The first thing Ha Joon noticed that morning was the silence of the school gate—until it was shattered by the familiar voice of Chloe Bourgeois echoing through the courtyard.
"I can't believe Adrien didn't invite me to his birthday party! I'm his oldest, most loyal friend! If anyone deserves to be there, it's me!"
Sabrina, loyal as ever, gave her a nod like it was gospel. "You're totally right, Chloe. It's so unfair."
Ha Joon lingered in the background, his tall figure casually leaned against the gate, earbuds in but not playing music. His face, effortlessly striking and unreadable, looked carved out of marble. With tousled black hair that swept across one sleepy eye and that cool, almost detached stare, he looked every bit the idol he had been in Korea—before he died. Before he was reborn into this cartoonish universe.
Now, instead of microphones and magazine shoots, he was in a Parisian high school, dressed in dark layers with a hoodie under his uniform jacket, half-hiding from public attention despite his celebrity name.
He pulled one earbud out and let his voice slide into the conversation.
"Maybe Adrien just wanted a party without the guilt trips," he muttered, letting his gaze rest on Chloe with that same neutral, lazy disinterest that always seemed to light her fuse.
Chloe turned to him, arms crossed. "Excuse me? Do you even know how close we are? You've been here five minutes, Korean Idol."
Sabrina giggled but cut it short when Ha Joon's golden eyes flicked toward her.
Ha Joon gave a long, theatrical yawn. "You argue like someone who got left off the guest list and knows why."
Chloe's jaw dropped. "You arrogant—!"
He raised one eyebrow. "Truth hurts, doesn't it, Bourgeois?"
But they both knew this was routine now. She'd snap, he'd push, and they'd walk to class together anyway. There was something oddly grounding in the banter. Chloe, for all her dramatics, was sharp. Mean, sure. Spoiled, definitely. But there was more to her than anyone else bothered to see—and he liked that about her.
They bickered like enemies and stood like friends. Sabrina always tagged along, somewhere in the middle—half minion, half conscience.
By mid-morning, Ha Joon could feel eyes on him. Again.
He glanced up from his desk and caught Marinette looking his way, her lips pressed tight, eyes narrowed slightly.
She looked away the second their eyes met.
Ha Joon sighed inwardly. He didn't have to guess what her problem was.
A moment later, Adrien walked into class, a little late, hair glowing golden in the morning sun.
"Sorry, got held up," he said cheerfully.
Everyone smiled. Everyone always smiled at Adrien.
Including Marinette, who immediately went red and dropped her pen trying to wave back at him.
Adrien sat behind Ha Joon and gave him a polite nod. Ha Joon returned it, but it was mechanical. They respected each other, sure. But Ha Joon could feel that something beneath Adrien's perfect surface didn't quite like him.
Maybe it was the way Ha Joon talked back to Chloe without being mean about it. Or the way he observed instead of adored. Or maybe Adrien saw that Ha Joon knew him too well.
It didn't matter. Ha Joon had been through worse.
During lunch, as they lounged beneath the sun by the fountain, Ha Joon brought it up casually to Chloe.
"Marinette keeps looking at me like she wants to hit me with her sewing machine."
Chloe gave a short laugh. "She probably does. She thinks you're competition for Adrien's attention."
He hummed. "She's barking up the wrong tree."
Chloe stopped, arching a perfectly shaped brow. "Oh?"
Ha Joon looked at her from the corner of his eye, smirking. "Let's just say I'm not exactly a knight-in-shining-armor kind of guy."
"Oh my god." Chloe blinked. Then her eyes lit up with amusement and curiosity. "Wait—you mean you—?"
"Don't make it weird."
Sabrina's eyes doubled in size. "You're—?"
Ha Joon gave a soft shrug. "Not into Adrien. But I am into boys."
There was a silence.
Then Chloe broke into a slow, intrigued smile. "That actually explains a lot."
Sabrina giggled awkwardly. "I never would've guessed…"
Chloe tossed her hair. "I totally guessed."
"No, you didn't," Ha Joon said.
"I felt it spiritually."
"You're insufferable."
"You love it."
He did. Just a little.
By late afternoon, the air had shifted. Rumors spread fast—Adrien's birthday party had been canceled by his father. Nino was crushed. Ha Joon watched him pace the halls, his frustration simmering.
By the time bubbles started popping adults out of the city and floating them sky-high, Ha Joon already knew what was coming.
He, Chloe, and Sabrina hid inside the school, watching the chaos unfold through the window. Blue glowing orbs floated through the sky like lanterns, and in the distance, The Bubbler—Nino, akumatized—stood laughing and free, sending adults into space with each flick of his staff.
Chloe panicked. "Is this a terrorist attack?! Should we be underground?!"
"It's just an overblown tantrum," Ha Joon said calmly.
Sabrina clutched Chloe's hand. "Do you think the heroes will come?"
"They always do."
And they did.
Ladybug and Chat Noir battled across rooftops and through streets, the glowing trail of bubble explosions lighting up the city behind them. Ladybug spun, dodged, leapt like poetry in motion. Chat Noir was less elegant, more brute and charm, but he had style.
Eventually, Ladybug snagged the staff with her yoyo, purified the akuma, and saved the day. It was the same as always—but watching it unfold in real time still made Ha Joon feel like a spectator in a world that only looked like fiction.
The city resumed. The party was back on. Adrien's rooftop was decorated with music, lights, and life.
Ha Joon stood near the edge, arms folded, eyes drifting across the crowd. Chloe and Sabrina were by the snacks. Marinette was circling Adrien, fumbling a paper-wrapped gift like it was made of live bees. Alya recorded it all.
He felt… removed.
Until he saw him.
Luka Couffaine.
Ha Joon's heart stopped for half a beat. Luka was walking across the rooftop, guitar on his back, calm as still water.
He looked exactly like Ha Joon remembered. Soft eyes, sea-glass calm. Effortlessly cool.
Ha Joon froze in place.
Kuma.
That was what he used to call him. The boy who suffered quietly. The one who got pushed aside while Marinette chased dreams she didn't understand. The one who deserved better.
And now—he was here.
Luka caught his eye and gave a small, polite nod.
Ha Joon blinked and managed a nod in return.
Later, he found Luka tuning his guitar by the speakers.
"Hey," Ha Joon said, stepping up slowly. "You play beautifully."
Luka looked up. "Thanks. You're Ha Joon, right? The idol?"
"Guilty."
"I liked your debut track. Really clean progression."
Ha Joon blinked. "You listened?"
"I like music. Doesn't matter where it comes from."
They talked. Nothing deep. Just mutual appreciation.
But when Luka smiled—it felt like sunlight warming something Ha Joon didn't realize had gone cold.
He didn't say too much. Didn't try anything.
But he knew.
This was the start.
---
That night, back in his apartment, Ha Joon kicked his shoes off and collapsed onto the couch. He immediately FaceTimed Kyle, his manager, who answered half-asleep.
"You're calling me at midnight. What happened?"
"I met him," Ha Joon whispered.
"Who?"
"Luka."
Kyle rubbed his eyes. "Oh god, not this again."
"He's so… pretty. And his voice. His voice sounds like a lullaby wrapped in velvet. And his hands—"
"Stop describing him like a wine label."
Ha Joon laughed into the pillow.
"I'm gonna marry him."
"You say that every month."
"No, I mean it this time."
"You don't even know him yet!"
"I will."
Kyle groaned. "I hate you."
Ha Joon smiled, already planning what to wear the next time he might see Luka.
Because this time, he was in the story—and he wasn't going to let it end the same way again.
--