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The music, at first, is faint.
It courses through the air like a gentle breeze, the melody unraveling its rich tone as it reaches eager ears. It easily captures the attention of those listening. They’re the ones who’ve been waiting and yearning for these tunes throughout the entire year, those who find joy in the slightest indication of the holiday harmonies finally coming to life.
The transformation is magical, in all honesty. One moment people are gloomy, their faces filled with frustration, and yet the moment they hear the music, it changes. Their faces light up like seeing presents underneath the tree on Christmas Day, and, in their eyes, there’s a glint only the holidays can bring out.
December is such a beautiful time of year. Chat ponders over this as he sits on a secluded rooftop, out of view from others. He watches the festivities occur below. The music continues to grow louder. People cheer and yell in excitement. Food is exchanged; customs are shared. Memories are made.
And he sits there, waiting.
Even those who dread this time of year—the people who shut their blinds and lock themselves in their apartments, waiting for the celebrations to be over—peak their heads out their windows to see what’s going on. It’s hard not to, after all. It’s a lost cause to try and resist feeling the joy of the people right in front of them, not when this is a time to spend with family and friends.
For other people, at least, that is what the holiday season defines.
Chat sits encased within the shadows of the rooftop, idly fiddling with his fingers as his mind berates him.
If it weren’t for what happened, maybe you’d still have a family to be with tonight.
It’s the notion that continues to run through his head as the clock ticks closer to midnight, as he watches the people of Paris celebrate the achievements of the past year.
But which family? his subconscious asks. Which family did you lose?
“A toast to a new year!” one of the people at the party below yells, holding up a champagne glass. The others around them grin as they cheer and hold up their glasses.
“For a year of happiness!”
“For a year with few struggles!”
“For a year without akumas!”
“For a year without Hawk Moth!”
He tenses.
Both.
You lost both families.
Chat isn’t really sure why he’s here, in all honesty. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to be home—or really, not home. The mansion isn’t his home. It hasn’t been in a long time, and probably never will be again.
He doesn’t want to be alone, for that matter, either. But it isn’t like he can be with anyone else. There’s no way his friends would ever want to be with him after yesterday, and Ladybug. . . .
Well. He’s pretty sure Marinette doesn’t ever want to talk to him again.
You’ve lost everyone.
Chat closes his eyes, breathes hard, and slowly filters the pessimistic thoughts out his mind.
The night continues on.
Averting his thoughts is a continuous effort. As he watches the people below him mingle, he can’t help but put a barricade up. Higher and higher, stronger and stronger with more and more defenses, locking the dark thoughts deep within and throwing away the key.
It’s effective, for a little while.
Chat continues observing the small, informal party below. His gaze is drawn towards a young couple in particular. They don’t seem to be much older than him; perhaps just a year or two his senior. They sit in the corner away from the rest of the party, and are conversing with each other. At some point, the girl smiles and laughs loudly at what her partner says, and, with a grin, she affectionately rolls her eyes as she elbows his side. The boy simply grins back and says something in reply before leaning in to kiss her. She lets him.
Chat looks away.
Marinette.
His fist clenches as he looks down at them, closing his eyes as he attempts to regulate his now-ragged breathing.
You let her get hurt.
She hates you now.
She’ll never love you again.
Memories of the battle that happened just yesterday flit through his mind. Of the taunting, of the blackmail, of the shock and hurt and pain and of the pure horror as Hawk Moth’s mask finally went down and the face behind it all was finally revealed.
It’s all your fault.
It eats him up inside.
Because he should’ve known, should’ve known, should’ve known—
Chat grits his teeth and instantly shuts the thoughts down.
He looks back down at the party.
The young couple have now pulled apart and are gazing at each other with dreamy stares. Soon enough, the boy reaches out and holds out his hand. He says something to her. She seems to laugh, and puts her hand in his before he suddenly whisks her off to the place where everyone else is dancing.
The music had been faint, at first.
