline, his joke?
He looked at her, so alive, so bright—in a way he hadn't seen in months. Since before Luka left for Mykonos.
He had always wondered if there was still something between them. Now he wasn't wondering anymore. The way she had hugged him, instinctively.
The way Luka had talked to her, effortlessly. A connection too natural to be simply “an old friendship.”
Adrien ran a hand through his hair, lowering his gaze.
He wasn't jealous. Not really. He was... tired. And maybe a little disappointed. 

“I bet ten euros he'll sing her a song halfway through the evening,” Alya laughed, resting her head on Nino's shoulder, not far from that explosion of emotions.
“And I bet twenty euros that Adrien is already grinding his teeth,” he said, and as if reading her mind, he let go of his girlfriend's side as she headed for the bar.
On the other side of the terrace, in the same direction, the blonde was approaching.
“Oh, finally!” Chloé's ringing voice cut through the air like a gold-decorated knife. She arrived between them with a catwalk stride, a half-full glass, and the air of a professional spectator.
“Luka Couffaine has honored us with his presence! You should have seen your face, like, oh no, the famous ex is back! I love it.”
“Hi to you too, Chloé.” Luka replied calmly. Marinette looked at her as if she wanted to kill her, rolling her eyes at her smirk.
“Honey, look at this beautiful picture... You, him, the blond in love, and me needing another drink. You're my favorite soap opera.”  Marinette glared at her, but she was red.
Luka ran a hand through his hair, but he was smiling. Chloé turned to leave, but paused for just a second.
“But hey... it was cute. Your hug. Like something out of an indie French film, but with more repressed hormones.”
And she disappeared into the crowd, laughing. Marinette turned to Luka, still shaken, but smiling.
“You missed a lot, you know?”
He shrugged. “I see. Since when is Miss Perfect Hair your friend?”
She just laughed in response.

Adrien wasn't jealous. No. There was just something annoying that was eating him alive.
A soft thud made him turn around. Alya had left a small bottle of water next to his glass without saying anything.
She knew him well enough to know he wouldn't want to talk. Not right away.
“Thanks,” he murmured, watching her make cocktails in Marinette's place.
He looked up again. Her and Luka were still talking.
The warm lights on the terrace illuminated them like a vintage photograph.
And for the first time, Adrien realized that maybe... maybe he had taken a little too long.
He inhaled slowly, then drank it all in one gulp. 
Bitter.

Chapter Text

The terrace smelled even more of sweat and alcohol. The warm lights were almost hypnotic for the drunk students, and the place had emptied out considerably.
Now, Marinette could recognize all the faces. The music continued to pound in her ears like a mantra, while most of her friends were on the dance floor drinking, grinding with strangers, or smoking on the ledge.
Luka was there, smoking a cigarette his sister had given him, still holding the mysterious drink she had made for him.
Next to her, Alya was adjusting the overly salty, lime-less margarita she had made for an unsuspecting Kim, who would drink detergent if there was a little umbrella in it.
“Girl, who cares about Kim's tastes...”
”Hey!” The boy's voice was already slurred, and he walked away, taking the drink from Alya's hands.
“But try not to explode and do the job Chloé is paying you for.”
“Chloé isn't paying me—” Marinette stared at Alya in bewilderment.
“You filthy… is she paying you?”  Alya pursed her lips and stifled a laugh.
“No, of course not!” But she didn't sound convincing.
The designer snorted, drying some long-stemmed glasses, as someone sat down at the bar again. Before she could roll her eyes, Adrien smiled at her so sweetly that she almost felt guilty for being tired.
“You don't need my feline help anymore,” he laughed, “Alya is definitely better at this than I am.”
“Flattery may work with Marinette, but with me, you have to pay for what you order.” Alya glared at him, and he laughed in her face.  Not far away, a staggering Chloé was climbing the steps to the stage, pushing Nino, who was DJing, and trying unsuccessfully to change the music.  
“Chloé may have become our friend, but if she knocks my boyfriend off the stage, I'll rip her extensions out.”
“Calm down, Alya. I'll go over there and see what I can do. Oh, and... princess, a vodka lemon. You know how to make that.”  Adrien winked at her and her knees trembled a little as he walked away. Alya stared at her out of the corner of her eye, with a half-smile and a look that said, ‘I know something is screaming inside you’.
“Don't look at me like that. I'm not used to all this attention.” She sighed.
“Oh, why not, just Mr. She's just a friend, he's giving you what you've always wanted, but there's also a bad boy coming over here with his eyeliner and the slutty smile he's never had before?”
Marinette's eyes widened, and before she could throw a glass at her head, the boy in question sat down right in front of them.  
“Luka! What am I going to do to you? Don't ask Marinette, I bet that swill you drank earlier was 90% alcohol and 10% juice.” Luka smiled crookedly, while Marinette whined like a little girl.
“I like the taste... strong.” His gaze fell on Marinette, and Alya held her breath.  “But I'm here to ask if I can roll on the counter. Chloé may have rented a giant terrace, but there are no tables.”  
Marinette stared at him for a few seconds. When they were together, Luka had quit smoking without her asking him to. She had always wondered if it was because he thought she minded the smell or something, which wasn't true.  Marinette had always had a strange weakness for guys who smoke and are attractive, and Luka was both. But she had never confessed this to him.
“Since when have you been smoking joints?” Alya asked, raising her eyebrows as if she were his mother.  
“Since it became legal in Greece. But really, since I was 15. Do you know how inspiring a few puffs of weed can be?” he asked, smiling so charmingly that Marinette had to look away.
“Don't tell Nino.”
“Just don't leave bits lying around. That way I don't have to clean more than necessary,” Marinette said, after sighing too loudly.  Luka stared at her for a moment before pulling out a small bag and some expensive tobacco.
“Your wish is my command.” 

_____________

“My God, Marinette. If you don't jump on him, someone else will,” whispered Alya, as soon as she saw him get up to exchange a few words with Ivan a short distance away.
Marinette stared at him without fear; he was licking the paper to seal it, turning the joint with disarming precision. The flashing lights illuminated his face and something shiny on his tongue.  A small ball, no, a piercing was embedded in the tip of his tongue.  
Marinette held her breath, her heart leaping into her throat for a second. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him with that, or what it would be like to feel his tongue on her skin and—
“Mari. Can you hear me?”  
Adrien brought her back to reality. She turned abruptly toward him, her face red, accompanied by Alya's laughter.  
“You scared me, Adrien. Tell me.”
“My vodka lemon?” he asked, almost obviously, raising an eyebrow and sighing too long to pretend he hadn't noticed where she was looking.  He tried not to think about it, and just watched her as she hurriedly prepared his drink, ignoring the amused look Alya was giving him.
“You look tense, model. Shall I make you a shot of tequila with that, so you can swallow your bile?” Alya was teasing him as she cleaned the part of the counter where Luka had been standing.
She loved him, of course, but she would never forget the nights she held Marinette in her arms while she cried because he wasn't awake and available enough to understand her feelings.
Adrien rolled his eyes, leaning his elbows on the counter.  
“Don't put your attitude in there, though.” He teased her, smiling at her. She stared over his shoulder, raising her voice so that Marinette could jump up and down too, not just Adrien.
“Luka! Your gin lemon. I read that it's dangerous to drink and smoke at the same time, aren't you afraid?”  
Luka approached her with a smile, his gaze sweeping over Adrien's entire figure before standing beside him.
“It is, in fact. So I'll ask you for some pineapple juice and that glazed doughnut, which will taste much better in a little while.”  
Alya laughed gently, handing the gin lemon to a tipsy Rose who hadn't even asked what she wanted or accepted it.
Adrien had been holding his breath the whole time, standing still waiting for his drink and trying to look only at Marinette's trembling hands as she tried to place the umbrella next to the straw.
When she handed it to him, he didn't have time to thank her or make her blush.
Luka was already staring at her intently.
She was smiling, so forced that if she continued to pull her cheeks, they would crack.  
“So... Luka.” Adrien shifted his gaze to him, who was staring at him with his hooded eyes and an irritating smile on his face.
“Adrien.”
“Since when do you do drugs? Is it because you couldn't find inspiration in the waves of the sea or the curves of some Greek girl?”
Everyone stood still for a second. Luka just raised his eyebrows.  
Adrien's voice came out more shaky and slurred than expected, but there was a certain disgust in his words, in his pupils narrowed to small slits.
Marinette stared at him breathlessly.
Alya wanted to throw a bottle at his head, not even knowing where this audacity came from.
“I don't do drugs, little guy. Maybe you shouldn't drink that, you seem pretty hyped up already.”
He kept smiling, but his eyes told a different story.
Adrien pressed his lips together for a moment, suddenly realizing what he had said. He didn't know if it was because of the alcohol in his system or the way he kept looking at Marinette.
As if she were still his.
He swallowed, sighed, and flashed one of his most gorgeous cover-girl smiles.
“Sorry, I don't know what came over me—”
A thud nearby prevented him from finishing his sentence.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your queen has spoken!”
Chloé, impeccable in her gold mini dress and killer heels, stood in the center of the open space on stage, a glass of white wine in her right hand, the microphone in the other, and a sadistic expression on her face.
“Tonight we're playing. Truth or Dare. With real rules, awkward questions, and zero mercy. Whoever backs out... drinks. And no, no soft drinks. This is a party, not a baptism.”
Kim shouted something guttural, Alix applauded.
Alya turned to Marinette, pointing at her like a predator, with her usual manner, trying to save everyone in that little kiosk from an awkward and cutting silence.
“Get out of here, cocktail queen: we want you alive.”

