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Marc had known Nath long before Nath had known him.
He didn't know Nath by name at first. He knew him by something else.
He knew him as that one bastard who plonked his ass on the staircase and blocked the light when Marc was working.
So yeah, Marc knew Nath by his ass first and his name second. After all, not everyone wore purple jeans. That in itself was interesting enough to bite down whatever snide thought Marc might have considered once he realized it was too dark to write under the stairs because someone was sitting right above him.
He wouldn't say any of those snide things aloud, of course. He was a shy boy. Rude wasn't in his nature.
Besides, it wasn't blocking the whole light. Purple pants guy was sitting to the side of the stairs, so all Marc had to do was shuffle over to the other side and voila, he could work again. A minor inconvenience, nothing else.
After that, he forgot about the boy altogether. It was easy to lose himself in his own writing, so he kept an alarm on his phone to remind him when his next class would start rather than risk getting too immersed in storytelling and being late. So immersed that he didn't even realize until his alarm went off and he snapped back to reality that the boy was gone.
That was the first time he met Nath. And the second. And several other times after that.
Unlike Marc, who chose his place under the staircase long ago as his staple spot, the appearance of the purple pants guy always seemed to be at random, as though he outright refused to follow any logical form of schedule.
Not that it mattered to Marc. It shouldn't matter. He didn't even know the guy.
But he was starting to like when he came around. It was a little...comforting? Somehow? He was even starting to notice when the guy got up to leave, and sometimes glanced curiously through the slots of the staircase.
Purple pants and red hair.
Marc was intrigued.
~oOo~
Not long after that, he learned the redhead's name.
"Nathaniel!"
He heard it shouted by someone else, someone he didn't pay attention to, but he noticed when the boy sitting on top of the stairs responded. "Yeah?"
"Get your ass to the library!"
Marc gave a half-interested glance as the boy stood up, left. "Nathaniel" sparked his curiosity in a way he hadn't expected. Was this what people meant when they talked about "people watching"? Quietly observing, never intruding, but curious all the same?
That was how things went for months. Marc didn't know anything about Nathaniel. Didn't really care to. The little bit of not-really-interaction that they had, sitting together above and below the stairs and not acknowledging each other-that was enough for Marc.
He kept learning new things about Nathaniel, though. Little snippets of conversation that caught his ear. Nath made art, apparently. He had a very bold friend with a name that Marc kept forgetting. She tended to come by and drag him back to class, much to Nath's disgruntlement. There were a few people that Nathaniel despised, the infamous Chloe Bourgeois being one of them. Marc didn't blame him. Chloe Bourgeois was famous in their school for being rich and being someone that everyone sensible tended to avoid.
Marc didn't think anything would come of their little parasocial relationship. Nath seemed to be pretty cool in his mind, and Nath didn't know about him at all. Nothing important would come from this and that was fine with the writer.
But Marc didn't account for something.
That "something" being the fact that he was hopelessly gay.
After all those months and Nath's consistent reliability of never being consistent, it was honestly surprising that Marc had always found his spot under the stairs before Nath did.
Except for that day.
Marc took three steps towards the stairs and realized that someone was already sitting above them.
His eyes caught purple pants, red hair, and, for the first time, Nath's face.
Marc blinked.
Fuck. He's cute.
There was a moment of weightlessness, like being in a car that's just off-roaded and finding that split second in the air, knowing the crash is coming soon and knowing that it's too late to stop it, stomach lifting to the throat and heart beating and watching the world start to turn upside down.
Marc knew he was doomed.
He avoided that staircase like the plague for the rest of that day.
Okay. Okay, you have a crush on him. That's fine. That's normal, right? You have a crush on him and he doesn't even know who you are. Just don't make it weird.
His eyes were blue. Really blue. Like the blue that was mentioned in poetry, a hundred different meanings in a single color. The blue that made you feel things and stare at the sky for hours. Which Marc might have done if he didn't have classes to get to.
Half of his time in those classes were spent daydreaming about Nath's blue eyes.
~oOo~
The moment he saw Nath's face Marc knew he'd fallen.
The moment he saw Nath's art, Marc knew he wasn't getting back up.
