Everything is wrong.
It's obvious.
It's been barely a month since Marinette started classes and everything. is. wrong.
In theory, however, she has everything to be happy. She managed to enter the school of her dreams, with the unconditional support of her parents. She is passionate about her studies, her first results are brilliant and she has had no trouble making new friends among her classmates.
She should radiate happiness. She should be so happy, so light, that she should feel like that her feet are no longer touching the ground.
And yet no.
On the contrary, Marinette feels heavy, as if an overwhelming weight now weighed on her
Of course, there is Adrien. His departure. His absence. Marinette was heartbroken when he flew across the Atlantic and not a day goes by that she does not think of him. Each time, she oscillates between guilt, regret and deep sadness, while wondering with anguish how Adrien is doing.
The young man's life has been shattered, and she still blames herself.
Hundreds of times she has thought of sending him a message. Just to have some brief news. Just to make sure he's okay.
And hundreds of times, she gave it up. What can she say? That she loves him? That she deeply regrets what happened? That she would have liked Hawkmoth never to be his father?
What's the point? The damage is done.
One day, however, she dares. Using all her courage, she sends Adrien a brief email, wishing him all the best in his new life and asking him how he's doing. But her message goes unanswered, and her tired heart cracks a little more. Alya tries to console her, to tell her that the young man's lack of reaction is not directed against her personally. Adrien tries to move on, she explains to her overwhelmed friend. He flees the world of fashion, his old friends, anything that can remind him of Paris and his father.
"Even Nino has trouble contacting him," sighs Alya. "He literally has to harass him for days to have an answer, even though he's still his best friend! "
So, like every time she thinks of Adrien, Marinette grits her teeth and tries to convince herself that time will eventually soften her wounds.
But as cruel as it is, this heartache is not enough to explain the inextricable feeling of unease that oppresses her. She loves what she does, with all her soul. Styling is an art that she is passionate about and for which she proves to be particularly gifted, to the point that her work regularly makes the pride of her teachers. Every day, she sews, draws, learns more about this world that fascinates her.
And every day, her morale declines a little more.
She doesn't know what to do to get better. It's as if her world has slowly been tinged with grey, without her even realizing it. The small joys of everyday life are more bland. Her smiles have lost their brightness. Even the long walks in her beloved city of Paris can no longer give her any kind of morale boost.
Marinette feels like she's just a shadow of herself. She feels like she fades, like she disappears, as if she was gradually vanishing into the fog. Yet she fights back. She constantly questions herself and tries to understand what is happening to her.
It's not just Adrien, that's for sure. There is something else.
But no matter all her introspections and other mental wanderings, nothing helps. Marinette feels empty. Desperately, horribly empty. She is no more than a shell without a soul, which drags its sad existence while wondering where its joy of living has gone.
Then, one day, the evidence hits her with such force that she is left breathless.
She misses her old life.
That's all.
Marinette almost wants to cry because everything seems clear to her now.
She fiercely tried to convince herself that she could move on, that giving up her miraculous was best for her. But after weeks spent in total denial, she must admit that she was wrong.
For more than three hectic years she was Ladybug. The heroine of Paris. The one who watched over the citizens of the capital and flighted the supervillains. And now that she's just Marinette, her existence seems bleak to her. Tasteless.
Her duties and powers brought to Marinette the salt that is today lacking in her daily life. With a heavy heart, she remembers the excitement she felt every time she put on her costume and the pleasure she felt in being endlessly in the heat of the moment. Being Ladybug made her feel like someone extraordinary. Like she was useful for something, like she had a place in the universe.
Like she was alive.
Marinette is surprised by the violence of her feelings. Stunned.
She never thought she could regret to be a heroine so much. Unlike Chat Noir, who embraced his superhero life as if he had been waiting for this moment since the day he was born, Marinette initially saw this role as a constraint. A duty, which she had to accomplish because she had been designated for it.
It took a long time for her to tame her heroine status, to find enough self-confidence to fully assume this role. Then, over the days, weeks, she ended up feeling a passion as fervent as that of her teammate for her role as protector of Paris.
She has enjoyed being Ladybug. She has liked it.
