AN: Volpina is Fox!Alya-I couldn't come up with a better name for her. This piece can be a continuation of last chapter, but I didn't initially intend for that to happen.

Nathanael's life had always been simple. He woke up, went to school, drew, and repeated. It was the norm for years. And when he'd met Chloe, his schedule shifted slightly to allow her time to berate and embarrass him.

He didn't mind that much.

He could deal with being criticized—as an artist, he'd learned how to take it pretty well—and most of what she said was already going through his head on a daily basis.

He just wished it didn't draw so much attention to him.

But of course, it did. And it made him so angry with Chloe.

—

Nathanael's pencil glided over the paper as if it had a mind of its own, and before he knew it, he had doodled his savior in the corner of his mathematics assignment.

Ever since Queen Bee had saved him, he couldn't get her out of his mind, just as he'd predicted. Perhaps it was just gratitude for saving his life, but Nathanael wondered if it might be more. He couldn't explain it, but he felt like he already knew her—already felt some thin but unbreakable cord connecting them even then over however many miles separated them.

Oh please Nath, he said to himself, You're an artist, not a poet.

He was already reliving the moment in his head.

—

Nathanael didn't know how it started. All he remembered was being the Evillustrator, hurting so many people, and one of the new heroes, Queen Bee.

She had been given the job of talking him down and distracting him. This gave him some pause. He didn't know this new person. He had no idea what she was like or what she could do. How could Ladybug and Chat Noir trust her already?

"Your name is Nathanael," she called to him. It wasn't a question.

"You're wrong," he replied. "I'm Evillustrator and I'm going to draw things the way I want them—without Chloe." He infused as much venom as he could into her name. He hated her. He didn't know why, but he did.

He watched Queen Bee's face contort into a grimace, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "What did she do to you?" Her expression seemed pained as she approached him cautiously, but he didn't fight her—something in him told him not to fight her, despite Hawkmoth's voice in his ear urging him to do so.

"I-" What had she done to him? How could he not remember? "I don't know."

She tilted her head for a moment, thinking about something, but he didn't wait for her to reply.

"Can you help me?"

This seemed to revive her, hope replacing the pain in her features. She blinked wide blue eyes at him. "Of course."

"I've always wondered…"

"Yes?"

"...what would happen if I erased someone."

Her light blue eyes got wider somehow with the realization of what his words meant—what it meant for her.

But she didn't run. She didn't even try.

She just watched as he removed his tablet from his pocket and flipped the pen around to erase her. It had always intrigued him how the logistics of that worked. Would Queen Bee still exist if Ladybug defeated him, threw her lucky charm in the air, and watched her magic return Paris to its proper state? And if she was still there after Ladybug took him down, would she hate him too?

But he would have to keep wondering.

Before he could erase this new hero, the pen was knocked from his hand and broken, shattered with the growing need to eliminate the very person trying to help him.

Nathanael could feel himself returning to normal, his mind clearing, and Queen Bee ran to help him stand—had he fallen out of exhaustion or fear of what he was about to do, what he would have done?

He looked up at her relieved face, her relieved eyes—he knew he'd never forget them.

—

He watched Chloe stalk into the room, a glare fixed in her eyes. It wasn't directed at anyone in particular, but it was challenging and lethal nonetheless.

She looked up at him, her glare softening before she looked away again. For a split second, those eyes looked like another person's, though he had seen them—and even drawn them—a million times before. While he thought it was impossible, he knew exactly where he had seen those particular wide blue eyes before.

As class began—which he barely noticed—he compared the similarities and differences between Queen Bee and Chloe in his head so no one could find his wandering thoughts. He didn't dare write them down—he had already ruined a corner of his mathematics assignment; he didn't even dare hold his pencil in case his mind wandered too deep again.

Despite their many similarities, including the colors they chose to wear, it all boiled down to whether Chloe would really risk her life for people she probably didn't care about.

Nathanael didn't think she was purposely cold-hearted, but he couldn't believe she'd go out of her way to help people she didn't know or like. Queen Bee could be trusted; he still had his doubts about Chloe.

No, there was no way Chloe could be Queen Bee.

Besides, Chloe was obsessed with Ladybug, and she and Queen Bee had an unspoken rivalry between them. It had always been about who was the better superhero, but Nathanael hadn't really cared…

...until Queen Bee brought him back from insanity.

Now he couldn't get her out of his mind and it was driving him crazy. And yet he didn't mind daydreaming about her all day. She was something new, something different from Marinette.

It wasn't that he didn't like Marinette, because he did; she was really sweet and kind. But Queen Bee was strong and decisive and actually seemed to care about him no matter how crazy or impossible that seemed.

Marinette was obviously in love with Adrien, and if that didn't work out, love wasn't real, so Nathanael had decided he'd get over Marinette. And it was going really well.

Then he'd met Queen Bee and for some reason Marinette just flew from his mind like a dream long forgotten and never to be remembered.

Then class was over, passing so quickly since Nathanael's head was in the clouds and he was wishing for a chance to see her again.

