as the world caves in

by GraceMTheStoriedLife

Crushed. He was being crushed. By a thousand pounds of weight, the darkness, panic, and the fact that his lady was going to die with him. (Rated T for slight language and injury)

Weight. That was the only sensation that mattered, permeating everything else. The weight of the dust clogging his airway and sticking in his lungs, creating a deep, burning ache like someone had started a forest fire in his chest. The weight of the anxiety sinking like a cataclysm deep in his gut, tearing him apart and making his muscles stiff and rendering his mind a useless mess. The darkness pressing in on his vision like a million akumas, choking him in the sensation of nothing. The crushing weight of the loneliness he felt.

The thousands of pounds of broken concrete and twisted metal pressing down on his back.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Pain and energy flared through his legs and they tried desperately to kick. He needed to move, he needed to get out, out, out—

"Chaton." A careful, urgent, beautiful, panicked, familiar voice broke through the spiral of desperation. "Listen to me. Can you– can you get us out?"

He shook his head feverishly, shivering when his ears brushed against the boulder directly above his head. He couldn't do this for much longer, he had to be able to–

"Minou, listen to me." Ladybug's breathing was uneven, soft, shallow like his. Was she hurt? His heart rate picked up even more if it was possible, thundering like a thousand elephants through his suit. She could probably hear it. Maybe feel it. "Minou."

"Hel–" He couldn't finish. The rocks were closing in on him, his elbows were going to buckle, it was going to crush both of them and they'd be stuck and blind and powerless and helpless–

"...ust me?" He barely caught the end of his lady's words, so caught up was he his own panic.

"Wh– what?" He managed to rasp out. His throat felt thick, and a rough, painful cough forced its way up from his lungs. He turned to the side as much as he could, feeling the load atop his back shift, somehow becoming impossibly heavier. His lady gasped, and he could imagine her bluebell eyes going wide, a small, delicate hand going to her mouth, the blue sky flashing behind her.

His legs were starting to go numb.

"Are you okay, minou?"

He nodded. He was always okay. Even when he most definitely, decidedly wasn't.

"What did you ask me?" He forced out. Maybe if he didn't think about the fact that he was currently stuck with no way to move or hide or run or get away—

Ladybug shifted beneath him and a little of her support left his shoulders. He groaned.

"I asked if you trusted me." She said, voice impossibly soft. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he willed them away. There was no way he deserved someone this kind, this confident and trustworthy, this beautiful and stunning and sweet and not terrifying or cold or distant.

"Always." He croaked out, tears and ash mixing and clogging his throat. "You know— you know that."

"Then believe me when I tell you that it's going to be okay." His lady cupped his cheek with her hand, and at first he flinched away. His face was the only place he still had some semblance of control over– but somehow, even with the stifling sensation, the warmth brought a little comfort.

"How?" He whispered. He wasn't going to get his hopes up. He wasn't–

He could hear the adorable, sassy little smirk in her tone. "I'm Ladybug." She replied, a little louder. How long had they been whispering? "It's my thing."

"Your lead, m'lady." He rasped, trying to release a little of the tension in his shoulders. Now if only his mind would clear, or the terrible cord tied tight in his stomach would unwind.

"My yoyo is smashed." She whispered. It was like a bucket of sand had cascaded over the little flicker of hope in his chest, and in swept cold, gray cement. "I think– I'm going to try a Lucky Charm. I don't know if it'll work."

"They're– they're supposed to be invincible." Chat Noir gasped. The panic was setting in again. He couldn't get enough damn air–

"The akuma. It's power." Ladybug slid her legs out from under his and his buckled, sending the mountain above them crashing–

"Woah, woah, Chat—" Her voice sounded like it was being put through one of Nino's crappy audio distorters. He released he was releasing a sort of low-pitched growl through clenched teeth, ears pressed flat against his head as dust rained down on them. Pure agony was twisting in his gut, and everything was closing in, getting tighter, and heavier–

"Stay with me, please."

The hand was back on his cheek. "Nothing's moving anymore." Ladybug promised. "Are you– are you okay? Did you get hurt in the fall?"

