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“So?” Chat asks, retracting his baton and letting his legs dangle off the edge of the roof. “How’s it like?”
“Huh?”
Ladybug blinks.
She turns to look at him, his usual lopsided smile on his face. Except this time, it’s softer, less pronounced. It’s late out and they’re both tired from the patrol, from school, from living, because the world doesn’t stop moving. Not even for superheroes. But it’s these moments, when the two of them meet halfway at their spot in front of the Eiffel Tower, that she feels like everything pauses, even just for a while.
“Not paying attention again, Ladybug?” Chat laughs, throwing his head back to stare at the night sky. He hasn’t been calling her nicknames lately, and she wonders how much longer it’ll take to get used to the uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach. “You wound me.”
“Oh please,” Ladybug says, rolling her eyes, but the smile playing on her lips says otherwise. “It’ll take much more than that to burst your ego, kitty.”
“So, answer my question then.”
“Mind repeating it for me?”
“How’s it like,” he says, slowly this time, drawing his knees to his chest, “being the Guardian?”
The mood sobers up almost immediately. Ladybug focuses her attention on the Eiffel Tower instead, watching the way it shines and fills the city with light. Even as Marinette, the presence of the monument has always reassured her, something permanent and real tying her back down. If she reaches out, she feels like she can almost grab onto it, ground herself in this moment. But she looks at her hand, covered in a shiny red and black spotted suit, and she stops.
Ladybug sucks in a breath, shaking her head.
“About that… isn’t it funny, Chat?”
“Not fair,” he whines at how she dodges the question, but curiosity is bound to kill the cat because he tilts his head, letting her continue her thought. “What’s funny?”
“Being superheroes.”
Chat stares at her.
“Ha… ha?” he tries, cautiously, waits another moment, before asking, “Where’s the punchline?”
“Not funny as in a joke, funny as in…” Ladybug licks her lips, closes her hand into a fist, and brings it back down to her side. “You’d think the mask would be an escape. We get to be superheroes, travel around the city – the world – like no one else can. We get powers, too.”
She’s not sure why she’s telling him all of this, but the words come out faster than she can think them over, words pushing up from her stomach and out her mouth. She can hear the rush of her heartbeat in her ears.
“The weight of Paris is on our shoulders. And sometimes… sometimes,” she says, in a small voice, “I miss being a regular teenage girl. No mask. Nothing.”
“Does being the Guardian make you sound wiser, too?” Chat teases, knocking his shoulder into hers. “Or are you just getting older?”
“Chat,” she chides, only half-serious.
There’s a pause as he lets the words sink in, and Ladybug fidgets in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, letting her fingers tap against the tiling of the rooftop.
“It’s not weird, you know,” Chat says, finally. “Not wanting to be a superhero all the time.”
“Do you ever feel like that?”
He hums, contemplating. “Maybe not the same way you do.”
It’s a vague answer from a straightforward person. Now that she thinks about it, there’s a lot about Chat she doesn’t know, and in retrospect, that’s her fault, but she can’t help but want to know the meaning behind his words. It’s an entirely selfish feeling, how the more Chat pulls back, the more Ladybug wants to push forward. She swallows it down.
“I understand, though,” Chat continues, “It’s a secret for a reason, right? But…”
“But?”
“Without the mask, we wouldn’t be here, would we?” He turns and looks at her. “I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. So, a couple of responsibilities here and there don’t seem so bad.”
It’s so Chat Noir that it almost makes her giggle and push him away, but she does none of that, feeling her cheeks heat up and her breath catch in her throat. She forgets he has this effect on her, too.
“You’re right,” she says. “Maybe you’re the one that got wiser.”
“Call me Monsieur Noir,” he says, grinning. He crosses his arms and sticks his chin up in a pompous way that reminds her of Chloe and all the other elite in Paris.
This time, she does shove his shoulder, and he gives a pathetic “ouch” before they both dissolve into laughter. And that’s the thing about Chat, how he knows exactly what to say to make her feel better. Suddenly, she’s not so tired anymore.
“So, being the Guardian, huh?” she says, thoughtfully, returning to the initial subject after the laughs die down and they’re surrounded by a comfortable silence. “I don’t even know where to start. Master Fu didn’t really prepare me for this.”
It’s only been a few days since Hawkmoth’s big attack, and Ladybug’s still getting used to seeing the Miracle Box take up a spot in her room. Tikki’s respected her time to adjust, but she’s overheard the hushed whispers between Tikki and Wayzz on her balcony about next steps, the surrealness of the situation overwhelming and a bit suffocating. But as much as she wants Master Fu back, he’s not around to stop her from opening up to Chat. And out of everyone, he knows their situation better than anyone else could.
His eyes widen, and she feels a pang of guilt as she realizes maybe they’ve been keeping him in the dark for too long. “But he let you choose the new heroes, didn’t he?”
“That’s all, really,” Ladybug admits, frustration slipping into her voice, “And it’s not like I can ask him for more help.”
“I mean, he left you the Miracle Box for a reason,” Chat says, leaning back until he’s sprawled out on the roof, arms hooked behind his neck. His voice is soft when he continues, “He trusted you.”
She frowns. “He trusted you, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re you, and I’m…” he trails off. His gaze is fixed on the moon, an unreadable expression on his face.
“An amazing partner,” Ladybug cuts him off. “I’m not kidding, Chat.”
He’s still silent, and she spends the next minute collecting any and every example she can remember, because after everything he’s done for her, even tonight, she knows there’s no one who she works better with than—
“You’re serious tonight, Ladybug,” he says, finally, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. Then, he turns to her, grinning. “But thanks.”
