Standing in a corner of the room, Marinette stifles a quiet yawn. Not that she is bored, on the contrary, but she begins to feel tired. Her eyelids become heavy, and her body heavier.
"Hey, don't fall asleep," gently teases Alya, suddenly appearing at her side. "Here, drink this," she continues, handing her one of the steaming cups of coffee that is in the tray she is holding in her hands.
"Alya, you're the best!" Marinette exclaims gratefully, while grabbing the precious beverage. "Thank you! I don't know what I'll do without you! "
"You would end the evening asleep on the floor in my living room", replied her friend, laughing. "Again. "
Marinette winces in response and Alya walks away, leaving in her wake the echo of another burst of laughter. The young stylist looks at her friend with an amused smile, then defers her attention to the drink which has been offered to her. She closed her eyelids for a moment, inhaling deeply to smell the delicious scent that floats in the air.
Alya may be a poor cook, but she knows a thing or two about coffee.
Marinette opens her eyes and gently brings her mug to her lips. Smiling in satisfaction, she relishes the bitter taste that settles on her tongue, the sensation of the burning liquid that descends into her throat, and the invigorating feeling of having her mind waking up. Her body, long accustomed to this drink, reacts from the first sip, as if the caffeine was seeping directly into her veins to give her the energy boost she needed.
Now that its owner is out of her half-drowsy state, Marinette's brain slowly come back to life. The young woman's thoughts lazily wander towards the last hours which have just passed.
For the moment, Marinette does not regret having changed her usual plans to go to this party. Not a minute, not a second.
But she just hopes she always thinks the same when she will go home and walk through the streets of Paris. When she will descend these avenues decorated in red and black in honour of Chat Noir and the one she once was, when she will pass under the banners celebrating their victory over their long-standing enemy.
Marinette absently drinks another sip of coffee and lets out a sigh.
Usually, she flees Paris at this time of year.
As soon as the first days of summer arrive, the city is adorned with the colours of its two heroes. Red, black dots, electric green prints, ladybugs, dark-coloured felines appear, invading even the smallest corners of the capital. Impossible to escape it. All of Paris vibrates for its heroes, proclaims its love with an enthusiasm that could be considered excessive if it was not so sincere.
Parisians love their heroes, and despite the years, their fervour remains as great as ever.
Marinette should be touched by so much recognition, she knows that. But these demonstrations of love are for her like stabs that pierce her heart, again, again and again. Her old wounds reopen, bleed even more, threatening to push her back into the arms of her old demons.
As soon as the first days of summer arrive, Marinette suffocates, struggles, tries to survive as best she can.
The capital celebrates its heroes and Paris becomes hell for her.
A hell paved with black, red and green, where everything reminds her of too painful memories.
A poster of Chat Noir plastered on a street corner. A store proudly displaying her own colours. A television show, an article on the internet. A conversation in the street. Everything, everything, absolutely everything sends her back to her past. Each time, Marinette has to fight against the furious urge to drown in work, to burn her nights again to prevent herself from thinking.
It is a constant fight.
So, fleeing her pain, Marinette takes a vacation and goes far, far, as far as possible from the capital.
At least that's what she usually does.
But this time things are different.
This time, Adrien is back.
Nino and Chloé did not elaborate much on the trials the young man went through, but Marinette has no doubts that the last few years have probably been even harder for him than they have been for her. She may have lost her teammate, but he lost her father, the one and only family he had left.
So, when Nino proposed this party, Marinette did not hesitate for a second.
Adrien needs all the support his loved ones can offer him, and too bad for her own pain.
As if drawn by a magnet, the young woman's gaze finds Adrien.
When she realized how she felt for Chat Noir, Marinette thought she had finally moved on. Or at least, that she had managed to detach from an impossible love the better to break her heart on another, but that's another subject.
She was persuaded that all that she felt now for Adrien was friendship only. A friendship altered by the irrational guilt she still feels towards the arrest of her father, a friendship that would certainly always be mixed with an undeniable tenderness, but a simple friendship nonetheless.
She was sure of it. With all her heart, with all her soul.
But the second she reunited with Adrien, the shock she felt was like a punch in the face.
Violent, unpredictable, and strong, strong, so strong that she has been stunned for a moment.
