A/N:

Okay friends, it's been about a decade since I've actually written any serious fanfiction. I do write a little of my own stuff in my free time, but mostly I just read a lot. If you're taking the time to try out my story, I really appreciate it and would be grateful for some feedback. I got really into Miraculous two weeks ago, binged everything in about 3 or 4 days, and then started putting this together.

Also warning you all now, there will be eventual smut. I'm not going to warn again when it's actually going down because it will take the surprise out of it, so if it's not your thing, this story may not be for you. The depth of said smut is yet to be determined, bare with me.

At the beginning of every chapter I'm going to list a few of the songs I was listening to while writing. I have no particular reasoning behind this. I just like sharing music and when the songs fit the mood of the chapter, it's just really cool.

Anyways, I promise this will be my longest author's note. I'm just super rusty and felt like I had to explain some things.

Go easy on me, I am fragile. And as always, happy reading!

xXx

Fake Happy - Paramore

Televised - HUNNY

There's a Honey - Pale Waves

Miss Atomic Bomb - The Killers

Over It - HARBOUR

xXx

Marinette was certain of only three things as she approached the steps leading to the hotel also known as Le Grand Paris. The first being that her measurements on the spectacular dress she made were spectacularly wrong. The clasps in the back were pressing painfully against her spine, shooting a jolting shock straight down her middle every time she took a deep breath; and skies only knows how many times she'd done exactly that in an attempt to quell the anxiety coursing through her every limb. No, her nerves had gotten the better of her as she'd put the garment together with this party in mind, distress rippling through every stitch. Now she would get to look as stupid as she felt. Fantastic.

The second certainty she clung to was somehow much more daunting than the first in that while she had built quite the prestigious name for herself in all things fashion, she was once more feeling like the scared, heartbroken shell she left in Paris five years ago. She had put together and mastered herself in America, effectively walling herself off from her former life and everything that had come with it. Being back in Paris was dragging her down to uncertain depths that she wasn't in the least bit prepared for, no matter how hard she tried to muster the courage. Lingering in the shadows while the party clearly raged far above, Marinette wondered for the umpteenth time if this was actually a good idea or if this whole night would end in complete disaster.

The third surety was that she was utterly late. The Françoise Dupont High School reunion of sorts was scheduled to begin at roughly six p.m. but Marionette hadn't stumbled upon the premises until nearly seven thirty, and had already wasted a good fifteen minutes outside fidgeting, trying to convince herself that she could enter with her head held high and everything would surely be fine. Though, if she were being completely honest with herself, Marinette knew this would not, could not be the case.

When she last left Paris, she severed a lot of ties and burned a whole lot of bridges; she snared her former life in an inferno and didn't let the burning stop until ashes were all the remained. She'd been relieved to do so at the time, feeling freer than she had in forever, but more and more over the years the little nagging sensation surfaced in the back of her head, telling her that perhaps losing contact with everyone wasn't the brightest idea. Was Alya still doing journalism even though her favorite heroes were no longer around to report on? Did Nino ever make a name for himself in Paris' music industry? Had Chloé Bourgeois ever grown a heart? The never-ending questions swarmed her mind until one day she received an invitation. And now… well, here she was.

Uncomfortable, emotional, and seriously late.

"Hey!" a voice called out, shaking Marinette from her abysmal thoughts. She looked over her shoulder in time to see a figure making its way towards her, though it was too dark to make out who was approaching. She immediately spun and maneuvered herself into a casual defensive stance. Some things never changed.

However, she had a soul-leaving-body experience when the figure was just close enough for her to make out the blonde tousled locks peeking out from beneath his hood, the firm line of his jaw. He drew nearer until Marinette's breath hitched at the sight of his green irises staring back at her.

The static between the two was pauliple, frenzied and searing, sweeping the myriad of emotions into a chaotic knot in the base of her stomach. After all these years, she still couldn't be in the same room as him without the yearning leashing her heart.

"Umh," Adrien begun uncertainly, twisting something in his hands. "I'm sorry, but I think you dropped this." Reaching out with both hands, he offered a simple black satin glove in his palms that Marinette immediately recognized as her own. It must have fallen out when she haphazardly shoved them into her coat pockets while exiting the cab.

Marinette relaxed her stance, rolling her shoulders once before finally getting a good look at him from the street lamp looming above. He looked dapper in an all black suit riding over a grey vest and black button up. She let herself imagine, if only for a moment, running her hands over the fabric on his chest. Though she told herself it was for fashion studies, she knew the thought had ulterior motives.

