"No."

Her voice was void of any softness or sympathy, and it froze him. The heat radiating off her face that he could feel through his gloves, the warmth of the summer breeze on the painfully humid night- what once felt comfortable now burned him.

Marinette could feel the stiffness of his hands on her cheeks, could see him struggling to understand what she meant, could see the flash of terror on his face when the small, single syllable registered in his brain.

"No," she repeated, trying to contain herself. "It's not all of you, just like how neither Marinette nor Ladybug are all of me."

She pulled away from him, forming a distance between them that, albeit spanned a short few inches, now seemed impossible to close. Chat didn't dare even try. He watched as a mixture of emotions danced on her eyes- sadness, fury, disappointment.

How did it turn to this? He questioned, closing in on himself, tail and ears drooping, arms lamely reaching for where Marinette's cheeks were before eventually falling loosely to his sides. He couldn't make her understood- he himself barely understood why he was so hesitant.

Why? To an outsider, it seemed entirely ridiculous- he was a model, rich, famous. Everyone liked him.

Everyone liked him, but he had nobody.

Nobody except Marinette, and now he was losing her, too.

"You don't get it," his voice tore through his thoughts. "You just don't get it."

Chat's words were directed more at himself than at Marinette, but she didn't know that. All she knew was that she was tired, tired and exhausted because first and foremost it was past two in the morning and she had just undergone a stressful social event, and tired and exhausted second because her boyfriend didn't seem to get that she couldn't devote her entire life to half of his.

So she blew up.

"No, Chat, you're the one who doesn't get it!" she shrieked, a rush of anger and resentment flooding into her words. "I can't take this anymore, Chat!"

"I know," he whispered, too low for her to hear.

"What am I supposed to tell my parents, huh?" She continued, voice growing more and more intense, soft yellow illuminating the space around them as windows lit up, groggy neighbours yelling strings of words that paired shut up's with plenty of expletives.

No one could blame them.

"Am I going to have to walk down the aisle to see a guy in a cat costume at the end? Are our children going to grow up not knowing their own father?"

He stiffened.

"Are you going to make me wear a blindfold for the rest of my life!?"

The sobs she had been so desperately trying to contain wracked her whole body in a wave, tears spilling down her rage-coloured cheeks. She was wheezing, her teeth chattering and lips trembling as she threatened to collapse onto her knees.

Chat didn't say anything, didn't dare to say anything, merely watched pitifully as the love of his life fell into pieces right before him.

"Tell me," she whimpered in between coughs. "Please tell me."

An eternity passed as she looked at him, a blurry image of panic and fear.

His mouth hung open, lips forming all of the words he wanted to say, wished he could say, but they fell emptily into the air. His gaze tore away from hers, his head shaking faster and faster before he shamefully looked her back in the eyes.

"I can't," he whispered. Every fibre in his body was screaming at him to tell her, but his fear took hold of him, and before he could even hear her response he leaped up onto the railing and jumped off.

On the balcony, Marinette slid down into her knees, her sobs echoing into the otherwise peaceful night.


The Agreste mansion was, and always had been, a very dismal and empty place. Long corridors were practically mirrored hallways, covered from top to bottom with portraits of Adrien. Ceilings were extortionately high, needless space that did nothing to ease the suffocating feeling Chat had when he jumped in through the window into his own home.

He had half a mind to Cataclysm the whole place to the ground.

He walked to his bed like a zombie, carelessly falling face-first into the plush covers and releasing his transformation as he did.

"You're an idiot," Plagg muttered, zooming by the boy's ear for a second.

"I know," a muffled noise came from the tangled mess of blonde hair sprawled on the silk pillow.

"As long as you know," his black kwami replied, settling himself on the nightstand. "What are you gonna do now, kid?"

"I don't know."

The little cat made no comment, simply yawning and curling up next to the alarm clock. None of the blinds were shut, and colours filled the room in bright bursts as the city of lights lived up to its name.

Adrien didn't care. He wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway, a hurricane of thoughts racing in his head without so much as a promise of calming down anytime soon. They were distraught, muddled thoughts, nonsensical in every sense of the word.

I should tell her, he thought.

No.

Why not?

You can't tell her.

Why not?

She'll leave you.

No she won't.

She'll leave you. Everyone left you. She'll leave you. Mom left you. She'll leave you.

She'll leave me?

She'll leave you.

I can't tell her.


2:46 a.m.

Marinette had stopped crying. She looked out aimlessly at the dark wooden ground, a pounding headache throbbing at her temples. Fatigue paralyzed her limbs.

She wondered if it was worth transforming into Ladybug just so she'd have the strength to crawl down into her own bed.

Tikki was out like a light. In a few minutes, Marinette would be too, numb to the pain that dug into her as she lay contorted across the floor.


6:13 a.m.

A rapid vibration in the pocket of his dress pants jolted Adrien awake. Groaning, he flipped himself over, pulling out his phone and staring at it with scrunched eyes as the bright light attacked his sleep-deprived face.

In New York for last-minute business. Will be back Tuesday. Contact Nathalie for your schedule.

Tuesday… he thought to himself, groggy gears turning in his head as he struggled to remember the current day. The Gala was Saturday, so today must be… Sunday?

Three days.

He turned over and went back to sleep.


7:56 a.m.

Early morning sunshine hit her face, and Marinette awoke in irritation. She felt stiff and heavy, all parts of her sore and painful from the terrible way she'd fallen asleep. The memory of the previous night escaped her for the time being, and she crawled to the trapdoor, lowering herself delicately and crumpling into her bed.

Her dress was snagged beyond repair, but she didn't notice.


Monday

No akuma attacks.

No reason to go see his lady, to go and apologize for the mess he'd caused.


Tuesday

A phone call from Mr. Agreste.

An opportunity to work as a designer for the New York branch of his company.

A decision to make.


Wednesday

"I'm moving to New York next week, it's my dream job. Sorry Chat."

He threw his phone against the wall, taking pride in the noticeable dent it created in the immaculate white paint. He could scream, but he didn't, instead flinging himself onto his bed, hot tears mixing with curse words muttered under his breath.

She's leaving you.


Author's Notes:

I think it seems as though we're all getting on a train and riding into OOC-land, so I did my best to kinda sorta explain the way they're feeling in this chapter.

In terms of Adrien in particular, I guess I'm really focusing on the idea that's he's been homeschooled his entire life and never had the chance to go to school in this AU, something that, combined with his father's neglect, really did a downer on his self-confidence (the poor cinnamon roll)

Anyway I really wish I had just stuck to writing fluff, but I'm in too deep at this point. The story should be done with two more chapters, if you want more don't hesitate to let me know but I have exams coming up next week so any future kiss scenes would have to wait.

As always, thanks for the support ^^