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‘I cannot go out looking like this. My father will disown me.’
Marinette saw in the mirror that her skirt was practically a belt. As she adjusted her corset-top, her cheeks flushed, and she couldn't help but question if this Halloween costume was taking the sexy theme a bit overboard.
Alya, her best friend, came to stand beside her, her touch warm and reassuring on Marinette’s shoulders. ‘M, confidence is the point; you project it the moment you wear it.’
She didn't radiate a confident vibe. That outfit was a disaster - the corset didn't fit, the skirt was too short, and the stockings were scandalous. This was a first for her, and probably a last.
‘It’s easy for you to say. You’re not dressed as a giant bug.’
Alya chuckled, reaching for the mask on the dresser, and with a flourish, handed it to Marinette. ‘You’re a cute bug! And you look sexy. If I were into girls, I would totally flirt with you right now.’
Marinette pulled the mask from Alya and carefully placed it over her eyes, the edges cool against her skin. ‘Thanks.’
She turned around, examining how her wings felt as if they were resting against her back. Even though it was revealing, Marinette thought the outfit was cute, like ‘I wish I could just stay in’ cute. The thought of all eyes on her made her skin prickle with unease, which she felt deep in her gut.
With a breathtaking outfit, Alya possessed a confidence that Marinette could only long for. In her sexy vampire costume, including contact lenses, Alya quipped, ‘I suck the truth out of people, duh!’.
They were in their second year of University, and even though she loved the freedom, she wasn't sure it was the kind she wanted.
After breaking up with her long-term boyfriend, the warmth of summer made her feel the contrast, emphasising the transformation she had undergone. She had fallen for another, who had captured her heart, and she wished they shared the same feeling—along with every other girl in Paris.
‘What if Adrien’s there? He’s going to think I’m just another of those girls who try too hard.’
Alya shook her head. ‘M, we’re going to a Halloween party, not to afternoon tea with the King of England. Chill out a little. Relax and have some fun. If Adrien’s there, you’ll show him what he’s missing. Trust me, every guy there will be dying to know who Ladybug is.’
Marinette checked herself out in the mirror one last time. She didn’t look bad, just…uncomfortable—like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s makeup and heels. Her thick, black-rimmed eyes, set off by a polka-dotted mask and bright red lips, made her blue eyes sparkle, and the ensemble flattered her slight frame. Possibly Alya was right, and Marinette needed to reinvent herself. A more confident individual who wasn't afraid to be a little risque. A flush crept up her cheeks, visible even through her makeup, and the world seemed ablaze.
This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Alya’s phone buzzed on the table.
‘Nino’s there already; apparently, it’s very busy.’
Marinette quickly put on her heels and peeked at Alya. ‘Has he said anything about Adrien?’
Alya shook her head. ‘Nope, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are finally single again, you’re incredibly hot and tonight it’s time to be someone else. You’re wearing a mask, so be confident. Be cute. Just don't start on the satin vs. silk thing, okay?’
With her arm linked through Marinette’s, Alya pulled her forward, leading them out the door and into the bustling hallway. Looks like she was going to the party, no matter what. Marinette was hoping it would all be worth it, and maybe Adrien would see her as something more—if he was there of course.
Discovering Adrien Agreste was in some of her classes, Marinette couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. Chloé Bourgeois had told Marinette a lot about him, and, in Marinette’s opinion, if you were friends with Chloé, you weren’t someone to befriend.
But she was utterly mistaken.
Adrien Agreste was... flawlessly, undeniably perfect!
The miles between Marinette and her boyfriend were a problem, and the emotional impact of the long-distance relationship was becoming clear. She wanted to have fun at university, and he just wanted her home with him. It wasn't working out. Their dreams had diverged drastically from the dreams they shared at fifteen, but despite her self-loathing and aim to remain single, Adrien had somehow stolen her heart.
He was a photography major who frequently assisted the fashion majors, including sourcing models for their projects. Adrien was the university's golden boy, but his nerdy side, a result of his brilliance, was very appealing. She loved just being near him. She thrived from being around him, from being in his immediate vicinity.
He was a ray of sunshine, and one she had a teeny, tiny — monstrous — crush on.
He was clueless, so she just had to sit there and get the same treatment as everyone else. They had been in a group together several times, but she had never felt close to him. Polite smiles accompanied professional chats—always just a friend and nothing more.
