"Slow breaths," Plagg murmured into Adrien's ear. "Try to count to three. One, two, three."
Adrien kept rocking back and forth, curled up in a corner of the basement, hidden behind cleaning supplies. The advice would have been excellent if he had managed to control his breathing at all, but he was hyperventilating and just couldn't stop. A dull ache was spreading through his forehead, that on top of the vertigo and nausea and sheer terror.
He couldn't even explain why he was feeling so sick over that video. He had seen it before. Scratch that: he had lived through the whole abduction and near-execution, and walked away exhausted and angry, not terrified. He hadn't even been that afraid when Kubdel had nearly sliced his throat.
And yet there he was, barely able to breathe, feeling about to pass out, with his arms tingling and his stomach in his throat.
"It will be fine," Plagg promised from his perch on Adrien's shoulder.
He had never made more of an effort to comfort his chosen, yet his words rang hollow to Adrien's ears. The teenager couldn't will himself to believe them. He tried to find words to reassure his Kwami, but they heard footsteps coming from the basement entrance. Plagg dove behind the cleaning supplies. Adrien shrunk away.
It was probably a teacher, or Marinette. He had alarmed everyone, hadn't he?
The clicking of heels echoed in the room, pausing for a moment before starting again. Adrien did not remember Marinette's shoes sounding like that at all. It was probably for the best. He didn't feel like facing someone who would worry for him. He braced himself for a talk with miss Bustier, then he heard an aggravated sigh and a phone flashlight turned on.
Chloé?
The light swept the room from one corner to another. Adrien couldn't believe his loud, erratic breathing had not given him away. The circle of light fell on his shoes. Chloé hurried closer and turned the light straight to his face.
"Oh, you are here!" she exclaimed.
He couldn't answer. He couldn't see the look on her face either - the flashlight was blinding him - but she shifted and went silent. Then she fumbled to turn the light off. An instant later, the basement had turned pitch black, save for the faint glow of her phone's screen. Adrien's eyes had to adjust to the darkness again.
"Ugh, this place is a dump !" Chloé exclaimed, looking around to have an excuse not to look at him. "Did they even clean the place after that Horrificator disaster?"
She did not even wait for Adrien's answer: she leaned down with a grimace to carefully place her purse on the ground, not next to him (he had squeezed himself in a small space between supplies and walls) but close enough. She brushed her white pants and huffed, then sat down.
Adrien relaxed a little. She was by his side, but not turned towards him. She didn't try to talk to him. Instead, she focused on her phone, browsing the internet while he tried to calm down. Not that trying worked. He had to wait it out.
"Do you want a paper bag?" she asked at some point. "Well. A plastic bag. I think I have one in my purse."
"A paper… Oh. No. No. I'm f-fine," he murmured.
She shrugged and turned back to her phone.
It took an eternity for Adrien to calm down and, when he did, he felt drained to the core. His brain had to be made of cotton, if it was made of anything but mush. He didn't dare to speak, but he could see Chloé was peeking at him from time to time, though she did her best to appear absorbed in her reading of fashion blogs.
She waited a few minutes, then put her phone away.
"Let's go!" she exclaimed. "Cartier has new arrivals and I want to go see them!"
"What? "
That was not what Adrien had expected to hear. All things considered, he should have expected exactly that. Chloé was so very Chloé in all circumstances.
"New. Arrivals," she repeated, marking her syllables as if he were deaf or stupid.
"Clo, I should really..."
Get back to class, he nearly said. By this point, people would be frantically looking for him. His father and Nathalie would have been called. He still trailed off.
"It will be fun!" she countered. "And if I'm going to skip class, I might as well skip the whole day. Also, I'll need you to tell me what you think about the clothes I buy, so I don't accidentally buy something that doesn't fit my complexion or whatever."
Adrien gaped. She got to her feet and brushed the dust off her clothes.
"Come on," she ordered, grabbing his arm and heaving him to his feet. "We don't have all day."
He protested. Some. Not nearly enough to be credible.
Slipping out of the school proved easy, despite the fact that several teachers were searching for him. Chloé had her ways, and her ways involved walking across the schoolyard as if she owned it, while class was in session, then to throw a tantrum when caught by mister Damocles.
"I feel ill!" she yelled at the top of her lungs when the headmaster refused to let her leave the school. "You want to call my father? Great idea . Let's call my father, so I can tell him how you are forcing me to stay here when I am totally horribly sick! I clearly have a fever!" she insisted, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "And I'm nauseous. And I have a stomach ache. And I'm…" - She coughed. - "My throat is sore!"
She shouted that last part in a perfectly healthy voice.
That was all Adrien saw of that scene, since he had been meant to make good use of that distraction by dashing out of the school. He waited for Chloé at the corner of the street, and she joined him with the smuggest smile.
