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It was hard to adjust to being loved so freely sometimes.
His mother had loved Adrien deeply, he knew that. He remembered her tight hugs, their long talks, the way he had clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him safe when the rest of the world felt so cold and lonely. For those moments, he had been safe.
But, as difficult as it was to admit, she hadn’t helped him in the ways he had needed. She hadn’t even seemed to realize the bone deep loneliness that he felt everywhere he went and with everything he did. When he excitedly told her about the stories he had been reading, she didn’t realize how his favorite part was that the kids were all friends who loved each other. When he begged to go to school, she never seemed to take him seriously or understand why.
She had done so much, and loved both him, his father, and probably Nathalie enough to keep the household standing through so much dysfunction. Without her they crumbled.
The house had grown cold and empty, and long days of isolation sapped any meaning out of Adrien’s daily existence. He survived the monotony, of wake up, clean yourself, eat, study, eat, practice piano, eat, study again, eat, lie down, don’t die, wake up again. Each step was void and hollow without her sweet laugh or her kind questions about how the days had gone. She hadn’t always listened completely, but he could at least speak to her. Sometimes, she could even work her magic and soften Father enough that he could be spoken to as well.
Being alone had turned from difficult to unbearable without his mother’s presense. All his father had done was enforce the old status quo Adrien had been trapped in, where he didn’t get to go to school, he didn’t get to meet friends his age, he didn’t get to leave the house or have an independent public presense or stop any of the long list of monotonous tasks that he was assigned to day after day. But Mother had been there to comfort him at the end of it all, and she had smiled and told him how proud she was and how much she loved him.
Father said nothing. He watched from afar, cold but suffocating, and Adrien couldn’t survive like that.
Chloe was a friend who he felt didn’t quite see him, same as he couldn’t completely understand her. It seemed they always talked past each other, but the attempt alone from someone his age did so much to ease the everpresent lonely starvation he felt. He had always wished he could see her more.
She was always so incomprehensibly confident, getting whatever she wanted with a mere word, in a way that was dizzying to Adrien. When she declared that she was going to help him enroll in public school, that nebulous, wonderful place full of potential friends that he had only seen in stories or her own rants, he believed her.
As he should have known to expect by now, she got exactly what she wanted. And his world came alive with a million colors he would have never imagined.
He had worked hard to learn the names of his new classmates. He initially considered sneakily writing them down as the teacher took roll call, but they each had such vibrant appearances and personalities that it didn’t even take long to catch up.
They were all so unique and complex and alive that Adrien almost didn’t know if he could ever fit in, but they seemed to accept him with a completely unexpected kindness. All it took was for him to describe that his only friend was less than perfect, and Nino wrapped an arm around him and committed to a friendship immediately.
Things had been rocky with Marinette at first, but all he had to do was apologize and explain himself. Then she took his peace offering and had treated him as a friend ever since. Even if he seemed to make her anxious, he really felt like she liked having him around.
And then there was Ladybug.
The excitement of becoming Chat Noir, of being a cool, confident superhero who spoke to so many people like it was nothing and helped even more, was something that never went away. It was incomprehensible to imagine that he could ever be capable of such feats as bounding through the city in seconds, dashing people away from a falling bus, or publically making a million corny puns without getting in trouble, but that was his reality now.
From the beginning, Ladybug took his breath away. Once she got a hold of her powers and a bit of confidence, the way she stood up to a magical terrorist was something Adrien would never forget.
She was so smart, so gorgeous, so kind and gentle but fierce and assured when she acted, that Adrien’s heart could never recover. He understood the characters in all those books who were complete idiots once they fell in love. He had always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, but it was different entirely when he felt the wonderful, terrorizing rush of love himself.
Words that once had seemed overly dramatic and poetic on paper were now the only way he had to describe his feelings. She was light, she was hope, a radiant miracle in the mundanity of life, there to remind the world how beautiful the little details could be and how wonderful a single person could become. She breathed the same air as him, yet she used it to constantly transform the world into something brighter, stronger, better, something worth living in. He felt his mind, body, and soul drawn inexorably to her. He yearned for the feeling of her hand on his chin or the beauty of her bright eyes looking at him and seeing.
She didn’t love him, but she loved him, and that was still everything. Still far more than he had ever had before, because any piece of her he could have in his life was so much more than he could ever hope for.
