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It had been three days and 14 hours and as beautiful as the sea was—extremely beautiful—it only made him think of Marinette.
Félix watched the waves with contempt; Marinette’s eyes were prettier even without the sun that danced in the blue. His face was twisted in what seemed to be a permanent scowl, present ever since his father offhandedly mentioned that their stay was to be prolonged by a couple of more days because “things are worse than I thought they were”.
Things were worse, indeed.
Félix had finished reading all the books he’d brought along. He had walked to the end of the promenade twice every day, sat on a blue and white striped towel on the sandy beach, watched the sea in the morning and the sky in the evening, sent five postcards, and he missed her.
Oh, how he missed her!
It was a tragedy his phone had decided to take a swim in the Seine the night before their departure; Félix had dived after Marinette when she tripped, and though he couldn’t stop her from falling, at least they suffered the embarrassment together .
Wet and wincing, it hadn't even occurred to him to check on the device until he tried to put it to charge and it was deader than dead.
Félix closed his eyes and imagined her sitting down next to him, wearing a navy blue skirt and a white blouse, feet in sandals, with her painted toes peeking out. She clutched her sketchbook to her chest, and she looked at him with her bright blue eyes, as her mouth formed a single, very practical question.
“What would Arsène Lupin do?”
Her voice sounded so clear in his mind that his eyes fluttered open, expecting to find her right there. Instead, he came face to face with a seagull, who wailed loudly, before stealing the open bag of chips he’d bought from a vending machine.
Félix let it. He wasn’t hungry enough to fight with birds.
His eyes followed the famished bird as it spread its wings and flapped away in search of a place where it would be safe from the rest of its flock. It flew towards the Hollow Needle, battling against the wind, successfully holding onto his lunch.
Arsène Lupin would steal a car and drive to Paris, or sneak on the fastest train and steal himself a ticket without getting caught.
Félix blinked, as he realized there was nothing to stop him from doing exactly that.
Sure, he might not be as skilled as the famous gentleman thief, but if he got caught, maybe his father would finally understand how little he wanted to accompany him on these trips.
Félix scrambled to his feet and ran, kicking up sand, earning curious looks from the other Leblanc-enthusiasts. Determined to catch the earliest train he could, he didn’t care if he left anything behind.
~🎩~
In his enthusiasm, Félix forgot that to get to the train station, it was necessary to take a bus to one of the bigger towns. For that, he needed money, which he didn’t have, money that he was going to have to pickpocket, and the best place for that was the beach he had just left.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that when it came to love, men greater than him made mistakes.
Sulking, he made his way back to the towel he’d left to the elements.
He brushed the sand off it and sat back down, contemplating his next move. With his eyes, he searched the crowd for his first victim; someone who looked rich enough to suffer very little from this financial setback.
Children ran around, capes caught in the wind. Couples walked hand in hand, appreciating the coastline in a way only romantics could. Few people were alone, but it was hard to tell who lacked company and who didn’t.
Everyone looked the same in their black top hats and cloaks.
Félix recalled what Marinette had taught him about fabrics when she’d made his Arsène Lupin costume for their first Halloween together.
Fabrics could tell a lot about the people wearing them. Marinette, for example, would never be caught wearing a polyester costume bought for a handful of coins at the supermarket’s toy section.
Just as he spotted the perfect target, his eyes flickered to a tiny figure behind it. A toddler was waddling towards the sea, falling, then getting up again, enchanted by the glimmering water.
Félix glanced around in panic—there was not an adult in sight!—and for the second time that day, he ran.
He made a mad dash towards the sea, wishing, praying for someone to scoop the child up before the wave swallowed her whole. Each step he took felt heavier, as though the toddler could outrun him, a healthy teenage boy, who spent, admittedly, more time in the library than in the boxing ring.
In the end, that someone was no one other than him.
His long hands reached out just as the child reached the water. She protested vehemently, arms flailing, as she fought for her right to drown. Her right foot kicked Félix’s jaw with so much force he almost dropped her.
“Paprika!”
Félix would have guessed solely from the desperation the name was cried that it was the little girl’s name. The child stilled, then began wiggling again, even more stubbornly than before.
Félix carried her to the sand and placed her down just as her mother reached them.
Paprika headed as fast as her feet could take her not for the woman, but for the sea. This time, three sets of feet followed her, catching her before she was halfway gone.
Félix was once again the one to steal her from the sea.
"I swear she was a mermaid in her other life," sighed the woman, taking the child from the boy. She didn't seem at all alarmed that a stranger was handling her child. "Thank you for noticing her when you did. I closed my eyes for a second…"
She tickled the toddler under her chin and Paprika cooed happily, eyes now on her princely savior. She reached for him, eager to be held by him again.