"Told you it would work," she said. "It always does."
Adrien mused that she had taken a lot from her father, and that he should probably have disapproved (he usually did). In the current circumstances, it made her his favorite person.
Of course, he checked his phone on the way to the rue de la Paix. It had been on silent, so he discovered three dozen text messages: four from Nino, three from Nathalie, zero from his father, one from Kim, one from Mylène, two from Alya, and the rest from Marinette. Nathalie had also left a message on his voicemail, but he didn't get to check it: Chloé was talking about clothes. If she didn't have a sore throat yet, she could expect it by the end of the day.
He texted everyone back to tell them he had gone home and was fine. He texted Marinette five times ("Don't worry I am okay. I just needed fresh hair". "I meant air". "I will call you after class". "I'm sorry I worried you". "I'm okay I swear"). He managed a longer text to Nathalie, explaining that he was out with a friend and that he was not yet up for school after all. He promised to go back to the apartment 'soon', without elaborating on the 'soon'.
Three hours later, he walked out of Vuitton's with his arm fulls and a limited field of vision. They had gone to Cartier, and then to every store in the vicinity. Chloé had the two resources you should never have given her at the same time: her father's credit card and a school-free day. It made for lots of shopping bags. Adrien felt a lot better than before they had left the school, but he was still exhausted, and clothes were surprisingly heavy.
"Now off to Zara's!" Chloé announced. "It's a little low quality for me but Sabrina could use new earrings."
"Clocouldwesitforamoment," Adrien protested, in a murmur.
"Oh! Not Zara. I don't know what kind of drugged monkey they hired to design this year's collection but it is horrible. We should-"
" Chlooooooééééééé, " Adrien moaned, dropping half his bags.
"What are you doing? " she yelled as he fumbled to pick them up.
"Can we please sit for a minute? I can't feel my legs." He knew that wouldn't be convincing enough. "We should try the new tea shop next to Claire's."
She frowned and made a face, but ended up rolling her eyes and sighing in defeat. She took his arm and led him to a public bench. Adrien's heart sank at the way she was clutching said arm. It would have given anyone the impression they were dating.
"Clo," he warned, wriggling away.
Chloé raised her eyebrows as if she did not understand what she had done wrong, but Adrien caught the flash of pain on her face. He knew that would be followed by anger. She would turn dismissive. Maybe she would even mock him. She tended to do that. To others, anyway.
He looked away.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was dating Marinette. It's new."
She wouldn't look at him. Instead, she rolled her eyes and lifted her chin, staring at a faraway cloud.
"Blah blah blah. Why would I care about you dating Marinette?" She sat down on the bench. "I mean, it's not like you couldn't see it coming, anyway, and I really think you could do better, but it's not my problem, is it?"
Of course Marinette would be the target of the mocking.
Adrien put the shopping bags down.
" Clo. "
Chloé took a deep breath and waved her hand and still wouldn't look at him.
"It's fine. I don't care. It's not like I'd be interested in a boy who doesn't adore me. And plenty of boys adore me, so…"
Adrien looked down at his shoes.
Chloé scoffed.
"And anyway, I like someone else, so there. Don't have such an high opinion of yourself, Adrien Agreste."
He nodded. It was better not to push, wasn't it? He didn't know.
"And anyway ," she went on, crossing her arms and sulking, "you don't deserve me, mister 'I didn't call you once all summer'!"
Her voice had gone from angry to petulant, and that was much better. A petulant Chloé was a Chloé who wasn't cut too deep.
But she had a point.
" I'm so SORRY! " he gasped. "I was so busy and then there was… I had… problems at home, and I just… Clo, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you."
She smirked, amused. She loved long, heartfelt apologies of the 'crawling on broken glass' kind. She let him fumble with words for a moment more, then raised a hand.
"Forget it," she said, magnanimous. "And sit. You were the one who wanted to sit."
Adrien did as commanded, awkwardly. He still felt a little guilty.
Chloé spent a few minutes collecting her shopping bags, putting the smaller ones into the larger ones and moving packages from one bag to another.
"Say. I've been meaning to ask," she started. Then she said nothing.
Adrien waited, puzzled, but she did not continue.
"Yes?" he prompted her.
"Where did you move? And what happened?"
He paled and looked away.
"Ah," he said, which was not an answer but would have to do. "I didn't think you'd have noticed."
"Of course I noticed. Hello? I live on the other side of the street?"
He nodded.
"I'm at Nathalie's for a little while. My father is… busy. He needs some… quiet."
Chloé frowned.
"You could come to my place, you know? We wouldn't even make you pay for the room. And it would be fun. Think of all we could do! Jagged Stone basically lives here, and you could roleplay with Sabrina and I..."
Adrien chuckled.
"I'll keep that in mind. Do I get to be Chat Noir?"
