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Luka is on tour when it happens.
He honestly can’t say he likes the tour life. Constant rehearsals, traveling, autographs, and the remains of a sleep schedule completely chucked out the window. Rose is practically inhaling caffeine, Jukela is constantly moody (or moodier), Ivan is withdrawn, and Mylène ends more nights in tears then not.
Luka reaches his breaking point after a particularly vicious fight with Jukela that ends with her and Rose not speaking to him and Mylène hysterically sobbing. He finds himself on the phone with his mom, desperately trying to find something to ground him.
His mother had laughed, softly, after he was done ranting. “God, you sound like your father.”
Luka had swallowed, picking at his chipped nail polish. “Really?”
“Yeah.” His mom sounded sad. “He loved what he did, but sometimes…it could be a lot, baby.”
“Do you think he’s happy?” Luka asks and his mother knows exactly what he means. Happy with Penny, instead of her, happy with leaving his two illegitimate children, happy with the life he had carved out for himself, away from his first family.
“Are you happy?” his mom asks instead.
Luka closes his eyes.
Is he happy?
His band—rebranded so many times he honestly can’t keep their actual name straight—has been in America for about two months when Jukela throws the door to his trailer open with the exact amount of dramatic flair that their manager had been trying to coach out of her for months.
“Ju—”
“Turn on the news,” she gasps, eyes wide, hair wild. Rose pops in behind her, looking pale as a ghost, phone gripped tightly in her hand.
Luka fumbles with the remote for a second before hitting the right button.
There is dead silence in the crowded trailer, save for a familiar brunette reporter standing in front of what looks like the aftermath of an incredibly horrific Akuma attack.
There’s a picture of Ladybug on the screen side by side with—
Blue eyes. Raven hair. A song in his heart.
“No way. No fucking way,” Luka breathes, sitting down, hard.
Jukela has a hand over her mouth. She looks like she’s going to be violently sick.
“How long ago—”
“Within the past hour,” his sister replies. “This is live.”
Rose starts laughing hysterically.
Sabrina is in London on a date.
She knows it’s a date because Chloe flew in from Paris, picked her up at her apartment, bought her flowers, paid for their meal and is now holding her hand as they walk down the street, window shopping.
So yeah, it was probably a date.
Unfortunately, it could also be an apology. She and Sabrina had had a nasty fight that had lasted months, over Chloe’s parents. It was the only thing the two of them actually fought about anymore, since Chloe had started seeing a therapist. Sabrina was not happy with how Chloe’s mother treated her, but it was Chloe’s blind spot.
Considering the ego Chloe still maintained, it was ridiculously hard to convince the blonde law student that she deserved better than she received from her parents. So Sabrina and Chloe fought every so often, Chloe would drop off the grid for a few weeks, and then apologize profusely.
This time had been more like two months though and instead of insistently texting or facetiming her when she had finally swallowed her pride and decided to apologize, Chloe had flown out from her penthouse in Paris to Sabrina’s tiny, one room dorm and had given her a romcom worthy apology, flowers and all.
Sabrina almost kissed her right then.
The cool night air does little to sooth the blush that has dancing across her freckled cheeks, but Sabrina thinks the dark is doing a good job of concealing it. She’s slowly plucking on the courage to maybe ask Chloe if this is, in fact, an actual, official date or maybe even pull the taller girl into a kiss, when they pass by a bar with the TV on.
There’s a crowd around it, all silently, solemnly watching coverage of—
Chloe grabs Sabrina’s upper arm and manhandles her into the bar. The bell on the door jingles, but no one looks away from the TV, not even the bartender.
Sabrina is gaping at the TV, but Chloe is on her phone, tapping away.
“She’s trending.”
“Of course she’s trending!” Sabrina shrieks, throwing her hands up. Someone in front of her shushes them loudly. “Did you know?” she hisses.
Chloe looks up from her phone, face blank. “Why the fuck would I have known.”
“Because you’re Queen Bee!”
“Yeah well, Ladybug didn’t exactly trust me, Brina.” Chloe rolls her eyes. She pauses. “Do you think Chat knew?”
Sabrina’s breath catches. “I—he could have. He always favored Marinette.”
Something sour comes across Chloe’s face at the reminder. Sabrina doesn’t like it. She turns back to the TV.
