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Description

He was different.
I noticed his demeanour change at the end of every patrol and every akuma attack.
What was once lighter than life itself was replaced by something heavier.
I didn't like it. I couldn't stand it.
His tiresome smile. His exhausted, half-hearted fist bump at the end of every successful save. Fatigue dwelled on his handsome features, an unknown burden keeping his proud shoulders low in defeat. His eyes were dulled. Dulled beyond compare. No light, no hope, no happiness; it became painful for me to see the shell of the person he once was.
He was always here in body and mind but his heart wondered elsewhere.
Short, clipped answers lacking in vitality and jest; the clear avoidance of socialising more than necessary; the fact that he froze anytime Ladybug brushed against him; the fleeting expression of apparent shock once I asked him if he was truly ok, and the minute fraction of a second where his eyes softened, before hardening back to its cold shell; the flash of irritation once an akuma victim slipped under his claws; the tension-ridden answers he gives Ladybug day in day out.
It hurts to look at him. This gnawing, aching feeling in my chest appeared anytime he'd turn his back, face closed off from the world.
It merely took one look at him to figure out what's wrong. And I knew it wasn't just Ladybug.
I wasn't going to put all the blame on her. That change within 24 hours didn't happen with or without her participation alone. To me, it looked like the build-up of something. It took years for our dear cat to sink to a place lower than he could jump out from, years of stress, disappointment and heartbreak.
All it needed was one, vital, trigger to set it all off.
I wasn't prepared for it. Ladybug wasn't prepared for it. Funnily enough, he kept his façade for the press so well, even resorting to treating Ladybug in the same flirtatious way during interviews and celebrity encounters that even we were swayed into thinking that he had returned. That whole LadyChat thing was back. Chat Noir was back. Everything should have been alright.
Everything went downhill from there.
Everything went downhill from there.
After the same exchanges between the press and social media stars like Alya, he would immediately, without prior warning, slip back into his subdued, darker demeanour once we were out of earshot of the general public. A blunt "goodbye" and we wouldn't hear of him until the next attack.
From what I could tell, this... change of his happened a few weeks ago. Around the day after a sleep-induced akuma attack from a stressed teen.
We'd just finished up another mission on the rooftop of an apartment block. I remember crouching next to the boy, speaking soft words of encouragement as he surveyed his surroundings, devastated by his actions. Chat Noir stood directly behind me. I didn't see what his expression was, but all I do remember was his urgent tone of voice when he asked Ladybug if he could tell her something.
I took the liberty to leave without any hints being sent my way. Whatever it was, it seemed important.
"We're a team. And teams do not keep secrets from one another." I pushed away the nagging feeling at the back of my mind, hand supportively pressing the teen's back as I escorted him downstairs. As soon as we stepped out, he was swamped by his family, sobbing siblings, and relieved teachers.
"We can't have anything complicated going on. We have an important job. New miraculouses have been sighted. Hawkmoth's attacks are becoming increasingly unpredictable." I leap up with the cheers of the crowds below me as they chant my name. Their voices eventually fade into silence. I land onto a random balcony, and with the brief touch of cool marble, I take flight again, Ladybug's voice playing on repeat.
"If we're distracted, we risk losing a life." I grit my teeth.
"Rena Rouge may have left for a while, but she was stable. Question is, are you?" Stable enough to keep to my word, Ladybug.
Fast forward a few weeks, and she finally managed to answer my questions without her noncommital nonsense.
"It's because of me. I know it is. Do you know what happened between us?" Ladybug asked. She looked nervous and thoroughly wrecked, and didn't care to specify who she was talking about, but there was this determined gleam in her eyes I can't place.
"No." I mean, yes, I did, but specifically? Considering you put me through weeks of awkward encounters and weeks of watching and waiting patiently for you to tell me something, I'm going to be honest; it was about high time you told me the truth.
