Author's note: Hello there, Bugs! What is it? A new chapter? Posted in time? And... the longest one so far?
Well, yes to all! I'm not sure how I did it myself, except there is no better recipe for writing than a healthy mix pressure and easiness on a day when I'm actually free. And it worked today, too!
I'm more than happy to be posting the next chapter so soon (is it soon?) and even though Adrien did mess up my plans for the plot a little with his whims, I'm satisfied with how it turned out in the end. I hope you will too, and that you'll share your thoughts with me!
Your reviews mean so much, trust me.
And now it's time to move on to the actual story, so there! Enjoy!
Yours always,
Bugaboo
Chapter 5
Careful What You Wish For
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light.
It was well past four when Adrien finally granted himself the permission to call it a night, at long last realising that even after the horrors of the hours that preceded his decision he still deserved the minimum amount of sleep he still could get.
Especially when there was a photo shoot awaiting him so early in the morning.
He rose from his chair then, with a grunt that resulted from more than the soreness of his body, and walked over to his bed, dragging his feet as if the few quarters he'd spent by his desk had added decades to his young age. Again, there was more to it than stiffness, but that he conveniently ignored.
He flopped onto the mattress and dived under the duvet in one swift motion, foregoing the idea of a shower that he still would've been obliged to take in the morning, limiting his preparation for sleep to kicking off his shoes (something he'd done with perfect ease on his way towards the bed) and shrugging off the shirt (which he had done right after). He was dead on his feet, and with a headache that seemed to grow with every passing second; his thoughts a tangled mess and his conscience battered and searing.
All he wanted now was to sleep. To fall into oblivion, even if for a little while, even if he knew it would all rush back to him the moment he was up.
Of course he wasn't getting any of it.
So he shut his eyes tight and attempted not to think until sleepiness took over him. When that didn't work (to no one's surprise), he tried to think of something else, counting sheep and evening his breathing, visualising whatever images he could summon that would not remind him of this current ordeal.
He thought of his mother and father, of the happy times when they had all been together. He did his best to remember the colours of her clothes and the scent of her perfumes as well as the gentle smile on his father's face, one he hadn't seen for so long. It was painful in a way, but soothing nonetheless; and certainly far easier to deal with than the spotted pattern that would have taken over his imagination had he not made sure it was otherwise occupied.
And so it would have been, with the vision of his family successfully blocking that of his partner, the sadness in his father's eyes still easier to bear than the sight of tear's on Ladybug's cheeks.
If only his growing sleepiness hadn't meant lowering his guard.
It did, however; and the closer Adrien was to falling asleep, the more willing he was to succumb to the numbness, the greater became the risk of letting the unwanted thoughts wander into his mind and thus render the entire plan useless. Far too exhausted at this point, he ignored the first signs, stubbornly believing that thinking of his missing mother would be enough to keep him serene. He allowed the images of Miss Bustier to show itself and even smiled weakly at the apparition. He let Max and Kim join her, together with Rose, Juleka, Nathaniel and Mark.
He wasn't surprised or annoyed by the thought of Chloe, his first, and for years, only friend, nor by the fact that Sabrina appeared next to her soon. And he could only wonder why it had taken him so long to add Nino and Alya into the cheerful mix.
Focused on the bright side, he didn't think that in his class there was someone he didn't want to think of.
The honest, considerate classmate.
Marinette.
"Oh, for Heavens' sake!" he growled with exasperation, all the more annoyed when he'd realised that the image he'd vowed not to summon had not only found its way to his mind regardless of his endeavours, but had also managed to chase away all traces of sleepiness quite successfully. His irritation only continued to grow when he pondered over it, no longer able to block the unwanted thoughts from entering his brain.
In fact, he wasn't even sure if his did want to block them.
"Hell yes, I do," he answered his own assessment, turning onto his side rapidly and covering his head with a pillow, as if that simple barrier could really shelter him from the attacks of his own unruly imagination. "I've spent enough nights thinking about her when I should have stopped after the first time she told me to move on. No good came from it then, and no good will come from it now. And don't you dare to say anything, Plagg."
He grit his teeth and shut his eyes, while his fingers tightened their grip on the the pillow still pressed against his head. He felt - knew - believed that he was right, that no matter what his stupid heart was trying to tell him, there really was no use thinking about his partner right now.
