hey everyone!
I'm sorry I took so long to update you, but here I am! it's a bit complicated to jungle between writing and translating so I'll probably update you every ten days from now!
thank you for all your comments, though, it's still a huge pleasure to read them!
I wish you guys a good reading!
(tw: racism)
Days go by with an abominable slowness. Hours extend, extend always more without ever bringing the solutions which Marinette terribly needs.
The more time passes, the more the answers to her questions seem to be nothing more than a dream. A dream which fills all her thoughts. A dream which keeps her awake at night, her eyes on the Parisian sky, her mind going over her problems over and over again.
A dream. Only a dream. An illusion.
Because reality is way more cruel than miraculously finding the answers. Because her intelligence has its limits, because finding what to do with her Lucky Charm is so much simpler than finding what to do with herself.
Every morning, her demons are here, they never leave her. Adam is always here, with his morbid smirk and his threats. Lila is always here, with her vicious stare and her honeyed words towards Adrien.
The sword of Damocles never stops weighing on top of her, more threatening and more real every day.
Adrien is always here, too. If it's not his eyes which are always on her, it's his presence at her side which envelops her. If it's not his quiet company when they're at school, it's his brave help when they save Paris.
One way or another, he's always here. During the day, he torments her mind and, at night, he haunts her thoughts. Never has he demanded of her an explanation for the letter she left him. Never has he talked tough to her—although the flow of words he says to her is thinner and thinner. And never has he abandoned her.
Despite the tension which is living in his body, despite the constant contraction of his jaw, despite his fists which squeeze every time Adam opens his mouth, despite everything, he stays by her side.
A quiet presence, a guardian angel.
And Marinette can't prevent herself from feeling guilty. He respects her decisions, no matter how he suffers, no matter how much he needs answers; he accepts the curse with which Marinette has immobilized their relationship and annihilated their interactions.
As always, he's perfect. And Marinette feels her heart tear in her chest every time she sees him.
His politeness towards the entire world when he suffers on the inside, his courteous smiles towards all these girls which cast interested glances at him in the hallways, his Chinese, fencing and piano classes he keeps assiduously following, his good grades which remains, his hair so blond it's almost white which never stops being shiny and silky: all that makes her want to scream.
She wants to let this torrent of feelings explode, wants to let this tsunami of frustration and rage cloak her fully and take control of her movements. She wants to strangle Adam and his unbearable smiles, to shut up Lila and her frightening confidence, to hug Adrien and never let him go.
But above all, she wants to eradicate the threat of Hawk Moth. The fact of being paralyzed by his will has never been this real. Because of him, she can't live. By dint of saving everyone, it's her life which is going up in flames.
She can write off her relationship with Adrien. It was already complicated when he was only Adrien, because repeated secrets and lies are definitely not something Marinette wants for them. And it's now doubly forbidden because he's also Chat Noir. Her partner, with whom it's extremely unreasonable to cross the line they imposed on themselves so many years ago. But, mostly, her partner, with whom it's dangerous to do what her feelings are telling her to.
Marinette doesn't exactly remember what happened years before. She remembers Bunnix, she remembers Chat Blanc, and she remembers the fear. A huge fear, an infinite dread. The distress in his blue eyes.
What had caused his akumatisation, Marinette doesn't remember. But she knows it's related to her. For the consequences to be so disastrous, so enormous, it could only be about something, about someone terribly important to him. The picture of her own body which goes up in smoke sometimes still haunts her nightmares.
It's simply out of the question to let her heart go. So, as hard and exhausting it can be, Marinette continues to double-lock her feelings and her desires deep down inside her.
She feels like a spectator of her own life, which is going by before her eyes. Impossible to live a romantic relationship, impossible to spend a day without ever saying a lie or omitting a truth, impossible to chat with her friends without being interrupted by an akuma, by a kwami, by a patrol or by whatever heroic duty. Impossible to fully consider her future, impossible to plan her studies, her professional life. Impossible to leave Paris.
Impossible. A series of impassable barriers, of insurmountable boundaries, of answers which never come.
The only thing which holds her together is Alya's reassurance.
"I think it's a good thing she knows," Wayzz has once told her.
Marinette, her eyes roaming over Paris under the night, turns her face to the kwami.
His eyes are staring in front of him. "You need support, Marinette. A support neither Chat Noir, nor us kwamis, can give you."
The cold breeze of November brushes Marinette's face, sweeping the few locks which have escaped from her bun. "I miss him, you know," she whispers, gazing at the horizon again.
"So do I," Wayzz sighs. "Awfully."
Marinette closes her eyelids for a moment, letting herself be immersed with Master Fu's image. By his wisdom, by his smile, by the comfort his presence brings her.
"I wonder what he would think about all this, if he was there."
"He would probably think the same as I do."
Marinette patiently waits for Wayzz to explain the substance of his thought. Despite the years which have gone by, Master Fu's absence is still weighing on her. She barely dares to imagine the void his leaving has left in Wayzz's heart.