Marinette was sure she had move on. But Adrien's charm caught her as on the first day, taking with it her heart and all her solid resolutions. Marinette tried to fight. To convince herself that she was simply nostalgic for the old days, that the gentle heat that warmed her chest was only a vestige, an echo of what she had felt one day for the young man.
Then, throughout their reunion night, Marinette began to rediscover Adrien. She realized that with the trials and the years, he had become even more serious than the teenager he was, more melancholic too. But despite everything, he was still overflowing with that kindness that had once melted her heart. That he was still the sensitive and sincere young man he was before. The one who placed the love of his friends and family above all else, the one who could marvel at even the simplest things, the one who was always ready to encourage and support others.
And quickly, Marinette had to face the obvious.
Her feelings for Adrien are still there, more vivid than ever.
She still loves him.
Even after all these years. Even after his silence, his absence, even after her own escape and her London wanderings, she still loves him.
She loves him.
But she no longer loves only him.
Now Marinette also knows that she is in love with Chat Noir. Even after all these years, even after this silence, too.
To believe that her heart refuses to learn from its mistakes.
Chat Noir has disappeared, Adrien is back. That fact alone should end Marinette's dilemma. What's the point of clinging to someone who's disappeared from his life without a word or a gesture, when her first love has reappeared?
But unfortunately things are nowhere near that easy.
Marinette cannot forget Chat Noir, nor does she manage to ignore what she feels for Adrien. She loves them both, despite common sense. Adrien and Chat Noir haunt her thoughts at every moment, to the point that she can no longer think. As if her brain was too full of memories of these two boys to function properly. As soon as she stops concentrating, her mind tirelessly goes back to those who reign over her heart.
She can't not to think of them.
Adrien's shy encouragement. Chat Noir's sparkling gaze. The kindness of her former classmate. The boundless courage of her partner. Their laughter. Their smiles.
Her head is filled with images of Adrien and Chat Noir, and she doesn't know what to do.
Marinette blames herself for being torn between two boys.
She should move on. She should choose.
Somewhere things could be simple. Chat Noir won't come back and Adrien is there. But Marinette refuses to make the slightest confession to her friend. Not now. Not until her recalcitrant heart finally decides to abandon Chat Noir.
Marinette wants to give herself time to really think about her feelings. She doesn't want – she can't – try to have a relationship with someone while being so unsure of what she wants.
Especially not with Adrien.
After everything he's been through, the young man deserves better than a heart split in two. He deserves full and complete love. A love that will be devoted only to him.
A love that for now, Marinette is unable to offer him.
In Marinette's pocket, a phone suddenly vibrates, tearing her from her thoughts. The young woman takes out the device, looks at the screen, sighs.
A notification from the Ladyblog.
Obviously.
Alya's blog may have far fewer visitors than when its owner recorded the exploits of the heroes of Paris on a daily basis, it is nonetheless frequented by loyal subscribers. And when summer arrives, a crowd of curious people inevitably mingles with the regulars, restoring the Ladyblog to its former glory.
Every year, it's the same thing.
Those nostalgic for Chat Noir and Ladybug meet, discuss, exchange.
The anniversary date of Hawkmoth's defeat has become their signal. It attracts them, brings them together in a kind of feverish communion. For a few intense weeks, the Ladyblog swarms with activity worthy of its greatest days. Theories about the sudden disappearance of Ladybug and Chat Noir resurface, testimonies reappear and tributes flourish, invading the web like a tidal wave of love for those who have protected Paris.
The Ladyblog has become a virtual sanctuary, a temple in homage to the two heroes.
But Marinette is tired of all this fuss. Tired of these unanswered questions, tired of these leaps that her tired heart makes every time a new message appears on blog site, tired of hoping in vain for a sign from Chat Noir.
Maybe it's time for her to give up Ladyblog for good. To let go of this tenuous thread that still binds her to her old life, this fragile bond that makes her hope in vain that she will one day find her teammate.
Maybe it's time for her to move on.
Alya will understand.
Even so, Marinette's wishful thinking will wait another day. Is it curiosity? Carelessness? Hope? Still, she opens the notification which is still waiting for her on her screen.
Certainly another tribute, she says to herself. Or an umpteenth hypothesis explaining why she and her teammate suddenly disappeared from the streets of Paris.
