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Chapter Text

Alya Césaire prided herself on her attention to detail.

It was an essential skill for a reporter. All the good ones understood how important it was to record every little thing: interviewee body language, exact dates and times of events, any and every possible pattern… It took more patience than most people had. Hell, there were times where even she couldn’t stand a mystery for much longer. There were times where her eyes would dry out and her wrist would cramp from observing and writing for so long.

This was one of those times.

Alya absently chewed the nail of her thumb as she peeked at her best friend, Marinette, from the corner of her eye. Completely tuned out of the lesson Mme. Bustier was sharing, Alya instead flicked her eyes between Marinette and the blond boy who sat in the front row. Anytime Marinette would yawn or sneeze, Adrien’s head would twitch almost imperceptibly. Almost as if he could barely keep himself from turning to face her.

Marinette no longer had the dreamy look on her face when staring at Adrien. She appeared more calm, more present in the moment, but nonetheless just as in love. She was getting more comfortable around her secret crush by the day, and it hadn’t escaped Alya’s trained eye.

This had been going on for weeks.

It started on a seemingly random Monday, when Alya had spent the previous night writing up a summary of the Akumatized villain, Syren. She had stayed up late editing her interview with Ondine to post on the Ladyblog. (It was a habit of hers to showcase the lives of people outside of just their actions as supervillains. It humanized them, and helped Paris remember that people couldn’t be blamed for their actions when they were Akumatized.)

When Alya had gone to school on the subsequent Monday, Marinette was acting even weirder than usual around Adrien. On top of that, he seemed to be just as awkward, too. On the outside, he looked just as calm and collected as usual, yet Alya could tell how nervous he got when Marinette was around. He even started telling more jokes, despite how they fell flat most of the time. Meanwhile, Marinette would stare at him as if she was mentally solving a math problem.

There was something going on between the two of them, and Alya was determined to find out what.

Flat-out asking Marinette was a no-go since she would just dish out some lame excuse, so Alya just watched them for weeks as they slowly became closer. After several days, it wasn’t just Alya watching them. The whole class was beginning to notice the new dynamic between them.

Since when did Marinette tease Adrien?

Since when did Adrien make so many more puns? Especially cat puns, of all things?

Sometimes, he seemed to be doing it purely to annoy her, and, for some reason, Marinette didn’t seem to mind giving him the reaction he wanted. The two became practically inseparable. As soon as Marinette’s stutter all but disappeared, Alya knew there was something huge going on. She just didn’t know what.

And it was driving her crazy.

So she decided to get some answers by returning to square one.

Once the school bell rang to signal the end of class, Marinette barely had enough time to repack her bag before Alya leaped from her seat and snatched her best friend by the wrist. The girl yelped as Alya began dragging her out of the classroom.

“That’s it!” Alya hissed. “I need the details, now!”

Marinette cast one last helpless look at her crush before finally being yanked out of the room. She shot her friend an unconvincing smile as the two made their way toward the school’s exit. “Alya, I told you, there are no details—”

“Marinette, you’re a terrible liar,” Alya said, releasing her grip on her friend’s wrist. “So just tell me the truth. Are you and Adrien secretly dating?”

Marinette’s eyes blew wide, and she waved her hands frantically, as if to ward off the accusations. “No! Of course not! Well, I wish we were dating, and I’d tell you if we were, but…”

“But what?!” Alya cried, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. “Girl, he looks at you like you hang the damn stars in the sky! Why haven’t you asked him out?”

“I don’t know, Alya,” Marinette sighed, shrinking in on herself. “I want to, but I don’t think he’s really that interested in me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m serious! I mean, look at Chat Noir and Ladybug.”

Alya blinked. The two superheroes had seemed much closer than ever before, but Alya was more focused on Marinette and Adrien. “What do they have to do with this?”

“Well,” Marinette began slowly. “You know how he acts around Ladybug, or how he used to anyway. The constant flirting, the cheesy romantic lines… Adrien doesn’t do any of that. If he was into me, wouldn’t he be acting kinda like Chat Noir?”

“What happened to Adrien being ‘tons more legit’ than Chat Noir? Listen, just because Adrien isn’t super flirty with you doesn’t mean he isn’t interested. In fact, I have seen him flirt with you, it’s just… more subtle than Chat Noir would do it. Besides, do you want him to do all that corny stuff?”

“I mean… Maybe? If he did, I’d at least know for sure that he liked me.”

“Well, if he doesn’t like you, then tell me what really happened!” Alya demanded. “You two have been acting differently around each other for weeks! If you aren’t dating, then what changed?”

“Uh…” Marinette stalled. As the two girls finally made their way out the front door of the school, Marinette quickly blurted, “Oh, I just remembered that I promised to help… my dad! He needs to pick out a gift for Maman for their anniversary! I gotta go!”

“Didn’t you tell me about their anniversary a couple months ago? It was the same time as that race between Alix and Kim.”

“T-that was the, uh… Wedding anniversary. This is their first-date anniversary! Okay! See you later! Bye!” Before Alya could object any further, her friend bolted down the street toward her home.

The excuse was flimsy at best, and Alya knew a “Marinette Special” when she saw one.

That girl was hiding something.

Alya later learned from Nino that whatever was going on between their respective best friends, Adrien was being tight-lipped about it, too. Even more surprising, he’s under the impression that Marinette had a crush on someone else. Apparently, she had personally told him as such. Which seemed ridiculous, since Marinette had just admitted how she wanted to ask Adrien out. If Alya had to bet, Marinette probably jumbled her words due to her usual flustered state around her crush. Either she said something that she didn’t mean, or she said something that Adrien had misunderstood.

Marinette and Adrien were clearly head over heels for each other. They were the only two people that didn’t see it.

It was only a few days later when their dynamic changed once again. They seemed so much more serious and focused. They were constantly writing in notebooks, sketching diagrams, and talking in hushed voices as if they were afraid of someone listening in. And if anyone asked what they were doing, they would make up some ridiculous excuse about homework or personal projects and refuse to elaborate.

Not only that, but they appeared to be even closer than they were before. Adrien always sat a little too close to Marinette to be considered strictly platonic, and she always leaned toward him ever so slightly, even though they never actually touched. It was almost like they were itching to be near each other, or…

They were used to being that near to each other. Like it was comfortable for them, but they just wouldn’t do it when others were around.

If that wasn’t a sign they were secretly dating, then Alya didn’t know what was.

Alya was sitting on her living room couch, using her laptop to outline sufficient evidence to confront her best friend about keeping such a secret from her, when she heard a knocking sound from her balcony. Immediately recognizing the familiar red and black-spotted superheroine, she rushed to open the door.

“Alya!” Ladybug said at the exact second the sliding door was opened. “I need Rena Rouge. Is this a good time?”

“I’m home alone right now, so I don’t think anyone would notice if I was missing for a little while,” Alya explained. “But why are you here? I didn’t see any news reports about an Akuma attack.”

Ladybug placed both hands on the other girl’s shoulders, speaking softly and seriously. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

Alya hesitated. “Not even Nino? He’s my boyfriend, you know, and we tell each other everything…”

“Not even he can know, but don’t worry,” Ladybug reassured. “If all goes well, this will only be secret for a little while. Can I trust you?”

Pausing for only a moment, Alya finally agreed. “Of course. I promise.”

The heroine took a deep breath before saying the most horrible sentence that Alya had ever heard.

“Gabriel Agreste might be Hawk Moth.”

“What?!” Alya exclaimed. “Adrien’s father? He can’t be! Sure, he’s got a huge stick up his ass, but he’s not a villain!” She refused to believe it. All that time, Adrien could be living under the same roof as a supervillain? Alya would think something like that would be more… obvious. She always imagined that, if Hawk Moth had any family, he would be abusive, manipulative, or straight-up physically aggressive. But Gabriel Agreste was just… apathetic. Although, that could be considered abusive in its own way.

“We don’t know for sure,” Ladybug conceded. “But we have a strong suspicion. And I have a plan on how to prove it.”

Just then, Alya’s phone chimed. Pulling it out of her pocket, her jaw dropped when she saw the notification.

It was a social media post by Adrien, tagging Marinette and expressing his undying love for her. There were almost a dozen photos taken at so many different times of day that there was no way this was a recent development. They clearly had been dating for a while, they were just waiting for the right time to go public. One photo even featured a close up of their hands clasped together, and on Adrien’s wrist was Marinette’s colorful lucky charm bracelet.

Apparently, he had kept it all this time. It was a wonder how it took him this long to realize he had feelings for Marinette.

Alya was elated, furious, and smug all at the same time. On one hand, her hunch was right (and she loved being right), but her best friend also lied to her. In the end, though… Marinette got what she wanted. Alya was just glad to see her friend happy.

She really wished she could squeal about it, but it looked like it would have to wait until Hawk Moth was locked up for good.

Another wave of shock hit Alya as she realized that, if they were right, it would be Gabriel Agreste being sent to prison for presumably the rest of his life.

“That’s part of the plan, too,” Ladybug explained. “We informed Adrien of our suspicions about his father, for his own safety. He agreed to help us test our theory by making this post.”

Alya furrowed her brows in confusion. “How would this help? At best, this post would just make his father angry. He’s very protective of Adrien’s image, you know.” As soon as she said it, the answer dawned on her. “Holy crap. You’re trying to Akumatize him again.”

“It’s risky, I know,” Ladybug admitted, “but if we can get him angry enough to be Akumatized, we can watch and see if an Akuma enters the mansion or not.”

“So, if it doesn’t, and he still gets Akumatized, then the Akuma had to have come from inside the mansion?”

“Exactly.”

Alya straightened her shoulders determinedly, steeling her nerves against what would surely be an emotionally devastating encounter. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Chapter Text

Rena Rouge was severely disappointed to find that she was benched during the fight against Hawk Moth. Ladybug made it very clear that Rena had to be completely hidden until instructed otherwise. As a temporary wielder, she was only brought on during a time of need. So, if Hawk Moth saw Rena Rouge in the open, he would know they were planning something. To be fair, it was a smart decision. Rena could appreciate Ladybug’s thoroughness, but she didn’t have to like it.

Rena was peering over the edge of a rooftop, in perfect view of the doors to the Agreste mansion. Truthfully, she was a few buildings away from where she should be positioned, but that spot seemed to intentionally have no view of the mansion. Whatever was about to go down, Ladybug apparently didn’t want Rena to witness it. She didn’t want to betray Ladybug’s trust, but… if Marinette and Adrien were involved, she’d have to make sure her friends were okay.

She watched as Marinette and Adrien barged through the doors, hand in hand. The plan was that they would declare their undying love to each other in front of Gabriel to enrage him further. Then, they would run out and alert Ladybug and Chat Noir, who would watch for any Akumas.

But something immediately went wrong.

Marinette was by herself when she burst back out the front doors of the mansion. Even from a fair distance away, Rena could see her friend wiping her eyes as she disappeared down a twisting alleyway. Rena felt her heart break, and she clenched her fists tightly as she seethed. Whatever Gabriel had said or done to make Marinette cry, he would pay for it, whether he was Hawk Moth or not.

And if Ladybug had a problem with Rena moving from her position too early, then, well, they would have that discussion later.

Rena surged forward, pumping her legs to carry her further and faster than she knew was possible. She cleared the exterior wall in a single leap and sprinted through the front doors, which flew open so fast that they slammed against the inside walls of the mansion, echoing an ominous crack like thunder.

Her heart pounded against her chest as her eyes fell upon a woman with a red streak of hair standing frozen in the foyer. She whipped her head to face Rena, her mouth open in shock and her face pale.

“Where’s Adrien?!” Rena demanded.

“You’re too late,” the woman (Nathalie, Rena remembered from her conversations with Adrien) said mournfully. “Gabriel knew you were coming, he’s desperate, he knows that you know he is—!”

“Just tell me where Adrien is!” Rena interrupted.

“Gabriel sent him to his room. Second floor, on the right,” Nathalie answered. “But you won’t find him there, he’s about to be—”

The superheroine didn’t bother to hear the rest. She launched herself over the second-floor railing and threw the door open, scanning the room rapidly and finding—

Nothing. Adrien was missing— and his bedroom window was left suspiciously open.

Rena felt tears of terror prick at her eyes.

“I told you he wouldn’t be here,” Nathalie repeated as she stumbled into the room. “I tried to convince Gabriel not to Akumatize him, but he wouldn’t listen!”

Rena felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end like a feral animal as she whirled around to face the woman. Her vision was red with anger that was now directed at Nathalie. “He told you he planned to Akumatize Adrien?! You knew he was Hawk Moth, and you didn’t tell anybody?!”

“It wasn’t meant to go this far!” Nathalie defended weakly. “He’s been blinded by his love for Emilie!”

“Blinded by his love…?” Rena echoed questioningly.

The realization struck Rena like a boulder straight to her head. It left her dizzy, numb, and weak-kneed.

“He wants to bring back Adrien’s mom,” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. “I had no idea the Miraculous possessed that kind of power…”

A sudden, sharp beeping sound rang through the air. It originated from Rena’s flute, along with a flash of light, indicating that Ladybug was calling her.

Rena stiffened in panic as she remembered that she wasn’t in the position she was supposed to be. If Ladybug had gone looking for her, she’d know that Rena disregarded her instructions.

Answering the call with the flattest voice she could muster, Rena said too innocently, “Is everything good on your end, Ladybug?”

“Sort of,” Ladybug answered, though her voice betrayed fear, exhaustion, and… it sounded like she had been crying? “We can handle things here, but we need you on lookout. There might be a different Akumatized villain soon. Keep them busy and mitigate the damages while we deal with Hawk Moth.”

Rena had several questions, namely whether Adrien was the Akumatized villain in question. However, if Rena had stayed in her original position, she’d have no reason to ask that. To avoid saying anything condemning, she replied with a quick, “Gotcha,” and ended the call. Then she turned to Nathalie and ordered, “This conversation is not over, but for right now, you need to find shelter.”

Before Rena could leave, Nathalie reached out and grabbed the hero by her wrist. “Wait!”

Rena bitterly ripped her hand away and spat, “What now? My friends could be in danger!”

“Please,” the woman begged, her whole body sagging with the weight of her guilt. “Don’t tell anyone that I knew. Especially not Adrien or the police.”

“Really?” Rena hissed, “Why would I do that?”

“Because this was all for him,” Nathalie defended. “Gabriel lost sight of that, but I haven’t. This was all so Adrien could have his mother back. But if both of us go to prison, Adrien will have no one. He’d have to go live with his aunt in London. You don’t want that, do you?”

The heroine narrowed her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Of course not. We both want to see Adrien happy, since you just said you were his friend, Alya Césaire.”

Rena flinched and prepared to object, but Nathalie continued.

“It’s my job to keep track of Adrien’s classmates, so don’t be surprised that you gave me enough hints to figure you out. As I was saying, I’ll be his only remaining legal guardian if Gabriel is arrested, so if you protect me from the police, I can take care of him here. He won’t have to go to London and leave behind his new girlfriend.”

Rena paused, considering the weight of Nathalie’s words. She had a point— Adrien needed a legal adult to care for him, and without Gabriel or Nathalie, the title would go to his aunt. There’s no way Adrien would want to leave, and if he was forced, Marinette would be crushed. They had finally fallen in love, and they would lose it almost immediately. Rena couldn’t do that to them.

But could she lie to them? Could she keep Nathalie’s dark secret, just for their happiness?

Were some truths really not meant to be shared?

Of course, Rena knew that already from her time as a superhero. Their identities were kept a secret to protect them and their families. Their secrets were a shield.

This secret would be no different, would it? Despite being more sinister, it was just as necessary. Marinette and Adrien would surely send Nathalie to prison if they knew she was involved with Gabriel’s schemes. They’d be shooting themselves in the foot.

Rena couldn’t tell them. It would be for their own good.

 Before Rena could respond, a loud cry echoed through the walls. It was distant and muffled, but unmistakably raw and guttural. The hate and grief in the voice sent chills down Rena’s spine.

“Cataclysm!”

A booming crack resounded in the walls, trembling the room and drumming against Rena’s bones. Cracks wove across the ceiling, sending cascading dust and debris on the two women. Without a moment to spare, Rena scooped Nathalie in her arms and leapt out of Adrien’s open bedroom window. She kept running until she could drop Nathalie on a rooftop a couple blocks away, at a safe distance.

“We’ll talk later,” Rena promised threateningly. “But… I won’t tell anyone. It’ll stay just between us.”

It was surprising to see the amount of relief on Nathalie’s features. Perhaps the woman was sincere when she said she only wanted to see Adrien happy. “Thank you,” Nathalie breathed.

“Don’t thank me,” Rena growled. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my friends.”

“Well… thank you for doing it for Adrien.”

That wasn’t the response Rena had expected. It seemed that Nathalie didn’t just care for Adrien as part of her job, or as some distant babysitter.

It was clear that Nathalie loved him. She really wanted the best for him.

“Just so you know,” Rena warned, “if you do anything to keep them apart, either by controlling Adrien or hurting either of them, I will not hesitate to rat you out. And I will personally ensure that, whatever sentence they give Gabriel, they will give to you too.”

To her credit, Nathalie seemed almost offended by the threat. “I understand.”

Without another word, Rena turned and bounded across rooftops with a pool of dread settling in her stomach. Ladybug and Chat Noir were busy with Hawk Moth, but neither had mentioned the safety of Marinette or Adrien. There was still a high possibility that Adrien had been Akumatized, and if that were true, he might have taken Marinette…

Rena shuddered at the thought. Even if they were dating, who knew what he would do if he were Akumatized? Villains created from love, like Syren, easily became jealous or overly protective. Would he hide her from the world? Imprison her? All in the name of preventing his father from keeping them apart?

This only encouraged Rena to double her efforts in finding the Akumatized villain. At the height of every leap she took, she scanned the skyline and numerous rooftops for a glimpse of anything unusual. As she ran, she waved her flute in front of her to scatter any pigeons that were seemingly blocking her path. The more she ran, the denser the flock became, and just when she noticed there was an unusual collection of them present…

The flock Rena had just scattered suddenly flew toward her, beating at her with their wings and blinding her.

“Hey, get off!” Rena objected, hopelessly waving her arms as the birds closed in on her. They pecked her relentlessly, forcing her to close her eyes to protect them from the sharp beaks.

That’s when she felt the slightest touch against the back of her neck, almost ghost-like. Rena knew that someone was trying to undo the clasp of her Miraculous, and in one reflexive swing, Rena slammed her flute against someone standing behind her.

The Akumatized villain cried out in pain. While Rena recognized the voice, she could tell it wasn’t Adrien, and she sagged with relief. The birds dispersed to reveal Mr. Pigeon clutching the side of his head with a furious snarl.

“You’re going to regret that!” Mr. Pigeon cried. He blew his bird call, and the pigeons once again descended upon Rena, flying at her like missiles and scratching her with their talons as they passed.

Rena began swatting at the birds with her flute, but she was wary of hurting the innocent creatures. “Damn, Ladybug and Chat Noir really make this look easy!” She winced.

An idea sprang to her mind.

When the pigeons next struck, Rena rolled behind a nearby chimney to temporarily hide. She played soft notes into her flute and whispered, “Mirage!”

In a flash of light, illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared behind Mr. Pigeon, taunting him relentlessly and drawing him and his pigeons away. Rena hoped that Hawk Moth was too preoccupied with the real heroes to warn Mr. Pigeon that it was an illusion.

Taking this opportunity to recover, Rena dove into a tight alleyway and detransformed. Her Kwami, Trixx, gratefully accepted a grape and swallowed it in quick bites.

That was the exact moment the world was bathed in bright orange light. It cast pitch-black shadows across the city as a blood orange sky echoed with a deep rumble.

“Trixx!” Alya cried out in horror. “What’s happening?”

Trixx pinned his ears back and stared at the sky like a deer in headlights. “It’s happening again. The end of the world…”

“The what?!” Alya screeched.

