Chapter Text
Nathaniel and Marc hated each other since the very day they met. Although no one really remembered what it was about, their relationship started off with a fight. And it just stayed that way for two years now. There were no signs that it would change anytime soon. Those two despised each other with the same passion they had for their hobbies, which said a lot. At least to those who knew them.
They say that opposites should attract. But they were proof that that saying isn't true when two people are opposite in every way possible. One an artist, the other a writer. One showed, the other told and described. Nathaniel was quiet and preferred when others didn't see him. He didn't like bothering people. Marc, while he wasn't the loudest vocally speaking, was a person impossible to ignore, and that was the point. He wanted to be seen, and didn't care if someone was against what he represented. Truth be told, it was an admirable trait. But not in someone as stuck up and annoying as him.
At least that's what Nathaniel thought. And he voiced his opinion on him often, which was usually what started their frequent fights.
Sometimes they only ended with them insulting each other back and forth. Other times they would turn into a violent tempest, even worse than how tv shows depicted high schoolers fighting. Although neither wanted to seriously injure anyone, those situations never had a predictable outcome once they got to that point. They were really lucky that neither of them ended up hospitalized. Yet.
Those situations were so frequent and regular that even the principal wouldn't bother to call them to his office anymore unless they broke something. He just accepted that they couldn’t be controlled, just like everyone else. Their classmates often bet on who would win rather than try to split them up by this point. They were fighting like children, but even more dedicated, and there was no stopping it.
The only thing anyone could do was to watch or walk away, and get used to their shenanigans.
It was a wonder that neither of them ever got akumatized because of their bickering.
Well. At least since Marc became Reverser for the second and last time. Which was almost two years earlier. Since then, neither of them fell victim to an akuma and everyone familiar with their tempers was thanking whatever deity they worshipped for that. Who knows what havoc they would cause if they turned into villains now? One thing was certain, that it would be better for the city's sake if they didn't get to find out.
Even before the door to the art room opened, Nathaniel, as well as probably everyone else present, were able to recognise the person behind them by just the sound their steps made. And the moment the artist recognised them, his mood got ruined almost like a switch was flipped in his brain. What was that guy doing here? He rarely spent time in the art room, so it must have been something important.
"Hi everyone!" Marc cheerfully exclaimed, before his gaze fell on the redhead, and his expression changed to something that could only say 'except you'. Although that look also disappeared quite quickly. He had more important things to do at the moment. "Hey, Zoé, I have that script you wanted." The noiret stepped in,and from that point ignored the artist. He didn't seem to want to bicker today, which was a good thing. He was aware of his presence, but chose to not make significant notice of it. Maybe they would be able to remain civil for once.
"Already? Damn, you're fast." The blonde commented, and her friend soon joined her choosing a spot facing more or less away from the redhead's workspace to focus on his own business.
Which meant that Nathaniel could also do his thing without having to bother with him. But an attempt at that quickly proved unsuccessful. He just couldn't look away, and kept staring at the writer, his brows involuntarily furrowing ever so slightly.
Marc was the type of person to easily catch eyes and attract attention. As bright, bold, and colourful as he wanted to be, so it was hard to ignore him even in a large crowd. Although today his colour palette was more toned than usual - dominated by black, bright red, and silver accents from chains, spikes, or studs. It wasn't easy to admit, but the punk-ish aesthetic really suited him. If only he wasn't a cocky bastard, he would be the perfect model, or a muse even.
But obviously, Nathaniel couldn't admit to that even to himself, and backed up his thoughts immediately. Over his dead body would he appreciate that guy's looks.
Before he could look away, Zoé noticed him staring, and poked her friend with the pencil she was holding. Marc turned in his direction, noticeably not very happy about being interrupted."What?"
The artist looked away, but now that he was busted, it really didn't matter. Still, he managed to play it cool. For him that is. "Nothing. I just had a thought that you look particularly ugly." He lied. What a pathetic attempt at saving his ass.
"Considering your god awful taste in, well, everything, I consider it a compliment." Saying that, the noiret turned back to his previous task, very happy about his comeback.
