Archive of Our Own ^beta

Spring is the perfect medium of seasons. It did not scream like summer, and it wasn’t mute like winter. It didn’t murmur like autumn either. If Luka had to pick a season that sounded the most like a song, it was spring — the season of possibilities.

He was blessed to experience its music without having to worry about stuffy noses, itchy throats or watery eyes. The smells were nothing short of divine, and once in a while, he would indulge in the scent of freshly blossomed flowers. 

However, with the way his day was going, he wouldn’t be surprised if he miraculously gained an allergy.

Come rain or shine, Hawk Moth worked hard to make Paris miserable, and his latest chosen champion must’ve been a tree hugger, earning him another crossed out space on his Akuma Bingo card. In a matter of minutes, golden dust rained down on the streets, causing allergic reactions within the first few minutes of its descent. It proved to be a mere premonition to the chaos that unfolded soon after, starting with green vines emerging from the concrete.

Within an hour, entire central Paris became a hotspot of the new plant apocalypse. Large vines ensnared the buildings, living flora swallowed humans whole or put their victims to sleep before trapping them in green cocoons. 

Luka found himself sprinting through the halls of Collège Françoise-Dupont, tailed by a fellow student from lycée and a group of aggressive carnations. He stamped on a bed of marigolds, spraying them with vinegar before switching his focus to the nearest white bloom that extended its roots towards him. 

“Luka, watch your back—“

A root brushed against his shoulder blade, but that was as far as it went. Its attack was interrupted by multiple, violent snaps and the hissing of a spray bottle. Colorless droplets sprayed his ankles, smelling like lemon and vinegar. When he looked back, there was another living person about his age, holding wet remains of roots in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. 

His gaze was quickly pulled from the remains of the plant massacre to a pair of green eyes. They weren’t nearly as green as, say, Adrien’s. Where Adrien’s eyes were as vibrant as meadows in the bright, noon sun, his savior’s were a more tinted green, the kind he’d see when dark clouds drape a shadow over the plains.

The details caught his eye afterwards — the shirt tied around his mouth to protect him from the fumes; the green stains covering his entire body; leaves, yellow petals and roots on his torn clothes and in his pale, matted hair; the sports bag brimming with spray bottles and other cleaning supplies.

He didn’t know where the boy’s been, but judging from his looks, he was busier than both him and Allan combined.

“Thanks,” he said with an amicable grin, but the boy glared at him as if it was his fault the plants came to life.

“Félix,” his companion exclaimed joyfully, pushing him aside to clap a hand on his shoulder, only for ‘Félix’ to dodge at the last second.

Allan brushed off his ill-tempered attitude with a laugh, “I’m glad you’re alive too, pal.”

He then proceeded to gesture towards him, the volume of his voice barely affected by the haphazardly tied bandana on his mouth, “Félix, this is Luka Couffaine, the wonder boy of Allegra’s class. Luka, this is Félix Agreste, the wonder boy of my class.”

So that was Adrien’s cousin. Luka gave him a lazy wave, calm despite experiencing a plant apocalypse and looking the part. His mother prepped him with enough gear to last him for multiple floral Doomsdays, ranging from various cleaning supplies to gardening equipment and water guns, all packed in a single backpack. He also killed a massive snapdragon beast a few minutes ago, so the amount of green coloring his partially torn clothes was justified. Overall, he could’ve looked worse.

Félix’s hard, judgmental gaze swept over his entire figure until it landed on his partially covered face. He shot him another narrow-eyed look before he silently limped past him.

So, he was moody. That’s alright. Judging from his injured foot, he must’ve had a rough day.

Allan sighed, “Sorry, he’s not always like that.”

“No harm done,” he shrugged, then turned to catch up to their rude companion. He prolonged his strides until they were side by side, and the boy knew, but kept his eyes on the path ahead of him.

“You’re hurt,” Luka pointed out in a low tone, but got no response. 

It didn’t take long for Allan to catch on, and when Félix didn’t stop, he jogged ahead to grab his sports bag and stop him with a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t be stubborn, Fé. You’re slowing us down, let him help you.”

With a harsh tug, Félix nudged his shoulder out of his classmate’s grasp, and shot him a look. Luka couldn’t see it, but he didn’t have to. Allan’s dense eyebrows elevated in an exaggerated manner, and his head sharply tilted to the left, openly daring Félix to protest.

A second passed, then Luka became the new object of focus. Acidic green pools threatened to burn him with a glance, but he was quick to move and picked up the boy into his arms before he was put under any more scrutiny, eliciting a surprised yelp out of his new, living baggage. 

For someone that looked slim, he was a lot heavier than he expected. He was surprised to see that there was some structure in his muscles indicating he trained, which contrasted with the soft curves of his face. All those deadly stares, sharp looks and stains hid the smoothness that seemed to be the staple of his cousin’s brand.

And yet, he was certain Adrien could never look like he was calculating every possibility of how he could strangle him and throw his body to the plants.

Luka huffed out a chuckle while the boy looked away, crossing his arms as to avoid any more physical contact. 

“How did you even twist your ankle?” Allan asked with a touch of bewilderment, as if the thought of his classmate sustaining an injury more serious than a scrape was unimaginable.

The little, murderous menace sulked in silence, then grumbled out, “I’ve been attacked and eaten by a carnivorous mass of marigolds.”  

A bark of laughter resonated through the hallways, much to Luka’s surprise and Félix’s disgruntlement. “Somehow, even that sounds unlikely. Good to know you’re just as mortal as the rest of us.”

