Chapter Text
“We need to talk.”
The words came out quieter than Marinette intended.
Adrien looked up from where he sat beside her, his expression immediately shifting from relaxed to concerned.
“Okay.”
That was it.
Just okay.
No suspicion. No hesitation. No reason to think the next few minutes were about to change everything between them.
Adrien sat beside her on the chaise, looking perfectly at home in her bedroom.
That somehow made what she was about to do even worse.
Marinette swallowed and looked down at her hands. She had been twisting her fingers together for so long that the tips had started to ache, but she couldn’t make herself stop.
She had practiced this.
Over and over.
In her bedroom. In front of the mirror. Into her pillow. Once, embarrassingly, to Tikki, who had stared at her with wide, sad eyes and hadn’t tried to tell her what to do.
Every version had sounded reasonable when Adrien wasn’t sitting in front of her.
Now her mind was empty.
“Marinette?”
His voice was soft.
She hated that.
She hated that he always said her name like that when he was worried about her.
“I-” Her throat tightened. She cleared it quickly. “Can you sit down?”
Adrien glanced beneath himself.
Marinette shut her eyes.
Of course.
He was already sitting.
“Right. Sorry. I just-” She waved her hand uselessly between them. “I meant- Just stay there. Please.”
“Okay.”
Again.
That stupid, gentle okay.
Adrien leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows against his knees. His eyes didn’t leave her face.
“What’s wrong?”
Everything.
Nothing.
Your father was Monarch.
Your father terrorized Paris for years.
Your father was the person Ladybug and Chat Noir had been fighting this entire time.
He died after he made the wish.
He lied to you.
I lied to you.
And inside Ladybug’s yo-yo was a letter with Adrien’s name written across the front.
A letter from his father.
A letter Marinette could give him right now.
All she had to do was transform.
Reach into her yo-yo.
Hand it over.
And destroy him.
Her stomach twisted.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Adrien’s eyebrows drew together.
“Do what?”
Marinette stared at the floor.
The words were there.
She knew them.
She just couldn’t make her mouth cooperate.
“This,” she whispered.
A pause.
Then, carefully, “What do you mean, this?”
She forced herself to look at him.
That was a mistake.
Adrien looked confused.
Not angry. Not defensive. Not upset.
Just confused.
Because of course he was.
Yesterday, they had been fine.
As far as Adrien knew, nothing had happened.
And they were.
That was the worst part.
“We can’t…” Marinette stopped and pressed her lips together.
Adrien’s concern deepened.
“We can’t what?”
Her eyes burned.
Say it.
She had fought Monarch.
She had faced akumatized villains and sentimonsters and disasters that should have terrified her.
She had stood in front of Paris when everything had fallen apart and somehow found the way to keep going.
She could say five words.
She could.
“We can’t be together anymore.”
Adrien went completely still.
Marinette wished he would say something.
He didn’t.
For one horrible second, neither of them moved.
Then Adrien blinked.
“What?”
Her chest hurt.
“I can’t be with you anymore.”
There.
She had said it.
Somehow saying it a second time hurt more.
Adrien stared at her as though she had suddenly begun speaking a language he didn’t understand.
“I don’t…” He gave a small shake of his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Her voice broke. She looked away before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I mean exactly what I said.”
“No, I know, but- why?”
Marinette said nothing.
“Did I do something?”
Her head snapped toward him.
“No.”
The answer came so quickly that Adrien flinched.
“No. Adrien, no. You didn’t do anything.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
His confusion turned into something worse.
Hurt.
“Nothing happened?”
“No, that’s not what I-”
“Because I don’t understand.” He sat up straighter. “Yesterday you told me that you loved me.”
“I do.”
The words escaped before Marinette could stop them.
Adrien froze again.
She wanted to take them back.
Not because they weren’t true.
Because they were.
Because they made everything so much harder.
His voice dropped.
“You do?”
Marinette looked down.
“Yes.”
“Then why are you breaking up with me?”
She couldn’t answer.
Adrien waited.
When she remained silent, he leaned closer.
“Marinette, please.”
That nearly broke her.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t-” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t make this harder.”
“I don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
There was something different in his voice now.
Still gentle.
But desperate.
Marinette opened her eyes.
Adrien was staring at her, and she realized with a horrible sinking feeling that he was scared.
“Tell me what happened,” he said. “Whatever it is, we can fix it.”
“We can’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.”
“But I don’t.”
Marinette’s breath caught.
Adrien shook his head.
“You’re telling me that you love me. You’re telling me that nothing happened. And then you’re telling me we can’t be together anymore.”
Each sentence felt like another weight being placed on her chest.
“I know.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Because your father was Monarch.
Because Ladybug lied to you.
