Chapter Text
It feels awkward being here under the current circumstances. Just a little bit.
But he’s also immediately encompassed by warmth and a sense of calmness.
Also the smell of bread. And cookies. Definitely can’t forget those.
“Shall I bring your suitcase upstairs, Adrien?”
He vaguely registers Marinette addressing him.
His very-good-friend Marinette. Whom he will share a room with for at least a week, at her insistence. If it was up to him, he would be spending his time in an overpriced hotel. All alone.
Not that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity; despite their rocky relationship, Chloé happily and easily convinced her father that Adrien could stay in a room for free at the Grand Paris Hotel, for as long as he liked.
The only reason he is staying with his friends is because they don’t want him to be alone. Admittedly, he doesn’t really want to be alone either. He has spent too many years alone in his home already.
My home.
Can he still call it his home? It doesn’t belong to the Agreste family anymore. As a matter of fact, it belongs to the police now.
The police that are investigating Hawk Moth’s lair in the attic.
The police that are simultaneously investigating the basement where, apparently, Akuma’s originate from.
The same basement where also his mother laid, some unknown magical coma taking hold of her.
All this time she was right there while still being gone. Not dead. Just not exactly alive.
Ultimately, she is the reason why Hawk Moth appeared. Why Paris has been in a state of distress and fear for months. Why it became necessary for the Ladybug and the Black Cat Miraculous to be distributed, the reason why his partner and him are who they are today.
It feels unfair to say that everything was caused by his mom, who isn’t even able to move an inch. Perhaps the blame lies with a man choosing to use a Miraculous for evil purposes.
Or maybe it’s all his own fault.
It was right under his nose, why couldn’t he just–
“Adrien? Are you okay?”
The gentle but calloused hand of Sabine rests on his wrist, the presence of it calming and stopping him from fidgeting. He realizes he’s shaking.
“Marinette has brought your stuff upstairs to the bedroom,” she continues. “You seemed to be in thought so she wanted to let you be.”
I didn’t notice her leaving.
Adrien nods in response. “Thank you.”
“Tom and I will be in the bakery and Marinette will be in her room. She wanted me to tell you that you can just stay here in the living room if you prefer to be quiet. If you’re up for conversation you can just come to her.”
“Thank you.”
“And if there’s anything you need you can always ask us, okay?”
He nods again. “Thank you.”
With a light pat on his cheek – full of pity, he can feel it – Sabine leaves through the door to the hallway, letting him be by himself.
Now that her motherly presence is absent, he feels that dark pit in his stomach again. He sits down on the right corner of the sofa and folds his hands together on his lap, closing his eyes. He tries to focus on things happening around him instead of his thoughts.
He hears Sabine’s footsteps going down the stairs; Tom’s singing through the ceiling; some rumbling coming from the bedroom above him, most likely Marinette readying her room for him. The cars on the crossroad just outside the building. The bustling city moving on with its daily routine as if nothing has changed.
He softly chuckles to himself.
His world is entirely upside down yet other people can simply continue on with their day. Of course they’re exposed to it – Gabriel Agreste being uncovered as Hawk Moth is the only thing the entirety of Paris and even the whole country of France will be able to see on the news – but after the initial shock has passed and sympathy for Adrien has been expressed, they let it go. They don’t talk about it anymore.
But not him. It surrounds him continuously, an inescapable fact of his life.
The scent of something overwhelmingly sweet suddenly enters his system, pulling him out of his trance. He sniffs and turns around towards the kitchen, wondering what the source is. He barely has time to see it, but he spots Marinette’s feet on the steps of the stairs to her room before the hatch is closed, the sweet scent following her and eventually leaving the room.
“I really need to stop being in my head all the time,” Adrien mumbles to himself, dragging his hand down his face and shaking his head in the hope of it turning his brain off.
He ignored Marinette twice now! He didn’t even notice her coming in and out of the room. And that while she has been so kind and thoughtful by taking him in while he has nowhere left to go for the time being.
I should at least spend some time with her.
He takes a few more moments to center himself before he musters a smile, gets up and knocks on the hatch leading to the bedroom.
“Marinette? Can I come in?”
Her answer is immediate. “Yes, of course!”
Her room is just as pink as ever, nothing out of place except for the air matrass that is situated in place of her chaise longue, which is now pushed against the wall, his suitcase next to it. Although her room does lack the modeling pictures of him, now replaced by pictures with friends plus various sketches and designs of her own.
He wonders if she already changed it before he came or if she did it so he wouldn’t be reminded of his father, as with every picture of Adrien a giant Gabriel logo is included.
Stop thinking about your father. You’re here to be with your friend!
“I know it’s not as comfortable as an actual bed, but I hope it’s to your liking.” Marinette has swiveled the desk chair she is sitting on towards him and fiddles with her fingers. “I gave you the most comfortable blanket we have. And we can switch beds if it still bothers you, don’t worry about it.”
“It’s perfect, Marinette. Thank you.”