Not when he was so certain that he was the last thing on her mind.
Now, the Adrien who woke up again a few hours later was not the same who'd gone to bed.
The latter was confused and weary, haunted by the enormous feeling of guilt that could by no means be called appropriate even when it came to the worst of what he called his crimes; lost and hurting, he could not find it in himself to look at the situation impartially or even accept the compassion offered by Plagg, simply because he didn't think he was worthy of it.
The former, as puzzled and unhappy as he still was, hardly matched the description, though.
He felt less; he understood more.
He hoped he did, anyway. The very idea of having to re-organise his thinking as well as admitting that he had been, yet again, wrong was repulsive, so much that he could swear it caused him to feel physically sick. Besides, after the amount of time he'd spent pondering over the subject, he couldn't have been far from the so-called objective truth.
He just couldn't.
He threw the covers away, and sat up rapidly, grimacing at his ill-conceived decision to sleep in his clothes, a decision that had resulted directly in the feeling of a sweaty t-shirt and creased trousers which surely were way too tight to fall into the category of potential pyjamas. The sour expression only hardened when he felt his head spin; the realisation that the sudden feeling was nothing but a natural reaction to his rapture motion did nothing to improve his mood in any way.
He got up and wandered towards the bathroom, purposefully ignoring the headache that quickly replaced the earlier feeling of dizziness, or maybe just came to the surface after the latter had subsided. He needed a shower; and he hoped that it would help with more than the sweatiness of his hair and skin.
Goodness gracious, was he exhausted.
"I hate morning shoots," he muttered angrily, as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, the vexation downright steaming from him. "I hate never getting to sleep in because of them, I hate missing school whenever they send me to one. And I hate that they've been so many of them recently."
With another grunt, he stepped into the shower tray, and turned the tap, half expecting to find the water gone, or icy-cold at best, for after all, it was exactly the kind of day when malfunctions of this sort usually happened to him.
I hate this job.
Well, that wasn't true and he knew it. Sure, a career in the fashion industry, much less as a model, had never really been a part of his long-term plans, and not only because he'd been hoping to start anew somewhere where his father's influence wasn't so overwhelmingly powerful. He still dreamed of finding work in a field that would genuinely interest him, of course... but even though he had no say in becoming the number one model for the Gabriel brand, he had never gone as far as to say he hated it.
It was boring and came in a way; it had made him have to deal with popularity he'd been neither ready or willing to face when he'd first become known and which, for some reason, did not appear to be fading with the passage of time, like he'd once hoped it would. It meant being bossed around even more, not only by Nathalie or his father but by the (numerous) photographers, dressers and make-up artists as well.
To him, it had never been much fun - and yet, he had never failed to find at least some bright aspects of it.
Until today, that is. There was nothing positive about today.
He was out of the shower in a record time, despite - or perhaps, because of - the tremendous temptation of staying in there and letting the hot streams of water numb the throbbing pain he still hadn't got rid of. He did find the idea alluring, and even believed for a second that it could help; until he remembered how little the two full hours of sleep had done for him in that regard.
It was then that Adrien noticed the lack of Plagg's presence around him and wondered idly where the tiny creature might be. A little more awake than he'd been a quarter before, he crossed the threshold of his bedroom again and looked around and, when that didn't give him the result he wanted, he cleared his throat and waited for a response.
However, none came.
"Plagg?" he asked after a while, forcing himself to sound casually and thus not give the kwami any more reasons to pick up on his behaviour than what he already had. He was met with a wall of silence once again and this time, it made his blood run a little cold.
Easy there, Agreste, he chided himself impatiently. Just because I acted like a fool last night doesn't mean Plagg should too, does it? He's here, somewhere. Here, in this room.
In this room, asleep or breakfasting, and not gone to contact Ladybug and break it to her what an idiot his Chosen was. Not that she needed Plagg's record to know that.
Still, the silence continued to ring in his ears, to the point it became deafening. Adrien called for Plagg again, and then once more after that, simultaneously walking from one cupboard to another and peeking inside in his search of his friend.
Nothing.
He found nothing.
He bit his lip nervously, taking yet another look around and praying desperately that he wouldn't loose his cool.
Plagg wouldn't have... left him, right?
