His Lady looked troubled. Oh, she kept it well-hidden, especially during a night patrol like this. A fraction of a pause here. Staring out, for the briefest moment, into the middle distance or into the full moon. There was the slightest slump in her shoulders.

If you hadn't spent hours upon hours by her side, loving her, you might miss it. But he had. And he hated it when she looked like that.

Ladybug is amazing. When she's in her element, she's strong, smart, snappy. Kind and sure and beautiful and determined. She steals his breath away and he can't help but steal furtive glances towards her. And when she shines like that, radiant and beautiful, he's like a flower turning towards the sun for warmth.

All the more reason for the flower to hurt when the sun doesn't shine.

So very gently, Chat Noir reached out a hand to her shoulder. "Is everything alright, my lady?" She jumped at his touch, suddenly, breaking out of a reverie. "Oh, uh, Chat Noir—I'm sorry. It's-" His Lady rubbed her palms together anxiously. She'd rarely ever been this flustered. "Well, behind the mask stuff. You understand."

He didn't, but he nodded anyway. For such a long time, he'd wanted to tell her how he felt. Reveal all of who he was. But she strongly felt that it was a bad idea, a liability for them to know, and he'd respected that. Loving her from a distance was enough for now.

She looked up at him with eyes soft with hurt and his heart felt as if it were cracking in half. Was it her home life? Was she okay?

"You know," he said, softly, "you can talk about it without giving away too many details. If you're okay with that."

"It's that noticeable, huh?"

Chat chuckled. "Spot on. It really looks like something's been bugging you lately."

She cracked the slightest smile and he tried not to grin too hard. "Oh, come on."

"No, really, Lady. You look a mite upset."

"I will hang you off the Eiffel Tower and never look back, I swear to you."

He only responded to her threat with a self-satisfied smirk. Progress. If she was sassing him, then she was on her way back to feeling better. Once that happened, he could feel better, too.

They stood there, the two of them, in silence for a second. It was so late at night that even traffic had died down to a gentle background murmur. Autumn had begun to give way to winter, and the night air was an icy kiss on Chat's face. Fallen maple leaves swirled in eddies on the roof, a last dance before the snow.

Ladybug looked downward, beginning to work her hands nervously again. Chat's heart swelled. She looked so beautiful and he ached to take her pains away, if he could be given the chance.

Actually. Is that why—

"There's a guy at my school I like and… I think I'm going to tell him." The unspoken sentence at the end of her confession was, "And I'm terrified."

Chat's stomach dropped to the floor. Someone else. He was sure the wind had been knocked out of him. When he wasn't looking, someone sucker punched him in the gut. Just breathing took effort.

He was aswim with thought. What if he had told her earlier? If he had confessed during Valentine's Day would that have made the difference? If he'd been less flirty? Was there still a chance he could win her love?

Slipping on a practiced smile and coached expression, he silently thanked his father for teaching him to school his reactions. She couldn't know, not now.

"Well, my Lady, I don't see a problem there. He would be a fool not to be honored."

He hated that his first concern had been for himself and not for her when he encouraged her to open up and trust him. He pushed out the thoughts clamoring in his mind as they struggled for his attention.

"Easier said than done, kitty," she said with a sad chuckle. Her lips pouted for a second, her eyebrows furrowed and he realized with a start that she was holding back tears. "He doesn't even know I exist."

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her. "Chat-" she said, voice breaking. She protested for half a second, and then she melted into his arms. He could feel hot tears soaking into the shoulder of his suit. She clung to him, and it took every effort he had not to sob with her. Holding her tighter, he brought one of his hands to rest between her shoulder blades and touched his forehead to the top of her head. And he held her. There they stayed, two forlorn figures in the empty night, until her tears quieted.

"Lady," he said, voice rough and low. "I would bet you anything that he does."

A muffled voice from his shoulder said, "You don't know."

He whispered into her ear, "Pfft, half of Paris is in love with you. Come on, you're magical. Miraculous."

"I'm not confessing my love as Ladybug."

He pulled back slightly to look at her. "And when did I say those things had anything to do with Ladybug?" He gave a wink.

She responded with a weak smile. He could still see tear tracks marked on her face, reflected in the bright moonlight. It was the wrong thing to think, but he wanted, needed to kiss them away. Gentle, tender kisses peppered all over her face.

She broke the hug. "I've been in love with him for so long. I'm afraid," she pulled absentmindedly at one of her hair ribbons, "and just thinking about it is overwhelming."

"…you could start slow? No need to confess your love right away, right?"

"It's time," she said, "At this rate, another girl will ask him out."

And then you'll end up like me, Chat thought. He crossed his arms, "Lady, there's no way he could turn you down. Believe me."

She turned to him and gave him a smile - a real one, authentic and slightly fragile. Radiant. She was framed by the outline of the moon and autumn leaves fell around her in a red rain. Padding softly back to him, she wound her arms around his neck and gave him a brief hug.

"Thank you, kitty. I think I can now. Good night."

"Good night," he responded hoarsely. What else could he say to her? Please don't leave me? I need you? And not now - it was too late for that.

"I'll see you tomorrow, partner." She waved a shy goodbye to him, swung her yo-yo up and propelled out of sight.

It was only when he was sure she was gone that he allowed himself to cry.

Two silent streams of tears trailed down his face. It felt good to let his feelings out and let go. He knew, just from the look on her face, that this would make her happy. Which was why it was so frustrating.

All his anger had no place to go. How could he hold it against his Lady for not loving him the same way he loved her? Love not freely given was meaningless. Worse, taking it out on her would just prove he never really loved her. Just whatever he had wanted her to be.

Chat slumped to the floor, finally feeling the panic subside into cold emptiness. The truth was slowly sinking in.

He whispered, just to hear himself say it out loud, "I only want you by my side. Je t'aime, Ladybug."

And then he resigned himself to fate and began the long walk back home, the north wind chilling at his bones the whole way, too many trees on the block barren of leaves.