~ * Preferred ~ *
Chloé wasn't a kind person. Chloé knew she wasn't a kind person. It wasn't a startling revelation; it wasn't even a revelation at all, simply a fact of life. The grass was green, the sky was blue, Chloé Bourgeois wasn't kind. Her classmates knew it, her teachers knew it, and above all else Chloé knew it.
It didn't bother her. Perhaps once it did, when she was small and the world large, back when her mother still combed her hair and tucked flowers behind her ear. But those days had long since passed, a team of highly trained stylists combed her hair now and flowers were better kept outside, in the Bourgeois' expensive but meticulously groomed gardens, because everyone knew once a flower was picked, it only withered and died. Nobody mentioned Chloé's mother.
Chloé was not kind, although whether this was born of her upbringing or her own selfish nature is unclear. Not that Chloé cared either way. This world, not large but rather small as she stood looking out over her balcony at the spread of Paris, was not built for kind people. Kind people were swept away, their desires unfulfilled and minds easily swayed. Chloé had great use for kind people but saw little good in being one.
Sabrina wasn't a kind person either. She wasn't exactly unkind, not in the way Chloé could sometimes be, all sharp tongue and false tears, but she too saw the stagnation that kindness brought. Sabrina was smart, in the book-wise nerdy way, with enough intelligence to know that knowledge was power but not powerful enough, not in her bibliophilic ways. She had an inherent need to be noticed, to be needed, to be more. Chloé, she knew, held the other kind of knowledge, the kind that didn't come from a book. The kind that twisted people's heads around, that made them cry or made them wonder; the kind that couldn't be taught but could manipulate. The kind that made you more.
Chloé didn't know what to make of this awkward nerdy girl the first time she stumbled upon her. She was hideous, chunky thick glasses sitting at the end of her too small nose, horrid orange hair set to a style that befitted someone several years younger. Her fashion choices were abysmal, clashing colors and god that terrible checkered vest. Chloé was of half a mind to turn the girl away, tears magnified beneath those awful glasses, when she caught a glimpse of something flashing in her eyes.
Sabrina was shy, meek and easily frightened into submission. She would eagerly complete Chloé's homework for her, run errands or carry her shopping bags. The sniveling, mousy behavior should have been grating, for all Chloé could capitalize on it. Sometimes it was, but then sometimes Chloé would get a glimpse of that look again, deep in Sabrina's green eyes.
It was something that Chloé saw in the mirror from time to time. Something sharp and cunning, not quite cruel but definitely not kind. So Sabrina stayed, doing Chloé's homework and running her errands as Chloé sat back and watched. And as the years went by, and they weathered even the great Braces Disaster when Chloé almost left because there was only so much fashion travesty she could tolerate, something grew between them.
Chloé wasn't kind, but, when she wanted to, she was capable of showing kindness. On her fourteen birthday, Sabrina unwrapped a little box, wrapped finely in expensive but plain gold paper, to find a brooch. Trembling pale fingers reached for the delicate jewelry, not quite coming close enough to touch.
And Chloé's words were unkind ("Tsk, it's a brooch you're supposed to wear it") but she pushed Sabrina's hand down, so her fingers curled around the brooch.
The brooch made a permanent home on Sabrina's breast. When she pinned it on, Chloé rolled her eyes, and Sabrina was sure a scathing quip about how it didn't match her vest was on the tip of the other girl's tongue, but instead all the blonde did was point out that she put it on slightly crooked. The brooch never matched Sabrina's outfit but, nevertheless, could always be steadfastly found neatly pinned on her chest. Chloé complained about her clothes, never satisfied no matter what Sabrina wore, but she never commented on the brooch.
When Ladybug appeared on the scene, red and fierce, Chloé was enthralled. She was strong and fierce, beautiful and graceful, adored by all of Paris. Ladybug was everything Chloé wanted to be. Well, almost everything. Her almost suffocating kindness Chloé could do without, but nobody was perfect. Besides, her kindness meant it was easier to get the heroine to talk to her, to protect Chloé. Kind people were easy to convince. Despite that slight hiccup, Chloé endeavored to be like Ladybug, a beautiful, strong fighter adored by all, who vanquished her foes with ease and grace.
Sabrina wasn't the Chat Noir to her Ladybug. And, as Chloé thought about, dangling her replica red and black yo-yo over the edge of her balcony, she preferred it that way. She didn't need a Chat Noir. She didn't even need Sabrina… but she rather preferred having her.
To say Sabrina and Chloé fought wouldn't be entirely correct. Chloé fought, Sabrina hid. They didn't make up either, rather Chloé bought and Sabrina returned.
Chloé wasn't kind, but then again neither was Sabrina. Yet when Chloé cracked her eyes open, dual slivers of blue barely peering out of her haughty face to meet Sabrina's, she caught of glimpse of something in there. It wasn't kind, but it certainly wasn't cruel. It grew over the years, in intensity and frequency, and Sabrina hesitated to label the emotion that slipped passed the ice sometimes.
But if she indulged, after a late night of doing Chloé's homework or trying to find Adrien's latest pictures before they were published, one hand on her brooch, Sabrina might call it fond. So maybe Chloé wasn't kind, but that was okay. Sabrina was fond of her anyway.
A/n This is outside of my usual, beloved fandom which is really weird and mildly uncomfortable, but their dynamic interests me so here we are. Short, but it was just a study of their interesting friendship. Please let me know what you thought and I hope you enjoyed ~ *