But when her eyes fall on the few lines of text, Marinette freezes.
In shock, her phone almost fell from his fingers.
Her hands shake, her breath chokes, her muscles stiffen. Marinette can literally feel the blood rushing from her face, leaving her as pale and shivering as if she had just fallen into a river of ice.
But in her chest, on the contrary, everything awakens, everything ignites. Her heart begins to beat hard, hard, harder than it had ever done in almost three long and painful years. So hard that it gives Marinette the impression that an inferno has lit deep within her, awakening emotions whose violence makes her dizzy.
About to collapse, Marinette wavers, holds her phone close to her, clings to this fragile object as one clings to a lifebuoy while in the midst of a shipwreck.
Her complexion now chalk-pale alert Alya, who immediately rushes towards her.
"Marinette?", says her best friend arriving at her side. "Are you okay?"
Throat tight with shock, Marinette hands her her phone with a trembling hand.
She doesn't have the strength to speak. Not now. Not when she has just discovered these few lines that she despaired of seeing one day. These few lines that rock her world, blow up her certainties, revive her lost hopes.
These few lines written by Chat Noir.
"My Lady,
I'm so, so sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm really sorry for what happened. Not a day goes by that I don't regret it. I should never have left like this. I should never have left at all.
I gave up my responsibilities. I gave up Plagg. And above all, I gave up on you. I betrayed your trust and I will deserve a thousand times that you refuse to speak to me again.
I miss you so much.
Every day, every hour, every second.
I'm so sorry.
I don't want things to end like this. I want to see you again. Even if it's only for once. I will understand perfectly well that you refuse and that you want me to disappear permanently from your life. You have every right to do so, especially after what I did to you. My attitude was not that of a worthy teammate.
I'm sorry, my Lady. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I did, and I will give everything I have to see you again.
I beg your pardon.
Chat Noir."
Alya's eyes widen in surprise, and she reaches out a hesitant hand to put it on Marinette's arm. Slowly, carefully, as if she feared her friend would collapse at the slightest touch.
"He wrote that?" she asks him in a whisper. "Is that really him?"
Marinette swallows hard, mechanically nodding her head.
"Yes", she answers in a voice hoarse with emotion.
Yes.
A simple and unique word, which concretizes all her expectations, all her hopes.
An answer to her prayers, which suddenly makes her realize that for once, this is not one of those cruel dreams that are all too familiar to her.
"Yes", she repeats with a little more assurance, slowly realizing what this response entails.
Yes.
Chat Noir is there. Somewhere.
And he answered her.
Marinette hugs her phone with all her might, as if it were the most precious of treasures.
"I'm sure it's him," she continues, her eyes shining with emotion that is hardly contained. "Do you remember the magical creatures I told you about? The ones that gave us our powers? The kwamis? "
Seeing Alya nod briefly, Marinette leans slightly towards her friend. The former heroine's gaze is feverish and her heart is now beating so hard that it echoes in her temples.
"Our kwamis had names", says Marinette in a tense voice, while being careful not to speak too loudly. "Mine was called Tikki, and Chat Noir's was Plagg. Plagg! " she repeats, voluntarily pressing the word. "I never told anyone, not even you. And yet, whoever wrote this post talks about 'Plagg'! "
"So it's necessarily Chat Noir ...", Alya concludes, quickly following her friend's reasoning.
"Either him, or someone who knows the miraculous well enough to know the name of his kwami", approves Marinette. "But it's him. I'm sure it's him. It has to be him," she hammers in a desperate voice.
Alya gauges her thoughtfully, then suddenly grabs her by the wrist.
"Follow me," she says in an authoritative tone.
Surprised, Marinette complies without offering the slightest resistance. Alya strides across the living room, leads her down a hallway and brings her into the tiny room that serves as her office. She lets go of her long enough to go rummage in the drawer of a neighbouring cabinet, then comes back after a few seconds.
"Here," she says, placing a phone in the palm of her hand. "It's my father's, he forgot it here the last time he came."
As Marinette gives her a questioning look, Alya continues her speech.
"Just send his number by private message to this so-called Chat Noir and wait for him to call you back", she continues with an assurance that her friend is far from feeling. "If it's him, so much the better. And if he's just a guy pretending to be him, at least he can't trace it back to you. But at least you'll be fixed," she concludes triumphantly.
