Chapter Text
Marc has never been on the Couffaine houseboat before, so he gazes at everything with a bit too much wonder as Rose and Juleka lead him onboard. There’s something cool and mysterious about living on a vessel on the water, as though you’re not tethered to this world and can roam as freely as you please. In Marc’s imagination, a houseboat is the kind of setting where the protagonist of a fantasy novel would grow up. Standing on the balcony, they would admire the gently rippling waves of the water and muse upon the peacefulness of everyday life — moments before being transported into another world. Luka and Juleka also fit his mental image of fantasy genre protagonists, and the plot of an unwritten story floats into his mind: two soft spoken yet secretly powerful siblings, whisked away from their serene home into a fantastical world to follow their destinies while finding their voices and fighting magical monsters side-by-side…
He may be romanticizing it just a little bit. At the very least, Marc knows he could never be cool enough to live on a boat.
“You should have brought Nathaniel,” Rose chirps, her peppy voice dragging Marc back to reality. “I’m sure we could have found a way to include him, even if he didn’t want to paint his nails.”
Marc swallows, a pit forming in his stomach at the mention of his friend’s name. “Ah, we kind of had… I don’t know,” he says. They hadn’t exactly fought, but he’s not sure how to describe their interaction with any word other than awkward. And it’s never a good sign when a writer can’t think of more than one descriptive word for a situation. “He probably wouldn’t have felt like it. I don’t think he’s, um, in the mood to hang out with me as much.”
“Did something happen between you two?” Rose squeaks in horror. “But you two are like — like two fated princes! Meant for each other!”
Rose’s fantasy is much more mortifying than his daydreams about the houseboat. While Marc struggles to quench the fire spreading to his cheeks and ears, Juleka places a hand on Rose’s shoulder and shakes her head. Marc is grateful for the intervention. It’s kind of Rose to root for their relationship, but Nathaniel doesn’t feel the same way, so there’s no point. Hearing the two of them described as fated princes makes Marc fleetingly consider jumping off the side of the houseboat.
“Oh, guests?” The voice is silky and deep, and Marc hears the question a second before he sees Luka step out from his bedroom. “Nice. Hey, Juleka and Rose.” He smiles gently at Marc. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet. One of Marinette’s friends, right?”
“Aren’t we all,” Marc blurts stupidly, but Luka just laughs. “Er, yeah. I’m Marc. Uh… Nathaniel’s friend.” The moment the words leave his lips, he winces. Why hadn’t he gone along with being Marinette’s friend? Bringing up Nathaniel every time he breathes makes him look pathetic. Marc’s identity seriously needs a makeover. This whole interaction would be so much easier if he were Rooster Bold right now. But without the mask, that level of confidence is out of his grasp.
“Oh yeah, you guys write that comic about Ladybug, don’t you?” There’s not a hint of mockery in Luka’s soothing voice. “That’s really cool. I like writing too, though I mostly do songs. I can’t imagine writing the same story for that long. You guys are really dedicated.”
“It’s not much,” Marc mumbles, shrinking away from the praise. Luka is just a little too handsome for Marc to relax around him, and even though his heart belongs to someone else, it doesn’t make it any easier to face a guy who’s pretty much perfect. It’s much easier to talk to Nathaniel, who, despite Marc’s crush on him, is just awkward enough that Marc doesn’t get as tense around him (their recent conflict notwithstanding).
“Nah, it’s impressive,” Luka says. “You’re very talented. And hey, as an aside, I like your nails.” He waggles his own painted fingernails in front of Marc.
“Th-thanks,” he stammers. “Um. Yeah. Thanks. Yours too.” Rose and Juleka have stepped away from the conversation, leaving Marc talking to Luka alone, which — um — what is he supposed to say? How is he supposed to act? “And your hair, you’ve got nice hair.” Not like that, Marc. Now it just sounds like he’s flirting, and badly. “Not just your hair, you — you’re also nice. Sorry. I’ll stop talking now.”
“No need to stop.” Luka shakes his head. “Thank you for the compliment. I think you have a lovely melody. It’s very gentle, but I can barely hear it. Like you’re playing the quietest pianissimo, even when you don’t need to blend into the crowd.”
“U-um.” Marc feels very seen, all of a sudden, yet at the same time he’s not exactly sure what Luka is talking about. “Do you, um, use music metaphors a lot? It’s… very poetic.”
Luka chuckles. “It’s the best way I know how to express myself,” he admits sheepishly. “I like music, and people are kind of like music to me too. Everyone’s got their own song they play by how they act and speak, and their personalities. Sorry, I know it’s a little dorky. I thought maybe as a writer, you’d understand it?”
It’s surprising to see Luka get embarrassed, but it helps Marc relax somewhat. He nods. “I do get it,” he says. “Nathaniel’s like that too, I guess. His emotions come out clearest in his drawings.” Once again, he finds himself bringing up Nathaniel when he should be talking about himself. “I don’t know how to, um, raise the volume on myself. Blending in usually seems safer.”
“Really?” Luka blinks. “Not to assume anything about you, but I feel like there’s more to you than that. A louder voice in your heart that’s trying to break out.”
“What kind of voice?”
Luka thinks. “A real rockstar kind of voice. Someone who’d kill it on a big stage.”
He thinks of his recent behavior as Rooster Bold and blushes. “There’s nothing like that in me,” Marc insists. “Really. You’re better on the stage than I could ever be in a million years. Actually, I think if I had to perform something in front of a ton of people, I’d probably throw up.” (In fact, he feels a bit queasy right now, just talking about it to one person.)
“You don’t have to put yourself down,” Luka says gently. “But I get it. Sometimes it’s hard to speak up about things.” His eyes glaze over with something wistful, but it passes quickly. “I’d never judge someone for having stage fright. You remind me of my sister in that regard.” He smiles. “And she’s got a loud inner voice, too. I can see why you get along.”
He isn’t sure how to put up with gentle compliments, so he diverts the subject. “This is a bit unrelated, but I wanted to ask — are you doing okay? I heard you and Marinette…” When Luka visibly flinches, Marc backtracks. “Oh, oh no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. You just looked kinda sad for a moment, and it reminded me that you’re probably feeling — well, I didn’t mean… I mean, we don’t know each other, so that was really nosy of me. Forget it.”
Luka manages a smile. “It’s okay. I was just surprised. People don’t usually ask me about our breakup. I assume… they usually ask Marinette. She’s friends with everyone.”
Marc swallows. “Oh. W-well… I care about your feelings too. I promise I won’t tell her, if you want to, um, talk your feelings out. I know we’re not that close, so maybe that’s presumptuous of me…” Presumptuous, a nerd word that a lame writer would use. Marc cringes internally.
He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine,” Luka says. “She’s… dealing with something personal. I want to be there for her, but I can’t, so I don’t really blame her for pulling away. It's complicated, but it's not her fault. Just… check up on her, okay? Things are a little weird with us right now, but I don’t want her to be alone.”
Listening to Luka, it strikes Marc that he’s looking in a mirror, and it’s unexpectedly painful. It doesn’t matter how I feel, as long as Nathaniel is okay. How long has he been telling himself that lie? And now Luka is before him, a boy who usually seems so calm and collected, echoing similar self-sacrificial thoughts.“Marinette’s not even all that,” Marc blurts, horrified at the words that came out of his mouth — that’s your friend you’re badmouthing! — but unable to take them back. “She — she got me akumatized, after all!”
Luka blinks. “Did she? I’ve never heard about that.”
I’m so sorry, Marinette! “She was trying to help me impress my… um, someone I really admired. But her advice was pretty terrible, and I was humiliated, so she can be insensitive too, in her own way.” Maybe hearing a perspective that Marinette isn’t perfect will help ease Luka’s grief over their breakup? “I mean, it worked out in the end for me, but it was still terrible advice. So if she upset you, you’re allowed to be mad at her. Your feelings are important too!”
Luka purses his lips. “I know she’s not perfect,” he murmurs as though reading his mind, and Marc regrets saying anything. “But I get where you’re coming from. Still, when you like someone, it hurts, but you want to forgive them, you know? Even if the best way you can support them is at a distance, and it feels a bit helpless. Ah, sorry. I don’t want to burden someone I just met with my problems.”
Mustering up whatever Rooster Bold courage he still possesses in his civilian form, Marc places a hand on Luka’s shoulder. “Don’t feel silly,” he murmurs. His hand feels awkward and clumsy just resting there, so he gives Luka’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I really appreciate you sharing any of that with me, so thank you. And you, um, can do it any time you need, if you want. Sharing, I mean. I’m in a different class as Juleka and Marinette, so I’m not gonna tell them anything.” In a softer voice, he adds, “I understand not knowing how to help the people you care about.”