“No way,” she breathes. Beside the picture of the damasked superheroine, a picture of Chat Noir is up next to—
Chloe’s head snaps toward the screen. Her eyes widen comically. “WHAT THE FUCK ADRIEN.”
Alix is in Rome, on vacation.
She honestly can’t say she misses Paris. The constant apprehension the city brings, waiting for the next attack is an anxiety she can do without, thank you very much.
However, she honestly can’t say she loves Rome. It’s a tourist hotspot, rather like Paris, and she’s already tired of the busy crowds and the street vendors trying to rip her off. What keeps her here is the company.
She was in Rome because one of her discord friends had asked if she was free this summer. The answer had obviously been yes, but she had been unnaturally nervous about the whole thing. Not only was she going to be an entire country away from her family and friends, but she also had a terrible, terrible crush on this friend and meeting them in person was either going to make the flame flicker out or burn stronger, and both options were terrifying.
Of course, when Grazia had actually shown up at the airport to pick her up, it had all gone to hell. Because of fucking course Grazia was actually the hottest person she’d ever met. Of course Grazia was tall, and toned, and had dark skin and bright eyes and had smiled at Alix like she’d hung the moon. Of course Grazia was completely understanding of Alix’s asexuality and had admitted, in low tones, that they were nobinary and panromantic.
Of course Grazia was everything Alix had ever wanted.
So here she was, in Grazia’s penthouse guest bedroom, scrolling through her phone and trying not to think of the other person, just a room over.
She’s alternating between Instagram and Twitter, when she comes across Alya’s post. It’s a retweet of a link to life news coverage of an Akuma attack. Frowning, as Alya has left no comment and the reporter usually is tweeting out her own livestream of attacks, not someone else’s, Alix clicks on the link.
“—with Hawkmoth taking control of the majority of the city and our heroes nowhere to be found, the uppertown is being evacuated—”
Alix sits straight up, reaching for a watch that isn’t there.
“—and our main question during this time is where are Ladybug and Chat Noir? The duo appear to have gone missing after their forced identity reveal—“
Swallowing hard, she closes out of the tab on her phone and turns on the TV across from her bed. All news channels are on Paris.
Alix turns back to her phone and clicks on Twitters trending tags. #marinetteandadrien heads the list.
It would be just her luck that Alya was in America when shit hit the fan.
She was there for the weekend with Kim to see Kitty Section and had honestly been relieved to take a break, when the news hit.
Paris was caught up in a mass Akuma attack, Mayura had been captured and taken in for questioning and was revealed to be Gabriel fucking Agreste’s personal assistant, and Chat Noir had been critically injured.
The duo team had been off the grid for the next 30 hours when Mayura had disclosed some very confidential information to the authorities that accidentally got leaked to the news.
The long since coveted identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir.
Alya stares at the TV screen, unable to comprehend what she’s seeing. Her phone hasn’t stopped ringing for the past hour, but she hasn’t picked up a single call.
Finally, the door to her hotel room opens. Kim, flanked by Luka, Jukela and Rose swarm in, eyes already glued to the TV.
Not looking up from her lap, Alya asks, “Where’s Mylène and Ivan?”
“On the phone with Alix,” Luka says, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Alya’s breath hitches. Slowly, she draws her knees up to her chest and hugs them.
“This whole time,” she says softly. “This whole fucking time, she—” she broke off, shaking her head.
“I know,” Luka says, arm tightening. “Are you mad?”
Alya laughs. It comes out slightly hysterical. “Am I mad? My best friend has been throwing herself in the line of fire since the day I met her and you think I’m mad?”
At this, Kim snorts. “You say that like she hasn’t been doing that without super powers.”
Alya groans, head dropping onto Luka’s shoulder. “I’m so, so dumb.” Then, “I need to fly out to Paris.”
“All flights are closed. Something about France being under lockdown.”
Anxiety churns in her stomach. “She’s going to need backup. Chat Noir is out of the game—”
“And half of us are out of the country,” Luka finishes. “Head count, who’s left in France right now?”
Jukela frowns. “Kagami’s a no-show, she’s at a family thing.”
“Chloe’s in London,” Rose says, frowning down at her phone, most likely thumbing through the groupchat. “Nathanial and Marc—”
“Are on their honeymoon,” Luka cuts in. “What about Max?”
“New York,” Alya replies, grimacing. “The only person left in town is—” she stops. “Oh fuck.” Alya grabs for her phone, scrolling quickly through her contacts, until it lands on her boyfriend.