Screw him and his ability to bite back at every insult.
As much as Nathaniel also wanted to get back to his drawings, in his frustration he couldn't control his mouth nearly as fast as he would want to, and accidentally let his thoughts slip. "Attention whore." He muttered. Unfortunately, it came out louder than he would want it to. He really didn't mean it actually, but there was no going back from there.
The room went silent right after. Those who heard him, stopped mid-whatever-they-were-doing, and those who didn't, reacted to the sudden silence and also paused their activities. Even Alix turned around to look at him in horror, probably hoping that she didn't actually hear him say whatever she thought she heard. Not 100% sure because of the sound of her spraycan muffling other noises a bit.
All eyes frantically darted between the two boys, anxious and waiting for what the writer would say at that. Well aware of the tension being on the verge of snapping. Even though Marc usually wasn't the one to start a fight first, his expression was unreadable beyond the fact that he was obviously not happy.
...
After a very tense few seconds, the noiret smiled, that specific kind of teasing expression that made it obvious that the other teen just fell right into his trap, and it made shivers of frustration run down the artist's spine. "You're just salty that you can't look away."
The redhead kind of felt bad about his remark, but not so much anymore. And he wouldn't apologise for it anyway. He would never hear the end of it, and it would do irreparable damage to his ego. Unfortunately though, he had no idea what a good comeback for what he just said would be. So he ended up doing his worst like usual. "Fuck off."
"Oh, I'm right aren't I?" Marc smiled, now very much starting to enjoy their little bickering session. And the other teen knew he fucked up, because there was no winning a verbal battle with that guy. He was too observant, and could read people like books he was so fluent in. "You're jealous, that I keep occupying the little space for admiration you have in your heart and mind. And you're mad about it, because that's the space reserved for Ladybug." Saying that, the noiret emphasised the heroine's name, and changed his tone to a softer "cutesy" and mocking version while dramatically gesticulating in imitation of how he imagined Nathaniel acting when she was mentioned. Everyone knew how much the artist loved and admired her, and Marc often used it as something to insult him for. Although it never bothered him all that much. Because why should he be ashamed of liking Ladybug? She was amazing, strong and brave. A role model for most if not all Parisians. And she was so generous that she even gave Nathaniel a miraculous, and trusted him that he could use its power well. Although that was a secret only Alix knew. There was nothing he could hide from her anyway. She was the holder of the rabbit miraculous after all.
The point was that Ladybug gave his life a meaning. The previously insecure and constantly anxious boy, managed to become more confident about himself. She saved his life in a way. And there was no way Marc could understand it.
The artist only scoffed at him. "You wish you were that impactful on my life."
"We all wish for something." He answered, unbothered. "For example, I wish that you would sometimes keep your mouth shut. You wish your art was better, et cetera. But it looks like not everybody can have everything they want."
After the short initial shock, Zoé hit her friend slightly, as a sign that he went too far. But he did have a valid reason for answering the rude remarks that were previously targeted at him. Fair enough, Nathaniel deserved it. Not like he cared much about his opinion on his own art anyway.
But even if he didn't care, that still stung quite a bit. What if he was telling the truth, and the redhead just never considered the possibility that he wasn't actually good enough despite how hard he worked on improving his art in any way he could? What if he was just too self-centered to accept it?
No, that couldn't be the case. Marc was just trying to make him feel bad without having a real point. And he could just do the same in response.
"You wish your writing was as good as my art."
The writer chuckled. Almost like he was waiting for this. "I'm pretty sure about…” He made a pause to look at his phone. ”... 26104 people would say that it is at least as good."
Nathaniel looked back at him, very much doubting his statement. But the noiret's relaxed body language and expression told him that he was very much serious and confident about what he was saying.