“You’re a good guy, Marc,” Luka says. “Maybe at some point, once I’ve had a little space from it, we can talk more together. Thanks for listening too.” He smiles, this time more genuine. “Just now, that rockstar voice of yours kind of came out a little.”
“Ah…” Marc doesn’t know what to say, but he’s surprisingly happy hearing Luka’s words. Is there really some sort of hidden confidence in his soul he can tap into, even when he’s not wearing the mask?
More importantly, how will he ever feel confident offering Luka advice if he can’t take it himself?
So, Marc likes someone.
Huh.
Nathaniel chews his lip. It would explain why Marc has been so dodgy lately. It hadn’t been about the comic at all, but rather his own feelings.
It’s just my own thing I’m working out. Internally. It’s not your fault.
It’s not his business who Marc has feelings for, but Nathaniel can’t help but be curious. Clearly it’s not Caprikid based on the way Marc interacts with him (seriously, could he have been any less enthused about the flowers? And that was Nathaniel trying his best!) and he’d fervently denied liking Nathaniel as well (which Nathaniel had thought would have come as more of a relief, but the denial had actually irritated him somewhat).
Then… who?
Perhaps it’s just a boy from Marc’s class that he doesn’t know. Yes, Nathaniel is discounting all the girls for now. He’d seen Marc talking to Juleka and Rose a few times recently, but those two are openly dating one another. He also just can’t see Marc ever showing that kind of interest in a girl, no matter how hard he tries to picture it. It’s unfair since they haven’t ever directly spoken about it, but even with Nathaniel’s "terrible broken gaydar" (according to Alix) he’s fairly certain his friend is into men. If he wasn’t so afraid to be wrong and humiliate Marc, he would have already asked for confirmation.
With that hypothesis in place, who in the world could Marc have feelings for? And for a long time, too? He thinks about the boys in his own class. Maybe one of them? Even though Marc likes soccer, Kim seems too rambunctious, too much of a jock, to be his taste. Max is wholeheartedly immersed in robotics, Ivan is already dating Mylene, Nino is already dating Alya, which leaves —
…There’s no way Marc could be into Adrien Agreste, right? But why not, exactly? Adrien is very smart, kind to everyone, and objectively attractive, considering he works as a model. All of those qualities seem within Marc’s tastes. If not Adrien, then maybe he’s into Luka Couffaine. The thought strikes him with a painful bolt of realization. Luka recently broke up with Marinette and is available. Is Marc befriending Juleka because her hot and perfect brother (again, hot objectively, from an artistic perspective — he’s not weird for thinking that — is he?) is now single, and — ?
Wait, why am I even acting like I know Marc’s tastes?
Suddenly aware that his jaw is clenched and his fists are balled up so tightly the blood is draining from his knuckles, Nathaniel forces himself to take a shuddering exhalation, shaking out his hands so his wrists don’t cramp up. Relax, idiot. Marc would never befriend someone to get to someone else. He’s not that kind of person. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he’s shocked by how agitated he feels. There’s no reason to be so invested in this when it’s not his business at all.
But if Marc starts dating someone, then he’ll have someone he cares about more than me.
That’s a terrible thought. Marc’s his friend, not his pet. Of course he’s allowed to like other people. It would be weird — no, not just weird, creepy — to isolate him like that. But I want to be someone’s most important person. Marc will lose interest in the comic, and him, if he finds someone better. And finding someone better wouldn’t even be hard, because he’s been an awful friend. The only reason Marc likes him is because he doesn’t hang out with other people much. Five minutes with anyone nicer and he’ll realize that he’s wasting his time with Nathaniel. He’ll realize, and…
But he can fix this, he thinks. He can send Marc an apology for being pushy, and take responsibility for the stuff he said, and then tell him he can confide in Nathaniel no matter what’s going on, because they’re best friends. You can trust me. (Can he?) It should be so easy. Nathaniel pulls out his phone, opens their text string.
Closes it. Opens it.
Closes it.
Okay, it’s not that easy.
Idly he swipes up with his thumb, scrolling through some of their old messages from weeks back, before the drama with the comic, before Nathaniel had been burdened with that stupid Miraculous in the first place. There’s a whole string of messages where Nathaniel had sent Marc pictures of doodles from class. One of them features Chloe with devil horns shouting at the teacher, an illustration he’d texted Marc during class during one of Chloe’s outbursts. Marc hates answering his texts at school, because unlike Nathaniel he actually pays attention to the lessons, but he’d snuck his phone under the table to reply nonetheless.
Your class is way more interesting than mine. It’s like a constant soap opera over there lol
And then a follow up: don’t get caught
Nathaniel smiles at the memory. He had smiled at the time too, which had gotten his phone confiscated by Miss Bustier for the rest of the day, but it had been worth it.
He wishes he could text Marc a doodle now, something to make him laugh or to ease his spirit. Expressing himself through art has always been easier than using words. Marc is the words guy, and Nathaniel…
…is the anxious idiot who can’t text his own friend.
He sighs, running a hand through his bangs, and turns off his phone.
If Marc was truly as brave as Luka thought, he would have approached Nathaniel immediately the next afternoon and worked to smooth things out before the tension between them got any worse. Instead, he scrambles to throw his notebooks into his backpack after class and beelines out of the classroom with singular focus, poised to use his soccer-trained sprinting capability to run away from school.
Before he can finalize his escape, he notices Kim, one of Nathaniel’s classmates, standing at the end of the hall, waving wildly in his direction. Marc glances to the left and right, but there’s no one else around, which can only mean that for some unfathomable reason, Kim is trying to get his attention. He doesn’t have anything against the guy, but they’re also not really friends? Barely acquaintances, Marc thinks, although it had been fun to play soccer with him. Kim isn’t someone Nathaniel talks about much, because they’re too different — or, to put it a bit more directly, because Nathaniel doesn’t have a sporty bone in his body and thus doesn’t care about him. Certainly, then, Nathaniel doesn’t talk about him to Kim either. So why…?
He approaches hesitantly, not sure what’s going on. “Um… hi?”
“Marc.” Kim leans in, whispering conspiratorily in his ear. “I’ve got a big problem. Meet me at the soccer field. Don’t bring your boyfriend.”
He doesn’t even have time to protest that final word before Kim runs off in the other direction, comically swinging his arms like he’s running the 100 meter dash as he vanishes around the corner. Don’t bring my…? Right, he must mean Nathaniel, Marc thinks, lightheaded at the thought. Boyfriend. How many people have the wrong impression about their relationship? Miss Bustier’s whole class? The entire school? The whole world, at this point?
Nathaniel hasn’t left the classroom yet — knowing him, he’s probably checking his bag meticulously to make sure his iPad isn’t damaged or his sketchbooks aren’t wrinkled — and Marc takes that opportunity to slip away from school, following behind Kim at a non-sprinting pace. He doesn’t know what this is about, or what in the world Kim of all people could possibly need him for, but he hadn’t had a chance to refuse the invitation. And why the soccer field, exactly? If Kim just wants to kick a ball around, he wouldn’t have sounded so urgent.
It doesn’t surprise him to find Kim kicking goals by himself when he arrives at the field, pumping his fist in the air every time the ball smacks the net before running to retrieve it and repeating the cycle. “Kim?” Marc calls out. “Did you want to… uh, play soccer? We could kick some goals if you'd like. It's more fun than doing it alone.”
“Oh, hey,” Kim calls out, kicking the ball over to Marc, who stops it with his foot. “Nah, not really. I just prefer to have my body moving, ya know? And I remembered you liked being out here the other day, so I thought it would be a good place to ask for advice.”
Kim’s logic is questionable, but Marc lets it go without comment. “Advice from me?” he squeaks. “Um, I’m sorry, but I’m not very good at giving advice to people.”
Kim shakes his head. “Nah, you’re the only one I can ask.” He stretches his arms out in front of him. “I wanted to know, how did you know you were into dudes?”
Marc stumbles forward, and the ball slips out from under his sneaker, rolling back over to Kim. “H-huh? Huh?” All the worst case scenarios run through his mind at once, images of Kim laughing at him, or outing him to the school or his class, or saying something to Nathaniel. That third option is definitely the worst. He tries to steady his wobbling legs to avoid collapsing. “What — why —?”
“I might like a guy,” Kim blurts, his cheeks turning pink. “I can’t ask anyone in my class to help me, dude! It’s weird because everyone knows me, so it’s gotta be you.”
Oh… Marc’s painfully beating heart slows to a more manageable speed. He’s really got to stop jumping to the worst conclusions without getting context first. “I — okay,” he says hesitantly, though he knows he’s also blushing now. “But, um, Nath. He, um. Doesn’t actually know that I — so, umm. If you could. Maybe. Not say anything. To him.” Can this guy even keep a secret? Who knows. Putting his dignity in Kim’s hands doesn’t seem particularly safe.
