Actions

Work Header

It's Complicated - Alternate Lukanette Ending

Chapter 3: A Fresh Start

Summary:

Luka wasn't expecting to see Marinette again tonight, but now that she's here, he can't help but wonder why.

Chapter Text

Luka strips off the jacket Marinette made for him and lays it across the back of the couch before he goes to the kitchen to check the fridge for something to eat. The gang had stayed behind for a while after the band was done playing. Marinette left pretty quickly; not surprising with how much she had on her mind. Alya and Nino were the last to leave, and Luka had just left Juleka and Rose to their stargazing. 

With a frustrated sigh, he closes the fridge door a little harder than necessary. He should eat something. It's been a long night. He leans against the fridge and rests his forehead on his arm. A long night. 

What an understatement. Marinette had almost kissed him tonight. He had seen the idea flash across her face when he helped her up. It would've been so easy to let her. 

But it wouldn't have been real. She just wanted a distraction. A way to run away from her feelings. And he couldn't let her do that to herself. He knocks his head gently against his arm. It had been like fighting gravity to step away from her. He's still not entirely sure it was the right choice. 

He turns to look back across the room, to the jacket on the back of the couch. His eye goes straight to the glint of gold on the left side of the lining. It's like a magnet. He can't help but follow the pull. 

Marinette's signature in gold thread is right over the warmth of where his heart has been beating all night. He hadn't missed that detail. He traces it lightly with his fingertips before the ice shards in his heart start to cut too much. He's not ready to fold the jacket away, yet. But he also can't pretend anymore. 

She isn't going to choose him. He's known that since the ice rink. But damn his foolish heart, he had allowed himself to hope tonight. When she had shown up with this beautiful piece of art. Made with such care. For him. A Marinette original. He had hoped it was her way of telling him… 

With a groan, he flops backwards over the couch. His back hits the cushions and he lets his legs dangle. He sighs and leans his head back until the room is upside down. Deep breaths, Luka. Ladybug and Chat Noir are a matched pair. Partners. It doesn't come as any sort of surprise, then, that Marinette belongs with Adrien. It's just the facts. 

Even through his deep breathing, he can feel the jealousy boiling in his stomach. Adrien doesn't deserve her. If he hasn't picked up on her attraction by now, then he's the most oblivious blond in the universe. Everyone else knows. Or maybe he's intentionally pushing her away. Either way, it's been causing Marinette so much pain. 

His head is starting to pound in time to his heartbeat. He rights himself on the couch and pulls his guitar into his lap. More for comfort than anything else. He doesn't feel much like playing. He strums the strings absent-mindedly, just to let the vibrations echo through his chest.

He needs to let this go. No one really deserves Marinette. Whoever she decides to give her heart to, it’s truly a gift, and it’s something to treasure. Hopefully Adrien knows that, too. He takes a deep breath and holds it before letting it out slowly, imagining the jealousy and the black pain swirling around his heart leaving him with the breath. 

He'll be okay. Maybe not right now. But eventually. 

He hears a light step behind him on the stairs, but he doesn't turn around. Juleka knows when he needs space. She'll probably head off to her room, or maybe just sit with him. 

The footsteps start shifting from side to side instead. His fingers automatically start to play Marinette’s song, finding the familiar notes with ease. That can't be right. Marinette left a while ago. He told her to talk to Adrien. If she did, then she wouldn't be here. If she didn't, he'll have to tell her to go again. But he doesn't know if he has the strength for that. 

He forces himself to stop playing, flattening his fingers over the fretboard. It can’t be her. He’s been drunk on hope all night. He hasn’t eaten, and he’s exhausted. He's probably just hearing things. Or maybe Juleka needs to talk to him after all. 

He dares to turn towards the stairs. Marinette. She is here. And she's still wearing his hoodie. He gulps down another draft of hope. It doesn't mean anything. It's cold out. He told her to bring it back later. It is later. Although if she gives it back now she'll still have to get home. Something isn't adding up. 

