By the time their comic skyrocketed, Marc's dad thought a party would be perfect.
"Daad." Marc whined.
"Maaarc." Dad whined back. "You need one. I've been gone four years and Kendall does nothing but praise your darling behaviour. You're my kid, Marcus. I was not an angel."
"I was." Mom said in the background.
"Yeah sure, Belle." Dad said. "You were surrounded by all these glass and china teacups. Of course you'd be an angel. I moved out at seventeen to become a model. Let the beasts talk."
"Can't we agree I'm a perfect combination of Beauty and Beast and cancel the party?" Marc asked.
"We're not cancelling." Dad said. "You're going to have three to five hundred friends over. You're going to dance like no one's watching. You're going to get drunk and kiss a lot of boys."
"I'm fifteen. I can't drink." Marc said.
"You're fifteen. You're supposed to drink." Dad went back to counting the bucket list he was making for Marc. "You're going to find your soulmate. You're going to get a boyfriend. You're going to steal someone's boyfriend. Most importantly; you're absolutely, without a doubt, no protests, no surrenders, no ifs or buts, going to have fun. At the end of the day, you're going to get arrested—wait. That's too much. Don't get arrested, okay? I meant you're going to be happy without us, your poor little parents, on this other side of Europe on an extended work-vacation."
"Don't be that either." Mom said. "If anything goes wrong, scream for mommy. Capisce?"
"I've given Kendall the money. Knock yourself out."
Marc hung up the call and shut his computer. He called Nathaniel. "Tomato?"
"Rainbow?"
"My parents just ordered me to throw a party."
"Then those aren't your parents."
Marc laughed. "Makes lots of sense. But I'm telling you ahead of time. We'll have to text-blast everyone right now."
"Your wish is my command, Rainbow." Nathaniel said.
"All hail the Tomato Genie."
Night at the party. Marc and Nathaniel hid in the background. According to Kendall's knowledge of celebrities, they weren't supposed to come out until the MC called them out. Unfortunately, the MC was Kendall. Marc knew she'd take a while.
The party was blowing up. Marc wondered how his father could pull Jagged Stone over. Other than that, his schoolmates and a lot of people he hadn't seen in his life came. Security at Chloé's father's hotel must've been pretty lax or too busy guarding the important people
"What're we doing? Like, after getting out of here." Marc asked.
"Celebrate." Nathaniel said. "Get it? Cause we're celebrities?"
"I'll say it again; I thought I was the weirdo."
Nathaniel elbowed him. "I never knew you liked black this much. You look styling."
Marc looked at his black jacket, shirt, pants, and sneakers. The time Kendall saw it, she said he looked antichrist. "Thanks."
"I can't hear you!" Kendall said. "Gimme a shout if you want your heroes here. Did someone say Marc and Nathaniel?"
As expected, everyone yelled, "Marc and Nathaniel! Marc and Nathaniel! Marc and Nathaniel! Marc and Nathaniel!"
"If you heard them, broseph and other-guy-who-may-or-may-not-have-a-crush-on-Marc-or-vice-versa, you'd better get your butts up here." Kendall said.
"She's on that too?" Nathaniel asked.
"Honestly, I had no idea until this second." Marc said. He walked ahead of Nathaniel so it didn't look like anything was going on.
"What's up, Paris?" Nathaniel called.
If their crowd's whoops could cause a natural disaster, three would've happened in the space of the minute Nathaniel paused.
"I know; too much, including us." Nathaniel said. "Good evening and as said by French Montana; Welcome to the party!"
More whooping.
"You're probably surprised at how the one and only Marc Anciel, the writer of our thriving comic, is a person of little words." Nathaniel shoved the microphone into Marc's hands. "Well, he's going to explain that, and in addition answer whatever questions you have about the story."
Courage, don't you dare fail me now. "Good evening, Paris."
More whooping.
"Tomato-head is right. I don't talk too much. At least not while this many people are looking at me. Or anyone, for that matter." Marc said. "It's kind of what pushed me into writing in the first instance. Talking takes time, effort, and a person to respond. Stories, though, are between you, your pen, your book, and your mind. No one needs to know. All the aforementioned parties don't tell others.
"Of course; if I'd stuck with that system, I wouldn't be talking to this many people about something I felt passionate about. I owe thanks to many people. Ladybug, for being my muse—"
Clapping.
"—Marinette Dupain-Cheng for pushing me—"
Clapping and whistles that were definitely Marinette's parents.
"—and Nathaniel Kurtzberg for helping me and mentoring me to be cooler, even if I got akumatized in the process. Once again, I'm very sorry about all the damage I caused as Reverser."
A unanimous "No problem".
"Woah; I can't believe so many of you know of my work." Marc said. "So, thanks."
Clapping.
"As Nathaniel said, I'll answer any question." Marc said. "But just to get it out of the way; I don't have a middle name, I do most of my own make-up, my parents are abroad, and I have six toes on each foot—just kidding. Most importantly, The Diary of A Ladybug will return. I just have to wait for writer's block to take a vacay."
