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"Marinette?"
'I'm a horrible, horrible, horrible person…'
"Marinette, are you okay?"
'He's gonna hate me, hate me, he's gonna hate me…'
"Mistress?"
'I love him so, so, so much, and he's gonna—'
"Marinette!"
With a sudden gesture, Marinette lifts her head up and opens her eyelids. Tikki, Wayzz, Trixx, Pollen, Mullo and Longg are spinning before her, their big eyes full of concern.
She doesn't know what to say, she doesn't know what to say to them.
Her secret has been revealed, just like Chat Noir's. It's a disaster, an absolute disaster.
"I—" Her throat is dry, tight and talking is painful. "I'm sorry," she whispers with a shaky voice. "I'm so sorry."
Trixx, Pollen, Mullo and Longg seem to be in the midst of serious reflection. Wayzz gives her an inscrutable expression. And Tikki has her gaze shining with apprehension.
Marinette feels her throat tightens even more under the gaze of her kwami.
"You don't have to apologize, Marinette, it wasn't your fault, it's—"
"Identities have been revealed, Tikki," Wayzz curtly stops her.
"Yes, I know. But it's not Marinette's fault, and it's hard enough for her, so—"
"She still kissed Plagg's holder…" Pollen adds.
"Plus, it's not like she couldn't predict what was going to happen," Mullo says.
"All of this is very untoward," Longg concludes.
"To say the least," Wayzz sighs.
"Marinette has nothing to do with it, okay?" Tikki keeps talking, her high-pitched voice becoming almost threatening. "What's done is done, so now we just have to find a way to—"
The sob which has been crushing her vocal cords for a few minutes suddenly explodes. Tears spring out of her eyes, warm and heavy along her cheeks.
It's too much, it's definitely way too much.
Too much information, too many questions, too many answers, too many doubts, too many needs, too much anger, too much frustration, too many anxieties, too much love, too much.
'Too much, too much, too much, too much—'
"Oh, Marinette…" Tikki's whisper is close to her ear. Marinette feels her kwami settle on her shoulder and her presence slightly calms her.
"I… I'm… sorry, Tikki," she whispers between her sobs.
"It's gonna be alright, Marinette, okay? Everything's gonna be alright, we'll find a way, we—"
"No!" Marinette suddenly stands up, her tears running along her cheeks, her sobs shaking her shoulders, her eyes red and swollen. "There is no solution, none."
"Mistress…" Wayzz says.
"No, Wayzz! You're right, our secret identities aren't secret anymore! The only thing I had to do, my role as a Guardian, and I just— I ruined everything, I… I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing, Marinette!" Tikki says, flying towards Marinette.
But her heart is beating too fast in her chest, her hands are shaking too strongly and the guilt is too big.
She feels guilty about what happened with Adam, guilty for being distracted during the fight, guilty for kissing Chat Noir, guilty for discovering his identity, guilty for letting herself go—not once, but twice—and guilty because Adrien, Chat Noir, doesn't know anything about this guilt.
He doesn't know why she had been so unfocused with Terra, nor does he know why being aware of their identities is a disaster.
'What am I gonna do, what am I gonna do, what I am—'
"The wisest thing would probably be to directly talk with Plagg and his holder…" Wayzz suggests.
"Plagg is going to come over?" Pollen questions, interested.
"Great, I love Plagg!" Trixx says.
"Again?" Mullo sighs. "He already came here all summer…"
"Mullo…" starts Wayzz.
"I love Plagg," the kwami corrects. "I just think he's a bit…"
"Improper?" Longg offers.
"He's not improper," Tikki intervenes.
"You just hit a nerve," Pollen chuckles.
"I'm not—"
"Stop!" Marinette cuts them. Every word ceases and the six kwamis look at her with a common gaze. "I need some time, okay?" she says to them with a softer voice, although shaky. They all nod, some more tolerant than the others. "It's been a long day, I'm going to sleep and we'll talk about this tomorrow," Marinette concludes.
"Good night, Mistress," Wayzz answers.
She has told him tens—hundreds—of times to call her by her name. But Wayzz is attached to tradition and has been Master Fu's kwami for a long time.
Master Fu… Marinette would have given anything for his precious advice. And, if she trusts the sadness glowing inside his eyes, Wayzz would have, too.
