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When the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky flooded with flecks of starlight against shadow, Adrien hardly ever paid attention. He was usually preoccupied with more important matters, often assigned to him by his father. (Never directly by him, of course, but Nathalie was certainly steely and distant enough to serve as his liaison.) Practicing his Chinese. Getting fitted for new clothing, likely to be showcased in a photoshoot the next day. Playing the piano. After all, Chopin’s Nocturne in B Flat Minor wouldn’t learn itself, and the accidentals littering each page were more perplexing and more worth his time than anything waiting outside of his window.
Adrien wasn’t exactly one to shy away from stargazing, either, but the only other person who was willing to sit on the roof with him and just marvel at the quiet beauty of midnights had long since left him behind. Looking up only made his chest hurt; he preferred not to remember where she’d gone.
Tonight was different, though.
Tonight, with black fabric stretched taut over his skin, with a ring still a touch too bulky between his fingers, and with a feeling of both immense fear and wild abandon, Adrien quietly pushed open his window and leapt out into the dark. Every part of him cried out, urging him to stop and think about how much trouble he’d be in if he got caught, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He had waited so long for a chance to be daring and reckless and free, and it would be a shame to let this opportunity slip away.
Adrien landed on the pavement, on his feet. He hadn’t expected to, hadn’t even thought about what would’ve happened if he didn’t; he was just focused on getting out of his room as carefully and silently as possible. He tugged at the hems of his gloves and started walking along the shadows of his estate.
The wind was faintly cool. It tousled his hair, and he half-expected it to cut through his suit--to go straight for the bone and make him shiver--but it didn’t. Instead, it nipped at his nose and brought color to his cheeks. The suit’s fabric felt light and warm against the rest of him. He was okay with that.
He spent a few minutes walking, feeling the Parisian air, running his clawed fingers over the same walls that he’d always known, but only ever from the inside. Then, he decided that his first night outside in years shouldn’t be spent clinging to a house that he’d been spending his entire life trying to break out of, so he looked towards the brighter parts of the city and ran.
Adrien ran effortlessly, carelessly, but he never broke away from the shadows. They felt familiar, like a piece of home that he couldn’t let go of, even at a moment like this. He slithered along closed shopfronts and back alleyways, an impossibly long belt tail flicking and twitching behind him. Tourists and cityfolk walked past and chattered amongst themselves, never noticing him, never hearing the soft pattering of black boots against gray cement. He liked the anonymity of darkness; it was a pleasant change from cameras and flashy magazine covers.
He passed a small boutique, once, and stopped in front of the display window. It was closed; no one was inside. The brightness behind him turned the glass into a mirror. Adrien took a moment to examine himself, twist around, see what this new outfit had to offer. Back at home, he hadn’t given it any thought, only listening to the little black cat who disappeared into his ring with a whispered encouragement to go. Now that his mind was less cloudy, he closely studied the ensemble he’d been given only minutes ago.
He slid his gloves over the sleeves; the material felt slick outside, and terribly thin, but he still wasn’t very cold. The shoulders were embellished with stitched accents and silver studs. He felt two zippered pockets on the stomach. (Zipping and unzipping them felt strangely satisfying, and he laughed at how childish he must have looked.) A long zipper ran down the front of his suit, and a lustrous, golden bell dangled in place of the pull tab. He flicked a finger against it, but it made only a hollow thumping sound. (That was honestly kind of disappointing.) The collar flared out just slightly, although it was more like a mandarin than anything else. He turned his hips and found that a tail extended out behind him as a continuation of his belt, and a silver cylindrical thing was clipped just above it. He left it alone for now, in case it was dangerous in any way.
He looked up and pushed a hand through his hair. It was darker, and messy. A pair of black cat ears stuck out amongst his unruly locks, and if he thought about it hard enough, he could make them lift and sink on command. He wondered if he should brush his hair back to check if he had four ears now, but he decided against it. Some things are best left undiscovered, he thought to himself.
Adrien’s gaze settled back on his face. A black mask framed his eyes, which were a different shade of green--and entirely green, he noticed, with thin slits for pupils sitting squarely in the center of each. He pulled at the mask to see if it would come off. Something tiny inside of him sighed with relief when it wouldn’t.
This boy looked so different, so unlike the boy who wandered through empty hallways and grew an almost sickly pale and only knew sunlight through a windowpane. He deserved a name better than Adrien. He deserved a name that didn’t carry such a dull history, didn’t make him sound like a timid, lonely child.
Chat Noir, whispered something in and around him. It sounded oddly like the little black cat from before. This is who you are.
Adrien grinned slightly and nodded.
He finally broke eye contact with his reflection and moved forward, eventually breaking into a run again. He found a brick building cloaked in shade and tried to scale it without a second thought. He nearly fell twice, and if not for the new claws, he might not have been able to reach the rooftop at all. But he got there, and he lay down on the angled tile and looked up. The sky was as brilliant as ever, and somehow, looking hurt a little less than it used to.
“A black cat, gazing up at the night sky,” he said quietly to himself. He curled his arms behind his head and sighed. “Something about this scene feels wistful, and… romantic.”
“Well, we are in Paris. What else did you expect?”
Adrien jolted and sat up stiffly. “Who’s there?” he asked nervously.
He could hear footsteps behind him, gradually getting closer, and the soft thump of someone sitting down next to him. He turned his head slightly to look at the person.