Félix rolled his eyes in response. His voice lost its tension as he asked, “How is your soulmate?”

“Claude? He’s fine.” As if to prove his point, he rolled up his sleeve just enough to show off a pair of theater masks circling each other in a lazy loop, one smiling, the other frowning. “The frowny guy would get bigger if he’s hurt. Plus, I’d feel it. What about yours?”

Luka felt him stiffen in his arms. 

“Didn’t Allegra tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

His eyes pointedly stared ahead in a cool, collected manner. 

“I don’t have a soulmate,” he answered apathetically.

“Luka, meet—“

“Félix,” he looked him over in surprise. He stood next to Adrien, straight as a rod, immaculate, pristine. The smoothness of his face was plain as day, yet still somehow possessed more of an edge when standing next to his cousin. “How’s your ankle?”

His face, now free of stress lines and internalized murderous thoughts, smooth as a marble surface, was covered in a neutral expression as he spoke.

“Better,” he said, raising his left foot a few centimeters above ground to rotate it once, twice, “Ladybug saved me from three weeks of imprisonment.”

Another aspect revealed itself without anything to muffle Félix’s speech. His voice sounded like, like— he struggled to think of the words. Like the silvery sheen of a fish scale; like the smooth and malleable surface of pine; like moonlight.

Internally, he winced at his attempts. It all sounded like empty hyperboles. He really wished he could play it on a guitar.

With a light chuckle, he answered, “Good to hear,” 

He never would’ve expected to see him on the Liberty. Adrien might’ve externally looked out of place, wearing branded clothes with neutral colors that seemed to be a visual crime on the ship, but internally, he fell in love. Liberty had a, well, a liberating effect on him. She washed away his stiff expressions, his practiced smiles, and dipped him in childlike wonder. 

Félix looked similar to how he was when he came for the first time. Stiff, awkward, bewildered, looking over the ship’s chaos with a glint of curiosity, yet still feeling very out of place. He seemed to be familiar with Rose and stuck to her side, murmuring observations and questions while Rose whispered back to him with an eager, bubblegum colored grin. 

Her eyes brightened like twin stars at their interaction, Adrien’s even more so. His face lit up with all the joy of a child on Christmas day. 

“You two know each other?” he asked, his polite facade all but crumbling. Félix’s expression remained perfectly neutral, but his eyes told a different story when they glanced at Adrien’s face. The faded green shade suddenly matched the color of cacti, and it looked like a threat.

“We go to the same lycée,” he was quick to explain, hoping he’d draw his guest’s attention, “but we met a week ago during an Akuma attack.”

Instead of relieving the tension, he might’ve made it worse. If Adrien turned his head just so, he’d see his cousin’s shoulders tensed, his gaze screaming how he was seconds away from grabbing the nearest blunt object and submitting to the centuries old Cain instinct engraved into his DNA.

“Really? That’s great. It must be—“ Finally, he glanced at his peeved cousin, and his eyebrows momentarily twitched before he recovered. Fate, he thought he’d say. “—a happy coincidence. I was meaning to introduce you to Félix for a while, but he was always busy, so I’m glad you finally got to meet him.” 

Luka wanted to pull him aside and tell him Félix might not share the sentiment. Maybe he could ask if his existence had insulted him in some way.

But Adrien continued, his grin bright and excited as he suggested, “In fact, why don’t you show him what you’ve been working on? You know, that song you played last time?”

“Don’t force him, Adrien,” Félix insisted.

“But it’s really good.”

“The song is not on their album. You’re here for band practice.”

“It’s fine,” Luka intervened, sensing that if he let them continue any further, the argument would spiral out of control. “We can play it together, then we can move on to actual band practice. Sounds good?”

It was the first time they tried to play his soulmate’s theme. Félix and Mylene were their miniature audience, bobbing their heads to the beat while they kept their hands busy with rubber bands. The sight of Ivan’s pacifistic girlfriend and Adrien’s stoic cousin making friendship bracelets was not what he expected in an audience, but it made him smile nonetheless.

(The song was all but muscle memory, so he tried to keep his mind busy in any way he could. If he focused hard enough, he might be able to ignore that one empty spot on the bench.)

Félix’s eyes glanced at him once before he focused on his lap till the end of the performance, his hands knitting the rubber bands together at mind boggling speed.

By the time it was finished, Adrien was grinning like a fool, stretching his fingers above the keyboard. 

“You really like it, huh?” Luka inquired, throwing him a bottle of water.

“It felt very personal,” he said timidly, swiftly catching the bottle, eyes glancing to the side where Mylene and Félix sat, “like it was written for someone.”

At that, he paused. He never told Adrien, or anyone, who the song was dedicated to, let alone if it was dedicated to someone. It was an oddly acute observation, and he decided he did not want to think too hard on it. Adrien was a firm believer in the stereotypical jabber about fate, and while he noticed he was slowly learning that even soulmates had to have their own boundaries, he wanted to keep his and his soulmate’s business to himself.

“Maybe it was,” he said vaguely, absentmindedly strumming the chorus. Thankfully, Adrien didn’t inquire further, but Luka kept his eyes on him throughout their performance. Or, rather, his neck. 

Besides their differing beliefs, they had one thing in common, and more than once Adrien came to him for guidance. Their Rorschach marks always hid from their gazes, and the only reason Adrien knew how his looked like was because he caught a glimpse once while looking in the mirror. 

