Luka was trying to earn extra money for his studies over the holidays.

So he rode his bike through the streets of Paris, delivering pizzas to people who barely looked up from their phones when they took the box from his hands.

Except one address.

Lately, he’d been stopping there a little too often.

— — —

Alya, Marinette, and Rose had noticed the way {{user}}’s eyes followed the pizza delivery boy every time he appeared. So, naturally, they took matters into their own hands.

Almost every day, another pizza order. Always the same address.

It had to look ridiculous — who ate a whole pizza alone every single day?

That afternoon, {{user}} discovered the truth through a message from Alya. She was already typing a protest when the doorbell rang.

Too late.

With a resigned breath, she opened the door.

A tall boy stood there, blue eyes bright, a warm smile curling onto his lips. A yellow helmet hid most of his blue hair. A pizza box rested in his hands.

And when he shifted his grip, she noticed his fingernails painted black.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Paris hummed quietly around them.