The Kwami turned to her, a terrifying look of resignation in his purple eyes. “Ladybug and Chat Noir lost. Hawk Moth made his wish.”

“Wish…?” Alya whispered. “No, how could this happen? We had a plan! Trixx, let’s pounce!”

Rena was once again springing from rooftop to rooftop, intent on reaching the Agreste Manor to stop Hawk Moth herself.

Then, mid-leap, a sound like thunder rattled her to the core.

With a single massive boom, a huge ball of white light exploded toward her. It grew and grew, casting blinding light over the entire city, until it completely swallowed her mid-jump. She didn’t even have time to react. It had all happened so fast, she barely had time to register being afraid.

It was like she was falling asleep. Her consciousness bled out of her, drop by drop, as she floated away from her own body. Then, just when she was on the edge of losing consciousness…

She had the strange feeling that she was forgetting something.

Then she was whisked away into the white void.

Chapter Text

Alya knew the feeling of being caught in a mystery all too well.

It was all-consuming yet thrilling. It was muddled yet liberating. When everything came together and the truth was revealed, it was the feeling she lived for.

But this feeling was not like any other mystery.

It was quiet and unnerving. As if she were in an empty room, but she knew she wasn’t alone. As if she were blind and bumbling through something that she should know like the back of her hand. It was calm yet eerie. Too quiet, too empty.

And from the moment she opened her eyes, that feeling swallowed her whole.

Alya let out a shaky breath, highly conscious of her racing heart. Early morning sunlight streamed through her window, casting a gilded hue to her room. Sitting up and wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, Alya begrudgingly hauled herself out of bed.

I need coffee, she thought desperately as residual fear tingled in her veins.

Whatever vicious nightmare had apparently plagued her last night would be best dealt with a dose of caffeine. Letting out a deep yawn, Alya stepped out of her bedroom and was immediately met with the delicious smell of bacon.

“Good morning!” Alya’s father, Otis, called. “I just brewed a fresh pot. Want to get started on the eggs?”

Alya smiled and nodded, eager to let the familiar routine distract her from her troubles. Even though her mother, Marlena, was the professional chef in the family, Otis did most of the routine cooking, especially during the weekdays. Since he was as much of an early riser as Alya (which was a curse considering her late nights doing research), the two of them would start breakfast and leave warm plates for the rest of the family once they woke up.

It was their own special time, and it was peaceful. Therapeutic, in a way, and exactly the distraction she needed.

It was also the moment when Alya got to down half a pot of jet-black coffee, so she might be biased.

“Are you excited for school?” Otis asked hopefully as he flipped the bacon in the pan.

Alya dumped a slice of butter into a sizzling hot pan (perhaps a bit aggressively) and responded, “You know the answer to that.”

Her father sighed sympathetically and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your classmates will like you eventually, I promise. You’re growing on them! They’re certainly not like your old ones.”

Alya tensed at the mention of her former schoolmates. There was a reason she was attending Collège Françoise Dupont instead of her old school. “That doesn’t mean I escaped the rich snobs,” she snapped. When her father didn’t respond, Alya guiltily realized she may have hurt his feelings. “Sorry, I just… I was hoping this school would be a fresh start for me, but it isn’t living up to my expectations so far.”

“Things will get better,” Otis assured.

Alya wasn’t so sure.

As it was, things felt inexplicably worse than she could possibly understand.

She was trudging along the sidewalk on her way to school when she saw a reflective silver car pull up to the curb. As it parked in front of the steps into the school, the backseat door swung open to reveal none other than Adrien Agreste, the part-time model, former celebrity, and world champion of not-knowing-how-to-take-a-hint. From their brief conversations, Alya learned that he was making fewer public appearances and ads (a decision made by his mother) to lessen the effect of stardom in his everyday life.

Only people like him would complain about having been too famous.

He barely had a moment to stand before Chloé, Queen of Brats, screeched “Adrikins!” and nearly bowled him over in a massive (and frankly unnecessary) hug, despite having just seen him at school yesterday.

Alya groaned. Rich kid antics.

She had pegged Chloé as a wealth-obsessed snob from the moment she saw the designer clothes and haughty strut. As it turned out, she was right, since Chloé turned out to be the most spoiled, entitled, self-centered, silver-spooned little bitch that Alya had ever seen. And that’s saying something— she’d met plenty of those at her old school. It was just her luck that she’d get stuck with two more, just when she thought she’d escaped.

Alya scoffed in disgust at Chloé’s dramatic fawning over Adrien and turned away. She knew she couldn’t trust his polite, endearing act when underneath it all, he was bathing in the adoration of his enchanted fans. Exactly what you’d expect from someone whose career depended on good looks. He didn’t have a big fanbase, but it was clearly enough to feed that oversized ego he surely kept underneath his sickly sweet exterior.

That was why she couldn’t be friends with him, no matter how hard he tried. It was a trick— and Alya knew it. All it took was for her to drop her guard for even a second and his true colors would show. So she stayed distant, played oblivious to his attempts to hang out after school, stuck to neutral topics and kept him at an arm’s length… Because people like him, when given half the chance, wouldn’t hesitate to use you, turn their back on you, invite you to a slumber party you didn’t even want to go to just to play a sick, childish, vile prank—

Alya froze as she caught Adrien’s expression in the corner of her eye. Normally, he was really good at schooling his expression, like he didn’t know he had plenty of girls who would trip over themselves to be with him. He was nice enough to give them a taste but hovered just barely out of reach.

…Or so she thought. As of right now, the boy was barely keeping the disgust off of his face as he went stiff as a board. He tiled his head away ever so slightly to defend against cheek kisses (or lip kisses, as Chloé was known to attempt). He looked… genuinely uncomfortable, and the worst part was that he seemed to be doing it entirely subconsciously. As if he was used to deflecting Chloé’s affections. Alya wasn’t sure why since he normally appeared unbothered by the attention, but for some reason, he couldn’t stand Chloé’s immature clinging this time.

So maybe Alya was wrong. Maybe Adrien didn’t have a disgustingly huge ego.

That didn’t mean she could suddenly trust him.

The strange, dull throb of an oncoming headache made itself known, but she ignored it as she deliberated on what to do about Adrien’s evident discomfort.

Maybe if it were anyone else, Alya would step in and pry the entitled brat off. But it wasn’t her place— she and Adrien weren’t friends. They were barely even acquaintances. Stomping down the twinge of guilt in her chest, Alya rushed ahead to the classroom, keen on arriving early for her “daily routine:”

Staring at her chair until she worked up the courage to sit down.

Because Alya’s seat was right next to the most important seat in the entire room. It was determined by a shouting match on the first day of school that nobody, not even Chloé, would have the privilege of sitting there. It was sacred.

It was Her seat. Always and forever.

Alya wasn’t entirely sure who “She” was. No one ever referred to Her by name, but everyone praised Her for who She was. Her presence was practically written all over the walls. Wherever Alya went, she’d hear echoes of Her in the mournful whispers of her classmates.

“Remember when She’d give our whole class fresh pastries…”

“Remember when She helped me confess to Juleka…”

“Remember when She playtested my games…”

Frankly, Alya was sick of it. She was sick of everyone being stuck in the past, where everyone had to live up to the expectation of being as good as She was. Alya was forced to sit and endure the oppressive weight of silence as the others got to reminisce and connect with each other over their shared pain… While Alya remained just as alone as she always had been, and she had to be careful how far she slid into her chair, because going too far to the right would earn her piercing death glares from her classmates all day. Alya was sick of the students regaling their favorite memories of a stranger that no one could be bothered to name for her, as if just the knowledge of Her name was a blessing Alya didn’t deserve. It just made her frustrated, and bitter, and…

And then Alya would remember what happened to Her. A couple of years ago, She had become ill. Alya didn’t know what the illness was— she wasn’t sure anyone knew what it was. But then She went into a coma about a year ago, and around the start of last summer…

She passed away.

And when Alya considered how fresh her classmates’ pain must be, all of her anger gets replaced with shame. Even if she was alone, even if she was an outcast, it didn’t give her the right to be upset. Yet, no matter how many times she reminded herself of this, she’d still hate the way she was treated, and she’d still feel resentment. Alya didn’t know how to make it stop.

Did that make her a terrible person?

Alya let out a heavy sigh as she threw herself down into her chair.

Today is going to be a long one, she internally groaned.

Alya was quickly overcome with the same mysterious feeling from earlier that morning. Chalking it up to her usual drive to solve mysteries, she tuned out the world during morning classes and lunch in favor of researching superheroes on her laptop. Alya had put her blogs on hold, since she was running out of material, and had started researching past superheroes to find something worth blogging about.

So far, not much had caught her eye, but she used her recent burst of inspiration to search as best as she could. Her current focus was animal-themed heroes, since they seemed to have a proportionally larger representation than any others.

Interestingly, though, one of the most common animal themes were felines and beetles. Particularly, red beetles and black cats. Sure, there were others like birds, mammals, even reptiles… But the cat and beetle were always the most highly regarded.

It made a strange sort of sense to her. It seemed fitting, though she wasn’t sure why. She swore under her breath as her headache returned, slightly more painful than before. Popping a painkiller in her mouth, she washed it down with some water and hoped that would be the end of her headache.

As the lunch period nearly ended, Alya rushed to gather her things and make her way back to the classroom early for another round of burning holes into her chair with her eyes until she sat down. Quickly stowing her laptop, she scooped her notebooks and papers into her arms and made her way across the courtyard.

Alya stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes caught a red cap in the edge of her vision. Her heart fluttered against her will.

Nino.

The boy was sitting by himself on a bench across the courtyard, nodding his head along to a song playing through his headphones. He lazily blew bubbles as he stared off into the distance.

Alya felt her chest tighten in memory of the last time they spoke to each other.

At first, Nino was her only friend. They got along fairly well, despite how mourning Her often made him distracted and quiet. It didn’t take long for Alya to acknowledge the obvious truth: Nino had feelings for Her, and they had been growing stronger by every day after Her passing.

And yet… she developed her own crush on him. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Practically out of nowhere. He was just so laid-back and polite, yet fun and ridiculous (in a good way). Even when Adrien would occasionally join their discussions, it didn’t bother her so long as Nino was around. Alya tried to squash her feelings, knowing it was unlikely that he would reciprocate them, but they only grew day by day. Before long, she couldn’t ignore them. She had to tell him, if only because she thought it wasn’t fair to keep him in the dark.

Stupid, Alya thought. I was so stupid…

By pure, cruel coincidence, Alya had asked him out on the exact day of Her birthday.

She should have noticed he was more quiet than usual, she should have buried her feelings, she should have known.

But she didn’t. And now he hated her for it. Even that damn Adrien Agreste had seen it coming. He tried to warn her, but she didn’t listen.

Alya could still hear Nino’s angry shouting ringing in her ears.

“What did you just ask me?!” He had roared.

“I-I, uh…” Alya had stuttered weakly. “I asked if you w-would like to… see a movie. With me. I got you, um, tickets to S-Space Mutants Vs. Ghost Shark. On opening night.”

Nino had sprung forward, his face contorted in rage. “How dare you?!” He had screamed. “How could you ask me that, today of all days?!”

Tears pricked at Alya’s eyes, and she was only vaguely aware of someone bumping into her and dropping all of her things. She responded on autopilot, too lost in the terrible memory.

“It’s Her birthday!” Nino had explained. “You know how much I miss Her! I LOVE Her! Not you! Never you! You’re selfish and insensitive! Don’t ever talk to me again!”

Tears were pouring from her eyes before he had even finished screaming. Once Nino turned on his heel and stormed away, Alya could only flee from the school as she choked back sobs.

She hadn’t returned for two days out of fear of facing him.

And she had ruined her only friendship because of her selfish feelings.

Too caught up in her misery, Alya didn’t notice the boy standing beside her, holding out her papers with a look of concern.

Chapter Text

“You need to give him time, Alya.”

The girl jolted in surprise and whipped her head to face the speaker, who was unfortunately the last person Alya wanted to see right now. She gingerly took back the papers and notebooks that Adrien had so kindly picked up her for and ignored the pitying look in his eyes. Alya schooled her expression, not letting on how much she distrusted him.

“I know,” she sighed. “I just…”

Just what?

Wanted Nino to love Alya instead of Her? To stop living in the past? To forget Her?

“I wish things were different,” she settled on vaguely. She’d rather eat a brick than open up to someone like him.

“I know. Me too,” Adrien lied probably. Unexpectedly, he held an open box with a strangely familiar logo toward her and asked, “Want a macaron? I went to get some at lunch, but I’ve never had one before until now. They’re really good.”

“Oh!” Alya gasped, shocked and caught off guard by such a sweet gesture. When she finally looked him in the eyes, the pity was gone and replaced with deep, debilitating kindness. His entire expression was so soft and tentative, like he was truly worried about her.

This didn’t seem like a trick. Was Adrien really trustworthy all along (or was this all part of his plan)?

Could he have poisoned the macaron?

Okay, even she could admit that was a little dramatic. She decided that the least she could do was be polite.

“Thank you, Adrien,” she said and reluctantly took the macaron. Taking a bite, the delicious sweetness was enough to slightly melt the walls she so meticulously built to protect herself (though they still stood strong). “Is this passionfruit?”

“Yup!” Adrien responded, nodding his head with the enthusiasm of a little kid. “My favorite flavor.”

Alya chuckled. When he did things like that, he looked more like a giant dork than a narcissist. “If you’ve never had them, how do you know passionfruit is your favorite?”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows in thought, then shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know it, I guess.”

Struggling to hold back laughter, Alya shoved the rest of the macaron in her mouth and focused on methodically chewing. Adrien wasn’t just a dork, he was clueless too. It was kind of endearing, like the way a newborn kitten would trip over its own paws.

Or maybe he was more like a tiger cub. If she turned a blind eye for too long, he could grow into a vicious predator.

“Oh, you know what?” He said brightly.

Alya, with her mouth still full, simply grunted in acknowledgement.

“You should give one to Nino as an apology for what happened on Her birthday.”

 She immediately paused her chewing as she considered the idea. While offering a single macaron wasn’t much of an apology gift, the most important part would be the apology itself. Alya never actually got the chance to say sorry, since Nino made it clear that she wasn’t supposed to talk to him.

But it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

Then, she realized that Adrien was actually helping her, something that she would’ve never believed he would do if she had been asked about it a few minutes ago. Her mouth pulled into a wide grin, and she took another macaron from the box. “That’s a good idea!”

It had taken her a moment, but she finally registered the last part of his sentence. He had referred to their late classmate as “Her.” Alya had wondered if Adrien, rich and influential as he was, would have pried Her name out of someone by now. Evidently not. “You don’t know Her name either, do you? Or anything about Her?”

“No, I don’t,” he admitted with a surprising amount of disappointment and… regret? “Nino told me She was a really good person, though. Always helping people. I think I want to do that, too. We could all use someone like that in our lives.”

Alya wanted to be suspicious. She wanted to hold onto her fears, because they protected her. But he just looked so… innocent. He looked so honest and sincere about wanting to help people, smiling blindingly bright like an honest-to-God ray of sunshine.

That’s exactly what he was. Sunshine.

She barely contained a wince as her cursed headache jackhammered against her skull. She decided to remain cautions, but just for this one moment, she could trust him.

Adrien’s kindness was so infectious that Alya found herself smiling back just as bright, despite the pain she tried to push aside. “That’s really nice of you, Sunshine. Want to deliver the macaron with me?”

Alya couldn’t believe she was actually choosing to spend more time with Adrien out of her own free will, but when the boy smiled impossibly brighter, she knew she’d made the right choice.

“I’d love to.”

She crossed the courtyard quickly, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

As Alya approached Nino, her heart started to beat faster and faster as butterflies swirled tornadoes in her stomach. She was so very scared of what could go wrong, but so excited about what could go right. The last time she was this nervous was when she asked him out, though hopefully Nino would react much better this time.

Stumbling to a stop, Alya was quick to speak before she lost her courage. “Hey, Nino?”

Because of his headphones, the boy didn’t notice her or respond, only causing more anticipation and dread to ooze out of her. With arms stiff as a board, she waved her hand out and said again, “Nino?”

His eyes snapped to hers, and her heart flipped several times over. She had always loved his eyes— a brilliant golden-brown that displayed so much emotion in the slightest movement. He pulled off his headphones and gave her an almost-bored stare, but she knew from staring in those eyes for so long that there was a hint of frustration behind them. “Yeah?”

“I, um…” Alya began, taking a deep breath. “I just want to say I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a lot, and… I didn’t think about how you would feel. And I brought this as an apology.” As Alya held out the macaron, Nino’s eyes brightened considerably as they locked on the treat. She almost thought it was because he had a huge sweet tooth, but then she realized he was staring at the macaron with a faint recognition, almost like reminiscing a fond memory.

Alya bit her lip nervously as he examined the pastry. Slowly, Nino offered a half-smile, and all the tension sank out of her in an instant.

Nino took the treat with a sincere, “Thanks, Alya,” and took a big bite.

Pure, exuberant joy flooded her. Nino didn’t shout or even brush her off— he thanked her.

Alya could die happy.

Well, except for that fact that he didn’t actually forgive her. “So…” Alya fumbled. “We’re cool?”

Nino’s eyes betrayed how conflicted he felt. She could only suffer silently as he chewed deliberately, until he finally gave her a full, bright, beautiful smile. “Sure, dudette.”

His forgiveness lifted a massive weight from her shoulders, allowing her to sag with relief. She was unbelievably glad to have her friend forgive her, even if they didn’t become “more than friends” like she wanted. If she couldn’t be allowed to love him, then she’d love him as a friend, and maybe time and patience would heal Nino’s aching heart and allow him to love again. There was nothing to do in the meantime except to simply be there for him.

“So,” she repeated conversationally as she slipped onto the bench next to Nino. “Did you see the new Ninja Turtles movie?”

His eyes lit up, just as Alya knew they would. Nino loved movies, especially movie directing. He had done an amazing job as the director for their student film project. In fact, Alya bonded so well with him over writing the script together that they ended up becoming friends. Nino was just so talented, with movie directing, script writing, song composition, DJ’ing, making her laugh, melting her heart… Damn, that boy was her weakness.

“I did!” Nino answered with a chuckle. “Didn’t the humans look super weird?”

Alya nodded but considered it. “Totally, but I think that was an artistic choice. They looked normal after they stopped seeing mutants as monsters and instead as heroes.”

“Good point!” Nino complimented, causing Alya’s face to burn along with a twinge of pride in her chest. “Maybe the ugliness on the outside was meant to reflect the ugliness on the inside.”

Such a simple conversation about analyzing movies as Nino enjoyed a macaron just felt so... right. Alya was vaguely aware of Adrien’s presence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. He just had a quiet nature, and him observing their conversation felt normal. Alya almost couldn’t believe how perfect everything felt.

Well, almost perfect.

The mysterious itch returned stronger than before, clawing its way into her thoughts like a venomous mole and poisoning her mood. It didn’t just tell her that something was unknown, it told her something was missing— or someone.

Could it be Her?

 Alya wasn’t sure how she could imagine it, but she could easily see Her slotting right into their little friend group. Alya knew She was nice and kind, of course, but she knew nothing about Her personality. Alya didn’t think it mattered. If She were smart and compassionate, She would’ve gotten along perfect with Adrien. If She were enthusiastic and friendly, She and Nino could’ve been bros. If She were brave, bold, and stubborn in all the right ways… She and Alya could have been the best of friends.

(When her head throbbed slightly once again, she began to wonder if all those mornings of caffeine were catching up to her.)

Sadly, that just wasn’t what fate had in store. For now, Alya just wanted to rekindle her broken friendship with Nino, so that they could hopefully become something more than friends somewhere down the road.

And figure out whether she could trust Adrien— she was felling shockingly conflicted about that one at the moment.

A high-pitched bell rang throughout the courtyard, and students began flocking to their next classes, including her and Nino.

