hey guys! i'm so so so sorry you had to wait so long to have the final chapter. but, you know, life. uni, exams, a break-up and time just flies too fast and this chapter is really difficult to read so i had a hard time translating it.
BUT! here it is. it's here, just for you, ready to be read.
so, happy reading to y'all!
Adrien has always turned a blind eye to his father's attitude. He has always put him up on a pedestal, has always admired him. At this point, it's almost veneration.
That's it: Gabriel is like a God for him. Adrien looks at him with big amazed eyes, always regards his claims as an absolute and undeniable truth. He would not dare to contradict him, anyway. Because, if he has always been deeply devoted to his father, Gabriel never stops intimidating him.
From his first piano notes that he has gazed at with a critical look to the first time he has heard of Marinette; from his first photoshoots to his first magazine covers, his father has always been behind his shoulder, denigrating the way his fingers run on the piano's keys, minimizing a success or belittling the girl who has given him back the taste of life.
Adrien is almost sure he has felt every imaginable emotion towards his father. Veneration and fear have always been the centerpieces of this collection of feelings. That's what this is about: a collection. Threatened by nothing, rebuilt by even less than that.
Gabriel can psychologically destroy him; if he looks at Adrien with some consideration, Adrien ends up at his feet the second after. He can tell himself that this time is the last one, can tell himself all over again that he doesn't need his approval in any way; he always ends up succumbing.
Succumbing to this competition with himself. At this race for fatherly love which he secretly dreams of more than anything.
Succumbing to this crazy hope that it's really the last time. That after this, Gabriel will never treat him like the perfect heir he wants him to be, but like his son.
That after this, he'll talk, listen, love him.
It never happened, though. But his feelings never change.
All his memories are unblocking, hitting, gathering like the puzzle he has despaired to solve for years. Adrien, the one who's swearing only by truth; the upright, honest one, who hates lies more than everything, yet ends up wishing he had never solved this enigma in the first place.
His childhood—his life—takes on a completely different meaning now. A corrupted meaning, one making him want to scream until everything disappears.
He remembers with bitterness about all these years when her mom was still here. Happy memories darken, like in the Wizard of Oz, when everything becomes colorful. Except that it's the opposite: everything transposed in black and white.
He remembers all these nights when he was supposed to sleep, but he was hearing his mom's yells, so loud he could hear them from his room. He kept his blanket pulled up to his chin, his hands shaking, his eyes wide-open, trying to take away arguments, screams and cries, sometimes. Every time he sang in hushed tones this counting rhyme his mom was humming to him, from time to time.
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
(I've love you for so long)
Jamais je ne t'oublierai
(I will never forget you)
Sous les feuilles d'un chêne
(Under the oak's leaves)
Je me suis fait sécher
(I dried)
Sur la plus haute branche
(On the highest bough)
Un rossignol chantait
(A nightingale sang)
Sometimes, through repeating these words in a loop, Adrien succeeded in forgetting the cries.
Sometimes, he didn't.
His father never yelled. He never talks loudly, as a general rule. His words are cold and scornful enough to hurt his ears anyway. Their arguments lasted until late in the night. Adrien knows it because he could hear the birds sing when his curtains were still drawn. His mom dropped by his room, sometimes.
And she was crying, often.
"Adrien," she whispered, running her fingers in his golden hair, "I love you so much, Adrien…"
He still hears her in his dreams, more than a decade later.
When you're little and your parents argue, you don't really care why—you just want them to stop. So, Adrien never tried to understand. He told himself he should make more of an effort, be better at playing the piano, better at posing in front of a camera, better at speaking English, that he should be a better son.
Yet, the arguments had kept going. Adrien had got used to it. He was falling asleep hearing cries, waking up in a deafening silence. His father was rarely at home, often on business trips or in interviews or elsewhere. His mom, on the other hand, was usually with him. She regularly served as his teacher.
With her, Adrien never felt stressed, never felt like he was running out of breath. His anxiety attacks had begun later, when he had to be alone with his father.
He remembers the summer when he had stayed at his aunt's with his cousin Félix. It probably had been since that time that he had started to hate this season. He hated going to his aunt's. He wanted to stay with his mom, playing piano and cards. And there hadn't been neither piano nor cards at his aunt's. It's weird, but when he thinks back about her mansion, he sees walls. Giant walls, closing doors, whispers, secrets.
His parents eventually came back. He had jumped in his mom's arms, finding once again her sweet scent—she smelled like lemon pie. He hadn't eaten that much of it during his life, because he has not been allowed to, but every time he does, he thinks about Emilie.
The arguments changed. His mom still yelled and Gabriel still spoke very quietly, but Adrien, with the full weight of his eight years, knew something was wrong—even more than before.
He doesn't remember where his parents had gone the summer he had been stuck in his aunt's house—somewhere in Asia, perhaps?
Never had he stepped up in their arguments. Even when he had been old enough to do it. He had often taken refuge in his mom's bed when Gabriel didn't join her. Once her footsteps had sounded in the stairs, he waited ten, fifteen, thirty minutes to be sure his father wasn't going to go to bed. He stepped on the tips of his toes in the hallway and nestled against his mom.
"Mommy," he whispered, "why do you yell at father?"
She had caressed his hair. She did that a lot. Adrien looked at her long hair which had the same color as his. He looked at her eyes, too, beautiful green eyes, the same as his.
"Because, sometimes, even though we love each other very much, it's not enough," she told him.
"Why?"
Adrien remembers her smile. She had the kind of smile which was making you want to smile, too.
"Because love doesn't solve everything, Adrien. Sadly."
He shrugged. "I love you anyway."
She had booped the tip of his nose. They had the same nose, too. "I'm so lucky," she murmured, still smiling. "One day, you'll make someone very happy, I'm sure of it."
With a sad smile, he remembers the afternoon they had spent that day, before the argument between his parents, before he came to meet her in her bed.
His mom and him had gone for a walk. Adrien had been very happy to wander in Paris. They had even fed the ducks of the park. He remembers how much he had laughed, until his cheeks became painful.
On the way home, they had gone past a bakery. Adrien had looked at the store front with big amazed eyes. Pastry, brioches, baguettes… there were so many of them!
They had gone back in, and Emilie had made him promise to not say anything to his father. When his captivated gaze was admiring the sugared expanse, it had hit something even prettier than the tiny cakes. He had never seen eyes that blue and hair so dark in all his life.