Because I lied to you.
Because every time you talk about Gabriel being a hero, I feel sick.
Because I know you don’t understand why the father you remember doesn’t match the man everyone else keeps telling you he was.
Because there’s a letter waiting for you that would answer every question.
Because I’m too afraid to give it to you.
Because I love you.
Because I love you too much.
Marinette pressed her nails into her palms.
“I just can’t.”
Adrien looked away.
For the first time since the conversation began, he didn’t immediately respond.
Marinette watched his jaw tighten.
Then he gave a small nod.
It wasn’t agreement.
It looked more like he was trying to convince himself not to fall apart.
“Okay.”
Her heart dropped.
“No, Adrien-”
“Okay, it’s fine.”
“It isn’t.”
He let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh, except there was nothing amused about it.
“I know.”
Marinette hated herself.
“I’m sorry.”
Adrien’s eyes came back to hers.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
She had no answer.
He rubbed his palms over his jeans, looking down at them.
“Is there someone else?”
“What? No.”
“Did you stop wanting to be with me?”
“No.”
“Are you unhappy?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Marinette’s eyes filled.
Adrien noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His entire expression softened immediately, despite everything she was doing to him.
And somehow that hurt most of all.
“Hey,” he whispered.
He reached for her instinctively.
Marinette pulled back.
His hand stopped between them.
The hurt that crossed his face was immediate.
She wanted to grab his hand.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms.
She wanted to tell him everything and let him hate her if that was what happened afterward.
Instead, she folded her hands against her stomach and forced herself to stay where she was.
Adrien slowly lowered his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.
“Please stop saying that.”
Her lips trembled.
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“The truth.”
Marinette stopped breathing.
Adrien wasn’t accusing her.
That was the worst part.
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t possibly know how close those two words had come to ripping everything open.
“The truth,” he repeated, quieter this time. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
Marinette looked at him.
For one terrifying second, she almost did it.
She imagined pink light surrounding her.
Imagined Tikki disappearing into the earrings.
Imagined reaching into the yo-yo and pulling out the envelope.
Imagined placing it into Adrien’s hands.
This is yours.
She imagined watching him open it.
Watching his eyes move over Gabriel’s words.
Watching his entire world collapse.
Chat Blanc flashed through her mind.
White suit.
Blue eyes.
A shattered moon.
An empty Paris.
Their identities revealed.
Their love turned into the end of the world.
Marinette’s stomach turned.
No.
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t take that risk.
Couldn't tell him the truth and hope this time would somehow be different.
Not with Adrien.
Not again.
“I can’t tell you.”
Adrien stared at her.
Something in his face changed.
Not anger.
That would have been easier.
It was disappointment.
Quiet and wounded.
“Oh.”
Marinette felt something inside her crack.
“Adrien.”
“Do you trust me?”
Her heart stopped.
“Yes.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he looked away.
It was such a small movement.
Somehow it felt worse than if he’d shouted.
“Okay.”
“Adrien, I do.”
“But you can’t tell me why you’re leaving me.”
Marinette blinked back tears.
“No.”
“And there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”
“No.”
“And you still love me.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Yes.”
Adrien nodded once.
His eyes were shining now.
Marinette had never hated herself more.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t think that’s fair.”
Her breath caught.
He was right.
God, he was right.
“I know.”
Adrien stood.
Marinette almost reached for him.
Almost.
“Is this really what you want?”
No.
The answer screamed through every part of her.
She could stop this.
One word.
No.
That was all it would take.
She wanted him.
She wanted mornings at the bakery and afternoons after school and his hand wrapped around hers.
She wanted his terrible jokes.
She wanted the way he smiled when he spotted her across a room.
She wanted the future she had spent years imagining.
She wanted Adrien.
But that wasn’t what he had asked.
He had asked if this was what she wanted.
And wanting him wasn’t enough anymore.
Marinette forced herself to nod.
“Yes.”
The lie tasted worse than all the others.
Adrien looked at her for another second.
Then he gave her the smallest smile she had ever seen.
It wasn’t happy.
It wasn’t even really a smile.
“Okay.”
He turned toward the door.
Marinette’s chest seized.
“Adrien.”
He stopped.
She had no idea what she wanted to say.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
Your father was Monarch.
There’s a letter.
Please don’t hate me.
Please wait for me.
Please don’t believe a word I just said.
In the end, only one thing came out.
“I love you.”
Adrien’s shoulders stiffened.
He didn’t turn around.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then, so quietly Marinette almost wished she hadn’t heard him, he answered.
“I know.”
And left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Marinette stared at it.
One second passed.
Two.
Then her knees gave out.
She hit the floor with both hands over her mouth, trying desperately to keep the sob inside.
It didn’t work.