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jesuis-melodrama · 3 years

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LadyNoir Inequality: Chat Noir’s Fall from Significance

How does Ladybug and Chat Noir's roles differ between the seasons? How was responsibility, positions, duties delegated between them? This essay analyses in detail how the LadyNoir fallout of Season 4 came to be, and how Chat Noir ultimately fell from hierarchal significance.

What attracted me to Miraculous, apart from the stellar animation and the potential of the in-universe powers, was the dynamic between Ladybug and Chat Noir. Like the camaraderie of the Phantom Thieves in Persona 5, the partnership between Ruby and Clancy in Ruby Redfort and the hierarchy of respect and power between the Hashira of Demon-Slayer, Marinette and Adrien interested me, because they are two very dissimilar people on separate standings who mutually trusts, supports, and depends on one another despite being different in almost every single way. Their powers, although complimenting, are not comparable, and their personalities, although cordial, are inverse. But despite these odds, Ladybug and Chat Noir are not just friends, companions, and confidants, but equals.

The first episode of the series, The Bubbler, demonstrates this splendidly (Author’s Note: The Bubbler is the first episode available on Netflix. Chronologically, Stormy Weather is the first official episode, but the same values hold up). It was a jarring introduction to a new show. The audience has no idea who Adrien and Marinette were, what Tikki and Plagg were or why these magical girl transformations suddenly granted them the powers to fight the maniacal butterfly man, but we can recognise the symptoms of two people already deep into the composition of their friendship. The Bubbler threw the smoothness and effectiveness of their teamwork directly into the faces of the audience, and it was brilliant.

We weren’t weighed down by the gritty details of the beginning, we don’t have to watch the awkward bumbling, the introductions or the unsurety of two strangers who have yet enough reason to trust one another. We were immediately thrusted into the middle of their partnership. The first thing Chat Noir did when he stepped onto the scene was to defend Ladybug and the first thing she did was to joke around comfortably, clearly relieved that he had finally arrived. After watching Marinette obsessively creep around Adrien’s house, trying to show love to a boy she barely knows, and watching Adrien uncomfortably trying to enjoy a social event which he desperatedly wanted but is clearly inexperienced in, the sudden switch of persona and their sudden familiarity and reliance on one another was a fresh breath of air and it made Miraculous a show worth investing in.

We may not know what happened between them, how they received their powers and how they know each other, but it is obvious some catalytic event has tied Ladybug and Chat Noir together. And by all the features exhibited (another great thing, the words spoken were only secondary to the demonstrative body language) the audience was immediately aware that they have stepped into something sacred, something unbreakable. And even with the thick wall of secret and unspeakable identities between them, we feel comforted when we see them together, because they are comfortable and happy with one another.

So, fourteen monster-of-the-day episodes later, when Season 1 presented the first inklings of Miraculous’ overarching plot, watching Marinette and Adrien receive their Miraculous, meet each other as civilians and then as superheroes, the scene is nostalgic and sentimental, and aided by the fantastic animation, the audience can appreciate and remember the defining passage as an evocative and triggering moment for years afterwards.

But that is not to say their partnership hasn’t been without fault.

The cracks were always present, but as the seasons rolled on, it only became more obvious. Their roles were disparate. Ladybug comes up with the plans, Ladybug comes up with the solutions and more often than not, Chat Noir is used as a tool and a distraction for Ladybug’s success. Ladybug had the Lucky Charm and the Miraculous Cure. Chat Noir can stand on his own, defend and attack as an individual, but apart from using the Cataclysm as Ladybug directs, Chat Noir has no outstanding impact on the defeat of any akuma. He does not contribute to any tactics, and he cannot win without Ladybug because he has nothing to offer strategically.

Assets aside, there is also the matter of leadership.

The audience finds out that Chat Noir initially took the frontman role in The Origins. He attacked Stoneheart first while Ladybug dithered behind. But as Ladybug regained confidence, she took the leadership position in both episodes, and Chat Noir was more than happy to follow. Thus, their dynamic was laid down. They both showed satisfaction with their place in the relationship, Chat Noir often yielding to her judgement, such as in Stormy Weather and Dark Cupid, and Ladybug asserts that Chat Noir was in her team in Antibug.

The first big indicator of disagreement in this mutually agreed arrangement was in Syren. A contentious episode, the consequence of Chat Noir physically rebelling against Ladybug’s decision for the first time. All the way to Season 4, Rena Rogue has stirred conflict and mistrust between the duo. When I watched Ladybug leading Rena Rogue away while Chat Noir stared angrily at their retreating backs, I remembered hoping that the episode would end with Ladybug telling Chat Noir everything, so that they could have their Season 1 relationship back. Where they navigated this confusing and alien new world together, hiding so much from the public and each other, but never their authenticity and belief in one another.

I wished that Ladybug had told Chat Noir about the Guardian. I wished that both of them had been privy to the information from the very beginning and I wished that both of them knew who the other Miraculous Holders were because they chose them together. Realistically, someone in the show should’ve connected the dots, and realised that most of the Miraculous Holders were attending a specific class in Collège Françoise Dupont and were all associated with a specific person. That was the only reason I could think of why having Ladybug and Chat Noir choosing the Holders together is a bad idea. It would threaten their identity (which at that point, was still a concern).

But canonically, Ladybug constantly chose Holders who were dangerously close to the situation. Kagami in Ikari Gozen, Chloé in Malediktator, Rose in Guiltrip and Max in Startrain. The only Holder Chat Noir has chosen wasn’t even chosen by his particular identity. Adrien suggested that Luka might be a good Snake, and Ladybug heeded his words, not Chat Noir’s. I wished there was a single scene where Ladybug and Chat Noir analysed the situation and the potential Holder together, looked at each other, no words needed to be said, just a nod and a telepathic agreement shared through their eyes, and Ladybug would present the next Holder with a Miraculous with her and her partner’s approval both given.

What was the point of keeping their identities hidden?

In Season 1, it made some sense. They had no idea the Guardian existed. Even if Chat Noir was reluctant, they can both agree that they could not take their chances, should one of them be captured. But with the reveal of the Guardian’s identity in Season 2, the need for secret identities is almost eradicated. Clearly, there is someone who is an even bigger threat to their civilian lives than Ladybug and Chat Noir are to each other. Ladybug is now burdened with a bigger cache of knowledge. Should one of them be captured, it can only be hoped that it would be Chat Noir, because unlike Ladybug, he could not spew information about potions and kwami and secret books and the Guardian’s location.

In Season 3, the climax of Miracle Queen places the duties of the Guardian directly in Ladybug’s hand. She is now in charge of all the heroes in Paris, she is now the leading physical and strategic force in the battle against Hawk Moth and she is now officially stated as Leader, not just holding a de facto position.