With her came a cranky god of destruction in an adorable frame who almost never left his side. That was the hardest to adjust to, as constant isolation suddenly turned into a total lack of privacy and the constant, rancid social compromise of smelling like camembert at all times.
But Plagg was caring and funny, and it became easier than Adrien ever expected to fall into a new routine with him.
Adrien wouldn’t deny that he was sometimes tired of the cat’s constant whining and judgment, but it was far better than being alone with the quiet of his needlessly large room.
Plagg was a lot more respectful than he’d ever admit. He seemed to catch on very quickly what the difference was between things Adrien was okay being teased about, or what was such a painful wound that even gentle jabs would rip it open. It took a while to notice that Plagg never harped on anything painful more than once, but once he realized the kwami’s consideration, it touched him.
It was also jarring sometimes when Plagg would reference something Adrien had said before. Adrien loved being able to talk to people, so he often went too far. He was used to being told he was speaking too much. Someone even offering to be quiet long enough to let him ramble meant the world to him.
He wasn’t used to people listening to those rambles though. Plagg would shake his head performatively before letting Adrien discuss the love life of his friends or some cool facts about emulsifiers he had just read, and he was grateful enough that the kwami didn’t tell him to shut up. But then Plagg would casually mention days later a detail about Rose and Juleka’s romantic fourth date. Or he’d opine about how he wished humans could enjoy cheese in their purest form, but if it took preservatives for them to try it, it was worth it. And Adrien would have to face the fact that words he said could actually be heard as if they mattered.
Maman, Father, Chloe, and maybe Nathalie had all loved him. But he never felt like they listened to the words he said. It was completely new territory and as exciting as it was disorienting.
To be seen was something Adrien didn't know if he would ever adjust to.
He hadn't even said anything was wrong that night. He had just been thinking of his Maman, and the familiar hurt had overtaken him. But he could bear it. He always had.
Ladybug had noticed immediately, somehow seeing through him. He wondered if it was some miraculous magic giving her access to his mental state, but it was more likely that she just saw him. Someone as wonderful as her had bothered to see him enough to see his darkest emotions.
And she was so gentle and comforting that the words came unbidden from his chest. He wanted her to know about Maman, how amazing the woman was, because her absence had shaken the world around them so dramatically. Didn't it just make sense for Ladybug to know of her too?
“She passed last May,” Chat Noir had said quietly.
Ladybug looked stricken. “That- only last- oh kitty,” she breathed, and tears started welling up in her eyes.
Chat Noir was supposed to feel guilty. He should have done anything to drop the conversation and brighten her spirits, but he couldn’t. Because as horrible as it was, the tears falling from her eyes were intoxicating.
“I’m sorry,” he still said, scrubbing at the water falling from his own. “It’s been so long, I shouldn’t still be breaking down over it.”
“Who told you that?” she hissed, taking his shoulders in her hands. His mind stopped, focusing only on her hurt, angry face. She wasn’t angry at him. She was angry for him, and that was too confusing and wonderful to wrap his head around.
“No one,” he answered honestly. No one would have told him such a cruel thing directly. But that’s what Father had implied, wasn’t it? When he picked back up Adrien’s lessons and refused to even discuss what had happened. The man hadn’t even been willing to admit she was dead. Press releases stated she had ‘disappeared,’ and Father didn’t seem willing to accept any other narrative.
She heaved out a sigh, and he wasn’t sure if she believed him.
Before concerns could start building in his head, she grabbed him with both arms and pulled him close to herself.
He was still in shock as he felt her soft form press against him.
“You’re allowed to be happy. I’m sure your mother would be so glad, so proud, that you’re able to be happy,” she said, quietly, and he sucked in a breath. “But you’re allowed to hurt too. You’re allowed to ‘break down.’ I can’t even imagine how awful it would be to lose my Maman. I wouldn’t be nearly as kind and cheerful as you are.”
Her words choked him, digging deep in his chest and unburying what he had failed so terribly to hide.
“I have to be,” he whispered out. He was vaguely surprised at how weak and distraught his own voice was. “I can’t- I can’t be alone again. I can’t.”
As he said the words, he knew they were true. Now that he knew what being full, warm, and loved was, there was no way for him to survive losing that again. He wasn’t going to destroy the wonderful fairytale of a life he had built over his old grief. It was nothing his friends would understand.
Ladybug clutched his shoulder and pulled away only enough to look straight in his eyes. Her gaze was fierce and determined, as resolute as when she faced down an akuma, and he couldn’t help but know how serious she was.
