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wait for it

Summary:

An exploration of the Agreste Family through Adriens eyes :)
. . .

The world did not see the side of Gabriel that danced with his wife until the wee hours of the morning, that was left with soft music and sore toes, or the part of him that listened to every design suggestion even when his wife admitted that she had no clue what she was talking about.

The world did not see them for loving parents to a loving boy, who were just trying their best to keep him safe.

The world saw the Agreste family as a broken home who went through tragedy and, admittedly, did not come out the other side unscathed. 
. . .

He had read once that it is plausible and possible to die of a broken heart.

If it was indeed plausible and possible, his father was a dead man walking. 

Notes:

helo! drabble! time!

(i am not defending gabriel in this, it just goes to show how twisted someone can become :))

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“My mother was a genius, my father commanded respect”

 

Emilie Agreste was known to the world as an idol. The type you would see on the front of a magazine and assume that she was a wealthy socialite, the kind to not settle down before 30 and go to the salon every week for a new set of manicured nails. 

 

Adrien Agreste simply knew Emilie Agreste as “mother”.

 

To Adrien, a young boy with tousled hair and glittering green eyes swirling with wonder, she was the Library of Alexandria. She seemed like the one woman in the world who would know the answer to any and every question that crossed his mind. 

 

Those people that idolised Emilie Agreste did not see that side of her. 

 

They saw the side that went and married a man with an elite knowledge of style but a lack of social etiquette. 

 

Gabriel Agreste was a man who made the room go silent as soon as he decided to enter it. A man who, when presented with the opportunity, turned down any and all events in favour of staying home and indulging in whatever new craze his wife had started. 

 

The world did not see the side of Gabriel that danced with his wife until the wee hours of the morning, that was left with soft music and sore toes, or the part of him that listened to every design suggestion even when his wife admitted that she had no clue what she was talking about. 

 

The world did not see them for loving parents to a loving boy, who were just trying their best to keep him safe. 

 

The world saw the Agreste family as a broken home who went through tragedy and, admittedly, did not come out the other side unscathed. 

 

“When they died they left no instructions, just a legacy to protect”

 

Emilie disappeared when Adrien was 13. 

 

He knew somewhere inside of him that disappeared was being hopeful. 

 

He scanned through the books on his mothers shelves three dozen times in the month since it had been announced. 

 

“A missing person is more than likely dead if not found within 48 hours.”

 

That crushed his heart into minuscule pieces, but it was still better than living in denial. 

 

“Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints” 

 

Adrien remembered the service. 

 

The preacher had described her as “an angel that was taken far too soon”, perhaps an apt explanation. 

 

His mother had hated black unless it was worn with purpose. “Black is a colour that no one has enough of, but the world has too much,” she had informed him once when he asked about it, a fond press on the nose accompanying the otherwise unsuspecting phrase. 

 

He doubted his mother would have liked her funeral. 

 

But, he supposed, she wasn’t really there to enjoy it. 

 

His father changed after that. 

 

Playful scoldings were replaced with cold instructions, smart rebuttals were exchanged for silence and love was… lacking. 

 

He had read once that it is plausible and possible to die of a broken heart. 

 

If it was indeed plausible and possible, his father was a dead man walking. 

 

“It takes and it takes and it takes, and we keep living anyway”

 

The hole that his mother left was never quite filled, but he found ways to deal with it. 

 

Those ways may or may not include becoming a superhero. 

 

Chat Noir was not expected to be a perfect son or idealistic blonde French model. Chat Noir was meant to save Paris and flirt with an insanely beautiful girl that didn’t love him back. 

 

Let's just say, both had their perks. 

 

And now he had friends! Nino and Alya and Kagami and Luka and… Marinette. 

 

Marinette, who was just a friend. 

 

(Maybe if he said it enough, it would suffocate the warm feeling he got in his chest and cheeks when he thought of her) 

 

Vaulting through the city and feeling like he was swimming through the stars with Ladybug by his side was easily the experience that came to mind when he thought of peace. 

 

Battling Marinette in Ultimate Mechastrike, yelling lightheartedly at each other, was joy. 

 

He had a purpose now. One that didn’t revolve around pleasing anybody but himself (and Ladybug. Ladybug is scary when she’s mad, okay?)

 

When he was asked in some ridiculous televised interview how the Adrien Agreste had dealt with grief since his mothers disappearance, he hadn’t a clue on how to answer. 

 

He didn’t think about coping, he just… did. 

 

Chat Noir had a purpose to wear black. 

 

“We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes”

 

That changed the day he realised that Marinette Dupain-Cheng left the classrooms for akuma attacks. That she was shy, but not nervous. She commanded a room as though it were her domain. 

 

The world stopped spinning and the sun exploded on the day that he connected the dots that were not only on different pages, but different timelines. 

 

Marinette, his friend, his support, and Ladybug, his proclaimed “soulmate” were the same person. 

 

They had eliminated the threat to Paris’ safety, but they had uncovered their identities. 

 

Marinette was Ladybug. 

 

He was Chat Noir. 

 

And Adrien was desperately trying to resuscitate his mother, who was lying limp on the floor of the butterfly chamber. 

 

“Please,” he choked out as Marinette pulled him into her, tears of her own landing in his hair, “Please, it can’t end like this!”

 

“Adrien?”

 

Marinette jumped up, brandishing a bit of pipe that had broken off from Emilie’s chamber, “You don’t get to speak to him!” she yelled, tears running off of her chin as she tried to sound fierce. 

 

He took a guttural breath, steeling his expression, even if his voice cracked. “You were Hawkmoth.”

 

“Adrien, you need to let me explain-“

 

“No!” he cried, turning away from his mother, “You don’t get to explain! You- You’ve traumatised people, do you not understand that?” 

 

That was the last time Adrien Agreste spoke to his father. 

 

“If there’s a reason I’m still alive, when everyone who loves me has died, then I’m willing to wait for it.”

 

Adrien made a pledge when he was first given his miraculous. 

 

For the greater good. 

 

He made a promise when he thought everything was going downhill. 

 

It’ll get better. 

 

And Adrien made a vow on the day that he married Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

 

In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part. 

 

When the world seemed like it was caving in, he held onto that one flicker of hope. 

 

Adrien Agreste made a pledge every time he looked at his wife.

 

I love you.

 

Adrien Agreste made a promise the first time he held his daughter.

 

I love you.

 

And he made a vow every time he visited his mothers grave, where she lay at peace.

 

I love you.