Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At first, I didn't understand why my dad wanted us to move to Paris of all places. Especially with all the stuff going on there with villains and heroes. Then he told me he grew up there and had a lot of old friends there. I also didn't understand how he didn't take me being akumatized the second week more seriously. Then he told me that only through pain can we find true happiness. He could be a real jackass sometimes, most of the time, really, but he knew how to make me feel better.

It was just him and me since my mom ran out on us when I was a baby. She'd just shown up one day, slept with my dad and disappeared. She'd reappeared ten months later with a kid and claimed it was his, which turned out to be true, and then she'd just disappeared again—real mother of the year.

But yeah, dad. Like I said, a jackass. He can be pretty condescending from time to time, and we fight all the time. Ask my friends, and they'll tell you I'm kidding, but I've run away from home so many times, I can't even remember. So yea, we fight a lot. But I know deep down that he does still love me because I know for a fact that he would never lay a harmful hand on me. And he sticks up for me.

Until I was akumatized, I only had one friend, which was only because our dads went to school together. I was in my room, unpacking, when my dad knocked on the door. "Hey, we've been invited to have dinner with an old friend of mine." I turned to look at him. He looked a little awkward, like he was nervous as to what I'd say. "'We'? As in both of us?" I expected him to look a bit annoyed or something, but he just looked at me as though I was an animal ready to pounce.

"His daughter goes to the same school as you. The same year too." He sat down on my bed, looking at the huge rainbow flag I'd put next to it on the wall. He didn't love it, but he didn't make a big deal out of it either. I put the sweater I was folding into my closet and sighed. "And you want me to make a friend before I start school?" I crossed my arms. Of course, he did. He always did stuff like this. Trying to make things easier for me. I appreciated it, but the thing is, I didn't wanna make friends.

"Yes. I want you to make a friend. Knowing you, you'll probably do everything you can to avoid talking to people, so I think getting to know Marinette will be good for you." Now he was getting annoyed. He could probably sense my reluctance. "We're going to Tom and Sabine's house in an hour. Be ready!" Dad got up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

An hour later, dad was parking by a bakery. "Where are we?" I asked, not bothering to hide my pout. Not only had dad forced me to go, he also forced me to change clothes. I wanted to wear my hoodie, but dad had told me to change so I'd make a good first impression. As if I wanted to make a good first impression on someone I'd already decided not to like.

"They live over the bakery." He said and got out of the car. I followed, somewhat reluctantly, and stuck my hand in my pockets. I wasn't really paying attention to where we were going, and before I knew it, we were standing in front of a door. Dad rang the bell, and a girl with blue hair and pigtails opened.

"Hello," she said, "You must be the Anciels. I'm Marinette." She stepped aside and invited them in. It turns out her hair wasn't blue. It just had a blue tint. A small woman was setting the table and quite a large man carrying food. I would have been intimidated by him had it not been for the kind look on his face and kinda silly mustache.

"Charles! Hello, welcome." He said. He sounded nice too. Damnit. Now I might just start to like him a little! That wasn't the plan! He set the basket of bread on the table and walked over. He and dad hugged, and then he turned to me. "Marc, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Tom." He reached out for a handshake. I obliged, but I've never liked this part of meeting people. I was always paranoid they were gonna pull me close and stab me.

If dad knew, he'd say I read too much. Yeah, right! Like you can read too much. That man doesn't have a clue what he's talking about!

"You too. Hi."  Damn, I sound so dumb right now!  "Hello, I'm Sabine. It's nice to meet you, Marc." Said the woman. This time I only smiled. An awkward smile that I was sure made me look dead inside. "And Charles, wonderful to see you again." My dad answered, "You too, Sabine." I grabbed the cuffs of my jacket, hoping to get some of the nerves out.

That's when Marinette decided to ask if she could take out coats.  No! No, you cant! Stop saying things to me!  "Sure. Thank you." My dad said, taking off his jacket. Traitor. I did the same, and we gave them to Marinette. She hung them on a coat hook by the door. At least I could see them. Something familiar in a new place. It was a little comforting.

Luckily there were very few words aimed at me during dinner. And the few that were were met with small smiles, shrugs, nods, and shakes of the head. The Dupains caught on quickly that I really didn't wanna talk. That was good. They didn't pry or anything, really, and that made me kinda like them.  Damnit, Marc, you're not supposed to like them!

After we'd eaten, the bread was unbelievably good, Tom had suggested Marinette show me her room. "It's gotta be really boring to listen to us talk." He'd said. "Sure?" Marinette looked at me. I shrugged and got up from my chair. He was a little right. Listening to them talk was boring. Plus, if I went to Marinette's room, I could scoop out small, petty details I could use to like her less.

Spoiler alert! That's not what happened.

We walked up the stairs and into her room, and Marinette closed the door, which was on the floor? Sure, why not. I started looking and found her room to be pretty nice, actually. The decor was very aesthetically pleasing, and the walls were a pleasant shade of pink. The only thing weird was the wall of pictures that almost looked like a shrine to a model guy I'd seen on a billboard on the way. That part was a little unsettling, but other than that, there was nothing to use against her.

"Make yourself at home," Marinette said. Yea, right. As if I'm gonna be comfortable enough to act even remotely similar to how I act at home after knowing these people for an hour. But I took a seat, and as I did so it looked like Marinette noticed the wall and freaked out a bit.

Okay, so she's a closeted creep. Got it.

