Salut, Ca Va? {Luka x Reader! Miraculous Ladybug AU]

On His Knees

(this phot makes me giggle. I love it.)

"No, no, you're doing it wrong."

"What?" You said, annoyed. "How else am I supposed to do it?"

"I've tried telling you, but you aren't listening." He said, equally as annoyed. "Jagged wants you to do it like this—"

"But I can't do it like that. I didn't learn it like that!" You argued back.

Luka groaned, pressing his hands into his face as he did so, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. "Why is this so hard?" he said. He took off one hand, his face twisted in annoyance as his free hand remained poised above his face, as if he was giving up. "Really, I promise, it isn't that hard."

"Why do I need to relearn how to write scores?" You said, taking the paper back from him, angrily erasing the pencil marks on the paper.

"It's just how Jagged wants it done." He replied, watching you erase the paper. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Yes, but I learned it this way. What is the point of relearning everything?"

"Because—Dear lord in heaven, strike me now." Luka sighed. "Why are you making this so hard?"

"I promise you, I'm not." You brushed off the eraser crumbs, redoing the treble in the corner as Luka took his pencil back in hand. "Why do I need to relearn this, anyways?"

"Ghost writing, more or less." Luka said, sitting back. He spun his pencil in his hand, staring intently at the paper under him. "Jagged has a distinct writing style that is distinguishable from the rest. It's how he made it so far in the music world."

"I thought he wrote his own stuff."

"Oh, he still does, but we learn just in case. Y'know, if he breaks his fingers or something in a freak accident. Did you know that he has an insurance claim for his fingers?" Luka sighed again, leaning back over the paper as he nimbly copied your previous score. "50,000 euro for each one. He keeps joking that he was going to break his fingers just for the payoff."

You sifted out a soft laugh, as Luka refocused back onto the task at hand. The afternoon came quick, with the rain dying out into a dark afternoon, only an hour away from closing time. Luka came back from the lunch break different, kind of disassociate. The two of you have been arguing all afternoon, and you think it was because of Chapter 3. That, and the fact that the start of your wonderful stay in Paris was beginning to look like a disaster.

Luka sat a chair away at the small table, right across from you. His feet touched yours, but he barely moved. Hunched over the desk, the both of you worked on your scores well throughout the day, barely taking breaks between. Your hands were beginning to cramp, and you had a perilous headache coming.

You stopped to take a sip of water from the glass beside you, and Luka again sighed, leaning against his hand for support as he wrote.

"You alright?" You asked, breaking the silence between you.

"Hm? Yeah." He said after a moment, not breaking concentration. "I'm fine. Just frustrated."

"Still thinking about earlier?"

"Yeah." He said. "It has irked me all day."

"Wanna talk about it?" You offered.

 Luka just shook his head. "Nah."

The room returned to silence as you set your glass of water back down, settling back into the rhytmen that Luka tapped out in his pencil, obviously stuck.