Chapter Text
Prologue
The air blew, crisp and chilled, the slightly damp feeling heavy in the air heralded the coming of rain in the next few hours. At this time of night, few people deigned to grace the streets. A beggar on one corner, a few policemen and policewomen sitting in their cars as they patrolled the area. City lights flickered, mostly dim and dark, the illumination from the streetlights highlighted the few wanderers at such an early hour. Some up to nefarious deeds. Others stumbling home from a late bar crawl, why someone wanted to do a bar crawl on a Tuesday morning in April was beyond normal comprehension. A light flickered on a billboard, the name and face of a perfume brand highlighting the starry complexion of a smiling woman with dark brown hair. The breeze blew through a park on the west side, a new addition to the city, park chairs still pristine, as though pigeons themselves had no wish to leave their mark, the statues erected in their honor pristine and unmarred. Although the artist had recently come under fire for coercion of a minor, but thankfully no graffiti had tarnished their faces as of yet. The memory still held true, even if the artiste had finally fallen from grace.
A few people shuffled under the lights of streetlamp, coats turned up against a harsher breeze as it blew, they threw on their hats, pulling them down across ears, frantically wrapping scarves around their necks to keep them warm. It blasted from multiple sides, unwilling to go in a singular direction, uncertain where the end lay. The breeze would end up somewhere eventually, but it would definitely never be where people expected.
Much like the occurrences of the last few years.
A few teenagers hooped and hollered, running through the caution tape, bringing their skateboards to take over the area near the Eiffel Tower. It still saw a throng of guests every day, but it needed more mending, minuscule cracks no longer fixable, some scrapes leaving a tarnish upon the aged metal. No one looked up. Who would be up there at two in the morning after all. It had been years since anyone had done that. Most who decided to wander at night preferred the bridges if they decided to end themselves.
Therefore, the person who stood at the top remained unnoticed, they weren’t clad in strange colors and vibrant prints, screaming their anger at the world; soul dormant while their wishes were inhabited through the manipulation of some villain. No butterfly mask glimmered upon their face, no beating of wings or whispers of evil streaking in their ears. They weren’t covered head to toe in black leather (still a strange thought many reflected), or in skin tight spandex and red with black spots. Instead finely cut clothes hugged their form, they’d have fit earlier, now their emaciated form left them shifting against their skin.
They blinked.
Just that morning Chat Noir had been spotted, he’d been running along the Seine, vaulting up the tower, cracking marble and siding as he went, the structure tall enough to withstand the infinitesimal cracks. Not long after Tianhu came along, and in recent months Parisians surprised at the reinstatement of the other well known miraculous under different names; Fengfeng, Xuanwu, and Feilian at hand as well, the citizens wondered if they’d see them again after the well documented takedown and unmasking of nearly all but the cat and ladybug, for a number of years those key miraculous barely saw the light of day, or even the dead of night. Given the events of the last year however, the citizens of Paris believed new heroes were not surprising in the least. Everyone looked at them and knew instantly they were different people, colors and styles altered, still none could remember faces (or they looked so generic no one could get a read, even with a photograph, a product of magic for certain), and yet, despite the new heroes the civilian population felt safe— more accurately safer— as their heroes ran down the road, off towards a new the black cloud in the distance. The city paused whenever they ran past, barreling towards the new evil looming in the city, but resumed not long after, hard to keep a city such as Paris stopped for too long.
Even if their new villain wore a face they knew.
The last time the city stopped fully was for a full week, and that first day was already written in history books, marked into the hearts and memories of everyone present, they muttered about it under their breath, looked up at the statues, and bitterly exclaimed how things were different now.
Regardless, someone stood atop the tower that night, it was not a victim of an akuma, and it was most definitely not a hero. They stood, unnoticed.
They took a hesitant step forward, when an unfamiliar voice called back from the safe railings a few feet behind them.
“A bit cold of a night to die isn’t it?” The person was wrapped in three coats, and at least two scarves against the bitter cold, bright eyes peering out towards the person on the edge, not two steps from a plummet. Coats received no answer from the one dressed loosely where they stood past the guardrail, clothes hung from them unsuited to the weather, but the lights illuminated the fine make, undoubtedly their best clothes, as though they believed the fall would leave them pristine for a nice burial, failing to mar them in the wake of a crushed skull, splattered brains and broken limbs.
