Chapter 1

Marinette balanced the load of fabrics, hat boxes, and sewing materials with one arm while jamming her key into her apartment with the other. It had been a long day at work, and she was desperate to get inside so she could sit in front of her television set and watch a fluffy movie while she buried herself in fashion designing. She was almost successful in getting inside her apartment without dropping any of her materials, but as her foot squished in something warm and soggy the towered cargo tumbled from her arms. Sighing, she pushed her apartment door the rest of the way open and lifted her foot to assess the damage. Her shoe was covered in some kind of cheesy goop, and she removed the shoe altogether with another drawn out sigh.

"Stupid casseroles," she muttered, picking up the now ruined dish from the floor and taking it inside. She used her bare foot to step down on the foot of trash bin and dumped the ruined casserole inside. An unsigned, well-wishing note fluttered to the floor and she looked over it for a second before dropping it inside with its casserole companion. Once that was taken care of, she moved back to the door to move her semi-expensive projects inside and onto her table. The table had already been taken over by her sewing machine and personal projects, but she shoved them aside to make room for the more important ones.

"You always throw them away," a voice scolded from the kitchen. "Without even asking me if I want any."

"Sorry Kitty," Marinette said, not even fazed by the presence of Paris's superhero in her kitchen. She had come to expect it, no matter how inconvenient it was for her. "The trash bag is clean if you want to pull it out. Fair warning, my foot was in it, and I don't even want to know where my shoes have been."

The leather-clad superhero didn't move to take the casserole out of the trash just as Marinette knew he wouldn't. Instead, he came to sit next to her at the table. She offered him a weak smile as she unrolled a bolt of fabric, ignoring the way his overly-green eyes were seemingly staring directly into her soul.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked knowingly.

"I'll make something later," Marinette responded softly without looking up from her work. "I have to start this."

"The fabric can wait, Marinette. You really should eat. It's a pity you threw the casserole out."

Marinette threw down her fabric with a huff. It was the same story every day with this mangy cat, and she was growing tired of it.

"I'm insanely busy with work," she pointed out. "Ever since Gabriel shut down, all the other fashion companies have been working like crazy to get their companies to the top. I have to finish these designs by tomorrow or I could lose my job. They're an American based company that Chloe's mom helped me find. They don't know who I am, or what happened, so they don't baby me. I have to work just as hard as everyone else which means long hours, all right Kitty?"

"I you keep trying to work like this, you might not lose your job, but it is possible that you might lose your mind," the superhero argued. "Come on Marinette, take a break. I think this is more than just trying to help your fancy American fashion company get to the top after my father's arrest."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Adrien," Marinette scoffed, keeping her eyes fixed on the fabric in her hands. She hoped Adrien could see the tears in her eyes, but she new him well enough to know that he was aware of them.

"Who brought the casserole?"

"They didn't sign it," Marinette admitted quietly. "Probably because they've heard that I've been returning them to those who do sign them."

"How many this week? I feel like they're dying down."

"I don't keep track," Marinette snapped looking up at Adrien in frustration. He was still transformed into his superhero alter ego, but she could see his expression of concern beneath the mask well enough in her mind. "I moved out on my own to get away from all of that, remember?"

"I still don't understand why," Adrien said.

"Because if I get one more casserole, or another plate of cookies on my doorstep reminding me how sad I'm supposed to be, or how useless I should feel, then I'll climb into bed and never crawl out of it," Marinette said, the tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. "They only remind me that I should be miserable."

Marinette expected the boy to counter the argument like he sometimes did, but instead he lifted a hand. "Do you want to dance?"

"What?" Marinette asked, through her tears. They were coursing down her face now, and she didn't doubt that her makeup was running with them.

"Do you want to dance?" he repeated. "You used to enjoy dancing back when we first met."

Marinette laughed as she wiped at the tears on her face. "You mean back when I had an insane crush on you?"

"On part of me," he corrected. "You didn't know that Adrien was the one parading around Paris in a cat suit."

Marinette snorted and got to her feet. "If I did, I doubt I would have been so attracted," she teased.

"Whatever, Bugaboo," he said, pulling her to her small living room. She wrapped her hands around his neck and let her head rest against his chest, wishing she could stay like this forever. There was no music playing, but she could hear the song they had once danced to at Chloe's party in her mind as the swayed back and forth.

"I'm sorry about all those years back in school, and even after we graduated," she said quietly, her eyes smarting with tears. "I didn't know I was rejecting you…for you. Maybe if I had—"

"Hey, don't do that. It's all right. I was so busy pining after your superhero self that I was completely oblivious to your obvious crush. We both made mistakes."

Marinette pulled away, her heart sinking to her feet. "I made worse ones."

"Marinette…"

Marinette moved back to her table, picking up the slightly wrinkled paper with her design on it. She would have to work well into the night to finish it, but she could do it if she put her mind to it. It was just hard to finish anything when Adrien insisted on sitting at the table watching her do it.

"You're working yourself to nothing, Marinette."

Marinette looked up and was surprised to see that Adrien had somehow detransformed without her noticing. She looked back down at herself, noting how her pants were a bit roomier than she remembered them being before she started her new job.

"I'm fine," she tried, sketching out the design she needed onto one of the corners of her cloth. The chalk she was using was dull and well used, but it was the best the American company had. She knew deep in her mind that the company would never hit the tops of the charts, even with Gabriel gone, but she had to try her best to help them regardless. That was her job.

"You're not."

This time, Adrien was firmer. Marinette threw down her chalk, anger washing over her.

"I'm trying to be," she cried out, her emotions spilling out of her. "But I can't when you're always here telling me how broken I am!"

"I want to help you, Marinette. I'm worried."

The tears started again, and Marinette didn't try to stop them this time. Adrien came over to hug her, but she flinched away from him. He seemed hurt and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the expression out of her head.

"It won't help," she choked. "You know it won't."

"Why not?"

"Because," Marinette said, looking up at him through blurry vision.

"You won't ever give me a real answer," Adrien complained. "Why are you working yourself to death? Why won't you just let yourself grieve? Celebrate your victory—you took down Hawkmoth!"

"I am grieving," Marinette argued. "I can't even walk down the street without breaking down! I've locked up my earrings and Tikki—the miracle box has been locked in a safe for months! My parents are worried about me all the time. Alya and Nino invite me to lunch almost every day because every time I try to talk to either of them on the phone, I can't even breathe enough to talk to them. I cry in my office at work for hours as I work on my designs, and then I come home and—"

"If you're having such a hard time, why don't you talk to me?" Adrien asked, his voice raising in volume.

"Because you can't help me," Marinette reminded, her heart shattering for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. "You know you can't!"

"Why not?!"

"Because you're not real!"

The cry was ripped from Marinette and she curled into herself, nearly falling from her chair. Her crying escalated to rasping sobs, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to compose herself enough to start her project tonight after all. Marinette gasped for air as she focused all of her energy on not collapsing on the floor.

It had been months since the accident, but she couldn't escape the old fashion ads that hadn't been discovered and taken down yet, or the tributes to Adrien that still occasionally popped up on social media. She couldn't escape her friends and family reaching out to her or all of Paris thanking her for her service as Ladybug. She couldn't even escape herself.

Looking up, she half expected her imaginary Adrien to still be staring at her, waiting for her to start taking care of herself. However, she was met only with her living room. Her empty, lonely living room that never felt like home. Lying her head down on her table she sucked in a shaky breath.

"You're not real," she muttered to the imaginary Adrien, even though she knew he wasn't really there. "But I so desperately need you to be."