Oh No, He’s Hot.
The world was still frozen.
Paris remained in its stuck-in-time state—softly lit, perfectly framed, NPCs mid-step in their pre-scripted lives. The air itself was unnervingly still, as if the universe was waiting for Adrien specifically to process what just happened.
Which, to be clear, he could not.
Because Luka Couffaine was still staring at him.
Not moving. Not reacting. Just locked in an eternal gaze, blue eyes impossibly calm, impossibly patient.
And the word Bisexual were still flashing in Adrien’s mind like an emergency alert.
[System Alert: Love Route Unlocked!]
Adrien swallowed.
Unbidden, his model-trained instincts kicked in.
Assess. Analyze. Observe.
From a purely professional standpoint, of course.
Luka Couffaine: A Study in Aesthetics (Not That Adrien Was Looking, Shut Up)
Okay. Objectively speaking, Luka was attractive.
…Like, in a carelessly effortless, dangerously cool way.
His dark blue-dyed hair was fluffy, well-maintained—not at all greasy or unkempt, despite the "tortured musician" aesthetic. It fell just right, brushing his cheekbones without looking like it had been intentionally styled.
His ear piercings—multiple of them, by the way—glinted in the streetlights, catching Adrien’s eye as he trailed downward.
Long, thick, dark eyelashes framed his absurdly blue eyes. Which Adrien was NOT jealous of, okay?! He just happened to have blond ones, which meant they looked practically nonexistent, and that was totally unfair.
And then—his arms.
Even beneath the worn leather jacket, Adrien could tell.
Luka was packing muscle.
Not the bulky kind, but lean, well-defined strength—the kind that came from actual activity, not just a personal trainer screaming at you for an hour.
And Adrien, for some reason, had already turned red, gaze lingering just a little too long as Luka’s arms flexed, effortless and natural, shifting under the weight of the guitar case slung over his shoulder.
Unconsciously, his tongue darted out, wetting his lips.
…Which was unfortunate timing—
Because that was the exact moment the System decided to drop another nightmare into his life.
[Dialogue Choice Unlocked!]
🗨️ "So… uh… come here often?" (HELP, WHY DID HE SAY THAT.)
🗨️ "Wow. You are... a guy." (Brilliant. So articulate. Truly a poet.)
🗨️ "Hey, you know my name. I think it’s a little unfair I don’t know yours." (WHY WOULD HE FLIRT?! ABORT. ABORT.)
Regrettably for Adrien, his hyper-focused, model-trained eyes caught another detail he absolutely did not need to notice.
Luka had a snake bite piercing.
A snake bite piercing.
Oh. Oh, no.
That really—really—shouldn’t be as stupidly attractive as it felt.
His brain short-circuited. All that was going through his head was Adghjfklakjfdhjdksalskfjhnghhhhhhhh.
Why was it so attractive? Was this a thing he was into now? Was this a problem? Was he having a crisis?
His gaze lingered—too long—on Luka’s lips, tracking the way the metal glinted in the soft glow of the Paris streetlights.
Oh, god. This was a problem.
And in that exact moment of absolute weakness, distracted by Luka’s piercing, his finger accidentally selected the third option.
"Hey, you know my name. I think it’s a little unfair I don’t know yours." He said winking.
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Adrien’s soul left his body.
Oh.
Oh, no.
WHAT. WHAT. WHY DID HE SAY THAT.
He wanted—needed—to take it back.
The System, of course, would not allow it.
Luka’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk curling at the corners of his stupidly pretty mouth.
"Oh really.?" Luka murmured, tilting his head slightly, appraising. "Guess I should fix that, huh?"
Adrien stopped breathing.
No. No, no, no. That was too smooth. TOO SMOOTH.
Abort. ABORT.
Luka took a small step closer.
"I’m Luka," he said, voice soft and way too gentle for the way Adrien’s heart was now POUNDING OUT OF HIS CHEST.
Chat Noir let out an awkward, high-pitched laugh that he didn’t even recognize as his own.
“Haha— is that so? Nice to meet you,” he said, trying very hard to sound normal and not like he had just been staring at his lips for the past 5 minutes.
Luka tilted his head slightly, amused.
Chat’s tail twitched behind him involuntarily.
“Uh, don’t suppose you heard any of my crazy ranting?” Adrien asked, desperate to steer this into normal waters before he combusted.
