#luxyweek2020

[lllluka]

A LUXY Conversation with a Debatable Amount of Eye Contact

Been doing assignments and exams all week, so I’m doing all my LUXY week content late. Here’s my day one (on day 5 lol). ‘Eye Contact’. @luxyweek .

This is the same Universe as: 

1. ‘THIS IS WHY XY ISN’T ALLOWED TO WEAR SHIRTS WITH TEXT ON THEM’ - A comedy oneshot about a shirt selection gone awry. 

2. ‘ ONESHOT ’ - In which Bob Roth and Anarka Couffaine are now ‘drinking buddies’ and XY stays over on the houseboat. Luka hates him. Luka hates him SO much. 

3. ‘THIS IS WHY LUKA SHOULDN’T LOSE HIS MIND AND COOK DINNER’

 - A chaotic comedy/unique horror crack-scenario from the POV of a 26 y/o Marinette.

From start to finish this experience had been living Hell for Luka, and as more and more time passed by, Luka began to mirror his feelings about this whole ordeal with his body language; leaning on doorways, brooding, with his arms folded- sitting near Bob and his mother as they attempted to play poker on the deck, with his guitar, but ONLY electing to ‘tune’. At some points it seemed as though Bob was about ready to say something in reaction to his purposeful intermissions, but Anarka somehow managed to grasp the old man’s attention back whenever his moustache-endowed lips begged to open.

The worst part about Bob and Anarka hanging out so much recently, wasn’t even the presence of the producer in his home space. For the most part, Bob just minded his business and didn’t really acknowledge Anarka’s adult live-in son. It was Bob’s OWN live-in son that was actually the problem, and this was specifically because the SOB (Son of a Bob) had not only brazenly stolen his band’s music, pissed off his former love, AND gotten him Akumatized on multiple occasions, but was now rubbing his decorated fingers all over Luka’s equipment. He figured, save from physical violence, the best he could do was try to drive the company away at the source, hence the live tuning entertainment, but… there was apparently no budging.

One particular night, after playing the same four-note riff about a quarter of a thousand times, Luka begrudgingly picked up his guitar and headed downstairs to call it a night. Now, as much has he’d been worried about XY snooping about and digging through his equipment, it hadn’t occurred to him until now just what an inattentive, easily distractible person could do to his bedroom. The air was suddenly deathly quiet, as his footsteps creaked the pastel floorboards, body allowing for an involuntary shudder as he approached the poorly-designed door handle to his bedroom. After hefting the majority of his bodyweight into it, he opened the door.

Luka just about had a heart attack when he realised XY was not there. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He worked out how to turn the doorhandles? He’d just figured Xavier was too stupid to consider turning it with both hands. So much for that, it’s not like that guy could not be trusted on such a delicate vehicle-slash-home. God forbid the asshole got into the controls or sunk the boat.

It was definite. He had to be found, and that was not an action Luka had voluntarily elected for in the past. Though there was an extreme sense of urgency, Luka, of course, did not forget to stop and gently tuck his guitar under the sheets of his bed—leaning over once the instrument looked cosy, to kiss it good night. The strings rung out in tangy appreciation, and that’s how he knew he did a good job. God, he’d make a great father- but that was a thought for later. NOW, at least, he should probably redirect his attention to finding the hidden celebrity.

Just as he rammed back through the door, he saw the guy. Xavier was just standing there, staring blankly, with a half-eaten cup of noodles in one hand, and chopsticks in the other.

“What are you looking for?” He inquired, twisting more noodles onto his chopsticks. Luka stared egregiously at the man, first thinking ‘he’s eating my food’, and then ‘he can use chopsticks??’. He would have figured, with the guy being XY and all, he would have just mistaken them for, like, rectal thermometres or something. …You know, after consideration, he should probably start hiding everything that a second-grader wouldn’t recognise. Especially eating utensils.

“You.” Luka replied cautiously, a hand lingering on the doorframe. To be honest, he was still completely spun from the situation, and watched at half-attention as XY continued slurping up the ‘dles.

“That’s sweet. Want an autograph?” After blowing out the steam of his last bite, XY pecked an air kiss in Luka’s general direction, although his eyes were still fully focal on the food. It irritated Luka a lot, that the guy didn’t even have the decency to look him in the eye when he mock-kissed at him. Like, really. Where is the etiquette? Didn’t XY learn this in bully school? Luka bit the inside of his cheek for a moment.

