Author's note: It sure has been a while since I've posted that first chapter, hasn't it.
Well, I have no excuse for myself this time, except that I didn't write much for any of my numerous fandoms in the second half of 2019. It was partly to me resuming university work, partly to my engagements with my responsibilities for a drama club, and partly, perhaps, to my own laziness.
I am back now, however, and I really intend to write more in 2020 in general.
Oh, and yes. Season 3 of Miraculous left me heartbroken and confused and definitely wanting more.
So without further delay, I present you chapter 2 of That Other Guy, hoping that you will like it as much as you did the first one (a fact still astonishes me). And I promise you'll get chapter 3 after a way shorter wait.
Yours, Bugaboo
Chapter 2
Just Let Me Fall Apart
What happened afterwards was really quite simple, amounting to no more than one word overall.
Run.
That was the word Ladybug kept hearing, from the moment she had turned away from Cat to when she was safely distanced from him not so many moments later. A little word that burned her mind with the obstinacy behind it, urging her to keep up her pace or speed it up if she could, daring her to break her own records before her feet had first left the ground.
Threatening her with all the consequences that would instantly fall on her in case she had not.
So she did. She ran as if there was no tomorrow, as if her very life depended on how fast she could flee. She ran away – from Cat, from herself, from the fears and anxiety that were sure to overcome her if she as much as considered making a stop.
And thus even though her own exhaustion was enough to slow her down from time to time, taking over her like a wave and successfully ruining her gait, it could never last long. Each of those times, Ladybug would slacken or lose her rhythm, only to pick up her pace again the next moment, going faster and faster after every such lapse.
There was no plan for it, there wasn't a bigger strategy to follow. Only the simple knowledge that as long as she sprinted in the dark, she could keep her emotions at bay, if not by distracting herself, then at least by keeping her distance from what had caused them to resurface in the first place.
Frightened and confused as she might be, she was no more willing to let her fears swallow her than she usually was.
And yet, her stubbornness and strength could only get her this far. Focused on her internal struggle, she forgot to take her physical state into the equation; lost in her thoughts, she paid no mind to the passage of time or the length of the distance she had covered so far. Her suit gifted her with endurance; her powers gave her the confidence to trust in it blindly.
It wasn't long before she was reminded that even the Ladybug miraculous had its limits.
And so she stumbled. Once, twice, a few more times afterwards. She ignored the fact each time, just as she ignored her own weariness or the tears that blurred her sight, determined not to give in to what to her was nothing but a misplaced turmoil of the heart. As if to punish her for her tenacity, her body wavered under her weight: she stumbled again, this time nearly losing her balance and meeting the ground face first. She regained it in the last possible moment… and then did what she had been doing for the bigger part of an hour.
She resumed her run.
Still, even this determined she could not prevent what was inevitably coming. For the last time, she faltered, and this time, her stumble turned out to be a real one; a great finale to this sorrowful, miserable act.
One moment she was moving her legs in a frenzied chase, jumping from one foot to the other almost frantically – the next found her on her knees as she rolled over in order to break that most unprofessional fall.
Really, it was only thanks to her luck that the roof she was traversing was a flat and broad one.
She came to a halt seconds later. Propped on her outstretched arms and panting heavily, she was able to fight neither her physical exhaustion nor the mental fatigue that had finally caught up to her; both of which seemed to strike at her with doubled force now, as if wanting to prove just how pointless her flight had been from the start.
As if she hadn't already known that.
With the last ounce of strength, Ladybug raised her head and looked around, searching for a haven that could somehow shelter her in this most difficult of times. She did not wish for much; she knew she was nowhere near her home, as well as that no other place could shelter her in the way her own room would.
Besides, where else was she to go? Even if Alya had lived right under the roof she was currently kneeling on, it still wouldn't have made a difference. She couldn't talk to her about this – she couldn't talk to anyone, really. Not to Alya, not to her own mother, not to any of her numerous, caring friends. It was between her and Cat Noir; and heavens knew she could not talk to him, either.
In the corner of her eye she spotted a chimney. It was wide and tall enough for her to hide behind it, or maybe even rest her back against it comfortably… and it was mere meters away from when she was now. In an instance she was up, walking over to the spot, slouched under the burdens of her worries and the gushes of the wind that had suddenly started to howl. She reached her destination seconds later and, proud of her little victory, she let out a long, wistful sigh.
