Tears streamed down his face as he stared into that room, the one that he hadn't been in since his mother had disappeared. Thank God the mask is covering my face, he thought.
"Mon chaton?" Came the only voice who could possibly provide him comfort. He dragged an arm across his face out of instinct, clenching his shuddering chest as tiny arms wrapped their way around his waist. "Are you sure you're okay?"
He could do this. He'd done this so many times. Just clear your throat, look around, disrupt the sound. "Yeah, I'm fine!"
"Come on, then. We've got an akuma to catch." The little comfort left him and the cold came crashing back in. Sometimes… sometimes he hated how good he was at acting. But that was all he was good for. That was his purpose.
"After you, m'lady!" He called, faux joy sending a wave of powerful bitterness through his clenched stomach and closing his throat.
Father doesn't know what he's doing, he reminded himself, reaching for any dim ray of hope. He's been akumatized. He's not himself. He… yes. He does care. He would never desecrate mother's room like that if he could be helped.
The fact that he actually believed that made him sick to his stomach. The sight of her room, the ceiling caved in, the table he'd so carefully cleaned collapsed under a pile of rubble, the bed he'd brushed every last stain and wrinkle out of coated in dust and debris–
They're all waiting on you, he reminded himself. Don't disappoint them again, too.
Later, the Miraculous Ladybugs did fix everything. Stripped of his mask, he stood in front of her room. He shouldn't have been there. It was forbidden to go into this part of the house now. Father had been through enough, he didn't need this visual reminder of everything he'd lost.
I lost something too, though, his traitorous, too-caring heart whispered.
It didn't matter what he wanted. What he thought he needed. Everything was perfect again, like nothing had ever happened. He needed to move on.
"If the universe decided to send me a sign, this is a bit on the nose." He muttered to Plagg. (The presence of his kwami was the only thing that had really changed since his mother had… disappeared. The only being who had penetrated the loneliness. He'd felt guilty about that, too, for a long time– his mother didn't deserve to be replaced by a creature. But the weakest parts of him had taken Plagg's friendship and clung to it, basking in the little bit of normalcy it brought him.)
Plagg, for once, was silent.
They stayed there for far too long, until the lights in the mansion shut off and the workers left. Adrien's body shook with the terror of being caught– and he was caught.
His father ordered him, detachment replaced with icy, too-close rage, to never so much as look at his mother's room again.
So, he hadn't.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry it's late, this week has been hectic as heck. I'm uploading a second chapter as we speak to make up for it! It's the finale chapter!
Okay, if you're like me and you don't like conflict, please don't read this part. I'm responding to a series of negative reviews and I don't want to screw up your fanfic binge :D
Valdonte, seriously. I appreciate your reviews. Usually. But they've been entirely negative, and so I feel like I have to set some boundaries. First of all, this is not a suicide fic. Second of all, I would appreciate it if you would give me a little more direction than 'this reads like a suicide fic, and a bad one at that'. Is there a point to that phrase? Could you give me some clarification, or a few tips on how to improve? At the moment I'm unclear on what you thought wrong about my writing, and it's frustrating. If that was just a flame with no real meaning behind it, I have to ask you to go bother someone else. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you think it could be better, please work with me here. It's pretty simple. I will value your advice if you actually want to give it. Otherwise, honestly, please don't review anything of mine again. It's not worth my time.
- God Bless,
Grace