Chapter Text
Social Psychology: the scientific study of how people’s thoughts, feelings, beliefs, intentions, and goals are constructed within a social context by the actual or imagined interactions with others.
Rivercastle University had not been Chloe Bourgeois’ first option for further studies after graduating. Or second. Or even third. In fact, it had not been on her radar at all until the fateful morning that her sister, Zoe burst into their bedroom yapping at a hundred miles per hour about the university in London renowned for its revolutionary performing arts course. So really, if anyone was to blame for this absolute mess Chloe had gotten herself into, it was Zoe.
Although to be fair, Chloe couldn’t even remember what profession she hastily decided to scribble onto her student file, let alone what institutes of education she lied about being interested in attending so Rivercastle University may very well be on her file somewhere. Everyone else was so sure of what they wanted to make of their lives. Everyone but Chloe. And so, in the last few weeks of school while nearly everyone else was attending open days and job interviews and buying flashcards, Chloe was stocking up her kitchen with food from one of the hotel’s three-star restaurants so that once exams were over, she wouldn’t need to leave her suite for anything.
“We’re finally getting the opportunity to do whatever we want without worrying about school in the morning and you’re just gonna waste it?” Zoe asked one Saturday afternoon, while working on her final art piece for school. She had decided to take advantage of the exclusive view of the Eiffel Tower beyond the huge windows in their suite. She would never get used to the fact that it was so close, while Chloe seemed to treat it like the dancing ballerina music box on her nightstand. Just another thing.
“So wait, will you still be coming on our weekly shopping trips?”
“Online shopping exists for a reason, babe.” Chloe replied, scrolling listlessly on her phone, allowing the images of puppies and hairstyle ideas and nail designs to wash over her in a comforting flood of meaninglessness.
"Wowwww, you've changed." Zoe gasped. “Well, what about hanging out with Juleka and Luka? Is that also out of the question?”
“I have their numbers. I’ll text. Or call.”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Completely and utterly.” Chloe smiled, leaning to the side to crack open the window. “I’m physically incapable of doing anything by halves.”
“I swear, this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever come up with.” Zoe said, taking the portrait of Chloe out of her art folder. Alongside the Eiffel Tower, she had decided to do several watercolour paintings of her friends: Rose swathed in golden sunlight; Juleka and Luka’s faces, barely visible in the moonlight; Adrien pressing his palms against the bars of a gilded cage; Nino and Alya sitting together in a field of musical notes, connected by a Bluetooth headphone.
But it was the painting of Chloe that Zoe was most proud of. The background was filled with garlands of flowers, at the peak of their bloom. But instead of luscious reds and pinks, Zoe had added a brownish yellow tint so that it was as though the flowers were seconds away from wilting. Chloe herself was looking out into the distance wistfully, her hair loose and free around her shoulders for once. Chloe’s eyes were gleaming ocean blue, threatening to spill over at any given moment. It was angelic and mesmerising and vulnerable .
“I look so pretty, you’d better get full marks on that.” Chloe commented, finally putting down her phone and picking up a textbook to defend herself from an intruder bee.
Zoe rolled her eyes.
After graduating, Chloe intended for her days to consist entirely of lounging around in her (and Zoe’s) luxury suite in Le Grand Paris Hotel, stuffing her face with expensive honey milk chocolate and enjoying the sweet sonata of pure silence. She had absolutely no intention of returning to a room full of people who still hated her on those hard wooden benches that made her ass hurt. No, her ass would be firmly planted in the lap of luxury the second her tortoiseshell pattern fountain pen was put down on the desk, her final exam paper collected. Bed. Bath. Sofa. Repeat.
Nobody to bother her and nobody to complain about her bothering them. Except Zoe of course, but she didn’t count. It was hard to believe that there was ever a time when she wanted nothing more than for Zoe to go back to New York. Chloe had stopped using the term ‘best friend’ after She Who Shall Not Be Named left, but to be honest, Zoe was more than a best friend. Nobody else had been a witness to her hundreds of breakdowns after school. Zoe knew all of Chloe’s secrets and Chloe knew all of hers.