She needed to get her mind off him, and perhaps Alya was right. Tonight, she could find someone and think about something else rather than how perfect Adrien Agreste was.
It was either that, or I'd get totally hammered.
The quad was filled with fog and the smell of bad pumpkin punch, but Marinette didn't care. Smoothing down the red corset of her costume, she could feel her heart thudding like a frantic drum.
‘Do you want to get a drink?’ Alya shouted over the music, Marinette straining to hear.
‘Blink?’ she questioned.
‘Drink,’ Alya responded, miming the action to help Marinette.
Marinette nodded, and together they went to the drinks stand, where they got cups and filled them with a beverage that, judging from the scent, had more than just fruit juice in it. Taking a small sip, the alcohol's impact was immediate, a forceful shock to the senses.
‘Yikes!’ Alya said, taking another sip before glancing around the room. ‘Shall we find Nino?’
Marinette drank more punch, grimacing.
‘You go,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay here for a bit.’
Alya frowned. ‘Are you sure? There are a lot of people staring at you. I don’t know if I like the idea of you standing here without—’
Waving a hand, Marinette dismissed Alya’s thoughts. ‘I’ll be fine. Seriously. I have pepper spray in my purse and sharp heels. You go and find your boyfriend. Have fun.’
Marinette smiled, but Alya's worried face didn't exactly fill her with confidence. The last thing Marinette wanted to see was Alya and her boyfriend getting all touchy-feely.
‘Only if you’re sure,’ Alya said, hovering on the balls of her feet.
‘Absolutely! Now, off you go.’
Giving Marinette a quick hug, Alya practically skipped off to find Nino, leaving Marinette feeling a little awkward as she lingered by the drink stand.
She glanced around the party, and a strange mixture of nerves and exhilaration made her stomach churn. The quad was filled with the sounds of laughter and the dazzling flashes of lights. Students in extravagant costumes thronged the area, some moving rhythmically, others perched on benches with drinks, the atmosphere echoing a hidden club scene.
Her eyes wouldn't stop searching. She passed those figures that moved through the shadows with the unsettling grace of seasoned hunters. They were amazing to watch as they shifted from one conversation to the next as if it were a perfectly choreographed waltz. The laughter was perfect, the gestures, the twirls—everything she wished she was most certainly not.
Marinette moved with a gentle sway, attempting to stay upright as her heels clicked against the rough cobblestones of the courtyard. Hoping for some privacy, she settled onto an empty bench, seeking refuge from the world's gaze.
Why did she come here? This wasn’t her scene.
Everybody looked vibrant, happy and confident. Whereas she looked as though she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She watched a group of witches laughing and tossing fake spiders into each other's hair, as a couple in skeleton costumes swayed together in perfect rhythm to the music.
The lights caught on the sequins of someone’s dress, reflecting them like liquid gold on the ground. The thought made her sip her own drink, tasting the artificial sweetness. She took a minute to breathe for the first time since putting her costume on.
Anticipation made her stomach feel as if it were twisting into a tight knot. In the air, there was a spark, and an unnamed possibility, like a whisper.
She scanned the crowd and saw Alya and Nino, their laughter echoing as they danced in the middle. Alya’s cape enveloped them, as if concealing them from view. She spotted Marinette and waved, practically begging her to come over. Smiling, Marinette shook her head and gestured with an open hand, letting her friend know she was okay.
Alya's smile vanished, and Marinette responded with a bright smile of her own. She enjoyed this. Just sitting, watching, and not being seen. People-watching was one of her favourite pastimes, especially when she was a shadow observing the world.
Marinette didn't feel like talking. She wanted to experience something. The music thumped softly, a tangible presence that she could almost taste. As a Ladybug, she pictured herself in a giant world, her beauty, and bravery going unnoticed, yet entirely there.
Then, she caught sight of him.
Not him exactly—not Adrien. She studied the unfamiliar figure in black, who was leaning against the railing, the sleek mask over his eyes giving him an air of mystery. Under the strobe lights, his golden hair seemed to effortlessly flow as he moved, a tall, striking figure. He tilted his head and laughed, a joyful sound directed at someone out of view. Though Marinette couldn’t hear it, seeing it caused an odd flutter in her chest.
Marinette was totally in awe of him.
