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Rose is looking into the mirror in the girl’s locker room in College Francoise Dupont. It is between classes, and she had already finished reapplying her lip gloss, but is taking a few more moments to examine her face. She gives a gentle smile to herself in mirror, but then lets it drop with a sigh. She tries again, this time putting her whole body into the motion. Tilting her head. Letting her skirt flutter around her legs. Whatever she is hopping the mirror would show her, the disappointment of her face shows it is not there. She shakes her head violently before slapping herself on the cheeks as if to wake herself up.
Just two more classes. She turns to look at the clock to confirm the bell was about to ring. She should head back to class. Juleka was probably already there, waiting for her. She feels her face drop as another sigh threatened to pass her lips, but she swallows it back down.
No, I have no reason to be sad. If anything, Juleka is the one who should be sad. I need to smile and be there for her. I need . . .”
She stops as she catches the glimpse of something as she looks into the mirror.
A glint of purple is dancing around the light behind her.
She slowly turns to confirm if the pale glow is what she fears it is.
The purple butterfly slowly beats its wings as it dances lazily near the ceiling.
Rose continues to hold her breath as she watched its movements. After the count of ten, she releases it. The Akuma is dancing back and forth, looking for someone to Akumatize. It is not here for her specifically. Hawkmoth’s intended victim must have already calmed down, and the Akuma could not find another strong emotion to substitute. There is no alarm warning about it, so she must be the first one to notice it.
Breathing calmly, not rushing, not fearing, she slowly makes her way to the door. As if there is nothing happening, she opens the door. She just needs to calmly find someone to tell so the word could get out before-
“I will be fine,” Juleka had told her.
Rose stops, the door open. She looks over her shoulder back at the Akuma, still fluttering in the general area she left it. She stares at it for a few seconds, then violently shakes her head, forcing her eyes straight ahead.
No, bad Rose! That is a stupid idea. I have no reason to . . . Why would anyone . . .
The bell rang, signaling the return to classes.
Rose closes the door, placing her back to it as she looked upon the locker room.
The Akuma continues to dance.
This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid.
She continues to echo the same sentence over and over as she moves closer to the Akuma till she was standing below it. It makes no move towards her, but where it currently floats, she could easily reach out and touch it.
She glances around the room. She first confirms that there was an empty glass cup by the sink. It is not clean, but it would do the job it was needed for if things went wrong.
Her eyes then stop on her locker. She moves towards it, gently opens the door (just in case an Akuma could be startled), and took out her most recent scrap book. It was 3/4ths full of all the happy memories of the last few days. Embroidered on the front were the words ‘Happy Days with Friends.’ Below it is a pitcher of her, Marinette, Alya, Alix, Mylene, . . .
And Juleka.
Smiling, the runs her hand down the cover before turning back to the Akuma.
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, then raises the scrap book into the air.
The Akuma flutters around as it had been. Then, its butterfly instincts take hold and it landed on the offered object.
She can feel the connection instantly. She had been Akumatized before, so she knew how it felt. One single emotion becoming you everything, drowning you, as you slowly lose yourself to the Akuma’s obsession. However, this is difference. She is equally as muddled and confused as she had been before, but she now feels a link to another person’s mind in her own.
Before Hawkmoth has a chance to fully register that he was connected to her, she forces out of her mouth “Hawkmoth! M-m-my name is R-rose Lavillant! I want to make a bargain. M-maybe.” The last of the words come out in a barely audible squeak as Rose’s confidence in what she was doing drains away with every word. As if she was confident in her actions to begin with.
“Oh,” the gravelly voice echoes through the link. Rose shudders at how disgusting it is to, once again, have that voice in her head, but she continues on.
“Or, you know, m-maybe just talk,” Rose says as she slowly opens her eyes to look at the empty locker room. Everything is the same, except for the outline of a butterfly at the edges of her vision. Through the link comes a scoff, the sound of an adult dismissing the antics of a child. Rose clenches her fist in recognition of it.
“I am not a therapist. I will not-“
“I-I know. B-believe me, no one would think someone l-like you actually helps people for a living.”
There is silence through the link for a moment, but it does not close. A small part of Rose grimaced when she talked back to the man, but most of her remains still, waiting to see what he would do next.
“. . . What kind of deal?” The voice finally echoes in her mind. Rose outwardly relaxes but inwardly does not.
“W-well, you see, I kind of . . . I mean . . . you know . . . want you to Akumatize me?” The last part comes out closer to a question.
“. . . In exchange for me Akumatizing you, you want me to . . . Akumatize you?”
“N-no no no. I mean . . . I know this is stupid and dangerous and someone is probably going to get hurt but . . . I have been a bit stressed lately a-and I saw you butterfly and . . . This is a bad, bad, bad idea, but I am already here, and maybe just getting everything off my chest will help, so . . .”
As she went through this, Rose moves across the room until finally curling herself into a ball by the nearest wall. When she finally stops he ramblings trying to justify everything to herself, she hears the man she was talking to sigh. Suddenly, the butterfly outline grows brighter. She is suddenly in a world without air, with the feeling of hands around her reaching deep into her chest, crushing her heart.