So obviously, Nathaniel reached for his phone to proofcheck that. Because he knew well what he was referring to. Marc has been posting some of his writing on a semi-popular site for aspiring writers, specifically dedicated so people like him could get feedback, and test their skills and how good they really are at writing original works. It was a safe way so they didn't have to risk losing money on publishing physical books. And Nathaniel knew all that, because the moment he found out about that guy being an author on there, he immediately rushed to make his own account, and read what he was posting. Obviously to make fun of him for it
And as much as he wanted to say that they're not all that good, Marc's works were actually more than just good. He wouldn't be able to write something like that himself. Those novels, even though they weren't too long, and only took about two to three days to read each, gave him so many ideas ,more than any other book he’s read. He could draw the characters and scenes for weeks on end, and the only thing that kept him from doing it was the fact that he didn't like the author as a person.
At first he assumed that Marc was just rounding up all the views all four of his stories got, because 26 thousand was a lot. But a quick check proved his initial assumption very wrong. Luckily, the website had very detailed statistics separating the total viewcount, from the number of users who visited the author's profile. And the numbers didn't lie. He really did have 26104 people who read his works. 26 fucking thousand! That was the number of followers all of Nathaniel's social media added up - times two.
And the total viewcount was well over two hundred thousand!
Obviously he was jealous, but understood the reason for it. However, admitting it was something he would never do. He would rather die than praise that asshole's work. "It seems that people just have low standards for what they consider good."
"Whatever." Marc sighed, and turned towards his friend for the final time to get whatever they were doing over with. "Wouldn't expect you to know what is good anyway."
Even though the artist really wanted to say something, he managed to keep his mouth shut and let it go. He wouldn't let "mr. perfect fairytale prince" over here to just barge in and ruin his day. Not today.
Somehow, the two of them managed to remain civil until the writer left. The moment he did, everyone else sighed with relief, believing that maybe that day would be calm.
And of course, it has been proven again that no one ever should underestimate Marc Anciel and Nathaniel Kurtzberg once they cross paths. And Alix got to experience it first-hand almost every time.
The very second she noticed a crowd gathering in the door of one of the classes, and heard the ruckus going on inside, she already knew what was going on. She really couldn't leave her best friend alone for even ten minutes.
Sighing heavily, she squeezed through to get into the class and see what exactly was going on. Not like she didn't know. It was obvious that the two of them were fighting, and it sounded serious. Well, not only did it sound like that, it looked serious too. Nath and Marc were fighting like gladiators that knew only one of them could make it out alive. It was visible they were giving it their all, adrenaline doing its thing like always.
Zoé was standing next to her, watching the fuckening anxiously, not knowing what to do. Alix was always the only hope when the two of them fought. No one but her was able to split them up, but unfortunately, it didn't mean she could do that straight away, because even for her it didn't always work. She was aware that her friends needed to blow off some steam, and it highly depended on how mad at each other they were. Sometimes they wouldn’t listen. But for the record, only they were able to match each other's rage and endurance both at once, meaning neither of them were in any significant danger, despite it looking like a real deadly tempest possessed them. They were heroes in secret after all, so something like that was within the things they could handle physically. She was aware that this was the second best case scenario. It would be better if they made up, but maybe eventually they would. Not now though. Or anytime soon, as it appeared.
Like rabid dogs fighting for food and territory, Marc and Nathaniel thrashed around, exchanging childish insults between punches, kicks, and pulling hair. Neither really caring about the attention they attracted, or being hurt when they got hit or were pushed against a desk edge. There was no reward for winning this fight, only satisfaction of being the victor. It was stupid, but that wasn't anything new for those two.
Hands crossed, the skater watched them for a while longer, as her best friend barely managed to stand his ground, quite literally. To everyone else it was probably even more impressive that he managed to challenge the taller teen, even though Nath was the one to start their fights most of the time. If he didn't have experience in fighting and maneuvering battlegrounds against all kinds of villains, he wouldn't stand a chance against the definitely better built Marc. And yet somehow, despite his scrawny figure, he sometimes even managed to land a solid punch or kick. Although, most times he lost after the fight started tiring them, since his endurance was much worse. But to give him some credit, those fights could last for tens of minutes. Sometimes half an hour with short breaks to catch a breath. It depended on what caused their argument, and how dedicated they were to protect their point. This time, it seemed serious, but looking closer, not as bad as it got sometimes. Marc was very obviously watching out and holding back to not hurt the shorter teen seriously. He was defensive more than offensive, and rather than throwing punches, he was aiming to immobilise Nathaniel, who was as frantic and furious as usual. He completely missed that Marc wasn’t as serious about it as he was.