She blinked, and the music seemed to disappear. He was present, a silent observer. And she couldn't decide whether he was watching her back.
After a quick word to his friends, he stalked toward her, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the crowd. His stunning features were accentuated by the black clothing, which revealed a tantalising glimpse of his chest. She was taken aback that girls didn't swarm him, but she was even more surprised when he continued to head her way.
She shifted in her seat and looked around. Maybe his girlfriend was right there, standing behind her, and, once again, Marinette had totally misread the conversation.
But then he stopped right in front of her. ‘Hey.’
Marinette froze. Her mind, usually so quick and clever, went blank. ‘Hi?’
Beneath the edge of his mask, his smile widened with a lazy, amused curve. ‘You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.’
‘You’re fine—I mean—I’m fine,’ she said too quickly, stumbling over her words. ‘Totally fine.’
‘Are you sure?’ A tiny frown creased his forehead. ‘You okay?’
She blinked. ‘Oh! Uh, no, I’m Marinette.’
He stared at her, and then a low, warm chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Not—no, I meant, are you alright?’
‘Oh,’ Marinette stammered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. ‘Right. Yes. I mean, yes, I’m… alright. Totally fine. Very… okay.’
‘Good to know, Okay.’ He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement at her fluster. ‘I was worried I’d scared you off or something.’
‘Scared me? No! You—um—just startled me.’
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pretending to be distracted by the fairy lights' ambient glow, the music's rhythmic beat, the coldness of her drink, and the terrifying possibility of bursting into flames.
‘Fair enough,’ he said, his boots scraping as he rocked back on his heels. ‘You just looked like you could use some company. Or maybe I could use an excuse to talk to someone who isn’t already halfway to the punch bowl.’
A smile crept across Marinette’s face before she could stop herself. ‘So I’m your excuse?’
‘Best I've had all night. May I sit?’
Marinette gestured, creating space. His casual words caused her to pause, unsure if she should laugh or believe him. Regardless, her stomach gave a tiny, disloyal flutter.
‘You’re… uh…’ she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at him. ‘A cat?’
He looked down at himself and made an exaggerated show of confusion. ‘Is it that obvious?’
She pointed to his headband and said, ‘Well, you have ears.’
‘I do,’ he replied seriously. ‘You wouldn’t believe how many people at this party have ears, actually.’
Marinette's laughter escaped, a spontaneous sound that even she didn't expect. ‘That’s not what I meant!’
‘I know.’ His smile softened. ‘But I’m enjoying making you laugh.’
She weakly uttered a sound, as if her brain had abandoned her to her own devices. ‘That's... cool, I guess.’
He watched her, head tilted, with that same little smile. ‘So, what are you supposed to be? Ladybug?’
Her fingers nervously toyed with the rough edge of her skirt. ‘Yeah. My friend said it was ironic or something. I don’t know.’
‘I think it suits you.’
Her heart tripped over itself. ‘You—you do?’
He nodded, serious now. ‘Red suits you. Confidence does too.’
Confidence. Right. At that moment, she didn't have it, even though she really wished she did.
‘Thanks,’ she managed, her voice smaller than she’d intended.
He leaned in slightly, just enough for his voice to cut through the surrounding noise. ‘You don’t have to thank me. Just telling the truth.’
Her pulse thrummed in her ears, each beat echoing like a thunderclap. She took deep breaths, trying to maintain her balance, and willed herself not to fall off the bench.
He got up from the bench, sticking his hands in his pockets. ‘So, Ladybug-who’s-very-okay, do you dance?’
‘Dance?’ she echoed, brain still buffering.
His eyes twinkled again as he smiled. ‘Yeah. You know—music, rhythm, moving your feet. Or we can just sit here awkwardly. I’m good at that too.’
‘I—uh—’ Marinette hesitated, then surprised herself by nodding. ‘I can try.’
‘I like to try, M'Lady,’ he said, as he held out his hand.
So, she took it.
The moment his fingers brushed hers, Marinette’s pulse stuttered. His hand was warm, steady, and hers felt impossibly small inside it. The music had shifted into something with a slow, lazy beat—nothing she’d normally dare to dance to with a stranger. But he didn’t give her time to think, just led her gently into the rhythm.
‘And what do I call you?’ she asked.
