Chapter Two: Hindsight
It was the second time she'd heard this conversation, but the feline hero didn't know that. He'd delivered the same lines to Ladybug two nights ago with an anticipatory gait that suggested he expected harsh reprimand.
It didn't come. "Of course, Chaton," the spotted woman chuckled softly. "Although you're my most valued partner and friend, I understand that life can't be detoured sometimes!" She'd given her best smile, dazzling, genuine…and she'd meant it because it was true. She knew Chat Noir was around the same age as her, and probably lived under the rules of his parents.
The boy was always aloof about his home life, but then again, she was the one that insisted on the tutelage of diligent safeguard, and thus, she wasn't sure what went on at home. As Marinette, however; she knew that he was lonely, and his family placed a lot of restriction on his activity. So, Ladybug understood when he mentioned he needed to go out of town, due to familial obligations.
"I'll manage," she assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently, squeezing. "As much as I depend on you, the other heroes will pick up the slack in your absence." After all, they weren't alone anymore. "Don't worry about us."
Now, he was in her room, fiddling with the papers on Marinette's desk, far too comfortable invading her space as he prowled the increasingly confined room. Had it always been so small?
"I'm sorry, Princess, I've got to go for a few weeks, just some stuff I've got going on," he muttered.
Now, his tone was casual, and far less apprehensive, and it stung. Why did it sting so bad? Ladybug received his apologies…his hesitation…his….worry, because he cared. Stupid. She shook her head slowly, averting her gaze back to the desk, picking up her pencil again to scribble harshly over a mistake she'd made instead of carefully erasing the error to correct it.
"Okay," she said, trying to keep her tone flat despite the ache in her chest. Of course, he wouldn't care as much about upsetting her.
Why did it matter so much? She already knew what he was saying. This wasn't new information. She'd already known what he needed to say when he asked to have a conversation with the blue-haired woman, but…his nonchalant attitude struck a chord deep inside, vibrating with stinging pain through her chest. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Princess?" His voice pitched, indicating he'd picked up on her unease, her distress, and she shifted, moving her face further from his attention as he came closer.
Stupid, Marinette. You knew already. "I said it was okay," she breathed, trying desperately to keep her voice even, but hearing the shift of his boots, unsteady on her floor, she knew she'd failed, at least a little. "Anyway, I have a lot of work to do," she whispered, barely containing the swelling dam in her chest, tightening her throat. It was making it difficult to push the words beyond her tongue. "So, you can see yourself out."
The bluenette felt him shift…move…something and she stiffened. "D-Don't!" The force of her tone made even her flinch, and she sighed. The air felt cold in the immediate moments following, the tendrils licking along her skin before she sucked in a breath to reanimate the deadened world. "I mean, I just don't have time right now, Chat. I'll see you on your return. Have fun." Each word clipped from her mouth, free of emotion, and she was glad the pain faded with them. You are not Ladybug.
***POV Change***
Adrien was confused. No, saying he was confused was wrapping the problem up in a neatly prepared package that one might find easy to present, but if you opened the box, you'd peer in and see the chaotic mess of something he couldn't even begin to decipher.
"I don't get it," he grunted.
Plagg moaned happily as another slice of dairy disappeared into his mouth, consumed into the depths of his colossal stomach. "Kid, the moment you realize girls are crazy, your life will get better!"
"I expected Ladybug to be livid! I expected her to rant about me shedding my obligations or something like that," he said honestly. "But she wasn't. She was completely calm and cool about it. She understood."
"Ya," his Kwami murmured, and the blonde knew he was only half listening.
"Then, Marinette, the woman I thought would understand…just," he sighed, swallowing. A slow frown graced his handsome features, and his heart quickened a little. "She seemed so upset. She tried to hide it, but I could taste it…see it…..feel it."
"Geez, Adrien," Plagg whined. "Just forget about em both and enjoy destroying things! That's what I do. Oh, and cheeeeeese," he snickered, snuggling a new slice of the odorous camembert.
The model cringed, snatching the food from his stricken cat Kwami, and shook it at him. "You've had enough!"
"Traitor! Lies! Mutiny!" The ancient being flew high into the sky, circling several times before emitting a pathetic caterwaul and Adrien snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Glutton," he muttered, holding out the stolen morsel, only to have it gone in the next instant.
"You're a push over, kitten," he purred, but the smile Adrien received was almost worth the insult.
"What am I supposed to do, Plagg?" His voice was serious, and he sighed, scratching his Kwami's sensitive ears to listen to the content purrs. The vibrations pulled an equally content rumbling from the blonde's chest.
"Figure out the secret of women?"
He snorted. "Okay, I'll hop right on that." Too bad for him, Adrien wasn't as smooth as Chat. As a model, he appeared the confident, smooth, seductive image of a man emboldened by life. In reality, Adrien was awkward, shy, and full of insecurity. Life taught him to be cynical of people trying to be his friend early on. Most of the time, people just wanted things from him. He sighed. The secret of women? Yeah…that was a code better left to someone far more sure of themselves.
***Two Weeks Later***
His heart felt odd. Okay, that was a vast understatement for the sake of his sanity. His heart ached. It hurt. He was sure it had to do with some semblance of broken friendship or betrayal, but no word that came to mind fit the description perfectly.
He'd only had two weeks left…and the first night he returned to her…the door had been locked. The first time in three years, and the skylight was unyielding beneath his grasp. Sure, he could have broken it easily, but he wouldn't intrude on her privacy like that.
