I can't lose you.
The words flutter through his mind as Marinette's deft fingers twine themselves softly in his hair, and the realisation shoots through Chat Noir like lightening. The sunset leaks through the windows of Marinette's room, washing it in a soft orange glow as Chat Noir looks up at the girl sitting next to him.
The hand not currently preoccupied with petting the feline superhero is holding a fashion magazine, the cover folded back so Marinette can read it single-handedly. Chat Noir can just about see his unmasked face on the page of the magazine as Marinette pauses on it, her eyes drifting down the picture whilst her mouth quirks into a small smile. Adrien smirks back at Marinette, his glossy face the perfect image of casual flirtation as he leans against a CGI wall, one foot lifted up as his hands are shoved carelessly in the pockets of the designer jeans he's wearing. Chat Noir remembers that photoshoot vividly; Nino had kept him company for the shoot, and Adrien's best friend has laughed his ass off at the poses Adrien was asked to do,including leaning against a thin wooden wall covered in a sheet so that Adrien's clothes wouldn't get scruffy.
Marinette turns the page, and Chat Noir stills as her hand briefly leaves his hair so she can adjust the magazine. A second later the warmth of her hand returns, softening Chat Noir with only a touch.
He purrs, an instinct he can't quite control. It's almost silent, but in the quiet of the room, Marinette hears it. She lets out giggle, grinning as her eyes flick to the boy next to her. Chat Noir only nuzzles his head into her palm, and she tuts at him.
"Needy little kitty, aren't you?" she says, looking back at the magazine with a small shake of her head.
"Only for you, Princess."
Pink flushes form on Marinette's cheek, and she rolls her eyes at his reply. But she's still smiling, and that's when it hits him.
I can't lose you.
He doesn't know why he thinks it. Maybe it's the gentle way her fingers brush through his hair, careful not to move too swiftly, or tug too hard. Maybe it's the sunlight fading so much that he can't quite make out the freckles which are speckle her nose, and he didn't realise how much he enjoyed counting them until he couldn't anymore.
Or maybe it's because when he ran to her, exhausted and lonely and not knowing where else to turn, she had opened her door and tugged him into the room unquestioningly. She knew when words wouldn't help; instead, she'd let him make himself comfortable on her bed, and offered him comfort in the one way he'd never refuse.
And there's electricity every time her fingers brush his scalp, her nails skimming through the golden hair which is warmed by the tired glow of the sun as it seeps across her room.
Chat Noir tenses as the thought, unwarranted and unexpected, forms images he never wants to see: Marinette, walking away in anger, in heartbreak. Marinette, bleeding and still from an akuma attack. Marinette, one day just… not there anymore. Disappearing without a trace, without agoodbye-
He can't lose her, too.
Chat Noir can't speak, and suddenly the stroke of Marinette's finger in his hair isn't enough. He curls his body up, leaning to press his forehead against Marinette's knee. Chat's mask presses against the pink denim of her jeans, and his arms wrap around himself as his whole body tenses.
He longs for her comfort, but doesn't know how to ask for it. Instead, Chat Noir's breath hitches as Marinette's hand once again stills, and he wonders if she'll ask what's wrong.
He can't explain this. He can't describe the fear coursing through his veins at the thought of losing her, because it's too much, too hard to put into words. How can he tell her that he knows loss first-hand, and feeling it one more time – god, especially if it was her,how could he stand that? - could shatter his already fragile heart?
It would put too much pressure on her. And he knows that too much pressure could fracture the delicate bond between them, a glass rope binding them which would be so easy to shatter.
All it would take was one wrong question.
But she doesn't ask him anything. Marinette pulls her knee away from Chat, and slides her body down next to his. Her arms move over his forearms, her head burrowing into the crook of his shoulder as the tension in Chat's body seeps away with every second that Marinette is near him. He uncurls himself, opening his arms so Marinette can press herself closer, her physical presence the only reassurance he needs.
Chat Noir can't see the future. But right now, Marinette is here, with him.
He hasn't lost her yet.