"That you are doing the best you can, Marinette."
"It's not enough," she whispers, letting her forehead fall on the guardrail.
The cold of the wrought iron slightly appeases the blaze of her thoughts.
"You still have your Miraculouses."
"We still don't have Hawk Moth's. Nor the Peacock's."
"He hasn't won, Marinette."
"Neither have we."
Wayzz sighs and Marinette closes her eyelids.
"It's only a matter of time."
Time, always more time. But Marinette isn't sure to have more of it. Her patience is seriously starting to degrade, at the same pace as the hope begins to fade inside her heart.
Marinette raises her gaze and makes out a dark shadow flying over Paris' rooftops. A discouraged smile draws at the corners of her lips.
Time.
Marinette is grateful to be on the track team. It's a way to let off steam, an activity which allows her to exteriorize her frustration as Marinette.
But it's also a source of anxiety, which she really doesn't need. Because track and fencing training are at the same time. Because it means she's likely to see Adam.
And, honestly, if she could put an ocean of distance between them, she would gladly do it.
Sadly, there are only a few meters between them right now, and Marinette feels so observed by his stare that she feels like it's only millimeters between his smug face and her wish to run away as far as possible from him.
"Do you know him?"
Marinette looks up at the voice which just talked to her. She discovers Kim, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Adam.
"I wish I didn't," Marinette answers.
Kim frowns, and she can tell by his expression that he doesn't hold Adam close to his heart either.
"He's looking at you like…"
"Like he wants to jump on her. It's creepy."
Alix joins them. Her hair which reaches her chin is gathered into a half-up ponytail at the top of her head, and Marinette, who feels her own hair on the bottom of her back, thinks this length suits her particularly well.
Her sparkling blue eyes are fixed on Adam and her slightly furrowed eyebrows meet Kim's facial expression.
"He could be smooth."
"At least try."
Marinette would probably have found this situation funny if she didn't know that Adam's gaze is because he is hiding in his phone a video which literally can ruin her life.
She closes her eyes, pressing the back of her head against the wall and takes a deep breath.
"Hey, Adrien!"
Marinette feels her entire body tense at Alix's interjection. Her eyelids instantly open and a pair of green eyes immediately grabs her attention.
He has just left the locker room, meeting the group of students who are waiting for the arrival of the teachers.
His gaze clings onto hers for a second, before focusing on Alix. "Hmmm?"
"Do you know him?"
"Hey, wait a sec!" Kim says. "Isn't it the guy you fought with the other day?"
"Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Maybe," Alix agrees.
"It's him," Adrien says with a tense voice.
Kim and Alix's attention, given to Adam, then converges on him. Marinette, her eyes now on the ground, suddenly finds her hands very interesting. 'Oh, a scratch. I should really think about filing my nails one of these days,' she says to herself.
"He's obsessed with Marinette."
"It's creepy."
"You already said it."
"Well I'll say it again, then."
'Maybe I should put some polish,' she thinks.
"You're the creepy one."
"Say that again—"
"Agreste!"
Marinette looks up from her nails, discovering with horror Adam's hand on Adrien's shoulder.
Alix and Kim turn their faces with a common gesture and Adrien's expression moves from tense to sharp.
"I don't think you should touch him," Kim steps in.
"Oh, c'mon! We're friends, aren't we? How can I put it… I think we share a common passion."
A shiver of disgust drips along Marinette's spine when Adam stares at her for a moment.
"Dude, you're really creepy," Alix says.
"Even more than her," Kim adds.
"I'm not creepy—"
"A tiny bit."
"Kim—"
Really, if Marinette wouldn't know the perverse innuendo hiding behind Adam's words, she would probably have burst out laughing.
But Adrien pushes him away a little bit too roughly, calling an end to Alix and Kim's debate.
"Sensitive topic, perhaps?" Adam smiles.
Adrien's stare is full of rage. This flash of hate in his eyes, Marinette has never seen it so intense, other than towards Adam. Even against the worst villains, even when he broaches the subject of his father or of Hawk Moth. Never.
"Guys, come on," Kim says.
"Leave him alone," Alix adds.
"You look frustrated, Adrien. Everything's fine in that area?"
Stares begin to focus on them as the group of students expands.
Marinette hasn't even noticed that she has moved away from the wall.
"But who the hell are you talking about?" Kim asks.
A smirk of pure satisfaction curls Adam's lips up when he turns his look to Marinette.
She feels naked. Completely denuded towards these eyes which are devouring her, towards Adrien's eyes which know every corner of her body, towards the eyes of all the students around them.
"Get off it," Alix grumbles.
Adam looks at her for a moment. For a second, he seems to almost think about it. But when he transfers his attention to Adrien again, Marinette doesn't like the glare inside his eyes at all.
"You know what they say about Asian girls…" he whispers.