“Princess Fragrance, I am Hawkmoth. So, the unfairness of the worl-“
*Slap*
Rose’s cheek stung where she had brought her hand across her face. She gasps for air as the world goes back to normal and the butterfly outline returns to how it had been before. Rose wraps her arms tightly around her legs, shivering, her nails digging into her skin.
But she was still Rose.
The voice in her head gives a thoughtful hum before addressing her again. “And what is stopping me from just taking away the Akuma and having it find another host?”
“T-there is a glass cup right by the sink. You try running, I will capture the butterfly and raise the alarm so Ladybug will find it before you have the chance to change anyone.”
“. . . And you think the threat of losing a single Akuma would be enough to keep me here?”
“No, but losing your chance will. You have no other plan, right? The Akuma came for someone, but they calmed down too fast. This is your one chance for today.”
“You seem confident about that. How are you so sure I will not have another opportunity today?”
“I don’t. And neither do you. The people of Paris . . . we all have been doing better about not putting ourselves in a position where you can Akumatize us. Three times this week already you have used Mr. Pigeon. Y-you . . . you don’t really have as much options with Akumas. You . . . need someone. Maybe someone else will have a bad day, or you might be forced to try to just use a swarm of pigeons again. Or maybe not even him. While I-i . . . I will be Akumatized by you. By choice. Regardless if I am able to talk out my issues or rather . . . Anyway, I will let myself be Akumatized. On my terms.”
There is silence over the link as Rose feels the man consider the offer. It is still a weird feeling, but after the attempted forced Akumatization, it felt much more manageable.
“. . . I am a busy man. What makes you think I have time to listen to your life story?”
“Hawkmoth. I’ve been Akumatized before. So have my friends. We all know you mostly just stand around watching us. You probably are just locked up in your basement or attic somewhere with the daily news and some take out.”
“. . . Fine.”
Rose made a mental note he did not deny her statements, and considered telling Ladybug that Hawkmoth probably eats take out next time she saw her.
“Thank you. Now, where to begin . . .” The two of them sat in silence for a while. Well, Rose sat. Hawkmoth stood menacingly in some unknown dark room.
“Hey . . . You know Juleka, right?”
“We have been acquainted in the past.”
“. . . You were here for her today, right?”
“Yes.” Hawkmoth answers without hesitation. Rose’s nails dig deeper into her skin, but she had already known that fact since she had first spotted the Akuma, and so ignores the dismissiveness of the comment.
“She has gotten so strong.” Rose whispers as a dreamy smile spreads across her face. “Many of us have. Probably helps our entire class has been through this half a dozen times each but . . . I am proud of her. She keeps so many things bottled up, things she only shares with me. Maybe Luka or her mom, but never anyone else. And yet she is strong enough to push your butterflies away now. A-and I . . . I-i’m talking to you by choice. What’s wrong with me?”
Tears are starting to well up in the corners of her eyes, but Rose has held back all this time. She will stop herself from breaking down for just a little longer.
“And why did you take the Akuma, if you consider doing so a weakness?”
False curiosity. Hawkmoth could probably tell she was trying to control herself and was looking for a chance to try to take control again. Rose knew this, in part because Hawkmoth has never been a master of subtlety. However, she is here to get everything off her chest, and she isn’t accomplishing that remaining silent.
“My day started with . . . no, it started with an argument with my parents. If you could call it that. It w-was . . . it was about highlights. Well, it was and it wasn’t, it . . .” She trials off and is silent for a few moments.
“. . . While, as you pointed out, I am not a therapist, I noticed you made it a point of asking about your friend before worrying about your own problems.”
Rose nods.
“Was you friend a part of this argument?”
Rose nods.
“Does this happen often?”
“. . . Yes.” Rose finally lets tears flow down her cheeks. “M-my parents are . . . traditional. They love me, and I love the world of them, but . . . but they say harmful things about people behind their backs without a second thought. Never to their faces, always just behind their backs. A-and I am not sure if that makes it better or worse.”
Rose sniffs deeply. She considers reaching in her pocket to pull out a handkerchief, but decides that if she is going to break down, she might as well forget about appearances. Especially since she was currently talking about her parents.
“And this morning my mom said . . . and I got so angry . . . b-but . . . I didn’t say anything. She called Juleka . . . she called her that again . . . b-but I-I . . . d-didn’t . . .”
Rose cries into her knees.
I didn’t say anything.
She talked like that about Juleka again, but I said nothing.
I did nothing to defend her, nothing to stop her from calling Juleka-
She once again felt hands clutching her heart.
“Princess Fragrance. I am Hawkmo-“
*Slap*
Rose looks forward and shoot the empty room the closest thing to a death glare she has ever accomplished. She prays that Hawkmoth could see her face from wherever he was.
I couldn’t even do this. I did not have the guts to do this. Next time, I . . .
“Continue.” Hawkmoths voice interrupts her thoughts.
“Don’t do that again.”
“. . . Continue.”
Rose glares for a few seconds longer, then exhales.
“. . . Then I went to school. It was not that bad at first. Kim called me ‘Short Stack’ again, but that’s fine. I never told him I dislike being called that, so . . . not his fault. Plus, if I cried every time someone called me short, I would drown. Then Alix came and asked to copy my homework. Said she was too busy last night to do it. I know she wasn’t. She was just playing video games all night again. I let her copy it without saying anything, but she could at least tell me the truth, you know. Then . . .”