"He confessed to me. He told me that for years on end, he's liked me. He said he was finally ready to tell me and I..." she faltered, and I struggled to keep my poker-face intact, staring at her with an emotion I can't quite fathom. Is it fear? Pity? Anger? Hope? These emotions cloud my judgement, and I resort to staying silent. Waiting once again for an answer that may never come.
"I said that I couldn't return his feelings." My lips thinned into into a straight line. She's said it.
"It's not your fault. You didn't say it outright..." I failed to keep my tone as placid as my face. Ladybug didn't seem to notice. She fretted, tugging on her pig tails.
"No. I didn't say it outright. And I think that's where the problem came from." I relaxed visibly, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. She was right. Not clarifying their status after years of flirting could do this to a person. They, even to me, were a couple kept under wraps, just to avoid drama.
I didn't think about the possibility of my assumption being incorrect, but hey. Neither did Chaton.
On how many occasions had I caught them sharing a smile only they understood, or the secret conversations they didn't think I heard or knew of, the barely-there touches, the coy answers, the laughter filled with warmth and affection and yet, and yet, she told him there was nothing between them..?
She must have a reason. But who was I to pry? It... it wasn't my business.
This is something I forbade myself from thinking about. What they did, what they felt, I had no right to intrude. So I always let them be, allowing a faux smile to pass by my face anytime they noticed I existed in the moments between them.
They can do what they wish. What I felt was irrelevant.
It was strange, really. After years of convincing myself that I was no longer head over heels for the cat-based superhero made me numb to anything emotionally upsetting between him and I.
The gentle squeeze of my paralysed form as he cradled my bruised and battered body, those soft words of encouragement he'd mutter, keeping me above the surface, acting as my lifeline? He only did that as a comrade.
The howl of fury once my fans come whizzing back to me, cutting my collarbone lightly as I narrowly avoid certain death? And how he didn't care for himself at that moment, just that the possibility of my death was enough to risk everything? He did that as a friend.
At some point, Ava was convinced that his... feelings for me fluctuated. I'd just brush off her ideas with a small laugh, and she'd watch me, her cerulean blue eyes brimming with ancient recognition I couldn't yet understand. She'd hover next to me, her miniature form easy to avoid but hard to ignore.
Ava is my kwami. She's small, can fit into the palm of my hand, looks like chibi-fied snow leopard and is my closest friend.
She knows more than she lets on. It isn't until now that I start to actively seek out her guidance.
But that didn't change the fact that there was nothing between me and Chaton. It didn't change the fact that there was everything between Lady and Chat.
But I cared. I still care. And at some point, it became my downfall.
.
.
.
.
"So, Leopardess. Paris is buzzing to know about the truth behind LadyChat, but how about you? Who's the special figure in your life?" I freeze. Literally. Nothing could have prepared me for this. I'd already created 101 possible questions with worst-case scenarios but at no point, at NO POINT did I think this question would target me. Hadn't even considered the possibility.
"C'mon. I'm sure if Leopardess wanted to us to know, she would have told you!" Ladybug fills the awkward pause with an easy laugh, and the audience follows. Despite the note of finality in her voice, I knew the interrogation wasn't over. This is why I don't like to attend interviews or chat shows: they really throw personal boundaries out of the window.
"While that may be true," the news reporter starts, and an audible hush descends. All of a sudden, I feel all eyes on me. Was it always like this?
"We haven't failed to notice the... few moments between you and our dear cat." Everything fades to static, and the only thing I can see is her incessant chatter, and beneath, bared fangs, daring me to interrupt and deny the accusations coming my way. A minuscule, yet noticeable thrill of fear dances up my spine at the predatory glint in her eyes. Yet another emotion surfaces.
Faint anger. I don't let myself think about whatever could be between me and Chat, so what made her think SHE had the right to intrude?
Slowly, realisation pieces everything together, one by one. These interviews have piled up over time until they have become the norm, slowly applying pressure, one by one.
They're building me up just to gain pleasure from watching me fall.
