Chapter Text
The day was off to a rough start, and it all went downhill from there. Adrien had been having a pleasant dream about playing with Plagg when he was shaken from sleep by a harsh knocking at the door. Plagg, who had been hovering near his ear with a frantic look in his eyes, darted away to hide. Adrien sat straight up in bed, tossing his covers to the floor as the knocking came again.
“Adrien! It’s time for breakfast. You need to be downstairs now or you’re going to be late.” Nathalie called from the hallway.
Adrien could almost feel her scowl through the door. “Coming,” he said, and waited for her footsteps to leave the door before he plopped back down on his pillows with a deep sigh. He could feel the bite of exhaustion behind his eyes; Even sleeping through his alarm hadn’t been enough rest to make up for his recent late nights. His workload as a civilian was getting tougher, and as Chat Noir, well.
Lately, Hawkmoth had not been kind to the sleep schedules of Paris’ heroes. It was like the man never took a break. Not for lunch, not to sleep, and on the worst days, not even between akumas. These days, Adrien spent more time in the mask than out of it.
His partner would never admit it, but he knew it was getting to her too. Ladybug’s reflexes were just a bit slower, her plans were just a bit simpler. She rarely responded to his banter, not that he had the energy to start much. He’d tried to ask if she was okay, and she was just a bit too hesitant to answer. ‘Don’t worry,’ she’d said to him, but her eyes were so sad. She didn’t smile anymore.
For that matter, neither did he.
“You need to get up, kid.” Plagg reappeared, bobbing up and down in what Adrien liked to think was the Kwami equivalent of pacing. He looked worried. “Even if you call in sick today for school, you need to get down there and eat something.”
“I’m up,” Adrien assured him, not moving his head an inch off the deliciously soft pillow. “I just need a minute.”
Plagg looked like he was going to argue, but then both of their heads whipped around as they heard footsteps approach the bedroom door. Plagg zipped into the bathroom. More out of instinct than anything else, Adrien slid out of bed in one fluid motion and hit the floor already walking. He was grateful he had fallen asleep in his school clothes—last night’s fight had been rough—because this time Nathalie opened the door straight away.
She looked him over. “Fix your hair,” was all she said, before she turned around and went back downstairs, leaving the door open.
Adrien ran his fingers through his bedhead, suddenly feeling rather anxious. Plagg came back from the bathroom carrying a small tub of hair product, and Adrien thanked him absentmindedly. He made his way downstairs, rubbing the gel into his hair, while his Kwami trailed behind him with his forgotten school bag, trying to catch his attention without catching the eyes of the rest of the household.
“Did she seem angry to you, Plagg?” Adrien finally asked, slipping the tub into his coat pocket.
Plagg gave up and slipped the bag directly on his holder’s shoulder. “No, that was normal,” he grumbled. “You’re just tired, Adrien. You’ll feel better after you eat.” He settled himself on Adrien’s other shoulder.
Adrien had been hungry, but now his stomach twisted itself in knots. If that was normal, did that mean she was always angry with him all the time? Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he could stomach breakfast. He looked at Plagg for some reassurance, but his Kwami had a dark look in his eyes as he stared off into space. Adrien’s stomach twisted even tighter, regretting asking the question in the first place; He couldn’t stand the thought of Plagg being upset with him.
Plagg disappeared into his coat pocket at some point, and Adrien walked to the dining room in uncomfortable silence.
He had expected to be eating alone, but his father was already sitting at the head of the table, an untouched plate of food in front of him. He sipped at his coffee as he consulted the contents of a blue folder in his other hand, while Nathalie stood by, dealing with something on her tablet.
Adrien’s place was already set at the opposite end. Nathalie noticed him as soon as he walked through the door, but waited until he was seated say something.
“Sir,” she murmured, and Gabriel looked up from his papers.
Adrien’s greeting died in his throat at his father’s expression. The anxious pit in his stomach solidified into fear as he tried to figure out what he’d done so wrong to be looked at like that.
“Your grades are slipping.” Gabriel looked back at his folder, and pulled out a neatly paperclipped stack. With a jolt, Adrien realized they were his schoolwork—he recognized one of the more recent tests at the top. “Explain this to me.”
He’d gotten a good grade, still near the top of his class, but it was a few points below his last. Almost, but not quite enough to drop a letter grade. Adrien remembered that test. He’d just come back to school from an akuma attack and was falling asleep at his desk. Miraculously, he finished in time, but Adrien had a feeling that without the extra points from a bonus assignment they had done earlier in the week, his grade wouldn’t look quite so nice.
“It was just an off day, Father,” Adrien tried to explain himself. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
Rather than speaking, Gabriel pulled out more tests, more assignments with less than perfect grades. The pile grew, as did Adrien’s trepidation.
“You are not permitted to have ‘off days’,” Gabriel said sternly, “and this is more than just a day.”
Adrien didn’t know what to say to that, but Gabriel wasn’t done. He made a quick motion with his hand, and Nathalie walked to where Adrien was seated. She turned her tablet screen around to reveal a line graph of what Adrien realized were his scores. The numbers were declining, slowly approaching an angry red line set in the middle.
“Your grades have been dropping for months. This is unacceptable. Do you understand me?”
Adrien nodded, his eyes burning with shame as he pointedly avoided looking at the graph. Gabriel still stared at him expectantly, so he forced himself to speak. “Yes, sir.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Now,” Gabriel said, picking up his coffee again. “Explain yourself.”
Adrien knew there was no getting out of this, but he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t exactly explain that it was Hawkmoth’s fault he couldn’t study or sleep, and he had a grim feeling that if his father ever found out he was Chat Noir he would try to take that from him too. “I’ve just been…tired,” he tried. “My schedule is so busy and the work is just getting harder and—”
Gabriel held up his hand, and Adrien stopped speaking abruptly. His father took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. “Nathalie told me you went out with friends yesterday after school. I don’t remember giving my permission for this.”
Adrien’s blood ran cold, and he looked at Nathalie, who was avoiding his eyes.
“It’s obvious that these friends are a bad influence on your studies,” Gabriel continued. “This ends now.”
What? Adrien didn’t want to hear this. He couldn’t. “Father, wait, please—”
“You will not be allowed to see them outside of school for the remainder of the school year.”
“Please—”
“If—” Gabriel interrupted, “you argue with me, or try to disobey me again, I will pull you from school entirely. Is that clear?”
Adrien didn’t trust himself to speak. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He felt something warm press against his chest, next to his heart, and he was grateful for Plagg trying to offer some comfort, but that didn’t stop the lump from forming in his throat.
“Adrien?”
“Y-yes sir.”
“Yes, what?”
“It’s clear, sir.”
“Good. Now,” Gabriel stood, leaving his full plate and a now empty coffee mug. “Finish your breakfast. You may not be late to school.” He left without another word.
Nathalie lingered, standing over Adrien with a look almost like pity. “Adrien…”
Adrien forced a smile and wiped at his eyes. “I’m fine, Nathalie,” he said, dully. “I’m just not all that hungry.” He stood up, too, and shouldered his school bag. “I’ll see you later.”
She made no move to stop him, but later when he opened the car door, he found a hastily packed bag with the breakfast he hadn’t eaten, and a neatly wrapped chocolate cookie. Not exactly part of his diet. The food was still warm, and his stomach growled in spite of himself.
He still couldn’t bring himself to eat. It felt like a sorry attempt at an apology, and Adrien’s stomach was so twisted up in knots he was half afraid that if he tried he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.
They arrived at the school, and he got out of the car, putting on a wide smile to greet his friends.
He left the bag behind.