Chapter Text
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip
He was drifting away.
In the vast sea of hospital grey. With no destination, or sense of direction, it was only a matter of time before it pulled him in. And it was alright, he had been living the void long enough, to make his peace with it.
His gaze was empty, much like his surroundings, consisting only of a hospital bed at the center, a wooden chair and a table with an ordinary table lamp atop of it- devoid of any cords, sharp objects or any potentially hazardous material. It felt too much like his childhood room- A gilded prison.
With his knees against his chest, he was crouched in a corner, taking up less space as possible, the very picture of despair, if there was one.
His name? A distant memory, as it has been a while since he had ever been called something else, other than patient 901. 3 years, give or take.
He let the dripping water drops of the leaky tap, lull him into sleep.
Maybe he’ll dream tonight.
Dreams. Perhaps they were the log that had kept him afloat all these years. Because on the bridge between reality and insanity, he met her, whose cerulean eyes would twinkle like jewels on his arrival.
“Chaton.” She’d coo in her soft, melodious voice.
“Here, here kitty” her hands that’d caress his hair so gently, inevitably drawing a content purr out of him, that’d made her chuckle in amusement.
Her laughter. Her courage. Her kindness. Her very presence that put his heart into an overdrive.
She was his everything. His universe.
She was also the reason why he was locked up in this prison.
Ladybug. The heroine of Paris. Guardian of the Miraculous box. His partner. And imaginary, according to the doctors, nurses and just about every parisian resident. She never existed in first place.
Hawkmoth made a wish, and he had to pay the price.
His elusive Lady Luck, always impalpable and out of reach.
What she’d think, seeing him like this? Would she be upset? Scared? Disgusted? He didn’t know, and to his surprise, he didn’t care. He was too far gone for redemption. Maybe he was insane after all. In his lowest of lows, vengeance occupied his mind- the beast of bloodlust salivating at the thought of vindication. He will inflict thrice the amount of grief he has caused him.
For she was his everything. The reason for his existence, the purpose of his life. Which was forcibly taken away from him. He’d died thousand deaths, each moment he’d spent without her.
A dying man drags his sworn enemy to the grave with him.
And Chat Noir would avenge his lady.