This is a side story from my ChloNath Hate Square fic, Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be, taking place between chapters 5 and 6. This piece focuses on Alya, who is up late trying to figure out the identity of Le Paon, and Nino is very worried about her.
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Alya felt like she was in university again. A dull hammer steadily thud against the inside of her skull as she stared at the fluorescent screen of her laptop. The brightness was on the lowest setting, but that didn’t stop it from stabbing her behind the eyes every time she clicked on something new. She gripped her head in one hand while the other held onto her coffee like the lifeline that it was, and she continued to stare at the screen like she had been for the last ten minutes.
Her mind was stuck in some sort of logic paralysis. Staring at the picture of the supervillain in front of her, she could feel a sort of recognition stirring deep in the recesses of her conscious mind, only for it scurry away anytime she tried to shine a light on it. It preferred the shadows it seemed, and the magic stubbornly held it there no matter how vigorous Alya’s efforts to drag it out.
Fine, whatever. She had been dealing with the reason muddling magic of the miraculous for years, even since long before she knew what it was. Except now, with this particular supervillain, she knew that the magic could yield. She just had to get it to yield to her.
Groaning, she dropped her forehead to the cool surface of the desk. She was exhausted in ways she had never been exhausted before. Not just physically, but mentally, spiritually. The most similar thing she had ever experienced was her senior year when she’d stayed up all night to write the entirety of her 20 page thesis in one go. Her soul had long vacated her body, but the vessel still dragged on with the help of caffeine, and by the time she was done, she had no idea if what she’d written was even coherent, because she had forgotten how to look at a word and recall its meaning.
But at least then she had been done. She had reached the end, reached a conclusion. But this? This she had been at for 72 hours straight and had made no progress. The magic wouldn’t let her get anywhere–not so much as three steps down a logical path, let alone a conclusion. It was stubborn, unyielding, unwilling to let her figure out the goddamn identity of the peacock miraculous holder.
She had long given up this battle after working herself into daily migraines well over a year ago. But that was before she knew that it was possible to break through. That it was actually within the realm of possibility for the magic to cave in.
Afterall, it caved for Chloé, didn’t it?
“Ugh!” With a frustrated grunt, she lifted her head only enough to bang it back down on the desk. The pounding headache immediately tried to make her regret her decision, but it was too late for regret. No, the window of opportunity to regret any of her decisions had come and passed sometime yesterday afternoon. Now she was at hour 72 of her search and if she allowed herself to give up, the last three days would have been for nothing.
But she was ragged. Dead. Her mind felt a shred of what it usually was. She was a journalist for crying out loud–if Chloé could figure it out, why couldn’t she!? Why would the magic yield to Chloé, of all people? Why was she special? She had to have some form of upper hand on the matter, some sort of information that she was withholding. If the magic had allowed her to see through to the identity of Le Paon, then it must mean that Chloé knew something about him that the rest of them didn’t.
Was he close to Chloé? No, no one was close to Chloé except for them. She had the heroes, Master Fu, her father, and Sabrina. And certainly none of those fit the bill for Paon.
And that’s the problem–the logic there was sound! Alya could think through that whole path coherently, without the magic redirecting her, which meant that it was obviously the wrong path somehow! No, whoever Paon was, it wasn’t someone in Chloé’s life–or at least, not someone she talked about.
Alya opened her eyes and sat up again, the bright screen searing her vision in the dark of her study. Her coffee had gone cold, but she still needed it if she was going to keep going. Taking another moment to look over Paon as she gulped down what was left–nope, still getting nowhere–she switched tabs over to her research document.
Things that she knew: Le Paon had a freak out and rebelled against Papillon by defeating the akuma himself just a few weeks ago.
This isn’t part of the deal. You’re not supposed to touch them.
Paon clearly had a deal set up with Papillon that held him in his service. A deal to protect someone. Saying that Papillon wasn’t supposed to touch them clearly implied that there was a select person or group of people Paon was trying to keep safe. So had the akuma attacked one of those people?
Alya closed her eyes against the throbbing and breathed slowly until ready to push through.
The akuma that day had been a woman named Abigail, one of the writers at Paris Daily. She’d said in the news report that she had felt pissed off that day because her editor had rejected a piece she’d been working on for months with little to no explanation as to why they wouldn’t publish it. Her editor was…Christiane Allenmore, who declined to comment on the situation. While akumatized, Abigail attacked Christiane, as well as some of her fellow writers including…Robert Goodword, Danielle Lasser, and Aida G. Kells.
