Monday the thirteenth.

The final day before, well…

Luka tapped an erratic drum beat against his thigh as he slumped down the street. Lycée had let out a little earlier than usual, just early enough that he might be able to catch Juleka after her final lesson and walk her home. Not that she needed walking home but having someone else with him might keep his mind from wandering as it had been, more-so than usual. Like a violin going off-sheet whilst everything around it plodded through a canon. The run up to Valentine's Day had only made it worse, and for a silly, selfish reason. Luka was just glad she hadn't noticed, or else he might lose her as a friend too.

Would that be such a bad thing, something in the back of his mind whispered. A forgotten piccolo, a broken viola. It would hurt less. Adrien will be over the moon when she works up the courage to confess to him. You've already lost her as anything more…

Luka muted the thought. Her friendship was just as important. If he pulled away now, she would be hurt and wonder why, and he couldn't stand the thought of what her broken heart would sound like.

He'd already gotten used to the sound of his.

Luka found a spot across the street—Juleka hated it when he waited for her by the doors—and leaned against the wall as he waited for the school to finish. There was some movement by the building; a girl with her arms folded, her heart twinging like a trumpet splitting a note. Then, a few seconds later, a boy slunk into view. A flat cello, lingering at the back of an orchestra. They appeared to have a short, terse conversation, which ended when the girl waved her hand dismissively and the boy stormed back behind the corner.

Another guy with his heart in tatters.

Something twinged in the back of his mind. An anxious anticipation that made him curl his toes in his shoes and fidget with the insides of his pocket. This was proved to be not completely unfounded when, barely a minute later, an akuma appeared in the air, fluttering towards the side of the school. The girl hadn't noticed it, but the butterfly passed over her head.

The boy. Luka didn't think; he ran across the road, desperate to reach the boy first, help him fight against Hawkmoth's powers. But he was too late; he arrived just in time to see the butterfly disappear into the boy's school satchel. Luka darted behind the nearest tree. He had deduced that Chat Noir and Ladybug were most likely teenagers, therefore likely at school, and therefore likely to still be in class. And, therefore, he was likely on his own, even if only for a few minutes. Nevertheless, he opened up the akuma app on his phone to put out an alert.

He peered around the tree as a black and purple miasma melted away to reveal the new villain. Clothed in a white toga with golden pins at his shoulders, the akuma resembled some sort of Greek god. Eros, perhaps, judging by the large quiver on his back and the bow on his hand. He grabbed an arrow—bright red—and loaded it before running back around to where the girl was.

"Sass," Luka whispered as his kwami emerged from his bag, unphased as ever. "We need to keep this akuma occupied until Ladybug gets here."

"Are you sssure you can handle it?" Sass asked. "You're not much of a fighter."

"At the very least I can start observing him, make it easier to take him down," he replied. "Sass, Scales Slither."

With a teal flash, he transformed into Viperion. Then, keen not to show his hand until he needed to, he kept to the shadows and crept around the corner.

The akuma—Eros, Viperion dubbed him—pointed the red arrow at the girl, who was scrambling backwards. Eros pulled the arrow back, but at the last second the girl threw her bag at his face then used the few moments afforded to dart up the stairs and through the doors. Eros shot the arrow just too late, and it clattered against the wall. He moved to follow her then stopped, regarding his bow thoughtfully.

Apparently, he'd thought better of going inside, and instead turned his attention to the building opposite, where Luka had previously been waiting. As he began to scale the front, no doubt helped by the extra strength and stamina Hawkmoth had gifted, Viperion darted around to the back of the building and climbed. He silently pulled himself up behind the akuma, and watched as Eros positioned himself on the roof's edge, pulled out a silver arrow and loaded his bow. There were black arrows in the quiver as well—what difference did the colour make?

And what was he doing? Why hadn't he gone inside to look for the girl? Why was he instead waiting on the roof like a sniper in fancy dress? Though, Viperion realised, arrows were a long-range weapon, and he wouldn't get much of a range inside, so he must be waiting for her to come out.

