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I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from. I hope you're having fun in New York, kitty. I just want you to be happy.
When Hawkmoth was revealed to be Gabriel Agreste, top fashion mogul and Marinette's career hero, Paris went into a mass hysteria. Tabloids, newspapers, news channels, social media sites — everyone went crazy with the information. Marinette supposed if she were removed enough from the situation, she would have reacted the same way. She would have burned the stupid bowler hat she created for his stupid contest, would have gotten rid of anything remotely related to him, and Adrien—
When she realized she would have told (and convinced) herself that Adrien was just as bad as his father, well, she couldn't exactly blame the entirety of Paris for losing their collective minds.
But when Hawkmoth was revealed to be Gabriel Agreste, Chat Noir was revealed to be Adrien Agreste at the same day. Marinette didn't know what to do with that.
If you want to, I... I really want to speak to you, kitty. Please? One last time, if it has to come to that. I just don't want us to end like this.
Marinette tells herself she has less reasons to be sad, compared to everything Adr—Chat has to deal with. But her entire world seemed to tilt when she's informed that she has to stop being Ladybug. Now that Hawkmoth is taken care of, there is no need to run around and risk losing a miraculous, Tikki had said. As the guardian, she'd have to keep it safe, but using it would be a completely different discussion.
"I want to use it to find Chat Noir," she hears herself say, and it's disturbing, how her voice still sounds the same. Shouldn't everything she's been through warrant some sort of change? Because the world is upside down, Adrien is Chat Noir, but she still has to deal with the same leaky faucet down at the bakery. She still has to face Ms. Mendeleiev and her never-ending lectures fueled purely by stream of consciousness.
She hates it.
She hates herself.
"You know you shouldn't, Marinette," Tikki says, and she wants to hit something. Yes, she knows. She knows. And it hurts to know that she can't be there for him.
(He doesn't want her with him, and that hurts even more.)
I'm sorry you had to find out like this, kitty. I really am. But can't you at least say something back? Curse me out, hate me. Just let me know you're alive.
She settles into a routine.
It's been three months since she last saw Chat Noir, and Marinette likes to think she's doing an okay job in slowly moving on from... everything. She goes to school, home for lunch, does a few commissions here and there. Spends her weekends and free time helping with the bakery, and finds Luka stopping by for deliveries more often every week. The first week she noticed this, she calls him out.
"You know, you're, uh, here a lot. I just wanted to tell you I've noticed," Marinette informs him eloquently, and Luka lets out a light chuckle.
"Yes, Marinette. I am here a lot."
"Why?"
He raises an eyebrow at her question, and she feels indignation rising up her throat. Why? Is it such a stupid question to ask why he'd want to be around her more often? Because God knows all she wants is to get away from herself. Even if it's just for a moment.
Maybe for a day.
Maybe forever.
"I'm not stupid, Marinette." She snorts at that, and he rolls his eyes. "Juleka told me you've been pulling away from everyone. Even Alya," he says this pointedly, like he's scolding her for it, and Marinette scoffs, "and they're worried. So am I. That's why I wanted to spend more time around you, which results in me 'being here a lot'. Because I care. Because I don't want you to be alone."
Marinette looks him in the eye, determined to hold his gaze. "Maybe I want to be alone."
"There's a difference between wanting to be alone and thinking that you deserve to be alone, Marinette. Think about that, and please be honest with yourself."
Have you made friends there, kitty? I miss you.
She stops sending messages when the time came to change her phone. It's a stupid reason, but she wants to start anew, and continuously sending stupid voicemails to a person who didn't even want to hear from her was getting her down a bit. Just a bit. She's proud to say it's been a week since she's sent one.
"I'm glad you're helping me, by the way," Nino tells her while they're walking around a record shop. "Nice to know you still consider me a friend."
"Shut up, Lahiffe. Why are we even in a record shop? Alya isn't exactly the biggest music lover I know."
"Well duh, that's because you know me," he says with a cheesy grin. "She wants a vinyl copy of Clara Nightingale's latest release. This is one of the only places we can get it."
"What? Why?"
"I don't exactly know," Nino says distractedly, browsing through the shelves. "Just keep an eye on my phone, yeah? We have to keep trying to order online."
Marinette nods at this, and patiently waits for the Clara Nightingale store to register their purchase. Suddenly, the phone rings, and before she could give it to Nino, she reads the caller ID.
What?
"Who is it, Marinette?" Nino asks, fingers still going over records. When she doesn't respond, he turns to her and she hands her his phone.
"Oh. Uh. Listen, he—"
"It's fine," Marinette says weakly, knees threatening to collapse. Just seeing his name struck a chord deep within her, made her feel like she's Ladybug again, the same Marinette from half a year ago who lost her best friend to a deranged father and comatosed mother.
The pain felt so raw, and she felt like her heart was being prodded by a metal rod. Her lungs are filled with cotton and she can't—
She can't breathe.
"Marinette, he barel—"
"I'm sorry, Nino, but I– I have to go."
This would be so much easier if I can just hate you, minou. But I can't. I guess I love you too much for that.
"Adrien is back."