Adrien, still offering her the glove, cleared his throat, effectively shattering her stray thoughts. She realized, to her own horror that she'd just been staring at him without uttering a single word in response to his chivalry.

Of course he would still be the well mannered, kind hearted soul that she remembered him to be, she realized bitterly. Her dumb luck that he hadn't become an asshole she could simply be happy to wipe her hands of.

"Er… Thanks, Adrien," she stammered, a light blush creeping up her cheekbones.

"Whaa… Marinette?" Adrien gasped out, clearly rattled. She only clenched her jaw in return. Why had she expected him to remember that she was in the same graduating class as him? Especially when her goal had been to become a distant memory to all of them, Adrien especially. She couldn't breathe if she lingered on the thought too long.

"Yeah… It's me," she replied lamely, finally taking her glove from his offered hands. Adrien shrank back from her, running his palm against the back of his neck in a movement that was a ghost of a memory.

"Sorry, I didn't recognize you," he apologized, gesturing towards her hooded coat. Marinette shrugged in response, pushing the hood back from her head. Blood thrumming in response to the once-over Adrien cast her, she couldn't help the small smile that formed on her lips. They were both older, but not so much had changed esthetically. He was still just as beautiful as she remembered, perhaps a little more rugged in his handsomeness, but the fluttering in her chest refused to cease as it always had. Marinette hadn't wanted to run as far away from her feelings as possible since the day she packed up and shipped off to America.

"You look good, Marinette," he smiled back, continuing before she had the chance to foolishly blush or respond. "I heard you moved to the states." Ah, so he hadn't forgotten about her afterall. "I wasn't sure if you'd come so far for this thing, but I'm glad you did. I'm sure Alya will be psyched to see you."

Marinette highly doubted that, but didn't rebuke his point. The faster she could get through this conversation, the faster she could hightail it out of there. It was a mistake to come to the reunion, a mistake to come to Paris in the first place. If all it took was one conversation with Adrien to bring back feelings she'd tried tirelessly to repress, then how could she possibly face the rest of her former classmates and successfully survive the rest of the evening?

"I'm also glad I'm not the only one running terribly late," Adrien chuckled, moving on when she didn't respond to his last comment. "You always were running on your own schedule, huh? I guess some things never change," he winked, something vaguely familiar in the gesture that caused Marinette to frown in contemplation. Perhaps it was his words, an echo of a thought she'd had not even five minutes ago, but it was something else too.

"-and anyways, I think I'm going to go in." Apparently, while she'd been distracted, he had continued his one-sided conversation. "Are you waiting for someone?" Adrien asked, probably wondering why she had been standing alone outside of the party instead of seeing what her former friends were up to.

"No, I'm just nervous, I guess," she admitted, finally looping herself back into discussion, though she looked to the hotel's red awnings behind them instead of meeting his eyes.

"I could walk you in," he offered, gesturing to his now outstretched arm, there for the taking. Chivalry until death, she supposed.

"You don't have to," she found herself responding. "I mean, I'll be fine going in alone." She didn't want his pity, didn't want the people inside to think they were together, either. The latter may have consequences for Adrien, as she assumed she would be the pariah of the party. He didn't deserve to have a shitty night at the sake of saving her some embarrassment. Besides, if she really was going to bail on the whole shenanigan, she couldn't exactly go with Adrien into the party. That would be counterproductive if nothing else.

"Actually if it's okay with you, I'd like to go in together," Adrien persisted. "I haven't seen most of our class since we graduated and I suppose I'm feeling a little anxious myself." Marinette met his gaze then, considering. On one hand, she was certain nothing good would come of her walking into this party and facing all that she had left behind.

"If you'd rather go in by yourself, I understand." His voice was almost too low for her to hear.

On the other hand, this was Adrien. Stupid, beautiful Adrien. She wondered if he remembered all those years ago in front of her parents bakery; the beginning of the end. Was he thinking about it now?

It didn't matter, she was sure it never would with him.

Without another moment's hesitation, she looped her arm through his offered one. Marinette was curious about the look of shock that crossed over his face, but made no mention of it. Instead she watched the hotel now looming before them, doom seemingly imminent; so much so that she had the sudden urge to turn around and go home. But this was something she knew she had to face so instead gathered strength from the solid presence at her side.