She's blushing under his scrutiny. He’s been staring for too long. He blinks and looks away before he moves the guitar off his lap to stand and offer her a seat. She takes a hesitant step forward. Towards him. Her eyes catch on the jacket that’s on the back of the couch, and she moves to touch her fingers to the embroidery, just like he had done moments before. 

Talk. Say something. Don’t just stare and wait for her to start the conversation. He clears his throat. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he manages to say, unintentionally betraying his thoughts. Maybe she didn’t catch it. The nervous trill that runs through his head says otherwise. 

“I didn’t really expect to be here.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

She sighs heavily. “I talked with Adrien." She brings her eyes up to meet his. Like two still ponds. "I told him everything." She’s calm. She’s made her decision, then. 

And she’s here. With him. He can’t help the little balloon that it feels like his heart has jumped on. He pauses to gather himself. It still doesn’t mean she’s here for him. She could be here to break the news to him. Stop assuming. Let her talk. 

“How’d it go?”

Her mood shifts sideways and becomes thoughtful, melancholy. His fingers twitch towards his guitar on the couch. Her emotions are always so complex, always swirling around, and always right there on the surface. Music helps him tease them apart. Separate his own feelings from hers from everyone else’s.  

“He needs some time,” she finally says, her brow furrowing as she seems to be very interested in one of the seams of his jacket. “He’ll be okay, though.” 

The balloon in his chest keeps inflating. It’s making it hard to breathe.

“I think I knew. When I put this here.” She’s tracing her signature. “I could’ve put it in the sleeve. Or around the hem. Inside one of the pockets, maybe.” 

“Why did you put it there?” 

She levels him with a steady gaze. It’s enough to take his knees out from under him. The only thing keeping him standing is the buoy inside him. She looks back down and fidgets with the fabric. Maybe it wasn’t fair for him to put her on the spot like that. It’s been a rough night for everyone involved. He wills himself to move. 

He barely makes it a step forward before his knees really do give out on him. He kneels on the couch cushions, facing her, and covers her hands with his to stop her fidgeting. Hopefully she doesn’t notice that his hands are shaking. 

“You don’t have to answer that.” 

Her brow furrows again. “I do, though, don’t I?”

He hesitates. He wants to know. But he doesn’t want her to feel pressured. But she’s the one who brought it up in the first place. Patience. Give her a minute. Let her think. If she wants to explain she will. 

She fiddles with her fingers underneath his hands. “I put it there so when you wore this… I’d be close to your heart.” Her eyes flick up to his, hesitant, unsure. 

He blinks at her. Her words bounce around inside him and fill him with warmth. Does that mean…? No, it can’t possibly. It’s too good to be true. But what else could it mean? He should say something. She's waiting for him to say something, but he just feels like he’s misfiring on all cylinders. His hands twitch around hers. He doesn’t have the words for everything he wants to say right now. Guitar. Where’s his guitar? 

He turns his head to look for it, and he can feel Marinette deflate next to him. No, he’s not rejecting her, that’s not… that’s not what he means at all. He turns back and threads his hands through hers, squeezing them gently. She smiles softly, relieved. Even when he doesn’t say anything, she always seems to know what he means. Not many people get him like that. 

He gives one of her hands a gentle tug to the side and she follows wordlessly, moving around the couch to be in front of him. Their hands stay linked, and he uses the strength she’s given him to pull himself up.

It feels like he’s getting a Second Chance. A chance to fix the mistakes of the night and move forward. He’s standing here with her now, in the same spot as before, and she has the same look on her face. Looking up at him like he’s all she can see. A gentle flow of tears starts to slip down her cheeks. She’s not hiding them now, though. She’s trusting him with them. He can feel the emotions rolling off of her in quick succession. Relief, doubt, heartbreak, hope, all whirling around her. Spiraling. He reaches up to wipe her cheeks with his thumbs, cradling her head between his hands. 

