Chapter Sixteen
"You had us all worried," Nathalie's voice was severe as she regarded her charge. She still wore the clothes she'd traveled in, rumpled and rain-splattered. Adrien looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Nathalie. I really am." He turned, looked at Aunt Amelie who sat primly at the dining table. "I'm sorry, Aunt Amelie. I'm sorry I worried you."
"Felix has given me practice at worrying," she said severely. "I didn't expect the same from you."
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," he repeated.
Felix reclined in a comfortable chair by the dining room windows. He looked drowsily at his mother then at Adrien, and sank his head down on his arm. "He's fine. I doubt he sullied Marinette's honor." He smirked.
"Felix!" his mother scolded him.
"What? It's true?" Felix unfolded himself from the chair and gave Adrien a distinct let-me-handle-this look. Adrien's eyes widened and he got up, shaking his head.
"He's just having a lazy time this summer," Felix said slyly. "You know, he's not got fencing classes or Chinese classes all summer…me, I'm able to keep myself busy…"
Nathalie sighed, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "What are you trying to get at, Felix?"
"Let him have a project," Felix said.
"No," Adrien spoke up, catching what Felix was trying to get at. He clenched his fists. "Felix, no stepping in for me anymore. This is my life, these are my problems to handle. My responsibility."
A look of approval fleeted across Nathalie's face, but she quickly schooled it to that expression that was so familiar to Adrien. "Adrien, come with me," she said severely. "We will talk in private. If that's okay with you?" she directed the last part to Amelie who nodded, "Of course, Nathalie. Felix, come on." She swept from the room. Felix gave Adrien a narrow look as he followed his mother.
Nathalie crossed her arms and regarded Adrien severely. "You're asking to make a large gamble, Adrien. Why? You have a home."
"My parents had a home," Adrien said. He took a deep breath. "I…Nathalie. I fell asleep at Marinette's because I struggle to sleep here. I have bad dreams here whenever I try to sleep. Ever since Father…" his voice trailed off.
"Then I can get you a therapist," she countered. "That would be cheaper than buying an overpriced broken-down house that will need several thousands more euros to fix up."
He rubbed the family rings on his finger, struggling to find the words. "I…I'm not like my father," he said finally, slowly. "I don't want to be a designer. I don't want to be a model. I don't want to be a trust fund orphan. I want to find my own way in the world, do something honest…when I see that house, that's what I want to do. To turn it into a home."
"And resell it?" she said sceptically. "To become a house flipper?"
He shook his head and took a deep breath. "I want to turn it into a home for me and Marinette."
"You're fifteen years old and you're already thinking about settling down with her?" Nathalie snapped. "Don't be ridiculous, Adrien."
"I know I can't yet," he said quickly. "Marinette wants to study fashion. I have my own plans for high school. And college. And fixing the house will help me with that. It'll put me in a good position when we graduate—"
"You already have a home, Adrien," Nathalie's voice was steely as she regarded Adrien…his eyes were bright with intent, with determination in a way she had rarely seen before.
"It was my parents' home," Adrien repeated. He touched the table with his hand, raised his eyes to the portrait on the wall, of him, his mother and father. "Nathalie…" his voice was soft. "I have too many memories here of my father. I love him but I can't live surrounded by those memories."
"Then change the house," Nathalie yelled, losing her temper. "Knock down walls if you must. Paint it purple with polka dots if you must! You don't need to buy a hovel!" She staggered, horrified by her loss of composure. "I'm sorry…Adrien, I'm sorry…" she strode across the room, flung open the french windows and stepped out into the garden as though to escape, raising her eyes to the sun.
Adrien watched her soberly, but his eyes were still intent as he followed her. They found themselves standing in front of the statue of Emilie Agreste, her stone eyes regarding them with eternal patience, that eerie smile as though she knew something they did not. Nathalie's eyes brightened as though she was fighting back tears. "This house meant a lot to your parents, Adrien. They would want it to be yours."