Chapter Text

Adrien would never have imagined, not even in a million years, that he would find himself in such a situation.
Since enrolling in modelling and photography courses, he thought his life would change for the better. In the year he resumed modelling for Agreste, now run by his aunt, he had become very close to an intern, Marinette.
She was studying fashion and design at the Academy of Fine Arts in Paris.
She had started spending her extracurricular hours at Agreste, commissioning clothes and drawing up designs.
And her favorite model was Adrien.
He had never pushed himself on her, just a caring and sometimes flirtatious friend. Adrien didn't know why, but with her, his Chat Noir side came out. She was just so... real and alive. But she was also Luka’s girlfriend.
The cursed poet, the broken musician.
When they found out about his admission to the music conservatory in Mykonos, they broke up.
Or rather, Marinette left him, with a tear-jerking monologue about how ‘he should pursue his dreams without having to wait for her forever.’
And Luka was a gentleman, he accepted the breakup without drama, just one last heartbreaking kiss at the airport.
At least, that's how Nino had told him.
“Man, this is really your chance. Marinette has a broken heart and a soft spot for you. You have to at least try.”
He had told him one evening.
But he pursed his lips and blushed. He couldn't just... but he wanted to, so much.
It wasn't a crush like the one he had on Ladybug. It was deeper than that.
He felt listened to, so much so that sometimes he was afraid to look her in the eye. It was as if she could read all his secrets effortlessly.
The music on the terrace suddenly faded, and he was awakened from his thoughts.
"My beloved guests, drunkards and excited youngsters. Come here, come on. There's no time to lose," Chloé's voice rang out.
She descended from the stage, graceful as usual, leaving the microphone on the stand and replacing it with an empty champagne bottle.
People began to gather, forming a circle on the wooden floor.
Pillows stolen from the relax area, bare knees on Persian rugs, and a pile of half-empty glasses scattered around.
Chloé sat cross-legged, her gold dress sparkling under the lights, and the bottle—giant, opaque, and empty—in the center.
“Okay, simple rules. Spin the bottle, if it points at you, you choose: truth or dare. If you refuse, you drink. If you lie... you drink. And if you fail the dare... you drink twice.”
Alix, her eyes glistening, shouted “fair!” which made half the circle laugh.
Marinette sat between Alya and Adrien, her legs crossed with her hands clasped in her lap.
Luka was on the other side of the circle, next to Juleka his knees apart and his tongue piercing visible from time to time as he drank from a glass containing God only knew what. The joint was halfway through his fingers.
He seemed too calm, too brazen.
Chloé turned to Adrien. “Honey, honor your aristocratic blood. You go first.”
Adrien reluctantly spun the bottle. It spun and spun... until it stopped right on Alya.
“Oh, come on. I've been ready since I was thirteen. Dare.”
“Well, Miss Journalist...” Chloé narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment.
“Kiss the neck of the person you secretly desire when Nino is away.”
There was general laughter, but Alya laughed the loudest.  
She stood up, staggered, and ended up sitting next to Nino, kissing him ostentatiously on the neck in front of everyone.
“It was obvious, she misses her boyfriend when he's away, how sweet,” Marinette said affectionately.
Alya smiled candidly at her, sitting down next to her again.
“Don't be jealous, I think about you too, my love.”
Chloé stifled a laugh, spinning the bottle with her fingertips.
This time, it landed on Kim.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth!” His voice was slurred.
“Who did you lose your virginity to?” Alix asked without thinking, ignoring Chloé's grim stare, who had just lost her chance to ask the question.
Kim blushed suddenly, lowering his gaze. “...With Max.”
Everyone was silent for two seconds before Max, sitting with a beer in his hand, cleared his throat.
“It was for a sociological experiment. Don't judge.”
“Sure, a sociological experiment in Kim's ass—” Alix was about to faint from laughter.
Kim punched her on the shoulder, spinning the bottle before Chloé could retort.
The bottle spun slowly and ended up hitting Marinette.
Her heart leapt into her throat in an instant when she noticed Chloé's gaze.
“So, sexy designer... truth or dare?” She even smiled with her eyes.
Marinette thought about it for a second.
She could feel Luka's eyes on her, even though she wasn't looking at him.
Alya nudged her gently with her elbow.
“Truth.”
Chloé smiled, not even seeming to think about it. “Have you ever had a wet dream about someone in this circle? And if so, who was it?”
The silence seemed deafening.
Marinette swallowed, her cheeks slightly red, and the wine she had drunk a little earlier seemed to rise in her throat.
“Answer, sweetie, or drink.”
“I...” She lowered her eyes, muttering something.
“We didn't hear you,” Chloé chanted.
Her friend didn't seem so nice anymore, acting almost like she was back to being a spoiled high school bully.
“...I said yes. It was...”
The words died in her throat.
She needed more alcohol, or a few hits from a joint, for this.
Her eyes inevitably rested for a fraction of a second on Luka, who was sitting right in front of her.
Too late to hide it.
Too early for Adrien not to notice.
Luka barely lowered his eyelids, taking a painfully long drag.
Adrien turned his face away, swallowing his annoyance with a sip of vodka. He pressed his lips together, as if to stop himself from saying something.
Alya, sitting next to Marinette, couldn't hold back a smile. “Shit—”
She was interrupted by Chloé's triumphant laughter. “Of course, your beloved ex, I love it.”
Marinette stared at her grimly, her cheeks burning.
“Go ahead and hit the bottle, honey.”
She didn't need to be told twice.
It was embarrassing enough as it was, she would have preferred to sink into the ground or be killed by an akuma rather than stand there.
With a snort, she hit the neck of the bottle.
It spun. A slow, metallic, merciless circle.
Like a sentence.
Adrien looked down as the laughter and comments around him faded into a kind of muffled echo. Everything was quieter, slower.
When the bottle stopped... it pointed directly at him.
It was as if the world had paused for a second.
Marinette stiffened. Alya stopped smiling along with Nino.
There was something in the air that screamed, and everyone could feel it.
Luka took another hit, without saying a word.
And Chloé, of course, laughed as if she had won the lottery.  “Well, look at that. Fate is a theatrical bitch,” she said with a smug grin. 
“Adrien, my dear. Truth or dare?”
Adrien looked up slowly. His light green eyes rested on the bottle for a second, then turned to Chloé.
It looked like something was about to break.
“Dare,” he finally replied, his voice deeper than usual.
Chloé seemed galvanized. But she didn't speak right away.
Luka did.
“Make him do something that matters,” he said, his voice low but firm, his tone sharply bitter.
Chloé turned to him with a raised eyebrow.
Then she turned back to Adrien.
“Fine. Then here's your dare.” She paused dramatically.  “Kiss her.”
An icy silence fell over the group.
“Who?” Adrien asked, even though he knew perfectly well the answer.
Chloé pointed her finger at her without hesitation.
“Marinette. In front of everyone. No cheeks. No excuses.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Some laughed nervously. Others—like Alya—held their breath.
“Always a bitch,” she whispered to Chloé, but she couldn't hold back a smile.
She knew that part of Marinette was screaming, just like when she was a little girl, and that had been her biggest dream since she met him.
But now, she was petrified.
Her hands were clenched together so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Luka stared at her, his eyes inscrutable, the glass still in his hand.
Adrien slowly stood up, shaking the weight off his shoulders.
He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tic. He didn't speak. He just took two steps forward.
Marinette looked at him with wide, shiny eyes.
She seemed to want to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.
He leaned down. “Mari, only if you want to...” he whispered, but he seemed less convincing than his gaze.
She could only nod, her heart leaping in her chest as soon as he took her face in his hands.
Marinette found herself closing her eyes as Adrien's dry lips touched hers.
She had an involuntary spasm, her chest seemed too small to contain what she felt.
Her heart was beating so hard that she was afraid Adrien could hear it. Alya moved away suddenly.
Marinette was sure that if they had continued a little longer, she would have filmed them.
It wasn't a theatrical kiss. Nor was it violent.
It wasn't a party kiss. It was slow, full, vulnerable.
It contained all the fear, all the anger, and all the tenderness that Adrien had tried to hold back for months.
It was a kiss he shouldn't have given.
And that's exactly why... he didn't want to stop.
When he pulled away, he didn't speak. No one spoke.
Marinette was motionless, her eyes shiny, her mouth slightly open.
She seemed more angry with herself than with him.
Everything she had fought for over the years seemed to have crumbled with a single kiss.
He had actually kissed her.
Adrien sat back down in silence.
Everyone's soft sighs seemed too far away to hear.
Someone had whistled, cheering for the kiss they had always wanted to see, and on which they would have bet all their scholarship money.
But then, suddenly, Luka laughed.
Softly, almost incredulously.
He took a long sip, emptying his glass.
Adrien had the urge to punch him, but he just stared at him.
The bottle remained there, silent and cruel.
And no one touched it for quite some time.