Positive laughter for the first time in his life.
"Hey; it's Alya. Manager of the one and only Ladyblog." Alya said. "Some people have asked if you have a connection with Ladybug or something and if that's why your book is so perfect."
"Unless you think Ladybug's been whispering in my head, no. That was my total imagination." Marc said.
"To your illustrator," Alya said. "is it true your father is the famous painter and photographer Liam Kurtzberg?"
"Yes." Nathaniel said. "Handsomeness runs in the family. Am I right, Marc?"
Marc stuck his tongue at him.
"Jeanette from Teen Vouge," Said a girl Marc had only heard of. She wore black like him, but in a more stylish, feminine way. "Pertaining to Nathaniel's previous statement, some people have said you and him are related in more ways than this comic. Are you really in a relationship?"
"The word 'relationship' has many meanings." Marc said. "I can say I'm in a relationship with my sister, because we're related. Nathaniel and I are in the relationship of friendship. Bonus answer; I'm asexual…for now."
Laughter.
"In that regard, your book is quite misleading." Jeanette From T-V said. "If you don't have a connection with Ladybug, but have her as your main character rehabilitating and rounding up ex-villains—especially Mightillustrator previously Evillustrator previously Nathaniel Kurtzberg—to the extent of having feelings for him, it only shows you have an interest in the ex-villain, or his true identity."
Marc had never thought of it that way. "I don't have an explanation for that, really. I simply heard Nathaniel's story about getting akumatized and thought, 'What if Ladybug and a converted villain—especially since said converted villain had good reason to be akumatized—worked together? And since Evillustator's heart was broken in the events of his akumatization —Nathaniel told me—but is kind of a sweet guy, why wouldn't Ladybug like him?' Then I started to write. I didn't think much of a deeper meaning."
"Now that all possibilities of a romantic relationship have been debunked, are you really going to take your next book online?"
Marc nodded. "Yes, but it won't be strictly limited to the internet. Parents like this too."
Positive laughter.
"That should be enough questions, peeps." Kendall said. "Marc, it's almost bedtime."
Slightly negative laughter.
"Just kidding, but he really needs to stop talking." Kendall said. "I'm too proud of him already, and he's becoming our father? Mr. Anciel can talk for two hours whether or not it's obvious people are listening. Me and Mom have done enough to make him not that. The spells obviously wearing thin."
"That's our cue." Marc whispered. "It's best to leave when the Rodger-Anciel's begin stand-up comedy."
Nathaniel laughed. "See you on the next one." He said into the mic, holding Marc's hand and raising it into the air.
"Hey."
Nathaniel smiled. "Hey."
They hadn't seen in almost an hour; their fans had split them apart. He tried not to see that as symbolism.
"So, how many of your fans hit on you now it's official we're not dating?" Marc asked. "Thankfully under five for me."
"Six." Nathaniel joked. "All of them asked for my phone number. I had to hide."
Marc beamed. "What do we do now?"
Soft music blared, as if to answer their question.
"Dance with me?" Nathaniel asked.
"This is a waltz song." Marc said. "I'm good at waltz. My parents taught me before Milan."
"That's a good thing." Nathaniel said.
Marc raised an eyebrow. "You do know what waltz is, right?"
"Duh? That ballroom dance used in fairy tales and weddings where—" He stopped himself. "I see your point."
"Let's talk about our second edition until a better song." Marc suggested. "I know this song lasts four and a half minutes; that should be enough to discuss plots."
"There you are!" Kendall yelled, even with a mic. "Fun fact; Marc took three years of dance lessons before our parents left. Would anyone like to see them?"
"MARC AND NATHANIEL! MARC AND NATHANIEL! MARC AND NATHANIEL!"
"Jeezers." Marc cursed.
Nathaniel had almost zero qualms about it. He dragged Marc up to the stage.
"Come on, Marcy." Kendall teased. "Don't make my Beethoven nightmares go to waste."
Nathaniel extended a hand. Marc took it. Until then, he didn't notice how beautiful Marc's hands were.
"Do not make this weird for me." Marc said.
"It's only weird if you make it weird." Nathaniel said.
He watched Marc's face become serene after one breath.
The next events were amazing. Marc waltzed with a confidence Nathaniel had never, ever seen in him. He didn't flinch when Nathaniel accidentally stepped on his foot, no; he went right on like nothing happened. It was as if his klutz-self, or him entirely, had ascended the heavens and some dead world-class dancer had possessed him and made him twirl, step, grab and repeat like never before.
Even their audience was mesmerized. In the beginning, they chanted in low tones; now a few of them in the front row had their mouths open with bewilderment.
Nathaniel couldn't blame him. The silence let him think, If I were watching two guys—one of them wearing a classy yet swagger but overall gorgeous suit—I would've felt the same way.
