Chapter Text
Marinette sat in the middle of her living floor, surrounded by a mess of half-unpacked boxes. Her phone blared some fast-paced techno song, propped up in a mug on the side table to amplify the sound. The playlist was from Nino, though Marinette had renamed it from Dance Mix 4.7 to songs to drown out my screams. It didn’t appeal to her normal taste in music, but tonight she’d chosen something different in the hopes it might be chaotic enough to quiet her racing thoughts.
It wasn’t working.
Sighing as another song came to an end, her mind still racing with thoughts of her reckless elevator make-out session, Marinette leaned over to press pause. If blasting music wasn’t having the desired effect then there was no reason to tempt fate and turn her neighbours against her. Turning back to the pile of clothes she’d just poured from one of the boxes, Marinette hoped to find solace in more tactile distractions. Instead, her heart nearly leaped right out of her chest as she heard the door creak open.
A moment later, a wave of calm settled over her. Right. She’d invited Alya over, in the hopes that her best friend would be able to talk her out of moving to Canada. Marinette had enough to apologize for due to her clumsiness without moving to a place where people tacked “sorry” onto the end of every sentence, and she honestly thought she’d be better off trying to finally learn Mandarin than trying to interpret Canadian French. And, yeah, there was the small detail of her being Ladybug and needing to stay in Paris, but right about now even that wasn’t overly convincing. Hence the need for a voice of reason.
“Hello?” Marinette called. “Alya?”
The door clicked shut, but there was no response. Marinette’s heart rate picked up again as her mind flew to worst-case scenarios. Because if it wasn’t Alya, well…nobody aside from Nino (who would have knocked), and her parents (who were definitely getting ready for bed at this hour) actually knew where Marinette was currently living. So logically it had to be a serial killer. Or, well, technically there was one other person. But Adrien probably would have knocked, too. And he probably wouldn’t just invite himself over…
Not unless he was a serial killer.
Okay, bad joke. But Marinette didn’t like uncertainties.
“Alya?” she tried again.
“Hey!”
Marinette exhaled. “Jesus, Als. You almost gave me a heart attack. You could have said something when I first said hi.”
Alya laughed. “Sorry! I had my headphones in. But I come bearing gifts. Or, well...gift, singular.” There was a rustling sound and a couple of soft thuds. Presumably Alya taking off her coat and shoes. Her footsteps started towards Marinette. “So, you said to bring wine, but I wasn’t sure if it was like, a ‘Hey, let’s get drunk and celebrate the fact that I hooked up with Adrien Agreste’ thing, or more of a—”
She broke off as she turned the corner to the living room, her eyes widening and her canvas tote bag thumping to the ground as she took in the scene. Marinette couldn’t blame her. There was hardly half a metre of free space anywhere; the floor was covered with a strange assortment of clothing, books, and random trinkets. Most of it was her nonna’s old stuff, things she’d told Marinette to do with as she pleased—keep them for herself, donate them, chuck them in a bonfire, whatever.
Of course, Marinette hadn’t actually planned on doing anything with them prior to arriving home in crisis mode. She had enough on her plate already—which only made her stupid feelings about a thousand times more inconvenient. Her stupid feelings which kept remembering what Adrien’s shirt had looked like draped over one of these boxes. Or how his fingers felt, grazing across the skin of her—nope.
“Okay,” Alya said. “Option two it is. We’re panicking.”
Marinette laughed—or she tried too. Honestly, she sounded a little too much like Mr. Ramier’s pigeons for comfort.
“What gave you that idea?” Marinette said. “Why would I be panicking? That would mean I’d done something worth panicking about. And why would I do that, Alya? Why would I kiss him? Why?”
Alya shook her head fondly as she carefully pushed a couple boxes out of the way to sit in front of Marinette. “I mean, I’m betting the tequila had a little something to do with it. Pass me the wine opener?”
She nodded to the side table, and Marinette chose her words carefully as she handed Alya the corkscrew.
“And…if I did something I can’t blame on intoxication?”
Alya grinned. “Then you’d better tell me everything. I’ll order pizza.”
“Alyaaaa.”