“Huh, really? I had no idea,” Kim says. “I thought you two were like, super going out.”
“Um… no?”
Kim frowns. “How does he not know, anyway? You’re like, the most obvious person with all that. You know how people say that they get heart eyes when they look at someone? I don’t get it all that much, and when I look at you, even I —”
“I get it,” Marc interrupts. “Wasn’t this supposed to be about you?” Perhaps it’s a harsh thing to say to someone struggling with their identity, but — please, please stop talking about my obvious crush on Nathaniel, I may actually die.
“Oh, yeah,” Kim says cheerfully, unfazed by Marc snapping at him. “But…” The blithe grin on his face doesn’t last, and he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “How do you know if you really feel that way about someone?”
“If you’re asking me for help, then you must already know you do,” Marc reminds him quietly. “But it can be hard. To feel different.” He swallows. “Who, if I may —”
“Max,” Kim blurts.
“Ah.” The best friend conundrum, Marc muses bitterly, where you want to confess but don’t want to ruin the friendship. Sounds awfully familiar. “Does he… like guys?” Of all the people to have this conversation with, and it’s Kim. Well, weirder things have happened. After becoming a rooster-themed superhero with a mohawk, he supposes anything is possible.
“I dunno,” Kim says with a shrug. “He’s always hanging out with Markov. Or me, I guess. I don’t think he’s ever had a crush on anyone?” He blinks. “What if he’s one of those, like, guys who are into robots, and he’s building some kind of robot girlfriend in his basement or something?”
“That seems unlikely,” Marc says, trying to keep a straight face for Kim’s sake. “Uh, at least the second part. Does he even have a basement?”
“It could be a robot boyfriend,” Kim mutters, his brow furrowing. “Or — what’s it called when it’s not a boyfriend or girlfriend? The other thing?”
Marc blinks. “Nonbinary?”
“That’s the one!” Kim snaps his fingers. “Wait — isn’t binary a robot thing too? I’ve heard Max mention it before when he’s typing on his laptop. Maybe I’m really onto something here!”
Okay, time to change the subject. “Well, maybe you could just ask,” Marc says. “How he feels, I mean. Um, why not go with the easy route?” Hypocrite, his brain reminds him unkindly, but he tries to shake it off. “Then you’d know for sure one way or the other.”
“Huh?” Kim blinks. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Well, I guess I thought about it a little, but it didn’t go so well when I asked Chloe before. Max is way nicer than Chloe, though.” Sheepishly he scratches his head with one finger. “Mm, yeah — sure, I’ll just ask! You’re right, that does sound easy.” With a wide hand he claps Marc on the shoulder, and Marc jumps at the sudden contact. “Thanks, man! Wish me luck, okay?”
“Sure,” Marc says, a bit stunned that Kim had agreed so quickly to something that had paralyzed him with anxiety for months. “Good luck.” Is he the one being a coward, then? If he just asks Nathaniel directly, just takes his own advice for once, then…
No, I can’t — no matter what, I can’t do that! It’s different! It'll ruin everything! I don't have anyone else!
Kim is grinning from ear to ear, oblivious to Marc’s inner turmoil. With a quick thumbs up, he sprints across the field and away, vanishing at the speed of a seasoned athlete.
Marc swallows. He almost wishes he could take back his advice. There’s an awful part of him, not even that deep down, that isn’t sure he’ll be happy if Kim succeeds. Not that he’d actively wish failure on anyone, but it seems unfair that Kim is willing to confront his feelings so easily, without any second thoughts, when confessing is supposed to be difficult.
Marc closes his eyes and heaves a shuddering sigh. He knows he should go home and let Kim handle his own problems. Still, there’s a part of him that’s curious about how the confession will go. Maybe it’s the writer in him looking for a story, or maybe he’s interested from a selfish, almost voyeuristic perspective, because there’s a part of him that can’t help but be invested in other people’s romances as a vicarious substitute for his own emptiness. Maybe he’s hoping that his advice helps someone for once. Or maybe the akumatized self who still exists in his heart wants to see Kim fail, that petty part of Marc who wishes he could ruin the happiness of others just so they would feel a fraction of the inner turmoil he lives with every day, forcing them to understand how awkward he feels in his own body and how much shame comes from just being himself.
While his mind is still deciding on the best course of action, he walks back to campus in a daze. He’s not satisfied with how he left things with Nathaniel, either. (Maybe he should have asked Kim for advice in return. Hah.) If he can catch Nathaniel before he goes home, there’s still a chance for the two of them to talk things through. As it stands now, the awkwardness between them is festering to a dangerous degree, so tangible it has practically taken the form of a third person who stands between them, blocking their view of one another.
“Hey, Marc — were you trying to embarrass me?”
Marc jolts at the voice, accusatory and familiar, and a shadow falls over him. It’s Kim’s voice, but the cadence is wrong, low and unnaturally dark. He looks up. The person he’d spoken to just minutes prior didn’t have imposing black wings striped with red nor a bow and arrow as tall as his body strapped to his back. What looms before him now, bristling with hurt and fury, is no longer Kim, but rather Dark Cupid, an akumatized villain.
Since working on the comic with Nathaniel, Marc has gained encyclopedic knowledge of all known akumas and their abilities, much like a fan of DC Comics might study Gotham’s supervillains. (He and Nathaniel have had many debates about this topic. Nathaniel continues to insist that the Riddler is the better villain because he uses his wits to create overcomplicated and absurd puzzles that are fun to read about in comic form, whereas Marc argues that the Scarecrow is much more terrifying, as anyone can be paralyzed with fear.) He knows that Dark Cupid possesses the unique ability to transform feelings of friendship and love into hatred, and that these powers had originally spawned from Chloe’s cruel rejection of his feelings.
Marc takes a step back. Kim had been fine a few minutes ago, and even seemed enthusiastic about confessing to Max. Surely nothing had transpired in that brief period that had stirred his emotions so negatively that —
Ah… the confession.
He must have run to Max and been rejected immediately, Marc thinks, and Hawkmoth can take advantage of a person’s anguish in mere seconds. Unintentionally, by giving Kim such bad advice, he had given Paris’s worst villain an easy pawn. “I messed up,” Marc whispers, shrinking away from Dark Cupid. “I should never have encouraged you like that. I should know better than…” Than to think a confession like that would ever go well. That sort of thing only happens in romance novels and movies. And movie adaptations of romance novels.
A gust of wind tousles Marc’s bangs as Dark Cupid flaps his wings languidly, glaring down at him with a sneer. “Your advice really was lousy,” he says, pointing the tip of his bow at Marc accusingly. “I told him my feelings just like you told me to, and he just stood there with his mouth open — then turned around and ran off. What’s the point of confessing if it doesn’t work, huh?”
“I’m sorry,” Marc whispers. “I didn’t want to discourage you and tell you that it might go wrong.”
“You hurt me,” Dark Cupid accuses, nocking an arrow and pointing it at Marc in one fluid motion. “Max won’t even talk to me now. So now I’ll punish you for your bad advice. That seems fair, right?”
Marc can see the lines of Kim’s jaw clenching even under the mask of his costume, and he flinches. He knows Dark Cupid’s powers come from his arrows, and he also knows he should run, but a wave of resignation washes over him, draining the fight out of his body. Kim is right — it is his fault, and he deserves the retribution. He’s terrible at giving advice, and a terrible friend.
“I hope you enjoy hating your boyfriend,” Dark Cupid sneers. Despite the situation, Marc almost corrects him, but he holds back. It’s almost comforting that even in this heightened emotional state, Kim is still the same guy who never processes what he’s told.
Perhaps if Rooster Bold were here, he could turn the tides. But as a civilian, Marc is worthless against someone with superpowers. There’s no point in running, not when his fate is sealed.
Nathaniel wants to ask Marc to work on the comic with him after school, he truly does, but when he sees his friend flee into the hall after class, a flash of bright red from the jacket he always wears, the words crawl back into Nathaniel’s throat and fade away. Before Marc notices him, he ducks behind a wall to hide, burning with shame at his own cowardice. He doesn’t even know what’s causing it, other than a palpable, ambiguous discomfort he can’t shake off. It’s probably his fault, too, but he doesn’t know how to fix it, instead helplessly at the mercy of his own torment.
He peeks around the corner to see Kim waving Marc over, and Nathaniel grimaces. Since when did those two become friends? Nathaniel is barely even acquainted with Kim, and they’re classmates. Why is Marc so different? Just because he likes sports? Because Marc is friendly, unlike you, his inner voice reminds him snidely, and Nathaniel has had enough of this, whatever this is. Clutching the strap of his bag, he darts into the art room, fairly certain Marc has no intention of following him, since he’s hanging out with Kim, since he doesn’t need you anyway. Rose is inside working on something of her own, oversized headphones plastered over her ears as she scribbles furiously into a notebook, but he doesn’t acknowledge her when she tries to squeak out a greeting, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. He shuffles to the desk in the back corner and turns his chair to face the wall.
