chapter 3: don't pull the loose thread on your sweater
A dull gray casts over Paris today, the clouds above looking sickly and the world naturally devoid of colors.
But not to Chat Noir as he speeds to catch up his Lady. He must be getting stronger because with using long jumps he's already at her side, a stupid smile tugging at his face when he's there.
She breathlessly laughs, her face looking flushed and pink. "Look at you, catching up so easily."
Together, they ease their sprinting gaits and look over Paris side by side. Wind blows and pushes their hair out of their faces and when Chat glimpses over, Ladybug glimpses so wistful and fragile.
Gently, he bumps into her shoulder. "What's up, bugaboo?"
Blue eyes like the sky, like limitless possibilities stare up at him, and she gives a tired smile. "I was just thinking," she starts, her voice quieter, as if telling a secret. "That one day this is all going to end."
The finger that wears his ring throbs, it telling Ladybug herself that he never wants this to end, to stop.
For freedom is literally at his fingertips. It's the way Adrien uses Chat Noir to run wild and free, to feel, to see color, to live. It's the way he can love without regret, fall aimlessly in love without repercussion and never want anything back. It's-
"-something I don't want to end yet," he tells her honestly, panic sweeping over him.
Because he's seen endings before, of when things end and move no longer.
He's seen the way life stops and doesn't move forward and never picks up again — and — and-
Mother.
But Ladybug chuckles and grabs his hand with her, clasping them together in the solidarity that is their friendship. "Well, we won't let it end just yet."
His fingers enclose her hand maybe a bit tighter than he should have, but Ladybug doesn't say anything at all as Paris lives before them.
The world spins on, keeps living when you've stopped, and Adrien reminds himself of that when he gets ready for school.
It's hard though, when gray is growing stronger and drowning out all color and he stumbles while trying to find a seat.
"Aw, kid," Plagg says, zips to sit on top his head. "It's OK," the little god tells him while kneading in his hair. "You're here, I'm here and that's good enough."
A shudder passes through him, but he nods. "Yeah, we're good enough."
Lovingly, Plagg pets his head a few more times in a way that makes Adrien want to to cry, but he doesn't. Instead, he thanks the moment.
At his door, Natalie knocks and tells him that he has to go school.
"C'mon, shoes on with you, you loser," the little god chides. "Can't be nice to you all the time or you'll think I have a heart."
Adrien shakes his hid, a laugh building in his stomach. "Or something."
The world is brighter though. Less gray, more livable.
It's a surprise when Mme. Bustier asks him to stay after class. She asks Marinette too and here they are, together waiting for her to return from the main office.
Despite that Adrien sits in front of her everyday, he and Marinette haven't spoken much since he came across her in the music room a few weeks ago, the moment seared in his mind as an alternate reality.
In his world of gray, she is outlined in pink and her blue eyes peek through.
That's enough for him when he gives her a gentle smile, trying to find words to say, to fill the silence between them. But he can't as she shuffles from foot to foot, so unlike the girl he saw playing so vivaciously weeks ago, sweat at her brow and the violin creating a world from her fingertips.
"So," she starts, the vowel dragged out with thought.
But she doesn't get to finish, her failed attempt of conversation stuffed back in her mouth when their teach arrives, a spring in her step and papers in her arms.
"Ah good. You two are still here."
Adrien braves forth for them. "What do you need, ma'am?"
Mme. Bustier grins, her smile white like her shirt and Adrien doesn't compare it with death.
Not like Father's smile. No like Father's.
She hands them each a piece of paper, cheer colored yellow in her voice. "I've entered the two of you in a music competition."
His world stops, his heart falling to his feet, and the gray becoming snow as everything glimpses bleak.
" ... what?" he says, but Marinette shouts over him, her voice in panic.
"Why?!"
Red brows crease together, confusion clear as Mme. Bustier continues. "Because Marinette, you're fantastic on the violin," she states as she turns. "And you Adrien play a fine piano."
Marinette's voice shakes, her eyes glancing at Adrien for a second. "Ma'am, I don't think this is a good idea."
He tries not to take it personally, but he and Marinette have always had an unusual ... acquaintanceship. Always rocking between becoming great friends and going back to square one.
"Nonsense!" his teacher says. "You two need the extra credit!"
Reluctantly, for different reasons it seems, they both agree.
