Chapter Text
“You look terrible.”
Adrien sent Felix a deadly glare. He wasn’t sure how affective it was under the Ladybug patterned duvet cover Nathalie had changed his bedding with, but Felix was the one who burst into his room without his permission. Prick.
“Surely you can make time in your busy schedule to talk to your favourite cousin, eh?”
Felix was his only cousin as far as he knew, and certainly not his favourite. Though he had to refrain from revealing he knew the lengths of what his so-called cousin had done to Ladybug, he didn’t have to hold back his anger or hatred on his own terms.
When Adrien fell silent, Felix continued on to fill the empty space. He spun around lazily on his office chair, the squeaking and the mindless small talk grating on his ears. He just wanted to sleep and have enough energy for his day with his friends tomorrow. Was that too much to ask?
Adrien often liked when his friends would fill the space his lack of conversational skills would leave. Talking about the ins and outs of their day, a new show they’ve started, a project they’ve been working on. Marinette was a constant in his ear, and he savoured every moment. She was like sweet birdsong, a giggly and excitable tune that chased all the bad thoughts away.
Felix’s talking just fried his nerves and pooled hot liquid iron in his gut.
He sat up and threw the covers down to glare harder .
“Oh, you’ve been growing out your hair. Very nice, very you.” Felix’s voice dripped with absent sarcasm. His eyes weren’t looking at his head though, they snapped to his uncovered hand and then right back.
Adrien’s distrust grew. What game was he playing?
“What do you want?”
Besides just waltzing on in here, helping himself to touching Adrien’s stuff and acting cheery as if nobody had died, Felix was acting strange .
“Just wanted to see how you were getting on. How’s Nathalie been treating you?”
Adrien supposed he had to contribute, if only to convince his cousin he was well enough for him to go away. “Doing fine. Lots of schoolwork. Nathalie’s great.”
Good enough.
Felix’s narrowed eyes flickered to his desk, no doubt observing the piles of papers and folders of obviously incomplete homework. The perceptiveness of his lookalike cousin was painstakingly annoying.
“Uh huh. Doesn’t Nathalie help you?”
“Sometimes?”
“So... she was your father’s assistant and now she’s your caretaker. How do you feel about it?” There was a stiffness, an awkwardness, to Felix that took Adrien aback. Why so many questions about Nathalie?
“What?” Adrien’s face scrunched. “I don’t know...?”
“It’s a simple question.” The chair creaked and rattled as his cousin used his legs to swivel the seat this way and that, this way and that, this way and-
“No, it’s a weird one! ” Adrien raised his voice, frustrated, tired and angry. Clenching his jaw, he repeated himself. “What do you want?! Why are you here?!”
Felix stopped fidgeting. The squeaking of the chair blissfully ceased. On his face was the most surprised and un-Felix-like expression he’d ever seen.
The silence stretched on for perhaps far too long. His own yelling rang in his ears, his eyelids felt heavy, his room was a mess, he was in his PJs, and he had not been expecting visitors today.
Maybe he was being too harsh, but he really couldn’t trust Felix not to have ulterior motives. Harbouring a trickster and a thief who was currently in the possession of a Miraculous - Adrien eyed the camouflaged brooch - whilst he had no energy to retaliate or fight back meant that he was vulnerable. He could deal with his cousin perhaps any other day. Or month. Or year. Just not now.
“I apologise, cous’. I did just want to check in with you, but I think perhaps I went about it in the wrong way.”
The apology caught Adrien off guard. He looked down bashfully, playing with a loose thread from the old blanket. “You’ve never cared about me.”
“I’m terrible at showing it, but,” Felix cleared his throat. “I do.”
Still distrustful but not quite feeling as angry with his cousin as he should be, Adrien just felt overwhelmingly tired. He wanted this conversation to be over. “Look, I appreciate it. You’ve just caught me at a bad time. I’m doing great, I’m going out with my friends tomorrow, and Nathalie has been nothing but kind. You and Aunt Amelie didn’t have to come all this way.”
Felix nodded, schooling his expression into one that Adrien was familiar with. Standing up from the chair, he seemed satisfied with this answer. “Glad to hear it. Just keep your wits about you, yeah?”