“By the way, um…” Alya said while hitching her bag farther up her shoulder. “Do you want to— I don’t know— do something after school?”

Nino looked at her incredulously, and Alya could tell his trust in her was already receding.

“Just as friends!” She hastily added as the two began walking up the stairs to their classroom. “We just haven’t hung out in a while… We could go to our favorite arcade, maybe?”

The relief of Nino’s face was evident, and he nodded. “Sure. To be honest… I missed destroying you in every dancing game in the building,” he added playfully.

“Great! I mean— You’re the one who’s getting destroyed!” Alya corrected. Suddenly, an idea flashed across her mind, and she realized it was the perfect opportunity to learn more about Adrien’s true colors. “Oh, we should also invite Adrien— wait, where’d he go?”

The two had already made it back to the classroom only to find that Adrien wasn’t following them.

Nino shrugged and sat in his chair. “He must be busy. Maybe it should just be the two of us? We could cycle through games quicker that way.”

Alya immediately agreed, although her brain was stunlocked on “just the two of us.” She sat down, too lovestruck to even think about building up the courage to do so. Even if she tried, there was no keeping the dreamy (and perhaps a bit smug) smile off of her face.

Right before the bell rang a second time, Adrien sped through the doorway and dropped into his seat, flashing Alya a smile as he did so.

Mme. Bustier brought class into session, but Alya couldn’t pay any attention even if her life depended on it.

Although, she had to admit that it was a bit strange— Alya had never had such strong feelings for Nino until now. Typically, she’d give him a few long glances, her heart would skip, and there’d be a dash of maladaptive daydreaming… But that would be it. She liked-liked him, wanted to get to know him, looked forward to going out with him. Fun dates, evening walks, stolen kisses by the Seine.

What she felt now was much different. It truly was love. Her perfect idea of a date was no longer an amusement park or fancy restaurant… It was going to Nino’s place to cuddle and watch something from his huge movie collection, or inviting him over for brunch with her family. Being around him still brought the familiar fluttering of a crush, but there was also deep comfort in his presence.

Alya sighed quietly as Mme. Bustier droned on about history. Especially with her damned headache constantly resurfacing, she had better things to do than to take notes.

Better things like staring at the red cap of the handsome boy in front of her.

How could her heart feel so full and ache so badly at the same time?

Chapter Text

When the final bell rang, Alya couldn’t get up from her seat quick enough. Haphazardly repacking her bag, she strolled up to Nino’s desk in a manner that she hoped appeared casual. She was worried about mentioning going to the arcade in front of Adrien in case he felt left out, but she was pleasantly surprised when the boy sprung up from his seat and tore out the door.

Clearly, he had his own things to do.

 “You ready?” Alya asked Nino eagerly.

“You go ahead, and I’ll meet you there,” Nino replied as he continued to repack his bag. “I need to swing by my place for some cash.”

She tried not to let the disappointment show on her face— she was hoping to walk there with him. “Okay… See you there, I guess.”

Alya shrugged off her growing sadness, not wanting to let a slight setback ruin her good mood. In fact, this was the time to celebrate. Nino was talking to her again, Adrien was, for the moment, no longer a perceivable threat, and things seemed to be going her way.

As silly as it may have sounded, Alya was slightly disappointed about having all these great changes in her life and not having someone to celebrate it with. Sure, she had family, but what she wanted was a friend. Nino was “just-a-friend” and Adrien was “not-yet-a-friend,” but Alya wanted a best friend.

Was that asking for too much? Was she being selfish? She didn’t think so.

She just felt a little lonely sometimes.

As Alya followed troves of over students down the stairs into the courtyard, a soft noise faintly reached her ears. She froze, straining to hear it again.

A student bumped against her shoulder and aggressively grunted, “Move!”

At the same time that the student had spoken, Alya heard a voice, much quieter and dampened against the sound of surrounding footfalls. She resisted the temptation to call the other student a slew of colorful words, and she instead made her way down the stairs with her ears alert. Just as she reached the bottom, she heard it again, which was distinctly similar to a sharp inhale and…

Sobbing?

She followed the sniffles to the back of the staircase and peeked into the shadowy corner, stiffening at the sight before her. A boy with jet-black hair was kneeling beside the tattered remains of what appeared to be a journal. He was crying into his hands and his red jacket was already splattered with wet spots.

Alya cringed, realizing too late that she didn’t know what to say. She stood there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she fumbled for the words. For a moment, she considered silently leaving, but then she remembered what Adrien had said to her:

“Nino told me She was a really good person, though. Always helping people. I think I want to do that, too.”

Alya didn’t want to just abandon this boy, because it wasn’t what She would do. Maybe Alya had been too busy complaining about how the expectations set by Her were too high, but now it was time to step up and try. There was no chance that She’d abandon the stranger to wallow in their negative emotions, so Alya wouldn’t do the same, because she truly did want to be as good as She was.

Maybe then she’d be worthy of Nino’s love.

The boy peeled his hands from his face to wipe his nose, and when his eyes cracked open slightly, they immediately snapped to hers.

An electric jolt pierced her heart as she realized she had been caught watching him.

“Go away!” The boy immediately snapped.

“I… No,” Alya objected. When his glare intensified, she fumbled to add, “I mean— what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he whimpered. “And nothing’s wrong. Leave me alone.”

“My name is Alya,” she said softly, changing the subject and slowly approaching him. “What’s yours?”

“Why do you care?” He answered bitterly. “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me.”

Alya recoiled slightly at that. She knew plenty of fake people from her old school, and being compared to them in any way hurt her considerably more than she expected. Despite that, she didn’t hold it against the boy and continued to coax him. “I’m not pretending. I just want to help, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“You want to know what’s wrong?!” He suddenly snarled. Pressing the heels of his palm firmly into his eyes, he choked out, “I’m worthless! I’m just some loser that writes terrible stories about superheroes! I have been, and always will be, completely alone, because I’m not good at anything!”

A stretch of silence hung between them, only broken up by the dull roar of students milling about above them, their thundering footsteps masking the sound of the boy’s venting. A pang of sympathy pierced Alya’s heart as she gingerly scooped up as many shreds of paper into her palm as she could. After examining the curly letters for a moment, she turned to the boy.

“You tore up your own journal, didn’t you?” Alya guessed.

The boy leaned back onto his rear, drawing his knees up and crossing his arms to bury his head beneath them. “There was nothing worthwhile in it, anyway,” he muttered.

She continued to sift through the paper shreds until a large one made her pause. “By Marc Anciel,” she read.

“Hey!” The boy, Marc, exclaimed as he ripped the paper out of her hands, causing shreds to scatter throughout the air and blow into her face. “Why is everyone so nosy today?!”

Swatting the paper away from her face, Alya asked, “Who convinced you that your writing wasn’t good?”

“That blonde bully!” Marc answered immediately. “The mayor’s daughter!”

Her face darkened. “Chloé,” she growled.

“You know her?”

“She’s the scourge of my classroom. For the most part, she keeps to herself, but the littlest things would send her on a rampage. Anyone in the blast zone is sure to get a suspension, even innocent bystanders. Then her slave, Sabrina, would excuse her by saying ‘Oh, she’s grieving too, just differently from everyone else!’”

“That doesn’t excuse her behavior,” Marc scoffed, “many people go through grief without having to take it out on others.”

“Exactly!” Alya chuckled.

The tension snapped like a fragile branch, leaving a calm, comfortable quiet between them.

“It doesn’t matter if people like her don’t like your work,” Alya soothed. “You instead have to find people who do like it, and trust them to criticize you fairly, because their opinions are the only ones that matter.”

“You’re right,” Marc said, wiping tears from his eyes and smiling tentatively. “Chloé’s just a hater.”

Alya smiled back. She was satisfied with her good deed for the day.

“Marc!” A voice called out. “There you are.”

They both turned to see Nathanaël peeking beneath the staircase.

“You said you wanted to meet about your writing—” he continued, but paused as he got a good look at Marc’s face. “Wait, have you been crying?”

“A run-in with the blonde devil herself,” Alya explained. “Hey, since this journal is mostly intact, why don’t you two try and go to the art room to patch it up?”

“Good idea,” Nathanaël agreed. “I’m really excited to hear more about your story. It sounded interesting.”

Marc blushed a bright crimson at the compliment, blinking in a dreamy daze. Then he remembered himself and scrambled up to stand beside Nathanaël and smiled shyly. “Y-yeah, let’s, um… do that.”

Alya barely choked down a chuckle. Apparently, every kind of boy was terrible at hiding his feelings for his crush. As the two boys walked off with a goodbye wave, she checked the time on her phone.

“Shit!” Alya groaned. “I’m gonna be late!”

She bolted off to meet with Nino at the arcade. Hopefully, he would still be there. If he wasn’t, well…

There’d be a pillow worth sobbing into when she got home.

“You kept me waiting, huh?” Nino teased.

Alya huffed as she stumbled to a stop on the sidewalk outside the building. She fixed Nino with a playful glare as she panted with exhaustion from sprinting several blocks.

“I don’t want… to hear it,” she said between breaths. “I was being… a good Samaritan.”

“You got Chloé expelled?!” Nino guessed with dramatic excitement.

“Unfortunately, no,” she replied with an eye roll that was dampened by her fond smile. “But I picked up the pieces from another one of her messes.”

“Oh, that’s a good— wait, you have… a little something,” Nino prompted, pointing toward her head.

Alya blinked and ran her fingers down the ends of her hair.

“No, it’s a bit higher,” he directed.

She moved her fingers closer to her ears.

“Let me just…” Nino finally said, stepping close to her.

Alya’s heart stuttered as he reached above her, plucking a piece of paper that was lodged in the hair on the top of her head. The flush that had just receded from her impromptu workout made a swift return as he smiled down at her while standing very, very close.

“Hmm,” Nino hummed, examining the paper. “‘…You must play your part to ensure peace...’ Sick, it’s like a fortune cookie!”

Alya bit her lip to fight the flirtatious smile tugging at her lips. “I guess I am feeling pretty fortunate.”

“And you’re definitely sweet enough,” he added with a shy smile, seemingly forgetting himself as his eyes gazed into hers with open affection.

Her blush made a permanent home on her cheeks as she lost herself in his golden-brown eyes, while her heart ran laps around her ribcage. Her fingers itched to reach forward and touch him, to hold his hand, to run her fingers through his short dark hair, but her final shred of willpower kept her arm stiff at her side. She was acutely aware of the minimal distance between them, and her whole body twitched with pleasant electricity as they leaned closer by mere millimeters.

She desperately wanted to know what his lips tasted like.

Then, something dark and painful flashed in Nino’s eyes, and his shy grin pulled into a frown. He quickly backed away and put a disappointingly fair distance between them. Her heart ached, already missing his warmth.

“Um,” Nino said awkwardly. “You ready to go in?”

“Y-yeah,” Alya reluctantly agreed, barely keeping the longing out of her voice.

True to Nino’s word, Alya got utterly decimated in every single competitive dancing game that the arcade had to offer. He teased her relentlessly about it— about how she’s going soft, about how he’s been practicing. It didn’t bother her, partially because she didn’t think it was possible to be bothered by that amazing boy, but also because of the real reason she performed so poorly.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

Alya’s competitive streak was usually a force to be reckoned with, but that’s only when she really wanted to win. In this instance, she didn’t have to beat Nino in order to win. She was winning just by being there, with him, just like before their falling out.

He was also a really good dancer, and he made it impossible to look away from.

Once she had her fill of absorbing his presence with her eyes, Alya decided to lock in for one final best of three. Nino had won the first game easily, but by the second, she was in her zone, and narrowly came out on top at the last second. By the time the final game started, a small crowd had gathered to cheer them on.

Nino was a crowd favorite, since he was such a natural at these games that he looked like he was actually dancing rather than playing. Alya had some fans of her own, though, since everyone loved an underdog.

As the song neared a close, Alya was rapidly catching up with perfectly timed movements, and they were neck-and-neck. Right at the end of the song, when the hardest notes were being played, someone spoke from behind her.

“I’m rooting for his girlfriend,” the person whispered.

Alya immediately stumbled and lost her rhythm as she broke her hard-earned combo. Meanwhile, Nino hadn’t heard the whisper and was crushing it. He far surpassed her points when the song came to a close.

The crowd cheered, and someone else was heard groaning, “Dude, you jinxed it!”

Nino was celebrating triumphantly, smiling and laughing like the smug winner he was (with the occasional glance toward her to make sure she wasn’t hurt by his gloating). Alya didn’t care, though— she just stared with a dreamy smile on her lips.

Even if it weren’t true, someone simply mistaking her for Nino’s girlfriend was enough to have her awash in love and wistfulness. Besides, seeing him happy made her happy.

It was never about the game. It was about being together.

And from the affectionate look that Nino gave her as the crowd dispersed, he seemed to agree.

“Dude, all that dancing has me beat,” he chuckled as he wiped sweat from his brow. Then, he suddenly looked shy. “Is it cool if I walk you home?”

Alya giggled and barely contained a screech of excitement and, miraculously, found the courage within her to be coy. “Sure, but my mom won’t be there to make you a professional dinner this time. She’s working late tonight.”

“Fine by me,” Nino chuckled. “But for the record, I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Not because of your mom’s delicious cooking.”

As they made their way to the entrance of the arcade, Nino excused himself to use the bathroom. While fiddling with her pockets, Alya realized that she still had a token left. Wondering what to do with it, she glanced around until her eyes caught on a claw machine.

There was no way, right? But… it was worth a try.

Alya approached the machine and slid her token in. As she scanned for a prize to aim for, her gaze caught on a turtle plushie with an adorable red hat, just like Nino’s.

She absolutely had to win it.

Alya circled the machine as she meticulously lined up the claw before pushing the button. It dropped directly overhead, right toward the turtle plushie. She bit her lip in anticipation as it hooked beneath its shell, perfectly threading between its head and limbs as it tightened. Alya could barely restrain herself from crying out in triumph as the claw carried the plush up and across, and once it reached the corner…

The plush dropped directly into the prize box.

She wasted no time digging into the box and snatching the plush to stare at it like the magnificent treasure that it was.

“Congratulations!”

Alya jumped as she turned to see Nino had returned from the bathroom and was watching her.

“What are you gonna name him?” He asked.

“Actually, that’s for you to decide, since he’s yours,” she said with a proud grin as she pushed the plushie toward him.

“No way! Really?” Nino cried with joy as he took the plushie gratefully. “Thanks, dudette!”

“No need to thank me,” Alya said with a faint blush as she cocked her hip confidently. “It’s a gift.”

“I’ll call him… Carapace,” he proclaimed. Then, a devious smirk tugged at his lips. “I guess I’ll have to return the favor by buying you ice cream!”

 She gasped playfully. “Don’t you dare! I won’t let you!”

“Not if you can’t catch me!” Nino said quickly as he bolted toward the exit.

“Hey!” Alya cried with a mix between a shout and a laugh as she took off after him. “Get back here, Lahiffe!”

When Nino’s fading laughter was carried to her ears by the wind, Alya’s heart was left pounding in all the right ways. If she could spend every day like this, she almost felt like she would never feel sad again.

Almost.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Alya still couldn’t wipe the dreamy smile from her face. After Nino had successfully bought her an ice cream cone that they enjoyed during the walk back to her apartment, they said their goodbyes with a promise to hang out again soon. The rest of the evening, she had never felt so sure that they were destined to be together.

Which, admittedly, was strange for her. Alya didn’t believe in that kind of destined love or soulmates— she believed that love was something you chose, not something you were fated to have with your “other half.” But with Nino, it truly felt like they were meant to be, in a way she had never thought she would ever experience.

She may have spent more of her morning deliberating over it, if not for her chronic headache relentlessly throbbing again.

After breakfast, Alya made her way to school as usual… Only to find all of her classmates gathered at the front of the school rather than in the classroom. She glanced around, confused, as the students chattered to each other excitedly. Walking over to stand beside Nino, she looked to him and asked, “What’s going on?”

He only looked at her with an incredulous smirk. “Did you forget? Today’s the field trip to the Louvre for our historical art presentations. I think everyone’s just excited to skip out on morning classes, though.”

Alya only had a vague memory of signing a permission form for this trip. Being mostly preoccupied with blogs and research, she didn’t bother to read any forms she was given. She just had them signed, brought them back to school, and went on with her day. There was also a high possibility that she missed an in-class reminder while intensely focused on her research.

The remaining students loaded into the bus, and Alya was giddy to hear Nino invite her to sit next to him. They chattered away about movies and TV shows and— dare she say it— maybe even flirted a little. At least, she was flirting to the best of her ability, and Nino’s reactions were far from negative. When the short drive to the museum ended, however, she sighed. The students filed off the bus as Mme. Bustier started calling off names in pairs.

“…Nino and Mylène, Max and Alya, and finally, Adrien, you’re with Nathanaël.”

Alya internally groaned when she wasn’t paired with her favorite boy, though she wasn’t too upset with her current partner.

She couldn’t say the same for Adrien, though. When he and Nathanaël locked eyes, the blond boy’s eyes tightened slightly as if he had bitten into something sour. Alya dug into her brain to find any previous conflict between the boys, but she found nothing. Why would Adrien appear so bitter about being partnered with someone he had barely spoken to before?

Even weirder, Nathanaël didn’t look too happy with this situation either, despite not being prone to hostility— he spent most of his time drawing at the back of every classroom. Since the teachers barely reprimanded him for it, she assumed they knew he was drawing Her. Alya figured it was nice of the teachers not to make a scene, but it didn’t stop them from grading him just as harshly as everyone else.

A large, fluffy cloud drifted across the sun, casting a shadow on the students and only making the glaring contest between the two boys even more ominous.

Mme. Bustier began shooing the students toward the entrance of the museum, and Nathanaël reluctantly marched alongside Adrien. They walked in silence for a moment before Adrien turned away to watch the surrounding crowd, giving Nathanaël the opportunity to slip away and fall into step beside Alya.

“It figures that I’d get paired with him,” he scoffed beside her.

“What?” Alya asked, caught off guard by the venom in his tone.

“He’s friends with Chloé, right?” Nathanaël recalled. “The bitch that got Marc to tear up his journal?”

Shit, she thought, suddenly realizing the source of his hostility. “I don’t think—”

“That took us almost two and a half hours to patch up,” he seethed. “There’s no way anyone would be friends with someone like her unless they are just as evil. I don’t trust him.”

Alya frowned as she realized how similar his reasons for distrusting Adrien were to her own. How could she explain that, even if she wasn’t entirely sure yet, there was a decent chance that Adrien wasn’t like Chloé at all? “Well… have you ever actually seen Adrien behave like Chloé? Maybe they aren’t the same.”

Nathanaël gave her a sideways glance. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for his charm.”

She physically recoiled. “What?!”

“Come on, he’s literally a model,” he reasoned. “Of course he’s great at looking all pretty and innocent. I used to see his old advertisements when looking for reference photos for my art— his whole brand was being a golden child. There’s no way he’s actually that pure. It’s just the public image they’re trying to sell us, and you’re buying into it.”

Alya felt a seed of doubt plant into her mind as she gaped at Adrien, who was walking out of earshot in front of them. His expression was so schooled, his posture so stiff, his walk so perfect. Almost as if he was always modeling. Always posing.

Always acting.

Before she had a chance to respond, Nathanaël returned to Adrien’s side as the students entered the Louvre.

Alya was dumbfounded. How much of what Nathanaël said was true, and how much of it was pure conjecture? Alya had seen with her own eyes how nice Adrien could be— or was that just the public face he used on others to lure them in?

She didn’t want to believe it. She knew Adrien could be a much better person than Chloé, and Nathanaël’s frustrations were just misdirected. That was all.

Or so she hoped. The idea of Adrien being “evil” was so foreign to her now.

Alya was still lost in thought when Max, her project partner, approached her.

“You should follow me,” he suggested. “I know the most optimal route for famous and historically significant art pieces that would be perfect for our presentation.”