"Good night, Wayzz," Marinette whispers, offering him a compassionate smile.
Her sheets seem uncomfortably cold when she lays on them. Marinette feels lonely, so lonely in front of the entire world.
"Marinette," Tikki whispers, lying close to her. "What are you going to do… about Adam?"
The feeling of a stream of ice water running along her spine fills Marinette. "I don't know, Tikki," she genuinely answers.
"Chloé is right, Marinette. You should talk to someone who can help you."
Her eyes close and a sigh escapes her mouth. She tries to forget the disgusting sensation of Adam's hands against her body, of his breath against her skin, of his smirk which sends shivers down her back.
The fact that she's going to be faced with his victorious expression in less than six hours makes her sick to her stomach.
"Marinette—"
"I don't want to talk to him about this, Tikki," Marinette responds, with a voice colder than she actually intends. "I can't", she adds, gentler. Her eyes still closed, she can feel Tikki's gaze weighing on her. "It would be unfair. I can't go, tell him we have to stop everything and ask him to help me the day after."
"But he's involved, too, Marinette. He has the right to know."
Marinette's saliva is as pleasant to swallow as razor blades. She nods, a long sigh raising her chest up and down. "I'll talk to Alya, okay? I just want to sort out this without him knowing about it. He already has enough problems like that."
"And you, Marinette? Don't you think you already have enough problems like that?"
Her heart tightens at the same moment as her jaw. "Night, Tikki," she whispers after a few seconds.
It's without really knowing how that Marinette reaches highschool. She got out of bed without knowing how, with three hours of sleep that night, got ready without knowing how, ate something without knowing how and went out without knowing how either.
Her mind has nothing to envy a robot for, today. The only thing which is bringing her to the level of a human being is the pain which is ripping her head and the numbness which is stiffening her groin.
The thick heels of her ankle boots sound on the floor when she walks into the hallway. Her moves are mechanical, instinctive.
Grab a notebook. Putting another back. Take her French book. Putting her English one away. Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Marinette?"
She doesn't need to turn her head to know who's talking to her. "Chloé," she greets her with a husky voice.
"Did you talk to someone?"
Her robotic shell cracks when she closes her locker with a gesture a little bit too rough. "No."
"Mari—"
"Marinette!" a voice exclaims.
A sigh leaves her lips. What is the matter with everyone?
But she turns her head and sees Lila, a smile trickling with hypocrisy on her face, and her weariness turns into a shiver of horror.
Out of the corner of her eye, she makes out Chloé frowns. "What do you want?" she asks with hostility.
"Easy now," Lila answers, taking a dark look at Chloé.
She keeps walking towards Marinette who ends up against her locker. The second after, Chloé steps in between them.
Lila's smile is clearly amused, this time.
"I said: what do you want?" Chloé says again.
Split between the want to run away, the one to converge on Lila and the one to thank Chloé, Marinette keeps her lips sealed.
What can she say, anyway?
"Hey, Marinette, everyone wants to—"
"Shut up, Lila," Chloé responds.
Marinette can sense the slight quake into her voice and a red veil covering her cheekbones.
"You know," Lila keeps going, imperturbable, "it's really exciting to know everybody's secrets."
Chloé's eyes meet Marinette's for a second. A second during which her blue-eyed look is glistening with anxiety. And Marinette is sure it's mutual.
But Chloé almost imperceptibly nods and her gaze hardens in an instant. Her lips straighten up and her attention focuses on Lila again. "What if we knew your secrets?"
Lila's jaw tenses and her mask slightly cracks, showing what is beneath it: a terrified teenager.
But her false veil reconstructs as fast as it has become fissured. "I just wanna talk to Marinette," Lila says.
Gazes are curious around them. Heads turn, eyebrows frown, whispers stream. And Marinette can see where they're coming from. The three of them are no more and no less than the most improbable trio in the whole highschool.
"It's okay, Chloé," Marinette whispers, moving closer to her. Her hand gently settles on her forearm and Chloé turns her head to her again, looks into her for a moment and nods.
"Okay, but I'm staying here."
Lila rolls her eyes and Marinette feels a smile straighten her lips up for the first time of the day.
"So, Marinette," Lila starts, giving a threatening gaze to Chloé who innocently smiles at her, her shoulder against a locker.
