I only have the vaguest sense where this is going. Oh well, I'm here for the fun anyways. Enjoy!
It didn't often rain all that hard in Paris, not enough to warrant a city-wide warning of Seine possibly flowing over. It certainly looked like it though, as Sabine peered out the rain-spattered window of her home. The streets were empty, near abandoned, not a soul or a car in sight. She wasn't surprised.
Her husband was downstairs, most likely planning in advance in case the storm got bad enough they'd have to lock themselves in for days on end. Sabine hummed, tapping a finger on the window sill, still keeping an eye on the streets. She wasn't watching out for anything in particular, instead she watched the rain because it was soothing.
It reminded her of home, surrounded by gardens and watching through another window in another time as nature watered their crops for them.
And then she heard a low, pained noise drifting from below, and Sabine shot up from her seat. She leaned against the window, eyes darting around the street. She didn't imagine that, she knew that sound.
And it didn't take long before Sabine found a small figure staggering towards them from the opposite end of the street, blonde hair barely visible from the rain.
But that wasn't the first thing Sabine noted. The first thing Sabine noted was the subtle lines of red dripping down the boy's form, leaving trails of pinkish water in his wake.
Sabine was about to open the window, offer some help to this child, when he took one more step forward and collapsed face-first onto the street.
A small, high-pitched scream passed through her lips, before darting down the stairs, going straight to the kitchen and calling out her husband, "Tom!"
Tom was sitting on a stool beside the counter up front, jotting down notes for recipes when he noticed the rapid footfalls from upstairs He stood up, face twisting into a concerned expression as his wife emerged and went to him. Her hands gripped at his sleeves, and her wide eyes desperately searched his. The words that tumbled out her lips sent his blood running cold:
"there's a boy outside, Tom. I think he's dying."
It doesn't take much more than that to have the both of them running out into the streets. Tom immediately spots the small, lone figure collapsed on the gravel, a streak of red dripping down towards them. He went to him, being careful not to jostle him too much, and brought him inside where Sabine was waiting with towels, hot coffee and the first aid kit they always kept on hand.
Tom laid the boy down on the floor, grimacing when he found his arms coated in blood. Sabine made a small noise at the back of her throat, fishing out her phone and dialing an ambulance.
"What do we do?" Sabine asked Tom once the dispatcher on the other end assured her they'd be one their way. Tom took one of the towels and tried to dry the boys' hair.
"Wait."
That didn't mean he liked it, though.
The ambulance arrived minutes later, the paramedics taking the boy gently into the car. One of the medics asked Tom about him, who answered as truthfully as he could.
"We'll pay for the bill," Tom said, "May we come along in the ambulance?"
The medic nodded, and the couple climbed in after securing the house. Tom watched over the boy, and contained a small gasp when a pair of green eyes opened to peer up at him.
The storm ended after 2 days straight of heavy downpour, and as much as Marinette loved Alya and her stay over, she missed her parents, and she wanted her own bed and her own room and her own sketchbook.
Careful not to slip on the way home, Marinette's walk took longer than usual. She didn't mind, school wouldn't be resumed until the day after tomorrow. And when she reached the familiar doors, she took the handle and—
Jumped back and screamed when someone she didn't recognize opened the door.
Blonde hair, green eyes, and a really unhealthy complexion. The boy stared at Marinette before turning back and shouting, "Your daughter's home, sir!"
"Marinette, welcome back!" her father's booming voice echoed from inside, but she wasn't even remotely paying attention. Not even when the large man himself emerged from the kitchen, smelling of vanilla extract and covered in flour, scooping her up in a hug.
No, her attention was on this strange boy, someone she didn't know, who had answered the door and was familiar with the house, maybe, and who she just didn't know. He definitely wasn't a customer, the bakery wasn't even open yet. Though...
When her father set her down, Tom clapped a hand on Marinette's shoulder and said, "Adrien, this is Marinette. Marinette, this is Adrien. He's going to stay with us for a bit."
"O..okay?" Marinette stammered, eyes darting between Adrien, her dad, and her ceiling, because what was even going on?
Adrien gave her a tired smile, brought up his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, my name is Adrien Agreste. You're probably confused, huh?"
Marinette nodded numbly.
Tom snorted, "Don't worry, your mom and I will explain over breakfast."
In the darkness and relative safety of the hospital room, Adrien laid flat on his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling.
"Plagg?" he asked.
"What?" a voice from his pockets replied.
Adrien paused almost afraid before, "Where am I?"
"…I don't know."