She hits call. It goes to voicemail.
“Oh yay,” she says, faintly. “The only people left in France to deal with this are my best friend and my boyfriend.”
Kim sits down on her other side and takes her hand.
Alya returns his vicelike grip. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
Nino had been asleep for about thirty minutes when he was jerked back into consciousness by an insistent pounding on his door.
Jolting out of bed, Nino is already at the door before he can remember to grab his glasses, or you know, maybe a weapon in case his apartment being broken into. Then again, intruders don’t usually knock on the door.
He fumbles with the lock and throws it wide open to reveal—
“Marinette, what the ever living fuck?!” he screeches. He hasn’t seen the bluenette in over a year, since she left Paris to go to some university just outside the city. She was notoriously good at dropping off the grid, and since she’d actually left the city her friends resided in, the only person in Paris she’d been in any kind of consistent contact with was Alya.
And now, here she was, hair haphazardly pulled back into a ponytail, dressed in clothes that were about two sizes too large, backpack slung over one shoulder and an unconscious blond boy covered in blood, propped on the other.
Marinette wordlessly hands Adrien over to Nino’s waiting arms and shuts the apartment door, swiftly locking it. The two of them manhandle Adrien onto Nino’s couch.
“He needs a hospital,” Nino rasps out, hand hovering over the actual hole in Adrien’s side.
“No hospitals,” Marinette says, hands pressing the gauze that Nino had provided over the wound. “It’s too risky.”
Nino turns to his friend incredulously. “I can see straight through his side, Marinette!” he shrieks, grabbing his phone off the coffee table and already dialing 112. “Like hell he doesn’t need a—”
Marinette grabs his wrist with a surprising amount of strength. “We’re all over the news, Nino!” she replies, looking panicked. “If Hawkmoth finds out—” she stops. Stares at him for a moment. “You don’t know,” she breathes.
“Know what!?”
“Haven’t you checked the news lately? Or, I don’t know, looked outside?!”
“Stop yelling,” Adrien mumbles. Marinette drops Nino’s hand and practically leaps across the room to kneel in front of him, frantically pushing his hair out of his eyes.
“Oh my god, you’re awake,” she says, sounding like she’s about to cry. “I’m going to kill you, you dumb, dumb cat.”
Adrien manages a shaky smile. “Hey Bugaboo. Hey Nino,” he slurs, looking over Marinette’s shoulder.
“Hey, dumbass,” Nino says back, blankly. He’s staring down at his phone. There are 28 texts from Alya, 37 missed calls, and their class groupchat (which they still use, even though they’ve long since graduated) has 107 messages and still climbing.
There’s something uneasy stirring in his gut. His eyes flicker down to Adrien’s hand where a white ring—a ring Nino can’t ever recall Adrien taking off—resides. He swallows heavily.
“What are you going to do?” he asks Marinette, who is bandaging the gauze to Adrien’s side like she’s done it a thousand times.
She jerks her head toward the backpack she’d abandoned on the floor once they’d gotten Adrien on the couch. It had fallen on the floor with an unsettlingly loud clunk that Nino had barely taken time to pay mind to.
Now, Nino unzips the top, gut churning with anticipation. Inside is a familiar red sphere, dotted with ladybug spots.
Nino’s eyes fall shut for a moment. “God fucking dammit.”
“Tell me about it,” Marinette agrees, finishing up…whatever she’s doing with Adrien. Her hand—covered in drying blood—threads through his hair once more, before she turns her attention Nino and the object in his hands.
“Who are you going to choose?” Nino asks, voice shaky.
The Kwami Guardian grimaces. “You’re the only person in town right now who has experience for this situation, but we can’t leave Adrien alone.”
“Chloe—”
“In London. Flew out this morning.”
“Kagami—”
“In Singapore for her cousin’s wedding. Alya is in America to see Kitty Section, Nathanial and Marc are on their honeymoon, Alix is in Rome, Max is in New York. Everyone else is in France, but out of town. Trust me, I’ve covered all my bases here.”
Adrien—still vaguely delirious—frowns at Marinette’s defeated tone and reaches for her hand. It draws a smile out of her, but her eyes were still clouded with worry.
“What’s the plan then?” Nino asks, feeling like he’s aged a hundred years. His friend sighs, looking just as tired as he feels.