In Season 4, the need for secret identities is gone. Ladybug is the Guardian. She and her original partner, Chat Noir, has no more safety nets in keeping their identities hidden from each other because there is no longer a background link tying them. Should Marinette be incapacitated, should Adrien meet an accident, there is no one reading their news who is available to inform the other person. The only reason why Chat Noir’s identity continues to be hidden from Ladybug is because she does not want to know. The only reason why Ladybug does not reveal her identity to Chat Noir is because she does not want him to know.

Chat Blanc could be inserted as a contending factor. Chat Blanc saw to it that the reveal of their identities to one another could lead the end of the world.

But Chat Blanc was not the only factor.

Season 4 Marinette is overwhelmed and stressed and guilt-ridden. Season 4 Marinette tore herself apart trying to maintain the kwami, her Guardian duties and continue moonlighting as Ladybug. Season 4 Marinette was at the end of her tether, and at this point, Chat Noir’s presence and his insistence was no longer a support or a comfort but another chore and responsibility to be balanced.

Her support network as both Marinette and Ladybug were extinguished. Thus, in a peaking moment of weakness, she finally revealed her identity to Alya.

Marinette met Alya and Chat Noir on the same day. Two strangers both became her friend, two insistent strangers who were united in their goal to find out Ladybug’s identity. Marinette hid her secret life from Alya, Ladybug hid her civilian identity from Chat Noir. As Marinette, she was supported by passionate, fierce, and rash Alya who jumped to conclusions and unnerved Marinette with her determination to find out the truth about Ladybug. As Ladybug, she was supported by passionate, fierce, and rash Chat Noir who impulsively leapt into battles and irritated her with his constant declarations of love.

But Marinette had connections to Alya as both Marinette and Ladybug. She found herself acknowledging Alya’s true character and learned to rely on her through a multitude of trust falls and confrontations. Marinette made the decision to trust Alya, she made the decision to depend on a person she knows as both a citizen and a superhero.

She had no choice with Chat Noir. She never knew who he was, only that he was thrusted into the same situation as she was. Truth was an important concept to Marinette, she stated multiple times that she could not stand liars. And subsequently, she could never really trust Chat Noir because she does not know who he was.

Chat Noir was an emotional crutch during the finale of Season 2 and Season 3. He was the reason why she found the courage to go on despite the anxiety of her failures and the culmination of her carelessness. Throughout Antibug, Heroes’ Day, Gamer 2.0 and Miracle Queen, it was demonstrated that the only way Marinette could trust him and confide in her vulnerabilities was through Ladybug with him as Chat Noir. She couldn’t afford the trust the boy behind the mask, so, when it came to the end of her line, when she has no other choice, Alya was the one to receive the relinquishment of her identity, not Chat Noir.

Gang of Secrets signified the end of Chat Noir’s reign.

He was a founding member, one of the original team, once upon a time on equal par with Ladybug. But now, his presence only matters as much as a temporary hero’s. The released episodes of Season 4, Mr Pigeon 72, Sole-Crusher, and most noticeably, Optigami and Sentibubbler, demonstrated the redundance of his company. Both physically and emotionally, Rena Rouge (now known as Rena Furtive) has filled in as Ladybug’s partner. Chat Noir has to be sneaked around, shield from the fact that there is a new permanent hero and shield from the fact that now, there is one other person in the world who knows Ladybug’s identity, that isn’t him.

With Ladybug’s circle of temporary allies expanded, she no longer needs to rely on Chat Noir to be her support. She could gather up any number of useful powers she has at her disposal and expend them as she wished. In Megaleech, among the five-men team Ladybug had gathered, each one of them has contributed to the defeat of the akuma, with Polymouse outshining as the victor over the army of mini Malediktators, and each one of the other heroes playing a vital role in Ladybug’s plan. Chat Noir’s delegation? To distract the enemy while Ladybug gathered up her soldiers. In the end, he didn’t even use his power, marking the first time in a Miraculous episode that a hero was called upon and left without use. The Cataclysm is no longer necessary for the defeat of an akuma. But the Lucky Charm and the Miraculous Cure are as relevant now as they were when Stoneheart first attacked.

Optigami and Sentibubbler reached the apex of his unimportance. Both times, he was more of a hindrance than a reinforcement. He unconsciously prevented Marinette from becoming Ladybug, which derails the plan to Rena Rogue’s command. He has to be told by Marinette, the civilian, to stay out of the superhero’s plan, because there was nothing he could do that Rena Rogue wasn’t already doing.

The Cataclysm is a one-use power, Chat Noir is a one-trick pony. He’s still stuck in Season 1 mode while Ladybug has broadened to new powers, new suit, new duties, new partners, and new goals.

Hawk Moth knows the identity of all the heroes but Chat Noir don’t. Chloé knows the identities of all the heroes but Chat Noir don’t. Alya has more privileges and inside knowledge than Chat Noir has, and with Rocketear, Nino is now another confidant privy to more secrets than Chat Noir is.

All Chat Noir is left with, is the comedic side-kick routine he is now entrenched too deeply in to crawl out, the knowledge that his best friend in both his civilian life and superhero life think he’s annoying, and the realisation that Ladybug truly no longer trust him, because the heroes around him, his subordinates in a sense, now ranks higher in prominence.

Did Ladybug mean for this to happen? Absolutely not.

But Chat Blanc is no longer a reason big enough to cover all the discrepancies. And she has grown so used to keeping him in the dark to realise how much the darkness was causing the chasm between them to grow. Chat Noir is now outwardly lying to Ladybug that he’s fine, refusing to tell her that he knows to some extent the secrets she has kept from him. In Season 2, he angrily confronted her about being left behind. In Season 4, now that Ladybug holds all the power, now that he no longer has the authority to demand reasons and explanations, the only thing he could do is keep his mouth shut and hope that the sheer cliff he’s balancing on does not shear away even more.

Because Chat Noir is still fun for him, isn’t it? Being a hero, being himself? Chat Noir isn’t a role for him to act, to fake being happy, to pretend to be something he’s not. Chat Noir is a persona where he can be as expressive, as temperamental, as coquettish, and childish and experimental he wants. An entity where he can safely explore all the emotions children his age usually experiences without consequences. A place where he isn’t held under fear of abandonment or emotional abuse, where he can explore his identity and speak his mind without retaliation or repercussions.

Isn’t it?

Chat Noir’s presence is still prevalent at every akuma fight because he is a founding member. Ladybug has no reason to tell him to go home, and he’s still useful in the sense that he can provide distractions while Ladybug figures out her plan, and feed information to Rena Furtive who is hiding and watching and waiting. And there is still the Cataclysm, a power that is supposed to rival the Lucky Charm, whose potential is still yet unearthed.

But Chat Noir has no more standing to rely on. He is no longer a principal participant in the encompassing war between Ladybug and Hawk Moth, even if he is a principal target. Each side gathers up their warriors and equipment, and Chat Noir is just another treasured pawn in Ladybug’s army. He is alone in the fact that no one knows his identity. Ladybug has someone, Hawk Moth has someone, and both of them has an arsenal of champions to pick from.

