Nothing but [BAD] luck

[7]

                                       ~✯~

                             \Explanations/

"Marinette, I-"

"Don't move," the bluenette warned, her arms shaking and the loaded weapon still aimed steadily at the assassin's head. Her mind was buzzing, mostly around the fact that she had just killed a man.. but had also seen him.

Her breaths were shallow while his were calm, his hands held high above his head. He knew she probably wouldn't understand.. but he had to try.

"Now, I don't who who the hell you are," she started, the harshness in her voice clear to the both of them that she wasn't playing around, "But don't think I sure as hell won't shoot you." Then her eyes abruptly fell upon the ticking time bombs surrounding the two, although it didn't make her move an inch. Her trust was fading away every second they stood there.

"They're bombs," he stated, moving very slowly toward her, feeling no fear but only adrenaline. The bombs, of course, were deactivated. Fang had never lived long enough to set them off and carry out his plans. "You don't get it, Marinette-"

"And how the hell do you know my name? Is this some kind of sick joke?" She raised her arms eye level once again, warning him to stay away from her. He took a wise step back. "You been following me and I've somewhat allowed you, and yet.. I still have had no explanation on who you are? How am I to know if you're not the owner of these bombs?"

He scrambled for a- well, explanation. "No! Uhm.. See that man right there?" He dodged the question and wavered toward Fang, who was now laying in an own pile of his blood. His features were lifeless, his skin pale. "He was going to blow this place to bits. I... I had to stop him."

"And how do I know that I didn't just shoot the good guy?" Distrust interlaced her voice and her features. Chat knew she was confused, but.. he didn't blame her for it. Any other person in her situation would likely do the same.

"Because," Chat sighed, reaching down to pick up his baton and attaching it back onto his belt.  He knew what he had to say, but he knew it would change things between them forever. No more nightly visits to swing by and say hi to her. No more watching over her from the Parisian rooftops.

"Because what?" The silence between them was full of tension, and unanswered questions.

"Because.." he took a deep breath, his lips parting as if he was about to speak. His eyes closed and his head tilted downward. "I-I can't tell you that." And the truth was, as he bounded away as far away to the night as possible from her, he couldn't.

==========================

It had been an entire week.

No, Chat Noir hadn't tried to compromise- he didn't see Marinette at all over the course of those seven days. After all, she still didn't know.. who he truly was. If she'd ever found that out Chat wasn't sure what could possibly happen between them, or what would become of him.

Nobody really knew much less what he looked like he supposed.. but it seemed he had risked his secret for what seemed like one too many times. He needed to get his head out of the clouds and back onto the road.

He was still an assassin. And he always would be, nothing would ever change that.

So he didn't go to see her. And he didn't think she minded, he'd probably already scared the shit out of her since he was practically a stalker. And yet it had been hard for him.. to stay away from her.

But it was better for the both of them, truly.

=======================

Tom checked his watch and swallowed a deep gulp. 11:00.

He kissed his daughter on the forehead and smiled weakly. "Go ahead and finish up on this batch, honey. I need to...take the trash outside to the dumpster." Marinette smiled back at him and agreed. He averted his gaze from her and sighed, not knowing if he'd truly see her again.

He rubbed his dry and calloused knuckles, a nervous habit of his. He then pushed his back door open uneasily, knowing his two weeks had already expired and he had no time left to spare.

Standing in the middle of the alley behind their house, Tom hesitantly spoke, "I k-know what you're going to say. And here's my truthful answer: I don't have it. B-but please! Give me more time! I promise I-I can come up with something-"

In an instant Tom lost his balance and was swept off his feet, a gloved hand carefully latching around his throat. A deep, toned laugh came from the owner of the hand. "We gave you what you wanted, Tom. Where's my payment?" He hissed, tightening his grip on the poor man's neck.

"B-But my daugh-" Tom tried to helplessly choke out, but no pity was taken on him as he was once again silenced.

"I know, your daughter. This was all for her, wasn't it? Never wanted her to be disappointed in you, wanted her to have the life she deserved despite your financial issues.." The mystery dealer trailed off, a wicked grin sprawling across his face. "But what if. Such a strong phrase.. What if you never got to see her again, Tom?"

"N-No! please!" Tom was dropped to the ground, falling harshly onto his tailbone. He cried out in pain. "D-Do whatever you want to
me, just don't hurt her! She's only sixteen!"

"Oh.. but it wouldn't be any fun to just kill you, right?" And with that, Tom was left crippled in the middle of the alleyway, tears silently spilling down his cheeks as he wondered how he would explain this to his family that he cared so much about.

And only one thought rolled through his mind in the midst of all that pain.

That wasn't Chat Noir.

==========================

Marinette sat on her balcony, silently drawing in her sketchbook, admiring the Parasian stars. She felt surprisingly calm that past week.. but almost as if she was missing something.  She shook the thought away, picking up her phone off the table next to her and examining a text message from Alya.

11:45 pm: Wanna hang tomorrow?

She smiled a bit, but rolled her eyes. Didn't Alya say she was going to go to bed early tonight to catch up on some of her sleep? She was about to type back a response, when a noise made her flinch. Footsteps.

It sounded like it was coming from the roof. She froze, setting her phone down and holding her breath as she silently reached for her pocket knife that sat inches away from her.

The noise inched nearer and she held her breath.
=========================

Alya glanced at the message she had received from Marinette at the exact moment she was scrolling through the Ladyblog.

12:03am: Can't. I'm busy.