His night vision spied through the darkened room, and he didn't even see her sleeping form. Okay, just one night, no big deal. However, Chat realized, with increasing alarm, just how often he really relied on her company to level out his anxiety from….life…Akumas…stress of his rebuffed love life…because…fourteen nights in a row…he couldn't reach her, and by the eighth, he knew she was avoiding him.
He knocked, hearing the squeak of her surprise somewhere beyond the scope of his vision, but his leather ears heard her retreat on the inner trap door…down into the lower portion of the house. She was avoiding him.
Adrien saw Marinette at school of course, but that did him little good. The minute interactions they coalesced in involved unintelligible stutters or mundane rambles of the upcoming competition if someone else happened to overhear and join in. When he dared to glimpse her over his shoulder during class, she was either sketching, or staring into the distance. Even the lively look in her bluebell orbs seemed dulled.
Had someone hurt her? Had someone hurt his Princess and he'd been unaware? It didn't seem likely, but he wasn't omniscient, and something cold settled deep in his gut. What if she were suffering?
"Dude, your phone is driving me nuts," Nino scoffed, elbowing his ribs, and his green eyes widened.
Adrien swiped through the code urgently, looking at the fifteen messages he'd missed in the last seven minutes, a severe frown enveloping his strong features.
"Damn," he snarled under his breath.
"Your cat die?" Nino tried to joke, and the model tried not to snort with laughter as Plagg jerked in his inner pocket.
"No, the contest starts tonight, but father wants me there now to review some of the work, plus the designs I'm supposed to model arrived early this morning and he wants to be sure everything is perfect." Hours of makeup and fitting and lighting…his day just got…horrible. He sighed, resigned.
"Oh, God, I can't," Marinette whimpered, her fingers trembling as she tried to make the necessary adjustments to a minor piece on another model. She'd already submitted her main design for Adrien's wardrobe, but the contest featured their skills on design and repair under pressure, and she was floundering.
Her thimble fell loose, and her needle pricked her index finger, her eyes widening. Bright scarlet flashed across her ivory skin, and she jerked her hand back, endeavoring to salvage the blouse she'd been stitching.
"S-sorry," she whimpered to the model, who looked down at her nose.
"Clumsy," she scoffed back, and Marinette bowed her head several times, retreating.
Her heart was in her throat as she raced towards the bathroom, feeling the first wave of nausea threatening to suffocate her. The warmth of it engulfed her chest, and she gasped, lurching over the sink as she felt the tendrils enticing her to spill the contents of her stomach.
The feeling subsided, minutely, enough for her to spin and rush to the nearest stall, and she dropped to her knees, hunching over the toilet before the next wave possessed her in a drive heave.
***POV Change***
Alya snorted as she jostled into Mylène, giving her a hard time. "I didn't know you were entering the run!" The short woman flushed brightly and the journalist laughed, pulling her in close. "You'll do great, just don't doubt yourself!"
***POV Change***
Adrien's fingers caressed over the box containing his final design and sighed. He hadn't been allowed to look at his outfit. When they'd done a few adjustments this afternoon, he'd kept his eyes diligently closed as directed and then they'd whisked his outfit away to do the last minute alterations, though, apparently, there had not been many. The designer must have been very skilled if his father didn't need to redo the outfit altogether.
He popped the top off, and his eyes widened, staring down at the picture placed on the top. The designer's original outline. "No," he whispered softly. There was even a note, as if they'd gotten the courage to write him.
Dear Adrien,
It has been my deepest pleasure designing
this outfit for you. Although you don't know
who I am, just know that I am a devoted fan and
admire your work and your compassion. You aren't
just the face of Agreste, you are your own person. Don't
let anybody tell you differently. I worked hard on this, and
I feel like it speaks from my soul, and when I started, it was
supposed to be for you, a boy I…admired for years but, it ended
up encompassing much more than that. I hope you enjoy it.
Sorry if it's not as good as anything else you've ever worn.
Even if we never meet, I wish you the best!
Yours,
M.
The model felt his world shrinking away. Marinette…had designed his outfit. He recognized the original design immediately. He'd spent enough time looking at her sketches to know it, and her handwriting was second nature to his own, but what clenched his heart were her words and all the thoughts flooding his brain.
He'd received a lot of fan letters over the years, and as this one went, it wasn't overtly 'stalker-ish' and it was nice, but since he did know who it was from, he understood all the meanings behind it, leaving him breathless.
"I'm the stupid boy," he whispered hoarsely. "Marinette is in love with me," he rasped.
"Glad you finally caught up," Plagg replied dryly, searching for cheese.
"You knew?" His eyes widened, and part of his jaw clenched tightly with anger.
"Please, Adrien? All the stuttering and barely being able to keep her footing around you? C'mon, nobody is that clumsy," he chastised. "Unless, of course, they're flustered for an entirely different reason."
The blonde stilled, shoving his gaze to the floor. Had he been so blind? He stared at the short missive again. "It…sounds like she's…moving on though…"
Plagg scoffed, sounding annoyed. "Double blind," he whined, growling.
His brows came together, pulling the outfit free from the box, and it looked vaguely familiar…but…not. When he held it against his body and stared into the mirror, he tipped his head to the side, his brain filtering through images. So familiar.
"Completely blind," Plagg spat.
Adrien frowned harder, but as the warmth spread in his chest, he let a broad smile grace his lips, because it seemed like the right thing to do. When he did, the pieces clicked into place. The outfit made him look like Chat Noir, in a variety of subtle ways, the green and obsidian hues, with gold underlay, and he gasped, staring into his own wavering eyes.
"I-is Marinette getting over me…because she's…starting to like Chat?"
Plagg snorted. "Welcome to hindsight kid. You've got a problem."
