Chapter Text
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Chloe gave a heavy blow to her pillow with each cry. Tears brimmed in her vision, but she refused to break. “He's lucky I don't have my kwami right now, or I would've ruined him!”
It's been two years since she had ownership of Pollen.
On rare occasions—when desperation called and Pollen's new user was unable to help—Ladybug would ask her to be Queen Bee as a last resort. She was proud of herself for being trustworthy during those brief moments, but it was clear that Pollen would never be hers.
She wasn't fit to be a hero.
Pollen. My minion. I miss her. That Dupain-Cheng keeps taking things from me! I hate her.
Chloe's own mother preferred the baker girl.
It was ridiculous.
Audrey, her mother, left Paris again.
Two weeks ago—taking only her sister, Zoe, who didn't even want to go to New York.
It would be months before she saw her mother again, maybe even years. When would it be her turn?
Chloe was sure she could go with her mother this time.
The seventeen-year-old's grades were better, and she wasn't getting into trouble as much—if anything, her record had been clearer than ever. Chloe wasn't allowing herself to get akumatized anymore—she hadn't since she was fifteen give or take.
Her hobbies no longer entailed bullying either… well maybe just a little. Chloe was still her snarky, nitpicky self, but she was trying to find new ways to vent her frustrations. The blonde took up karate last year, and joined ballet classes again.
She even started dabbling in painting for self-expression which was ridiculous! It didn't work that efficiently. Chloe still relapsed into her old, awful ways now and then but these activities did mellow her out a bit.
“Your performance is still not up to my liking, Zoe. You can do better. I want excellence, not half attempts. I don't think it would look good for me to take you with me; I have a reputation to uphold.”
Chloe's father never defended her; he overlooked the way her mother treated her.
The mayor was a pushover. Her dad was with them in the living room, but he was as still as a mannequin, only giving a nod of agreement to appease her mother. It was a blessing when Chloe wanted to get her way, but it was a curse when she wanted her dad to step up and be a man.
“It's Chloe, Mom,” she corrected, her heart squeezing painfully. Her mother still mixed up their names, but she was better at it now. Audrey favored her half-sister, and she despised her for it. She despised herself even more. “But I've been doing better. I'm really trying. Dad even said—”
“Trying isn't good enough, Cleo.” Her mother held up her hand, golden bangles clicking. Then she stroked Chloe's cheek briefly. “You need to be perfect.”
“Your sister's just a better fit right now,” Audrey sighed. “I think about taking you next year once you show me real improvement.”
“I'll make sure my assistant sends you gifts, okay?” Her heart sank—but melted in her mother's embrace. The woman might've been cold, but Chloe soaked up her motherly affection whenever it was offered. “I'll miss you, darling.”
With a final kiss on her cheek, Audrey squeezed her shoulders and left.
“Bye, Chloe,” Zoé waved, smiling sadly. She knew the dual-haired girl was sincere. “See you.”
It's not fair! I'm rich. I deserve better! Why does it keep happening? Why does no one want me?
She sniffed, throwing the pillow against her bedroom wall, and yelled at it in frustration.
You need to be perfect.
Her mother's words echoed like a broken record.
It hurt—it burned; she wanted to die.
Chloe grabbed her teddy bear, Mr. Cuddly, and snuggled into its yellow tummy. She muffled her screams in his soft fur—the dam broke full force. Loud ugly sobs left her mouth. She curled into a ball, and made herself small.
Her body grew warm all over.
“In the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul.” Luka's calm voice blared through her mind, and she halted, catching her breath. It's Psalm 94:19; beautiful, isn't it?
Luka. Stupid Couffaine! How dare he invade my mind! What was he even going on about?
Those stupid teal-blue eyes and that soft, caring voice.
He's handsome. Too bad he dresses like he got his wardrobe from a dumpster.
His guitar somehow knew the tune of her heart, and when he sang, it lulled her aching soul to rest. Luka's comforting words a few hours ago were sweeter than honey from the comb.
Chloe hated it—oh, but she craved it.
Luka saw her.
Even if it was just for a second—but how?
Had she not concealed her mask well enough?
“It wasn't me,” he said, all mysterious, a knowing look on his face. “I don't know the tune of your heart, but God does. I didn't know why this melody came to me, but now I do. It was for you.”
The state of her heart was hidden beneath years of rejection.
What could that stupid guitar-loving hippie know? He was on drugs or something!
“It's all his fault I'm like this!” she sniffed, thinking of how his music stirred up feelings she thought buried. “Ridiculous.”