Absently he flips through his sketchbook, hoping to distract himself with inspiration, but his sketches of Rooster Bold are stiff in his eyes, and he quickly turns to a blank page to avoid looking at them. He has to draw something to get this awful feeling out of his chest, but what? What is cathartic enough to save him from his self-generated turmoil? His pencil moves on its own, outlining a heroic pose, a figure standing proudly before the citizens of Paris with bravery and their head held high. Nathaniel doesn’t know who he’s intending to draw, and the sketch automatically becomes Ladybug out of habit as he shades the dots of her suit and the highlights on her dark hair. He’s drawn her so many times that she feels like a part of him.
And yet, like Rooster Bold, he doesn’t know her at all.
Nathaniel shuts his sketchbook and rests his head on the table, closing his eyes. Part of him wants to cry, but Rose is only a few feet away from him; she would certainly comfort him if he started brooding publicly, and he does not want comfort right now. Ugh, Rose is nice, too! Why is everyone so much nicer than him?!
Nathaniel saw Marc leaving campus earlier, so there’s a chance they’ll run into each other if he heads home. He would rather hide out at school than risk that interaction — he’s just that much of a coward. Then again, on the off chance Marc comes back to retrieve something from school, he ought to leave the art room. Is there a place on campus where Marc won’t find him? Not even the bathroom will be safe. Nor can he hide under the staircase, since Marc used to hide there himself before they became friends.
“Nathaniel?” It’s Rose’s voice, and Nathaniel tightly squints his eyes shut. “I was going to go home, but are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Nathaniel mumbles. “Just go away.” He’s never been good at being kind, not even to his nicest classmates. Rose’s heart is as pure as a person’s can be while still being human, and she’s a friend of Marc’s now too, sp he should treat her gently. Yet all he can do in the face of her concern is curl up and spew venom. He should have been given the Miraculous of the snake instead of the goat.
Rose sighs, and after a hesitant pause he hears her footsteps recede. Good. Stay away from me. I’m the worst. When he’s certain she isn’t coming back, Nathaniel sits up and blinks his eyes open. The art room is completely empty now. Before he met Marc, he used to sketch in this room alone, in this very spot, his chair pushed into the far corner so no one could see him sketching and tease him for his stupid superhero fantasies. Now, most of his memories of the back table are shared with his friend, all the hours they’d spent laughing and brainstorming and encouraging each other.
Sometimes Nathaniel fantasizes about what school would be like if Marc was in his class and not the one below him. If Marc sat next to him instead of Lila, Nathaniel would be safe when the teacher called on him or when Chloe laughed at his art. When Miss Bustier grouped them into awkward project pairs, he could work with Marc instead of feeling like someone else’s second choice. And he’d feel comfortable doodling whatever he wanted next to Marc, who never judged no matter how ridiculous his ideas and always complimented him so earnestly.
The door creaks open, and Nathaniel rubs his eyes, expecting to see Rose returning for belongings left behind.
Instead, it’s exactly the person he’s been avoiding.
And exactly the person he’s wanted to see.
“There you are.” Marc’s lips curl into a sneer, and Nathaniel notes through his haze of depressed daydreaming that Marc is wearing some kind of black lipstick, an aesthetic which suits him a little too well. Could it be that his hangouts with Juleka are rubbing off on him? Not that a goth makeover would look bad on Marc by any means... “Of course I find you here, and you’re not even working on the comic. Too lazy to get it done on your own without me dragging you along?”
Marc’s tone is wrong, far too derisive to be natural, and Nathaniel scrambles to his feet, the situation clicking into place. As a self-proclaimed superfan of Ladybug, Nathaniel has paid attention to every akuma, keeping a mental file of their powers in case he wishes to reference them in his comic. (Paris’s infamous Mr. Pigeon has not yet made an appearance. He’s… not interesting enough to add to their plotline.) Everything about this, from Marc’s aggressive attitude to the black lips, is a dead ringer for the return of Dark Cupid. But why? Has Kim had another romantic crisis? Or — oh, god, surely Marc’s feelings aren’t for Kim , right? Is this the aftermath of some unthinkable confession gone horribly awry? The thought of Marc pining over that meathead makes him shudder. He’s so annoying! Even I would be a better choice!
Marc slams his hand on the table, and Nathaniel yelps, skittering back against the wall. “Can’t even be bothered to respond to me. Well, I guess I’m used to it by now.”
“You’re under the influence of an akuma,” Nathaniel murmurs, unable to refute Marc’s words at all. “Marc, please… we’re friends. You can fight this…” His pleas sound weak, and he hates his own cowardice.
“Friends? Really? You’re always pushing me around,” Marc hisses, taking another step forward. “Making me go along with your stupid ideas, making me lie to your teacher for you. You think you can do whatever you want because you’re so important as an artist, and I’m nothing compared to you. Even now you still think this is your manga, with me as your replaceable assistant. Isn’t that right? I’m just your uncompensated writer who helps your work get popular for nothing.”
“That’s not true.” Nathaniel swallows. “And that’s not fair either, about the ideas. Didn’t we agree to the vote? If you really wanted to stop me, you should have said something sooner.”
Marc laughs. “That’s rich,” he says. “You knew your classmates would overwhelmingly agree with you, and I knew it too, from the moment you suggested a vote. It was never in my favor in the first place. I had no say in the matter.”
He wants to argue, but on some level he knows Marc is right. “Well, how else are we supposed to decide when we disagree on something?”
“How about you just ask me directly? Or respect that I’m uncomfortable for once and drop it?”
Nathaniel winces, his bangs falling over his eye as he lowers his head. “Yeah, you’re right…”
“You hate Chloe, but you’re just like her,” he sneers. “So insecure that you need a lackey to step on to feel like you’re worth anything. I bet it felt great when you won that vote and crushed me. You got the power over me you always wanted.”
He’s always hated Chloe, especially after she publicly humiliated him in front of his class, so the comparison hurts more than any other. Is this what Marc secretly thinks of him, that he’s an insufferable tyrant? Does Marc consider himself Nathaniel’s sycophant, someone who cowers before him? “I’ve never thought of you as my lackey,” Nathaniel whispers. “Not even a little.”
“Really? What were you thinking of me when you abandoned me to lie to your teachers to get you out of class?” Marc glowers. “Were you thinking of me as your cherished friend, or as your pawn you could use to make up excuses for you?”
Nathaniel shudders. “In that moment, I used you,” he admits, voice barely a whisper. “I did, I know. I didn’t mean to, but…”
“But what?” Marc sneers. “How are you going to make it better?”
“I don’t know,” Nathaniel murmurs. “Any way I can. If you tell me — ”
Marc jerks forward with the mechanical lurch of a puppet and grabs Nathaniel by the shirt, yanking him close. Letting out an undignified whimper of surprise, Nathaniel halfheartedly tries to squirm free, turning his face away when Marc raises his fist. “Why don’t we have a real fight? Hitting you would be cathartic for me, Nathaniel — and you did say you would repent in any way you could, after all.”
“Please, Marc,” Nathaniel begs. “I would never win in a fight with you. You’re stronger than me. And if I hurt my hands, I’ll lose my art, and it’s the only thing I’m good at, and —”
“Everything is always about you,” Marc snaps. “I don’t care. It’s about me right now. For once, shut up about what you’ll lose.”
“If I can’t draw, you won’t want to hang out with me anymore! It's the only thing I'm good for!” Nathaniel blurts out. “You’re my best friend. I would be completely lost without you. I don’t want to lose what we have. Please, can we just talk this out? I’ll listen. I’ll do better.”
Marc hesitates, his fist lowering slightly. “You’re trying to get out of things again,” he growls, but he’s a little unsure now. “You always do this. You act like you feel bad now, but you’ll pretend like this never happened, and start bossing me around again.”
“I promise it won’t be like that,” Nathaniel says. “I’ll apologize for everything. Let’s not fight. Not like this. You can rip into me when you’re back to being yourself, okay? With your words. You’re always good at picking the right words. Seriously, you can roast me in any way you feel like. I'll agree with all of it.”
“You promise,” Marc growls, shoving Nathaniel aside and letting go.
Akumatized or not, Marc is strong. Nathaniel loses his balance and stumbles to the floor in a humiliating show of weakness, catching his body with his palms. He winces at the thought that he may have hurt his wrists. Before he can stagger to his feet, Marc kicks him in the side, and the air whips out of his lungs. He slips to the floor and curls up in a ball, gasping for air and tears prickling his eyes.
