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Marinette’s back was killing her, and her feet waged war against her heels. Heels she never should have been allowed to wear, frankly, given her track record with...well, walking. Her cheeks ached as well, from smiling too much at stuffy old investors who droned on about necklines and skirt lengths as if they knew more than her. And she had no choice but to charm them with her attention. To puff up their egos and laugh at their terrible jokes. Because she needed their money, of all things. Ugh.
At least all those years of holding in her true feelings around Lila had finally paid off.
Marinette had been counting down the seconds until she could leave since the minute she’d arrived tonight. She might be a bigshot designer these days, but the floor-length gown she wore just made her feel like she was playing dress-up.
And tonight, of all nights? She wanted to be wrapped up in a blanket, devouring a pint of ice cream, and...crying, probably. That was the theme of the week.
Yet, she was stuck here, playing a part, and every second the event stretched on felt like pure agony.
The design of her dress probably didn’t help. It was a black and green number. His colours. Even if her team had voted that her first choice of green was too bright, and she’d had to compromise. The skirt was wider than anything she’d worn before, layers of black organza and tulle. An emerald lace was fixed to the bodice and wrapped tightly around the length of her arms. Her shoulders were bare, just the way her nerves felt.
Black and green. His suit and his eyes. That was all she could see, when tried to sleep at night. His face haunted both her dreams and her nightmares.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear his voice, even after all this time. Could almost see his smirk, if only he could see her now. Princess.
Maybe she finally looked part, but she felt like anything but.
As much as she might have dreamed of this kind of thing, when she was younger, dreamed of showing up to one of these events on Adrien’s arm of all things, she didn’t belong here now. She didn’t want to belong here now.
And of course, she was starving. They’d advertised dinner, but the tiny entrées they’d been handing out certainly didn’t qualify. Plus, if she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn someone had paid off the waiters to avoid her section of the room. She’d lost track of how long it had been since a tray had last passed her by.
Since her stomach was nearly empty, she’d been more careful than usual about spacing out her alcohol consumption. Which meant that not only was she stuck dealing with pretentious businessmen, but she was stuck dealing with them while sober.
She was about ready to smack one obnoxious American man, who’d spent the better part of the last ten minutes complaining about how his daughter was apparently too politically correct—whatever, Boomer—when she finally caught sight of a tray of sushi passing by their group. God, that looked good.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll be back in a bit. I’m just going to freshen up,” she lied. Because apparently she wasn’t supposed to let them know she partook in the very human tradition of consuming actual food, and not simply subsisting on air. Jesus, the way she’d been coached for this event, one would have thought she was one of the models.
She smiled tightly at the man who placed a hand a little too far down her back as she turned to leave—hadn’t his wife been standing right beside him a minute prior? What was he playing at?—and hiked up her skirt as she hurried after the waiter. She caught up to him right outside the door to the kitchen, and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He whirled around with a wary expression.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure you’re super busy, and you’re probably headed for a break or something, but I haven’t eaten in ages, and I just—”
He chuckled. “Go ahead. I remember you from earlier. You’re one of the only people who’s actually thanked me for anything all night.”
Honestly, if it had been appropriate, she’d have hugged him. Wow, she really needed to eat something. “Thank you so much, you’re a life saver.” She eyed the plate. “What do you have left?”
“There’s inari on this side—that’s deep-fried tofu—and here we have unagi, that’s eel—”
The waiter kept talking, giving a more detailed description of the sushi, or maybe his preference, but Marinette had stopped listening.
Eel. Such an innocuous word. Definitely not something she’d have thought would be a trigger for anything, if someone had asked. But the second she heard it, she was transported somewhere else. To another time.
Black suit. Green eyes. God, she missed him.
“Weel, weel, weel,” Chat said. Ladybug rolled her eyes at his enunciation, but she was certain she didn’t do a very good job of hiding her smile as he went on. “That was an interesting Akuma.”
Ladybug decided to indulge him. “Don’t you mean eel-nteresting?”
He smirked. “Oh, she puns tonight, does she? I must say, I’m rather impressed. Even if that was a bit of a stretch. One might even say you were fishing for it.”
“Uh-huh. Like yours was any better. Anyway, I’m just glad we’re done. That was way harder than it should have been.” She paused, regarding him playfully. “At least it wasn’t the eel-ectric kind, though.”
His smile widened. “True, true. The only eel-ectric one out there today was you, M’lady.”