One of Nath's friends mentioned it in passing while walking up the stairs, something about art on the school website, and Marc, well, got curious.
Was this stalking? Taking a peek into the habits of a boy he barely knew?
I mean, it was the school website. It's not like he was looking at anything he shouldn't.
And holy shit his art was good.
Marc sat in his usual space, phone in hand and transfixed like a moth to the brightest light its little moth eyes had ever seen.
His art told stories, so many details packaged in lines of graphite across the paper. Marc could practically feel the inspiration dancing behind his eyelids, the things he could write.
Now this was something worth writing about.
~oOo~
It felt like forever and no time at all before Marc was meeting Nath face to face.
He didn't know Nath would be in the art room when Marinette invited him. Looking back it kind of made sense that he would be there. His art was featured on the school website, he was probably involved in the school's art club.
He wasn't sure what to expect, actually talking to Nathaniel.
Well, he didn't really talk to Nath that much. He got out one and a half sentences. That could barely be considered a conversation.
Who knew it was possible to be so giddy and full of anxiety at the same time? He was trembling all over by the time he ran out of the art room and found his way back into his safe cubbyhole under the stairs. The anxious part of him was especially present at that moment, his giddiness more of a secret smile that he'd only truly appreciate once his nerves were settled.
His nerves didn't settle for a long, long time.
Especially once he got akumatized.
Now that was something he hadn't expected. Sure, not everything could be perfect and sunshine rainbows with Nath, he was human, after all, but seeing the brunt of Nathaniel's flaws face-first felt like a splash of cold water and a wake-up call. A reminder that Marc didn't know Nathaniel.
And maybe it was because he'd already fallen this far, but when it was over, when Nath offered his hand and a chance to start over, Marc thought, well, maybe there's still time to learn.
"Let's start from square one," Marc said, looking Nathaniel evenly in the face. "My name is Marc Anciel."
~oOo~
He learned more about Nath than he ever realized was possible.
Nath cared fiercely-about his art, about his friends, about what people thought of him. His friend, Alix, was even fiercer, and ended up as his friend too by extension. He was more unorganized and sporadic than Marc had assumed-not being able to guess when Nath would sit on the stairs was one thing, this man had the organizational skills of eighteen feral monkeys set at a filing cabinet. It was horrifically fascinating.
So when they decided to make a comic together, Marc took the job of scheduling things. Nath tried to help, he really did, but it was easier for both of them to let Marc assign the deadlines. And Marc liked managing their project, so he wasn't complaining.
"You have no attention span," Alix chided, startling Marc from his writing in his usual stair space. He looked up to see Nathaniel on the stairs, and Alix leaning over the banister to look at the artist. "That homework's due today."
"I'm trying," Nath whined. "I hate math." His foot was tapping against the stairs.
"You've got an hour," the pink-haired girl said. "Good luck."
Nath gave a little frustrated noise as Alix walked away. Marc watched Nath fidgeting with his pencil, setting it down on the staircase to grab an eraser. The pencil rolled through the slats of the steps and next to Marc.
"Oh, damn it," he heard Nath hiss.
Marc grabbed the pencil and passed it back up. "Here you go."
"Shit!" Nath jumped, and then he was leaning down, blue eyes peering at Marc through the stairs. "H-how long have you been down there?"
"This is my spot," Marc answered. "Sorry for startling you."
"No, no, it's okay, it's just...your spot?"
The writer shrugged. "It's where I go when I've got free time."
"Ah." Nath noticed the pencil then, taking it from Marc's fingers. Marc tried not to focus on the warmth of contact. "Thanks."
"Good luck." Marc turned back around, trying to distract himself from the rapid beating of his own heart. Their comic wouldn't write itself, after all.
Maybe it was his imagination, but Nath seemed to sit on the stairs more often after that day.
~oOo~
Marc didn't always write while he was under the stairs. Sometimes he just scrolled through his phone, waiting for the minutes to pass.
This was not one of those times. He had several ideas planned out and he wanted to get them written to show Nath after they finalized their next issue, which they'd be doing after class today.
