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The pipe digging into Chloé’s back vibrated in tune with the techno music blaring outside the bathroom. The dance floor had been packed, when she’d left it. Now, both the music and the screams of club-goers were muffled by the bathroom walls, except in those moments where the doors burst open to emit gaggles of giggling girls. She could barely see a thing—gone were the strobe lights and disco patterns. Even here though, everything smelled of booze, including the breath blowing on Chloé’s face.
It wasn’t her usual scene, but she couldn’t have cared less.
She was lost in the moment. Of the body pressing her into the brick wall. Of the tingle from fingers slipping under her shirt, pinching her hips and pulling Chloé in closer. Of the lips sucking hard against hers, then breaking away to trail kisses down her neck as Chloé gasped for breath.
And then it stopped. Right when Chloé very much did not want it to stop.
“What the hell, Kubdel?”
Alix flashed a wicked grin. “Shut up, Bourgeois. I just have something to say, your highness.” Alix’s voice seeped with condescension. It sent a thrill through Chloé.
“Make it fast,” Chloé snapped. She was impatient to have their lips back on hers. To twine her fingers in their hair. To pretend for a little while longer that the rest of the world didn’t exist.
This wasn’t how Chloé had expected tonight to end up, but she was glad it had turned out this way. With Alix. For the third time, not that Chloé was counting.
The first time had been spontaneous. They were both been stuck attending some charity event at the museum, and one thing led to another. Initially, they were brought together by boredom. The tedium of listening to boring old rich folk drone on about taxes, and summer houses, and their kids. They weren’t quite eighteen, so Chloé caused a fake scene in front of the bartender, while Alix swiped a bottle of champagne. They ran off together to an empty wing and sank to the ground, giggling as they popped open the bottle and passed it back and forth. By the time it was half gone, they were both laughing uncontrollably. When Chloé fell over into Alix’s lap, kissing had just seemed like the natural next step.
The second time had been an accident. It was Marinette’s eighteenth birthday party, held at some stupidly fancy restaurant that nobody had really wanted to be at, except for the fact that Adrien was paying. Chloé met Alix’s eyes across the table, and suddenly she was hungry for something more than the food that was taking far too long. They met up in the bathroom, and despite Chloé’s best efforts to the contrary, it left her wanting more.
This time, Alix had texted Chloé. Had told her to come meet them at the club. And Chloé, who apparently had no self-respect anymore, hadn’t hesitated for so much as a second.
Alix was regarding her now with a strange expression, their skin glowing faintly under the black light. They were normally a few inches shorter than Chloé, but Chloé was leaning back against the wall at a bit of an angle, putting them near eye-level. Alix’s hands slipped off of Chloé, who only just managed to hold back a squawk of protest. That would have been undignified.
Finally, Alix spoke. “If we’re going to keep doing this, I have one rule.”
Something in their expression told Chloé not to argue. “Fine, what is it?”
“You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”
Chloé couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Fat fucking chance of that happening, Kubdel.”
“I’m serious, Chloé—”
“What, we’re doing first names, now?”
“Chloé,” Alix hissed. “Listen.”
“Fine.”
“I like this. Hooking up. It’s fun. It’s surprisingly easy.” They paused, surveying Chloé. “And I weirdly almost don’t hate you, anymore.”
“Back at you, Kubdel. Now are you done with your little speech? Because—”
A finger to Chloé’s lips shut her up. “I’m serious. I’m aromatic. I don’t do relationships. I don’t do holding your hand while we walk along the beach. I don’t do falling in love. Those are my conditions.”
Chloé sighed. She really wanted to pull her usual stunt, and roll her eyes or something. Not because she didn’t take Alix’s identity seriously—Chloé had had some personal growth over the years, after all—but because pretending she didn’t care was kind of Chloé’s thing. The bare minimum, probably.
But this wasn’t the time to be flippant. This was Alix being vulnerable with her, inasmuch as they ever were. That was something Chloé had in common with them—they both had hard exteriors. Faces they showed the world and ones they kept hidden. And this was one of Alix’s hidden faces. Not their identity, but the fact that moments like this worried them. That a part of them feared that confessions like this would push people away.
Recognizing that, Chloé nodded. “Ok. I promise not to fall in love with you.”
Alix nodded, holding Chloé’s gaze for a few seconds. Their eyes twinkled when the bathroom door slammed open and the neon club lights streaked inside. The door slammed shut.
“Good,” Alix said. Then they kissed Chloé again.
Their meet-ups became a regular thing. Sparse, at first, and almost entirely at Alix’s discretion. Mostly because Chloé was too chicken to text Alix when she was in the mood. She told herself it was because she was respecting Alix’s boundaries, but if she was honest, it was mostly Chloé’s own baggage that kept her from reaching out. It was probably something Chloé should have talked about with her therapist.
Chloé should probably...actually get a therapist.