To him, it was a swarm of ladybugs. To Luka, it was the refrain of Marinette’s song.

“I saw it again,” he told him the last time they stumbled into each other at the park. “I think you were right. After abandoning the idea that our relationship has to be romantic, my soulmate started to open up to me more. She’s starting to trust me.”

His smile became rueful as he wrung his fingers, “Maybe one day, she’ll trust me enough to share some of her burdens with me.”

Luka silently bumped his shoulder and offered him a reassuring grin while swallowing down whatever sorrow threatened to climb out of his chest. Me too, he thought, me too.

They decided to take a break, and when Adrien passed him by, he noticed the same, familiar notes dance across his nape before diving under the collar of his shirt. He left his guitar on the stage and headed for the bench where Félix sat alone, his eyes fixated on his fifth bracelet.

“I take it, this isn’t really your kind of place?” 

He glanced up at him once, then focused on his craft again. His eyes were glued to his developing, colorful braid of rubber bands as he spoke, “It’s loud. It is the biggest eyesore I’ve seen on this side of the Seine. I nearly tripped at least five times. So, yes. I can’t comprehend how do you live like this.” 

He took a moment to pause and look at his surroundings, something soft glinting in his eyes before it disappeared, “And yet, I’ve never seen a place so full of life. It is refreshing compared to the mansion.”

Luka sat down next to him, eyes tracing the green and blue bands of his bracelet, “Is your house that bad?”

Félix released a hollow chuckle, “It’s a glorified cage. Even the streets seem better.”

“Streets are more dangerous, no one would dare to come up here.” Not if they want to be tied to a gangplank for three days straight. Anarka Couffaine did not take kindly to bullies, whether they’re law officials or fashion moguls. “So, if you need a place to breathe, the Liberty’s here and she’ll welcome both you and Adrien with open sails.”

A soft hum resounded in his throat, and he swore the edges of Félix’ eyes looked a little less sharp when he said, “Thank you.” 

He left him to his own vices when it was time to resume band practice. Him and Adrien would exchange quips in between songs, but no matter when he spoke, his hands would always be busy. His fine, slim fingers moved as deftly as spider legs, adding about ten bracelets to his and Mylene’s growing pile. Some of his work wasn’t as detailed or fine as Mylene’s, but she kept offering him kind words of encouragement and suggested color combinations.

Apparently, the blue and green band he saw was one of a kind. There was a consistent preference for white, black and orange in his bracelets, each one of his pieces containing at least one of his favored colors—

(Her hands were small, but swift as she moved her new knitting needles. Ever since he bought her a pair with five packs of wool, all in different colors of the rainbow, she wouldn’t stop. Luka was fine with sitting on the side, strumming his guitar as he watched her do her magic. Soon enough, her face was all scrunched up above a messy, blue beanie. 

She wanted to fling it from her balcony, but Luka stopped her, laughing all the way. He snatched the piece from her hands and kissed her on her soft, freckled cheek, proclaiming again and again: it was perfect, he adored it, he adored her, she was perfect.

It was the last gift she gave him before it all crumbled, and she stopped answering his texts.)

A harsh puff of air was pushed down his nostrils, and he might’ve strummed the next few beats a little harder than he was supposed to.

His mother offered them snacks as a reward, and while he munched on his pile of chips, Félix approached him. They settled on the chairs outside because he looked like someone who would prefer having space of his own whenever the opportunity presents itself, and he was right.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about the song Adrien requested,” he told him calmly, his long pointer finger pulling the first out of five bands stacked on his wrist.

“That one’s been getting a lot of attention.”

“For a reason. It sounded deeper than the rest of your repertoire.”

Luka’s brow raised. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but how else should an artist act when their work is noticed? Shifting on his chair, he positioned himself so he was completely facing him, lounging on his side with a spark of interest dancing in his eyes, no doubt. “How would you know about my repertoire?”

His companion chuckled lightly, “I listen. The first, third and sixth song you played was most likely composed by your mother. Your style is more experimental. But, even for an experimental style, that one song sounded like a far deviation. It would explain why it wasn’t on Adrien’s CD.”

“It’s less because it’s different and more because it’s not finished.” Luka settled back to place his arms above his head, “The only reason Adrien heard it was because he happened to have a photo shoot when I played it in the park.” 

“You didn’t want it to be heard?”

“Not really. It’s not that I don’t like it. I just felt like the song was meant to be something between me and the person it was meant for.”

“So it was made for someone, after all?” When he nodded, Félix let out an exasperated sigh, raising his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, “And Adrien decided he could make you play it to his heart’s content.”

Luka’s eyes softened, “He didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“He never does,” the blond rolled his eyes.

“Well, since the cat’s out of the bag.” He placed his glass on the table between them, then settled back into his chair to get comfortable, his fingers interlaced on his stomach, “The song was meant for my soulmate, whom I never met and never felt. It was kind of meant to be their theme.”

“You haven’t met your soulmate yet?” Félix placed his glass of orange juice next to his, turning to lay on his side.

Luka pursed his lips and nodded, “I got my soulmark late, when I was thirteen. The doctor said I was supposed to develop some signs of connection within a year, like phantom pains or phantom sounds or phantom smells, phantom whatever. Something from my soulmate that transferred to me.” He sighed, his hand momentarily reaching for the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to touch his hidden soulmark. “A year passed, and I felt nothing, up until I was akumatized.