Perplexed, his lookalike murmured a confused “Okay...?” His eyes followed him as he made his way across the room and to the exit.
“Mother wants to see you too before we leave.” Felix warned, reaching for the doorknob. Hesitating, he threw a strange glance back his cousin’s way. It looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Or perhaps in his blunt and curt case, shouldn’t.
Adrien couldn’t say he was relieved when the door clicked shut again. Plagg slowly floated from his hiding place, looking every bit as astounded as his wielder felt.
--
The next morning, Adrien pointedly ignored the large portrait in the lobby. He couldn’t help but notice that the colours weren’t as dark and dreary in the corner of his eyes like they usually were. Halting abruptly, Plagg squeaking in protest in his pocket as he did so, he did something that he hadn’t done in a long time.
Slowly trailing his eyes upward along the wall like he was ripping a particularly painful band-aid off, what he found there didn’t wrap around his throat and squeeze. Didn’t fill him with a foul, rotting shame. Didn’t hurt him or make him feel so small below his father’s solemn gaze.
Instead, air rushed back into his lungs with a gasp.
The bleak painting that had hung far over Adrien’s head since maman’s death was gone. Plain white looked so foreign on this section of the wall that it made his head spin with its wrongness . Venturing outside his room was always so difficult with such an eerie reminder of the day that photograph was taken. Why his father insisted everyone who entered the lobby had to see their freshly cut grief and sorrow, he’d never understand.
He came to realise he didn’t understand much about his father. He had liked fashion, he had liked maman. He’d like to think he liked him too, but when it came to the details, conversations and memories that made up a real relationship, it was upsettingly blank. Even when his father started becoming more present and friendly for the last few weeks, - like he knew what would happen to him, and maybe he did – the discussions never delved deeper than ‘How was your day?’. Adrien took what he could get back then, but now that he knew there’d never be another chance to spark a connection between them, he wished he’d fought for more.
Feeling somewhat numb towards the lack of the portrait, maybe with a hint of relief, Adrien continued his journey down the flight of stairs.
He was sixteen today. Or at least he would be come this afternoon. He didn’t feel much about it, didn’t feel any different. It was like an ill-fitting suit. A label that didn’t quite match how small and clueless he was. He was officially the oldest out of his group of friends, yet he felt he would never know or accomplish as much as they would.
He could work a job and drink with an adult present now, but he was far more interested in ticking the things he hadn’t done in his childhood first off the list. Two of which could be crossed off today. Excitement buzzed beneath his skin at the reminder.
The kitchen door opened. “Happy birthday, Adrien.”
He scurried towards the kindly voice, arms outstretched for a hug. Nathalie smiled pleasantly, happily returning it. Her chin rested at the top of his head and though he was older now, she still had to lean down a bit to do so. In her arms, being small and clueless wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
“Thank you, Nathalie.” He whispered into her blouse. She had started to ditch her usual blazer and dress pants around the house, opting for more casual wear. Adrien was thankful. It made him feel just that little less like her job, a responsibility she was paid to bare, and more like the family he felt they were now becoming. He wasn’t sure he could call her maman just yet, though it was a word he longed to use again. It was one of those things that felt too scary, uncertain. Even with the extra confidence and fearlessness being Chat Noir brought, his brain still short circuited when he was faced with the thought.
She pulled back to look him in the eye. Adrien revelled in just how healthy and bright she looked. A stark contrast from the mechanical clanking of the exoskeleton and her hacking coughs. Illness came to the people around him unpredictably, like a hurricane that had no set course and ravaged homes wherever the wind took it. His grip tightened on her arm, grateful. So grateful and s cared because what if it flared up again-
“I have a gift for you.” Nathalie’s eyes crinkled beneath her glasses - alive and seeing.
Adrien shook his head to dislodge any lingering anxiety. “Oh, you didn’t have to!” Giddy delight wormed its way in underneath.
“It’s your birthday. Of course I did.” She spoke matter-of-factly. “Breakfast first.”
His bodyguard, Placide, often joined them for meals now. The kitchen island was always full, and the seats closest to Adrien would always be taken. He wasn’t staring into the distant features of someone he loved on the opposite end of a banquet table anymore. He could commit everything to memory perfectly up close as they ate and laughed and talked. Or in Placide’s case - smile, hum and point.