"Ugh. No. We'll find you a supervillain identity."
"What was that 'ugh'?" he exclaimed.
"That's…"
Nathalie's car stopped on the side of the road, in front of them. Both teenagers went silent.
I should remember that my phone can be tracked, Adrien thought. Then he stood and braced himself. He was going to be grounded until his retirement.
Nino got out of the car first. Nathalie took a moment more, then coolly slipped out of the car. Her composure was impeccable, just like her hair and her business suit. She joined Adrien, keeping her face inscrutable.
"I'm s-" he started.
"Come here," she whispered, pulling him against her.
###
By noon, Nathalie had dropped Nino back at their school, thanking him for his help and wishing him a good, productive afternoon. It had taken five minutes more to drive Chloé back to the Grand Paris and twenty more to unload her shopping bags. After that, Nathalie had driven Adrien back to her place.
"Alright," she told him, after having commanded him to sit on the sofa, where he was intently waiting for her next words. She breathed in and started over, in a firmer voice. "Alright. In light of recent… After… We have come to the realization…" She stopped and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, then sighed once again. "You are going to see a therapist. It is not up for discussion. I-"
"I… What? " Adrien gasped, baffled. "I don't need a therapist! "
"I said it wasn't up for discussion. " She ran her hands over her face. "I thought we could handle things by ourselves, I thought I could help you, but it is clear that I am not equipped to do so. I'm not. Your father is most certainly not, and neither are your fifteen year old friends."
Adrien wanted to protest about everything at once and did not know where to start.
"You… They..."
"They can help, but there is so much going on in your life, heavy things children cannot shoulder. They don't have the experience to do so, and - quite frankly - I doubt you could really open up to them. You are too used to put the people you love before yourself. It would do you good to talk to someone with an external perspective, someone for whom what you say is not personal."
She was worried. Of course she was worried: Adrien had given her every reason to be. He could hardly pretend collapsing into a trembling mess and fleeing school was a sign of mental health. But he was fine. He was.
"I don't need a doctor," he assured her. "And I couldn't talk to them anyway! I'm a superhero. My parents were superheroes. My girlfriend is a superheroine. You are the last Hawk Moth to date. I'd have to omit my entire life! What would be the point?"
He looked around for Plagg, who was lazing on the armrest.
"We'll deal with that question when it comes up," Nathalie countered. "First, we are going to find someone you find comfortable with. We made a list-"
" Plagg! " Adrien exclaimed. "Tell her it's not a good idea. We can't reveal who we are. Ever. We can't even risk it!"
The Kwami shrugged.
"Why not? Hawk Moth already knows who you are, and he's behind bars anyway."
Nathalie whirled to him, startled. As for Adrien, he gaped at Plagg in disbelief. It was the first time the Kwami suggested a public reveal: he had probed Adrien about discovering Ladybug's identity, he had not commented after Chat Noir had threatened André Bourgeois with a reveal of his identity, but he had never flat out told him that there was no reason to remain silent anymore.
Of course, Plagg was being irresponsible. Tikki would most certainly never recommend such a thing. As a matter of fact, she would probably scold her brother about the suggestion.
"No! W-we can't just… Strangers a-aren't the same thing as..." Adrien sputtered.
" Adrien ," Nathalie interrupted. She composed herself. "Calm down. The question is irrelevant right now. As I was saying, I just want you to meet someone, see if you like them and if they can help you, and we will go from there."
He shrunk back on his seat. That sounded reasonable. He still did not want to go.
"Did Father put you up to this?" he asked, looking at the floor.
"We came to that conclusion separately, but we are in agreement on this."
Adrien tensed, but Nathalie joined him on the sofa and squeezed his shoulder.
"I think it would be good for you. Please don't discard the idea because your father happens to agree with me."
"Well, if my father wants to send someone to a psychiatrist, maybe he should look in the mirror first."
Nathalie hesitated. She opened and closed her mouth, then ever so slightly shook her head. She softened.
" Please give it a try," she insisted, taking his hand. "Do it for…"
Me , Adrien mentally finished.
"Your own well-being," Nathalie went on. "You are angry and you are hurt and I…" She bit her lower lip, staining her teeth with lipstick. "And you should not keep it in. Please consider the idea. I will take to you at least one appointment, but we both know it won't help at all if you don't open up."
She let go of his hand.
He looked down at it, feeling vaguely guilty. He closed his fist.
"I'll think about it," he replied.
Nathalie breathed in relief.
"Good. Good."
Adrien stood, somber.
"Can I go now?" he asked, avoiding Nathalie's eyes.
"Yes," she sighed. "I'll cook something, then I'll call you, alright?"