I physically feel every single eye set on me, from TV screens nationwide to the mixture of gossip-ridden families in the audience, practically begging for me to bestow whatever secrets I hold. This whole, laughable prospect of animal-themed superheroes is nothing well enough for respect to be attached to our name. The Parisian Trio.
Envy is one disgusting emotion I've learned to tamper down. Sadly, the world was many steps behind.
A video tape starts, and I feel an immeasurable amount of dread seep into my skin like a tidal wave of cold water. I feel sick as my face lights up on the screen, a genuine grin on my face as I shout something inaudible to the general vicinity of the camera. To my utter dismay, I hear someone purr back. Chat. The video changes to a quick save by me. I've lunged forwards, wrapping two arms around Chat's waist as we're knocked back. Providing a cushion for him rather than myself, it was clear I'd been bruised heavily by the rough fall. Yet, I still struggle to stand up, brushing off his concern with a painful smile. The video cuts at him wrapping two arms around me, and my form leaning against him as my eyes flutter shut. I remember blacking out, but the audience doesn't know that.
It's always like this. The audience never knows.
Many misleading videos follow after that, not ONE of them correct despite the many occasions where I could say Chaton and I have shared a fond moment, or two, or more...
Provocative stances with no context, laughs and moments of small affection that we as a group SHARED; they were still using footage incorrectly! I knew both Ladybug and Chat Noir understood, but does the world?
I force back a furious blush, speaking a few words through gritted teeth.
"You're taking this out of context." I interject into the slideshow smoothly, and all of a sudden, all attention is on me once again.
"Shouldn't you be asking about a relationship that... exists?" The audience is thrown into uproar, and my moment is forgotten amongst the bombshell I've dropped. This shouldn't be a shock to them, but there's a first time for everything.
I was the only reliable source when it came to Chat and Lady's relationship. I didn't care. I didn't want to be selfless at that moment. I didn't want to remember.
Still. I meet eyes with them, my face a mixture between stormy and apologetic.
And they understood.
And for that, at least, I was grateful.

Description

He was different.
I noticed his demeanour change at the end of every patrol and every akuma attack.
What was once lighter than life itself was replaced by something heavier.
I didn't like it. I couldn't stand it.
His tiresome smile. His exhausted, half-hearted fist bump at the end of every successful save. Fatigue dwelled on his handsome features, an unknown burden keeping his proud shoulders low in defeat. His eyes were dulled. Dulled beyond compare. No light, no hope, no happiness; it became painful for me to see the shell of the person he once was.
He was always here in body and mind but his heart wondered elsewhere.
Short, clipped answers lacking in vitality and jest; the clear avoidance of socialising more than necessary; the fact that he froze anytime Ladybug brushed against him; the fleeting expression of apparent shock once I asked him if he was truly ok, and the minute fraction of a second where his eyes softened, before hardening back to its cold shell; the flash of irritation once an akuma victim slipped under his claws; the tension-ridden answers he gives Ladybug day in day out.
It hurts to look at him. This gnawing, aching feeling in my chest appeared anytime he'd turn his back, face closed off from the world.
It merely took one look at him to figure out what's wrong. And I knew it wasn't just Ladybug.
I wasn't going to put all the blame on her. That change within 24 hours didn't happen with or without her participation alone. To me, it looked like the build-up of something. It took years for our dear cat to sink to a place lower than he could jump out from, years of stress, disappointment and heartbreak.
All it needed was one, vital, trigger to set it all off.
I wasn't prepared for it. Ladybug wasn't prepared for it. Funnily enough, he kept his façade for the press so well, even resorting to treating Ladybug in the same flirtatious way during interviews and celebrity encounters that even we were swayed into thinking that he had returned. That whole LadyChat thing was back. Chat Noir was back. Everything should have been alright.
Everything went downhill from there.
Everything went downhill from there.
After the same exchanges between the press and social media stars like Alya, he would immediately, without prior warning, slip back into his subdued, darker demeanour once we were out of earshot of the general public. A blunt "goodbye" and we wouldn't hear of him until the next attack.