Félix stepped away gingerly. He'd saved Paprika because it was the right thing to do, as his consciousness helpfully reminded him, not because he was actively out to be a hero.
It didn't make him a pre-K expert either.
Paprika's grin made hairs rise on his arm. It was so innocent, so trusting… Félix shuddered.
It was kind of cute, too.
Sea forgotten, Paprika grabbed at him as soon as her mother placed her on the sand.
"How could I ever thank you?" The woman wondered while he shifted uncomfortably in fear and delight, as the little human embraced his leg tightly, then noticed the sea behind them, let go and bolted—or would have, had Félix’s reflexes not kicked in at the microchanges in her expression.
Would Marinette ever want children?
They’d never explicitly discussed it, but he assumed she did; only not immediately—first, she had to launch her career, make a name, and a million of other things that a baby— babies —would get in the way of.
Still, he could dream.
Even though he was only seventeen, and he’d been together with Marinette for only about 10 percent of that time, the idea of a real family excited him.
Cooking with her, doing laundry together, or even for her while she was absorbed in work at her sewing machine, snuggling up to her, as they spent every night sleeping in the same bed—it all filled him with a hopeful warmth.
When he swiped the bifold leather wallet from the woman’s beach bag, he told himself it was for that future.
Paprika, the only witness to his crime, kept her mouth kindly shut.
~🎩~
Félix took the ten-euro note in the wallet, then turned the stolen item in at the tourist information desk, feeling only slightly bad about his actions.
But the money only got him so far.
He slipped his hands in his pockets, planning his next move. The train station was busy, with people coming and going in every direction, the station guard breathing down his neck, everything turning, swirling, spinning out of control…
Félix seeked refuge in the men’s bathroom where he overhead a conversation between a businessman and his son that reminded him very much of his own misguided father.
It was all just as well that they were headed for Paris.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to get the bastard’s ticket before they passed through the ticket gates.
He followed them at a distance, more at ease with every step he took, first cautious, then invisible, inseparable from the crowd of tourists returning home.
It was all too easy. A bump here, a borrowed newspaper there—and the ticket was his. He slipped through the gate just as the businessman began chastising his son for making them miss the train.
From the corner of his eye, Félix saw the boy shrink, clutching his ticket with rigid fingers. His father, red-faced and angry, patted himself, trying to locate his own pass, yet unable to find it in the pocket where he’d put it.
Félix swallowed a smirk in an effort to remain inconspicuous. He found the train, a few minutes to spare, and boarded it, a grin overtaking his face. He was going home! To Marinette! His father be damned!
He checked the seat number only when he felt the ground move.
He didn’t hurry to sit down, gauging its availability from the distance at first. He preferred to err on the side of caution, and sat down after making sure that his victim had missed the train, barely missing the attendant’s attention.
It was a window seat, and he enjoyed it more than the businessman would have. Félix was fascinated by the scenery, though he gazed at it absentmindedly, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the girl he was going to see in less than four hours.
He was almost bouncing in his seat.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
“Oh shut up, Greg, cows are not disgusting.”
“Yes, they are!” The loud protest drew Félix’s attention to a couple not much older than himself. The boy’s face was scrunched up while the girl was staring starry-eyed at a photo of two happy cows. “What the heck is the end of the bovine world supposed to mean anyway?”
“I don’t know but it sounds kinda punk, don’t you think?”
“It sounds kind of dumb.”
The girl kicked him in the shin gently, and he kicked her back, a smile tingling on his lips. Neither meant to hurt the other; there was a gentleness to their movements, a softness of being that reminded Félix so much of Marinette he felt the twinge of longing in his heart intensify.
Marinette had a way around his heart; she could soothe him with a single touch, running her fingers through his hair after he’d sneaked away to her house, kissing his forehead, understanding and kind, when he cried from loneliness, holding his hand as they laid in the grass by the Seine, watching the clouds pass by their eyes.
She would gently dab his bloody nose with her silky handkerchief and he’d be lost in her eyes. She would read out loud from their favorite book and he’d be lost in her voice. She would press her soft lips against his and he’d be lost in her.
She would probably like the photo of the cows.
As much as it sounded like a good enough reason to pocket it, it wasn’t. Thievery was a mind sport and not something to be exercised so casually, even if it would make his girl smile that silly smile that always brought a grin to his own face.
Luckily, whether intentionally or by accident, the girl left it behind. Félix scrambled to pick it up before anyone else could.
As he read the text written in swirly yellow ink above the cow heads, he couldn’t help but agree with the boy a little; it was nonsensical, absurd, dumb . But it was also freaking adorable.
He wondered what it meant.
