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It is Friday.
He breathes in and slowly exhales, focusing. Centering himself along the chalk line, he raises his sword in a ready stance. His partner pauses a moment, glances to the side where the teacher says nothing.
There is silence. He licks his lips and tries not to mind the taste of blood. For a moment no one moves. And then his partner lowers his sword, “Nah, man.” William sighs. “I surrender.”
The room sighs. The rest of the students get up and start coming together in groups, a slow stream of murmurs fills the room as they discuss what just happened. Adrien lowers his sword, walks off the court and into the locker room. He takes the time to store his sword before heading to the bathroom.
The school is quiet for the most part; empty except for the few that have clubs that run later than expected. If he managed to get cleaned up in time, he should be able to make it to Chinese on time if not a few minutes late thanks to traffic. He knows it would be faster to take the metro, but his father would never allow it.
Its there outside of the boys restroom that he runs into Marinette wrapping bandages around her fingers. “Hello, Marinette,” he greets her, not really pausing. The blood has dried and his face feels tight.
“Adrien!” she smiles. It’s only when she looks up that her smile falls and she gasps, “What happened?”
Adrien waved her off, “Fencing accident. It looks worse than it is.”
She makes a sort of “oh” sound and doesn’t push it. But she still looks concerned. But, he supposed, that was just how Marinette was. When it doesn’t look like she is going to say anything else, he moves on. Waves goodbye and says he’ll see her Monday.
In the bathroom, he inspects the damage: nothing broken, slightly bruised and bloody. He rinses his face in the sink and does his best to remove all the blood from around his noise. It is embarrassing really to have been caught so unaware on the business end of a sword, even if it was blunted. Being Chat Noir only made him so fast.
Next time, he thinks, next time he’ll do better.
…
Outside it’s raining. He forgot his coat. Can’t find his umbrella. His stomach rumbles and he sighs, ignores it. He has a photo shoot tomorrow and a runway to prep for anyway.
The car is parked at the entrance and it only takes a few seconds to get in, but he’s still soaking wet. Plagg makes a soft, whimpering noise from where he is hidden in the damp folds of his shirt and Adrien readjusts so Plagg can sit comfortable against the warmth of his stomach. In the front of the car, Gorilla is humming under his breath as the radio provides a steady strum of Adele, Lady Gaga, and the occasional Pink. The world outside is silent.
He is already thinking about the fifteen different things he has to do and reordering them, seeing if any of them can be put off till later. He hasn’t slept more than four hours a day this week and he’s worried about the bags under his eyes becoming too prominent. He doesn’t want his father to hear about it if the make up artist complains.
But first things: homework and Chinese practice. He needs to stay focused on one task at a time or he’ll become over whelmed.
Once in the safety of his room, he changes and lets Plagg curl up around his collarbone, the steady stream of purrs the only sound other than the constant fall of water droplets against glass. By the time he’s finished mathematics and physics and moved on to literature, the clock reads 5:30pm. Dinner will be served in an hour.
His father is arriving in fifteen minutes.
He thinks, for a moment, about getting up and greeting Father when he comes in, but ultimately decides against it. He has too much to do and is in desperate need of sleep. He’ll see his father at dinner, anyway.
…
Saturday is patrol. He greets Ladybug with a flirt. She laughs him off. They banter.
Bellow them the city is quiet, peaceful. “Perhaps even Hawkmoth needs a break every now and then.” He mentions in passing.
Ladybug smiles all sharp teeth and soft, pink lips. “We can only hope.”
…
His father wakes him on Sunday.
They go shopping. Gorilla follows behind, distant enough for the assumption of privacy, close enough to act if needed. While they’re out, they find a simple street concert and the band is good. Good enough that his father claps his hands in appreciation of the music before depositing a fifty in the open guitar case by the lead singer’s feet. The singer thanks him after the set. His father lets them know he believes they can go far.
“They’re good aren’t they?” A stranger asks him as the crowd starts to bleed away. His father is still speaking to the singer and Adrien smiles at the man. He is tall, taller than even his father. But Adrien thinks he looks kind, like someone’s grandfather with a face full of laugh lines and big, blue eyes. The man continues, “It is good to see so many people out again.”
