{Est-ce l'amour?} Miraculous ladybug AU! LukaxReader

Is This Love?

At the bottom of the steps etched a date.

It was in French, names and a rough sentence that you didn't understand. You didn't understand French as well as your mother did, listening to her talk to the movers fluently as boxes slid across the floor and heavy footsteps echoing into the empty house.

Your new house.

While your little brother sat beside you, he had his eyebrows knitting together as he stared at the date, the date he found himself being a crazy child with bounds of energy and excitement from a new move and hours of sitting in place.

He knew French more fluently than you did, and yet here he was, stumped.

Leon looked on as he reached his little dirty finger out, running his nail over the carved names in an attempt to translate it, with no luck.

"Confused?" You asked him.

"Yeah." He mumbled. His dirty fingers poked at the edge of the markings, tilting his head like a confused puppy . It was your job to watch your brother as he explored your new house, filled with memories of an old family, which went by the last name of...Couffaine. Cocaine? Coffee? What did it mean?

"Whatcha looking at, sweets?' Your mother called, eyeing the two of you suspiciously, as if you had already broken something in your new house. "Did you find another spider?"

Your mother came over, carrying a box with a disgusted look on her face. She never really liked spiders. Wearing her old dusty apron, wearing her garden boots around the house, she folded her dress over her knees as she sat next to you, smiling down at your brother Leon.

"Mom, there's this weird note underneath the steps." Leon called back, not bothering to take his eyes from the blue whitewashed billboard, scuffed from years of obvious use.

"Lemme see." Your mother swayed over, carrying a box full of research books about different herbs and plants, setting it down beside you as she leaned between. Her long locks of hair hung in loose ringlets around her face, her (E/C) eyes peering quizzing at the writing.

"June 24, 2005." Your mother read first. "Oh, it's a date!"

"Yeah, we have that part!" Your brother whined. "But what does the writing say?"

He pointed to the etched words underneath the date, and your mother peered again.

"Oh, honey, even I cant tell. It's so worn. It must've been here for years." She sighed, and she ran her thumb over the writing gently. She must have seen the disappointed look on your face, because she went back in to take a second look at the etch under the first step.

"-But there are names. Look." Your mother pointed to the dirty scratched names, directly beside the date.

"Juleka Couffaine, Luka Couffaine and... Anarka Couffaine." Your mom giggled. "Interesting names."

"They must have owned the house before we bought it." Your dad chimed in, struggling to carry three boxes to the kitchen. The family kettle sat peeking from one of those boxes, threatening to tip. "The realtor who sold it to us said it was owned by a sailor and his family."

"A sailor?" Leon chimed in, wide eyed and excited. He turned to look at your mom, who only laughed again. "Yes. A sailor." She repeated. She stroked the back of his head lovingly, running her nails through his long blonde locks as he turned his gaze back to the words on the wall, sitting in the little blue overalls, his socks and shoes strayed somewhere in the house. Leon wasn't very old, only five years old, but he looked so much like your mom already, it was no joke.

"The house must have a lot of mysteries to it!" Your father suddenly encouraged, picking the box back up from beside you as your mom stood up, brushing off the dust that accumulated on the hem of her shirt. "Why don't you take your brother and go explore the new house? You guys can pick which rooms you want from upstairs."

"I want the big one!" Leon suddenly shouted, sitting up and tumbling off towards the steps, almost too little to completely climb them without your help. You merely followed after him, feeling warm and admittedly, kind of excited.

The upstairs was just as ordinary, and the entire house was painted baby blue, spare for one bedroom that was painted purple. It smelled faintly of incense and oil, which made it even more homey and welcoming, as if the family who lived here still lingered. The family must have been very loving here, as their memory remained in the walls.

It was a perfect location, stacked in the hills a few miles from the heart of Paris. The house itself was small, smaller than the house you used to have in your home country, but with it came memories from another family. There was a garden out front, and a yard that has signs of being heavily played in. the shed outside was bare and alone, and the sun felt warm coming from above.

As Leon ran from room to room, shouting nonsense, you picked through each room. Three bedrooms, a bathroom and a locked door that probably lead upstairs to an attic or a crawlspace, probably filled with secrets.

The locked door had scratches on the bottom of the beam, old and mysterious. You stood before it for a second and tried to pry it open, but it didn't budge one bit. Where is the key? You wanted to ask your dad for a key, if he had one, since he was given the full set before you moved in fully from a woman with long grey hair. You were going to ask him much later, when he was not barking orders at the movers angrily.

You followed Leon from room to room instead, taking in the sights of Paris, missing home more than ever.

You moved from H/C, into a little home perfect for all four of you. The only reason you had to move to Paris was because of your mother, who had a new job opportunity open up overseas. While she found a home close to Paris, she would make the commute back and forth to her new job in the office downtown. She looked for a place inside the city limits but found that it was practically impossible. The only available apartment was a studio above a bakery.

It was whatever. It was cool, to think that you lived in Paris, officially French citizens, minus the language part. You wished you had your friends back home to be here with you, your comfort in life completely gone. Not to be dramatic, but...

It sucked.

You sighed and plopped yourself down in one of the bedrooms facing the street, next to a large Sequoia in the middle of the tiny front lawn. The room smelled like dust and oil, seeping into every crack of the home. The room itself was bare, but posters used to hang on the walls, and there was evidence of a child living in this room. Probably no older than Leon, maybe a bit older.

It was cool in this room, giving you goosebumps while you stared at the walls, listening to Leon run in circles from room to room by himself.

The view from the window, though? That was something to die for.

In the distance, only a few miles off, you could see the Eiffel tower, small but glorious in its full valor on a partially cloudy day, shimmering in light and what you called tourist glamor. It nestled between the other buildings, but not overshadowed by them, as the shadows it casted onto the street as the clouds passed by made a bigger mark than the tower itself.

This was your home now, and in a few days, you were going to register at this new school located right downtown.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. 

(I grew up in the forests and mountains. Where did you grow up)