The End of the Bovine World
~🎩~
Paris was even more beautiful than when he left it. He exited the train station, heart swelling with pride, feeling smug about the success of his operation.
With his last money, he bought a bouquet of pink tulips, then headed straight for the bakery.
Marinette was on the balcony, wrapped in his black cloak, gazing at the sunset with a pensive look on her face. She rested her cheek against her palm, as she leaned forward on her elbows, and sighed.
“Marinette!”
She turned slowly his way, surely imagining his voice. When she saw him, her eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned when she did.
“Félix!” She reached for him over the railing. “How? Why? I thought you were…”
He cried back in joy: “It’s the end of the bovine world!”
“The what?”
“The end of the bovine world!”
Marinette laughed, and her cute giggles resounded in the empty street.
“Hold on, I’ll be down in a minute!” She blew him a kiss and scampered towards the skylight door. She tripped on a wooden box, cried “I’m okay!” and got up again, eager to meet him.
A few heartbeats later, the door of the bakery opened and the bell above it tinkled, and then she was in his arms, her hands cupping his face, as she pulled him into a sweet kiss.
“I thought your father kidnapped you!” she confessed, accepting the flowers that were caught up in their affection; a little wrinkled, they were still beautiful. “I missed you!”
“Not as much as I missed you,” he nuzzled against her nose and stole another kiss.
“That’s highly debatable!” She teased, resting her head over his heart. “I was this close to coming to find you.”
He ruffled her hair accepting her words.
“Now, what was it you were saying about the… end of the bovine world?” She lifted her head a little to better look at his face, imprinting every line of it into her memory.
Félix pulled the photo out.
“A souvenir, for you,” he said, passing it over.
“I got your postcards,” she informed him, taking the photo. “You are so lucky. I want to go to Étretat, too!”
“Maybe next time we can go together,” he murmured against her hair. “Just you and me.”
“No fun with your father?” she teased. Félix pecked her cheek in retaliation. She barely noticed, eyes landing on the image. “Oh my gosh, the cows are so cute! But what a ridiculous headline! The end of the bovine world.”
“I don’t know, but it sounds kinda punk, don’t you think?” he echoed the other passenger’s words from earlier.
Marinette tilted her head, trying to see it better. “Well, at this angle, maybe… no, it still looks ridiculous to me.”
Félix’s lips found her exposed neck and placed a row of chaste kisses on it. Marinette squealed from surprise, but allowed him to continue, body already on fire from just his presence.
“Actually,” she grinned. “This one looks like you! Look at how grumpy it is!”
Félix glanced at the cow she was pointing at.
“Well if that’s me, then the one headbumping me is you. Pure sunshine, a warm and happy day in the grass… Very Marinette.”
Marinette took this chance to headbump her boyfriend, grinning knowingly.
“Want to stay the night here?” she offered. “My parents don’t mind.”
Félix’s hold on her only tightened. “May I?”
“If I’m asking, yes,” she kissed the closest spot she could reach, the back of his hand. “So, would you? Please?”
“Yes,” his heart breathed the answer before he could think of the practical aspects of this arrangement; what it would look like to his father who was still in the dark about the relationship, who didn’t know Félix had much important business in their hometown. “Yes!”
Marinette’s grin widened. She interlaced their fingers and pulled him along towards the bakery, and he followed, happy to be there.
They held hands late into the night when he told her all about his adventures, about the mermaid toddler and the otherwise boring beach, about the furious father whose ticket he’d stolen, about the couple that reminded him of her.
He left out half of how much he’d missed her, but she could see it from his eyes anyway—he’d left Étretat to be with her. She had never thought it possible.
“I missed you,” she whispered against his shirt for good measure. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Félix pulled her closer, so she was cradled in his arms, as they sunk into the pillows of her bed.
“I love you, too.”
She squeezed his hand, sending a warm messages from her heart to his, hoping he would get it.
He kissed the top of her head, and she snuggled closer.
Félix fell asleep first. Marinette wiggled to get a better view of his face, and she smiled. Félix only ever relaxed when sleeping with her; according to the boys in their class, he retained his constant frown even asleep, but with Marinette… he looked almost like a happy baby.
She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, then returned to the cuddle, and the warmth; Félix grunted in his sleep, as she snuggled closer, but Marinette suspected he’d be even more upset if she didn’t let him hug her in sleep.
She joined him in the land of dreams seven minutes later. She dreamed of cows and monocles and babies and Félix.
It felt like the universe was trying to tell her something.
The End of the Bovine World.
In her tiredness, however, she pushed the brain aside and just enjoyed her boyfriend’s slightly salty scent around her, clinging onto his touch as much as he clinged onto hers. Now that they were together again, all was well.