But now it consumes the area around him. The air is filled with joy and prosperity, with happiness and hopefulness, and yet Chat can’t feel any of it.
“Listen to me, Chat,” Ladybug had whispered last night, hours after the final battle, holding him tightly once they’d finally gotten a moment to themselves. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.”
Chat had simply stared at the ground.
“Adrien—”
“I need some time,” he’d muttered, before shaking himself out of her grasp and turning away.
“Time?”
“Just need to process it, I guess,” he said quietly. “Alone.”
“Oh. Will you. . . . will you come back to the bakery with me, then?”
“Not now.”
Ladybug didn’t seem happy with that; her lips were pressed into a firm line, and her arms crossed over her chest, but all she said was, “okay.”
It was the last thing they told each other last night before he fled.
His gaze still follows the couple dancing. The song that’s playing at the moment definitely does not fit the style of dance the two of them are doing, but neither seems to care. They laugh and smile and steal kisses between songs, and the longer he watches them, the longer he notices how close their bond is, the longer he sees how loving they are with each other, the more his heart aches.
He may have had that connection once, with Marinette.
But it’s clear he’ll never have it again after last night.
The party in front of him blurs together, becoming a puddle in his eyes. He feels his shoulders shaking, and suddenly, moisture begins to drip down his cheeks.
Chat doesn’t plan to go back.
How can he?
How can he go back after he’s failed the one person he loves the most?
His hands tremble, and suddenly, he feels himself gasping. He’s gasping as though he’s drowning, desperately needing to come up to the surface, but he can’t breathe, he needs air but can barely grasp it, and something inside him shatters as he realizes this won’t change and it’s always going to be this way and he’s alone, alone, alone—
Someone taps his shoulder, once.
He stills and turns his head.
“Hi,” Ladybug says breathlessly, “what are you doing here?”
Chat feels his heart nearly stop.
What is she doing here? And why is she trying to talk to him?
“I—”
There’s no denying he’s in distress; it’s obvious, judging by the way his palms are shaking and the way his eyes are already filled with moisture.
But Ladybug seems to ignore that. Instead, she simply looks down at the place he’s looking at, at the young couple that had captured his eye. They’re still dancing to the music.
“Oh,” Ladybug says, and she smiles at him as though something is clear. She sits down beside him, taking his hands in hers. Everything within Chat screams at him to flee, to put distance between them.
Yet he doesn’t have the heart to pull away. Her touch electrifies him; it feels so good, so right, and slowly, as their fingers entwine tightly and she doesn’t pull away, Chat feels his panic from earlier begin to cease. He takes in a shaky breath as he turns to look at her.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” she whispers back, squeezing his hands tightly. “What are you doing here? How did you even get here?”
He suddenly looks away and takes his hands out of hers. “I wanted some time alone,” he mutters.
“I was worried,” Ladybug says. “You didn’t come back to the bakery last night. I thought you were just spending time at Nino’s house or something, but this morning I woke up and called him and he said he hadn’t even seen you. I’ve been searching for you all day and I couldn’t find you and when I finally find you you’re—” she suddenly breaks off and swallows thickly, looking away.
Chat turns back towards her, feeling guilt rise up in his throat.
Look at what you’ve done now.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks.
Ladybug’s head whips around to fix him with a fierce gaze. “Don’t apologize.”
“But—”
“What are you saying sorry for? How were you supposed to know this would happen?”
He should’ve known.
“Chat,” Ladybug says when he doesn’t reply, “it’s not your fault.”
He looks down at the party below them, and then at the clock. There’s hardly half an hour left before the clock strikes midnight and the new year begins.
A new year.
One without all of this year’s struggles, one that’ll start with his father in jail and one that’ll end without a single akuma fight.
It’s what he wants, right? It’s what Paris wants and needs.
So why does he feel bad about it?
He swallows thickly. “I—I just. . . .” he trails off, the words he wants to say forming a lump in his throat.