Adrien didn’t know how he survived mourning alone in his room all those years ago, when the wound was still fresh. The world felt less like it was ending now when he wasn’t shut off from it.
Not that he blamed his father for any of that. Père had shut himself off, too. He often wondered what he did when he wasn’t sketching new designs for upcoming fashion lines or holding meetings. Was he ever not busy enough to allow the grief to catch up to him? Did he permit himself the smallest break to feel? Is that why he packed Adrien’s schedule full of extra-curriculars? So that his son wouldn’t be subjected to the same pain?
“What’s wrong, Adrien? Is the coffee too hot?” Asked Nathalie, abandoning her knife and fork in favour of giving him her full attention.
He realised he’d been staring off into nothing with the cup held still to his lips. The steam emitted a pleasant warmth against his skin. He wrenched his eyes away from the distance, blinking the blurriness away. “No, no.” He took a small sip. “It’s perfect.”
“Good.” She hummed. “Your friends will meet you near the park entrance at nine thirty. Would you like me to drive you there?”
Placide grunted and raised a hand, indicating he was happy to offer his services too.
“The press bothers me less and less now when I walk to school. I’ll be fine.” He smiled, downing his coffee quickly and shovelling the remains of his breakfast into his mouth. Marinette! Marinette was going to be there! Nino and Alya too, but most importantly his girlfriend, Marinette! He had seen her two days ago at lycée, but that was far too long ago in his opinion.
“Thank you for breakfast!” He practically jumped out of his seat, scampering out the door and nearly forgetting his discarded bag in the process.
In amongst his excitement and rushing, he didn’t pick up on Nathalie’s calling for him to wait. Already out the gate and sprinting along the footpath.
She shook her head fondly. The gift could wait until tomorrow, then.
--
Marinette was a tidal pool, and Adrien was a small rowboat being helplessly sucked in. Marinette was a compass, and he was the magnet. Marinette was an incandescent light, and he was the unwitting moth.
Even though he’d hurried to be there at least ten minutes early, he was surprised to find he hadn’t been the first to arrive. Poised beautifully on a bench, slumped over and concentrated on the phone in her hands, was the very person he was proud to call his girlfriend. She often had issues with tardiness at school, so the fact she had made such an effort, possibly setting ten alarms in the process, to be here so early warmed his heart.
“Boo.”
“ WAAAA- Ohmygosh!” She jolted, phone flying out of her grip. She flapped her hands, juggling it in the air.
“Sorry, sorry!” He tittered; hands shooting out to catch it in case it fell.
“Adr iennnn , don’t do that!” Marinette huffed once she regained control of the unbridled device. Standing up to greet him, any worry that she was actually mad dissipated with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Happy birthday! You’re early.”
He laughed. “You’re earlier!”
“Well, there was no way I was going to miss my gorgeous boyfriend’s birthday.” She smiled softly, and Adrien didn’t know how he could fall any more in love. His heart fluttered and even being near her was enough to raise his spirits to the high heavens. Slowly worming his fingers between hers, he clasped her hand against his chest.
“Thank you for today. For organising all of this.”
She blinked, face pinker than her denim shorts. “Well, of course! It really isn’t all that much, the theme park is a pretty- p-pretty standard place to hold a party! Haha! And I didn’t even invite everyone. Oh gosh! Should I have invited the class? Would you have liked a bigger group? I’m sorry, I’ll text them right now!”
He covered his free hand over the phone she whipped out quicker than his brain could think. “No, no! It’s okay. I love everyone, but I think a smaller group for today was the right call.”
It wasn’t a lie. While everyone in class was his friend, and he would’ve had no less of a great time with them there, he was grateful for the fact he wouldn’t have to perform in front of such a large audience if a reporter came up to them asking for his opinions on his father’s death, or if an akuma appeared and forced him to slip away. Speaking of which, he silently begged for no akumas to show up today of all days.
Meanwhile, Marinette cocked her head, brows drawn together with a sympathetic smile. “Of course.” She likely had thought of the first reason too.
The few minutes before the rest of the group arrived flew by like sand at a windy beach. Adrien quickly found himself feeling more refreshed than he’d been in days with just the short amount of time in Marinettes’s company. His stomach hurt from laughing so much when she tried to pull the classic, suave, arm-around-the-shoulder move on him. He positioned himself so that he could do the same to her, which was the awkward pose Nino and Alya ended up finding the two in.
“Well, don’t let us interrupt you.” Alya snickered, plopping herself down beside Mari with a smug look her friend’s way.
Meanwhile Nino took his rightful spot beside Adrien, but not without noogying him hard enough to make him yelp and his hair stand on end. “Happy birthday, dude! Or should I say grandude? Dudepa?”
“You’d do well to respect your elders.” He shot back, fixing his hair back in place.
They ended up tackling some of the fair games first. Adrien discovered he was actually a pro at the ring toss, if not terrible at the claw machine.
“It’s all about luck.” Marinette had declared proudly. “Sometimes the claw strength is weaker, sometimes it’s stronger. It’s just a bit of a gamble, really.” Yet she managed to acquire a prize every single time. She ended up giving him a small orange cat keychain that he swiftly added to liven up his bland shoulder bag.
Then, Adrien was able to enjoy the iconic greasy, sugary theme park food. He didn’t have to care what people thought, what father would have thought. He wasn’t a model anymore, just a regular teenager, and wasn’t that an amazing feeling?
A few annoying reporters had the gall to approach them here and there, making Adrien’s heart pound and shame creep in. Unsurprisingly, none of them were respectful enough to ask for his permission to record or photograph him. They usually never were.
His friends made a barricade around him and cussed them out. Alya even whipped out her phone and started recording them back when a few refused to leave easily. Marinette jabbed her finger and curled her lip in a ferocity Adrien was glad he was not on the receiving end of.
He loved his friends more than life itself.
The rides were a merciful break from fending off mouthy journalists. Nino screamed, Alya cackled, and Adrien was so used to flying through the air at such high speeds that he found his gaze glued to Marinette instead. The way her blue-black hair swayed and fell around her at every harsh angle and rapid drop of the rollercoaster mesmerised him to no end. Her eyes, rivalling the bluest of hydrangeas, caught him staring at some point. And by the way she beamed at him, she didn’t seem to mind.
The moment was immediately killed by a simultaneous notification from each of their phones. Sighing, Adrien had an inkling as to what it would say. His suspicions were confirmed from how dejected his girlfriend looked after a swift glance at her screen.
The ride was stopped early by the operators, slowing down at only the first loop instead of the third, allowing everyone on the cart a chance to get to safety. Adrien sifted through his mental library of excuses, but not before Marinette could beat him with a muddled cry.
“Gottagotothebathroombye!” She looked as though she was about to break off into a sprint but seemed to think better of it to spin around and give him a quick kiss on the jaw. He was given no time to reciprocate as she hurried off to the nearest restroom. His heart went with her, air brushing against the place she’d touched. At least she’d be safe.
“Sorry to cut the party short, dude.” Nino seemed genuinely remorseful, unaware that he was handing Adrien the chance to transform on a silver platter. “We’d better offer our services.” He cupped a hand over his mouth to whisper, winking. His best friend seemed delighted to have him in on his secret. Adrien wished he could do the same.
“No worries.” He licked his lips. “I might start heading home.”
“Meet up again afterwards?”
He nodded. Nino threw out a thumbs up behind him as Alya dragged him to a spot out of sight.
Adrien ended up finding a space behind one of the attractions, neatly shaved bushes scratching his cheek. Plagg flew out of his pocket, throwing his head back and groaning.
“Really? Today? On your human cycle? Some nerve this new Monarch has.”
The mention of Monarch made Adrien’s eye twitch. “It’s nothing new. Let’s just hope we can wrap this up quickly.” The sooner he could get back to Marinette, the better.
However, this time, when green light enveloped him, it felt as though something had shifted. Wrongness pierced through his skin underneath black leather and belt. The contrast was day and night. One moment he felt fine, the next he was left faltering from the feeling. He breathed out shakily, confused and alarmed.
Whereas before being Chat Noir felt light and weightless, now there was a heavy stone in his chest and a humming vibration in his left hand, as if the ring was calling to him. It felt similar to when his hand would fall asleep after long hours leaning on it. Had Plagg fallen sick and not told him? No, the kwami would definitely use that to his advantage for more camembert. Did something happen to his Miraculous?
