Work Text:
For someone Adrien once described as “… complicated” (hand-wringing included for punctuation), Felix is disarmingly simple.
Blonde hair, almost worthy of the golden epithet. Green eyes that do not shy away from the light. Even his outfit is altogether softer and sharper than his cousin's: specifically his coat, unmistakeably a Marinette creation. Cool colours have never been Kagami's cup of tea, but this is one shade of blue she's dying to dive in.
This is going to be a problem.
They only met because of the Paris Fashion Week, which is to say they only met because Mother demanded she go to the Paris Fashion Week. Kagami and Adrien have been broken up for nearly a year now, so it's unclear whether the goal was to drive them back into each other's arms, or rather to make a public statement to the contrary. Probably the latter: Gabriel Agreste isn't very fréquentable right now.
His worst crime, of course, is that the new automne-hiver collection simply isn't it; but there have also been rumours of something darker — a formerly ubiquitous assistant going missing, or dying, or quitting in unsavoury circumstances. The press isn't quite sure, and frankly doesn't care; HR issues at Gabriel's are much less interesting than the entirely separate drama they've sunk their teeth in recently — aka, what the tabloids have sordidly dubbed L’Affaire des Jumeaux.
It went a little like this:
-
Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former intern at Gabriel's, turned down a lucrative contract that would have seen her stay on as a full-time employee; instead, she opened her own boutique, an unassuming little shop nestled close to her parents' bakery.
-
Critics deemed Miss Dupain-Cheng's creations cute, which is probably the worst feedback she could have gotten. (Kagami herself had a look at her designs, and must admit they are excellent; not that she’d ever be caught wearing them in public.) While the prêt-à-porter line did decently well from the start, garnering a cult following amongst Ladyblog followers and Jagged Stones fans, it seemed unlikely the ambitious young styliste would ever gain entry to the tight-knit spheres of haute-couture. Until…
-
Felix happened. Out of nowhere.
Well, perhaps 'out of nowhere' would not be an accurate assessment: royal family fanatics, chess enthusiasts, and horse girls of all people were already familiar with the lean silhouette that would soon take the fashion world by storm. No one knows how the collaboration came to be, but suddenly Felix was everywhere, on billboards and glossy paper and social media posts; preferably right opposite his cousin, or twin, or perhaps clone. The resemblance between the two models is stunning, and the theories around it wild.
“Our mothers were twins,” Adrien had told Kagami once, back when they were tentatively together. After a brief pause, he'd added: “they, too, were complicated.”
Felix does not feel the need to justify his existence. Nor his coffee orders; right now, he is sipping a large caramel macchiato, with extra cinnamon and whipped cream for good measure.
As for Kagami, she only has one question:
“What do you gain from all this?”
Felix smiles, and while it's amused, it's also gentle. “Are dates not supposed to be their own reward? The coffee is great, and the company even better.” After a beat, he adds: “I just… wanted to get to know you. And for you to get to know me.”
Kagami hasn't been on a date in a long time, if ever. Do charity balls count? What about product launches?
She hopes the heat on her cheeks does not translate to blushing. “I figured as much, seeing how you hijacked that front-row seat.”
It happened at the closing ceremony, right as Adrien was hitting a pose on the runway; so close yet so far, as he's always been. Kagami had tried to convince herself she didn't care and, in all honesty, the clothes he was modelling had not given her a lot to care about. Still, she hadn't noticed the seat next to her was empty — until it wasn't anymore.
At first, she'd thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Or perhaps her brain, finally snapping under the weight of her heart.
“Tragic,” Adrien's doppelgänger had declared about the routine (half-melancholy, half-contempt). Then, turning to her, his eyes sharp and bright like stained glass: “My name is Felix. I want to see you again.”
Kagami had opened her mouth to decline; instead, she'd managed to mutter a few jumbled words, a date, and the name of that coffee shop they're sitting at right now. Looking at her companion from across the table, she wonders how she could have ever confused him with his twin: the two of them are nothing alike.
Felix's brow furrows. “I did not hijack anything! I am the face of the brand that will soon drive those old dusty maisons into the ground. It is only natural that I was invited.”
“Invited, perhaps. But given a front row seat?”
“I am not the kind of man who settles for scraps. Besides…” He's tapping on his cup now, which makes it hard to ignore his fingers: long and pale like a musician's, calloused like a scribe's or, worse, a writer's. A signet ring on his right hand, hard lines and cold metal. “… I am Adrien's family. Whether he likes it or not.”
There's anger there, evidently, but also something else; Kagami, professional yearner that she is, feels a little envious of his pain.
“I see. So you sat next to me because you wanted to be close to him.”
“Yes. No!!! I mean…”
He's starting to lose his composure, which she didn't think was possible. Tripping on his words and scratching the back of his neck like a lost teenager.
She doesn't hate that.
“… in all honesty, yes — it started out that way. But plans change.”
“What changed?”
“Me.” A pause. “I didn't expect you to be you.”
“We've barely even talked.”
“And yet, you've already said plenty.” His hand, she notices, lifts to his lapel before falling back in place — a strange reflex. “I thought you deserved a reply.”
Kagami bites down on her lip, hard.
Felix has shared a lot about him — perhaps more than anyone has ever shared with her; just from looking at him, she can tell he wants to say more, that he's bursting at the seams with unspoken truths. Not here, is what his eyes, his hands, every fiber of his being seems to convey; but… perhaps now?
Mother would call it a trap. Then again, Kagami is desperate to get caught.
She grabs her purse, and they leave together.