“Um… okay,” she agreed, finding no reason to object.

Alya had always seen Max as an interesting enough person. He clearly still grieved for Her, but he hid it the best out of everyone. He was incredibly smart, though it probably came naturally to him. Since they both had an interest in knowledge in an analytical sense, she had tried to be friends with him, but she found he was too… stiff.

To Alya, knowledge was a rare commodity in a world of chaos. It was something that flew by in a whirlwind, and it was up to her instinct and reactions to snatch it out of the air. To Max… knowledge was something to be studied, recited, and stored on a shelf.

In the end, they barely shared any interests, and talking to each other about individual hobbies usually just bored one another. They didn’t really talk anymore.

Alya was reliving that experience as he led her down the hallways of the Louvre, pointing out various exhibits like a tour guide. He gave dates on the art piece as exact as possible, background on the artist, and interpretations on the piece. No doubt, he could do the whole project on any art piece in the museum in a single afternoon.

It was damn near unhealthy (not that she was one to talk about obsessive research habits). Alya always thought he was more of a math and physics guy, but now he was an encyclopedia on anything… maybe it was how he coped with the loss of Her? Whenever he had a moment of free time, he pored over some book about history or biology or whatever. Almost as if he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

“Alix?!” Max suddenly called out.

Alya jerked her head to see a short, hot-pink-haired girl that she had never seen before (though looked oddly familiar) lounging on a bench with a laptop open. The girl, presumably Alix, looked up curiously.

“Oh. Hey, Max,” she responded indifferently.

As he hurried over to her, Alya shamelessly followed (she knew it might be nosy, but she was too curious to care). She had heard about an “Alix” having been in their class last year, but no one seemed to know why she had mysteriously left and cut contact. Sometimes, Alya would hear classmates begging Nathanaël for news about her, but he always claimed to not be speaking with her either.

“You left school without notice or an obvious cause,” Max said, “and you haven’t been replying to any communications. Why is that?”

Alix simply shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Far from it.”

“Maybe you could figure it out.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“Fine. I needed to get away.”

“From what exactly?”

“Everything!” Alix suddenly burst out, then sighed. “The idea of going back to that school just didn’t sit right with me, so I switched to online classes last minute. I went no contact because I assumed you guys would try and convince me to come back, and, well… I don’t want any connections to that school since they all reminded me of Marinette.”

That name stole the breath right from Alya’s lungs and turned her bones as stiff as stone. That was Her name. That was the girl who had left such an impact on so many students that they barely thought of anything else.

That name felt so powerful, like each syllable bore infallible kindness and dignity. No wonder none of the other students had spoken it around her or Adrien— it truly was an honor to know it. Knowing each letter felt like a charge for a crime she was forced to commit.

And yet, she still felt as if she deserved to know it.

Marinette.

When Alix looked at her expectantly, Alya realized she had spoken the name aloud. “Um, yeah, that’s kinda her name…” Alix began sarcastically, but her tone changed when she realized who she was speaking to. “Wait, who are you again?”

“Oh, um, I’m Alya,” she said with a slight cringe at forgetting to introduce herself. “I’m a new student in Mme. Bustier’s class this year.”

Alix turned to Max exasperatedly. “Seriously, you guys don’t even mention her by name when the new kids are around?” She groaned. “That’s why I left. It’s totally not healthy. I knew the best way to move on was to avoid clinging to everything that reminds you of her.”

“You sound as if you don’t even care,” Max accused.

“Of course I do! But did any of you for once think about what Marinette would have wanted? She’d want us to move on! Trust me, I miss her too, so damn much, but you all are alienating the new students. Wouldn’t she want us to be kind and welcoming to everyone?”

“I-I,” Max stuttered, for once at a loss for words. “I don’t know…”

Alya stood there in stunned silence. She was appalled by the maturity Alix had shown to break away from the school and work through her grief on her own. It made Alya almost wish that Alix had never left— maybe she could have helped the other students properly move on as well. Although… something about her seemed off. Alya didn’t know what Alix was like before Marinette passed, but she currently was far too aloof, far too indifferent.

Was Alix truly healing, or was she just going numb?

“Alix!” A voice shouted from far away.

The three of them turned to see Nathanaël stomping toward them, gripping his sketchbook with white knuckles. Alya had never seen him so furious before, and she was worried about what it was that set him off.

“I can’t believe him!” He growled as he drew near.

“Woah, Nath, calm down,” Alix said as she rose from the bench. “What happened?”

Without warning, he turned on Alya and spat, “What did I tell you?! It was all an act, and you fell for it!”

“An act…?” Alya echoed.

Oh no, she realized.

Adrien.

Horror clung to her like a second skin, wet and sticky. Had it finally happened? Did his true colors finally show?

“Okay, just talk through it,” Alix urged, “I don’t want you to get… angrier.” She paused slightly on the last word, as if she couldn’t find the right word for it.

“I don’t believe he could get much angrier than he already is,” Max added unhelpfully.

Nathanaël took a deep breath, but still clenched his fists as he explained, “Okay, so… I got paired with that ‘Adrien’ kid I told you about for our project today. I didn’t trust him, since he’s friends with Chloé, so I decided to split the work and do it separately, that way I could go work on Marc and I’s comic book until the trip was over.”

“That… seems like a fair thing to ask,” Alya conceded.

“Yeah, except he called me a dick!” Nathanaël ranted. “And the worst part? He peeked my sketchbook and had the audacity to sound surprised when he asked if I was ‘drawing Marinette’, like it was something I shouldn’t be doing!”

A surge of hate and betrayal roared from deep in Alya’s throat. She couldn’t believe he had mentioned Marinette by name— he had told Alya that he didn’t know it!

How many other lies had he told her?

Alix was clearly thinking something similar as she turned to Max with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought none of you said her name when he was around? How does he know it?”

“I’m not sure,” Max muttered, utterly dumbfounded.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Nathanaël grumbled. “I’m just gonna hang here with Alix. You two should get working on your project.”

Max and Alya (knowing a hint to ‘get lost’ when they saw one) reluctantly agreed and continued on with their exploration, but a war of rage, despair, and confusion clashed within her until she wasn’t sure what she felt.

Who was Adrien Agreste, really?

 When the trip was over and the students were boarding the bus, Alya seemingly got her answer. At first, she was determined to speak with Adrien during the bus ride and get his side of the story.

But when she saw him typing away at his phone without a care in the world, as if his altercation with Nathanaël hadn’t fazed him at all, every drop of her doubts coalesced into a dark, thick pool.

Visions of her past schoolmates flashed in her vision. Rich students with their falsely sweet exterior, asking Alya for more and more “investigations.” They pretended to like her, to enjoy hanging out with her, when they were just using her.

She wanted to trust Adrien. But when she looked at him, she only saw everyone that had betrayed her. She wanted to believe he was good at heart, but she thought the same thing about her old “friends,” and she was wrong.

Alya had been fooled once, but never again. The only way to protect herself now was to be wary of those kinds of people, those kinds of threats.

And Adrien was a threat.

Chapter Text

Threats were meant to be observed.

The first thing Alya noticed as all the students made their way off the bus was that Adrien was not heading toward the school cafeteria for the lunch period. His driver wasn’t parked at the curb either, so he clearly wasn’t going home for the break. No— he was crossing the street with a suspiciously buoyant spring in his step.

Alya softly gasped as her eyes drifted to the building across the street. Glued to the windows was a shimmering golden logo that she swore she’d seen before. It was distant and difficult to read, but she could spot the unmistakable detail of two plant stems wrapped around undiscernible letters.

The box of macarons, she realized.

Adrien had offered her a macaron yesterday, and the inside lid of the box had a near-identical logo. The building across the street must have been the bakery he got them from, and he might be stopping by there again.

So, so badly she wanted to follow him. Alya was practically salivating at the potential scoop that could come from a high-profile person’s relations to an inconspicuous business. Hush-money, private settlements, a cover for dirty income…

No, she was getting ahead of herself. No criminal in their right mind would send a child, in broad daylight, without a disguise, to handle anything that shady.

And yet, she still really wanted to follow him. Her heart was damn near screaming for it.

“C’mon, Alya!” Nino called from the top of the stairs. “All the good food will be gone if you keep standing around, dude!”

“Right! Coming…” Alya responded half-heartedly. As she climbed the stairs of the school, she took one more look at the bakery just in time to catch Adrien enter it. She sighed, feeling like some missed opportunity was going to haunt her.

Nathanaël left school before the lunch period even began, to Alya’s relief. She didn’t want the news of what Adrien had said at the Louvre to reach the other classmates, since it would surely blow up into a huge deal. She just had to hope Max wouldn’t bother to mention it to anyone else before school was over.

While plenty of the evidence pointed to Adrien being a prick of the highest degree, there wasn’t enough to confirm it, so Alya wasn’t ready to put him on blast yet. Especially since she only had one account of the events that took place.

Good reporters double-checked their sources.

“You into him?”

Alya jolted in her seat, dropping her fork directly into her lunch. “What?”

“Are you into him?” Nino repeated with a strained voice, like asking the question physically pained him.

“Who?”

“Adrien.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?! Him?! You’re kidding!”

Nino shrugged, but Alya hoped she didn’t imagine the way his shoulders loosened in relief. “Dude, you were with him when you apologized to me. You wanted to invite him to the arcade with us. You were staring at him when we got off the bus. You—”

“That’s all purely circumstantial,” she urgently assured. “Besides… I could never be with someone like him.”

Nino raised a skeptical eyebrow as he took a sip from his carton of juice. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“He’s— he could be a stuck-up jerk, like every other rich kid!”

Now both eyebrows were raised. “That’s why you wanted him to tag along to the arcade with us? Because you think he’s a jerk?”

“No! I mean— kinda?” Alya groaned. “I don’t know, I just… I’ve been getting this strange feeling. Like I’m missing something, but I don’t know what. All I know is, I have questions, and I’m pretty sure Adrien has answers. I just need to figure out if he’s really as innocent as he seems.”

Nino blinked, dumbfoundedly, before sighing as he pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Dudette…”

“Don’t say it!” Alya hissed.

“Could this ‘strange feeling’ be something like… fluttering? Like butterflies in your belly?”

Alya squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, controlling breath to fight the nausea crawling up her throat. “I’m not into Adrien.”

“Dude, is that denial?”

Alya was most certainly not in denial. The only person that held her heart was Nino. He was the only person she could imagine herself dating. If she tried to fantasize some romantic date with anyone else… well, she couldn’t. It would just be Nino, every time. Just attempting to put Adrien in that spot made her sick, because even if he was honest, even if he was sincere, he still wouldn’t be Nino.

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Alya asked, much calmer than before.

“I—” Nino paused, looking away to think for a moment. Then, he admitted, “I think… because I wanted to know if you still liked me.”

When he finally looked back and their eyes met, Alya was lost in the swirling pool of conflict in them. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or what he was hoping her response would be. Did he truly feel nothing for her, wanting her to move on to someone else? Or was he starting to like her back, and he hoped it wasn’t too late?

Before Alya could answer, Nino cleared his throat and spoke again in a clear attempt to gloss over his confession. “Uh, what did you mean when you said Adrien might be like ‘every other rich kid’?”

She lamented the loss of her chance to answer the previous question. “People like that don’t have the best track record with me,” she answered simply.

“You know a lot of rich people?” Nino asked as he leaned forward with a mischievous smirk. “Wait, have you been holding out on me?”

Alya chuckled, appreciative of the joke to lighten the mood. That’s why she loved him— he could lighten even the tensest situations. “Not really? I mean, my mom is literally the head chef of one of Paris’s best restaurants. They know they can’t afford to lose her, so they can afford any salary she asks for.”

“No way!” Nino laughed. “You are rich!”

“I am not!” Alya objected with a light chuckle. “We live a modest life. Most of the money goes to savings, college funds, supporting Nora when she’s having trouble finding fights… And my old private school fund that’ll probably belong to the twins soon.”

His eyes blew wide. “Private school? You used to go to private school?!”

“Damn right,” she said smugly. Normally, she didn’t like to brag about that kind of thing, but she was happy to elicit a reaction from him. “A real fancy one, too. It had the best programs, children of famous people… even those uniforms that were basically formal suits.”

Nino’s face was a ridiculous mixture of a smile and open-mouth gaping. “Dude, I can’t imagine you in anything other than flannel! Wait, is that where you met all those awful rich people?”

“Yeah,” Alya sighed and went back to poking her fork at her lunch. “Some of them are more blatant about their assholery, but after enough investigating of anyone… Well, let’s just say most of that school won’t be crossing the pearly gates when they die.”

“Woah, ‘investigating’,” Nino said in awe. “You must have been, like, an undercover agent exposing them from the inside! That’s dope!”

“Not really…” Alya admitted sheepishly. “They paid me to dig up dirt that they would use to blackmail each other. I was basically an informational hitman… you don’t become a reporter as good as me without a bit of real-world experience.”

Nino seemed incapable of doing anything besides staring at her in utter shock.

“Anyway,” she chuckled, “lunch is almost over, so I’m heading to the classroom.”

When she stood from her chair, it seemed to shake Nino out of his trance. “That’s sick,” he breathed, with a hint of stars dancing in his eyes. “I hope I never end up on your bad side if you are capable of that.”

“Believe me,” she said with a bold smirk, “if you get on my bad side, you’ll have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Alya was, admittedly, not proud of how she ended up in her current predicament.

During afternoon classes, she continued to observe Adrien, but he did nothing suspicious besides reading something on his tablet that clearly wasn’t literature notes. After class, she had resigned herself to going home when she noticed students in full fencing gear gathering around the courtyard.

Alya remembered Adrien mentioning in one of their conversations that he took fencing after school. In fact, a lot of her former classmates from private school attended fencing here, since it was one of the most prestigious academies in Paris. There’d be more entitled brats at that class than anywhere else— if Adrien was truly one of them, this would be the moment where his falsely innocent façade would slip.

Which was how she ended up in the locker room that she was using as a hiding spot to peek at the fencers. Frankly, she should have realized that the students would return to the locker room when their lesson was over.

Hence her current predicament, which was cramming herself into a random locker until the fencing students left.

“I’m sorry my problems got in the way of your good practice,” a voice grumbled very unapologetically.

Alya silently (and considerably uncomfortably) shifted her position to get a clear view out of the slits in the locker door. All the other students were gone, but she spotted Adrien sitting on the bench in full fencing outfit sans the helmet, his head hung. A girl with dark hair that Alya didn’t recognize was standing in front of him, wearing a red fencing suit.

“You know that is not what I meant,” she huffed and crossed her arms. Her voice was stiff and authoritative, an indication that she was part of the “holier than thou” group of rich kids. “I am observing that your distraction could be related to a worsened state of well-being.”

What?

Adrien raised his head slightly to look directly at her and raised a curious eyebrow. “Are you… concerned about me? If you are, that’s a long-winded way of saying it.”

“Of course I am. I like to think of us as friends, and I care about you. You can tell me what is bothering you,” she said with a slightly more tender voice, though Alya wouldn’t be surprised if it was an act to lure him in.

He sighed and said, “I just… Do you ever feel like something just isn’t right? Like you are missing something… or someone? Like your entire world is out of place and you’d do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of it?”

Alya’s eyes blew wide as Adrien voiced the same concerns that had been plaguing her the past two days. But… what the hell could Adrien be missing? He was rich. He probably had every game, movie, and streaming service he could ever ask for. He probably had the best chefs, tutors, and maids that money could buy. He’d never have to work a day in his life. He could do any hobby, learn any skill, or rot in bed for all he cared. What more could he want?

‘Someone’, he had said. Someone to train with? Someone to compete with?

Or someone to love?

That was one of the only things money couldn’t buy.

“That’s the kind of question I would ask a therapist.”

Alya couldn’t come up with a more unhelpful answer if she tried.

“That’s not helping,” Adrien unknowingly agreed.

“Right. I apologize,” she said with undeniable sincerity. Alya began to realize that this girl didn’t know how to say the right thing, either as a consequence of French not being her first language (judging by her slight accent) or from simply being socially awkward. Either way… Alya couldn’t hold it against her. “Honestly, I know what you mean. I feel like, for my entire life, I have been missing out on having the same experiences as other children my age. I want more friends. I want to go places with them, get coffee or juice, sit on a bench in a park or near the Seine. And talk about schoolwork or boys. See movies, attend concerts, support each other’s hobbies.”

“I want that, too,” Adrien responded despondently.

Alya’s heart went out to the girl. Maybe she misjudged her. Maybe she misjudged both of them. Suddenly, all those times she pushed Adrien away when he was likely just trying to be her friend made her feel like shit. Alya knew what it was like having a hard time connecting with people— it happened with her former classmates, who were too much of pretentious snobs for her to tolerate them. It happened again in François Dupont, where her new classmates were too emotionally unavailable from grief to bother with her.

And she had done the same thing to him. Even if she didn’t like him, no one deserved to be led on like that.

“Maybe without the ‘talking about boys’ part,” Adrien added.

Alya had to clamp her hand over her mouth to prevent a chuckle from escaping.

“You said ‘maybe’,” the girl noted.

“I did.”

“Not ‘definitely’?”

“Can we skip ahead to the part where you actually comfort me?”

Alya couldn’t help it. Adrien dodging that question was too funny to her— a half-chuckle slipped past her hand at the exact moment the other girl laughed.

The girl froze and her laugh trailed off. Thankfully, it seemed Adrien hadn’t heard, since they both laughed at the same time. She could only hope the other girl assumed her ears were playing tricks.

“I already did, Adrien,” she continued as if she heard nothing. “We are in the same situation. You are not alone in this pain.”

“So I’m supposed to take comfort in your suffering?” Adrien’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Our suffering,” the girl corrected. “You said it yourself. Our worlds are out of place. But as long as we have each other, we can work through it together.”

Those words caught Alya off guard— they were so sweet and genuine that she couldn’t believe that they came from the mouth of a rich fencing student.

It was almost cute.

Until the girl added, “You and me against the world, so to speak.”

Alya wasn’t sure how, but she felt the air get heavier as soon as the words left the girl’s lips. Clearly, Adrien felt it too when he stiffened.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice notably strained. “Thanks, Kagami. I have something I need to do, so I’ll see you around.”

Kagami. That was her name.

The girl, Kagami, obliviously answered, “Bye, Adrien.”

Methodically, the boy stuffed his things into his bag and escaped out the locker room doors.

Silence.

Alya waited for the other girl to leave.

Like lightning, Kagami whirled toward the locker and roared “Come out of there now, or I will force you out!”

Alya froze in terror and shock. She frantically muffled her breathing to stay silent, hoping that after enough time, Kagami would doubt herself and leave.

That proved to be the wrong decision when Kagami stayed true to her word.

She wrenched the locker open. A deafening crash sounded as the locker door slammed into the one beside it. Kagami wrapped both hands around Alya’s arm with an iron grip, dragging her out of the locker (who knew fencing could make someone so strong?!).

“Who are you?!” Kagami demanded. “Paparazzi? A stalker? A good-for-nothing reporter?”

“Hey!” Alya objected, feeling defiant despite the increasing pressure on her arm. “I’m not ‘good-for-nothing’!”

“Ah, but you are a reporter,” the Asian girl concluded. “How about you find your tabloid stories somewhere else, and learn to stay out of other people’s private lives?”

“Excuse you,” Alya said. She struggled to appear calm as she placed her other hand around the other girl’s wrists to push them off, which Kagami surprisingly obliged. “First of all, you wouldn’t catch me dead writing for a tabloid. Second, do you see me holding a camera?”

“That does not explain why you were hiding.”

 “Maybe I was taking a nap, and you rudely woke me up.”

Kagami feigned a lunge at Alya, who reflexively recoiled and knocked the back of her head against the locker frame.

“You are in no position to act coy,” Kagami asserted as Alya rubbed the back of her head with a wince. “So tell me the truth before I go and retrieve your principal.”

