Work Text:
The Eiffel Tower glimmered in the last rays of the setting sun. At the very top, a girl swung her feet across the ledge, covered from head to toes in a spotted red suit. Her blue eyes watched the city, covered with a thin layer of snow, with pride and affection. For three years, she had been its guardian, fighting alongside the infuriatingly unreliable and reliably unlucky Chat Noir.
He crash-landed into a pole next to her with the bell around his neck released a tingling sound. She snorted, glancing side-ways just to see his grimace of pain morph into a silly grin, as he noticed her.
“You alright there, Noir?” Ladybug threw her head back, laughing at his misfortune. He never minded the sound, even if it was at his expense.
“Milady,” he greeted her, dropping to his knees next to her. “The sunset pales in comparison to you.”
Ladybug whipped her head around to face him, the pale pink on her cheeks invisible under the red mask.
“Where were you, Noir? I really could’ve used your help with the akuma today.”
Chat Noir had the grace to look apologetic.
“I was trying to find the rose to match your beauty,” he confessed, pulling out a flower from behind his back. “Alas, I had to settle for this baby blossom.”
“It’s a big baby.” Ladybug accepted the red rosebud gingerly. “Where did you find this one?”
“I grew it,” announced the boy proudly. If possible, his smile widened even more, bordering the line of insanity. Ladybug rolled her eyes.
“And I was born yesterday.” She twirled it between her fingers, mindful of the thorns on the stem, even if they had no power to hurt her while she was in the suit.
“I’m serious!” Noir poked her shoulder with a claw. “A lot of hard work went into cultivating this.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she teased lightheartedly. “You’re just trying to get a kiss out of me, aren’t you?”
“Why do you always think I am out for a kiss?” Noir trilled, undignified. “Why can’t I just do something nice without any ulterior motives? Why must you always…”
“Are you telling me you don’t want a kiss?” Ladybug raised an eyebrow, shutting him up. Noir hung his head, but only for a moment. As soon as it had passed, his head snapped up again.
“I do!” He inserted quickly, face a furious red. “You know my suit doesn’t come off without Ladybug’s kiss!”
“Are you going to see that girl again?”
Noir tucked his tail between his legs. He avoided her curious regard, as it searched him for something, a clue as to why he kept visiting someone while donning a suit that was more a curse than a blessing.
“Noir…” She said his name softly. “Our miraculous are meant to be used for the greater good. Not for visiting civilian girls at odd hours of the night. You know that.”
Noir shrunk under her gaze, resembling with every passing heartbeat more and more a stray kitten abandoned on the streets. He quivered, his pleading eyes peering into Ladybug’s, sad and irresistible. Were it not for their history, nor his playful independence, it would have evoked sympathy in her heart.
"I don't particularly fancy having a midnight rendezvous with you tonight." She averted her gaze from him.
Marinette planned to work on Félix’s Valentine’s Day gift all night. She had no time to entertain Noir, then run out afterward to release his transformation. She had a life for heavens’ sake. But the more Noir hanged out with her outside of their hero duties, the harder it was to tell him no as Ladybug.
“Okay,” he accepted with a shrug.
Ladybug stirred in surprise. His indifference was refreshing, an unexpected turn of events, and it immediately made her suspicious.
"I mean it, Noir. Don't sneak out to see her tonight. She's not worth risking your life on her."
"Yeah, I know."
He dangled his feet off the ledge, his response offhanded and not at all serious enough, earning him a glare full of worry and judgment.
"Noir, I mean it."
If he didn't listen, if he went gallivanting in secret again… Ladybug shivered, recalling the one and only time she'd found him stretched out unconscious on a rooftop after his first transformation, body limp and heavy, unresponsive to her cautious poking.
He was a stranger then. Not a hero, not a friend.
Hauling his lifeless body to a secluded park, hiding it under bushes before pressing a shy kiss on his cheek and dashing off made her feel like a criminal up to no good, but it was the right thing to do. He had the right to his privacy.
He had the right to a life and Ladybug didn't want to be the one to rob him of it.
"Don't worry, little bug."
Noir placed his clawed hand over hers. Her expression softened only a bit.
"I consider you a dear friend, Noir," she admitted quietly. "I don't want to lose you."
The grin that overtook his face radiated warmth.
"I know, little bug, I know."
They sat in silence until the last of pink and orange was replaced with darkening blue in which the fuselage lights of an airplane flickered, as it began its descent. The temperature dropped rapidly once the sun was gone; the iron under their butts became colder, biting even through the protective skin of their suits.