His voice is low enough for no one but Adrien and Marinette—who is now right next to them—to hear.
"You know what they eat…"
"You should shut your mouth," Adrien says to him with a voice so cold that Marinette barely recognizes it.
"I have heard things. You know, about favorite positions."
"You don't want to end your sentence, Adam."
"I think I really want to. She's Chinese, isn't she?"
"Adam."
"Yeah, she is. I think they eat dogs there. So, they like to do it from behind, you know. Doggy style."
Marinette sinks her nails into her palms.
"What is going on here? Come on, it's time, everyone on the field, out!"
"It's cold, sir!"
"Not my problem. You're not going to melt, as far as I know!"
Students scatter and Marinette feels Alix comes closer to them and her arm wraps around hers.
"You're coming, Mari?"
Paralyzed. She's paralyzed.
"Marinette?"
She vaguely sees Adrien's stare focuses on her. Weakly notices his rage turn into worry.
Suddenly, as her fists unclench and her nails leave her skin, everything becomes perceivable again, like a bubble exploding around her.
"I… yeah."
And she follows Alix.
"We have to find a way to delete this video."
Four arcs of a circle are etched into each of her palms.
"It can't be that hard."
Despite the redness of her skin, it's not really painful.
"Hmmm…"
In fact, Marinette has one wish: sink her nails into her flesh until she feels her—
"Marinette?"
She looks up at Alya. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
Marinette throws a last glance at her scraped skin before bringing her knees against her chest, her eyes lost in the void.
"How do you manage… to not think about racist slurs?"
The few seconds of silence indicate to Marinette that Alya wasn't expecting this question.
"I think about it, sometimes," she eventually says. "But my parents always talked to us about that, telling us that we shouldn't linger on it, that it's like this and that there isn't much we can do about it." Alya sighs. "But I don't really agree. I mean… yes, lingering on it would be a waste of time, because it would mean that they win, you know? But I don't want to just let it go, like it's normal. I want to fight against it."
"Fight," Marinette whispers.
Always fights, always defeats.
"Marinette," Alya says. "What happened?"
She shrugs. "Adam said some… things."
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"Not really, no."
She closes her eyelids, her forehead pressed against her knees.
"You know," Alya says, "you have the right to think about it. You have the right to be angry, to be sad, to be desperate. It doesn't mean that you're weak."
Marinette looks up at her, meeting her worried eyes. "We have to stop him, Alya," she whispers. "I… I'm sick of seeing him everyday and knowing what he could do."
A sliver of deep sadness passes inside Alya's eyes. But she pulls herself together at an incredible speed, leaving only an unfailing determination and support.
"I'm here, okay? I'll help you."
Marinette nods, losing herself into her amber irises for a moment.
The fact that Alya knows her identity is very different from the fact that Adrien now knows who she is. With him, it has been a shock, a tsunami of surprise and emotions and moments playing in a loop in her mind.
But with Alya, Marinette doesn't feel anything but a deep relief. Beyond the unwavering trust she devotes to her, she and Alya share a particular bond. A relationship of extreme tolerance and mutual respect which has grown through the years, making her the best possible person to know her secret.
That's on top of the excuses that Alya can now make for her and at the worship she vows to Ladybug since the beginning. Marinette joyfully answers her questions, teaching her the real life of a superhero and establishing the truth: she's nothing more than a teenager like any other.
Alya's adulation then turns into a simple admiration tinged with esteem, which Marinette is way more comfortable with.
Having Alya in the know helps her much more than she would have imagined.
"We could steal his phone."
"Alya…"
"What? It worked when you wanted to erase the message you left to Adrien."
Marinette can't help but smile at the memory. "It wasn't really the same thing. Plus, Tikki helped me. I'm not sure she—"
"Marinette," the kwami steps in, "I know I always say to not use your powers for personal use, but… I'm ready to help you."
Marinette turns her head, her cheek against her knees, and plunges her gaze into Tikki's.
"Really?"
"It's not really reasonable… but I think we have no other choice. You still don't want to talk to an adult?"
"It would be useless," Marinette sighs. "It would just put us in trouble, Adrien and me. Especially since Adam would never admit he had filmed us."
She loses herself in the ocean of Tikki's eyes for a moment. The worry which is glowing inside them ties her throat. She has always had an amazing trust and a wonderful friendship with her, since the first day.
Yet, Marinette never stops disappointing her.
"I'm sorry, " she whispers.
"Marinette…"
"To reveal my identity—twice—and to be so irresponsible. I'm sorry, Tikki."
"You're human, Marinette. Don't ever apologize for that, okay?"
Tikki's tiny hand moves closer to her face, wiping away a tear forming at the corner of her eye.
Marinette offers her the most reassuring smile—which is closer to a sad rictus, right now.
"And," Alya says, "maybe it was irresponsible, but we're in highschool! If you can't be irresponsible now, then when?"
