Work Text:
He sits with his legs crossed, a bouquet of red roses in his lap, a single rose between his fingers. His grip is gentle, being careful so that he doesn’t prick himself on a thorn.
“She loves me,” he whispers to himself, picking off a single petal, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. Its smooth like silk, the radiant red color dripping off onto his skin, painting his finger crimson. He lets the petal fall to the ground by his leg, opting for another.
“She loves me not.”
He lets this petal fall, as well, and with it drops a tear. He ignores this, though, and continues playing his game with the flower, moving on to the next as soon as the flower is bare, and so on. Eventually there is but a single flower left, and he is surrounded by the red drops.
“She loves me,” he picks on, “She loves me not.”
He slows the pace now, not wanting to let this flower die so easily. No, he has a lot of emotion held up inside of him, torturing him, and this is how he is going to let it out.
“She loves me.”
His grip around the stem tightens, pricking his skin. A steady stream of blood trickles down his hand slowly, branching out and traveling down his arm. Either he doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care.
“She loves me not.”
“Adrien,” Nino interrupts, placing a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. The blond boy looks up at his friend, who has a sorry look in his eyes. “We should get going, man. It looks like its going to rain.”
Adrien stays silent for some time, not caring to see everyone around him, all his friends, the people from his school, her family. To him, they weren’t there. They hadn’t been there then, so they weren’t here, now.
“Give me a moment,” he answers finally.
“Adrien.”
“I said give me a moment!” he barks out, voice crackling a little. Nino flinches. He hadn’t heard his best friend speak above a whisper this entire time. He nods, handing Adrien another rose, white rather than red, then gathers the rest of the crowd with him as he leaves, giving Adrien some peace and quiet.
The boy holds the white rose in his hand, trying to block it all out, trying to suppress the memories, to replace them with the good ones, but those only make the feelings worse.
He makes himself get up, walking over to her. He sucks in a deep breath, fighting the tears, but they do as they please and flow out anyway. At first they come in waves, and then all at once.
“I am sorry,” he chokes. The sadness and guilt overwhelms him, takes over his entire being and leaves him crippled and defenseless on the ground. He screams at the sky, blaming whoever he can, blaming himself for not being strong enough. When he can’t scream anymore, he curls into a ball, holding himself, trying to cope, but how the hell does he do that when his only distraction, the one thing in his life that made him happy, is six feet under? It begins to rain.
Adrien’s tears mingle with those of the sky, the white rose now wet with rainwater and his drops of blood. Nathalie calls for him, and though he manages to put her off for some time, he knows he can’t avoid her forever. He’s Adrien Agreste, France’s most precious face, and time doesn’t stop for him no matter how bad he wants it to. Finally, he regains his composure and stands, holding the once purely-white rose in his left hand, and the red rose with a single petal in the other. He sets the white rose before the stone and stares, lifting the red rose to his face, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. For the first time, he can see the slab of Gray stone clearly.
‘Here lies Marinette Dupain- Cheng, loving daughter and friend.’
“May you rest in peace, my Lady,” he sighs.
The last petal of the red rose stares at him, begging for him to finish the game he had started, and he obliges not for his own pleasure, but to give the flower peace, to end its torture as he wishes someone would do for him. He remembers where he left off and picks it.
“She loves me,” he says, barely above a whisper. The tears threaten to spill again and he has to blink them back, has to stay strong for Marinette, for his Ladybug. That was the promise he had made to her before she passed, when she lay in his arms as the life drained from her beautiful blue eyes.
“Marinette, stay with me” Adrien had said, not holding back his sorrow then.
“Don’t cry for me, Adrien,” she had replied, voice hoarse. She had raised a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Everything will be okay. I j-just need you to be strong…for me.”
“I love you,” Adrien had sobbed into her chest as she stroked his hair, trying to comfort him when he should have been comforting her.
She never got the chance to reply.
He lets his tears go once more, the memories shattering him completely.
“She loved me,” he whimpers, dropping the last petal to his feet.
“She loved me.”