"Claus– claustrophobic." He muttered. Ancients above, that was a good pun, and he needed her to see that he was okay–

"Don't you mean claw–strophobic?" Ladybug whispered, snaking her arm around his stomach. His breath hitched. Nope, nope, this was not okay, normally he would love Ladybug giving him some sort of weird half-front-hug, but he only had so much spare space to give and he couldn't move already–"

"Oh, god, you're serious." She whispered. "Okay, okay, we can handle this. I am so sorry, but I need to get my yoyo, and it's underneath a sheet of metal by your left hand. I have to move just an inch farther underneath you, my shoulders will stay down, nothing else will touch–"

"Just do it." He hissed. He felt his lady flinch underneath him. Add crushing guilt to the list of things weighing him down.

She mumbled a quick sorry and then her arm snaked further around, wrapping around his shoulder and threatening to destabilize the already shaking connection he had to the solid ground.

He couldn't help the shout that escaped his lips. "Ladybug, stop! What the–"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry–"

"If you move one more inch, everything above us comes down."

It took her about a nanosecond to figure out the implications of what he'd just gasped out. "Wait, are you holding it all up?"

He gave her a pained grin, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Maybe?"

"Oh, mon dieu, je vais tuer ce putain de papillon et accrocher ses tripes au sommet de la Tour Eiffel." Ladybug trailed off, muttering several other… colorful things that would've had Chat Noir laughing his head off under any other circumstances.

"M'lady–"

"-l'envoyer en enfer où il appartient– yes, mon chaton?"

"The– the yoyo?"

"OH– of course." Ladybug moved again, slipping her arm free of where it had been coiled. He managed to take a shallow breath before she moved again, sending panic racing up his spine. She whispered several more curses and apologies before the deed was done and her yoyo, their only chance at reaching the world and possibly, possibly breathing fresh air and moving again, was tucked into the palm of her hand.

Or, what was left of it. Chat Noir hated how much the Deconstructor's powers resembled a Cataclysm. The yoyo was faded, cracked, shining with a vague ethereal light like some sort of otherworldly ghost. Ladybug sucked in a pained breath at the sight of it, and Chat Noir felt the blood rush to his head.

"This… will work." She whispered, although she sounded more like she was reassuring herself than him. "Lucky Charm."

A stream of pink light rose from the yoyo, but it didn't feel right. The light was pale and watery, shining weak and dim against the darkness. Chat Noir felt his gut pull at the sight of it, the sense of wrong encompassing him so completely that a real pain began in him, engulfing his senses–

Another flash of light came from underneath him, blinding him. He blinked the spots from his eyes– heh, spots–

"Chat, don't look." Ladybug whispered. "My kwami doesn't look good."

"There's cheese… somewhere on me. If she needs food." He made an effort at being useful.

He assumed she shook her head by the length of the pause before she spoke. "I don't think that'll help, but I have macarons in my purse for her– wait, chaton, I have my phone!"

"Oh, please." He moaned. "Please tell me–"

"It turns on." A moment later, with a little more hope, a little faster and higher, "And it's not cracked too badly."

A moment. "I can get into it."

Another moment. "I can call–"

Silence.

"M'lady?" Chat Noir whispered, the sound of his harsh panting filling their cramped hole.

"We're not– the damn cell service–"

"No, no no no–"

"Chaton, it's okay, seriously, minou, kitty, look at me. We're going to be alright. They'll come for us. Do you have your baton? Can I search for it?"

"M-maybe." He gasped, in an answer to both queries. "Just– be gentle."

"Always, you goof."

Distract, distract–

"How many nicknames do you have for me?" Chat Noir gasped. His breath was coming faster, faster, harder, the pain in his gut was growing–

"Oh, let's see." Her carefree tone shocked him. She knew what she was doing, she had to. Her hand slipped up to his side, feeling along the leather boning of his suit. Rocks pressed between her palm and his suit. "Chat Noir, chat noir, kitty, kittycat, pussycat, chaton, minou, mon chaton–"

"There– there was that one time you– called me Oliver." Chat gasped, trying for a shaky smile. It was about as hard as lifting four thousand pounds of metal and stone. (Which was getting harder by the second.)

"You need a middle name so I can yell at you properly." Her hand rested on his butt for a moment before sliding back up with an adorable little squeak. "I think your baton is still there. At the very least, I can poke it through the holes in the layer above us and hope it gets to the top so the paramedics can see it."

