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It's his first time wearing a tuxedo. The black-and-white clothing wants to keep him trapped, warning him that he couldn't run away. The fabric snags to him and is too tight in the shoulder area. Luka grumbles at the constriction, but knows the sight of Marinette walking down the aisle truly is what makes him like this. The boy forms fist as he watches her press a kiss to her father's cheek and turn to meet the eyes of her groom.
The groom is beaming. His golden hair almost seems to be jumping for joy as his green eyes meet his bride's. He is Adrien Agreste, and Luka wants to hate him. Agreste has the one thing he wanted for so long.
Luka remembers the day the invitation came for the wedding. The card was pale pink, so obviously Marinette Dupain-Cheng that it hurt him. The bold words in print 'Agreste & Dupain-Cheng Wedding' still haunt him; how could his high school crush be marrying someone else?
Of course, he and Marinette never made it past the first date. They were friends for six months and tried to be something more. Luka thought they could make it work, but it soon became obvious his friend's feelings were elsewhere. So they settled back to what they used to be, leaving a black-and-blue haired boy sneaking glances at his unrequited love.
"Vous pouvez embrasser la mariée," The priest speaks, and he feels himself crumbling even more. Marinette and Adrien decided to do the English tradition of kissing in the church instead of the front steps. It would be a grand display of their love for all to see.
The black-haired girl meets the lips of her husband in a passionate embrace. Luka thinks he might end up sick because of the punch in the gut he just received. Soon the other guests start to file into the reception, and he follows sorrowfully.
"Luka?" A voice calls before he can completely walk out. It belongs to the groom, and he can't help his jealousy raging.
Luka turns to face him, "Is there something you need?"
Adrien reaches for Marinette's hand; it takes everything in him not to shout. "We wanted to thank you for coming," Marinette smiles as she chirps, "It means everything to have our friend be at our wedding."
Since when was he Adrien's friend? Certainly not after they left high school, Luka can recall his intense hatred for the man who stole the love of his life.
"Right..." Luka pauses, unsure of what to say until he can't help himself, "I want to know why you chose him over me."
A beat of silence floods after his confrontation. Marinette's face drains of all color and happiness, while Adrien narrows his eyes in discomfort. They tighten their hands on each other, he can tell by the way their skin turns red with irritation. Blue eyes meet green, staring becomes their communication. Luka is bare under their gaze because he does not understand what they do.
"Adrien is my other half," Marinette starts, "Without him, my days would be dark. He is a constant light for me, always shining to guide the clumsiest girl in the universe. His tears make me feel breathless because I know I'm the only one who gets to see him so painfully raw. The smile I wake up to every morning is a reminder that he loves me just the same. He is me, and I am him."
Luka is speechless. Her words don't truthfully click until Adrien's head rests atop his wife's, and he sees the light. Marinette could never have with him what she had with Adrien because he was no fire in the dark. He would always be ice that needed to be thawed, something she couldn't do.
"I think it's time you head on to the reception," Adrien smoothly intersects, "My wife and I need to get ready for our entrance."
He nods shyly and turns away to walk. A weight feels lifted on his shoulders, and he starts to think that maybe it's because he decided to let his crush go.
A few moments later, musique d’entrée starts to play, and Luka begins to clap along. He laughs as Alya and Nino start chanting at their best friends. The bride and groom stroll in with mile-wide smiles plastered on their faces. A burning sensation of awkwardness sets off inside him as he tries to push down thoughts of affection for Marinette.
"Hey Blue," The woman next to him snarks, "You might want to stop ogling at her. Agreste gets very jealous quick."
Luka's brow furrows as he faces her. She's tan-skinned with long locks of brown hair styled into curls for the occasion. Her olive green eyes meet his baby blue ones. "I wasn't staring at Marinette," He snaps back.
The woman laughs in a dramatic fashion. Her red dress sticks to her curves as she leans over to him. "Don't even to lie to me," She smiles almost sarcastically, "The name's Lila by the way, and I'll call you Blue."
"Luka," He grunts in reply.
Lila grins at him, her white pearly teeth shining in the light of the room. "I used to have a thing for Adrien in high school, but I'm glad those days are over. He acts too much like Chat Noir for my liking," She turns to the pale-faced man, "What about you, Blue? Why has Mrs. Agreste caught your attention?"
Luka gulps as he tries to form words, but her gaze keeps him locked in a trance. His mouth goes dry at her raised eyebrow, and her crimson lips only tempt him farther. He shakes his head in an attempt to get his brain working.
"Marinette was my crush for a long time, I guess I just always held onto the illusion that she might someday choose me over him." He bites the inside of his cheek in a desperate attempt to not say more.