“You won’t be. Any good friend wouldn’t abandon you over that. And you’re not losing me,” she said, serious as stone.
The lovely cerulean color of her eyes gleamed in the moonlight with her tears, and her cheeks were gently flushed. He vaguely wondered if it was fair to her, when he knew she was just a flawed teenage girl, that she was so beautiful in the low light. He didn't want to hold her to the high standards of his own flawed biological perception, he knew she was fallible, but she was also so incredible. She glowed like something beyond this world or human comprehension, but she was just like him. Human. Her words were a reassuring life line he had never dared to ask for, a gift from a goddess that doubled as a kind gesture that any friend would have offered.
It was hard to focus on the details of his own sobs or the way he clung to her over the constant, unyielding assurance that she was there. She was strong, holding his crumbling form in her hands, yet she cried too. His pain was real enough to bring her to tears. He mattered enough to her that she cried for him.
It was wonderful and horrifying, and she held him through it as he fell apart again and had to put himself back together to face the world. For once, he felt like he’d still be loved if he messed up the pieces, messy and emotional and broken. And that comforting freedom hurt like he would have never expected.
—
Adrien loved the rare times he was able to spend time with his friends outside of school, but he hated the aftermath.
He could never fully adjust to the knowledge that he was invited somewhere, that other people wanted him there. Not because he was a famous model or the son of an even more famous celebrity, but because they just knew him and liked him okay.
Every time we went home, he felt a sense of mourning. It was as if his body never fully believed that such a wonderful thing as him having friends could happen, and it didn't anticipate it happening again.
It was so unfair that he was only meeting them now.
Every one of his new friends was so kind, patient, and understanding that it choked him. He wasn’t close to all of them; he could barely manage to make conversation with some of them, but-
He imagined his former self, heartbroken and desperate, crying to Alya about his grief. He thought of the shame he had felt back then, of how he had torn himself apart for feeling anything that his father might not have approved of, and he knew Alya would shake her head and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, that he was good and that his emotions were normal.
The fiction in his head was the same, even with the classmates who he barely spoke to. Kim, Sabrina, Juleka, Max, any of them would look at him with those sad eyes as if the feelings he had actually mattered. Maybe they wouldn’t have words to say, but knowing them as well as he did, he knew they would try. If they didn’t, they would find someone who would.
He had spent so much time drowning alone with that weight, the all consuming pain of losing his own mother combined with the sudden realization that no one else loved him fully, but he didn’t have to be alone. There were others who were more than willing and able to love him.
Adrien had expressed something like that to Nino, once. The two had been alone (a rare occasion), and the conversation had turned personal, then emotional, and then the words had tumbled out of Adrien before he could stop them.
And Nino had actually agreed with him.
“That’s messed up that you didn’t even have friends to lean on,” Nino said, eyes watering. “I can’t believe I was just- just making a retro funk playlist while you- you lost your mother, dude.”
Adrien had reassured him then that the two had been strangers at the time, but the thought wouldn’t leave his head.
Adrien’s group of friends, his support system , was growing larger and larger every day, and with each new addition, Adrien had to realize that all these people had always been there. He could have met them years ago, or others like them, but he hadn’t.
Mother and Father kept him isolated and locked away, but why?
Adrien needed them now, he needed their love and friendship more desperately than he had ever imagined, but he needed them more back then. All those quiet mornings where he sobbed into an empty bed, all those homework assignments he completed out of habit, all those times he gazed out the tall window of his bathroom and considered how far the drop was…
Why didn’t he have them then?
He had spoken to Plagg too about that pain, and the kwami didn’t have any easy answers. To some, his words weren’t answers at all.
Plagg had replied about how so many of his holders had suffered, and how he also hated that he couldn’t have prevented it. He hated how fragile humans were, because it made more and more things capable of hurting them. Despite himself, he cared for humans deeply.
“It sucks,” Plagg finally said, ineloquently. “Everything sucks for a lot of people, and we’re stuck with making the best of that.”
When the small god’s soft fur nuzzled Adrien’s chin deep into the night and comforting purrs reverberated through both of them, that didn’t sound as bad as Adrien had expected.
—
Sometimes Adrien played a silly game.
He liked to count how many people showed that they loved him in some form each day. It was reassuring even when the world grew gray and everything lost its meaning for a bit, because he knew others could still feel and care. If he mattered to them, that was enough. It was especially helpful for days like this.
