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

Welcome to Paris

The house had been small —nestled between two wide outstretched pieces of green land, and coveted in the shade of birch trees. It was peaceful and quiet; a breath of fresh air from the endless buzzing of a busy city. But to Mom, it was too quiet. 

She missed the adventure and the social aspect of living in a city. She wanted to be close to the pivot of society; knowing the comings and goings of modern life. We were opposite in that way. But—I tended to want to appease my Mother. And knowing her, she'd never let me live it down if I turned down the opportunity of an adventure. 

I pictured our old countryside home now as Mom stood in front of our new house. She jangled the keys in her left hand, holding her wide leather satchel in her left. Her hair was pushed back in a large claw clip and she still wore her hippie attire as if we'd just walked out of the 70's. 

Out of place. 

"Well, this is it, hun." Mom beamed as she opened the door. It was a fair size smaller than our bungalow in the middle of nowhere. In fact, it was quite the opposite. A small, compressed, modern home in the pit of Paris. If I craned my neck from the front porch, I could see the tips of the Eiffel Tower. 

"Well," I repeated dryly. I strung my backpack higher on my shoulder. "It's...quite the establishment, Mom." 

Mom gave me a sarcastic look. "Okay, Ms. Realtor. Do you want to tell me what the square footage of our home is?" 

"House," I corrected. "It's a house. We haven't even stepped foot in the damn place yet." 

"Y/N," Mom wrapped an arm around me, stepping down from the front porch. "This is a big adjustment for the both of us, okay? I'm not going to lie to you, it's not always going to be easy. But it's us, right? It's the two of us and we'll be just fine here." 

"Right," I gritted my teeth for her sake, putting on a mere smile. "The two of us. It'll be great. It'll be awesome." 

I followed her into the house, ignoring the constant dings of my phone. It was no use to silence it now. The onslaught of texts had already started from various people back in the countryside. As it turned out, automatic wifi connection was a thing here. 

"Oh, honey, come look at the furniture! It's just priceless," Mom called. She'd already disappeared around the corner of our flat, and I could just hear her excited voice from the kitchen. "Oh my goodness." She came back to appraise me again. "Go upstairs, Y/N. Pick the biggest room, alright?" 

I nodded, figuring that agreeing was the only way to get her off my back for the afternoon. I walked up the tall stairs, the unfamiliar feeling of slippery plywood underneath my converse. 

There were two rooms on either end of the hallway with a bathroom, and expansive hall closet in between. 

I chose the room on the right of the hallway and plunked my backpack on the ground. "This is good." I told myself quietly, pulling out my phone. 

The first thing I noticed was a text message from my boyfriend, Reese. He'd called me three times, sent me four text messages, seven instagram dm's, and one request for 60 dollars on Venmo. 

"Hey." 

Reese picked up on the first ring. 

"You know I'm not moving to Alcatraz, right? I'm in Paris." 

"I know that." 

"Doesn't seem like it," I flunked down on my bed, spreading out on the white duvet. "But hey, thanks for, uh, checking in." 

"It's my job," Reese's heavy sigh sounded loud in my ear. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend he was actually here. "How're you doing, Y/N? how's the new house?" 

"It's a house," I responded airily. "It's...modern. It's...artistic." 

"Met any new people yet?" 

I stared at my phone, as if he could see my incredulous expression from through the black screen. 

Trying to keep my voice as mellow as possible, "Nope, I just got here three minutes and—" I checked my watch, "thirty seconds ago." 

"Watch out for those Parisians," Reese's deep voice answered. "You'll be fat from all those croissants and macaroons." 

At that, my stomach churned. 

"I gotta go," I said swiftly. "Sorry, but Mom's calling me to help unpack. I'll call you later." 

"Alright, babe, love yo—" 

I hung up the phone, figuring that it was easier to ask for forgiveness later than to call him back and go through the song and dance of 'i love yous' and 'I love you mores'. 

Just as Reese had said, there was a bakery across the street. I could see it plainly from the second story. I stared at the sign. "The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie." It sounded almost homey. 

"Honey!" Mom called up the stairs. "The neighbors across the street just called and they have a welcome gift for us!" 

"Already?" I muttered under my breath. "Great!" 

"Can you go pick it up? It's the bakery across the street." 

Sweet things didn't appeal to me these days, but I walked down the stairs anyways. 

"Thanks, hon." 

The streets were busy; a crowded Sunday afternoon. I'd start school tomorrow and the real shit show would begin. Several pretentious looking teenagers strode by, one girl dressed in mostly yellow to match her hair. She wore make-up that made her look owl-like. The red-head beside her was carrying several shopping packages and if I had to take a wild guess, I wouldn't say they were her own. 

Just what I needed. A bunch of stuck-up rich girls in a rich, fake neighborhood. 

The bakery smelled nice, and the warm scent of bread greeted my senses the second I pulled open the door. 

"You must be Y/N L/N!" A short Asian woman behind the counter immediately stepped out. She reached out to shake my hand. "I'm Sabine, and that's my husband Tom." 

The owners of the bakery knew my full name. 

"Hi," I raised my eyebrows. "Nice to meet you." 

"Oh, dearie your accent is just so good," Sabine smiled warmly. "Please, take this basket of goodies for your family." 

"It's just— uh, it's just me and my Mom," I spoke and immediately regretted it. Who was I to share my personal information with random strangers. 

Sabine didn't seem to react at all to that information. She just continued to smile. I grasped the basket. 

"I'm sure you're nervous to be starting school tomorrow," she sighed. "The kids here are just lovely, though. What grade are you in?" 

"Eleven." 

"Oh that's wonderful!" Sabine clapped her hands together. "You're in the same grade as my Marinette." Her eyes lit up. "In fact, I'd love you to meet my daughter. She's just upstairs in her room." 

I was already overwhelmed with all the things to look at, and the idea of meeting a new person within ten minutes was the icing on the proverbial cake. 

I held back a grimace because it was clear that this woman was just trying to be kind. If I was rude, then I'd make a horrible impression and everything here would be absolutely ruined and then—

"Okay." I blinked, and let Sabine lead me behind the counter. 

She pointed up the stairs. "It's a trapdoor, dearie. You just have to push on it." 

I held my breath and swallowed back any fear as I walked up the stairs. I knocked on the trapdoor lightly, but it swung open before I could knock louder. 

What greeted my eyes was possibly the worst case scenario I could've possibly walked in on.