Adrien used to be happy, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. His father was never very present in his life. There was always something in the way. Something more important. He was always working. Always gone. But his mother was there. Soft eyes and words that made sure he was loved. Made sure he knew how much his father cared. But he could see the frown on her lips when she said it. The distant look in her eyes that told him she was lying. But he wasn't concerned. She cared, and that's what mattered. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.
And then, she was gone. And he was alone. With no one to make sure he was loved. To make sure he knew how much they cared. He could hear Nathalie's heels clicking down the hall as she walked. he could hear the piano's notes at his fingertips, the Chinese on his tongue, the clank of steel against steel during swordplay. He could see the flashing cameras and magazine spreads. But the house was still just as empty. No mom. No dad. No friends. No Plagg.
Chloe would sometimes visit outside of their private tutoring. She would wrap her arm around his and smile for hours. She would talk about her. And sometimes him. She liked the idea of him. Of Adrien Agreste. The rich and popular model, son of a famous fashion designer. But she didn't really care. Not really.
Somehow, his father had managed to become even more distant. Colder. Darker. At least he pretend to care before. But once she was gone, he didn't have a reason to be a real father anymore. The only time they spoke was when he'd done something wrong. Never a smile. Never a pat on the back. Never a "well done" or a "good job". Only a disappointed scowl and a "You could have done better".
His schedule became fuller every day. He knew his father was trying to keep him busy. Keep him under his thumb. So he didn't disappear. Not like his mom. It was tiring, but he welcomed the distractions. He didn't like thinking. He didn't have to accept that he was alone if he never thought about it. Video games were something he enjoyed, something to do to make him forget about how lonely he was. Something to fill the empty space. But eventually they started to get old. Monotonous and repetitive. He started reading a lot. All kinds of genres. Something different each time. So he couldn't get bored. So he couldn't think. So he couldn't remember.
He hated night time. When he was supposed to be sleeping. He didn't really sleep anymore, not since she'd left. Sometimes he'd listen to music to drown it all out. But sometimes he would just lay there. Thinking. Did she hate him? Is that why she left? Did she not love him anymore? Was she tired of him? Did he do something wrong? Was it his fault? Thinking is dangerous, he would remind himself. He wished that he could cry sometimes. To let it all out. To just say how much he hated his life. To say how much he missed her and how much he blamed himself. But the tears never came, and neither did the words. And then, somehow, he would fall asleep. Most nights, his dreams were black. Empty. But sometimes they would be of her, of them together. Laughing. Singing. Smiling. Of her words as she told him how much he meant to her. He would wake up in a cold sweat and again, he wished he could cry.
It was on his way back home from a photoshoot that it struck him. Staring out the tinted windows of the limo, watching as the world passed him by like everything else in his life. And there he saw it. The school. Kids laughing. Singing. Smiling. And all of a sudden, that was all that he wanted. To go to a real school. To make friends. To be normal. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to be afraid of thinking anymore. Maybe it would be okay to remember. He ran to his father's office, bursting through the doors unannounced. It had been the first time he'd ever demanded anything. The first time he'd fought against his father's words. And somehow, he'd won.
His hands shook the first day of class. They trembled more than they ever had before. He smiled. His camera smile. Perfect and fake. He felt like he was going to throw up. It wasn't a surprise when they crowded around him. Prodding and poking with question after question. He smiled again. That beautiful, fake smile. He knew it would happen. Knew that it couldn't be avoided. After all, he was Adrien Agreste. All famous and handsome. Kind and composed. They were drawn like moths to a flame. But he hated the light. Hated how it was all they saw. He hated it. Hated it. Hated it.
"Hey, dude. You okay?"
He was taken by surprise as those four little words reached his ears...was he okay? He stared at the boy, his red hat tilted up revealing a concerned expression. He was...worried. Before Adrien could respond, another voice spoke up.
"Back up guys, give him a little space would you?!"
It was strong and demanded their attention. Demanded his attention. She stood with both hands on her hips, brunette hair dyed red at the tips. She glared through her glasses as the crowd silently marched back to their seats, and she turned to him.
"Hi! The name's Alya. And this is Marinette."
She smiled and pointed to the girl beside her. Her cheeks burned red as she stared at him with wide blue eyes. A jumbled mess of a greeting fell out of her mouth as she waved timidly, black bangs falling into her face.
"Yo, I'm Nino! It's nice to meet you, dude."
The boy. It was the boy who had asked if he was okay. He looked between the three of them and he no longer felt the urge to leave. His hands had stopped shaking.
Lonely. That had been the word he used to describe his life. Dull. Empty. Isolated. But as he sat with Nino on the school stairs, he forgot. He forgot about his work. About his dad. About his mom. He forgot that he was alone. They talked for hours after class. About everything and nothing. They joked and laughed. They shared their concerns and support. They were friends. Real friends. Adrien smiled. A real smile. He stopped pretending a long time ago. He didn't need to anymore.
As Adrien climbed the stairs to his room he felt overwhelmed. By what? He didn't know. His head spun and his limbs felt weak. He threw his bag to the ground and laid on his bed. That's when the tears started. They trickled down his cheeks and spotted his mattress. He held a pillow to his chest as he curled in on himself. He cried for the first time since his mother had left. He sobbed and screamed. Everything that he had been keeping inside flowed out through his tears and his strangled cries. His sadness. His anger. His guilt. He cried for the mother who left him and for the father that never was. He cried for the person he wished he could be and the person he was. He cried for someone who cared.
Yo, Dude. You okay?
He thought about Nino's words and smiled. He began to laugh through his tears as he clutch the pillow closer to himself. There were people who knew the real him. Who accepted and cared.
"Friends..." he whispered, as though keeping a secret to himself. He laid there for the rest of the night. Crying. Laughing. Thinking. He wasn't afraid to think anymore. He wanted to remember.
