Chapter 9: Comfort person.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot!

Emotional rollercoaster ahead!

Marinette gripped Chat Noir's suit tighter, trying to get her breathing under control as he attempted to comfort her. Her chest hurt and her heart was racing. She took in a shaky breath, exhausted to the bone.

She had completely lost control. She'd just intended to refuse him, maybe have a little chat, and get back into her room. But she'd just lost it.

She knew he hadn't meant to, but he'd triggered her anxiety, to the point where she had an attack. She'd wanted to refuse because she simply couldn't have another thing to worry about.

It was too much.

If she'd known that being Ladybug would have taken such a disastrous toll on her, she'd have left the earrings in Alya's bag, without thinking twice.

Always looking behind her back for danger. Not having a single chance to fail and let Hawkmoth win. Always having to make sure not to fail in protecting her friends and family. Lying every day to keep her loved ones safe and pushing them away. She was sick of it.

She only had one chance every time she fought an Akuma. If the Akuma won, she was doomed.

Paris was doomed.

And the worst part; she couldn't tell anyone. Even her partner, who shared the same roles and responsibilities as her. She had to protect her identity. It'd all be over if Hawkmoth got a hold of either of them.

Ladybug unquestionably gave her the confidence and control she didn't have in her civilian life, but it made her constantly frightened and doubtful. Although she faced all her enemies with courage and determination, there was always a little part of her that worried about what would happen to her home if she lost the battle.

Ladybug didn't give her confidence where it really mattered; in her hope that she would win.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The burden of that on top of her regular chores and activities was crushing. Maybe she was exaggerating it for herself, but she'd never been good at handling stress.

She never had a good work-life balance.

She focused on the hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. She'd broken down in front of Chat Noir. She was sure the poor cat had no idea what was going on. He just wanted to ask her to compete, and she'd sprung this on him out of nowhere.

But having him there was comforting. His constant presence and reassuring words made her feel a little better and come out of the attack a lot sooner than she would have.

Still, it did come out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry Chat," she said, burying her face in his neck, refusing to meet his eyes.

He jumped a little, not expecting the silence in the moonlit room to be broken. "Sorry?" he asked incredulously, "What for?"

"I didn't mean to spring this on you,"

"It's okay Marinette, how are you feeling now? Better?"

"A little," she answered honestly. "I'm tired. I just want to forget about it."

"Forget, huh?"

A beat of comfortable silence passed between them.

"Hey," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "You wanna hear something?"

She cracked an eye open, looking at him suspiciously. She didn't like the mischievous smile he was sporting. "What…?"

He grinned. "What did the janitor say when he came out of the closet?"

Oh no. She could sense a groan-worthy 'joke' coming. She sighed and opened both her eyes to look at him. "What Chat?"

His grin widened. "SUPPLIES!"

She shouldn't have laughed. Really, she shouldn't have. But the look on his face as he delivered his stupid joke, his grin the goofiest she'd seen and his eyes wide, made her snort and slam her hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to hide it.

He laughed in triumph. "You laughed! I win! Oh! I've got another one: what do you call a fish wearing a bowtie? So-fish-ticated."

She tried to hide her smile by biting her lip. "Oh, God."

"What does a bee use to brush his hair? A honey-comb!"

She shook her head, still trying to suppress her smile. "How do you come up with these?"

"What do you call a poor Santa Claus?"

"I don't think he's poor Chat,"

"Saint Nickle-less."

"Stop. You are so bad at this."

"My wife is really mad that I have no sense of direction—"

"You don't have a wife,"

"So I packed up my things and right!"

She couldn't stop herself, she burst out laughing. She buried her face in his neck to stifle it, but she knew it was of no use.

She knew what he was doing. He had about a million questions in mind, she was sure, yet he held his curiosity in check and made her laugh, just so she would feel better. Her heart swelled in gratitude.

She coughed as her laughter died down, her throat closing up. How was it that he was always so carefree all the time? Did he not feel the same pressures she did? He was a superhero too. And if his life was anything like hers, he shouldn't be able to crack as many jokes as he did, especially in battles.

He grinned at her. "I knew you loved my jokes,"

She looked at him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she was the only one feeling stressed out of her skin. He had a difficult life too. Honestly, she was starting to feel a little jealous. "How do you do it?" she asked softly.

His brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"How do you…how are you so relaxed? Don't you feel…stressed…about life? Curse her for never being good with words.

He smiled softly. "Is that what this is about?"

She looked down at her lap.

"I know that can't be the only thing on your mind," he continued.

How was she supposed to say that she was a masked superhero in red spots, running around Paris hoping she knew what she was doing?

"Talk to me Princess, what's bothering you?"

She took a deep breath. "Everything, Chat. I'm stressed all the time, my grades are dipping drastically, I have to help in the bakery, and I'm running on little to no sleep. I haven't any time for myself. Hell, I haven't even sketched or designed in weeks. In fact, the only time I've had some peace of mind is when you come over to visit,"

He smiled. "You're letting your responsibilities take control of you, instead of the other way around."

She blinked. "I…I guess,"

"Every student struggles through school and stress Mari, everybody has something or another bothering them, but that doesn't mean you should let it get to you so badly," he said softly.

She sighed. "I know Chat, I know. But I can't help it. I stress over the littlest of things that make no sense at all. Like getting to places on time—which I'm horrible at—or making sure I don't forget my homework even when I know I kept it in my bag the night before. It feels awful, and it only adds strain to the things I actually should be stressing about."

He chuckled softly. "Don't have a good work-life balance?"

She shook her head miserably. "Not at all,"

He hummed. "You know, I have quite a stressful schedule myself. I can't tell you much, but I'm a busy cat. But I follow a schedule that's made for me. Although I complain about the fact that I don't ever get to spend a day how I want to, my schedule helps me keep track of my time. It's something everyone tells you to do, but it's effective."

She supposed she could make a schedule. But how would it work in her favour? She didn't know when an Akuma would show up, or when she'd have to leave what she was working on to go into battle.

How was he doing it anyway?

Surely, he couldn't predict when the next villain would show up.

"But Chat," she said, "I can't follow a strict schedule. I might be needed at any time."

"Neither can I. I mean, I'm a superhero. You never know when the next Akuma will come up." Damn right. "But I know what I'm supposed to be doing at a certain time. I only do that and do not think about anything else."

She looked at him in confusion.

"Okay," he continued. "think about it this way. School and bakery are what take up most of your time aren't they?"

She nodded. And superhero-ing. But that was unexpected as it was.

"Well, you obviously can't be at the bakery when you're in school, so you can help your parents out when you come back. After that, maybe you can finish off your homework and revision, and then you have plenty of free time to design all you want. Focus only on the thing you're doing at that particular time. You can do that can't you? And then you could go to bed early after you've spent some time with me!" He winked at her cheekily.

She looked down at her lap. She could do what he said, but what if her battles ate up most of her time? "Listen Chat, I have this…thing…I need to do, which I can't tell you about, it's a secret," his ears drooped. Way to not sound suspicious. "and it's very…spontaneous. Like I don't know when I'll have to drop everything to do it."

He hummed. "I kinda have to go through that too, but then I compensate for it. You know, decide my priorities. I know what's important and I finish that off first. You don't have to do everything in one day."

She had to admit, he did make a lot of sense. She couldn't get hung up and lose her performance because of something as simple as stress. She had to fight against it. It was the only way she'd overcome it. And if she was just a little smarter about spending time…maybe it would work.

He smiled at her softly. "Don't lose your sleep over this Marinette. And definitely don't give up on your hobbies because you can't find the time. You know what they say about skills: if you don't use 'em, you lose 'em."

She giggled. "Where'd you hear that?"

He grinned. "Okay. I may have made that up. But it's true! I couldn't design to save my life. I don't think most people can, so you're lucky you're skilled."

She laughed. "Thanks, kitty."

His grin softened. "And Marinette,"

"Yeah?"

"Talk. You'll be surprised how much it helps to listen to a loved one's voice. Don't brush them away. It can be anyone you trust and know will listen to you without judging. Parents, friends, even me. I'll always be here if you need someone," She smiled at him. He was too sweet.

"And if you can't talk, write it down in a journal or a diary. Just do anything really to organize your thoughts. Take out your frustration. It isn't healthy to keep bottling it up."

She looked down in guilt. She always complained about not having anyone to talk to. But she was wrong. She did have people. Tikki. Her Kwami knew what she was going through. She'd seen several of her previous Ladybugs go through the same. Tikki could help her. But she'd always brushed her off, even when she knew she was worried sick about her Chosen.