“Marinette, please. We both know how this works. Either you talk now, or you end up whining for the next hour about how you want to tell me, but you don’t know if you should. Funny thing is, both options end in you telling me everything in the end, so you might as well just get it over with.”
Marinette glared for a few seconds, but soon gave up the act. “Fine. But help me sort through everything while we talk.”
“I mean, sure, but you’re going to have to tell me what the system is.”
“The system is to keep moving everything in between piles until I stop freaking out. I don’t know what more you want from me.”
Alya laughed, popping the cork and taking a swig straight from the bottle before passing it to Marinette, who eyed it skeptically. Alcohol had gotten her into this whole mess, after all. But as much as Alya might find this entire situation hilarious, she wouldn’t actually let Marinette make any terrible decisions, so Marinette soon relented and took a long sip for herself.
“Alright,” Alya said. “I’ll help you figure out what to do with this stuff. But If I find anything cool, I’m keeping it.”
Marinette shrugged. “It’s mostly just old clothing, but if you’re stocking up for when the eighties make a comeback, be my guest.”
“Be your guest, huh? Well, so long as I don’t get the same treatment as your last guest. Because you know I love you, but not like tha—”
“Alya, I swear to God!”
Two hours, most of a large pizza, and a bottle of wine later, Marinette’s living room was…even more of a disaster zone. Really, she and Alya had given up trying to do anything about it not ten minutes into Marinette’s story. A story which, officially, they’d moved on from. But that didn’t mean that Marinette was actually processing anything Alya was saying about Nora’s new girlfriend, or Nino’s pros and cons list regarding whether he should buy a new hat, or—wait, what was Alya talking about now.
Marinette didn’t have time to figure out before Alya waved a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Marinette?”
“Aaaah! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m being the worst friend right now, I swear I’ll make it up—”
Alya waved her off, pushing another box out of the way so she could lie down across the rug. “Don’t worry about it. I can see you’re still in panic mode.”
Marinette frowned a the empty bottle of wine on the floor between them. Just one more sip would be nice, if only as a way to procrastinate responding. Instead, she sighed. “I just…I don’t know what to do, Alya. I don’t even know what I want to do.”
Marinette very purposefully avoided looking at Alya, but she could hear the smile that danced its way into her response. “Well, you should tell that to your lips. Because they seem to have a pretty good idea of what they want to do.”
“Har-har-har,” Marinette said drily. “Hilarious.”
Alya snickered. “Well, I’m not wrong, am I? You wanted to kiss him in the elevator, you said so yourself!”
“Because I was…It was just adrenaline! There was an Akuma attack, and—”
“Oh yeah? Do you often kiss people in elevators after Akuma attacks? Because I can think of at least a couple times that you and I have ended up in that situation, and I don’t remember any kissing.”
“You wound me!” Marinette touched the back of her hand to her forehead and stared dramatically at the ceiling. “How could it be that my kisses are so forgettable?”
Alya snorted. “You sound like you’ve been watching Chat Noir compilation videos again.”
That comment was enough to sober Marinette. She’d been trying very hard not to think about her partner all night, because if she didn’t have the mental capacity to unpack her feelings about Adrien then she definitely didn’t have a spare brain cell to process her heartbreak. But really, the feelings weren’t so separate. There might be a very good reason she shouldn’t date Adrien for the time being, but if it weren’t for Chat she doubted she would feel so torn up about it.
If it weren’t for Chat, she wouldn’t have to wonder if she was taking advantage of Adrien for simply being there. For being a willing participant. How much of her desire in the elevator had been fueled by spite or jealousy? If Chat hadn’t snapped at her during the fight, would she have gotten so lost in her feelings?
And if it weren’t for Chat, she wouldn’t be half the person she was today. How could she let go of someone who made her feel like that?
“Do you regret it?” Alya asked, somehow picking the thought right out of Marinette’s head. “Kissing him again?”
“I…I don’t know.” How could she regret something that had felt so good? How could she not regret something that had the potential to ruin her? “I mean, I don’t think I should do it again, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t.”