"I didn't tell him anything," Marinette warns her.
Adrien's name is floating between them without ever being pronounced.
"Hurry up, then."
"Lila, he's never going to believe it, it's—"
"And I know a lot of people who are going to believe a lot of things."
Marinette painfully swallows, teeth and fists clenched.
"Seriously, what are you talking about? Who?" Chloé's gaze passes from Marinette to Lila and her eyes open wide, suddenly. "You talking about A—"
Chloé's sentence dies on her lips. Her attention is focused on a spot behind Marinette, who takes only one second to know who she's looking at.
A shiver of cold, of hot, of relief and fear runs along her skin.
Adrien's look is burning her back and Marinette doesn't need to turn around to know that his eyes are overflowing with incomprehension and sadness all at once.
"I gotta go," she mechanically articulates.
She escapes from Lila's blackmail, from Chloé's protection and from Adrien's feelings that she can feel radiate from him.
Marinette has hardly ever misinterpreted Adrien's feelings this badly. For all those years, among all these moments they've shared, all these laughs exchanged, all these secrets confided, she has only been wrong about him twice—completely missed the point would be more accurate.
The first time was the day they met, when she had been convinced that he was nothing but full of himself and disrespectful. She could not have been more wrong.
The second time has been not realizing that Chat Noir is Adrien. In that case, she has misinterpreted a lot of things, okay.
But, beyond these two tiny details, Marinette has learned to decipher his gaze. To know why his eyes gleam, why his lips curl up, why his cheeks redden, why his jaw tightens. Every sign, every move, every word, nothing escapes from her.
And, even if Adrien is a mysterious and introverted person—in his civilian self, at least—he became almost predictablefor Marinette.
That's why she's even more troubled when she reads him wrong. When he absolutely does not react like she expects him to. When he absolutely does not feel what she thinks he will.
And that's exactly what is happening.
Marinette walks in the classroom before everyone else. Sitting in a corner, she lets her gaze lose itself in the hugeness of her thoughts. 'Adrien, Chat Noir, akuma, Hawk Moth, Miraculous, Tikki, Alya, Adam, video, sleep, Adrien,' her mind is saying in a maddening loop.
"Hey, you."
A disgusted shiver rushes along her spine and Marinette doesn't need to move her head to know who has just sat next to her.
"Did you think about our… bargain?"
Marinette keeps her eyes straight ahead of her and her lips sealed.
"Well, well, I know someone who got out of bed on the wrong side. Rough night, maybe?"
The smirk which is sounding in his voice makes her close her eyelids for a moment. A wish to throw him against the wall—or the window—curls her lips up for a second.
Suddenly, when Adam is about to open his mouth again, Marinette hears someone sit behind her. A new shiver runs down her back, but it's not from disgust this time.
"Adrien!" Adam exclaims, turning back. "You're not mad at me, I sat next to your…"
Marinette feels Adam's stare travel between Adrien and her and she can't help the blush on her cheeks.
"Your what, Adrien?" Adam whispers.
She can picture Adrien's fatigue, the quiet sigh leaving his lips, even his eyelids closing for a few calm seconds.
"I see," Adam resumes. "You're really—"
"Adam, look at that!" shouts the boy sat behind him.
Marinette's relief is short-term. She barely has the time to catch her breath and feel her heartbeat regulate that her muscles contract again when she hears her alter ego's name:
"Look at Ladybug yesterday. It's on the Ladyblog. She seems to be—"
"Elsewhere," Adam completes.
'No shit I seem to be elsewhere, you son of a—'
"Chat Noir seems weird, too."
"Hmm…" Adams agrees.
"Do you think they…?"
Adam's face turns towards Marinette again. Obstinately keeping her look in front of her, she can only imagine his smirk and his eyes creased with low-minded mischief.
"Oh, yeah. She seems tired because Chat Noir ban—"
"Shut the hell up," Adrien's hoarse voice groans.
Marinette jumps, not expecting to hear him retort. And this dejection, this sadness she thought he was feeling… it's not the case at all.
His voice is overflowing with rage. A rage which makes her quiver.
"What, Agreste? It bothers you to know that Chat Noir fucked Ladybug so hard that she couldn't even walk properly?"
Marinette's nails sink into her palms.