And she had Chat Noir. Who better to confide in than the person who went through almost the same things with her daily?

And she had her parents, who would probably whip up a herbal tea so she could sleep better.

Maybe she couldn't talk about it, but she could always talk about how it felt.

And she even maintained a dairy for God's sake! She should really focus on filling her pages with her thoughts and worries instead of how dreamy Adrien's eyes were.

Granted, they were dreamy, but how was she supposed to appreciate the dreamy-ness if she couldn't even stand on her feet?

Maybe it wasn't her fault for getting stuck in this mess, but it was definitely her fault for letting it eat her away.

She shook her head. No. She was done letting this misery get to her. She was Ladybug and there was nothing she could do about it. She had to protect the city, so that's what she'd do. No point crying and complaining over it.

She knew it would take months until she got her attacks under control. It would take a lot of patience and self-reflection, but with her dedication and the support from people in her life, she'd at least try to get over it. That way she wouldn't be sitting still, claiming she did nothing to help herself out.

"Okay." She said, her eyes shining with newfound determination.

"And?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "And what?"

He sighed. "I know you more than you think I do. There's something more to this. A stressful day may be adding to your troubles, but that's not the real issue, is it?"

Right. There was still the fact about what on earth she'd do if she ever failed.

"What is it you're so worried about? You're Marinette Dupain Cheng. You took down an Akuma without powers—"

"That." She said. "People expect so much from me…and I'm scared I wouldn't be able to live up to them. I'm scared that I'll fail in the worst possible way. I'm scared that I'll…" she trailed off, a fresh wave of emotion washing over her.

"…disappoint." He finished.

She nodded.

He chuckled, but it was devoid of humour. "It's exhausting, isn't it? Trying to make someone happy all the time, but never knowing when you'll mess up and disappoint them."

She looked at him. "You feel that too?"

"Yeah," he said softly.

She frowned. "But…you're always so carefree and easy-going, even in battles."

He sighed, his arms tightening around her. "It's not battling, it's my…family."

She glanced at him. There it was again, that look of sadness and longing in his eyes. He always seemed to get that look whenever family was mentioned. She recalled the day he stumbled onto her balcony, distressed because of the same reason.

Family.

She knew he didn't have a very good home life. But she didn't know how bad it really was, given that she always tried to keep a distance from him. But that day on her balcony, he seemed genuinely hurt and lonely. Which did not suit him at all.

Chat was silent then, lost in thought. She saw his eyes growing distant. "Chat," she said, after a moment. "if you don't mind me asking, just how hard is it with your family?"

He blinked at her, snapping out of his reverie. "What?"

She gave him a mournful smile. "Don't think I haven't noticed Chat Noir. You told me you didn't have a very good home life. You get this sad look on your face whenever you see young children playing with their parents. And you always sober up from your playful attitude whenever you talk about your family. And I saw you tear up two weeks ago on the Ladyblog"—and in-person—"when you fought the man who was akumatized because he almost lost his son in a car crash."

He blinked, in shock. "Y-You've noticed." It wasn't a question. It was simply a statement as though he were letting the fact sink in.

"Well, you told me,"

"You've noticed even the things I didn't tell you,"

"You haven't been subtle about it," she said softly. She tightened her arms around him, hoping it would give him some reassurance. "You know I'm always here for you too…are you okay?"

He smiled sadly. "I am okay. As okay as I can be when my mother just disappeared on me and took some part of my father with her, never to be heard from again."

She sucked in a sharp breath. She thought his mother wasn't alive. Never did she imagine that she just…left. "Oh…" she trailed off. What was she supposed to say to that?

She didn't understand what he was going through. She never would unless her own mother—

She couldn't even fathom the thought.

He looked down at his lap. "It's…"

She slipped her hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He gave her a grateful smile. "My…My mother…left five years ago. Without any notice. I just never knew why she went or where she is now. I don't know if she's even…alive. My father refuses to talk about it." He chuckled mournfully. "My father. It's like he left with her, even though he is with me."