The smell of freshly baked chouquettes—most likely with her favourite Earl Grey tea wafted through the door.
Chloe sat up straight drawn to the aroma.
“You are Chloe Bourgeois.” Wiping her face, she breathed in deeply and slapped her cheeks lightly. “Pull yourself together.”
Chloe didn't hear a knock at the door. Though she knew her butler, Armand or Jean-Paul as she'd like to call him, slid the dish in front of her door. The middle-aged man usually got her a snack and some calming tea when she felt overwhelmed. And at her volume, she's sure he heard her.
It warmed her heart a little.
Chloe secretly appreciated the man's care.
She wished her father cared enough.
Couldn't he be my father? Chloe shook her head at the thought, taking in her glamorous bedroom. She couldn't imagine a life without riches. Gross, I don't want a poor dad.
She grimaced.
Ignoring the rumble in her stomach, Chloe grabbed a handful of tissues from her desk and wiped her face.
Sliding her feet into her fuzzy slippers, she slid open her door and walked onto her balcony.
“I need some air,” she croaked out hoarsely, blowing her nose.
No one could see her from up here, but she could see everything.
Somberly, Chloe looked up at the starry midnight sky. She admired how they sparkled—they were prettier than the biggest diamonds she'd seen. The moon was a perfect half-crescent shape, and the dew started gathering in the heavens. The wind was picking up, prickling her exposed arms so wonderfully.
Below, cars hooted and drove by, engines rumbling faintly. There was yelling in the distance, and a slight tone of music. Shivering, she shook her head. She didn't want to think of Luka—and his stupid heart song that stirred up awful memories.
Grabbing hold of the cool stone railing of her balcony, she wondered, Does God even care? Is He looking at me right now? Probably not.
God probably had more important things to do than worry about someone like her.
Chloe sighed mournfully.
“I shouldn't feel like this.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I wish I didn't feel anything at all.”
Chloe suddenly missed Pollen's warmth buzzing beside her shoulder—the Kwami had a way of cheering her up.
Sabrina too, but they weren't on good terms right now.
Chloe ruined it again, like she always did.
She ruins everything.
Would anyone care if I died? The intrusive thought piped up suddenly; it wasn't unfamiliar, just louder this time. Shut up!
A sharp breeze blew through her loose blonde hair. Chloe liked the way it caressed her pale skin. Her silky, thin-strapped pajamas did nothing against the icy night's temperature, and she loved it—the feel of her body fighting against the weather.
She leaned on her balcony in silence, focusing on the window of a random house.
She allowed her brain to turn off.
Her soul felt worn out.
Her mind drew a blank.
Chloe didn't have Adrien anymore.
She wasn't in love with him.
Not anymore.
Chloe just loved him now.
She thought she would always be his person—his one and only—but when the new girl showed up, she was pushed aside like an outdated Channel bag.
The image from a few hours ago at the houseboat flashed before her eyes.
Adrien and Marinette embracing each other.
Their constant clinging to each other.
Their happy laughter.
Nino and Alya nearby, teasing them about how lovey-dovey they were. Even Felix was invited with Kagami. It was his and Adrien's seventeenth birthday party.
They were celebrating it on the Liberty, Juleka's houseboat, this year.
“She's lucky she got invited.”
“She was only invited because of Adrien. He's such a nice guy to put up with Chloe.”
“Don't say that; she could hear you!”
The familiar whispers stung, but she knew how to brush them off.
“Adrikins! I got your gift!” Chloe yelled through the noise to get his attention. Unbothered, she approached them, waving her hand while plastering on a smile. “Adrikins! Happy birthday!”
Shifting the bag in her arm, she pulled him into a tight hug. Chloe wasn't afraid to smother him with affection.
Kissing his cheek, she stuck her tongue out at Marinette, who glared at her. “How are you, Adrikins? You look good.”
“Thanks, Chloe.” His gentle, nostalgic smile softened her heart. Her Adrikins was growing up. Her fingers inched to ruffle his hair playfully. “I've been good. How about you?”
“Darling Adrien,” Marinette interjected with a sweet tone. She hooked her arm around him, causing the blonde boy to blush. “You still need to talk to the other guests at the party. There are more presents—and we need to cut the cake too. You can't hog him all night, Chloe, sorry.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, unfazed.
She and Marinette had more of an understanding now, but that didn't mean they always got along.
“Sabrina!” she called for her short-haired friend, searching for the ginger. She spotted her with Juleka and Rose. She tapped her heeled foot impatiently. “Sabrina! Get over here right now! Seriously, if you don’t listen to me, I'm never talking to you again!”