You should hate me.
She does hate him, right? How can she not?
“It is my fault,” he says quietly instead.
“It is not.”
“I should’ve known.”
“How could have you known? Chat—”
“Why are you here?”
And that seems to be the question that surprises Ladybug the most. Her eyes widen as she stares at him in shock. “What do you mean, why am I here?”
He looks away.
“Chat,” she says, suddenly realizing what he means, “did you really think I wouldn’t come and find you?”
“You should hate me,” he whispers.
Ladybug’s face seems to fall, and a bitter smile makes its way onto her face. “Why do you think that?”
“I-It’s my fault.”
Saying the words out loud to her makes them feel all the more real.
Because it is the truth.
“Adrien,” Ladybug breathes, “why would I ever hate you?”
Because my father is Hawk Moth.
Because I should’ve known he was Hawk Moth and I didn’t.
Because I let him terrorize all of Paris.
Because I let him hurt you.
The tears once again begin to well up in his eyes, and he barely manages to choke back a sob. In an instant Ladybug is reaching out to tightly wrap her arms around him, and he lets himself melt into her embrace before pressing his face tightly against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes, but Ladybug's grip on him only tightens.
“Don’t apologize,” she murmurs, holding him tightly as one of her hands strokes his hair. “Do you really think this one event would change my feelings for you? I’ve been in love with you for years. I could never hate you. It’s not your fault this happened.”
But it is.
“I know you don’t believe it,” she continues, and Chat feels her gently press her lips against his hair, “and you don’t have to believe it, for now. But I love you, Adrien. I always will. This isn’t going to change that.”
I love you.
He doesn’t even know how she can still be in love with him.
But at that moment, he doesn’t have the energy to argue with her. Instead he holds onto her embrace as tightly as he can, selfishly not wanting to let her go anywhere else. Ladybug doesn’t seem like she’s planning to let him go anytime soon, either.
It feels like an eternity. But soon enough, his shaking breaths slowly recede, and the tears have finally stopped falling.
I love you.
Marinette’s presence is always something that has cheered him up, however, it isn’t until this moment he’s realized exactly how much he needs her.
Soon enough, he’s calm again. He may not be completely okay, but he’s stopped shaking, and the tears have dried up. He looks up to see Ladybug smile at him. She reaches over to idly brush his hair away from his face.
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrible,” he says, letting out a bitter laugh.
She frowns and looks at him thoughtfully. “You know what we should do?”
“What?”
Ladybug suddenly gets to her feet. Chat stares up at her confusion as she looks down at the party. People are still talking, laughing, and having fun as they sway to the music—whether it be a slower song or one that is more upbeat—the same way they’ve been doing all night.
She turns towards him with a grin as she extends her hand. “Sorry I’m late, but would you like to dance?”
For a moment, Chat just blinks at her in confusion.
Why in the world is she asking him to dance?
“Well?” she asks. There’s a playful glint in her eyes. “Would you like to dance, kitty?”
That’s when he realizes: this is Marinette. Marinette, who always knows exactly what he needs. It’s this thought that makes him get to his feet, this thought that makes him smile as he lets her take his hand and pull him towards her.
“Always,” he murmurs, and that’s all the cue she needs.
At first, the music had been faint.
But now the slow song fills the air, enrapturing them, and while before it had felt like a burden to him, now it draws him in where he can’t pull away. Chat’s gaze slowly flits towards Ladybug as she positions them, with his hands against her waist and hers tangling around his shoulders. The touch makes him smile.
He may be the one with ballroom dancing experience, but this time, he lets Ladybug lead.
And it’s like she whisks him away into an entirely different world. One far away from his father, from the struggles they’re going to go through in the next year. All of his negative thoughts are gone; the only person he’s thinking about in his moment is his Lady. About her smile, her laugh, about her kind heart and caring personality.
She leads him in a movement, one that’s supposed to be a dance, but is simply awkward. The music doesn’t line up; both of them trip and stumble over their feet.