Marc’s a soccer player. He kicks hard. Nathaniel hadn’t thought much about it before, but it’s actually impressive. What’s far less impressive is Nathaniel’s pitiful lack of pain tolerance.“You’re strong,” Nathaniel coughs between shallow breaths. “I... deserved that. You can do it again if it makes you feel better…” Painfully he uncurls his body and looks up at Marc, who’s standing over him with fury in his eyes, chest heaving and fists clenched at his sides. “Now I know how the ball feels,” he wheezes. “I’ll never make fun of soccer again.” How an unfunny guy like him manages a joke now of all times is beyond him; all he knows for sure is that could never be mad at Marc for this. The pain in his side is nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He just wants his best friend back.
In that moment, like a switch has been flipped, the black of Marc’s lips dissipates and his arms drop limply to his sides. He must have been released from the akuma, Nathaniel thinks, and he’s overwhelmingly relieved. Despite having given Marc permission to kick him again, Nathaniel really hadn’t wanted him to. He may have passed out if he had to endure another blow. “Ladybug must have won,” Nathaniel murmurs. Taking a deep breath, he lifts himself to a standing position on trembling legs. He can feel his pulse throbbing painfully in his side where Marc's shoe had made contact. “Thank goodness. Everything’s okay, then — Marc?”
His friend’s eyes are now filled with tears, and he takes a step back. “I’m so sorry,” Marc whispers, hugging himself. “I said horrible things to you. You hate me now, don’t you? I wouldn’t blame you, I —”
Still trembling from the adrenaline of their confrontation, Nathaniel steps forward and pulls Marc into a tight hug, resting his chin on his taller friend’s shoulder. He hears Marc whimper, but he doesn’t let go. Nathaniel has never been good with prolonged physical contact, and it’s still awkward now. But for Marc’s sake, and the sake of their friendship, he won’t let go. And there’s something nice, almost comforting, about Marc’s warmth, even as his friend trembles miserably against him.
A sharp pain shoots through his stomach while in the embrace, and Nathaniel inhales sharply. “Ah!” Marc steps away, green eyes wide like saucers. He looks like a trembling cat about to dart under a couch. “I hurt you.” It’s not a question; his head hangs in resignation.
“A little,” Nathaniel admits. Hurts like hell, actually. “It’s not your fault, Marc, seriously. We all do things like that when we’re akumatized, or whatever.”
“I’ve never hit anyone before, ever,” Marc whispers. “And you, you’re my…”
“It’s okay,” he insists. “I just need an ice pack or something. I’ll be fine, promise.” He attempts a smile, though he knows Marc won’t buy it. It’s hard to keep up the expression convincingly through the agony in his side. “It was kinda cool.”
Marc shrinks back. “What?”
“Seeing you act mean like that, like you were one of those delinquent characters in a manga,” Nathaniel continues, trying to cut the tension. “Only without the pompadour.”
“I couldn’t pull something like that off,” Marc mumbles, but he seems to be calming down little by little. “I’m not big into —” There’s an odd expression on his face suddenly, and he looks down at his feet. “Flashy hairstyles, I guess…”
Nathaniel isn’t sure how to respond to Marc's weird deflection. “It’d be a cool character, though. Maybe we can use this as inspiration for the comic. Turn this into a positive thing.”
Marc shakes his head. “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but I don’t really know what to say right now. I think I’m gonna go home.”
His crushing disappointment is hard to hide. Nathaniel had hoped that Marc might open up to him after all this. Instead, Marc is full of self-hatred due to the akumatization and is acting more distant than ever. He understands why Marc doesn't trust him after how he's acted recently, but it still hurts. “It’s okay,” he mumbles. “Yeah, um… go home.” More than anything, he fears their friendship is going to drift apart. If there’s one thing Nathaniel can’t handle, it’s the thought of being alone again. But the way he’s been treating Marc these days, he wonders if he even deserves to repair their friendship.
The first step is figuring out how to be selfless. It’s not something that comes easily for Nathaniel, who tends to focus inward. But for the sake of Marc, who deserves so much more than what Nathaniel has inflicted upon him, he’ll try anything — even to change himself.
Ladybug may have beaten Dark Cupid, but Marc’s memories of the ordeal remain. Upon returning home he flops on his bed, curls up amongst the blankets, and falls in and out of sleep. More than anything, he finds himself wanting to talk to Orikko, whose nonhuman presence is a comfort to Marc, who often feels different than other humans, out of place and detached from his body. But Marc hasn’t been called upon by Ladybug for a while, and he isn’t allowed to spend time with his Kwami — no, not his, the one he has the privilege of borrowing — outside of heroic missions. Still, he truly wishes Orikko was here to comfort him in that blunt and haughty way of theirs.
He falls asleep in his clothes without eating dinner and barely manages to drag himself out of bed the following morning, splashing water on his face and hauling his body to school against its will. The horrible words he’d slung at Nathaniel echo in his memories, as does the ripple of insanity and satisfaction that had coursed through him when he kicked his best friend. The worst part was that Nathaniel had been so kind and forgiving of it all. Marc had expected to upset him, but to his surprise Nathaniel had only shown worry for Marc. His usually selfish friend even admitted he’d be lost without him. I wonder if that’s true.
“Ah, Marc! May I speak with you for a moment?”
While struggling to keep his eyes open during his class break, Marc turns to the voice and is surprised to see Max of all people standing beside him by the stairwell, his posture rigid and hands clasped in front of him politely. Marc considers saying no, the events of the previous day too fresh, but he grits his teeth and manages a smile. “Oh, sure.” Already he feels a wave of panic washing over him. What is he supposed to say? Should he apologize for making things awkward between him and Kim, or just pretend it hadn’t happened at all? Could he get away with feigning ignorance entirely?
He isn’t given time to decide. “I’d really like to thank you,” Max chirps, grasping Marc’s hand with both of his own and shaking it wildly. “I ran some calculations with Markov, and the probability of me properly diagnosing my feelings for Kim on my own was abysmally low. I do not tend to feel the same way about feelings as others, but because of you, I was able to recognize that my relationship with Kim is something special. Thank you for pushing him to talk to me. I feel as though a weight I never knew existed has been existentially lifted.”
“What?” Marc blinks. “You feel that way about Kim? But he got akumatized, didn’t he?”
“At first, I was so surprised by his admission that I completely shut down and evacuated the premises,” Max admits, “and I believe Kim misinterpreted my shock as a rejection. I never imagined he would have been re-akumatized because of it, though…” Regret flickers across his face. “But in the end, we managed to communicate and discovered our feelings were quite mutual. Despite our stark differences, Kim and I have been friends for some time, and we have discussed many topics, but I have found we are a bit clumsy regarding this particular issue. However, we have now reached a new peak of openness about our feelings. And we have your guidance to thank for helping the dialogue happen.”
Marc feels lightheaded. “I, ah, you’re welcome?”
Max grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously yet again. Not for the first time, Marc is grateful that he hides under the safety of gloves to prevent others from noticing his clammy palms when he’s nervous or upset (which is most of the time). “That being said, I ought to return to my own class.” Max lets go with a nod, while Marc tries to ignore the sudden trembling of his legs. “Again, your assistance was most appreciated!”
A despondent gloom falls over Marc as he watches Max walk away with that well-postured, confident step of his. So Kim and Max get to resolve their conflicts in a single day? Their feelings are quite mutual, huh? How nice!
…Why had it been so easy for them?! They’re both boys, too! Surely at least one of them feels self-conscious! But no, everything had worked out in the end. They’re happy, and they get to be themselves with each other. Best friends, and potential romantic partners. And they have Marc to thank for pushing them to communicate. Marc, who can’t get his own damn feelings together.
“I want that too,” Marc mumbles. He ducks under the shadow of the stairwell and sits down, scooting his body into the safety of his own haunt, the secluded corner where he used to hide and write alone during class breaks before he met Nathaniel. He pulls his knees to his chest and huddles there. “It’s just… so unfair...”
Marc closes his eyes, succumbing to a haze of misery, and gives up on his hope to ever be loved.
The next day at school, Nathaniel can’t find Marc in any of their usual hangout spots, and he’s not answering his phone. After school, he tries to intercept Marc before he flees, but when he enters his friend’s classroom, the teacher tells him Marc had left early, apparently not feeling well. With a sinking feeling of resignation, Nathaniel returns home and waits all afternoon and evening for Marc to text him, to give him a sign he’s okay, alive, anything at all — but he is met with silence. His mind is too itchy for his hands to draw, so instead he curls up in bed, wincing at the pain of his bruises as he presses an ice pack to his stomach, and idly scrolls through social media feeds on his phone. Eight turns to nine and then ten, each hour of the black sky darkening Nathaniel’s mood.