“I can’t explain it, but I know I felt him. He was there, and he was faint, and I can’t remember anything, but I know he was there.” 

According to the news, he was akumatized for two hours. The time when his soulmate was present could’ve been summed down to approximately half an hour. It wasn’t much, but Luka could still recall the faint moment of connection, when a hole appeared in the dam that stood between him and his soulmate’s heart, and for a brief moment, he felt complete. 

It was fifteen minutes at most, and it felt like bliss.

“Later, I scraped up a quick impression. Think of it like a sketch of a portrait. There was no way I could communicate with my soulmate, so I gave it to Adrien because he claimed the guy who saved Kitty Section’s work and the guy that came to my aid were the same and he knew him, and I hoped for the best.” 

He took a moment to take a breath and sip on his coke. Félix hummed.

“That sounds cryptic,” he commented, his gaze thoughtful as he pulled the second bracelet on his wrist. The infamous blue one. “Your music is meaningful, but it’s not guaranteed that everyone would look for a deeper meaning, let alone your unresponsive soulmate. What were you expecting?”

“Honestly? Nothing.” Luka shrugged, “If he answered in some way, I’d be fine with it. If not, that’s fine too. I just thought in case my soulmate is in the same position, I want him to know he’s not alone, that he can reach out to me if he wants to.”

A soft huff answered his musings. He had a habit of doing that, puffing lightly through his nose like a noble who thought laughing was a crime. “You’re putting an awful lot of care into someone who doesn’t reciprocate.”

Luka answered him with a smug grin, “If he didn’t, why would he intervene when I was akumatized for the second time?”

For the sake of variety, Félix let out a ‘tch’ “That’s the bare minimum.”

“It is, but it means he does reciprocate in his own way.” 

The boy motioned with his hands in a gesture that looked like he gave up on commenting further. He grabbed his glass of orange juice and swallowed it down as if it were whiskey.

“Is there a reason why you’re interested?” In the same way his classmate described to him, Félix continuously wore long sleeves and slacks, meaning no one would be able to see his soulmark, if he had one in the first place. 

“Can’t I be curious?” He said, sipping on the last remains of his drink. “Fate didn’t tie me to another unfortunate soul, so it interests me how it is in the lives of those who didn’t have the same luck.”

Bingo. No soulmark.

“Such observation leads me to new, unexpected discoveries,” the last of his bands was tugged as he added, pink growing pale the more he stretched the rubber, “with the way you and Dupain-Cheng were, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think fate could be kind.”

A clung punctuated his sentence. Luka breathed. He didn’t say they weren’t soulmates.

“It’s good to be observant,” he said, an urge to shoot Félix straight in the eye with a hard look of his own emerging, “But sometimes, you need to know where to draw the line.”

At that, Félix cleared his throat, a flighty look passing through his eyes, like an actor watching the entire show go off script. It happened in a snap, and instead of growing more anxious, a chill passed over his face.

“You’re right. My apologies.” He said in a more humble tone, “I didn’t know you were on bad terms.”

Were they? He couldn’t even tell anymore. He told Marinette he’d be there for her even after they broke up, but he didn’t think she’d close herself off even further. Her secret troubles were choking her, and in typical Marinette fashion, her first response is to ensure it affects her first and foremost before anyone she cared about. Thus, cutting herself off from her support system.

And the only reason he knew is because he knew her well. He knew her so well, and yet it hit him hard when she refused to communicate. 

“We’re not,” he said the truth, feeling like his heart was made of rotten wood and something was leaking through. “She just needs some space.”

Félix hummed to himself, hopefully regretting his choice to bring up the topic. 

After a few deep breaths, Luka was the one chugging his juice and slamming the glass down. If there was anything rotten in his chest, he would deal with it later. In that moment, he had a guest to entertain.

“You’re not a big fan of fate?” he tried, his eyes probably begging him to change the topic.

Félix’s eyes analyzed him the same way he did with anything that made him curious, and in the process, he must’ve picked up on his look. Already his lips were twitching into a hint of a sneer. “Pardon me for thinking that a universal force dictating who I’m destined to be with isn’t so appealing.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Luka felt his continuous tick rub off on him as he fumbled with his own bracelets, pulling the string of the thickest band and wrapping it around his finger. “It’s messed up, and maybe my soulmate thinks the same. It would explain why he never stuck around after Ladybug purified the Akuma.”

That should answer the underlying question of whether his soulmate was Marinette or not. Underline the fact that he loved Marinette even if fate claimed she was meant for someone else.

Somewhere beyond the edge, the waves lapped against the ship’s shell. He grew used to the ever present rocking that made stable ground feel alien, and the whispers of the river made him think about stability and rebellion. A ship remaining still in the constant, eternal stream, adapting to the waves, maintaining balance on an unstable body of water. 

Again, he reached for his nape. 

“Fate didn’t give him a choice, so he’s making one on his own.”

Silence followed, and when he looked to Félix, he saw a rare spark in his eyes. Thoughts coursed behind his green pools in a constant stream, and in the face of all those ideas, he dared to split the tide and redirect its course however he pleased. He silently admired his thoughtful look, how his calm facade creased from the might of concepts yet to be given form. 

And with all that depth taken into consideration, it made him realize that, from this angle, Félix seemed oddly pretty when he’s deep in thought.

“Good for both of you,” he said in an unreadable tone, his eyes set on a thought Luka has yet to decipher. 