And yet, as she looks up at him, giggles erupting from her lips, Chat can’t help but giggle, too.
Because neither cares.
So they continue to dance on the secluded rooftop, swaying to the music from below. At some point, they break form. Spinning and twirling and mixing movements from all sorts of styles together. They don’t care if they’re doing it wrong; they don’t care if anyone sees them, either.
At that moment, all that matters is that they’re having fun.
And this is definitely the most fun Chat’s had in days.
He didn’t even realize the song was drawing to an end. But when the song finally ends, they’re staring at each other breathlessly. Chat wishes it didn’t have to end; if he could, he would have danced with her there for the rest of the night.
How did I ever get so lucky?
Ladybug smiles. She leans over and takes his hand. “It’s almost time,” she says, pointing at the clock down below. There are less than two minutes until midnight.
Chat smiles back at her, intertwining their fingers together. The two of them walk over to the edge of the rooftop and watch as the people at the party gather around the clock to count down to midnight.
“You know,” Chat murmurs, “this year has been absolutely awful.”
“Fifty-nine!” the people begin to chant. “Fifty-eight, fifty-seven-fifty-six. . . .”
Ladybug suddenly seems defensive, and her grip on his hand tightens. “No.”
“No?”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Forty-nine! Forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six. . . .”
Chat turns towards her in surprise. “Enlighten me, then. How exactly has it not been horrible?”
He could name plenty of reasons. Even discluding what happened in these past few days, this year has been rough in other ways. With school, friendships, and even—
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Ladybug says.
“Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six. . . .”
“And what’s that?”
“This year is the year we finally figured each other out.”
Oh.
“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six. . . .”
She’s right.
She’s right, and yet, all he can remember is the bad.
“I don’t know,” Chat says, suddenly realizing why he’s here in the first place. “I. . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen. . . .”
“You don’t have to know,” Ladybug whispers.
“But—”
Her fingers tighten around his. “Do you trust me?” she asks quietly.
“Nine, eight, seven, six. . . .”
“Always,” he whispers.
“Five, four, three, two. . . .”
Ladybug turns towards him, closes her eyes, tilts her head and presses her lips against his just as the clock strikes midnight and cheers erupt all around them. Chat gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself melt into her touch.
It’s a brief kiss. All too soon, Ladybug pulls away, and he’s left blinking at her in astonishment. It's not like this is the first time they’ve kissed, but after everything that’s happened in the past few days, it feels like a breath of fresh air.
“Mistletoe,” Ladybug says, a blush making its way onto her cheeks as she points to a railing on the side of the rooftop. There, interwoven on the ledge, is a piece of the plant. It seems to have been positioned there so that anyone beneath the ledge would have to notice it.
“That mistletoe isn’t above us, my lady,” he teases.
“So?”
“You just wanted an excuse to kiss me.”
She laughs, reaching over to flick his bell. “Oh? And who says I need an excuse to kiss my boyfriend?”
Boyfriend.
Just hours before, Chat had been sitting here, wondering if Ladybug would ever even want to call him that again. But now. . . .
From below, Chat can hear the cheers ring out as people celebrate the start of a new year. Ladybug seems to notice the way his expression changes, and she scoots closer to him.
“We may have figured out some terrible things in the past couple of days,” she says quietly, “but we’ll get through this, Adrien. I promise we will.”
Hearing her words ignites the tiniest spark of hope within him.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s wrong.
But for whatever it’s worth, it can’t hurt to believe, right?
Chat tightens his grip on Ladybug’s hand. “Okay.” He leans his head against her shoulder as they look down at the party once again.
The music is far from faint now.
It had filled the air with joy and prosperity, with happiness and hopefulness. And it still does that. But now, a new emotion fills the air, one Chat can feel as clear as day.
“I love you,” he murmurs, “thank you.”
We’ll get through this. I promise we will.
And he hopes, with all of his heart, that her promise will come true.