A/N: Dearest readers, suicide is a tough topic to tackle, but I thought it was necessary. If talking about suicide or mental illness would have a negative effect on you and your health, please skip this fic; the last thing I want is to cause someone to be unwell. However, if you can handle it, thank you for clicking through.

I will make a promise to you right now that Marinette is not going to kill herself in this story (nor is anybody else that we are attached to, for that matter). This is a story about love and support and all that nice stuff I put in the summary, but it'll take a while to get to the recovery part since I'm not exactly sure how to get there myself. This fic will also take a long time to be completed and will take a long time between updates.

TL;DR I talk about suicide and mental illness and recovery (eventually), but nobody that is of great importance to the story is going to kill themselves in this fic. Also, the fic will take forever.

Thanks for jumping in with me.
xoxo -wwot

The night was calm when they ended patrol, so Chat Noir urged Ladybug to sit with him on an unfamiliar rooftop and watch the city. She eventually conceded, letting the night return to its stillness when they got comfortable by swinging their feet over the edge of a railing.

For a while, Chat kept opening his mouth as if he were about to say something, but he changed his mind every time.

Ladybug raised an eyebrow, focused on the lights below. "Something you want to share?"

Chat took a deep breath and let out a slow exhale, speaking when he inhaled once more. "I'm concerned about your wellbeing, Ladybug."

She quit swinging her feet and glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

The soft glow of the night made the worry etched on his face all too apparent. "I-I mean that I'm scared for you and your mental health."

Ladybug frowned. "What…what do you mean?" She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture.

He paused, considering his words carefully. "You, lately, have been, um…" He gestured loosely with his hands, not adding any clarity to his sentence. Chat cleared his throat and started speaking again, words rushing out as quickly as he could say them. "You've been different from your normal self for a while, and it worries me because I don't think I can help you, but you really act like you need help, and I know I'm not the one to do it, but I still want to be there for you. And stuff."

Ladybug didn't respond, letting the relative silence hang over them for a few seconds. "What made you think that, Adrien?"

He gulped; she never used civilian names in costume unless she was serious. "I-it started with the little things. You—and I'm not trying to be accusatory here—you started being more self-deprecating than usual a few months ago. It started slowly, so I only noticed it a couple of weeks ago, but it's an awful lot. You're also the mean kind of sarcastic way more than you used to be, usually towards yourself. And don't think I haven't noticed that you fall asleep crying, either."

She frowned. "How would you know that?"

"You forget that I used to do that, too. I know what it looks like, Mari." He risked a glance at her, finding her gaze locked on the city below them. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shrugged a shoulder, clearly fighting within herself about whether or not to say something.

Chat sat there with her, leaning back on his hands for a more comfortable position until she broke the silence on her own.

"Ch—Adrien?"

"Hm?"

"I think I'm suicidal."

He turned his head and saw her turning half away from him, lips pressing together, arms tightening around her knees.

"Oh, Marinette." He slid over, putting both arms around her to draw her closer to him.

She didn't fight him, letting her arms slack as he pulled her legs across his lap and her head to his chest. Her voice came as a whisper: "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

She sat up, incredulous. "But I do, Chat! I'm supposed to be this grand hero, the protector of Paris, half of the dynamic duo, but how can I save people's lives when all I want to do most the time is end mine? I don't even have it bad in life! My parents love me, I have you and Alya and Nino as the best friends I could ever ask for, your dad has that internship lined up for me as soon as we graduate—a paid internship, might I remind you—and I'm our class president! There is literally nothing wrong with my life other than fighting this moron with a butterfly fetish, and yet I want nothing more than to walk out into traffic at any given time. So, yes, I do have something to be sorry for: that there's no possible way that I'll ever be good enough either in or out of the suit for myself, for my family, for my friends, or even for Paris." She laughed bitterly. "Especially for Paris. Forgive me that I would rather die than feel like this all the time, alright?" Ladybug quieted down, resting her head back against Chat's chest.

"You wouldn't walk into traffic."

A pause. "I might, Adrien."

She could feel how he stiffened up, how the air shifted as he struggled for words. "Okay, we both know how you hate making decisions in everyday life sometimes, and I'm gonna make this one for you: You're not walking into traffic tonight, okay?"

She hesitated. "Okay."

They sat quietly for a few moments more.

"I'm sorry for burdening you with this."

Chat moved them so he could look her in the eye. "You're not a burden, Marinette. I would rather you tell somebody instead of keeping it to yourself."

She nodded slightly. "We…we have a project due tomorrow that I haven't quite finished. I need to get home."

"Okay. Let me take you."

"I—okay." Ladybug untangled herself from his lap and helped him stand.

They dropped down from their spot and went the short distance to the bakery, landing on the roof together in silence.

Ladybug reached out and hugged him weakly. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her head. "You call me if anything happens, okay?"

She nodded. "I will. Promise."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Marinette."

"Yeah, tomorrow."