She turns her face to Alya again. Her gaze is sparkling with determination and with something else that Marinette identifies as curiosity.
She then asks herself how far Alya's research has gone. Does she know Chat Noir's identity? With her detective skills and her sense of observation, Marinette thinks it's not very complicated to deduce his identity after guessing hers.
But she rejects the hundreds of questions that Alya is probably asking herself right now, focusing on the help she desperately needs.
"Adam didn't have to do all this, Marinette, I hope you know that?"
She nods in answer, despite the guilt which is consuming her brain. Even being aware that what Adam has done is wrong, and illegal, she can't stop herself from putting the blame on herself, on her teenage hormones and on her self-control, which doesn't exist when it's about Adrien.
Since the beginning, since that day in the rain, since he gave her this umbrella, Marinette has offered him a part of her in return. The fragment of herself which is responsible and capable of handling her emotions.
She asks herself if she has Adrien's fragment, too.
"Argh, men," Alya sighs.
Marinette feels a smile, not so forced this time, drawing on her lips.
Her stare loses itself inside the hugeness of her thoughts. She wonders what Adrien is doing, if he's thinking about her as much as she is about him.
"I have a plan," Alya says after a few minutes. "But you're not gonna like it, I'm telling you. And it's maybe predictable, but I don't know what else we could do."
Marinette raises an eyebrow.
"I want to steal his phone and erase the video."
Seconds pass. Alya pinches her lips and Tikki keeps flying close to them.
"That's all?"
"Huh?"
"Alya… he probably has copies. It hurts me to say it, but he's not stupid."
"You're seeing him wrong, Mari."
The confusion draws on her face and Alya sits up, amber eyes inside blue ones.
"He's probably jealous of Adrien. Because everybody loves him, because he's rich, because he's pretty… and because perfect people are annoying."
Marinette frowns.
"He's most likely trying to reach him through you, trying to make him jealous—which is working perfectly, by the way."
Alya seems to think for a while, as if she's not sure about the part of her reasoning she's about to expose. "And I think he has a crush on you."
Marinette creases her eyes, doubtful.
"He hadn't expected it, so it annoys him, because he knows nothing will happen, because of Adrien. So, he is trying to separate you, in a very debatable way, I'll grant you."
She develops her thoughts at the pace of the words coming out of her mouth, as if the elements come together in her mind, little by little.
"How can you know all this?"
Alya shrugs. "I observe. It's pretty obvious, when you pay attention. Every time we have lunch together, the four of us, he spends his time looking at you. It's creepy."
The picture of Alix pops in her mind, quickly followed by the scene which took place earlier in the day.
'You know what we say about Asian girls…'
Marinette closes her eyes for a moment.
"And, what does it have to do with making copies?"
"Well, I'm sure he hasn't. Because he doesn't really wanna hurt you, he just wants to get you away from Adrien."
His plan is working so well that Marinette feels a flash of anger overwhelm her. "I think he especially wants me to think he will share the video, for me to…"
Marinette can't finish her sentence. The idea is too disgusting.
'You're gonna have to do something for me.'
'Use this pretty mouth of yours to do something other than talking.'
His morbid voice plays in a loop in her head.
Marinette closes her eyelids again, trying to forget the fact that she has already thought about it.
"Marinette… it's not gonna happen, okay?"
Her eyes open, and she nods.
"You will not do something you don't want, Mari."
She nods again, with a movement more confident than the first time.
"You'll see," Alya whispers, putting her hands on her cheeks, "we'll erase this video and everything is gonna go back to normal."
A little smile curls Marinette's lips up. "Thank you," she breathes. "Thank you."
And she hugs her, losing herself into a comforting and familiar embrace.
Impossible to sleep a wink. She's tired, completely exhausted, but sleepiness is only getting further when her mind is just reeling.
Marinette sits up and nervously passes her hand on her sweaty forehead. She angrily pulls the covers away from her body, brings her knees against her chest and closes her eyelids.
Air, she needs air.
Marinette pulls herself up on her balcony, straightaway cooled off by the night wind hitting her face. She moves to the guardrail, her arms clinging to her body, her t-shirt spinning around her.
A movement suddenly captures her attention.
Her gaze immediately intercepts the dark silhouette perched on the balustrade.
"Chat Noir?"
His body comes out of the darkness, revealing glowing green eyes and blond hair.
The wind becomes stronger, sweeping away the few locks escaping from her bun.
"What are you…"
It's strange, this invisible barrier between them. This obstacle which stops Chat Noir from moving closer.
He leans against the railing, his eyes fixed on the ground, and shrugs. "I wanted to see if you were okay. But, I…" His gaze then plunges into hers and Marinette is pretty sure that the shiver running down her body isn't because of the wind. "It's been a while since I've been here."
Marinette nervously pinches her lips. "I'm fine," she whispers, looking up to the Parisian sky.