At least that gave Ladybug and Chat Noir a bit of time to get out of school and help him, hopefully before things got too out of hand. But Françoise Dupont would be opening its doors and moment now, and who knew how long it would take for the girl to appear…

As the seconds ticked by, a sense of dread filled his stomach. Those arrows looked sharp. And he knew a fair number of students in that school. What if he shot Juleka? Or Rose? Or Ivan? Or…

Viperion looked at his bracelet and, praying Ladybug wouldn't be too annoyed, he twisted it and murmured "Second Chance."

Immediately, relief washed over him. Whatever happened now, he could fix it. And, not a second too soon, as mere moments later the doors opened and students started trickling out. Eros wasted no time. He released the silver arrow; it sailed into the students and, with his enhanced hearing, Viperion heard the gentle thud as it met flesh.

Screams pierced the street, and before Eros could load a second arrow Viperion surged forward and kicked him aside. Maybe he didn't need to wait for Ladybug; he could just stamp on the quiver and catch the akuma in his hand or…

Then he looked down.

Students charged around like chickens in a fox's den, some scrabbling to get back in, others charging away in random directions, but a few stood huddled around a figure lying on the stairs. A patch of red grew rapidly under their feet.

A body.

The arrows didn't cause something ridiculous like transfiguration or mind control. They were real arrows.

Viperion launched himself off of the roof, landing heavily on the road and quite possibly breaking some of the bones in his feet. Gritting his teeth, he sprinted to the school, pushing past anyone who got in the way, fought his way to the body on the stairs. Someone was screaming "No!" over and over, and that girl—Alya—rambled about Ladybug and the magical cure. When she saw him, she grabbed his arm.

"Ladybug's here, right?" she asked breathlessly. "She can fix this, right? She has to fix this."

She stepped aside, revealing the crumpled body of Marinette.

She was sprawled across the steps, arms were fling out, legs at an odd angle, clothes slowly turning scarlet. An arrow protruded from her neck, bright silver and glinting. Her eyes fluttered; blood trickled over her gasping lips—alive, but only just.

Viperion fell to his knees beside her and tried to fight down the nausea in his stomach. His hand quivered as he reached out to touch her face. "You'll be okay," he whispered. "I'll fix this. You'll be alright. I swear, Marinette. I will fix this."

Hey eyes widened slightly, and the light brightened for a split second before going out completely. Her head went limp against the pavement.

Viperion clenched his jaw and willed the sobs rising up his throat to stay down. People screamed behind him; he turned to see Eros approaching the frey, readying another arrow.

Murderer, Viperion thought. He stood, and looked at the blood on his fingers. Her blood. A fire, white hot, sprang to life in his heart. He twisted his bracelet.

Viperion lunged forward, knocking Eros sideways just as he released the arrow. Heart caught in his throat, Viperion scrambled to see where it had landed and sighed when he spotted it gleaming in the grass whilst the very alive figure of Marinette stood in the doorway.

He wasn't used to hand-to-hand combat. His powers required observation above anything, and even his weapon—the lyre—was ranged. But, with horror, desperation, and full-blown rage burning through his veins, Viperion fought without remorse. He delivered kicks and punches whenever he had the opportunity, threw his lyre like a boomerang, and nearly tried to bite Eros when he grabbed his arm to stop him reaching for another arrow.

Eventually, Eros landed a hit on Viperion's chest, sending him careening a few feet away. Seconds later, he shot an arrow, which Viperion barely avoided. It grazed past his cheek, slicing flesh, and hurtled towards the school. Cold terror flooded his body. Not again. She couldn't be hit again.

Viperion ran and kicked Eros hard in the stomach, then again, and again. The third kick sent him off of the roof's edge. Viperion wasted no time in leaping down after him, landing slightly more carefully this time. Eros lay dazed in a bush, so Viperion ran past him to where the students were scrabbling to either get inside or get away. All but one, lying on the floor, being trampled by their peers.

Marinette!

For a moment, Viperion was filled with the fear that he was stuck in some time loop, where no matter what he did or what he tried, it would always end with Marinette dead on the ground. But then he saw her move, and realised there was no blood. He sprinted towards her, weaving through the tumultuous crowd, and scooped her up.