"She's my daughter, Marinette!" the man behind the counter had told him. "You must be the same age!"
"I'm turning ten!" she had said with pride.
"You just celebrated your ninth, honey."
"So, I'm turning ten."
"She's right," his mom had smiled. "Adrien is nine, too."
"So you're turning ten," Marinette had told him.
She had set her eyes in his and Adrien felt frozen. He can still remember their parents' smiles and the scent of the fresh bread and the butterflies flapping their wings in his belly. He remembers telling himself that her eyes looked like a summer sky and that her hair had the same color as licorice. Adrien hated licorice, but he would've liked to pass his fingers through her hair.
"Mommy," he had whispered when his eyelids started to feel heavy. "Can we go back to the bakery tomorrow?"
"Of course, sweetheart."
"Mommy?" he had asked again, his eyes closed.
"Yes, Adrien?"
"Can we go buy licorice?"
"You don't like licorice, honey."
"Maybe I do."
Adrien had buried all these memories. He had locked them up in his heart and had thrown away the key.
Because recalling the genuine first time where he had met Marinette, recalling his mom's smiles and the taste of lemon pie, it's also reminding himself that there would be no more first meetings, no more smiles and no more lemon pie.
Not anymore.
His father can akumatize the whole world, can reunite the two Miraculouses and fulfill his wish, his mom will not come back for all that, not completely.
You don't bring dead people back to life. It's simple. It's the very principle of life: it ends.
Yet, Gabriel has fought for four years against this same principle. And Adrien doesn't like this unsettling sensation sliding into his heart. It's like… parasitized hope. Perverted hope.
He abruptly stands up from his bed, gazing down at the sleeping figure of Plagg. Adrien feels a sad smile invade his face. He had gotten so attached to him. A tiny black creature, able to destroy an entire continent. Adrien slowly closes the door of his room and goes down the marble stairs, telling himself he should talk to Plagg, once his plan will be on track.
He pushes the door of his father's office, not surprised to find him there despite the late hour.
"Adrien," he sighs, "what do you—"
He looks up from the papers and the coffee cup. The least expressive man in the world then goes through all the facial expressions: brows frowned, lips pinched, brows raised, lips half-opened, light smile.
"You took your time."
Adrien walks in the room with a stiff gait, as if his whole body focuses on not exploding. His fists squeeze because of the smile his father is giving him.
He's smiling.
"Well," he announces, leaning against his chair, his chin leaning on the back of his hand. "What do you know, Adrien?"
What does he know? Too many things. Not enough.
And him, what does he know, exactly?
"I know you're Hawk Moth."
He hums.
"I know you want to bring mom back."
The tone of his own voice is surprising him. He has thought it would be quivering, pushing the limits of a sob, but it's simply lacking in emotions. Empty.
"What about you, Adrien? What do you want?"
At this moment, looking in his father's eyes, Adrien realizes there is no possible redemption for him. Evil is ingrained in his heart, eroding every cell, rotting his soul.
He has to choose his words wisely. Because if Gabriel is a lost cause, there is still someone who can be saved, out there.
"I want to help you," he breathes.
As if he has filled his quota of feelings, his father turns into an emotionless statue, his grey eyes frozen into his. "You know you have to give me your Miraculous and Ladybug's for that."
This answers his question: Gabriel knows he's Chat Noir. But does he know Marinette is Ladybug?
His brain is working at top speed.
"I can't get her Miraculous like that. She wouldn't give it away that easily."
"I see."
"If you give me yours and I show her that you're defeated, she'll drop her guard."
Gabriel's mask splits a bit. He cracks a smile. "Do you take me for an idiot, Adrien?"
His heart is beating in his throat. "I'd do anything to bring mom back. You know it. Do you take me for a coward?"
His repartee seems to amuse Gabriel. He has smiled more in a minute than he's done since his mom left them.
"You don't need your Miraculous anymore, anyway. Now that you know our identities."
"I don't know Ladybug's."
Adrien wants to cry, yell, laugh in relief. His heart is beating more freely in his chest, his breathing is smoother, his thoughts clearer.
He shrugs. "You know mine, it's enough."
Gabriel narrows his eyes.
"I'm going to see Ladybug. I'll show her your Miraculous. As soon as she drops her guard, I'll take hers and bring it to you. Is that all right?"
Gabriel brings his hands under his chin. "Why can't you just take her Miraculous?"
Adrien fights off the urge to roll his eyes. "You're underestimating her."
"And you're underestimating the trust she puts in you."
His words come as an arrow right out in his heart. "She'll never let me take her Miraculous."
"Allow me to be sceptical, Adrien," Gabriel says, letting his back rest against his chair. He seems exhausted. "You fought against me for years. This turnaround seems a little bit… opportunistic."
"I fought against you for years because I didn't know it was you! Because I didn't know it was to bring Mom back! Don't you think I would've given you my Miraculous without hesitation if I'd known?"
His father doesn't answer.
Adrien feels out of breath. His lie came out way too naturally to be one. It's exactly what scares him: there is some truth in here.
"I discovered your identity only recently," Gabriel explains. "My doubts turned out to be well-founded at Christmas."
It's really the first time Gabriel Agreste explains himself.
"So you deliberately caused the collapse?" he asks in a whisper.
"I wanted to be sure. And I wanted to check another one of my suspicions. Which sadly turned out to be false."
Adrien stops breathing.
Is he talking about Marinette? That would be why he chose that day, that moment, on their appearance, to aim for them both?
None of his muscles are moving anymore.
"You'd tell me, if you knew Ladybug's identity? We have a deal on this one?"
"We have a deal on this one," Adrien answers.
"Good," Gabriel lets out, without ever breaking their eye contact.
His muscles loosen, his breathing steadies. Adrien hopes with every fiber of his body, pray every possible dans imaginable God for his father not to know who's hiding behind Ladybug's mask.
He looks down, unable to maintain the frozen staring of his father one more second.
"I'm sorry. I should have shared my plans with you, about your Mom. Perhaps… Perhaps you could have helped me."
Sadness supplants surprise. Adrien swallows his tears and looks up again. "I can help you now."
The smile drawing on Gabriel's lips doesn't have anything sneering or scornful. It's a smile full of hope.
An unbearable guilt knots Adrien's throat.
"We will follow your plan," Gabriel says, removing his Miraculous.