It's Luka who delivers the news, and it doesn't shock her. He's the only one who ever really understood the full picture, and for some reason, the only one who didn't see her differently even after her identity as Ladybug was revealed. Maybe it's because he already knew before the fight with Hawkmoth.
Maybe.
(Truthfully, she has no idea.)
"Oh?" Marinette says, voice heavy and tired. There was no point in hiding how she felt about it, and she felt tired.
It's been eight months.
"Yeah, and I know my opinion is worth nothing, but I have a feeling he went back to see you."
She winces, staring at the cash register before her. She swallows the tiny swell of hope forming within her, and she hates herself more for feeling it in the first place. Why would he want to see her? To properly curse her out? To make sure she got the memo, that he hated her and wanted nothing to do with her?
"I think you're feeling the wrong things, Luka. And even so, I don't want to see him."
Luka raises an eyebrow, and she is reminded of herself months ago, forced to close off, the same stupid Luka and the same stupid indignation rising in her throat.
Please be honest with yourself.
"I want to see him," she admits quietly, voice unnervingly steady. "But I want to see the him I know. He's my friend. My other half. And" A pause. "I don't want to see who he is now. Without me."
Luka says nothing.
Hey, Marinette. It's been a while. Can we meet up? Uh, this Friday. Alya said you're free during Fridays. I already asked Luka to man the bakery for you... if that's okay. Lunch. I mean—I'm asking you to... lunch. Please let me know what you think so we can settle on a place.
"I.. I figured I'd drive us there."
Adrien Agreste is standing in front of their bakery, looking every bit of the supermodel he was raised to be. The sight of Chat Noir's unkempt hair paired with Adrien's bashful expression sent Marinette on a loop, but she figured she's feeling dizzy for other, more important reasons. Like the way his stupid white shirt looked so good on him, or the way his eyes sparkled, the never-ending sea of green enough to put her in an unbreakable trance.
"Marinette?"
Fuck, she's in trouble.
"Uh.. yeah. Right. You can. Drive. Yes."
Adrien's unsure smile slightly wavered after her brilliant display of eloquence, but she brushed it off. Why was he being so nice anyways? Is it really not in his nature to hold a grudge?
They get inside the car, and Marinette sits on the shotgun seat. It's definitely not because she's afraid of meeting his eyes on the rearview mirror. She then waits for him to start the engine, but he doesn't, and he turns to her, and oh God—
"Look, I hate this."
Her heart sinks.
"I hate that we're so weird around each other now." Adrien rests his forehead on the steering wheel, and Marinette has to bite back an and whose fault is that?
Hers, that is.
"I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, you really don't have to do thi—"
"No!" Adrien cuts her off, sounding manic. His expression is pained, and it doesn't help the pang in her chest. "Don't. Don't go."
"What am I supposed to do then?" Marinette asks, and she feels her voice rising. For the first time in months, she feels something other than shame and sadness from thinking about what happened. She feels anger, and she revels in it. All her unanswered voicemails, the pain she felt when he left—the guilt. Everything got mixed up in a maelstrom of emotions, and this time, she didn't hold back. "I really am sorry that that's what happened, Adrien. I am. I hate that I had to be the one to tell you that no, you can't use the miraculous on your mother. No, you can't bring back the one person you've always missed ever since she left. And it—" A pause. It might have something to do with the tears in her eyes and the lump in her throat. "I hate that you probably despise me right now. I hate myself. But it was the right thing to do, Adrien. Even if it hurt."
When she finishes, there are tears on her cheeks and her hands won't stop fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She can't bring herself to look at him—what would she see? Sadness? Anger? Regret?
Maybe nothing. Maybe to him, she's a situation he needs to handle. A loose end.
"I don't hate you," he starts, and the phrase is surprising enough to make Marinette look at him. He's crying, and she feels stupid for thinking he'd be emotionless. He doesn't hate her?
Why did he leave?
"I.. I hated myself. My father. Marinette, you have to understand, I couldn't face you. You had nothing to do with this, but because my father couldn't let go of.. of mom, he caused this entire terror brigade throughout Paris. And everyday—" He chokes on a sob, and on instinct, she grabs his hands and squeezes tight. "—everyday your life was in danger and it's all our fault. I don't hate you, God I don't hate you. I love you too much for that." He smiles at that, and Marinette feels her breath hitch.
"I don't– I don't know, Marinette. It was stupid of me to run away. But I guess I've wanted to run for a while now. I decided to humor myself, since I figured there's nothing here for me anymore."
She's about to disagree, a million arguments rushing to leave her mouth—
"I guess I forgot about you, My Lady. Pretty stupid of me, huh?"
"Yes, it is incredibly stupid of you." She sniffs, and he offers his handkerchief. "You'll always have me, minou."
She'll never admit it to anyone (or to herself, for that matter), but it's the first time she's breathed so easily in eight months, even if she is currently crying her eyes out.
Hello, Adrien? I'm sorry you had to find out like that, but.. I'm Ladybug. I couldn't tell you because you ran away so quickly, and.. I was scared, kitty. But it doesn't matter now. You're in New York, I heard? You're so far away. Look. We're going to be okay, right? It'll get better. Even if it doesn't, I'll always be your friend. I love you, kitty. I'll always do.