A knot formed in her stomach, and she swallowed down her nerves.
Sabrina knew how she felt—she told her to stick close to her. Chloe wasn't in the clique—she was still an outsider. She couldn't approach them. She still felt guilty for how she treated them three years ago. Not to mention, she was sure they hated her guts. Not that she cared. Her behavior hadn't fully changed—she tried to, but it was hard to give love when you never received it.
She was still as prickly and mean as ever, but she was Chloe, so it was fine—normal.
“Stop being so dramatic, Chloe,” Marinette piped up, her hand on her best friend's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“Yeah, leave her alone, Chloe! Sabrina's not your assistant,” Alya said, arms folded, glaring fiercely. “If you want to say something, come over here.”
“You're all so ridiculous!” Chloe huffed and turned on her Louis Vuitton heels. “Fine, Sabrina. Do what you want. See if I care.”
Her white custom-made dress swished in motion, and her blonde locks bounced as she strolled on deck to find a quieter place.
With one last lingering glance at Adrien—the boy was laughing at something Nino said, and on his other side, Juleka gave him a card, shyly putting her hair behind her ear.
“I don't belong here.”
Adjusting her black headband and dusting off her yellow cardigan, she paused at the entrance inside the houseboat.
Bingo. I'm sure Sabrina will come to her senses and find me.
She staked her claim, closing in on the nearest room—but startled at the sound of guitar strings.
A serene melody escaped Luka's lips as he sang while he played his guitar. Her hand hovered in the air; she had yet to open the door. Shifting as silently as possible, she leaned with her ear closer to hear more of what Luka was playing.
It was something new.
Something strangely beautiful and touching—
The door swung open, revealing the owner of the room, Luka Couffaine, guitar under his armpit, a gentle gaze.
“Chloe?”
Her name. His eyes. That smile. An invitation.
That's how it started.
Then came the beat, the tune, her melody.
🐝*ೃ˚🐍
Up on the rooftop, Viperion waited, hunched in a defensive stance. His instincts were on edge—his eyes hadn't left Chloe's form since he caught sight of her on the edge of her balcony.
The faraway look in her blue eyes sent a chill down his spine.
The seventeen-year-old looked calmer than a musical note.
And that scared him.
When his ears zeroed in on her resting heartbeat, he inched closer, alert.
Luka, or Viperion—the Snake Miraculous holder, part-time hero of Paris—had been patrolling, swiftly jumping from roof to roof, scanning for any signs of villainous activities or upcoming akumas.
When he saw Paris was settled—with the hum of running engines, faint chatter from late-night restaurants, and the blare of a siren in the distance—he changed his route and headed to Bourgeois’s penthouse.
The young hero had been watching Chloe since she slid out of her door.
She moved like a puppet on a string and, in fluid motion, stepped on the edge of the balcony—just standing. Her blank expression made it hard not to interfere, with flushed cheeks, a red nose, puffy eyes, and her usually perfectly styled hair dishevelled.
Worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach.
He clenched his jaw, gripping the lyre—his weapon close at hand.
Luka wanted nothing more than to scoop the girl up and make sure she's safe inside.
They weren't close friends, but Chloe was still a person, like him, who was once lost.
Luka had been itching to see her ever since he shared his song with her earlier that night at Adrien's birthday party.
It was something the Lord inspired him to write a few days ago, in the middle of the night.
Luka didn't know the piece he composed was actually for Chloe.
He didn't know how, upon listening to it, she would unravel.
She left in a storm afterwards.
It left him restless.
No one knew what the blonde hid behind her pride-built persona, not even him, until tonight—when it cracked at the houseboat while he played his newest tune.
God, keep her, he prayed, now more alert when she leaned forward.
He could hear the broken tone of her heart beneath the glamour that came with the name Chloe Bourgeois.
Her fake smile and snarky comebacks—she couldn't hide the yearning gaze when she stared Adrien.
A look of longing, not necessarily love.
Luka knew that look—he wore it too.
But he made peace with it a long time ago.
It wasn't easy, but God was the source of his comfort during that time.
Luka had always been a spiritual guy, but he wasn't tied to religion—not until he found worship music on his For You page on YouTube. The song spoke to him louder than words ever did, and after that, he searched for a deeper meaning of life, and it led him to put his faith in Jesus.
“Chloe,” he called, and the blonde snapped out of her trance—wide-eyed, she blinked at him, sobering up.