He’s a wild card, he’s an anomaly. He was once Ladybug’s partner, he was a prototype for the modern Miraculous hero, and by himself, he had a visible presence. But he lost the novelty quickly.

Even in Season 1, people preferred Ladybug. She was the one to fix their city, she made the flashy speech at the Eiffel Tower, it was explainable. In Season 2, Hawk Moth began to ignore his Miraculous multiple times in favour of Ladybug’s earrings. Chloé called him Ladybug’s second fiddle. In Season 3, Fu’s obvious favour of Ladybug as future Guardian emphasised Chat Noir’s emerging sidelining. And in Season 4, Ladybug herself begun to omit her partner.

What does this have in store for the future? Rumours and headcanons fly, whispers of an akumatization on par with Chat Blanc looms closer and closer. Personally, I hope that something more substantial is done with Chat Noir’s character. There’s still so much to be expatiated, his family history, his own personality, and his unlocked powers. If the Black Cat Miraculous was truly the harmonizing consort of the Ladybug Miraculous, then logically, Chat Noir should be receiving the multiple new upgrades in the near future.

A climax where an issue that has spanned for four seasons ending within two episodes sounds stereotypically Miraculous and nightmarish. But the show has three more seasons to go, and hopefully this conflict will be used as a starting point for what may be in store for those seasons.

What if Chat Noir decides to deflect? What is he decided to derail, and what if Chat Noir becomes the next villain? ShadowMoth is a recurring joke at this point, and with the development of Season 4, ShadowMoth’s return in Season 5 sounds exhausting and repetitive. Looking at the overarching picture, there is only one person that has enough incentive and power to become Ladybug’s future archnemesis.

Love and hate are the opposite sides of the same coin.

But no matter what is in store for the distant narrative of Miraculous, this essay concludes on the now.

We look at Season 1 Chat Noir, and the Chat Noir of the latest episode. Even if his powers and position hasn’t grown, he has developed into his role emotionally, in an unfortunately negative way.

Chat Noir is no longer Ladybug’s partner, and analytically, no longer as important as he once was.

I really hope the show does something good with this.

#miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #ladybug #chat noir #analysis

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whatwashernameagain · 6 years

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Keep him safe - Chapter 25

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Previous Chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, Fantasy AU You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 8.095

Warnings: violence marked with ///////////////////////, sexual abuse marked with +++++++, blood, insults, self-hate, bad expectations of relationships, mentioned unhealthy weight loss, body insecurity

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: I have nothing to say for myself. My betas @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 and @hanramz-the-fander are the best, I love all of you, please take care of yourself! And check out the art at the end of the chapter!

Chapter 25

A thunderous crash following a whoop of joy penetrated the peacefulness of the isolated office. Both Logan and Captain Holt ignored the sound with the stoic determination of men used to the shenanigans of Jake Peralta and Roman Prince respectively.

The aforementioned detective had survived a near encounter with a stray bullet that had (barely) grazed his ‘beautiful face’ and had therefore immediately enlisted both Roman and Gina to throw him a party fit for the miracle of his survival and his general good looks and heroism. Roman had instantly thrown himself into organizing a play fit for the epic tale and had begun roping in officers too slow to escape his enthusiasm. The young man who had been swooning over him the last few days had been delegated to raiding the lost-and-found box for costumes. Logan estimated that their Captain would permit them another 48 minutes of frivolous displays before returning the precinct to its proper state of professionalism, barring a certain margin of error in case the fire extinguisher should make an appearance once again of course. Roman had been drawing up rather disturbing images of fog and explosions. Understandably, both men had therefore chosen to hide from the undignified behavior behind the safety of the closed office door.

“Would you care for an unsalted, assorted mixture of nuts, Nicodemus?” The Captain’s pleasantly monotonous voice inquired politely. The lack of emotion displayed by the other man was just to Logan’s liking today. A song being pitched and a shirt hitting the glass door with a ‘thud’ behind him were stoically ignored.

The therapy rat in question squeaked in affirmation, curiously standing on its hind-legs to pay attention to their conversation. The choice of respectively one almond, peanut, walnut, hazelnut and pistachio kernel were laid out before it in an orderly row. Nicodemus grabbed the hazelnut with his little paws, before giving a polite squeak.

“A very sensible choice.” Holt commended. “In my opinion, the pistachio kernel is such a purposelessly showy nut. It is certainly nut the most nutritious nut, despite its… gaudy coloring.”

Trying and failing not to show a small smile at the bad pun and the following association, Logan responded, “Indeed.” Nicodemus hopped around the laid out object of their observations and gave the Captain an unobtrusive tap on the hand like Roman had taught him before selecting a walnut.

“Your therapy rat displays quite pleasing manners.”

“He certainly does. I would expect nothing less from a distinguished pet such as him.” Another crash rattled the office, followed by a wailing complaint. “Unlike other… pets I have been told I have apparently acquired.” Logan grumbled, thinking back of Remy calling Roman his pet. Preposterous.

Meanwhile, Roman had scaled the makeshift stage and was narrating ‘The Incredible Story of the Heroic Survival of the Amazing Jake Peralta’, starring Jake Peralta as Detective Peralta, among other ‘volunteers’.

“Just as our dramatic hero believed the day to be saved, evil rose from the shadows beyond!” Roman cried, narrating the event that had caused his colleague to tragically wear a colorful band aid over his brow from his perch on four pushed together desks. He was a grand storyteller, lovely and captivating, making his audience wait with baited breath for the next part of his masterfully orchestrated play as he held his pose. And held his pose.

Annoyed, he cleared his throat, his voice becoming slightly high pitched. “Evil rose from the shadows beyond!”

A bag of chips rustled among the waiting detectives. Roman keened in annoyance, feeling his theatrical genius slighted. This would not do, he was aiming for a tale worthy of Broadway producers here! Renewing his pose with passion, he screeched, “EVIL ROSE!”

With a sigh, Logan rose from his chair in the safety of adult company. “Would you please excuse me, I believe I am missing my cue.” Putting on a preposterous bowler hat stolen from evidence with very little enthusiasm, he slunk into the bullpen.

“Prepare to die, fiend!” He growled while stiffly waving around a spotted umbrella for ‘dramaturgical reasons’, incredulously wondering why on earth he was doing this. Roman’s face lit up with happiness.

***

‘My evil plans, foiled again!’ - Tesla, who wrote lines like those?! Logan’s face still burned at the memory of the acting he’d allowed his partner to talk him into, and in front of his colleagues no less. The things he’d uttered, just to make the childish detective happy. He had clearly softened and he blamed his partner. There would be no dessert tonight! As he’d escaped the precinct, Roman had just prepared to orchestrate a grand sequel. Clearly, the time for a strategic retreat had come. Patton’s company ought to be the safer one.