She feels him get closer. "I'm sorry. With Adam, I should've… I—"
"I can defend myself, you know."
"Yeah," he quickly responds, "yeah, of course I do. It's just that… I should've done something."
"You've done enough."
She regrets her words the second they escape her mouth. They came out wrong. What he has probably understood is actually the opposite of what she thinks.
It's not that he has done too much in the sense that she doesn't appreciate his actions. She likes it when he defends her, she likes it when he stands up for Ladybug's honor—even though she'd prefer it if he didn't have to.
It's that he has done largely enough for her already. It's not his role to protect her: she's supposed to do that herself.
Her face turns to Chat Noir's. "Sorry, it's not what I wanted to—"
"No," he whispers. "You're right."
And he looks down again. She knows what he's thinking about. He's telling himself that it's his fault, that without him, Marinette would never have an issue with Adam.
She sighs, letting her forehead fall against the coldness of the railing. How can she hope to tell him everything, if she can't even express a simple idea?
"It's not the first time," she confesses after a few seconds.
Chat Noir's eyes are fixed on her, she can feel it, like a contrast with the freshness of the night.
"About the racist slurs. But… It was mostly when I was little. Today, it's rather internalized things, and people don't really pay attention." She knows he's listening, knows that every word coming out of her mouth is truly heard. "Like the fact that, being Asian, I'm necessarily Chinese, that 'it's the same thing, anyway', a lot of stuff like that. In the end, you don't really pay attention anymore. And my mom always told me to ignore it, but…"
"You don't want to just let it happen as if it was nothing?"
Marinette, her cheek against her arm, turns her gaze into Chat Noir's. She nods, allowing herself a few seconds to lose herself in the infinity of his stare.
"But, today…" she continues, "it was…" It was a lot of things. It was violent, monstrous, immoral. "Maybe it's dumb, but… but I really thought I wouldn't hear things like that anymore."
"It's not stupid," he answers.
Marinette shrugs, her eyes still into his.
"You know," he whispers, "I know I can't truly understand these kinds of things, but… you can talk to me."
She nods, a little smile at the corner of her lips. "I know. Thank you."
The puff of relief which blows inside her heart for a few minutes suddenly turns into a gust of guilt.
It's not the first time that Marinette confesses to Adrien—far from it. But, everytime, the same pattern happens: the feeling of freeing herself from a weight, immediately followed by the intense regret of opening her mouth.
It's not that she doesn't trust him: she would entrust him with her life—and even more.
The problem is that she can't prevent herself from thinking about the issues he has to face. She talks to him about her future, about the fear she's feeling about the thought of not being admitted in her dream school, and she thinks about the hold his father has on him. She talks to him about her parents, about the differences of opinion those two can have, and she thinks about the drastic diet and the constant pressure he's forced into.
Of course, her worries aren't comparable to his, because they don't feel things the same way, because they don't live situations the same way and because it's just different.
She knows it, she perfectly knows it.
Like she knows perfectly well that she doesn't have to feel guilty for talking to him about her problems—especially when it's about racism—under the pretext of him having problems, too.
It's stupid.
And she can't help but feel guilty and stupid.
"I…"
What can she tell him?
That he can talk to her about anything and she would be here to listen? It would just rub salt in his bloody wounds.
Whatever is going on between them, it's over. It's impossible.
His forearms and his lower back leaning against the railing, Chat Noir gives her a sad smile. "I know."
The wind blows again and Marinette is momentarily blinded by her hair lashing her face. When she opens her eyelids, she discovers Chat Noir's gaze sliding along her body. His lips curl up more in a rictus of nostalgia and amusement all at once.
"It's my shirt."
His eyes go back up to hers and Marinette stays frozen for a moment. She suddenly feels very self-conscious of her body, of the blowing wind, of the shirt climbing up along her bare legs, of her nipples hardened by the coldness of the night, rubbing against the cotton.
Her cheeks turn pink and Chat Noir is grinning—he can't see the blushing of her skin, but he can guess it. And it's so much worse.
"Uh… it's… well— Do you want it back?"
He shakes his head. "No," he whispers. "It looks better on you, anyways."
Marinette swallows, her arms uncomfortably crossed around her body.
She doesn't understand why the idea of him glimpsing her thighs or the form of her breasts through the shirt makes her so nervous.
He has seen her naked hundreds of times, after all. Worse, he has kissed every square centimeter of her skin. Even worse, he has licked her entire body. Triply worse, all these things, she has done to him, too.
Come on, he even dragged an ice cube along her breasts last summer! Marinette even remembers a time with a strawberry ice cream—which was even better when it was spread on Adrien's chest.
She has done all these things with Chat Noir. It's Chat Noir who has kissed her tens and tens of times. It's Chat Noir who knows her entire body by heart. It's Chat Noir who has ended up with his face between her thighs so many times Marinette has lost count.
It's Chat Noir.
"Mari?"