*Ding*
A sound came from Rose’s purse. She stares at it for a moment, before she uncurls herself to where she can stretch far enough to grab her phone.
J: You OK?
Rose glances at the clock. Five minutes have already passed since class started. Juleka was probably worried that she hadn’t shown back up yet.
She glances at the pale purple currently surrounding her face.
She bites her lip as she can feel Hawkmoth’s eyes upon her. She felt him hanging over her shoulders, about to tell her to ignore the text.
R: Sorry. Got a call from Prince Ali. Cover for me?
She also adds a heart at the end. But before sending it she replaces it with seven different kitten emojis.
She stares at the screen for a few seconds.
The phone dings at a response.
Rose does not read it. She instead slides the phone across the locker room floor where it was out of reach.
She stares at it a few seconds, then slams her fist onto the grounds.
He hand is now the second most painful part of her body.
“Lying to a friend?” Hawkmoth mocks her. Rose glares forward again as she returns to her ball-shaped position.
“Shut up.”
Silence hangs for a moment as Rose glances again at the last chance she gave up.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Making excuses?” She breaths in deeply before continuing. “School has always been hard for me. Bullies. Chloe is the worst, but she is not the only one I’ve known. It was actually pretty bad until recently. People started to treat each other better after you showed up. Even Chloe tries to be better sometimes. I should thank you for that.”
The silence continues, but a slight feeling of surprise comes through the link.
“But better is not fixed. Kim, Alix, and others still do things. It mostly my fault, as I am too scared to tell them how they make me feel, but when they do it, especial when I’m in a bad mode, it feels like . . . like nothing has changed. Like I’m still there. And I don’t need to tell you about Chloe, right?”
“Chloe Bourgeois has been . . . an asset to me in the past. I am aware of her attitude.”
“And you know what she did today, right?”
“I am aware what she did to your friend. What did she do to you?”
There is silence as Rose stares into the mirror, biting her lip. From where she is sitting, she can see herself in the mirror across the room. Looking in the mirror, looking at the girl she is, keeps her from running away.
“You have been in my head before. Do you know I’m bisexual?”
“. . . Contrary to popular belief, I do not particularly care about the sexuality of children.”
“Unless you can use it to turn people into an Akuma.”
“. . . A fair point.” This brought a giggle from Rose. It does not bring a smile back to her face, though.
“I l-l . . . I l-lo . . . I have a crush on her.” Rose bring her fist down onto the floor again as her face grows red at her no-where-near confession. “God, I can’t even say it to you.” She brings her fist down twice more. If she was stronger, she might have broken it, but the force was only enough to make it painful. “She is . . . I care about her. I can’t stand to see her hurt. But Chloe . . . and Juleka . . .”
Tears once against cloud Rose’s vision, cutting herself away from the outside world again. As she does so, she feels a touch within her chest. She glares ahead again, causing the hand to retreat, but she does not stop crying this time. She lets the tears stream down her face until she gets ahold of herself enough to consider speaking.
“A-and . . . that was r-really it. Arguing w-with parents. M-mean words and actions f-from classmates. Chloe. It i-is . . . it is a bad day.” Rose pulls herself together enough to stop crying. “I have had much worse. You know that. This is . . . this is everyday. A day like this is a day one spends the evening along with their stuffed animals, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, eating chocolate ice-cream and watching a sad movie. Not . . .” She waves her hand in front of her face, where the purple outline hung. “This is . . . stupid. This is stupid, stupid, stupid, yet . . . here I am.”
Rose buries her face into her knees, just focusing on her breath within the empty room.
“Is that everything?” Came the voice in her head. Her only response is to nod. Silence hangs in the air between them for who-knows-how-many seconds. At this point, Rose was ready to give up and call it hours. “You are a terrible liar.”
Surprised, Rose raises her eyes to look at the butterfly man who wasn’t there.
“I will admit, I don’t care about you. I don’t care about any of you. I desire the Miraculous, with your problems being motivators for you to take them for me. I don’t care about your life story. However, I am a man of my word. I claim you can have your heart’s desire, and I will hand it to you at my price. I promised to listen to your issues in exchange for you getting me the Miraculous. I cannot hold up my end of the bargain if you don’t let your anger flow freely.”
Anger.
Rose bites her lip.
“Besides, at this moment you are confused and guarded. If I Akumatized you now, you will never be able to keep up your end. Then that truly would be a waste of my day.”
Rose . . .
Rose laughs.
It is a completely, fully genuine laugh.
To hear it from someone who was just crying was surprising.
For that matter, anyone who knew Rose would be surprised to see her not gracefully giggle, but laugh hard enough that she would have fallen to the floor if she was not there already. To see her laugh hard enough to shed more tears.
“T-thank you,” Rose replies as she gathers her breath. “Lots of adults . . . lots of people just give empty smiles while not really listening. Thank you for being honest. Sorry I c-can’t . . . I can’t really do the same. Or really get angry.”
Rose turns her eyes to look towards the ceiling.