She replies with a smile and silently looks down at her lap. Her hands are below her thighs now in order to make them stop fidgeting, for sure. He has learned her little nervous mannerisms over time. It’s impossible not to learn, as shy nervousness is her constant state around him.
It’s gotten to a point where it doesn’t upset him anymore.
He knows that she’s not fully comfortable with him being here. Heck, she’s still not fully comfortable with talking to him.
Yet she still offered her space to him. He was adamant on not taking her up on her offer, but she persisted.
“Because I’m your friend, Adrien. Of course you can stay with me, my parents are fine with it, too. My home is your home.”
He has already spent a weekend at Nino’s, but his presence was inconvenient to his parents, especially with Nino’s little brother Chris being at an age where he needs constant attention and stimulation. Adrien didn’t feel offended at all, and he’s lucky that Marinette was so kind as to let him stay longer.
She wants him to stay with her at least until after Christmas, which is in a week. It’s nice to finally have a family to celebrate Christmas with, but it’s also an extra punch to the gut; while normally he had a family to celebrate the holidays with – they just weren’t willing – right now he doesn’t have anyone anymore, even if the Dupain-Cheng’s are so warm and welcoming to him.
Maybe one day again, maybe even soon. It’s unknown as of now how his father will be punished for his actions. The police and government aren’t exactly sure how to judge a man who you can classify as a ‘magical terrorist’, yet no actual evidence remains due to his partner’s Miraculous Ladybug.
A pinch to the inside of his arm pulls him back to reality, Plagg no doubt the source. He wonders what the issue is, but he can’t exactly inconspicuously talk to his armpit now while being at Marinette’s.
Adrien has expressed his concern to Plagg before he left for Marinette, as a week was a very long time for him to be forced to remain hidden, but the Kwami just told him not to worry and that he already had many ways to amuse himself, unseen. Adrien still doesn’t know what he meant.
Another sharp pinch to his arm and Adrien bites his lip in order not to hiss at the pain. What is up with him?
Suddenly he feels his Kwami crawl up his shirt from the back. He stops at his collar, still hidden from sight.
“She’s talking to you,” gets whispered from his neck, so quiet he’s sure Marinette can’t hear.
She’s talking to me?
…
She’s talking to me!
He lifts his head up so fast it almost gives him whiplash. His eyes settle on Marinette with her arms outstretched, offering him a plate of something sugary and sweet-looking, yet he’s unsure of what it exactly is. They seem like some sort of cookies, but unlike ones he’s seen before.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Marinette smiles and lifts the plate she’s holding a little higher. “I asked if you wanted one?”
“Oh yes, of course, thank you.” He takes a probably-cookie from the plate and nibbles on a piece. “Wow, this tastes so good! What is it?”
Marinette giggles, putting the plate back on her desk. “It’s a raisin cookie with passionfruit.”
“Passionfruit? That’s my favorite!” He exclaims.
“I know,” she says, getting a bit shy again, putting a stray hair behind her ear. “That’s why I made them. I wanted you to feel welcome.”
Adrien sighs, a fond smile appearing on his face. “I always feel welcome here, don’t worry about that. You and your parents have done more than enough for me already.” He starts to frown. “I wish there was some way to repay you for your hospitality.”
Marinette shakes her head. “No need, you more than deserve it. Even if an air matrass is all I can offer for now,” she points at said object with sheepishness, “After everything that’s happened…” She gasps and puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to remind you– ”
He calms her with a placating hand. “It’s fine, it’s hard not to be reminded of it anyway. Otherwise I would be home, right?” He chuckles bitterly.
Marinette bites her lip and clenches her hands nervously into fists. She seems unsure of what to reply to him, which doesn’t surprise him. She’s not the first. Honestly, if a friend of his would be in the same situation, he probably will not know what to say either.
Adrien thinks about what to do in order to lighten the mood. He doesn’t mean to make her uncomfortable, but it’s difficult not getting pulled into that pit of darkness lingering inside ever since he personally revealed to his partner and himself who the stupid purple moth man that has been terrorizing Paris truly is.
You’re getting in your head again.
His thoughts annoyingly start to sound like Plagg.
Marinette abruptly gets up from the desk chair and climbs over her chaise longue, an excited giggle escaping her lips.
“Oh my gosh! Look, Adrien, the first snow!”
With a raised eyebrow, he steps next to her and peeks out the window, their faces nearly touching. He can feel a few of her hairs tickling his skin. He decides to ignore her reddening cheeks.
She’s right, it indeed started to snow; the first of December and also the first of this year. Snow is rare in Paris, so it’s a welcome surprise. There are people outside admiring it. A thin layer is starting to form on the sidewalks and the rooftops.
It genuinely looks a little magical to him.
Adrien stares at Marinette, who is entranced with the sight outside. He starts to smile.
“Thank you,” he says.
She is startled by him, but after processing his words she smiles at him as well. “When it’s thick enough later today, wanna go outside?”