He nodded and hurried to his room, closing the door behind him. Plagg phased through it to join him. Adrien ignored him. He sat down on his bed, grabbed his phone, and scrolled through the messages he had not answered yet. Marinette had sent a few more, despite being stuck in class. He texted her kisses and smileys, which improved his mood by a fair degree.
"You should listen to Nathalie," Plagg commented, landing on his pillow.
Adrien frowned, turned to him, then gave the Kwami his best scowl.
"I don't need a doctor. I'm fine."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"No you're not."
"Yes. I. Am."
Plagg gave him a pointed look.
"I'm fine!" Adrien insisted. "I can handle this. I don't need to talk things out with anyone, let alone with a total stranger."
"Because keeping things in worked out so well for your father."
Adrien felt the blood leave his face and pool somewhere in his stomach like a ball of lead. Every single one of his muscles turned to stone.
"This is what Gabriel does," Plagg remarked. "This is what Alice did. It didn't help them, why would it help you?"
The teenager nearly lashed out. The anger was still there, not directed at anything but begging to be let out.
But Plagg was right.
"I'm turning into my dad," Adrien muttered, running his hands over his face. He covered his eyes and pressed, hard. "I'm sorry."
Maybe he was angry and hurt. And it was getting worse and worse, and it was changing him. Two weeks in the past, would he have avoided Marinette? Would he have collapsed at school? Would he have considered blackmailing André Bourgeois ?
"She has a point," he murmured.
"Told you so!" Plagg smugly replied.
Adrien glared at him, sulking. The Kwami laughed. In retaliation, his chosen tried to poke him in the stomach, but Plagg zipped faster than if he had seen cheese. Adrien gave chase. Ten minutes of jumping over the furniture and throwing pillows at Plagg later, he heard his phone buzz.
It was a text from Nino. Actually, it was the last of four.
"Nevermind, I sneaked in," it said.
The first was 'are you at miss Sanker's place?'. The second was 'Can I drop by?'. The third was 'Okay so actually I'm here, can you come down?'.
Adrien bolted out of his room just in time to see Nathalie open the door. Nino walked in, looking terribly uneasy. He was crushing his cap between his hands.
"Nino?" Adrien exclaimed.
"Uh. Hi. Miss Sancoeur said I should visit after class, uh, it's just, uh, the teacher was, ah, sick," he lied with a terrified glance at Nathalie. "AnywayIcameearliersosorry."
Nathalie smiled and closed the door.
"Adrien, what about you show your friend your room? I'll bring you your lunch."
"Thank you, Nathalie! Nino, this way," the boy exclaimed, beaming.
His friend hesitantly watched her return to the kitchen, then snapped out of his trance and followed Adrien, in slow steps. He paused several times on the way to look around, awed. It was only after being pushed into Adrien's bedroom and watching the door close behind them that he started talking.
"Dude. I don't think you want me to ask, but what's going on?" he blurted out, gesturing at the bed and tv. "Are you okay?"
Adrien gave him a weary smile.
"Yes. Yes. Don't worry. There's… trouble with my dad, so Nathalie offered to give me a little space, that's all."
Nino tensed, indignant. He didn't say anything, but he was chewing on the inside of his cheeks.
"It's okay," Adrien lied. "It will settle down. Wanna see the-"
" I was right next to you in class this morning . Just don't… Just. Gah!" Nino took a deep breath to collect himself. When he resumed talking, he sounded sorrowful. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I'm here. I'll listen. Marinette will listen. Alya will listen. Just… If things are bad, you can tell us , okay?"
Adrien felt his eyes tingle. He kept them wide open so they would not water and forced a smile on his face.
"I know, I know. I…" he heard himself sniffle and inwardly cursed. He prayed for Nathalie to knock on the door before he could start weeping. "I mean, I know. Just, err…"
There was a knock at the door. Adrien spun around and opened it wide, all but bowing at Nathalie as she entered with a platter of sandwiches, orange juice and pastries. He thanked her, offered help with the dishes later on (she owned a dishwasher), suggested they could eat at the dining table with her (she was not hungry) and asked if the pastries were from the Dupain-Cheng's bakery (they were not). Ultimately, he had to let Nathalie leave and face Nino. He still managed not to meet his best friend's eyes, and put the platter down on the bed instead.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, grabbing a sandwich and wishing his eyes would dry already. "I'm starving."
He sat down, trying to keep his bangs in front of his eyes.
Instead of sitting on the other side of the bed, Nino joined Adrien and put a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, carefully, he sat down. Adrien had not managed to look up.
"Dude," Nino murmured. "What's going on? Can I help?"
Adrien let out a shaky breath. His best friend leaned closer, tilting his head to take a look at his face.
"I…" the blond murmured. Maybe Plagg was right. Maybe secrets no longer mattered. Maybe keeping things in was not the way to go. "I…. I'm the boy. On the video. I'm the boy. It's me. I'm Chat Noir."
###