Stunned by the turn of events, Marinette remains silent for a moment. Everything is going fast, too fast, and her brain is struggling to keep up. She feels dizzy, nauseous, and the wild beating of her heart does nothing to help her calm down.
Her gaze goes from the device resting in his hand to Alya and back again, as her mind desperately tries to take in what is happening.
To send this number to Chat Noir.
To be called by Chat Noir.
To talk to Chat Noir. Finally.
After so many years of waiting, so many disappointed hopes, it all seems terribly unreal to her.
Marinette feels like she's in a daze, and it's barely if she hears Alya wish her luck and tell her that she'll be standing guard at the door so that no one disturbs her.
And barely a few seconds later, Marinette finds herself alone.
Alone with the Ladyblog, and a phone number to send to Chat Noir.
Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien sees Alya hastily dragging Marinette into the depths of her apartment.
But before he has time to ask himself any questions, his attention is distracted by Nino. His best friend walks up to him, his gaze locked on him and an indecipherable expression written on his face. Adrien opens his mouth, but before he has time to say a word, Nino hands him his phone, raising a cautious eyebrow.
It only takes Adrien a fraction of a second to recognize the Ladyblog and see the message his friend is shows him.
The message he just posted in response to the one his Lady had left months before.
"I-I... I...", stammers Adrien, taken aback.
He should have known that Nino and Chloé would confront him about these few lines he wrote impulsively, but at the time, he only thought of his Lady.
These words are a distress call. A vital emergency. A cry from the heart.
He put all his hopes and all his soul into it, and now he doesn't know what to say.
"Hey, relax", reassures Nino, placing an affectionate hand on his friend's shoulder. "Everything is fine. But I… I don't… Ok, I know you don't like to talk about her," he continues in a hesitant voice, while giving Adrien a worried look. "But I... "
Nino pauses and Adrien instinctively flinches, immediately catching what his friend is trying to imply.
About her.
About Ladybug.
The one he usually refuses to talk about, even with his best friends.
But not tonight.
With a slight nod, he encourages Nino to continue.
"I... I was surprised", says the young DJ with visible relief. "I never thought you would answer her by now. And I wanted to tell you not to be surprised if - "
An imperious beep interrupts him in the middle of a sentence, while an icon appears in the corner of Adrien's phone.
A message.
A private message.
"Ah, it's starting...", sighs Nino, shaking his head slightly. "I wanted to warn you. With what you have written, many people will try to contact you to ask you questions, so don't be surprised if you... "
But whatever Nino was going to say, his words die when his gaze falls on Adrien's face again.
"Adrien?" he whispers in a worried voice.
But his friend barely hears him. The outside world seems to have suddenly vanished, as all his attention is focused on the few numbers now dancing under his gaze.
A phone number.
A single and unique telephone number, sent by his Lady.
It obviously only takes a few seconds for Nino to realize what's going on. He gives his friend an affectionate pat on the shoulder, congratulates him, tells him precious words of encouragement.
Then, visibly guessing that Adrien is now eager to be alone in order to try to contact his teammate, Nino informs him that he will find Chloé.
"Don't worry, it's going to be fine," he says to Adrien with a final smile of encouragement. "She wouldn't try to contact you if she was mad at you." "
As Nino walks away, Adrien instinctively moves closer to the window. He puts a trembling hand against the wall, leans his burning forehead against the cold glass of the window, closes his eyes for a moment to try to regain his composure.
Despite his efforts, his pulse is racing. It echoes furiously in his rib cage, in his temples, going so far as to cover almost any outside noise. But inside his mind, only one name is heard, eclipsing all the rest.
Ladybug.
He's never been so close to finding her.
Adrien slowly opens his eyelids, then types in the phone number with an almost mechanical gesture.
Ladybug.
He can't think of anything else.
Heart pounding wildly, he listens to the "beeps" ringing in his ear with desperate slowness. And suddenly someone picks up. Adrien immediately tries to speak. To say a sentence, a sound, anything to signal its presence. But his throat is dry, his words choke.
Across the line, he can hear a choppy, nervous breathing, as painful as his own.
And suddenly, a voice.
A trembling, moved voice.
A voice he thought he'd never hear again.
"Chat? "