I’ve got you, he wants to say, it’s okay

Her reaction to his touch is instant. It's the same feeling as the air after a sudden storm. Lighter. Easier to breathe. Clear. She sighs and leans into his hand, closing her eyes. He can practically feel the weight lift off her shoulders. Her doubt, her indecision. It dissipates like rain falling on hot pavement. 

She moves forward and wraps her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. 

His breath catches in his throat. She chose him. He knows it like he knows which note comes next in her song. If he was in danger of falling before, now he's in danger of floating. Floating right through the ceiling and drifting off into the night. She chose him. He holds her to him, one hand on the back of her head, his arm wrapped around the small of her back. Marinette chose him.  

He leans down to set his cheek on top of her head, squeezing her just a bit tighter to him. 

His stomach chooses this moment to growl ferociously. She breaks apart from him, at once so apologetic and so protective and so Marinette it makes him chuckle. 

"When was the last time you ate?" 

"Sometime this morning, I think." 

"Luka…" 

Another chuckle. "I'm not hungry." It's the truth. He's so full of light, he's surprised it isn't beaming out of his fingertips. Hunger is the farthest thing from his mind. She looks around, and seems to notice for the first time that they're alone below deck. Her cheeks start to tinge pink. 

"Maybe I should...go?"

"It is late," he agrees easily. 

She fiddles with the zipper at the bottom of his hoodie. "Do you mind if I hang onto this?" 

The breath is knocked out of him again. God, the thought of Marinette wearing his hoodie, all the time, announcing to everyone that she's chosen him. That she's with him. He nods enthusiastically, his body responding before his brain can catch up with words. 

"Keep it," he finally chokes out. "It's yours." He's not talking about the hoodie, anymore. I'm yours, he means to say. 

She smiles shyly as she catches his meaning.  "Can I have one more thing?" 

"Anything." Heart, body, soul, whatever she wants. 

She steps up to him again and laces her fingers through his. When she looks up at him, he sees the question on her face. Can I kiss you?  

He nods in response, and tightens his hand around hers. He feels her push up onto her toes, and then his eyes flutter shut as he leans down to meet her. 

Her lips touch his shyly at first, featherlight. She pulls away, then seems to rethink it, and presses her lips quickly and firmly against his. 

Kissing Marinette is an explosion of euphony in his head. Every instrument playing together, every chord perfectly balanced, crescendoing up to a peak of sound.

He can't help but smile as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He brings a hand up to cup her cheek, digging his fingers into her hair. He can't even be sorry that he's mussing up her pigtails as the fine strands slip through his fingers. She throws her arms around his neck and ruffles a hand through his hair. A small moan escapes him from somewhere deep in his chest. 

He wrenches himself away from her kiss to press his forehead against hers. His breathing is ragged. He inhales deeply to try to even it out, only for the scent of cinnamon and sugar to fill his head instead. 

"It's late," he murmurs against her lips. 

She nods. "I should go." 

He fights against gravity for the second time tonight to take a step back from her, but this time he twines his fingers through hers. 

"I'll walk you out." 

As they emerge from below deck, Juleka and Rose are sitting on the stage, watching them. Rose squeals and leans back on Juleka's shoulder, and Juleka smirks at him. He feels the heat rise to his face, but he can't help grinning back at them like a mad fool. Marinette hasn't let go of his hand. That's really all he cares about. 

He helps her down the stairs and stands with her on the bank of the river. She swings their hands lightly beside them and when she looks up at him, he swears the entire sky of stars is sparkling in her eyes. 

He leans down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Get home safe," he whispers in her ear. He can feel the heat of her blush under his lips. When he straightens up, she takes a step back, then another, keeping their hands linked as she pulls away. 

When her fingers slip past his, she takes a few more steps backwards, keeping her eyes locked on his. He smiles and nods. I'll be here. She gives him one last smile before she turns to keep walking.

He waits until he sees Ladybug yoyoing over the rooftops. And even when she's gone, he keeps his face turned towards the stars. A new melody starts ringing through his head, clear and pure like the blue of Marinette's eyes, bright like the stars tonight, as light and buoyant as his heart. 

He has a new song to write.  

Series this work belongs to: