It was funny how quickly your world could change. Peace gave way to chaos so quickly.
Marinette was sitting in her room, bent over her sewing machine. Rain pounded the windows outside, and wind howled, but her room was warm and quiet. There was a comforting distance from the chaos around her.
Not for long.
Unsuspecting, Marinette checked her phone. It was close to eleven. She should be with her family, she knew, but there was something so comfortable about this loneliness. She could just work. She didn't need to think about the lies, the nightmares, the pressure. Alya would tell her if there was an akuma alert, or her phone would. Tikki was snoozing, draped over a scrap piece of tulle stretched from two strings of fairy lights they'd hung above her work table for the holidays a couple months ago. Everything felt full of remnants– of trust, maybe? Of the season, more likely. The quiet reminded her of the kwamis that should be with her, but for now she was content to enjoy the soft music filtering through her headphones. Her pajamas were soft. The rain was turning to sleet. Her hands were moving steadily, making a scarf for no reason at all. Maybe she would give it to one of her friends, or add it to the collection Rose was taking for the children's hospital. Right now, she was content not to think.
Right now, it was okay to be broken, so long as she kept plodding on.
Her phone buzzed again– now it was ringing, not just a text.
Adrien. She almost hung up. Call it fate or something greater that paused her hand, mouth parting just slightly to let out a shaky breath. This wasn't worth it. She was so close to letting go. To being happy alone– not alone, Alya kept reminding her, single. She didn't need romance to be happy, no matter how much her horrible huge heart craved it. She'd be happier if she stopped agonizing over a stupid model. Not that he was stupid. She was stupid. Her reasons for liking him were superficial at best, creepy at worst. It was a crush. It wasn't love. And realizing that had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth at the mere thought of him. It was late, besides. She didn't want to be around any people, much less the one that reminded her of a solid forty percent of her shortcomings. (Chat and her parents made up the rest.)
Still, she couldn't seem to press decline.
Another short breath, wisps of hair floating away from her face and settling back. She rubbed her nose absentmindedly, unable to take her eyes off the contact listing scrolling across the screen. She'd removed the hearts, but still, his name stung. 'Adrien Agreste', the model. 'Adrien Agreste', the guy she'd stalked. 'Adrien Agreste', the wonderful, amazing, beautiful soul of a human being, an amazing friend to her and so many others, who loved with every breath he breathed, whose friendship with her she'd strained and nearly broken a million times over a stupid fleeting emotion.
She clicked answer.
That's when her world crashed.
Maybe not her world, because when had her world ever been put together in the first place? The cold, icy sphere around her, maybe, the bubble of comfort that had kept her rooted to that chair for the last three hours, the first semblance of peace she'd felt in a while. Whatever that could be called, it splintered at the sound of his voice.
"Hey– dude. Uh… you told me I could always asked you if I needed me– I mean you."
Dude? Marinette shifted the phone closer to her ear, hardly daring to breathe. Tikki, having just woken up, shifted and blinked at her with big, worried eyes.
"Well…" Adrien took a big breath, or tried, only it was choked off. Marinette covered the receiver and glanced up at Tikki, ice and heat flashing tandem in her stomach. "I kind of need you right now, if you could–" Her eyes rounded. "It sounds like he's crying." She mouthed.
Tikki cocked her head to one side. She couldn't hear what Adrien said next, but her holder obviously could.
"Whe–where are you?" Marinette choked out, almost falling out of her chair in her rush to stand, as if that would somehow help. Pure fear flashed across her expression when she next looked at Tikki.
Silence.
The phone slowly, shakily made its descent to the table. Marinette gripped the work table, ignoring the pins that pricked at her fingers, so hard they almost turned white. "Tikki…"
"He hung up on you?" Thank God for Tikki, Marinette thought. She's the only calm one around here. Indeed, the kwami was more curious than anything else.
"Yeah." Marinette managed, taking a gasping breath. She stood straight, movements abrupt and shaky. Chaos surged in, and as always, her core steadied, providing a center in the chaos, a temporary anchor point. The eye of the storm, her heart, solid as stone until the hurricane was over and she could fall apart again. "I think he recognized my voice, and then I could hear his voice change like he was looking at his phone instead of talking into it, and then–" She hated the way her voice was shaking, like her body wouldn't let her brain tell it to stop reacting. "-then he swore and then apologized and then hung up. It was… it was so sad."
"Do you know where he is?"
Marinette thought for a moment, grabbing for a pen to distract her trembling hands with. It flew out of her grasp before she could even settle into a rhythm, short circuiting her brain. She took a steadying breath, heart pounding. Where would he be?
"I think I know." She whispered, barely able to get the words out over the grief cascading over her like a wave.
"Do you want to go to him?"
Marinette tried to muster up the courage to send Tikki a glare and failed. "He meant to call Nino," she mumbled, defeated. "He didn't ask me to be there."
"That's not what I asked." Marinette finally met Tikki's gaze, struggling not to let tears well in her eyes.
Did she want to go to him?
With that one question, a little wall came down. A sliver of the dome that had been running splintering cracks down its surface for the past two minutes.
Did she?
She could almost hear the glass cascading down around her. It hurt. It stuck into her soul. It opened her up wide.
But it was real.
Some part of the pain felt good.
"Yeah." Marinette whispered. Not even as a crush. She remembered her heart melting as Chat Noir hugged a sick child close to his chest, hurtling away from the debris crashing down around them. She remembered how she'd promised herself, then, I'll be that strong.
And then she'd seen the tears in his eyes that day they'd visited the children's hospital with Rose's group.
She'd promised herself something then, too, wrapping him in a hug both of them much needed: it was I'll be that strong, but not in those exact words. I'll be that real. I'll be that caring. I'll be that kind. I'll be that beautiful on the inside.
"Yeah, I want to go." Marinette admitted, basking in the waves of emotion crashing over her.
"Then go." Tikki replied. Her tone screamed pride, and that made Marinette want to cry even more, but she would not cry. Not yet. If she did, Adrien would probably try to be more worried about her than himself.
(Actually if she started crying now she wouldn't stop until next month, but that wasn't necessary information.)
So, she made two cups of steaming tea, pulled on her pink parka, and headed out into the sleet, leaning against the wind. For once, she didn't feel guilt for sneaking out. This, she knew, her parents would be proud of.
(Why did she think they wouldn't be proud of Ladybug? Was it that, or was it something deeper? Some rift she didn't want to cross? Some step she couldn't take?)
She pushed the thoughts away, promising herself to ask Chat Noir later. He was wise, and steady, and– she loved him. It wasn't bright and sparkling, or fireworks and heat and passion, or soft and steamy, but it was real. He was the only person who knew that secret, horrible, heavy half of her. He was her– Ladybug's— closest friend. Her partner. The person she would happily die for, over and over and over again. The person she'd seen the worst of, and still wanted by her side.
She didn't try to explain it. She just let it be. Her heart ached from it, in tandem with her cold muscles and burning skin. The scarf she'd been working on hung around her neck. She pulled it up over her face to block the wind. Her father's heavy coat was slung over her shoulder.
The buildings shrank, silhouettes of massive, square buildings giving way to the grandfatherly, squat little homes on the outer edge of the city. Her hands unclenched from the purse clasp. She didn't need to be quite so careful out here, not that any criminals would be crazy enough to be out in this weather.
Warm, yellow light shone from the house on the corner of the cobbled rue, flickering across the stones onto a dirt parkway. Recognition flickered in her and she dashed for it, turning around the corner at the far side of the house and ducking in through a copse of low-hanging trees, bent almost sideways in the wind. "There it is." She gasped, out of breath and throat scratchy. Here the wind wasn't so bad, so she tugged down her scarf, spitting out the little threads that had come off of the fabric. A wrought iron gate swung open in front of her, clattering against the ornate metal on either side of it. Marinette slipped inside.
"Here goes nothing," she whispered in Tikki's direction, sharp eyes casting in all directions for any slight movement. Several times she thought she saw something– it was usually just the bushes and trees around the perimeter of the little bubble shaking at the onslaught from outside.
"There!" Tikki called, tiny voice carrying thinly through the relative silence. Marinette followed her pointing limb, eyes rounding even though the air pricked little icicles into the corners.
There he was. He didn't feel like Adrien Agreste. It was just a crumpled form, leaning against the corner wall, almost hidden by the overgrowth in that particular part of the grave site. As she looked on, its shoulders shuddered.
How was it possible for those little glass cuts to hurt even more now?
Either way, the pain and caring drove Marinette forward, and before she could rationalize what she was doing, she was on her knees in the slush, nerves sending frantic signals that her brain completely ignored in favor of reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. "Adrien?"
Moments passed. A face turned up to look at her.
The pace of her heart redoubled. Now it wasn't just the fact that there was a human being in pain that was killing her, it was Adrien. The one Alya called the sunshine child, the one who always had a smile and a joke ready, the one she loved, or liked, or something, with dirty tears streaking down his horribly pale face, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, eyes flashing with a million emotions his chapped lips couldn't form words to explain away.
"Oh, God." She whispered, and he scrambled away. His movements were clumsy and awkward, and fear shone in his emerald eyes, even in the dim light. "Adrien–"
"No, shoot, Mari–Marinette." Adrien gasped, chest heaving. "You didn't have to come, I– I told you not to come, please go– sorry–"
Marinette shook her head, clambering after him in a desperate bid to get him to understand. "Look– no, Adrien, wait–"
Fresh tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them with a swift, frustrated movement. "No, no, you can't see– Marinette, no, please–"
"What?" Anger rose in her, hot like her father's bread stove, but not at him. No, at the world that had made him think feeling was anything less than extraordinary. "Adrien, stop apologizing–"
"Just go!" Adrien snapped, and Marinette felt it like a glass shard to the heart. What, she thought. I should have just stayed in my cozy room with my heater and blankets and music and tea and let you suffer? It would have been easier for me, Adrien. Maybe I should've!
But she didn't have the heart to say that to him, nor the courage to reach out and stop him. So she just sat. She plopped down on her butt, and waited.
The ice soaked through her pants. His sobs quieted. The sleet stopped. The moon shone. Her limbs ached. Her head pounded. Her fingers went numb.
Still she sat.
Finally, he drew in a shuddering breath, lungs sounding pained and tight. "You're not going to leave, are you?"
She could tell he hated how petulant that sounded.
She shook her head, the ghost of a smile coming to her pale face. "Nope. I'm more stubborn than Kim, remember?"
He was so perfectly still she thought he'd frozen to place, just another statue among a hundred. "I thought Alya was joking about that."
"I guess not." She kept the shake out of her voice.
"You're not cold?" He ventured.
"You obviously are." She returned.
Her dad's parka hit him in the face.
He peeled the wet material from his face, blinking. His hair was stuck straight up in the air.
"Thanks." He whispered, tugging it on with some difficulty.
"You shouldn't have come out in your pajamas."
"You shouldn't have either."
"I brought a coat."
"You had time to prepare." Marinette's heart skipped a beat when he said that, thinking he was finally going to open up, but he blinked and she could see the spark leave his eyes.
"You gonna tell me what happened?"
"It's not important." He breathed, almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than her.
She cocked her head and leveled her gaze at him, ignoring the way her entire chest squeezed up when they actually made eye contact. "You think the way you feel isn't worth anything?"
He blinked, started, stopped, shrugged. "I– no. No. I just–"
"Then what do you need from me right now?" Marinette pushed. "I'm not leaving, and I'm not letting you stay here either."
His gaze grew distant, fixed on one of the graves.
"I can't leave yet." He sighed, then seemed to start. "So, thank you so much for coming–"
"Adrien."
"What?"
"Shut up."
"Okay."
Marinette took a deep breath, steeling her nerves, and pushed her way over to him. He didn't shrink away this time. Their shoulders brushed. She handed him a steaming cup of tea. He took a long drink of it, sighing in relief as it warmed him from the inside out.
"So…" Marinette inhaled the steam from her own mug. If she was this cold, how miserable had he been? "I'm not going to force you to talk. That would be incredibly rude. But you do need to talk."
Adrien snorted. It was an amazing sound. "Noted."
"Do you want a hug?"
"Nah." His response was a little slow that time, and Marinette pounced on it.
"Liar."
He just stared at the moon peeking out from between the dark clouds.
She moved her leaden arm, trying to aim for his shoulders. It ended up on his head. She shifted. That was better.
His head landed on her shoulder.
She smiled.
"Is this okay?" He asked.
Her heart swelled. "Yeah."
"Okay."
They were silent for a long moment. Some immortal cricket chirped in the distance.
"You're really not going to let us leave until I talk?"
"Nope." Marinette shuffled a little closer, jabbing his hip with hers. "And I can feel you shivering through dad's coat, so please hurry. I don't want to have to drag you all the way back into town. Which I absolutely can and will do, by the way."
She felt Adrien's chest shake with laughter. "Oh, really?"
"Yup. So get talking. Why are you out this late, first of all? Other than teenage rebellion."
His face screwed up, and she resisted the urge to poke him. "Darn. You stole my answer."
"I know, because you're so rebellious."
"I am, actually."
Marinette gave Adrien an appraising look. "So what happened? Did you get kicked out? Because my parents will happily adopt you."
He laughed again, a little more strained. "Your dad is scary."
"Only the first time you meet him." Marinette promised. "He's the biggest teddy bear in the universe. But this isn't about my family. What happened?"
Adrien sighed, shifting a little so his hip bone wasn't jabbing into her thigh. "It was my dad."
"Woah, go figure." Marinette grimaced. "Sorry. That was mean."
"It's okay. I'm still a little mad."
"Why?"
"He only ever compares me to mom when I'm being dramatic or emotional." Adrien made huge arm movements to emphasize his sarcasm, almost hitting Marinette in the face. "Seriously. It's like he thinks I'm a teenage girl. No offense."
"None taken." Marinette laughed. "I am an emotional wreck."
"And that's why you're awesome!" Adrien sprang up, not losing any contact he could help. "Why is that a problem?"
"Stupid adults always think having a differently proportional brain size makes us unthinking idiots." Marinette snarked, then paused, head cocked. "Did that make any sense?"
"Absolutely!" Adrien burst, and now his eyes were shining again, and she wanted to laugh with him forever. "They always think having feelings make us stupid, right? Like, no! It just means we care more about all the horrible things in the world that you've already accepted and don't think you can change!"
"Oh, I know!" Marinette cried. "I get so frustrated with my parents sometimes! Don't get me wrong, I love them to pieces, but they're so depressing sometimes! They don't think they can change anything about the way the world is!"
"I know, right?" Adrien pushed forward, rising into a squat and then settling onto his knees, facing her. "Father won't even hear me out on anything. It's so stupid! I want to fix up mom's garden? NO, that would be a disgrace to her memory, even though it'll have been two years since she died next week–"
He shuddered then, and Marinette almost wanted to jump in, but she held her tongue.
"- or I asked him if we could give mom a more special resting spot— tonight, actually, and he said 'no, it's too public'. I hate social media, oh my gosh."
"I hate it too." Marinette gushed. "It's so toxic, and there's just too much–"
"-and why do complete strangers need to know that much about us?!" Adrien cried, flinging his hands out. Tea sloshed, rising in steam from the sleety, dead grass. "And so then I stop trying for that and–" His voice broke and he chugged a long drink of his tea, wetting his lips when he finished. Marinette grabbed the thermos from him so he wouldn't drop it. "-and then– I'm sorry, did you want to talk more?"
"No, please." Marinette waved her own thermos (decorated with ladybugs, of course) towards him. "This is riveting."
"So he won't let me have a memorial or do anything special, right? So I ask him if I can at least play mom's song, and no, I can't do that either, and then as a last ditch effort I wait until he gets off work and catch him before he can slip into his office and hide and leave me alone in that stupid cavern of a house and I ask him, right?" Adrien stood, slipping back onto his butt. Marinette snorted. "Sorry."
Adrien brushed ice from his pants into the grass and continued. "So, the door's here, right?" He pantomimed a doorway, and Marinette nodded, tea long forgotten. "So I barely peek my head in, and I ask him, right, I'm like "Hey, Father, can I talk to you for a moment?" and then he does the whole stupid French teacher thing– you know, 'may you, not can you', so I repeat it right, and then he sighs and he's like fine, what is it–
"Idiot." Marinette. "Continue."
"So I ask him if I can just come out here and, I don't know, plant a few flowers at her grave? And he looks me straight in the eyes with that terrifying glare of his and asks me if I'm stupid."
Marinette gasped, throat closing even as her rage built.
"And so I say no, I'm not stupid, thank you very much, because there's a whole other string of arguments that led up to that, and he gives me this look like I'm the worst son in the universe–"
"- totally not true, you're awesome–"
"- and he tells me I'm being disrespectful!" Adrien took a deep, shuddering breath. "It's– how– how does he have the gall? I'm over here picking up all the shattered pieces mom leaving left behind and he thinks I'm the disrespectful one?"
"That is so horrible, and wrong, and so many other words I shouldn't say but I really want to because your dad deserves all of them." Marinette snapped. Was the sky turning red, or was that just her?
Adrien took another steadying breath, folding back into himself a little. He began to pace, short little shuffling steps, presumably so he wouldn't fall again. "It's just so dumb. Like, I know he's hurting, probably way more than I am, because he loved her and knew her for way longer than I did, and they've been through so much together, and losing her for him would be like me losing—" He took a deep breath. She was shocked to see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, turning them glassy. "It would be bad." He finished. "But… also… is it so wrong to want the adults in your life to be stronger than you?"
"Not at all." Marinette replied somberly.
Adrien sat again, across from her, almost subconsciously reaching out so some part of him was touching her. "It just… I try to be a good kid, and a good student, and a good–" He paused again, searching for the right word. "Person in general, I guess. Oh, and a good model– don't even get me started on that. But it never gets easier. I guess I wonder how long I'm supposed to be the best I can be for? And then I feel kinda bad, because–"
"Adrien." Marinette interrupted, a hint of humor breaking through the waves of horror and sorrow crashing over her. "Stop gaslighting yourself."
"I–" He fell silent. Finally, a rueful, watery smile curved his features. "You're right."
Her heart glowed brighter than a lantern. Around them, the storm started to pick up again.
"I'm just tired, I guess. It's been a long day. And I need a shower."
"And you're actively crumbling under the ridiculous amount of pressure to conceal yourself that your father and your life in general place on you, making you want to run, but you find yourself unable to because you're a people pleaser?" Marinette deadpanned.
Adrien let out a tight chuckle, making a wondering gesture at the darkened sky. "How are you this good at this?"
"What?" Marinette asked, tilting her head with a ready smile.
Adrien stuttered, flinging his arms out. "I– I don't know, this. Words? The big brain big thoughts big feels?"
"Ah." Marinette fought to keep a straight face. "Yes. The big brain big thoughts big feels. I'm an expert in that. Adrien, I can't even say a complete sentence most of the time without– without– ah, what's–"
"Forgetting what you were going to say?"
"Nope."
"Losing your marbles?"
"Nope."
"Losing your train of thought?"
"Noooooo… see this is what I mea– oh! Without flubbing! That's what I meant! Do you have any idea how hard it is to roast someone when you keep missing up your words?"
Adrien snorted. "I've seen it. It's adorable."
Oh, merde.
Marinette blinked. "I'll… unpack that later. We should–"
Thunder clapped overhead and Marinette jumped. "We should go!" Adrien called. "If this turns into hail, we're in for a hail of a time!"
Maybe it was the stress of the night. Maybe it was the fact that Adrien Agreste thought she was adorable. Maybe it was the fact that she was finally feeling again without restraint, and it was heady and horrible amazing, or maybe it was just how late it was, or the adrenaline shooting through her with every clap of thunder– no matter what it was, Marinette doubled over laughing.
And then promptly remembered herself, standing straight up, wiping the tears from her eyes, and fixing Adrien with the closest thing to a glare she could manage. "If you tell anyone, especially Nino, that I laughed at a pun as bad as that, I will actually make sure no one finds your body."
Adrien blinked. "Noted."
Then lightning struck somewhere far off and he was grinning, the adrenaline coursing through his veins too. "WE REALLY SHOULDN'T BE OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!"
"I KNOW!" Marinette screamed back, laughing.
"WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS ANYWAYS?"
"THIS WAS A GROUP EFFORT, DON'T YOU EVEN START."
"WE SHOULD PROBABLY GO HOME."
"HOME IS A BAD IDEA."
"WHY?!"
"BECAUSE–" Marinette tugged Adrien towards the corner he'd originally been in, hoping it would provide some cover. "LOOK AT YOUR PHONE! THE BRIDGE IS DOWN!"
"WAIT, REALLY?!"
"YEAH!"
"THAT MIGHT NOT BE GOOD!"
"IT'S NOT!"
"WHAT DO WE DO NOW?!"
Marinette grabbed Adrien's arm and shoved him behind her, taking the brunt of the wind. "FOLLOW ME!"
"WHAT?!"
She turned around and screamed it again, throat on the verge of giving out. He flashed her a cheesy thumbs up. How he still had use of his fingers, she did not understand.
They forded the wind like divers cutting through an icy sea, shuffling along at a diagonal to the street until they reached the house at the corner, that one yellow light still shining out onto the street like a lighthouse in a hurricane. Marinette tugged Adrien forward and up onto the porch, rapping on the door with a shaking, numb half-fist. She waved him on when he tried to back away, shaking his head in confusion.
Then the door opened and they were bundled inside.
—-
"Where—" Adrien stopped, plastering a rather pained smile on his face. "Hi?"
"Hello there, lovelies!" The old woman cried. Her hands never left their arms, instead tugging them in towards the living room. Marinette resisted for just long enough to slip off her shoes and nudge Adrien to do the same. "Please, please, come inside! Oh, you're both shivering. Let me—"
"Worry about him first, please." Marinette managed to cut through the din. "He's the idiot here. Meant with affection."
"Affection… taken?" Adrien's lips pulled back into a confused mix of a grimace and a smile. "I don't–"
"Oh, you poor thing!" Naomi ran her hands up and down Adrien's goosebump-covered arms, Marinette shivering at the pain in his face and how hard he tried not to flinch. Before he could protest, one of her weathered, spotted hands reached up to his forehead. She gasped. "Child, you're running a fever!" She tugged him towards a back room. Adrien stumbled after her, casting a very hilariously worried glance over his shoulder.
"You'll be fine!" Marinette called, laughing. Mlle. Naomi didn't have much of a sense of personal space, but her caring was always directed in the right direction. She was a beautiful, chaotic storm of love, leaving an impression on everyone who had the glorious pleasure of being caught in her winds. Not to mention her wisdom, which had saved Marinette on many occasions. Why did I ever stop coming here? Marinette wondered, glancing around at the full house. Handmade candles burning on every open space, a wooden counter covered in flour, a burning wood stove in the corner, glasswork sitting by the fireplace, the mantle of which was covered in clay jars overflowing with paint. Plants crowded every scrap of light, and–
"Coquin!" Marinette squealed, rushing over to the patchwork sofa and crouching. From the darkness, two green eyes shone back at her, slowly blinking. "Oh, don't you remember me, buddy? We used to be friends when I was little! I missed you!"
A pink nose poked out from the shadows. Whiskers tickled her curled fingers. A sneeze reached her ears, but no cat appeared. Marinette sighed, turning around and sitting on the wooden floor with her head against the pile of quilts and tied blankets covering the couch. "That's what I get for getting too busy, I guess."
A shocked yelp went through the house, along with the sound of running water, and Marinette laughed. "I guess Mrs. Naomi forgot to turn on the water heater."
The minutes ticked away, and Marinette became entranced by the ticking of the grandfather clock tucked behind the massive dracaena plant. The warm light of the fire swam everything around her in orange, blurry beauty, and…
"Nope." Marinette muttered, and brushed away the tail that had curled around her arm. "I will not fall asleep before I know Adrien is alright." She paused, glancing back at the accusing green eyes still fixed on her. "You think they'd appreciate some warm tea? Will I get in trouble– who am I kidding, Nana would probably make friends with a robber. She'll appreciate me trying to help… right?"
A blink.
"I'll take that as a yes." Marinette paused for a minute, and then on an impulse, stuck her tongue out at the cat. When she got no reaction she turned on her heel, swaying a little, and headed into the kitchen. "If the book is still where I think it is…"
It was. Brushing aside a few stray recipes, Marinette picked up the worn leather book and brushed the cover lovingly. A stamped burn on the front read Nana's Herb Book. Mlle. Naomi had typed this out and bound it herself– one of her favorite crafts to talk about. Marinette flipped through the pages, scanning–
"Ah." She spoke to no one in particular. "Here we go. Fevers."
She scanned down the list and then opened the door to the pantry in the corner, matching the leaves drawn on the page to those drying on strings. "Tunsi leaves… there!" Marinette plucked a few from the plant, wrapping them and a bit of ginger (an ode to her mother if nothing else) in a cheesecloth. Then she put the kettle on the stove. "Probably should've done that sooner, huh?"
No one answered.
The sound of running water shutting off roused Marinette from her stupor. Working quickly, she located three tea cups and– "Oh, hey, she finally bought some of those reusable strainer thingies!" Marinette dumped her mixture into the cups in even portions, snapping the lids on and setting them into their cups. Strains of conversation began floating down the hall, followed by a few ominous thumps, and Marinette worked quickly, pouring steaming water (never boiling) into the china, setting them on a random wooden plate that was lying around with some honey and the sugar container and spoon that were sitting on the little table.
"- yes, I do think– Oh, hey, Marinette! You made tea?"
Marinette met Adrien's gaze. He looked so tired and adorable and ruffled that she almost confessed to him right then and there–
Wait. When had she fallen for him again? Bad brain!
I'm supposed to be just letting things happen, aren't I? Her treacherous heart whispered back. This is definitely happening.
Well shut up, because we need to stop staring, Marinette hissed back, taking a deep breath and setting the tray down. "Yeah!" She managed, in a tone maybe only a few notes above her normal voice– pretty good for her. "Where'd you get the pajamas?"
"I was making some for my grandson!" Mrs. Naomi announced. There was a little more crackle in her voice than Marinette remembered. "Thankfully, they fit your Adrien here quite well."
Marinette chose not to comment on the choice of possessive.
Mlle. Naomi just smiled. "I believe I might have something that will fit you too, child. Come and take a nice warm shower, and I'll see what I can find."
"Yes, ma– I mean, Nana."
Mlle. Naomi's eyes twinkled. "Exactly. You remembered I won't be called ma'am. I'm one of you at heart after all, aren't I?"
"Of course, Nana." Marinette returned, a ghost of a laugh tinging her voice.
Mlle. Naomi shuffled off, leaving the two teenagers alone.
Adrien tugged the sleeve of his green top. "These are really nice clothes. Are they hand made, do you think?"
"Probably. Mlle. Naomi makes everything."
"I can tell." Adrien's eyes cast about the room, making a show of lingering on all the different completed crafts. "You know her?"
"Yeah." Where'd the nice normal conversation from earlier go? Not that it was at all normal. It just… felt comfortable, for once. "She's the reason I'm so into crafts. I met her when I was five and got lost on my way home. She's been… my mentor? Friend? Confidant? Ever since. Except…" Marinette reached for a teacup and crossed the room, wincing at the wet squelching sound that came from her drenched socks. It was her fault for not wearing waterproof shoes. "I haven't had time to visit in a while. I'm regretting it now."
Adrien nodded, eyes glazed over. "Nino would love this place. It's like his mom's house on steroids."
"We should bring all our friends here. They'd love Mlle. Naomi, and she'd love them." Marinette stuck out the cup, a little of it splashing over the rim. "Here. It'll help bring your fever down."
She (finally) managed to actually look him in the eyes, and her heart instantly leapt into her throat. His gaze was unfocused, almost like he was looking through her instead of at her. "Hey."
Slowly, thank God, he managed to look at her. "You good?" She pushed.
"Yeah." He whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm good. You're shivering, though."
Marinette drew back a little. She was cold. Suddenly she was all too aware of the wet pajama top still clinging to her skin, and was thankful for the heavy parka over top of it. Still, a hard shiver ran down her spine. So her hands shaking weren't just from nerves.
A trembling, ice-cold hand touched her cheek and she snapped back to reality, almost gasping aloud at the intense, concentrated look of concern on Adrien's face. After a moment, he slumped back with a sigh. "I can't even tell if you're warm too because I'm still cold for some reason–"
"Hey, it's okay," Marinette cooed, gently taking his hand (you know, like an idiot) and pulling it from her face. "I'm sure I'm fine. I'm just worried about you."
Adrien's eyebrows tightened, but just then a cheery call echoed through the house. "I found you some pajamas, dear! Your friend and I will talk while you–
A hunched form stepped into the kitchen and stopped. "Oh, you're still sitting here! Dear, I'll take care of Adrien, you go take care of yourself."
Adrien gave a shaky nod and an even shakier smile. "See? That's– that's what I was saying!"
Marinette gave Mlle. Naomi an apologetic shrug and clunked the cup down on the end table next to a marble-painted dinosaur. "I'll go, ma'am– Nana– uh–" She levered a shaken glare at Adrien and pointed to the cup of still-steaming tea. "Drink that."
"Got it." Adrien huffed, grinning. She ran for the bathroom.
I hope Adrien isn't too uncomfortable with Mlle. Naomi, Marinette thought.
