The Identity Problem •Luka x Reader x Adrien•

Breath

I pick up the stack of papers to carry back for him. He puts a hand on my shoulder and regards me cheekily. A hint of his usual cheer came out.

"You're still my star student, and I'll always be there to look after you."

I don't verbally reply, but I reach up my hand and give him a squeeze where it sits. This is enough to reassure him, and we begin the trek back to the music room.

The band's practices have moved inside while the weather has still been cold. Snow doesn't mix well with instruments, and while I never had to come to band practices. It fell into my routine, even before we left for New York. It gave me time to focus on songwriting, and at the moment I have an inflation of material.

The band is currently in the process of working out the kinks in the chorus of a new song. Marinette and I sit to the side on a pile of beanbags, she's working on stitching a skirt made of sewn-together ties. Her sketchbook is laid out in front of her with a travel sewing kit.

I catch myself staring for a while as her fingers move nimbly across the fabrics.

"Something I can help you with?"

Marinette doesn't look up from her work, but she can't help the smirk that crawls across her face.

"Nothing, just admiring your talent. Who taught you to sew?"

She sighs wistfully.

"My mother, and her mother before her, and so on. It just always ran in my family."

"That and killer cookies."

She giggles at this and sets her project on her knee momentarily.

"And what are you working on?"

"A song."

"Will I ever hear any of these mystery songs, or are you ghostwriting for Jagged Stone?"

This has been a game we've played in the past. She eggs me on, and I play hooky about singing a song for her. To be fair, we're in a friend group that doesn't shy away from sharing our musical talents.

"I don't know, this one is...different?"

"Different how?"

I glanced down at the filled pages of my note book. The same one that had Nathenial questioning me to the point of revealing my alter ego. Since then I haven't shied away from being honest about what it was for. Writing songs didn't mean I was Echo, it's just something we would theoretically have in common.

"This one's a personal one."

"Aren't they all?"