Here's a new fic I've been working on! I got the idea from a drawing I'd started earlier this month. I'd been holding off posting it because I like to stay about two chapters ahead, but I really wanted to post something for New Years. As usual, I can't promise a regular update schedule, but I hope you guys like it!
~anipwrites
Nathanael burst into the house, slammed the front door closed, and ran to his room. He didn't bother to lock the front door. However, he did lock the bedroom door. Perhaps if he was lucky, locking the bedroom door would keep his emotions away, keep the world away.
It didn't work, obviously.
He slumped against the door, reaching and tugging his covers off of his bed to wrap them around himself. He was cold, his entire body wouldn't stop shaking, and he knew he was about to cry and he wanted to stop it but he couldn't.
Looking at his sketchbook, which had every page soaked and blackened by markers, he barely managed to bite back a sob at the sight of what Chloe had done, what he had let happen. Now all of his hard work had gone down the drain, and it was all Chloe's fault, it always was. He could still hear her cackling laughter as he'd run out of the (Lycèe?), heard it echoing in his head the whole way home. He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't let Chloe upset him ever again, that he'd face her with a straight face and tell her off the next time she'd tried to bully him. How naive he'd been-it was Chloe Bourgeois, the only person he knew who could face her was Marinette. And she'd been out of school today, so no one was there and brave enough to stop the Pampered Princess of Paris and her lackey from taking a Sharpie maker and scribbling and doodling and ruining every drawing in his sketchbook while he'd gone to the bathroom.
Did she understand how much she'd taken from him? Everyone had heard of her little speech about how her locker was her 'private garden' and how those who entered without permission 'broke her soul and stole her privacy.' If some dumb locker was a private garden, his sketchbook had been Eden. And Chloe had just broken in with a steamroller and turned paradise into a wasteland.
The lump in his throat kept tightening. Emotions whirled in his head. He wanted to scream out his every frustration. He wanted to punch Chloe in the face and rip her hair out, maybe tear some of her designer clothes and see how she liked it for once. He wanted to stomp his feet and cry out how it was so unfair, like his brother's constant temper-tantrums. He wanted to draw out each and every emotion, release them like fireflies from a jar through his art. Another glance at his sketchbook reminded him that he couldn't.
Why was Chloe Bourgeois allowed to stomp around like some kind of tyrant and crush everyone's emotions underfoot with no consequence? It wasn't fair, it just wasn't, he-
The room took a hazy purple glow as a dark voice dripped like sweet poison into his ears.
"Evillustrator," the voice began-sickeningly familiar in a way Nathanael did not like. "I am Hawkmoth. I can give you the power to take revenge on Chloe Bourgeois, as long as you bring me a gift in return."
His mind had gone simply foggy all of a sudden. He couldn't think straight. Every primal desire in him screamed yes, take the offer, do it, but… he really didn't want to. He was frustrated, and sure, he wanted to get revenge on Chloe, but not like this. He'd let his emotions take control of him once before, and he'd felt awful afterwards. He wasn't going to let this man manipulate him again. He could always buy a new sketchbook. He couldn't take back the guilt he'd feel if he took this offer.
"Do we have a deal?" Hawkmoth asked yet again. For an instant, every thought in his brain frazzled again, but a sharp clarity burned through the haze. He took a deep breath.
"No."
"What?!"
"I… I said no." he felt so much power in that word. Last year, he'd been faced in this situation and had said yes. This simple, two-letter word had so much strength now. He'd fallen before, he'd let him control him before. But not today.
"You will obey me! You are mine to control!"
"No, I'm not." he narrowed his eyes. He couldn't help but feel as if he were standing face to face with the villain, having a match of wits, a stare-down.
The man let out a frustrated roar, and Nathanael couldn't keep himself from wincing. "You'll pay for this disrespect!" he shuddered. He didn't want to, but his body had betrayed his brain and he couldn't stop shaking. Hawkmoth had hurt him before, and he seemed legitimately pissed this time, what was he going to do?!
His answer came to him in the form of a sharp pain in his chest. He let out a strangled scream as the pain branched out from his chest and into every fiber of his being. It felt like he was being torn in half, limb by limb, atom by atom, molecule by molecule. As the world went black around him, he thought he heard Hawkmoth's evil laughter. He thought he heard Chloe's mocking cackle.
He thought he saw his fingertips turning purple.
The world muddled into a blur as he struggled to open his eyes. The cool surface pressing into his side told him he was on the floor of some place. But where was he?
He managed to blink a few times, and his vision begins to clear. He was at his house. Was it all a dream? Maybe, just maybe, it was all a bad dream-he had simply rolled out of bed somewhere in the night. Chloe had never trashed his sketchbook. Hawkmoth had never tried to akumatize him. He just needed to get up, go to school, and keep that from happening.
He saw his sketchbook lying on the ground, the edges torn. Okay… maybe the Chloe thing wasn't a dream. But surely, the Hawkmoth thing wasn't real. Sure, he'd been able to hurt his hand before, but that was when he'd accepted the deal. He let a white-gloved hand reach for his sketchbook to see if anything was salvageable-
Nathanael felt his heart drop when he saw his arm. The white, skin-tight spandex that stretched across it, black stripes zig-zaging their way up his arm. Looking at his other hand yielded the same results.
"No… no way…" he struggled to his feet, his legs heavy like lead, and forced his way out of his bedroom to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror greeted him with a glimpse of purple skin and a butterfly-shaped domino mask on his face. Nathanael nearly screamed bloody murder. Instead, he ended up throwing up.
His hands shook uncontrollably when he'd recovered. As much as one could, in his situation. He looked up at the mirror once more, and still found himself face-to-face with the Evillustrator. What the hell was going on?
Was this Hawkmoth's payback? To force a transformation upon him, and leave him to deal with the consequences of it?
Wow. Hawkmoth was a dick.
He rushed back to his room to get his phone. He couldn't think of anyone who would help, who would be able to help, but he'd feel better if he had the illusion of being able to call someone for help.
The front door clicked before opening, revealing his mother with groceries and his little brother tagging along. When they noticed him, his mother dropped her bags and her hands flew to her mouth with a gasp. His brother's eyes bugged out of his head.
"Oh my god… Nathanael…" his mother said softly, her voice cracking. Her concern was drowned out by his brother's shrill screams.
"Mommy, it's a monster! I'm scared, Mommy!" he wailed, clinging to her leg. Nathanael's heart seized at seeing his brother so afraid of him, at seeing his mother so afraid of him. Every part of him screamed for him to run, to just get out of there.
He took heed this time.
He ran to the window by the couch, quickly erasing it on his tablet before leaping out and landing in an alleyway near their house. The fall sent shockwaves of pain through his body, but he ignored it. For now, he just ran. He ran as far and as fast as his legs could possibly carry him, until he'd eventually tired himself out.
Now what?
I hope you guys enjoyed what I have so far! And Happy New Year! Hopefully, this year will be better than the last for us!