—

Nathanael raced down the street, trying to get closer to the akuma victim. When he'd heard word of another akuma attack, he'd left the school as soon as he could in hopes of seeing Queen Bee again. Sure enough, all four superheroes could be seen swinging around and fighting the attack a block away.

A crowd had built up around them, and when he'd finally pushed his way through the masses—something the shy part of him had never even thought of doing before—the fight was coming to a close. He couldn't hear it, but he watched as Ladybug threw her lucky charm in the air and her magic fixed everything that had broken during the fight.

The heroes began to separate, Ladybug and Volpina heading to answer questions from the crowd while Chat Noir and Queen Bee ran off towards home.

Nathanael followed her the best he could, running into more people than there even were in Paris.

Queen Bee dropped into an alley, the yellow on her suit reflecting the last rays of the dying sun, and Nathanael's shoulder met with a boy his height—seriously, where were these people coming from?

The boy turned to apologize, then seemed to recognize him. "Nathanael?"

He turned, more out of duty than desire. "Adrien. I'm sorry for bumping into you, but I'm actually in a hurry."

"Oh no problem. I wasn't really looking where I was going, to be completely honest, so don't worry about it. I'll see you around."

Nathanael watched an anxious Adrien continue down the street and turn the corner before turning back towards Queen Bee, wherever she was now.

He turned into the alleyway in time to see a flash of bright yellow light. When the light faded, he couldn't see anything—it was dark and he was practically blind from the flash—but he heard her breathing. Somehow he knew it was hers—there was no doubt that something else was in the alley with him. No, the rhythm of her unsure breaths confirmed this.

He had cornered her, he realized suddenly. He had caught her in the worst moment possible and now he was so tongue tied he couldn't even apologize. He was so frozen in place—wanting to stay and see her, talk to her, and wanting to fulfill her unspoken wish that he leave—that he couldn't do anything.

She finally stepped forward out of the shadows and into the light streaming from a nearby street lamp. "Nathanael?"

His breath caught in his throat when he saw her standing there, so helpless and tired; he really could not have picked a worse time to talk to her again.

But that didn't matter. Because he had been wrong.

He'd been wrong about who he thought she really was—both sides of her—and he felt guilty for assuming the worst and best of her simultaneously.

How had he ever been angry with her? How had he not trusted her?

She took another weary step forward. "What do you want?" she snapped, but it wasn't as forceful as usual. He couldn't tell if it was from her lack of energy or because it was him standing in front of her, seeing her as she truly was.

"I-" What did he want? Nathanael didn't know for sure, but he didn't want her to leave him here, and he didn't want to leave her either, so he'd have to keep her talking. "I thought it was you," he lied.

She scoffed, but it came out more as a moan; it was weakened by her emotional and physical conditions. "You didn't say anything."

"Why would I? I don't want to expose you."

"You don't?"

"No." He knew he should have asked her a question or made more of an effort to keep the conversation going, but he wanted her to understand that he didn't want to hurt her—she was already hurting so much. "No."

She frowned slowly, judging his words, and he didn't know what to do. Should he just stand there and await his punishment? Or should he plead his case—innocent—even if it was half lies?

She stepped forward again, but she was looking past him, heading past him. "I've got to get home before my dad organizes a search party for me."

He exhaled more breath than he felt he had in him. "Right," he agreed reluctantly.

She was moving again, more steadily this time, and he rotated to give her space; he knew he was the last person she wanted to see or talk to, so he pushed his own desires back down his throat. He'd let her process it, and maybe it'd finally kick in for him too.

When she reached the end of the alley, she made the briefest of pauses, and he took it as a sign. "I'm sorry," he called, and she stopped again to hear him out, but she didn't turn. "I didn't want this. Not for you."

He waited for a reply, or maybe just a look, but she stood still a moment before disappearing down the street.

Nathanael walked home with his hands in his pockets and his eyebrows pulled together.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid. Each time he thought the word, he used different intonation and emphasis hoping he might actually hold on to one of them for future reference. Stupid stupid.

He couldn't see her again. Not as Queen Bee and not as Chloe.

Not because he'd figured out it was her. Not because she hated him for it. Not even because he was scared of her—he had to admit he was a little.

It was because he didn't want to end up scaring her.

He didn't want to do something so big and final that it'd end up pushing her away. So he'd push her away, dreaming she'd come back to him, praying she'd actually want to. It was her decision now.

Rain started to fall and he turned his face towards the sky, letting it drop onto his closed eyelids and slide down his cheeks without any interference.

He'd let it pass by, but if it clung, he wouldn't wipe it away.

It was so beautiful, and he knew he should have gotten out of it before he got sick, but he walked in the rain—all the way home—not changing out of his wet clothes before he plopped down on his bed.

His idle eyes found his sketchbook.

He couldn't draw her anymore, he knew that much. It would be too painful to try to form her completely in his mind. It would be too painful to erase the lines of her face and make himself remember that he almost made her disappear—that he actually had made her disappear. It would be too painful to redraw the curves to make her look like her—make her perfect.

It would just be too painful to stare at her everyday.

No. He'd avoid her at all costs. To keep himself sane. But mostly to keep her sane. Because he wanted her happy, even if that meant she hated him.

Because he loved her.