Atlass,
The wrinkles on the paper grew as the man held the letter tighter, laughing. Boxes of old magazines, pictures, and gadgets lay like leaves on the wood floor, scattered. Somewhere within the mess was a young man—blond, blue eyes, and full of life. His chuckling bounced on the wall.
The cause of all the mess was one thing and one thing only—his modeling portfolio. An old acquaintance asked him to model their 2024 fall clothing line. It had been a while since he left the glamorous world of fashion—the last time was in high school. Blond hair fell to his face as he smiled.
During his high school days, the young man was a black spandex clad, cat-themed hero named Cat Noir. He watched the streets of Paris from the roofs of its citizens, keeping it safe with his other half, Ladybug. Despite not knowing their true identities, they trusted each other with their lives. Together, they searched for unfortunate Parisians who were cursed to be evil by their archnemesis, Hawk Moth. Those years of his life were the busiest, and the most fun. Even though he had his plate full—at that point he needed a tray with how many responsibilities he had—he wouldn’t mind coming back to those days.
He remembered feeling like he constantly needed a blood transfer, but he would live through it all again just to see the sun bouncing off the dark locks of the person who stole his heart. “What a simp,” he reminisced.
Two hands tapped his head. Time to focus. His attention returned to the packed box of clear, unlabeled folders. The carton was in pain, bulging due to how many shoots he did in the past. But the young man thought that adding one more photo compilation wouldn’t hurt.
In his search, he didn’t expect to find a red, heart-shaped piece of paper he wrote back then. Upon picking it up, he was transported back into his childhood bedroom. It was in disarray, similar to the one he was in currently. He remembered the feeling of the cold, marble floor against his back, a stiff science book under his head.
He had two science assignments due that night, but he could only think of one thing.
Ladybug.
It wasn’t the first time she rejected him. But it felt like it. He tried to breathe, but he could only try. He was a man sinking underwater.
And so he commenced pouring out his soul onto a red, heart-shaped piece of paper. Each stroke of ink contained unbelievable amounts of teenage angst. He shuddered, rereading what he penned that night. It wasn’t a scarlet letter, filled with hateful teenage angst, oh no. It was much worse.
That red, heart-shaped letter was a rose-colored one, filled with the messages of a teenage boy’s heart. They were messages the young man wanted to send, but he knew that no one would receive them.
He gagged, in disgust of what he wrote.
“Buddha, God, Fate, bless you!” he said, thanking every single metaphysical being he knew. If they had granted his past wish—for her to read his letter—he would have died of humiliation.
While he was connecting with the gods, the door opened. Behind it was a face he adored—a girl fresh out of college, with fresh bread, and who’s messages he’s missed for the past hour. Though she looked as strong as a baguette, her presence was enough to knock him out of his date with the gods.
Oh no. Did he forget a date?
The Frenchman held his breath. Fortunately, she seemed more curious about the sea of papers than angry about his memory. Unfortunately, he couldn’t convince himself of that.
“I didn’t know today was special!”
Some strands of her hair fell onto her face as she giggled. “Today’s not special, you doofus.” The young woman approached him like a queen on a chessboard, stepping through squares not occupied by paper. “I just brought you some brioche.”
His eyes glittered like the lips of girls from the early 2000s. “Passion fruit?” The young man bolted upwards, stealing a bite of the soft snack begging to be eaten.
“This wouldn’t be the first time you were clueless about something,” she said teasingly.
The man cried out as if he was stabbed in the chest. Slowly, he staggered onto the floor, pretending to be hurt. Breadflakes fell on the floor like snowflakes. “You pain me, but I had a hunch that it was you in that costume, y’know!”
“Woe me, for I am unable to believe your words, Sir Adrien!” She crumbles to the floor like bread in soup.
“Oh milady, the whitest of whites are not enough to describe how pure my intentions are. My words are as false as the sun being a star, as the world being round in shape!” He paddles through the solid floor, inching his way closer to her with his elbows.
“My dear ladybug, please bee-lieve me!”
He buzzed, like an old Nokia phone upon reaching her. The two burst into laughter having finished their skit.
He turned to his side, admiring her face as she chuckled. Their shenanigans had certainly caused her hair to be in disarray. He couldn’t care less, though. He still viewed her through the same rose-colored lenses as he did years ago.
They lay on the cold floor as their laughter subsided. The young woman turned to her side, noticing a red, heart-shaped paper her companion was reading earlier. “What’s this?”