He stood up, taking his glass with him, “Thank you for keeping me company, and once again, I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. This shipwreck of yours might be aesthetically horrid, but at least it has decent passengers.”

“Gee, thanks,” he gave him a tightlipped smile, and Félix was there to meet him with an unexpected show of smugness, his lips turning up into a sleek, foxy curve. 

And he thought he was just pretty. He forgot that ‘pretty’ can smile in a way that said there are fangs under those lips, just waiting to be unveiled, just like he also forgot how weak he was to smiles that threatened with truth. After all, he was attracted to Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who had all sorts of quirky little grins hiding under her everyday facade.

He was hurting, yes, and there was still a bridge that had to be fixed, no matter how hard Marinette tried to dismember it with her bare hands, but only fools set off to work without the intention of taking breaks. Some new faces to refresh his mind could serve as a good pause, a golden moment or two to sprinkle in between so the struggles would be easier to handle. 

“You know, if you’re interested in my work, I can show you some stuff I’ve been working on.”

Why not give him a tour? Something told him he was going to see him more often anyways. 

Félix seemed satisfied with the offer, and in an act that felt rare, he gestured for him to walk first.

“Lead the way then.”

Of all the things to surprise him, Félix’s highly underestimated nosiness wasn’t on the list. He bent over his small collection of CDs, flipping cassettes, scrutinizing over his collection of guitar picks, rummaging through his boxes of strings, and overall roamed his entire room with clear, focused eyes. It looked like he could spend hours analyzing every detail, touching as many items and surfaces with his delicate fingers, and when Luka told him to not touch certain objects, he stopped, glanced at him, and either moved on or resorted to staring at the untouchable object before moving on. 

While his gaze zipped over his book collection, Luka was left to spectate his exploration. He concluded that whatever was going on, it looked weirdly adorable. It was like he let in a stray pup into his room. 

He answered as many questions as he wanted, and showed him as many songs as he wanted (he binged through his entire collection of original music including his playlists of his favorite artists how did he even get into his phone-)

And just like that, he bid him a polite goodbye, leaving the ship with Adrien in tow.

A day later, and Luka noticed that one of his guitar picks, three marbles, one pen and a CD went missing.

“Hey Jules, have you seen my—“ 

He tried asking when he realized the missing CD had the most recent version of his soulmate’s theme, including fifteen extra tracks. Also, in the drawer where the CD was lay a single, rubber bracelet, knitted in white, orange and black colors, like some last ditch attempt at signing his crimes.

“What?” his sister called out, snapping him out of his daze.

Was it supposed to mean something? 

“Nothing.” He shook it off. It was better not to think too hard on it. On another note, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the possibilities of it all being a big, fat coincidence or Félix contradicting his own words.

The latter seemed more likely. Félix didn’t look like a guy of coincidences.

“Hypocrite,” Luka muttered to himself with a chuckle, slipping the rubber band onto his right wrist.

“You said the Liberty’s open to us.”

He came to him once after class, standing on the highest step of the stairs that led into the entrance of the lycée building. It was a rare, muggy day in April, and an Akuma attack had occurred a few hours ago, leaving the city shaken. 

Félix looked the part, possibly even worse. In the same manner that he soon came to realize was typical for him, he looked down at him with calmness that washed over every ridge and pore, and made it seem just a bit smoother. However, he realized with a touch of concern that the shade of his skin had significantly paled. 

In the dead, white light of the sun, he looked like a statue. 

(Marinette’s skin was the same shade when she broke down. Her stone surface cracked and crumbled to dust because the world was too heavy, and Luka couldn’t do anything because he didn’t want to be another weight—)

Luka nodded, “I did.”

If the world was a better place, he would’ve thought the Agreste twins were interested in spending time with him and his family. He had no doubt they enjoyed their time at the Liberty.

But the more he stared at Félix’s face, the more his gut twisted from dread.

“Do you mind if Adrien and I spend the night?”

How could he possibly say no?

Félix swiftly came down the stairs, his polished shoes clacking rhythmically against the stone, and before he strode off to his limousine, Luka’s eyes caught sight of his hands. They were clenched throughout their entire exchange.

He didn’t ask him about it. He didn’t ask him about the song or stolen items either. And he didn’t ask him why did they decide to come at midnight. 

“You need anything lads?” Anarka’s head poked out of the door frame, already clad in her oversized band shirt and shorts. He thought he saw her gaze pause on a spot, somewhere around the twins, maybe on the twins, maybe on one of the twins, before it swiftly shifted away.

“No, thank you, Captain,” Adrien nodded politely out of habit, and Félix stiffly mimicked his gesture. 

“Keep ye eyes open for any bed bugs,” she warned, looking over his and Juleka’s beds respectively with furrowed, silver eyebrows, “I fear we might have an infestation.”

“Will do,” Juleka waved lazily from her spot on the bed, her eyes focused more on her bottles of nail polish.

Their room was filled, with Adrien and Félix on the floor between his and Juleka’s sections of the cabin. They placed down two mattresses with a hoard of pillows, sheets and blankets, and Adrien had the time of his life making his own little nest while Félix sat awkwardly to the side, wrapping himself into a miniature bundle. 

As tradition dictates, their first activity of the night was to paint nails. Adrien went for the scarlet red without second thought, and when prompted about it, he scratched the side of his head and dodged the question by encouraging Félix to pick his color. Coerced by the power of peer pressure, Félix sighed and looked over their wide variety of colors as if he were in the middle of an exam. Seconds passed, and he kept squinting at the bottles, before hastily grabbing the black one.

