Chapter Text
Collège Françoise Dupont was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them. Especially not when you walked down the hall.
When your heeled boots clicked against the tile, people's heads turned instinctively. It wasn’t just your looks or your family’s wealth: but your confidence, the bite in your words, and the fact that no one ever quite knew what you were thinking. You had built your reputation carefully ever since you had transferred a few years ago. You were like a fortress made of sharp smiles and silk ribbons.
To most, you were that girl: the one who people cowarded from yet adored, like a vengeful god. The one who never seemed rattled.
They didn’t know that after the final bell, the fortress let her drawbridge down and welcomed someone.
That when the sun was just glimmering along the horizon, a certain someone found himself at the doorstep of your apartment - Luka Couffaine.
No one knew. Not Alya, not Nino, not even Marinette, who seemed to have her hands in everyone’s business lately. Luka and you had agreed to keep it quiet. You were different worlds colliding. Not to mention his friends would certainly not agree.
But today, your world felt like it was starting to tilt.
“Did you hear?” Lila’s syrupy voice floated through the hallway, and immediately you froze mid-step.
“Hear what?” you asked, feigning disinterest as you rummaged through your locker.
“Apparently, Luka’s been spending a lot of time with Marinette lately.” Lila's smile resembled the Cheshire cat. “Rumor has it they were seen together at that little café near the Seine. Twice.”
You kept your eyes on your reflection in the locker mirror. Perfect. Controlled. Unbothered.
“They’re probably just talking about music or something,” you said coolly.
“Maybe.” Lila tilted her head, faux sympathy dripping from every word. “But you know Marinette - one boy goes and another comes. I overheard a couple little birdies talking about how great it was that Marinette was finally over Adrien.”
You slammed your locker door shut. The sound echoed down the hallway.
“Don’t you have anything actually interesting to spread, Lila?” you asked, your tone sharp enough to slice. “Or is this week’s story just about me?”
Her smirk faltered, but only for a moment. “Just trying to help, sweetie. Wouldn’t want you to get blindsided.”
You turned on your heel before she could see the flash of confusion on your face.
That night, Paris felt colder than usual.
You sat cross-legged on the roof of your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Luka strummed his guitar, his fingers steady, his expression unreadable as always.
“So,” he said softly, plucking a string, “you’ve been quiet tonight.”
“I’m just tired,” you lied. Instead of looking at the boy beside you, you chose to stare into the Parisian skyline
He glanced up at you with that look, the one that always seemed to see past every wall you built. “You’re never just tired.”
You sighed. “Fine. People are talking.”
“People always talk.”
“This time, it’s about you.” You looked away from him, your voice sharper than intended. “About you and Marinette.”
He stopped playing. The silence between you filled with the hum of the river and the faint music drifting from inside the boat.
“Marinette’s my friend,” he said after a beat. “And Juleka’s friend. She asked for help with a melody for her school project. That’s it.”
You exhaled slowly, tugging the blanket tighter. “You could’ve told me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said gently. “You said you didn’t want anyone to know about us, remember?”
The words stung. He wasn’t wrong. You had been the one to insist on secrecy. You had just wanted to keep this part of your life to yourself - tucked away from the judgmental eyes of school.
But now, the secrecy felt like distance.
You forced a small smile. “Guess I’m just not used to sharing my favorite guitarist.”
He smiled faintly, his hand reached out to grab yours, thumb brushing your hand. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, it felt like the tension melted. Like the world quieted and you could breathe again. Luka strummed a few soft chords, and the sound was steady, grounding.
You leaned against his shoulder, listening to his rhythm.
But as you stared out at the glowing city, the unease wouldn’t leave. Everyone knew Marinette Dupain-Cheng had a way of turning everything upside down. And if the rumors were true - that she had taken a newfound interest in what was yours:
Then… honestly you wouldn’t even know what you’d do.