“Fine! Fine…” Alya groaned. “I was… observing Adrien.”

“A reporter and a stalker?”

“It’s not like that! Look, I’m in Adrien’s class, and I have reason to believe that he’s not who he appears to be. I’m just… trying to figure out if I can trust him.”

Kagami scoffed. “It sounds like he is the one that cannot trust you, since you have been ‘observing’ him without his permission.”

“Well, I—”

“No,” she interrupted, “I know Adrien. He is kind to a fault, and unfailingly polite. He has never, ever given me any reason to believe otherwise. The fact that you would rather sneak around and believe the worst about him is pathetic and reflective of your own insecurity.”

Alya furrowed her brows and stared in open-mouthed shock, unsure whether to be insulted, humbled, or furious.

“That boy is perfect. And if you are unable to see that, then maybe he doesn’t need someone like you to trust him. Grow up and leave your cynicism behind. The only reason I won’t tell him about this interaction is because I know he would do anything to change your opinion of him. And you’re not worth that.”

Without another word, Kagami stormed out of the locker room, leaving Alya alone in the ringing silence.

With a splitting headache.

Chapter Text

She was right.

Dammit, Kagami was right.

Alya never thought she’d say something like that about a rich kid—

No! It was cynical opinions like those that turned her into a hateful, distrusting person. Alya had never had any real evidence of Arien being a prick, or a manipulator, or a snob, or anything.

There were so many other explanations about what may have happened between him and Nathanaël. Maybe there was a misunderstanding, and Adrien assumed Nathanaël was trying to leave him to do all the work? Maybe Adrien was bad at making decisions, given that they had always been made for him by his parents, organizers, and agents? Or maybe, since Nathanaël was an artist after all, Adrien wanted help from an expert?

…Although, none of those would explain how Adrien knew Marinette’s name. How could he lie straight to Alya’s face and tell her that he didn’t know “Her” name, yet act all surprised when Nathanaël was drawing her?

Wait.

That was it.

Surprised.

Everyone in class, including Adrien, knew very well that Nathanaël only ever drew pictures of “Her.” If Adrien had known all this time that “She” was Marinette… why would he be surprised to see Nathanaël drawing her?

Because Adrien didn’t know. He thought “She” and Marinette were two different people— at least, that’s what he thought before he saw Marinette depicted in the sketchbook. He hadn’t lied to her. He hadn’t tricked her.

Adrien hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet, she treated him like he had. Even if so many other wealthy children were downright evil, it was grossly insensitive of her to lump Adrien in with them.

She never should have pushed him away. She never should have rudely spied on him. She never should have let Chloé hang all over him, when Adrien was the victim, not the perpetrator of his own circumstance.

Kagami was right.

Adrien was honest. Trustworthy. A good person.

And it was Alya’s own fears that led her to misjudge him.

She rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead to ease her migraine. Every step she made against the sidewalk on her path home from school pounded all the way up to her skull.

As she approached the crosswalk and waited for the light to change, Alya spotted an old Asian man sitting on the bench reading the newspaper, with his cane leaning against the bench. She chuckled quietly, finding it absurd how many people still read the paper instead of getting their news online.

Like the crack of a whip, the man dropped the paper to stare at her delightedly. “You are Mlle. Césaire, correct? You run the blog about superheroes.”

Alya’s jaw dropped at the sheer joy of being recognized. Nobody ever recognized her— her blog wasn’t big enough for that, or so she thought, but she managed to find a fan by sheer chance… A fan that, oddly enough, read blogs and newspapers.

“T-that’s me!” Alya chirped. “Do you… want a photo?”

“If you don’t mind,” he said. Reaching for his cane, the man misjudged the distance and bumped it forward. As the cane tipped over, he overcorrected in an effort to catch it, and Alya watched in slow motion as the man began to fall.

“Woah!” Alya gasped as she lunged forward. She crouched beneath the path of his fall and spread her arms. The man safely fell into her embrace as the cane rolled onto the sidewalk.

“You are quite nimble, young lady,” he noted as she carefully set him back on the bench and retrieved his cane.

“It’s a perk of being a reporter,” Alya boasted. “You gotta be as quick and sly as a fox to follow someone unnoticed.”

The man hummed. “Or, lucky like a ladybug. You were in the right place at the right time.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “All the most difficult cases are solved with a little luck. But I like to rely on good old-fashioned cunning.” She sat on the bench beside the man as he held up his camera. She smiled and flashed a peace sign as the camera snapped the photo.

“Thank you, again,” the man said. “My name is M. Chan, and I do hope we meet again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, M. Chan. I’ll start posting when I’m attending superhero events, if you want to pop by,” Alya promised.

“I look forward to it.”

“Adrien, I’m sorry. I know you thought we were cool, but I used to secretly think you were a giant asshole. But that’s in the past. Friends?”

Alya groaned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“No, that’s not right at all…” She muttered, then took a deep a breath. “Hey, Adrien, I’m really sorry for assuming the worst about you behind your back. You’re actually super chill. Don’t hate me?”

Alya groaned again and threw her face in her palms. There was something incredibly humiliating about practicing talking to a boy (especially Adrien) with her own reflection… and yet, it was oddly reminiscent of something in an almost funny way. Of all the girls in Paris that had to practice speaking normally to Adrien, Alya shouldn’t be one of them.

“Alya, dear?” Her mother called from the kitchen.

She scrambled to turn on the faucet and pretend that she wasn’t doing what she had, in fact, been doing. “Yes?”

“Your friend is calling your cell phone. The boy with the red hat.”

“What?!” Alya squawked as she slammed the faucet shut and burst out of the bathroom. She picked her phone up from the coffee table so fast that she almost dropped it, and she stared at Nino’s profile icon on the call screen.

Outside, the sun had long since set and stars would be twinkling if not for the city light pollution. Why was Nino calling her so late? Was it an emergency? Was he hurt?!

Alya shook her nerves out and stepped onto the balcony for some privacy. Catastrophizing was not a good look for her. It was probably a late-night homework question or something, since that boy couldn’t be asked to do anything before the very last second… though, it didn’t settle the uneasy feeling in her gut.

“Hello?” She said as she answered the call.

“Hey, Alya,” Nino’s crackling voice came through the speaker. His voice was either trembling with despair or shaking with anger, and she wasn’t sure which would be worse. Her heart dropped. “Are you free right now? It’s kinda important.”

Something about his tone struck fear to her core, and she was ready to agree to anything. “Sure, what’s up? Something wrong?”

“I’ll explain after you and the others show up. I’ll text you the address.”

“Wait, ‘show up’? Others?”

“Just hurry, please.”

The line went dead. With her hands shaking from worry, Alya began to change out of her sleepwear.

Alya’s eyes flickered between the address displayed on her phone and the location at which she had arrived.

“That is a boat,” she muttered to herself. No wonder it had taken her so long to find it— she thought she was looking for a house or apartment complex.

A faint voice at the back of her mind warned her that rich people owned boats, and she squashed it like the nasty bug it was.

There was already a small crowd on the upper deck of the boat, muttering and shifting nervously on their feet. Nino stood closer to the front, on what appeared to be a stage with a microphone. It seemed Alya was the last to arrive. She crossed the short bridge and realized the people in the crowd were all her classmates… except for one blue-haired boy that she didn’t recognize.

“Alya, you’re here!” Nino called out with minimal enthusiasm. Alya waved awkwardly, and he turned back to the crowd. “Who are we still missing?”

“Chloé,” Sabrina answered. “She said she had ‘better things to do.’ In a much less polite way.”

“Not that she usually comes anyway,” Juleka muttered.

The blue-haired boy standing beside her furrowed his brows in confusion. “Do you have these kinds of meetings often? They’ve never been held here before.”

“We’ve been classmates since forever, and we usually just pick wherever is easiest,” Kim explained. “Whenever something really serious is about to go down, we call an emergency meeting. Like when I lost my lucky swim cap.”

“These meetings are usually, uh,” Nathanaël added, “much more serious than that.”

“Yo!” Nino called out again. “Where’s Mylène?”

“She’s on a phone detox,” Ivan replied. “We won’t be able to get ahold of her until Monday.”

“Alright,” Nino sighed. “Let’s get started then. Come on up, Luka.”

The blue-haired boy, Luka, calmly stepped up to the mic, but his eyes betrayed well-hidden anger. “Hey, guys. I’m sure you all know your classmate, Adrien Agreste.”

“Don’t get me started,” Nathanaël rolled his eyes. Strangely, it appeared that Ivan, Juleka, and Rose were in agreement that Adrien’s name was like a gritting sound to their ears. Alya’s uneasy feeling swirled into something more ominous. What had Adrien done to get on all of their bad sides? This time, she was certain it wasn’t anything malicious— at worst, a misunderstanding.

“Well,” Luka continued, “yesterday, I offered him an audition for our band, Kitty Section, with me, Juleka, Rose, and Ivan. I had also mentioned that we still hadn’t settled on a costume design. He took it upon himself to… amend that.”

That didn’t sound so bad to Alya. A high-profile fashion model offering to help with costume design? He likely had good taste. He was doing them a favor.

“Tonight, during band practice, Adrien had shown up to show us some designs he had found,” Luka sighed and appeared to brace himself. “It was a photo from a fashion design sketchbook… the one that belonged to your late classmate, Marinette.”

The crowd was dead silent.

Alya blinked.

What a sweet thing to do. Adrien had gotten a design from their late classmate, who they were missing so much, and now her legacy would live on in their band. Like a piece of her they would always have. So why was the meeting—?

The others erupted like volcano that was long overdue.

Alya recoiled from the sudden noise, staring at the mob with wide, confused eyes.

“Sketchbooks are private!” Nathanaël yelled.

“He never even knew her!” Ivan roared.

“How did he even get it?!” Sabrina shrieked. “No way her parents agreed to show it to him!”

“Guys, guys!” Luka shouted through the microphone. “Please try and be calm. I have more to say.”

“More?!” Max cried in disbelief. “How could there be more?!”

“He showed multiple of her designs to his parents,” Luka continued. “He wanted them to hire someone to actually make the designs. A lot of people are going to see her private sketchbook.”

Several angry whispers whisked through the crowd like a cutting wind.

Alya still couldn’t believe her eyes. These people were upset that Adrien wanted to make Marinette’s designs— her dreams— into real clothes made by Gabriel Agreste’s staff?! A fashion brand that huge must have had the best of the best when it came to designers and seamsters. Wouldn’t that be exactly what she wanted? For her designs to be good enough for one of the biggest fashion companies in the world?

“And finally,” Luka added, his voice becoming slightly choked. “He had a photo of one of Marinette’s drawings. It showed her sharing a dance with a faceless boy, which was more of an art piece than a design. He has no justification for saving that photo, other than, well… we think Adrien has a crush on her.”

The screams from the crowd could likely be heard several cities over, but Alya didn’t even register them.

Adrien Agreste, having a crush on a girl that passed away close to a year ago?

Did they even hear themselves?

The voices died down, but it didn’t stop them from furiously talking with each other.

“That is disgusting!”

“How awful!”

“What kind of monster—!”

“That is ridiculous!” Alya suddenly burst out over the entire crowd.

Everyone whipped their heads to face her incredulously, and she suddenly felt like a sheep in a wolves’ den. She gulped down some courage.

“This is insane,” she said, much quieter. “You’re assuming from one measly photo that Adrien has feelings for someone he doesn’t even know? Secondly, you should be grateful that he resurfaced one of her sketches so that your band could wear her design! Besides, Adrien could have any girl in Paris. Why would he want Marinette?”

A few of them immediately looked insulted, as if she had asked, Why would anyone want Marinette at all? Many others’ faces twisted in rage, and Alya began to mourn her reputation with her classmates. But if there was one thing Alya Césaire did better than journalism…

It was stubbornly standing her ground.

“On top of that,” she continued, “Marinette’s parents had to have showed the sketchbook to Adrien willingly. How else would Adrien even know she had one to begin with?”

“You’ve been hooked,” Nathanaël accused. “You’re one of his fangirls now!”

“What?! You’re kidding—!”

“That sounds like denial!” Rose piled on. “You won’t accept that he wants Marinette, because you want him for yourself!”

Alya roared in frustration. Was it so hard to be nice to a boy without getting mistaken for being interested in him?! “I don’t want Adrien because I—!”

She froze, her eyes snapping to Nino’s. He was staring, intently, hanging onto her every word. As if, more than anything, he wanted— no, needed to know what she was about to say.

But could she bring herself to say it?

She didn’t want to relive the nightmare, the image of Nino’s face twisted with rage and hatred burned into her eyes— blinding her, like she had stared at the sun for too long. The memory of his screaming was just as fresh as the day it happened, as it was every day she recalled it. It would hurt to go through it all again, for real, and to relive one of her lowest moments as a nightmare reborn— resurrected from the deepest parts of her mind where she tried to trample it and sweep it under the proverbial rug of her memory.

But what hurt worse than knowing and wishing she didn’t, was not knowing at all.

“Because I love Nino,” Alya announced. Not “like”. Love.

Soft gasps traveled through the crowd. Something broke in Nino’s beautiful golden-brown eyes. It was as if Alya’s words were everything he wanted, yet was too afraid to hear. He blinked and wiped away tears with his arms while the others gawked silently.

When he opened them again, there was nothing but steel resolve.

“I could never love someone who defends people like him,” he spat, as if referring to Adrien (even if not by name) was bitter to his tongue.

And there Alya was, once again, standing before Nino in the courtyard, asking him to the movies, and getting rejected in the harshest of ways before coming to realize that the boy would never love her.

Now she knew for sure.

She wished she didn’t.

Her heart shriveled up in her chest, like a creature on its deathbed begging for love to keep it alive, only to die when it discovered that that love would never come.

Despite her tears, Alya felt a new resolve of her own, born by betrayal.

“Adrien doesn’t deserve this,” she stated firmly.

“What happened to you thinking he was like every other rich kid?” Nino countered.

“I realized I was wrong, and I’m perfectly fine admitting that!”

“Let me guess, your heart grew three sizes bigger, too?”

“Damnit, Nino!” Alya unexpectedly shrieked as more tears sprang to her eyes. Everyone, including Nino, flinched. “How dare you stand there and make fun of me, without even knowing what I’ve had to deal with? Yes, I did all those investigations for the rich kids at my private school! Yes, I was miserable spending months collecting every horrible secret in the school, and I lumped Adrien in with their ranks! But you know what my old classmates realized? That I knew too much. And suddenly, these people who I thought were my regular old classmates, turned on me! First, they pretended to be my friends and invite me to a huge sleepover. Then, the next thing I knew, I wake up covered in snakes, and spiders, and scorpions!”

Alya was crying a steady stream of tears and her voice tightened with emotion, but she didn’t care.

“I remember all the stings and bites! I remember their evil laughs, all because they wanted to scare me into keeping quiet.” The sadness was now replaced with seething anger. “Do you know what I did?”

She was met by silence, but she wasn’t expecting an answer.

“I revealed everything to all of them. All the blackmail people had against their “friends,” all the dirty secrets people used to keep their boyfriends and girlfriends from leaving them, all things they told each other in confidence, with a promise not to tell a soul. I ruined a lot of relationships, but I don’t regret a thing. They were furious, though. They took it to the principal, threw some money around, and well…”

She laughed humorlessly.

“I didn’t transfer to this school willingly. I was expelled. And I’m not afraid of it happening again. If any of you try to treat Adrien the way that those assholes treated me, I’ll get revenge somehow. Then I’ll face another expulsion with my head held high.”

“We aren’t scared of you!” Ivan yelled.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” Alya bit back as she dried her tears. “Just be smart. Look, I’m going to talk to Adrien in the morning and none of you are going to say a word to him. I’ll be the judge of whether he has a crush on Marinette, and I’ll report back. Got it?”

“How do we know you won’t just lie and say he doesn’t?” Max pointed out.

“I want to get to the bottom of this too, trust me,” Alya promised. “I’ll be fair.”

She didn’t want to hear any more. She turned on her heel and began walking away, her back resolutely facing Nino. She didn’t so much as give him a glance, not because she didn’t want to see his reaction, but because she didn’t want him to see hers.

She grimaced at the tightening of her heart. Nino didn’t love her. She thought she was so close, but she was wrong. Their hangout at the arcade was so close to a date, but it fell short just the same.

“Hey!” Nino called out, his voice cracking with some unknown emotion, and she paused. “When you see Adrien, tell him to move seats to the back of the class!”

A chorus of agreements rose from the other classmates. Alya nodded, but didn’t respond.

More tears spilled out of her eyes as she climbed the stairs out of the bank of the Seine, heading toward her apartment. The more distance she put between herself and Nino, the more it felt like walking away.

Like giving up.

She didn’t know what it would take to get over him, but she had to.

It didn’t make it hurt any less. She still felt like she was being sawed in half, leaving behind the boy she thought she would always love. Maybe, in a way, she would always love him. She wanted him to be happy, to succeed in life. But she wouldn’t stand by and let him trash Adrien.

There was a fine line between loving Nino, and protecting herself and the people she cared about.

For as long as he was a part of her life, she’d have to walk that line very carefully.

Chapter Text

The night sky was riddled with brilliant white stars. The Eiffel Tower stood tall and doused in yellow light, like a pillar of gold. The Seine shimmered with moonlight and lamplight like a river of glitter.

The image of peace.

Alya sat on the steps of the Trocadéro, taking in the breathtaking view of Paris at night. She wasn’t sure how she got there, but she wasn’t worried. Something about the calm breeze and ever-flowing river made her feel safe, like something or someone would always be watching over her— a feeling she never remembered having had until this moment.

She spotted a flicker of movement in the distance. A humanoid figure leapt from one of the rungs of the Eiffel Tower. Alya felt a jolt of fear, since no regular human would survive a fall from that height— but the fear quickly faded. Something told her that the figure was no regular human.

As if to prove her right, the figure tossed something that must have been a string or rope of some kind, judging by the way they swung quickly over the length of the Seine. Alya watched in awe as the figure approached close enough to make out more details. A feminine figure, a red suit, black spots, dark hair. As soon as the figure noticed Alya watching, she redirected her swing and landed gracefully on the steps.

“I was just looking for you,” she said oddly casually for someone who just fell approximately 200 meters, and dropped to sit down.

Alya tried to turn and speak, but found that her head wouldn’t move. The other girl’s voice was achingly familiar, and Alya desperately wanted to see her face, but couldn’t. She’d have to settle for the vague details gotten from having watched her at a distance. “For… me?” Alya asked.

“Yes. I heard what happened with you and Nino, and I’m sorry.”

Alya felt a jolt of surprise and mounting suspicion. This girl couldn’t possibly know those things, unless maybe Nino himself told her. Although, if he was friends with a red, flying superhuman, Alya would think she’d know about it. “He made his choice, and I made mine,” she replied simply. “How do you know all of this stuff, anyway?”

“With any luck,” the girl sighed, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Are you…” Alya began hesitantly. “Are you a superhero? No normal person could pull that stunt you just did, jumping from the Eiffel Tower.”

She giggled and said, coyly, “Why, yes I am. Were you impressed? Maybe enough to start a blog about me?”

“I would if you were real.” That’s when it struck Alya— that this was a dream, that none of it held any real meaning. Yet, that didn’t feel entirely accurate. Against Alya’s every instinct, the dream felt like it contained a nugget of truth. Like it was calling out to her, begging her to see more than what was obscured by the fog of her subconscious.

The girl fell into what seemed like a sad silence. After not too long, she rose and started walking away. Alya wanted to call out to her, to ask more questions or maybe to apologize (for what, she wasn’t exactly sure), yet no words fell on her lips. Almost immediately, the footsteps stopped.

“Can you promise me one thing?” The girl asked.

Alya wasn’t sure why she should make a promise to a complete stranger, from a dream no less, but she felt compelled to say yes all the same. “Sure. What?”

“Take care of Adrien for me.”