Nice, they’ll match.

Adrien watched as Juleka coated his toe nails, transfixed by the glossy, scarlet polish, “I think this is the first time I had a proper sleepover,” 

“Seriously?” Juleka’s head jerked up, then sneered at his foot, “Dude, spread those toes, you’ll mess it up.”

“Oh, sorry.” He did as he was told, his tone growing more soft and melancholic. “I mean, I think I might’ve had something similar when I was very young, back when Félix, Chloé and I were playmates? But that was during the day, so I don’t think it counts. Do you remember Félix?”

Félix’s gaze was blank. A moment of silence passed by, then Luka brushed the palm of his hand, effectively waking him from his trance. His expression quickly shifted into exasperation. “How can I ever forget the sound of Chloé Bourgeois?” 

As he told his stories, growing more confident with every word, Luka gently brushed the fingernail of his pointer finger black. The more he looked at it, the more he realized how well black fit his slim, bruised hands. Even as they occasionally shivered, he admired the strength they held. He felt it in Félix’s grip when he gripped his shoulder once, and when he lifted objects that required two hands, sometimes even in pairs when he helped them set up equipment last time he was on the Liberty.

Poor guy wasn’t used to the contact, and the sight of the bracelet on his wrist, the one that he left in his drawer after stealing his things, probably didn’t make it easier, so he used his stories to distract himself.

“Once, I hid her bejeweled teddy bear before nap time. A little too well, might I add. She was crying for an hour before she settled on using me as a surrogate.” A shiver ran through him, and his face morphed into an exaggerated look of horror. “It was my closest brush with death.” 

They continued to exchange their experiences, slowly dispersing whatever awkwardness threatened to choke the atmosphere. Juleka already had her nails painted, but she showed Adrien and Félix how to add stickers, gel effect, sparkles… Naturally, Adrien wanted to add black spots, but his twin kept his nails untouched. 

Now with painted nails, Félix delicately pulled a CD off his desk with the tips of his fingers, squinting at the chicken scratch on its surface. “This looks interesting.”

“It’s the theme. I made a few readjustments.” He gestured for him to sit down next to him on the floor, and pulled out his phone. Green pinpricks followed every move of his thumb as he tapped on the file he was looking for. “Which leaves about five more side projects to go.”

“I’m starting to think you’ll never learn how to work with a proper schedule,” he said in monotone.

Luka chuckled, “Couffaines know nothing about order.”

“Aye,” his sister piped in.

“How you manage to be a functioning individual astounds me—“

Suddenly, he turned away from him in a fit of harsh coughs. His forearm quickly shot up to muffle them, but it did nothing to prevent the wide-eyed look in his cousin’s eyes, a tense crease forming between his eyebrows as he watched him bend over.

“Félix?” he placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He thought he looked sickly, but he wasn’t certain if it was really from sickness or exhaustion. Félix raised a hand to wave off his concern and cleared his throat with the remaining coughs of his fit. “I’m fine. I might’ve overexerted myself at training today and walked back to the mansion.” 

He looked to Adrien, whose face looked conflicted, “Don’t look at me like that. You know I avoid uncle’s services whenever I can.”

A sad look passed over Adrien’s eyes like a raincloud, “Yeah, I know. You did it a lot more when you were in Collège.” 

When he looked to Juleka, she hummed in agreement. “Is lycée keeping you that busy?”

“No.” Despite the clearer shadows beneath his eyes and the pale shade of his skin, Félix’s greens looked more vibrant than they’ve ever been. He wanted to compare it to the first ray of light hitting the grass, but it didn’t look like sunlight. It was moonlight, coloring the greens silver where the sun would wash them in gold. “I just had to get a little smarter.” 

And just like that, it was gone, giving way to the next mask Félix prepared. He focused on his phone, and asked him if he could listen to the updated version of ‘The Theme’. Luka was quick to oblige, sitting next to him until their shoulders touched.

“I like what you did with the strings. The celesta is a nice touch too.” He murmured to him in a softer tone, ignoring the occasional glance Adrien would send his way. “However, there is this one part in the chorus that sounds a bit odd. I’m not sure if it was meant to be intentional.”

Luka picked one of his earbuds and stuffed it in his left ear. He tried not to get too close and leave enough space for Félix to shift away if he felt the proximity was too much. “Fast forward it. I think I might know which part you’re talking about.” 

It was nice. No matter the topic, Félix didn’t seem to run out of questions. He continued to ask about the process, what inspired him, what urged him to add this instrument or that instrument. It was fun, and in return, he poked Félix about his interests, which ranged from a wide array of martial arts to chess, books and, somehow unsurprisingly, magic tricks. For a while, he entertained them with some card tricks and managed to draw out the most hilarious reaction from his sister, who was a firm non-believer. 

“No fucking way,” she muttered as she gawked at one, two, three, five aces of hearts laying innocently before her.

Félix merely answered with a smug grin.

“You’re going to be such a swindler and mom’s definitely going to adore you,” he said, throwing a card at his shoulder. Félix proudly straightened up, then his eyes caught sight of something just beyond his face, and it made his smile lower.

“And here I wondered where your soulmark hid itself.”

Luka perked up, his hand instinctively twitching to reach his nape. “Yeah. It doesn’t hide from everyone else as much as it hides from me.”