From what I could tell, this... change of his happened a few weeks ago. Around the day after a sleep-induced akuma attack from a stressed teen.
We'd just finished up another mission on the rooftop of an apartment block. I remember crouching next to the boy, speaking soft words of encouragement as he surveyed his surroundings, devastated by his actions. Chat Noir stood directly behind me. I didn't see what his expression was, but all I do remember was his urgent tone of voice when he asked Ladybug if he could tell her something.
I took the liberty to leave without any hints being sent my way. Whatever it was, it seemed important.
"We're a team. And teams do not keep secrets from one another." I pushed away the nagging feeling at the back of my mind, hand supportively pressing the teen's back as I escorted him downstairs. As soon as we stepped out, he was swamped by his family, sobbing siblings, and relieved teachers.
"We can't have anything complicated going on. We have an important job. New miraculouses have been sighted. Hawkmoth's attacks are becoming increasingly unpredictable." I leap up with the cheers of the crowds below me as they chant my name. Their voices eventually fade into silence. I land onto a random balcony, and with the brief touch of cool marble, I take flight again, Ladybug's voice playing on repeat.
"If we're distracted, we risk losing a life." I grit my teeth.
"Rena Rouge may have left for a while, but she was stable. Question is, are you?" Stable enough to keep to my word, Ladybug.
Fast forward a few weeks, and she finally managed to answer my questions without her noncommital nonsense.
"It's because of me. I know it is. Do you know what happened between us?" Ladybug asked. She looked nervous and thoroughly wrecked, and didn't care to specify who she was talking about, but there was this determined gleam in her eyes I can't place.
"No." I mean, yes, I did, but specifically? Considering you put me through weeks of awkward encounters and weeks of watching and waiting patiently for you to tell me something, I'm going to be honest; it was about high time you told me the truth.
"He confessed to me. He told me that for years on end, he's liked me. He said he was finally ready to tell me and I..." she faltered, and I struggled to keep my poker-face intact, staring at her with an emotion I can't quite fathom. Is it fear? Pity? Anger? Hope? These emotions cloud my judgement, and I resort to staying silent. Waiting once again for an answer that may never come.
"I said that I couldn't return his feelings." My lips thinned into into a straight line. She's said it.
"It's not your fault. You didn't say it outright..." I failed to keep my tone as placid as my face. Ladybug didn't seem to notice. She fretted, tugging on her pig tails.
"No. I didn't say it outright. And I think that's where the problem came from." I relaxed visibly, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. She was right. Not clarifying their status after years of flirting could do this to a person. They, even to me, were a couple kept under wraps, just to avoid drama.
I didn't think about the possibility of my assumption being incorrect, but hey. Neither did Chaton.
On how many occasions had I caught them sharing a smile only they understood, or the secret conversations they didn't think I heard or knew of, the barely-there touches, the coy answers, the laughter filled with warmth and affection and yet, and yet, she told him there was nothing between them..?
She must have a reason. But who was I to pry? It... it wasn't my business.
This is something I forbade myself from thinking about. What they did, what they felt, I had no right to intrude. So I always let them be, allowing a faux smile to pass by my face anytime they noticed I existed in the moments between them.
They can do what they wish. What I felt was irrelevant.
It was strange, really. After years of convincing myself that I was no longer head over heels for the cat-based superhero made me numb to anything emotionally upsetting between him and I.
The gentle squeeze of my paralysed form as he cradled my bruised and battered body, those soft words of encouragement he'd mutter, keeping me above the surface, acting as my lifeline? He only did that as a comrade.
The howl of fury once my fans come whizzing back to me, cutting my collarbone lightly as I narrowly avoid certain death? And how he didn't care for himself at that moment, just that the possibility of my death was enough to risk everything? He did that as a friend.