Alya was confident at this point that she had no idea what was going on. Not only did this girl know about Nino, but she was on first-name basis with Adrien, which seemed impossible… until Alya remembered she was dreaming. Whether she said yes or no wouldn’t really matter. Although, she wasn’t the kind of person to make empty promises, even if it was born from a scene played by dust and silhouettes.

“I will,” Alya assured.

A noise similar to a zipper reached her ears. Then, the girl was swinging away like a red streak in the night sky.

Alya had never experienced a dream quite as bizarre as that one. As it was, her sleep schedule was so horrid that it was a miracle if she remembered having dreamt at all. But this one… she remembered it in full detail. It was a level of clarity unheard of for her, and that worried her. She was never the superstitious type, but that dream might be the exception. To put her fears aside, she busied herself with the original focus of her Saturday:

Finding Adrien.

That was going to be difficult, considering she had no idea where he would be at this time of the morning. She was beginning to regret never getting his number, and it was likely that nobody else had it either. It was starting to look like she would have to use her old-fashioned detective skills.

Since Alya ran in absolutely none of the same social circles as Adrien, the first place she thought to check was the school. Except, it was Saturday, so he wouldn’t be there for class. If she remembered correctly, fencing was the only extracurricular activity that he took at François-Dupont, and they wouldn’t have another practice session immediately after the one last night. Maybe she could check his house, but that was assuming he was home, and a boy with a busy schedule like him wouldn’t be wasting a Saturday morning in bed. Not to mention that place probably had tight security, and she’d never even get a glimpse past the front door.

…Not that she was planning on sneaking in or anything.

Just when she was about to give up and wait until Monday to get ahold of him, it dawned on her.

The bakery.

As far as she knew, he’d only been there twice. Once, during Thursday lunchtime when he ended up giving her a macaron. Second, during Friday lunchtime after the school field trip.

Alya wasn’t a betting woman, but evolution had gifted her with a pattern-seeking brain for a reason. She might as well go over there and check now— if Adrien was a regular at that place, the owners might know where she could find him. If not, she’d just scope out some other leads and check back at around noon.

It had been a while since Alya had hunted down someone’s whereabouts, and she was going to enjoy the chase.

She found herself standing before the entrance to the bakery, falling back on bad habits as she chewed her nails. Despite taking the extra time to walk rather than taking a bus, she still couldn’t fathom a single way to approach a conversation with the shop’s owner. There was always the blunt option, and ask for Adrien’s whereabouts directly, but she risked looking like crazed fan trying to stalk him. Or worse, a lunatic ex-girlfriend.

Alya had hoped to go into this with some kind of plan, but it seemed the extent of that plan had turned into her shuffling her feet in front of the doorway. She might as well wing it— perhaps this case would need a little luck after all.

Sucking in a deep breath to settle her nerves, she pushed through the door.

The first thing she noticed was the absolutely heavenly smell. It was sweet and buttery, wafting toward her as soon as she cracked open the door. Compared to the slight chill of the autumn air, the bakery was soothingly warm, likely because of the massive oven at the back of the shop. After gazing at an array of perfectly baked loaves and pastries glimmering in the warm light, Alya’s eyes fell on a couple behind the counter— likely the shop owners, if she had to guess. The man was a tall and burly Frenchman, while the woman was much shorter and appeared to be of Asian descent. Standing on the opposite side of the counter were two customers, one of which Alya shockingly recognized.

It was Nadja Chamack, the star reporter for TVi news. It seemed a lot of big shots frequented this bakery, not just Adrien. A little girl, presumably Mme. Chamack’s daughter, was reaching over the counter to scoop up a paper bag.

“There you go, dear,” the short woman smiled as she nudged the bag closer to the girl’s eager hands. “Strawberry macarons, your favorite.”

“What do you say, Manon?” Nadja prompted.

The girl, Manon, let out a cheery “Thank you!” before digging into her pocket and pulling out what appeared to be three bracelets. “These are for all three of you!”

Nadja let out a half-sigh as she hurriedly explained, “I’m sorry, she just insisted on bringing them…”

“Of course!” Manon said haughtily. “Everyone needs good luck, even Marinette!”

A vicious thorn pierced Alya’s heart as the understanding fell upon her. These were undoubtedly Marinette’s parents, and this “Manon” had brought a gift for their lost child. It was one of those half-sweet half-awkward things kids did when they did not truly understand concepts like death.

“I’m so sorry, Sabine, I—” Nadja began to apologize.

“It’s quite alright,” the man interjected as he gratefully accepted the gifts. “I’m glad she brings them, and I’m sure Marinette would love them very much.”

It was then that an eager Manon tugged away her mother, who tried to slip in another apology as she left with a goodbye.

Alya stood, almost dumbstruck at the realization that this was how Adrien had managed to separate Her and Marinette, as the one from school and the one from the bakery.

“Oh, Tom,” the woman Sabine gasped and pointed out. “We have a customer. Sorry, those were family friends of ours. How can we help you?”

Alya shuffled toward the counter as she blurted out, “You are Marinette’s parents.”

The couple froze.

“Well, dear,” Tom chortled, “it seems that we’ve got another one.”

“Ah,” Sabine smiled understandingly. “You must be another one of Adrien’s classmates, then.”

“Uh, yeah,” Alya chuckled awkwardly. “I’m his friend, Alya. I came to see if he was here, actually.”

“You’d want to come back at lunchtime, then,” Sabine advised. “Macarons don’t make for a good meal, but we gladly bake all the sweets he wants. Tom thinks he doesn’t get much at home, being a model and all.”

“That’s it!” Tom cried with a snap of his fingers. “He’s at a photoshoot in the Place des Vosges right now. I saw it in the interview with M. Agreste yesterday! It’s for his new line, themed around the concept of “rebirth,” which is probably very difficult to convey through fashion, but if anyone could do it…”

Sabine leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper while Tom rambled on. “Don’t mind him. He’s taken a recent interest in fashion.”

“…and they needed a lot of sunrise shots, but the sun’s already up, so they’re probably wrapping up right now,” Tom noted.

“What?!” Alya yelped. She scrambled back toward the door, calling out, “Thank you both very much!”

“Anytime, dear,” Sabine called back.

Alya burst out of the bakery and into the chilly air, scanning the streets for Adrien’s silver car. A twinge of relief hit her when she spotted it parked by the curb. She turned toward the park and gladly saw Adrien, still on set and—

Was he staring at her?

That wasn’t important. She started jogging toward him (after checking if the street was clear, of course) and waved her arms to ensure that she had his attention. Almost hesitantly, he waved back.

Alya, of course, had a plan on exactly what she would say to Adrien, but it hadn’t occurred to her until now how difficult it would be to actually say those things right to his face.

How would she explain to him that all of his classmates (except for her, of course) hated his guts, not just the members of Kitty Section?

“Hey, Adrien,” she began once she was in earshot. Once she was close enough, she stopped and stalled with a heavy breath. “I figured I could find you around here. We really need to talk.”

The way the boy immediately tensed already made her feel guilty. “What about?” Adrien asked carefully.

She winced. There was no sugarcoating this. “About what happened yesterday at Juleka’s place.”

Chapter Text

Alya had never before seen someone’s whole demeanor crumple so quickly, like an empty soda can being crushed under a speeding car’s tire. “You heard?” Adrien said, almost a whine. His face showed exhaustion and despair, but his voice only betrayed resignation.

With Adrien looking so much like a kicked dog, it would only make Alya’s job that much harder. This conversation would be full of half-truths, since she couldn’t reveal that she was investigating whether his interest in Marinette is romantically related. She didn’t believe that in the slightest, but she knew she still had to check anyway, and that made her feel like she was betraying his trust somehow. She couldn’t even look at him, opting to kick at the crumbling dirt path beneath her feet.

“Actually, almost everyone in our class knows. I was just given the bare bones of it,” Alya confessed, trying not to notice the way he stiffened. “That’s the only reason I found out. They wanted me to find you before Monday. Nino, uh… requested that you move seats to the back row.”

 When Adrien didn’t respond immediately, Alya glanced up at him, horrified to see his eyes full of tears and shattered hopes. Badly, she wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t yet— when someone gets backed into a corner, that’s when their true self shows. Alya had seen it dozens of times, a common tactic among those with a guilty conscience: Deny. She hadn’t even mentioned the accusation of his feelings for Marinette, but if he truly did have feelings for her, this is where he would bring it up out of nowhere just to vehemently deny it. His eyes were heavy, but not with guilt. Just regret. It was all dependent on what he said next, and when he finally spoke…

“Thanks for letting me know that I’ve become a social outcast,” he snapped.

Sure, that was one of the best responses he could have chosen (not a guilty bone in his body, it seemed), but that didn’t mean he had to make it so rude.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” Alya fired back, thrusting her finger toward his chest indignantly. “I was going to offer to sit with you!”

There it was. Guilt. Written on his face, plain to see, where there was none before. “Wait, what?” Adrien said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry, Alya, I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you. But why would you offer to sit with me after knowing what I’ve done?”

Her own anger lessened. “Adrien, I had to beg them to let me be the one to tell you, otherwise half the class would have shown up at your house to scream at you. And…” She touched his arm, urging him to see that she was being sincere. “I offered to sit with you because you don’t deserve that. I think what you did was actually very sweet.”

“You what?!” Adrien gasped with such shock that it would have been comical, if not for how sad it was. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that there were people who believed that he wasn’t being a terrible person.

“You were just trying to help,” Alya chuckled from relief, then remembered how Sabine promised to bake as much as he wanted, and how Tom was rambling about Adrien’s talent and character. “I just finished talking to Marinette’s parents. Once I told them I was in your class, I couldn’t get them to stop talking about you.”

The way Adrien lit up, it was like watering a wilting plant and watching it thrive in real time. “Thanks, Alya. It’s good to know that I have people in my corner.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Don’t hold it against the others, though. They’re mourning, it makes sense that they would be on edge about her.” As much as she disliked the way they treated her and Adrien, she wanted to take the high road… and she also didn’t have the energy to plan an elaborate revenge.

“I know, I wasn’t going to,” Adrien assured. “Hey, I know we didn’t really click before, but we never had the chance to hang out together outside of school. I have the rest of the morning free, if you want to go do something?”

Alya’s eyes flew open, as she was not quite sure if there was meant to be an implication behind those words. “Oh,” she said nervously. “You mean like… a date?”

Please don’t mean a date.

“What?!” Adrien yelped, his eyes bugging out in a way that was honestly pretty funny. “N-no, not like that! As friends.”

“Oh, good,” Alya said with a very relieved chuckle. “You’re great and all, Sunshine, but not really my type. No offense.”

If Alya was given a million years to guess how Adrien would respond, she knew what she would guess first. Most likely, he’d flash a camera-ready smile and ensure that there were no hard feelings, displaying a divine level of patience that’d drive most saints into retirement.

But after a million years— hell, even a billion years, she never would have guessed that Adrien’s response was to let a mischievous, dare-she-say shit-eating grin stretch across his face. And yet, as soon as she saw it, as soon as her brain registered the anomaly that she was witnessing, it all made sense. Of course that was how he’d react.

“None taken,” Adrien said with feigned innocence. “Not everyone can handle dating someone rich, famous, and beautiful.”

Alya scoffed in disbelief (mostly to conceal laughter, but she’d never admit that) and Adrien’s resulting chuckle somehow made his smirk grow impossibly wider. Even without saying a word, Alya still felt like she was encouraging him. He gestured for her to follow him, as a silent question on whether she would agree to spending the morning with him. She followed as he led her across the park.

“That kind of thing isn’t really an option for me, anyway,” Adrien added, almost absentmindedly as he wrapped up a text message presumably to some caretaker.

That had to be some kind of joke. “Really?” Alya grinned with an incredulously raised eyebrow. “You’re trying to tell me that you, Monsieur Model, don’t have any girls fawning over you?” For Alya, a certain blonde nuisance came to mind.

Adrien, believe it or not, rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’ve got a fan club somewhere in Paris, but that’s not what I meant. I just…” He paused, temporarily lost in thought. “Don’t want to date anyone,” he finished with just a shrug.

That was… not the response she was expecting. It was so serious, but highly respectable. From Alya’s experience, heavily sheltered rich boys like Adrien would turn into raging himbos the moment they were given an inch of freedom, but evidently not in this case.

“That’s fair,” Alya nodded as Adrien continued to lead her down streets that were quickly becoming unfamiliar. “Also, um, not that I’m doubting you or anything, but I hope you know where we’re going, because I don’t.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Adrien immediately apologized, looking amusingly sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re almost there. It’s a record store. My mom already has a huge collection, but none of it is rock music.”

“Rock music?” Alya echoed with no small amount of surprise. She never took him as the type to be interested in that genre. “For Kitty Section, I assume, unless the golden boy is going through a rebellious phase? Gonna be a bad boy now?” As soon as she finished speaking, she realized there was no chance Adrien would be a part of Kitty Section again. Worried she had soured his mood, she turned to face him, only to see him grinning… again.

“No, but I bet I could pull off the black leather anyway,” Adrien joked, popping up the collar of his white overshirt and leaning against a nearby lamppost, a pose only previously seen in cheesy teen romances.

Alya was shocked. Stunned. Flabbergasted. Whatever word works, but she couldn’t believe her eyes. He was being so dramatic, so corny, in a way that felt so un-Adrien that it was almost as if he put on a different mask.

And then it all made sense. This was just a different side of him— one he couldn’t reveal to just anyone. Adrien wasn’t just a perfect golden child. He was a damn goofball. It finally clicked, and it was just so funny to her. It was funny that it took this long for her to know this side of him. She could easily picture Adrien is some ridiculous black leather getup… but she wouldn’t exactly consider him to be “pulling it off.”

Alya burst out laughing, clutching her sides and leaning against a nearby wall to stop herself from collapsing. There was no way in hell Adrien could pull of wearing black leather. He’d have to be an entirely different person for that! “I’ll believe it when I see it, Sunshine!”

As she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, Adrien gave another face-splitting grin and continued leading the way, his hands in his pockets as he continued to play the role of bad boy.

They walked another couple blocks before arriving at the record store. The windows were covered with blinds and blackout curtains, which originally made Alya unsure about the validity of this place. That is, until they stepped in, and it was like getting slapped in the face by a bass guitar. There were rows and rows crammed with records labeled with genres ranging from metal to punk, not just rock. Somewhere, an overhead speaker was playing some English metal song that, even if she spoke the language, she likely wouldn’t be able to make out the words. Half of everyone in the store, including the lone cashier at the checkout desk, was dressed like they should be in some sort of rock band. They were scattered across the relatively small store, scanning the many shelves and shelves of graphic tees, action figures, even movies featuring different bands and artists. It was like a paradise for those who love anything rock-related. Despite herself being a fan of Jagged Stone, even Alya was feeling like an outsider.

“I don’t think either of us belongs in a place like this,” she breathed, in awe of the sheer amount of black leather, torn jeans, and silver spikes.

“No kidding,” Adrien chuckled. “The only reason I’ve heard of this place is because Luka texted me about it on the night he offered me the audition.”

Ah, right, Luka. This did seem like that boy’s kind of environment— it looked like he and several other customers shopped at the same clothing store.

The strolled through some of the aisles, Alya mostly taking everything in as she followed Adrien while he appeared to be searching for something specific. He suddenly stopped, lifting a record off the rack that Alya instantly recognized.

“Jagged stone?” She asked, shocked. “Are you telling me you’ve never heard this guy’s music?”

The sheltered boy shook his head. “I’ve heard about him, but I’ve never had a reason to listen to his music. I’m not picky when it comes to what I listen to. I usually just borrow whatever new record my mom buys every other week.”

“Jagged even stayed at the mayor’s hotel!” Alya protested. “You didn’t, like… Hear him playing through the walls while hanging out with Chloé?”

“He didn’t stay for long, remember?” Adrien pointed out. “He moved back to America after his concert was a bust and then blamed his sunglasses.”

Alya conceded that point, but nonetheless added, “They were pretty lame sunglasses, to be fair.” She promptly began looking through the aisle, plucking some of her personal choices for Jagged’s best albums of all time. “These are some of my favorites. Start with ‘My Guitar is My Only Family.’ It’s probably, like… 15 years old, but it’s still pretty good.”

She began dumping a few into his hands, which he scrambled to get a firm grip onto as he caught them. “‘You Are the Donut of My Life?’ Seriously? I think I’m having second thoughts…”

“Hey, at least try it before you start passing judgement,” Alya grumbled.

“I’m not surprised that this is the kind of stuff you listen to,” Adrien grinned. “Rock music and coffee are the perfect ingredients for staying up all night working on your blogs, am I right?”

Her blogs?

Oh. Alya realized that it’s been forever since she last did any actual posting to her blog. It’s all just been researching superheroes in her free time, but she still found it to be damn interesting. “My what?” Oh, no, my blogs have been on hold for weeks. I’ve been knee deep in superhero ancient history. I got a burst of motivation a couple days ago and found tons of cool stuff! Did you know there were a bunch of animal themed heroes? Bugs, birds, cats, reptiles…”

“Bugs?” Adrien asked a little too curiously. “What kinds? And cats?”

“I don’t remember exactly,” Alya responded, trying to think. “I know they were mostly black cats, but the translations only ever mentioned a ‘beetle.’”

“A beetle,” Adrien thought out loud, “like a Ladybug.”

“Huh?” Alya said, surprised at where such a specific answer came from. “Yeah, it could have been a Ladybug, or some other beetle.”

“No, wait,” Adrien explained. “My mom had this book. It showed a bunch of heroes, like a Ladybug, a Black Cat… I think I saw a Peacock while she was flipping through the pages. All of them had different handwriting, like it was written by multiple authors of one group… or an organization of some sort. I saw another of the exact same Ladybug depicted on the tablet in an ancient Egypt section at the Louvre.”

“Your mom has a book about superheroes?!” This was a huge discovery, definitely blog worthy, and Alya was damn near jumping for joy.  All at once, the dam broke, and her thoughts ran wild as they occasionally slipped through her mouth. “And I hadn’t even realized that different heroes that shared the same animal likeness could be connected. Do you think they passed on their powers to each other?!”

Somewhere far away, she was vaguely aware that Adrien had said something to her, but she was already off to the races.

“This is insane! We’re close to a huge discovery! Where do you think the powers came from?! Ooh, I can’t wait to get home and—!”

“Excuse me?”

Alya stopped dead in her tracks as her blood ran cold. A voice, other than Adrien’s, had spoken to her, and it felt familiar, but she didn’t recognize it. The owner of the voice must not use it much, but she was sure it belonged to one of her classmates.

The same classmates that now started hating Adrien more than Alya ever did.

Chapter Text

“Excuse me,” said a voice belonging to any one of Alya’s classmates, “Could you be a little—?"

Alya’s heart leapt into her throat, waiting in bated breath for the person to recognize her and Adrien as the soon-to-be most hated students in all of François-Dupont. But when the owner of the voice finally spotted them, Alya realized she didn’t need to be worried.

It was just Mylène, the one classmate who hadn’t heard the news due to her phone detox.

“Oh, hi, Adrien. Hi, Alya. What are you two doing here?”

“Oh, Mylène,” Adrien said with a mix of relief and hesitation. It seemed he wasn’t aware that the timid girl was still oblivious to the drama surrounding him. “Sorry, Alya got a little excited.”

“We could ask you the same thing, actually,” Alya noted. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t the type to listen to metal.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Mylène conceded, blushing. “But… It’s not for me.”

Alya’s blood ran cold.

No. It couldn’t be.

Mylène had a crush on Ivan. Alya was forcibly brought back to the events of last night, where Ivan was screaming with every ounce of breath, screaming at her, shaking his tightly balled fists like it took all of his self-control to keep them from swinging. His hands were like boulders— if he ever took out his anger on someone rather than something… it wouldn’t be pretty.

How could someone as gentle and anti-violence as Mylène possibly see Ivan that way?!

“You have a crush on Ivan?” Alya gasped. “Isn’t he a little… violent?”

