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She found him lurking in the pitch black alleyway, many long hours after searching his home and the school and his favorite spots around the city had started to feel like a lost cause.
His face was cast downwards, his tears mingling with the rainfall that drenched his mop of blond hair so that it appeared a muddy brown, only working to blend him further into the shadows.
“Chat Noir?” Even though her voice was quiet, she could tell it carried from the way his ears shifted.
He wouldn’t look up at her.
“. . . Adrien?” she tried again.
A sob tore through him, his shoulders concaving even further as he let himself break.
Marinette was at his side in an instant, not caring that her knees skidded across the hard concrete or that her jacket would be soaked through with muddy water in mere minutes. All she cared about was gathering as much of him as she could into her small arms and holding on as tight as she could.
She pushed his hair away from his forehead and pressed her lips hard against his hairline, all the while wiping droplets off his mask with her thumbs. Chat buried his nose even further into her collarbone as the endless stream of tears continued. Even the sound of his breathing - hitched and rough and painful - could hardly break through the endless thundering sheet of rainfall.
“I’m here,” she said. “You’re going to be okay.”
For all she knew, it could have been a lie, but she had to make him believe it. If nothing else, he needed to know that he had someone there for him.
Hawkmoth was gone. And with him went Adrien’s only living family, one of his few constants in life, what may have been his last sliver of hope that he may feel whole again someday.
He hadn’t bothered to drop his transformation, even though more than a day had passed. Adrien Agreste had no home to return to. At least Chat Noir was welcomed by the alleyways and dark desolate corners of the quiet city at this time of night. And that is where he stayed until Marinette found him. Utterly defeated, as much so as their rival.
Chat pulled himself out of her embrace, sitting back against the brick wall and looking to the sky, letting the rain race down his face. He laughed, a sardonic sound that broke in the back of his throat. “Why are you here?”
Though she knew it was the pain talking, his words still stung. Could she blame him, though?
“I wanted to...” What, exactly? He refused to talk to Ladybug or anyone else, vanishing into the night without bothering to return any of their desperate calls. But the signal still went through, so she knew he was transformed somewhere. She took a deep breath and settled for, “I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone.”
“What have I ever done for you?”
“Besides being one of Paris’ greatest heroes?” she began as the memories played like flashbacks in her mind, careful to make clear he was hearing Marinette’s side of the stories. “You protected me when Nathaniel was akumatized into the Evillustrator. And the time with my grandmother. And my dad. You aren’t just a hero to the city, you’re my hero. You’ve protected me so many times and never even asked for a thank you. You’re loyal. And trustworthy. And kind.”
And she didn’t just mean to say those things to Chat Noir, savior of Paris, hero to all. Every single truth spilled from her lips was meant for Adrien Agreste too.
“And you let me stand under your umbrella. And that is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He locked eyes with her, his mouth falling open.
“You’ve saved me,” she whispered fiercely, “over and over again.”
Marinette tilted his chin up with her hand, making the depth of her passion clear in every expression on her face as she continued. “You’ve helped me in more ways than you know. And I want to return the favor in any way I can.”
He froze there for a moment, his startling green irises searching for clarity.
“But my father, he-”
“You are not your father,” Marinette’s voice was ragged, stern. She took a deep breath. “Please, Adrien. What can I do to help you?”
Chat Noir looked away, his face twisting into a frown. The cold seeped through Marinette’s clothing, yet she stayed there silent and shivering, waiting for his answer.
“Plagg,” Chat whispered. “Claws in.”
With a flash, Adrien’s exhausted kwami emerged from the ring in his hand. Plagg swayed midair before collapsing into Marinette’s lap. She cradled him with one hand and looked up at her partner. (Her classmate, her friend).
Adrien looked up, his stare vacant and entirely unreadable. The bags under his eyes were darker than Marinette had ever seen them. He was pale. Probably cold, hungry, and tired.
Marinette couldn’t help herself. She reached forward, brushing the soaked blond strands of hair off his forehead. Before she could pull away, he caught her hand in his and held on tight.
“Stay with me?” he asked finally.
“Of course.”