He ran. He had to get her as far away from the akuma as he could. He couldn't risk her getting hit, not again. Perhaps he was holding her too tightly against his chest, or perhaps she could feel his frenzied heart, or perhaps he was overreacting, but soon she began squirming in his arms.

When he decided they were far enough away, he reluctantly swerved to a quiet stretch of pavement and put her down, hoping she didn't notice the way his hands lingered on her arms. He stared at her: at her living, breathing face; at the light in her eyes; at her surprised expression. Alive.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hating the way his voice cracked and quivered.

"Are you alright?" she retorted. "You're bleeding!"

Viperion touched the cut on his cheek, then looked at the blood on his fingers. Nausea rose in his throat; he swallowed it down. His blood, not hers. "I'll be fine once Ladybug gets here," he managed to reply. "Speaking of, I need to go back. I haven't seen either of them yet. I think maybe they're in a class or something. This one's pretty dangerous."

Marinette nodded. "If I see them I'll tell them."

He forced himself to smile and barely managed to take a step when she called out.

"Wait!"

He watched as she rooted around in her bag then pulled out a small pink and white box. She fumbled a little opening it then shook out a pink strip and offered it to him.

"Sorry about the colour."

A plaster. He didn't think twice about accepting it. He recognised them of course; Marinette was always covered in little pink plasters for all the scrapes and cuts she sustained due to her clumsiness. And of course she would offer them to anyone who needed one, but somehow the notion of wearing one of her plasters felt suddenly...intimate, like she had given him a part of herself to wear on his bare skin.

But, in reality, it was just a plaster. A plaster given to a superhero she barely knew. Viperion choked out a, "thank you," before turning and running.

He unpeeled the backing and applied the plaster to his cheek as he ran. Difficult without a mirror, and unpleasant as he could feel smears of blood drying on his face, but it would do for now.

When he returned to the school, he found the akuma had recovered from the fall and was on the roof of Françoise Dupont. Viperion quickly followed, eyes hunting desperately for signs of Ladybug and Chat Noir. How much longer could he hold off Eros? What if there were more casualties?

Eros leapt down into the courtyard, and Viperion jumped after him. Shrieks filled the air as students either ran for the doors or pressed themselves against the wall. Eros had his bow loaded with a black arrow—hopefully the black and red ones weren't deadly—and turned slowly on the spot as he hunted for a target.

Viperion threw his lyre; it struck Eros across the temple. Then, before the akuma recovered, he charged forward to engage him in hand-to-hand again. He became Eros' shadow, sticking as close as he could, never letting him get more than a foot or two away. Unable to use his arrows, the akuma had taken to trying to hit Viperion with his bow.

"Hawkmoth's really struggling, isn't he?"

Never had Viperion been so glad to hear Chat Noir's voice. He chanced a quick glance behind him to see the other two heroes at the edge of the court yard. Ladybug frowned; beside her, Chat Noir stood leaning on his baton, shaking his head.

"We've already had a cupid one. Who are you...Dark Cupid 2.0? Electric Boogaloo?"

The gladness quickly faded. "Very funny," Viperion grunted, blocking another swing from Eros' bow with his lyre. "Could you guys help now?"

Suddenly, there was a blur of black, and Eros wasn't there anymore. Instead, he and Chat Noir were grappling across the courtyard. Exhausted, Viperion ran to Ladybug.

"Sorry, I'm not so good on my own," he panted. "I saw him turn outside the school. Tried to shoot someone with a red arrow, but missed. Silver arrows are like, well, arrows. Real arrows. Not sure what the red ones do, then there are black ones."

Ladybug nodded. "This isn't the first cupid-themed akuma, but the other one made people hate each other. Have you still got your Second Chance?"

"Had to use it earlier," Viperion replied. "He set himself up by the school entrance to shoot students as they came out. Silver arrows." He swallowed and tried to keep his voice as steady as he could. "They do real damage—I think Hawkmoth's aiming to kill with this one. Or at least he's not above it… Had to make sure I could stop him. I know your Miraculous Cure would probably…" He pursed his lips and swallowed again, shaking his head. "I didn't want to take the chance."