Yet, despite having come to a mutual agreement to accept the young man’s situation and remain friends, Logan felt ill prepared to enter the Pat-isserie. They might have spoken and hugged at the hospital, however he still feared the influence of the baker’s relationship on their daily interactions. Would he even be able to ignore what he knew was going on in his private life, pretend everything was alright and engage in shallow conversation like he had before? His emotions felt too powerful to treat the situation casually. Despite his cool exterior, Logan was an intense man. He did not know how to love someone halfway. He liked to pretend Roman was the one who followed him around, the one who depended on him, but had his partner not resisted his demanding attempts at taking him in, he would have had Roman under his wing in his flat within the first few months of their tentative friendship. He still only grudgingly accepted the fact that the other returned to his own apartment occasionally. Additionally, the fact that he had - there was no other way to describe it – adopted the little troublemaker Virgil the moment the younger man had shown weakness and caved to his aggressive attempts at caring for him made the truth Logan had tried hard to hide painfully apparent. He needed people to care for. By some stroke of luck Roman and Virgil, even Patton, still believed he was the composed one looking after all of them, the one in control they needed to rely on, but in reality he needed them so badly he felt lost and empty without them. Not being allowed to channel all of that protective anger and loving feelings left Logan a precariously balanced mess, threatening to tip and spill all of those unused, unwanted feelings all over their fragile relationship, suffocating it. Patton didn’t want the things he had to give. If he couldn’t manage to hold himself together, keep his intense longing and protective feelings as well as his anger and helplessness at bay, he’d be turned away. He’d understand it, too. His nerves in his throat, the tall detective evaded a swarm of laughing children holding sticky cupcakes in both hands and stepped into the cafe.

Warmth seeped into Patton so suddenly, it left him feeling lightheaded. Or perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. He really wanted to look his best from now on, Trevor was not fond of the weight he tended to gain around his hips, and had also been too nervous to get much past the dizzying mix of hope and insecurity in his stomach. So much had happened. Despite the changes he and Trevor had agreed upon following the shocking conclusions he’d come to, seeing Logan was as pleasant as it usually was. He’d slipped through the door and had held it open for a bunch of escaping little ones, allowing them to pass by under his arm, drawing attention to how tall he was. He looked as handsome as ever in his tailored, dark blue suit and silken tie, pale skin contrasting attractively with his raven hair. He’d even brought Nicodemus, which Patton always loved. There was a sort of pride and confidence about the detective whenever he was accompanied by his littlest friend, which Patton found too adorable. The realization of how much he wanted their friendship to work hit him hard. Logan had never been supposed to know. He hadn’t wanted him to be a threat, or for him to see Patton this way. He hadn’t wanted to seem weak.

With both men held back by their own insecurities, finding common ground was hard. Upon facing each other, neither appeared to know how to begin their conversation. Noticing the dark shadows under the detective’s eyes, Patton found he knew what he wanted, though. He and Trevor finally had a real chance at a happy ending after all those years of making each other miserable, why shouldn’t it be possible for him and Logan to find a way to make things work? He’d just need a place to start, and he knew exactly the right one. Feeling a keen sense of Déjà-vu, he silently stepped up to the taller man, being squeaked at by a cheerful, gray rat. Like the first time they’d met, Logan was hard to read at first, closed off and a little intimidating. Yet, like all those months ago, Patton could see beyond the facade. Offering a soft smile, he allowed the other a moment to prepare before raising on his tiptoes and carefully wrapping his arms around his friend. Their embrace was less sure than it had become in the course of their relationship, influenced by the insecurity of their opposing interests as a cop opposed to a victim unwilling to let him protect him. As a result, the detective’s body felt stiff under his hands at first, his jaw tense, his gaze closed off. Patton was patient though. He knew for once there was nothing to say. He curled close, bringing their bodies into close contact, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and letting his affection speak for itself. Wanting to help the other relax, he made himself soft and warm, melting against the long lines of his body like a cat. Like a strange reversal of their first proper hug, finally, Logan softened under him, his breath leaving him with his fear, his arms finally coming up to embrace him properly instead of awkwardly resting on his sides. He needed to be held more than he’d known. Patton’s own nerves quieted, leaving a soothing calmness behind. The rise and fall of the other man’s chest against his gave him something to focus on that made everything else cease existing. As always, the patissier and detective found common ground in each others arms.

Having greeted Virgil and left his beloved Nicodemus with a purring and rolling kitten upstairs to nap, the detective got comfortable on his usual spot, reviewing case notes in his notebook and surreptitiously watching his friends for any signs of distress. Considering the things he now knew, a lump up bitter fear rose in his throat whenever he had the chance to think about the things Patton had to face alone. He worried, all day, every day. Try as he might, the spiraling thoughts stuck with him from the moment he woke with a nauseous feeling in his stomach to the moment he fell asleep. It haunted his dreams and made him wake up in a pool of sweat. He could not help remembering the things he’d seen in his line of work, the reports and statements of women and men abused by their partners, scarred physically and emotionally. They overlapped with reality whenever he looked up to see Patton twirl around, smile at a child or coo at Virgil. He was so soft, so tender and beautiful and easy to hurt. He swallowed and returned his gaze to the paper, trying and always failing to forget.

A weight settled next to him, clad in lavender wool and trailing wisps of flour.

“Logan?” Patton asked softly, pulling at the sleeve of his soft sweater.

“Yes, Patton?”

“I can hear you thinking all the way over there, would you like...”

Flushing hotly, the detective cast his gaze down, mortified at being so obvious. “I apologize.” He hastily cut in, making the other fall silent. “And also for interrupting you. I did not mean to be disrespectful.”

The smaller man smiled, the expression once again softening his face, making him very pretty indeed. “Oh, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry! I know your smart head is coming up with so many ideas, so it’s best we just talk about it, don’t you think?” He asked reasonably, settling down comfortably next to his fretting friend. The way he curled up made him small enough to easily fit against the other man’s side, had he wanted to.

“I just want you to know that I had a really great chat with Emile, he is such a delight and so clever and helpful! And I realized how much had been going wrong with the two of us – I guess you knew a lot about that, being a detective and really smart and all – so we talked, Trevor and I, and he agreed to go to couple’s therapy with me, anything I wanted, really, he is truly trying, Logan. It’s wonderful how far he’s come and how much better we understand our mutual fears and problems now. I feel like I know him so much better than I did before, we are much closer now. He wants this to work as much as I do and I really believe it will, so – please don’t look so concerned, I don’t want you to be afraid for me. It’ll be okay, I promise! This time, all will be well.” He implored, his hazel eyes wide and trustful, filled with hope. It made something sharp twist in Logan’s chest, deep down were he harbored so much warmth. He attempted a smile, wanting to preserve Patton’s hope. He couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

“I’m pleasantly surprised by your partner’s willingness to accommodate your wishes.” He uttered diplomatically. Patton, perceptive as he was, was onto him though.