“No thanks, I’m fine.” The words were civil, the tone was tense. It at least earned a double-brow raise from the disk jockey, but still no eye-contact.

“You know,” Xavier began, “you’re really mean to me.” Luka was more than taken aback. He had never been called mean in his LIFE. Not by anybody, and not at any point. He felt his flesh freeze under his skin, stomach wobbling with tense anxiety. The worst part about it was that he couldn’t even say that it was untrue. He’d been nothing but a jerk to XY since he’d gotten there, and even before. …Maybe they had some old beef, and he didn’t care for Xavier’s taste, but… he had to admit, out of the two of them, the guy had been pretty civil this whole time.

‘Oh God’, Luka realised. ‘The asshole might have been me all along’. It was physically nauseating to him, and he struggled to find anything to say. All he could do was stare intensely at the guy.

At the silence, Xavier finally lifted his gaze, double-taking-in Luka’s stunned face with pleasure.

“See! You totally know it too! I knew I wasn’t wrong!” He seemed delighted to have struck a chord (haha). Luka swallowed, shaking his head through throbbing confusion.

“I’m not mean.” It was the only thing he could think to say, though it was tense, almost like a question. XY nodded, getting through another mouthful of noodles.

“No, I know. I didn’t say you were mean, I said you were mean to me.” He elaborated, moving to rest his shoulder on the doorframe, next to Luka’s hand. “And because I know that you’re, like, this SUPER goody-goody guy to everybody else, it’s kinda, like… twice as mean that you’re only being like this to me.”

The shock didn’t fade in Luka, but the already-seated distaste for XY caused him to swallow the guilt for a singular moment. “I’m just being myself. It’s pretty hard to get me to dislike somebody, but, yeah, someone being amoral is one of the things I can’t stand.” …He couldn’t forget. XY was worse, and in action. He was a thief, and a liar, and a senseless egotist who didn’t care about music, or other people. “You’re the one who’s… mean.”

Xavier didn’t flinch. His voice fluttered away, casual as can be.

“Yeah, I’m mean, but I’m not mean to you.”

The polar opposite of Luka, apparently. …And yeah, maybe there was a point there. He’d been suspiciously tame around Luka, despite being incredibly judgemental of everybody else. No where near what Luka had anticipated when he’d found out he’d be in the presence of XY again.

He wondered why that was.

“…Yeah, but why?” Well, that was an easy way to coax an answer. Maybe he was just too lazy to fight with him, or… maybe XY was, like, in love with him or something, like that lady that kept ordering pizzas at his last job.

He scrunched his face at the thought.

XY shrugged, draining the cup of its broth and then moving to place it on a barrel within arms-reach.

“That’s not an answer.” Well, not really. At least not one that satiated Luka’s curiosity. With a pained sigh, Xavier waved his hands back and forth like he was using his hands for invisible pinball. He seemed to be considering his reasoning.

“…I don’t know, dude. I just don’t feel like that toward you. …I mean, it’s not you, it’s me. I just need a little time to focus on myself-“

“You don’t feel... mean toward me? Wh---Are you using breakup lines?” Luka stared incredulously. A light in XY’s mind popped, and bright realisation appeared on his face.

“Oh, shaa! I guess I was just copying my old convos.”

It took all of Luka’s willpower to not slug XY right in the face. His fists balled, but he let out a long breath. One of these days, he really should to get back into meditation, lest he be in jail for hot-blooded murder due to some rage fit.

“…XY-“

“It’s because I respect you.”

Luka paused, opening his eyes to meet a strong blue gaze from the other artist.

“What?” Wire-pitched numbness took over the fuzz in the guitarist’s head.

“Your music, and stuff. …Like, it was good enough for someone like me to draw inspiration from.” XY shrugged once again. ‘Inspiration’, yeah, right. He tried that line years ago as well, if he recalled correctly. …Still, there was something weirdly flattering about it.

“Oh.” Thanks. Say thanks, Luka. “………What the fuck.”

That wasn’t it. …But still, the unexpected reaction made XY laugh out loud, chuckling hysterically in waves that he evidently couldn’t contain. Luka watched blankly at his reaction, his neck feeling itchy all of a sudden, and his face very red- a reaction surprisingly hard to evoke within him.

When he watched XY straighten his posture and finally wipe the tears from his eyes, a smile of his own peeked out, but soon faded to neutral in stubbornness; a natural response, whenever Xavier made eye-contact.