Uptown, Downtown (Chat Noir x Reader) - Book 1

25 | Something Just Like This

"If I'm being honest, I never want to let you out of the house again," your father laughed, as he sat at your bedside table, the next afternoon. You'd spent all day cooped up in your room, staring out of the window, and trying not to fall asleep, the fear of nightmares too much for you to handle.

"Can't blame you," you replied, "though, I wouldn't particularly mind it. It means seeing less people, you know?"

"(Y/n)," your dad groaned, shaking his head disappointedly.

You chortled, stuffing your mouth full of food, and gazing out of the window again. The weather was awful, the air thick and heavy with the unspoken prospect of rain, and the occasional harsh wind would rattle the glass, causing you to shift uncomfortably. Outside, the street was deserted and silent, save for the rush of traffic on the main road.

"We're thinking of going back," your father spoke quietly. You turned to him, in slight confusion; "You almost died today, (Y/n). Paris is much more dangerous than we anticipated."

"Hold on, I've almost died in London before," you argued, wincing as you sat up groggily. "What's the difference?"

"These are things that we have no control over, (Y/n). These aren't the things we're used to. We've moved from one world to another, and maybe it wasn't a very smart decision." Your dad muttered, "Living on London was hard for us, but it wasn't for you, and as our main concern, it's probably best if-"

"No!" you interrupted, surprising yourself and your father. "... no. I... I want to stay."

"What? All you've done since we've got here is complain, why the change of heart?" your dad asked, visibly puzzled, scratching the back of his head.

Yeah, why the sudden change of heart?

You had to search hard for the answer.

"I... uh, I've made some great friends here." You finally stated. "It's dangerous living here, but I think I'm used to it at this point. And if it means that you guys can recover mentally, then I can handle the supernatural stuff that's being thrown at me."

"Well," your dad blinked, "If you're sure."

"Sadly, I am," you laughed awkwardly, obviously discontent with your switch in perspective.

"Hi," a new voice came from the doorway, and a tired looking Lucinda peeked in through the door. Your father stiffened slightly, whereas you just smiled welcomingly, and gestured for her to come in; she shuffled towards you, and sat carefully on your bed, being cautious as to not alarm your dad. "I'm so sorry, (Y/n)." She whispered.

"You weren't yourself, it's fine," you assured her.

"It's not fine!" she shouted, clenching her fists, startling you and your father. There was a pause, before she buried her face in her hands, and spoke in a muffled tone, "I was so angry, I was so enraged about what they did to my mum, and that made me do things that I shouldn't have. I don't even remember what happened, but I saw the TV footage. I threatened to drop you from the Eiffel Tower! I'm an awful person, and I don't deserve to be your friend."

You shook your head, "No, you're not. I cut that rope myself, and then you saved me, remember? It was entirely my fault for being reckless, and if anything, I deserve this flack for being stupid enough to let myself fall. I probably... deserve it as a whole."