He's here, standing, with his leather suit and his pretty eyes. How many times has she fantasized about that damn suit…
"I should go to bed," she articulates with a more hoarse voice than she would have wished.
He nods, without moving at all.
And, for a second, Marinette tells herself that it's not such a big deal, if she goes to kiss him, right here, right now. If she presses her lips against his, pushes her body against his and loses her hands into his hair.
But his black and gloomy suit turns into a white and dangerous one, his eyes, green and comforting, turn into blue and terrified ones, and Marinette doesn't dare to move.
"Good night," she breathes.
A little smile still floats on his lips. Marinette drinks every second of his presence.
Until the moment he disappears.
She closes her eyes and a shiver runs down her body.
Adrien's eyes go from right to left, gazing at the drawings and reading the sentences which darken the pages of the manga on his desk.
His chin is settled against his knee, which he's brought to his chest; he turns the page, all his attention absorbed by the story taking place in front of him.
Adrien likes these moments when he gets away, where he succeeds to think about something—someone—other than Marinette, his father or Hawk Moth. These moments are precious, and rare, most importantly.
When he reads, plays the piano or fights a villain. Reading has become complicated, due to lack of time. Playing the piano without being supervised—and criticized—by his father doesn't happen that often. And fighting a villain… it's something which happens more regularly, but these moments of respite can only be counted in seconds: Ladybug is always with him and he just has to turn his head for the weight of reality to cravenly fall on him.
But, today, Adrien has finished his homework in advance and has the beginning of the evening for himself. A few weeks ago, he would have enjoyed this free time by spending it with Marinette.
Adrien pushes this thought away with a sigh, focusing on his reading again.
All of a sudden, the distinctive sound of a fist knocking against his door pulls him away from his activity. He sits up in a second, a rush of panic filling the hollow of his stomach.
The manga is automatically put aside, replaced by a notebook and a calculator. Adrien feels stupid, honestly. His homework is done, his schedule is free and he totally has the right to chill.
So, why is his heart beating so fast in his chest? Why does his breath stay blocked in his throat? Why are his hands getting clammy?
He can hear the cold voice of his father inside his head. This voice full of reproach and condescension, this voice which has told him so many times that he has to work, that he has to have good grades, that he has to know how to play the piano, that he has to know how to speak Chinese, that he has to do these things to perfection. This accusing voice which has reproached him for his ungratefulness many times.
'You have all that one can dream of, Adrien. You have all that you want, you're famous, you have money, all this without ever having done anything to deserve it. You were born and you already had everything. Try to be a little more grateful.'
'You have to ensure the future of Gabriel. You have to work, for once, in your life.'
'Tired, you say? At eighteen? Don't be ridiculous.'
Adrien has difficulty breathing properly. His eyelids closed, he put a hand on his chest, feeling his crazed heart hammering under his palm.
'Sit up straight, Adrien.'
The knee hunched up against his chest slides, until his two feet touch the ground.
Inhale. Exhale. Once. Twice. Easy. Thrice.
"Yes?" His voice is almost not shaking.
"There is someone for you. Can I bring him in?"
A puff of relief unclenches his jaw. It's only Nathalie. "Yeah… yeah, of course."
Adrien lets himself fall against the backside of his chair, the head back, the eyelids closed.
Why—why—does his father have to stir up such anxiety in him? Brave and intrepid superhero by night, terrified and coward teenager by day… what an irony.
He thinks about the ease with which he defends the Parisians, with which he defends Marinette. He can defend anyone, except himself.
Is it proof of cowardice? Because standing up for others is so much simpler than protecting yourself.
Or is it proof of stupidity? Because, after all this time, after all his reproaches, after all his criticisms, a part of his heart is still convinced that things are fixable, that deep down inside him, Gabriel doesn't really mean what he spits at him.
Perhaps, even, that deep inside his soul, he still loves him.
Adrien feels a bitter laugh vibrating his vocal cords. What an idiot. What an imbecile to keep hopping.
Suddenly, the door opens, bringing this mental torture that he inflicts on himself way too often to an end.
"Adrien?"
His eyelids reopen and Nino comes into sight. "Nino…" he whispers. A smile curls his lips up. He hasn't realized how much he has missed his friend.
"Are you alright, dude? You seem…" He turns the chair of his desk until facing Nino who sits on his bed. "Tired."
"Hmmm?"
"You look exhausted, buddy."
Adrien shrugs. "You know, school, training, all that…"
"Yeah, yeah, right. Except that you have had to deal with it since middle school, Adrien. And that you never looked this bad before."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Nino answers, stretching out before letting his back fall on the mattress. He feels himself smile again. "Do you miss her?" A deep sigh tickles his nostrils. "Yeah… stupid question," Nino says. "You're completely in love with her, aren't you?" he asks a few seconds later.
"Completely."
Nino sits up. "Oh, man… you two…"
"What?" Adrien asks, nervously making his chair turn.