“When you have Akumatized me in the past, I was sad at having my dreams shattered in front of me, or scared of large swarms of Akuma. I don’t . . . I was raised to be happy. There’s, you know, no use complaining about the little thing. My parents aren’t trying to hurt anyone. My friends aren’t trying to hurt anyone. Chloe . . . other people aren’t trying to hurt anyone. No use complaining about them hurting me by accident. It’s like my parents always use to say; ‘Stop crying about nothing, dear.’ ‘Behave yourself like a good little angel,’ . . .”
She fills her lungs to shout the last one, her voice breaking as more tears start to form in her eyes over her purposely mechanical smile.
“’La vie en Rose!’”
A strange, cruelly mocking laughter fills up the locker room for just a moment. If she was not watching the mirror, Rose might not have realized the sound was coming from her. Her fists clench, tighter, even tighter.
“Rose Lavillent, forever looking on the bright side of life. A wish that has been forced upon you since birth. Taught to forever follow your namesake regardless of how much your heart hurt. However, your parent’s teaching has not left you without emotion. As you have already stated, you also possess the ability to see the world in blue and yellow. If you desire to see red, all you need to do is try. You possess the potential already. It has not been seeing things through rose colored eyes that has allowed you to deny Akumatization up to this point.”
Rose looks towards the absent man, as a smile spreading across her face as she begins to thank him. However, she stops herself, closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and responses with a smirk unlike Rose on her face.
“I b-bet you say that to a-all the girls.”
“Better. You are still hesitating. Keep going.”
“W-what should I-“
“Tell me what you think of me.’
“Y-you? I d-don’t know. Talking about others is one thing, but . . .”
“Oh? Are you not that one who had issue with her parent’s talking about others behind their back?”
“. . . Right.”
“Plus, I have happily embrace the mantle of supervillain. I do not care what anyone says about me, as long as I can achieve my desire. What you say does not matter to me, and I am sure I have given you plenty to say.”
“I-I can try.” Rose gathers her thoughts before she begins. “Y-you have A-akumatized me before. F-four different time before. It made me . . . I felt, you kn-“
“Why should I care what you feel! This is not marriage counseling. This is about what I AM, not how YOU FEEL.”
“O-Ok. Y-you . . . You have Akumatized me four different time. Y-you have Akumatized my friends. You . . . you have Akumatized Juleka. Plenty of time. Three time. S-she . . . whenever a swarm of Akuma comes, she always chased you away. It was always . . .”
She remembers Juleka, running out of the bathroom, “Really, Rose, forget it. Forget me.”
She remembers Juleka standing in Marinette’s room, with her friends but alone, “No, don’t worry, please go. I’m just tired, and need to study, and . . .”
She remembers herself, a park bench by the Seine, tearstains on a replacement note. The pain in her heart. The pain Juleka . . .
“It was always when her heart was broken.”
“I need strong emotions for my Akumas. I do not take pleasure in watching hopes and dreams crumble, but I am not above using them to my own ends.”
“Do you even know what it’s like to be Akumatized?” Rose rubs her head, giving her legs a break from her digging nails but her scalp the brunt of it. “Do you know what it is like to lose yourself? To let your emotions drown you? To wake up two hours later realizing what you have done?”
“In my defense, most of my Akuma’s do last under an hour. But it is not as if people fight me. It is what they want.”
“. . . It’s not what they want, it’s what you want! You come to people when they’re weakest, do your . . . mind thing to make negativity all they see, and then tell them what they want. The only person who wants to become an Akuma is . . .”
Rose stops again, tears at the edges of her eyes. She grits her teeth to keep herself from finishing the sentence. Or finishing it yet. The girl, sitting in a defensive, confused ball, uncurls, her legs flat upon the ground, he palms on the wood at her sides. She glares forward. There is a coldness in her eyes. A look unlike what showed when she attempted her glares at Hawkmoth before. This was an appearance that had never been on Rose’s face before. The look of true, raw emotion.
“Hawkmoth, you coward.” She hisses through her teeth in a voice just barely reminiscent of Rose’s. “You’re too scared of being caught yourself to face Ladybug and Chat Noir head to head unless you have some advantage. You would rather use my . . . you would rather use kids to do your dirty work. You would rather take our personal moments and have them broadcast on every news station in Paris then do any of this yourself. I might . . . Rose might care about what your motivation for doing all this is, but I’m already not Rose anymore, am I? A-and, regardless of what you think is important enough to do all this day after day after day, that doesn’t change the fact that you are a rotten, empty person locked up in some dark room all alone, using all ou- . . . all their worst days to turn them into a tenth of the monster you are!”
Rose buries her face in her hands as a strangled sound escapes her lips.
However, she is not currently crying.
Instead is an empty, deriding laugh telling its target just how pathetic they are.
And it is not aimed at Hawkmoth.
“There must be only one person in Paris who wants to be Akumatized. I-I’m already not Rose anymore, am I?”
She concludes this statement by twisting her face into a look that is ¼ sorrow and ¾ utter elation.
“If you are looking for someone to sympathize with you, you are talking to the wrong person.”
