Chapter Text
Marinette gazed out across the city of Paris. The glow of streetlights and windowpanes shimmered in her blue eyes. Watching. Waiting.
The night breeze nipped at her skin, brushing the tip of her nose with icy fingers. But she didn’t shiver. The ache in her bruised heart burned so sharply that the cold barely registered. Maybe out here, the chill could cool the fire inside her—ease the pain that clung to her chest like it never wanted to let go.
She could feel Tikki’s eyes on her. The little kwami was likely peeking through the trapdoor, silently debating whether or not to say something comforting. But there was nothing left to say. They both knew that. That’s probably why she stayed quiet, simply watching from a distance.
I’m sorry, Marinette… there’s someone else I like…
The words bounced around in her head like a rubber ball in a small room, ricocheting off every wall, relentless and unescapable.
Tears finally welled in her eyes. Finally, she thought. She hadn’t cried when he said it. Hadn’t cried since she got home and perched herself on the balcony railing. Only now, long after the sun had vanished and the stars took its place, did she allow herself to break.
A sob rose up suddenly, crashing over Paris like a wave. She sniffled, choked, her vision blurring with the flood. She sat there quietly, every tear carving a path down her cheeks like scars she feared might never fade.
“That’s it,” she hissed, voice sharp.
Through blurry vision, she slid off the railing and dropped back into her room. Her gaze landed on the pinboard beside her bed, still cluttered with photos of him.
She scoffed at his smiling face.
He was a good fashion model, she had told herself for years. Yeah, right. There were hundreds of other handsome models in Paris. It was time to find new inspiration.
With angry yanks, she tore down the photos—uncaring if they ripped. Then she climbed down the ladder and stormed through her bedroom, grabbing every last picture, every handmade gift and keepsake, dumping them all into a bin bag. Tikki watched silently, her tiny face drawn with concern, but thankfully said nothing.
Once Marinette had scoured her entire room clean of him, she tied up the bag and hauled it downstairs. Out in the alley, she heaved it into the big bin with a satisfying thud.
“Good riddance,” she muttered, dusting off her hands.
“Are you sure that was necessary, Mari?” Tikki asked gently, as if she were talking down a wild animal.
Marinette didn’t look at her. She just walked back inside. “Yes. I did what everyone told me to do for years—confess. I can’t exactly blame him for not feeling the same…” Her voice cracked. “Now it’s time for a fresh start. No more boys. I’m clearly not ready for a relationship. I should focus on school. On saving Paris. Hawkmoth is still out there, Tikki.”
By the time they reached the balcony again, Tikki offered a small, “I’m sorry he rejected you. But I’m still glad you tried.”
“Yeah.” Marinette leaned on the railing, the night air a little less harsh now.
A sudden noise echoed from a nearby rooftop. Marinette turned quickly, her eyes locking onto a shadowed figure.
Tikki darted behind her.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” a familiar, velvety voice purred. The silhouette stepped into the light. “Just thought I’d say hi.”
Her fists relaxed. A smile tugged at her lips.
“Hello, Kitty.”
Chat Noir leapt down, landing on her railing like the stray cat he was.
“What’s a superhero like you doing here?” she asked, angling her face away so he wouldn’t see her puffy eyes.
“Let’s just say I needed a friend. Today was… rough,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
A sharp pang of guilt struck Marinette. She remembered rejecting him that morning—as Ladybug. He’d confessed, and like always, she had brushed it off. It wasn’t until afterward she realized how serious he’d been. Maybe that was why she confessed to Adrien so quickly. She’d needed a reason to shut Chat Noir down.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He tilted his head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault she doesn’t love me.”
“W-what?”
“Ladybug rejected me. Again.” He smiled bitterly. “I don’t know why, but this time… it hurt more.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her chest tightening.
“You say that like you were the one who rejected me.”
“I didn’t—I mean, that’s not what I meant, I just…”
Chat Noir laughed, the sound sudden and loud.
“Hey, shush!” she giggled, placing a hand over his mouth. “My parents are asleep!”
His laughter faded, but her hand remained—and that’s when she noticed how close they were.
Before she could pull back, he caught her hand, pressing it to his chest. “I didn’t realize you were so forward, Mari.”
“What? N-no!” She tugged, but he held firm. Her cheeks were glowing red.