But despite everything, she had always believed that when the day came to take a well-deserved retirement, she would be perfectly able to move on smoothly.
Now she realizes that she was seriously mistaken.
The same evening, for the first time since the defeat of Hawkmoth, Marinette look at the Ladyblog. She ignores the articles on her ultimate fight and the hundreds and thousands of messages from visitors wondering if anyone has any idea where Chat Noir and Ladybug have disappeared since their enemy was defeated.
Instead, she looks at the photos and videos that Alya has passionately garnered on the Ladyblog over the years.
With tears in her eyes, Marinette scrutinizes for hours these testimonies of the exploits of Ladybug and Chat Noir. She feels her chest squeeze tighter every time she sees the triumphant glow that sparkles in the eyes of her former self, and each of her smiles is like a stab in her heart.
She wants to go back. She wants so, so much to go back.
She was so happy before.
The weeks go by, and Marinette's unease only grows.
She can no longer pass in front of the Eiffel Tower without having a pang in her heart when remembering how extraordinary the view is from the top, beyond the places authorized for visitors.
When she crosses the campus, she finds herself glancing nostalgically towards the rooftops of Paris, remembering the time when it would have taken her barely a second to fly in the air. She remembers with heart-wrenching precision the feeling of the wind on her face as she jumped from building to building and that irreplaceable feeling of doing something for her city that only she could accomplish.
In those moments, her fingers itch and she almost feels like she can feel the weight of her yo-yo in her hand. She was Ladybug, it's etched in her flesh.
But now she has no more powers, no more extraordinary speed, no more strength.
She's just a simple human.
Her miraculous and her friends were taken from her too brutally for her to have time to say goodbye to her heroine life. She remains a prisoner of her past, her mind desperately frozen since that summer day when Hawkmoth was defeated.
He misses being Ladybug. He misses Tikki.
And Chat Noir...
Chat Noir is a sensitive subject.
Now that she allows herself to think about her teammate again, Marinette resents him for leaving. For having abandoned her, without even bothering to say goodbye. She never understood this absurd gesture of Chat Noir and the feeling of betrayal she feels is all the more vivid as she has always had absolute faith in their bond. For days, weeks, she oscillates between rage and grief, cursing her partner while bitterly regretting his absence.
If Chat Noir had been by her side, Marinette is convinced that she would never have taken the loss of her powers so bad. It is absolute certainty. She and Chat Noir would have faced this ordeal together and they would have come through it brilliantly, as they always do.
No.
As they did.
Before.
And, over time, the anger subsides, then fades away. Marinette becomes melancholic again. Day by day, she remembers all the moments she and Chat Noir spent together. She remembers how she could put her life in his hands without even thinking, how much closer he was to her than anyone even though she ignores his real name. She remembers their conversations, their jokes, their extraordinary complicity. Sometimes she even finds herself making puns, smiling sadly at the thought of the look her partner might have made upon hearing it.
Usually, Marinette's heart bleeds at the memory of Adrien. Now she can't see a blond boy without thinking about Chat Noir as well.
She misses him. She misses him so much that she feels like her heart is going to explode. She would never have believed that it was possible to physically feel someone's absence. She seeks his voice in the buzz of the Parisian crowd, she absently runs her fingers on the back of his hand to try to find the sensation of his lips when he placed light kisses on it.
She loves him.
It took her all this time to realize that she loves him.
She loves his bursts of laughter, his insolent demeanour, his false bravado and the amused gleam that shines deep in his eyes when a situation entertains him. She loves the way he has always respected all the boundaries she has imposed on him - sometimes despite what he may feel himself - his courage and his selflessness. She even misses his absurd puns and theatrical manners.
She loves Chat Noir, and his absence consumes her.
The following month, Marinette cracks.
She can no longer live like this, it's not possible. Not with that feeling of emptiness that slowly eats her. She wants to be Ladybug again. She wants to jump to Paris's rooftops, she wants to meet Chat Noir.
She wants to feel alive.