“It’s not his fault!” Mylène objected so vehemently that it left the other two equally shocked. “Kim’s done nothing but bully Ivan and Max ever since he stopped being able to compete with Alix after she changed schools. Have you seen Ivan when Kim isn’t around? He becomes so soft and sweet… like a giant teddy bear.”

Alya could admit that she hadn’t ever seen Ivan when he’s not getting bullied… well, other than one exception.

The houseboat. But Mylène didn’t know about that yet.

“I… didn’t know that,” Adrien admitted. “So, if you’re not here to get music for yourself, are you planning on getting him a gift?”

“Yes, the Zombie Skull Crushers put out a new album, but he doesn’t have enough money from his allowance to get it on record,” she explained as she continued her search through the records.

Alya’s phone buzzed, and she checked it while the other two kept looking.

Nino: talk to adrien yet?

Ugh, she couldn’t wait until this was all over so she could block his number.

Alya: yeah and youre all wrong about him. explain later

“So, I want to get it for him and… see if he’ll go out with me,” Mylène continued. “Do you think it will work?”

Adrien turned toward Alya, clearly deferring the judgement of romantic gestures to her, which was ridiculous. Did he not remember the last time she had attempted a romantic gesture? Not to mention that Alya didn’t want Mylène and Ivan to get together. Despite her citing bullying as a good reason for his violent behavior, no such bullying had occurred on the houseboat, and Ivan still reacted the same way.

But how was Alya meant to explain that without also explaining the rest of the events on the houseboat? She wasn’t going to throw Adrien under the bus. This time, she’d have to bite her tongue. And besides, Ivan had only ever shown violence for two types of people: bullies and Adrien. Since Mylène fit neither of those categories, there was probably nothing to worry about if they got together.

“I say go for it, girl,” Alya said with a cheesy thumbs-up and a too-tight smile. “He’s been into you for so long. It’s honestly about time you two got together. He’s totally gonna say yes.”

“I hope so,” Mylène squeaked with another blush.

Alya’s phone buzzed again, much to her annoyance.

Nino: explain now. the others dont want to wait.

She barely contained a sigh of frustration.

Alya: fine. meet at the park by my place asap

If she was going to have to do this now, she wouldn’t do it over text for his convenience. She didn’t even wait for a response— if he wanted to know that bad, those were her conditions. When she looked back up from her phone, Mylène was already booking it through the exit. A somewhat bewildered cashier stared at the cash she left on the counter.

“For having such short legs,” Alya muttered, admittedly impressed, “she can really move when she wants to.”

When Adrien simply nodded, still in awe, she spoke again.

“Well, I’ve gotta take off,” she said with a reluctant sigh. “Mom and Dad work today and Nora’s got a date, so I have to watch the twins. I’ll see you later?”

She hated the lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell Adrien that the ulterior motive for this hangout was to test him and report it back to Nino. Besides, her parents really were working, and Nora really did have a date, but the twins were on a playdate. It made her feel better, knowing she wasn’t completely lying to him.

But when Adrien’s smile grew a mile-wide, it only made her feel guilty. “Definitely.”

Alya was sitting on a picnic bench for fifteen minutes before she began regretting to meet outdoors. The sky was overcast and the clouds were starting to grow thick with rain. The lack of sunlight only made the air that much colder. After far too many more minutes passed, she spotted Nino walking toward her. He looked frustrated, but still held a calm composure and a steady pace. More closed-off than she’d ever seen him. On one hand, it broke her heart a little to see him like that. On the other, he broke her heart a lot.

Who could blame her for holding a little grudge?

“You kept me waiting, huh?” She bitterly recited the same words he had said to her when they met at the arcade two days ago.

Nino sighed and sat down across from her. The last time they sat across from each other was yesterday during school lunch— nearly exactly 24 hours ago, yet it seemed like an eternity. Back then, they were laughing and talking like friends, not staring daggers at each other. Things were so different now, it made her want to cry. Or scream. Maybe both.

“I would’ve been here sooner,” Nino retorted, “but deciding to meet in-person was kinda short notice. And would it have killed you to pick somewhere closer to me?”

Alya would never admit to a single soul that she picked this location just to make him walk farther in the cold. However, unlike her, he dressed appropriately for the weather, so it didn’t satisfy her pettiness as much as she would have liked. “Do you want me to tell you the truth about Adrien or not?”

“No, I’m here to enjoy the weather, dude,” Nino fired back sarcastically.

“I don’t blame you, dude,” Alya hissed, “meeting at the park on a beautiful day like this could almost be a date.”

“Not even in your wildest dreams.”

“Actually, being seen in public with you would be a nightmare.”

“Really? Is that why you got me movie tickets? Silly me, I figured it was the exact opposite, dude.”

“You know, I went and saw that movie without you, and I loved it,” Alya remarked. “They even let me refund the other ticket. It was worth every cent— too bad you missed it.”

“Can we just get this over with?!” Nino groaned. “I don’t want to sit here and be called the bad guy just because I rejected you.”

Alya was unbelievably offended until his words sank in more, and she found herself stumbling over her words. Was that how she was acting? Throwing a fit because her crush didn’t like her back?

No, that would be a drastic oversimplification. When Nino broke her heart, it wasn’t just the usual cracks of disappointment. When Nino and the others put those false allegations on Adrien, they stabbed her through the back, and Nino’s words cut deep into her heart. Then he twisted the knife, just to see her bleed. She wouldn’t let him trick her into believing that he was the victim.

 Alya sighed. “Whatever, I want this over with, too. No need to apologize when I prove you wrong— I don’t think you’d give one even if I asked.”

Nino brazenly nodded his head.

“I’m not surprised,” Alya began with another sigh. “Look, I spoke to Adrien this morning first thing after his photoshoot. I told him that all of his classmates were now in-the-know, and he was rightfully devastated to find out that you all hate his guts… But he wasn’t the slightest bit guilty.”

“‘Not guilty?’” Nino said with a raised eyebrow. “This isn’t a courtroom, Alya. Did he say he had feelings for Marinette or not?”

Alya opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted when her phone rang. A video call from Nora? Not interested in answering right now, she immediately declined.

“I didn’t ask him that, and you don’t need him to answer it,” Alya continued to object. “He knows that it’s wrong to have feelings for her, and if he did, he would show some guilt.”

“That’s not solid evidence,” Nino scoffed. “It might just mean he has no shame!”

“It’s more—!”

Alya was interrupted from another video call request. Another immediate decline, and she continued.

“It’s more than enough evidence!”

“He’s not exactly working himself to the bone trying to clear his name, probably because he knows it’s true!”

“He knows they are allegations, and nothing more. He has no reason to worry about a few haters tossing around bad rumors. He used to be a pretty big celebrity, this isn’t new territory—!”

Alya’s phone rang a third time. She let out a growl of frustration, her finger about to press the decline button again.

“Why don’t you take it already?” Nino rolled his eyes. “I’ll wait. Actually, I think I’ve heard enough, anyway.”

He got up to walk away as she fired the meanest look into the back of his skull. Sighing, she answered the video call as her screen soon lit up with—

“Adrien?!” Alya exclaimed.

Nino stopped dead in his tracks, rushing back over to peek at her phone. She was too baffled to care, because it wasn’t just Adrien, it was Adrien and Lila?!

“Hey, sis, check it out!” Nora chuckled softly. “That rich guy you hate just showed up at the same place as my date! Want me to scare him a little?”

“No, please don’t,” Alya pleaded as she took in the scene before her.

They were in what appeared to be a nice café. Nora was a decent distance away perpendicularly, her phone angled low to remain inconspicuous. It was easy to read their body language, but facial expressions not so much.

“Is he on a date?!” Nino gasped.

“Ooh, is that Cappy?” Nora teased. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything!”

“Trust me, it's not what you think,” Alya grumbled. Through the video feed, she could just barely make out a white box with an instantly recognizable style and shape. It was from the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery, and Adrien was… offering Lila a macaron?

He of all people should know that that girl was nothing but an attention-seeking liar. After she had slipped up on one lie in front of Adrien, it was easy to poke holes in the rest of her story. Then she scuttered off with her tail between her legs, later making the ridiculous claim that she was in the Kingdom of Achu. Yet here he was, on a date with her.

“Wait,” Alya smirked. “He’s seeing Lila! Why would he crush on Marinette, if he already has someone?”

Nino didn’t respond, but she could see he was slowly coming around. Somewhere in the background of the video feed, a voice that wasn’t Nora’s said, “I guess this means our date is over.” The sound of a chair screeching against the floor could be heard, but Nora didn’t even acknowledge it.

 All of a sudden, Adrien’s fists tightened and he sat up rim-rod straight, like a cobra about to strike.

Alya felt a shiver go down her spine, creeping forward like a bad omen.

Thankfully, a waitress cut in to take their orders, and Adrien composed himself.

“Trouble in paradise…” Nora mumbled.

“Maybe that creep is just jumping between girls,” Nino added harshly.

“Couples tend to fight,” Alya reasoned. “That doesn’t mean he’s moved on to someone else.”

Even more shockingly, Lila’s demeanor shifted, like the drop of a mask, to something stiff and sinister. Some things were said back and forth, but they were too far away to be heard. Lila shifted again, somehow more threatening than before, and now it seemed like Adrien was on the backfoot.

There was a short pause. Adrien said something.

Then everything Alya had ever done to defend him went sailing out the window.

Lila let out wails of grief so loud that everyone in the restaurant could hear. She wiped tears from her eyes, her whole body wracking with sobs that Alya truly couldn’t tell if they were real or fake.

“How could you say that to me, Adrien Agreste?!” Lila screamed, picked up by the phone mic perfectly. “What did I do wrong to make you want her over me?! Who even is this ‘Marinette’ girl anyway?!”

The following silence was the loudest one Alya had ever known. She sensed Nino stiffen beside her, and she felt the waves of anger even as he didn’t say a word. Everyone in the restaurant, even Nora, was speechless.

Lila fled the scene with her face in her hands, and Adrien soon scrambled out as well.

He left the box of macarons on the table— crucial evidence leading to Marinette.

It was over. No doubt, everyone in that café believed that Adrien had dumped his girlfriend for someone named “Marinette,” and Alya knew it wouldn’t take long now before she was identified. Once someone figured it out, the news would know, and then everyone in Paris would believe that Adrien Agreste had feelings for someone who had already passed away— without ever meeting her in the first place.

Nino slammed him fist onto the picnic table, causing Alya to jump.

“I knew it!” He seethed, his voice quiet but deadly. “You were covering for him! Where’s my apology, huh?!”

Alya couldn’t believe it. She was so sure. She spent all this time trying to understand him better, and now she was expected to believe that she missed her mark entirely?

No. She was a good judge of character, and Adrien’s was damn near as innocent as they come.

Lila, however…

“She’s a liar!” Alya objected, springing up from her seat to face Nino. “You know that! Everyone knows that!”

“Yeah, she said a few little white lies,” Nino countered, rage boiling in his voice, “but this isn’t something you easily lie about, dude! What does she have against him, anyway? She has no reason to slander him, so it must be the truth!”

“There has to be an explanation!”

“How long are you gonna keep being delusional?!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you the one throwing around false accusations now?”

“Because I’m not delusional enough to hold onto a pathetic romantic fantasy with someone I could never have!” Alya ended her sentence with a violent scream that tore her throat on its way out.

Her own words finally sunk in. She was flooded with shame. She didn’t mean those words— she was just so angry. But he’d never believe her.

Nino’s eyes lit ablaze. He sucked in a huge breath, ready to spit hellfire that would burn her to ash.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the fire burnt out, replaced with welling tears that he didn’t even try to hide. He turned to leave, but paused on his first step. He slowly turned back to face her.

“A couple movie tickets would say otherwise,” he hissed, poison dripping from his tongue.

He finally stomped away, and his venom began spreading through Alya’s veins.

And all she could think of was one thing that bounced around in her skull like an echo in an empty cave. Like a mantra, she repeated it in her head over and over. Almost like a chant, or maybe, like a curse.

What do I do now?

Everything after that had become a blur. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed at that picnic table. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.

At some point, she must have made her way home, but she had no memory of the steps she took through the biting cold. She knew, at some point, the clouds had finally sicced their rain upon her, because she was dripping wet when she entered her apartment. There was still nobody else home, but only a small part of her brain acknowledged it. The rest was clouded by the droning patter of the rain on the walls.

Her body moved, despite her never telling it to. One moment, she was wet and cold, but soon after, she was wet and warm and covered in soap. Methodically, she showered and followed her bedtime routine, all while remaining a shallow husk. She wasn’t hungry, but she found herself sipping at hot soup that must have come from one of the cans they kept in the pantry. Every now and then, lightning would flash and thunder would crack, but she wouldn’t even blink. Eventually, whatever unknown entity that had been pulling her strings brought her to her bed. She laid there (for how long, she wasn’t sure) until the sweet relief of sleep washed her numbness away.

Chapter Text

Alya must have been lying on her bed, judging by the view she had of her bedroom ceiling. It seemed her usual bad sleeping habits were keeping her up again, despite how exhausted she was. She decided it would be best to get up, use the restroom, maybe make some tea, and try to fall asleep again. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be dead on her feet in the morning.

She didn’t get farther than sitting up before she noticed that she wasn’t alone in her bedroom.

“Alya!” The other person exclaimed. It was a girl, close to Alya’s age with dark hair tied in pigtails, sitting at Alya’s desk in the middle of the night. Apparently watching her sleep. For an indeterminate amount of time.

Alya, of course, screamed.

The other girl winced, throwing her hands up to her ears, and rushed to stand at Alya’s side. “No, Alya, stop, it’s okay! It’s me, Marinette!” The girl pleaded.

Alya’s voice died as she slowly took in what the girl, Marinette, had said. This was Her. Alya had only heard of the things she had done, of the lives she brought joy to. It was like seeing a legend come to life, only to see she was no more than an ordinary girl. Was she aware of the drama that surrounded her? Of Adrien’s alleged crush? Of others deciding what she would or would not have wanted?

“Alya, I need you to listen,” Marinette said with a startlingly calm voice that wavered with intensity. She glanced back at the window, noting that the sky beginning to lighten with sunlight from behind the horizon. “It’s almost morning, and I don’t have much time. You need to go to the bakery.”

“T-the bakery?” Alya echoed. “You mean your parents’ bakery? W-why?”

“Please,” Marinette begged. “I don’t have time to explain. He’ll be there. At the bakery. Promise me that you’ll go!”

“W-what? I-I don’t understand, who is he—?”

But the girl wasn’t listening. Her head was turned, as she stared off into the distance, visibly panicked but otherwise silent.

“I already know about the damn consequences!” Marinette suddenly growled to nobody in particular. “But I have to do something! If anyone could survive it, it would be her!”

“Marinette, you’re not making any—”

The girl whipped her head back to face Alya, causing her to jump slightly in surprise. “Please,” Marinette begged, tears now running down her cheeks. “Help me fix this. I love Adrien so much. I know you know it. You have to know. Please…”

Before Alya could even process what was happening, the black wave of sleep overtook her in an instant.

Alya must have been lying on her bed, judging by the view she had of her bedroom ceiling. But this time, sunlight was pouring in from the window, pale like the early morning sky. Her desk chair was blissfully, painfully empty.

Her phone buzzed from its position at the edge of her desk, charging. She doesn’t remember plugging it in last night. Alya sat up slightly to reach for it, but instantly regretted it as a headache attacked her like a pack of wolves. Wincing, she managed to nab her phone and lay back down, hoping to lessen the throbbing pain.

Before she could even unlock her phone, it buzzed again, then a third time. Each notification was an email from various newsletters she signed up for in the off chance one of them reported something interesting or, more often than not, terrifying.

These emails were all the latter.

Alya sat up in shock as her headache quickly faded to a dull throb. In bold, capital letters, each headline blurted one brazenly insensitive headline after another, and absolutely zero regard for privacy.

“Adrien Agreste Finally Has His Eyes on Someone— And It’s Not Who You’d Think”

“Paris’s Golden Child, Adrien Agreste, Falls in Love with a Ghost”

“Son of Gabriel Agreste Dumps Ex For Deceased Girl— You Read That Right”

Nearly all of the stories were the same. A waitress spotted and recorded Adrien having a lover’s spat with his girlfriend, who promptly declared he was dumping her for ‘Marinette,’ later identified as a former classmate of Adrien’s school. They all had the same twist, too: Adrien never even met Marinette before her passing.

“How dare they?!” Alya cried as she sprung up from her bed, staggering only slightly as her head throbbed. She furiously paced around her room as she scrolled through article after article, none of which have spoken to Lila for a comment, none of which bothered to consider Adrien’s privacy, and absolutely none of which cited any evidence to Lila’s claim in the video.

It was disgusting.

Even if Adrien did have feelings for Marinette, what gave them the right to shout it from the rooftops? And as for Marinette… what was it that she said? That she ‘loved Adrien?’

No, that was from a dream. A bizarre one at that. She knew that her dream wasn’t real, but it felt wrong to call it fiction. In fact, she had a hard time believing that Marinette wouldn’t say something like that if she ever got the chance to meet him. They were both endlessly kind and compassionate. They’d be happy. Who did these people think they were, taking it away from them?!

Wasn’t that all that mattered? If they clearly loved each other, then what was there to be angry about? What about it was worthy of a headline? Nothing but clicks and ads, probably. Those greedy news execs were such bastards.

It was simple. Marinette loved Adrien. Adrien loved Marinette. It should be left at that. That was just how it was.

Or, rather, that was how it used to be.

…

Alya froze. A feeling akin to shattering glass exploded in her head.

A tidal wave of agony crashed into her and burned on her skin like acid. Glass shards tore and spun inside her skull, each slash slicing through an invisible curtain in her mind. Behind each one was a memory that mercilessly unleashed a floodgate of grief and horror to swell into every inch of her skin.

She must have blacked out, since one second she was standing in the middle of her room, and the next she was staggering into her door with her full weight. Her shoulder screamed in pain, in tandem with her brain, and so did she. The crash against the door was heard throughout the apartment.

“What was that?!” Her mom’s voice yelped from somewhere on the other side. “Alya?!”

She groaned, fat tears leaking from her eyes as beautiful, horrible memories flashed in her vision. Marinette, crushing Alya in a video game. Marinette, gushing about Adrien. Marinette, giving all her spare time just to make her friends happy.

Marinette, who now laid dead in the dirt somewhere in Paris.

“Marinette’s dead,” Alya whispered shakily. The words didn’t feel right on her tongue. They didn’t make sense. “She’s dead.” At some point, she must have fallen over, since she was now lying on the floor.

Suddenly, she was feeling very nauseous.

Her bedroom door flung open, revealing her parents and siblings behind the door. The twins were already confused and crying.

“Alya, what’s wrong?!” Her father exclaimed.

She felt a lurch in her stomach, racking her whole body.

“Oh, goodness, she’s about to throw up!” Her mother cried.

Nora dove forward, lifting Alya up and holding back her hair as her mother ushered a trash can underneath.

She’s dead. Marinette’s dead. And it’s all Hawk Moth’s— no, Gabriel’s fault!

Alya hadn’t eaten anything that morning, nor the night before, and not even for lunch yesterday either. She dry heaved over and over, her muscles aching with every lurch.

I miss her. I miss her so much. What was Alya supposed to do, now that she was gone?!

Her head was spinning, but it all came to a halt when her father spoke:

“I’m calling an ambulance!” He declared.

Marinette needs my help.

“No!” Alya screeched, scrambling to her feet as the headache completely subsided. Her heart still pounded, and her limbs were weak, but her head had never felt clearer. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you kidding?!” Nora objected. “You put a dent in your door and almost puked in your trash can!”

“It was just a night terror,” Alya lied painfully.

“But you haven’t had any since you were little,” her father replied. “Shouldn’t we get you checked just to be safe?”