"I know." He hung his head. "I can promise to try and persevere. I've got enough time before I'm legally an adult. I just want to know that one day, I can make that choice. That if…" he swallowed hard, forcing himself to voice it as though he was willing to entertain the possibility that he and Marinette wouldn't be together for all their lives, "…if Marinette and I are still together when we finish college…we can choose where we want to make our home."
"And right now can you imagine not being with her for all your life?" Nathalie asked bluntly.
"No," Adrien said honestly.
Nathalie looked calmer though now. She drew in a deep breath.
"Nathalie, ask me why I want to buy a house that needs so much work," he said intently.
"Why then?"
"Ask me about the classes I want to take at high school."
"What classes do you want to take at high school?" she asked with a bite of impatience.
"Architecture," he said simply. He started walking to the gates, stopped to look out at the buildings beyond. Paris swam with them…buildings of all shapes and purposes. He'd soared over them, run along their roofs for so long. He'd felt the ache when villains had destroyed them, and the surge of relief as Ladybug's miraculous had restored them. "I want to study architecture, but I also want to use my own hands for my own home. I wouldn't practice on my parents' home…I want to practice on that house."
"The money you would have to use is money—"
"Money that I earned, modeling my father's designs," Adrien interrupted. "Not even my inheritances. I hardly ever asked my father to let me spend any of the money he put aside from my earnings. Buying a house is a rite of passage for many. I just want to do it a bit sooner, so I can use it to practice the skills I learn."
"He would never approve of this," Nathalie said, but Adrien could hear a weakening in her voice.
"I know my actions last night weren't wise," Adrien said. "I swear, I did nothing with Marinette. I just fell asleep there…because I felt peaceful there." He regretted saying that, as Nathalie turned her head, looking at the house with guilty eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.
"You should see a therapist," she said, wearily. "And I…will look at this house. I will walk through it. With you." Her eyes were wary as she took off her glasses and rubbed them.
"I'll call and arrange the viewing," Adrien said eagerly, taking out his phone. He looked up the realtor faster than ever before, and dialed before Nathalie could say no. "Hello? This is Adrien Agreste. I want to visit the house again." He rattled off the address. "This time I'll have my guardian with me. When is the soonest you can have someone come out?...yes?...not any sooner…yes?" his voice was rising. His eyes were intent. "Thank you! We'll be there within ten minutes." He ended the call and dropped the phone into his pocket, spun on his heel.
"Adrien!" Nathalie protested.
"Please," Adrien implored, opening the gate, ignoring the car.
"Fine," she relented, tired. Following him onto the street, she muttered, "I'm starting to think I'm not cut out to be a guardian."
His heart was beating fast with anticipation, with trepidation as they stood on the train platform. It vibrated through his chest as the underground train pulled in. He couldn't help but look at his guardian as they boarded the train. His eyes glowed with his emotion.
When I became your guardian, I thought I would have a few years before you grew up, she found herself thinking as the train took them.
All too soon, the train coasted to a stop. Adrien seized Nathalie's hand and towed her after him, only letting her go as he ran up the stairs so he'd not bring her crashing down. He could never forget her frailty…thanks to his father's actions…but his thoughts pushed that anger aside as he emerged onto the street and strode up the pavement, his eyes fixed on the buildings ahead. Nathalie followed him, gazing at the streets wonderingly. It felt like a long time since she'd simply strolled the streets of Paris. She'd been traveling for the last few weeks, revisiting sites from her youth, a journey Adrien had urged her to take, with the promise that he would be safe with Aunt Amelie and Felix visiting… she tried to imagine Adrien, older, walking these streets, calling them home. The way he walked, with purpose…he looked like he was already home.
A car pulled up a few houses ahead of them and Adrien broke into a run. "Come on!" he yelled back to Nathalie with a note of excitement that she couldn't remember hearing ever before.
Remember that he's in trouble, she reminded herself, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as she followed her charge to the house. From the outside, it didn't look as terrible as she had feared. The windows were dirty. The door needed painting. The key whined in the lock as the realtor unlocked the front door, opening onto a dismal hallway.
