Starlet • Lukadrien [Miraculous]

Chapter 25 | weekend date

With the final copy of the book sent to the publishers for Adrien and the latest assignment turned in for Luka, the boys had a free weekend. So they decided it was finally time to go out on a proper date, make a trip of things  rather than just grab a coffee at the nearest cafe. So they'd decided to do something interesting and fun, take advantage of Italys ancient history being so well preserved and spend the weekend in Pompeii to explore the ruins. It was something they'd both had on their 'to do now I live in Italy' list for a while now. Rather than a guided tour, they opted to wander around solo so they could take as much time as they wanted looking at the remnants of frescos and temples.

And of course, the cats.

There were at least 40 permanent cat residents of the ruins that were documented and cared for by the security, archeologists and employees. All were so used to the tourists and school field trip groups, they'd lounge on a random ruin and sleep through all the noise. So walk right up to a lucky visitor and rub up on their legs. It seems like no matter the cat, no matter where the cat was from, they could always sense Adrien's cat energy from the miraculous. Because this was the third cat that had trotted over from their napping spot and meowed up at Adrien.

"Ancient history right in front of you, and you're patting the cats" Luka chuckled.

"I can't escape them, if I don't acknowledge them, they'll just follow me" Adrien replied, giving the fluffy grey cat he'd definitely seen in tourist pictures before a scratch behind the ears.

"To be honest, being a ruin cat seems like a pretty good existence"

"A whole city of ruins to hide and nap in, free food, free vet care, pats whenever you want? Perfect life for a cat"

Bidding the cat a farewell to continue its quest for tourist attention, Adrien got back up and re-linked his hand with Luka's to continue the journey through the ancient street. There wasn't a single boring place in these ruins. Every road lead to a new monument. Weather it be the famous first ever beware of the dog sign in recorded history, the temple of Apollo, the preserved bodies of the Vesuvius eruption victims or one of the brothels with spicy paintings still on the walls, there was something around every corner. It was giving Adrien ideas for another book, should be decided to fully lean into the author life. A historical romance between two Pompeiians who die in the eruption and end up excavated by archaeologists in a tight embrace? That would make a beautifully tragic story.

"Oh shit- that's the fresco everyone thinks is Sappho!"

Adrien turned his attention to where Luka was pointing, up on one of the walls of a building was indeed, the famous fresco of a woman with writing equipment that often got associated with queen of the lesbians herself, Sappho.

"I gotta send that to Jules" Luka said, pulling out his phone to snap a picture.

"...huh, so that's actually a Pompeian women... wonder how it ended up being mistaken as Sappho?" Adrien muttered.

"No idea, I'd assume the internet. Someone probably just looked up 'ancient girl' for a picture to add to their paper on Sappho and it ended up spreading from there"

He couldn't help but wonder, what was this woman's real name? She must have lived in this house if her portrait was on the wall. And she was a writer, so she must have been educated and higher class. Was there any record of the names of those who once lived here? Or was her name doomed to die along with the city the day that volcano erupted? Given the name of a famous poet from across the sea and praised as her, even though she wasn't? Her own work rotted away under all the ash...

"I wonder who she really was..." Adrien muttered.

"Whoever she was, bet she never expected some modern French gays to be standing in her house 2000 years later" Luka replied.

"...hm... that'd make a good book"

Luka cracked a smile, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Maybe wait until your current book is on shelves before you start the next one. Don't overwork yourself" he chuckled.

"True. But hey... historical romance with themes of death and your memory lasting 2000 years after it? That sounds like something I could make people cry with" Adrien replied.

"You already made me fucking cry with the first book, do you enjoy torturing me?"

Perhaps THAT was his true calling in life, author of tragic queer romances.

Moving on to the next street of the ruins, and patting yet another cat, led them to an open piazza square where other visitors were looking around at the ruins of arches and the silhouette of mount Vesuvius in the distance. It was a clear, sunny day, but a light cover of clouds scattered the horizon and shrouded the top of the volcano in a mysterious fog. Adrien could just imagine it, being a Roman standing in this very piazza, watching the black smoke billowing from the top of the mountain toward him. How terrifying that would be, how confusing and dreadful. How parents would have rushed to grab their kids and run. People with pets picking them up and booking it. Lovers running hand in hand until the smoke became so thick, they collapsed hand in hand suffocated to death together.

"Imagine if it erupted again... if all of this had to be re-excavated" Luka muttered.

"If I was an archaeologist, I'd be so fucking mad" Adrien replied.

"Oh same. If I had JUST finished excavating a house only for it to get covered AGAIN? I'd be fuming"

"And I'd be... sad. History repeating itself with the same tragedy. Even if now we have the means to evacuate the people who live nearby, and people didn't die, the destruction would still be devastating"

There was something... moving, about standing here. In the ruins of an ancient city, holding his fiancés hand and seeing the remnants of life from so long ago. Victims preserved in embraces, frescos of nameless couples on walls, the houses a married couple lived their lives and raised their children in, the street a solider husband reunited with his family in after a war. And the broken and ash stained pillars of what was once the temple of Venus lying amongst the wild poppies behind a fenced off area. These streets were lived in, houses were homes, people loved each other here, were married in the goddesses temple and had their portraits preserved on the walls. Yet, no one knows their names. What their day to day lives looked like. Things they liked and disliked, wrote and painted on parchment, the name of their pet dog or cat. Sometimes, Adrien wished his name was forgotten with time when his dad got arrested. That his public image died that day, and all this was left of him were the magazine covers he was on and pictures of billboards in the background of someone's Instagram post. That he was of the same status as that woman painted on the wall. Her face survives, her name and life died with time. But he knew that because he was born an Agreste, his name would be in fashiom history books forever, his face on the internet long after he dies... and everyone would know who he was the son of. So all he could do, was remove himself from his father's name while he was alive and leave a better mark on the world than his shit ass dad did.

He'd be remembered as Adrien Couffiane, husband to the musician, an author and mamas boy to both his biological and foster mothers. Not Adrien Agreste, the abused model son of a terrorist. That's not who he was going down in history as. By the time he was 2000 years dead and some archaeologist finds one of his books, they'll read the name Adrien Couffiane, not Adrien Agreste.