“Wow, the butterfly man manipulates emotions, but hates sympathizing? Something tells me you’re bad at you job.” Rose adds a moment of laughter at him, but continues before Hawkmoth can retort. “And you deserve it. It anyone should have to suffer through my meltdown, it’s the guy who continuously turns us into monsters. In fact . . .”
Rose stands up. She makes no move to straighten her clothes or her hair. She makes no move to wipe the tears or snot from her face. She fills her lungs to her full Screamo-singing capacity before she screams to the empty locker room and listening butterfly supervillain.
“No, mom, highlights are not trashy! If I ever want them, I will get them, and you do not insult my best friend behind her back! Ya, I know, I’m short! Ha, ha, ya! I have heard it a million time, I have heard every short joke a million time, I have awkwardly giggled in response to them a million time! Just stop! Theyre not funny! I don’t need to hear it every day of my life! Or even worse, fairy! Really, fairy? So just because I’m short, like pink, and talk about romance a lot, I’m obviously a fairy! Fairies are, like, my least favorite fairy tale creature, even more so then the scary ones, so I would appreciate if you just let them go! And my wings . . .”
Rose turns on her heals and points her thumbs to the golden wings embroidered on her back for the non-existent audience to see.
“They’re not fairy wings, they’re angel wings! Sorry for being a Christian but not being interested in wearing crosses everywhere! I like them, they are my thing, and if you don’t like them . . .” She turns on her heels again to face the front of the room, pointing to the nearest door. “You can just turn around and get the h-hell out of here!”
Rose hesitates only slightly pushing the curse through her lips, but she quickly inhales through her nose and continues with another volley.
“I’m not stupid! Just because I’m blond and love talking about puppies and unicorns, and actually try to look on the bright side of things, that does not make me an airhead! I am a chronic screw up, yes, I have accepted this about myself! But I am! SO! LIKE! TOTALLY! SICK of being treated like an Ecole student! And speaking of the bright side, while I like helping orphans, picking up trash, and being nice in general, I know when I’m being taken advantage of! Just because I’m more than capable of running to get drink or helping you with your homework, I can tell which of you actually appreciate me! Just because I don’t say no or complain doesn’t mean I enjoy people who laze off and benefit from my hard work! On that topic, screw you, Chloe! You’re not the only one who does this, and you’ve done much more than this, but you deserve for someone to walk up to you and slap you across the face! Go to hell!”
Cursing much better on her second attempt, a smile of confidence comes to Rose’s face before she inhales again, sets her jaw, and continues.
“And speaking of ‘being too nice’ and ‘not saying anything,’ I see you guys! Don’t pretend you don’t stare at me when I’m not looking! And not just those in my school either! I have seen plenty of you ‘adults’ staring at my chest as I walk down the street! I know for some reason boys are expected to act like dogs in heat and girls are expected to just take it, and I find it gross and f-fucking stupid! I should be able to f-fucking walk around dressed however the hell I want and not have creepy men fucking treating my body like it belongs to them! That means you and your mind control too, Hawkmoth! Fuck! And Juleka . . !”
Rose pauses again, both to make sure her lungs are full again but also to change the look on her face from the gritted teeth she had ended up in to a serene, loving smile.
“Juleka, I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU! I have loved you for so long! You were the first person I loved that was not just a three-year old’s dream of marrying a prince! Your paintings are so vibrant and colorful, they deserve to be in the Louvre one day! You’re so lovely at the bass. I know Kitty Section will end up being known worldwide, and everyone will end up loving you just as much as I do. You are the single most beautiful girl I know! Stop! Do not try to deny it! I mean it 150%! A model? The moment we manage to drag Gabriel Agreste out of his room to meet you, you WILL be the next big star of the runway! You are the bravest girl I know! Ya, you’re shy, and scared of public speaking, but you still give everything your all! I have seen you give death glares to Akuma and actually look Chloe in the eyes! You are braver than most of us will ever be! I love you! I love you in every way possible! That . . .”
She hesitates, wondering if she should add the next confession, but the thought that Hawkmoth was there to listen and would have to live with the knowledge brought a devil-may care grin comes to her face as she fills her lungs again.
“And that means everyway! I’m not the five-year old some people apparently still think I am. I am a healthy, bisexual 14-year old girl! I have been through health class! I keep a trashy romance novel hidden under my mattress! The Fifty Shades kind! Don’t judge! Name one girl my age who doesn’t! And it is not my first one, either! I know what I am talking about! I know plenty of things that I want to try with you some day! You! Nobody else! I want you to be my first kiss! I want you to be the person I lose my v-virginity to! I want to explore every inch of your body and you to explore mine! I want you to be the woman I marry one day! You are my number 1 and you deserve to be told that every single day for the rest of your life! Which is why . . .”
Rose is quiet, holding her breath, for a second, for two, for three, before managing to inhale again and continue as a blush spreads across her face.
“Which is why I am going to tell you. You hear that! Today is the day I am going to tell you! I am going to confess how much I love you while under mind control, most likely dressed as a clown, because I am a pathetic coward who was unable to work up the courage to tell you! I know you will be my best friend no matter what, that I would never lose you even if I did tell you all of this! But I was too scared of my parents and our classmates and thousands and thousands of people in this world who do not matter half as much as you do! Today my number 1 priority is going to be to confess everything to you and no butterfly man with poor fashion sense is going to stop me! . . . Except for the part involving trashy romance novels and the . . . ya. That can wait a couple of years. A year. But that doesn’t matter! I am going to confess, a-and . . . and you should say no!”