He kept his eyes forward as he led her through the crowds and into the centre of the dance floor. ‘You can call me Chat Noir.’
Her free hand floated hesitantly in the air for a moment, before he gently placed it on his shoulder.
‘There,’ Chat Noir said, voice low, smiling down at her. ‘Not so bad, right?’
She offered a small, quiet laugh, the sound shaky with apprehension. ‘I think you’re supposed to say that after I step on your feet.’
‘I’ll take the risk,’ he whispered.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
His movements were effortless, a quiet self-assurance evident in every gesture: his footsteps kept rhythm without conscious effort, and his hand rested gently on her back, offering a silent reassurance that she was free to go.
‘You’re really good at this,’ she murmured before she could stop herself.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘At dancing?’
‘Yes—no—I mean, yes,’ she stammered. ‘You’re… um, coordinated.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gravely, pretending to consider. ‘Years of practice avoiding photographers’ feet.’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Oh, so you’re a professional, then.’
‘Hardly. But I’m willing to teach if you’d like?’
His words were plain, but his delivery quickened her pulse. His confidence wasn’t loud; it was the kind that filled the space between words. He held her gaze without wavering, and she couldn’t tell if it was the dim light or something else that made his eyes seem brighter.
‘I’m not sure I’m a good student,’ she mumbled.
‘Hmm,’ he mused, tilting his head with a thoughtful expression. His face lowered, his lips faintly brushing her ear. ‘Maybe you just need the right teacher.’
Her breath hitched in her throat. She wanted to look away, but the playful glint in his eyes held her captivated.
The music transitioned to a new melody. Around them, the sounds of the party became muffled as the motion blurred. Marinette was hyperaware of the warmth of his hand, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the sound of his laughter that tickled her ears when she almost fell.
‘Sorry!’ she blurted, cheeks flaming.
He caught her, steadying her with one hand. ‘No harm done.’
Her head grazed his shoulder, and she could feel the laugh rumble quietly in his chest.
‘I told you I’m terrible at this,’ she muttered.
‘I think you’re doing great,’ he said, soft enough that she wasn’t sure if he meant her dancing or something else entirely.
When she finally dared to glance up, she met his gaze and saw the crinkles around his eyes, a silent laugh playing on his lips. It gave her butterflies.
‘See?’ he murmured. ‘You’ve stopped looking at your feet.’
She hadn’t even realised it.
For a moment, neither spoke. The song ended, replaced by a faster one, but they didn’t move apart right away. He seemed to notice at the same moment she did; the spell between them broke into a shared, self-conscious laugh.
‘Well,’ he said, releasing her hand but not quite stepping away, ‘you survived your first dance with a stranger.’
‘Barely,’ she said, tucking hair behind her ear. ‘You might need steel-toed boots next time.’
That smile's ease left her unable to discern flirtation from simple kindness. ‘I’ll take my chances.’
Unable to think of a clever response, she offered a shaky smile, her nerves on full display.
The warmth of the crowded room hit Marinette. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, the sound of laughter, and the constant murmur of conversations. She struggled to calm her breath as he leaned in, his words audible above the surrounding chatter.
‘Want to get some air?’ he asked.
For a heartbeat, his words echoed in her ears, and she thought she’d misheard him. A quick, eager nod escaped her, and she attempted to feign indifference with a subtle shrug. ‘Sure. Fresh air sounds… great.’
As if he'd expected the response, Chat Noir smiled, the corners of his mouth curving, and held out his hand, offering a simple and inviting gesture. She paused briefly, then allowed him to lead her, navigating the bustling crowd with a confident stride. The touch was a whisper, but it set off a frantic rhythm in her fingertips as she backed away.
Behind them, the boisterous sounds of the party became muffled as they moved from the quad. The cool night air held a hushed silence, the area lit with a pale glow from the street lamps. The faint breeze whispered through the air, playfully lifting the edges of her costume wings. Taking a deep breath, she relished the cool air filling her lungs.
Chat Noir's footsteps echoed as he walked beside her down the stone steps. Neither of them spoke, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves.
His voice was the first sound to break the stillness. ‘You really didn’t want to be there, did you?’
Marinette glanced sideways at him, startled by how perceptive his tone was. ‘Was it that obvious?’
He grinned. ‘Only a little. You looked like you were waiting for someone to notice you wanted to disappear.’
