"the moth's apprentice" chat noir x y/n

'Pop-off'

He's a keeper, he's a believer, he's on the ground on his knees in the theatre - Sofia Isella 

Fever.

It was fun at first—like a slow burn, something you could play with. But then the heat became too much.

All good things come to a quiet, subtle end. All bad things? They end in flames.

"Watch where you're going."

A voice cut through my thoughts just as a body collided with mine.

Books hit the floor. Papers scattered.

Adrien Agreste stood in front of me, looking equal parts annoyed and exhausted. His hair was a mess, sticking up in places he hadn't bothered to fix, and dark circles clung under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept. My reflection in his pupils probably showed the same thing—like a sleepy, miserable mirror.

I silently prayed for Hawkmoth to akumatize him right then and there, just so I could do something. But of course, Hawkmoth had decided to take a break.

Last night, he'd admitted he was disappointed in our progress with stealing the Miraculous. Said he was trying a different approach. What approach? A secret. He wouldn't tell me until he was sure it would work.

Figures.

"You walked into me," I said, shutting my locker. "I'm literally standing still." 

"Whatever," Adrien muttered, kneeling to gather his books. His green eyes flicked up, studying me with mild distaste. "You're not going to help?"

I arched a brow. "Did you really expect me to?"

Adrien huffed. "Guess not."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Agreste, but I'm not one of your fangirls. I don't worship the ground you walk on."

Adrien's lips twitched like he was holding back a smirk. "You mean you're not Marinette?"

His voice was edged with something unreadable. Teasing? Sarcasm? Bitterness?

Whatever.

Adrien stood up, tucking a stray paper into his notebook. Rather than turning on the heel of his pristine white sneakers, he leaned against the locker beside mine. Tousled his already gel-messed hair. 

"Oh, you're going to talk to me now?" I deadpanned. "This is fun. We're having so much fun."

Adrien ignored me. "You wouldn't get it. Having so many people obsessed with you. It's exhausting."

I exhaled a sharp, humorless laugh. "You're right, I wouldn't."

A pause. Then, with a perfectly innocent tone, I added, "I wouldn't know what it's like to be a fatherless, egotistical narcissist. Thanks for enlightening me."

His smirk slipped. I almost wished my locker was still open so I could slam it for effect. Instead, I just shoved my headphones on and turned away.

Even as I walked down the hall, I could feel his eyes following me.

"Damn. Pop off, girl-boss," Vector whispered from inside my bag.

I wasn't feeling particularly girl-bossy.

My mind drifted back to Chat Noir—his odd hesitations, the way he kept looking at me like he was searching for something.

Something I wasn't willing to give.

And deep down, I wondered if that bothered him.

Then, unfortunately, my thoughts drifted back to Adrien.

Adrien Agreste, golden boy, loved the idea of people obsessing over him. Probably some deep-seated psychological need, considering his emotionally vacant father and dead mother.

I stopped mid-thought. Mid-diagnosis.

Nope. Not my problem.

The walls of the school felt suffocating. Nausea crawled up my throat. Before I could think better of it, I ditched.

_

The pier was quiet. Just the slap of water against the wood, the occasional cry of a gull.

But someone was already in my spot.

A girl.

Her hair—wild and orange-red, like a fox—was done up in pigtails that bounced over her shoulders like two sleek tails. She sat on the edge of the dock, legs crossed, licking at a single-scoop vanilla ice cream cone like she had all the time in the world.

Nothing about her should've been threatening. But something was off.

Because, let's be honest—who eats vanilla ice cream alone at the pier?

That's serial killer behavior.

I didn't even plan on saying anything, but before I could turn away, she glanced over her shoulder.

"Hey."

Her voice was smooth. Friendly. Too friendly.

"My name's Lila," she said. "I've seen you around before. You're Y/N, right? We go to the same school, but I just transferred. You're besties with Marinette Dupain-Cheng—the baker's daughter. And you're an ace at fencing. I—"

"Whoa." I held up a hand. "Speed it down. You know all that?"

Lila nodded, smiling too wide. Then she leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to send a chill down my spine.

"I know a lot more than that, Raven."

My breath hitched.

She patted the dock beside her.

"Care to join me for an ice cream?"