Rose looks across the rooms to the mirrors. She saw a girl, short, dressed all in pink. Her short blond hair a mess. Her face red, tearstained, snot covered. Her far-too-large blue eyes rimmed red, another stream of tears beginning to build up in the corner of her eyes. She was a mess now, but on a better day . . .
She is cute. Very cute.
But never beautiful.
“You should say no! You should say no 1000 times over! You deserve the best, and there are hundreds of thousands of people out there better than me! I am a ditz, a chronic screw up! I am a weak, timid coward who has never been able to stand up for you when you needed it! I will n-never . . . I will never be more than the fairy girl pretending to be a princess, hiding behind a smile and optimism that has failed to make any difference again and again and again! I am someone’s little sister! Not girlfriend! Not lover! Not wife! Just a little kid no one takes seriously! I am every bad thing Chloe has ever called me! And worse! I am so spineless I am choosing to become a supervillain to deal with the problems in my heart, hurting many people and destroying Paris, instead of talking to my best friend about this! That is how much of an ugly, terrible person I am!”
Rose draws her breath in and screams. She screams her hearts out. She screamed her lungs out. She screams 14 years of insecurities and self-hatred, arguments and petty fights, every angry word she refused to say and every tear she refused to cry wordlessly into the locker room and Hawkmoth’s ears. Tears flowed more freely from her eyes then they had in years, even when watching the sappiest rom-com. She fully expected Hawkmoth to take this chance to Akumatize her, and she was ready and willing, but she did not feel him make a move to interrupt her.
After five minutes, her voice gives out and she stops. At some point she had fallen to her knees. Her mouth was dry from dehydration, and her throat was sore from screaming. But she felt better. Not perfect, but better.
“Is that everything?” Though it was a slight difference, Hawkmoth’s voice sounded different to Rose’s ears. Usually, he spoke in a forced, over the top voice one expected of a Supervillain. Or who got his idea of what a Supervillain was by reading comic books. However, while still clearly taking measures to disguise his voice, his words sounded more human.
“. . . No, but that’s all screaming about it is going to do. . . . And I meant it. Confessing to Juleka is first. I will put the Miraculous before actually rampaging, but I will not negotiate on Juleka.”
“I am nothing if not flexible. And you are not the first to confess as an Akuma either. Though I prefer you take care of your business before nightfall. Even if I ‘just stand around all day,’ that does not mean I wish to deal with another Evillistrator.”
“I am going to walk right out after this, up to Juleka, confess, then do the usual Akuma thing. Is that fine?”
“No objections. However . . . there is the small issue of strong emotions. While I let you take the time to let most of your problems off your chest, it had the effect of giving you time to calm down.”
“Right.” Rose nods at the empty air and closes her eyes.
Rose holds her breath and focuses on the lump in her chest and let it grow. The opposite of the breathing techniques that had been taught to help fight off Akumatization.
She focuses on all the arguments she has had with her parents, and, much more often, the fights she had been too scared to start.
She focuses on all the hurtful words said to her. Both words that she remembers and words she forgot. Both faces she remember and faces she forgot, easily substituted with Chloe’s face due to law of averages.
She focused on all the people around her who truly did not care about her. Or cared about the wrong things.
She focuses on all the things she kept bottled up inside.
She focuses on . . .
It had happened so fast, she did not even remember how it started.
Chloe was laying into Juleka as if she did something wrong.
Rose did not remember the words. The words themselves did not matter half as much as the condescending tone, the venom behind her voice . . .
Juleka stepping back, shrinking in on herself.
Rose doing the same.
Why was she doing the same? It was Juleka Chloe was yelling at. She should be standing up for Juleka. She should stand between the girl she cared about so much and the screaming and insults and hatefulness.
WHY WAS SHE NOT DOING ANYTHING!
Chloe was stopped by someone grabbing her shoulder. She did not remember who. It was probably Marinette or Alya. Realistically, it could have been anyone who as not as weak as she was. Rose was more focused on Juleka as she walked away.
Rose chased after her.
She put her hand on Juleka’s shoulder to stop her.
Juleka was looking at her with tears on the edges of her eyes. Tears which refused to fall.
Rose did not remember the questions she asked the girl. What she said didn’t matter. All that matters was Juleka . . . Juleka . . .
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“No thanks. I just . . . just want to be alone for a minute, OK?”
“I promise, I’m fine. Look.”
Then she had breathed deeply in and out.
It was one of the breathing techniques they had learned to chase off Akumas.
As if Rose was only trying to make sure Juleka did not become an Akuma.
As if any of that mattered half of much as how sad the tall, kind, strong, beautiful girl looked.
Juleka then walked away towards the bathrooms.
And Rose . . . she walked away to the locker rooms.
She focuses on all the times she had failed to help her friends. Failed to even try because of how pathetic she was.
She focuses on all the times, more and more recently, where she looked into a mirror and was disappointed by what she saw.
She focuses on everything she hated about herself.