Could Paon be trying to protect them? For some reason? Were they friends, coworkers? Looking up pictures of those journalists as well as the rest of the crew at Paris Daily, no one bore much of a resemblance to Paon. They were all too old, or they didn’t have the right build, or their hair wasn’t the right color–well, except for Abigail on that last one. But that was it! She had the same color hair as him, but she obviously wasn’t Paon since she was the akuma in question.
Alya groaned and cradled her head in her hands as the thudding spiked again. She could feel the magic redirecting her thoughts at every corner, leading her down the wrong paths and blinding her to the existence of the right ones. She knew that if this was any other situation, she would be able to make connections clear as day, and she would have figured out his identity in no time. There was something obvious that she was missing here, and she knew she was missing it, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was!
A groggy voice intruded on her thoughts, “Alya, babe, come to bed.”
Her head snapped up as a warm hand settled over her shoulders. She hadn’t even heard Nino approach. Hadn’t heard the door to the room open, hadn’t noticed him flicking on the lights, and hadn’t realized he was present until he touched her. She must have been falling asleep for just a few seconds there using her palms as a pillow.
Alya shook her head. “No, I need to figure this out.”
A long, tired sigh. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes I do, Nino!” she responded with sudden vehemence, slamming her hands down on the desk as she stood up to face him. Nino instinctually retracted his hand, but he kept his countenance calm in that way that she usually took comfort in but was in this moment only infuriating her more. “I know that you don’t want me to chase down his identity. I know you think it’s for the best, and that I’m only giving myself needless headaches, but I have to know! Not knowing is driving me crazy, especially since of all people Chloé was the one to figure it out. I mean if she can, then I should certainly be able to, right!?”
Calm, tired, resolute. Nino looked back at her with sad eyes, a concerned divot in his brow. Ever since starting his training with Master Fu, those eyes had taken on a certain knowing nature that they bore almost constantly now. Alya had come to like it; it was usually soothing. But in this context, it just felt demeaning.
“Chloé figured it out for contextual reasons.” His voice was too soft in comparison to the way she’d been yelling. It felt like it eased the volume of the air itself. “I know the thought wounds your pride a little–,” her eyes darted away, arms hugging her chest defensively as that statement hit her straight in the gut. Nino paused to step forward and place his hands over her arms, rubbing them in a comforting gesture. “–but your inability to make the connection is not your fault.”
Her head rolled back as she groaned in dismay, “I know, it’s this stupid magic. But if Chloé was able to break through it, then I should be able to as well, right?” He merely frowned at her. “How is this not bothering you? I mean, aren’t you at least a little bit curious who he is??”
“Well…” Nino’s eyes darted away nervously and in just that second, she felt her entire being take on a sinking feeling.
“Oh my god, you know.”
Still not meeting her eyes, he gently nodded and confessed, “Yeah.”
Alya stepped back, slipping out of his grip. Anger, betrayal, and a steady hopelessness had all set up camp inside her ever since the meeting, but she felt them welling up again now. “So, for the past three days, you’ve just been watching me suffer over this, driving myself crazy, when you knew all along!?”
“Alya–,”
“I’ve been refusing to sleep, pushing myself to my absolute limits over this, and this whole time, you’ve just been sitting on the exact answers that I am trying to find!? How could you not tell me!?”
“You already know why. Master Fu said–,”
“Fuck that!” Nino had taken a step forward, hands raised to implore her, but Alya jumped even further out of his reach. “You’ve seen the way this is hanging over me! How long were you planning to let me continue banging my head against a wall before you deigned to mention that you knew his identity!?”
It seemed the conversation was finally getting to him at least the slightest bit, because his voice picked up, louder and more stern as he argued, “I’ve been trying to get you to stop.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed, a bitter laugh infecting her words. “By telling me ‘it’s not worth it,’ ‘it’s better this way,’ ‘there’s no reason you need to know.’ Easy for you to fucking say! I can’t believe you would stand there and chastise me about this when you’ve already figured it out!”
Nino burst, “Hey, I didn’t mean to figure it out! It just happened!”
It was obvious in his expression that he regretted his words the instant they were out, because no doubt he could see the outright fury burning inside her as she stared at him with her jaw slack. “You didn’t mean to?” she asked, voice level but seething with an underlying deadly poison.
He closed his eyes with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttered, more so to himself, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You mean to say that while I’ve been running in mental circles over here, the answer just up and came to you!?”
“Yeah,” he replied, voice strained as if confessing to a crime.
“How!?”