He inspected the ring, anxiously searching for any cracks or fractures in the smooth black surface. Nothing. The green pawprint stared back at him, glowing all the same.
Explosions and screams in the distance did not give him much time to dwell. Shaking it off as nerves or something temporary, Chat extended his baton and vaulted to a higher vantage point; the better to see for himself what was going on.
Civilians ran in the opposite direction he leaped to, clutching their heads and feverishly warbling. Chat Noir winced, his advanced hearing seemed to pick up a lot more than before and made the world around him far too loud, catching only a few isolated voices amongst the crowds.
“No, no, NO! ”
“That’s not true- it can’t be!”
“I’m not! It was a mistake!”
Chat flattened his ears, trying to block out the noise and focusing on the horizon. Another psyche-damaging akuma. Great. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Nightormentor, shuddering as he did so.
He hoped Marinette was okay...
Ladybug would forever be easy to make out, a red and black blur amongst a perfectly clear sky. Orange and green joined her to assemble on a nearby rooftop.
“Alright, what do we know so far?” Ladybug’s levelled voice reached his ears even from a building away. “From the way people are acting, I don’t think we should rush in.”
“I was able to get a brief look.” Rena answered. “Standard akuma. You get hit; you become affected. With what? I’m not sure. The civilians who get blasted seem so... distressed.”
He decided to make himself known. Landing squarely, if not a little wobbly, beside them. “That’s for sure.”
“Hey, Kitty. Glad you’re here.”
He shot Ladybug a small smile, ear flickering in her direction. The tone of her voice was softer when addressing him, a lot nicer on his hearing. The other heroes acknowledged him with friendly nods.
The group looked over the edge of the roof to the happenings below. The akuma victim had the figure of a young woman in its darkest centre, pitch-black smoke billowing off her body in waves. If Chat unfocused his eyes, she turned into one dark cloud with a mass of scattered eyes peeking through the inky haze. The pupils seemed to have no set direction, they looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, sometimes snagging on moving targets like they were prey. She looked genuinely terrifying.
The nearest civilian tripped over, and all eyes snapped onto the sound of their body hitting the pavement. If Chat Noir had blinked, he would've missed the zap of sparks flying and latching onto the victim’s forehead. Not a flame flickered afterwards, only a faint line of smoke rose from where they had been struck. Pained groans and mutterings ensued.
Ladybug’s lips thinned into a straight line. “Her eyes. There’s too many. A surprise attack won’t work.”
“We confuse her.” Rena offered. “Give her too much to look for at once.”
Ladybug surveyed the scene and beyond it, hand cradling her chin. Chat could recognise that look anywhere. He could practically hear the cogs turning in her head and see the many devastating scenarios she conjures up. Whilst she tended to catastrophise and send herself spiralling over the smaller details, when it came to life-threatening ordeals, he couldn’t deny it was helpful to have someone think it through so thoroughly.
Huh. He distantly wondered if he had a type.
Shaking his head, he couldn't help but throw a glance over his shoulder. The lavatory Marinette ran to was some ways away. If the battle ended up moving, he would do everything in his power to direct it anywhere else.
Static electricity fizzed up his arm and he shuddered to shake it off. He still felt weird.
“Rena, you stay hidden and use your illusions to cast mirages of us. Have multiple versions run at the akuma from different angles. Carapace can take the right; Chat takes the left and I take the back.”
Ladybug looked at each in turn. “If things get dire, Carapace can use his shelter. Stay safe. We don’t know what will happen if one of us gets hit.”
--
Chat Noir messed up.
Something was certainly, truly , very wrong with him and now it was costing him his teammate’s safety. He was panicking – something he didn’t particularly do as his super-powered self – and he needed to talk to Plagg after this and-
“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug yelled from behind a makeshift barricade of overturned cars. Sharp zaps clinked off the metallic surfaces as the akuma – who called herself Seersayer – drew closer to her and Carapace’s hiding spot. All because of him .
