Work Text:
White noise filled the emptiness in the air. The void sound was eventually replaced with whirling wind.
Being somewhere where warmth can't be seen, it only felt... empty. The atmosphere was at a freezing temperature, even more so now that he can't feel anything.
It was... numb. Hollow. As if his abdomen had been stretched open, he didn't feel anything.
He was still. Sitting down on the ledge of something ice-coated, and the moon was stuck in the sky, a huge crater engraved onto the center.
With every tear he shed, it immediately freezes. He was cold. He was really cold.
He wanted to go home.
"It was our love that did this to the world, M'lady."
It's just a dream, Adrien.
. . .
Adrien wakes up in cold sweat, jolting up, gasping for air.
His knuckles had been white, and the blanket sprawled over his body wasn't making him any warmer.
It's just a dream, he repeated to himself subconsciously. It's only a dream, he added. The heartbeat in his chest was pulsating through his body as if it were a drum, his vision blurring, but he can't find anything else.
It was dark, and his breath was growing fainter. "Hey, hey. Kid."
His ears rang. It was getting louder. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to-
"Adrien?" A voice he hadn't heard in so long called out to him, caringly.
It was gentle.
Far too gentle.
As if it were made of porcelain, and he was afraid that if he went too near, it would break. And he didn't want it to break. He squeezes his eyes shut, ears pressing onto his ears.
He missed his mother.
He really did.
"Adrien? Adrien??" Plagg repeated, zooming out of view to somewhere the blond couldn't specify, coming back with a handful of cheese.
Adrien's eyes have been wide, gazing slowly over to Plagg, who tried to hand him the cheese. And the boy finally takes a breath, the hold on his ears falling. He doesn't bother to wipe his sweat, laying back on his bed, watching his digital clock tick back to 3:24 AM.
Plagg was silent for a moment, feeling a little too guilty to be making it about cheese. "Night terrors again, huh?"
He doesn't respond, eyes gazing unconsciously over to the table beside his bed. There was a glass mug, with chamomile tea a quarter empty, though it stayed ineffective for the most part.
He turns, and lays back on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. It was still dark. The same hollow feeling from the dream lay as a phantom feeling in his stomach. Plagg knows nothing on reassuring people about things like these — Kwamis like them are only supposed to grant power, even if they tried.
There was a lost sense of familiarity lingering from the nightmare that he can't lay a finger on. The feeling laying deep inside his gut just clenched tighter, as if he reacted to it.
He turns over to open the drawer, grabbing the nearest pen and paper, and writing the quote of that dream. He didn't know if he was connecting any dots, or if this had something to do with his mother's death, but the best he could do was to hope it did, somehow.
It felt like there was a huge gap in his life, everything just slowly progressing the way it is without it. As he wrote, the details he thought he would be able to remember faded, and he didn't have much of the energy to do something about it. Things come and go, like he thought.
But it was just a dream, there shouldn't be any psychological relations to this. It could only imply his stress, how unwell he's been sleeping lately, but the thought of it being the same dream over and over makes him wonder if that view of the world meant anything.
He tried not to pay attention to it, but it slowly started repeating. And repeating. It gets worse every time, and he feels a pit in his chest whenever he wakes up.
It was the same image. Same dream. Everything was calm and steady, but the thought gives him anxiety.
...
He doesn't like it.
This was the fifteenth night. He's been having the same dream non-stop for fifteen days, and he's tried everything to try to make it stop, including drinking sleeping pills, and over-the-counter things like chamomile tea. Nothing ever seemed to work, but he can't not fall asleep.
It's left him restless, but he doesn't know what to do about it. If he can't even talk to his friends about some nightmare that will leak his identity, who could he talk to?
Just as Plagg rested onto his head, He immediately jolts up, remembering someone else with a secret identity.
Surely, Ladybug would listen.
Wouldn't she?
. . .
As soon as Adrien transforms into Chat Noir, he makes his way towards the building facing the Eiffel Tower, settling down a little, steadying his breath.
For some reason, letting his adrenaline rush eased him a little.
He sits himself on the roof, legs crossed. Anticipating. Waiting.
For some reason, he's reminded of that scenario.
He made it a point to meet up with Ladybug, because the amount of times the same scenario had repeated and only gets clearer with every time is starting to concern him. He wakes up feeling a ball and chain tied around his waist, and oftentimes it drives him to break.
This wasn't just something he can tell anyone — he had an identity to conceal, and she just seemed right for it. He's worried, because she might think he was overreacting, and this was his first time ever talking to her about such a personal matter that he couldn't help but shudder at the thought.
Chat's thoughts were interrupted the moment he sees the red and black-dotted object tie firmly around the pole beside him, Ladybug ziplining her way through, and landing on her feet elegantly.
She pats her shoulders, lifting the yoyo up, only to catch sight of him and waves, setting the weapon aside. "You called?" Ladybug asks, walking towards him, leaning forward. She looked bright. Her smile that evening was something he wanted to protect.
But she was beautiful. Like any other, he's in awe by how she manages to show up stunning every time. He smirks, unable to tear his gaze from her. "Just missed you, Bugaboo." He joked, relaxing on the spot, hearing her cute little scoff. "Sure." She giggled, him feeling her sit beside him.
There was a moment of peace. They both silently agree to keep it that way, even for a moment, hearing the breeze of the wind, the stars in the sky twinkling bit by bit.
If anything — this is the first time Chat's felt absolutely at peace. Nothing too much happening, just her beside him, the view perfect, no interruptions whatsoever.
Well, that thought helped him calm down, at least.