A few weeks ago, Adrien was finally able to notice the indigo hue of the piano's wood, but now? Now the world is monochrome as his heart races in his chest and everything spins out of control.
Walking up the stairs to the music room with Marinette quiet at his side feels much like a walking to one's execution, the end near and you're unable to stop it.
Marinette steps forward, her pink outline gone from view, her hand resting on the doorknob. "This is going to be fine," she says.
He can't tell if she means that to herself or for both of them, but he can't help but bitterly laugh.
"Yeah, sure," rolls off his tongue. "One, I can't even play and two, it's with a girl who can't stand me."
(In his shirt pocket, Plagg pinches him.)
Adrien, don't slam on the keys, darling. Be gentle with them as if they were a baby.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he shouldn't be taking this out on her, but he can't help it. He can't play and he's all mixed up inside. Dark black lines are filling up his vision, shadows growing bigger as his chest feels tight.
He ignores it however as he brushes past her and throws his book bag on the ground. He can feel his lips pressed together in a firm line, much like his father's and that makes his stomach twist even more.
Letting out an annoyed sigh, trying to push out his irritation, he turns around, expiration in his voice. "Aren't we going-"
But the demand dies on his lips because Marinette is frozen in place at the doorway, her chin quivering and life kicks him in the chest and he can see everything.
The way her the pink of her lips of frowning, the red in her cheeks spreading, and the glassy film of her blue eyes tearing up as she blinks rapidly.
All his anger and frustration bleed away, leaving him cold as she tightly grabs the strap of her purse.
Her voice wavers, ricks and rocks. "I — I — I d-don't hate you," she stutters, tears rolling down her face.
"I ... I actually really like you ..." she states, her eyes downcast, ashamed and hurt.
Adrien has stopped breathing, letting her take all the oxygen as she takes a deep breath. "I — guess you couldn't tell ..."
The world is full of color and his heart is hurting and his head is spinning as Marinette turns and rushes down the hall.
Her footsteps echo as she goes down the stairs, but Adrien doesn't go after her.
He doesn't know how.
"Fuck."
All I do is turn everything to ash.
Ladybug is hugging her knees when he finds her on top of the Notre Dame. Her chin rests upon them, upset and miserable as he nears.
He feels miserable too, but it's better to focus on someone else's problems for once than your own. He sits next to her without saying a word and pulls her close.
A part of him screams at him to shout, to cry on her shoulder instead, let the red of her gloved hands hold his heart and lift him up like she always does. But friendship is a two way street and despite that everything is gray, everything doesn't revolve around him.
"What's up, buttercup?" he teases, a hand rubbing her arm.
Ladybug groans, despair rolling off her in wispy black. "Everything," she breathes. "I'm just — so, so tired."
He nods. "I know you've been a little spacey lately."
He debates say that she seems fatigued, but doesn't. He doesn't bring up the purple under eyes or the way she seems to pale the more they head towards summer.
" ... I have a lot of things I can't talk about, but to top it all off, the sweetest guy I know thinks I hate him ... and I don't ..." she trails.
"But?"
" ... but I actually really, really like him and he thinks I hate him ... and I guess he hates me now too?"
As a model, as an Agreste, Adrien has become really good at ignoring feelings that well up inside him when he doesn't need them. Jealousy is one of them, envy is another.
"He's stupid," he tells her because the guy has to be. "And no one could hate you. You're wonderful."
The way she leans her head on his shoulder makes his heart squirm. "I just—wish I had good luck for once."
He doesn't mean to laugh, but he does. "I'm sorry, what?"
She smacks him on his chest, annoyance rolling off her. "I'm serious! I have really terrible luck."
Chat Noir lays his head over hers, watching Paris live and chuckles truly for the first time in days. "I'll give you some of mine, if you want."
Together, they take a breath, leaving behind problems in the past and looking forward to the future.
It finally strikes him how similar his predicament with Marinette is to Ladybug's, and with that, he decides to ask.
"This guy—the one who thinks you hate him—what would you want him to say to you?"
She sighs and nestles deeper into his hold. "That he doesn't hate me and that we could be friends?" As an afterthought, she adds. "Why?"
"Because," he starts, looking at the pink the sunset. "There's someone I need to apologize to."
The way that Ladybug slides her hand to rub small affectionate circles on his back is all the courage he needs to carry him tomorrow.