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Adrien shut the door behind him, and for the first time in years, he shakily locked the door. With his back pressed against the door, he slid down, his heart beating loudly in his ears. It seemed as though that was the only sound. Well, besides his shallow breaths. Gingerly, his touched his cheek. He winced; that was bound to leave a bruise.
"We need to get those miraculous; I don't care what we have to do."
"Why can't you just move on? What about me?"
They'd had that argument more and more in the past couple of months. Maybe it was because his father sensed Adrien wasn't doing as much anymore. Maybe he saw he wasn't as brutal when fighting Ladybug. But how could he be? She was just a teenager, like him. She was protecting Paris, while he was hurting its citizens.
She was doing the right thing, he wasn't.
Coherent and incoherent thoughts flooded him, and he felt like he was drowning.
"Your mother is the most important to me. I have to bring her back."
"Mother is dead! Why can't you accept that?"
"Quiet! You will help me or I will take back your miraculous, understood?" His father lowered his voice, and growled, "This is why I wish it had been you."
Tear drops made his vision blur, but no matter how rapidly he blinked they wouldn't go away. His chest was tight. He could barely breathe.
Father hit me.
What do I do?
He hit me.
He said he wished it had been me.
He hit me.
I need to run.
"Plagg," Adrien's voice was hoarse and brittle, "Plagg, can we go on a run?"
He wiped his eyes quickly, enough to see his kwami, his ears flattened against his head as he stared at his chosen. Gently, his voice barely above a whisper, Plagg said, "Let's go on a run, Kid."
Ladybug was on her nightly patrol. She never knew when akumas could strike next. But now, she didn't have to be on such high alert. After talking with Chat Noir a few times ever since she saw him crying one day, he'd been subtly helping her. He'd "accidentally" trip an akuma, or his reflexes would be a little slower, or he'd make a small "mistake" just to help her. Tikki had said they were meant to be partners, now they almost were.
But something bothered her. When she'd found him a couple months prior, crying in a quieter part of Paris, he's spoken of his frustrations. He said he didn't want to hurt people. He said he didn't want to be a villain. But when she asked him why he didn't just stop, he'd said,
"I don't have a choice."
She didn't understand what he meant then, before she could ask he left, saying to forget that ever happened. When they ran into each other again and again, they talked about small mundane things. Awkward situations everyone's found themselves in, rude people, the frustrations of having a secret identity, etcetera. Never again did he bring up not having a choice or the pain and frustration he carried around toward being a villain.
When she landed softly on the next rooftop, in the quiet part of Paris where she's found Chat Noir crying the first time, she hadn't expected to find him there like that again. He was curled up in a ball, holding his knees to his chest tightly, his tail curled around him, and his cat ears flattened. A faint, haunting hum traveled through the air.
She shivered. Something told her in another world, in another universe, she wouldn't like that song.
One of his cat ears perked up when he heard her and he quickly straightened, wiping away what must've been his tears. He turned to her with a bright smile when she sat beside him, "Hello there, Bugaboo."
His smile faltered when she gave him a sad look and shook her head, "If I hadn't seen you, that might've been convincing."
"Oh." He let out a sigh, and slumped again, looking out at the city. "It was worth a shot."
It was then that she noticed something on his cheek. At first, she thought it was just the lighting, so she needed to check. She reached out and gingerly touched Chat's cheek. When he winced, she knew; it was a bruise.
"You have a bruise," she said simply. He turned his face away from her, defensively curling in on himself. "Who did this to you?" He curled in on himself further. "Chat," her voice trembled, surprising her, "who hurt you?"
She wasn't completely sure why, but she was angry at whoever hurt him. He was just a kid, like her, who was roped into doing something not good. But he never really hurt her as bad as he could've, and now he was helping her. Clearly, he was a good person under that mask, so why would he have a bruised cheek? Did he have any other bruises?
Finally, Chat turned to her, but he kept himself curled into a ball. "My father and I...we got into another argument." Ladybug froze. Another? Eyes wide, she stared at Chat. Was his father the one who hit him? "He noticed I wasn't really fighting with as much effort, and I guess he knew I wasn't really accidentally making mistakes. I said some things, he said some things, and well..."
Ladybug frowned. If his father knew about his identity and grew angry at him for not doing his job properly then... Her jaw dropped, but she quickly snapped it shut. "That's why you said you didn't have a choice..."
Chat peered up at Ladybug, "What?"
"When I found you crying here a couple months ago, you said you didn't have a choice. Now I know why. Your father is Hawk Moth," she clarified.
"Oh." Chat waited for her to say something else. For her to demand his identity so she could find Hawk Moth and end everything.
But instead she spoke quietly and gently, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Does...does your mother know?"
Chat looked away, blinking the tears out of his eyes at the mention of his mother. If she knew about what they were doing, she would never approve. She say something along the lines of, "If it was time for me to go, it was time for me to go." Hurting people to bring her back is something she never would've wanted. Something she never would've approved.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, "Chat?"
"She," his voice broke. His cleared his throat and tried again, "She's the reason he's doing this. He's trying to bring her back."
He expected Ladybug to start lecturing him about how horrible that was. To tell him of the consequences of a wish, of how it would be an equal exchange. One life for the cost of another. And he knew that. It was one of the reasons he didn't want to help his father anymore.
Instead, Ladybug surprised him again by tentatively asking, "Do you want a hug? I know it's probably awkward and it probably won't help with anythi--"
Chat Noir cut her of by throwing his arms around her in a tight hug. To his surprise, she held him just as tight. He reveled in her warmth, her breath tickling his ear, and the sound of her steady heartbeat. It had been a long time since he'd had a hug. His father wasn't one to show much affection or pride for his son, so he rarely ever got hugs.
"One day," Ladybug's voice trembled with emotion, "I will punch him in the nose for hurting you. And when I bring the miraculous back to where it should be, safely hidden, you won't have to hurt anymore. And if... If we don't have to fight anymore, we won't have to hide anything, and I can introduce you to my parents. They're kinda known for informally adopting people into their home, and they'll show you how a parent should love their child."
Chat blinked back tears and swallowed the lump in his throat. "You would do that for me?" She didn't have to. She didn't have to do any of what she was doing right then, either. Why would she help her enemy? Why would she help someone who isn't on her side like they should be?
"Of course." She said it with so much certainty that Chat Noir had to believe her.
Five years later...
"Marinette?" Adrien asked.
Marinette looked at her boyfriend, her heart stuttering at the look of pure love in his eyes. "Yes?"
"Thank you for always being there for me." He kissed her softly, as he always did.
She smiled at him fondly, "Of course. I love you, that's what people who love one another do."
"I love you too."
He said it with so much certainty that she had to believe him.