Nobody else knew what it was like to put up with their chaotic, dysfunctional parents. Between André’s neglect and Audrey’s narcissism, it was impossible to get their attention and they both struggled immensely at school, both socially and academically. Chloe could barely read and Zoe’s ADHD went undiagnosed for years. When the school finally got them the help they needed, it was solely down to Chloe’s teacher, Miss Bustier. To everyone else, Chloe was a lost cause so she would forever be indebted to Miss Bustier for seeing her, truly seeing her. Years later and they were well on their way to becoming much more sensible, well-rounded individuals, Chloe had discovered the joys and despairs of being a big sister and Miss Bustier was running for mayor against André as she should.
But this was another reason why Chloe had no intention of leaving her rooms for at least a month. She didn’t want to accidentally run into André and be forced to listen to one of his drunken rambles about how much of an unfit mayor Miss Bustier would make, littered with misogyny, tears and delusion. Once, he even tried to convince Chloe to be interviewed by Nadja Chamack to gush about how much more well-suited he was to the position. The withering glare she shot him with after that suggestion was enough to scorch an entire field. Without Caline Bustier, Chloe would be in an entirely different place right now. Prison, for example. Therapy had helped but she was still not in the best of places mentally right now - hence, her self-imposed solitary confinement (featuring Zoe).
Chloe lasted a total of eighteen days before the pangs of loneliness became unbearable. In the meantime, Zoe had been making the most of her free time, practically journeying across the entirety of Paris with her wide variety of friends, having the time of her life. Front row seats at fashion shows. All-day trips to shopping centres. Parties that lasted till dawn. And Chloe had stubbornly declined each and every invite to come along.
However, when Juleka announced on their group chat that she needed her help with her modelling portfolio, Chloe just couldn’t take it anymore.
“I told you so.” Zoe called from the bathroom where she had just finished bleaching her bangs again.
“When are you going back to New York?” Chloe snapped, placing her white-rimmed sunglasses on top of her head. She had spent years perfecting the art of slicking her hair back into the perfect bun and while she had indeed mastered it, she could only ever enjoy several moments of admiration of her work before a headache began and her mood became sour.
“Good question. When do you think Adrien will unblock you?”
That got Chloe storming into the bathroom, eyes blazing. “At least I didn’t get rejected by Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”
“Your dislike of her is so forced.” Zoe said, drying her hands on the front of her pink graphic hoodie. “And at least I did something about my crush on her. What did you do? Raged and slept. Panicked and wept. Grieved and refused to accept.”
“I’m never telling you anything again.” Chloe elbowed Zoe out of the way and tossed a bottle of hand sanitizer from the cabinet in her designer handbag. “First of all, I only felt that way towards her briefly. Second of all, I’m straight and I’m not refusing to accept anything. You’re so annoying, hurry up or I’ll leave you behind.”
“And that’s perfectly fine. It’s great to be straight, Chlo. Just like it’s okay to be gay. Be who you areeee.” Zoe sang, grabbing her favourite leather jacket and chunky black boots. “Hey, slow down! I’m almost ready.”
“I’m not you.” Chloe snapped, bending down to buckle up her white and gold wedges. “And what is it with the stupid rhyming and singing? Why not play the trumpet too, while you're at it?”
“I can’t help it. I’m a theatre kid, it’s who I was born to be.”
“This is why your dad didn’t want you.”
“Touché.”
🐝
Somehow, Chloe and Zoe managed to get aboard The Liberty (the Couffaine's houseboat) without a hoard of paparazzi hounding them for pictures and screaming questions about her father’s re-election at the top of their lungs. Zoe had come back with countless stories of this happening to her in the past few weeks so Chloe had brought bug spray just in case. Luka was waiting for them, almost completely blending into the chaotic disorder that Anarka Couffaine insisted on, save for his cyan hair.
Chloe smoothed down her white pleated mini dress and looked around, eyeing the clutter disdainfully. She had been so excited to get to pick an outfit to wear out and about that she had forgotten her destination.
“Hey, Zoe. I found the colour you wanted.” Luka grinned, jogging over and handing her a plastic bag.
“Ahhhh, it’s perfect!” Zoe squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. “Thank you, thank you!”