“Huh, maybe we’ll finally figure out who it is,” Juleka shrugged, then turned to Adrien, “What do you see? It always looked like a raven to me.”

“Uhm,” Adrien tilted his head, his lips tightening as he blinked at his soulmark. “I think it’s a,” he paused, tilting his head the other way to get a better look, “I’m not sure, I- I can only see one part of it. Can I take a closer look?”

He shrugged, turning around to face him with his back. The blond shuffled towards him, then gingerly pulled the edge of his shirt up, letting out an “Oh!” before pulling it back down. “It’s a panther,” he said with a satisfied nod.

Juleka hummed thoughtfully, “So, that makes two black animals, plus Rose’s impression of it as a German Sheperd, Ivan’s wolf, Mylene’s minx and Marinette’s daffodils. What about you, Félix?”

He could hear Félix shuffling to where Adrien sat, inspecting his soulmark with a pause before proclaiming, “Peacock.”

Suddenly, Juleka’s finely shaped eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“It’s a peacock,” Félix repeated simply, not sounding the least bit perturbed by the discovery.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she said, her monotone growing tense.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” the shirt was pulled down as he tried to reassure her, “I don’t speculate about Panoptes’ identity, so it’s most likely just an impression. Someone proud and flamboyant, I assume.”

“I agree. I don’t think anyone is ever going to look at butterflies or peacocks the same after Hawk Moth and Panoptes.” Adrien chuckled anxiously. 

In an attempt to divert the focus from his soulmark, he asked if they’d be up for a round of UNO. Upon noticing Adrien’s excited expression and Félix’s annoyed one, Juleka dropped down to inspect the underside of her bed.

“Speaking of,” she started, pulling out a box with UNO cards and waving it around. “Does anybody think Panoptes is freaky as hell?”

Adrien winced as she shuffled the cards, “They are unsettling.”

Opposite of him and next to Luka, Félix glanced at Juleka’s cards. It seemed he was drawn to cards the same way bees were drawn to honey. “What are they like? I never saw them up close.”

“I did,” she started dealing, her voice unbothered but not quite careless, “Terrible experience. Like, I can dig the outfit, but the way they act sets off so many red flags.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the way they move. It’s simultaneously graceful and unhinged.” When she was done, she flicked a single yellow card at the middle and left the rest of the deck beside her, “And their vibe is so off. Rose and I were hiding from them in the dressing rooms, and we couldn’t see them, but we still felt like we were being watched. All the time.” 

Her expression tensed as she narrated, “Then we actually saw them. They were looking the other way, but I still felt like they saw us. Their eyes were open for so long.” 

“They didn’t blink?” Adrien asked with concern, placing down a yellow two.

“I never saw them blink,” she confirmed. Meanwhile, Luka threw his green card and nudged Félix to do the same when he was staring at the center too long. “Their eyes also looked like— if I popped one, it would be a glass marble. That’s why I have a theory that Hawk Moth is some rich guy that invested in an android and gave it a Miraculous.”

“If Hawk Moth is a rich guy,” Luka decided to chime in and watch as they switched the color two more times, “then I think Panoptes could be a lycée or university student with financial issues. Hawk Moth could be paying them for their service.”

“True,” Adrien nodded, squinting at the reverse green card that Juleka placed down, “or maybe they’re being coerced into working with him.”

“You mean like blackmail?”

He hummed in agreement.

“Personally, I agree with Juleka’s theory.” At their raised eyebrows, Félix gingerly placed down a black card, and picked blue. “Partially. We all know the Peafowl Miraculous gives the user the ability to create Sentimonsters. Panoptes might not have had a large variety, what with using one Sentimonster all the time, but from what I can tell, there is no limit to what shape a Sentimonster can have.

“Meaning,” a pleased grin grew on his lips as Luka drew four cards, “a Sentimonster can be human or resemble a human being.”

Silence followed, and he had the nerve to grin proudly as the implications set in. Luka felt the air leave his lungs. Adrien looked a shade paler while Juleka muttered out in awe, “Holy shit.”

“Think about it. Similar to an Akuma, the bane of a Sentimonster’s existence is an item. As long as Hawk Moth has the item, he could do with Panoptes whatever he pleased. They’d be the perfect servant.”

Adrien gingerly placed a red card on the deck, silent while his sister grasped with the theory.

“That’s sick,” Juleka voiced his thoughts, “And would make so much sense, holy shit.”

They went through two more rounds before Luka sighed and played his last card, a blue three on top of Adrien’s red three. He called out “Uno, Uno” before swiping the cards. It was best to end it before Adrien could get any more uncomfortable.

“Alright, I think that’s enough conspiracies for one night. It’s bed time.”

They cleaned up as much as they could, then turned off the lights. It was one in the morning and he was certain they were going to look like hell when they woke up early for school, but that’s what they get for having a sleepover before weekend. He set up the alarm on his phone and left it on his desk, then proceeded to collapse into his bed. 

It was two in the morning when he noticed the sound of mumbling. Falling asleep became harder when he kept seeing a myriad of eyes behind his eyelids. Worst of all, he felt groggy, barely unsticking his eyelids and rolling over to the edge so he could find the source.

And it happened to be Félix, twitching and mumbling in the dark as if possessed.

He stretched out his hand below and brushed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, lowly muttering his name until a hand shot up to grip his wrist.

“Easy, easy,” he whispered, caught in Félix’s wide, paranoid gaze, “Are you alright?”