His back was hurting from staying hunched over for so long, and the concrete was not gentle to his seat, but he ignored the discomforts, trying to focus his whole attention on his writing.
But then the light shifted above him ever so slightly, and Marc could feel a pair of eyes on him, the barest hint of breathing.
He shut the book. "No peeking."
Nath pouted, giving a little sad noise. Marc could feel a finger poke the back of his head. "Not even a little excerpt?"
"You gotta stay focused on the one we're working on right now," Marc scolded. "You can read this afterwards."
There was a hum. "What if I said...pretty please?"
"You can 'pretty please' me all you like but I'm not changing my mind." Marc turned to look at Nath, smiling.
"Nothing will change your mind?"
The impish gleam in Nath's eye was making Marc's heart do somersaults, but he fought to keep the cool smile on his face.
"I could..." whatever proposition Nath had been planning to make died on his lips instantly. He frowned. "Shit. I forgot."
Marc snorted.
The artist raised an eyebrow, beaming. "But I made you laugh. So that's a win in my book."
"You're too much."
"I am," Nath agreed, eyes shining. "But you still put up with me."
Before Marc could answer, Nath pulled back, heading up the stairs and out of sight.
And when Marc realized that he loved Nath, it was with a smile on his face and a laugh held in the back of his throat.
~oOo~
"I'm curious," Nath said one day, looking down through the stairs at Marc. "How long have we been sitting this close to each other without realizing?"
Marc hummed. "Well, I knew you were sitting up there for a while before we actually met," he said.
"You did?"
"Yeah. I've known you for a while."
There was a long pause after that. Marc eventually glanced to the side to see Nath's head looking down from above at him, hair almost touching the floor from his upside-down position.
"What?"
"It's...weird," Nath admitted. "Not you being weird," he instantly added when Marc hunched his shoulders. "I'm not used to people...acknowledging my existence, that's all."
The writer blinked. "You're not?"
"I'm easy to miss," Nath said with a shrug. "Most people don't notice me."
"I've noticed you," Marc blurted.
Nath blinked.
"I mean..." his face was growing steadily hotter under Nathaniel's intense scrutiny. "Purple pants, red hair, blue eyes. You don't see that every day."
"Oh," the redhead breathed.
"Not that I was like watching you or anything," Marc added hastily, waving a hand. "It was just something that I kind of noticed and then you kept showing up so I got used to seeing you around and now we're friends and that's a whole thing-" The alarm on his phone went off, startling him out of his ramblings. "Oh, shoot, I've got class. See you later!"
"Later," Nath agreed, pulling himself back up. The back of his head hit the railing with a thunk. "Ow!"
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Nath rubbed the back of his head. "I'm fine. See you."
As Marc made his way up the stairs, he took one last glance back. Nath was still sitting there, looking up at him.
~oOo~
A week later, there was a note under the stairs where Marc usually sat.
Marc picked it up. No design. No indication of who it was for. Maybe someone dropped it and it fell through the stairs.
He opened it, expecting to see some math homework or the inside of a flyer.
He didn't expect to see the words "To Marc Anciel" on the inside, in all-too-familiar handwriting.
Fully intrigued, Marc sat down and started reading.
To Marc Anciel,
I'm bad at writing but I'm too nervous to ask you in person cuz you're really out of my league but I like you and if you dont like me back that's fine but if you do can I take you on a date?
Your Secret Admirer
Marc fought down a smile. Nathaniel was so bad at being subtle. Even now he could see the familiar purple pants and red hair of his friend, sitting on a bench on the other side of the room, his art book in front of his face but his eyes peeking from over the top at him.
God, he was cute.
And he liked Marc. Marc couldn't hide his smile at that thought, feeling a little anxious but much more giddy. That was an unexpected surprise.
The writer pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent him a text. Come sit with me.
Marc's palms were sweating, his heart was beating like it was going to burst out of his heart, and when Nath started walking towards the stairs, Marc thought he might forget how to breathe altogether. Nath liked him.
With a stiffness in his walk, Nath approached, reaching the stairs-
-and sat down in his usual space, blocking out the light. "You need something?" The artist asked. His voice cracked a little at the end. Oh god, he really was too much.