She was a girl, probably around his age, small and slender. A red jumpsuit hugged her frame and was covered in black spots. Her hair was short and a bluish sort of black, tied back in pigtails with little red ribbons. Her suit looked fairly plain compared to his, although it did have a small round thing that hung at her hip. (What it could possibly be for, Adrien couldn’t guess. A compact mirror? Perhaps.) A mask covered her face as well, in the same color scheme and pattern as the rest of her outfit.
Her eyes stood out the most to him; they were blue, intensely so, and they held his gaze without any hesitation. They were big, and bright, and beautiful, and although she wasn’t quite smiling at him, they didn’t look mean. She only looked at him with curiosity and implicit kindness.
“No one special,” she replied, and she gave him a small smile.
He returned the gesture, albeit a little tentatively.
“Do you come here often, petit minou?” the girl continued. She pulled her legs up to her chest and tilted her head.
Adrien swallowed hard. “All the time,” he lied, trying to sound suave (but probably failing).
“Funny.” She moved closer and gave him a once-over. “I don’t remember ever seeing you on my rooftop before.”
“Your rooftop?”
“Of course. I’ve been coming here for the past few weeks, just to stargaze.” She looked up briefly before turning back to Adrien. “I think I would remember not being here alone.”
“I, uh…” His bluff was swiftly debunked by this mystery girl, and with the direction he was headed in now, she would definitely see him for who he was--apprehensive, unsociable, distant. That wouldn’t be far off from the norm, but… he didn’t want that. He didn’t want Chat Noir to just be Adrien in a ridiculous catsuit. If he wanted to make a good impression, he had to change his approach now.
Adrien--Chat Noir--took a moment to breathe, then eased into a smirk. It felt unnatural, but in a good way, if that was possible. He leaned forward, so that his face was a few inches closer to hers, and steadied himself with a hand on the shingles. “You wound me,” he said, pouring every ounce of cool he owned (which wasn’t really a lot) into each word. “Surely, you’d remember someone as handsome as me sitting next to you on such a lovely evening.”
She touched a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she warned him. “A memory’s a memory, no matter how supposedly good-looking it must have been.”
Chat sighed in false disappointment. “I guess I really wasn’t here,” he conceded, “but it would have been a pleasure to meet you sooner.” He took her hand in his free one, gently. He’d forgotten how warm another person’s hand could be; it was nice. “Miss…?”
“Ladybug.” She seemed surprised by the gesture, but she didn’t pull away.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, looking up at her. “Ladybug,” he repeated.
His hand lingered on hers before he let go. She laced her fingers together, arms hugging her legs. “And what shall I call you?” she prompted.
“Chat Noir, s’il vous plaît.” Ladybug was almost certainly not her real name, and he liked the mystique of being on code-name basis with someone.
“Chat Noir it is, then.” She smiled again, then lay down beside him. “Care to join me?” she asked, looking up at him. “I don’t mind the company.”
He nodded slowly and lay down in turn. His arms went behind his head again, careful not to bump her with his elbows. He made sure that he wasn’t too close to her, but not too far, either. She smelled like bread and sugar. He liked that.
She pointed out constellations and told their stories to him, quiet but still audible over the bustle of the city streets. The moon hung low over them, full and bright. He thought back to when he was much smaller, when the person who sat beside him was much bigger, when they shared the same smile and when she spoke to him with a voice like honey, slow and sweet.
Then he turned to look at Ladybug, who was deep into a story about Orion and gesturing broadly up at the sky, and her eyes were as dazzling as her smile. She did his old partner justice; he could get used to stargazing with her from now on.
At some point, she caught him staring and stopped mid-sentence. “Tired?” she asks, her expression melting into something more sympathetic.
He blinked and realized how long he must have been looking at her. His face flushed slightly.
She brushed a fingertip over his nose and sat up. “I think it’s time you went home, Chat,” she said, stretching lightly. “You’re already dreaming.”
He sat up as well. “It was a lovely dream,” he said softly, “but that’s a good idea.” He wasn’t sure what the rules of his new identity were; he wasn’t keen on staying long enough for the transformation to possibly wear off, and accidentally falling asleep on the roof would result in a missing Adrien the next morning, which wouldn’t be good at all.
She was the first to stand up, and she untied the round thing from her waist and spun it around on its string. (A yo-yo, he thought to himself. Of course!) She looked back at him expectantly. “Will you be here again tomorrow?”
It took a second for him to process that. She wanted him to come back? That was surely a good sign. He stood up and bowed, like a knight in a royal court. “Anything for you, my Lady.”
She laughed one last time and flung her yo-yo, and it wrapped around a railing nearby. She tugged on it to make sure it was secure and waved at Chat with her free hand. “See you around, partner,” she said coolly, then jumped off the edge of the roof and swung away.
He stared after her and waited until she was too far away to see before even thinking about anything else. Partner, she’d called him. He’d hardly talked to her, but Ladybug seemed so nice, so bright, so sure of herself, and it was almost intimidating. He vaguely wondered what she thought of him. Hopefully he wasn’t some fumbling idiot to her, but she seemed to like his whole “flirty and cool” act enough to want to spend more time with him. And he was beginning to think that he liked himself this way, too.
Chat Noir stood at the edge of the roof, a few inches from where Ladybug had been only seconds ago. He looked down at the pavement below, dizzy with fatigue and a faint sense of yearning. The ground seemed so far away, and the drop looked so dangerous. But despite everything, he knew somehow that, no matter which way he fell, he would land on his feet.
And that was all he needed to take the leap.