‘I wasn’t—well, maybe a little.’ She rubbed her arm. ‘Parties aren’t really my thing. Too loud. Too many eyes.’
He hummed. ‘You handled the dance floor like a pro for someone who doesn’t enjoy being seen.’
‘That was different,’ she said, eyes on the pavement. ‘You’re… easy to talk to. And I’m quite sure all eyes were on you.’
He gazed at her then, and she felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, compelling her to hide behind her hair. ‘You think so?’
Unsure if she could meet his gaze for more than a second, she nodded, her eyes darting away quickly.
His voice was hushed, like a secret he was afraid to share. ‘I’m glad. I didn’t want to scare you off.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘Good,’ he said. Then, after a pause: ‘You’re even cuter when you’re trying to look composed, you know that?’
Marinette’s breath hitched. ‘I—what?’
He chuckled, a sound devoid of malice, the sort that comes from someone who finds your embarrassment endearing. ‘You keep doing that thing where you stare at the ground when you’re thinking. It’s… kind of adorable.’
‘I do not—’ she started, then realised she probably was doing it and groaned. ‘You’re teasing me.’
‘Maybe a little,’ he admitted, hands tucked in his pockets. ‘You make it very easy.’
She folded her arms, more for something to do than from indignation. ‘And you’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’
‘Confident,’ he corrected. ‘There’s a difference.’
She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Oh? And what’s that?’
‘Confidence leaves room for being wrong,’ he said. ‘Arrogance does not.’
That caught her off guard, and she smiled despite the flurry of nerves in her chest. ‘That’s… surprisingly thoughtful.’
He shrugged, eyes glinting beneath his mask. ‘I save my best thoughts for good company’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You really don’t quit, do you?’
‘Not when it’s working.’
They walked a little farther; the breeze carrying the faint hum of music from inside. Marinette’s heartbeat had finally calmed enough for her to breathe, but a quickened tempo returned whenever she caught his eye.
She dared a small question, her voice trembling slightly. ‘So do you always talk to strangers at parties like this?’
He smiled, slow and easily. ‘Only the ones who make me forget there’s anyone else in the room.’
Her steps faltered, her legs suddenly feeling weak. He saw it, obviously.
‘Too much?’ he asked.
‘A little,’ she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. ‘But… maybe not in a bad way.’
He looked pleased, and pointed to a bench under a streetlight. ‘Sit with me?’
Her heart started racing, but she nodded anyway. They sat a polite distance away, but it felt like they were getting closer every second. The lamplight cast a warm glow, softening the scene; the leaves overhead, his hair, and the shy half-smile that played on her lips.
‘So,’ he said quietly, ‘are you still okay, Ladybug?’
She gave him a look that was half suspicion, half laughter. ‘Not, Okay this time?’
Chat Noir shook his head.
‘Nah, I prefer Ladybug,’ he said. ‘It suits you.’
She ducked her head. ‘You really are incorrigible.’
‘And you really don’t seem to mind,’ he replied without hesitation.
Before she could stop it, her laughter slipped out, echoing lightly in the cool night air. For the first time that evening, a sense of belonging washed over her. A wave of nerves mixed in with the excitement. For once, she felt alive!
The night, silent and still, had settled around them. The music from the hall faded into the distance, a muffled thrum. Marinette's fingers fidgeted with the edge of her skirt, as if trying to contain the electric energy bubbling beneath her skin.
Beside her, he sat in silence, elbows on his knees, watching the campus lights below, the gentle hum of the city reaching them. Occasionally, he'd look at her, then away, as if debating between speaking and silence.
She was the one who broke it.
‘It’s nice out here,’ she said.
‘It is,’ he agreed. Then, after a pause: ‘I’m glad you came out with me.’
‘You make it sound like I had a choice.’
‘You always have a choice,’ he said, voice warm and low.
Gosh, this guy was unlike anyone she had ever met. Despite his GQ cover-worthy attire, he possessed a heart of pure gold.
He turned slightly, so they were face-to-face, and the lamplight illuminated the edge of his mask, the subtle gold in his hair. He examined her, as though she were a delicate artifact, captivating in her vulnerability.
‘You’re looking at me like that again,’ she murmured, not quite able to meet his eyes.
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’re going to say something that’ll make me forget how to talk.’