“Let me tell you what I think,” Coats continued, raising hands to their mouth, blowing to heat them despite their gloved appearance. Two in the morning was damned cold after all. “I think the skies above are boring, and the clothes you’re wearing are damned flattering, the color is phenomenal, and the cut is marvelous, I can’t see well but I’d reckon your hair is immaculate. I think I can hear the birds chirping along the wind. I think I can practically smell the pastry chef beginning his day on this Tuesday morning. I think the lights of Paris at this time of night are the most beautiful of all. I think that any parent that lets their child be mute is reprehensible, and any friend who doesn’t approach a friend so obviously in need is an enemy in my books, whatever friends or family you have they are absolute monsters and do not understand what is going through your head. And yet, no one is capable of surviving alone, let alone living.”
The person at the edge didn’t answer, but they didn’t jump either. Coats adjusted their gloves, and wrapped their clothes more tightly around them before they hopped over the railing, walking carefully across the frozen, slick, metal beams.
“I think you’ve got a story to tell, and you don’t want anyone who you think would judge you for your actions, buried in shame, to listen to it. You might think your pain is nothing compared to the millions who drowned and rebirth that time Ladybug fought a villain that flooded Paris. Or your pain is nothing compared to those who suffered abuse, physical, or emotional.” They reached the other person, letting their arms fall to their sides, making no movement to pull them to safety.
“So I’ll tell you, you may be right. And for that, I’m the worst; I pretended to be a nice person, smiling all the time, acting happy, spending time with close friends and close family. I wanted to keep the peace so much, I became a wallflower, no one asked me for the time of day, all they asked for were my gifts, and never for the person underneath. But of course I lied to all of them too, friends and family. I’ve told them I love them, and done things that make them question my sanity behind their backs. I’ve lied to friends, told them superfluous reasons why I couldn’t make it to parties. I lied to my family, told them I wasn’t doing well in school because I was afraid of the bullying. The bullying existed of course, but I didn’t care much about that. I’d even consider all of them bullies for their silence. And I tried to listen to every single one. Told my folks I was exercising when I was running off with gangs. I became a legend in a small way, people loved me, put me on a pedestal and I adored it, but it made me scared to fail, I wanted to please them all, so I stopped trying. I cared for them, parents and friends and my admirers of course, wanted them all to be safe, and happy, and happy again, believing what I did was right, and as long as it was right it would be alright. Right was right, it didn’t keep anyone happy though, and no one knew how hard it was.” Coats reached out to the person ahead, pulling off their gloves, plopping them in view, the person glanced down at them “You might want these, hard to deal with frostbite out here in the wind.” They heard teeth chattering, and finally saw the shivering in the night.
”Your pain it may be not the same as theirs, but being in pain is never fun. I do want to talk to you more than listen to my own ramblings, would you be open to talking?” They furiously shook their head, hands clenching at their sides.
“That’s perfectly fine then. I’ll tell you I had people hurt me, punch me, physically and mentally abuse me, and I kept going back, despite having a comfortable home and a happy friend group that could help me out, because I felt it was the only way to continue. I thought the later abuse was my fault, it took years to make the distinction that this. Was. Not. True.”
“I’ve hit people, betrayed my friends’ trust, betrayed my own instincts, thought in a moment that if this was all I could do it was not enough, I tried to make things work for everyone, and failed at every turn. Didn’t speak to anyone for more than three months once, sure that my teachers thought I was mental. But after what I’d been through, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they thought anymore. Harder still to see the people I cared about looking at me like I might just burn myself alive, or raise a hand to myself in anger, or strangle someone to get the emotion out, or scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of class just to express something clawing its way out of my throat, but those would cause scenes, and the last thing I wanted was to cause a scene, pathetic isn’t it. I wanted it to end, but I never wanted the pain of dying. Wish I’d just screamed my head off instead.”
The person in front remained turned towards the night sky, lights flickering in the distance, puffs of air filling the space reminding Coats as they held out the gloves that this person did still live.
“Want to do it with me?” No answer. “I’ll start.” They screamed into the night, profanities on everyone they’d ever known, on themselves and their friends and their foes, their fealties and their failures until no breath was left, the person in front clapped hands over their ears until the screams fell away. Silence endured as neither moved.
“And I realized through the numbing and the pain, through the sleeplessness and the agony, and the wondering why or what if or why not or I can’t tell anyone or I want to talk to someone but not them or them or him or her or any of them, that maybe the wheel on my bike wasn’t quite right, and I needed a mechanic to help me fix it, because I didn’t know where it went wrong in the system. Because I realized somewhere along the way I didn’t want to die, I wanted to breathe one last breath, over and over again, and feel the snow on my face, hear the crunch of ice, feel the softness of this coat, hear someone say something to me, buy a coffee for someone behind me in the shop because I could see their smile, especially because they didn’t know that it was from me. I realized the old version of a happiness they sold to me didn’t have to be the way I lived my life. I didn't have to be perfect, I didn’t have to acquire fame, I didn’t have to be anything. I could do what I could, and be what I chose to be, so I chose to be here, right here, right now….