And then, it occurs to him: in order to be a better friend like he promised, he has to be the proactive one, even if it’s embarrassing and difficult. He has to let Marc know that he cares about him.
Are you okay?
The text is met with silence, and Nathaniel scowls at his phone. Dammit, if he had Ziggy with him, he could transform into Caprikid and sneak out to visit Marc at his window. Sure, that would be weird and pushy too, but at least it would be possible. With the power of the goat Miraculous, he could scale buildings with a single hop and check in on his friend without having to wait for a reply. And he could use the power of Genesis to give his friend whatever gift would cheer him up in that moment. Marc had looked so defeated earlier, and Nathaniel had realized that his days lack color without Marc’s shy smile and nerdy enthusiasm. His life has reverted back to the days before Marinette had introduced them, when he was alone and convinced no one would ever truly understand him, a black and white hellscape of despair and self-loathing.
Nathaniel sighs. This train of thought is seriously unproductive. It’s not like the two of them have broken up. Anyone would be exhausted after being used as a pawn by an akumatized villain. He should let Marc rest for as long as he needs and talk to him tomorrow at school.
But he can’t resist sending another text: Don’t feel bad about earlier. I’m glad I got to hear how you felt. I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow.
The lack of response stings more than the purple bruises decorating his stomach. He rolls over and tosses his phone to the side, yearning for a text notification that never comes.
Did you hear? There’s another akumatized villain!
Seriously? But we just had one yesterday! This is getting really scary.
Chaos has erupted outside the school before the first bell, and Nathaniel arrives — barely on time after suffering through an almost sleepless night — to a flurry of hushed voices and anxious glances.
Why do we get so many more villains here than other schools?
I hear it’s because of Chloe. She’s mean to everyone, so everyone becomes angry. People are saying she might be Hawkmoth's spy.
But this time it isn’t even someone from her class!
Nathaniel digs his fingernails into the strap of his bag. Even the teachers are outside, huddled up and discussing something seriously. Their voices are too far away to hear, but Nathaniel isn’t the only person watching them.
Do you think they’re still going to make us go to class?
I don’t know. Maybe they won’t notice if I just go home…
That’s a good point, Nathaniel thinks. Any excuse to ditch school is a good one. He can just tell his mom that the school had an akuma lockdown and he was sent home. It’s technically not a full lie, which makes it acceptable. Maybe. If Marc was here, he would scold him for entertaining such irresponsible thoughts.
No, I can’t go home yet. I have to talk to Marc.
He scans the crowd for his friend’s class, but Marc isn’t standing next to Zoe and the others. Is it possible Marc got scared and went home already? Or maybe he still feels awful and didn’t get out of bed at all. In that case, Nathaniel should go over to Marc’s place and check on him. But then again, what if that train of thought is just his mind rationalizing skipping school?
Either way, he has to get away from this mass of students. Nathaniel doesn’t do well in large crowds, and the overlapping whispers of fear are starting to overwhelm him. He shrinks back and ducks away from the school, dipping into a quiet alleyway in the next block. He’s about to send another text to Marc when a quiet shadow falls over him, and he jumps, nearly dropping his phone as an apologetic Ladybug appears beside him. Despite not knowing her identity under the mask, just the sight of her still makes Nathaniel’s knees go weak, and he stands up a bit too straight to compensate.
“I’m glad I found you,” she says, her smile so pure and just that Nathaniel’s heart stutters. “I need your help, Nathaniel.”
“Me?” No matter how many times Ladybug calls upon him, he will always doubt his own worthiness. A coward who can’t even comfort his own best friend isn’t deserving of anything, much less the responsibility of a Miraculous. But Marc would be crushed to learn that Nathaniel has the incredible opportunity to be a superhero and keeps trying to turn it down, so he pushes through, forcing his words to sound confident. “Yes, of course, Ladybug. What do you need?”
She tilts her head slightly, most likely confused by Nathaniel’s change in demeanor. “I need your help,” she says. “As Caprikid. Because Reverser is back.”
Nathaniel freezes. Reverser’s first appearance had marked the shaky beginning of his friendship with Marc, a relationship that had almost collapsed before it began due to his own stupidity and immature assumptions. He can’t imagine Marc full of rage like that again, unless the catalyst is once again someone he cares for — and perhaps not just any someone, but the same someone. “Why?” he whispers. “Did I cause this?” He doesn’t want to ask, but he can’t look away from the answer, no matter what it may be.
To his relief, Ladybug shakes her head. “I don’t know what caused it exactly. But he’s your friend, isn’t he?” She smiles. “I could use the help of someone who knows him well. There’s a sentimonster on the other side of the city, and the akuma is being used as a distraction. Can I count on Caprikid to assist and fight the villain while Chat Noir and I take care of the sentimonster?” When Nathaniel flinches at the word fight, her smile turns sympathetic. "Or at least distract him."
Me, alone? What about Carapace, or Viperion, or Purple Tigress, or — ? Swallowing his doubts, Nathaniel nods, taking the hair clips from her and pinning up his bangs. Who is he to doubt Ladybug’s judgement? If she thinks he’s suitable for the job, he’ll step up. “Of course,” he says, more assuredly than he feels. He’s learned that a lot of this superhero business involves faking it and pushing through his nerves, even when he’s anxious he’ll fail. The stakes this time are even higher, because it’s his best friend on the line. If he can’t help Marc… no Nathaniel will help him, because he has to. The last time Marc had been akumatized, it had been Nathaniel’s insensitivity that caused it; for all he knows, it might be his fault again. He had never wanted to see Marc in this much pain again. All he can do now is try to get through to his best friend, even if it’s as Caprikid.
“I’ll talk to him,” Nathaniel says. “You and Chat Noir go do your thing.” Too casual! She’s your idol, remember? “I mean, th-thank you for trusting me. I'll take care of it.”
With a reassuring smile, Ladybug pats his shoulder, then swings away with her red and black patterned yo-yo, leaving Nathaniel in charge of a situation he can barely handle.
“Ziggy, bleat it.”
He’ll never get used to seeing his reflection own in windows as Caprikid, the horns curling atop his head a reminder of what a bad person he’s been lately. In art, goats are frequently drawn as symbolic of demons or the devil. His own shock of red hair cutting through an otherwise monochrome costume doesn’t do much to dispel the demonic imagery. Nathaniel wonders how the Miraculous holders manifest their costumes. Does the kwami assign them an aesthetic based on their subconscious self-image? And in turn does that mean he sees himself as a bad person who hates himself enough to wear black and white and fade into the background, even on a team of colorful superheroes?
Not that any of the symbolism matters when he’s been assigned a solo mission. Right now, Marc’s safety is the top priority, and that means Nathaniel will have to overcome one of his greatest hurdles: getting over himself.
Marc’s supervillain costume as Reverser is so stylish and clean. If the process of akumatization didn’t hinge on a person’s rage and grief, Nathaniel would like to see Reverser in action more often. His design invokes modern geometric art movements with its sharp angles and monochrome color scheme, and a painting of him would be right at home in an art museum. Just looking at him makes Nathaniel want to pick up an ink pen and draw. In addition to Reverser’s aesthetic success, reversing someone's whims and desires with a strike from a thrown paper airplane is also incredibly creative as far as villain superpowers go — and Nathaniel has read a lot of comic books, so he knows what ideas have been overused and overdone.
(He’s supposed to be stopping Reverser right now, not marveling over him.)
With the power of his Miraculous and his goatlike attributes as Caprikid, Nathaniel is bestowed with superhuman strength that lets him climb walls and leap across rooftops with ease. Though Reverser has a glider, Nathaniel is able to see him from his vantage point above Paris and catch up to him with little effort. Though he could have used the goat Miraculous’s power of Genesis to create his own airborne vehicle to fight Reverser in the sky, Nathaniel knows to save that ability for when the time is right. If he panics and uses Genesis too early, Ziggy will run out of energy, and he will have to detransform in the middle of the fight. This exact scenario played out during one of his first missions with Ladybug, and while she had been kind about the mistake, the embarrassment of having to flee the battlefield while the others continued to support the team still haunts him.
As Nathaniel springs from building to building, Reverser spots him from above. Before Nathaniel can reach him, Reverser swerves the glider in his direction and meets him halfway, appraising Nathaniel with a heavy-lidded look of disdain. The hoverboard has always reminded Nathaniel of the Green Goblin, but he doesn't think Reverser would appreciate a joke about being the "Black and White Goblin" in his current mental state. “Ladybug couldn’t even face me herself, huh? She brought the B team to take me down — and barely even a team, for that matter. How disrespectful.”