“I have two options,” she says, voice quiet as she looks down at her and Adrien’s joined hands. “I can either do this alone or…” here she pauses. “Or I can take a risk.”
Nino’s brow furrows. “A risk?”
“Yeah.” She picks at the hem of her hoodie with her free hand. “I’m leaving the Kwamis with you. Well, except for Tikki and Fēng.”
She lets go of Adrien’s hand, sits on the floor next to Nino and opens the box. She quickly puts on the Ladybug earrings, summoning a red Kwami with black spots who gives Mari a peck on the cheek before zipping over to Adrien. Marinette then pulls out a black box. She opens it up, revealing a dark purple bracelet.
“Tiger Miraculous,” she reveals. “It grants the power of camouflage.”
“Isn’t that basically the same as the Fox Miraculous?” Nino asks.
Marinette smiles. “Trixx uses illusions. She can create something that isn’t actually there. This is a more…subtle approach I guess.” Here she glances up at her Kwami. “And I know just the person.”
The Kwami looks unsure. “But can you trust her? She’s worked with Hawkmoth before!”
Marinette’s lips thin. “People change, Tikki.”
The Kwami—Tikki—sighs. “Just because she likes Marinette now, doesn’t mean she likes Ladybug.”
“And the entire world now knows I’m Ladybug, including her. I think we can trust her.”
Nino chokes on air. Knowing Marinette was Ladybug and hearing here actually say it were two different things. He’s starting to wonder if he’s still tucked in bed, having some sort of fever dream.
“Trust who?” Adrien interrupts his thoughts, looking a bit more lucid then before.
Tikki and Marinette exchange a look.
Here’s the thing, Lila knows she can be a bitch. Is a bitch. She knows that she can lie her way out of most situations and if that doesn’t work, make enough of a scene that people go with it anyway. It’s how it’s worked for years until she’d attended a Collège in Paris and meet Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
The biracial, raven haired girl had been the only person Lila had ever met who’d not stood for it.
This had not ended well.
Lila had found herself doing all sorts of things that she’d have sworn she’d never do in the following years, including consorting with a terrorist and making her classmate’s life as miserable as possible.
But then Hawkmoth had betrayed her. He’d told her she had no use from there on out and had left her to die in a pool of her own blood. In the hazy memories that followed, she’d been vaguely aware of the Akuma behind purified, but her own wounds not healing.
There had been some frantic arguing in the background, and then she’d found herself in the arms of the girl she’d been bullying for the past three years.
Someone else—Chat Noir?—was calling emergency services, voice panicked in a way she’d never heard it before.
Hours later, when she woke up in the hospital, she learned that she had nearly died from blood lose and if it hadn’t been for Marinette, she wouldn’t be here.
It was enough of a reality check to get her priorities together.
Somewhere in between that day and graduation, Lila showed up at Marinette’s door with a bouquet of roses and the first sincere apology that she’d ever delivered.
Marinette, being the sickeningly good person that she is, immediately forgave her.
Lila thought that was that, until one day after graduation when Marinette knocked on her door.
“I have a proposition for you,” the bluenette had said, all smiles.
Lila had raised a cool eyebrow but agreed to hear her out over coffee.
“So, same University, right?” Marinette asked, sipping nosily through her straw, drawing the eye of a few other patrons.
“How do you know—”
“You want to be a model, I want to be a designer. I heard from Alya that you were looking at the same Universities.” Marinette pauses to take another sip. “How’d you like to be roommates?”
Lila gaped at her. “What.”
“I mean, we don’t have to be. I just figured it’d be nice to room with someone familiar, ya know?”
“You don’t like me.”
“Says who?”
“You.”
“I never said I didn’t like you.”
“It was strongly implied.”
“Okay, I didn’t like you. But!” Marinette gestured wildly here. “You brought me flowers! Friends do that!”
“So now we’re friends.”
Here, the raven haired girl deflated. “Whatever. Do you want to or not?”
Lila paused, actually considering it. Marinette was annoying as fuck. She flaked out on friends constantly, had a nauseatingly obvious crush on both Adrien and Chat Noir, and couldn’t get her shit together long enough to tell Luka she didn’t feel the same way. She was all sunshine and rainbows and Disney Princess songs and honestly too irritating to handle.
She also didn’t take shit from anyone, which Lila could respect.
“Why the fuck not,” Lila finally said. “I’m touring ESMODi next week. Want to come?”
Marinette gave that brighter than the sun smile. Lila wanted to stab herself in the eye.
Turns out, rooming with Marinette was an experience.
Marinette was a disaster. Lila had never seen a room covered in so much paper and fabric.
Marinette never slept. Lila was fairly certain she’d seen Marinette take one (1) power nap at the library at 3pm one day and that was it. The girl ran solely on caffeine and sheer spite.
Marinette was also surprisingly fun to take to parties. The girl would walk into a room and was immediately friends with everyone.
Marinette understood her. One night Lila had gotten drunker than she’d intended and ended up spilling how lost and alone and angry she felt all the fucking time and the girl had wrapped an arm around her and given her a tired smile and said life is death in slow motion and Lila had laughed because Marinette was just as drunk as her and that comment had made no sense.
By the end of their first semester, Lila had fought and made up with Marinette so many times, she’d lost count, but ultimately decided that her friendship had been worth it all.
Which was why, when the news came out, that Lila had not been surprised.
Okay, maybe she’d been a little bit surprised. It wasn’t every day you found out your roommate/friend was your ex-arch nemesis.
What really surprises her is Adrien being Chat Noir. Matching up the fiery Marinette with the confident Ladybug was not hard. Matching up the quiet, withdrawn Adrien with the easygoing Chat Noir was a totally different story.
Either way, Lila finds herself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wishing she had a right to call Marinette right now. Aware of who she was and what she’d done to her friend, Lila wasn’t completely sure Marinette would pick up her phone for her, so instead, Lila lay in misery.
Her self-pity, however, did not last long, as the sound of her window opening and a bodying tumbling to the floor broke her out of her thoughts.
Jolting out of bed, Lila finds herself staring at Ladybug who was lying, covered in blood, on her bedroom floor.
“What the fuck.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Ladybug sighs.
“Uhm, maybe because you just had your identity revealed on international television?” Lila snarks, offering the heroine her hand and pulling her into a standing position. “Is this your blood?”
“It’s Chat’s,” Ladybug says sharply. “I need your help.”
Lila steels herself. “Really now.”
“Yes, really Lila.” The red clad hero shoves a box at her. “I need backup.”
Lila raises an eyebrow. “And you trust me to be your backup.”
“No, not really, but I don’t have a choice. Chat is dying, Hawkmoth is on a rampage, and I really don’t want to do this alone.”
There’s a pause. “Lila, Hawkmoth is Adrien’s father.”
Lila snaps the box lid open. “Right, let’s go kick his ass.”
Adrien wakes up feeling tingly. It’s a familiar feeling that he immediately recognizes as Ladybug’s magic undoing Hawkmoth’s damage. With a shaky exhale he presses a hand to his side and miraculously (ha) it comes away with no blood on it.
Well then. She’d done it.
Nino is watching him with a level look over his coffee. “Feeling better?”
“Ugh.”
His friend offers him a smile and his own cup of coffee. “Ladybug saves the day again.”
“As usual,” Plagg says, from the kitchen where he’s pigging out on some cheese that Nino had provided.
Adrien smiles, taking a sip of his coffee. “Who’d she get for backup?”
“No idea. New hero though. Calls herself Tigress or something.” Nino gestures toward the TV where Ladybug and a purple clad heroine with dark strips talk to a news reporter.
“No comment,” the new heroine says coldly—the voice is familiar, where has Adrien heard it before? — as she leans on Ladybug’s shoulder. “Just because one crazy psychopath says that Ladybug is a random civilian, doesn’t mean—”
“I’ll be giving an interview with Alya Césaire when she’s back in America,” Ladybug steps in, with a warning look to the other heroine. “In the meanwhile, we won’t be commenting on Mayura’s speculation.”
“But—” the reporter starts.
“My partner was severely injured in fight,” Ladybug continues. “So if you’ll excuse me—”
Nino clicks off the TV. “Yikes.”
“Hmm.” Adrien looks down at his coffee. “This is a mess.”
“Tell me about. Your dad is gonna flip when he finds out—”
Adrien bursts out laughing, shocking his friend into silence. Oh right, no one but him and Ladybug knew. Something hysterical lies in the pit of Adrien’s stomach. Suddenly, the coffee didn’t look so appealing anymore.
Plagg slowly drifts in from the kitchen, cheese forgotten. He hovers over Adrien’s shoulder as the boy places his mug on the coffee table and regards Nino with caution. “Yeah, about that…”
Nino frowns at him and sits on the couch. “You don’t look so good, dude. And it’s not just the whole ‘I was just bleeding to death on my bro’s couch’ kind of look bad.”