Nathalie and the realtor followed Adrien into the hallway, the realtor giving Nathalie a quick, curious glance.
"Here's the front room," Adrien grabbed Nathalie by the hand, towing her into a doorway on the right. "I was thinking of taking out the door to make it more open plan there, as the hallway's so narrow. But I read some articles about load-bearing walls, so I know it'd need columns or some kind of wall to take the weight of the floors above—"
Adrien led her into a small front room, pointing at the front window. "I want to build a bay seat there, with a hinged lid, for storage underneath," he didn't say that he was imagining it for stowing the video games controllers there. "And the dining area would be through here," he sketched an arm through the air, "I want to change the ceilings, I've seen an idea by this architect in Germany, he made a modular house where the rooms could be changed by sliding walls, into dozens of ways. I want to maintain the traditional style though—"
For a moment Nathalie couldn't breathe, seeing the way Adrien sketched with his hand, the same way a long time ago a young Gabriel had used to illustrate the designs he was dreaming up…a bolt of dread ran through her, then she shook her head furiously.
Adrien was watching her action anxiously. "Are you okay, Nathalie?"
"Yes," she said faintly. She touched her hand to the wall, grounding herself, regretting it as damp leeched through against her fingers. She'd seen and felt worse though in her travels.
"Come through here," Adrien urged, setting off through another doorway, pushing aside a door swollen with damp, that scraped loudly across the ground. He showed her a room though that was sunlit, stripped. "This would be the kitchen…the counter could go the entire length of this wall, see?" he reached forward, laying his hand against the window. "The sun would light it perfectly, wouldn't it?" Hardly waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and headed back out into the hallway, grabbing the banister and darted up the stairs. "I would wallpaper this," he called down as Nathalie followed him, looking dazed. The realtor followed them, looking bemused. "And isn't the banister perfect for a garland at Christmas? And come up here, see this!"
She followed his voice up into another hallway with three doorways. She found Adrien in the first room she entered. He was surveying it with eager eyes. "This would be a study," he said. He pointed at the opposite wall, "A desk along that wall, so that Marinette would have plenty of space for her sewing projects. A bookcase there, and a reading chair, with a wall lamp. I was thinking of a small wood stove somewhere in the house too to warm it. I'm not sure where though, maybe you'd have an idea?" he was already leaving the room though, keen to show Nathalie the remaining rooms. "This would be the master bedroom. That window's perfect for a chaise longue. And here would be a spare bedroom." He kept his words vague, but Nathalie knew perfectly well the words the young man wanted to use. He was dreaming of a home for a family of his own.
The little boy I helped raise has already grown up, she thought, dizzy. "How would you balance your schoolwork with fixing this place?" she asked finally.
He hesitated. "I didn't know how you want to do things, like if you still want me to take fencing classes or Chinese."
"I want you to do what you want to do," Nathalie allowed, "Within reason."
He dipped his head in a small nod. "I…want to continue Chinese classes, I think. But I'm not sure about fencing…I think Kagami's hoping to ease off on fencing this year too."
"Mr. D'Argencourt will be disappointed," she murmured, "To lose his two best fencers."
"But then two other fencers will have a chance to become the best," he said. "And that's okay."
She took a shuddering breath. "I still think you're too young to own a house," she said.
"I already own one, technically," he said. "It's just not the one I imagine living in. Maybe that will change. I wish it would, as it'd be easier." His green eyes were determined though. "But I'd like to repair this house. Maybe it'd repair me at the same time."
Her throat moved as she swallowed. "Fine," she said abruptly, her voice low. "I will back your purchase. But…I would not tell Marinette. Not for a long time. Do not pressure her."
"I won't," he promised quickly. "I don't want her to feel pressured either." He turned, smiling at the wrecked hallways around him, and looked at the realtor. "I just want to take some photos. So I can show my architecture teacher when school starts." His glance moved to Nathalie. "Would you be willing to help me with the paperwork? To make sure I don't miss anything?"
"Of course," Nathalie said faintly.