…with you.”
”With you.”
”You. Because looking at you now, you deserve love. And there are those who would give it to you, without question.”
They carefully grabbed the elbow of the person as they consciously took a step back from the edge, just one step. But one step was enough. “I got to know a few things, I hated myself, and to know I wanted to do things again, anything really, even if it meant letting all my feelings out on paper and ripping it to shreds.” Another step, the person had put on the gloves, shaking like a leaf.
“Or to draw the most vulgar art on my ceiling in defiance of words they wouldn’t let me say, because what was vulgar after what I’d seen of myself and others? They might call it demented, or depraved, or a sign I need help, but I called it a release that I needed, a story I needed to tell that only I would hear, just like every single tear I shed, every scream I made at three am on some random park far from society. It helped me heal enough to ask for more healing, even if I never used as many words to do it.” Coats continued speaking as the two shimmied their way back, very, very slowly, until they reached the edge of the guardrail.
“Can I help you back over?” Coats offered a bare hand, the person accepted it, climbing over carefully before they both landed on the other side. Neither spoke, just stood there. Coats offered a hand, not to shake, but to hold, Mitten’s now gloved hand, slipped in to the bare one, Coats leaned down, “Even if people have told you this before, or not, I’ll tell you now, I’m proud of you for your courage to put on these gloves, and to come back to safety knowing you could get help, it takes tremendous courage to do it. This is my love to you, because you can love again, not in the romantic sense, but in the most, mundane, sense. Like a coat and mittens from a stranger, a stranger who once gave strangers cups of coffee.”
Mittens nodded, tears brimming and cooling as they ran down. Coats kept their hand in Mittens’ as they stripped off the outer coats, offering both of the inner ones, breathing a sigh of relief as Mittens accepted it.
Coats looked at Mittens, “Could I give you a hug?” The shorter nodded in return, and the hug was tight, long, they worked to get the frightened one to synchronize breathing, and it slowed down very well, until both drew breaths in nice and deep. “On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel?” They pulled back, looking as they raised up fingers at a three. “Ok, we can work with that.”
They held up a hand to pause them, Mittens turning towards the expanse, grasping the hand rails tightly in their hands, eyes closing and mouth opening, barely any sound came out, but the scream and profound frustration was visible on their face. The voice cracked and broke and got louder and failed again before they stopped, wiping a glove across chapped lips. “And now?”
A six.
“Told you it would work,” a hint of a smile lit the Mittens’ face, “How about this…” Coats explained the plan to Mittens, looking carefully for nods and shakes of the head, to find exactly what they wanted before carrying out a plan.
「If you had to describe how many raccoons in a trench coat you felt like right now, how many would there be?」
A puff of air came out, that was close enough to a laugh Coats would take it. Seven, the fingers held up.
「How many smelly cheezes would you put in your enemy’s bag?」
Another puff of air, four, came the number. The odd questioning continued like that, nearly making the person laugh at the oddities.
The walk to the clinic was long, getting down the tower steps in the dead of winter without slipping, cracking one’s head open, or careening out into the open sky was far from fun. But once at the bottom Coats did a little dance, and Mitten huffed out a laugh. Mitten’s phone was dead so that was not ideal, but they walked, Coats talking about nothing of importance, and yet that “nothing” seemed like some of the most important things of all.
When they finally reached the after hours clinic attached to the hospital emergency room, Coats stayed until family and friends of choice could be notified, holding Mittens’ hand, keeping them warm, everyone on staff had realized Mittens didn’t want to talk, so they brought a pen and paper from the front desk and asked the new patient to communicate that way. Begrudgingly doctors and nurses realized after a near full blown panic attack that the not-family-member Coats, had to stay long enough for family to be contacted, but as signatures settled, waivers signed, ID’s provided, it all went smoothly. Not half an hour passed and Mittens’ family arrived, no friends though, that was too big of a step yet.
Two hours later, once everyone was clear about the next steps in the process, Coats accepted the many, many, thanks, and the cross staff for not informing the police to take care of the situation (Coats already knew it would’ve been no use, they’d tried that before) as they walked out, only one coat on their back now and gloveless into the night, blue eyes weary, hands curled in pockets full of random gifts, ready to see whether this worked, it was the furthest they’d gotten, or they’d have to do it all differently next time. If they had to…
Thankfully, there was no need; Mittens opened their eyes twelve hours later.