Chloé didn't miss the opportunity.
“And now...” she said, jingling a gold bracelet as she grabbed the bottle with a theatrical gesture, “let's see if even the cursed poets know how to play.”
The bottle spun, a slow, creeping dance on the worn wood of the floor.
Everyone held their breath.
It was as if fate, once again, was playing tricks on them.
The bottle stopped. Right on Luka.
Chloé stared at him like an elegant viper. “Truth or dare, darling?”
He looked at her, challenging her with a sly smile. “Truth.”
Chloé didn't hesitate for even half a second.
“Do you have one, back in Greece?” she asked, her tone like a blade hidden in velvet.
“A girlfriend, a love, a summer fling? Or maybe one of those beach relationships, with not too many clothes and zero drama?”
Everyone turned to look at him. Adrien looked down, but attentively.
Marinette... stiffened. Her heart raced, as if she were about to hear something she didn't want to know.
Luka didn't look away. He didn't even seem bothered.
He inhaled from the almost-extinguished joint, then calmly stubbed it out in the empty glass.
“No,” he replied, his voice grave.
"No girls. No stories, no relationships.“ He paused, deliberately long.
”But a few... friends with benefits? Yes.”
Some sighed in surprise.
“Way to go, man!” Kim shouted from his right, slapping him on the shoulder.
Chloé raised an eyebrow, satisfied. Alya let out a stifled “oooh.”
Adrien didn't bat an eyelid.
But Marinette felt something burning under her skin.
Something irritating. Something stupid. Something completely unfair.
She didn't know if it was jealousy, or anger, or retroactive humiliation. But the point was that Luka had had the time—and the pleasure—to have fun with others, while she had tortured herself in silence, unable to even draw something that didn't resemble him.
And he had said it on purpose, she could read it in the folds of his smile and his red eyes.
Adrien's kiss suddenly no longer seemed like a mortal sin.
It seemed like... balance. Poetic revenge. A draw.
She turned slightly toward Adrien, who seemed about to speak to her but couldn't find the words.  
She looked at him for just a second. “You don't have to apologize.”
He looked at her as if those words had lifted a weight he had been carrying for too long.
Chloé clapped her hands once, feeling almost guilty for Marinette, but she didn't show it.
“And now, Mr. Friend with Benefits,” she said, turning to Luka, “spin the bottle. Let's see how good you are at dealing with the consequences.”
For the first time that evening, Luka smiled with something dangerous in his eyes.
A crooked, sharp smile.
As if, inside him, there was a song ready to explode.

Chapter Text

“I hope I'm not too late.”  Someone stood at the French window leading to the terrace. 
Kagami.
She held a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and macarons from Dupain patisserie in the other.
Marinette stared at her for a few minutes. She was beautiful, as always.
She was wearing a long, loose-fitting, fiery red sheath dress with gold decorations. She looked like a dragon.
Kagami smiled, her almond-shaped eyes moving over the drunk, red faces of her friends.  
She stared at Marinette, but her gaze lingered on Adrien.
"Kagami, what a surprise to see you! I didn't think you'd come," said Chloé, sparkling, her smile sharp.
She and Kagami had never been close; they couldn't stand each other for many reasons. One of the most trivial was that Kagami did not forgive as easily as Marinette, nor did she forget.
“You invited me, or rather, Marinette told me I was welcome,” she said calmly.
“Everyone is welcome, aren't they?” Rose's voice sounded gentle and a little slurred. “Of course they are.” Chloé forced another unconvincing smile.
Kagami, however, remained unperturbed. “I brought some gifts,” she said, approaching Chloé directly. “For your hospitality.”  
She took the bottle of wine without batting an eyelid, something bright and sincere in her eyes. 
“Thank you, dear. Take a seat, the circle is just starting to warm up,” she whispered venomously, the big viper smile she wore like a jewel.
Kagami did as requested, looking around until her eyes met Adrien's. Instinctively, he straightened his back, a slight blush on his face.
They had been together some time ago. There was still that layer of awkwardness between them, like an open wound.
This didn't seem to be the case between Luka and Marinette, but only because he didn't hold grudges about this kind of thing.
Kagami, even though she tried not to be, was very vindictive.
She wasn't angry with Adrien for dumping her, but more than anything else, because he had lied to her. And she saw the way he looked at Marinette, even when they were together.
She swallowed, decided to sit in the empty space between Max and Juleka without saying a word. She smiled at Marinette as soon as she placed the macarons in the centre of the circle, next to the bottle, which stood still like an anchor.
It lay there impetuous,  an unexploded mine. Kagami's arrival was a silent statement, some were too drunk to see it.
Adrien had stiffened. He couldn't take his eyes off Kagami, but at the same time he avoided any direct eye contact. Marinette noticed.  
She wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or pity. Kagami, on the other hand, seemed completely in control of the situation.
Elegant, dignified, and just cold enough to remind everyone why no one really dared to go against her.
“Did I miss something?” she asked in a soothing voice, crossing her legs as if preparing for battle, not a game.
“Just a couple of embarrassing confessions and a forbidden kiss,” Alix replied, glancing at Marinette. “Perfect,” Kagami replied. “Then I've arrived just in time for the most interesting part.”
Chloé ran her finger over her lips, watching the scene thoughtfully.
The game of Truth or Dare had just begun to slip into dangerous territory. The kind where laughter is more nervous, glances are longer, and every word can cut.
Marinette was stuck in the circle like a fish in a net of silk and thorns.
The bottle spun. On her.
“Truth or Dare, Madame?” Chloé said in a voice as sweet as toxic honey.
Marinette cleared her throat. “Truth.” Too quickly.
Chloé stared at her. “Do you prefer to watch... or be watched while you do it?”
The silence was louder than any answer. Luka leaned forward slightly. Adrien looked away, but only for a second. A second that was catched by Kagami.
Marinette touched her ear, as if to protect it from the question burning inside her. But she didn’t want to drink.
“Be watched.” The tone was subtle. Honest.
Alya blurted out, “Who are you and where's my friend?!” Marinette looked down, red to her shoulder blades.
Adrien watched her from the side. Luka never took his eyes off her.
Chloé clapped her hands. “I wasn't expecting such honesty. Well done. I just hope you choose the right audience.”
Marinette's eyes met Luka's for a moment.
There was something there, something warm and dark, that slipped under her skin like a long note on a guitar.    