“Then… why do you look so tense? Is everything okay?” He asked anxiously, fear making his stomach feel queasy. Swallowing down all the things he wished to say but had no right to felt like making a rock settle in his stomach.

“Yes, certainly.”

A moment ticked by where the baker observed his friend, his brow furrowed. He seemed to come to a decision. Taking Logan’s calloused hand in his and making the poor man blush dreadfully with nerves and longing, he took his time to find the right words. Knowing the shyness of the detective, he kept his eyes cast down so not to make him feel exposed.

“I know I had to push you away a few times to, um, to get to the point where I wouldn’t have to be afraid for… you respect my wishes, though. I believe that, and I need that from you, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be honest with each other. There has to be something good about everything being in the light now. I think we need to talk openly, so no fear and resentment is between us, and I trust you, Logan.” Finally looking up, he added quietly. “I want to hear what you think.”

The older man took a deep, fortifying breath, disarmed by the honest wish. Still, fear of overstepping and of hurting those hopeful feelings made him hesitant. He felt like a villain, uselessly destroying this belief that things could be better.

“I… don’t think it will work as you expect it to.”

Patton’s eyes widened, growing hurt and wet. As he almost unconsciously pulled his hand back into his lap, his posture changed immediately, making him seem smaller. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Logan attempted to explain his position, to make it better somehow.

“Patton, I apologize for causing you distress. Since I am hardly an expert on relationships, you have no need to heed my authority. You must consider the things I have been confronted with in the course of my work. I may have grown cynical. I may be wrong.” It cut him to say those words he could not believe, but pushing his opinion on the other would only push him away. Steeling himself, he added his most vulnerable thought despite his fear of how much it might reveal about his feelings.

“And although I deeply admire your ability to trust in the best in any individual, I also do not believe somebody who hurt you deserves the privilege to be with you. You should be with someone who cherishes the right to be by your side. Someone who sees you as worthy of love and protection.”

Breathing out a sad sigh, Patton softened. “It’s hardly a privilege!” He chirped, trying hard to make light of the situation with humor. Logan didn’t take the bait though. His face remained serious and earnest.

“I believe it is.”

His seriousness made the patissier pause. He had no idea how to respond to the depth of emotion he felt behind the words. A twisting, aching sensation of longing came over him unbidden. This was not fair! They were doing better than they had in years, he could not ruin their chance with his stupid heart! He loved Trevor, he had no right to yearn to know what it might be like to be taken home and belong to a man who believed having him was a privilege. Why did it feel so possible right now when the chance was farther away than ever? For a wild moment, he imagined just reaching out and touching Logan’s face, touching him, and just giving himself over to what felt so real all of a sudden.

He was being ridiculous.

Logan was – he was unreachable, and not only because Patton had nothing to offer to him and was probably stupidly imagining impossible things. He’d made his choice long ago and had even recently renewed his promise. He’d be Trevor’s anchor, his protector and caregiver – his everything. The weigh was heavy, but he’d bear it.

Trying to take away his caring friend’s suffering, and to convey some of the hope he’d found, he promised, “This time it will work. Trust me.”

If only Logan could know how much progress he’d made in understanding their dynamic. How hard Trevor tried. So much had changed and for the first time in years, Patton dared to genuinely trust that things would be okay.

“I hope you are correct. I may not believe he deserves to be with you, but I could never want you to be hurt again.”

The detective never lowered his head or hunched his shoulders, but the tension and pain around his eyes and jaw was clear to see.

Logan’s selfless honesty almost broke Patton’s heart. He could see how much the man was torturing himself and he wanted nothing more than to ease his suffering. The detective clearly hated his relationship and hurt whenever Patton returned to Trevor. He’d seen it in the crushed looks, felt it in the worried and protective way he’d cradled him close. Yet he still let him go without a fuss, relinquishing his hold on him with obvious difficulty. He even wished him well. And Patton should be happy. He’d been so afraid of Logan, of his fury, his power, his ability to hurt and break and force Patton to comply with his wishes through the authority of his position. His terror had almost driven them apart for good. Now that the detective accepted his needs and supported his choices despite his pain and anger, he should feel nothing but relief. And yet, he was proving everything Trevor had said about him right. He was foolish and his heart was quick and stupid. Logan was giving him what he’d fought for. His freedom to make his own choices, the right to choose who to be with - and some part of Patton wished he hadn’t. Now that the older man had set him free, all unlikely chances, all unrealistic dreams of being with him had vanished. Before the patissier had made his choice clear to the detective, there had at least been some lingering hope that perhaps, Logan was pursuing him after all. His hugs had been an offer of safety. At times, his touches had felt like a slow seduction, caressing him with utter gentleness, holding him firmly enough to make him feel kept and protected. The way his deep voice had spoken his name had been filled with tenderness. He’d felt so valued.

His heart was heavy as he realized there was no going back. Logan was still here, still looking at him with this impossible softness, but he had stopped fighting him on his decision. A decision he could not back down from, Patton knew that. But at the same time, he deeply regretted the loss of the possible future Logan’s fierce demands and threats to Trevor had symbolized. While his wave of fury and his loss of control had terrified him, Patton knew they had been an offer of a way out, an offer at something new. Even a way to show his appreciation perhaps? Men fought for what they loved, didn’t they? Possibly, his aggression might have been a sign of a deeper interest? This sort of aggressiveness had always accompanied any relationship he’d known after all. Trevor was so unbalanced because he loved him so much and feared to lose him, wasn’t he? And Logan had been ready to tear down walls and break bones to grasp Patton and take him home, away from his boyfriend and the constant doubt and guilt.

And he knew, it would have broken them apart.

Patton could not live in another relationship where he feared control and violence, where his choices were taken from him and where people even got hurt for him. Trevor was different. He was his responsibility and he knew what to expect from him. He hadn’t been able to help it and he was making an effort now. Logan on the other hand was more than that. Had he refused Patton’s demands, he might have been able to tear him and Trevor apart and even take him with him – there would be no one else left to turn to after all, no place to go but where the older man led him, but their relationship would have been doomed from the start. He’d be restricted and intimidated and would live with the knowledge that his decisions would not be respected. Logan was better than that and Patton deeply, desperately needed him to stay that way. He knew, in his bones, that he needed Logan to remain as good and kind and strong as he was. Someone to trust and look up to. Someone who trusted Patton and respected him. His existence gave him strength. His heart broke at the realization finally truly sunk in. This meant he would never be with the man. He could not leave Trevor on his own volition – not now when they were fixing things – and Logan could not force him or tempt him away since Patton could never feel safe or respected with him if he did.

He swallowed hard, casting his gaze down. His eyes burned.

He was such a mess. Stupid, stupid Patton. He should be happy right now, not cry over impossible things. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted – Trevor, his friends, a hopeful future – and here he was, moping over something he was not going to get anyway. Logan was out of his reach and probably not interested in someone as untidy and disorganized and overly emotional as himself. He’d find a beautiful and successful doctor or lawyer and marry them and be free of all those issues. And Patton would be with Trevor and all would be well. Yes.

