Chat Noir met her opposite the Eiffel Tower, staff swung lazily across his shoulders as he walked the fence just as easily. "You rang, my lady?" Ladybug folded her arms crossly. "Uh oh. I know that look."

"Do you know who I am?"

"I have a hunch."

"Oh?"

"Now, don't expect me to spill my life story, my lady." He smiled flirtatiously. Ladybug flicked her wrist, her yoyo wrapping around his ankles and unbalancing him. He toppled backwards, arms flailing, back slamming to the metal bars of the fence. His staff clattered to the floor some distance away. "If I'm annoying you, you could have just said."

"That wouldn't make much difference." She sighed, hopping down to stare him in the eye. "Now, what were you going to tell the girl that runs the Ladyblog?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That's why I'm asking."

"Oh, bugaboo! You're always so serious! Oof!" Chat Noir landed heavily, legs tipped over his head. There was a thwip as the yoyo returned about her slender waist. He smiled up at her, those bluebell orbs locked on his own with an irritation on a level he hadn't seen before. He rolled into a sitting position, pushing a clawed hand through his hair. "I would like to set the record straight here- I will not ever tell anyone who you are."

"You don't even know who I am for definite."

"Well, five thousand year olds aren't very common. Are you a vampire? Do you vant to suck my blood?" He mimed throwing an imaginary cape across his face and guawffed. Ladybug cast her eyes to the pearly blue skies above. "Hey, secret identities are called that for a reason. I'm not telling anyone or anything, cat's honour." He held his right hand up, drawing a cross over his heart with the other. His teammate contemplated him for a minute, eventually deciding it was best to relent and help him up. "Aren't you going to guess who I am?"

"You're obnoxious."

"I prefer charming. Hey, if you keep doing that, your eye muscles are going to be the strongest thing about you."

"I will drop kick you over that fence."

"Where's this aggression come from, my lady?"

"Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"I take us seriously."

"Chat!" She reprimanded. "There is no us! No, shush. This is really serious, do you know what could happen if people found out who we are?"

"Does it matter if we know who we are?" She coloured furiously. "My lady, please. I can understand why you'd be upset and frustrated, but I have no intention of telling the blogger girl anything."

"Then why did you-?"

"Because I knew it'd get your attention." Her gaze fixed on him, uncertainty deep within the hue he adored so much. A crimson-clad hand passed through her ebony hair, the light of the streetlamps casting a blue-purple iridescence across the silky strands. Chat's hand reached out of its own accord, surprising her at the tentative touch caressing her cheek, the usually destructive talons so gentle on her skin. "Ladybug, I... I need to know who you are away from this disguise." Her brow furrowed, a question on her lips. Chat rested a finger against them, shushing her kindly, wanting nothing more to replace his digit with his lips. He was Chat Noir, suave and cool, the master of flirting and puns alike. Why did she do this to him? She only had to look at him and his heart flipped out, his stomach churned with hundreds and thousands of butterflies, his attention would not go elsewhere no matter how hard he tried. He was well aware her heart belonged to another, but to keep these feelings, this hot rush of overwhelming admiration and respect, the experience of wanting to flip and run for miles and miles, to feel well and truly alive... it was killing him, pulling at his insides, sharpening its treacherous grip on his very soul day by day, each time he saw her a stab at his cowardice to admit his true thoughts and feelings.

And, seeing her now, with him, them the only two people around, he had the perfect opportunity. He would not mess this up now, there was no need, there was no akumatised victim to darken his heart and turn him against her. He may not get this chance again. "Ladybug, I... what if we know each other? Away from all the masks and rules and heroics. Would you be able to love me then?" She did a double-take, blinking rapidly. What little hope had lightened his chest died instantly and he stepped back. "May I at least know the name of my competitor?" He asked coldly. Her expression tightened, pained.

"Chat, I- I can't... we... I'm sorry, but-"

"No. It's alright. I understand." He turned to go, her hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. "Ladybug, no." He detached her from him, his hold lingering longer than it probably should have. He had to forcefully pry himself away. "I'm not worthy enough of your love. I see that now. Goodnight." He bowed his head to her, kicking up his staff and poling away.

Ladybug stood there, a sudden chill warping down her spine. He vanished over the rooftops. A small part of her almost went after him, but what would she say? Apologising would have no effect, she had broken his heart, she had seen it in his face, the way he held himself, in his voice as he bid her goodnight. She would be the last person he wanted to see right now, but... but maybe Marinette could help him.

As Ladybug, she chased after him, keeping out of sight as he sprinted, leapt and scrambled over the city. He came to a stop in the park, landing in a crouch before the statue in their honour. He kept his head down. Ladybug landed behind a clump of bushes, detransforming. She peered round, seeing his shoulders shaking, sending rivulets trembling through his leathered form. Marinette crept back towards the entrance of the park, hopping onto the path.

"Chat Noir!" She exclaimed worriedly. He startled, a hurried arm snapping across his face.

"Mari?" He marveled. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I needed a break from my homework and I saw you come in. Are you alright?" His shoulders hunched defensively and he half-turned, messy blond hair tumbling over his eyes. His hands, just now so gentle and open, curled into fists, shaking almost as violently as he was. "Talk to me, Chat. What's happened?"

"Have you... have you ever said something you know you probably shouldn't, but you feel like you have to? And yet... once you say it, you can't take it back, it's out there, tearing strips from the very thing worth getting up for in the morning." He dragged his nose along the back of his hand. Marinette drew a tissue from her small bag.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I've really screwed up, Mari, and... I don't know how to fix it."

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"No. Ladybug usually has the answers."

"Can't you ask her?" He just looked at her, shoulders slumping. "Oh. Oh, Chat. I'm so sorry. If there's anything I could do, please. Just ask." Guilt coiled in her gut, preparing to sucker punch her, but if she was her other self, he would never stay to listen to her. Being Marinette was her best option.

"Thank you, Mari. But, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll take my snotty tissue and head home."

"Well, you know where I'll be if you ever need to talk." Again, the guilt, coiling tighter, pulling her insides in with it, wicked barbs digging themselves into her being. She, Ladybug, had caused this pain in him and she, Marinette, would try and fix it. But to span the gap between her and the superhero, she had to give this boy her undivided attention as Marinette and only Marinette. Looking at him now, never before had she seen someone so utterly and complete wrought with misery; unbridled, full-on upset so potent it affected him from head to toe- even his cat ears were lying flat. There was no cheeky flirting, no flexing and showing off or bragging or smug attitude. Chat thanked her for the tissue, bowed his head and took his leave. Marinette wanted to go after him, give the silly cat a hug, do anything to lift his spirits. But she didn't.