“Wait, what?” Marinette took a moment to play back Alya’s words, wondering if she’d misheard. They still sounded the same, so she sent her friend a curious glance. “Aren’t you the one who’s been telling me for months I should give this ‘Adrien’ guy a chance? And now, all of a sudden, the second I might actually be considering him, you think I should give up?”
“Not give up, just…” Alya sat up, rolling her neck to stretch it out. “Look, everything you said about your reputation being at stake? That’s completely true. I mean, it’s unfair—you and I both know you’d never use someone to your advantage like that—but it’s what people are going to think. It’s narrow-minded, outdated, and probably sexist, but…it’s the reality. It’s something I worry about even—that someone will see me in the wrong light one day and make assumptions about how I got to where I did in my career—and I’ve been in a committed relationship for years!”
Alya crossed her legs and turned to face Marinette as she continued. “And if I’m honest, I don’t actually know Adrien all that well. Nino talks about him a lot, but the dude’s always been so busy that I can probably count on my fingers how many times I’ve met him in person over the years.” She cocked her head to one side. “Maybe a few toes. The point is…well, even if I do think you guys might be good together, I also know that it would be far from easy. And if that’s something you want, then great! I’m behind you, a hundred percent. I just…think you should take your time with it. Really get to know him, you know? If it’s meant to be…well, no. Screw that, there’s no meant to be. But I mean, from what I know, Adrien doesn’t date a lot. He certainly doesn’t, like, gush about people a lot—and I know he was talking Nino’s ear off about you” —Marinette felt a sudden warmth that couldn’t just be attributed to the wine— “so…I’m pretty sure he would wait for you. Again, if that’s what you want.”
Marinette took a moment to think over Alya’s words. She had to admit, she liked knowing that Adrien thought so highly of her, even if she wasn’t quite sure what she’d done to deserve his admiration. But was that because she liked him, or because she liked his flattery?
Regardless of the answer, one thing was clear. She’d made a commitment to try and be Adrien’s friend. Beyond whatever attraction she felt, that hadn’t changed. If anything, the more she got to know him, the more certain she was that Adrien was someone she wanted in her corner. He was kind and thoughtful. Charming, if a little dorky. He was good.
If she rushed into some sort of relationship with him, she would be jeopardizing any attempts at friendship, both due to the stress of her internship and because of her unresolved feelings for Chat. But if she did get to know Adrien, slowly, and something just so happened to come of it when the time was right? Marinette smiled; it was a nice thought.
Marinette glanced around the room. “Als, have you seen my purse?”
“Uh…like an hour ago, maybe. Why?”
“I just need to…” Marinette trailed off, turning once more to the piles heaped around her. She tossed a few things out of the way, earning a squawk of protest when she almost hit Alya in the face with a pair of gloves, until she finally pulled an old windbreaker off of one of the piles, revealing her purse underneath. She fumbled through it for a moment before pulling out the—now rather crumpled—paper she’d found under the table that morning.
Alya crawled over to inspect what she’d found. “Damn, girl! You didn’t tell me you got his number already.”
Marinette smiled. “He left it after the first night, but I wasn’t really planning on using it...You’re right though. I don’t want to mess this up, which means I need to actually communicate, instead of—”
“—running away from him every time you come across him at the office and hoping the problem just disappears on its own?”
“Hey! I wasn’t going to—” Alya cut her off with a single glance. Marinette sighed. “Yeah, okay. Fine. The thought did cross my mind. But I’m not doing that. Personal growth, and all that.”
Alya sniffled, pretending to wipe away a tear. “They really do grow up so fast.”
Marinette shoved her aside playfully before pulling out her phone. She carefully copied Adrien’s number into her contacts, resisting the urge to add a little heart beside his name. Then she opened her Messages app and stared at the ominously blank screen for an absurdly long time before she finally began typing.
There was really no need to worry. She probably couldn’t embarrass herself more than she already had anyways.
Probably.
Unknown Number
Hey Adrien!! (At least, I hope this is you. If not, the take-out guy has stepped way out of line.)
I was just wondering if we could talk tomorrow. 😊
Wait. That sounded so ominous. ashshsjshs it’s not a bad thing, I swear
I just thought it would be good to be on the same page about what happened in the elevator
It’s Marinette, by the way!