He shakes his head. "It's just that… I've never seen two people love each other so much… and yet you always find a way to make things difficult."
Adrien frowns. "You don't know everything, Nino." His words don't contain any aggression: he's stating a simple fact.
His friend nods, his fingers nervously tapping his thighs. "Well… about that… how can I say this…" Adrien sits up. "It's like removing a band-aid: better to do it quickly, huh?"
"I'm not following you, here."
Nino closes his eyelids, his fist clenched. "I know you're Chat Noir. And I know Marinette is Ladybug. And Alya knows it, too. She sent me to try to find out what's going on between you and Marinette. That's all. Well… that's already pretty good, I guess…" Adrien's eyes are googly, his breath stuck in his throat and his lips half-opened. "Adrien?" Nino tries, opening his eyelids again. "Well, it's a lot, I'll give you that. We've actually known it for a while, with Alya… because, well, we see you pretty much everyday, and by putting the pieces together, well… it's not very hard to figure it out."
Adrien swallows his saliva, which immediately stops his monologue. However, when Nino notices that he still has not decided to talk, he resumes his tirade. "When you began to dance around each other, we thought that it was just a matter of time before you discovered the truth. Honestly, we thought you'd take less time… more than six months, seriously? You're really—"
In his amazement, Adrien still succeeds to give a dark glance to Nino who has the presence of mind to keep that thought to himself. "Anyway. Then you became all weird. As if Marinette were carrying the entire world on her shoulders. She seemed so sad… and you looked so angry, Adrien, I swear, I never saw you like that before. So, we conclude that you have finally discovered your identities."
"All this time…" Adrien eventually says with a throaty voice. "All this time, you knew?"
"Yep."
"Wow."
"Yeah. That's why we didn't really know how to act when you started to… you know. We were super happy for you, because, shit, finally! All that tension accumulated, I swear to you, dude, it was unbearable, really—"
"Nino."
"Yeah, sorry. Anyways, so, we didn't really know what to do, because, honestly, we didn't think you would go this far."
"Why?" Adrien is surprised. "You just said that—"
"Yeah, I know. But we thought that you were just gonna turn a blind eye, as always, and hold back all that was going on between you. But, you finally decided to—"
"Nino!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, we were happy for you and everything, but we were also worried. Because we knew you couldn't let yourself go completely because there was Ladybug, same thing for Marinette with Chat Noir."
"Wait, you knew she—"
"No, no. She never openly told us, you know. But, hey, unless you're completely blind, it was totally obvious."
"Yeah…"
"Sorry, buddy."
Adrien presses his fists against his eyelids, his head leaning back. Once the shock phase passes, he doesn't feel anything other than a huge relief.
As if, by dint of being constantly burned by the anger of a situation on which he hasn't any control, laid up by the anxiety of a father too demanding and wounded by the nostalgia of an unreachable happiness, no other feelings are available.
No guilt, no fear, no regret, nothing at all. Just a weight which lightens and a truth finally unveiled.
"But…" Nino resumes, his elbows on his thighs, "I don't get why you just stopped everything? The next logical step would have been a beautiful declaration, a 'oh my God, I'm so happy it's you', and after that you would've kissed under the rain like in the movies and then you would've, you know."
Adrien can't restrain the ironic laugh coming out of his lips. He sits up, his eyes now plunged into Nino's curious stare. "That's not exactly how it happened."
"But… first, how did you figure it out?"
"We kissed."
Nino creases his eyes. "And?"
"And it was just… it was just too familiar."
"No wonder…"
Adrien rolls his eyes and Nino chuckles. "And she passed out."
"What? You kiss that bad?"
"Come on, Nino!"
His friend frankly bursts out laughing, this time. Adrien grabs the first object that his hand reaches: namely, a pencil case. Nino receives it right on his forehead, which only makes him laugh harder.
"I'm a very good kisser, okay?"
"If you say so," he smiles. "You've only kissed one girl, I might add."
"So? So have you. Plus, I have a lot of practice."
"She passed out, Adrien."
A frustrated groan sounds in the room. "Because it was too much! First, we weren't supposed to know it, and she just told me everything, so—"
"I know, Adrien, I know. I know it must be a hard secret to carry. And knowing the truth without having prepared to hear it, after all these years, it must be… a lot."
Adrien nods. "Thank you."
Nino throws him his pencil case again which he catches with a skilled movement. "And what happened, after?"
"I took her back to my home, and… don't look at me like that."
He raises his hands, grinning.
"So, she wakes up, and…"
"She completely freaked out.
Adrien can't help but smile. "Completely."
"I can picture it."
"But, it wasn't like usual. When she loses her grip and she starts saying nonsense; it wasn't like that. She looked really frightened, Nino. I know that she has always been more responsible and reasoned than I am, and that with her role as a Guardian, it doesn't help to take things calmly, but…" He remembers her eyes full of fear, the tears running down her face, down and down without stopping. "She knows something. She knows something I don't. And I don't want to force her to tell me anything, I trust her. But I know she needs help and that she won't admit it because she thinks I already have enough things to deal with. I know her."