Nooroo—who isn't in the room—is immediately swallowed by the jewel. Adrien still has trouble believing it.
The one who is torturing this poor Nooroo, who is sending villain after villain on their heels, is his dad?
The one his mom has always loved so much, despite all their arguments?
The fact that it's, somehow, so logical breaks his heart.
"Thank you," Adrien says, taking the jewel. "Thank you for trusting me."
"Don't make me regret it."
Adrien agrees with a nod.
He gets out of the room and takes a deep breath, resting his head against the door. At this moment, he feels morally worse than his father.
His phone vibrates in his pocket, tearing him away from his thoughts. Adrien wipes the tears dripping from his eyes and looks down at the screen, sniffling.
It's a text from Lila.
He's so much worse than his father.
Adrien puts his phone back in his pocket, doesn't take the trouble of wiping the tears which start to mist his gaze again and goes back upstairs in his room. He has to explain it all to Plagg.
Adrien has been really weird these last few days.
At first, Marinette thought it was because of the night they spent together. Perhaps he regrets all these words, all these promises.
She did ask him. He had smiled—a strange smile—and had kissed her forehead, brushing her nape with the tips of his fingers.
"I'll never regret that, my Lady," he had whispered.
And she believes him. She can doubt a lot of things, but not his love towards her.
So, she tells herself it's because of everything else. Classes, exams, fatigue, rumors. The whispers on their path have never been so loud.
It's crescendoing. Suspicions have been scattered because of Adam, maintained by Marinette and Adrien themselves—hiding the nature of their relationship has become the least of their worries—and have blossomed after that night, when Adrien had accompanied her voice on the piano.
Today, after months of rationing each of their moves, of anticipating each of their words, of preventing each of their gazes when they were in public, Marinette and Adrien have approved jointly that this was it—they couldn't take it anymore.
Masks have fallen. Adrien lets his arm wrap around Marinette's shoulder, Marinette lets her hand hold Adrien's, Adrien lets his lips brush Marinette's cheek. These are little gestures, almost nothing, but it's enough for everyone to know about them.
Their friends weren't surprised. Alix and Kim had thrown them a common wink, around a hallway, while they were kissing—they had told them to go easy, Marinette had rolled her eyes, Adrien had laughed. Mylène, Rose and Juleka had smiled in a way that was showing their happiness and their blessing, tinged with an air which meant it was about time—Marinette and Adrien had both smiled, this time. Chloé had gently patted Adrien's shoulder but her smile seemed oddly forced. She was gone before Marinette could even ask her anything. Lila had glared at them in a disgusted way, as if seeing Adrien with Marinette made her feel sick.
Alya and Nino had welcomed them with a huge smile.
"Finally!" Nino had shouted, giving Adrien a strong tap on his back.
At the same time, a group of girls had walked before them, looking at Adrien with pity and Marinette with disdain. She had raised an eyebrow before dragging herself to her tiptoes, kissing Adrien in a short, but intense way, leaving him smiling and blushing.
"Very Ladybug," he had said, a hand falling at the small of her back, "my Lady."
"I know, kitty."
"How many nicknames do you have?" Nino had wondered, when they had started walking in the hallway.
"Too many," Alya had chuckled.
Marinette had gently nudged her.
"My Lady, Bugaboo, Princess," Nino enumerates. "And I can't even imagine what he calls you when you—"
"Nino!" Marinette had cut him.
"You'd rather not," Adrien had answered.
Marinette had looked up at him, meeting his raised brow and his smirk.
"Here, a closet," Alya had said with a move of her head. "You want us to keep the door, or…"
"Alya!"
Her friends had burst out laughing and Marinette had grumbled something inaudible, blushing at feeling Adrien's lips in her hair.
Marinette smiles, thinking back on that memory. It was months ago now. And after the relief of not having to hide anymore had come reality.
A reality full of comments on social media and gossip about them.
He deserves better, don't you think?
I think she's dating him out of self-interest.
She's not even that pretty. He could find so much better than her.
Guys, would you let your girl go out like this? Did you see what she was wearing?
If what happened with that guy is true, she literally asked for it.
I think he's cheating on her.
She must do some stuff to him for him to stay with her.
Marinette had deleted Twitter. Of course, she still receives messages. Completely messed up screenshots that are supposed to show Adrien's infidelity. Pictures of him in the middle of a photoshoot, close to another girl. Pictures of them in highschool, in Paris' streets, holding hands. Instagram posts about her body, about her outfits, about anything.
With time, Marinette has learnt to let go, even if she will never fully ignore it. She's grateful to herself for not having problems with her own body or trust issues in regards to Adrien. Otherwise, the consequences could have been dramatic.
He keeps telling her how much he loves her, how lucky he is, how stupid and jealous people are and how sorry he is she has to face all of this. Marinette smiles, kisses him and curls up in his arms, forgetting the human nastiness for a while.
But it's still an oppressive and stifling situation. This, in addition to the exams which had never been so close and Hawk Moth who still isn't showing any sign of life, it's a lot.
So, Marinette doesn't worry more than that. Yeah, he often seems to be lost in his thoughts. Yeah, he smiles less than before. But it's only temporary.
Isn't it?
She hopes it is, anyway.
May keeps passing by, temperatures go higher, buds blossom and Paris has never been so quiet. Passers-by laugh, kids play, released from Hawk Moth's constant raids.
Marinette, sitting at her desk, her brain boiling with the essay she is working on, tries not to think about it. Not to think about this concern settling in her mind: getting used to peace.
She fears the exams, fears her leaving, fears a lot of things. But, what she fears above all is Hawk Moth attacking Paris again.
After all, perhaps he realized he has no chance? Perhaps…
"Marinette?" Tikki calls her.
She hums, her hand moving to the pace of the words she writes.
"Marinette!"
The urgency in her voice makes her look up from her desk. Marinette drops her pen, stretching her aching wrist.
"Tikki? Why are you—"
"Marinette!"
She has never seen Tikki in such a state. Marinette stands up, discovering the astounded and thrilled expression of her kwami who seems to fly down from the balcony.
This same astonishment takes her breath away when she notices what Tikki is actually holding. "It's— It's—"
Talking is impossible. There are too many words.
"What— What— No. There's no way. It can't be—"
"It can, Marinette, I would recognize it anywhere! It's Hawk Moth's Miraculous!"
"Hawk Moth's Miraculous," she repeats.
Marinette touches the jewel with her shaking fingers.