All too soon, the front doors opened before them, the brusque air replaced by the cossiness of the decadently furnished lobby. They were greeted by a display of elegant party decor lacing every inch of the room. The white marble flooring was brighter than she remembered, only further illuminated by the dusting of twinkle lights strewn about. The square support pillars were wrapped loosely by sheer red ribbons to match the rest of the interior. Located next to the desk was a chalkboard sign detailing that the reunion was to be hosted on the top floor in a fancy penmanship. She could spot the pigeon key holes behind the counter, little pieces of red fabric tucked on top. They really had gone all out, no detail too small, everything flowing together in a cohesive but lavish setting. She doubted the Queen Bee herself had actually put any of it together.

Marinette hadn't seen or talked to Chloé Bourgeois in the years since the move and she supposed people could change. Still, she couldn't help from wondering why she of all people would be the one to organize and host a reunion when she never seemed to like any of them very much.

And of course she had other questions too (starting with the former model extraordinaire she was currently linked with) but as they trudged further into the familiar setting, the pieces of her life in Paris began to play out. It was right here in this very lobby where they shadowed the hotel workers and she got upset when Adrien and Chloé got paired together, while she was sentenced to a day of 'gophering'. It was on the floors above where she fought off her best friend when she was akumatized into Lady Wifi. Outside the hotel, near the fountain was where she kissed Chat Noir to break him from Dark Cupid's spell. Her breath hitched as the latter memory had her heart ricocheting in her rib cage.

"Are you alright?" Adrien quiried, no doubt noticing the mini panic attack that was ensuing.

"I'm fine," she breathed, her clasps digging heavy into the tender skin of her back. Just living with ghosts she mentally added. Marinette mastered herself once more.

Adrien frowned and leaned forward to call for the elevator. He was careful enough to keep her arm tucked into his, almost as if he was afraid that if he let go, she'd split off in the other direction.

A very valid fear, she realized with a snort, as the contact between the two, while small, was the only thing keeping her there.

"What's so funny?" Adrien quiered, nudging her side with his elbow, a small smile playing on his lips.

Oh skies, she actually had laughed aloud to her inner dialogue. Her eyes widened briefly as she met his soft green stare. Marinette could feel the blush creeping up her neck, which was almost as ridiculous as it was embarrassing. She hadn't had to suffer through these kinds of things since leaving.

"I, uh… well, it's just that, um." And of course her mind was drawing a blank. And of course he was staring at her as though she'd sprouted a second head. Marinette swallowed. "I was just wondering to myself if Sabrina still worships the ground Chloé steps on or if she's on her own now." Yes, that seemed like a safe topic as well as a convincing cover.

"As far as I've heard, she actually gets paid to follow Chloé around. She hired Sabrina on as her assistant, I think."

"As far as you've heard?" Marinette couldn't stop the question from leaving her mouth. Her filter be damned. He had mentioned something when they met up outside about not seeing very many of them since graduation but she didn't even think to consider that he may have left Paris as well. Life continued moving for everyone despite her not being there. It wasn't surprising, but again something she hadn't contemplated.

"Yeah, I haven't exactly been… around lately." His tone was quite ominous indeed. Was he hiding something?

"Oh, did you flee the country too?" Marinette's teasing tone was light, hiding the depth of the question. She found she wanted to know everything Adrien was doing and had done since she'd left. It was disheartening.

"Not exactly," he confessed, a sudden sense of paranoia enveloping the lobby. Why was he acting so strange? Then again, Marinette wasn't sure what was normal for him or anyone else anymore. She'd lost that right when she abandoned them all with no regard.

"I've just been dealing with some things since graduating…. With my father and all of that," he equivocated. Marinette watched as his fingers flexed and unflexed into a fist; as if he were fighting off some inner demons of his own. "I honestly haven't seen much of anyone, but have heard a little from those that I do. I'm out of his house and staying in a little place on the outskirts of town."

"What happened?" Marinette ventured. Adrien finally cast his gaze sideways, effectively trapping her in a staring match. The despair she found waiting in his eyes sent her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Would he always have this effect on her?

"I found out that my father… isn't who I thought he was." His voice was hardly above a whisper and Marinette found herself leaning in to his words. "I almost did something terrible but I'm still not sure if it's something I would have come to regret or not. It's all so very… complicated," he finished vaguely. They were but a breath apart, still locked in their eye contact.