At some point, Ava was convinced that his... feelings for me fluctuated. I'd just brush off her ideas with a small laugh, and she'd watch me, her cerulean blue eyes brimming with ancient recognition I couldn't yet understand. She'd hover next to me, her miniature form easy to avoid but hard to ignore.
Ava is my kwami. She's small, can fit into the palm of my hand, looks like chibi-fied snow leopard and is my closest friend.
She knows more than she lets on. It isn't until now that I start to actively seek out her guidance.
But that didn't change the fact that there was nothing between me and Chaton. It didn't change the fact that there was everything between Lady and Chat.
But I cared. I still care. And at some point, it became my downfall.
.
.
.
.
"So, Leopardess. Paris is buzzing to know about the truth behind LadyChat, but how about you? Who's the special figure in your life?" I freeze. Literally. Nothing could have prepared me for this. I'd already created 101 possible questions with worst-case scenarios but at no point, at NO POINT did I think this question would target me. Hadn't even considered the possibility.
"C'mon. I'm sure if Leopardess wanted to us to know, she would have told you!" Ladybug fills the awkward pause with an easy laugh, and the audience follows. Despite the note of finality in her voice, I knew the interrogation wasn't over. This is why I don't like to attend interviews or chat shows: they really throw personal boundaries out of the window.
"While that may be true," the news reporter starts, and an audible hush descends. All of a sudden, I feel all eyes on me. Was it always like this?
"We haven't failed to notice the... few moments between you and our dear cat." Everything fades to static, and the only thing I can see is her incessant chatter, and beneath, bared fangs, daring me to interrupt and deny the accusations coming my way. A minuscule, yet noticeable thrill of fear dances up my spine at the predatory glint in her eyes. Yet another emotion surfaces.
Faint anger. I don't let myself think about whatever could be between me and Chat, so what made her think SHE had the right to intrude?
Slowly, realisation pieces everything together, one by one. These interviews have piled up over time until they have become the norm, slowly applying pressure, one by one.
They're building me up just to gain pleasure from watching me fall.
I physically feel every single eye set on me, from TV screens nationwide to the mixture of gossip-ridden families in the audience, practically begging for me to bestow whatever secrets I hold. This whole, laughable prospect of animal-themed superheroes is nothing well enough for respect to be attached to our name. The Parisian Trio.
Envy is one disgusting emotion I've learned to tamper down. Sadly, the world was many steps behind.
A video tape starts, and I feel an immeasurable amount of dread seep into my skin like a tidal wave of cold water. I feel sick as my face lights up on the screen, a genuine grin on my face as I shout something inaudible to the general vicinity of the camera. To my utter dismay, I hear someone purr back. Chat. The video changes to a quick save by me. I've lunged forwards, wrapping two arms around Chat's waist as we're knocked back. Providing a cushion for him rather than myself, it was clear I'd been bruised heavily by the rough fall. Yet, I still struggle to stand up, brushing off his concern with a painful smile. The video cuts at him wrapping two arms around me, and my form leaning against him as my eyes flutter shut. I remember blacking out, but the audience doesn't know that.
It's always like this. The audience never knows.
Many misleading videos follow after that, not ONE of them correct despite the many occasions where I could say Chaton and I have shared a fond moment, or two, or more...
Provocative stances with no context, laughs and moments of small affection that we as a group SHARED; they were still using footage incorrectly! I knew both Ladybug and Chat Noir understood, but does the world?
I force back a furious blush, speaking a few words through gritted teeth.
"You're taking this out of context." I interject into the slideshow smoothly, and all of a sudden, all attention is on me once again.
"Shouldn't you be asking about a relationship that... exists?" The audience is thrown into uproar, and my moment is forgotten amongst the bombshell I've dropped. This shouldn't be a shock to them, but there's a first time for everything.
I was the only reliable source when it came to Chat and Lady's relationship. I didn't care. I didn't want to be selfless at that moment. I didn't want to remember.
Still. I meet eyes with them, my face a mixture between stormy and apologetic.
And they understood.
And for that, at least, I was grateful.