Which you probably knew, because I doubt you’re leaving dozens of girls your number. Or kissing them in elevators.
Or not girls! I don’t know your life! I mean, I’m bi, so whatever.
Not that I’m asking you that, it’s your business.
Just wanted you to know I’m cool with whatever. Cool as a cucumber.
My best friend hates cucumbers, strangely. Weird anecdote, I know.
Makes more sense if you know him.
Wow, okay. Going to stop texting you right now because my other best friend is wondering why the hell I’m typing out an entire paragraph, and I think she’s going to defsrlkd nk., ad,fgsr
Hey sunshine. This is Alya. Marinette’s putting her phone away for the next hour or so, but feel free to text back if you get this. I’ll pass along the message.
Adrien read through Marinette’s messages on his car ride home, smiling to himself even while his stomach churned. He’d been forced to stay late at the office, since Katie had pitched a fit after the Akuma. Apparently, she hadn’t gotten the memo that nobody in Paris was safe from attacks, and she was trying to sue Gabriel for failing to provide her with adequate protections. Luckily, even her own lawyer was adamant she had no case, but there was still the issue of trying to convince Katie to actually show up for the rest of her shoot.
They were successful in the end, but the whole ordeal had left Adrien exhausted. The few days off he’d been promised by Nathalie were certainly out of the question now, and Adrien’s workload for the rest of the week had almost doubled in the span of a couple hours. To make matters worse, his father had been impossible to reach all afternoon, meaning decisions that should have been Gabriel’s prerogative somehow landed on Adrien’s shoulders, and Adrien knew he’d get an earful about his supposed mistakes tomorrow.
All of that should have left Adrien with little time to contemplate his kiss with Marinette, but…he just hadn’t been able to shake her from his mind. A dark-haired woman passed him in the hallway, and Adrien’s heart raced for a split-second before he remembered Marinette had gone home hours earlier. He leafed through fabric orders he had to approve, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Marinette had a favourite material to work with. He spent an hour drafting up the best reference letters he could for the two interns who had been fired, knowing full well that his name held no weight against his father’s, but hoping that Marinette wouldn’t hold it against him.
But now…Now she wanted to talk. And even if she claimed it wasn’t a bad thing, well…on the same page? Adrien wasn’t on any page—that kiss had torn him free from all figments of ink and paper. He was floating in delusions, buoyed by the memory of Marinette’s breath, hot against his own. By the recollection the cherry-scented hand cream he’d seen her use at lunch, which had driven him wild when her fingers threaded through his hair. Even now, he swore traces of the smell lingered around him.
Meanwhile, the aforementioned page? The one meant to tether him to the material world? Well, that was weighed down by secrets.
By lies.
“Thanks,” Adrien told his driver as he stepped slowly out of the car. “The usual time tomorrow?”
A curt nod, a door swinging shut, the soft sound of tires inching forward. Adrien was alone again.
His mood only worsened when he made his way up the stairs, only to find someone slumped on floor in front of his apartment, a familiar face leaning back against the door.
“Félix? What are you doing here?”
His cousin looked a mess. He sat with one leg outstretched, his hand clenched around the jacket draped over his thigh. His other knee was propped up to rest an arm on, that hand dangling lifelessly. His dress shirt was uncharacteristically wrinkled under his sweater vest. His shoes were scuffed. When he dragged his eyes open, they were bloodshot.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, making no effort to move.
“You look like shit,” Adrien observed, reluctantly extending a hand.
Maybe he should be nicer, but he doubted his cousin would appreciate the falsities. He and Félix had always had a…complicated relationship, to say the least. It was something they’d been working through over the past year or so, but that hadn’t entirely been their choice. And considering everything going on, Félix was pretty much the last person Adrien wanted to see right now.
“Screw you,” Félix said, but he allowed Adrien to pull him to his feet. He staggered a little once he was standing, and Adrien could smell the liquor on his breath.