"Will they even come out?" Chat whispered. "They used to come out for every akuma attack and take care of the victims afterward, but…"

"Maybe the civilians will save us." Ladybug amended. "They've saved us before."

Chat realized he couldn't feel his legs any more. That was… probably bad.

"M'lady…" He whispered, a sudden chill traveling up his spine. "What if…"

"Chaton, don't–"

"What if we don't make it?" He whispered. The very air felt heavy now. "I– I know you don't want to think about it, but I don't want to die not knowing who you are, and I– I don't want to die at all! If I'd been in this situation a couple years ago, I probably wouldn't have minded, but now I have friends, and school, and a life, and, oh gosh there's this girl with the most beautiful black hair and blue eyes and she's so much like you and she's kind and cute and honest and so alive and real and artsy and colorful and creative and she makes the best cookies and I haven't taken her to the movies like I wanted to yet or written her a song or told her who I am or taken her to the top of the Eiffel Tower or watched a sunset with her, and I never got to say goodbye to my mom, or tell off my dad, or go camping, or see the stars outside of a big city– heck, I've never even been in a grocery store–"

"Chaton."

Her voice was deeper than usual. Husky. Was it just the ash and dust? Why did it carry so much weight, just like the metal above him?

Why was he tingling?

"Yes, m'lady?"

"What's her name?"

"What?"

"The name of the girl you love? I… I want to know as much about you as I can."

Something about this was incredibly unsettling. He drew in a breath, choking on the dust settling still around them. "The girl I… love?"

Did he?

Now isn't the time to hide from the truth, he realized as his arms began to shake. The air filtering in was getting colder by the second, and every muscles in his body was aching as the adrenaline began to wear off.

"Marinette." He admitted. "Her name is Marinette."

A choked gasp sounded beneath him.

"What, m'lady, are you jeal–"

"How the heck did you fall in love with both of me."

His veins turned to ice. A thrill ran through him. There was no way she was saying what he thought she was saying–

Her phone light turned on and he instinctively craned away, groaning as whatever was pressing so painfully into his gut moved. "No, wait–"

"I want to."

Oh, gosh, those words sent a painful thrill through his chest. The same words in those heated television scenes used to finally remove their masks. In a way, he did feel naked without his suit. The tremor in her voice spoke volumes of her own feelings.

This was a barrier. The little intimacy they'd never allowed each other. In this final moment, Chat Noir couldn't imagine how anything romantic or sexual could top what he was feeling.

"Are you sure?" He whispered. Her breath puffed warm against his cheek. The parallels were not lost on her either.

"Yes." She whispered, and for a moment her lips brushed his cheek.

He opened his eyes.

It took him a moment to adjust to the light, cat-eye pupils constricting painfully tight after so long in the dark.

And then he saw her.

White tank top, pink polka dots. His gaze traveled up, skirting around the appropriate areas. Thin, lithe arms already stained with soot. He reached her neck and his gaze darted back down. The pink sweatpants, the little cat he'd sat and watched her embroider on them.

He couldn't wait any longer. His eyes met hers, and the electricity that sparked between them could've shorted out the whole block. No way, he wanted to whisper. The bluebell eyes, the pigtails, the little unsure smile and light freckles and–

"No." Was the only word he managed to choke out, horror rising in him like a tidal wave. "No, no, no, no– not you. Not you. Not now."

Marinette's eyes widened even more, if imperceptibly so. He could see the gears working behind them.

Tears filled her eyes.

Adrien was suddenly hyperaware of everything– her waist was pressed against his, legs pressed out to either side, her chest just barely brushing against his every time she took a shaky breath. A strand of her hair poking his chin. The sweat beading her thin eyebrows. He was sweating, too, but… it wasn't warm in here. It was getting colder by the second.

The love of my life is Marinette. How did I not see it coming?

"Are you… disappointed?" She whispered.

His heart plummeted farther than the temperature had. The scared breathiness in her voice stole his thoughts for a moment, and he wished he could raise a hand to… to what? Trace her cheek, perhaps, like the movies? Or…

What he wanted to do didn't matter. "No, no, no, of course not!" He replied, cutting off with a groan as the ache in his gut sharpened. He was going to have to be more careful if he didn't want this whole thing above him coming down. "I just– we're gonna die, and I– you were the girl I was talking about, Marinette."

