This was no ordinary Tuesday.

There was nothing extraordinarily special about it, of course. A typical Parisian day, complete with taffic, warm weather, and plenty of clouds to blot across an otherwise sunny afternoon sky.

But this seemingly hum drum Tuesday had Chat Noir's insides twisting in knots as he paced the rooftop of their designated patrol meet up, muttering to himself in an attempt to quell the rapid fluttering of his heart because this Tuesday, this common place day of the week that would come and pass like any other to everyone else, this Tuesday marked exactly 10 years of his and Ladybug's very first meeting.

But what really had Chat so on edge, what really had his stomach churning and his mind so effectively muddled, was that today was the day he was finally going to do it. Today was the day he was going to throw all his chips on the table and truly come clean. Today was the day he was going to confess his love for her, confess that his dreams of him and her, of them, kept him awake at night and that he yearned for something beyond this simple partnership.

But the thought of actually achieving such a feat still made him queasy, so he pivoted on his heel again, rehearsing his lines as his feet clanked uneasily on some poor sod's roof.

He was so wrapped up in his own head, so focused on preparing himself and trying to remember his whole long, eloquent declaration, that not only does the time manage to slip by unnoticed, but so does one certain spotted heroine, and by the time he managed to turn around for the fifteenth – sixteenth? He can't really recall how many times his boots had tried to wear a rut in these shingles – round of relentless pacing, she's there, standing in his path as if out of thin air, a smile quirking her lips and blue eyes bright with something akin to mild curiosity, and everything in Chat's world comes to a screeching halt, racing mind and galloping heart included.

"What's the matter, kitty cat?" she askes, too sweetly, arms folded gently behind her back as she leans in, gaze bright and searching as it meets his.

If she's expecting anything other than a wide-eyed stare and hanging jaw, she's going to have to give him a minute, partly because she about scared the living daylights out of him with her sudden appearance, but mostly because trying to restart his heart and his brain simulatneously while she's padding softly towards him is a monumental task on its own.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" She giggles as she boops his nose with one finger, and whoops, ChatNoir.exe has stopped working. Any chace for higher brain function has effectively been defenestrated wth her touch alone, but her throwing around cat puns kicks his heart resolutely back into high gear.

The blush that creeps up his neck is as instantaneous as it is ridiculously bright, and Adrien coughs and sputters as his mouth runs dry.

She laughs again, full bellied and twinkling, as she steps away, drawing her yo-yo from her hip, shooting him an expectant look before she zips off, and he's suddenly left alone on the roof again, feeling every bit her lovable idiot.

Oh yeah, they're supposed to be going on patrol right now, and he's done nothing but melt down under her gaze (twice!) and act like a complete fool.

He's off vaulting after her as soon as he can feel his feet again, his heart performing some impressive acrobatics against his ribcage.

Patrols were suppsed to be easy.

And on any other normal Tuesday, they were. Patrols were a breeze, physical strain be damned, because patrols meant freedom.

Gallavanting across Paris had always been the best part of the job; it was a time he could escape the shackles of his civilian life, the schedules and the diet plans and the lonely nights, a time for him to go and do what he wanted to do and see what he wanted to see without the looming worry of what his father would say if he got caught. The fact that he got to spend this blessed bought time with Ladybug was icing on the cake.

Any time he could spend with his Lady was treasured, be it full of daring heroics or boring news conferences, but patrols were always a special slice of heaven, a time where she was at liberty to be more care-free –though she never really truly relaxed; Ladybug was always about saving Paris first, everything else second—and the banter they tossed about as they traipsed around the Parisian cityscape made all the downsides of this gig (the inexplicable bruises, the rushed and hectic searches for safe places to transform, the fact that he didn't even know the name of the girl he loved) worth it.

But on this non-typical Tuesday, patrol was going to be the death of him.

Adrien really didn't know what to blame: his frayed nerves, his terrible timing, or his world famous bad luck, but weekly patrol had never been so annoyingly eventful and and down right frustrating.

