Chapter Text
Marinette yelped as a foot shot out into the aisle and sent her careening to the floor. The notebook she’d been carrying jabbed uncomfortably into her ribs, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.
Marinette ignored the giggles that surrounded her and chose not to react as she peeled herself off the ground. She made her way to her seat in the back of the class just as Mrs. Bustier walked through the door, ready to start the day. As usual, conveniently ignorant to what was taking place in her own classroom.
Marinette didn’t know what she had been expecting, to be honest. A part of her had hoped her peers would have finally forgotten about her, for at least there was peace in solitude. But, at the same time, it felt like accepting that isolation was no different than being dead.
”I will take everyone and everything you love until you know what it means to be alone. Your friends – your family – they will all hate you. I will ruin you, Marinette.”
That had been Lila’s promise, delivered after Marinette refused to stop calling attention to her lies. Marinette had seen anger before, but the brunette’s words had been laced with a poison that was cold and calm like the ocean before a typhoon. It was almost inconceivable, how she could hold so much resentment and animosity for someone she barely even knew.
Sometimes, Marinette wondered what her life could’ve been, if she’d listened to Lila and turned a blind eye to the stories she spun. But she was always quick to chase those thoughts away, for she knew no such reality existed. There was no world or universe out there where she would abandon her morals for the sake of making her own life easier. She feared losing herself more than she feared anything her enemies could ever do to her.
Marinette huffed as she set her wrinkled notebook down on her desk before beginning to flip through it. She eventually settled on an empty page and turned her focus to the front of the class, doing her best to pretend she was the only one in the room.
At the very least, Marinette could count herself lucky that her peers weren’t exactly original in their assaults. After the first year, she was no longer surprised by their attempts at “protecting Lila.”
Roaches in her locker? Been there, done that. Three times, in fact.
Throwing away her clothes during gym? Old news. She always made sure to hide a spare in an unused locker at the back of the shower room now.
Spilling drinks on her schoolwork? Elementary. There was always a copy somewhere in her binder, just in case.
It was funny how the lines between defence and vengefulness could be so easily blurred.
Marinette busied herself with copying notes as Mrs. Bustier wrote on the chalkboard. Her attention was focused on the lesson at hand until hushed whispers a couple of rows down distracted her.
Sitting in the back was both advantageous and annoying. On one hand, she heard all of the gossip, and that occasionally helped her avoid confrontations. On the other hand, she heard all the gossip, which often made it difficult to hear the lesson.
Normally, she would try to block it out once she learned it had nothing to do with her. This particular conversation, however, was interesting.
“Which class do you think he’ll end up in?” Rose asked, her sweet voice soft and barely discernible over Mrs. Bustier’s confident lecturing.
“I don’t know yet, but I heard he’s Jagged Stone’s son.” Max proclaimed excitedly, practically bouncing out of his seat. “I mean, can you believe it? The Jagged Stone. Do you think he could score us some tickets to one of his dad’s shows?”
“Look at you, you’re all so excited just to share air with the spawn of some druggy whose only accomplishment in life is making loud, trashy music. Ridiculous!” Chloe hissed back at them. She smiled innocently at Mrs. Bustier when the teacher glanced her way. Only once the woman had resumed her lecture did the blonde finish. “Have you lowlives forgotten that we have the Adrien Agreste and, most importantly, we have me.” She sniffed.
From her seat, Marinette took note of the way discomfort suddenly twisted Juleka’s delicate features. There was clearly something the other girl wanted to say, but couldn’t get out. Instead, round lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to focus on the teacher instead of her peers.
Not my problem, Marinette reminded herself, before continuing to listen to the gossip. Ladybug saved lives and helped the weak, Marinette was the weak one who couldn’t be saved. They were not the same.
“I heard he’s got looks and musical talent like his dad, but got held back two grades for failing so miserably in his classes.” Kim snickered.
“As if you have room to talk about people’s IQ, Kim. How many head injuries did you suffer on the field last year, again?” Alix quipped. “Thank the Guardian you’re nice to look at.”
Kim blushed as the students around him tittered. “Haha, you’re all so funny,” he grumbled.
Marinette could hear Chloe muttering to Sabrina something along the lines of “catching the stupid by breathing the same air as so many imbeciles.” The redhead girl, lacking any shred of independent thought, agreed with Chloe wholeheartedly. She reassured Chloe over and over that she was the smartest and most beautiful girl in the whole school.
Marinette rolled her eyes, because in her opinion, Chloe was one of the biggest idiots to ever curse the hallways. It was only because of her dad’s position as mayor that their teachers were too scared to give Chloe any grade below a C.