Nathaniel puffs up his chest. “Yes, the B team — which stands for baa-aa-aa — ” Unsurprisingly, the goat sound doesn’t bring a smile to Reverser’s face. I should leave the jokes to Chat Noir. It doesn’t feel natural at all coming from me. “You’re a good writer,” he calls out, still internally cringing at his attempt at humor. “Maybe you could write me some better goat jokes?”
Appealing to Marc’s talent doesn’t sway him. “I have a different idea,” Reverser sneers. “How about instead of wasting my time, you work for me instead of Ladybug?” He snaps his wrist, and Nathaniel barely avoids ducking out of the way of the paper plane.“There’s no need to resist,” he says, forming another plane with a look of distaste on his face. “I’ll reverse your alliance with them soon enough, and we can take their Miraculous together.”
“Is that what you want to change?” Nathaniel grits out. “What’s really hurting you?”
Reverser’s lip curls. “Oh, would you look at that? Caprikid is pretending to care about me again. I’m sick of your pity.”
“You know, maybe we would be a good duo,” Nathaniel says. “Our outfits kinda match, in a way. Monochrome and all. Maybe I should dye my hair?”
“Do you enjoy spouting nonsense?” Reverser tosses another paper plane his way, and Nathaniel jumps aside with ease. The next plane he blocks with a spin of his staff, and he can see Reverser growing more and more irritated. “Stand still and make yourself useful, worthless goat.”
“Do you want me to be useful or worthless?” Nathaniel teases back. “You’re sending mixed messages. I would stick to one adjective or the other. Using both makes your intent a bit unclear.”
Incensed by the mockery of his linguistic abilities, Reverser suddenly lunges toward Nathaniel and grabs him by the fur of his collar, yanking him off the building and hauling him onto the glider. Before Nathaniel can squirm free, he accelerates upward, increasing in altitude until the buildings of Paris look like toy blocks beneath them. “You think a goat can land on its feet at this height, Caprikid?”
One hand reaches for the paintbrush at his waist — but Nathaniel hesitates. Sure, he could use his weapon to smack Reverser away and break free of his grasp, but not only would that cause them both to fall, it would also require hitting Marc. What if he used too much of his superhero strength and hurt him? Ladybug is supposed to fix everything when the fight is over, but what would he do if, for some reason, she can’t? His bruises from Marc's akumatization still remain, after all.
“You aren’t going to fight me?” Reverser lurches the glider to the right, and Nathaniel stumbles but regains his footing in time. The force of the motion had almost sent him careening straight to the Parisian pavement. With a growl of frustration, Reverser sharply turns the glider left, and this time Nathaniel instinctively grabs on to him as he trips, now face-to-face with the akumatized villain with one hand around his waist. “Get off,” Reverser demands, but there’s something indefinably weak in his words, like he's losing the will to fight.
“If you wanted to dance,” Nathaniel teases, forcing his gaze upon Reverser’s face to avoid looking down, “you should have asked me sooner.” The black and white symmetry is mesmerizing to look at.
“You’re so annoying,” Reverser growls. “Let go of me. I hate that you follow me around pretending to care.”
“I do care,” Nathaniel insists. “More importantly, your friend, Nathaniel — he cares. He’s really worried about you.” With his arm around Reverser’s waist, he can feel his friend’s body jolt at the words.
“Nathaniel doesn’t care either,” Reverser mutters, but there’s less bite to it than before. “And he doesn't get it. How I feel. He…”
“He practically begged me to help you,” Nathaniel says. He doesn’t care if he portrays his civilian self as pathetic while in the guise of Caprikid, as long as his sincerity gets through to Marc. “And he said he was afraid he akumatized you again by being a bad friend.”
The glider has stopped midair, and Reverser’s anger has melted away to something profoundly anguished. “This isn't his fault,” he says. “It’s because I…”
Nathaniel holds a finger to his two-toned lips. “Tell him yourself. You don’t really want to be the puppet of someone like Hawkmoth, do you?” A soft breeze reminds him how high up they are, and he grins nervously. “You’re a strong person, Marc. If you shake this off, you can talk to your friend instead of struggling alone. Okay?”
Reverser’s expression twists painfully, and Nathaniel wonders if he’s resisting the mental commands of Hawkmoth as he himself once had. As Evillustrator, Nathaniel had been more focused on getting Marinette to like him than Hawkmoth’s mission of stealing the Miraculouses, and the supervillain had coerced him back on track by literally forcing his hand. Right now, Marc is experiencing the same internal conflict. If Nathaniel can get through to him, remind him that there’s something more important than Hawkmoth’s wishes, then Marc can reject the akuma with his own strength.
“I can’t face him,” Reverser whispers. “But if I used my power on him, reverse his indifference, maybe then he’d like me. Maybe then we’d be…”
He doesn’t know what Marc is talking about. Indifference? That couldn't be further from the truth. Marc is the most precious friend he could ever hope for. Without him, he’d be the same miserable loner with no confidence, hiding his sketches under the table while praying for every tortuous day of school to finish faster. Their interests line up too well, as though they were put on this Earth to work with one another. It’s like the plot of an anime, like they have always been cosmically destined to be partners. His happiness and comfort around Marc is unmatched by anyone else.
Yet at this moment, Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say. Without his civilian identity to prove it, anything he could say to reassure Marc would sound empty. “Don’t waste your time fighting with me,” he murmurs. “Face him. If it goes badly, you can, uh… reverse me later. Promise.”
Reverser chuckles, a soft laugh with no traces of Hawkmoth’s influence. “All right. But you better not forget your promise.” Nathaniel watches Reverser’s face as the akuma begins to dissolve, the harsh monochrome of his cheeks and lips melting away to a rosy pink. His eyes return to their former green, and in his relief, Nathaniel is struck by how pretty they are.
Before he can celebrate too much, Reverser’s glider dematerializes along with the akuma, and Marc, now himself, is left hovering in midair. In a panic, he flails his legs, and Nathaniel, who is still holding on to him, receives a painful kick to the shin. Great, that'll leave another bruise, I'm sure.
They’re both about to hit the pavement if Nathaniel doesn’t do something. “Genesis,” he shouts, letting go of Marc to flick his paintbrush-like staff at the rooftop below them. It’s a bit cliche to draw a giant cushion, like something out of a cartoon, but his mind blanks creatively as they fall, and all he can think is how to save Marc at any cost, even if it’s not the most stylish method. Marc yells, squinting his eyes shut, but the cushion pads his landing, and he bounces. Nathaniel bounces off a second later, catching Marc in his arms on the rebound. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly light.
He lands lightly next to the cushion, which magically dematerializes after he sheathes the paintbrush. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” Nathaniel says with a wink. Gripping Marc tightly in his arms, he jumps from the roof and walks down the side of the building perpendicular to the ground; it’s an effortless feat with the power of the goat Miraculous, but Marc squints his eyes shut and his fingers dig into Nathaniel’s arm as they descend. Upon reaching the ground, he steps off and sets his friend down as gently as possible. “Sorry, I should have warned you I could do that. It's a goat thing. I hope you weren’t too disoriented.”
Marc scowls with embarrassment, brushing himself off. “Where’s your partner?” he mutters. “Won’t he get jealous?”
“What partner?”
“The bird guy.”
“Rooster Bold?” Nathaniel tilts his head to one side. Of course Marc knows the names of all the superheroes, so pretending to forget is simply an act of pettiness. He idly wonders why Marc dislikes the guy so much. “We’re not really that close. Besides, I just saved your life, you know.”
Marc looks like he wants to say something biting. “I’m sorry for the trouble,” he relents instead.
“No need to apologize — you can thank me instead.” Nathaniel has never seen a more annoyed expression on Marc’s face, and he backtracks quickly. “Sorry, I was just teasing. I know being akumatized sucks.”
“You do?” Marc tilts his head and parts his lips to ask an obvious follow up question. No sound comes out, and he shakes his head.
The Miraculous begins to beep as it times out. It serves as a reminder that if he wants to ask Marc any questions as Caprikid, the time is now. “Is that friend of yours being a jerk again?”
Marc shakes his head rapidly. “Oh, I’m not akumatized because of anyone but myself. Er, what I mean to say is that it’s my fault. And he’s not being a jerk. Actually, he was very nice yesterday, and I ran away. I think the problem is me. No, it’s definitely me. Especially since I got akumatized.” Anxiety glazes his eyes over as he babbles. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him. You don’t need to get involved.”
“Hey,” Nathaniel interrupts. “The problem is Hawkmoth, not you. Everybody gets stupid about stupid things.” Not necessarily the most elegant wording, but he’s an artist, not a writer. “He just takes advantage of it.”
“I guess. Thanks for your help, Caprikid. I’ll… try not to let it happen again. But, um, I’m going to go home now.”