Nodding to convince himself, he bravely tried to bring his sunny smile back, brushing his curling hair back to give himself time to compose himself. He was ruining their perfectly wonderful afternoon with his moping!

“Thanks for worrying. I appreciate you being there.” As Patton whispered those words, his throat grew tight. He felt his affection so strongly all of a sudden, as if he’d never see the other man again. For a moment, he felt so terribly trapped and lonely, as if he was locking himself away from everything that mattered to him. There was a distance between them he became desperate to bridge lest he’d lose his chance. He just needed to be held, just for a moment. Unable to give fair warning this time, he threw himself into Logan’s arms, burrowing his face in his chest and simply holding on. The detective tensed in surprise, before bringing his arms up automatically. He was obviously confused and overwhelmed with the sudden intensity of the situation, judged by his stuttering breath, but he never disappointed Patton, pulling him close instead of speaking – perhaps because he was floundering about what to say – and pressing him against his chest just right. The slight patissier drew a shuddering breath, not understanding why he felt so desperately needy. He couldn’t be close enough. Appearing to feel his need on some level, Logan leaned back and allowed his friend to sprawl over his chest, half in his lap, until he couldn’t see anything but the darkness those arms enveloped him in, feel his warmth and breath and smell his cologne and soap. As he was held tightly and safely, slowly, the panicked feeling started so recede. The heavy weight of loss and sadness in his chest would not quite go away, but even so, Logan’s hold made it easier to gain strength, to remember the good things. He was not losing his friend, he was right here. How silly he was! And most importantly, he loved Trevor. He really, truly did. Held safely, it was not impossible to remember how his boyfriend looked when Patton had made him truly happy. The image of his smiling face, the eyes crinkling at the corners, the little laugh, it made his heart swell. His joy brought Patton so much pleasure, he wanted to see more of it. He wanted him to be happy and he wanted to be with him in good times again. He looked forward to it. With new strength, he pulled back, smiling unconsciously at the memory of Trevor’s face lit up with honest laughter.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, grateful to the befuddled detective for offering his care without asking questions about his strange moods. Spurred by his hopefully swelling heart, filled with so much love and expectations for a bright future, he leaned up and kissed his detective’s cheek sweetly.

Drawing back, a flash of reddish blond caught his gaze in the window.

///////////////////////

The image of the two of them burned him whenever he closed his eyes, he’d never felt pain like this before, like it cut into him like a physical thing, making him flinch and curl around his wounded chest. For some reason, his thoughts were stuck on a random detail, so small in comparison to the devastating picture that had hit him like a slap in the face - the height difference between them seemed to circle around in his brain, stuck like a splinter he kept picking at until the skin bled, tiny and insignificant, but impossible to ignore, setting his nerves on fire and infecting him with red hot agony. He was tall.

Taller than him.

He’d looked so tiny in his arms.

His hands looked so big on him.

Proprietary.

Patton slipped through the door into their apartment Trevor had fled into just as it was about to fall shut, out of breath, his face ashen with horror. He stumbled over the tidy row of shoes in his haste, tumbling against the wall clumsily. He’d followed Trevor home as fast as his legs would carry him, terror making his heart thunder and his breath come in short pants. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he tried to speak – tried to lie.

Trevor wouldn’t hear it again. He cut him off, expecting to sound loud, angry – yet his own voice sounded nothing like he intended, it was a shock to him, small, shaking, begging.

“What was that?! Why did you tell me- I thought – you said you’d be with me – you promised you wouldn’t – and with him -” He gasped, quivering. He could see nothing but Patton in the tall man’s arms. He’d been as good looking as he’d feared, composed and elegant and so much – too much to hope to compete with – he’d always known Patton would find someone better, someone who didn’t lose control again and again and again no matter how hard he tried, and he’d tried, every time he’d hated himself. And the other - he was just like he’d imagined him, countless times, taking Patton away, his large hands on his boyfriend’s hips. A wave of despair overwhelmed him. How could he go on now? He couldn’t lose the only thing that mattered – the worst thing wasn’t the touch – the loss, though.

“Why did you make me think we could fix –“ He gasped, bis sight blurry. “You- you made me th-think I could be good enough, I t-tried so hard, I – I tried – I always try-” He screeched suddenly. He knew what he had been doing, he hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but his temper, his anger, he just felt so weak and overwhelmed, sometimes he just couldn’t- but Patton had made him believe, he’d been so ready to try everything – but even as he’d made him hope, Patton had already moved on. He hadn’t even let him show him. He’d chosen something better.

He’d been in his arms. He’d kissed him. He’d reassured Trevor, looked him in the eye and said he loved him and then he’d gone straight to him. Why had he made him hope? Why would he torture him like that – play him like that?! It was so cruel. Did he think – was this a joke to him?!

The thought hooked into his mind like a claw, piercing deep, drawing hot, gushing blood. The powerful, seething, crimson tide rose in Trevor’s chest, higher and mightier with every thought of his failure, his loss, the betrayal. Furious anger swallowed him up like a wave of boiling, lashing water. The detective, he’d been after his boyfriend from the start – Trevor had known it. He’d avoided the cafe unconsciously, had known it would take Patton from him, had known he’d meet someone, even though he’d promised – he was overwhelmed, helpless, furious, he’d made his promise to make everything well just the night before. He’d thought it meant the world. A renewal, a way to finally be healthy and happy. He was a weary, so brittle, he’d wanted to believe it so badly. Patton had looked so earnest. They’d kissed, touched – he’d believed things would be well, trusted him with his life, didn’t he know how much Trevor had given to him, how much he needed-

But Patton hadn’t cared.

The wave rose. He was untethered. He was pulled under.

Carefully, Patton approached him and he lunged, backhanded the whore right across the face. A cry echoed across the vast, empty room. The crash of a body hitting the floor fueled something primal in him. The door slammed shut and he was onto his prey, his tormentor – the man who’d promised him everything and had ripped it all apart. The man he couldn’t live without. The man that had hurt him so much, so much. He was losing his hold, he felt hot humiliation burn in his veins, sizzling desperation. He’d been made a fool, Patton had never wanted to fix them, he’d laughed at him with the detective – he’d never been good enough. Everything was falling apart, the pieces were slipping from his fingers, he was so helpless, being bashed and pulled by his own conflicting emotions, he couldn’t survive without him, his everything, his Patton - who felt like he was better, who’d gone behind his back after giving him hope, he had betrayed him-

He grabbed Patton by the shoulder – so thin under his brutal hand, yanked him up - his whimper made blood and adrenalin flood his head, high pitched, grating. He couldn’t bear to hear it, so loud, too much, he hated – he needed to silence him.

Unseeing fury drove his fist into his victim’s stomach, making him cough and retch. Patton fell to the floor hard, his knees buckling uselessly under him. It wasn’t enough. His fist was driven down on him again, beating, ripping, destroying.