Instead of going to class, she takes the first bus that can take her to Master Fu's house. She should have done this a long time ago. The Great Guardian carefully watches over her miraculous, and Marinette relies on her persuasive skills to convince him to return it to her. She is no longer the scared teenager she was when she received this precious magical jewel, but a young woman full of determination. With her, the Ladybug's earrings will be as safe as with him, she is sure.
She will find Tikki.
If luck is with her, Master Fu may also agree to tell her the secret of Chat Noir's identity.
And then she will find him too.
As the vehicle nears its destination, Marinette's heart panics as much as a scared bird in a cage. Soon, it seems to be singing, crystallizing all the hopes of the young woman. Soon she will regain her powers, her kwami and her teammate. She needs it.
A few minutes later, Marinette's disappointment is all the more cruel.
Master Fu has disappeared.
Gone, without leaving an address.
Marinette wants to drop to the ground, to scream in despair. But now is not the time. Driven by a passion bordering on despair, she starts searching the Great Guardian. For days and days, she investigates. She asks the neighbourhood, knocks on the doors of administrations and moving companies. In desperation, she spends sleepless nights on the internet looking for the smallest bit of information.
But in vain.
More than once, Marinette almost burst into angry sobs, almost breaks her keyboard, almost demolishes her computer screen to vent her frustration. In the 21st century, how is it possible to be able to disappear without leaving a trace?
Obviously, Master Fu knows the answer.
Little by little, Marinette comes to terms with it. It's time for her to let go.
No more Great Guardian, no more Chat Noir.
No more hope.
The days, the weeks go by.
Marinette discovers new talents in her as an actress. When she was Ladybug, she used to lie to cover up her absences. Now, she has become a master in the art of making people believe that she is fine when everything in her breaks down. After a while, she doesn't even have to think about it. She just has to laugh, to smile, to go through this tasteless life where part of her has been ripped away.
She feels like she is no longer herself. She is no longer herself.
One day, by chance, she discovers bungee jumping. A gift, paid by her classmates for her birthday.
And that's a revelation.
She rediscovers those sensations of speed and fall which are familiar to her and for a brief and wonderful second, the excitement of the moment makes her forget the emptiness that is eating away at her existence.
From this moment on, nothing is the same. Marinette go into a mad headlong rush, chasing adrenaline like a drug addict in need and throwing herself into every possible projects.
Everything to try to fill this atrocious void that threatens to make her lose her mind.
On a whim, she takes her driver license and buys a motorbike for the pleasure of traveling the roads of France at full speed. She enrolled in a parachuting course, climbs, tries all the zip lines she finds during her trips away from Paris. She discovers a bulimic need for strong sensations, mental excitement.
Part of her died in the days following Hawkmoth's defeat.
Now she wants to feel alive again.
The end of the school year comes, and with it the opportunity to study in London.
Marinette does not hesitate for a single moment. In Paris, she suffocates. Slowly dies. The ghosts of the past haunt her, drown her in gloomy thoughts. She can no longer think of Chat Noir, she no longer has the strength to think of Ladybug.
The UK appears to her as a breath of fresh air, an unexpected opportunity to go and heal her wounds far from this city where everything reminds her of the one she once was and that she is no longer today.
"So you're leaving? Like that, on a whim?" Alya says to her, stunned.
"It's not a whim," Marinette replies with a laugh that rings hopelessly false in her ears. "London, can you believe it? It's going to be awesome! I swear, Alya", she affirms as her friend gives her a dubious glance. "I really want to go. "
I really need to go.
London is dazzling.
The English capital is recognized worldwide for having a major influence in the fashion world and Marinette is beyond enthusiasm. The city is full of museums, renowned designers and shops filled with unimaginable wonders.
As in a kind of trance, Marinette gives up the adrenaline of extreme sports to plunge with a frenetic passion into the world of stylism. Every day, she meets extraordinary people who teach her a little more about this universe which fascinates her and who encourage her to push her limits even further.
Quickly, the pages of her sketchbooks darken with new projects and her small London studio takes on the appearance of a tiny sewing workshop. The already fertile imagination of the young woman runs wild, to the point of leaving little respite to its owner.
Not that it bothers her, on the contrary.
Marinette doesn't even realize it, but she is losing herself in London life. She's losing herself at all.