_____________ 

The tension slowly began to melt away, like frost under the early morning sun.
The laughter resumed, albeit forced. Mylène's trembling hands were still clasped to Ivan's, after an embarrassing makeout session in front of everyone, but the worst seemed to be over.
Chloé, no matter how hard she tried to put her queenly mask back on, had relaxed a little. And no one had ever seen her so... human. Kagami remained silent, as if recording every crack.
Adrien, on the other hand, was motionless, his gaze still fixed on Luka.
Marinette noticed it again. It wasn't just embarrassment.
It was anger. It was wounded pride. It was something much more primitive than she was used to seeing in him.
And that... confused her.
Alya cleared her throat, breaking the silence with a forced cheerful grimace. “Okay, are we done? Let's spin this bottle around before I kill someone.” 
Juleka took the initiative. She pushed the bottle with two fingers, as if she were handling a magical object.
It spun. It spun.
Until it stopped. On Kagami.
She didn't bat an eyelid. She sat cross-legged, her back straight, her gaze immobile like a Japanese statue.
Juleka bit her lip, visibly nervous. She wasn't used to being the center of attention.
“Truth or dare...?”
“Truth.” The answer was quick and curt.
Juleka hesitated. She felt like she was walking on glass. “Um... have you ever felt resentment towards someone, even though you didn't want to?”
The question was innocent. Almost tender.
But Kagami took it seriously. She took a breath, turning slowly toward Adrien. “Yes.”
A sharp silence fell again.
“But not because that person hurt me. Rather, because I allowed myself to believe that I deserved less than what I saw in his eyes when he looked at someone else.” The message was crystal clear.
Adrien didn't move. His hands clenched on his knees. His lips thin, tight. He had nothing to say, and probably nothing to argue back. Kagami smiled.
It was an elegant farewell. Then, with a slow, graceful gesture, she grabbed a macaron from the plate.
She bit into it calmly, as if to symbolically close the chapter.
“I can go now,” she said, without rancor. “The bottle said it all.”
“Stay,” said Rose, in a sweet tone. “We're not really fighting, it's just... a game that's a little too serious tonight.”
Kagami looked at her with a polite smile. “You're sweet, Rose. But I don't play to lose.”
“You should stay.” It was Marinette who spoke. Kagami turned abruptly, as if hearing her voice had lit a new fire.
She stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Only if you pass me a glass, then.”

“Okay, I'll spin it,” said Rose, as if she could magically calm everything down.
The bottle started spinning again, more quietly this time. It was as if everyone was holding their breath.  
Marinette didn't dare look at Luka, and he... seemed like a shadow of his usual sweet self. Motionless. Tense.
But the bottle didn't stop for anyone.
...Nino.
Alya raised her eyebrows. “Ohhh. This is going to get interesting.” Nino smiled, a little embarrassed, but tried to remain lighthearted “Okay, come on. Let's do... truth.”
It was Max, strangely enough, who spoke up. “Okay, here's one. If Alya had never come into your life, who do you think you would have tried to win over?”
A chorus of “OOOH!” and jokes erupted around the circle.
Alya snorted. “Max, really?!” Nino laughed, blushing.
“Come on, it's just a game...” Then he thought about it. Too long. “Um... well... honestly?” He turned.
He looked at Rose.
Silence fell instantly. Even Juleka sat up a little straighter.
Rose put her hand to her mouth. “Me?!”
“Well... yes,” replied Nino, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, you've always been sweet, funny... I thought you were kind of unattainable. But yeah, if Alya hadn't been there, maybe... I don't know."
Alya stared at him as if he were crazy. Marinette's mouth was wide open, the tension seeming to melt away with a little extra rum.
“Wow. Okay. That... was new. Would you have imagined it?” Adrien whispered to her, as if nothing had happened. She just nodded, blushing.
“Oh, come on—” Nino tried to explain, but Alya raised her hand. “Don't beat around the bush, DJ. The next time you ask me if you can go play with Rose at a festival, I'll remember this answer.”
She was joking. Or maybe not.
Then, Max tapped the bottle slowly, making the glass squeak against the wooden boards of the terrace.
It stopped. Chloé.
“Oh my god, finally!” she blurted out, glancing at Max, who fell silent. “I don't have a good one—”  
Chloé rolled her eyes. "Dare, come on. Shoot.”
Alix leaned forward, her eyes full of mischief. ”Okay. So... we want you to say—out loud—which one of us you'd like to be stuck with for a night... in a hotel room."
A chorus of giggles rose. Alya suddenly nudged her shoulder, her beautiful golden dress moving slightly.
Luka gave a half-smile, but his eyes instinctively fell on Marinette, she just ignored it in embarrassment. 
Chloé looked at them all as if they were a bunch of hormone-crazed teenagers. Then she adjusted her fringe with a slow gesture.
“Are you guys thirteen-year-olds?” she blurted out. “Should I be shocked?”
“You're rambling,” Nino laughed. “Just say it.”
Chloé shot a sharp glance at each of them. She said nothing for several seconds, pausing dramatically.  
She sighed, staring at Marinette as if to read approval in her eyes, but Marinette just looked at her confused, too dazed and tipsy to think clearly.
“Normally,” she cleared her throat, “I would have said Adrien. The forbidden teenage love of us all.” She laughed, but there was something sharp in her voice.
Kagami pressed her lips together, the man in question cleared his throat, his cheeks turning red.
“But...” she continued, leaning over Alya's legs, passing Nino.
She looked straight into Marinette's eyes.
For a moment, she thought about saying her name, but she couldn't lie, her own rules.  
More than a declaration, her gaze seemed apologetic. “...Luka.”
The silence was sudden.
Alya's eyes widened. Marinette stared at her for a few seconds, her heart aching.
A low blow, but an elegant one. Typical Chloé.
Adrien looked at her so surprised that he couldn't even think.
“Does it bother you that she's sincere and you're still struggling?” Kagami's voice caressed his ear. Or rather, it pierced it like a sword. He stared at her as if she were crazy.
He didn't even realize how she had moved to his side after getting a drink. It almost looked like a caricature, Kagami on the right and Marinette on the left.
Luka raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, you're one of those people who seem quiet but who knows what they're thinking.” She smiled slightly. “And besides... you play the guitar. Everyone's curious to know what kind of hands someone who writes such sad lyrics has.”
“Wow, disgusting…” Juleka murmured.
Marinette turned slightly. Luka had a wry smile on his lips, but his eyes weren't laughing at all.
And for a second, Marinette felt that twinge of jealousy, reversed.
Chloé looked at her, as if she knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Don't worry, love. It's just a game.” She shrugged, innocently and sincerely. “I'm not the type to get involved with my friends' exes. Usually.”
“And I don't want to,” whispered Luka, smiling. “But thank you for your honesty.”
His gaze was seductive regardless, it seemed.
Chloé bowed dramatically, trying not to take offense at the rejection.
But it was Adrien's gaze that suddenly interested him, not his ex’s.
Meanwhile, she downed another shot of rum to wash down the burning sensation in her chest. Kagami stared at her for a moment, wishing she could be in Adrien's place to hold her shoulders.
But she didn't move, swallowing a sip of her red wine.
“Mari, Chloé would like to sleep with you too, if it's any consolation,” Alya whispered, stroking her back.
Nino next to her laughed, and Chloé nodded. “Only if you say yes and design some lingerie for me,” she swallowed some wine with a smile.
“And we'll wear matching sets.”
“Hey, what are these sexual declarations?” Kim shouted, interrupting.
Alix playfully elbowed him. “Let the two lifelong rivals flirt in peace!”
This made Marinette laugh, the weight on her chest easing.
She rolled her eyes as Chloé put down her glass to take another swig from the bottle.