Adrien swallows. “So you heard how Nathalie is Mayura right.”
His friend makes a face. “Yeah, I’m so sorry, dude. I know you looked up to her.”
Playing with the hem of the hoodie Mari had left with him, Adrien avoids eye contact.
“Hawkmoth is Adrien’s dad,” Plagg blurts out.
Adrien freezes, staring wide eyed at his Kwami.
There’s silence in the room.
When Adrien looks up it’s to Nino’s absolutely enraged face. The kind of enraged face that says he’s about to break out some Kwami’s and go kick Hawkmoth’s ass himself.
Fortunately, Adrien is saved from having to be the responsible one by the front door flying open.
Marinette followed by Lila (what the fuck) flounce into the room, followed by two Kwamis. Adrien sputters out a hysterical laugh.
“Lila?!” he shrieks. “You chose Lila?”
“Hawkmoth is Gabriel Agreste?!” Nino shouts.
“You jumped in front of a fucking sword!” Marinette shrills throwing her arms around Adrien.
“Oh my god,” Lila mutters, “Be any louder guys, I’m sure there’s someone in Paris who hasn’t heard you by now!” She shuts the door and locks it for good measure. Adrien blinks at her for a moment and then turns his attention back to the girl in his arms.
“Sorry for scarring you, my lady,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. A light blush dusts her cheeks, but she makes no comment.
“You two are gross,” Lila offers, helpfully, sharing a commiserating look with her Kwami. “Also, yes, Gabriel fucking Agreste is Hawkmoth and I kicked him in the head.”
“Oh my god,” Adrien hears himself says.
“Good, I’m going to kick him in the head too,” Nino says pleasantly, reaching for the Kwami box. Marinette darts out of Adrien’s arms to grab it away from him.
“Uh, no you most definitely aren’t. Also, he’s been arrested so like you’re gonna have to break into the police department to do it.”
“Worth it,” Nino says, decisively.
“They arrested Father?” Adrien gets out, voice shakier then he’d have liked. The room goes quiet for a moment.
“Kid…” Plagg says softly. Marinette takes his hand.
“Yeah, we got him. Lila really kicked his ass.”
Adrien swallows. Hard. “Right. Okay. Right.” His vision blurs slightly and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he’s crying.
Marinette coaxes him back onto the couch and Lila heads to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. Somehow, in between there, he finds himself sobbing in Marinette’s shoulder, but whether it’s from relief or grief, he’d never know.
Plagg makes soothing purrs in the background as Mari offers reassurances and promises.
But it’s fine. Adrien’s safe now. It’s fine.
Marinette sits out of the fire escape. There are so many missed calls and text messages on her phone that she finally turns it off, unable to figure out where to start.
Adrien is in the shower, washing off the dried blood and sweat of the fight, while Lila and Nino bicker over how to make omelets. Marinette could have just taken over, but she’s too tired to make any more decisions, even if it’s just over what they’re having for breakfast, so she finds herself climbing out the window, onto Nino’s fire escape to get some fresh air.
The cool breeze stinging the tear tracks on her cheeks keeps her grounded. Taking a deep breath, Marinette drops her forehead onto the railing and takes a moment to just be.
Tikki rests on her shoulder, quiet.
“I don’t know what to do.” Saying it out loud felt almost cathartic, finally admitting that she was in over her head.
Her Kwami doesn’t say anything. Then, “I know.”
Marinette lets out a laugh. “I swear, every year something new decides to fuck up my life. I was just getting a handle on being the Guardian and now—now this?”
“Marinette—”
“I mean yeah, we caught Hawkmoth, but Emilie is still out there with the Peacock Miraculous and fuck if I know if she’s on our side,
“Mari—”
“And now with our identities revealed, how am I supposed to keep people safe? My mom safe, my friends’ safe—hell, my partner safe?!”
“You could start with asking for help,” Tikki offers, with a small smile.
Marinette pauses, and blinks up at the small Kwami, older than creation. She lets out a watery laugh and picks up her phone. There’s about a thousand text messages from her friends.
She unlocks the phone and brings up her contact list. There’s a thousand text messages from her friends, but only one from Alya saying: call me when you’re ready <3
Marinette smiles and hits call.