Adrien turned away to hide his displeasure as he turned his key into the lock. The only thing worse than dealing with Félix was dealing with a drunk Félix. Not that Adrien had a leg to stand on, considering how he’d started off this week, but…still. Félix used to spend a lot of nights out drinking, and while he’d never swung into full-on alcoholic territory, he did have a tendency to swing into full-on douchebag territory when he drank. Adrien really hoped that wouldn’t be the case tonight.
As the door swung open, Félix strode past Adrien, his strides steady. So he wasn’t a slobbering mess, at least. Could be worse. Could definitely get worse, seeing as he made a beeline for the liquor cart the second he shrugged off his shoes.
Adrien removed his own shoes and coat, picked up the jacket Félix had dropped to the floor, then watched as his cousin sorted through Adrien’s rather meagre collection of alcohol.
Félix lifted up a bottle. “This is nice stuff. Didn’t think you were a scotch person.”
“I’m not. It was a Christmas gift from my father.” Which really meant it was from Nathalie, who’d probably been instructed to get something that would help Adrien keep up appearances of being some snobby, rich brat. “Help yourself.”
“Hmm…” Félix flipped the bottle over, studying the label. “You sure you don’t mind?”
Adrien did mind somewhat, since Félix pouring a drink meant it would take longer to get rid of him, but as for the alcohol itself he couldn’t care less. “Go for it.”
Félix nodded, wandering over to the kitchen and opening a few cupboards before he found the right one. Adrien took a seat at the kitchen island, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.
“So,” Félix said, pulling two glasses from the cupboard and setting them on the island. “How is your father? He didn’t really look so good, last I saw him.”
The back of Adrien’s neck prickled. “Did you really come here to ask about my father, Fé?”
“No. I’m just being considerate.” He unscrewed the cap, then paused to give Adrien a searching look. “I’m trying here.”
Adrien bit back the retort he’d prepared. Félix was being civil, and Adrien should probably stop expecting the worst of him. Still, this wasn’t a topic Adrien wanted to discuss. “I appreciate it, but if it’s all well and good, I’d rather not think talk about my father right now.”
Félix shrugged, pouring himself a drink. “Suit yourself.” He glanced back at Adrien. “On the rocks, or…?”
Judging by the expression on Félix’s face, it seemed to cause him actual pain to ask that question about such a nice bottle, but it didn’t matter either way.
“I don’t want any,” Adrien said. He tried not to show any signs of weakness as Félix looked him up and down.
Eventually, Félix sighed. “Look, you don’t have to drink it, but I’m pouring you one anyways. I have a feeling you might change your mind once you hear what I have to say.” He paused, glancing at the drink in his hand as he gave the glass a careful swirl. “We might have hit a snag in our little…agreement.”
A long silence followed, as Adrien let the words sink in. A part of him had known this would happen—that was why he’d been out drinking Sunday night. He’d anticipated that things would come apart somehow, because things never worked out the way Adrien wanted. He never got more than a taste of freedom. He never truly got out from underneath his father’s thumb.
The last two days had been like a dream of sorts, because even though it hadn’t all been sunshine and rainbows, well…at least there had been Marinette. There had been hope, even if Adrien had unfairly attached too many expectations to their hypothetical future. A future he could already feel crumbling around him, before it even began to form.
At least Adrien was used to giving up on his dreams.
“I’ll take it neat,” Adrien said. He didn’t need to disappoint anyone else today.
Félix nodded, and poured a second glass. A few minutes later, as the story began to unfold, Adrien had to admit Félix had been right.
He did want that drink.
Adrien ended up offering Félix one of the guest rooms. Considering Félix’s state by the time he’d finished both his story and several glasses of scotch, it was the right thing to do. But as soon as Félix stumbled off to get ready for bed, Adrien felt the need to escape. He wasn’t mad at his cousin—Félix hadn’t done anything wrong—but he did have a strong desire to get as far away from him as possible.
Far away from the reminder that Adrien’s attempts at happiness always came with conditions.
Knowing how observant Félix could be, Adrien decided to be cautious and forgo his usual escape route through the window. He exited the building a regular civilian, intending on finding a spot in some alley or other where he could transform. But once outside, he lost the sense of urgency to run across the rooftops. His steps felt heavy, more suited to solid ground.
