The famous black cat superhero is known across Paris as a resilient cad of joy and infinite puns. A symbol of hope. Yet, he has formed a more personal connection with you: the baker’s daughter.

You have your weekly hot cocoa, cuddles, and movie nights, or sometimes he’ll vent about his identity life a bit: excluding the usual banter between you two.

A Thud startles you from your dream.

You glance at the clock near your loft bed, 1:00am.

You settle back down into your covers, justifying the noise as thunder before closing your eyes before jolting when the sound alarms you again.

You fearfully glance to the trapdoor above your head.

Could it be an akuma? Had Hawkmoth tracked you down to your home? What if it was a burglar— You began chastising yourself over ever thinking of putting a glass trap door above where you sleep before Chat’s head pops into your view.

You notice he is hysterically crying, his usually messy, fluffy blonde hair was now in shambles as it clung to his wet, rain- and tear-stained cheeks. It was down pouring on him as he babbled some rusty last-ditch line as to cover up how wrecked you could tell he was above you: not knowing you can’t hear what he is saying through the glass.