But he wasn't a spectator, and he felt worse. A good worse. A kind of worse that let him savour how Marc's beautiful hands delicately gripped his body, the amazing way he led, how bright his emerald eyes were under the spotlight, how much he wanted to to kiss him…
Do not make this weird for me.
Nathaniel breathed out. Marc had just publicly declared himself asexual; why should he force him?
He did say 'for now'. His mind could be changed. One nice kiss on the lips could do the trick.
The only problem; he hadn't kissed anyone before. Maybe Marc at the sleepover, but then it was jokingly. If he kissed Marc now, it had to be perfect. Impressive. Momentous. Whatever adjectives Marc had taught him that meant 'so good he'll want to become your boyfriend'.
Maybe kissing—superlative kissing—was like dancing or writing or good make-up application skills or any one of Marc's many unbelievable skills. Or drawing for Nathaniel; it came naturally.
Just when he'd summoned the nerve to osculate Marc in a paradisiacal manner, Kendall spoke. "Thank you, Jagged, for making my brother's prom come a little early."
Marc awoke from his trance. "Huh?"
Dang it. "Marc, we need to talk." Nathaniel said.
"We don't need to talk about the plot anymore." Marc said, heading away, dragging Nathaniel with him. "But, sure, we need to talk."
They stopped at the very door of the hotel.
"You're a really good dancer." Nathaniel said.
Marc looked panicked; absolutely not what he was twenty seconds prior. "Thanks. You too. Now I have to explain something.
"Have you ever said something you think is true, but after a while it suddenly isn't?"
"Like what I said about our comic?" Nathaniel offered.
"Sure." Marc said. "What I'm saying—is you go around for, say, two years thinking one thing because you don't want the other to be true since if it were true it would be exactly what was expected of you and whatever. You go through this hell in middle school since of what you wear and how you look is associated with a different culture and you think, 'You know what? I'm not going to be that way.' Then this cute redhead with amazing drawing skills comes in then you make a comic book together even though he hurt you to the earth's core at some point, but you get past that and see he's a really nice guy, then you both get super famous, but your resolve still doesn't change. Then your comic gets so popular a group of loving but annoying individuals tell you to throw a party—"
Nathaniel got the message. "Yeah. I know."
He hugged Marc for five milliseconds that felt like three years in his mind, then kissed him. Marc did nothing but engage him. Maybe he wasn't a good kisser, but Marc was certainly much better than anyone would ever be.
But like most good things, it came to an end. Specifically, it ended with someone yanking him backwards and slapping the cheeks Marc had once held.
Nathaniel stood face to face with his very angry mom.
Mrs. Kurtzberg got angry. But it was more obvious when she was very angry. Her body was visibly tense, she made aggressive physical contact, her face got as red as Nathaniel's hair, and her expression could fry a whole tub of -5°F ice-cream.
"Just when your father was proud of you!" Mrs. Kurtzberg rattled her son. "Just when I convinced him he was wrong! Just after I'd managed to show you how great you were!"
"Mom—"
"You assured me!" Mom said. "You told me you weren't—how could you give me such false faith?!"
"I didn't lie!" Nathaniel shouted. "I just—"
"Did you just shout at me?"
His mom almost, almost hit him with something like a book.
Someone blocked it.
"Mrs. Kurtzberg—"
"Shut up!" Mom slapped Marc with his own comic. "You poison my son, and you think you can talk to me like that?"
Marc looked really calm. "You don't need to hurt him. Like you said, it's my fault."
"Mar—"
"Quiet, Nathaniel." Marc said. For the brief time Nathaniel saw his face, he saw Marc's dancing face; like he'd resigned himself and whatever should happen, good or bad, wouldn't bother him. "Mrs. Kurtzberg; what do you want?"
His mom calmed down utterly. "Stay away from my son."
If they weren't related, and Marc hadn't stopped him, Nathaniel would've shouted at Mom. "That's all?"
"Yes." Mom said.
Marc turned to Nathaniel. "Nice working with you, Tomato."
"Why?" Nathaniel asked, grabbing his shoulder.
Marc looked apathic. "Well, you're a nice person—"
"You don't need to listen to her." Nathaniel said. "She's angry. We'll smooth things out."
"Did you—"
"I can't see you hurt like that, Nathaniel. Or your mom." Marc said. "No one should suffer for me."
"But you—"
"No." Marc said. "I was being stupid. I was caught in the moment. I—don't actually feel that way."
Nathaniel felt kicked in the head. Before any more protests could be made, Marc ran.
"You see?" Mom asked. "No need spoiling your reputation over someone—"
"SHUT UP!" Nathaniel was a lot like his mom when he was angry. "You did this. You made him hate me!"
"Nathaniel Victor Kurtzberg,"
He yanked the comic out of her hands and ran.
[Not quite ten minutes of crying and regret later, Nathaniel gets akumatized into Villusionist].