He wandered down the street with no particular destination in mind, the way he enjoyed exploring the city best. Tonight, however, he was too restless to find any pleasure in his experience; everything he usually enjoyed was tainted.
A pair of teens ran through the park, laughing as they stole kisses from one another—something that might have made Adrien smile any other day, but now reminded him painfully of what he didn’t have. He walked by a park where wildflowers grew, remembering how he’d once walked in the opposite direction down that very sidewalk, explaining to his mother with all the self-importance of a precocious six-year-old that one day he’d pick a hundred bouquets' worth of flowers for his wife. Now, he was surprised the flowers didn’t just wilt in his path, brought down by his gloom. The wind howled in his ears, lamenting the absence of warmth.
Fighting back tears all of a sudden, Adrien clenched his hands into fists in his pockets and turned another corner. He stopped short when a gust of wind blew a flyer right into his face, his frustration only growing when he peeled it off to reveal a full-page Gabriel advertisement, with his own face staring back at him. Mocking him.
Adrien could walk as far as he wanted to, but at the end of the day there was no escape.
He crumpled the paper, hurling it at a nearby garbage can. Unfortunately, the wind had other ideas, and it merely bounced off the rim before tumbling to the ground and skittering back in his direction. Adrien sighed, waiting for it to come a bit closer before he leaned down to try again. But before that could happen, a familiar spotted red suit landed in front of him, and Ladybug herself bent down to retrieve what he’d tossed.
Adrien tensed as she unballed the flyer, guilt spiking through him. With everything else going on, he hadn’t had much time time to think about his behaviour during the Akuma fight, but he knew he owed Ladybug, an apology or two. Of course, she had no way of knowing her partner was standing right in front of her, so she only smiled when she saw the advertisement.
“Did they get you at a bad angle?” she teased, holding the flyer up. “Because honestly, I think you look great.”
It didn’t go unnoticed that she was looking directly at him, not the flyer, as she delivered the last line, and Adrien felt his cheeks flush. He didn’t know why her compliment affected him—she flirted with him as Chat often enough, and he’d learned over the years not to read into it. Plus, it wasn’t like he was fifteen anymore, and crushing on her like an idiot.
But she was still his best friend, and of course her opinion of him mattered. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, before remembering his coat was in the way and stuffing both his hands awkwardly in his pockets.
“I, um…I don’t really care about that. How I look and stuff. The flyer just…reminded me of some other stuff.”
Her smile faltered. “Sorry, it was a bad joke. I didn’t mean to imply…” She scrunched up the flyer again, stepped forward, and dropped it in the bin. “I don’t think you’re like that. I know what it’s like to have the world make assumptions on you based on pictures, or blog posts, or out-of-context quotes…I can only imagine it’s harder when you can’t de-transform to get away from it.”
Adrien bit back a bitter laugh. Ladybug had no idea that for her partner, transforming was getting away from all that. He’d alluded to it in the past, how being Chat Noir was an escape for him, but he knew she’d never fully understood. Her words were sincere, though, and Adrien was careful not to let resentment colour his response.
“Thanks, Ladybug. I appreciate that.”
“Anytime.” She paused. “Well, not anytime, because I it’s not like I stalk you or anything. I promise, I don’t. I was only following you for a couple of blocks, because—” Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh God, that sounds terrible. I just happened to recognize you from the rooftops as I was wandering about, and it’s late, and…I don’t know? I didn’t want you to run into some crazy fans or something? So I just thought I would…follow you? And then I saw you throw that flyer, and I…Oh God, I don’t know what I thought, I should just go, I’m really sorry, I—”
Adrien cut her off with a laugh—a genuine laugh. Against all odds, the familiarity of Ladybug’s rambling made him feel the tiniest bit better, and he couldn’t hold in his relief. Ladybug regarded him in confusion for a moment before her face softened into a tentative smile.
“You’re not…creeped out?” she asked.
His laughter faded to a smile. “Honestly, no. It’s actually rather flattering to have a superhero appoint herself as your personal security detail.”
