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Félix never has many good ideas.
Stealing away on the Startrain after realising that he was being mistreated is certainly not one of them. He is seventeen, eighteen in only a few weeks — but still too young to be making snap decisions like this.
Not that…he doesn’t genuinely love his mother, but she was certainly not the greatest of parents for him. Constantly withholding affection as though he had to earn it.
A friend of his always said that it should be given freely — then again, that friend is infinitely more of an idealist than he ever would be.
The train ride passes quickly. The walk is longer than Félix expects, but eventually he reaches the Agreste mansion.
“I need your help,” he confessed to Adrien. “I apologize for how I behaved. I always thought that it would make her want to love me more. She never did.”
Adrien just hugs him. “It’s okay, Fé.”
He allows him to stay at the mansion, in one of the many empty rooms.
He wakes up to find that the city has shifted in an infinitesimal way, something barely perceptible in the haze of Paris.
But then he finds out why, as he turned on the news.
His mother has been akumatized searching for him. The akuma is garish in black and white — Hawk Moth truly is no true designer.
And she is laying traps across the city, hoping that Félix would fall into one of them. Grandmaster.
Oh, she's clever. Paris has turned into her chessboard, him into the king fighting for checkmate.
Well, if he's the king, then who are the other pieces?
Then he realises that Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely be coming to save him. Oh, what a fantasy, for Chat Noir to show up (he doesn’t want to know what Ladybug would do to him for last time, after all — nothing more to it) and carry him to some secret hideaway, hopefully not in the sewers or somewhere equally disgusting.
He wrinkles his nose. Even with the sarcasm, it sounds like one of those overly obsessive fangirls.
He turns to see someone slithering in through his window — a snake hero, so ‘slither’ was perhaps too appropriate. Sneaking?
The word choice of his thoughts is likely not what Félix should have been dithering on, though.
“Hello there,” the person in the snake costume says. Low voice, likely male, dark blue hair that fades into teal, soft smile on his face, a hand extended for Félix to take — wait, what? “I’m Viperion. Ladybug told me to get you to safety.”
Despite knowing that it was very much against proper etiquette, he stares, continuing to catalogue Viperion’s physical appearance — a lyre for a weapon, an eight-pack of very visible abs. He lowers his head as he feels his face warm. “Did she? What a nuisance.”
“Don’t insult Ladybug, and I won’t say anything bad to you.” Despite the casual tone, he could tell that the hero truly meant it.
Félix finally takes Viperion’s hand for a handshake. “Of course.” He is, after all, a consummate professional. “Take me wherever you need.”
Viperion steps closer to him and flicks his bracelet. “Second Chance.” He takes Félix into a fireman’s carry. “Just in case something goes wrong.”
Felix feels...strange.
“Third time’s the charm,” Viperion mutters as he lifts Félix up.
“You reset time for every failure,” Félix realises. “I can’t imagine what that must be like for those outside.”
“Most people don’t notice it.” Viperion shrugs. “But we don’t have long, so let’s go. I know what to avoid now. The Grandmaster has been incredibly effective.”
Viperion masterfully avoids a spot that seems to just hold the illusion of solid ground — a hole trap. He also avoids touching any poles or anything besides Félix and the ground his feet run on.
If Félix is the king, the piece that needs protecting, then Ladybug is the queen — the most powerful piece on the board, capable of defeating the opposing king on her own. Viperion and Chat Noir are the rooks — the next most powerful, on the ends. And right now, they're castling — bringing him somewhere safer.
It's no coincidence that the king and the rook are the two pieces that performed castling — that's just a natural extension of the metaphor.
They arrive at their destination — underneath one of the many bridges across the Seine.
“I must recharge my kwami.” Viperion bows his head. “Please remain here until one of us retrieves you.”
Félix pulls out his phone. “That will not be a problem, I assure you.”
At least he's stuck somewhere with good reception; he could watch the defeat live.