Marinette had personally experienced the displeasure of peer grading one of Chloe’s assignments before, and it was safe to say the girl had better marry rich, otherwise her life was over as soon as daddy dearest’s tenure ended.
“Alya said ‘who cares if he’s smart if he’s cute and popular. There are different kinds of success in this world.’” Rose giggled as she read the words from her phone.
Alya looked back at them from the other side of the room and winked.
For the briefest second, Marinette’s eyes locked with those of her former best friend. Her chest fluttered and breath stuttered as fond memories from freshman year filled her head. They were so vivid that, in that moment, she almost could have fooled herself into believing Alya’s smile was meant for her. That is, if not for the coldness that immediately filled her gaze and hardened her features once she realized she was looking at Marinette.
Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door had excited whispers sweeping across the room. Mrs. Bustier tried to silence her students to no avail before she gave up and crossed the distance between her desk and the entrance. Her head poked out, and through the chaos, Marinette could just barely make out the deep rumble of Principal Damocles’s voice on the other side.
“I bet that’s him!” Rose squealed.
“Or maybe my dad has finally come to his senses and decided to pull me out of this ridiculous excuse for a school,” Chloe smirked as she looked over the bees painted on her freshly-manacured nails.
“Oh yah, I’m sure after the past hundred times you’ve said that, this is finally it.” Alix unwrapped a lolly pop as she spoke. Before she placed the cherry-flavored candy in her mouth, Chloe whined in outrage, prompting Alix to stick her tongue out teasingly.
“Guys, we need to do our best to welcome him.”
Despite the tight control Marinette held over her outward composure, the unexpected sound of Lila’s voice never failed to make her flinch. Its candy-coated cadence was tied to too many of her worst memories for her to not feel its effects.
Lila, ever the performer, had of course taken advantage of this opportunity to turn the attention to her. She placed her hands over her chest and made herself look smaller. More timid. “When I first transferred here, I was so scared I would never be able to make friends. But all of you were so kind to me.”
“Not everyone,” Alya not-so-subtly muttered.
When a couple venous glares were tossed Marinette’s way, she pointedly made an effort to relax her posture and stare ahead as if this was the most boring moment of her life.
Lila placed a hand on Alya’s shoulder, smiling in that sickeningly sweet way that reminded Marinette of all the times she’d weaponized what she loved and broke her to pieces.
As usual, Alya fell for it. She stared up at the Italian girl as if she hung the stars in the sky; a saint that could do no wrong.
“Let’s take this as an opportunity to make a new friend,” Lyla insisted. “I choose to believe the world is filled with far more good than bad.”
The room was full of muttered agreements and people praising Lyla for her kindness and selflessness. A few even apologized that she ever had to feel so afraid, and in the words of Chloe Bourgeois, it was all “ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”
Marinette was pretty sure Lila had never felt fear in her life. Certainly not the kind that crippled you, and made you feel like you couldn’t eat a thing without puking. Or that particular sort of dread that kept you a prisoner in your own bed, too afraid to face the world. Nothing like what she’d subjected her self-proclaimed enemy to.
Marinette would rather face one-thousand Akumas in battle than relive her high school years after Lila came along.
Fortunately, the liar’s grand speech was interrupted when Mrs. Bustier reentered the classroom and cleared her throat.
There was a stern look etched on the teacher’s face. The thin fingers of her hand were still wrapped tight around the door handle as she waited patiently for her students’ silence, clearly refusing to continue without it. When the room finally fell quiet, she beckoned at someone outside with a reassuring nod and polite smile.
Marinette couldn’t help but stare, along with the rest of the class, as a boy a little older than them entered.
He was tall; his figure sturdy with lithe muscles. His strength was clear in the broad set of his shoulders, and the stretch of his t-shirt over the planes of his abdomen. Yet there were no unsavory, sinewy lines or bulging veins that might’ve made him look distasteful.
The boy’s hair was as dark as hers at the roots, appearing midnight blue like the night sky before it faded into a vibrant cerulean at the tips. The color suited him, bringing out the stormy sapphire of his eyes, and contrasting with his sunkissed skin.
The rumors about his looks had definitely not been overstated. Marinette had to admit, the transfer was, objectively, attractive.
“Everyone, this is Luka Couffaine,” Mrs. Bustier introduced him with a pleasant smile. “He is going to be attending senior year together with you all. I hope everyone will do their best to make him feel welcome.”
She took a step back and gave the new guy – Luka – the floor to speak.
Luka’s smile was charming. It was crooked on his face and revealed the pearl-white point of a devilishly sharp canine. His features were relaxed, if maybe a little contemplative as he scanned the room, making eye contact briefly with everyone present.