She's still running, running, running again, like she's going to die if she stops.
She no longer thinks, threw herself into work to prevent herself from thinking of Paris. It almost became an obsession. Always, always, always being on the move, always keeping her inspiration alive. Marinette lives at a frantic pace. She goes out, draws, goes to class, sews, swallows liters and liters of coffee, and starts over and over again. Sometimes she gets on her motorbike and drives hundreds of miles to see the sea, scribbles furiously in her sketchbook, then goes home and plunges back into her crazy life.
She has never been so creative and her brain is on the verge of exploding.
But she doesn't care.
At night, insomnia became her new companion. She no longer tolerates these moments, where, alone in her bed, she waits for sleep to finally deign to come. During these rare moments of calm and silence, the memories of her previous life come back to torment her relentlessly.
Then she burns her hours of sleep. Occupies her constantly boiling mind as she can.
She must always be on the move.
Running, always.
Weeks and months go by, and Marinette is still running. Her eyes are now hollowed out by dark circles that make-up barely conceals and her pretty cheeks have lost their roundness. The young woman feels out of breath but it doesn't matter. To stop, even for a minute, a second, is to think.
To think about Paris, about Chat Noir, about everything she lost.
And it's too hard.
So Marinette drowns in her London life, and she runs.
Again and again and again.
The following summer, her return to Paris gives her the effect of an electric shock.
The distraught "Marinette" that escapes her mother when she sees her echoes painfully in her ears and her father's worried expression shocks her as much as if he had slapped her. Then, when she walks by the mirror in her childhood bedroom, the sight of her silhouette makes her realize what she had refused to see until then.
She has lost weight, that's obvious. Her eyes are feverish, her complexion far too pale, and her excessive insomnia gives her fingers a slight tremor.
A few hours and a long conversation with her parents later, the verdict is final. Tom and Sabine do not recognize their daughter. Worse yet, they are afraid for her. Their palpable anguish grips Marinette's heart and makes her realize, finally, that she needs help.
She was to return to London. She will only spend a short time there with her parents to recover her belongings, then moves back to Paris.
From her London wanderings, Marinette brings back as a souvenir a severe caffeine addiction and a black cat tattoo on her lower back.
The feline inked on her skin is a marvel of delicacy, a vibrant tribute to the one who haunts her heart and who, according to her, best symbolizes her former life as a heroine. She has never regretted this tattoo that she got one evening on a whim, but she has a love-hate relationship with it.
Sometimes, during one of those wonderful moments when she forgets that she is only half of herself, she catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. Her memories hit her with as much violence as a punch in the stomach, leaving her breathless and stunned with grief.
At other times, on the contrary, she seeks it. In a rush of nostalgia, she sits in front of a mirror, lifts her T-shirt and lovingly traces the outlines of her tattoo with her fingertips while remembering the past.
Weeks go by and the return to normal life is rough.
In Paris, time passes slowly. Desperately slowly.
Marinette had believed London would be an escape and the return to reality all the more difficult. Surrounded by Alya and her parents who treat her as if she were a fragile glass thing, she slowly gets back on her feet. She forces herself to sleep, tries to gradually regain control of her frantic thoughts and replace her addiction to coffee with healthy sips of water or fruit juice. Little by little, she regains the pounds that she had lost and finds a rhythm of sleep still a little anarchic, but nevertheless much less self-destructive than that which she imposed on herself in London.
After several months, Marinette resumed her studies.
She still lives with her parents, who firmly refused to let her take her own apartment. They are too afraid that she will dive back into her old flaws and prefer that she stay with them for her own safety.
Marinette is not offended by all those precautions, on the contrary.
She has spent far too much time believing that she could handle the situation on her own and failing miserably to not recognize that she is quite capable of relapsing just yet. Maybe later she will leave. But not right now. Her painful reconstruction is still too fresh for it to take the risk of reducing its efforts to nothing.
The resumption of classes goes much better than Marinette had hoped. Despite the limits she now imposes on herself, her passion and imagination are intact and she is a brilliant student. Her parents watch her closely, ensuring that she does not drown in work as she once did.
