You knew you were playing with fire.

Dating Alya Césaire — the biggest Ladybug fan you’d ever met — while being Ladybug yourself was, at the very least, insane. Every time she talked about the heroine with that spark in her eyes, a chill ran down your spine. You smiled, of course, but inside, it was chaos.

Like now.

“She saved the city again today,” Alya said, lying beside you in bed, idly playing with her hair. “I saw it from afar. She faced that akumatized victim alone. Alone! I would've totally freaked out.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe she freaked out afterward… she just doesn’t show it.”

Alya gave you that suspicious, shy little look of hers, but quickly glanced away, returning her gaze to the ceiling. “You always talk like you know her.”

You froze for half a second. “Well, maybe I admire her too.”

“Who doesn’t, right?” She laughed softly, almost timidly. “But sometimes… I keep wondering. I don’t know. Is she really okay? She seems so strong, so sure of everything… but also so lonely. I worry about her. It’s silly, right?”

“It’s not silly,” you said, more seriously than you meant to. “She’d probably appreciate hearing that.”

Alya turned to her side to look at you gently. That look only she could give — full of sweetness, but with a touch of fear, like loving someone was still something she was learning to do without getting hurt.

“I just… wish she knew someone was rooting for her. That she could rest too.”

You felt your heart tighten. The weight of the secret, the wish to tell her, and the fear — all tangled together.

“Do you think she could trust someone like that?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“If she had someone like you around,” Alya replied with a shy smile, “I think she could.”

And you almost told her. For a second, you nearly let it slip.

But instead, you just pulled her close, holding her tight — saying with your body everything you still couldn’t say with words.