Alix considered stopping them, but she got distracted when she heard someone whistle at the spectacle. " I wonder what it was about this time."
"Shut up Raymond." Zoé's anxiety and worry made her hiss at him, almost like a threatened cat would. Both the girls knew that he and his two lapdogs - Loic and Nelson - were the ones who caused the fight. When Ray sees a promising spark, he always makes sure to pour fuel all over to drive it to burn down the whole building. Or in this case - the slight chance of a friendship forming between the combatants.
"I bet it was you and your puppydogs that caused this mess." Alix commented, before the blond walked away, shrugging it off. He would get away with this anyways, and not much could be done about it unfortunately.
The pinkette turned back just in time to see Nathaniel be thrown against the wall, and then pinned to it by his collar. Neither of them was even so much as thinking of backing up, and it was obvious by the raging wildfire they became when combined. It was almost like a chemical reaction, when two different components, normally not very reactive separately - together made up the most flammable and explosive substance known to mamind. It was time to extinguish it before they seriously hurt themselves or each other even if by accident. Although that hasn't happened before. At most, they ended with bruises or smaller cuts. Never even a broken bone or a concussion, which was a miracle by itself.
"Okay that's enough you two! Wrap it up!" Alix shouted, approaching them like a referee. She wasn't an intimidating person by any means, and if it were anyone else trying to split them up, that would be considered a death wish. But she wasn't scared. There was no need to be. If anything, she was disappointed, and her expression said exactly that. The authority of time and fate itself she was representing, was enough for the two of them to reconsider everything most of the time.
Marc looked at her, and then back at the redhead, thinking about whether to punch him or not, while still holding him up to the wall, his grip only tightening and pushing against the artist's neck. Not really choking him, but it definitely wasn't comfortable. He was well aware of what he was doing, and ignored Nathaniel's desperate attempts at forcing him to release him by digging his nails into his forearms. But only for a few more seconds just to convey the message, before he let go and walked away without a word.
Like the red sea, the crowd in the door split to let him pass, and Marc disappeared somewhere, Zoé following suit to make sure he was okay.
Alix wasn't surprised that he was the first one to drop it. He never seemed to enjoy all of... this. Adding up the matter of how complex Marc Anciel's character was, there were many more things even she didn't know about him. He definitely had a very different reason for engaging in those quarrels than Nathaniel did. Even though she didn’t know what it was, she knew that her knowledge of the writer was barely below the surface of the endless ocean of the many things there were to who he was. That's why she already stopped blaming and pointing out to her best friend that he wasn't willing to even try and understand him. Nathaniel was, and had always been the most oblivious person she knew.
But even someone like him could grow up, right?
"What was it about this time, huh?" She asked, leaning on the teacher's desk, and watching as the redhead recovered from being uncomfortably close to choking.
He coughed, and it then caused him to hiss in pain, clutching his left side close to the hip. "Ow, I hit the desk edge..." He grunted.
"Well, you started it, didn't you? I can't believe that you still don't believe in karma, since this is exactly that." Saying that, she pointed at him to emphasise her point.
Nathaniel didn't answer, and just mumbled something inaudible, proving her suspicion to be correct. He started the fight, and there were consequences. He caused a scene that could compete with Sheakspere's dramas, and if he thought that there were no consequences waiting for him, well, then he was very much mistaken.
Alix sighed for the -nth time. "Why can't you just grow up? Act your age, damn it, you’re the older one."
"Maybe make him do it first, then we can talk." He answered, and walked away as well.
The spectators scattered by this point, and the day just continued like normal.