She focuses on the thousands of splinters buried in her heart from all her 14 years and molds them into a large clump of sorrow and anger.
Then she hands that clump to Hawkmoth.
She opens her eyes and catches one last glimpse of Rose Lavillant in the mirror.
Crumpled, tearstained, cutesy clothing. Childish, snot-covered face. Jaw and fist clenched to the point she was surprised no blood was drawn. Red and blue eyes, glaring hatefully back at herself. Just like she deserved. As she did, the Butterfly outlining her face grew bright purple.
“Then let us begin, shall we?” Hawkmoth changes gears, his voice going back into the villainous monologue mode known to all Akumatized victims. “Now Princess Fragr-“
“HAVE YOU LISTENED TO A WORD I SAID!” Rose can feel Hawkmoth flinch through the link as she screams at him. “I don’t want to be a princess today! I don’t want to be a fairy today! I don’t . . .” She tightens her arms, wrapped around her body, causing the golden wings sewn into the back of her dress to spread wide. She continues in a whisper. “I don’t want to be anyone’s little angel. Just this once. Just for once. Just . . .”
“. . . I understand. Again, I am nothing if not flexible. Well then, Hellfire. You desire to taste a life besides that of an angel? Then let fall your mask today and unshackle yourself. I am giving you the power necessary to live out the impulses you have held back, the power to shackle those who have forced you to continuously wear that weight. The only rule for you to abide by is that you need to bring me the Miraculous.”
In response, Rose smiles. Despite the purple butterfly highlighting her face, it was a gentle smile one would expect from the girl they knew.
“Thank you.”
A shadow spreads across her body, beginning her transformation. She felt herself being consumed, an experience she had went through many times before. However, this time it was different. Usually, she associated the process with drowning. With the air disappearing from the world around her as ‘she’ disappeared. However, as the darkness grew, she felt the world around her drift away, until it was gone, and she felt like she was alone in the sky. Her mind felt clearer than it ever had been. More in control of herself then she ever had been. A smile of pure, selfish joy spread across her face.
And so, the angel fell into the sky.
-------------------------------------------------------
“And with that, your appointments for this evening have been fully rescheduled.”
Gabriel Agreste is sitting in his office, Natalie speaking to the back of his chair. One of the benefits of being a reclusive fashion designer was being able to change his schedule on a whim. Even before Hawkmoth and his daily appearances, various business partners were already use to him changing his schedule at the last minute, something he was only able to get away with because he was Gabriel Agreste.
“Will there be anything else?” Natalie asks the chair.
“. . . I would like to have dinner with my son tonight, if that is possible.”
“. . . Sir?”
“It has recently come to my attention how severely long-term stress might effect a teenager. As his father, I feel I should have a candid conversation with him to see if there is anything I could do to ease some of his tension before things become . . .” Gabriel gestures in the direction of the nearest monitor, where the news of the Akuma attack earlier this afternoon is currently playing on mute.
“Of course, Sir. I’m sure Adrien will enjoy it.”
“I have a bit of work to get to. That will be all.”
A few moments pass, but there was no sound of the door opening. Gabriel turns around to see Natalie still standing there, looking awkward. He shifts his chair so that he could look at her head on.
“Are there any issues?”
“No , sir. Just . . . questions.”
“Questions?”
Natalie coughs into her hand before returning her eyes to not-quite-Gabriel’s-general direction. “Hellfire, sir?”
Gabriel sighs as he rubs his eyes. The most recent Akuma, Hellfire, had been, if one focused on the general incident itself, one of his greatest creations. Limited property damage and injuries, yet still managed to cause enough cayos to necessitate five miraculous holders and lasted a good four hours in the public’s eye almost continuously. If he had more Miraculous, and he believed for even a moment he could tempt the girl to his side, he would put Ms. Rose Lavillent right behind Lila as a potential ally. However, from the way Natalie was having trouble looking him strait in his eyes, he had a feeling the topic of conversation would be on the . . . other factors.
“Yes.”
“As in the Hellfire Club?”
“That is partially what inspired the name, yes. There was also talk about fallen ange-“
“As in the English . . . hedonistic society.” Gabriel is not a man who liked to be interrupted, but allows it to pass this time with just another sigh.
“If I may, the original club to hold the name was made as a parody of the amount of gentlemen’s club at the time and was meant as a farce. It was exactually like Ms. Lavillant wished for today. She did not truly desire things to change. Some things, yes, but mostly she experiences fatigue from ordinary interactions with those around her as well as common teenage self-doubt, along with the ennui of repetition. She desired to lash out and be a different person, something even adults like myself can relate to from time to time.”
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, looking up at the high ceiling.
“But it was just a show of rebellion, a farce, a not-so-simple change of one’s pace in a way to avoid long-term consequences. If she truly wanted to be a different person, she is capable of changing her wardrobe and attitude and the other parts about herself she does not like. I know; it is what my business is based off of. If she really was tired of being the nice girl or such, there would have been more damage and more . . . well, the point, as I said, was it was a simple farce. But she knew and acknowledged it was a farce, just convincing herself to go along with it to blow off the fatigue. Ergo, Hellfire; an Akuma of false hedonism. Along, of course, with the talk of angels and the like.”