"Adrien," she began, something sparking in his eyes with his name on her lips. "I may not know enough about you to say this, but the boy that I- er, the boy that you were was always kind and thoughtful. I don't think there's any part of you now that would regret leaving well enough alone, especially in regards to your own family. I'm sure your dad didn't mean to do whatever he did to you. That's not how family works."

"He almost hurt someone that I care about and in the process I lost everything," He choked out, but didn't tear his gaze away from her. "That might not be how most families work but mine has never followed the means of normalcy," a pause and then, "And I'm definitely not the boy I used to be."

Marinette highly doubted that. Adrien was still good, he was certainly still kind, Marinette being at his side instead of grappling for the courage to come into the hotel was proof enough to a point.

For a fleeting moment, it reminded her of someone else she knew. Chat always had a way with words so positive you could never see his inner turmoil. He'd always been the one with a pun at the ready and a steady belief in everyone at his side. It was his strength, his reassurance that allowed her to carry on as ladybug for so long. If he were there, he'd know exactly what to say to Adrien to make him feel better. The thought sent her heart careening painfully from her chest.

"We all make mistakes, Adrien. Some much bigger than others but we should always find it within ourselves to forgive. It's never too late to make amends."

"You don't understand… he's not… I was… She didn't," he stammered out. What could he possibly be trying to explain? With so many parties involved in the sentence alone, Marinette could tell she was in over her head and yet couldn't help but want to help. Even in awkward pubescent adolescence she'd never seen him at such a loss for words. "She didn't deserve what happened to her and I'm not sure if it's his fault or mine."

"Who… who was she?" Marinette dared to ask. They were facing one another almost completely. The combination of their closeness and his confessions was a heady intoxicant.

"She was my-"

The blaring chime of the elevator sounded before he could finish, breaking the spell between them completely. His what? Marinette couldn't begin to fathom the ending to that sentence. Adrien seemed to remember himself, shook his head twice, and then led them to file onto the elevator. She didn't have the courage to ask him again, especially now when their linked arms felt looser at her side. Did she push him too far?

"I'm sorry, Marinette. This talk is much too dark for the celebration we're supposed to be having," he apologized, tucking his chin into his coat absentmindedly.

"Celebration?"

He grinned a megawatt smile that warmed her all the way through before turning to her once more.

"The reunion," he reminded her as if the elevator bringing them up to her impending doom wasn't enough. "Everyone will be so happy to see that you made it."

"I don't know…." Marinette trailed off. Since he only knew a vague amount about their classmates and what they were doing now, she doubted he would know what anyone really thought of her. She couldn't imagine anyone was feeling friendly with her when her goodbye was such a cold-shouldered one. "I didn't exactly leave on the best of terms," she hesitated before attempting to lighten the mood by adding, "I don't think Chloé has ever been happy to see me in her life."

Adrien tilted his head back and laughed, the sound warm enough to feel it thrumming in her bloodstream. She was glad to have turned his mood around, if only for a moment.

"I don't think Chloé has ever been happy in general," Adrien agreed. "Besides, you'd be surprised how much time has changed everyone." He winked at her then, knocking the wind straight from her lungs. Skies, this elevator was small. And warm. And intimate. "I mean she was the one who put this whole shindig together. Maybe she's grown into herself and is trying to make amends," he shrugged.

As the elevator made it's slow ascent to their destination they remained in a peaceful silence. Marinette decided she was glad to have come after all, even more thankful to have run into Adrien. Not just for the normal reasons either; he was giving her the strength to face all of these people and perhaps make some amends of her own. She could go back to America with a lighter weight pressing against her chest, maybe even a fuller heart. Marinette found she was almost excited.

That was, until the doors opened.

Flashing neon lights spilled into the small elevator shaft as the door cracked open until it filled the space entirely. Her panic reorientated itself in the pit of her stomach, a steady dread following with it. The music wasn't blaring as Marinette had originally assumed, the bass was just turned so that you could feel the pulse of the music through everything. It was however, loud enough to cover their arrival. She felt lucky as no one turned their way, as they all continued dancing, talking, and eating.

She pressed close to Adrien as they exited the safety of the elevator. All the warmth she had built up through their encounter seeped out of her in a rush. Her bones felt hollow, as if she'd turned to dust if anyone breathed on her the wrong way. The lights and sounds of the party began blurring together until Marinette was forced to close her eyes to fight against it.