"Come on, Plagg, this isn't funny," he tried again. "And it's not the right time for joking around, either, even if the jokes were actually good. So, would you please act like the wise being you're supposed to be for once and come out before Nathalie walks in and find me searching for you? I really don't feel like having to explain that to her too, on top of all things."
Again, his plea was not to be answered.
This is a nightmare, he thought to himself, coming to the conclusion that his father's assistant really might knock on his door any second and that he should at least make sure she didn't nail him talking to himself, and of his double life no less. It must be, or else I've screwed up even more than I thought and there is nothing I can do about it. If he's gone to her... If he told her that I'd figured out her identity, then I'm done for. Even if she could somehow forgive me my outburst yesterday, she won't hold back from taking the miraculous away from me now that I've broken the one rule she was so hell bent to keep. Even if it was her fault that I did.
Her fault.
Was it, really?
"It was," he droned, momentarily forgetting the resolution he had only just made. "I might have provoked her, involuntarily, but she still was the one who told me all the information I needed for figuring it out. I stopped asking for it ages ago, right? She was the one who said too much and now -"
He trailed off, as a feeling of a familiar presence came over him, and turned around abruptly, as if willing to nail the alleged culprit in the act (which honestly, he did). He wasn't disappointment in his discovery; even if he was surprised to see Plagg this close to his face.
Automatically, he took a step back, and gasped.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Plagg greeted him indifferently, as if he hadn't been the reason for Adrien's frantic search.
The boy grimaced at him.
"You're here."
Plagg raised an eyebrow, amused. "Of course I'm here. Where else should I be?"
"I mean," Adrien repeated coldly, "that you are here now. That you're back."
"Back from where, kid?"
"That's exactly what I'd like to know."
Plagg didn't answer him directly, save for the very telling roll of his eyes and a weary sigh that escaped his tiny lips, together with an indistinct mutter in a language Adrien had never heard before. The misplaced behaviour only made his vexation grow, allowing the anger once again take place of the previous unrest and worry.
"Plagg? Tell me where you went last night."
"Why would you think I've gone anywhere, huh?" the kwami retorted loftily, clearly offended by the accusation; if Adrien had been in a slightly better mood right now, he might've felt guilty about jumping to conclusions so fast and even apologised his friend for it.
Unfortunately for both, he could hardly imagine being in a worse mood than the one he was currently in.
"You weren't here when I woke up and I couldn't find you after I'd got dressed, either," he responded mercilessly. "You are always hovering around me in the mornings, and I know for a fact that you'd never miss a chance to mess with me whenever I'm being a little more emotional than usual; and yet, I spent the morning talking to myself with no sly remarks disrupting it, when I'm sure you'd find something say about every single thought I'd voiced. And when I actually looked around, you weren't there."
"What if I decided to give you some space, huh?" Plagg refuted easily. "I'm not that unfeeling, and I'd say you of all people should know that. After all, I didn't really lecture you last night, did I? I know when to shut up, kid. So if you could stop charging me and just -"
"Where. Were. You?"
Again, Plagg refrained from giving his answer, deciding to glare at Adrien instead, in the belief that the usually complaint boy would finally feel some of the remorse he should've felt and give up his questioning. It might not have been the noblest move to make, but Plagg honestly believed it was the right one in this context.
If only Adrien hadn't picked today to be a stubborn, ruthless, unwavering player for once.
"Fine!" the little creature exclaimed at last, with another roll of his eyes. "I might have gone out for a bit. You know, to get some fresh air. You can hardly blame me for wanting a little break after everything I had to deal with yesterday."
"I think you misunderstood my question. I already know that you did go out. I want to know where to and why."
Plagg frowned and shrugged his arms. "Here and there. I didn't go far, if that's what you're afraid of."
"I don't know, honestly. I wouldn't say that the Dupain-Cheng bakery is exactly close, is it?"
Now he had Plagg's attention, and no mistake. He was not going to lose it.
"So you did go there," he mused with a sardonic grin, but in a voice that screamed of sadness. "You went to talk to her, to discuss my case and learn what to do next."
He paused, a painful lump rising in his throat and a new set off tears burning at the back of his eyes. He gritted his teeth and made sure to look squarely at Plagg when he concluded:
"You... you went to see Ladybug."