The rehearsed list of reasons dies in her throat. Ladybug nods instead, tries to forget the fluttery feeling in her stomach, focuses on anything else for the time being.
Right, she thinks, being the Guardian.
“Where do we even go from here?” She sighs, resting her head in her hands. The Miracle Box can’t be safe in her room for much longer, and if Chat ever needs access to it, explaining why it’s in Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s house of all places sounds like a headache. Not to mention that Hawkmoth had effectively dissolved their superhero team, so they’ll have to reassemble a new one if they want to stand a chance in future battles. “And Hawkmoth knows too much, now. It’s like we’re starting over from scratch.”
“Nah, starting over from scratch would be worse,” Chat says. “Remember how bad you were at scaling buildings?”
“Like you were any better.” Ladybug snorts at the memory, first meetings and tangled limbs, but her worries still run rampant through her mind.
“You’re forgetting something, though,” he says, like he’s read her mind. “We have something Hawkmoth doesn’t have.”
She tilts her head, raises an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Each other. We’re strongest when we work together.” He sits back up, bringing his fist up in their celebratory ‘pound it’ pose. “So, let’s give it our all, Ladybug.”
Staring at him, his words comforting her in ways she can never explain, Ladybug feels at ease. Like instinct, she returns the fist-bump, a smile on her face. At the end of the day, it always came down to this, to them. Things weren’t so different at the start, either, when they were just two people with brand new powers and no plan. Chat Noir was there for her back then, too.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, too,” she says, suddenly. “About everything we’ve worked so hard for.”
“Yeah?”
She thinks back to the day her Guardianship was granted, the look on Master Fu’s face as he lost the thread that tied him to their lives, and the heaviness in her heart as she sent him away on the train.
It’s strange to imagine that will be her, someday.
“Memories are so…” Ladybug struggles to find the words, “precious, I guess? I realize that now.”
“Oh. Right.” Chat doesn’t meet her eyes. “You’ll forget all about this when the time comes.”
A couple of responsibilities here and there don’t seem too bad, his words echo in her mind. This is her chance to reassure him, now, and she reaches over to tap a finger against his nose. A blush blossoms across his face.
“That’s why I’m going to do my best to remember as much as I can right now,” she says, determined.
Especially this. Especially him.
“Nothing’s gonna be the same after this, huh?” Chat says, stretching his arms out. And then, kicking up to his feet, he steps in front of her, offering his hand to help her up.
Ladybug looks at his hand, her gaze trailing up to his face, green eyes piercing into her soul – and where has she seen those eyes before? – but nothing’s registering, really, nothing but Chat, the tilt of his head, a soft smile on his face. Behind him, the lights on the Eiffel Tower flicker on and off, ready for their next cycle. It shines in brilliant gold, the brightest it’s been tonight. And right in the center of her vision is Chat Noir, her partner. Her best friend.
Her lips slip into an ‘o’, barely noticing her own hand reach out and grab onto his. The touch is electric, burning through her suit as Chat pulls her up, and she blinks in awe.
Ladybug feels the world turn on her feet, ever-shifting, always moving, but Chat is there to hold her up. As always.
“Y-Yeah. Nothing… nothing will be the same after this,” she agrees, her voice faltering, and for a moment, she’s Marinette again. Or maybe she’s still Ladybug because if there’s one thing Ladybug is scared of, it’s change.
But she glances at Chat Noir, a faraway look on his face as he stares off into the horizon, the entire world in his eyes. Maybe nothing has to change. Maybe what she wants is this, right here, right now, the two of them together side by side. Maybe she just never saw the bigger picture in the first place.
“Chat, I—”
Her yoyo vibrates against her hip at the same time Chat’s baton rings against his. The sound makes her pull away, almost tumbling on her own feet, though she digs her heels into the rooftop, keeping steady.
She fumbles with her yoyo, choosing to silence it and look over Chat’s shoulder instead. The words flow into one ear and out the other as she tries to focus on the screen instead of how close she is to him, ignoring how their shoulders knock into each other.
“Breaking news,” Nadja announces, live footage of a thermos rolling down a street playing in the background. “It appears an akumatized person calling themself Recyclika is vacuum-sealing civilians in what seems to be a giant reusable bottle! They look to be heading towards the Pont Marie—"
“Akuma,” he says, clicking his baton shut, “Other side of Paris. Race you?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, lets the words roll around in her mouth, everything she wants to say but has never felt so desperately until now building up within her. She grabs onto his wrist, holds him still, the same way that he’s always kept her grounded.
“I can’t do this without you.”
She doesn’t know exactly what “this” means – being the Guardian, being a superhero, being Ladybug, or maybe all those at once – but she hopes that the message gets through to him. An unspoken “I need you”.
Chat’s expression softens, understanding.
“I know,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And then he grins, flips his baton so that it rests on his shoulders, and leans into her face. “I mean, what’s Ladybug without her dashing partner?”
“And he’s back,” she says, scrunching her nose, but a small laugh escapes her anyway, the corners of her lips curling up into a smile.
“Hey, your words, not mine.” Chat pulls back, lifting his hands in mock surrender.
Her face heats up. “I didn’t say anything about dashing.”
“Details,” he says, shrugging.
“So,” Ladybug says, a twinkle in her eyes as she brushes dirt off her suit. “All that big talk and nothing to show for it, huh?”
“What do y—”
Ladybug takes advantage of his slackened look, her yoyo already wrapped around the next building over. He’s the one who wanted a race, didn’t he?
She looks at her partner, scrambling to catch up to her, laughter bubbling in her chest, and wonders why she felt the need to do this by herself for so long.
“Come on, kitty,” Ladybug says, “we have a city to save.”