She doesn't know what she has been expecting. An explosion, a voice, a sudden pain. None of these happen, anyway. Nothing actually happens.
"I don't get it," Marinette whispers.
"I found it up here," Tikki explains, pointing to the balcony above her room.
"I still don't get it."
Marinette looks at the pin laying in her palm. It's tiny. How could something so tiny have ruined her life for four years?
"Maybe he realized there was no chance against you two. Or he realized he has gone too far. That it was hopeless."
Marinette furrows. "I can't believe it, Tikki. It's so…"
"Unexpected?"
"Yeah," she breathes.
"It already happened in the past," Tikki explains. "Villains regretting their actions and deliberately giving up their Miraculous before being exposed."
"But…" Marinette whispers. "But he knows who I am."
Tikki settles on her shoulder. "Precisely, Marinette. If he gave you your Miraculous while knowing your identity, it means that he trusts that there will be no consequences."
She raises a sceptical gaze to her kwami, her brows frowned. "You mean that he's going to get away just like that? When he killed people?"
"I don't want it any more than you do, Marinette. But, we'd best stick to damage control, don't you think? If you keep looking for his identity, you don't know what could happen."
"He doesn't have a Miraculous anymore."
"Perhaps," Tikki admits. "But he still has the Peacock—him, or someone he knows. And not having a Miraculous doesn't mean he's powerless. You know that better than anyone."
Marinette thinks back about the 23rd day of December, about the collapsed ceiling, about the desperate strength she had. Souls are still buried there. Part of hers is, too.
She closes her eyelids, letting herself fall down on her couch. The cushions still have Adrien's scent.
Adrien.
"I have to call Adrien."
"Talk about this together. You're the holders of the Miraculouses of Creation and Destruction and you're the Guardian: it's up to you. But don't forget what I've told you, Marinette."
She can't just let him vanish. He's a murderer. His place is in jail.
Adrien would be by her side.
He turns out to be more suspicious than she has imagined.
Every reaction he manifests seems strange to Marinette. First, he has not seemed to be as blown away as Tikki, or herself, or even Plagg who lets out all kinds of curse words involving all kinds of cheeses—Plagg's reaction has seemed a little bit too much, by the way. He has been surprised, Marinette can tell it by his wide-opened eyelids, by his raised brows and by the flash in his eyes.
But his surprise doesn't seem to be the same as Marinette's or the two kwamis. As if he is not astonished by the fact that Hawk Moth's Miraculous is now in their possession, but rather by the conclusions Tikki and Marinette had drawn.
"You always have to look further than everyone else, huh?" he says, an inscrutable smile sitting at the corner of his lips.
"What does it mean?"
Adrien walks along her room, passing his finger along her books, looking at her clothes, examining every detail.
"We won, Marinette. Is that not enough?"
Still sitting on her couch, Marinette furrows, her head slightly bending to the side. "He killed people, Adrien," she says.
She has barely whispered it, this fact that he already knows. Yet, she feels like she has just yelled the worst insult at him, if she goes by the suffering in his gaze.
He looks down. "I know," he breathes.
"We can't just let him live on as if nothing has happened!"
"Let him live?"
"That's not what I mean."
He doesn't answer anything, his eyes still cling to the ground.
Marinette takes a deep breath. "What I mean is," she resumes, softer, "is that it's not up to us. He should have a trial, be judged for his crimes."
"Probably, yeah," Adrien murmurs.
Marinette meets him. She puts her hand against his waist, presses her cheek against his back, enjoying the warmth of his skin through his shirt.
Adrien soothes against her, his hands going up to meet hers.
"Can we just…" he whispers in an exhausted voice, "not think about it? We won, my Lady, that's all that matters."
"You're right," she breathes. "We won."
She has dreamed of pronouncing these words for so many years.
But, now that they're here, now that they've done it, an odd feeling is tying her throat into knots. Like nostalgia.
No more fighting side by side, Chat Noir and her. No more pound it, no more purifying akuma.
Marinette sighs at her own stupidity. It's like she has finally been freed from her kidnapper, but she still feels unable to go home. It's her Stockholm syndrome.
Adrien turns to face her.
"My Lady," he whispers, his thumb brushing her cheek.
She can answer him only with a muffled sob.
"Don't cry," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her. Please don't cry."
"I—I'm s—sorry," she articulates against his chest. "I—It's j—just…"
"I know," he breathes in her hair. "It's a lot to take in."
Marinette nods. His smell is comforting: this mix of honey and almond.
"It's gonna be okay, you'll see."
She raises her face to his. His eyes are wet.
Marinette drags herself up to the tip of her toes and kisses the salted tear running down his cheek.
"It's gonna be okay," he says again.
He catches her mouth with his and Marinette grasps onto his shoulders, taking refuge in his warmth and in his presence.
Why are they crying?
Why does nostalgia overcome them even faster than desire?
Marinette buries all these questions deep down inside her, losing herself in what she knows, what is familiar: Adrien.
Weeks gently pass by. No attack—it's obvious, but Marinette still has a hard time getting used to it. No argument—she and Adrien have simply stopped talking about Hawk Moth. No threatening text or doubtful post on social media.
Dead calm.
Exams and the last day of high school bring their emotional prize, of course. But Marinette feels elsewhere. This oppressing and anxious feeling doesn't leave her anymore. It wakes her up in the middle of the night, makes her throw up, makes her have hot flashes and stomach aches. She avoids worrying Adrien or Alya or Nino or anyone.
So she puts it down to her imminent departure. Changing continents—changing life—is stressful, leaving her friends, her family, her country, is stressful.
Yet, it's the dream of her life waiting for her at the other side of the world. It's a common life with Adrien. She should feel excited, full of haste, hope and expectations.
Instead, Marinette wonders. She wonders why Adrien's mood doesn't get better, wonders why he never talks to her about New York. It's him who has broached this idea in the first place. It's weird, all of this is terribly weird.
Marinette closes her eyelids, June's sunshine brushing her face. Sitting on her deckchair, she's looking at the view her balcony offers her of the capital. She gazes at every building, every passer-by, every street, printing them on her retina. In a week, she'll be far, endlessly far away from all of this. From her parents, from where she'd grown, from her room which had known so many important moments. Endlessly far away from Alya and her advice, Nino and his kindness. Endlessly far away from everything.
A noise makes her open her eyes. Adrien appears in her field of vision, emerging from her room.