Chat Noir stood up first. He offered Ladybug his hand and pulled her to her feet when she accepted it.
“If you’d be so kind,” he offered his left cheek. Ladybug cupped his face with her gloved hand, lecturing him with her stare.
“Don’t go searching for trouble, Noir,” she reminded him before planting the light kiss that started the timer on his detransformation. “I need you prim and proper on Saint Valentine’s.”
“I’m still hoping we’re getting this holiday off.” Chat Noir blew her a kiss. “See you around!”
His baton extended and he used it to push himself off the tower. Ladybug watched him go.
Only after he had disappeared between the buildings did she start heading home, too.
The loud thump on her balcony made Marinette freeze, needle in hand centimeters from the book cover she was embroidering. The following clunk of a clay pot cracking unfroze her just as fast and she cursed under her breath, as she rushed to hide her napping kwami in a drawer among scraps of leftover fabric.
Marinette berated herself. She should have known better than to believe in Chat Noir's compliance.
She set her work aside with a heavy sigh and climbed the stairs to her balcony to put an end to the incessant tapping on the skylight door.
Chat Noir withdrew from the glass as soon as she appeared in his line of sight. The door swung open with a quiet squeak.
Before Marinette could get a word out, Chat Noir presented her with a rose. It resembled the one he’d given Ladybug, only instead of a bud, it was almost fully opened, filling her nostrils with its sweet fragrance.
“Chat Noir? What’s the meaning of this?”
He peeked at her from behind the flower, charmingly shy in a way unknown to Ladybug but all too familiar to Marinette. He returned her questioning look with an almost embarrassed smile.
“Remember that time when I broke your flower pot and the shard cut into my hand?” A timid blush appeared under Chat Noir’s mask. He resisted the urge to claw at his face and instead rambled on, nearly squeezing his eyes shut as he approached the ending. “And when you were bandaging the wound, you told me how difficult it was to get edible roses because everyone uses pesticides and fertilizers these days and you never know if the flowers you get are actually safe enough to eat?”
Marinette blinked, recalling the incident. “But that was months ago?”
“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his head, not daring to hold her gaze. “Well, I can guarantee this one is up to your standards because I grew it myself.”
Marinette gasped, as the realization hit her, then launched herself at him. He caught her with ease, draping an arm around her small waist, and took a step back to balance them. He stumbled —just his luck—and, as if things couldn’t get any worse, he brought her down with him.
Marinette landed on top of Chat Noir. A chuckle escaped her lips and she reached out to ruffle his hair, long used to his bad luck.
When their eyes met, his apologetic and hers sparkling with amusement, Chat Noir’s breath hitched in his throat. He loosened his hold on her, going against the instinct that insisted he pull her closer.
“I can’t believe I can’t tell who you’re outside of the suit,” she laughed getting up. “Are you sure I know you?”
“You promised me you’d forget about it!” Despite the accusation, his voice was full of melancholic fondness for the young woman.
“How could I, kitty?” Marinette took the flower from his hand and held it to her chest. “You told me I don’t see you… ”
“Well, you don’t,” huffed the boy, sitting up. He hunched over, head drooping so she wouldn’t see the shame and guilt conjured up by the reminder that things would be different if she knew the boy under the mask was the same boy she was professing love to every couple of weeks.
Marinette placed the rose on one of the boxes littering her balcony. She knelt down in front of the boy and cupped his face in her palms. She lifted his chin, making him look at her.
“Well, I see you now.”
Chat Noir covered her hands with his own, lacing their fingers, as he pulled them down to his lap.
“And I see you, little lady.”
The utter seriousness in his voice startled Marinette. Blood rushed to her face but as much as she wanted, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his piercing green eyes. He had told her more than once that it was the suit, that underneath it, he was another person completely.
He was just as entranced as she was.
Then he sneezed, breaking the spell. Marinette stole her hands back and leaned on them to stand up. He looked away, lost in thoughts, until she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, urging him to get up. With the other, she picked up the flower.
“Can’t have you catch a cold,” she ushered him towards the door. Chat Noir’s ears perked up. Being invited inside was a treat reserved for special occasions.
"Are you sure?" He gulped, eyeing her bed warily.
"Unless you don't want to."
He hit his head against the threshold, as he scrambled inside. Of course, he wanted to go inside—it meant seeing the most hidden side of her. Coincidentally, it was also the one he liked the best.