She wet her lips. Blinked fast. The light quality was disgusting, but he was pretty sure she was blushing. Like, a lot. "Me? But… why?"

Chat Noir breathed a shaky laugh. "Are you kidding? You're Marinette freaking Dupain-Cheng, hello! Smart? Yep! Interesting? Yes. Beautiful, oh boy, check that box!"

She pushed at his arm and shook her head. But… she was smiling like a dork.

"You're intelligent, and kind, and cute, and all the good things in the world handing me coffee and passionfruit macarons. And you're a great listener, and your hugs, good Lord, they could fix anything. Pretend I'm holding both of your hands right now. I wanted to take you to all the places I took Ladybug, and I wanted to watch the sunset with you, and I– screw it, I want to dance in the rain and laugh and run away with you and I want you to teach me how to make cookies and now none of it's going to happen because I screwed up and–"

"Minou, listen to me–"

"The love of my life and my best friend are going to die–"

"It's okay–"

"And we'll never stop Hawkmoth–"

"CHAT NOIR–"

"And Paris, oh god, and all of our classmates–"

"I'm scared too!"

Adrien snapped back into reality. His arms were starting to burn.

"I'm scared too." Marinette whispered, shifting, and now her hands were cupping his cheeks and streaking away the tears that were slipping down his cheeks. He smiled a little despite himself, letting out a little wet giggle. "R-really? But–"

"I'm Ladybug?" There was a bitter note in her tone, a wry smirk to her lips that felt far too familiar to him. Because I'm a model, I should always look perfect? Because I'm a model, I should feel good every time? Because I'm a model, I should know when to speak and not embarrass my entire family on national television?

He wasn't playing that game with her. "No, because you're Marinette." Adrien insisted, bending into a sort of pushup to set his elbow on her thigh. "You do, like, everything. What's a couple thousand pounds of rock and… poky metal?" He paused, letting another wave of pain wash over him. Come on adrenaline, don't fail me now.

Marinette's massive smile was quickly fading.

"What?" He asked, eyebrows coming together.

She slapped him.

She slapped him. Not hard, just with the front of her fingers, but it was enough to make him wish he could rear back. "What was that for?" Again, harsher than he'd intended. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. Okay, now the room was cold. Room? This was no room. He could barely feel his back. If that was what it took to finally shake the claustrophobia…

"Thousands of pounds?" She hissed, and he gulped. "The heck does that mean?"

"I'm… holding it up." He replied. Why was everything narrowing in again?

"Holding what up, Chat?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "The building."

"The building."

"Mhm."

"Ne le gifle pas, ne le gifle pas, ne le gifle pas s'il vouz plait…" She whispered. "Okay. You are holding up a building. You have been doing that this whole time. I thought you meant— how long have we been down here?"

"A while." He griped, but the question had probably been rhetorical.

She looked like she would give anything to have the space to round on him, or fling her arms out wide, or even cross them. "Are you hurt?"

"No–" Right on cue, his gut spiked in agony and he hissed, cringing into himself as he fought not to move, arms burning. "Okay, maybe a little?"

Marinette made a little noise in the back of her throat. "I thought– okay, I can do something about this, I can– I'm going to distract you. Yeah. I started a new dress collection–"

"I want to tell you who I am." He blurted out. She snapped her jaw shut, and he took that as permission to continue. "I know we're not supposed to, and I know you– you love someone else, and you told me that, and that's okay, but I want– I need one person in this world to see all of me. Please, Marinette?"

"Of course." She whispered. "You deserve that, minou. And… I don't… I don't want to ever die without knowing you. All of you."

He took a deep breath." I can't detransform."

"Yeah," she breathed, biting her bottom lip. "That would probably be a bad idea, considering–"

"The thousands of pounds above us and how quickly they would crush our human organs, I know." Another shudder ran through him. God, this sucked.

"Okay, you know what, I'm just going to say my name." He decided. "You probably won't believe me– actually, let's make a little game out of it. Tell me if you guess."

"Okay."

"I'm… slightly famous."

She wrinkled her nose. She'd picked that habit up from him. "Jagged Stone?"

He snorted, the movement sending a wave of pain up his abdomen. "Gah, don't make me laugh." He muttered. "I'm also around your age. Sixteen."

"Same." She whispered. "Oh, are you the weather girl?"