Nino nods. "It's true that it sounds like her. But I think if she really needs help, she'll talk about it. At least with Alya, now that she has told her that she knows her identity."
"How long since she told her?"
"A week, maybe."
"She didn't tell me anything."
He sighs, thinking back about the times where they've promised each other to communicate and to always be honest to each other.
"Maybe she had her reasons."
"Maybe. But, hiding from me I don't know what, it's one thing. But not talking to me about the reveal of her identity, and potentially of mine, it's another one. It's not as simple as she and I, because it affects our way of working, too, and of saving Paris."
"I see. You should talk to her, maybe it—"
"No. Not now. She has bigger things to deal with than my injured ego."
He thinks about Adam, about the words he said, about what Marinette told him, about this night, on her balcony.
"You're really the same."
"What?"
"No, nothing. Anyway, what happened next?"
"Huh?"
"You brought her home, she freaked out, and then?"
"Uh… well…"
"What did you do to her?"
"I did nothing to her?"
"What did she do to you, then?"
"She didn't do anything, technically."
"Adrien?"
"Hmmm?"
"What the hell happened?" Nino exclaims.
Adrien nervously lets his fingers run along the arms of the chair. "Maybe, maybe, we lightly had sex. And maybe it wasn't really light and it wasn't only once." His gaze fixed on the ground looks up, discovering a laughing Nino. "It's not funny!"
"Yes, it is! Seriously, Adrien, you can't stop yourselves, it's so funny!"
"She needed a distraction!"
"Oh, you sacrificed yourself, what a gentleman!"
"I know."
He quickly joins Nino in his laughter, letting himself be overwhelmed by this warmth he has forgotten: the comforting warmth of friendship.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap—
"You good?"
Marinette's foot instantly stops pounding on the ground. She turns her head, discovering Adrien's profile, his eyes looking down at his sheet of paper. He keeps writing down notes on the lecture, as if he hadn't just talked to her for the first time for days.
(The time he came visiting her as Chat Noir doesn't count. Because Marinette still has trouble assimilating the fact that they're one, and only one, person. And because that moment has seemed outside of time. And because she's not a hundred percent sure she hasn't simply dreamt it.)
Well, he had talked to her, in the literal sense. They were still in the same class. He asked her for a pen, asked her for clarification on the approximate writing of their teacher, but their exchanges stayed professional.
Exactly as Ladybug and Chat Noir's.
Exactly as Marinette wanted it.
She has never hated it so much when someone respects her will. Why does he have to be so perfect, again?
"Hmm," she answers.
"Hmm," he repeats.
"What?" Marinette notices that his hand has tightened around his pen.
"Something's bothering you."
"As always, right?"
A familiar warmth spreads inside her stomach when a smile draws on Adrien's profile.
But the butterflies in her belly are actually more like akumas.
"It's true."
She forces herself to look away from his face, focusing on the words written on the board.
Tap tap tap tap tap…
"Is it Adam?"
Tap.
"Did he say something to you again?"
Crac. Marinette jumps when the nib of her pencil smashes into her sheet.
She has pressed it too much. 'Shoot.'
"No."
"Mari…"
"I'm old enough to defend myself, Adrien."
She feels his gaze on her. "Are you sure about it?"
His words have a huge impact on her. Way more than she would have thought.
She feels her heart accelerate on her chest and her breathing becomes faster and faster. 'Are you sure about it are you sure about it are you sure about it…'
No.
No, she's not sure at all.
"Mari?"
Is she old enough to defend herself? She hadn't been when Adam and Lila threatened her with that video. She hadn't been when Adam blackmailed her. She hadn't been when Terra took her Miraculous. She still hadn't been when Adam told her all those things.
If Chat Noir, if Alya and Tikki wouldn't have stepped in, where would she be, what would she do, who would she be?
"Hey, Mari?"
She states loud and clear that Ladybug is capable of defending herself, but is she really? Is she really, without Chat Noir?
With time, she has even convinced herself that she, Marinette, is strong and independent.
But she wasn't at all.
"Marinette?"
If she was indeed strong and independent, Alya and Tikki would not be stealing Adam's phone right now. If she would really be the woman she wants to be, her eyes wouldn't be filled with tears.
"I'm okay," she whispers to Adrien who keeps repeating her name.
Misty eyes looking down at her sheet, Marinette wonders when everything has gone this wrong.
here it is, chapter nine!
I hope you liked it. I hope the part about racism wasn't misplaced or misled. if it was, don't hesitate to tell me.
next chapter is way funnier than this one and I know you'll like it—it's Marinette's 18th birthday party (wink)
I can't wait to read your thoughts about it!
I wish you a very good day!
lucie