Ladybug tossed and turned in her sleep. This was one of those dreams were everything felt so real and life-like.
"Don't you dare touch him!" Ladybug growled at the man dressed in purple. "I only want his ring, I mean no harm to him," the man said, his voice like velvet but held a threatening undertone.
Ladybug could feel her cheeks growing red, but this wasn't the same as being embarrassed at something her Kitty said, or when he kissed her. No, these were the Red Roses of Bugaboo's Wrath.
She wished she had a rose right now, beautiful and sweet at the top, but dangerous thorns sticking up from the bottom.
Ladybug's eyes snapped open and found Cat sleeping against her. Great, 3 a.m. She carefully crawled out of bed not to disturb Cat and pulled on her hoodie needing some fresh air.
When Ladybug climbed out of the sewers, the first thing she noticed was the moon shining down on her like a polished white coin. Seeing that the coast was clear, she emerged.
The only sounds she heard where her footsteps making a soft clicking noise. She was glad to be alone at this hour and she headed to the park to her favorite thinking spot: The tree swing.
Did the dream mean anything? Weren't dreams scrambled up puzzles of your day? Thoughts tumbled around inside her head like a wash machine on a constant spin cycle.
Maybe she had subconsciously being thinking about Hawkmoth yesterday, and her mind had pulled it out of the cupboard of the recces of her mind.
She pushed her feet and started swinging, and the small breeze of the swing cooled her hot cheeks. Red roses can mean passion, she thought to herself. But when I was looking at Hawkmoth, I was feeling pure rage.
Ugh. Even thinking about him made her mouth take on a strange metallic taste. Where any of the coffee shops open yet?
A movement caught her eye, causing the breath to catch her throat. But it was just the start of sunrise, for now only a gray color. Ladybug scrambled out of her swing, twirling her yo-yo expertly.
She was curious to see the sunrise and she settled down on a rooftop with a clear view of the horizon. Grey, she thought to herself. Okay, so gray could be a drab color but it was also the color of oatmeal, steaming and warm on a cold winter's morning. Picture a gray blanket that covers you head to toe with its softness, a comfort of sorts, shielding you from the outside world.
You could blink at the sky would be a different color. Now a sliver of yellow spread on toast peeked its way onto the horizon, shoving the gray away. Yellow, the color of sunshine and all things warm. Yellow, like the yellow rose that repsented jealousy.
Orange was the next color to come to play, and the young heroine chuckled to herself. Cat had written her a poem about a rainbow and in the poem he'd written, "Orange you glad we're friends?" At first she had rolled her eyes at his corny joke, but then she realized how special the poem was, how special her Cat Noir meant to her.
And at last the red. This was a softer side of red, not one burning in anger. Suddenly, the sun bounded into the sky, bathing Ladybug in its colorful light. Colors have so many different meanings, Ladybug thought to herself.
She stood slowly, after being out in the cool morning air and sitting in one position for awhile. The promising smell of coffee and doughnuts hit her nostrils.
Ladybug picked her usual drinks for her and Cat, then slowly walked back to the apartment.
"Bugaboo!" Cat gave her a hug as she walked in the door. "I got worried when you didn't leave a note." "I had a bad dream, so I took a early morning walk." "What was it about?" "The color red," was all she would say.
She scrambled some eggs and toast for her partner, then took a nap after breakfast from rising so early. This dream was entirely different, save for the roses.
In the dream Cat sat on one knee, a happy expression on his face, as Ladybug leaned forward to sniff the red flower he held.
Its smell was exquisite, was this surely a dream? What was going on in her mind anyway, that her dreams would feel this real?
Ladybug took the rose thanking Cat for picking it. "Oh, My Lady, I didn't pick it. It was given to me from a man in a purple suit."
Hawkmoth may have given the rose to Cat, to lure his lady away, but Ladybug would fall for the Moth Man's evil tricks, no matter how many flowers he threw her way.
So different are the hero and villain, but they share one thing in common: The red rose. I will protect the ones I love but not with thorns, but with love.
Cat has given me a rose, maybe its my turn to give one to him. I must pick the right moment, telling him I love him with all my heart.
Evil is thorns growing all around it, choking love. But love will win in the end, for the rose has many tricks up its sleeve.
And don't ladybug sometimes perch and rest on red roses, swaying gently in the breeze? They are considered good luck, and good luck shall come to me in the way of my lucky charm.
Whatever happens next, I will be watchful and on my guard, my flower tucked safely at my side. A reminder of the love Cat and I share of each other, and the love for Paris by protecting it.
Be watchful, Hawkmoth of a ladybug perched and swaying on the red flower in the breeze her trusty black cat by her side. Don't underestimate my power, the power of love so strong.