He couldn’t breathe, black spots appeared before his vision. A fist to the side of his head smashed him down hard, making blackness consume him for a shocking moment. Blood spilled from his split lip. The pain in his skull almost split him in half – he was disoriented – he needed to tell him – but his tongue wouldn’t work – everything was spinning, fear choking him with his thunderous heartbeats, he tried to bring his arms up to shield himself but he couldn’t see, everything was blurring, where was Trevor?

A crash, shattering glass – so loud in his ringing ears it seemed to shake the apartment made him flinch. Something cut his raised arm like a whip, spilling sticky liquid over his skin, his throat closed up around the explanation, the apologies – he needed to – his mouth filled with blood, his stomach turned sharply-

Another slap cut his lip, a sharp pain traveled up his ankle, he choked up blood from where he’d cut the inside of his cheek on his teeth, how could he have let it come to this?! Trevor’s face was twisted with nothing but agony, red and raw like a gruesome mask, so very easy to recognize for Patton, who was so familiar with the pain, the guilt, the fear clawing up his spine, consuming him in a primal flash of terror.

His fists were shaking, his breath coming in uneven gasps. For a sudden moment, he was able to see through the haze of rage.

Patton’s small form lay crumbled on the floor, holding quivering hands up uselessly to protect himself. Blood dripped down his arm, his lip.

His voice shook. It was barely above a whisper. Pleading.

“Please, you promised.”

His narrow, bruised chest was heaving with the effort to breathe, his hazel eyes wide and terrified, bitter tears mixing with the blood running from his split lip. He sounded broken.

Worse. He did not sound surprised.

It was a punch in the gut. He had never believed Trevor could do it- his failure had always been expected. He was everything that gave Trevor strength, everything he had to hold onto, and he’d never trusted him in the first place. All he’d done was make him think there was a chance, make him hope, and then crush him with the knowledge of his pathetic deficiency.

The blood on Patton’s face made his heart thunder, making him pulse with anger hate failure, bright crimson, accusing him, he’d failed again, it made guilt and humiliation twist and intertwine with the rage, the feeling of defeat, of falling into a hole after waking up from his madness, seeing the effect of his loss of control, his babe, broken and ugly, smeared with blood, dragging himself up, looking at him with fear, forgiving him again, he always had to forgive him he couldn’t do it right, the water in the bathroom turning red as he washed the traces of Trevor’s failure off his body with shaking, cut hands. Trevor hated the detective for being so good, so smart and successful and unreachable, for being superior, too much to hope to compete with, he felt small and useless, insignificant and helpless and angry at him for making Patton turn from him, making him feel this way, for making him do this again – for failing again – he’d thought he’d controlled it now, he’d been strong, he’d protected his babe from himself and now he’d made him lose his hold, it was all in vane, he was nothing, and Patton had drawn this onto himself, why had he made him fail, why hadn’t he seen how hard he’d tried, he’d turned it around, he’d done better, HE’D FIXED IT and he still went back to this other who was better the whore he didn’t want him he hated Patton he hated HIMSELF.

He’d deserved this.

Half crazed, Trevor grabbed a brutal fist full of the patissier’s hair, yanking him up on his knees before him. He needed to regain control, assert his strength somehow, his anger drove him to grow hotter, wilder-

He’d asked for this.

+++++++

His trembling fingers fumbled with his belt, his fly, the smaller man cried out, his heart racing, frantically trying to pull away, ripping out bloody strands of hair.

No, please not again! Patton vividly remembered the only time Trevor had lost control to his anger so badly, still tasted bitterness on his tongue whenever he recalled the terrible night. It had been their worst one yet, he’d been so mad, forcing Patton onto his knees, spitting insults and self-loathing, prying his jaw open with ruthless hands. Patton had been paralyzed by horror, disbelieving of what was to come. He’d never thought Trevor would do something so terrible to him, he’d never – but he’d forced his cock into his mouth with one thrust, shoving Patton forward by the hand in his hair, making him take him all the way, way too far. Shock had frozen him for long, agonizing seconds, before his body had rebelled with revulsion and terror. He had scrambled against the unforgiving hold, unable to breathe, panic flooding him. Trevor had been mad with rage, brutally thrusting into him, calling him a slut, a whore, a monster, forcing his way into the smaller man’s throat, making his choke, making him retch. Bile had filled his mouth, lack of air making him thrash and cough, fighting to breathe, fighting for his very life. Trevor had only pulled back long enough to make him cough, gasp, before he’d yanked him back, twisting his hands in the weaker man’s hair, making him take it till he was finished. Once he’d come down his throat, he’d dropped Patton as if he were something rotten, disgusting and vile. As if Patton were dirty. He’d never forgotten the look. It still haunted him at odd moments, made him flush with shame and humiliation. He’d never stopped feeling it. As he’d lain on the cold tiles, bitter vomit and semen running down his chin and mixing with the blood in his mouth, right before he passed out in the dirt smeared over his face and chest, he’d felt like he deserved to be looked at this way.

Terrified, hot tears ran down his cheeks as Trevor yanked his face up by the fist twisted in his locks. He tried to plead, to beg. He couldn’t survive this again, he couldn’t.

“No, please, please I can’t, you promised, you said you’d never make me-”

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU LYING WHORE!”

Trevor screamed, shaking Patton so hard by the hair it made his teeth clash together painfully. The taller man heaved, tears falling onto the bloody face beneath him. His own was twisted into a reddened, horrid mask of fury and anguish. His mouth had turned into an ugly grimace, caught between a snarl and a sob. He managed to undo his fly, fumbled with his underwear-

++++++++

A crash echoed through the apartment like a gunshot, shockingly loud. It left both men deafened for a long, horrifying moment.

Blearily, Trevor looked up from the body at his feet. The realization came a few heartbeats too late. A fist crashed into his face with the force of a freight train, making him drop like a leaden weight.

It had been a gunshot.

The projectile had shattered the lock of their front-door, making it afford no protection against the kick that almost ripped it off its hinges. Only his extensive training had made the detective punch the attacker instead of shooting him on sight. Had he had time to process the picture he’d seen, he might have murdered the man in cold blood, leaving nothing but a shredded corpse. The moment he found Patton crumbling to the floor however, nothing else mattered to the detective. Flooded with a cold horror he had never experienced before, he sunk to the ground in front of him.

/////////////////

Patton.

Oh Patton.

His hands shook at the sight before him, his breath coming in a sob. Oh no.

He reached out, impossibly horrified-

Patton flinched, crying out and shielding himself. His ears were ringing, the shot had been so loud. It did not matter that no one was touching him, he was trapped, his heart raced so hard, it felt like it would give out, he choked on phantom touches, lightheaded and frozen. Knowing he could not fight, he could not get away, he curled up, hiding his face in his bleeding arms, waiting for whatever he’d be put through in blind terror.

He was so cold.