An odd look passed Ladybug's face. Horror, or shock maybe? But it seemed deeper than that. "Did you stop him from attacking students?" she asked. Her voice was thin, weaker than usual.

Suddenly, the image of Marinette lying limp, and blood, and an arrow glinting in the winter sun filled his mind. He forced it down, instead conjured her alive face when she had given him the plaster. It took all of his willpower not to touch the plaster now, to confirm it was real. "The second time."

"Right. Good. Okay. So silver arrows are like real arrows. Red arrows...he tried to shoot a girl?"

Viperion nodded, although he hadn't recalled mentioning the girl.

"Maybe they induce love or something," Ladybug continued. "Black arrows could be hatred again."

Viperion glanced back at Eros and Chat Noir, and felt his stomach drop as he realised the akuma had managed to get far enough away to load a new arrow. "We might find out."

Suddenly, Eros spun, aiming the bow at Ladybug. Viperion didn't think, he just shouted, "Look out!" as he barrelled into her, pushing her out of the arrow's path. A sharp pain stabbed his shoulder, but quickly dissipated.

Then, something cold trickled into his heart, like a spring of ice, then a stream, then river. It coursed through his blood, freezing his veins. The world turned dark, as though someone had filled his eyes with shadows. An oboe shrieked out of tune; a piano string snapped...

Pink filled his vision. It was only a small strip, but it consumed him. Pink; the smell of vanilla and sugar and fresh paper and ink; the sound of minor chords lost in a summer breeze. He felt that summer breeze blow into him, bringing with it the delicate guitar and the smell of vanilla and paper, and the pink.

His veins thawed. The world brightened.

Ladybug lay beneath him, trapped between his arms, holding a round mirror in front of herself like a shield. Viperion leaned back. "Ladybug?"

She lowered the mirror; there was a glimpse of fear in her eyes which quickly faded. "Viperion?"

He stood. He felt his hand on his cheek, but didn't remember lifting his arm to touch it. He felt cold and warm; full and empty; like a puppet cut from its string. "What happened?" he managed. "Was I—?"

Ladybug cut him off "The akuma. Where is it? What object? You saw him turn, right?"

The akuma. Eros. The world put itself back together. "Bag. He had a bag…"

"The quiver. It must be the quiver."

The battle was quick to finish. Viperion felt as if he were only going through the motions; he followed Ladybug to find Chat Noir, and then the akuma, and only watched silently as she found, freed, and purified the butterfly then called for her Miraculous Cure to set everything to rights.

Viperion felt his face heal and the plaster disappear, but his mind didn't unfog. He barely remembered bumping fists with the other heroes and departing. He wasn't sure when he'd destransformed, or if anyone had seen him. He couldn't even remember if he'd fed Sass afterwards or not.

He felt trapped, bound in a ball of cloud inside his head as his body walked to the front of Françoise Dupont and all but collapsed on a low brick wall outside.

Gradually, he peeled away the mist and smoke in his mind. He measured his breaths; concentrated on the feel of rough brick against his fingers; counted the windows at the front of the school until his body felt like his again.

He reached up to touch his face; the plaster was gone. He knew that already but he still felt a sense of loss and dread when his fingers met only smooth, unbroken skin. But he knew Marinette was okay and alive because he'd spoken to her and seen her and heard her and yet he couldn't shake the blood and the dull eyes from his head. He stared at the stairs, at the spot where she'd fallen in a timeline he had reversed. He forced himself to acknowledge the lack of blood.

Still, he couldn't help but try to phone her. He waited anxiously as it rang once...twice...then stopped.

Why had it just stopped? No option to leave a voice message, no 'this person is unavailable'. Just...nothing.

What if something had happened afterwards? What if she'd been hit later, and the Miraculous Cure hadn't reached her? What if there was some strange time magic at play? What if the Cure had undone his reset to save her? What if...