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
She placed her free hand on her hip. “Do I need to train you with treats?”
“Unfortunately for you, Mari, cats aren’t as obedient as dogs.”
That only made her blush deeper. “A-alright, kitty, that’s enough.”
He finally let go, smirking. “Just wanted to cheer you up. You were crying, weren’t you?”
“What?” she gasped. “H-how did you know?”
“Your eyes are red and glassy,” he said. “And… I was on that rooftop for a little while.”
“A little while… Wait—you saw me crying?”
He raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to! I was going to say hi, but then you started crying and I thought… maybe I should give you space.”
She looked away, mortified. Thank god Tikki hadn’t said anything—he would’ve thought she was talking to herself. Or worse, seen her.
“Well…” she hesitated. Screw it. “I guess we had a similar day.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was rejected too.”
He stilled, his eyes flicking away. “I’m… sorry, Mari.”
She let out a weak chuckle. “Now you sound like the rejecter.”
He cracked a smile. “Guess I am a heartbreaker after all.”
“Her rejection didn’t kill your ego, at least.”
“Nothing can,” he said proudly.
They both fell quiet again, the silence warm this time.
“So, you’re graduating soon, right?” he asked suddenly.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, caught off guard. “Bit of a topic change.”
“Well, what university are you thinking about?”
“There’s an art school here in Paris with a great fashion program. I got accepted earlier this year.”
“Oh? I figured you’d go somewhere far. America, maybe.”
“That’d be the dream. But Paris is home. And… it’s a lot cheaper.”
And there’s still a supervillain to fight. She couldn’t leave Chat Noir alone.
“What about you?” she asked. “You look my age. Got plans for uni? Or are you already in one?”
He laughed like she’d told a joke.
She gaped. “Don’t tell me you’re either twelve or already graduated.”
“No, no. We’re the same age. I just… wouldn’t know what to study. Being a superhero is the only thing I’m good at.”
He tried to brush it off with a smile, but she caught the weight behind the words.
“I’m sure you’re good at other things. You’re obviously athletic.”
He leaned beside her, smiling. “There are things I’m good at. Just not things I love.”
“Well, what are they?”
“Oh, now you want to know me?” he teased.
She folded her arms. “I can handle a little mystery.”
“I can’t say much, secret identity and all. But most of what I do… I was pushed into.”
She softened. “So it’s not your choice.”
“Being a superhero is the only thing I chose. The only thing I love.” He paused. “But it doesn’t exactly pay well.”
“I hear that,” she muttered.
“I wish I was like you,” he said. “You have a dream. You’re good at it.”
She flushed. “Y-you’re literally a superhero. I’m just a fashion geek.”
He smiled gently. “Still. You have a future. A direction. That’s… more than I can say.”
The quiet between them shifted again—closer, more charged.
“You know,” he said softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. Not just sad… but real.”
She turned her head. “Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it,” he whispered. “I like this side of you.”
She looked back—and found him closer than expected. His eyes dropped to her lips.
Her heart thudded.
Then—
“Marinette? Is that you?”
The voice from her room startled them apart.
“Shit, that’s my dad. If he sees you—”
“I’ve got nine lives,” Chat Noir whispered with a wink.
“Seriously, go!” she said, hurrying to the hatch.
He climbed onto the railing.
“Marinette?” he called.
“Yes?”
“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Same time?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
With a flick of his baton, he vanished into the night.
Marinette stood alone. The ghost of the almost-kiss lingered in the cool air.
She sighed and climbed back inside. Her dad stood in the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“I heard talking,” he said through a yawn. “Everything alright?”
“Oh—yeah, sorry. I was on the phone with Alya. She was on speaker.”
“At 1am?”
“She had a rough day.”
He smiled. “You’re a good friend. But keep it down, alright?”
“Of course. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, honey.”
He left. Marinette collapsed onto her bed. Her phone buzzed.
1 New Message — Alya:
“Girl… is this you?”
Blurry but unmistakable.
Her. On the balcony.
Him. Holding her hand. Leaning in.
The city lights made it almost cinematic.
Almost romantic .
Her heart stopped.
Retweets and likes were already flooding in. Who had taken it? How many people were up at this hour?
Her hand trembled as she zoomed in.
There was no talking her way out of this one.
“Oh… shit,” she whispered.