Adrien, noticing her rising panic pulled them into a shadowed alcove in the wall away from the guests. She hadn't even gotten a good look at the party or the people in attendance and now all she was seeing was his stupid, beautiful face. The golden flecks in his eyes were prominent as his brows furrowed together in worry.

"What's wrong, Marinette? What are you afraid of?" he asked but all she could do was stare. How he knew that she was afraid was beyond her. No, all she could think about was the concerned look on his face. It was touching, though she was certain he'd be doing this for just about anybody if they needed it. Sharing breath again, Marinette could feel her head going light and woozy.

Still, she found herself responding.

"When I said that I didn't leave on the best note, that was a bit of an understatement," she explained, nibbling her lower lip. "I never told anyone I was going. I just kind of packed up and… left."

But instead of the indignation she expected to find on his face, she found only understanding. He nodded as if answering her silent bewilderment. "A fresh start."

"Something like that," she breathed. Their close contact seemed to dawn on him as a sudden redness infiltrated his cheek bones. Still, he didn't make to move away from her.

"Marinette, any of these people would be lucky to know you now, as they were lucky to know you way back when. We're adults now, we understand that…" he paused thoughtfully. "I think we all understand that life gets in the way sometimes. Hell, half these people probably wish they'd moved away when they had the chance." He smiled reassuringly. "Besides, someone very wise once told me that it's never too late to make amends," he said with a wink and a flick of her nose. "And if anyone gives you any trouble, just come find me. I've got a car parked outside, we can make a quick getaway." The smile on his face was mischievous but the look in his eye was genuine. He truly would give her an escape route if she needed it.

Before Marinette could think better of it, she found herself wrapping her arms around his waist, face pressed tightly into his chest. He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through her as it echoed through his ribcage.

"Thank you, Adrien. Really," she smiled though she knew he couldn't see it. Mustering every ounce of gusto she had, Marinette raised up on her tiptoes (skies, he'd somehow gotten a lot taller) and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. He looked at her then, his face the portrait of dumbstruck astonishment. She allowed herself exactly five seconds to enjoy his gentle warmth, before pushing out of his old and scurrying towards the fray.

"Don't mention it," Adrien croaked in a daze before she was out of earshot. She looked over her shoulder in time to see his hand slowly reach up to touch the spot her lips had vacated, still facing the wall as though too stunned to move.

Satisfied with herself, Marinette clung to the little bit of spine that she could summon, the courage that Adrien gifted her and made her way into the party. Though no one paid her much mind, everyone far to into their own conversations to look her way, she did recognize many a face in her surroundings.

Alix was found chatting with Kim and Ivan by the snacks. Rose and Juleka (together, as always) were present front and center of Nino's booth as he animatedly kept the beats coming. And there was Chloé, smiling, actually laughing at something Sabrina had said. Marinette found herself smiling too. While at first glance it seemed as though not much had changed, she knew, just by the way everyone was talking and dancing and actually excited to see one another that far more had changed than she was prepared for. Life had certainly gone on in her absence and she was happy to see everyone thriving in their own ways.

Due to her panic attack upon stumbling out of the elevators, Marinette hadn't noticed the tastefully appointed decorations. Luckily, the seizure-inducing lighting was not a theme of the party, they were in fact coming from Nino's booth that faced the elevators . Otherwise it was mostly floating lanterns, twinkle lights, and tule. A whole lot of tule. Marinette would have to coach Chloé on fabric diversity if such a moment ever came to face.

"I leave you alone for five years and the furthest you've gotten with Adrien is a peck on the cheek?" a voice drawled from behind her. Utterly spooked, Marinette spun around to find Alya tucked in one of the big, cushioned chairs. She almost looked as though she were meditating, as her legs crossed, elbows resting on her knees only for her hands to clasp together for a safe spot to rest her chin. Her eyes were closed, but Marinette had the distinct impression that if she did try to run, Alya would know regardless. And of course, what did she have to lose?

Alya was as radiant and vivacious as she remembered. Her burnt orange ombre hair was sprawled around her, framing her bronzed skin in an elegant mane. Her dress was beyond stellar, starting with a v-neck halter top and ending in long, loose flowing fabric. The evening dress was an off white color, but contained several red and orange flowers heavily concentrated at the top that spread out the further the dress went. And though she couldn't see them yet, she knew when Alya opened her eyes, they would be warm, hazel, and sparkling.