“Dear lord!” he exclaimed, burying himself in photos and stinky magazines as she read through it. In his burrow, he cursed the gods he thanked earlier for allowing her to read that stupid, cursed letter. Now, he could only hope that she didn’t find it too ridiculous.
Please, I hope she doesn’t laugh, please.
She laughed.
Inspired by Miraculous Ladybug (Thomas Astruc, 2015)
Literary: Jinxed
February 14, 2016
Dearest Ladybug,
It’s been a few weeks since the last time Hawk Moth evilized someone. Maybe he’s taking a break or scheming something big. Nevertheless, I’m starting to miss you.
Not having bad guys around means that Paris doesn’t need us to protect it. We don’t need to transform into our hero costumes. I should be happy about that, but it also means we won’t be able to see each other. Bummer.
I know you won’t be able to read this. I won’t send this to you anyway. This is just me, talking to myself because I know sending this letter would mean nothing.
Why would it?
You’re already in love with someone else, like you’ve said. So what’s the point of hearing my heartbroken banter?
You’ve rejected me multiple times but I still choose to keep bugging you about my feelings. Get it? “Bugging” ‘cause you’re Ladybug.
Anyway, a close friend thinks that’s just my way of recovering from all the rejection. Thank you for not pushing me away all this time. I must’ve been annoying.
I’m glad to be friends with you. I value our friendship more than anything else, bugaboo.
But I can’t deny it—it still really hurts.
You have set your pretty bluebell eyes on a completely different guy, and I could tell you’re head over heels in love with him. No matter how many flowers I give you, it’s as if you’ll never notice me. No matter how many pick-up lines I throw at you, you’ll never hear me out.
You’re so close yet so far away.
However, I didn’t lie when I told you before that my favorite moments are when I’m with you. I didn’t lie when I said I’d drop everything else just to spend time with you. Despite all your rejections, your company is worthwhile.
You’re more than the love of my life—you’re my partner in crime. Even if the only ones left are us two, we’d overcome it. No amount of feelings could compare to our bond as a team. Like I said back then, it’s always been just the two of us. You and me against the world, M’lady!
I miss fighting evil with you. I can’t wait for the next. Our battle isn’t over yet.
See you soon, Ladybug.
Sincerely,
Cat Noir
P.S.: I still wonder, though—who could this boy, who’s more worthy of your love, be?
The wrinkles on the paper grew as the man held the letter tighter, laughing. Boxes of old magazines, pictures, and gadgets lay like leaves on the wood floor, scattered. Somewhere within the mess was a young man—blond, blue eyes, and full of life. His chuckling bounced on the wall.
The cause of all the mess was one thing and one thing only—his modeling portfolio. An old acquaintance asked him to model their 2024 fall clothing line. It had been a while since he left the glamorous world of fashion—the last time was in high school. Blond hair fell to his face as he smiled.
During his high school days, the young man was a black spandex clad, cat-themed hero named Cat Noir. He watched the streets of Paris from the roofs of its citizens, keeping it safe with his other half, Ladybug. Despite not knowing their true identities, they trusted each other with their lives. Together, they searched for unfortunate Parisians who were cursed to be evil by their archnemesis, Hawk Moth. Those years of his life were the busiest, and the most fun. Even though he had his plate full—at that point he needed a tray with how many responsibilities he had—he wouldn’t mind coming back to those days.
He remembered feeling like he constantly needed a blood transfer, but he would live through it all again just to see the sun bouncing off the dark locks of the person who stole his heart. “What a simp,” he reminisced.
Two hands tapped his head. Time to focus. His attention returned to the packed box of clear, unlabeled folders. The carton was in pain, bulging due to how many shoots he did in the past. But the young man thought that adding one more photo compilation wouldn’t hurt.
In his search, he didn’t expect to find a red, heart-shaped piece of paper he wrote back then. Upon picking it up, he was transported back into his childhood bedroom. It was in disarray, similar to the one he was in currently. He remembered the feeling of the cold, marble floor against his back, a stiff science book under his head.
He had two science assignments due that night, but he could only think of one thing.
Ladybug.
It wasn’t the first time she rejected him. But it felt like it. He tried to breathe, but he could only try. He was a man sinking underwater.
And so he commenced pouring out his soul onto a red, heart-shaped piece of paper. Each stroke of ink contained unbelievable amounts of teenage angst. He shuddered, rereading what he penned that night. It wasn’t a scarlet letter, filled with hateful teenage angst, oh no. It was much worse.
That red, heart-shaped letter was a rose-colored one, filled with the messages of a teenage boy’s heart. They were messages the young man wanted to send, but he knew that no one would receive them.
He gagged, in disgust of what he wrote.