Her heart sped up at the compliment. As they’d gotten older, he’d toned down the flirting. At her request, of course. But lately, she’d been missing it. She tried not to think too hard about what that meant, most of the time. But now...when he looked at her like that…
She could imagine a future with him. A future with that gleam in his eyes, the one that always believed in her. A future where Shadow Moth was gone, and they could finally reveal their identities to each other. Where they started dating, confusing their friends when they immediately acted like they’d known each other for years. Where they got married and started a family together, and Chat watched over their babies as they took their first steps. Making sure no harm ever came to them, the same as he’d always done for her.
The idea both terrified and thrilled her at the same time.
A hand waved in front of her face. “Ladybug? Are you alright? You kind of zoned out there for a minute.”
She nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired. Lost in thought, you know?”
Chat studied her for a moment. “Are you sure you’re f-eel-ine fine?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you really just combine two animal puns into the same word?”
He grinned. “What can I say, Bug? I’m ama-zoo-ngly talented.”
“That’s it,” she deadpanned. “I can’t work with you anymore.”
He just laughed.
The room was too hot. Her dress too tight. Blood pounded in her ears, and every other noise in the background was muffled. Underwater. She floundered like her heart had, that day with Chat, on the rooftop. She’d had everything, then. And she’d taken it for granted.
Apparently, her future had been slippery as an eel, all along.
The waiter tried to get her attention, his voice pitched in concern, but she tuned him out. She had to get out of here. She had to…
She scanned the room, hoping to find a familiar face, but everything blurred behind the tears she felt forming in her eyes. Why tonight, of all nights? Why did this event have to be tonight?
She stumbled in the direction of the bathroom, forcing one foot in front of the other somehow. Even though her entire body shook. When she reached the hallway she leaned heavily against the wall as her vision tunneled. She could only just make out the sign on the door as she pushed her way through, choking on sobs, her chest too tight.
The bathroom was huge, and thankfully vacant. Her heels clacked across the tiles and echoed through an emptiness that was all too familiar. Silence. Loneliness. Loss. She found an empty space on the wall, half hidden from the entrance by a potted fern, and sank to the ground. She pulled her knees in, wrapped her arms around them tightly, and broke into sobs.
A year. That’s how long it had been.
Since she’d heard him laugh. Since she’d seen his lips twitch as he came up with a pun. Since she’d felt his presence by her side, strengthening her.
A year, and she still didn’t know how to live without him.
She was only vaguely aware of the door opening and closing. Of quiet footsteps making their way toward her. Of someone saying her name. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was him saying it, even though she knew it wasn’t.
Through her tears, she saw a pair of black dress shoes stop in front of her. She saw a body crouch down. Saw movement as the person shrugged off his jacket. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt fabric swing through the air and rest on her shoulders. It smelled familiar. Safe. Then he settled down beside her, wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulder and pulling her in towards him. She buried her face in his perfectly white dress shirt; no doubt she’d be leaving mascara stains behind.
“Hey,” Adrien whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
She clutched his shirt, crumpling it in her grasp, and cried harder.
Sometimes, when she was with Adrien, she could close her eyes and pretend he was Chat. He made her feel safe in a similar way. He could cheer her up in a similar way. Hell, he even had the same terrible sense of humour.
But she knew she was just projecting. And she felt guilty about it, every time. It wasn’t fair to him. Or to her, really. She had to try and find some way to move on. To let go.
It wasn’t as simple as it sounded.
Adrien rubbed one of his hands up and down the length of jacket draped over her arm, his other still holding her to him tightly. “Just breathe, Marinette. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She sucked in a rattling breath, and tried to believe him. She really tried. But it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been lied to about that. She pulled tighter at his shirt. It was probably uncomfortable for him, honestly. But he didn’t complain.
After what felt what years, her body stopped trembling so violently. She moved her fingers to wipe the last of her tears as she hiccuped in Adrien’s arms. The bump of his chin pressed into her head, and even though she liked the safety he provided, that was starting to hurt a little, so she released his shirt and pulled away slowly. He shifted from his knees to sit cross legged beside her, offering his hand for her to hold instead. She took it, squeezing gratefully.
“Sorry,” she croaked. She cleared her throat. “Your shirt’s a mess now, and you shouldn’t have to be—”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to be comforting me, today.” Today, the Anniversary of Shadow Moth’s defeat. Of when his identity had been revealed. “I didn’t even think you were coming.”
“Well...I couldn’t leave you to face the wolves alone.” He offered a tentative smile, but she just hid her face behind her free hand.
“I’m a mess,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
His thumb rubbed along the back of her hand. “It’s okay, Marinette. God knows you were there for me, after everything with my father went down.” She dropped her hand from her face, and turned to look at him. His eyes searched hers. “I just...I’m worried. This is second time I’ve found you crying on a bathroom floor this week, and you wouldn’t tell me why, last time.”