Marinette has barely glanced at him that she knows something is wrong.
"My Lady," he greets her, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
"What's going on?"
He closes his eyes for a moment.
Marinette looks at the shirt he's wearing—way too large for him. And here, on his jaw, is that a bruise?
"Adrien," she breathes.
"I can't go to New York with you."
He has said those words the way you rip off a Band-Aid.
A strange feeling takes possession of Marinette. There's intense sadness, pain twisting her heart. But there's some predictability, too. This anxiety making her throw up: it really has a reason to be here.
Adrien opens his eyelids and kneels next to her deckchair.
"Why?" she simply asks.
"My father…" he whispers. "He wants me to stay here, in Paris. He needs me for his brand, especially now that I graduated high school. He has to train me to be able to replace him later. He is counting on me, Marinette."
She nods.
I counted on you, too, she wants to tell him.
But she nods, again and again.
"I get it."
"I'm sorry, my Lady, I'm so sorry."
"I know, kitty," she whispers, dropping a hand on his cheek. "I know you are."
His lips brush her wrist.
Marinette feels tears stick to her eyes. She brushes them off by blinking. Adrien's hand against her leg makes her furrows.
"Your Miraculous."
He plunges his other hand in his pocket, giving her his ring. Marinette looks at the jewel and at the intense green shade of his eyes.
"You should have it."
"Why?"
"Because you're the Guardian. And because Hawk Moth doesn't exist anymore, so… you have to take back all the Miraculouses."
He's right. Of course he is.
"I can't take back your Miraculous," she sighs.
"Take it, my Lady, please."
She opens her mouth, without any sound escaping it.
"Once you'll be gone…" He closes his eyes for a moment, as if he's holding back tears. "I can't keep it. It'll make me think too much about you."
It'll make me think too much about you, too, she thinks.
But, once again, she doesn't say a word.
"Okay," she answers despite the knot compressing her throat.
Adrien nods and drops a kiss on her forehead again. Marinette can't say anything. Her brain is short-circuited, her heart too painful, her lips too shaky.
She feels something wet on her forehead.
And then, Adrien is gone.
Marinette feels like she's floating in the middle of a parallel dimension. She's going to wake up, Adrien's warm and firm chest against her back, his leg between hers, his hair brushing her neck. She's going to open her eyes and she'll not be packing to go live at the other end of the planet. She's going to open her eyes and there still will be akumas, Hawk Moth, Chat Noir.
This hope desperately swells in her heart every morning before exploding as soon as her eyelids open. Because every time, there's no Adrien in her bed, her room is a mess and Chat Noir's Miraculous is still here. Marinette looks at it, gazes at this jewel so unfamiliar to her when it's not around Adrien's finger.
Plagg hasn't said much. The chatty and cocky kwami has fallen into a heart-broken silence. Marinette still glances at him, perched on the window, his empty look to the horizon. The only words Tikki and she have succeeded to extract from him were that he doesn't understand Adrien's behavior. Then, he has explained the last week in a bland voice, without taking any break, as if he has repeated his text thousands of times.
Apparently, he changed since that love night at the top of the Orsay museum. When they left each on their side later in the night, Adrien hadn't seemed like himself: he hadn't been all smiles and stars in his eyes like everytime he sees Marinette—Plagg hasn't even made a disgusted groan or a despising snort when recalling this. He had even asked him what was wrong, to which Adrien had claimed it was a human thing. Plagg hadn't insisted and had passed out. Soon after, Adrien had transformed, telling his kwami he needed to go for a walk to clear his mind. Plagg can't see what his holder does after transforming, so he doesn't know more.
Only that Adrien had seemed extremely exhausted and tortured the last few days. He had spent a lot of time with his father, which is very unusual. Plagg thinks it's why he hasn't seemed well. He had tried to question him and Adrien had only sighed, telling him he didn't want to talk about it.
Once again, the kwami hadn't pushed: not like him. A few days later, he had explained to him that he had to give up his Miraculous, now that Hawk Moth had surrendered—that, too, Adrien hadn't wanted to talk about.
Plagg explains to Marinette that it's not the first time that a holder reacts like this after a victory—especially this kind of victory. There hasn't been a last fight, no shedded blood, no tears. Hawk Moth's presence in their lives and in Parisian's has just blown out, like a candle consuming. And then, it has extinguished, naturally. Perhaps Adrien doesn't feel legitimate, Plagg has assumed. He couldn't save all these people from the collapsing. He couldn't completely save Marinette. He couldn't truly beat Hawk Moth: he had surrendered.
So, once again, Plagg hadn't gone further. He really thought it wasn't serious. That it was just a matter of time for Adrien to get used to his new life. He wouldn't give up his Miraculous, even if he didn't need it anymore. Plagg knows just how much Adrien needs to be Chat Noir, even more than Marinette needs to be Ladybug.
Yet, he has removed his ring. Plagg had felt himself be sucked up by the jewel and when he found the real world again, Adrien was gone.
Marinette doesn't get it. Tikki tries to reason with her, telling her that maybe he's going to change his mind, that it's probably only a matter of weeks—months, at the most.
"But I leave in three days!" Marinette has answers back.
"He can still visit you."
Marinette shakes her head. It doesn't make any sense.
Her discussion with Plagg, Tikki's words, the other kwamis' hypotheses: she plays all of it in her head, again and again. Even her parents don't know what to say to her.
Because it's fucking stupid, she thinks, angrily throwing a shirt on the ground. A shirt which turns out to be Adrien's. Marinette looks down at the garment and falls down with it, her knees hitting the wooden floor, warmed up by the summer sun.
She closes her eyelids, bringing the fabric to her nose. Her throat tightens up when Adrien's smell bathes her nostrils. Will she get used to not being surrounded by his perfume? Or will she, on the contrary, smell him everywhere he's not?
Marinette doesn't want to know.
Knock knock!
The surprise makes her open her eyes and drop the shirt. The trapdoor leading to her room open, revealing Alya's face.
"It's us," she says, hauling herself up on the wood floor, quickly joined by Nino. Marinette offers them the widest smile she can, but she feels it doesn't reach her eyes.
She lets herself fall down against her half-empty closet, her gaze lost on the amount of clothing and all kinds of stuff scattered across her room.
Nino drops a kiss on her cheek, Alya wraps an arm around her shoulders and they both sit next to her. Marinette lets her head fall against Nino's shoulder.