Nathalie came to his table and explained his schedule. Her words were cold and succinct, but before she left, her expression gentled. She wished him a good day.
That was one.
His bodyguard let him leave for school early. Adrien knew his excuse that he needed extra time to work on a project was shaky at best, so him getting away with it was a sign of goodwill from the Gorilla more than anything else.
Two.
When he got to school, Nino had him in his line of sight in seconds. He ran forward, grabbing him into a warm, friendly hug.
Three. Three, and three, and three, and three plus three, three times three-
Nino dragged him along, though it seemed unintentional. It was the combination of heading to class and being so excited to see Adrien that set him off to drag them both.
In class, some of the students were already there. Rose and Nathaniel both waved at the boys, four and five, though Ivan and Max didn’t pick their heads up from their books or computers.
Nino impassionately told Adrien about his latest project, and it was genuinely a pleasure to hear about. He didn’t understand all the intricacies of making music, but his friend certainly did, and Adrien knew enough to know he was very good at what he did.
Some more classmates filtered in, some waving a greeting to Adrien, and he added to his list. Six, seven, eight, nine-
Then Marinette was coming in, one of his closest friends, and she had Alya in tow. In her hands was a surprisingly ornate desert. It seemed kind of weird to bring into class, but Adrien wasn’t the master of what was normal in a school setting.
Then Marinette started garbling her words before tripping, and next thing he knew, Adrien’s sight was blinded by pastry.
“AHH!” Marinette shrieked. “Adrikin- I mean Adrien- I didn’t- I’m madly in lovely- clumsy I’m clumsy-”
“What she means to say,” Alya said, and he felt the pressure of her hand wiping a bit of the sweets from his eyes, “Is that she wanted to surprise you with your favorite flavor in a cake. And then she tripped, because she’s madly clumsy.”
That piqued Adrien’s curiosity, so he took a bit of the cake stuck on his chin and tasted it.
It was passion fruit flavored, his favorite, and absolutely delicious. It melted in his mouth, sweet and moist, and he couldn’t believe such a wonderful thing had been smeared all over his face, let alone made for him.
Normally when people asked for Adrien’s favorite things, it was as a fun piece of trivia for a magazine article. He was okay with that, but it didn’t really mitigate that constant feeling of loneliness. When events were planned, no one really took his “preferences” into account, not even Maman.
Now he was being surprised with his own cake of his favorite flavor? It was so incredible he couldn’t bear it.
He grabbed more of the cake that had landed on his face and shoved it in his mouth. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed, both because it was true, and also he knew Marinette enough to know she would be beating herself up for her “blunder” if he didn’t stop her.
Marinette squeaked, which wasn’t necessarily a bad sign.
Adrien cleared his eyes enough to see her, and her face was clearly red with embarrassment. He scooped a bit more of the cake out of his hair and ate it, hoping to reassure her.
“Aw, now your hair is as sweet as you,” Alya said kindly. She picked a piece from his hair and ate it.
It was unsanitary, but Adrien laughed. Ten.
“Alya! That’s Adrien’s!” Marinette exclaimed, desperate and flushed. “It’s for his-”
She cut herself off, but Adrien realized with a pang what she was going to say.
It was Maman’s birthday, though it had been passing like normal. His father hadn’t even come down to sit with him, to even spend one day reminiscing about the woman they both loved.
Adrien’s eyes widened as he stared at her. How did she even know when his mother’s birthday was?
It was public knowledge, but she still would have had to look it up. Why did she care enough to look it up?
Why did she care enough to make him a cake?
He fought the tears forming in his eyes because he didn’t want to give Marinette the wrong impression. This might have been the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him, and he would never want to make her feel bad for it.
“Thank you, Marinette,” his voice came out hushed. He grabbed another handful of that wonderful pastry that was still in his hair and ate it. Maman would have laughed at their antics before grabbing a piece off of him and eating it too. “Thank you so much.”
Her anxious expression softened. “Of- of course. If you- if you ever want to talk about anything, you know we’re all here for you.”
Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. Add them all up because apparently that number was worth twenty times its weight.
Adrien wiped tears and cake out of his eyes. “Okay,” was all he managed to get out.
As the three worked to gently take cake out of his hair and off his clothes, the numbers multiplied higher and higher than Adrien could count.