Lila smirks and starts to swig the raspberry-colored wine in her glass. Her nails, polish chipped and peeled, clink against it in a pattern of thumps. His attention is brought to the way her lip curves upwards as she hauls another sip down; her body arches over the table as she slams down her drink. "C'mon Blue, I want to dance," She barks while gripping his hand without sparing him a glance.
Lila tugs him along, and he lets out a nervous chortle. They stop at the left edge of the dance floor away from prying eyes, but that doesn’t help him from feeling a thousand burning inspections of him. She places her hands, nimble and warm, on his shoulders, and soon they meet in the middle of his upper back. Luka’s jagged face, marked with piercings on his nose and brow, comes in close contact with her’s.
Lila seems to radiate stardust as they settle into a rhythm, a simple waltz to allow more conversation. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked anything about Volpina,” She mutters.
“I don’t blame Akuma victims for Hawkmoth’s sins,” Luka replies, and shifts her closer to him, “Your actions under his control don’t define you. I don’t believe that being akumatized when you were a teenager should determine everything about you.”
Lila giggles lightly, enchanting him further. “I did a lot of horrible things, in and outside that costume. People knew I was a liar, but I guess it helped me grow up,” She muses, “Marinette was the first person to help me reconnect with others, and soon her friends became mine as well.”
“Alya and Chloé are your friends too?” Luka inquires.
Lila seems to think it over, and shrugs. “They both got closer to me over the years, and I went to the funeral for Bienna.”
Chloé and Nathaniel welcomed a baby girl named Bienna three years ago, and she was as beautiful as her mother. Ginger hair sat atop her head, and bright blue eyes twinkled in the light. Unfortunately, at two years old she was diagnosed with the same heart disease her grandfather had to deal with all his life. Everyone was forced to watch as the small baby lost her fight, and died a peaceful death in the hospital. Bienna was buried next to Chloé’s father, and her parents went into mourning.
“I remember seeing the news broadcast it, she truly was Paris’ Princess,” Luka mumbles sweetly, a slight fondness in his voice for the little girl he had only met twice before she left the world.
Lila plasters a sad smile on and chooses to lay her head on Luka’s shoulder. “Were you ever akumatized, Blue?” She wonders.
He ponders for a few moments. If he ever was, the memories weren’t there any longer; Ladybug’s powers must have washed them away. “I don’t know,” Luka admits, and twirls her around, “Unlike you, I don’t remember anything from that. Perhaps Ladybug and her team do, but that means I have almost no chances to learn from them if I was.”
Before Lila could reply, Alya starts to shout for all the guests. “Now that the traditional dancing has ended, we will all join for La Pièce Montée and celebrate the union of our friends,” The reddish-brown haired woman announces.
Luka takes Lila’s hand and rushes back to their seats. “Food!” She cheers quietly to him as a small serving of the cream-filled balls are dipped onto each guest’s plate. He simply chuckles at the girl in red.
As they begin to eat small bites of the wedding cake, Nino stands up to gather the attention of all in the room. “When we attended Collège Françoise Dupont, Adrien was oblivious to the major crush Mari had on him. It wasn’t until he started to work at her parent’s bakery did he realize that the love of his life was staring him in the face,” The brown-skinned man laughs, “They became a couple one year before we graduated, and have been happy ever since. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of a happy ending than these two. With that being said, I wish you luck on your marriage.”
Applause sounds off at the closing of his speech, and Luka can’t help but grin at the small story. “That probably took him weeks to write,” He jokes to Lila. She giggles in response and finishes the last bites of her treat.
“Hold on,” She broke in, “I’m going to go get us both some more alcohol.”
After many more glasses of wine, the two stumble away from the dance floor they had just preoccupied. Fits of jesting continue from both of them as they stop in a corner for more chatting. Lila’s olive eyes meet Luka’s, a dangerous tension between the two of them from the short time they had known each other. Raising off the ground, she plants her tempting red lips on his cheek. She moves her mouth against his skin as she speaks, “Are you willing to trust a vixen?”
Luka knows she’s dangerous in many aspects. He doesn’t talk out of turn or try things outside of his comfort zone. Lila moves to the beat of her own drum and has men falling at her feet like dogs staring at a bone. She’s not made for him in any way, but he can’t help the way his mind wants to bend to her every will; maybe that’s why he says yes with more passion in one single word than ever before.
They stumble into his car, gripping each other’s backs and heads. Their lips clash and burn, but it only makes them feel more of a fire for one another. Crashing into the door of Luka’s apartment doesn’t stop them, nor does the ripping of Lila’s dress.
When he wakes up the next morning, Luka finds curls of brown sprayed across a pillow as the girl next to him sleeps peacefully. His arms latch on tighter to her waist because he doesn’t know where it goes after this. He’s just a man who left the wedding of his former crush with a woman who entices him far too much. Still, he doesn’t let go of her, and maybe she won’t either.