The plan had been so simple. He had his eyes set on an armlet that glinted through the smoky shade. All her eyes had been focused elsewhere. His teeth gritted as he reached for it, a Cataclysm on the tip of his tongue. Before he even uttered the word, just as it flashed through his mind when he decided it to be the best course of action, it was like all the energy rushed out of him at once. Too. Much. Energy.
The buzzing beneath his skin burst out of his fingertips like a tsunami washing over a dam. Whereas before the power of destruction was kept under a tight lid, controlled in the slightest of touches, it now explodes before Chat has any hope of keeping it at bay.
Before he was even near the akuma’s shadowy aura, his Cataclysm activated. A swirling, bubbling array of darkness engulfed his entire fist right up to his elbow. The pure ruinousness, the unadulterated desolation, the feeling of death at his very call and command, scared him.
Horrified, he managed to steer his arm to the ground. Losing all his momentum and landing ungracefully with a thud, the dry bitumen of the road cracked and caved in on itself with his touch. Ashen, crumpled and lifeless, images of Uncanny Valley, Monarch and Ladybug were stuck on replay in his head. His breath caught in his throat; in the dead centre of a gigantic pothole he created.
The eyes locked onto him, now ignoring all the mirages running to and fro. They found their real target.
Frozen in place only a few feet away from the villain, it was only thanks to Ladybug he hadn’t been hit. String wrapped around his ankle and swung him out of harm’s way. One of Seersayer’s blasts struck right where he had been.
The akuma followed the yoyo string as it retracted itself from him, locking onto the hero it belonged to. The villain raised an arm and shot out a beam towards Ladybug, deflected by Carapace’s quick thinking.
“Shelter!” He yelled, pulling her under his cover.
Ladybug had been looking at him, distracted. Whether she was horrified? Disappointed? Concerned? He was too far away to decipher her expression.
Chat Noir was sure Ladybug had seen his terrible misstep. Looking up at the news helicopter circling above, the noise of the engine blaring in his sensitive ears, he was sure everyone had.
Rena’s illusions were rendered useless now. It was easy for Seersayer to keep track of the true heroes now that they had made themselves known. Carapace made good progress in his training and was able to hold his shelter for an extended amount of time, but not that long.
Chat Noir’s old instincts kicked in. It was he who had blown their cover, and he wouldn’t be much use from here on out – if his frazzled nerves and fear of using Cataclysm again were anything to go by. The most important thing was that Ladybug stayed capacitated to fix the damage. She could call upon any number of heroes to her aid. His sacrifice was a small price to pay – a distraction - until she figured out how to win this fight.
Seersayer edged closer to Ladybug and Carapace. The green shield around them flickered, indicating it wouldn't hold much longer. The akumatized victim raised an arm again.
“Hey!” Chat called out, chucking a plank of broken bitumen and deliberately missing. It clunked on the ground, dusty and crumbling. “You’re a real eye-sore, you know that?”
It wasn’t one of his best puns. He was still shaky, but at least it had gotten the villain’s attention.
A hundred pupils glared at him. The akuma stopped in her tracks, giving the two heroes she was approaching time to slip away unnoticed. With a careless wave of Seersayer’s hand, a spark was shot his way.
The last thing he heard was Ladybug screaming his name. Whether it was with concern or anger, he didn’t get much time to figure out before the world blurred and submerged him into darkness.
--
.
..
...
Now that I think about it,
You were always destined for the black cat, Adrien.
Everything around you seems to decay.
It spreads from your fingertips and distorts – mutilates - all that come near,
And you don’t even need to transform to do so. You’ve been doing it since the day you were born.
The scent of death lingers in your home. Darkness claws up the walls like mould and casts shadows in rooms that will never again be occupied.
It was only right that it came for you too.
After all,
Ill-mannered children can’t control their anger.
His father’s voice encapsulated the last words, shaking him right to his core. It was as exactly as he remembered them. The same pitch and tone, the way in which they were said – it was taken straight from memory. They were meant for Chat Noir, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt that way about his son too. Did he know about the gritted teeth and clenched fists? The holes in the wall that he’d covered up and hidden? Did he know that this anger sat heavy in his son’s chest and wouldn’t go away? Only ever coming up in short, violent bursts, it was still destructive. He was still destructive.