Adrien agrees and smiles.
It’s a good day. The sky is blue. The wind promises the cool of fall. His father is here, smiling in his own way. And the streets are lively with music and painters, restaurant owners handing pamphlets out on the streets, and the Sunday march of shoppers darting from store to store. Paris has come alive as people remember what life is like after two weeks without an Akuma rampaging through the streets.
Adrien wonders if Hawkmoth has given up and moved on. He hopes so.
…
The clock above the door reads 7:30a when he ducks into school that Monday. His stomach makes an odd sort of gurgling sound that he chooses to ignore, sipping slowly on his breakfast shake. Chloe is the only one in the classroom and they slip into an easy comradely.
Nino doesn’t understand, Adrien thinks as he laughs as Chloe does an unfortunately perfect impression of the huffy British duke currently staying at her father’s hotel, but Chloe is the only one who really understands what its like to live in his world. It’s refreshing.
As other students trail in, he watches as Chloe puts on her defenses, fixes her make up and grabs Sabrina’s attention the minute she walks in the door. She too has a list of things done. But unlike Adrien, she was smart enough to get an assistant.
As the clock nears five till class begins, Adrien texts Nino to ask where he is. Doctor’s appointment. He’d forgotten and he prepares himself for a rather boring day of classes.
By lunch, he’s hungry again. He grabs a bag of pretzels from a nearby convince store and heads to the school library.
When Plagg reminds him about food Adrien just waves him off with a triangle of Camembert.
…
The photo shoot is rewarding. Because his father had chosen to attend.
It wasn’t that Adrien didn’t know that his father thought his modeling superb or something to boost about—it was actually one of the few accomplishments Gabriel Agreste did boost about—but it was always gratifying when his father got to see Adrien in his element.
Some people thought it was his father’s connections that had placed Adrien in the modeling world, but the reality had been far from it. From the tender age of 9, Adrien had known that fashion was his father’s world and if he wanted a part in it, he’d have to learn and learn fast. And where he had few design skills to speak of, he did have beauty.
After two grueling years of working his way up the rungs, dealing with god awful model drama, and honing his craft, Adrien had earned his place as the lead model for his father’s fashion shows as well as a well sought out face for other designers. It was something he took pride in, something he had earned.
Today it was winter lines, all soft furs and warm knits that made Adrien want to curl up in a ball and fall asleep. And so he did. With few stage directions from the photographer—which was sometimes the case with Philip—Adrien decided to play up the content, comfort, and warmth that came with the new line. He made himself look soft: flushed cheeks and easy smiles that turned, at times, a little bashful. Intimate.
“Genius,” Philip laughs after calling a short break. Adrien takes the time to stretch out. “Really, Gabriel, how did you train this boy?”
Father hums, “He’s all self taught.”
Adrien flushes, bites his lip a bit to keep from beaming. He knew praise when he heard it.
The shoot is relatively short, just a few hours. Every now and then Adrien will catch Plagg in the corner of his eye, floating around and playing with whatever catches his eye. Probably something shinny. He doesn’t worry. Plagg is smart—smarter than him. He won’t get caught.
When they’re done and Adrien has wiped off as much make up and sweat as he can, he waits for his father to finish his business before they can head home. Natalie passes him a sandwich and Adrien unwraps it on autopilot. Adrien checks his phone in the car: three texts from Nino and a voicemail from Alya, probably about Ladybug. But he doesn’t worry.
He’ll see her tomorrow.
…
Tuesday passes in a sort of blur.
Ladybug asks him if he thinks Hawkmoth is planning something. Chat Noir shrugs.
…
He wakes up on Wednesday.
He has to double check that it’s Wednesday. When he goes to class, he greets Nino in something only a little louder than a whisper. He doesn’t fight when Nino takes him home, feeds him something his mother had made the night before. Only resists a little bit when its time to go back to school because Nino’s home is so…perfect. Comfy with its well-loved sofas and plump pillows, all colored various shades of reds, oranges, and browns. As if he were sitting in the center of a fire pit and just as warm. Nino's mother hums as she works on the computer and the dog stumbles around the apartment, sticking close to Nino and, in turn, Adrien.