Marinette closed the door behind him, resisting a snort at his exasperated mewl when she squeezed past him, causing him to hit his head again. He followed her eagerly. His tail twitched playfully; it was only a matter of time until it got caught somewhere and when it did, he nearly rolled down the stairs.
"Kitty!"
It was lucky she was there to soften his fall.
"I'm alright," he grunted into her hair, cheeks flaring from their proximity and embarrassment. "Just… give me a moment."
Marinette shifted under him.
"Okay."
Her heart was racing over a hundred beats per minute—or was it his? They were so close she couldn't tell.
Her breath tickled his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He enjoyed it for as long as he could without letting it get too awkward, then pushed himself off of her, cheeks aflame. Marinette patted him on the shoulder, then got up too.
"I've got to work on this," she gestured at her unfinished embroidery.
Chat Noir glared at it for a moment before allowing his gaze to wander.
"Is it for that boy of yours?" He asked disinterestedly, eyes pointedly on something else.
Marinette slid into her seat with a reproachful glance at the superhero.
"Félix is not my boy."
"Could've fooled me," he hummed, pulling a pillow into his lap.
Marinette didn't respond for a while. She worked diligently, focusing only on the thread and needle and weaving it through the sturdy fabric.
"You're wasting your time." He, of all people, knew that. "Giving him gifts isn't going to make him see you for who you really are."
Marinette wheezed and slowly placed the embroidery down on her desk. When she spoke, she didn't look at him.
"You're probably right."
Chat Noir stiffened, having expected a different reaction. He turned deliberately slowly so she wouldn't catch on to how much her answer unsettled him.
"But that doesn't mean I can't show him that I care about him."
Chat Noir hugged the pillow tighter. The mystery of Marinette Dupain-Cheng's unwavering love for Félix Agreste still baffled him.
The worst part was that Félix had begun entertaining thoughts of submitting to her love.
If only she saw past his facade…
But even if she did, it wouldn't work. His life would still be in the hands of another lady. He'd be kissed by another woman and even if all Ladybug ever gave him were innocent pecks, it was still unfair towards Marinette.
Chat Noir’s heart sunk deeper into his misery.
Mere seconds later, two strong arms wrapped around him for a hug. She’d moved from her chair to the chaise unnoticeably, surprising him with her affection. Their cheeks touched and unable to resist, he rubbed against her soft skin.
She squeaked like a tiny mouse. The sound filled his heart with more warmth than any one of Ladybug’s kisses ever could.
If he could choose—and he wasn't sure Félix Agreste could—he would have chosen his best friend and little lady over anyone else anyway.
“What’s got you so down, kitty?” She diverted the conversation from his favorite topic, her feelings for Félix Agreste.
He mumbled something incoherent as a reply.
Marinette disentangled herself from him. Worried about his wellbeing, she studied his face for the answers. There was something familiar about his frown, about his slightly pouty lips and the furrow of his brow.
“Is it Ladybug?” she finally dared to ask, hand reaching for the phone on her desk. While waiting for his answer, she tipped off Ladyblog about a Chat Noir sighting in the 21st arrondissement.
As soon as Marinette had returned her phone to its place, Chat Noir took her hand in his and brought her knuckles to his lips.
“We both know who the real lady of my heart is.”
Marinette didn’t know. Marinette didn’t want to know. She was happy with the friendship she and Chat Noir had, inside and outside of the suit. His frequent comings and goings, though often troublesome, were something she’d quickly grown accustomed to.
Yet the panic on his face the first time he’d crashed on her balcony still lingered in Marinette’s mind. How suspicious he had been, keeping his distance and ignoring her friendly gestures, as though afraid she’d try to steal his ring when, in the suit, he was always more dangerous than her.
A wide grin stretched over her face, bright and beautiful and utterly lost.
It was a perilous game they were playing.
"Indeed we do," she quipped, scratching behind his ear. Chat Noir leaned into her touch, hoping it wouldn't be the last time she did that.
They fell into comfortable silence. Marinette returned to her work and Chat Noir went back to exploring her room. He made his way over to her bookshelf, not far from her desk. Pristine editions of Félix's favorite books filled it from one end to another, spilling out where they wouldn't fit. Most of them looked as though they'd never been read.
Chat Noir's heart was instantly in a duel, one side defending her—surely there's a reasonable explanation!—the other immediately assuming the worst—she broke into your house, that's how she knows!