Ladybug and Chat Noir are more clever than he would have expected from either of them. They have certainly improved since the previous time he watched them fight together.
Viperion works well within the team. He feels himself focusing more on Viperion than the others, but justifies it as merely seeing if he was up to par with Ladybug and Chat Noir. Which, seeing his return to the battle, he is.
And though Viperion does not seem as experienced as Ladybug or Chat Noir (which, Félix presumed, he isn’t), he still holds his own, dismantling the traps that The Grandmaster had set while Ladybug and Chat Noir directly take her on.
“Lucky Charm!” Oh, the battle's almost done. Félix notices that the Lucky Charm this time was a single chess piece. A rook.
He doesn’t watch Ladybug do whatever she would, but he keeps the feed open, just in case he would hear…
“Miraculous Ladybug!” Checkmate against The Grandmaster and Hawk Moth.
Perhaps Hawk Moth is the king in this scenario? Oh well, the metaphor has already extended too long.
He knows that one of the heroes would be coming for him soon.
Chat Noir is the one that came. A tad disappointing, though Félix couldn't explain why he felt that way. “I didn’t think you lived in France.”
“I ran away.”
Chat Noir’s expression darkens. Félix attempts to analyze it, but he comes up empty with ideas. The superhero wordlessly lifts Félix up and takes him out of their location.
“Viperion told me that he liked you. Not quite sure why, but he is generally a good judge of character, so I will give it a shot.”
Oh, so Chat Noir just dislikes him for what he did. He could barely bring himself to regret — certainly the part where he attempted to kiss Ladybug under false pretences, because that got him punched, but the other parts? Adrien didn’t need a girlfriend, at least not back then, but Félix wouldn’t try the same thing again. He doesn’t repeat the same tricks.
Félix never understood what the other boys in his grade (technically, they were all a year older — he had skipped a grade, of course) wanted from women.
Félix gives Chat Noir a noncommittal shrug. “People possess the ability to change over time.”
Chat Noir narrows his eyes. “Let’s go.”
He complies, allowing himself to be led through the streets back to the mansion, Chat Noir using his baton to lift Félix back into his chamber.
“Thank you very much for your service,” Félix says before Chat Noir left. “I assure you that I truly mean it.”
“Of course you do,” Chat Noir answers, slightly stiff, and it sounds almost...familiar to something Félix has heard before.
He doesn’t get brought back to England, not when his mother realised that he was staying with his uncle and cousin. So really, all the drama could have been avoided if he had just bothered to inform someone before he stole away on the train.
Later on, Adrien introduces him to his acquaintances. He remembers some of them from before — the pigtailed one that declared her love cut her hair short, for one.
There’s one in particular that strikes him as simultaneously sloppy and striking ; the sweatpants masquerading as jeans, the two jackets — none of it is fashionable, but on the man looks attractive. Confidence in an outfit is something Félix can admire.
Perhaps these are the sorts of thoughts men think when looking at a woman they found attractive. Félix never thought of it as an option for him, but he knows it exists as a possibility.
“My name is Luka,” the other man says, and it sounded terribly familiar but in a way that Félix couldn’t quite place. “I’ve heard that you’ll be staying here for the time being.”
“For the foreseeable future, I will be staying in Paris,” Félix answers. “Thank you for welcoming me despite everything.”
“Of course.” Félix can’t identify exactly what Luka was feeling. That…is strange. Félix prides himself in his ability to analyze people’s emotions based on their expressions and body language. “I’m not sure if it’d be proper to say that we’re happy to have you, but I think that it’ll be nice to get to know you.”
Félix feels his face heating up. Embarrassment, affection, it doesn’t matter. It is still shameful. He takes a deep breath. “Thank you.” He would need to figure out and get a handle on whatever was fighting to come out of him.
For now, he is safe. He isn’t sure if being in Paris with his uncle would be any better than with his mother, but it is still a change — and he doesn’t have to stay long if he doesn’t want to.