He paused. "You know, I have a family photo in the main hall of my house. A family of three: a gorgeous blond woman, a child of two in her arms and a man standing behind them, with affection in his eyes. He wasn't always ignorant, my father. He loved us dearly. It's hard to believe that the man in those photos is my father now. He became…distant after she left. Threw himself into his work, and I was left to my own devices…except, not really because he still finds a way to control every aspect of my life without really being in it."

He looked up at her trapdoor, and her heart broke from the loneliness that reflected in his eyes. "I—I can't tell you how many times I've sat alone at Christmas dinner…or how many times he's given me the same pen for my birthday, without really realizing that he had already given it the year before. I don't think he'd even remember it was my birthday without Nata—his secretary reminding him." He paused. "Even…even though I was never an orphan, I've felt like it these past few years."

She felt her eyes watering up. She didn't realise it was so bad. She just assumed it was arguments like any other argument she sometimes had with her parents. But to be alone at dinners and have your birthdays forgotten? How wrong she was. She blinked her eyes to clear her blurry vision. God, would she ever stop crying?

"Don't get me wrong," he continued softly. "he's given me everything I needed to survive, food, a warm bed and a roof above my head. And I'm incredibly grateful for it…but it feels like a cage to me. All those things mean a lot less when you don't have anyone to come home to."

He fell silent and she rubbed her eyes discreetly. She felt guilty for complaining about not being able to talk to her parents. How stupid could she be? She was pushing all her loved ones away, while some people—like this boy—wanted nothing more than a shoulder to cry on.

"I-I didn't realise it was so bad…" she whispered, almost to herself.

"You had no way of knowing,"

She looked up again, her heart heavy. "I'm…so sorry,"

He smiled softly. "It's not your fault,"

She shook her head and buried her face in his neck.

She'd give him the shoulder of comfort. He didn't deserve to go through any of this. She'd make sure he always felt welcome when he was around her. He was always by her side, with or without the mask. Helped her when she couldn't help herself. It was about time she returned the favour.

She squeezed his middle, pulled back a little and smiled. Maybe she couldn't understand exactly what he was going through, but she could always offer warmth and comfort. "It's okay if the family you're born in doesn't feel like a family. You can choose your own family. Surround yourself with people who love and admire you. That's the beauty of friendship. You just have to find the right people." And I promise I'll do my best to be one of them.

His smile widened. "Thank you,"

She beamed at him. "You're welcome, Chat. Anytime."

The silence that followed them was comfortable. A silent promise from both, of having a shoulder to lean on.

She knew what she had to do. She had to be better for the people around her and be better for herself. She had to trust herself and trust her loved ones.

She had to take control of her life. Speaking of…

"You know that jacket competition?" she said, "I wanna participate."

He blinked at her. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes." She said firmly. "I have Adrien's measurements, but it'd be better if I had a model…" she said, lost in thought.

He grinned cheekily. "I could be your model,"

She looked at him suspiciously. "Do you even have the same measurements?"

He smirked. "You'd be surprised."

She huffed. "I think Adrien can model way better than you."

He glared at her playfully and pointed an accusing finger. "I'm helping you. And I'm the only choice you have. Take it or leave it."

She giggled. "Okay fine. You can come over at night."

He smiled. "Can I ask why you want to participate so suddenly?"

She nodded firmly. "I have to handle my day better. So I'm starting now. How am I going to manage unless I manage?"

He smirked. "Nice choice of words,"

She glared. "Shut up. I need to start with something. I'm done letting my anxiety get to me. I can handle my own problems too. I'll prove it."

He chuckled lowly, and she looked up at him.

Her breath hitched in her throat at the way he was looking at her, green eyes boring into her own. Why was he so close? "That's the spirit," he whispered. And why couldn't she look away?

Her heart fluttered traitorously as he reached up to cup her cheek. A finger softly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, her skin tingling at the contact. She almost melted at the sweet smile on his face.

She felt heat bloom across her face. What is happening?

He seemed to have the same thought as he took in her red face and wide eyes, and his finger froze behind her ear and his own eyes widened.

They stared at each other for a moment before simultaneously squeaking and springing apart, ripping their arms away.

"S-Sorry!"

"I didn't mean—"

"I shouldn't—"

They laughed nervously as they struggled to form words, his cheeks the colour of ripe cherries. Oh boy.

Their eyes met once more before they jumped and looked away nervously.

God, this was awkward.

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Until next time!