His expression falls, letting out an unwarranted sigh, which made the girl turn to him.
There were a few things she's observed; he looked exhausted. He was weary, and couldn't hold up the smile he showed her awhile ago, and he's worn out. She never realized that a small pout was visible on her lips, her hand subconsciously making it's way up to his shoulder.
She smiles when he turns, rubbing his back. "You okay?"
She was as caring like she always was.
It felt... promising. To him, at least. Something about her just... makes him want to tell her everything. He knew she was a great listener, but the thought still scared him. And he didn't know why.
They've been going around saving Paris for what feels like nearly half a year, of course she'd be able to notice if anything's wrong. But his current state was... undecipherable. She can't seem to understand, because fear seemed too strong for what he's feeling, and sad feels a little too forward.
Ladybug trusts him, even if it concerns her, because she's aware that even if she couldn't read how he's feeling, she'd just have more to learn.
It didn't concern her that he called her, it concerned her that he was up at this time. And she was nervous about what's been going on, and what kept him up tonight. Chat Noir turns to meet her worried expression, their eyes meeting. If he could only tell her anything by gazing at her, he's positive he would've told her everything.
The leather-suited superhero finally lets out a repressed sigh, looking back at the Eiffel Tower.
"This is gonna sound stupid, but... I've been having the same nightmare for weeks, and it's kind of been taking a toll on me." a warning definitely wasn't what Ladybug expected, but she inches a little closer to him. "I've had tons and hundreds of nightmares before, Chaton. It's not stupid that you've been having the same one."
"Yeah, but something about the dream bothers me so much. It feels strange to feel this much emotion for something that's been happening to me." Chat let out a disgruntled sigh. Maybe he was worrying a little too much about the situation, it shouldn't be this deep.
But the way she looks at him reassures him. That alone was enough to make him feel better.
He felt like he didn't deserve having her to listen. If anything, he's usually the one that listens. And having the roles switched, he didn't know how to act. "The nightmare I've been having is about the world ending."
Ladybug let out an understanding hum. A nightmare shouldn't mean anything too deep — well, at least that's how she understands this concept. "Go on," she'd say gently, her hand now beside his, just inches away. "It's... scary because it felt extremely like I'm the cause of everything."
There was a nervous pang in her chest.
Something about it... vaguely reminds her of something. "Everything was broken, there wasn't any sign of anyone, And it gets more and more vibrant the more I get it, it's like I'd be stuck there somehow." He tried to recall, thinking hard about what happens next.
The girl opens her mouth, but no words came out. She closes her mouth, giving her words some thought so she could carefully converse.
The thought slowly unsettled her.
"Do you... remember anything else?" the question flew out in an unsure way, but her chest began to ache. The pit in her stomach felt as if it was growing wider. "The sky was blue.. The place was a mess... and it felt lonely. It was as if I was stuck on the roof, anticipating for something, and I don't know what I'd be waiting for."
No.
It can't possibly be coming back to him — what happened then was a lost gap in the future, it's not something he was supposed to remember.
It's not something he can remember in the first place.
She's reverted the timeline, she's avoided the mistake, and everything went back to normal.
That's how things went, didn't they?
"Everyone was gone, and I felt controlled." he continued, "There was a flood below the building, but looking down always sort of cuts back to staring straight ahead, at the broken tower. It felt like everything was preventing me from looking down."
She could hear white noise slowly fade in, and she didn't know what to do. The memories she's long suppressed were beginning to unravel, and she didn't have the time to press it back. It all came suddenly at once, the scenarios unfolding, the ice, the skies...
His void, soulless eyes.
Something inside her gut was gaping, and she couldn't control it. Ladybug subconsciously holds onto his hand, her knuckles growing white, feeling her forehead start to sweat.
But to determine everything, it should only take one question.
"Do you... remember the moon being split?"
Her heart sinks. They were now facing each other, and their eye contact was steady. She was closer than she usually was, and his breath steadies, a little surprised she's this close.
But it couldn't possibly be the same. The small fragments she thought about earlier connected a bigger piece, and it was just missing the middle part.
The center of the picture.
"...Yes."
Her breath heightens.
The ringing in her ears seem to be much louder, but all she did was to grip onto his hand tighter, looking down on her knees.
It was a nightmare.
A nightmare.
A dream.
A bad dream.
The book she's bind burst open, and she didn't have time to patch it up. It was too late, anyway. Her thoughts get cloudy, overwhelmed with the amount of things she remembers, and her breathing pattern goes off, not realizing that she'd been hyperventilating.
Her eyes squeeze shut, looking down, holding tightly, but it wasn't until another hand stacked on top of hers, holding her tightly.
Marinette.
"Ladybug?"
Her eyes shoot open, and all at once, it feels as if everything had opened.
The girl's breathing steadies eventually, looking up to see Chat's look of concern. He moves to hesitantly hold her face, watching the warm glow of the sun sparkle into her falling tears.
"M'lady...?" He began, wiping away the stray tear on her waterline.
She was as fragile as someone familiar.
And he was scared she'd break the way his mother did.
"Chat..." finally, she said, in a hushed voice, gazing down at how her thumb strokes at the back of his hand. He doesn't respond, paying close attention to her. To how she looks, and how she is.
Her eyes finally meet his, but they felt realer than before.
And she was in pain.
Something about it... hurt him.
He didn't know what part of his dream had anything connected with her, or if it actually had anything to do with his mother. He didn't know whether it was her having the same dream, or it just so happens that she's familiar with it.
Or...
Whether or not it was part of a lost reality.
"I.. have something to tell you."