"And that she keeps asking for more, more…" Adam's hand brushes her face. "And more."
Everything happens very fast. Marinette's gaze which eventually looks into Adam's. The desire to throw her fist into his jaw to replace this cruel smile with a painful grimace. Adam's face which is suddenly deforming. Green eyes, usually so kind, so attentive, almost angelic, which are now nothing more than two black holes full of hate.
Surprised shouts and cries of horror raise in the almost full classroom. Marinette's mind, clouded by fatigue, barely has the time to realize that Adrien just hit Adam that two high school students end up on the floor, Adrien on top, his fist now striking the reddened jaw of Adam.
"Oh, my God!"
"Is that Adam and Adrien?"
"C'mon, Adrien!"
"Kick his ass, Adam!"
"Should we go get someone?"
All these words are broken by Adrien's angry groans and the painful moans of Adam who is struggling with hitting back.
Marinette, her legs tottering and her hands shaking, somehow walks towards them.
"Marinette!" Chloé, visibly anxious, grabs her forearm. "You'll get hit if you—"
Her friend's sentence stops when Adam's knee meets Adrien's crotch, destabilizing him enough to switch their positions.
Interjections of pain sound around Marinette, male compassion to the suffering grimace which is twisting Adrien's face.
"So, Agreste? I know someone who'll be disappointed if I—"
His knee is about to hit Adrien's crotch again, Adam suddenly stops talking, only able to mewl in pain when Marinette sends her feet into his ribs.
Taking advantage of his lack of attention, she pulls him backwards, freeing Adrien's body.
Among surprised exclamations, chuckles and whistling, Marinette can hear Adrien's jerky breathing. She lets herself fall on her knees next to him.
"Are you okay?" she whispers.
His eyes are still dark with anger. But something else is glowing in them. Gratitude?
Marinette thinks she has daydreamed, because the second after, the rage inside his irises dispels any other feeling.
"You bi—" Adam starts.
"What is going on here?" yells the indignant voice of the teacher.
Marinette closes her eyes for a moment.
Oh, she's screwed. Screwed, screwed, screwed.
"Since when do you get into fights?" Alya asks, taken aback.
"Well done, buddy!" Nino says, all smiles.
Marinette and Adrien sit before their friends. One has shifty eyes and her brain full of worries. The other has his eyes fixed and all his muscles tensed up.
"Okay, what's going with you guys?"
Amusement turns into confusion. And confusion changes into concern when no replies come.
"Guys?" Nino tries.
Marinette nervously plays with the salad on her plate. A nub is squeezing her throat and another one is pressing down on her stomach, preventing her from swallowing or saying anything.
"Why did you post that on the Ladyblog, Alya?" Adrien eventually asks.
His voice is hoarse, but doesn't shake. Marinette shyly looks up, meeting Alya and Nino's completely lost gazes.
"Because it's the aim of my blog? You know, the Ladyblog?"
Marinette doesn't dare look at Adrien, but can picture his jaw contracting and his Adam's apple bumping at the pace of his swallowing.
She feels anger radiate from him.
"Seriously, guys, what the hell is going on?" Nino asks again, sitting up.
"You knew very well what conclusions people were gonna draw," Adrien resumes, ignoring Nino.
Alya wrinkles her eyelids and folds her arms, obviously cut to the quick by his accusations. "It's not my problem, Adrien. I love Ladybug and it annoys me to hear rumors and remarks and whatever about her, but—"
"But you could have not posted these pictures. You have the choice, Alya. You don't have to post everything she does! Don't you think she have a right to a private life, you—"
"I think if it was indeed bothering Ladybug, she would have come to me herself."
Adrien lets himself fall on his seat, shaking his head. Marinette wants to drop her hand under the table and intertwine her fingers to his. She wants to do it so much.
But her brain is screaming at her tens of reasons why it's a really bad idea. So, aware of the stares weighing on them and of the cellphones ready to catch all of their movements, Marinette keeps her hands on the table.
"Since when are you her spokesperson, anyway?" Alya says.
"Is that why you punched Adam?" Nino asks.
Adrien doesn't answer anything, but Alya lets out a laugh and he throws her a look so dark that Marinette asks herself if it's truly Adrien sat next to her.
"It's typical," Alya says, perfectly ignoring his gaze.