Their first break came on top of the soaring spires of Notre Dame,the sky still a pleasant, refreshing blue as the breeze chased the clouds overhead, though the sky still couldn't hold a candle to the captivating blue of her eyes when they lit up, shining from the thrill of swinging around the city, her city, at such daring heights, and all it took was one simple, small smile, nose scrunched up adorably and her cheeks pink from adrenalin, to send his heart back into his throat and his newly re-gathered bravado into the pit of his stomach.

The second time they stopped, it was for a quick breather on the rooftops overlooking the Louvre when the sun had just begun its descent beyond the horizon, the sweet blue of afternoon tinged with the softness of early evening, and Adrien had finally wrestled his tongue into submission. And it was going great! Fantastic, even. He had managed two whole sentences without succumbing to her overall grace and melting into a nerve-wracked puddle of love-struck boy, but just as a small smidge of hope (hope that maybe, just maybe, he could pull this whole confession off without self-destructing, hope that she would say yes, say that she loved him too) sparked in his chest, there came Alya, one of his best friends in the world and current bane of his existence, running up with her camera at the ready and the biggest smile Adrien had ever seen plastered to her face, calling out to them for a quick interview; and how could they say no to that?

By the time they'd reached the Eiffel Tower, their third and final stop, the sun hung low, slowly disappearing behind the great silhoutte of Paris, splashing vibrant oranges and reds in a final farewell.

Determination mixed strangely with lingering nervousness, making him light headed and breathless, and Chat had to call upon every ounce of strength to will his unsteady heart to keep beating, especially as they sat shoulder to shoulder, her arm brushing against his as she swayed with the evening breeze, chatting idly as they watched the sun set, waiting for the inevitable 'beep beep beep' of their miraculous timers to chase away the magic.

There wasn't enough air to sate the maddeningly tight feeling in his chest, and every word he'd wanted to say that whole patrol bubbled on the tip of his tongue, jumbled and garbled as they all fought to break past his lips.

It was the saccharine sweetness in those blue eyes as she smiled softly at him that did him in in the end, what burst the dam Adrien had been trying so hard to keep controlled all day, and the words tumbled into the space between them before he ever had a chance to stop them.

"I love you."

There was too long a pause, what seemed like eons stretched between seconds, and Chat's mind kicked into overdrive, trying to fill the empty space and break the deafening silence. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That's not how I wanted to say it at all. I had – I had this whole thing planned – I just. I'm sorry." She never moved, hardly even breathed, as his hands latched around her wrists, only stared at him, eyes wide in shock. "But I do!" His mind, his gut, his very being screamed at him to stop before it was all too late and he ruined everything between them, but there was no stopping the words as they poured from his heart now. "I love you. I've loved you since the first day we met. You're beautiful and brave and headstrong and valiant and I – I so desperately want to be something more than just your partner."

A breath.

"Please, Ladybug."

A hearbeat."

"Please."

Her silence was the punch to the gut that forced all the air from his lungs.

The pity in her eyes was the final blow to his shattered heart.

He dropped her wrists and turned away, to face the city so he wouldn't have to face her.

"Chat . . . Chat I'm so, so sorry." The gently hand on his shoulder burned, burned right through his suit and through his skin; but despite the heat, he didn't flinch. She was trying to catch his gaze, but when she determined that it was very pointedly fixed on anything that wasn't her, she continued.

"It's nothing against you! You're really a great guy! It's just . . . Paris, and – and the akuma, and the whole secret identity thing and . . . and well, I'm already kind of in love with someone else, and –"

He almost wishes she would just shoot him; it'd be less painful than realizing his shot in the dark never had a chance at all.

"But I'll always be here for you. I'll always be your friend, no matter what." The warm fingers under his chin, lifting his reluctant gaze to meet hers, seared. "I'll always be your Ladybug, and you'll always be my Chat Noir, right?"

Her searching eyes were full of hope and her words laced with worry. She was still fighting to salvage their relationship, their friendship, in fear that he would disappear. Like he ever had the choice.

"Of course, m'Lady." He offered her a smile, and though even he could tell that it was forced and shakey, relief flooded her features, but the pity still shone in her eyes.

There was half a moment where her fingers scalded the line of his jaw, something that she surely meant to be reassuring, and her mouth opened to say something, but three louds beeps shattered the stillness.

He'd never been on his feet so quickly in his life.

"I'll see you next week then."

The nights had never been so cold.