"Hey!" someone called behind him. Luka jolted and nearly fell off his perch as he twisted. There was Marinette, alive and well, waving her phone in the air. "What are you doing out here?"

He leapt to his feet, hoping the movement hid his sigh of relief. He wanted to touch her, feel her heart beating, hear her breath… He settled for staring at the light in her eyes and the way her face contorted in confusion and worry.

"You're alright."

She'd let him walk her home. Hearing her voice—even if she was talking about Adrien and confessing to him tomorrow—quelled his fear enough that he managed a few, genuine smiles as they walked. And yet, when they reached the bakery and she turned to bid him goodbye, he couldn't help but stare at her neck, where in another timeline she had been pierced with an arrow. The image returned; he forced himself to smile at her. "Have a good evening, Ma-Ma-Marinette," he said. "I hope tomorrow works out for you."

He counted his steps on the way home, filled his mind with numbers and the steady drumbeat of his shoes on cement. When he finally reached the Liberty, he went straight to his bed, grabbed his guitar, and played.

He played every song he knew. Every song he'd learned, every song he'd written, every song ever stamped on his soul. He played the songs of his heart, of Juleka's and his ma's. He played the songs of his friends at Lycée, of his teachers. He played the songs of Rose and Ivan and even Adrien. He played their songs like a man possessed, like a music box spinning fast and frantic. He played until his fingers bled, and each string was like a knife in his skin.

When he stopped, the sky was dark. Sass was curled up on his pillow; tired or bored, Luka didn't know.

"What happened earlier?" Luka asked. "I blacked out after that arrow hit me. Then suddenly Ladybug had that mirror…"

"It would sseem thosse black arrowss insspire hatred in their markss," Sass said. "You losst your mind and attacked. I dare ssay, without that mirror you might have caussed ssome real damage. Not bad for the obsserver."

"I attacked her?" Luka repeated. Guilt curled in his chest. "How come you remember?"

"It was you that got hit," Sass replied. "During transsformation, our ssouls bind, but our mindss remain sseperate. It affected your mind, not mine."

It felt strange. He was the one who always remembered. He was the one who could see the same battle countless times, and remember each one whilst the others forgot. But this time, everyone who had seen him remembered, and yet even with Sass's explanation there was still a blank stretch in his memory.

How ironic. How...unfair. Unfair that he was forced to remember everything that didn't happen, and to forget this one thing that did.

What he'd give to forget everything else too.

Sass floated across to sit in the tiny window and watch the water drift listlessly beneath them.

"Do you remember it as well?" Luka asked quietly.

Sass didn't turn, but he bowed his little head. "It is the burden of the ssnake."

"But it didn't happen, right? I reversed it, so it didn't happen."

"It'ss besst not to think about alternate timeliness," Sass replied. "That'ss the rabbit'ss burden."

In another timeline where he hadn't been given the snake, or hadn't finished school early, or hadn't set his Second Chance…

"I ssaid not to think about it," Sass said. "It issn't worth it."

Luka took a few deep breaths and burrowed his head in his hand, guitar falling limp between his knees. He needed to clear his mind. No, he needed to distract himself. He couldn't meditate; he couldn't risk emptying his head because he knew what would fill the space. But he couldn't concentrate on homework and he couldn't play music and he couldn't talk anymore because whenever he opened his mouth his throat shuddered and his lungs convulsed with quaking gasps.

But, he could run. He could run and leap and tumble through Paris and count the stars and listen to the wind.

"Sass, Scales Slither."

He couldn't feel the cold through his costume. He didn't feel tired, even though he had been running solidly for an hour—maybe more. He couldn't hear anything above the rush of air past his ears, couldn't see anything but the stars. Didn't think about anything apart from his feet, pushing against concrete, one after the other.

Until he stopped. Until he sat down on the edge of an office block and stared at the Seine, twisting like a serpent. The moon was thin, like a silver crevice in the sky. He wished it was full; wished he could take the full moon and fill his mind with it. Crush the intrusive thoughts and images and panic; blind the shadows with its light.

But the moon only smirked above him.