He tipped an imaginary cap in Chloe’s direction. “Welcome back to society, Chlo. You look nice.”
“Oh, I know.” Chloe replied. She nodded towards his nails, “Wow, you did it?”
Luka stretched out his hand so she could see the black nail art design of a snake he had painted on his fourth finger. Chloe had been trying to get him to experiment with more nail designs other than just plain black for months. However, Luka was quietly stubborn and had refused up until now. Chloe liked his stubbornness though, it made her victories all the sweeter.
“Yep. Now we’re matching.” Luka said, putting his hand beside Chloe’s. Her nails were almost exactly the same as his but in white (and professionally done).
“Aw, that’s so cute. Look at us.” Chloe smiled, forcing down the old version of herself who would have immediately booked a new nail appointment. “Where’s Juleka?”
“Here!” A husky voice, tinged with a slight rasp called from the twins’ bedroom. “Hurry up.”
“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Don’t rush me.”
Juleka had changed the most out of everyone in Miss Bustier’s class. Chloe could have counted on one hand the amount of times she remembered Juleka speaking up in class and she was always hiding behind her bangs, sticking to Rose Lavillant like glue. Chloe always thought the pair of them rather ridiculous - how would they ever survive in the real world when she couldn’t go more than two seconds away from Rose’s side? Nonetheless, Chloe was very intrigued by her. Apart from the fact that Juleka was the daughter of national rock legends, Croc Duo, she had also been held back a year just like Chloe and according to Zoe, was really funny.
Then, some time after She Who Shall Not Be Named left Paris, blocking Chloe on every social media platform imaginable in the process, she decided to crash Rose and Juleka’s lunch-table one day and the rest was history. Now, the two were firm partners-in-crime. The very fact that Juleka had put down on her file that she wanted to become a model was a testament to how much her confidence had grown and Chloe was ridiculously proud. Spending the day with Juleka on her quaint houseboat would be the perfect way to begin her return back to the outside world. Or so she thought.
“I can’t believe you made me come out of retirement for this.” Chloe sighed, “Anyone with common sense could see that you have to go with the first photo.”
“How about this one instead?” Juleka mumbled, pointing at a shot of her in a black bodycon leather dress.
“Juleka, babe. You’re satisfied with mediocre. I’m barely even satisfied with great. We need to go above and beyond and that is you in the spiderweb dress. Look, you even get a better shot of your tattoos with the open back!”
“Aw, look at you using big words! ‘Mediocre’? Clever Chloe, where did you learn that?”
Chloe’s flawless eyebrows squeezed together into a frown. “If you think ‘mediocre’ is a big word then it’s no wonder you had to repeat a year.”
“At least I could read.” Juleka retorted, leaning forward to pull up the next set of pictures. “I don’t care, I’m going with that one.”
“You’re making such a big mistake right now, it’s hurting my heart.”
"What heart?"
“Why even ask for my help if you’re just going to do whatever you want? I could be in bed right now.” Chloe whined.
Juleka dragged both photos to the folder marked ‘portfolio’ in big capital letters. “There, now stop crying, you big baby. Ok, here’s an outfit that Marinette…”
“Absolutely not.” Chloe interrupted as soon as she saw the red beret sitting on top of Juleka’s head. “This is an insult to fashion. You are insulting my eyes by even showing this to me. Get it off the screen right now. If you add this, I’m going home.” She grabbed her bag to emphasise the point and rose from her chair.
“Why can’t you and Marinette just call a ceasefire and be friends? It would be so much easier for everyone.” Juleka sighed.
“Absolutely not. That girl has everything already (except good fashion sense) — to have my friendship on top of everything else would be too much. She’d be too powerful.”
Juleka patted Chloe’s back sympathetically. “It’s alright, Chlo. I know what this is really about.”
“You and Zoe are insufferable, I swear. There will be no more sleepovers if you two take everything I say and use it against me. I only liked her for a few weeks tops, as soon as she started acting like a disgusting, lovesick puppy around Adrien, I got the ick!”
“You know it’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about though, right? I’m pretty sure everybody in our class had a crush on Marinette at some point. It’s perfectly fine to be figuring things out and still coming to terms with…”
“You can shut up now.”