When that attentive gaze fell on Marinette, her cheeks warmed and her heart thudded in her chest. She swore it lingered a fraction longer on her than it should have. Goosebumps rose on the surface of her skin at the caress of his eyes over her face, down her chest, abdomen, and back up again.
Marinette realized, with a twinge of despair, that she would’ve liked to have gotten to know what kind of person could make her feel so simultaneously warm and unnerved. It was a shame, really, that the second Lila opened her mouth, he’d be hating her alongside everyone else. If anything, his arrival heralded a loss of the stability Marinette had finally achieved. What brand of cruelty was Luka capable of inflicting, and would he share those ideas with Lila?
“Hey guys, you can call me Luka. I look forward to studying with everyone this year.” His voice was deep. The way his lips wrapped around each word was slow, calm, and purposeful.
“Surely there is more to you than just your name Mr. Couffaine.” Mrs. Bustier urged when her new student made no effort to continue speaking. “Tell us a bit about yourself. What are your passions outside of school?”
“Well, for a little over a year I traveled with my father with the aim of studying music. Unfortunately, that put me behind in school.” Luka’s head tilted thoughtfully. “We decided I could benefit from finishing out my education in person, rather than through homeschooling. After I graduate, I will join him on his next summer tour. The goal is to produce my own music, someday.”
The class broke out in a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as the budding musician spoke of his life and ambitions.
Marinette had never heard a single note played by Luka, but she was compelled to believe he was talented. His melodic voice, the long, flexible curve of his fingers, and the way his eyes brightened as he shared his dream betrayed true passion. Maybe someday, they’d collaborate together and she’d get to design performance attire for him.
Well…that was if Marinette even managed to get into a University. If her classmates continued destroying her homework as they had over previous years, she might as well kiss her own hopes of ever becoming a designer goodbye.
At least she’d always have Ladybug.
“That is all quite impressive,” Mrs. Bustier praised with a clap of her hands. “I think I speak for us all when I say we can’t wait to spend the year together.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Luka nodded politely.
“Wonderful, let’s get you seated.” The teacher’s eyes began to wander around the room, taking stock of the seats available. Marinette had anticipated the frown on her face when she realized the only available space was next to her.
“Well, I guess you can take a seat next to Marinette–”
The class immediately broke out in an uproar, while Marinette wished the floor would open up and spirit her away.
“Mrs. Bustier, I don’t mind sitting with Marinette,” Lila apprehensively raised a trembling hand.
“Absolutely not!” Alya was the first to voice her outrage. “Girl no, we aren’t going to let you sit back there and get harassed by her all year.”
It still hurt Marinette when Alya supported Lila against her.
“I can sit with Marinette, Ma’am.” Adrien offered.
“Dupain-Cheng will leave a bad smell on you, Adrien,” Chloe snickered. “I’d volunteer Sabrina, but I need her to turn the pages in my textbook for me so I don’t get any papercuts before homecoming. How could I possibly dance with my admirers if my fingers are all torn up?”
Marinette’s head drooped lower and lower until her forehead touched the cold wood of her desk. While the entire class continued to argue back and forth about who would have the misfortune of sitting with her, she was about ready to get up and leave the room entirely. The only solace she received was hidden within the dark cradle of her arms.
That was when Marinette felt a whoosh of air brush against the side of her body. It tickled her nose and smelled of charred wood in a lush forest after rainfall; tinged just so with a musky cologne that was rich and velvety. It warmed Marinette on the inside like a cup of hot tea in the winter, chasing away some of her anxiety.
Hesitantly, Marinette lifted her head and peaked over the soft curve of her bicep. In the seat beside her, Luka had taken it upon himself to begin setting up his desk for the lesson.
When he caught her curious – and maybe a tad suspicious – stare, he merely gave her a warm smile as he continued to pull supplies from his bag.
Most of the class stared at them, while several had already opened their mouths in preparation to voice their concerns. Whatever might’ve been said, however, was stopped by Mrs. Bustier. If their teacher was upset with the seating arrangement, she didn’t care enough to deal with it at that moment. She seemed much more preoccupied with continuing their lesson.
“Hey, it’s nice to meet you…?”
The musician caught Marinette by surprise again when he decided to speak to her. His voice was barely audible, his minty breath a whisper near the shell of her ear that made her shiver at the proximity. The combined assault made her brain momentarily short-circuit, and it took an embarrassingly long amount of time for her to realize he was asking for her name.
“M-M-Marinette.” Marinette would berate herself for that terrible introduction later on that night.
Luka chuckled. “Well, M-M-Marinette,” he teased, not unkindly. “would you like to be friends?”
Marinette blinked once, then twice.
“Are you crazy?!”
That was definitely not what she meant to say…