“Viperion, what do you—” before Chloe could snap, her foot slipped.
Viperion’s legs kicked into gear without thought, launching him forward. The hero caught her before she could fall. His strong arm wrapped around her waist while he held the onto the railing with his free hand.
He pulled them both up with no effort.
Still in his arms, pressed close to his chest, the girl clung to Viperion's neck, shaking—prosesssing what just happend. The proximity, her warmth, the faint scent of her perfume under his nose—made the tips his ears grow red.
“You idiot!” Chloe shouted—voice trembling, “You scared me!”
“You're okay,” came his steady reply, and she hushed. “I got you.”
As soon as her feet touched the solid ground, she attempted to punch Viperion in the chest—his hero suit burned her knuckles.
“You idiot!” she spat, heart drumming in her ears. “You could've killed me!”
Viperion stood calmly, blinking at her through slitted eyes, yet his mind was racing with thoughts.
“You scared me,” his tone grounding and sharp, making Chloe's shoulders tense. “I don't know what you're going through, but you're going to be okay.”
His brilliant spring green eyes bore into hers—serious yet concerned. “But be careful next time.”
“Of course!” she said, fist clenched in anger and embarrassment. “You don't have to tell me; you're the one who showed up out of nowhere!”
Instead of arguing, Viperion remained still.
A beat of tension.
“You don't have to carry everything alone.”
“I'm fine! I don't need your advice.” Her glossy eyes didn't fool him—not the tremble in her bottom lip. Her arms crossed, as if she was holding in way more than she could carry. “Just go. I won't jump.”
Luka's chest squeezed.
When she turned to leave he couldn't stop himself.
“Wait,” Viperion pulled her arm, causing her to pause. “I can stay with you for a while if—”
When she turned, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and Luka couldn't bring himself to leave her in this state. Without much thought, he reached out to wipe her tear-stained cheek. Her breath hitched at the contract—his surprisingly warm hands, and gentle touch made her blush.
Chloe slapped his hand away from her face, and the hero sober up instantly.
“How dare you! I will call the cops on you, creep!”
Viperion scoffed; the blonde was interesting.
She was also right.
He didn't mean to push—his body reacted before his brain. It was handy when he was doing hero work, but right now, he needed to be thoughtful.
“Forgive me, Miss Bourgeois,” he said sincerely, taking a step back, bowing slightly. Chloe’s chest fluttered. She was charmed, and suddenly grew self-conscious. “Have you even eaten tonight? You look a little pale.”
What? Chloe didn't understand this guy. Who even was he? Why does he care? Dumb hero.
She took in his features, but he didn't look familiar—except his voice, and his warmth felt familiar.
“Go back to your cave, snake. I'm not hungry.”
On cue, her stomach rumbled, and she blushed, glaring at him like an angry kitten.
The snake holder finally took in her form.
His eyes lingered; his heart thudded strangely in his chest. A new melody played in his mind, but what was it? He'd have to write it down when he got home.
“I understand,” Luka nodded respectfully; he still had patrolling to do, but if she asked him to stay, he could. “Please take care of yourself, Miss Bourgeois. Have a good night.”
“Yes.” They shared a look—gaze lingering, an emotion unknown kindled, a kinship of heartache—before he leapt off her roof. “Good riddance.”
Chloe's stomach grew tight; her heart thumped in her ears. She yearned for someone to comfort her, but she didn't deserve it. Not her. “If I would've asked him to stay, would he?”
Her cheeks heated up. Weird, it's not even that hot out tonight. He was such a creep. She didn't mention how she found him attractive. It was irrelevant. “I'll get my food.”
She walked into her room.
Viperion sighed in relief once the girl was secure.
🐍*ೃ˚🐝
The next day, Chloe received a gift package to her surprise.
A small box of freshly baked macarons.
A bouquet of flowers, and a cute bee-themed bracelet.
“I hope you feel better, Chlo,” she read the message on the paper she found in the little gift basket. “Psalms 34:18 ♡”
— Yours, Luka
Chlo. Wait—mine, is he, what does he mean, yours?
“Luka...” her lips pushed-out in scowl, and she glared clenching the paper. Her cheeks coloured rosy, and her heartbeat thudded in her chest like a drum. “That idiot. How does he even know what I like?”
Cute. She unhooked the golden-bee themed bracelet and fiddled with it.
“What a weirdo,” she scoffed, smiling at the note. A new feeling evoked in her chest—foreign yet familiar. Happiness. “Lame.”
I want to see him, she thought wistfully.