Marc was trying to hold back from laughing so hard he felt tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "I meant come sit down here, silly," he said, using the end of his pencil to poke at Nath's butt through the steps.
"Oh."
Marc quickly tried to recompose himself as Nath sat down next to him, scooting into the little dark space under the stairs.
"So...uh..." Nath looked around, eyes zeroing in on the note in Marc's hand. "You got a note?" He was trying to play it cool and failing so miserably.
"From a 'Secret Admirer'," Marc said. "Who also forgot to add a way to contact them if I wanted to accept."
The artist blinked. A deep red flush was rising from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "Huh."
"Nath, I know you made it," Marc said. "It's in your handwriting."
The stunned face Nathaniel gave in response was what finally did Marc in.
The writer snorted, clapping one hand over his mouth and grabbing Nath's hand with the other one. "Nath, I love you," he giggled, squeezing the stupefied artist's hand, "but leave the writing to me, okay?"
"I-what?" Nathaniel squeaked. "Love me?"
Marc's body was shaking with full-bodied laughter, barely suppressed by the hand over his lips.
Nath was starting to smile too, slowly, like he still couldn't believe it. "You really do?"
With an incredible amount of willpower, Marc forced himself to breathe, to calm down and look Nath in the face. "So much," he said, joy spilling down his cheeks and clogging his nose a bit. "So, so much."
Nathaniel let Marc fall into his arms, still giggling. The world felt bubbly and light and unreal, he could only imagine what it felt like to the artist. Bewildering, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. "I really like you too," Nath finally said, watching Marc pull away and wipe his face with a sleeve.
Marc smiled at Nath, lungs aching from having laughed so hard, hand clutching the artist's like he never wanted to let go again.
"And, uh...I was hoping to kiss you..." Nath bit his lip. "If that's okay."
The electric feeling of hilarity was slowly fading into softer, stronger affection, warm in his face and dancing across his lips. "Then kiss me," Marc gasped, breathless and dizzy and wanting, pulling the artist closer to meet his lips.
Nath kissed him slowly, experimentally, feeling the form and taste of contact. And kissed him again, one hand drifting up to the back of his head, holding him in place. And again, hungry, addicted, desperate to taste everything Marc offered.
Marc clutched Nath's jacket, held him close, kissed him until they were both senseless. He could feel Nath's breath in his lungs, Nath's tongue in his mouth, overwhelming in the best way possible.
He didn't realize he'd been pulled onto Nath's lap until they parted. Nath's eyes were practically glowing, face and lips almost the shade of his hair.
Marc hadn't kissed him nearly as hard as he wanted to, but that would have to be for later. His lungs were already oxygen-starved enough from the laughing and the kissing, any more and he might pass out.
Not to mention they were still at school, a thought that hit him very suddenly as he looked up and caught eyes with Alix, standing a few feet away and staring with the most unexplainable intensity.
Crap.
"Ah, shit, she's coming for us," he breathed.
"Who is?" Nath asked, looking up with a start as Alix placed a deliberate hand on the staircase and leaned over.
"You're so fucking lucky I distracted Ms. Mendeleiev before she saw you," Alix hissed. "Because that was nasty."
Marc felt the blood draining from his face, effectively killing the mood with the threat of fear and teacher disapproval. "Sorry," he said, crawling off Nath's lap. "And thanks for...looking out for us?"
"Yeah, it wasn't by choice." Alix looked pissed at the fact that she had to witness their getting together. "We're gonna be late for class."
"Right. Class." Nath ran a hand through his hair. "School."
"I get you've been pining for him for months now," Alix said, not looking amused in the slightest as she helped Nath back to his feet. "But I didn't expect you to jump him the first chance you got. Goddammit I need bleach."
"We got excited," Marc said, a little shamefully. "No more kissing at school, promise."
~oOo~
It took an hour and seventeen minutes for Marc to break his promise.
They kept breaking that promise for weeks, months, years, even.
Sometimes Nath would invite him to sit on the stairs together, and sometimes Marc would convince the artist to join him under the staircase.
But honestly, it didn't matter to Marc where they were. They were together.
And that was more than enough.