Chapter Text
He tells her on a whim, in a moment of clarity or perhaps stupidity, when the playful quirk of her lips inspires him more than his heart can bear: "Je t'aime, my Lady."
She laughs, and the sound is light and teasing, as though she doesn't understand him. "Careful, silly cat. I might think you mean it."
He could back out. He should back out, before something breaks— but he can't resist expressing himself when he's so close he can almost taste her tongue. "I do mean it," he says lowly, intensely, leaning toward her over an extended baton, hoping fiercely that she can hear him, hoping fiercely that she will understand and accept.
She plants a finger against the bridge of his mask and pushes, instead, but now there is uncertainty in her gaze rather than annoyance. "I'm sorry, Chat Noir, I— I don't—" she begins to say, and her voice rings loud over the roaring in his ears. Her yo-yo is already cast as she bids him farewell: "I have to go."
"Ladybug," he calls, he begs, and he hates the desperation in his voice, hates how it will torture her, so even as he starts forward, helplessly, like he might follow her, he doesn't. He clings to his baton, still extended, as the darkness swallows his Lady, and then he turns stiffly away, and then he flings himself in the opposite direction to guarantee that he won't see her unless she wants him to.
The sun set only an hour ago, and he doesn't want to go home yet. He wanders aimlessly, mindlessly, crossing and recrossing the Seine until he finds himself in a tree on the walk by the theatre, staring at murky lights reflecting off the river, his mind empty.
"Chat Noir?"
It's Alya. He stiffens, begins to turn his head to her, because he's still a hero of Paris, and a hero of Paris should talk to her civilians— but right now he's not Chat Noir, he's only Adrien shrouded under Plagg's powers, and he cannot bear the weight of his responsibilities.
He flees with the scarcest of glances at his classmate, leaping from tree to tree until he lands on the ground, and then he keeps running.
Marinette, his whirling mind thinks suddenly, unbidden, perhaps because she and Alya are so intertwined in his mind. If it had been Marinette who had called to him, would he have replied? If he goes to Marinette now, will she listen?
It's Plagg's influence as much as his own that sends him dashing on all fours past the fountain of the Place du Châtelet and through the park in the Place des Vosges, Plagg's will that vaults him onto the balcony atop the Boulangerie-Pâtisserie to land with a thump behind Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who whirls around and stammers, "Ch-Chat Noir?"
"I'm sorry," he blurts, lifting his hands, palms forward. "I just— I don't know why I came, I just— M-may I speak with you?"
Marinette's mouth works soundlessly for an agonizing moment. "I-I suppose so?" she says finally, uncertainly, but she backs away as he leaps onto the railing to pace, his tread as light as he doesn't feel.
"I don't know why I'm here," he says miserably, by way of apology. "I confessed to Ladybug," he blurts, twirling precisely and walking the length of the banister again.
"Oh." She says nothing more, and he has no explanation for her beyond that. He struggles not to look at her, and eventually folds himself into a seated position and stares at the ground, because now that he's here he can't bring himself to leave. Finally, tentatively, she asks, "How... how was that?"
"She ran away from me," he says sadly, the words falling out of his mouth too eagerly as he looks up at her.
"So she rejected you." She isn't looking at him as she speaks, haltingly, deliberately. "You know? Maybe that was for the best. She might not even be the person you think she is..."
He puts a hand to his mouth as helpless, hysterical laughter bubbles from his throat. "You're right," he chokes out between giggles. "I... I don't even know her."
"See? You'll be— Chat Noir...?"
He doubles over, crumpled into himself, crying uncontrollably. Chat Noir's emotions were always closer to the surface, always freer, and he regrets that now. He's ashamed, so ashamed that Marinette has to witness this, but he can't hold the tears back, or maybe he's finally understood how hopeless his infatuation was and is.
Marinette's arms surround him, then, familiar and surprisingly strong for all that he can wrap his fingers around her forearm. "You really love her, don't you," she whispers, and her breath is a warm breeze against his temple.
Adrien nods.
Chat Noir cries himself out on Marinette's shoulder, thanks her, and bids her good night.
"If you ever need to, you can talk to me," she tells him, and he is too tired to be grateful, but he smiles at her anyway.
When he finally slips back into his room, exhausted, he releases Plagg at last and crashes into bed even as the kwami demands cheese. He's asleep midway through squirming out of his shirt, and when he wakes it is to wrinkled clothes and Nathalie knocking on the door.
Life goes on.
He runs into class late in freshly pressed clothes, where Mme. Bustier accepts a fumbling apology with a resigned sigh and Nino whispers, "Even Marinette was on time today!"
He shifts nervously at the mention of her name and doesn't look at her at all. Nino looks as though he wants to press, but subsides at a stern look from the teacher.
Alya prods Nino around lunch time, cheerful and innocent as though Chat Noir hadn't run away from her the night before, with only a simple request: "Do you boys want to grab some lunch?"
"Sure," Nino agrees easily, glancing at Adrien. "Got time, man?"
He's torn. Alya and Marinette have both seen him at his most vulnerable, and it presses on his mind even when they don't know— and after all, who would think that Adrien is the superpowered Chat Noir? At the same time, they're his friends, and he wants to be their friends, wants to spend time with them. "Yes," he says shortly, after a too-long pause.
He's still wrestling with the odd sensation of feeling unable to talk to Marinette when Alya whisks Nino away. He only realizes his mistake as he is staring after them, as Marinette asks a question.
"Sorry, you said something?" he asks, mechanically, feeling his stomach dance with emotions that he cannot resolve without revealing himself as Chat Noir. He hopes he's not being rude— it's been difficult enough to befriend Marinette already.
"W-we're... eatery? We're looking f-for an eatery," Marinette says uncertainly, peeking up at him through her bangs in a way that Adrien abruptly finds endearing.
He blinks, trying to gather his scrambled mind. "Oh. Is..." that what Alya and Nino have run off to do, he finishes mentally, shaking his head. "You're right, sorry, I'm just..." ...distracted by how you let me cry on you last night after Ladybug rejected me. Yeah, that was me, by the way. He looks away from her again.
"I-love-you."
His heart beats, beats, beats. Marinette... loves him?
"Oh," he says, and his voice is not nearly faint enough for how astonished he feels as he looks at her. "Marinette," he says, and she looks away from him. "Marinette," he repeats, weakly, this time flooded with dread and concern, because he doesn't feel the same way, he's still in love with Ladybug, and because maybe Ladybug, too, had endured this agonizing worry for him when she had rejected him.
There's an awful tightness in his voice as he tells her, "I'm so sorry, Marinette, I—" I'm Chat Noir and I just broke my heart and I love her still, even though she doesn't love me back— "I'm sorry, I can't."
There's an awful, wretched silence, and his worry builds until she finally replies, smoothly, distantly, "N-no, of course not. I'll go."
And she does, leaving him behind. There's something awfully familiar about watching her go, but this time he's on the other end, he's the one who had to turn her down, and isn't that just the perfect way to repay the girl he had used as a handkerchief?
He wishes he could return the favor. He can return the favor. "Plagg," he hisses.
The kwami remains silent.
"Plagg," he repeats, angrily now, because the longer he's Adrien, the longer Marinette suffers alone, and because he needs to be Chat Noir so that Chat Noir can do what Adrien cannot. "Are you asleep?"
"I hear you," Plagg grumbles from his pocket. "What are you going to do? She'll fall in love with Chat Noir, and then where will you be?"
"That isn't how love works," Adrien growls. "Claws out!"
"Well, it's your problem," Plagg grumbles, and spirals into the ring.