Here's the second chapiter everyone!

~Emotional Chapiter Warning~

Swinging through the streets of Paris, the dynamic duo settled on to a rooftop of a café. The sky was clear and the air was crisp. The smell of hot food and coffee set Marinette into a glazed over faze. She hadn't realized she hadn't eaten today. A handful of raisons along with her breakfast was all that she managed to squeeze in throughout her daily activities. Her stomach growled at smell, demanding some sort of food. Following suite to this growl she yawned, not realizing that the day had taken so much out of her already. With that she heard a deep laugh from beside her.

"Hungry Chatte?" He asked his partner, sitting down, legs dangling off the edge of the building per usual. She nodded slightly, taking in a whiff of the food again. "It smells like-" He began

"Éclaires..." She finished, unconsciously licking her lips at the smell, her stomach making another loud growl. She turned away sheepishly, patting her stomach; a slight blush spreading across her cheeks. Lady Beetle gave her a very quizzical look.

"Have you, eaten today?" He asked, all seriousness in his voice. His father had always told him the importance of a good meal, or at least, a few goods snacks to keep the body running.

"Um…." She shrugged it off, not meeting his stare, "kind of, I guess." She scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. It wasn't like she didn't ever eat. She did, she was just on a strict diet. But with all the extra work she did as Chatte Noire, she burnt more calories in a day then she could replace. This in which often ended up with her falling asleep in class due to lack of energy. She blew out a withheld breath and smiled at her partner, "no worries my love, I always get enough food." She winked, trying desperately to avoid or change the topic.

"Chatte….how much do you actually weigh….?" He asked, skeptically, he got up and prodded her side, causing her to laugh and step back.

"You should at least buy me dinner first, love." She countered, moving his hand away from her. Usually she would comply or be over the moon at the thought of her crush touching her. But for the moment she couldn't do it. She didn't want him to worry. But he stood so close, such a worried look on his face. It crept all the way into his eyes. His deep deep forest green eyes. They held such a comforting and familiar gaze. Like she had seen them in a dream, or a dream of a dream.

He couldn't look away either. Blue. Blue like the Caribbean Sea or the sky on a summer day. So blue. He could swim in them forever; get lost in the sparkle they held and in the curiosity they showed for him. They were awfully blue. Not many people had blue eyes like this. Nor did they have a wild frenzy of semi-curled hair that rested on their shoulders. Nor did they hold the tinge of pink that was always present on their cheeks. Nor did they-

Stop.

Heart racing.

Fidgeting.

Close.

So goddam close.

He couldn't. Not to her, not with her. He couldn't feel this with her. His heart had been torn and moved and flew for one girl and one girl only.

And to his distaste.

She was not her. She was no model. She was no saint. She was her, she was Chatte. With her flirty winks and stupid cat puns. She was Chatte with her bravery, and her blue eyes, and wicked smile. But she wasn't Marinette.

She was no better.

Panic.

Sweating.

Heart pounding.

They were so close. She could feel his breath, she could see how his chest rose and fell with every shuttering breath. They were so close. This couldn't be happening. All she wanted to do was kiss him. All she wanted to do was love him even more than this mystery girl ever could. She could love him thousands of times more than his princess. She would love him openly and forever. If only he's let her, it killed her. It killed her that she could never be his because he had thrown his heart willingly to someone who could never love him like she could. Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was here. Right in front of him. But he was blinded by this beauty, and by the way he spoke of her; she sounded like a goddam angel. Everything she wasn't. At least, as Chatte she wasn't. She's a real angel out of the costume. An angel with clipped wings and a ball and chain attached to her ankle. The thing that's confining her to earth and keeping her from flying away from all the weight and bullshit of her civilian life.

So she was the first to step away. She was the first to understand. That he didn't want what she was. He didn't want crazy, wild and free. He wanted the other her, the refined and wingless her. So she stepped back. "It's quiet tonight. No attacks." She said, looking out over the city. Loose hair following the pattern of the winds. "Go home Lady Beetle. I'll take the rest of the patrol." She mumbled and sit back down over the edge.

He wasn't quite sure what just happened, he wasn't to sure if he had done something wrong or not. Yet, he knew. He knew she understood the original feelings that laid heavy on his heart. He knew she couldn't win against Marinette. He assumed that she knew she couldn't win against Marinette. Even though she didn't know who his crush actually was. She knew enough. And without knowing it, he had crushed her. Squashed her under the compliments about his mysterious princess and left his partner breathless and dead against the way he fantasized about her. Without even knowing it, he had killed her determination. He looked away.

"Chatte," He started once more, taking a small step closer to her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it. The sliver of silver falling down her face. The sliver of water that streaked down her porcelain face and that with each inch it fell; the knife on his chest plunged deeper and deeper and further and further until he couldn't take it. Until he couldn't bare to look at her because the guilt had felt like some monster eating out his stomach. A twisted pit that he couldn't escape. The feeling that stayed all the way home. The twisting and the gnawing and the biting. The biting that filled his stomach that made his throat feel hot to the touch. It made his lungs shrivel so that he couldn't take so much as a puff of breath. It was cruel. Worse than torture. Worse than anything he's ever felt.

He fell on to his bed. The transformation wearing off and the small kwami flying to some other corner of the room. His blond hair bloked his eyes as he gazed out across his room. Quiet. Broken. Why was he broken? He wasn't the one who got rejected. He wasn't the one who's love just told them that they could never love them back. It wasn't him. And yet, it was. She was a part of him. And her pain, and her tears and her sobs were all his. They were all his and they stuck within his brain that rang out in awful cries. They wouldn't shut up. The image of her crying, it wouldn't leave. Why wouldn't it leave?

Tap.

Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

More furvent. Louder. Demanding.

He gazed up, black and blue met him. No. He wiped the tears away, opening the hatch. She fell on to him in a heap of tears and leather. This wasn't uncommon. She would often stop by. Chats and whatnot. After she had saved him from an Akuma attack, the two became well aquinted. But tonight, tonight was a night where he just had to hold her close. Willing himself not to cry while she sobbed in his arms.

"Adrien." She csobbed out the young boys' name, pushing herself into his arms ."He didn't return his feelings for me. His love for this other girl. I can't compete." She bawled even harder. He could say nothing. Just hold her; tell her it's okay. It would all be okay.

I'm sorry, this was a very heavy second chapiter, but I promise it will get better. I based this chapiter off my own life and my inspiration for this chapiter was as well credited to the poetry done by Shane Koyczan called "To This Day."