He laughed, the sound soft enough to blend with the night. ‘Maybe I already did.’
Her pulse stuttered. Her gaze fell to her palms, then lifted toward him. ‘You shouldn’t—’
‘Flirt with you?’ he supplied, teasing.
‘Yes.’
He tilted his head. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
Hesitating, she drew a sharp breath, and then shook her head, unable to fully consider what she was doing.
He took those words as the green light he was waiting for. He shifted closer, his presence warm and subtle, giving her the chance to retreat. She didn’t. The space between them seemed to shrink, the air thickening with unspoken tension, and then stretching back out.
His fingertips skimmed her cheek as he moved a strand of hair. A feather-light touch grazed her skin, but its presence was undeniable.
‘Ladybug,’ he said softly, tasting the sound of her name.
She couldn’t answer. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.
For a long moment, they stared, the tension so thick it felt like it could snap at any second. He leaned in.
She gasped but stayed still. He stopped inches away, giving her a last chance while she closed her eyes.
The moment he closed the gap, everything went silent: the world, the wind, and her thoughts. It wasn’t fireworks or chaos; it was something gentler. Warmth. Calm. Like the space between heartbeats.
He moved in even closer. His hand cupped her cheek, warm against her skin, as he tilted his head closer. She positioned her hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, and her fingers found his heartbeat, in sync with her own. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder, finding a sense of security she hadn't realised she was lacking. Her head spun, maybe from the spiked punch, maybe from the way he tasted, but everything felt incredibly right.
Marinette leaned in, her leg finding purchase on his lap as her body pressed intimately against his. His hand moved from her back to her thigh, his fingers dancing along the edge of her skirt before gently brushing the top of her stocking. Finally, his fingers took a strong, wonderful hold of her thigh, her skin tingling at his touch.
She had never felt a kiss quite like this one before. Filled with a deep passion, she was completely present. They moved as one, lost in a world of shared sensations, the sweet taste, the soft touch, the bond they shared. She would have kissed more often if she had known the intoxicating sensation could be this pleasurable. His hands moved over her, mapping her form, as though he was trying to learn every detail.
Her breath hitched, and a longing for something more consumed her. The scent of his cologne, the warmth of his embrace, the softness of his touch. She craved him everywhere, desiring to hear his voice and feel his arms around her, but she knew it wouldn't be satisfying. Nothing with this guy could ever be enough.
As they parted, the air shifted, feeling lighter than before, as if holding all the unsaid emotions they shared. Marinette’s cheeks burned, her fingers fidgeted, yet a radiant grin stretched across her face.
His voice whispered. ‘Still okay?’
She laughed, dizzy and bright. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘More than okay.’
For a few seconds, neither of them moved. The world seemed to hover on the edge of that shared breath until a breeze slipped between them, cool and real. Marinette blinked, still half lost in the hush they’d created.
He pulled back just enough to search her face. ‘You’re sure?’ he asked quietly, and it wasn’t teasing this time.
She nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
He exhaled a small laugh, a sound that implied relief rather than a display of confidence. ‘Because I don’t usually do that at parties.’
Dazed, Marinette smiled as she shifted, pulling her leg away from where it had been resting, nestling his lap. ‘You mean kiss strangers dressed like cats?’
‘Exactly.’ His grin returned, boyish and bright. ‘You might have ruined my reputation for mystery.’
‘I think you’ll survive,’ she said, surprising herself with how easily the words came out. The nervousness was still there, fluttering under her ribs, but it felt lighter now, like something friendly instead of frightening.
They sat in silence again, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. The campus clock chimed somewhere across the courtyard; leaves rustled overhead. Marinette traced patterns on the bench with her fingertip, trying to anchor herself to the moment before it drifted away.
Finally he stood, offering his hand. ‘Come on, Ladybug,’ he said, voice gentler than his grin. ‘Let’s get you back inside before your friend sends a search party.’
She laughed and let him help her up. His fingers lingered around hers a little longer than they needed to, as if neither of them was ready to let go.
As they walked toward the building, she battled the urge to speak as her heart pounded, wanting to know his name. Yet, revealing the mystery could shatter the fragile confidence she had felt. This guy might be okay with kissing Ladybug, but Marinette Dupain-Cheng knew he'd never feel the same way.