"You up for a threesome?"
Marinette honestly bursts out laughing and so do her friends. Tears of a thousand different feelings bead at the corner of her eyes.
"Thank you," she breathes once she can talk again. "For being here."
Alya's arm straightens around her shoulders and Nino presses his cheek against the top of her head.
"We're gonna miss you, Minibug," Nino whispers.
A genuine smile curls her lips up. It always amuses her when he calls her like that. "I'll miss you, too," she says, closing her eyes.
Every time the idea of being kilometers away from her friends brushes her mind, Marinette pushes it away as far as she can. It's not the right thing to do, she knows that. She'll have to deal with her fears sooner or later, and the more she postpones this moment, the stronger reality will be when it catches her.
If it's not now, it'll be the day before she leaves, in the airport, in the plane, it'll be in her tiny New York apartment, where her loneliness will take up the whole space.
"No tears!" Alya claims out, sniffling.
Marinette sits up from Nino's shoulder and nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"C'mon," Nino cheers her up, gently disheveling her hair, "we're gonna help you pack it all."
Marinette looks at her messy room with weariness. A little bit of help definitely won't be too much.
"What is this?" Alya asks, tying her hair up. She's pointing to the only box which isn't saddled with a black pen writing.
Marinette clears her throat. "Adrien's stuff."
Nino glances at her and Alya's arms fall down her body. "Do you have any news?" he asks her.
Marinette shakes her head, biting her lips to prevent them from shaking. "Nothing since he told me he couldn't come… and gave me back his Miraculous."
She has told them everything, of course. Everything, except the details of the night when he told her he was going to come to New York with her, the night when they exchanged all these promises.
The night when they got married.
Marinette feels ridiculous. He told her he doesn't regret anything, but the more days pass, the more she questions his words. After all, they're only eighteen and they've been together for only a few months.
Perhaps he has been scared of commitment. Perhaps he wanted to have more experience, he who has been kept on a leash his whole life. Perhaps, now that high school is over, he wants to have some fun.
It doesn't look like him at all. He's not the kind to be afraid of commitment, Marinette knows that the experience they've gained together is enough for him and that the moments he has the most fun are when he's with her. She knows it, because he has told her.
And Adrien is a lot of things, but he's certainly not a liar.
Something is wrong with this. Something that makes Marinette want to yell from frustration.
"He isn't answering his phone, and I don't see myself crashing in his room when he's obviously trying to push me away," she says with an ironic smile. She grabs one of his shirts on the ground. Adrien's smell makes her absolutely furious. "I even tried to call Nathalie, but it seems that he's too busy. Can you believe it, seriously? Too busy. I'm not too busy, maybe? As if I don't have other things to do than dealing with his mood swings!" she groans, violently throwing away the shirt in the box. Marinette takes another piece of clothing—a sweatshirt, this time—and does the same thing. "He shows up in my life, with his fucking eyes and his fucking words, makes me completely fall in love with him, promises me things, all of this for what? To disappear as if nothing happened? And," she resumes with a trembling voice, "why do I have so many of his clothes? He's everywhere!"
Alya gets closer to her, but Marinette walks away, a lump in her throat, tears burning her eyes. "What am I supposed to do with all of this?" she sobs, showing the box. "And this?" she asks, removing the ring around her finger.
"Mari, don't do this, you're going to—"
But Marinette doesn't listen to Alya. She throws the ring away through her room with all her strength.
She ignores her friend's worried looks and Tikki's big eyes. Even Plagg seems concerned. Marinette angrily wipes away the tears clouding her eyesight and climbs to her bed. Her shaky hand grabs onto the shelf overhanging it. "And this?" Chat Noir's plushy, pictures of Adrien and her, the notebook where she's written the rules of their relationship almost one year ago, all of it ends up on the floor. "And this? I'm pretty sure you'll need it more than me!" The condoms box lands up on the floor at the same time Marinette curls up on her mattress. She's not sure if she's crying because of the pain tearing her heart apart or because of her own stupidity.
Because, even at this moment, all that she wants, more than going to New York, more than everything, is for Adrien to hug her.
And she hates herself for it.
"Let it go, Marinette," Alya gently whispers to her. "You'll feel better if you do."
Marinette listens to her best friend, listens to her familiar and caring voice telling her that she's here, that she'll always be here, and she cries.
Curled up against Alya, her face against her chest, Marinette cries until she can't breathe, until the pain in her throat and in her eyes calms the one of her heart.
She cries at feeling Nino's presence behind her, at feeling his hand gently brushing her hair. Tears run down her face. Run and run and run.
Marinette relieves herself of this outpouring of emotions that has been blocking her heart for days. For months.
She cries for everything that happened during this last year. Cries because she got close toAdrien and realized just how much he's been broken by his father. Cries because she has had to hide her feelings towards Chat Noir, towards Adrien. Cries because they discovered their identities. Cries because she has had to push him away from her. Cries because she couldn't do it. Cries because Adam has assaulted her. Cries because she can still feel his hands on her. Cries because words hurt, too, and that she can still hear Adam's. Cries because it has damaged Adrien even more. Cries because he has given her his mom's ring. Cries because the ceiling had collapsed, that night. Cries because she hasn't sung since then. Cries because people died out here. Cries because she still has trouble bending her left arm, sometimes. Cries because Adrien has been hurt at least as much as her. Cries because the months have been hard. Cries because she hasn't made the most of Adrien's company, not as much as she wishes she would've, today. Cries because she has been admitted to Pratt. Cries because Adrien has told her he would follow her all around the world. Cries because Hawk Moth has disappeared and that she feels like a part of herself has disappeared with him. Cries because Adrien has disappeared with him. She cries because, in the end, he's not going to follow her all around the world. Cries because he has given her his Miraculous. Cries because she has lost Chat Noir. Lost Adrien.
Cries because she feels like she has lost herself, too.
They get out of bed, eventually. Marinette stopped crying, her eyes red and her heart exhausted from being so broken.
They don't say much. They put her stuff in order, asking Marinette if she'd rather bring the green or the pink sweater, if she prefers that dress or this one.
She would rather nestle herself in Adrien's clothes, but she answers that she prefers the pink sweater and the black dress. She would rather stay in her bed, but she packs her things, closes the boxes, wraps up her memories. Her childhood.
Sadness moves on to weariness. She just wants this intervening period to come to an end.