Finishing up his explanation, he leans forward until he is looking at Natalie once again. She is now looking him directly in the eyes. A good sign.
“. . . I was not aware you put that much thought in the names of your Akuma.”
“I don’t, normally. They are disposable pawns, after all. However, Ms. Lavillant did give me plenty of time to think. And . . . all things considered; I do have some honor. She consciously made the choice to take the Akume. Even if it was for selfish reasons, she did try to help me. She deserved to be given at least a mediocritum of my respect.”
There is another moment of silence as Natalie made no move to leave while Gabriel made no move to blink.
“And . . . her costume, sir?”
Gabriel just continues to stare.
“I-I mean, it is certainly not the worst costume an Akuma has worn, jus-”
“Natalie, do you think that I, a world class fashion designer, purposely make my Akuma the technicolor eyesores they usually are. It most likely is built on their own negativity and image of what a villain is. Bad fashion taste, indeed.” Gabriel mumbles this last line under his breath before going back to addressing Natalie. “Though I must admit, the chain powers were a mistake. Not combat wise, of course, but definitely fashion wise.” And in terms of the implications in some of the things she told me in confidence. Need to make of point of making sure she does not get a chance to mention it next time she is Akumatized.
“. . . To be fair, they did go well with the flames.”
“True, but every fashion designer in Paris has tried and failed to find a way to make flames a valid form of fashion. It is a lost cause outside of Supervillains.”
Silence falls again. After a few moments, Natalie bows and heads to the door. However, when she grips the door handle, she hesitantly looks back to Gabriel Agreste.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think, costume non-withstanding, it was wise to name a 14 year-old Akuma Hellfire, give her chain abilities, and . . . open up her inhibitions.”
Gabriel slams his hands on the table as he stands up, causing Natalie to jump.
“It is not necessary for you to tell me that Natalie; I have been well informed already.” He once again motions towards the muted screen. “I will admit, the combination of her name and chains might have been a mistake, but her appearance was not the worse possible. Many Akuma have shown just as much if not more skin. Paris’s heroes are around the same age and they wear skintight outfits, while still ending up on the front of every magazine in Paris. I would dare say plenty of common fashions worn by people her age are just as trashy with no one batting an eye. However, just because of her name, her power, and the fact she was able to out-flirt Chat Noir suddenly makes me the bad guy! I . . .”
Gabriel comes to a halt as the irony in his last statement hits him. He sighs as he falls back into his chair.
“Do those vultures have nothing better to do with their time? I allow Ms. Lavillant to do whatever she desires, and suddenly all the news stations are interested in is subtly implying that the supervillain who is trying to destroy Paris is a Pedophile.”
“Sir, I’m sure-“
“No. I’m over it. It is annoying, but Hawkmoth’s public reputation is of no consequence. However, I will take today as a lesson in lack a forethought and plan better in the future.”
Gabriel takes another moment to stare at the screen, before glancing back to Natalie.
“Natalie, make two notes. First, if Ms. Lavillant or Ms. Couffaine ever apply for a position with our company, they are to be given an interview. From there, they will need to prove their worth through their own talents, but they will be given the minimum of an interview.”
Gabriel leans forward, steepling his fingers.
“Second, we are never to make deals with Mrs. Rose Lavillant again.”
“. . . Then I will be off, sir. If you need anything . . . or need to get something else off your chest, do not hesitate to call.”
Natalie bows before exiting the room.
Gabriel sits in silence for a while longer before he fully turns the TV off. The he turns his chair around, setting his eyes on the face of his wife.
Emile was a woman who had many hobbies.
She was a fan of all forms of media, not just movies. A trait she passed down to their son.
Books, games, animation . . .
And comic books.
There were times he remembers of her reading comic books to put Adrien to sleep.
And it was researching whether these comics were appropriate for Adrien . . .
. . . that Gabriel Agreste had first heard the name Hellfire Club.
The girl today was nothing like Emile.
Neither how she usually acted, the side she had hidden, or the Akuma she had become today.
But when he was talking to that girl today, just for a moment . . .
He remembered the times when, when Emile was having a bad day, the two of them would curl up under a blanket, have her favorite ice cream between them, as they watched lackluster romantic comedies that they . . . that she could not help but laugh at.
“You are my number 1 and you deserve to be told that every single day for the rest of your life!”
“I am so spineless I am choosing to become a supervillain to deal with my stress, hurting many people and destroying Paris . . .!”
Gabriel smiles sadly as he looks at the eyes of his wife.
Then he shakes his head and scoffs at the folly of youth.
He then turns his back to the painting.
He still had some work to catch up on after his extended ‘business meeting.’
-------------------------------------------------------
That night, the full moonlight falls down on the deck of the Liberty. There, in a single deck chair, two girls look up at the dark sky, arms and legs wrapped around each other. Both of them are smiling peacefully. Not forced smiles of a person faking their way through a bad day, but genuine, peaceful smiles.
Rose sneaks a glance in Juleka’s direction before quickly kissing Juleka on her cheek. Juleka turns to face her. Her face turns red, but she does not look away. Her smile just grows as she looks at the other girl.
Then, without saying a word, the couple turn back to look at the moon.
Today was a good day.