Oblivious to his plight, she hummed an unfamiliar melody, the tip of her tongue sticking out from between her lips. His facial muscles relaxed with fondness at the sight. Looking at her like this was enough to soothe his concerns.
He knew that girl. She would climb a tree in the middle of the night to save a stray kitten, then get stuck trying to come down. She would throw a sack of flour at an akuma to distract it, even though it put her at a greater risk, and she would run for her life. Courageous and kind and crazy in love.
“I should probably leave you to work in peace,” he teased, breaking the spell that had his heart pounding. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he added, “Stroll around, scavenge for scraps…”
“If you want a snack, you can just ask, you know.”
Marinette placed the book cover down with a sigh. She wasn’t even halfway done with it and as much as she loved Chat Noir, his interruptions were becoming annoying. He looked at her, suddenly awkward and evasive. She shook her head.
“I’ll bring you a croissant, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”
When she reemerged, she was carrying a brown paper bag laden with leftover pastries from the bakery. Not seeing him in the room, she climbed to the balcony where she found him gazing at the stars. His eyes snapped to her as soon as he heard the latch close and widened at the amount and his stomach growled, eager to fit them all inside it. Marinette pushed the bag in his arms, eyes twinkling mirthfully.
“Marinette…” he languished. “Little lady…”
“I know.” She pressed a finger to his lips, rendering him speechless. “But I can’t exactly let a friend go hungry, now can I?”
Chat Noir nodded. His breath hitched again and he almost regretted giving her the permission to touch him like this. Almost but not quite.
His lips curved and her hand fell, as a slight blush overtook her face. The corners of his lips lifted even more and in a rare show of affection, he kissed her on the cheek.
“Thank you. For everything.”
Face aflame, he made his exit. If he’d looked back, he would have seen her face was just as red.
But eyes weren’t necessary to hear the embarrassed squeal she made when her brain caught up with her.
Ladybug found Chat Noir an hour later. She scolded him, less upset than concerned for his safety, receiving only a grin as an apology for making her sneak out for his benefit.
He could always count on those two girls, Marinette and Ladybug, to save that stray.
The day before Valentine’s day was always busy at the bakery. Marinette’s parents often enlisted her help during the holidays and this year was no exception.
She’d tied her hair up in twin buns to stop it from falling in her eyes, as she rushed around, whisking eggs one moment, decorating heart-shaped cookies the next, cheeks red from the exercise. Her face was covered in sweat and confectioners’ sugar sticking to her skin like makeup.
“You look like a ghost,” declared Manon with a scrutinizing eye while her mother was paying for their cake.
Marinette resisted the urge to lash out at the little girl.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not in the living room then, isn’t it?” She shot with a wide grin, then wiped her forehead with a towel she found lying around.
Manon giggled.
“You’ve got a…” She pointed to a spot on her face and Marinette attempted to wipe it off from her own. When she failed, Manon took the towel from her and helped her out, a smug grin on her face. The older girl squatted down so Manon could reach the spot easier.
“Thank you,” Marinette said with a smile. “Come on, wait here, I’ll give you a cookie before you leave.”
“I’d rather play with your dolls,” admitted the child unhappily.
Marinette returned from the kitchen with a heart-shaped cookie with Cutie written in her best icing. Manon accepted it gingerly.
“Next time you come over, we can play with the dolls,” reassured Marinette, kneeling to be eye-level with Manon.. “Ladybug and Chat Noir will be waiting for you!”
“Manon! We’ve got to go!”
The two girls glanced at Nadja Chamack, waiting by the door. Manon quickly turned her eyes on Marinette again.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
With that, a pact was formed and Manon skipped happily away, eating the cookie as she went.
Marinette stood up again. Just as she was about to return to the kitchen, Sabine stopped her.
"You wanted to go to the Fennec, didn't you? You should go before it closes."
Marinette took one look at the wall clock and cursed, as she rushed to grab her purse while pulling off her apron at the same time. It snagged in her buns which she then released, letting the messy hair fall on her shoulders. She was out the door, a hasty goodbye leaving her mouth an instant before the door slammed shut.
Marinette paid for the sugar and the small bottle of rose water, said goodbye to the friendly cashier and left the shop, eyeing the shopowner’s crow pecking at a pearl with curiosity and consternation. She was always a little worried she’d do something to offend the bird.
The bell above the door jingled and a cold gust of wind blew in her face. She halted to make sure no cars were coming before crossing the road with long strides. Pulling her coat closer, she didn’t notice a young man in a trenchcoat carrying heading her way. He was just as oblivious to her and they came crashing down on the sidewalk.