Chapter Text

The bottle was spinning on its own, almost forgotten by now.
But its last few spins slowly came to a halt, as if tired, right in front of Kagami.
“Again?” Alix laughed. “You've got karma on your side tonight.” Kagami didn't bat an eyelid. She barely lifted her empty glass and slowly put it down.
“I don't mind,” she replied in a voice that was almost warm, but had something sharp underneath.
“In fact, I have an idea.” She turned to Adrien. Directly. Staring at him as if challenging him.
“I'd like to offer you a choice. Do you accept?” Adrien hesitated. It wasn't written anywhere in the rules. But no one protested.  
“Okay...” he replied after a moment. It was the alcohol, he blamed.
Kagami nodded, leaned forward slightly, and in a lower, almost intimate tone, asked, “If you had to choose now, at this moment... who would you kiss?”
A rustle ran through the circle. Silence. Some could only imagine the answer.
Kagami didn't give him time to think. “It's a dare,” she said, “but you can do it however you want. You can take it as a game, or as truth. But you have to choose.”
Marinette felt her heart beating in her chest, loud and irregular.
Adrien's eyes were drawn to Kagami's lips, inevitably. Something seemed to push him to kiss her, to want to get closer.
He barely remembered how she kissed.
But his heart began to ache with every second he lost staring at her. What he felt towards her was almost fear.
With Marinette, however, he would feel free.
“Do I have to do it without warning?” Adrien asked, his voice trembling.
Nino exchanged a glance with Alya, who was already shaking her head.
Kagami leaned slightly against the window. “Yes. As you wish.”
For a moment, he wanted to kiss her. His cynical side wanted to see Marinette falter for him as she faltered for Luka. Chat Noir would have done it, but Adrien didn't have the courage. He looked at her as if he had stopped breathing.
Then he suddenly stared at Luka. And Luka—oh, Luka—stared back at him.
He seemed to be holding something back with difficulty, his jaw clenched. It was the most satisfying thing Adrien had seen that evening, and he felt almost guilty. Almost.
Hands on his knees. Shoulders tense.
He looked at Kagami again, and Marinette held her breath as if preparing for a big impact. Which didn’t came.
It was as if every inch of his body was trying to decide which way to fall.
He turned abruptly, staring at Marinette, but before he could do anything, a voice cracked the silence. “Boring,” teased Chloé, who had held her breath. “You already did that, how boring-”

Kagami let out a sigh, staring at them. “You lied, you already did it, according to Chloé.” Kagami's voice was sharp, Adrien's apologies died in his throat. “I didn’t-” 
“Make him do something else!” Kim shouted, without even listening.
Kagami stared at him, then looked at Marinette.
“Marinette. Why didn't you move if you knew he'd already done it?” The question seemed stupid, and Marinette, with a lot of courage and a lot more alcohol in her system, couldn't hold back a laugh. Alya stared at her in disbelief, convinced she would melt like ice cream in the sun. Not that she didn’t like this new attitude.
“It's not my problem,” she said, laughing. “Adrien is a grown man, he can decide for himself.”
She could see something in his eyes, a green flash that she didn't recognize in his calm nature. But she didn't mind. Now Adrien seemed alive, real. Full of conflicting emotions, as if he had opened his eyes for the first time.
He had done it to prove something, and perhaps because he wanted to savor her a little more.
“I can do something different, if you want.” she said, placing the shot glass on the floor and slowly smoothing her dress with her hands. It was a slow, deliberate gesture, almost sensual. She smiled at Luka.
He hadn't stopped looking at her, not even for a second, and Marinette knew for a fact. His gaze always burned underneath her skin, even if she didn’t want it to.
Chloé suddenly laughed, clapping her hands. "Yes, yes! Marinette, truth or dare?”      
“Dare,” she replied immediately.
“We didn't spin the bottle—” Max was interrupted by Chloé's overly long snort.
“I have one,” Alya said. Nino had whispered something in her ear, watching the scene like a powerful spectator.
“Mari, girl. I want you to sit on someone's lap for twenty seconds. And you can't choose Max, he'd die.” Marinette turned abruptly toward her, as if all her confidence had crumbled in an instant. Was she too drunk or somenthing?
Alix and Rose cheered. Kagami's piercing gaze seemed to say “choose me,” but she just stared at her every move.
Luka's gaze screamed “choose me,” but sincerely.
However, he stared at the scene as if he weren't even there.
Chloé laughed, genuinely amused. “No, sit on the liar.” Adrien stared at her suddenly, grim. “It's not funny.”
“Don't pretend you don't like it,” Luka said suddenly, his smile wide.
Adrien laughed ironically. “What is it, are you jealous?” His voice was like poison.
But Luka continued to smile, as if Adrien's cutting words were underwater.
Alya shifted uneasily, seemingly the only one concerned for everyone's safety.
Suddenly, her dare no longer seemed so fun.
Of course, she wanted to get a reaction out of Luka; it bothered her too to see him so calm, as if he felt nothing. But it was exactly the opposite. Luka remained silent for a moment.
He didn't know if it was the alcohol mixed with weed, jealousy, or the tension of the night, but he couldn't hold back. He was full of everything they hadn't said to each other since they broke up.
He hadn't seen her in months, and it still left a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought he had gotten over it.
“Even if I were, Marinette can do whatever she wants. Don't you get it yet?” His voice sounded so harsh that no one said a word for a moment.
Marinette’s heart skipped a beat, speechless.
“Uh... sexual tension you could cut with a knife,” Alix whispered, trying to lighten the mood. Adrien curled his lips in disgust at the mere thought.
All his rational thoughts, all his aristocratic calm had gone to hell.
“You don't have to do it,” Kagami said suddenly, breaking the tension for a moment. Luka seemed to relax immediately.
“You are the architect of your own destiny, Marinette.”
And she, not knowing if it was because of all she had drunk or because of a slight jealousy that quivered for Kagami, just smiled.  
Chloé stared at her every move as she stood up, graceful and almost... fake.
“It doesn't matter,” she smiled at her, “it's just a game.”  
Something in her tone, however, was cracked. As if she were struggling to swallow her embarrassment, as if a thirteen-year-old girl had returned to her mind.
She took a step forward. Then another.
Adrien said nothing. He didn't move.
He just looked at her, his eyes darker than she was used to seeing them.
When she was in front of him, time seemed to stand still for a moment.
Her hands on the hips of her dress, her fingers trembling. Her heart pounding in the chest.
Then she sat down. On his lap. Cautiously. Gracefully. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
But nothing was. His arm brushed her back, almost involuntarily. But it was enough to make her hold her breath.
“Twenty seconds...” said Nino, almost choking.
“One...” Alix counted with sadistic slowness. “Two...”
Adrien's breath brushed her collarbone.
His scent—that mixture of something familiar and something new—exploded in her nostrils.
“Three...” He wasn't looking at her.
He was looking ahead. Straight ahead.
But his hands were clenched on his legs, as if he were holding himself back from something.
Now that she felt his warmth on her, all the confidence she had seemed to break.
“Six...” Adrien chuckled softly, incredulous. Marinette smiled slightly. Because she felt it.
That tremor beneath the skin. That desire—repressed, held down by force, for months.
“Nine…”
“You didn't have to choose me, or do it by force,” Adrien said softly, without anger.
“I know.” Marinette replied. She didn't move. Chloé looked at them with wide eyes.
Kagami kept her gaze fixed, but every muscle in her face was tense.
At ten, Adrien placed his hands on her hips.
At fifteen, he smiled at her. “You don't look uncomfortable.”
“I'm not.”
“Seventeen...” Alya whispered, motionless. Even she, who knew Marinette better than anyone, didn't expect this.
At eighteen, Luka was already rolling another joint, watching the floor with his lips tight. At nineteen, even Juleka swallowed nervously.
At twenty, Marinette jumped down.
She cleared her throat. “Oh, really, it seems like you've never done a dare in your life.” She seemed so different from the usual Marinette that Luka almost accepted it.
He had always thought that without him, Marinette would inevitably fall into Adrien's arms. He was her crush, after all.
But something in her eyes was still the same.
And under his gaze, she couldn't help but blush. Luka cleared his throat without saying anything.
Marinette didn't dare look at him.
Chloé clapped her hands. “Beautiful,” she smiled. “But now... I think it's time to raise the stakes.” she suddenly turned to Luka, smiling with her white teeth.
“Luka, sweet Luka. Have you seen anything interesting tonight?”
He rested his arms on his knees. “Quite a few things.”
“So, Truth or Dare?” She was interrupted by Alya, who sighed.
“You didn't spin the bottle, and that's killing Max inside.”
Rose, unexpectedly drunk, laughed. “It's more fun this way! Truth or dare, truth or dare?”
She slipped an arm around Juleka's neck next to her, who held her by the waist.
Luka looked at his sister with a smile.
“Truth.”
Chloé looked at him. “You said you had some friends in Greece. But tell me: did any of them ever make you forget Marinette?”
The circle fell silent.
Marinette stopped breathing, taken aback.
Luka looked up. Slowly. He looked her straight in the eye. No hesitation.
"No.
None."
And at that moment, as if it were a perfect counterpoint, he looked at Adrien, who felt himself burning up.
Something in his stomach twisted, no matter how many times he could touch Marinette in front of him.
He always seemed so calm and collected. It drove him crazy.
Adrien curled his lips, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Marinette with her red cheeks, her gaze fixed on Luka.
He slowly caressed her thigh with his fingertips, and it was a lot that she didn't squeak in surprise.
She turned to him and stared into his eyes, large and surprised.
Bright, blue, full of something he wanted to eat. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
Adrien just smiled at her. “You're... tense. I don't want you to be.”
Then, as if it were a dare (and everyone was watching), he leaned down to her ear.
“I just want to know how you really feel,” he whispered, caressing her earlobe with his lips, impetuous details that did not escape Luka.
He took a long, painful drag, then smiled again.
Without warning, he turned the bottle. Kagami stared at it, Chloé burst out laughing. “What a great night.”
The bottle suddenly stopped between Kagami and Adrien.
He, busy making Marinette tremble, didn't even notice.
“Be careful,” Kagami said to him, with a certain charm.
Marinette didn't even have time to think. Her gaze fell again on Luka, who was staring at her, satisfied, as if he had won the lottery. 
She wrinkled her nose. Was he really that annoying?
She didn't remember him that way. He had changed, and it bothered her.
“Since we all want questions... Adrien.” Luka began, his gaze resting on him, who inevitably straightened his back.
“My God...” Alya whispered to Marinette, squeezing her hand as if to give her strength.
She didn't even know if she had a heart or a drum anymore.
“Would you be doing all the things you're doing tonight if I weren't here?”
The question hung in the air, and some wondered if he had really asked it.
Adrien clenched his jaw.
Part of him wanted to get up, take Marinette aside, and tell her that Luka was just a drug addict from her past, promiscuous and a jerk, who didn't deserve her.
The other part of him hated him for it. Because Luka could ask her certain things, the things he had whispered to her.
And receive the truth. But he, on the other hand... still wondered if he really deserved her.
“Probably not. But thank you for being there,” he said suddenly, his fists clenched. “At least I woke up.”
Someone in the group laughed nervously, others, like Kim, whistled.
“Sleeping Beauty awakens from her slumber!” Nino cheered.
Alya hit him with her free hand, Kagami closed her eyes for a moment, nodding.
It almost seemed as if she and Luka, and even Chloé, hated him.
And maybe they did.
Because deep down, Luka knew how much Marinette had suffered for him.
And Adrien didn't deserve her.
“My God, y’all are taking my place as queen bee here!”
“C’mon Chloé, hold your horses,” said Alya.
“I need at least a break for… a round.” whispered Marinette, blushing suddenly.
Adrien stared at her unabashedly, something still burning on his thighs where Marinette had been sitting, and the fear of what Chloé might ask at that moment didn't touch him.
Although, judging by the guitarist's gaze, he had just won a battle, not the war.
Everyone could feel the tension; many of them would never have imagined such a thing.
The troubled, stoned ex returning to wreak havoc at Adrienette? If Alya hadn't been her best friend, she would already be writing an article about it.
“Alrighty then, I’ll spin it.” Nino swallowed loudly, taking a swig from the bottle.
It stopped on Juleka. “Oh no,” she muttered. “Dare.”
Alix looked at her with a smirk. “Finally! Okay... so... sing your favorite emo song. And sing it here. Standing up. Now.”
Juleka looked like she wanted to die. “Not in front of everyone…” 
“Rules of the game!” chanted Chloé, who seemed to have recovered from her previous crisis of humanity.
Juleka stood up, very slowly. She blew a strand of purple hair out of her face.
Then, surprisingly... she started singing. A song by My Chemical Romance. Classic. Tragic. Emo to the core.
Rose knew it by heart. She stood up too, singing the chorus with her.
And for a moment, everything seemed lighter.
Those present applauded, laughing, clapping their hands to the rhythm. Even Luka. He too had his eyes on Juleka.
He was smiling slightly. There was a strange warmth between the siblings.
A complicity that Marinette noticed, as if it were an anchor amid everything else.
Then, while everyone was still laughing, Chloé cleared her throat.
“Okay. Are we back in the mood? Good. Then it's my turn.”
She pushed the bottle too hard. And when it stopped... It stopped on Luka. Silence.
Everyone held their breath.
Marinette gulped down another drink given to her by Kagami, now tipsy enough to want to forget everything that had happened before, and sighed.
“Dare.” Chloé narrowed her eyes. “Good.”
A wicked smile appeared on her lips. “Seven minutes in heaven. With Marinette.”
“What?” asked Marinette, tense, suddenly realizing she had given herself away to Chloé.
Luka swallowed suddenly. Adrien wanted to die.
“Come on, don't pretend you don't know. One of you has to choose the other. And they go together... into that room.” She pointed to a small gazebo near the drinks kiosk, a few meters away.
“In there. Seven minutes. Alone.” She smiled again. “Behind closed doors.”
“Chloé...” Adrien murmured. But she ignored him.
“If no one chooses, they both go in. And it's even more fun.”
Alya ran a hand over her forehead. “This is a terrible idea.”
“It's a game,” Chloé cut in. “Don't act like virgins now. Those two have history. There's tension. There will be at least one kiss. And we're betting on it.” She clicked her tongue, full of sweet venom.
“Let's see if Marinette kisses Luka... like she kissed Adrien.”