In fact, what she wants more than anything are answers. But Adrien doesn't seem likely to give them to her. And Marinette isn't going to let him ruin the dream she has fought so hard for.
It's her hard work becoming concrete, it's her later, I wanna be a great designer becoming real. And a man is not going to tear this away from her. Even if this man is Adrien Agreste.
So Marinette closes her suitcase. Conscientiously checks that nothing is forgotten, reads and re-reads her admission letter, verifies multiple times that her passport is in her bag.
"Plagg?" she asks later that night.
The kwami, still perched on her window, doesn't look at her. But she knows he's listening.
"Would you rather be in the Miracle Box with the others during the trip or with Tikki?"
Plagg shrugs. "I don't care."
Marinette sighs before gently petting the top of his head. "You do care," she whispers.
"He's really gone," he breathes.
Marinette looks up at the Parisian sky, where Plagg's eyes are glancing.
"He took him from us."
He's talking about Gabriel.
"Do you think I should stay?" she asks in a whisper. "That I should look further?"
He doesn't answer right away. "No. You should go, Marinette. You owe it to yourself. I know him", he adds, "I know every inch of that kid's mind. He'd want you to go, even without him."
"But… who's going to take care of him?"
"Alya and Nino are staying here. If something was wrong, he would tell us. You know how much he hates lies."
"You're right." She sighs, exhaustion weighing on her eyelids. "I guess I'm just looking for a reason to stay," she admits. "Everything is scarier without him."
She has looked for a ton of excuses. She doesn't speak English well enough. New York is too expensive. Paris' schools are just as good. She should stay here if Hawk Moth comes back, if he decides to use the Peacock Miraculous.
This voice in her head, determined and full of dreams, destroys every one of her arguments. She speaks English just fine. Costs are similar to Paris', anyway. Pratt is still the best school and the one where she has always wanted to go. Hawk Moth is not going to use the Peacock Miraculous because he has already given up, either way. In the worst scenario, she would come back to Paris in a heartbeat with the Horse Miraculous.
Her excuses are worthless. She's only scared.
Plagg can tell her that he's going to visit her, that they can live their relationship at a distance, but he doesn't. Perhaps because this topic is too human. Perhaps because he doesn't believe it.
Marinette doesn't either. She has seen the look in his eyes, has heard the resilience in his words: there definitely isn't enough space for anything in there.
Yet, she's still hopping. She hopes he will run after her in the airport to tell her that it's not too far gone and that even at the other side of the world, he will still be with her, he will still love her. Because she will.
"We'll be here," he answers.
Marinette glances at him. He has lost that mischievous sparkle in his eyes, has lost the kind cockiness of his voice.
Adrien is like the sun: he has blinded them, has given them his light, for a while. Now that he doesn't light them up anymore, Plagg and her become dark, gloomy, lifeless.
"You don't have to come, you know. You could stay with Alya or Nino, if you want to be close to him."
"No," Plagg immediately answers. "Adrien gave up on me because he wanted to do things right. No more villains, no more superheroes. It's how it works."
No more villains, no more superheroes.
That sentence sounds in her head for a long time after this.
Marinette doesn't sleep the night before her departure. Everytime her eyes close, a wave of questions spins her head. What if she can't mix studying and working to meet her needs? What if she doesn't like it? What if she misses Paris too much? What if she doesn't make any friends? What if her name will always be associated with Adrien, even on another continent?
She spends hours in her bed, a light night breeze brushing her face, her forehead covered with a dusting of sweat, scrolling on her phone.
Twitter, Instagram, press articles, Marinette looks at everything. From suspicions about her relationship with Adrien to the pictures which keep spreading, from the new fashion campaign Adrien just got into from the reactions it set off.
In one way or another, Marinette feels like she will never be completely safe. For years, it has been Ladybug who was under the spotlight. Cheering, criticism, inquiries over her identity, rumors about Chat Noir and her: she has always been analyzed, dissected, again and again.
And now that Hawk Moth has surrendered, now that Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't here anymore, it's Marinette who is being studied from every angle. As if, now that Paris' heroes are becoming memories, people are focusing their unhealthy curiosity on Agreste's famed son and on the daughter of the best bakers of Paris.
Of course, Ladybug and Chat Noir stay on everyone's lips. After all, it's been barely two weeks since their retirement has been announced. They waited until they were sure that Hawk Moth was behind them to make it public. Most of the Parisians have not seemed surprised: after all, there hasn't been any attack for months.
The news has caused division. Some people find it good news: not needing superheroes means that there isn't a supernatural threat anymore.
Some are split between relief and nostalgia: after all, Ladybug and Chat Noir have been a part of their everyday life for years, Paris has seen them grow. Some deal with the news with more skepticism: how can they be sure that Hawk Moth is defeated? Will Ladybug and Chat Noir keep patrolling? The most curious ones go after their identities—now that it's over, there aren't any risks anymore, they can tell us who they are!—or their intimacy—Hawk Moth isn't here anymore, so now, between us, they're way more than partners, aren't they?
It could be fun for Marinette, all these speculations. It could be, if she would be reading all this with Adrien, her head against his chest, his breath tickling her hair every time he would laugh.
But she's alone in the stuffy warmth of summer and nothing seems funny.
Marinette leaves Twitter for the umpteenth time and goes find herself in her pictures. Among the screenshots of papers she needs to have on her, the fashion mood boards and the photos of New York flats, there is an impressive amount of pictures of Adrien and her, or Adrien alone. Asleep Adrien, looking peaceful. Adrien eating an ice cream, smiling so much it shows the whiteness of his teeth, his hand raised towards her phone. Adrien with a puppy face, ridiculously adorable. Adrien, with his arm up to take a photo, messy hair, naked chest, blushing cheeks, a happy face and her, curled up against his torso, the sheets hiding her chest, her face hidden against him. Not very difficult to guess what they just did. Another picture where Marinette is holding the phone: her long raven hair gathered up in an approximate bun, wearing one of Adrien's shirts falling to the middle of her thighs, her head against his side. Adrien has his arm around her. He's wearing only a pair of shorts which is lazily hanging along his hips and has a toothbrush between his lips.
The more Marinette is going back in time, the more she feels her heart squeeze in her chest.
The next picture makes her smile. She remembers this. She's on top of him, her thighs pressed around his hips. Adrien is laying down, a big grin on his face, his arms behind his head, emphasizing the muscles of his torso. His hair is falling before his eyes, only partially hiding his soft gaze.