And then she sunk down, with her back against the cold bricks and her legs pulled to her chest, as she pressed her face against her now trembling knees.
Forgetting all of her previous resolutions, she finally allowed herself to cry.
It was forty minutes and a few sets of tears later that Ladybug finally returned to her own home. Too weary to think of all proper precautions, she hoped that the quick look around from her balcony was enough this time. Of course, she knew she should have been more careful; and of course that the way she was acting could fairly be named irresponsible, not to mention that under normal circumstances she would have been the first to point all that out.
If only she could bring herself to care.
She opened the trapdoor that led to her bedroom and jumped down hastily, her transformation dropping before her feet could even touch the mattress below. She could feel Tikki appear next to her and fly up to her face not a second later, with a look of concern reflecting all over her minuscule face. To Marinette, that was hardly a surprise; she knew her mouse-bug well, and expected nothing less than the gentle show of affection her kwami was about to display.
It was just one more thing that made her love Tikki as much as she did – and yet, even that could be of no comfort to her right now.
"I need a shower," Marinette announced quietly, though with a note of firmness ringing in her voice. "I'm gonna have one real quick, and then I'd like to go to bed as soon as possible, so… Oh my goodness, Tikki, don't look at me like this."
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it first?" Tikki protested, once again following her Chosen, as the latter rummaged through her drawers in search of pyjamas.
Marinette merely shook her head in response.
Tikki sighed deeply but didn't give up on her quest. "Please, Marinette, I know it may be hard, but if you keep it bottled up like this, it will only grow until -"
"I'll be fine," the girl cut her off impatiently. "I've spent the past hour or more thinking about everything that had happened on that roof, crying my eyes out and feeling guilty for something that has never been my fault. I know it's not over yet; I know I'll have to go back and face it again and soon. And I guess I could talk to you about it now," she paused for a second and took a deep breath before continuing, "But if I do, I'll only fall apart again, when I have just managed to pull myself together. I think you understand how going through that particular breakdown is the last thing I want right now."
"What if it's what you need, though?"
"What I need above all now is sleep, Tikki. I understand why you're worried… But there is nothing you or I can do about it now. I need a rested, well-functioning brain while at the moment mine is everything but. Not to mention, I still have school to attend in the morning, remember?"
She left the room with her words echoing after her and a small, reassuring smile tugging on her lips The expression changed as soon as the door closed behind her, the heartache once again replacing the fake pose taken up for her kwami's sake. She didn't feel fine at all, nor did she expect it to change in the nearest future.
All she wished for was a chance to curl up in her bed and give in to her sobbing in the same way she had done before; to shout out her frustration and anger into the soft pillows without worrying that it would undoubtedly wake up her parents if she did; to be free to crumble down once again and not to think of how Tikki would take it.
She did not want to talk about it.
She just wanted to cry.
And as she stepped into the shower tray and the steam and water engulfed her, she decided to do just that.
So, yes, Ladybug – Marinette – was a mess. All of the emotions she had faced since her talk to Cat Noir, all of the feelings that had come to her after she'd left seemed to add up to one another, combining in the way she never would have thought possible before. Grief and anger, disappointment and wounded pride, tiredness and impatience and ire – they had come to her one by one and stayed, blending into the poisonous mixture that left her wanting nothing but to forget it all; to fall asleep immediately and then wake up in a reality where none of it was true.
Or at least one in which she could think it wasn't.
And yet, as exhausted and hurt as she was, those feelings began to fade eventually. The shower that had only been meant to serve as an excuse had proven to be of real, substantial help. The hot water that at first was nothing but a camouflage to her tears had also washed away some of her physical weariness in the process, while the gentle sound of it tapping against the tray calmed down her nerves on the more spiritual level.
All in all, when she had finally left the bathroom and entered her own room once more, her equilibrium was at least partially restored. She still wanted to hide under her duvet and weep; still felt like any attempt at trying to talk her worries through with Tikki would end up with disaster; still couldn't comprehend why her companion and the best of human friends could have treated her so unjustly, accusing her of crimes she had never committed. There was also a new resolution taking form in her, however, and when she had climbed onto her bed at last, she was more than determined not to pay the situation any more attention at the time.
She flopped onto the mattress, covered herself entirely and, contrary to what she had expected, fell asleep before she could shed more than a few tears.
If only she knew how far from such blissfulness was the boy who had unleashed the turmoil for them both.