Chapter Text

The storage room door clicked shut. 
“And you can't come out until we say so~” Chloé locked the door.  
It was smaller than she thought.
A broom. Some shelves. The smell of lemongrass, soda cans, and something that smelled like sticky sugar.
The sound of music was distant, muffled behind the thin wood.
Marinette leaned her back against the wall. Her arms were crossed, but her heart was pounding.
Luka was less than a meter away. Too close. Too quiet.
The only sound was their breathing.
“You could have refused,” she whispered, breathless.
He stared at her for a moment. “Should I have?”
“With conviction, I might add.” Her tone tried to be harsh.
She was lucky he couldn't see the glint in her eyes, the hesitation he could only imagine.
Luka moved closer. Not all the way.
But close enough for her to smell the familiar scent that brought back distant memories.
The one that was no longer present in any of his friends.
“You're angry,” he said.
“Aren't you?” she asked in response.
“I'm... frustrated.”
“About what?”
“About having you in front of me. About feeling what I feel. And about knowing that, no matter what happens, when you leave here, you'll still be near him. Me. Everyone." The words came out as a whisper, hoarse and barely controlled.
Marinette closed her eyes for a moment. Her hands betrayed her: they were shaking.
Luka was less than half a step away. No jokes. No smiles.
His eyes scrutinized her, even though there was almost no light.
It filtered warmly through the crack in the door, slowly illuminating their silhouettes.
“You know we can stay here without touching each other, right?” Her voice was steady, but inside she was burning.
Luka looked at her. Not with hunger, but with restrained sweetness.
“Yes,” he sighed, “but I don't want to.” There was silence for a second, two.
Then Marinette sighed softly. “It's not fair.”
“No.” He replied, holding his breath. “You're right, you're always right.” He moved closer.
Not to attack her, just to be there.
To be so close that they couldn't distinguish one other's breath.
His hand moved slowly, finding the curve of her hip.
She didn't move; if there was one thing alcohol gave her, it was a modicum of confidence. However, her heart didn't stop pounding.
His thumb brushed the shiny fabric of her dress—that dress.
“It's tight on you,” he whispered. “But it's perfect. It reveals everything you don't say.”
“And you, are you still reading between the lines, Luka?”
He smiled slightly, then brushed her cheek with the back of his other hand. Marinette's skin trembled under his touch. As if he had never left. “You're still trembling.”
“No,” she lied. “I'm just hot.”
In an instant, her eyes locked with Luka's.
A flicker of light struck his face; Marinette had always been good at reading his face, and now she could see something dark, a silent hunger, a desire repressed deep in his mind.
“Let me help you, then,” he whispered softly, sounding more like a prayer than a statement.
Marinette nodded silently, her breath broken and warmth radiating from head to toe.
Luka's fingers slid from her cheek, resting on the edge of her neckline, then behind her neck, at the precise spot where it hurt to keep everything inside.
He pulled her toward his face. The kiss started slowly. Provocatively.
Marinette bit his lip, a spasm running through her back.
She was lucky to be so close to the wall, she could already feel her legs giving way.
A sigh in response.
“You're the one looking for me,” Luka murmured, his voice rough on her lips. “I'm just responding.”
Marinette looked at him. Proud. But surrendered.
She didn't even remember the taste of his mouth, they hadn't seen each other for a year and she was surprised she hadn't died there, on the spot.
“Can I ask you something?” Her voice came out soft, a slight whisper.
It was Luka's weakness.
He refrained from kissing her again, their faces so close that he could smell her breath, rum and lemon, and a trace of mint that wasn't hers.
It was Adrien's.
“Anything you want,” he said, trying to just stare into her eyes.
Marinette smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and caught his slight surprise.
She leaned over him and kissed him slowly. Deeper.
Luka's hand ended up on her back, and she immediately reciprocated, trembling slightly.
A caress along her leg. His fingers traced slow lines along her sheer tights.
As if he were drawing her from scratch. As if he had never forgotten where to touch her.
“Have you ever wondered if I've ever wanted anyone the way I wanted you?”
The question was almost gentle, seductive. It fell on his lips. Angry, wet.
“Every fucking night.”
Their foreheads touched, mouths an inch apart, breath on breath. Their legs brushed against each other.
A low moan escaped her lips. Involuntary, but real.
He was so... sexy, in everything he did. His black short-sleeved shirt, his tattoos (he probably had new ones all over his body) peeking out from his tanned, muscular arms.
Everything about him screamed “exciting.” She couldn't resist him, not really.
Not after all the tension.  
Outside, the music provided little cover. Someone laughed.
Adrien raised his head, as if burned, as if his ears had been pierced with a katana.