Marinette takes a while admiring their memories, remembering some of their moments with a smirk. After the pictures, she re-reads their texts, going back enough to find old messages.
11:16pm Adrien — my Lady?
11:16pm Adrien — princess
11:16pm Adrien — bugaboo
11:16pm Adrien — mariiiiiii
11:17pm Me — what?
11:17pm Adrien — i'm bored
11:18pm Me — wanna come over?
11:18pm Adrien — i can't :/ gotta wake up early tomorrow
11:18pm Me — we can just sleep, you know
11:19pm Adrien — hmmm
11:19pm Adrien — i don't wanna sleep
Marinette feels an empty space where flames of desire are supposed to burn. She lays down on her side, her eyes clinging to the screen.
11:20pm Me — me neither
11:20pm Adrien — interesting
11:20pm Me — kitty
11:20pm Adrien — yeah?
11:20pm Me — can i call you?
11:21pm Adrien — want a little story to fall asleep?
11:21pm Me — i want you
Beginning of the call: 11:21pm
Ending of the call: 1:12am
Marinette sighs, passing a hand on her burning forehead. She asks herself if, one day, she'll send this kind of text to somebody else.
She doesn't want to.
She doesn't want much, she realizes, before a sudden nausea makes her hastily get out of her bed.
Marinette stares at the four most important people in her life. The comfort in her mom's eyes, their shape, so close to her own eyes. The clumsy, but so genuine, smile of her dad. Alya's hazel gaze, the good mood she spreads everywhere she goes. Nino's familiarity, his face she saw grow in parallel with hers.
She doesn't have any tears left. Her tear ducts are like a drained oasis in the middle of the desert. Pain is like music that never stops. If she focuses, Marinette can hear the lyrics, can feel the wrenching of her heart.
"Last call for the New York flight."
She gives a little smile to this little group around her. Her mom hugs her one last time, her dad drops a last kiss on her forehead.
"We'll call at least once a week, okay?" Alya reminds her when Marinette wraps her arms around her.
"Promise."
She moves away from her friend, loses herself in her eyes one last time. The chorus of the music deep down her heart changes for a moment when she remembers the first day of ninth grade, all these nights spent together, all these secrets exchanged. They grew up together, during all these years.
"I know," Alya whispers when she opens her mouth. "I know," she says again, tears in her eyes.
Marinette nods, offering her the most comforting smile she can manage.
"Come here," Nino suddenly says.
She barely has the time to see his face when he pulls her against his chest, making her laugh against him.
"Stay out of trouble, alright?" he whispers against her hair.
"I will."
She feels him smile above her.
"It's time," he says, grabbing her shoulders with his hands.
The pain she sees deep down his eyes makes her throat tighten.
Marinette nods, hardly swallows, throws a last gaze at the rest of the airport and nods again. Her finger is nervously playing with the ring around her finger—she has made good use of her insomnia to find it in the mess of her room.
It's stupid, so stupid to expecting anything. And yet…
"Marinette!"
Her heart jumps in her chest.
An endless shiver runs down her back when a silhouette draws in her vision field. "Adrien," she breathes. Tears appear in her eyes, a rain as sudden as it is unexpected in the middle of the desert.
He runs, runs to her. His cheeks are red, his hair is sticking to his sweating forehead and he's panting.
In a second, he's hugging her, his warmth and his smell all around her. "Adrien," she says again. Marinette drags herself on her tiptoes, enough to nestle her face in his neck, collecting his scent at its source.
Her heart is beating too fast, time is going by too quickly, everything is too fast. Too fast for her to print out every detail, to register the feeling of his arms around her waist, of his chest against hers, of his lips in her hair.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers.
"You can still come," she answers, as if the desperate love she's feeling has taken over her voice.
It's not background music she's hearing but a cry of sufferness.
She barely moves her face back from his neck to be able to plunge her eyes into his. They're wet, full of such pain that hers seems almost bearable, in comparison.
A sad smile curls up his lips and he passes his hand through her hair, again and again. "You don't know how much I'd love to," he confesses.
"So do it!" she answers, a sob choking her voice.
His fingers are throbbing in her hair. "I can't," he whispers. "I have to stay here, it's the only thing to do, trust me."
Marinette shakes her head, her eyesight clouded by tears.
"It's the only family I have left, my Lady."
She wants to tell him it's not true. Tell him he has her.
But instead of using this time to talk, Marinette crashes her lips on his. Adrien kisses her back straight away with a tenderness she will never forget.
It's salty, full of sadness and despair, but Marinette wishes this moment to never end.
"It's gonna be okay," he whispers against her lips so that they'll be the only ones to hear what he's about to say.
No, she thinks. No, it's not going to be okay at all.
"You're gonna go to New York, you'll keep being the best one, learning a lot of things, okay? You will…" He sniffs, tears running to his lips. "You'll meet a lot of people, live your life fully. You'll fall in love, again."
Marinette shakes her head. "No—"
"You will. You'll kiss others people, you'll have sex with other people and you'll stop thinking about me and everything is going to be just fine."
I'll never stop thinking about you, she wants to tell him. I'll never have sex with anyone but you, she wants to promise him.
"Go, my Lady," he whispers, kissing her one last time. "Go."
Even today, Marinette doesn't know how she has drawn this strength to let go of him and walk without collapsing from pain.
Every place he has ever touched and kissed hurts. It hurts everywhere. Because it's over. She has seen it in his eyes, heard it in his words, felt it in his moves.
Marinette doesn't turn around. She doesn't turn around to see Alya and Nino hug Adrien. She doesn't turn around.
Tears are burning her cheeks, love is burning her heart, but she keeps walking.
To her new life.
yep. i know. you can yell and throw things at me, i can take it.
i know you hate me right now and you have a thousand of questions but i promise all of them will be answered in the sequel. which isn't going to come out very soon given that i barely began to wrote it but i'll do my best.
i'm really excited by it and i have so many ideas! there will be much more angst so be prepared.
i know you must hate adrien but i promise he has his reasons. really good reasons.
anyway, thank you for following this crazy journey with me this whole time. thank you for all your reviews and your support, it really means the world to me.
writing is such a safe place to me, i'm so glad to be able to share it with you guys. until the sequel is out, take care of you, keep reading and do what you love.
love u
- lucie.