But duty calls and he returns to class, passes up his homework when asked, answers questions when asked, speaks only when he is spoken to, goes through the motions because he feels tired despite getting at least seven hours of sleep last night and eating well at Nino’s.
Halfway through English, Adrien falls asleep. Maybe Nino allows him to rest or the teacher takes pity on him because it’s Marinette who wakes him when she slips, spilling the papers she’d been asked to hand out at Adrien’s feet. It’s enough to get him moving, dropping to his knees besides her to help her collect everything into a pile as the rest of the class looks on. A few snicker and Marinette’s cheeks burn. When they are done, Adrien gives her a smile and she moves on. Behind him, Alya grumbles something under her breath and Nino knocks him softly on the shoulder. Marinette whispers thank you when she returns to her seat.
When he gets home, he heads to his room and passes out until its time for patrol.
…
Thursday is a good day. Adrien gets ten hours of sleep, wakes before the alarm clock and spends the extra minutes before the rest of the house wakes basking in the warmth of the risen sun. Plagg hovers around him, chatting about nothing really. Something about the newest show the god of destruction has kept himself occupied with as Adrien had done his homework.
When he gets to school, he greets Nino first and has the energy to pay attention in class. During lunch, he and Max play a few matches in the beta street fighter Max had gotten his hands on over the weekend. Even in defeat, Adrien finds his mood not wavering.
He is happy. The world feels at peace. He finds his appetite and doesn’t complain when Nino’s mother insists on a second helping. And even Plagg refrains from any pointed statements as he steals bites from under the table and hassles the dogs.
When they return to school, Ms. Bustier smiles and says, in her own way, she’s glad he’s back. And Adrien feels no sting in her words.
When he gets home, he thinks about everything he has to do—homework and piano practice and dinner with his father and patrol —and takes a break. Sits down on the sofa that is very rarely used and cracks open a book until its time to greet his father by the door.
When his father asks him about his day during dinner, Adrien doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he says it was good.
…
Of course, that means Friday Hawkmoth attacks, Chat Noir thinks bitterly as he dodges a flurry of arrows. An archer angered after losing a competition was akumatized. They’d already deduced his object to be his bow. The problem was getting to him.
Below the streets of Paris were empty. Everyone has learnt well enough how to take cover as Ladybug and Chat Noir turn their streets into a war zone. Dodging another set of arrows, he takes cover behind a building and waits for Ladybug to join him. It takes four minutes.
“I’ll distract him, lead him towards the river,” Chat Noir cuts in when she gets there, “Go from behind. It’ll be easy to get his bow then.”
Ladybug nods, “That’s a sound like a plan. And how do you plan on distracting him?”
Chat Noir smiles. “Leave it to me, my lady.”
The fight lasts twenty minutes as Chat Noir taunts the Broken Arrow to follow through the streets of Paris, weaving his way quickly through less populated streets and alleyways. They leave a trail of arrows in their wake, a few hitting too close to comfort as he takes a sharp turn. Even though he can’t see her, Chat Noir knows Ladybug is nearby.
When he arrives at the Siene, he activates his cataclysm and drops the archway of the Place de Carrousel on an unsuspecting Broken Arrow and only just manages to get out of the way of the rubble. Ladybug’s yo-yo wraps around a disoriented Akuma victim and the fight finishes.
The clean up takes only ten minutes and, by the time it is done, Chat Noir has made his get away, taking a more direct route back to school so he isn’t too late as students return from lunch. But still the mood is ruined. The faces of his classmates are drawn tight. His teacher struggles to smile. Outside, Adrien is sure the streets are quieter. No musicians or painters or restaurant owners handing out pamphlets. The shoppers have all gone home. The businesses are closed. Outside, the sky is blue but Paris has remembered what life is like with Hawkmoth’s return.
Adrien feels guilty for every thinking anything could be otherwise.
…
As Friday bleeds into Saturday, Adrien fights for sleep.