“Have you ever thought about what... what it would have been like if we had stayed together?” Marinette asked, her tone quick, almost desperate.
Her fingers caressed the back of his neck.
“I'm thinking about it now. Is that okay?” Luka's voice caressed her ear, low and raw.
Her fingers tightened around the back of his neck, her nails digging into his skin.
Luka lifted her slightly against the wall, just a hint. An intimate, decisive gesture.
Marinette's legs trembled slightly, as if he had done it a thousand times before.
As if their bodies remembered better than their minds.  
“You said you've had lots of girlfriends,” she whispered, unable to stop her hands from scratching the skin just below his neck.
Luka grunted. “I told the truth.” She dug her nails in harder, in response.
Luka's fingers were still on her back, but they quickly moved under her thighs, as if to hold her closer.
He lowered his face into the hollow of her neck, a pained sigh.
“Tell me it's not just anger.” He began to touch her everywhere, his voice whispering at her like a sin.
His lips rested on her chest, just below her deep neckline. Marinette exhaled; she had forgotten how to breathe.
Luka's tongue tickled her pale skin between her breasts. The coldness of his piercing made her arch her back slightly.
Not a kiss. A taste, a call.
“Tell me you're not here to punish me.” Marinette closed her eyes, letting the contact set her skin on fire.
“I'm here because I want you,” she whispered, “and I hate wanting you. But I can't stop.”
He lifted her suddenly against the wall.
Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips.
“See?” he hissed in her neck before licking it. “This is what happens when you leave me. I become an asshole who only thinks about fucking you as soon as he sees you again.”
“And I become a fool who lets you do it.”
He lifted his head from her neck and traced a trail of kisses to her lips. He planted his lips on hers with a sweet force.
The kisses became rougher. Deeper.
As if every inch of his skin was demanding something back.
Marinette's hands slipped into his hair.
She pulled him toward her, hissing through her teeth, "Touch me better. Make me forget why I should hate you."
He pulled away, staring at her.
Her breath was broken, her cheeks flushed. She was a sight to behold.
Then, he slid his mouth down her chest, licking, kissing, biting her. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to leave a mark.
“Like this?” His voice thick with desire, broken by quick sighs.
“Like this. More.” His fingers slipped under her dress with familiar precision.
He lifted it above her hips, squeezed her thighs, and instinctively leaned his body against hers.
Marinette clung to him with all her might, her breath trembling, her body writhing against his.
Luka caressed her lower abdomen, the coldness of his rings giving her goose bumps and an insatiable desire to be touched more.
She could feel the pleasure pulsing in her center, almost painfully. As soon as he reached her underwear, he looked up at her.
Her eyes were shiny, swallowed up by a sweet desire that he struggled to hold back.
She wasn't how he remembered her; she was bolder and more seductive, as if she had changed her skin.
And it hurt his heart, and his erection.
“Marinette,” he whispered, barely holding back a groan. She pulled his hair, a moan escaping her lips.
“Don't even ask me.” She said suddenly, as if she had read his mind.
He pressed his lips together, clenching his jaw. "I want to know. Hear you say it.”
He clenched his teeth, something dark in his red gaze. It wasn't just excitement, maybe... jealousy?
Marinette smiled, ran her hand over his shoulder, then over his chest, slowly.
She distracted Luka from her face. 
“He just asked me how I felt. And where my mind was,” she whispered, an inch from his contorted face.
Luka stared into her eyes; no matter how hard he tried to be the calm, quiet guy, when it came to her, there had always been a repressed possessiveness.
Marinette's hand caressed the skin exposed by his slightly raised shirt, pausing at his belt.
Luka swallowed. “And you?” he asked, his voice twisted and cracked slightly. “Are you going to tell him where your mind is?”
Marinette unbuttoned his pants with disarming precision, and for a moment he wondered if she had done this many times over the past year.  
Luka's hands began to move down again; two fingers played with the elastic of her underwear.
“Maybe. Do you want me to tell him?” The tone was venom masked by innocence.
Luka let out a low, broken moan. Marinette's hands ended up right on his boxers.
He looked down for a second. “You can do whatever you want. Even here, right now.” 

Outside, Alya lowered her gaze.
Adrien didn't.
“They're not talking, that's for sure.” Chloé laughed, looking at everyone as if the music could cover every trace of their breathing, muffled words, and blows on the wood.
Kagami slowly closed her eyes. “They're fighting,” she said.
Alix laughed. “Yes, with their hips. Listen to them!” Kim nudged her.
“You're disgusting.” Whispered Juleka.
Chloé stood watching Adrien while the others joked and forgot about Marinette and Luka.
But he stood there, motionless, while the entire terrace fell silent for a second.
Only the bass of the music covered that whispered scream: “Luka…”    
Adrien turned pale.
“Do you want to leave?” Alya asked him, swallowing like a third wheel. “We can pretend that-”  
“No,” he replied sharply.
“Pretending is what I did before. Now I'm listening.”
Kagami smiled.

Chapter Text

Inside, Marinette gasped against the skin of his neck.
Luka's hands were rough, calluses on his fingers, all things that would normally bother Marinette.
But this was Luka, and he could have all the imperfections in the world.
He was exactly as she remembered him; Luka preferred to serve rather than be served, to kiss the floor she walked on. His hands touched her with disarming precision.
“What is it, have you always dreamed of doing this again, or have you just practiced a little more this year?” Marinette gasped, trying to fight the urge to push her hips against his.
Luka gave a half-laugh, his hands stopping just above her thighs, sitting her down on the boxes behind her.
“Every night,” he began, running his fingers up her legs, stopping at her inner thighs. “I woke up because I couldn't stop dreaming about you. And when I opened my eyes, it was torture.”
His velvety, smooth voice drove her crazy. Marinette let out a trembling sigh, her hands firmly on Luka's shoulders as he slowly knelt down.
He was like a vision.
“Do you know why?” he whispered against her exposed skin.
“No,” she gasped, “tell me.”
“Because when I touched the sheets, I couldn't find your body,” he said, staring up at her.
His eyes were shiny, his lips swollen, and his arched eyebrows betrayed him.
He was holding back so much that was almost afraid he might explode, or that his cock might start to cry.
“Did you find someone else's?” She scoffed, bitter. The burning in her stomach mingled with the hot jealousy she felt, yet it didn’t seem to distract her entirely.
Luka was on his knees, between her legs, and seemed on the verge of tears because he didn't have full permission to touch her.
It almost made her smile. If this was the reward, she would make him suffer a little longer.
After all, one of her carnal desires was to see someone pray for her. And Luka knew it.
He curled his lips at those words, laid a cheek on her thigh, terribly close to her private parts.
“No.” He whimpered, Marinette could feel the warmth of his breath slamming against her panties.
“I've always thought about you, I can't deny it. You've always been tattooed on my chest.” He sighed, broken.
He was no longer sure he could hold back. She stroked the back of his neck, ran her fingers under his chin.
She forced him to look at her. “Tell me you didn't come back just to hurt me.”
Luka stared into her eyes, his gaze softened and frustrated.
His hands squeezed her thighs, letting out a slight moan.
“No, I could never.” A pause. His voice was hoarse, raspy. “But I could, if you don't stop me. Marinette, I don't think that-” she smiled.
Sad, beautiful. "I'm not asking you to stop."
And it was as if the dam had collapsed.
Luka kissed her on the inside of her thigh, with everything. He looked like a starving animal.
His hands lifted her, his mouth became fierce, impatient, but every gesture remained miraculous.
His lips stopped just above the red fabric of her thong, his hands under her dress, his breath sinking into the silence broken only by the distant low and the shared beat.