"Ice Queen?" Chat Noir supplied. "I do rock heels, but no. I'm actually a model. And I love music."

"Sixteen, loves music… XY?"

"I wish I could poke you right now."

"Come on, give me another hint." She bit her lip again, eyeing him up and down. There was a light in her gaze he didn't recognize, reflecting the cold phone light. "Do you actually have blond hair?"

His pulse began to race. This was it. This was the moment they'd dreamed of.

(If only they didn't have to die for the truth.)

"Yes. And green eyes."

"Which school do you go to?"

He glanced aside for a moment. "Remember Kwamibuster?"

What if she doesn't want it to be me?

At least I won't be disappointed for long.

"So you do go to the same school as me!" Marinette crowed, and there was that same face she wore when she beat him at Ultimate Mecha Strike. The day she gave him the Lucky Charm.

"You gave me a gift, actually." He continued. "I have it on, under the suit."

"That doesn't help much, I'm afraid." Marinette sighed dramatically, thrusting her head back. "If only I wasn't so crafty."

"Your craftiness is one of my favorite things about you, m'lady."

"Shush, you sap." Marinette practically beamed. The debris shifted above them and he braced against it. "Who— who's your homeroom teacher?"

Adrien took a deep breath. "This is it, isn't it. I'm going to say it and you're gonna realize you know me–"

"I know you? Oh, good hint!" Marinette's little bunny nose wrinkled again. "Blond, green eyes, model, goes… to… my school…"

He watched in amused silence, heart racing way too fast for comfort.

Marinette blinked up at him. Her voice carried no further than the metal at his back when she asked timidly, "The gift I gave you…"

"Yes?"

She fiddled with the ribbon in her hair. How had he not seen it before? Same hair, eyes, body, personality. She was his lady, through and through.

"...was it jewelry?"

"Excuse me?" He coughed, and it was wet and tight. That's new.

"The gift I made you. It didn't happen to… be… a lucky charm, did it?"

"You make us those all the time. M'lady." Adrien hardly dared to whisper.

"Well, we didn't dance in the rain, but we did dance… at Chloe's birthday party." She breathed.

"And we played video games at your house."

"And did we… did we ever go to a picnic?"

"Yes, m'lady, I believe we did."

"I think you've done everything on your list." Marinette said, a little stronger now, still wet with tears.

"Except for the cookies." They said together, and quiet laughter filled the space between them. "B-but we'll do those!" She insisted, hand coming up to cup his face again, this time a little more hesitant. He leaned into the touch. "We'll get out of here, kick Hawkmoth's ass, lock him up, run your dad and Lila over with a car and be back in time for lunch break with Alya and Nino."

A new wave of pain cascaded over Adrien, and this time it stayed. "Are you sure?" He choked. The fear on her face made him wish he hadn't spoken.

"And we'll run away." Marinette decided. "Like you said."

"To somewhere… far away from here."

Her phone light flickered. "We'll get married."

"And have three kids." Adrien let out a raspy laugh.

"And a hamster."

Adrien paused. "What are we gonna name it?"

"We should name it some sort of cheese, for Plagg." Marinette said. "Something that would annoy him."

"American cheese." Adrien laughed. "Or Brie. He hates that stuff."

"Brie it is." Marinette chuckled. "And we'll have three kids."

"Louis–"

"Emma–"

"-and Hugo." Adrien shook his head a little, immediately regretting it as pain shot up his chest. "I can't believe this."

"And everyone else will live close to us, so we can visit them." Marinette promised. "Except Marc and Nathaniel, they'll probably travel all the time."

"We could travel, too, if you want." Adrien breathed. "See the Colosseum, redo our New York trip, Shanghai…"

"We've been to Shanghai together." Marinette laughed. The dust was settling now, and Adrien could see less than before. "As superheroes and as ourselves."

"Yeah, and you got lost." Adrien shoved as much of a carefree tone as he could into his voice. "I never gave you those Mandarin lessons."

"No." Marinette shrugged, movement miniscule. Another shudder ran up Adrien's abdomen. Something was wrong. "You could teach me something now."

Adrien thought for a moment, then whispered, "我爱你. It means I love you."

"Woh, ah, ni?" Marinette tried. "It sounds nice. I… I love you too, minou."