"So you're starting Françoise Dupont High School? Who's class are you in?" She asked, trying her best, and failing to mind you, at pretending there wasn't a shrine behind her. "Ms. Mendeleiev, I think her name was." I knew exactly what her name is. I'd gotten an email from the principal about my classes and teachers, but I just didn't want to seem like one of those people who think they know everything. "Oh, she's amazing, one of my favourites!" It did not sound like she was one of Marinette's favourites.

We ended up talking about a lot of different stuff, like how Marinette wanted to be a fashion designer and how I like to write. I totally forgot about the dreaded question that usually followed when I told people that. Can I read what you've written? But Marinette didn't push when I told her I'd rather she didn't. That was really cool.

And in the end, I did like her. And the shrine didn't bother me as much, knowing that he was the model son of her favourite designer Gabriel Agreste, Adrien. He goes to our school and is in the same class as Marinette, and I had a slight feeling he wasn't just the son of her favourite designer.

When my dad and I got home, I was apparently very exhausted. I guess my social batteries couldn't handle Marinette and her lively self. I went straight to bed, and surprisingly, I wasn't dreading the first day as much.

The next day, I went to school in what I usually wore, a red hoodie and ripped jeans, and found myself a nice little spot under the stairs to write during recess. I'd even checked out the school website and seen some amazing drawings! Turned out the artist was in Marinette's class, and his name was Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

And, well, you know what happened next. Reverser! Not my proudest moment, but there was something good that came out of it.

Chapter Text

People usually assume I'm transgender. Like, a trans boy, or something. I don't mind, though. But, if we're going to play the "Non-Binary Erasure" game as many like to do in my case, I'm closer to cisgender. I was assigned male at birth, and I use he/him pronouns. I don't identify with the male gender. I am non-binary, so know that we will not be playing the erasure game!

I always find it amusing when transphobes try to hurt my feelings by using non-gender neutral pronouns because they always say shit like "check your birth certificate, and you'll see that you're a girl." Or "non-binary people don't exist. You're either a he or a she!" Like, excuse me?

Yes, I am a he. No, that does not mean I'm not non-binary. And honestly, when they call me a girl to try and invalidate me, it's just funny. I've deadass considered always having my birth certificate on me so that I can tell them to go to hell! But I don't. The things they say don't bother me, but they do bother other people like me. I want to make them stop, but I don't know how. 

When the topic of my gender had been brought up with my new friends from Marinette and Nathaniel's class, it had been in no subtle way. Kim had said, "So are you, like, trans or something?" To which Alix responded by whacking him on the head. "Ow! What?" He pouted, "I was just curious!" I couldn't help but laugh a little. These idiots had picked me up like a stray puppy.

"You can't just ask people if they're transgender, moron!" she scolded. "Well, sorry if I wanted to know!" Alix and Kim as close to wrestling right there in the park. "It's okay, Alix. I get that a lot, actually." They looked at me, which, not going to lie, made me nervous. I really hate being the center of attention. Unfortunately for me, my friends had decided to pry into my personal life.

"I'm not trans per se. I'm non-binary. I was assigned male at birth." Marinette took a break from fawning over Adrien who, I'd learned fast, was absolutely oblivious! "Wait! Does that mean we've been misgendering you this entire time? I'm so sorry!" Marinette looked like she was about to cry from shame and embarrassment.  I feel that in my soul!  "No, Marinette. You're fine! I use he/him pronouns. I just don't fully identify as a boy. I wouldn't have cared if I had a guy body or a girl body, to be completely honest. I'm just existing."

"Okay," Marinette sighed. The relief on her face made my heart feel big. People usually didn't care that much. "Wait, so have we been doing anything wrong? Anything you'd rather we changed or stopped altogether?" asked Max. Honestly, these people! I swear I'm about to love them!

I hate to admit it, but I kinds of blushed at the question. There was something I wanted them to stop with, but would it be stupid to say it? As if reading my thoughts, Adrien said, "Please don't hesitate to tell us what it is. You're our friend. We don't want to make you uncomfortable all the time." The things this guy catches on to is like a game of Russian roulette! 

"Well," I said, hating how stupid I sound, "I'd rather you didn't call me a boy." They all looked at me for a second as if waiting for me to elaborate. I shrink into myself. "I just don't feel comfortable with the word 'boy' being used on me. I'd rather you just called me a guy... ugh, that sounds so stupid. I'm sorry!" At that pathetic little outburst, Nino clapped me on the back, "Don't sweat it, my du-- wait. 'Dude's fine, right?" I nod, and he smiles, "Don't sweat it, my dude. You're a cool guy!"

I luckily got to take the backseat for the rest of the conversation. The words I spoke were few and far between. Just how I like it in big groups. Adrien had to leave early, as usual, and Alya booed when his driver showed up. After that, the group slowly but surely began to disperse, with Marinette having work to do, Kim getting bored, and Alya dragging Nino away.

I didn't want to leave so everyone noticed and stared at me, but I didn't feel like sticking around. Lucky for me, Nathaniel decided to tag along, so I wasn't the only one getting attention. And, you know, lucky because he'd rather hang with me alone than sit around awkwardly in a big group.

My heart did a flip when Nathaniel touched my shoulder, "Hey, do you wanna go see that movie I told you about? It starts in, like, an hour."  Calm down, Marc. He's just asking you to see a movie with him. Alone. In the dark. Next to each other. HELP! 

"Yeah, sure!"