Luka’s lips twitched. “Only the end of it,” he admitted.
Adrien physically exhaled in relief.
“Oh, thank god,” he mumbled. “Then you missed the—”
“Something about how wild it is that two teenagers are running around Paris in skintight suits?” Luka finished smoothly.
Adrien froze.
Luka’s gaze flickered down, slow, appraising. Up. Down. Back up again.
And then— smirk.
“I’m not complaining, though,” Luka added, eyes glinting under the streetlights.
Chat Noir whimpered.
After Luka’s criminally smooth line and that absolutely illegal smirk, Adrien’s brain went into full shutdown mode.
He had no thoughts. No backup plans. Nothing.
Just pure, unfiltered gay panic.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out.
The System, of course, was absolutely no help.
[System Alert: Affection Points +10]
[Luka Couffaine is intrigued by you.]
[New Route Progress: 5%]
Adrien’s breath hitched.
Wait.
Wait, wait, WAIT.
Something wasn’t right.
His eyes darted back to the system notification, rereading it with a mounting sense of dread.
[Affection Points +10]
[Luka Couffaine is intrigued by you.]
[New Route Progress: 5%]
New Route Progress??
Adrien’s stomach dropped.
It wasn’t saying Marinette’s route progress.
It wasn’t giving him updates on how much she liked him.
It was giving him updates on how much Luka liked him.
Which meant—
No.
Oh no.
OH NO.
Adrien’s tail bristled as realization slammed into him with the weight of a thousand bricks.
The System wasn’t tracking Marinette’s routes.
IT WAS TRACKING HIS.
Because he—not Marinette—was now the protagonist.
He was the main character.
The one unlocking routes.
The one being pursued.
Adrien staggered back in horror.
For weeks, he had thought he was just playing a reluctant role in Marinette’s love life, some unlucky NPC forced into the tangled mess of her scripted romance paths.
But no.
No.
The moment he had entered this world, the entire game had shifted.
HE was the one people were falling for.
HE was the one being fought over.
HIS affection points were the ones rising.
HIS route progress was being tracked.
HIS face was on the metaphorical cover of the inescapable dating sim hell he now called life.
The universe had flipped the script.
Adrien Agreste wasn’t competing with anyone for Marinette’s affection.
Everyone was competing for him.
His tail shuddered behind him in abject terror.
He was the prize.
HE WAS THE PRIZE?!
Luka tilted his head, eyes glinting as he watched Adrien’s entire world collapse in real time.
“…You okay, Chat Noir?”
Adrien smiled weakly at Luka, a strained, nervous twitch of the lips that barely qualified as a smile.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “Totally fine.”
Luka didn’t look convinced.
Adrien, however, wasn’t paying attention anymore.
Because as he stared at Luka’s face—his annoyingly pretty, frustratingly handsome, unfairly cool face—the weight of his new reality slammed into him like a truck.
Wait.
Wait.
Didn’t this mean…?
If he was the protagonist now—
And Luka was one of the capture targets—
And the System was literally tracking his affection levels—
Then—
…Oh no.
Oh no no no.
His brain short-circuited.
Did this mean he and Luka could—
NO. STOP. BAD BRAIN. ABORT.
His fingers twitched where they rested at his sides, his tail flicking erratically behind him like a broken metronome.
This was a game.
A game with predetermined love routes, forced scripted moments, and arbitrary affection points that decided for people how they felt.
Even if—even if—Luka did like him (oh god no, don’t even finish that thought), how would he know it was real?
How would he know it wasn’t just the System pushing them together, shoving Luka down a pre-programmed romance arc for player engagement?
Adrien’s ears flattened against his head.
His first crush (OH GOD THIS WAS HIS FIRST CRUSH) and it was on a 2D turned 3D boy with soulful eyes and a soft voice and piercings that were stupidly hot and a guitar case slung over his back like he was straight out of Given.
This sucks. This sucks SO BAD.
My life is a joke.
Meanwhile, Luka just continued to watch him as Adrien’s eyes glazed over, his entire existence spiraling into an internal wailing void of confusion and suffering.
“…You sure?” Luka asked slowly, brow furrowing in concern.
Adrien did not respond.
He was too busy staring past Luka into the endless abyss of his own misery.