He did not know how long he lay there, quivering and crying, waiting for the violence he’d been so sure he’d never have to endure again, until finally, a sound cut through the blood rushing in his ears. A sob. Someone else was crying.

Looking up went against all of his hard learned instincts of making himself small and invisible.

He needed seconds to understand what he was seeing.

Logan was kneeling before him, tears streaming down his face. His clean, lovely hands were twisted tightly around each other, shaking as badly as Patton was. His eyes… there were no words to describe how shattered he looked. The patissier whimpered, strenuously drawing himself up.

“L-Logan?”

The detective tried to speak, his voice breaking. He had to start again, visibly fighting the urge to touch Patton, to envelop him in his arms and pick him up from the hard, white tiles smeared with blood.

Logan felt utterly helpless. Patton’s eyes were so wide, so hurt. Another sob threatened to break free from the confines of the detective’s chest. He felt half numb, half tortured. For a long moment, he could barely make sense of how terribly Patton had been treated. The sheer cruelty felt impossible.

He realized he did not know what to say.

Patton appeared disoriented, shock settling in and making his thin limbs quiver like leaves in the wind. He was so tense and tiny, his breaths coming in uneven gasps – but quiet, like he was trying hard not to be noticed. His strength seemed to leave him suddenly, threatening to make his arms give out and make him fall. Logan reached out on instinct to steady him. A frightened gasp and flinch made him freeze. He was too large, too close. The detective fumbled to find words he knew would fall short.

“Patton, I-I would never harm you. You are safe now.” The detective’s deep, unsteady voice pleaded with him to trust him. His hands were raised in a placating gesture, open and non-threatening, tears dripping down his chin. Patton could not look away for a long, fearful moment. Trevor’s hands had been balled into fists, veins and tendons staining against the bones, the skin broken at the knuckles. Terror flooded him once again, gripping him like a mouse pierced by an eagle’s claws. The patissier scooted back, his breath hitching. His right hand braced itself on broken glass, driving the shards into his palm. Logan’s eyes burned, horror and anguish flooding his voice.

“Wait, please – you don’t need to fear me! I am so sorry, I did not meant to frighten you, I only – I only want to help you.” He almost whimpered, feeling utterly helpless. “I would never touch you without your consent, I- I will stay right here, alright?”

Patton nodded, unconsciously drawing his wounded hand into his lap. It was full of glass shards cutting his soft skin. It hurt Logan to see it like nothing he’d ever felt before. Think, you useless fool, he berated himself. He wished Virgil and Roman were here.

“You are cold, may I get you a blanket?” He asked carefully, fearful of doing anything Patton couldn’t place. The detective did not like how long it took the baker to answer with another nod. He wondered if he even heard him. The urge to hold him became almost unbearable. Thankfully, he found a blanket draped over the back of the leather couch, stiff with how little it had been moved. He sank back on his knees before the injured creature.

“Patton, may I put this around your shoulders? Please?” Upon receiving another nod, he approached the other slowly, uselessly wishing he were less frightening, he were better at this, that he could just fix everything. Patton clenched his teeth as Logan leaned close to wrap the blanket around him like it was something he was forced to endure, as if a wild animal were about to tear into him if he moved too much. He was trapped by a man’s closeness and his memories.

“There you go, Patton. It will be alright. May I help warm you? I swear I will leave the moment you tell me to.” Logan attempted to assure him, having no idea whether his physical reassurance would help or make things worse. At this point, Patton’s nod felt less like agreement than learned behavior in traumatic situations. Logan didn’t know if he could trust it, didn’t know what to do, so he carefully, as slowly and gently as he was able, pulled the patissier against his side, hugging him loosely.

“I am so sorry.” He cried, his tears falling on bloody curls.

“It’s fine.” Patton mumbled hoarsely, breaking Logan’s heart. Yet the warmth and familiar hold seemed to thaw something in the younger victim. He started breathing more deeply, slowly leaning against the detective. He was coming back to him. And with it, the realization that this was all his fault. All of his blood, his cut skin and bruised body, Trevor had inflicted the pain he’d himself felt, because Patton had made him hope where there was none. Instead of cutting his losses, he had tried to make everything right that was broken so far past repair. He’d believed all of the promises as if he didn’t know better. He was so foolish, so stupid. Too stupid to fix them. Somehow, the worst thing was that just minutes ago, he’d told Logan to trust him. That things would be alright. He’d believed it. He was so ashamed.

Feeling tiny and ugly and so stupid, he sobbed, burying his face in Logan’s arms. He was here. He held on to him, rocking him gently and shielding him from the world. Patton found himself in his lap as he realized the cold had stopped seeping into him from the tiled floor. His hand was cradling his neck, his arm supporting his back, holding him entirely. Patton’s strength left him.

At least, as he sunk into the hold unresistingly, his frazzled nerves tortuously slowly realizing he was safe, the truth about Trevor started to sink in. He would never change.

It was over.

The thought triggered a pressing memory in his sluggish mind. Trevor? Icy fear came with it. He’d come to feel so safe in Logan’s arms, like his protection and Trevor’s threats could not exist in the same world, but they did. They were in the same room. He flinched, whimpering silently. Where-

Through tears and blood clouding his vision, he spotted a prone form crumbled on the ground behind the man holding him. He shrank back, shocked.

“Oh n-no Trevor- d-did you – is he...”

“No! Of course not, he will recover, I merely incapacitated him. I promise.” Logan assured him hastily, seeing terror of the effect of his violent intervention seep into the broken young man before him. “I am so sorry you had to see this, Patton.”

It seemed to be the last straw for the patissier. He was simply overwhelmed.

“Logan.” His voice broke on an unworded plea. Yet, the detective understood without having to be told.

“Please, let me take you home.” He whispered.

After a long moment, Patton nodded. As carefully as if he were cradling a newborn kitten, Logan bundled the injured young man into the blanket and lifted him into his arms. Glass crunched under his shoes as he carried him outside, hiding his tear stained face from the shocked neighbors finally daring to enter the hallway. Patton heard none of it. He pressed his face to Logan’s chest and closed his eyes.

ART:

@dweeborg created this gorgeous combination of Roman with stunning makeup and Virgil with his lovely hair, as well as a (shirtless, yum) picture of Virgil feeling good after his spa day.

How cute is Logan with Nicodemus on his shoulder?! Painted by @lienlovesshadowhunters

@doctorwhooian drew Roman being absolutely STUNNING in a crop-top and knee-high boots.

A personal favorite: @typical-torii gifted us with a drawing of RoRo having his locks combed to the side, looking bad-ass after a fight. He’s so fricking pretty like that!

A picture I absolutely LOVE – Roman glittering and lovely with a super cute man-bun giving Virgil inappropriate feelings, their expressions are just so utterly adorable and the raccoon in judging. Thanks a thousand times to @anxiously-chill

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective Logan #Detective Roman #baker Patton #delinquent Virgil #Prinxiety #Logicality

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