But then, a thud. A sharp bang. The door handle.
Marinette suddenly ducked, panting, her eyes wide open.
Luka barely had time to fix her dress, one hand still uncertain on her back. The breaths were still too strong.
The door opened. Just a glimmer of light.
“Oops, The seven minutes are over, my little bunnies.” Chloé scrutinised them from head to toe, her smile broad and decisive. Maybe a slight redness on the face.
Marinette's hastily arranged dress pulled her to the wrong places.
Luka ran a hand through his messy hair, still on his knees, as if he had just finished praying for something he would never fully have.
Chloé placed a hand on the door jamb. “I admit I didn't expect so much enthusiasm. Or desperation. But hey, I knew this party was going to drop at least one mask.”
Marinette said nothing. Not because she had nothing to say, but because the words had run aground in her throat.
Luka rose slowly, without looking down. “What do you want, Chloé?” he asked in a deep, scratched voice, which still made the air vibrate between them.
“Just announcing it's your turn, darlings.” She said, with a plasticised smile.
“Everyone's waiting for the next run. Truth or Dare. And...” she turned on her high-heeled shoes and disappeared behind the door with one last biting glance, her smile wide and entertained.
“See you in twenty seconds. Fix your pants.”
Silence often became. Marinette looked at Luka, then moved a few inches away. Not enough.
“We had to stop.” She said, trying to regulate her breathing.
Luka made a bitter grimace. “We haven't even started.”
They settled in silence.
The hands that barely touched, the eyes that avoided.
But the body... that was still marked. Hot. Alive.
When they left the room, the terrace seemed brighter, busier, noisier — or perhaps it was only they who had lost their balance.
Alya saw them immediately.
Her eyes grew big, then she sprinted towards Marinette, suddenly getting up, moving her slightly away from the commotion.
“Everything's ok?” she whispered, touching her arm.
“Yeah.” She lied.
Luka was two steps behind, his eyes on the floor. But he felt someone's gaze on him.
Constant. Sharp.
Adrien.
Sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand that he hadn't even opened. He looked at Marinette as if he no longer knew her.
“I hope you know what you're doing..” Alya whispered to her, looking her in the eyes.
Marinette blushed suddenly. “He's changed, okay?”
“Yes, definitely more attractive. I understand. And you do well, for goodness sake-“ she laughed, almost to lighten things up.
“I like this new you. Don't be fooled by a beautiful smile or blonde hair. He's fooled you enough already.” she said, looking almost contemptuously behind her.
Marinette sighed, and even though she didn't want to admit it, her heart seemed to tighten as soon as she saw Adrien's twisted face; his hands trembling, white, his green eyes dull and poisonous.
It didn't seem to give her the satisfaction she imagined.
But her mind was too full of Luka, and his smell, and his warmth.
He had approached the circle, his hair still disheveled and his lips red and smudged with her lipstick.
He cleared his throat and brought a cigarette to his lips, with a disarming slowness. Adrien wrinkled his nose, turning so as not to implode on the spot.
Chloé clapped her hands. “Well well, our two ghosts are back. Ready for the game?”
Everyone lined up in a circle.
The volume of the music was lowered. The silence between them was almost noisy.
Chloé spun the bottle with a firm blow, while a drunken laugh came out of her too shiny lips.
The bottle danced on the wooden floor, scratched from too many nights like that.
Each lap seemed slower, as if it were sadistically choosing its next sacrifice.
Marinette sat between Alya and Nino, her hands still slightly damp. She tried not to look at Luka, but failed every time.
He was on the other side of the circle, between Kim and Sabrina,— she didn't even remember her being there.
He kept touching his lower lip with his thumb, as if he were still savoring something.
The bottle stopped. Everyone turned around. Pointed towards... Adrien.
“Come on, Agreste,” Chloé laughed, “you have the look of someone who just lost his girlfriend... oh, wait.” She winked at Marinette, then took a sip from her can.
Adrien didn't laugh.”Truth or-”
“Dare.” He said, without even letting it end.
Chloé, who loved drama, pain, although she tried to change it. She was still enrolled in film class, and loved writing twists.
“Who chooses?” someone asked.
Chloé shrugged. “Bottle decides, baby. It's the rule. You never challenge it.”
Then she turned her gaze towards Marinette. “Come on, princess. It's your turn.”
Marinette's heart stopped for a second. “What?”
“I’m daring Adrien to walk away with you. Another round in that gazebo could kill you.” She laughed, “or set you on fire. So a softer thing; go to the roof over our heads, there you will have the privacy you need.” she said, looking first at Adrien, that with a sigh stood up, stiff, almost with difficulty.
“Come on, Mari,” Alya said softly, “if you want not to go—”      
“It’s fine.” Her voice came out more determined than he heard.
She rose, walking towards the center. Every step weighed.
Luka, meanwhile, had quit smoking. The cigarette hung between his fingers, still lit, forgotten.
His blue eyes followed Marinette as if every movement of her was a song that only he could hear.
Adrien approached her. There was nothing sweet in him anymore.
Just tension. Just silences screaming too loudly.
They climbed the spiral stairs near the stage, arriving in the small roof also set up with banners and warm lights.
Silence fell on the group downstairs. Chloé laughed. “Now it's getting interesting.”

__________________________

Marinette leaned against the ledge, letting the night breeze calm the heat she still had in her body.
Adrien was standing in the back, his hands in his hair, breathing hard.
“What the hell are you doing, Marinette?”
She raised her chin. “What I've Never Done Before: Choosing for me.”
“Him?” He laughed. “Luka?”
“At least he doesn't look at me like I'm a memory he never had the courage to grasp.” She turned around suddenly.
He stared at her. His eyes red. Maybe from anger, or disappointment.
“You know what you're doing?”
“Yeah.”
“And you like it, don't you?” He approached. “You like that he looks at you like that. That he touches you like this. Like you’re his.”
“I'm mine.”
Adrien took a step back. As if those words had been a slap in the face.
Then he laughed. Cold. “I can't let you go without understanding...” He paused. “Or at least try.”
She looked at him carefully. “Understand what, Adrien? That I don't belong to you?”
“No,” he said immediately. “That you are no longer the same.”
He shook his head. “And maybe it's my fault. Maybe...I took you for granted. But this—this version of you kissing Luka inside a gazebo and then coming out like nothing happened—I don't know her.”
Marinette stared at him. Something in her stomach was screaming, almost ironic anger.
“This version of me is no longer hiding. Neither behind an impossible love, nor behind a polite smile.”
Adrien approached, just two steps. But they were enough to make her feel the old heat, the one that once made her tremble.
Except now it wasn't enough.
“Did he do anything to you?” he asked, in a small voice. “Luka.”
Marinette remained silent for a few painful seconds. The redness on her cheeks betrayed her.  “He looked at me. And listened. And desired. Unconditional.”
Adrien seemed to want to say something, but the words were dying in his throat.
“Then it’s true...” he whispered, finally. “You stopped loving me.”
“I can't stop something you never let me start.”
The silence between them became stone.
“You only wanted me when I stopped waiting for you. And now that you're no longer at the center of my world, you feel lost.”
He squeezed his jaw. “It’s not so simple.”
“No, I know,” she said. “It’s more cowardly, actually.”
Adrien approached again, now a few inches away. He dared to place his hand on her cheek, delicate, as always.
“What if I told you I'm ready now?”
Marinette stiffened. Dove. For real, without any filter or idealisation.
She had imagined this moment her whole life, thirteen-year-old she would jump for joy, she would melt.
But in that moment, something broke inside her at those words.
Adrien's eyes no longer looked like bright gems, his hair was no longer shining threads of wheat.
His face was no longer the most beautiful thing in the world, and she was no longer obsessed with him.
“Too late doesn't mean never,” she said. “It means that in the meantime, someone else has done what you didn't have the courage to do.”
Then she turned, leaving him there, amid the lights and echo of a story he had never had the courage to begin with.
When she came back down, the music hit her like a wave.
Luka was still there, resting on Juleka's back and looking towards the sky, as if he had been waiting for her and only her.