Eventually, their meetings became a near weekly thing. Most often they met up in Chloé’s room at Le Grand Paris, since that was easiest, but there was also a few more club hook-ups, as well as the occasional time they ran into each other at some event or other. There was typically very little talking involved at first, except what was necessary to make sure they were both comfortable with what went on. But the more time they spent time together, even that started to change.
They wouldn’t talk before, aside from some snarky banter and teasing, but after became something Chloé began to look forward. After became the highlight of Chloé’s week.
She learned that Alix had a dream of visiting every country before they died. Chloé opened up to Alix about her mom. She listened to Alix rant about how the various ways Jalil had annoyed them lately. They both talked about how they’d figured out their sexualities, and found a weird common ground in what being queer meant to them.
Sometimes they just rated their favourite snack foods, or spent hours arguing over movies. On one particularly mortifying occasion, Chloé had drunkenly gushed about her old crush on Ladybug, a topic that Alix found hilarious for some reason.
This was Chloé’s new normal. And she loved it.
They were kissing when Chloé figured it out.
Alix had shown up to Chloé’s room, tackled Chloé to the bed, kicked off their shoes, and smashed their lips onto Chloé’s. It was hot, and Chloé was into it. That wasn’t a surprise.
The line of thoughts that followed was.
Chloé cupped Alix’s cheek as they kissed, marvelling at how soft their skin was. And as much as Chloé was enjoying that, she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest when she thought about after.
She could imagine doing that for the rest of her—Oh.
Oh no.
Oh, shit.
“Stop,” she said, pushing Alix off of her.
Alix moved to the edge of the bed without further prompting. “What’s wrong?” they asked. Chloé shook her head, burying her face in her hands. She saw Alix shifting beside her. “Chloé, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just...I broke the rule.”
“You broke the—Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.” Alix didn’t say anything, and when Chloé looked up, they were chewing on their lip. “Alix?”
They sighed. “I...look. I can’t just say it’s okay, because it’s not like—”
“I know.” Chloé ignored the sinking feeling in her gut. She’d known this would be the reaction, but it still stung. Apparently, Chloé couldn’t just push her feelings aside and pretend they didn’t exist, and that was...inconvenient. “I stopped as soon as I realized. I don’t...I wasn’t trying to...Look, I know I was a shitty person, back in collège, but I’m trying to change.”
“I know. You have changed.” Alix laughed. “You really think I’d have spent this much time with the old you?”
Chloé smiled weakly. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”
“Whatever. Just don’t let it go to your head. But...the point is, I know you weren’t just trying to trick me into something. And it’s not your fault. I might not know what it’s like to fall in love, but I know that those feelings are as valid as mine.”
“Shit.” Chloé felt a sudden sting in the corner of her eyes. Why? She couldn’t do this now. “Can’t you be like...mad at me or something? Make this easier?”
Alix snorted. “I’m pissed at you.” Their tone was teasing. “This was a hell of a lot of fun, and now it’s over.”
Chloé laughed again. She hadn’t realized how easy it had gotten for Alix to bring that out in her. Shit.
“You know...” Alix said. “It doesn’t all have to be over. It’s probably best that we don’t see each other for a little while, but when the dust settles...if you’re down...I think we could try being...friends?”
Chloé snorted at Alix’s expression. “You can’t even say that with a straight face.”
“That’s not true!” Alix laughed. “I...honestly, I really have enjoyed talking to you and stuff. You’re not completely terrible, Bourgeois.”
“Yeah. You either.”
They fell silent, their smiles fading. Tension settled between them, until Alix rolled off the bed and stood. “I should go.”
Chloé nodded, staying in place while she watched Alix slip their shoes back on. They walked to the edge of Chloé’s room, then looked back.
“Are you...are you going to be okay? Do you have someone you can call?”
“Shit, Kubdel. You actually care about me or something?” Chloé was deflecting, she knew that, but the banter helped.
“Don’t be an idiot, Bourgeois. You know I don’t give a fuck.” The look in her eyes disagreed, and it did funny things to Chloé’s stomach.
It wasn’t romance. Chloé knew that. But it was something...real. Something Chloé didn’t get with a lot of people. Someone who’d actually gotten to know her, and still liked what was underneath. And friends? Chloé didn’t have a lot of those. Adrien and Sabrina, to name two. Marinette, sort of. Maybe. But she really only tolerated Chloé because of Adrien.
None of those people had really gotten to know this version of Chloé. The version she was terrified to show the world. The version with flaws and insecurities and the capacity to change.
Chloé had to admit to herself that she liked this version. So maybe, however this was ending, it hadn’t been a bad idea after all.
“Get home safe, Alix. I’ll text you when...when I’m ready to be friends.”
Alix nodded. “You better. Take care, Bourgeois.” Then they left the room.
A few months later, Chloé called.