—-
It's so cold in here, Adrien thought absently. Everything else felt too real, and too sharp, and almost painful, but his mind was foggy– like it was filled with sheepskin. I hope there's no akuma anytime soon.
Something warm and soft was settled around his shoulders, another draped over his legs, covering the fuzzy socks that came up to his calves. Weathered hands pressed a steaming cup into his hands. Marinette's tea, Adrien remembered, taking a sip. It was good.
A chair scraped. Mlle. Naomi sat in front of him, leaning forward a little and nursing her own cup of tea.
I should probably say something, he realized.
"Th–thank you for all of this kindness." Adrien managed, although none of his body parts wanted to cooperate at the moment. "I really appreciate it. I… don't want…"
"To be a bother?" He was met with arched, thin eyebrows. "You are being a bother. Very much a bother, actually."
Panic flared through him, cutting through the fog. He moved to rise, except his leaden legs wouldn't support him, and he thudded back to the couch, struggling again already. "I'm sorry– I thought– I'll–"
Forceful arms set him back in his place. Blinking in surprise, Adrien was met with an intent stare. "What makes you think that's a bad thing?" The old woman asked.
Adrien's tired mind spun, trying to comprehend the emotional whiplash that was happening. "I… I don't…"
"It's not." Mlle. Naomi promised, placing a strangely steady hand on his plaid-covered knee. "Intruding on others isn't a bad thing at all. Haven't your friends ever shown up to your house unannounced?"
Adrien thought back to the day all the guys had piled into his house and started a party. A wistful smile came to his face. Other than the disaster of an ending, that party… "That was one of the best days of my life."
Mlle. Naomi gave him a watery look that was so full of happiness he almost cried right then and there. "See? Intrusion, if it's people who care about you, isn't a bad thing. Listen to me."
Adrien blinked.
"You're only a burden if the person doesn't want to carry the load."
It took him far too long to process the phrase this woman he already loved so much had uttered, but when he did, it was almost like something deep inside him shifted.
"Really?" He whispered, relief welling up in him and forcing tears to his eyes. "Sorry," he gasped, chuckling and setting his tea cup down to wipe at his eyes. "I don't know why—"
"You're tired, and emotionally drained, and from the looks of it, you've got a nasty cold coming on too. Let yourself be vulnerable for a minute." Mlle. Naomi laughed. Something about putting all his weaknesses out in the open like that, so plainly, made him wonder why he was ever afraid of being real.
And then he remembered his father. And his job. And his destiny.
It was clear Mlle. Naomi had seen the change come over his face, and she leaned back, taking a sip of her tea. "It looks like you have some things to talk through."
"Marinette said that earlier." Adrien chuckled, glancing away and tucking his legs up to his chest. "I don't know why everyone says that."
"Well, why don't you?"
Adrien thought for a minute. "If I started airing all my issues, I don't think I'd ever stop."
Mlle. Naomi shrugged, almost teasing. "I have time. Besides, girls take long showers."
Adrien shook his head. "Isn't that stereotyping?"
"Only if it's not true." Mlle. Naomi gestured towards the hallway leading to the bathroom. "That girl is a clean freak, believe it or not. We have time."
Some childish part of him reached out desperately for this motherly contact, the chance to have a meaningful conversation, and it overwhelmed whatever semblance of professionalism that was still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. "Okay." He resigned himself. "I don't know how open I'll be able to be," (because of secret identities or personal discomfort, he'd never know) "but I'll try."
Mlle. Naomi nodded in acquiescence. "That's all I ask. Let's start with her."
"What?"
"Marinette. How much does she know about you?"
"Not enough." Adrien sighed. "Besides you, soon, she's the only one who I feel like really knows me. It's just–"
"Yes?"
Adrien sighed, taking another sip of the spiced tea to ease his scratchy throat. "You know an onion?"
The smile in the old woman's voice was unmistakable. "I think I've maybe seen one before."
Adrien shrugged. "I don't know, they're pretty rare…"
She snorted.
"Anyways, I feel like I'm kind of like an onion."
"Smelly?"
"I just showered!" Adrien returned, smiling. "No, I mean like, oh… how do I say this…"
"Like you're a mess of masks and you don't know what's underneath because it hasn't seen the light of day in a while?"
Adrien blinked.
"And maybe you're scared because you don't know if anyone will like whatever weird creature is hiding under there, much less yourself?"
Adrien opened his mouth, and closed it. "How…"
"I know things." Mlle. Naomi gave him a strange look halfway between a smirk and a grimace. "Here's a question. What if there's nothing under there?"
Adrien sipped his tea, trying and failing to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. What if he really was no one?
"Don't panic." The reproving tone cut through the spiraling of his thoughts. "I'm not trying to scare you."
"No, no, it makes sense, I just–" Adrien gasped.
"It's freeing, I promise. Getting a blank slate to work with. You just need to make sure that when you get that chance to start over, you have people to trust who won't make you into something horrible." Mlle. Naomi continued. "Here, let's think through this. What qualities in your friends, your parents, anyone you've met– maybe even a stranger on the street– do you want the most?"
"Oh, that's easy." Adrien exhaled. "Nino is the most loyal person I know, Alya's confident, Chloe's smart in her own weird way, but Alix– Alix knows so so many random facts about history and every other topic under the sun, it's crazy cool. She's also so fearless. When she walks into the room, everyone notices her, even though she's like four foot ten." Adrien laughed. "I can feel her elbowing me for that. And Kim is so rambunctious and funny, he always has an idea for how to goof off. He always says 'it's only embarrassing if you get embarrassed'. It's great." Adrien took another sip of tea. "And Rose. She's been through so much, but she's so positive and loud and everything she does is with the best intentions in mind. And her girlfriend, Juleka, is the exact opposite— she almost never talks. But her mind is so beautiful. She's sensitive, and wise, and she always knows when someone's hurting. And Luka, her brother, is so good with music! I mean, I'm good at playing the piano, I think, but he– it's like he feels it in his soul. And he can hear people's inner melodies– I guess he just knows exactly what they need to hear, but he puts it into music instead of words, and it's so beautiful. And he's so introspective, and chill, and he has such a unique perspective on life. And then there's my mom." A wonderful bittersweetness spread over him, weighing like a warmed blanket even as his stomach twisted. "She died two years ago, but she was so beautiful. Every time she looked at you your heart would take wings. She was like the sun. She always found the best ways to cheer me up, and she was so constant and warm and loving and gentle. But also she was never afraid to fight for us. There was one time someone was yelling at Chloe and mom straight decked them. They went flying. All the parents gasped. All the kids started laughing and cheering. She just bowed, picked me and Chloe up, apologized, and took us out for ice cream. Then she went in and had a nice talk with the guy, and the next week we were in the daycare like nothing had ever happened."