This was an important confrontation, the only one that truly mattered if she was being honest with herself. She would have to tread carefully, tiptoe the fragile line between them. Alya was giving her the time of day, that was something at least, but Marinette would have to work hard to put them back together again.

Alya slowly cracked one accusatory eye open and Marinette found herself flinching back from that glare. Though she was only slightly taller than Marinette, Alya had a way of making herself seem larger just by the look on her face. Already Marinette could tell that she was still fierce and bold and everything else she'd ever admired in her best friend. Except now it all seemed tenfold when directed at her.

"I'm very mad at you," Alya clarified, her look becoming somehow more intent before relaxing completely. "But it's so good to see you that all I can think about is how bad I want to hug you. There's going to be a time, a place, and a conversation but I suppose we can postpone your groveling and actually enjoy the party together." Both of her eyes were now fully open and Marinette only found love and patience reflecting back at her. She sagged in relief, nearly falling to her knees.

Before Alya could stand to greet her formally, Marinette ran to her side, wrapping her arms around her middle. As Alya was still seated in the chair, Marinette found herself on her knees afterall. Her eyes immediately welled up as Alya's arms swept her into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Alya," Marinette blurted, a few tears slipping from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to hold them back.

"I know," she sympathized. "And I'll let you figure out how to make it up to me, but cut the water works for now, yeah?" Alya reasoned, though Marinette could see the silver beginning to line her own eyes. "Why cry when I can catch you up on five years worth of gossip instead?"

And so they did. As the party continued on around them, Alya and Marinette fell into an easy conversation. She did indeed fill her in on what had been going on with everyone. Alya was doing freelance journalism but worked part time with her mother here in the hotel kitchen to help pay the bills. Rose and Juleka had finally admitted to one another that there was more to their relationship than just friendship (Oh and Alya and Nino were doing great enough in that department as well). Chloé had become an actual decent human being, though she still had her snobby tendencies.

She seemed to have a story for everyone; well everyone except for the one person she was most interested in hearing about, Alya not included, of course. While she desperately wanted to ask about Adrien, she wouldn't sour the moment with her wild fantasies. Marinette was just thrilled to be speaking with Alya again.

Marinette filled Alya in on all her happenings through the years, how the fashion industry in America differed from the one in Paris, what designs she was currently working on, and how her place in New York was hardly big enough to be considered a home. Alya certainly had a few things to say about that, though Marinette kept her housing minimal on purpose. There was less to worry about that way.

They watched the people come and go, occasionally chiming into the conversations around them. Chloé even included them in her rounds of greetings and accommodating her guests. Marinette had no idea how much she missed this, needed it, until it was happening. Talking freely with fellow peers on nothing of importance, not caring what she was eating or who overheard what she was saying. She found she was happy to have made the trip to see them, even if only for a fleeting moment. This night had not started as she expected and every time she opened her mouth to speak, it became a little easier. Already she felt a little lighter, happier, and more centered.

That was until Alya cleared her throat when they were alone once more, snagging Marinette's full attention. She didn't know what Alya might have to say, but judging by the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she could bet that whatever it was, it would not be good.

"So," Alya began, her look shifting from side-to-side as if the bit of gossip she was bestowing upon Marinette was the world's juiciest morsel. "I got an invitation to this thing and I'll be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to come or not." Well, at least that made two of them. "But then Chloé sent out these class newspaper things with them." Alya pulled said paper from from her purse, carefully unfolding it but keeping it covered in her lap. Marinette had also gotten one but hadn't dared to study it just in case she decided not to go after-all. No use in learning about all her former classmates achievements, engagements, and new ventures if she wasn't there to care about them, right? "I found something… interesting," Alya whispered ominously.

Marinette silently cursed herself for not reading it's contents. She could have been much better prepared for whatever bomb Alya was about to drop on her. Suddenly the impending doom bubbled back up in her stomach.

"I think ladybug is going to be here tonight," Alya paused for effect before slamming the reunion pamphlet down on the table. Well, that was certainly news to ladybug. "And I intend to find out who she is." Alya pointed a manicured finger at the supposed evidence.

Everything froze. Marinette's breath stopped short in her lungs. Her heart sputtered before stopping altogether, stomach dropping into her feet as the panic overtook her fully. Down in a little box at the bottom of the back page was a short sentence. A message with only one recipient in mind and only one possible sender.

Bugaboo, come find me in the place we last spoke.