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“I’m sorry,” Adrien repeated, clenching his fist around the ring. “I just can’t do this anymore. Not against him. Don’t tell her my identity, but tell her I’m sorry.” With that, he let go of this miraculous at last and dropped it into Su-Han’s hand.
“I will tell her,” said Su-Han. And then, to Adrien’s surprise, he bowed. “I will be sorry to lose you, Chat Noir. I was uncertain about you at first, but you have more than proved yourself to me. If you ever return—”
“I won’t,” said Adrien. “I can’t. You know what Bunnyx saw. In every timeline where I go with Ladybug to face Mon—my father, I’m akumatized and we fail. I fail her every time.” He looked down. He had squeezed the ring so tightly that it had left a round imprint in his palm. Somehow, it was comforting. “Tell her I’m sorry. But I can’t come back, not ever. I can’t fight him. I can’t protect her.”
“Your wisdom does you credit,” said Su-Han. He patted Adrien’s shoulder. From him, the gesture was as good as a hug. “I shall begin the search for a new holder, but you will always know where to find me.”
With that, Su-Han bounded away over the rooftops, carrying Adrien’s miraculous. And for the first time since he had taken it up at fourteen, Adrien was completely alone. What was he going to do now?
Adrien flashed his ID at the bouncer, who nodded and waved him into the club. Music pulsed around him. Down on the dance floor, bodies moved and swayed.
“Happy Heroes’ Day!” a college-aged girl draped in red and green necklaces called to him, staggering by with a group of equally drunk friends.
Adrien tried to smile at her, but he wasn’t sure his face made all the required movements. Everything was harder now. Not for the first time, he wondered if coming back to Paris after so many years had been a mistake.
Nino was in the booth at the back of the room. He flashed a two-fingered salute when he saw Adrien.
Adrien waved back, knowing Nino was going to give him hell later for not dressing the part of the carefree twentysomething reveller. Adrien was determined to plead his case. His dress shirt and slacks were reasonably festive, and they didn’t show any of the scars on his arms. Nino didn’t know about the scars, of course, but Adrien would find another excuse. He chuckled bitterly. Even after five years away, he wasn’t ready to think about his last day as a so-called hero.
“Whoa!”
Someone crashed into Adrien from behind. Cold liquid seeped through Adrien’s shirt, and ice cubes clattered onto his shoes. There went this outfit.
“I’m so sorry,” the person behind him babbled. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark, wavy hair. When he smiled at Adrien, Adrien was ready to forgive him for anything.
“I’m sure it was my fault,” said Adrien quickly. “I shouldn’t have stopped moving in the walkway.”
The man looked Adrien up and down. “If you’re sure. At least let me buy you a drink, to make up for ruining your clothes.”
Adrien glanced at the DJ booth one last time and made up his mind. Nino couldn’t berate him for being a shut-in if he went off with a handsome, blatantly interested man and had a little meaningless fun. And it would help him forget about the holiday.
Over their drinks, Adrien learned that his new friend’s name was Jean Duparc. They’d been at Françoise Dupont together, though never in the same class.
“I was shyer then,” said Jean over his second—or third—drink. He laughed. “And afraid of Chloé. I think that’s why I never approached you.”
Adrien took a sip of his own drink. “Clearly I was missing out,” he said, leaning forward. “Tell me more about yourself.”
Jean shrugged. “I’m still a little bit shy. I work at a fromagerie near the river. So if I smell a little too much like Camembert, it’s just my work bringing itself home with me!”
Adrien inhaled deeply. No wonder he was so comfortable with this man. He hadn’t smelled Camembert in… two years? Three? His heart ached a little at the thought. Plagg would never forgive him for failing to court a handsome cheese salesman out of some kind of misplaced grief, though, so he pressed on.
“Do you want to get out of here, Jean?” Adrien asked. “My apartment isn’t far.” He glanced up at the bar, where a gaudy red and green sign declared that specialty Ladybug, Meowgician, and Hawkmoth-themed cocktails were available in honor of Heroes’ Day. “This place isn’t really my vibe.”
Jean flashed him another smile. Adrien’s heart felt like a runny Camembert cheese. “I’d like that,” he said.
They held hands on the walk to Adrien’s apartment, past Heroes’ Day billboards and Heroes’ Day partiers and stands selling Heroes’ Day tchotchkes. Alcohol warmed Adrien’s stomach. It was easier to think about Ladybug, his father, and everything else he’d lost now that he wasn’t alone, even if Jean was still a relative stranger.
“I still can’t believe they replaced Chat Noir with a cat-themed magician,” said Adrien.
Jean chewed his lip, looking amused. “Right, you moved away right before he debuted, didn’t you?”
“I guess,” said Adrien, as if this had just occurred to him. “What do you think of the guy?”
Jean shrugged, fiddling with the clasp of the chain tucked under his shirt. “He gets the job done.” He glanced at Adrien. “I hear he’s handsome up close.”
Adrien looked up at the nearest billboard. “How can they tell, with that cowl hiding most of his face?”
Jean quirked an eyebrow. “Handsome vibes?” he ventured.
“Sure,” said Adrien, fumbling for his keys. Unbidden, his mind returned to the gold ring and the Camembert smell. It couldn’t be. Coincidences, that was all they were. “But I don’t want to talk about superheroes tonight,” he said, beckoning Jean inside. “I bet we can find a much better way to entertain ourselves.”