Ladybug crossed her arms across her chest, rocking back on her heels for a second. “Heh. Well, I wouldn’t call myself a detail exactly, I’m just one person, but I’m, uh…glad I didn’t scare you off.” She paused, tapping her fingers against her bicep. “So, what did the flyer do to you?”
Adrien grimaced. There was no way to casually bring up how he felt like prisoner in his own life, was there? Instead, he went for the classic cop-out. “It’s…complicated.”
“I have time,” she said, smiling sincerely.
Adrien stared at his toes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. I ca—”
He broke off when he realized Ladybug had walked over to stand right in front of him, her hands back at her side. She was close enough that he could see the street lights reflecting in her eyes—her eyes which had hardened into a determined look he knew so well.
“You’re not a bother,” she said. “Tell me who I need to add to my list of people to fight for making you believe such ridiculous things.”
Over the years, she’d delivered that exact line to Chat more times than he could. The forced lilt in her voice gave the impression of teasing, but her eyes were all business. She might not go so far as to punch his father in the face anytime soon—especially given his poor health as of late—but Adrien had no doubt she’d give him a piece of her mind if she caught wind of any mistreatment. In any case, Adrien thought it best to keep quiet about that for now.
“Nobody you need to concern yourself with,” he said.
Ladybug stayed silent, fiddling with her yo-yo as she looked him up and down. If he didn’t know her so well, it would have been disconcerting. But he knew she was probably just lost in her thoughts, likely unaware for the most part that she was still staring at him. And he really didn’t mind her company.
Still, eventually Adrien couldn’t take it any longer, so he cleared his throat. “Would you, uh, like to walk with me?”
She shook herself, coming back to reality. “If it’s not an imposition…”
“It’s not. Honestly…I’d love the company.” He took a hand from his pocket and offered his elbow.
She smiled at the gesture, squeezing his arm briefly then letting go. “I think we should just walk separately. Wouldn’t want someone to get the wrong idea, right?”
Honestly, getting caught in a fake scandal with Ladybug might solve a lot of his problems. But then again, it could also make them ten thousand times worse. And, regardless of the outcome, he would never put Ladybug through that.
“You make a valid point,” he conceded, then nodded for her to lead the way.
They walked in silence for some time, passing in and out of the shadows as Adrien fumbled for something to say. He never usually had trouble striking up conversation with Ladybug, but he had to be careful now not to appear too familiar, or say something that would give him away.
Ladybug ended up breaking the silence, keeping her eyes fixed firmly ahead of her as she blurted out her question in a quick breath he almost missed. “So…does your accidental littering have anything to why you’re out so late?
Adrien hesitated. “What makes you think I don’t always come out at this hour?”
“Well, you’re answering a question with a question for starters…” She peeked sideways at him and laughed awkwardly. “Maybe I’m just projecting. I was feeling a little…restless tonight, so I came out for a run to sort things through. The night air…it helps, sometimes. Reminds me that I’m…real, in a sense. Like…I’m not just a bunch of jumbled thoughts floating around in a vacuum. I’m a physical thing too, just another part of the world. And as long as I can figure out how to keep putting one foot in front of the other, things will be okay.”
“I get that,” Adrien said, hiding a smirk in the collar of his jacket. He was the one who’d given Ladybug that explanation once upon a time, for why he loved going on nighttime runs.
“So…?” Ladybug prompted.
Adrien stopped at the corner, ducking his head as Ladybug turned back to look at him.
“You’re right,” he said slowly. “There are…some things I need to figure out. But it’s no big deal, really.”
His heart pounded, scared she’d catch him in the lie.
Ladybug gave a non-committal hum as the light turned, and she stepped onto the street. “Even so, if you want to talk about it…I probably can’t offer much in the way of sage wisdom, superhero or not” —she giggled, and Adrien couldn’t deny that the sound made his chest bloom with warmth— “but, I can listen?”
Adrien kept silent as they finished crossing the street. It was a nice thought, telling her what was on his mind, but there wasn’t much he could say. He couldn’t tell her too much about Marinette, or he’d risk her realizing she’d heard the same story from Chat. And from her perspective, he was a stranger. As much as she offered to listen, he couldn’t just unload everything on her.
