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Warm and gentle wind glided through Paris, picking up peals of drunken laughter from the tourists promenading on the banks of Seine.
Marinette leaned on the balcony railing and let the soft glow of the setting sun caress her face. Eyes half-closed, she was lost in a daydream sparked by the events of her day.
Félix's stories were always beautiful. They made her reach for her sketchbook, itching to give shape to the images his words conjured in her mind when he read them out loud in front of the class. She'd been a goner since the first one.
A sigh escaped her lips at the same time a loud crash shattered the peace.
She spun around, alarmed, expecting the cause to be an akuma. There had been five since school started. She was still not used to fighting them so a chill ran down her spine whenever something out of the ordinary happened.
“Chat Noir!”
Her hand flew to clutch her chest, as the heart hammering inside picked up the pace. Her wide eyes stared at the intruder, unsure whether he was friend or foe.
The cat hissed.
Marinette stayed still.
Thrice had their paths crossed like this before. Twice had he saved her life. Once had his claws scraped her skin.
"Easy there," she said slowly, showing him her empty hands. Chat Noir narrowed his eyes at her, tail twitching. It caught one of her potted plants which promptly fell, making them both jump.
Marinette bit her lip, trying to contain a nervous laugh. Tikki had told her about Chat's miserable luck. He couldn't help it that things went wrong.
"It's alright, kitty."
Chat Noir hissed again.
Face to face with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Chat Noir could only think that it was just his luck. Of all the places to trip, it had to be on the rooftop of the charming baker girl everyone in their class adored, of the girl who had professed her undying love two weeks earlier.
No one confessed their love to Félix Agreste without any ulterior motives.
Especially not pretty girls with sapphire eyes and soft smiles.
He recalled what the other boys said about her: whoever she ends up dating must be as beautiful as a model, with tanned skin and pearly white teeth; so out of your league that you need black magic to entrance her.
Félix did not trust her. There was no way she was as sweet and lovely as everyone made her out to be.
“It’s alright, kitty,” she repeated softly, as though he were a cat and not a human in a super suit. It was both humiliating and endearing.
“Meow,” he teased her.
She jumped, a little frightened.
Good , he thought. Be afraid.
He had no intention of hurting her. The last time they’d run into each other, he’d accidentally clawed her shoulder. He wanted to blame her— she had come too close—but if he was honest with himself, he was still getting used to the plague cat’s instincts. It was just bad luck.
At least the cuts were superficial. He hadn’t stayed to check, too spooked by her pained yelp, but he’d seen her the next day in school when she explained to their other classmates how she’d fallen on a cactus, not a word of Chat Noir.
“Meow,” she taunted back.
He narrowed his eyes again, acutely aware of her eyes fixed on his visage. His tail clanged against the railing, his eyes flickered towards the plate left of her. There was a croissant left.
Félix was hungry.
And annoyed. How dare she meow at him!
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
He shut her up with another effective hiss. The longer they stood opposite of each other, both on guard, the more she seemed to relax until she finally spun around again.
“On your way, kitten,” Marinette hummed, looking over the city again. In a few minutes, the sky had changed from hues of pink and orange to a dark blue in which stars were scattered like fairy lights on the ceiling of her bedroom.
It was beautiful.
Free from the spell of her gaze, Chat Noir scrambled. He strode past her, gaining momentum before extending his baton and pushing himself off the balcony, grabbing the uneaten croissant on the way.
She wasn’t going to miss it. After all, she lived in a bakery.
Félix appreciated Marinette’s discretion about her encounters with Chat Noir. Even though she was friends with the Ladyblogger, her mouth was sealed shut as far as the black cat was concerned.
Still, he was grateful.
While he had no means to pay for the stolen pastry without revealing his secret, he made sure to slip a handful of copper coins into her backpack when no one was looking. The perfectly inconspicuous action eased his guilt a little.
Mentally, he made a note to avoid the bakery while transformed. And for a couple of days, he stuck to the plan like glue.
There was no need to risk having another unfortunate rendez-vous on her balcony. Not when his life was hanging by a thread.
But in the end, curiosity won out.
The next time Chat Noir tripped and fell, face planting himself between marigolds in bloom. He got up with an indignified yowl that escaped his throat almost involuntarily. Almost.
At least no one witnessed his misfortune. Marinette wasn’t there and the rest of the city, too, was already falling asleep. The few passersby were oblivious to the movements above the rooftops.
Chat Noir took his time studying her balcony. He sought something that would clue him in about her intentions towards Félix and Chat Noir both, drawing the line at the unlocked but curtained skylight door. He found nothing.
Nothing but a small white plate, with two croissants, a glass of milk, and a note with only three words scribbled on in legible handwriting.
I trust you.
He devoured the snack in seconds, then left to meet Ladybug on the Champs-Elysées.
“I release you from your transformation,” she said, bringing his knuckles to her lips.
He pulled his hand away immediately after and disappeared into the night.