 It was a chore to get out of bed, but with Félix looking the way he did, small and helpless as he hid in a cocoon of sheets, he’d walk all the way to the Eiffel Tower if he had to. They walked to the kitchen, Félix’s sheets dragging across the ground, and he made sure to be as quiet as possible when he handled the drawers and the fridge. 

“You need anything? Water? Snacks?” he asked as he poured himself milk.

“Headphones,” Félix muttered, his gaze empty as he drew the edges of his cover closer, “I need headphones.” 

Luka could only nod, his expression twisting in concern. He managed to convince him to drink some water at least, before they headed back to their room.

“Did you and Marinette start talking again?” his nightly companion suddenly asked, blankly observing the floors. 

“Yeah,” was all he could offer. Sure, it only took his mother and long lost father to get akumatized, but they started texting again. Talking to Marinette had always been easy, so it wasn’t that much of an issue to get back in touch.

The effects of their past fallout remained though, and Luka hoped Marinette didn’t see it.

“Félix?” He carefully pressed a hand on his shoulder. Speaking could be so hard when faced with a gaze as stern yet vulnerable as Félix’s was, but he tried, even when he felt like he was walking on eggshells. “You don’t have to answer me, but do you feel unsafe at home?”

For a long moment, Félix stared at him in silence. The rocking of the ship, the faint creaks and hums — it all felt muted. Framed by darkness, Félix’s visage gained an intimidating edge, his silhouette nearly blending into the shadows. 

A long time passed before he blinked, then shuddered in what he realized was the start of a low laugh.

“I feel unsafe everywhere,” he leaned towards him as if he was telling him a secret, speaking in a detached tone and a near whisper. “Time and place do not matter. The Mansion itself is not the cause, it is a means to an end. To live in it can be difficult, but there is no other place where I can reclaim my sense of security.” 

A pause followed in which he moved away, giving Luka some space to breathe.

Suddenly, the intimidation factor dissipated and his tone became lighter, like lowering his weapon after holding him at knife point. “I’m sorry, I exaggerated. Time does, actually, matter. I feel safer at night. This,” Luka slightly twitched in surprise when he saw him pull up and turn on his phone, its light caressing the soft curves of his more lighthearted expression, “also helps.” 

When did he even have the time to snatch it from his desk? A squint at the screen told him that he even managed to find the file of his soulmate’s theme. 

“I may or may not have borrowed it,” he said casually. It reminded him of his missing objects and the rubber bracelet that sat on his desk.

However, he decided not to ask about it. He might never ask about it, and honestly, that was fine. Instead, he felt himself stifling chuckles and instinctively tussling Félix’s already messy bangs as he gained a better grasp of his bizarre behavior. Him and Juleka had been appointed weirdos since nursery, so who was he to complain?

He should ask him and Adrien to sleep over more often, something in the back of his mind told him. Maybe he could get him to open up and tell him what was going on in that cursed mansion. As fun as hanging out was, the rotting blob on his chest remained, stinging whenever he was in a position in which hidden troubles hurt those close to him, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“If it helps, I can give you updated versions in the future,” he offered as he crossed the threshold of his cabin, with Félix following closely behind.

“You would?” The light of his phone shone down on his drawers, and Luka found himself opening the first in a row slowly as to not wake up Juleka and Adrien. He almost didn’t notice the sound of rare, genuine surprise in Félix’s voice.

He hummed in confirmation as he grabbed a pair of headphones, and handed them over with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said. Juleka’s stories of Félix’s endeavors told him sincerity wasn’t his favored look, but he had been showing a lot more of himself than he probably intended to. It must’ve been the exhaustion.

They laid down again, Luka on his bed and Félix on the floor right next to his bed frame. He stared down at Félix from above and listened as he motioned with his hands in the air and explained, “I don’t understand how or why, but it has this — effect. It makes me feel untouchable, independent, free. Yes.” He nodded to himself, light teasing the dimples of his satisfied grin, “It sounds like freedom.”

And Luka stared, his eyes squinting from fondness and from the wide smile that kept pushing past the limits of lips. Warmth blossomed in his chest at the mere thought that his creation did this. He did this. He helped in some way. His music pushed past his barriers, deep into his subconscious, and made him feel free when it looked like he expected the world would swallow him whole.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he told him softly, and got a quick glimpse of that buried vulnerability in Félix’s expression before he rolled over and left him to his privacy. “Sleep tight.”

“Likewise,” Félix muttered back, dazed, before the light of his phone faded and darkness filled the room.

Minutes later, he shifted in his bed, a part of his shirt lifted on his side just enough for a small patch of skin to be visible. He furrowed his eyebrows at it, swearing that despite the darkness, he might be seeing some dark patches shifting—

His eyes popped open. He quickly turned to gingerly pull his phone from Félix’s pillow. Pulling the sheets over his head, he tried to be careful not to meddle with the song that was set to play on loop, and lightened up his bare stomach. 

He swore his heart felt too big for his chest. There, sprawled on his stomach with closed eyes was his Border Collie, its body peacefully shifting in deep slumber. 

“Hey there,” he whispered joyfully, brushing the tip of his index finger across the top of its head. 

He knew there was no proof, but his heart kept telling him the same over and over, and it pushed him to look over the sheets at Félix’s sleeping figure, undoubtedly wrapped in a sheet burrito. Temptation nearly made him do it, but a detail drew his eye first. 

Something wasn’t right. He squinted harder at the dog’s neck, and that’s where he spotted it.

The collar.