“Buddha, God, Fate, bless you!” he said, thanking every single metaphysical being he knew. If they had granted his past wish—for her to read his letter—he would have died of humiliation.
While he was connecting with the gods, the door opened. Behind it was a face he adored—a girl fresh out of college, with fresh bread, and who’s messages he’s missed for the past hour. Though she looked as strong as a baguette, her presence was enough to knock him out of his date with the gods.
Oh no. Did he forget a date?
The Frenchman held his breath. Fortunately, she seemed more curious about the sea of papers than angry about his memory. Unfortunately, he couldn’t convince himself of that.
“I didn’t know today was special!”
Some strands of her hair fell onto her face as she giggled. “Today’s not special, you doofus.” The young woman approached him like a queen on a chessboard, stepping through squares not occupied by paper. “I just brought you some brioche.”
His eyes glittered like the lips of girls from the early 2000s. “Passion fruit?” The young man bolted upwards, stealing a bite of the soft snack begging to be eaten.
“This wouldn’t be the first time you were clueless about something,” she said teasingly.
The man cried out as if he was stabbed in the chest. Slowly, he staggered onto the floor, pretending to be hurt. Breadflakes fell on the floor like snowflakes. “You pain me, but I had a hunch that it was you in that costume, y’know!”
“Woe me, for I am unable to believe your words, Sir Adrien!” She crumbles to the floor like bread in soup.
“Oh milady, the whitest of whites are not enough to describe how pure my intentions are. My words are as false as the sun being a star, as the world being round in shape!” He paddles through the solid floor, inching his way closer to her with his elbows.
“My dear ladybug, please bee-lieve me!”
He buzzed, like an old Nokia phone upon reaching her. The two burst into laughter having finished their skit.
He turned to his side, admiring her face as she chuckled. Their shenanigans had certainly caused her hair to be in disarray. He couldn’t care less, though. He still viewed her through the same rose-colored lenses as he did years ago.
They lay on the cold floor as their laughter subsided. The young woman turned to her side, noticing a red, heart-shaped paper her companion was reading earlier. “What’s this?”
“Dear lord!” he exclaimed, burying himself in photos and stinky magazines as she read through it. In his burrow, he cursed the gods he thanked earlier for allowing her to read that stupid, cursed letter. Now, he could only hope that she didn’t find it too ridiculous.
Please, I hope she doesn’t laugh, please.
She laughed.
February 14, 2016
Dear Adrien,
It’s been a while since someone caused trouble around Paris. I’m starting to think the villain went on a vacation, honestly. Not that I’m complaining. It’s been quite peaceful nowadays, and I’m even more punctual at school—though I can’t help but miss you.
We’ve been seeing each other more often at school since it really has been quiet around town, but we haven’t really spent more time together. As much as I’d want to, I couldn’t take you away from her. You’re family friends, after all. You have a lot of plans together. We have… none.
Like all my other letters, I know you won’t be able to read this one. This will just go into my secret pile of love letters I’ll never be brave enough to send.
Why would I?
You already have someone else who loves you, so what’s the point of hearing that I do, too?
I’ve tried telling you how I feel multiple times, but I failed each one. Every time I gather enough courage to let my feelings flow out like a waterfall, something happens and it’s as if someone’s intentionally blocking the waterway. After that, it’s back to step 1.
It’s been that way ever since I started liking you. Now, I do nothing but stumble over my words and do something silly whenever I try talking to you. Thank you for still being friends with me even though I must seem like this clumsy, dumb girl.
Ah… friends. I’m glad to be friends with you, at the very least.
But I can’t deny it—I want us to be more than that.
You have enveloped yourself in the presence of a completely different girl, and I could tell you’re happier with her, especially recently. No matter how many pastries I give you, it’s as if you’ll never notice my feelings. No matter how many times you show me that you care, I know you’ll always just think of me as a friend.
You’re so close yet so far away.
However, the moments I spend with you aren’t all in vain. With these, I get to know you better and support you in the things you do. I’m still really glad that I’m able to spend time with you, even if it’s for a short while. I’m happy that I could show you my support even if it’s just as a friend.
You’re the love of my life, but you’re also my friend. Even if my feelings are one-sided, being able to stand by you soothes the pain a little. I’ll always have your back, because that’s what friends are for, right?
I miss spending time with you and the others. I hope we all get ice cream together again.
See you soon, Adrien.
Sincerely,
Marinette
P.S.: I still wonder, though—how come you haven’t noticed my feelings yet?
Inspired by Miraculous Ladybug (Thomas Astruc, 2015)
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