Alya, meanwhile, is always there for her best friend. She never refuses to answer her phone or take her out for some fresh air when the need arises.
Marinette is doing better, but she still has a long way to go.
As soon as she is left on her own a little too long, her thoughts inevitably wander towards Chat Noir.
She loves him.
She lost him, and even after all this time, she still loves him.
She tries to pick up the crumbs of her broken heart and repair it, as one would with tape, bandages, string. Anything to give the illusion that things are held in place when everything threatens to crumble. But it only takes a notch, a blond boy or a photo of Chat Noir for new cracks to appear. Then her heart collapses again and she has to start all over again.
One day, in one of those moments when the absence of Chat Noir weighs on her so much that she feels like she can no longer breathe, Marinette confesses everything to Alya.
She talks about Ladybug, Chat Noir, the void that eats her for far too long.
She cries like she never cried, even after the departure of Adrien or that of Tikki.
Much to her relief, although visibly shocked, Alya is extraordinarily understanding. She doesn't seem to feel the slightest bit of anger, or if she does, she hides it perfectly well in an effort to not overwhelm her friend more. Better yet, Alya comforts her, supports her, helps her put words to these emotional trials that she has been going through for far too long.
That day, Marinette stays to sleep at Alya's.
They talk for hours, over and over again. Never have they talked so much, even after so many years of friendship. They debate, analyze, formulate countless hypotheses, and every time Alya feels Marinette on the verge of tears, she hastens to hug her, promising her that she will always be there for her.
A few days later, with Alya's support, Marinette connects to the Ladyblog with an account specially created for her by her friend. She leaves a desperate message for Chat Noir, launching a call on the internet like throwing a bottle into the sea.
She is well aware that the chances of her partner answering her are slim, especially after so many years. But if she has a chance, even a tiny, tiny chance of finding him, then it's worth it.
In just five minutes, Marinette has dozens of answers. Journalists, fans, curious people, fake Chat Noirs. In the days that followed, all of Paris spoke only of the Ladyblog and the message she posted there. After years of silence, Ladybug has given a sign of life and the capital is on fire.
But in front of her screen, Marinette is more desperate than ever.
The useless answers and the attempts of imposture follow one another, and she gradually loses all hope of finding Chat Noir one day.
"There's no point, Alya," she sighs, tears in her eyes, as her friend puts an arm over her shoulder to comfort her. "He won't answer. "
The seasons follow one another and the responses to Marinette's desperate message are spaced, then end up completely interrupting. With Alya's help, the former heroine tries to move on and heal this umpteenth heartache.
The two friends go out, sometimes meet some of their former classmates. Most often, their small group consists of themselves, Nino, and, more oddly, Chloé.
Driven by a genuine concern about Adrien, the mayor's daughter got closer to Nino during the months following the departure of their mutual friend. The two young people did not stop exchanging the meagre information they managed to glean about Adrien and little by little, their relationship evolved into a frank and surprising friendship.
At first, Marinette struggled to come to terms with the incongruous presence of her former rival in her group of friends.
Then, little by little, she learns to discover facets of Chloé that she did not know until then. She slowly realizes that beneath her superficial exterior, the young woman is fiercely attached to the few people who make the effort to handle her. Obviously, Chloé cares about Adrien and her real concern touches Marinette.
Clearly aware of the fact that her new friends are also concerned about Adrien's fate, Chloé does not hesitate to share with the small group the meagre information she manages to obtain about Adrien. She makes efforts to temper her harsh words while Marinette, for her part, tries to forget the legendary animosity her rival inspires in her. Nino and Alya make sure to defuse any potential conflict, and slowly the newly formed quartet finds its marks.
Over time, Marinette, Nino, Alya and Chloé end up forming a solid group of friends. Rarely does more than a fortnight go by without them meeting up, and Alya and Chloé's respective apartments quickly become their favourite hangouts when they want a quiet evening.
Marinette continues to slowly heal her wounds, trying to forget Chat Noir, Ladybug and all her old life.
Then, one day, her quiet daily life is interrupted by a hysterical phone call from Alya.
"Marinette, I just heard some amazing news!" she exclaims in an excited voice. "Adrien is back in Paris! "