She shrugged. “It’s been a hard week.” That was true, but she knew it wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
He didn’t push though. He just sighed, and changed tactics. “Come on.” He reached forward and tucked a hair behind her ear. She peered at him, seeing the corners of his mouth tug up into a half-hearted smile. “I thought pretty girls didn’t cry,” he teased.
She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
He smiled for real. “There she is. That smile.”
Even as he sat there, joking and making her feel better, the weight of her guilt sank deeper into her chest. Being with him right now, she felt like she was misleading him.
He had feelings for her. She didn’t know when that had started; she’d only overheard a snippet of conversation between him and Nino a few weeks ago, by mistake. She’d bolted, after that, not wanting to eavesdrop more than she already had. Ever since, she’d avoided going anywhere near the topic with Adrien.
Maybe some day, she might want that. She didn’t think her old feelings for him were completely gone. But she still wasn’t over Chat.
With Chat...it was just so unfinished. Because he’d left, right after the final battle, and hadn’t returned. He’d never reached out. Never tried to get a message to her. She wasn’t sure if he was even alive, but the thought of him being dead was too painful, so she tried not to go there.
Her worst days where the ones where she couldn’t help but go there.
“Hey, Marinette? Are you alright? You kind of zoned out there for a minute.”
“Yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired, you know?” The exchange felt eerily familiar, but she couldn’t place why.
He hummed in thought. “You know...I’m kind of rich.” She shot him a look, wondering where the hell he was going with this. He wasn’t one to flaunt his wealth. But the twinkle in his eyes told her this was a joke of some sort. “I have the means to offer far more than a penny for your thoughts.”
She laughed, and it was a watery sound, but it was getting easier, now. Not to feel like she was drowning. To remember how to swim. To keep coming up for air.
And that was because of Adrien. Because he was by her side, whenever she needed him. Because he believed in her. Because he made her want to move on.
So maybe...maybe she could let him in on the truth. Part of it, at least.
She took a deep breath. “It’s Chat Noir. It’s...it’s been a year, since anyone’s seen or heard from him. And I just wish...I miss him.”
Adrien’s eyes were wide. His hand had tensed in hers. “You were crying over...Chat Noir?” She nodded. He rubbed his face with his free hand, and shook his head slowly. “I wasn’t aware you...I didn’t think you were that close to him.” He hung his hand on the back of his neck and stared blankly over her head.
Marinette looked down. “I don’t even know if he’s okay,” she whispered.
“Marinette…” Adrien’s voice broke, and when she looked back at him, there was a tear running down his cheek. “He’s okay. I promise you, he’s okay.”
She didn’t understand Adrien’s reaction, but she didn’t have the emotional capacity right now to question it. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
A pang shot through her chest as he pulled his hand from hers. She followed his movements, watching as undid the top two buttons of his shirt. Then he pulled out a silver chain necklace from beneath it. Hanging from the end of it, was a familiar ring. And all of a sudden, Marinette was drowning again.
“Wh-why do you have that?”
“Marinette—” He reached for her hand again, but she pulled it away.
“No. I’m serious, Adrien. Why do you have that?” She knew what the obvious answer was, but there was no way...there was just no way.
Her eyes glanced briefly at his jacket, which had fallen from her shoulders at some point, a crumpled heap on the floor. Black suit. She looked back at him. Green eyes.
He gave her a piercing look. Not unkind, but firm. “You wanted to know if Chat Noir was okay, and he is. I promise. Because he has the best friends in the world, who’ve been by his side the entire time. Who care about him more than he ever realised. I’m okay, Marinette.”
She shook her head. “It can’t be you,” she whispered. “You can’t just have been right in front of me this entire time.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I’d known you were so upset I would have told you, I swear. But I...Marinette, I barely even saw you as Chat Noir, I didn’t think…”
“And what about Ladybug? You don’t think she’s worried?”
He inhaled sharply, looking away. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
Marinette let out a biting laugh. She couldn’t help it. “Are you kidding me? How could you think that? Didn’t you see the all the articles on the Ladyblog, where she wouldn’t stop asking you to reach out? Or the time she broke down during an interview, because someone asked her where you were and she didn’t know?“
“Mari—“
“Don’t you think she was worried about you? Don’t you think she spent months wondering what she did wrong? Don’t you know she has nightmares about losing you, and sometimes it scares her so much she can’t breathe? Don’t you know she still thinks about you every single day, and she felt lost every single second without you?”
“I don’t—“
“I love you, you stupid cat. And you left me, you just…” the tears came out again, and when he moved to hug her again she tried to push him away for a split second, but as soon as his arms wrapped around her she lost all her will to fight.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice cracking. “This whole time.”