Adrien was probably blushing, but the moment ended when she glanced around, fear lighting her gaze. "I– we– I could try transforming, I don't know–"

"NO–" Chat gasped, more out of pain than fear. "Just… don't move. You're going to bring this whole thing down."

"But I could try my Lucky Charm again–"

"Marinette." She froze, eyes going wide. No, no, I didn't mean to scare her. I don't want to be like him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"You're either going to kill yourself trying to transform with a hurt kwami or lose control and bring this whole thing crashing down." He gritted out. His arms were shaking, and he knew she could feel it from the concern on her face. It must be agony, not being able to help. In some twisted way, he was glad he was the one bearing the weight.

"Okay." Marinette whispered. "Okay."

She looked at a loss, so he barrelled on. "Remember when we danced at Chloe's birthday party?"

"Yes." She smiled softly, eyes going unfocused. He'd never loved her more than in this moment, the timer counting down to their demise making every second stretch into a million. Her eyelashes, coated in ash, fluttered against her perfect pale cheeks dotted with freckles and soot. "I was so scared."

"So was I." He whispered. "You know Nino dared me to do that?"

"Of course he did." Marinette rolled her eyes, hands resting on his shoulders. "I think the whole school ships us at this point."

"I told you we were made for each other, m'lady." Adrien whispered, and the tremor that ran through her made his heart skip a beat. He was seriously beginning to doubt that this was real.

But it was.

This was far from the worst way to spend the last five minutes of your life.

"Can I kiss you?" Marinette whispered. Adrien supposed the awkwardness didn't really matter anymore. Dying would do that to a person.

Wordlessly, he nodded.

Her eyes drifted closed. Her hands slid around his neck, light as a feather. Adrien felt time slow even more as she leaned up and towards him, a dream dressed in dirt in ash. He closed his own eyes.

Their lips met. He wished he could sink into her, let her wrap him up in her arms and vanish them away to somewhere safe and beautiful and warm. But he was there, wasn't he? Beyond the euphoria, the tingling of his whole body, the way her lips slotted perfectly against his, one word floated to the surface of his mind. Home.

He was home.

What more could he ask for?

She pulled back, barely. Her eyes opened.

"I want to tell you everything." He whispered. "Like, my mom didn't actually die, she just disappeared. The things I never told anyone. Or that my dad is a jerk to me and Nathalie."

She swallowed. "Tell me everything, mon moir."

My soul. He was floored for a second. What had he ever done to deserve this?

"Okay." He blinked, thinking for a moment. "It started when I was maybe ten. Mom started getting really sick…" He stopped for a second. Was he really that out of breath? "... and dad never let me see her. Then, one day, when I was twelve, she just… walked away. I watched her leave. I hadn't seen her in three months, and she left. She left me. I– I never told anyone this, but I thought it was my fault."

"It wasn't." Marinette's eyes and words were the softest thing he'd ever experienced. "And I'll never leave you, Adrien."

He swallowed back a little sob. "A year later, Felix's dad got sick too. I– we never liked him, either. He…" Adrien sucked in a breath, wincing. "There's no easy way to say this. He used to beat Felix. It landed my cousin in the hospital once, it was so bad."

Marinette sucked in a horrified breath.

"I know. No one ever knew except for Felix, until we switched places for a weekend." Adrien felt the debris closing in around him again. He took a few steadying breaths. "It was horrible, princess."

Marinette couldn't speak. She just cupped his face, concern etched into her features.

"My whole family is so screwed up." Adrien sobbed. "Now– now Nathalie is getting sick, too, and I– I can't lose another mom."

Marinette nodded, tears pricking in her own eyes.

"I've never even met my grandparents." Adrien admitted. "And father won't allow anyone into the house anymore. After mom– left, he didn't speak to me for a month. Then all he did was come to make sure I wasn't trying to escape my room."

"Adrien…"

"How do I still love him?" Adrien asked. "He locked me in a cage for two years, and he's never once told me he loves me, and he never even speaks to me unless it's to reprimand me or take away some semblance of freedom, I don't even thinks he sees me as a human, much less his son, and yet, somehow–"

"You still love him." Marinette whispered, thumbing away a stray tear from Adrien's cheek. "You have a big heart."

"Too big." Adrien chuckled.

A beat.

"Can I… tell you something, too, Adrien?" Marinette whispered. "I… I don't always want to be Ladybug."