"What?"
"Seriously, dude, what is your—"
"Typical of men," Alya cuts him.
Marinette gently kicks Nino under the table. Once his attention drew to her, she slightly shakes her head, quietly telling him to not get into this discussion.
"You're defending her," Alya keeps talking. "As if she needed it, as if it would change a thing. As if punching Adam—don't take this the wrong way, I'm very glad you did—would change anything."
"I never said that it was going to change anything," Adrien answers. "I know very well she doesn't need my help."
His anger cracks for a second, letting her hear sadness which makes her sick.
"And it's not like Ladybug can know all of this, or hear it, huh?"
Marinette and Adrien sit up in unison. A little smirk is curling up Alya's lips when she shrugs.
This day is certainly very strange.
Me — Can you come over?
Alya is typing…
Alya — I'm there in 10 minutes
Alya is typing…
Alya — You okay?
Me — No
Alya is typing…
Alya — I'm there in 5 minutes
It's like this that Marinette ends up sitting on her bed, fingers nervously tapping at her phone, her heart beating fast in her chest.
She has never been stressed to talk to Alya. Except perhaps the time when she had inadvertently removed her video with Ladybug. But the apprehension she had once felt is nothing compared to the oppressive anxiety she's experiencing today.
Marinette is used to saying everything to Alya. From her dreams to her sorrows, from her hopes to her doubts, from her questions to her certainties. From her first discussions with Adrien to their first kiss, to their first caresses to their first time, Alya knows everything.
And Marinette has always promised herself to hide only one thing from her: her secret identity.
So, not only Marinette is going to tell her all the story about Adam because she needs to, for her mental health, but she's going to tell her because she has to. She owes it to her. Alya is always there for her, whether it's at five in the afternoon or two in the morning. Whether it's for a futile question or for a concern which keeps her awake all night long.
Alya always has the right words. She has a gift to cheer her up like nobody else. To make her see the light in the darkest moments, to remind her how strong and intelligent and unique she is and Marinette loves her so much.
She feels guilty because she desperately needs her help, way more than she wants to admit. She needs her help and she feels useless, feels weak of not being able to deal with this situation by herself.
"Mari?"
Marinette jumps, her gaze quickly turns to Alya who she hasn't heard walk into her room. Her thoughts are too noisy, her fears too deafening in her mind.
Alya's expression turns from confused to worried while she moves closer to her. "What's going on?" she asks, climbing to her bed.
Marinette feels the lump in her throat get bigger every second, feels the sob weighing her vocal cords down becomes more intense when Alya puts her hands on her shoulders. "Marinette, you're scaring me here."
She knows everything is going to explode the second she'll pronounce a word. But, under the anxious stare of her best friend, she finally talks. "I'm sorry—"
And her sob smashes into thousands of tears, crying and shudders. The moment after, Marinette feels Aly's arms wrap around her body and her head fall on her shoulder. "Shh…" she whispers, gently caressing her back. "I'm here, it's okay…"
All the anger, the anxiety, the sadness and the guilt accumulated leave her body at the same time her tears run along her cheeks.
Adrien's happy face appears in her mind, followed by his face deformed by rage. He's full, full of hate. And Marinette can't prevent herself from thinking that it's all her fault. That, in a way, if she would have done things differently, all this rage which is consuming him wouldn't exist.
When the guilt extracts a painful sob from her, Marinette thinks about Adam. She thinks about his smile, his hands on her body, of his words, of everything he could be imagining. She thinks about what she should do, what she should do to him if she doesn't want this video—and God only knows what else—to go viral.
"Breathe, Mari," Alya whispers when Marinette's hands are shaking against her back.
She slightly moves away from her, enough to look her in the eyes. Alya intertwines her fingers with hers and the warmth of her hands relieves Marinette a little.
"In," she says, suiting the action to the word. "And out."
The first inhalation is pathetic, broken by sobbing and tremors which are shaking her shoulders.
"Again. Easy."
Marinette catches her breath, focusing on the amber-colored and reassuring gaze which is facing her.
"Good," she whispers. "Come on, keep going."
Every breath is less painful than the preceding. Little by little, her hands stop quivering, her tears stop in her eyes and her sobbing eases, until disappear after a moment which Marinette completely ignores the length of.