Juleka shrugged, “I’m just saying.”
Just then, the bedroom door flew open and Luka appeared with his electric guitar and a confetti cannon. “I present to you: The New and Improved Zoe Lee!”
Juleka clapped appreciatively and began chanting Zoe’s name, pumping her fist into the air.
“Do you really have to do this every single time?” Chloe fumed, brushing confetti off her lap.
Zoe appeared through the confetti, swishing her newly dyed pastel pink hair around. “What do you think?”
“Aw, you look adorable Zoe.” Juleka enthused. “Come, do a spin for me.”
“It’s not terrible.” Chloe said begrudgingly, rolling her eyes at Zoe’s flushed cheeks. “Definitely an improvement from the hot pink.”
“Hey! Rose and I did that.”
“Figures.”
“I can do yours too if you want, Chlo. There’s still some dye left over.” Luka said, propping his guitar up against the wall.
“Thanks for that babe. Really. I appreciate the thought, but there’s no way in hell that you’re getting anywhere near my hair.”
Five years ago, when Zoe said that she was bringing her ‘new best friend’ back to the hotel for a movie marathon, Chloe thought she was talking about the loud girl with a nose ring from her drama class, not the easy-going pizza delivery boy from the year above. It came as an even bigger surprise to learn that he was Juleka’s twin brother, though it actually made a lot of sense in retrospect.
They were both soft-spoken and mild-tempered, barely ever getting angry or irritated with Chloe and her brutal honesty. And when they did, they always came to her directly to share their grievances which Chloe couldn’t help but respect them for and take on board what they said for the future. They were also both shameless flirts and dropped unexpected little comments all the time in a charming, nonchalant manner which drove Chloe absolutely crazy.
“Would you ever become a full-time hairstylist?” Zoe asked Luka, some time later when the four of them were eating ice cream on the upper deck.
"Like Rose, you mean?" Luka shook his head slowly. “Nah. I like doing it, but it’s just a hobby. How about you? Do you still want to go travelling?”
“Travelling? That’s new.” Chloe interrupted, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. “When were you going to tell me this? I thought you wanted to study performing arts here in Paris.”
“Well I wasn’t dead set on it yet, that’s why I didn’t say anything.” Zoe said, defensively. “I still want to study performing arts, so I was more thinking of just taking a performing arts course in a different country.”
“What? No! You can’t!” Chloe exclaimed. “What about me?”
“Well, you'd obviously be coming with me, right? We can go to the same university, it’ll be fun! Come on, Chlo. Please say yes.”
“Me, at university?” Chloe scoffed.
“You’re literally the daughter of the mayor of Paris.” Juleka said. “Nepotism is a thing.”
“Yeah, back in the day all anyone had to do was say that we were Croc Duo’s kids for our Kitty Section concerts to get sold out.” Luka added. “It’s part of the reason we decided to put a hold on the band. We want to be recognised on our own merit as far as possible.”
“Why didn’t you ever go to university, Luka?” Chloe asked, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible. She wasn’t scared that she wouldn’t get into university. That was pretty much a given. She was scared, no, terrified of everything else.
“Oh, I didn't decide in time whether I wanted to study Music or Psychology so I held out on applying and took a gap year.” Luka said.
“Wait! Why don’t you come with us?” Zoe exclaimed, suddenly. “When I was looking online, I saw that there are options to combine courses, so you could study both Music and Psychology.”
“I mean, I don’t see why not. You’ll be able to manage without me, won’t you Jule?”
“I’ll do more than manage.” Juleka said. “I might ask Rose if she wants to move in.”
“Wait, hold on. Let’s think this through.” Chloe implored. “Hey, guys… GUYS, YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS! LISTEN TO ME!”
But nobody did. And when Zoe exploded into the bedroom the following morning singing Rivercastle University's praises, Chloe’s fate was as good as sealed.
And that was how, six months later, she came to find herself in London with nothing but seven suitcases to her name, an acceptance letter to study Psychology and the key to their luxury apartment in Fathom Apartments. So yes, Zoe was to blame.