The fresh recollection of his Lady, together with the still unsettled knowledge of her and Marinette being one and the same person made his stomach twist in a tight knot, quite successfully ruining his attempt to remain collected and, at least in some way, appear intimidating to Plagg. The painful emotions came over him and he was forced to turn away before his companion could see the change of expression that was bound to come next.
The last thing he needed was for Plagg to go all caring and pitiful again.
He didn't even consider the scenario in which the kwami saw right through his defences and still took the opposite path to what Adrien had just predicted.
And yet, it was exactly what happened.
"Alright, so first of all, you must stop succumbing to the first supposition that comes to your mind whenever something goes wrong. Seriously, it's dangerous. And harmful. Not to mention, plain stupid, too," Plagg said after a while; it was his turn to sound stern. "It makes you believe the most pessimistic version of reality and lose sight of all other options, even when there are some. Second, it's a good thing that I already know how dumb you can be, otherwise I'd be more than just annoyed with how easily you accused me of abusing your trust in such a way. I didn't."
Adrien glanced at him, still sceptical about the explanation.
"You didn't visit Marinette?" he asked incredulously.
"Look, just because I was in Pigtail's bedroom does not mean I was visiting her," Plagg answered evenly. "I went to see Tikki and no one else. Your Marinette was fast asleep for the entire time I was there, not that I would have said anything to her if she hadn't been. So no need to panic, okay?"
Once again, Adrien found himself turning away, his movement more of a reflex than a conscious action.
"She's not my Marinette," was all he could muster to say.
Again, Plagg had nothing left to do but sigh.
"I get it that you're angry. And sad. And more than a little confused, I bet," he offered after a moment, when he'd realised that Adrien was not going to add anything more. "It's hardly the ideal way to learn your partner's identity, with all the shouting and quarrelling you'd done right before. The fact that she still has no idea who you are under the mask doesn't help the matter either, and don't even get me started about that darn love square you two had got yourself into. But you know what? It doesn't make you any less of a fool."
The last line made Adrien look up for a second, only to lower his gaze immediately after; he opened his mouth to respond, and yet, no sound came out.
Plagg only shook his head.
"Listen, Adrien. I've seen my share of Cats Noir and their Ladybugs as well, and even though there certainly were pairs whose relationship was much simpler - sometimes because they didn't know each other in their private life, or because they simply were not interested in one another in general - I could easily name a few for whom the situation was hell of a lot harder. You wouldn't believe how much so.
"Now, you're obviously hurt, and shocked, and no one can blame you for it. But kid, I've been there when a Cat Noir figured out Ladybug's identity at a wrong time and it cost him his life. Then there was a case when another Cat did, and it cost hers. Neither of them wanted to learn it. You did."
"I -"
"You did," Plagg repeated. "Ever since you two met, you've been going on about how she won't let you know her identity, showering me with arguments as for why you should share the secret. Last night you got your wish and it scared you; but can you honestly say you wish you didn't know?"
Adrien smiled wryly. "Well, considering how much hardship it caused for just one night, I can. I wish I hadn't learnt anything she told me yesterday."
"Kid, you've finally figured out who your dream girl is, something you've been dreaming about for years. You also learnt that she is genuinely in love with you - better, that she had been for all this time. That the only reason why she was so adamant about rejecting you was because she chose the other side of you. And if that's not enough, she's also the girl you've considered a good friend for a very long time. You should be thrilled."
There was no response on Adrien's part.
No witty comment, no try to refute the argument.
No words.
Until...
"Perhaps," he whispered unexpectedly. "Perhaps I could be."
"Could be?"
"Yeah. I could be thrilled to know who she is. If only it was someone else under that mask."
He turned on his heel and set off towards his desk, intent to gather his belongings and leave the cursed room before Nathalie really did come to get him. The fact that she still hadn't come could only be an inclination how early it still was and yet, he suddenly felt like he had no time to spare before he suffocated.
His loyal companion watched after him, frozen in shock.
"You've learnt that Ladybug is Marinette and you're disappointed?!"
Adrien, who had just finished packing, slung his bag over his shoulder and glared.
"Yes. I am. You can figure out why yourself or contact Tikki for clues, for all I care. But either way, I'm done talking about it."
In a few long strides, he was out of the room, leaving Plagg all to himself.
It was all so wrong.