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

She blew out a breath. "It's just… a lot, you know? I don't… it's just, I've made so many mistakes. I left you in the dust, I lost the Miraculous, I thought Felix was you– oh my gosh, that was why you were so sure– I've done so many things wrong, and I've had to lie to so many people…"

Another beat.

"...but, in the end…" She blew out a breath, looking at him with the softest eyes he'd ever seen. His heart swelled. "It was all worth it. For you."

He blinked back more tears.

"I love you, Adrien."

"Love you too, my beetle."

"Beetle?"

"Fitting, isn't it?" He cocked his head, shrugging—

A scream was ripped from his throat. Something was in him, and it had just moved, and something wet was dripping onto the floor beneath him—

"CHATON!"

He blinked back hot tears, shaking his head a little as he twisted desperately, anything to make the pain stop. That only made it worse. His whole stomach was on fire, dripping hot white agony. "Sing." He begged. "Or talk, or– something. Please."

Maybe it was the desperation, or the raggedness in his voice, but tears sprang to her own eyes. Or maybe the reality that he couldn't keep them safe for much longer was finally setting in.

"Ne me quitte pas," she began, no louder than a whisper. "Il faut oublier, tout peut s'oublier, qui s'enfuit déjà..." The soprano filled the space around them, lilting and beautiful. Adrien tried to ignore the way his arms had stopped shaking, turning to lead. The pain radiating up his whole body. The nausea roiling in his stomach. The way breathing was getting harder and harder. "Oublier le temps, des malentendus, et le temps perdu, a savoir comment, oublier ces heures."

He joined in the tenor part, voice near gone, sometimes stopping to catch his breath or let out a little gritted moan. He couldn't think of his own body. He couldn't, or it would betray him and give out, and he would crush them. It would be over. Just finish the song. He begged himself. Please. Keep her alive a little longer.

Failure was coming for him, just like always. It was inevitable. He would never be enough.

And somehow, she still loved him.

"Ne me quitte pas, je creuserai la terre, jusqu'après ma mort, pour couvrir ton corps, d'or et de lumière, je ferai un domaine…" He breathed out a harmony, off-key but the best he could do. "Où l'amour sera roi, où l'amour sera loi, où tu seras reine, ne me quitte pas."

'Ne me quitte pas.'

Don't leave me.

He took a shaky breath, letting out a little groan. He wasn't going to give out. He couldn't. No matter how badly he wanted to.

She deserved to live.

"Je ne vais plus pleurer," she continued on her own. "Je ne vais plus parler, je me cacherai là, à te regarder, danser et sourire, et à t'écouter, chanter et puis rire, laisse-moi devenir."

He wanted to sing, but the breath was stolen from his lungs. It took everything in him not to succumb to the pain, to sink into the nothingness and let blessed peace take him somewhere where the mere act of breathing wasn't impossible agony. Her eyes shone with tears, clogging her throat, but she'd never sounded more beautiful.

"L'ombre de ton ombre, l'ombre de ta main, l'ombre de ton coeur, mais…" She choked on the last few lines as he blinked fast, forcing his eyes open. He had to stay. For her. For his lady. His other half.

"Ne me quitte pas, s'il vous plait." She whispered, letting out a little sob. Adrien felt his whole body go rigid, the world spinning around him. "I'm sorry, m'lady." He whispered, somehow. "I–" He coughed. "I don't think I can do that."

"Je t'aime, mon amour." Marinette whispered. "You've done the best you can."

"I should be able to save you." He moaned, closing his eyes as a massive tremor ran through his whole body. The floor tilted underneath him.

"Let go." She said simply, tears making dirty streaks on her face. "It's okay."

He couldn't. He wanted to. He wanted it to be over. But his body wouldn't obey him, his very soul rebelling even as black crowded in on his vision.

He couldn't fail her again.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, coughing.

For a while, the only sound was her crying and his labored breathing.

Then he screamed. Screamed, white flashing in his vision as he almost collapsed against her. The building on top of him was shifting, the load getting… lighter?

Her voice sounded far away, but the joy warmed him to the core. "They found us! We're getting out of here, chaton, we're going to be okay! Chat Noir? Adrien? Adrien!"

And then he was gone.

—-

"Chat Noir, please…"

Pink washed over his vision.

He opened his eyes.