“No!” Alya cried as a wave of panic splashed her. She couldn’t waste hours in a hospital— she needed to save Marinette. She was hero, and potentially the only one that regained her memories. She was Rena Rouge, for crying out loud, and it seemed her only way out of this predicament was to do what she did best: illusions.

“I can’t, because…” Alya took a deep breath. “In my nightmare, I was in a hospital. I was wandering, but they wouldn’t let me leave. I found out they were doing horrible experiments. It was awful. Please don’t make me go to one right now.”

Her mother turned to her father and sighed. “If we force her to go, her night terrors might get worse. Let her rest, and if it happens again, we’ll look into other solutions.”

They helped Alya into bed (although she really didn’t need the help) and headed out to the pharmacy to find something to relieve her stress and help her sleep. Nora and the twins were asked to stay in the living room while Alya rested, and to get her anything she needed.

She laid there for a convincing ten minutes before springing into action. She stuffed some pillows under her bed and laid a blanket over them, a desperate attempt to convince anyone who entered that she was just sleeping. She grabbed a laundry basket and loaded it with clothes. She carried it as she stepped out of her room, consequently making Nora jump to her feet from her spot on the couch and the twins paused in their playing.

“Do you need me to take care of that?” Nora offered, already moving to grab it.

Alya pulled away, pasting a smile on her face. “Geez, Nora, it’s just laundry. I’m not made of glass.”

Reluctantly, her sister conceded to sit back down on the couch and the twins resumed playing. Alya made her way to the washing machine, which was in a small closet near the front door. She began loading laundry, but she was periodically picking out the clean clothes and shoes she stashed in there and putting them on.  By the time she was done loading her laundry, she was completely dressed.

“Hey, Nora,” Alya called out. “My stomach isn’t feeling good, I’ll be in the bathroom for a while.”

“No problem, little sis,” Nora called back.

Alya took that opportunity to quietly sneak out the front door. With any luck, Nora would assume it was the sound of her opening the bathroom door. Hopefully, if enough time passed, they would either forget Alya was in there, or assume she made her way back to her room without anyone noticing. As she hurried down the stairwell and onto the street, she headed toward the bakery while taking this opportunity to reflect.

So, Marinette was dead. That realization hurt like a bitch, and it took everything in her power not to burst into tears in public. But the more she thought about it, the more it confused her.

Hawk Moth must have made his wish. That’s what Trixx had said, anyway. From what Nathalie told her, the wish was to bring Adrien’s mother back to life, which he obviously succeeded in doing.

But why the hell did that mean Marinette had to die? Was that part of Gabriel’s wish? Sure, Marinette had tried to steal his son from him, but surely Gabriel would rather wish for the death of Ladybug and Chat Noir instead…

Alya was struck with a horrifying thought.

What if he had?

Perhaps part of his wish was to kill all three of them. It would be horrible, but not outside the realm of possibility. If that were the case, Alya needed to be careful. She might be the only hero left.

The cause of Marinette’s death was starting to seem strange, too. It was a slow, uncurable sickness. Where had she heard that before?

Oh. Adrien’s mother.

Maybe Gabriel couldn’t just wish for his wife to be cured. Maybe he had to pass the sickness onto someone else, and chose Marinette. But why her? Was the girl that fell in love with his son really a bigger threat than his nemeses?

If that were the case, then Ladybug and Chat Noir could still be alive somewhere in Paris. Would they even be in possession of their miraculous, if there was no such thing as Hawk Moth in this world? And if they did, how the hell was she expected to find them and ask for help? It wasn't like Ladybug and Chat Noir were walking the streets of Paris as citizens fighting crime and doing flashy poses…

Wait. Didn’t she see someone doing a flashy pose? It was one that was so Chat-esque that it couldn’t have been an imitation. Someone leaning against a lamppost, with that trademark grin, hilariously overconfident… Words echoed in her ears.

“No, but I bet I could pull off the black leather anyway!”

“Holy shit!” Alya gasped as she stopped dead on the sidewalk, earning some sidelong glances from other pedestrians.

Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

It made so much sense. How the hell didn’t she see it earlier?! Adrien was almost always missing during fights against Akumatized villains. Even when he was present, Chat Noir wouldn’t show up until after Adrien disappeared! She couldn’t wait to tell Marinette and Nino about her theory.

Tears flooded her eyes.

That’s right. She couldn’t.

She resumed her walk as another thought struck her. Chat Noir loved Ladybug, but Adrien loved Marinette. Even while Adrien and Marinette were secretly dating, Chat didn’t let up on his flirting with Ladybug. If Chat and Adrien were the same person, why would he flirt with Ladybug while dating Marinette?

If it turned out that damned idiot was cheating on her best friend, she would vow to find every way of skinning a cat.

Although, he didn’t seem like the type to cheat. The only way he could be innocent was if…

No.

Alya stopped, threw her face in her hands, and muttered to herself, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

All this time, Alya had been sharing a classroom with Paris’s beloved superheroes, who also didn’t know they were in the same class, and watched as the two ran circles around each other.

She wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or cry.

When everything was set back to normal, she’d tease the hell out of both of them.

Of course, she still had a mission to do. She could have a laughing fit from their ridiculousness later. As weird as it seemed, she was trusting her dream on what to do next. She needed to find out the “he” that Marinette was referring to.

Alya had no idea what to do next if this turned out to be a bust. She would likely have to find Adrien and try and get him to see the truth, but that would be near impossible with the controversy going around.

She desperately, desperately hoped there would be a way out of this.

She doubled her pace toward the bakery.

Chapter Text

Reporters. Dozens of them, scurrying about like roaches. It made Alya sick.

The horde of them could be seen and heard from blocks away. They were packed on the sidewalk outside the bakery like sardines in a can, far too eager to pester the grieving parents about their deceased daughter.

“If Adrien is in there,” Alya muttered, “I hope he managed to dodge the reporters.”

She also made a mental note to be a much more considerate journalist in the future.

Last night, she dreamt of Marinette, and her words still rang clear in Alya’s mind: He’ll be there. At the bakery. Promise me that you’ll go!

Damn, she felt ridiculous.

During the short walk from her home to the bakery, Alya felt increasingly burdened by Marinette’s death. It was terrifying in a way that words could not describe. Sure, it was sad too, but mostly terrifying. The only other experience Alya had with death was during attacks caused by Akumatized villains. She often watched citizens meet gruesome ends at the hands of the villains. Those were terrifying, too, but… Ladybug and Chat Noir (AKA Marinette and Adrien) were always there to save the day and bring everyone back to life.

This was not the same.

There would be no Ladybug. No Lucky Charm. No “Miraculous Ladybug!” to put everything back to how it was.

And yet, Alya’s situation was not hopeless. If she could find a way, no matter how improbable, to get the Miraculouses back…

She could wish everything back to normal.

Perhaps this wasn’t so different from another battle with an Akumatized villain.

Legally speaking, if a person was killed during an Akuma attack, they wouldn’t be pronounced dead unless Ladybug failed to beat the villain. Alya’s situation was much the same. Marinette couldn’t be pronounced dead, unless Alya failed to get the Miraculouses back.

As a result, Alya began to consider Marinette to be in a sort of limbo state. Physically dead and gone, but somehow still retrievable. It was that state of mind that allowed Alya to push aside her grief and focus on the task at hand.

Was this how Ladybug felt when battling villains? When she watched the ones she loved disappear in front of her own eyes, did she also feel this dreadfully calm? No wonder she was so serious all the time.

However, Alya had no idea how she’d go about winning this battle. She didn’t even have superpowers. The only lead she had was from a dream.

Hence, feeling ridiculous.

“How am I even supposed to get in?” Alya groaned.

“I was wondering the same thing,” a familiar voice said.

Alya slowly turned her head in shock, facing the blond-haired, green-eyed figure hiding in a nearby bush…

“Adrien?!” Alya gasped.

“Shhh!” Adrien commanded. He peeked from the bush, checked to see if anyone heard her outburst, then pulled her into the bush as well.

“What the hell are you doing out here?!” Alya scream-whispered. “Shouldn’t you be inside the— wait, that’s not important. I need to tell you something!”

Adrien raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but you gotta believe me. There’s something really important you need to remember about Marinette. She’s—!”

“My dead girlfriend. I remember.”

Alya blinked, and her heart ached with grief. “…You do?”

“Yes,” Adrien confirmed, a solemn look in his eyes. “It… It hurts. A lot. But I have a plan to fix everything, and it starts with getting inside that bakery.” After a slight pause, his face became a strange expression that Alya could not read. “How did you remember?”

Alya waved in dismissal. “We’ll have time for explanations later. But if you’ve got a plan, you can count me in.”

Alya thought she couldn’t feel any more ridiculous, yet there she was, standing on a smelly trash can and waving her hands like a lunatic.

Apparently, this was the only way to get the attention of Mr. Dupain. The trash can gave her just enough height to peek over the heads of the reporters, and Mr. Dupain’s hulk-ish stature meant he’d be able to spot Alya in a way that Mrs. Cheng could not.

But she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a less stinky way to get his attention.

After what felt like forever, Mr. Dupain’s eyes drifted toward Alya, and blew open wide when he recognized her. Almost imperceptibly, he twitched his head backward in a pointing gesture.

“He’s gonna unlock the side door for us,” Alya interpreted for Adrien.

“Good. Lead the way.”

Alya hopped down from the trash can, but she paused. Did Adrien not know where the side door was? He must’ve seen it when visiting Marinette at some point, right?

Whatever, Alya thought. That’s not important right now.

“Something wrong?” Adrien asked.

“No,” she replied. “Side door is that way. Stick close.”

As stealthily as two teenagers could be in broad daylight, they crept around the group of reporters on their way to the side door. Thankfully, they weren't spotted. Just as they reached it, Alya heard a click from the other side, and the door swung open to reveal Mr. Dupain’s shocked face.

“Adrien?!” he exclaimed. “Wh-what—?!”

“Mr. Dupain, I promise that whatever you read on the news isn’t true,” Adrien blurted. Alya wondered if that counted as a lie or not. “Please let us in, it’s important!”

The man steeled his face and nodded. “This way. Our home is upstairs.”

Alya pretended like she didn’t know exactly which unit it was, as she and Adrien followed Mr. Dupain to the top floor.

Nothing could have prepared her for how much of a punch in the gut it would feel like to be standing in the Dupain-Cheng’s home without Marinette. It was far too cold and quiet, like the warmth of a family home got frozen solid from grief.  Despite Alya only having known Marinette for a few months, she had so many memories here. She could almost see Marinette, like a ghostly memory, trying desperately to wrangle up Manon. Or passed out on the couch from a long night of gaming. Or tumbling down the stairs in her overeagerness to see Adrien.

And it was all gone. Taken from her, before she could even realize how tightly she wanted to hold onto it.

But she could get it all back. She didn’t know how, exactly, but she’d figure it out. She had to.

Alya didn’t know what she’d do with her life if she failed.

“Mr. Dupain—” Adrien began.

“What happened to calling me ‘Tom’?” the man said with a pained smile. “Son, I don’t believe a word the news is saying about you. They don’t know you like we do. You’ll always be welcome here, but… shouldn’t you be staying home?”

“I can’t, Tom,” Adrien objected. “I… I needed to leave.”

Tom placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why is that, son?”

Adrien’s voice grew thick with emotion. “My f-father… he…”

Something about his voice filled Alya with a cold dread.

He lifted his bangs to reveal a cut on his forehead, surrounded by a fist-sized bruise.

Alya’s heart sank to her feet.

“He was so angry,” Adrien choked. “I’ve never seen him like that. I had to leave.”

As far as Alya knew, the death penalty was abolished in France decades before she was born.

Surely, an exception could be made for Gabriel Agreste.

The rage in Mr. Dupain’s eyes was unmistakable. It was the kind that only a father felt when protecting someone as if they were his own. And yet, he pulled Adrien into a hug as gentle as ever. Alya joined, too, and they simply held Adrien for several moments until he pulled away.

“Sabine is already on the phone with the police,” Tom explained. “We’ll tell them everything after they chase those reporters away. Please make yourself at home while I close up the bakery.”

“Of course. Thank you, Tom,” Adrien smiled.

But something wasn’t right.

His eyes were dry.

Tom left without noticing, and almost as soon as the door clicked shut, Adrien headed up the stairs to Marinette’s room.

“Wait,” Alya said. “You shouldn’t go up there without permission.”

He paused, but didn’t turn around. “I just need to grab something.”

“Then ask when Mr. Dupain gets back.”

Without a response, Adrien continued up the stairs and into Marinette’s room.

Chapter Text

“Adrien, you lied to him.”

Alya stood guiltily near the entrance to Marinette’s room, watching as Adrien paused in rummaging around Marinette’s desk drawers and closet. Various clothes, art supplies, and trinkets scattered the floor like the place had been robbed. Alya wanted to stop him, but… he said it was part of the plan.

She didn’t fail to notice he had neglected to disclose the details of this ‘plan.’

She wondered why that was. Did he not trust her? Sure, Alya wasn’t as close to Adrien as he was to Marinette or Nino, but they could still easily hold a conversation if the other two weren’t present. Alya considered Adrien to be a trusted friend, and up until now, she figured he felt the same.

Before the wish made a mess of everything, Alya and Adrien had never hung out by themselves intentionally. Now, they were so much closer than before, especially after she found out he was a superhero, too. After having been stuck in this mess together, she had almost begun to see him as a brother.

“‘Lied?’ What makes you say that?” Adrien said over his shoulder as he continued ransacking the room.

“You didn’t shed a single tear.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you got me there. The injury is fake, too. Having makeup artists on-call really has its perks.” Finally, he found what he was looking for and held it in the palm of his hand. Alya immediately recognized it.

“That’s the lucky charm Marinette gave you,” she recalled. “You wore it in the social media post you made right before Hawk Moth made his wish.”

“That’s right,” Adrien confirmed as he headed for the stairs.

She snatched his wrist. “Hold on. How is this part of your plan?”

He looked at her for a moment before answering with a simple, “You’ll see.”

“No, you’re going to explain it,” Alya demanded. “I’m not gonna keep following you around, doing risky crap like this, and telling lies to the people I trust.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Adrien snapped. “Tom could be back any minute!”

She was taken aback by the harsh tone of his voice. What had gotten into him? She expected that dealing with Marinette’s death had taken a toll on him, but he was acting like a whole different person.

…

No, Alya thought. It couldn’t be.

“Adrien,” she began, her voice dangerously level, “what’s my name?”

He blinked. “What kind of question is that?”

“An easy one. Go on, what is it?”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Not to me.”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“And you’re not Adrien!”

His eyes blew open, confirming everything Alya needed to know.

She lunged at him.

They both cried out as they began tumbling down the stairs in a flail of fists and legs. Not-Adrien took the brunt of the fall, but Alya still suffered some hits to her knee and arm that would surely bruise. Thankfully, the adrenaline numbed her to most of the pain. She landed on top of not-Adrien, knocking the wind out of him, and she quickly pried the lucky charm out of his hand. As soon as she stood up to make her way to the front door, she felt his leg swept against her ankles, sending her falling flat on her back with a groan of pain. The lucky charm slipped from her grasp, clattering towards the kitchen. Not-Adrien scrambled past her, adding a brutal step onto her stomach as he passed. She flailed her arms until she felt them grasp his shoe, and she tugged as hard as she could, taking him back to the floor with her.

Suddenly, Mr. Dupain burst into the room. “What in the world is going on in here?!” He roared.

The boom of his voice stunned Alya long enough for not-Adrien to land a kick in her shoulder, snatching up the lucky charm and sprinting for the door.

“Mr. Dupain, stop him!” Alya cried out.

The man was still far too flabbergasted to heed her warning. Not-Adrien slammed his full body into Tom’s waist, which wasn’t nearly enough to topple him over, but it did stagger him out of the way of the door. The fading adrenaline meant Alya’s whole body shrieked in protest as she staggered to her feet and hurried after him.

Until Mr. Dupain snatched her by the collar.

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain what happened here, young lady!” Mr. Dupain demanded.

From somewhere several floors down, a high-pitched shriek echoed off the walls.

“Sabine!” He roared again, unceremoniously dropping Alya back on the floor as he sprinted down the stairs to check on his wife.

Alya attempted to pick herself up off the ground, but the adrenaline was quickly fading, and so did her strength with it. Besides, not-Adrien was long gone by now, and there was no way she could escape Mr. Dupain’s grasp in this condition.

The floor was starting to become pretty comfortable, anyway.

“Really, Tom, I’m fine,” Mrs. Cheng’s voice floated up from downstairs. “It’s just a little nosebleed. I shouldn’t have tried to block the door.”

“He shouldn’t have hit you in the first place!” Mr. Dupain growled. His voice grew louder as they approached their top floor unit. “Why didn’t you defend yourself?!”

“Adrien’s just a boy,” she said, finally appearing in Alya’s line of sight. “I wouldn’t want to attack a child, even in self-defense.”

“That wasn’t Adrien!” Alya croaked.

Mrs. Cheng gasped, temporarily forgetting about the blood dripping from her nose. “Dear, what are you doing on the floor?! Are you hurt?”

Mr. Dupain put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of her. Please focus on your own injury.” Mrs. Cheng hesitated, but her husband held a firm gaze, so she eventually made her way to the bathroom while Mr. Dupain lifted Alya off the ground and placed her (quite gently) onto the couch. “Bleeding anywhere?”

“No,” she answered, “just bruises on my arm, knee, and shoulder.”

As Mr. Dupain headed toward the kitchen to grab an ice pack, he asked, “What do you mean, ‘that wasn’t Adrien’?”

“It wasn’t him,” Alya repeated. “It must have been someone pretending to be him. A stunt double, or something.”

“How is that possible?” Mr. Dupain questioned as he handed her the ice pack. “Even for a stunt double, he looked far too much like Adrien.”

“I know but…” she sighed as the cool touch of the ice numbed the pain on her shoulder. “When I asked him what my name was, he didn’t know it. The real Adrien would know.”

“If it wasn’t Adrien, then who was it?”

“Félix,” Mrs. Cheng said as she reappeared with tissue shoved up her nostril. “Adrien’s cousin.”

“Adrien has a cousin?!” Alya cried in disbelief. How did she not know about him? How come Adrien never mentioned he had an identical evil cousin?

The realization finally set in. She helped carry out the plans of someone who wasn’t Adrien.

That meant some faker was the one rummaging around Marinette’s room. The faker took off with the lucky charm. The faker had his memories of the old world back… but Adrien presumably still didn’t. Which meant Alya was the only superhero who knew about the wish.

She was, once again, on her own.

Tom scratched his head in confusion. “They look identical, even though they’re only cousins? I was expecting ‘evil twin brother.’”

“Wait, how did you figure out Adrien had a cousin?” Alya asked Mrs. Cheng.

The woman smiled sheepishly. “Well, after he kept visiting, I wanted to learn more about him. I figured a quick internet search would be pretty harmless…”

“Oh, Sabine,” Mr. Dupain playfully reprimanded. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Hush!” The woman chuckled. “Why was he here, anyway? He sure left in a hurry.”

Alya suddenly felt guilty for not stopping Félix earlier. “Marinette’s lucky charm bracelet. He stole it from her room. I’m sorry I didn’t stop him. I just… I thought it really was Adrien.”

Tom seemed to be the first to understand the reality of what Alya was saying. His face went from confused to defeated in a matter of milliseconds. His eyes drifted down, darting left and right as if searching for some solution in the floorboards.

Sabine, however, seemed to be nearly paralyzed. Her eyes were blown wide, but the wad of tissue she held up to her nose prevented Alya from fully judging the facial expression. Deathly silent, Sabine lowered her tissue absentmindedly. Her mouth was gradually revealed to be split wide with rage. Blood rushed to her face and quickly painted it red. Simultaneously, a droplet of blood leaked from her nose and left a crimson splash on her dress.

Sabine’s words hissed through her clenched teeth:

“We’re getting it back.”