Despite the bright, and ordinary music that escaped the doors, the night was far from ordinary, filled with a sense of anticipation. Their shoulders brushed as he fell into step beside her, sending a quick, familiar spark through her.
‘So,’ he said after a moment, ‘will I ever get to see you again, or do mysterious Ladybugs vanish at midnight?’
Marinette pretended to think. ‘Depends,’ she said, glancing up at him through her lashes. ‘Do mysterious Cats usually keep promises?’
‘Always,’ he said, smiling. ‘Even the ones they haven’t made yet.’
She shook her head, laughing. ‘You’re impossible.’
‘And yet,’ he murmured, holding the door for her, ‘you still said yes to a dance.’
Inside, the bright light and the boisterous sound of chatter rushed around them again. She turned to thank him, but he was already retreating into the party, his form swallowed by the music.
‘See you around, Ladybug,’ he said, eyes glinting beneath the mask.
Before she could reply, his name was called out across the room, and he disappeared into the jostling crowd, leaving behind the ghost of his smile and the lingering sweetness of the kiss on her lips.
Marinette stood there for a moment, the noise fading to a hum. Then she let out a quiet, astonished laugh and touched her fingers to her mouth, as if to make sure it had all really happened.
‘See you around, Kitty,’ she whispered, and for the first time all evening, the thought of tomorrow didn’t make her nervous at all.
Lights flashed and music pounded as the party swirled around her, a cacophony of laughing and calling voices. Despite the surrounding sounds, for Marinette, they were far away, as if they didn't involve her. She wandered to the quad's edge, her hands trailing along the cold stone, the night's memory still a warm ache in her heart.
She thought of him—the masked stranger who made the world feel boundless, coaxing her out of her shell with the barest of efforts. The memory of his smile, his quiet laugh at her fumbling, and the warmth radiating from his hand as it held hers remained. He was a whirlwind of fleeting moments, impossible to grasp, but his presence was unforgettable.
And yet… she didn’t know his name.
She laughed softly to herself, a quiet, dizzy laugh that had nothing to do with anyone else. Maybe I’ll never see him again. Maybe I’ll never know him.
For the first time in a long while, Marinette felt a weight lift as she realised she didn't care. She'd wasted so much time desiring an impossible standard, a perfect being she'd created in her mind, seeking a concept instead of an actual person. Within hours, she discovered someone here; it was a sensation that invigorated her, a blend of nerves, joy, and self-acceptance.
She let herself savour that feeling, holding onto it like a secret treasure. Tomorrow, the world would be ordinary again. But tonight… tonight had been hers.
‘Even if I never learn your name,’ she whispered to the night, smiling to herself, ‘I won’t forget you.’
For once, a feeling of pure and wondrous okayness bloomed within her chest.
*****
EPILOGUE
Adrien, still smiling to himself, leaned against the rough, stone wall of the quad as Nino approached.
‘Dude! Where’ve you been?’ Nino asked, arms crossed.
Adrien shrugged. ‘Out. With Marinette.’
Nino blinked. ‘Wait… you mean… with her?’
Adrien smirked. ‘Yeah. Just hanging out.’
‘Wait…woah! You actually got some courage?’
Hoping Nino wouldn't notice, Adrien nodded and then wiped his mouth, trying to erase any evidence of the red lipstick from his make-out with Marinette in the courtyard.
Nino leaned in, eyebrows raised. ‘Dude! Did you… kiss her?’
A small, triumphant grin played at Adrien's lips as he savoured the moment. There was no hiding it. ‘Yeah.’
Nino's smile broadened, showing pure delight. ‘Good for you, man.’
The memory settled in his chest, and Adrien laughed again, a sound that filled him with a comforting warmth. His expression relaxed, his eyes gazing downward as if he were reliving the moment he'd seen Marinette.
Step one, he thought. That was step one.
Desperate was the only word, a feeling that resonated in his chest, a desperate hope for her to experience the same flutter, the same intoxicating blend of anxiety and joy that her smile always sparked in him.
His heart was still racing as he breathed out slowly, remembering the night, the kiss, and her laugh under the lamplight. Soon, he promised himself. Soon she’ll know. And then… maybe she’ll feel the same.
With that, Adrien pushed off the wall, feeling a newfound bravery in his heart, and headed into the soft campus glow, already strategising his next step—because certain things were worth fighting for.