He wouldn’t want to do that, either. She might not be able to look him in the eyes anymore if he did.
“I’m just tired,” he said eventually. “Tired of…everything. Life.”
Ladybug stopped short. When Adrien followed suit and glanced back at her, her eyes were wide with concern.
“Adrien, um…I know I don’t know you that well, but I’m sure there are lots of people who love you. People who wouldn’t want you to…” As she trailed off, Adrien realized how his words must have sounded.
“Oh. No, no no, I didn’t mean…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m tired of the way my life is going, not of like all of it. I mean I know I said everything, but I didn’t mean…I mean, I’m only…”
He was only…the normal amount of depressed? No, he couldn’t say that. That phrase was reserved for memes or online chats. In real life, those types of comments sparked concern, however true they might feel some days.
Ladybug exhaled. “Okay. That’s good.” She nibbled on her lip. “What about the way it’s going don’t you like, then?”
Sighing, Adrien walked over to the bench a couple metres away, suddenly feeling exhaustion seep into his bones. He sank down and buried his face in his hands. A moment later, Ladybug took a seat beside him. It took Adrien a while to choose his words, but she waited patiently until he was ready.
“I just wish I had control over something. I wish it didn’t feel like the entire Universe was playing a practical joke on me. Like…I met this girl the other day. This girl who’s just…amazing isn’t strong enough of a word. I mean, I barely know her, but somehow I feel like I could trust her with my life. She’s brilliant, but she’s also kind, which is…such an underrated quality, you know?”
“I know,” Ladybug agreed.
“Right. And she makes me feel…safe, somehow. Understood. I mean, she’s not perfect. The circumstances around us meeting were…a little complicated, to say the least. And I kind of laid it on a little thick the next day. Made her mad…”
He chuckled. “She had every reason to just never talk to me again, after that. I mean, hell. Her career could be on the line if this goes badly for her. But she apologized to me, and I swear she’s given me like twenty separate second chances already, which I probably don’t deserve, and…it’s just a mess. If I was a better person I’d probably let her go. There are just all these reasons we can’t work out, especially right now. But I just…can’t bring myself to walk away. I can’t.”
A pause followed his words, and Ladybug’s voice was barely louder than a whisper when she responded. “Wow. She really sounds like something.”
“Yeah...” He laughed humourlessly. “I sound pathetic, don’t I?”
“No, not at all! I think…I think you sound really sweet.”
“Really?” Adrien could hardly be blamed for sounding skeptical when Ladybug had rejected his advances for years. How could she now be won over by his charms, when she thought he was nothing more than some random celebrity. Still, he couldn’t help but cling to her words. He trusted her, and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.
“Really,” she said. “And for what it’s worth…I don’t think you should give up just yet. Maybe take it slow, but…” She reached over and put a hand over his knee, squeezing gently before she withdrew. “I think you deserve a chance to be happy. To take control of your own life.”
She stood, smiling down at him. He couldn’t help but mirror her expression. “You think so?”
“I do. And, you know…” She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder, an exaggerated flirtation he knew all too well. “I’m a superhero. So I totally know what I’m talking about.”
She then stepped back and shot him a pair of finger guns, and as dorky as the whole thing was, she might have succeeded in coming off as suave—such were the perks of being Ladybug. Unfortunately for her pride, she then took another step back, and somehow managed to walk right off the curb. She fell back and landed on her butt in a rather disgruntled heap.
Adrien burst out laughing, wondering how the hell his partner could simultaneously be an impeccable superheroine and one of the klutziest people he’d ever met. But as he stood and reached down to help her up, he felt couldn’t help but be awed by her. He couldn’t help but reminded of why he’d fallen for her so quickly in the beginning. And as hard as it had been getting over her, he knew their friendship had grown even stronger through that process.
She was, hands down, the person he loved most in this world. And even if that changed, if someone else edged her out of the top spot one day, he knew their bond wouldn’t waver. She would always be one of the most important people in his life. She would always be able to make him smile.
And Adrien wouldn’t have it any other way.