A few minutes could have passed, or a couple of hours. But Alya is still here, she's still facing her, her hands into hers, with all the patience and the supportiveness she can evince.
"Do you want to talk about it? "she eventually asks, when Marinette's chest is raising up and down at a regular pace.
"Yes," she answers with a throaty voice.
But Marinette is pretty sure to burst into tears again as soon as Adam's name will pass through the barrier of her lips.
"It's about Adrien?" Alya asks, as if she just read into her thoughts.
Marinette nods, not pronouncing a word.
"Mari, you have to help me here, I can't—"
"Adam filmed us, Adrien and me, having sex."
She said it. Finally.
But the relief she's hoping for never comes. On the contrary, saying these words aloud brings a bitter taste on her tongue and makes all this situation become real. Horribly real.
"What the… What— What?"
Marinette nods, lips pinched, her eyes empty.
"What an asshole!"
A smile draws on Marinette's face for a second.
"I have lots of questions here, Mari." Alya says, sliding her hands to her shoulders. The gesture makes her look up at her friend. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you?" Marinette nods, her throat tightening up again. "If we have to threaten him, hide his dead body or whatever, I'm in, you can count on me, okay?"
She wants to explain everything to her, tell her the whole story, she needs to. But all that comes out of her mouth is a sound midway between a laugh and a sob.
Alya's hands are still hanging onto her shoulders. This contact, strong and reassuring, helps Marinette not to fully lose herself into the frightening hugeness of her thoughts. "You're just gonna answer yes or no, if it's okay?"
A nod. A breath in.
"Did he threaten you? Adam?"
A nod, again.
Alya's face tenses. "Is he alone on this?"
"No," Marinette murmurs. "Lila."
Alya's hands squeeze her shoulders. "Can you tell me what they want?"
Marinette closes her eyelids. "Lila wants… Adrien. And Adam wants… he wants…" Breathe in. Breathe out. Easy. "He wants me." One breath after another.
"Does Adrien know?" The quiver into Alya's voice is enough for Marinette to see how much this situation is affecting her.
"No." It's at this moment that she opens her eyes and plunges them into Alya's.
"Mari…"
"No. He can't know anything. I can deal with this, he doesn't have to find out. He already has enough things to deal with, and…"
'And I pushed him away, far away, light years away from me and my problems. And we can't allow ourselves to be as close as we were before. We can't, not anymore.'
A picture, blurry and vague, pops into her mind. A blast of glaring white, a sudden pain in her entire body. Tears, cries, an immaculate suit, eyes as cold and sharp as the sky which is reflecting into ice. The entire world, frozen.
'We can't anymore.'
"And you?" Alya draws her away from her thoughts. "Don't you think you have enough things to deal with?"
Marinette nervously bites her shaky lower lip and shrugs. Alya seems to hesitate for a moment, to look for words, to build and to deconstruct her sentence. "I think…" Her voice is barely louder than a whisper. "I think you have more things to deal with than all of Paris."
Her eyes wide-opened, Marinette feels her breathing get stuck in her throat. "And I think you can ask for help, Mari. I think you can, after all you've done, after all you keep doing for… for everyone."
Alya's words are enigmatic. They're not clear enough for a rush of panic to take Marinette's guts by storm. But they're suggestive enough for a supposition to sneak deep into her mind.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Talking is impossible. Marinette settles for looking at her, her mouth half-opened, her lashes brushing her eyelids every time she blinks.
"It's okay," Alya whispers, tying her fingers to hers. "You don't have to hide from me, Marinette. You can let go. You can be yourself."
'Myself,' she thinks. But this person, who is she? Is she an ambitious and clumsy high school student? Is she a brave and responsible superhero? Is she an attentive and devoted friend?
Or is this person nothing but a lost, cowardly and weak teennager?
How can she be all these aspects at the same time? How can she fill all these boxes, matching everything that the entire world expects from her?
"I… I'm not really sure who I am anymore, Alya."
Her hand squeezes hers and a smile curls her lips up. "I know exactly who you are, Ladybug."
and here it is, chapter eight!
i know it's a little short but it's more of a transition chapter, you'll see. it's still pretty important, with mari's and adrien's state of mind and with the second reveal—pretty much.
i can't wait to know what you thought about it!
have a good day, see you next week!
lucie