“I’m so, so sorry!” The man tried to pick up the disassembled bouquet of pink roses, clearly distraught.
“No, I’m sorry!” Marinette managed to grab a rose before the gale stole it. She handed it to the gentleman, offering a feeble smile. He accepted the flower and returned the smile anxiously, as the wind caused the flowers to shudder.
A handful of petals fell. The man bit his lip to hold back a whimper.
“These flowers are beautiful!” Marinette held out a hand to help him up. “Let me guess, for your girlfriend?”
“For my little sister,” he corrected with an affectionate look. “Her boyfriend broke up with her after the New Year’s and she’s taking it pretty hard. I was hoping it would cheer her up but…”
The once regal flowers drooped even further as to make his point.
Marinette placed a hand reassuringly on his. “They’re lovely. I’m sure she’ll love them.”
“Thanks, uh… May I have your name?”
“Marinette,” she complied sweetly. “And you are?”
“Antoine. Antoine Roger.” He pulled one of the prettier roses from the bouquet and handed it to Marinette. “Thank you, Marinette. You’ve taken a weight off my heart. I was truly lucky to run into you!”
He tipped his fedora and rushed off, a lightness in his steps that made Marinette smile. She adjusted her bag and continued on her own way. She was unaware of another passerby who had silently witnessed her interaction with Antoine.
Félix was surprised to see Marinette in his neighborhood. He traced his steps and hid behind the corner of the street, watching her with superheroesque concern. Just because they weren’t on best terms outside of his suit didn’t mean he could stop caring as soon as it was off.
Marinette was still Chat Noir’s very important, very special friend.
Félix watched her for as long as he dared. It was a fluke that he’d seen her first, one for which he was very grateful, and he intended to savour it while it lasted.
Marinette teetered on the riverbank, her hair reflecting the warm glow of streetlights, swaying too close to the Seine for his liking. A part of the fence protecting absentminded passersby was under construction after a recent conflict between two rival gangs destroyed it.
Would she be alright?
He had to trust her. There was no way he was going to go over there, tell her to pay more attention or walk her home. Absolutely no way.
Even so, Félix only moved when Marinette disappeared from his view, grumpy and cold and a tiny bit melancholic.
What if he had never met her? What if they’d just passed each other on the street once or twice, never meant to meet? Marinette had changed him for the better in so many ways, even if she didn’t have even an inkling about it. He’d been very careful.
He had to be.
Careful and patient.
For his sake and for hers. And for Ladybug’s, too.
A little knowledge was a dangerous thing—it could tip the scales and take his freedom—but so was a lot of ignorance. Ladybug had been clear about the rules. No one was to know.
He had no doubt his fondness for Marinette would outlast the war against Hawkmoth.
About his life, he wasn’t so sure.
Félix ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, sighing miserably, his heart torn asunder.
It was better not to dream.
On Valentine’s day, Ladybug went for a quick patrol at sunrise. She wasn’t surprised to find Chat Noir joining her, racing beside her on the rooftops, a silly grin on his face. Holidays were his favorite, he admitted as much, because the spotted superheroine was bound to be out and about, which only meant she was easier to find.
This time, Ladybug was prepared. She slowed down to let him catch up and came to a halt on top of the Arc de Triomphe, capturing Noir with her yo-yo before his beautiful face smashed into the carved facade of the monument. She heaved him up, struggling with his weight.
“Good morning, milady,” grinned the cat as soon as they saw each other eye-to-eye. “Such a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
But he was looking past her, in the direction of the bakery. For a moment, Ladybug panicked internally: was it possible? had he figured it out?
Just in case, she decided to play dumb.
“Hey, Chat! I have a gift for you,” she blurted, dropping him on the limestone. “I just need you to answer a few questions first.”
Chat Noir raised an eyebrow at her, only slightly intrigued.
“Really?”
“Y-yeah.” Ladybug quickly gathered her wits. “It’s been plaguing me for a while. Why are you so careless? Do you have a death wish or something?”
Chat Noir sighed in relief. “Little bug, you had me worried for a moment. I thought you were going to…” ask about the feelings I have for Marinette which I’ve yet to figure out for myself.
“I don’t have a death wish,” he reassured her. “It’s just… It’s like an itch I’ve got to scratch, you know? My life, my other life, gets too much sometimes and for a moment, I forget about what could happen…”
He was ashamed of that. He was supposed to have a better control of his emotions.