"Love makes people stronger than they ever thought they could be." Mlle. Naomi said wisely. "Did you ever grieve for her?"
"Why do you always ask the best worst questions?" Adrien shot back.
"Does that mean you're not going to answer it?" Mlle. Naomi drank the rest of her tea in a long slurp, standing and patting his shoulder. "I'll be right back. You think about what you want to tell me."
And so began a long, long time of just him spilling his guts to a random old woman who's house he'd practically broken into while the world spun white and chaotic and cold outside her painted windows. She barely spoke, merely offering a nod or a grunt of understanding as he began at the beginning of everything– the first time she'd collapsed. Twice he'd stopped, unable to speak past the tightening knot in his throat as hot tears burned his eyes. She'd never pushed him, only offering a bit of advice every once in a while. By the time he was finished, he was beyond exhausted, the room blurring around him, the dregs of his tea sitting cold next to him. She patted his knee. "You've been through a lot."
"It doesn't feel… like enough." He slurred. "I mean, my father–"
"I don't say this lightly, and I don't know all of your father's story, and I also agree that he's been through a lot, but your father needs to grow up. If his son can move on and he can't–"
"I haven't moved on, though." Adrien cut in, wincing at his blunder. She just gestured him on. 'I think about her almost every day. Sometimes… I forget she's gone and for just one second I'm convinced I live in a world where the sun shines still bright as it did when she was alive and she'll be downstairs, making us waffles and singing and dancing." He took a deep, aching breath.
"And then you realize." Mlle. Naomi glanced off into the distance, eyes glazing with their own thousands of memories. "And it breaks your heart all over again."
Adrien nodded numbly. Were there supposed to be black spots in his vision? That was fine, right?
"Can I ask you one more question?"
"Of course." Adrien's response was instantaneous, even if her voice was starting to fade out, buzzing filling his cotton ears.
"Who makes you feel the closest to how you felt when she was alive?"
That was easy. "Marinette." Her name slipped past his lips without a second thought. (I mean, it wasn't like he could explain Plagg.) "She's amazing."
"Tell me about her."
Adrien's heart ached. "She's awkward, and clumsy, and a chaotic adorable disaster, and she never… never assumes things of people, and she's… she's smart, and she tries so hard… to help people, and she's caring, and man, her hugs are amazing– did you… did you know how nice it is to hug— tiny people? I've never felt that before, it's awesome– and she lives… she lives and breathes creation. She makes… so many crafts, it's insane. Probably… probably not as many as you've… made, but–"
"I've had nearly eighty years to build up my collection."
"Yeah." Adrien sighed. The water shut off behind them. A tinge of disappointment hit him, despite his guilt at the fact. He'd needed this, and a part of him didn't want it to end. But knowing Marinette, she'd be just as searching as Mlle. Naomi, if a little more fumbling and a lot more awkward. "Oh, and she feels so deeply, it's wild. I didn't… didn't even know it was possible to get that worked up over a baby duck."
"They are very cute."
"Her eyes sparkle when she cries." Adrien breathed just as Marinette walked into the room and committed the very rude crime of stealing the breath right out of his chest. He'd never seen her in such baggy clothes. It was adorable. He wanted to squeeze her.
—-
Marinette tugged her hair up into a bun and exited the bathroom, holding her wet clothes to her chest. Adrien was saying something about sparkles when she rounded the corner and saw him, but the tear tracks down his face and the tired smile on his face were sure signs of Mlle. Naomi's soul-bending powers.
And then he looked up at her.
Heat rushed to her face. His lips parted. His eyes sparkled. A ghost of a smile showed her one adorable dimple.
"Hey?" She managed, setting her clothes down on top of his and making quite sure her bra was covered. "What'd I miss?"
Adrien stood. A look of fear, confusion, morphed over his face. He swayed.
Marinette watched. Her heart leapt.
It felt like ages passed before she managed to force her tired legs to leap forward so she could take most of his weight before he crumpled. They must've been a funny sight, his cheek pressed against the crown of her head and her shoulder pressed up into his armpit. "Adrien?" She yelped.
"S'rry…" he slurred. "Just… gimme a minute…"
Marinette dumped him rather unceremoniously onto the couch, arranging an inordinate amount of blankets around him. Before she could freak out too much, she slapped a hand to his forehead too. "He's burning up, Nana. We–"
"I'll get the bucket and water. You get the pills from the medicine cabinet."
She disentangled her free hand from underneath him. Part of her screamed out against the idea of leaving him alone, even if it was just for a moment, but the rational part won for once. "I'll be right back." She whispered. He just dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and groaned.
She was gone and back in a flash, filling the teacup with fresh water and slipping behind him to prop him up. Mlle. Naomi helped him swallow two of the fever reducers, laying him back again afterwards. Marinette wrung out the washcloth Mlle. Naomi had brought, laying it across Adrien's forehead. She shivered at the cold water trailing down her forearms.
Mlle. Naomi's hand laid down heavy and firm on her arm. "You're just as tired as he is, even if you're a little too alert to admit it."
"I can't just leave him–"
"I'm not suggesting that, honey." The old woman reassured. "I know how much you care for everyone in your life. That will never change. But at least let me drag the sectional over here so you can join him."