"I don't think that he's the problem." She said to herself, because her friend was already gone, and went to catch up to him and take him to the nurse's office. Knowing them both, the writer wouldn't be there. He preferred to lick his wounds by himself. That is, if he even had any, as that was a rare occurrence.
With the end of school, Nathaniel was finally free of two out of the top three things that bothered him. School itself, and the possibility of running into that Anciel guy. Being free of any type of authority that wanted to control what he did with his time was the best feeling in the world. Although a nice view or seeing someone really attractive and interesting looking on the street was solid competition. But that was just how he was, being an artist looked like that. If he saw something or someone aesthetically pleasing and nice to look at, he would want to sit down and depict them in any way he could. That was his way of appreciating the bits and pieces of reality that were beautiful, each one in its own unique way.
But now? He was doodling very quick caricatures of a certain writer, as he sat in the park, pretending to watch Alix who was training her rollerskating tricks. His feelings were very mixed on the matter, but it was a fact that he could easily draw Marc from memory. Not that he ever made detailed and accurate drawings of him, because that guy didn't deserve that kind of recognition. But it didn't change the fact that he looked at that not so ugly face of his for more than enough almost every day to be able to remember it in detail. He knew every messy strand of his ink black hair, his eyes the colours of a forest bathed in sunlight, almost always highlighted with makeup of all colours of the rainbow. But Nathaniel would never depict him like that. Now, the noiret was a simplified version, with red devilish horns, sharp fangs, and a pointy tail. It was stupid and childish to draw his nemesis like that, but was it funny? Hell yeah. As a matter of fact, it was so funny to him, that he found himself chuckling at how silly some of those doodles turned out.
"Are you sure you hate him?"
His friend's voice brought him out of his zone. He didn't even see her standing over him.
The skater then sat down next to him, and picked up her water bottle to take a few sips.
"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty certain I know what I feel." He answered, not really sure where she was going with that.
"You know, it's hard to believe that statement when you're drawing him and staring at the page in the exact same way you look at your Ladybug drawings."
The artist really didn't pick up on what she meant by that, but then it suddenly clicked. "What? No! Eww. Him? Never."
The implication that he would even slightly like the writer was laughable. Even the strongest force in the world wouldn't be able to bring them together. Not even if they lost their memories would they like each other. Marc Anciel was the last person in the entire world he would consider dating, and that was final. He was straight. Because the fact that he could tell when a guy was attractive didn't mean he was attracted to them.
Sure, he agreed that Marc was sort of attractive, but he only thought that because his features were similar to Marinette's. And he used to have a massive crush on her ever since they met, but only to the point he recognised how much she actually liked Adrien, and a certain spotted heroine caught his eye instead. Those two were the only people he ever found really attractive. Liking how someone looked, wasn’t the same as wanting to date them. He would never even think of wanting to date Marc Anciel of all people. And also-
–Wait a minute.
"Hold up." He interrupted his thoughts with a realization, the brakes slammed to the point everyone in the car that was his mind, got whiplash. "... Are you trying to tell me something I don't know?"
Alix just then realised how it sounded. Like she spied on both of them from the burrow to find out how their relationship developed. In reality, she didn't do any of that. She didn't want to find out something they didn't know, and then let it slip on accident. She didn't know how it happened, or when it happened, she only knew that five years from now they would all be laughing at how he and Marc used to fight. Nothing besides that.
"Am I going to be dating that guy?" The redhead asked in horror. He didn't believe it at all, but that's how it sounded from his perspective.
"What? No! I mean - I don't know?!" She backed up. "I don't look into our future that much because I don't want to impact the present. I might mess something up if I said something that I wasn't supposed to."
"So... What do you know?"
The pink haired thought for a while, thinking of how much of what she knew could she tell him. "I only looked five years into the future and later. I don't know what happened between that, but I know that your relationship with Marc will turn out to be much more complicated than you think. In both good and bad ways. There's much more to it than you think."
"Oh..." Nathaniel didn't really think about that possibility. From his perspective, they were just enemies. At least as much as seventeen and sixteen year old highschoolers could be. "So... You're saying that we could be friends?"