Nino held out his arms at his sides and dropped them in a perplexed sort of gesture. “I don’t know, I just… I was thinking about the peacock miraculous, it occurred to me that there was someone I thought would be a good holder, and it just…clicked.”
Confusion took over, settling a great portion of her rage as she mulled on the new information. “You mean like you thought of someone who was well suited for the peacock’s abilities, and that person turned out to be the actual current wielder?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, basically.”
Alya took up her habit of meandering around the room and biting her nail while she contemplated. “Master Fu did say that he would have chosen the same person if the miraculous had been on our side… And you were able to make that same conclusion independently, which means that Le Paon is someone you know, and if you know him then I probably do as well…” In her peripheral, she caught sight of Nino crossing his arms with an aggravated sigh but she paid it no mind. Springing with renewed vigor, she looked up at him. “The peacock’s ability has something to do with perception, right? How does it work?” He didn’t respond, brow furrowed and frowning at her in disapproval. “Come on, Nino, you know I’m not going to give it up. If you won’t outright tell me who he is, you may as well tell me more about his abilities so I can figure it out myself.”
That concern from earlier seeped back into his gaze. “Why won’t you give it up, though?” She let out a loud, frustrated whine, and Nino talked over her. “Alya, I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to force it like this. If the magic is going to reveal his identity to you, it’ll do so on its own terms.”
“I can’t just wait around for that time to come,” she said exasperatedly, turning to fully face him again. “I need to know who he is.”
“Why? Why do you need to know?”
“Oh come on, you know me, Nino,” she brushed off the question. She tried to remain nonchalant as she looked away, but she couldn’t help crossing her arm over to rub the other one in a self soothing gesture.
“Yeah, I do.” His voice took on a tender quality and she didn’t back up this time when he stepped into her space. Gentle fingers brushed back a stray curl of her unwashed hair, tucking it behind her ear, and he bent down to catch her gaze again. Soft, sweet amber eyes held her with the utmost care and warmth. “That’s how I know this isn’t just some mystery like any of the countless others you chase down.”
Lips pressed together, she looked back at him with pleading eyes. She was tired, upset, angry, and she didn’t want to admit the real issue that had been driving her search. The thought that had nestled into the back of her head that she’d refused to give voice to, even to herself.
“Come on, Alya.” That warmth of his–that comfort and neverending understanding–had the tension in her muscles almost involuntarily easing up. “Talk to me.”
She swallowed down an uneasy lump in her throat. Quiet, almost ashamed, and feeling like a frightened child, she finally admitted, “I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive her.”
“Chloé?”
She nodded. “It’s been almost a week, and I’m still just…so angry with her.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she couldn’t find it in herself to care, not in front of Nino. “I just can’t help but think that maybe if I knew who he was, maybe it would help me understand why she would hide him from us for so long.” Shaking her head, she hugged her arms closer to her body as if she could stave off the ice cold feeling sinking in her chest. “Because if it doesn’t, then… Then I don’t know how I can ever be friends with her again.”
Alya let herself be pulled into his arms, sinking her head into the nook under his chin. He wrapped her up in his hold in that way that never failed to make her feel at least a little bit better. Tight, warm, secure.
The rumble of his voice in his chest was a soothing comfort. “Knowing isn’t going to make it better. If you’re going to forgive her, you’ll need to find your own way to do it.”
She hated this feeling. This bitter resentment toward Chloé that had been gnawing away at her since the meeting. It was worse than any hatred she’d felt for her back in the days when Chloé was a bully. Worse than any hatred she’d felt, period. And it was sickening. It felt like a glue clogging up her daily function, preventing her from doing anything without acknowledging its presence and actively dwelling on it every second of every day.
She had come to view Chloé as one of her closest friends, and the path to getting there had been far from easy. On both their parts, there was so much time, and effort, and swallowed pride, and forgetting, and forgiving that had gone into it, that for Chloé to turn around and do this was just– It hurt. It was a betrayal that some leftover childhood portion of Alya almost felt like she should have seen coming, even though objectively she knew it wasn’t like that. She knew Chloé wasn’t who she was back in lycée. She knew Chloé was one of the most trustworthy friends a person could have–a ride-or-die type who you could always rely on to be on your side, even if you were wrong.
…Like Paon.
Alya let out a long and slow sigh, hiding her face in Nino’s chest. “I hate this,” she murmured, voice getting muffled in his shirt. He heard her though, and raised a hand to smooth over her hair before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I know. But it’ll get better. Just give it time.”
She held there for another second. Two. Three. Finally, she separated from him to go close her laptop. “Come on, Nino,” she said softly as she reached for his hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
