The Identity Problem •Luka x Reader x Adrien•

Questions

The snowstorm eventually dissipated and the akumatized victim was taken care of. But the cold continued to sweep through Paris the rest of the week, giving me a well-needed excuse to stew inside with my emotions. I never ended up talking to Luka about what had upset me while he was over and he has never been one to push so the topic was dropped. But his calculating looks that he would cast me became far more common. He reminded me of Chat when he looked at me like that. Said hero hadn't shown his face since he caught me crying on the way to the park, which could have been because of the snow that continued to fall.

'I'll deal with it when he stops by on Wednesday.'

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, forcing my gaze back to the front where Ms. Bustier was finishing up her lesson. I traced the tattoo on the muscle of my thumb with my index finger, lazily gazing at the time on the clock above the door. Ten minutes left.

"I think we can end the lesson here. But I have some announcements before you all try to run out."

The class took an audible sigh, and everyone settled back into their seats. Nate scribbled intensely at his latest drawing as Ms. Bustier filed through some papers at her desk. I felt myself sink back into my chair, relaxing slightly. Nate gave me a side eye but didn't stop in his mission to finish his piece before the bell rang.

"Tired?"

I rolled my eyes and flicked him on the side of the head. He swatted my hand away playfully.

"As you know our school will be putting on a play this year."

This directed my attention back to the front, the topic felt familiar for a second before I remembered what Mr. Laurent said when I dropped off the paperwork on my birthday. It felt like forever ago but realistically was only a month ago.

"The auditions are this afternoon in the music room if anyone is interested."
'I was so out of it this week that I must have missed the play announcements.'

I raised an eyebrow and nudged Luka. He replied with a shake of his head 'no', which I deflated a bit at.

"Okay, that should be it. You guys are free to go to lunch."

The class shot to their feet ready to be rid of the classroom for the next hour. I grabbed my lunch bag from underneath the desk when I felt someone tap my arm. When I lifted my head I was met with Nate holding his lunch bag and sketchbook.

"Art room?"

I nodded, and we started to walk down the stairs out of the room. Nate usually sits with Marc during lunch period so they can discuss the progress of the comic they are working on. I've been invited in the past but third wheeling doesn't suit me. On the off chance that Marc is absent or busy, Nate will ask me to keep him company. Big groups like the one I usually sit with overwhelm him so inviting him to my table isn't an option.

By the time I realized I was zoned out, Nate was closing the door to the art room behind us and setting his supplies down on one of the tables. I followed suit and began to lay out my lunch. The art room was organized chaos, to say the least. Photography and drawings hung up everywhere, paintings drying on racks, spray paint on the walls. The entire place oozed creativity and the stained glass projects that hung in the window basked the room in an array of colors.

I pulled out a notebook I kept in my bag where I would scribble possible song lyrics, concepts, and whatever else I could come up with. I slumped in my chair rubbing my temples. Nate cleared his throat across from me, where he was practicing his line art on a figure drawing.

"Hey, what's that for anyway? You're always pulling it out randomly?"

My brain short-circuited at the question.