"Okay, Nana." Marinette acquiesced; it was only because her body almost collapsed on its own at the thought of a chance to lay down. The two of them dragged the other couch (seriously, how did this woman fit this much into her house?) so it was plum with the one Adrien was tucked into. Marinette sat down, tucking her legs underneath her and pulling a blanket up to her chest. "Thank you for taking us in for the night, Nana."
"It's a delight to have anyone stay here, especially young people as kind as you two." Mlle. Naomi promised. "Do your parents know you're here?"
"My maman knows," Marinette answered honestly. "I called her right before I took a shower. I asked them to tell his dad."
"Will he be in trouble for visiting his mother's grave so late?" Mlle. Naomi asked.
"Probably." Marinette muttered. "I didn't know what else to do, though."
"I'll handle his father if he causes any trouble, dear. Don't worry about that."
"Oh, I want to see this." Marinette chuckled.
Mlle. Naomi inspected her chipped, peeling nails. "You think I should use my cane or my purse?"
"Ooooh," Marinette gushed. "Both good options. The cane would leave more of a mark. It's also harder to block."
"You, my darling, are a wealth of good advice." Mlle. Naomi chuckled, voice shaky but somehow strong. "Just try to get some rest. Caretakers like you and me need our beauty sleep!"
"Don't I know it."
Mlle. Naomi moved to get up, her flower print night robe swishing around her knotted ankles. Then she paused. "Do you ever get so tired you can't sleep?"
"All the time." Marinette sighed. "It's horrible."
"I'll make us some hot chocolate." The kind old woman decided, shuffling once more towards the kitchen. "Give me a few minutes."
Marinette laid down on the sectional, tucking the blanket under her toes and pulling a second up to her shoulders. Minutes passed. She was dimly aware of many things– the cat jumping up and laying on Adrien's chest (very rude, by the way), the ticking of the grandfather clock, the smell of chocolate, the noises from the kitchen, the crackling of the fire, the wind howling outside and the hail pounding against the tin roof. But what took up the most of her attention, besides the buzzing in her head, was Adrien. Just… Adrien. His eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering every so often, and she found her gaze tracking up and down him, memorizing every detail. The curve of his nose. His blond eyelashes (she'd never seen blond ones before). The lines of his lips, occasionally pulling back into a little grimace as he shifted, unable to get comfortable. On a whim, she re-wet the rag, brushing the damp fringe from his face before re-placing it. She was stricken by how soft his hair was, and she had half a mind to ask him what he put in it, but for now she contented herself with twisting it between her fingers. It was only for half a second, but his lips quirked up when she did it. The lines between his eyebrows smoothed a little too. Did he like it?
She kept up the little motion, threading locks of blond hair through her fingers as she continued to take in his waxy skin and flushed cheeks. Her gaze traveled down to the hands loosely sitting next to each other, poking out from under the blanket. She was suddenly entranced by curiosity. What did it feel like? Sure, she'd held his hand before on some occasion, surely, but she'd never stopped to think about how it felt. There were no calluses, although she had a feeling if he got his way they would be rough someday. He had long, thin fingers. Neatly manicured nails. There was a little smudged paw print on his wrist. She smiled at that, then let her face fall back into concentration. His hand looked so soft. She could imagine reaching out, grabbing it…
He shifted, one leg kicking out, and their hands met.
Marinette hardly dared to breathe.
Slowly, tentatively, her fingers laced themselves between his.
Oh.
Mlle. Naomi came back with hot chocolate and the moment was over.
True to her word, the hot chocolate quieted the buzzing in her brain. But they also talked, until the wind died down and the fire was almost to embers. Marinette's eyes were heavy with sleep by now. Mlle. Naomi bid her goodnight, throwing another log or two on the fire and shuffling off to bed.
Marinette was asleep instantly.
—-
Adrien was miserable.
He'd woken a few moments ago, disoriented and trembling. Then he'd remembered where he was, and who he was with, and his heart stopped trying to rip itself out of his chest.
Still, miserable.
Sweat had soaked through his shirt and pajama pants, and his fuzzy socks felt like furnaces at this point. But still, cold ripped through him, sending shivers down his spine and prompting him to curl into a little ball despite his aching muscles. His nose was clogged, his head ached with a vengeance, his skin was far too sensitive—
—
Marinette woke to a little whimper. Adrien. She'd fallen asleep! What if his fever was going up, or something else was wrong. Could he have been hypothermic? Was that even possible? Was that even a word?
Marinette almost sat up, but then green eyes met hers and she froze.
"Hey." She whispered. Her eyelids tried to tug themselves closed. It was like they were made of lead.
" 'm cold." Adrien mumbled. "And tired."
Marinette pouted, heart swimming in how adorably horrible he looked, and opened her arms. Adrien rolled into them, back pressed against her chest, head just under hers. He let out a little, choked sigh of relief. Their legs tangled as he searched for every little bit of warmth he could get. She wrapped her arms around the top of his chest, protective and comfortable.
—
Adrien felt her burrow into him, felt her lips press against the side of his head. He hummed, pressing in closer, unable to think of anything except the wonderful warmth that seeped out of her and seeped into his skin. Something cold and wet hit the back of his neck, but it quickly became bearable.
And then, her hand in his hair again.
Adrien couldn't remember ever being miserable.
—
Morning dawned on a very special sight. Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng lay tangled in a mess of blankets and limbs, Marinette's hand still in Adrien's hair.
And there was peace.
—
Three days later, flowers bloomed at Emilie Donatian Agreste's grave, and Chat Noir and Ladybug sat on a rooftop above the city, heads bent close to each other in deep conversation.
A/N: So. Happy birthday to me! This is two days late. It's fine. I wanted to write something super self-indulgent. I did. What do you think? Also, happy almost Thanksgiving! I might try to write a ficlet or something for tomorrow as well.
Also... I seem to be thinking I could just chop off the last paragraph break thingie and make this a multichapter fic? Possibly? Lemme know what y'all think because this brain is on fall break mode. But our babies needed some free therapy. Also I want to be Naomi when I'm old. She's incredible. They deserve someone like her. Anyways.
God Bless!
- Grace