“Well…” Ladybug gazed at him through her eyelashes. “I talked with your little friend, Marinette. We reached an agreement. From now on, whenever you show up at her place, she’s going to notify me directly.”
Chat Noir’s right eye twitched. “Was that really necessary?”
Ladybug blinked. She had anticipated a different reaction. He visited Marinette so frequently these days that it had seemed sensible.
“Wouldn’t that put her—and you—at a higher risk?”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Did she get a say in this?”
“She did. She cares about you a lot, you know.”
Chat Noir inhaled sharply. He had opinions about the situation that he opted not to share with the spotted dame. He wished she had discussed it with him first.
“Well, it’s your call.”
Ladybug placed a hand on his slumped shoulder. She could tell something was wrong.
“Noir… It's alright. Cherish your friend,” she added softly. “But do it safely. Marinette and I will both sleep better, knowing you’re alright… She already tips off the Ladyblog, you know. That’s how I know to come and find you.”
“Well, thanks. I guess.”
“Here.” Ladybug pushed a box of macarons into his lap. “To um, keep you up and going today.”
Chat Noir smiled slightly at the sweets. He ignored the twist in his stomach when she pressed a kiss on his cheek before running off.
He wasted a minute, wallowing in self-pity. Then he left, returning to the sugarcoated life of the Agreste heir.
On the surface, all was well.
Félix was tired of existing. Tired of being cornered by naive girls hoping for a miracle. Tired of the cards and the confessions.
Just tired .
And the hardest part of his day was still ahead. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had yet to pour her heart out in front of him. And he knew she would. She always did.
Her confessions were like the curse on his ring: ineffable and embarrassing. No matter how hard she tried, something always went wrong. It was as though his bad luck manifested on her in particular.
Thanks to her, Félix had learned he was allergic to peaches. He’d discovered he definitely didn’t like being written poetry about. He’d realized that he enjoyed being cared about; enjoyed showing he cared.
“I mean,” he heard one of Marinette’s friends say in what he assumed was supposed to be encouragement. “If not love, then what… what makes living a life worthwhile?”
Félix sped up to avoid running into them. He slipped into their classroom and leaned his back against the door, listening for her answer.
“Cats.”
Her answer brought a subtle smile to his face.
“And roses. And I can think of a billion more things that make life worth living. It’s not just about love, you know.”
His eyes drifted to his desk and the modest brown parcel lying on top of it. Tied with a string of the same color, it was one of the most reasonable one Félix had ever received on St. Valentine’s.
It made him suspicious. He had half the mind to throw it into the garbage bin immediately, but at the last moment, he reconsidered. He untied the paper yarn slowly, careful not to cut himself, and removed the wrapping. He recognized the gift instantly, even without the giver’s name.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s designs spoke on their own. He would have known it was from her even if he hadn’t glimpsed at her work a couple of nights before.
The book cover was neatly wrapped around a hardback journal in a matching size. He cracked it open with low expectations, ready to see a love confession drawn out over several pages in her loopy handwriting, but there was nothing but empty sheets of the same kind of ruled paper he liked the best, grey lines on warm white.
They only sold it in thin booklets and on some days, he ran through several of those. If this journal existed on the shelves of a stationary shop, he would have known.
It was handmade.
Next to it, there was a box with six macarons, light pink, identical to the ones he’d received from Ladybug in the morning.
Marinette never bought the treats she shared. They were always from her parents' bakery. Homemade, in flavors not sold by the shop because Marinette believed that some things had to be special.
His brain connected the dots. The revelation wasn't as shattering as he'd imagined it; he took it in stride.
Just another reason he couldn't tell her the truth about his feelings, about his identity and her role in it.
Last thing Paris needed was a distracted Ladybug.
His eyes found the book cover again, his brain processing the information.
The rose and the fox.
Love and friendship.
Him and her.
Félix jolted out of his seat, scrambling away as though burned by an invisible flame. He nearly tore the door off its hinges in an attempt to escape the prison of his own thoughts.
He noticed her right away, standing by the art class in a conversation with some upperclassman, petals falling from the pink rose behind her ear.
He couldn't be her lover, not yet, but he could still be her friend.
“Dupain-Cheng!” he called out to her, holding her gift to his chest. She looked up, positively alarmed by his attention. Their eyes met and he hoped in the name of all that was holy that she could see, just this once, the turmoil inside him. “Thank you.”