Adrien had been so furious. Shivering with rage at his father for stealing him away. For shutting him out. For locking him behind white cushioned walls with cameras in every corner. Watching his every move like he was some sort of specimen . Like he wasn’t human.
But then he remembered being delivered that soul-shattering news in those same white walls. He remembered being too overwhelmed with emotion to do much else than cry, yell and blame Ladybug for something she likely had no control over.
Adrien remembered, then, that he loved his dad. In all the ways a son could.
But he also hated him too.
Isn’t that terrible? He thought, sitting alone and numb in a void of his own thoughts. He wasn’t all that aware of where and why he was here, just that it felt as though something hidden and buried had been forcibly strung from deep within. Like pulling a stubborn weed with roots planted deep underground. To think like this when he’s dead?
The public eye would certainly think so.
“Your father was a great man.” An errant passerby would greet him solemnly, a stranger in all sense of the word.
“Thank you.” Adrien would force himself to murmur. He distantly thought about curling up in a white room, head panging with naked fingers and begging to be let out. Was he?
“Bless your heart, love.” An elderly woman clasped a hand to her chest. “ You’re going to grow up to be just like him. I know it.”
He hoped not. He may not know what he wanted to do with his life yet, but shutting himself off in a mansion was certainly not on the list.
“We all miss him. You’re not alone, Adrien.”
He’d never felt more alone than when his father was alive.
He gasped, shocked at his own admission. Was air even filling his lungs anymore? ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʰᵉˀ
Something was wrong. His father had made a noble sacrifice for the good of Paris and the world. Was Adrien really this selfish? These weren’t his real thoughts, were they? He’d do anything to see father again. He would!
Looking down at himself as if it were the first time, it took a significant amount of brainpower to notice the black leather. The feel of it against his skin. The mask upon his face. The akuma...
The last living Agreste. The world-renowned family tree ends with their greatest disappointment.
He took in a shuddering breath, grinding his teeth. These thoughts were far from voluntary. Invasive and loud, they popped into the forefront of his mind with no warning. The only thing worse was the fact they were all true.
Adrien tried to think of soft fingers caressing his palm instead. A husky laugh, and deep emerald eyes that emulated his own. Would she be proud of him? He thought tearfully.
Something told him she would. Despite some outside insistence from the ethers that she wouldn’t, he couldn’t help but feel as though it was a complete defamation of her character. Emilie was soft, she snorted when she laughed, and she smelled like her favourite flowers – red roses. When father shunned him and left for days, he buried himself in her scent and let it wash over him in gentle waves. She let him every time.
Adrien- Chat Noir’s fingers twitched. He felt like he was trapped in cotton, his arm slow and fuzzy, the signals from his brain to move not quite reaching it. Nevertheless, he managed to raise it up enough to scratch a claw against his cheek. The feeling was distant, but there. Something felt unfinished. So many things felt unfinished in his life, really, but he knew he needed to get out of here. He had to do something important. He had to help.
Ladybug. He had to help Ladybug.
It came so easily to him. Like cardboard masquerading as a brick wall, the mental connection between him and the akuma was snapping easier than it felt it should. A vision, this time, invaded his head as though it was the villain’s last desperate attempt.
Maman was hunched over and coughing, a story book abandoned on her lap. Adrien was snuggled in the crook of her shoulder. Not once did he let go, afraid of the sound but also afraid of what would happen if it went away forever. The dizzy spells lasted longer those days, and the coughing fits had no end. He was twelve years old with a routine check-up on his mother to make sure her chest rose and fell. He strained his ears against the night to catch the sound of her soft breaths if only, for a moment, to quell his fears.
Next was Nathalie, leaning against the wall and clutching her head. It felt like his nightmare reimagined, again with someone he’d grown to treasure and love just as much as his mother. Father was just as tight-lipped about it, too. He shut down all Adrien’s attempts to help and brushed him off as it got worse, and worse, and worse .
Then, Gabriel. A vulnerable civilian going up against a magical terrorist supervillain, completely outmatched in every way, shape and form. Had he been in pain when it happened? Did he think about Adrien at all when he did it?
There was no vision to accompany this thought. Maybe it was even worse than having one.
As he got the feeling back to his face, he was made aware of the hot tears curving down his cheeks.
Cataclysm.