Her face pressed into his neck, and as she breathed in the smoky scents of his cologne, the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. Of course, she always felt safe with Adrien. Of course he got her. Of course he made her laugh, even when she wanted to cry.
And God, she loved him. And she hated him. She’d never been so mad, or so relieved. So full of emotions she thought she might burst. And he was clinging to her just as tightly. His nose nudging her cheek as he whispered in her ear.
“I’m sorry, Bug. I didn’t know.” The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know how much you missed me, and…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I missed you too, so much. I’m so glad it was you.”
When he’d said his piece, he kept holding her. Stoking her hair. Shaking just as much as she was. They were a snotty mess of two people who used to be heroes, but for the first time in a year, Marinette felt solid ground. A wave of calm had carried her to shore, and she was finally ready to face whatever came next.
She stopped sniffling before he did, probably because she’d nearly been cried out already before she’d started again. He had a death grip on her, but she forced herself to sit up a little, to lean back and ease her way out of his arms. She felt him fumble for a hold on her, as she pulled away, and she knew that feeling of being terrified of losing someone you loved, so she reached up and grabbed his hands from her shoulders, pulling them down into their laps and holding them tight. The division between the two of them was no longer clear. Their legs were a tangled pile.
“Why?” she asked, when she finally found her voice. “Why didn’t you come talk to me? Ladybug me.”
“I…Marinette, I was a mess, when I found out. You know that, better than anyone. You saw me at my worst. You saw how dark it got.”
She had to suppress a shiver, because she did know. She remembered the days when he wouldn’t get out of bed. The days he’d cried himself to sleep in her arms. The days he’d thrown things and yelled at her and told her to leave him alone. She never had.
And he hadn’t left her either. Not really. It would take some getting used to, but it did help, she thought, to know that he’d been there all along.
“I was worried, too," he continued. "That you’d…I was living with him, the whole time, and I—“
“Adrien, no. We’re not playing the blame game again. I’ve already told you, it’s not—”
“—my fault. I know. But I need to tell you again, as Chat. Knowing that you’re Ladybug. God, I can’t believe you’re Ladybug. I mean I can believe it, it makes so much sense. But it just feels too good to be true and—”
“Adrien, breathe.” She could see the unease in his eyes, hear his voice growing frantic. And even though she’d been the one falling apart before, she calmed herself instantly to help him instead. She smoothed her thumbs along his hands.
“Right,” he said. “Sorry. You’re right. I just…I need you to know. I really had no idea, about Gabriel. About everything. And if I had—“
“I know, Adrien. Trust me. I know.”
The air rushed out of him. His shoulders slumped and his eyes fixed on their hands. “Good. Okay. That’s good.” His eyes darted back and forth for a bit, until they focused on hers with an intensity she couldn’t quite place. “You said you loved me.” His voice was filled with a tentative awe. “Do you still…You love me?”
Marinette was at a loss for words, so instead, she let her actions speak.
She leaned forward and captured his lips with hers. He was frozen a moment, before he responded with urgency, pulling her in and kissing her until she was gasping for breath. She tasted the salt on his skin. Her fingers traced the tear tracks on his cheeks.
His hands roamed over her back, gently at first, then tugging her closer. She mirrored his pull, leaning onto his chest and digging fingers into his shoulder blades. She barely noticed when he lost his balance, and they ended up tangled on the floor. Only then did they break for air. She pulled back to stare down at him, gazing into the rapture in his eyes, the exact reflection of how she felt inside.
There was a beat, and then they smiled.
Then they laughed.
Then they caught each other’s eyes again and quieted, taking in the moment.
“We should get up,” Marinette said. “The floors are probably filthy, and—“
“No.” His arms tightened around her, pulling her down so that her face lay flush against his chest. “I don’t want to let you go.”
Her stomach flipped inside out or upside down or something. “The party though,” she argued weakly. “I was supposed to—“
“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured into her hair. “The investors can go to hell.”
She laughed again, then tensed. “Oh my God, someone could see us. They could walk in at any point and see what a mess we—“
“I locked the door when I came in.”
“Oh.” Thank God. Because she definitely didn’t want to leave.
For a moment, she wondered if she should take advantage of the moment. Kiss him again. But she was tired, now. Her emotions run raw. And the idea of moving from this spot on his chest just felt wrong. His fingers rubbed soothing patterns across her back. His breath tickled the hairs on top of her head.
She was home.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I just realized I forgot to say it, but, I love you. More than I ever thought possible. I love you.”
She smiled against his chest, and listened to his racing heartbeat agree with his words.
“I love you too.”