Skipping school isn’t like you. Nathaniel isn’t supposed to know that, so he keeps the thought to himself. “I have to go detransform somewhere in private anyway. Let me know if you need my help again, and I’ll be right there.”
“How am I supposed to let you know? I have no idea who you are.”
Nathaniel shrugs. “Dunno. Sounded cooler in my head. Don't worry about it. I'll see you around, Marc.”
After returning his Miraculous to Ladybug, who successfully defeated the sentimonster with Chat Noir and returned Paris to its former state, Nathaniel makes a beeline to Marc’s apartment. There’s no point in returning to school alone, and his mother will probably understand his absence if he explains that Marc had been akumatized and he wanted to check up on him. Akumatization has become common knowledge in Paris, an epidemic of supervillain transformations that typically target young children and teenagers with fluctuating emotions. These days, all parents live with the anxiety that their child could be targeted at any moment even at the relative safety of their schools, and that there is nothing they can do to protect them.
When he knocks on the door of Marc’s apartment, he knows his friend’s mother is at work and that they’ll have a moment alone if Marc answers the door. His chest tightens at the lack of response, and as he’s about to turn away and shamefully skitter home, the door creaks open slowly.
The emotional agony of akumatization takes a lot out of a person, and Marc’s face is unusually pallid, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. With the color drained from his cheeks and his tired expression framed by black hair, he eerily resembles his monochromatic alter ego. “Hi.” His gaze wavers, and he fiddles with his sleeve. “Why aren’t you at school?”
“I heard about the akuma,” Nathaniel admits, as close to the truth as he can manage. Marc deserves that much. “I was really worried about you.”
Marc raises an eyebrow. “So you’re ditching.”
“Uh… yeah. I guess — yeah. I’m ditching. But it's to see you?”
Shaking his head with disapproval, Marc sighs, stepping back to open the door a bit wider. “Thanks for checking on me. You wanna come in for a minute?”
Nathaniel nods, stepping across the threshold into the apartment. He’d been to Marc’s place a few times before, though they usually hung out at Nathaniel’s house since one of his parents was usually home at any given time. Marc’s mother worked multiple jobs and odd hours to support her and her son, which in turn gave Marc’s apartment a silent, lonely atmosphere much of the time.
“Mom’s not home,” Marc says.
“Figured,” Nathaniel says. “How is she?” He knows asking after her is stalling from discussing the issue at hand, but the concern is genuine. The few times he’d met Marc’s mother, he really liked her. She was sweet and soft spoken, much like her son, while also possessing a similar brilliance.
“Tired a lot,” Marc admits. “She usually comes home when I’m asleep, so I don’t see her as much as I’d like. But she’s been asking after you.” He smiles wryly. “She says she wants to make a big dinner for us sometime when she’s free and you’re here.”
Guilt gnaws at Nathaniel at his words. Marc's mother is equally as selfless as her son, and much like Marc, she thinks too highly of him. “I don’t deserve it,” Nathaniel blurts.” I’m a terrible friend. I made you so miserable you got akumatized again. Both times were because of me.”
Marc shakes his head, and his pitiful expression makes Nathaniel’s heart stutter. “No, don’t be so hard on yourself… I shouldn’t have fallen victim to Hawkmoth again. I couldn’t talk to you, and I was a coward…”
“Marc,” Nathaniel interrupts sternly, and his friend jumps. “You’re not a coward. And I’m not… a very good shoulder to lean on most of the time. I haven’t been listening to you.” Marc looks like he’s going to protest, and Nathaniel shakes his head, because he’s not going to let Marc take the blame over this one. “I’ll do better too. Okay?”
He holds out a hand to Marc, and it feels like when they’d first met, reconciling after Nathaniel’s outburst and Marc’s akumatization. Marc hesitates, then places his hand atop Nathaniel’s, and Nathaniel laces their fingers together, his skin against Marc’s glove. He’d been so distracted by Rooster Bold that he’d almost lost his best friend, his collaborator and partner. Holding Marc’s hand like this is a comfort. He wants to close the distance between them, dissolve whatever pain Marc is feeling; he wants to make sure Marc never feels this way again.
“Can you tell me…” Nathaniel breaks the silence. “If it wasn't me, what happened to make this happen? Er, I mean. Why you got…?” Akumatized, again.
Marc hesitates, then nods slowly. “Um, well… this is going to sound really silly, but… Kim asked me for relationship advice.”
He has no idea how to respond to that. “Huh? Kim? Really?”
“I was surprised too,” Marc says. “I guess he thought I could help, because I'm… erm. Um. He wanted to ask out Max, was the reason.”
Ah. “Oh,” Nathaniel says awkwardly. “But Kim got akumatized again, too.”
“I thought my advice had caused it,” Marc murmured. “I just told him to talk to Max directly, and he did. I guess it caught Max off guard, and he didn’t accept at first. I think Kim was just really upset, but…” He shakes his head. “Well, they worked it out, and Max even reciprocated his feelings. But I didn’t feel good about it. I guess… I was just being petty. I wanted them to fail. I… I was jealous that they resolved it and it turned out okay. That’s… awful of me, right?”
Nathaniel’s heart aches. He knows Marc likes someone, but only Caprikid is supposed to know that; he can’t say anything that would give him away. “You kidding me? Every time I see all the couples in my class being all lovey-dovey in public, I just want them to get lost. I totally get it.” He hopes whatever smile he’s putting on right now is coming across as sympathetic. “I get jealous all the time. If you’re awful, then I’m —”
“Ten times as awful?”
He flushes. “I’m that predictable, huh?”
Marc smiles, finally smiles. Nathaniel sure has missed that expression. “Yeah, sometimes. Um, thanks for listening to me, Nath. I feel like we haven’t…” His gaze drops to his feet. “Haven’t been… I don’t know. On the same wavelength lately.” Nathaniel can see Marc visibly struggling to admit this, can feel Marc’s fingers twitch against his own (oh, right, they’re still holding hands, that’s fine and normal). “I’m afraid of losing you.”
The delivery is meek, but the sentiment is so straightforward. Nathaniel is a bit taken aback. “No way that’s happening,” he says. As slowly as possible, he loosens his grip and pulls his hand away, a bit mortified he hadn’t backed off sooner. Marc doesn’t react, and Nathaniel isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. “And it’s my fault we’re not on the same wavelength. I was pushing all those ideas for the manga on you without checking if you wanted to do it or not. I think we should stop going forward with that Rooster Bold plotline… and just forget I even brought it up.” His crush on Rooster Bold isn’t Marc’s problem, and he shouldn’t force Marc to write fanfiction about it just because he’s too much of a coward to deal with those feelings himself. Even if he wanted to explain himself, he can’t tell Marc he’s Caprikid — that’s the number one superhero taboo.
Marc looks thoughtful. “We don’t have to stop it entirely. Plus, you already kind of promised our readers we were going to do it, didn’t you?” Nathaniel grimaces, thinking back to the pushy way he had taken a vote at school without considering Marc’s opinion at all. “I’m not mad. I just… need some time to think about it. And if there’s something with the current direction I don’t think I can do, then… I’ll talk to you first. And we’ll maybe have to change it.” Somehow, despite being taller than Nathaniel, his timid demeanor makes him seem so small. “If that’s okay.”
“‘Course. And feel free to tell me off if I do something else that upsets you.”
He expects one of Marc’s typical responses: no, I would never! Instead, his friend simply shrugs. “All right, will do.” The moment is gone in a flash, but Nathaniel swears he had just witnessed his normally mild-mannered friend showing off some serious snark. Has this always been an aspect of Marc’s personality that he just never noticed? Intriguing. Nathaniel wouldn’t mind seeing more of that side of Marc, even if the snark is directed at him. “Can we talk more tomorrow? I was going to lie down before you came over. I just feel kind of…”
“No, I get it,” Nathaniel interrupts. Considering how recently Marc had been akumatized, it’s impressive he’s even on his feet. “Sorry for coming by without asking first.”
“I’m glad you did,” Marc says. “Thanks for caring about me.” He smiles again, weakly. “I hope you don’t get in too much trouble for leaving school.”
“A lot of people went home. They won’t even notice I’m gone.” Their conversation is shallow, but Nathaniel finds himself dragging it out with vapid responses, not wanting to leave Marc alone. “You get some good rest.”
"You too," Marc says. "Bye, Nath."
It's not over between them. Finally, Nathaniel sees something positive on the horizon. He had expected to hate opening up to Marc like this, but instead his mind feels lighter than it has for a long time. Right now, he wants to draw.
But even more than that, he wants to draw with his best friend by his side, writing in his notebok as they brainstormed their comic together. Even if everything else in their world collapses and Paris is ravaged by akumas, Nathaniel wants his friendship with Marc to be the one constant he can always count on.