Chapter Text
Adrien Agreste cannot breathe.
His heart won’t stop pounding. All of his muscles are tense. He pounds on his chest, desperate for relief. He slumps against the door, his Miraculous wearing off and the weight of his life crashing down on him.
This happens sometimes, after a particularly stressful Akuma attack. Being Chat Noir is so freeing, so refreshing, and going back to being Adrien, it’s like being shoved underwater after a breath of fresh air.
On the opposite side of the door, Ladybug hears his back hit the door, hears his sobs as he gasps for air, and wrenches the door open, not even thinking of the consequences. Adrien needs me, and she’ll be damned if she lets him suffer alone.
He crumples against her, the tears finally coming, and she pulls him close, surprised and shocked at this sudden outburst from such a soft-spoken person. But she can’t let slip that she knows him. She pulls him into her lap, soothingly running her fingers through his hair and whispering soft shushes into his ear.
It takes a minute, but he manages to regain his composure. He shifts to rest against the wall, unable to look her in the eye.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, tentatively, gently.
And she really does sound like she means it. It makes his heart skip. This wonderful, incredible woman, who as far as she knew had only met him hours ago, who had risked everything to keep him safe, wants to listen to his problems.
Every time we meet, I think I could never fall for you any further, and each time, I’m surprised.
Adrien takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. He can’t tell her about being Chat Noir. He can’t explain to her the way he goes from soaring to drowning. But he can try.
“Being me is.” He chokes back an aftershock. “It’s great! It’s amazing, I get to travel the world, meet amazing people. I am so blessed to live the life I have.”
“But,” Ladybug says for him.
“But there are many things expected of me. I am expected to achieve perfect marks, I am expected to keep perfect composure, I must have the perfect look, the perfect behavior. Perfect student, perfect model, perfect son.” He bangs his head against the wall after each ‘perfect’. “It’s suffocating sometimes. You know I had to sneak away to go to a private school?” He laughs bitterly. “Father wanted me to remain locked away in this dungeon until I was of age. Fussed over by tutors and nannies, but never his concern. I just wanted to be normal.”
He doesn’t know where all this is coming from. Ladybug doesn’t know him, not really, she’s only just met him today. But he trusts her, so damn much, and he can’t keep this all in anymore.
“That first day of class…” he starts, quieter this time. “I didn’t tell him I’d enrolled. I just left, snuck out, and pretended I belonged there. I should’ve known I could never be an ordinary person.”
Ladybug sits down next to him. The look in her eyes, it’s like she’s seeing him for the first time. He supposes she is.
“You’re not perfect, Adrien,” she says, resting a hand on his shoulder, “and you don’t have to be. You’re a person, a really good one, and nobody, especially not your own father, should ever take that away from you. You don’t have to be a sculpture.” She blushes. “Even if you look like one sometimes.”
He raises an eyebrow at her, and then laughs, because that’s actually pretty funny. She joins in a moment later, and soon they’re clutching each other and wiping away good tears.
She stands, and holds a hand out to him so that he can do the same. After a moment’s hesitation, he hugs her, tight.
“Thank you, Ladybug,” he whispers, trying hard not to tremble.
She holds him back. “Any time.”
When he pulls away, she’s red in the face, and she doesn’t seem to have realized what she said. “I-I mean- not, y’know, any time, since I’m not Ladybug most hours of the day, but, oh God, I’m rambling again.”
He smiles fondly. She never gets flustered when he’s Chat Noir, but for some reason Adrien makes her awkward. It’s endearing, like he’s seeing a side of her that he’s not normally privy to.
(He likes to think that the side that’s playful and flirty, the side that rolls her eyes at him and the side that’s endlessly defensive and loyal to Chat Noir- he likes to think that side is reserved for him alone.)
“Maybe- Maybe we could, I don’t know… do this again sometime?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’d love to get to know Paris’ most Miraculous lady, and truth be told, I-I kind of need someone to vent to. I don’t have a lot of people I can talk to about this sort of thing.”
She cocks her head at him as he walks her to the open window. “I’m sure you have friends you can talk to.”
He shakes his head in dismissal. “My friends are still a bit awestruck by the rich model to notice the cracks,” he says, shrugging bitterly.
She steps up onto the edge of the window and flashes him the tenderest smile he’s ever seen her aim at him. “Well, I can’t be Ladybug all the time, but… maybe I could find the time when you need me. Is tomorrow night alright? After Chat Noir and I finish patrol, I can come by around eleven?”
It takes all the willpower in his body to stifle the laugh that nearly escapes. “Sounds lovely.”
She gives him a reassuring nod. “You are better than you think you are. And you should never have to suffer alone.”
And then she’s out the window, and he watches her go until she’s just a speck of red in the distance, swinging through the skies of Paris.