Chloé's emotional wall was carefully constructed, built on years of snide comments and carefully reinforced on a daily basis. The first stone had been laid years ago, when she'd shrieked at a friend who kept asking where Mrs. Bourgeois had gone, and watched in amazement coupled with mild satisfaction as the little girl fell silent, her lower lip quivering. It had quickly become primary defense against everyone, from other curious classmates to adults who 'just wanted to see how she was doing.'
The best defense was a good offense. Only two people had been allowed past her emotional fortifications. First, there was Sabrina, who shook off five year old Chloé's jibes as if they were water (though now, of course, she knew how to hurt the redhead - there was always a weak point), inviting herself over to the hotel until Chloé gave in and found herself with a friend.
The second was Adrien. His blond hair and guileless grin was more familiar to her than her own reflection, a constant presence in her life since they were babies. Somehow, she could never bear to lash out at him like she did to everyone else. Instead, she watched as his hope and happiness were slowly carved away by his father, and then the remains shattered into dust when his mother left, and prayed that the empty spaces left behind wouldn't full with poison and shame as hers had, sighing with relief and jealousy as his smile only grew kinder and sadder as years passed.
Those two saw her softness, which she knew hurt even more than her barbs. Sabrina, who had long since learned to pretend not to see Chloé's tears, gently kissed her when she sobbed apologies late into the night. The blonde girl closed her eyes whenever their lips met, unwilling to remember Sabrina's pain when Chloé's rage had been turned against her, unable to either let go or stop hurting her.
Adrien was the one she protected, coaxing him to eat in the weeks following his mother's disappearance and, later, as his model's diet grew stricter and stricter, and helped wipe his face afterwards on the bad days. She held his hand when he received his first shot of testosterone from a doctor with cold hands and a colder face, and later they buried photos of his younger self in one of the Agreste mansion's many gardens. Photoshoots, snapshots, anything that showed him with a dress and a dead name. Chloé added her prized possession, a framed photo of the two after winning a children's fashion contest, meticulously wrapped the box in waterproof plastic, and watched them disappear under the dark soil. She drove off the girls and boys enamored by his green eyes and growing fame, who would put him on a pedestal and drain his kindness before throwing him away when the cracks in his superficial perfection began to show. Chloé saw the embarrassment and hurt in his eyes as she crushed their dreams of a celebrity boyfriend into the rough Parisian ground, but she was willing to push him away if that was what it took to keep the last sparks of his joy alive. Pain lanced through her chest every time he shifted away from her touch, but she was too selfish to let go just yet.
No one else ever breached her defenses.
And then there was Marinette. Marinette, who always saw the best in people. Marinette, who had approached Chloé on the first day of school four years ago as she sat alone in the classroom, placed her backpack on the desktop and slid in beside her with a kind smile. Marinette, who ignored the confused glances and occasional snickers of their classmates as she held out a box of intricately decorated pastries. Marinette, whose large blue eyes reminded Chloé of the pitying glances her father's friends would turn towards her,poor child...
The eyes that widened in shock before filling with tears as Chloé snapped, "I'd rather eat garbage. What are those, roaches?" and gestured to the beautiful chocolate roses nestled gently between fresh raspberries.
Marinette, who picked up her bag and moved to an empty row, trying to hide her tears as the teacher walked through the door. The next day, Sabrina (who had been transferred from a different class after a few words between the mayor and Mr. Damocles) was seated beside Chloé, and Marinette took her new seat without so much as breathing in their direction. Chloé pushed away the wave of satisfaction and guilt. Now the girl would leave her alone, like everyone else.
But Marinette wasn't done yet. A couple of weeks later, she invited Chloé and Sabrina to a sleepover. The next month, it was a class picnic in the park, and then a tour of her parents' bakery. Each time, it enraged her a little more, how Marinette wanted something from her, wouldn't back off until she'd located and cut open the abscess that had grown inside Chloé's heart. Eventually, Chloé tripped Marinette, leaving her sprawled in front of the class covered in the birthday cake she was serving. That put an end to it, and she basked in the relief that came as Marinette's soft, pitying smile finally faded for good.
Most people would call it ironic, then, that Chloé fell for Ladybug with the rest of Paris.
But Chloé did fall for Ladybug… and she fell hard.
In fact, she was thrown into Ladybug from the Eiffel Tower by a giant stone monster, who happened to be one of her classmates, who also happened to want to kill her.
The usual, really.
What wasn't usual was the fact that someone had stepped in to save her, Chloé Bourgeois, without an order from the mayor. And, admittedly, that the someone was also a mysterious masked superheroine with a magic yoyo and skintight polka dotted suit, and proceeded to save the world that afternoon and several times a week from then on.
Ladybug, the face of kindness and hope in Paris, the girl who went faced down literal monsters and diplomats without flinching, but would catch a child's errant balloon and rescue cats from trees… and Chloé, literal monster and daughter of a politician, was undeniably in love.
The rush of fear and exhilaration Chloé felt when she realized that she, she, had caused Ivan to retransform and lead an army across Paris was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Normally, her attacks served one purpose: they kept people away, verbal porcupine quills, to stop them from seeing her as a broken little girl, failure of all she attempted, so pathetic that even her own mother deserted her. But this time, something had happened. Something had changed. Maybe no one would remember what Chloé had done, especially because she hadn't even been the original catalyst (a rush of jealousy towards Kim), but she had been there. She had been part of it, the rise of Ladybug and Chat Noir.
After that, it wasn't that she tried to create akumas. It just happened, and Chloé reveled in the growing fear that surrounded her, as classmates looked at her and remembered that she had shown them the worst they could be, how willing they were to destroy everything they'd ever known and loved under the right conditions. They weren't better than her; they just lied to themselves.
It also didn't hurt that the appearance of an akumatized victim was always accompanied by Ladybug and her pet. She enjoyed the times when they arrived to whisk her away from danger, even as she lay awake at night wondering what would happen if, sometime, they showed up just a little too late… Would she be returned, safe and whole, after Ladybug's magic healed the city? Would Ladybug, the girl behind the mask, stare into the darkness and think about who she had failed?
Playing with fire – another habit she couldn't shake.
Most people thought that love and hatred were separate, but Chloé didn't believe that was true. It would be hard to hate, truly hate, someone you didn't love: you could fear them, yes, or feel disgust, or annoyance. But hate was deeper… to her, it was special. It meant she cared.
Chloé hated Ladybug. Her hate was obsessive, roiling with jealousy and shame, living and growing in dark harmony beside the crush fluttering in her chest. Who was this girl, the figure everyone loved despite her mask and secrecy? How was she so kind and capable, as if suffused with divine light, that she didn't have to rely on wealth or manipulation for love, and how could she refuse that love when it was offered to her on a silver platter? Maybe the person behind the mask was crueler than Chloé herself, putting on a fake smile for her adoring fans while secretly laughing at their helplessness.
Deep down, Chloé knew that wasn't true: Ladybug was everything she appeared to be. It reminded her of Adrien, who would always put others before himself without a second thought. That association carried her through after Ladybug finally showed herself to be human, calling Chloé a liar as bile rose in the girl's throat. Sure, she'd tried to kill Ladybug and Chat… but after the white butterfly had flown away, Chloé looked into Ladybug's eyes and saw a familiar sparkle (blue instead of green), and her pain had melted away.
Ladybug forgave her. She forgave Chloé for hurting people, for causing akumas and lying, for waking up each day and deciding to be a monster. Ladybug would never love her, she knew that – not the way Chloé loved the spotted superhero – but maybe this was enough.
Love doesn't always change people… at least, not at first.