"You can always try. The future isn't set in stone believe it or not. It changes more or less significantly every time someone makes a decision. So it's definitely a possibility."
"Huh..."
He never really thought of it like that. Being friends with Marc? If they both decided to stop fighting and bickering, they could possibly become something akin to friends. Outside of his short temper for Nathaniel's childish remarks, the writer was seemingly the definition of perfection. He was both handsome and pretty, good with words, and just easy to approach. Attention was clinging to him like he was a magnet, he was talented, and everything Nathaniel could only dream of being. Yeah he was jealous of him. He was jealous of his confidence, and who he managed to become, while being about six months younger. Not much of a difference, but given the writer's much greater success in many subjects, it seemed like it was the opposite. Nathaniel really felt overshadowed by him, even though he would never admit to it. And that was probably part of the reason he hated that guy.
So maybe befriending him was actually worth a try? Maybe it could change something for the better if he actually made an effort. Because in reality, he didn't really take any satisfaction from his quarrel with that guy. It would be much nicer if it wasn't a thing...
Although,... It was kind of relieving. At least the physical fights. Sure, he often ended with bruises and sometimes a nosebleed, but it really felt good, besides the fact that during those times he was usually furious. It was most likely just the adrenaline rushing through his body, but god damn did it really feel like he was living. Fighting akumatized villains was similar, but not the exact same. There was just something about the writer that made their fights a different level. He didn't have any complex and annoying powers, just his own strength. They kept each other at a much closer distance, and that was what made it so thrilling. So addicting.
It was annoying for that exact reason. When Paris was calm, and didn't need him as a hero for a longer time, and when for the same amount of time he didn't get in a fight, Nathaniel would become frustrated. Which he had a lot of reasons for. Those feelings just kept pouring in every day like a river after heavy rain, and fighting was the best way to let them out. Not even making art competed with it. When his senses screamed for him to back down, body ached with sharp pain, and muscles strained to their limits, only then did he feel relief. At least for a bit.
But maybe he could learn a new way of getting rid of the feelings that troubled him? That would definitely be nice...
-~~∆~~-
And of course, another disappointment. It didn't work at all.
Nathaniel decided that the following day, he would treat the writer with more consideration for his feelings, and he managed to keep that decision...
But only until the moment he encountered Marc again.
He found him in the locker room, and just did his thing instead of throwing rude comments his way. But it didn't seem that he noticed the change. The two of them ignored each other as they were packing the books they needed, and Marc talked with Zoé about going to a movie or whatever. The artist didn't really care to be nosy, but they weren't whispering, so he could hear them. And to give them credit, from what he saw on the internet, that movie was a good one as well, so points to them for having taste. Not that he ever thought they didn't, Zoé was a filmmaker's step-daughter after all, and lived in the local cinema. So she most often knew what she was talking about. And Marc, even though he was, well - Marc, was a writer. So he could recognise a good story when he saw one. Probably.
Although, their conversation wasn't all that interesting, so Nathaniel headed towards his class right after they did the same. And that was his mistake.
The moment he stepped out of the locker room, he didn't have the time to notice that Marc was waiting for him, and with a quick swing of his leg, tripped the redhead up.
Luckily, he just stumbled and managed to somehow not fall. But it was close.
And just like that, his attempt at being nice and considerate went to shit. All hell would break loose, only if the bell didn't disrupt his temper that got closer to snapping with every second. He just looked back at the noiret, who was already walking away, so there was no need to waste time on him. Although he wouldn't be opposed.
Yeah, he was back to the way it was just like that. But honestly, if that guy didn't want to be understood, Nathaniel wouldn't go out of his way to do so. From then on, spite was the fuel of his actions, and even though he wasn't proud of acting recklessly, that was just who he was - an idiot who didn't think twice.
And luck had it, that after lunch when he was putting away his books, he noticed that Marc's locker wasn't locked. Probably because he was rushing to football practice and forgot to lock it.
The redhead’s eyes shone with satisfaction, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he decided to check out what treasures he could find there.