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The first thing you should know about Marinette Dupain-Cheng is that she’s going to die.
The second thing you should know is that there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
Everyone is destined to die, someway, somehow. Some people are just going to die sooner rather than later.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng is one of those people.
They’re fifteen when she gets sick, and it’s Ladybug who tells Chat Noir. Ladybug, who is... was... also Marinette, but, of course, Adrien didn’t know that at the time.
He wishes he had.
It’s at the end of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s patrol one hazy summer evening that she tells him, wringing her hands around her yo-yo. “So I have some bad news.”
She can’t tell him all the details, of course, not without compromising her identity. Just that she’s sick and that she was going to be out of commission for… a while. In the meantime, she’s going to give Rena Rouge the earrings. (“It’s not that I don’t trust you, kitty,” she says, “it’s just that it’s safer for you not to have both.”)
He doesn’t really give a damn about the earrings. The first thing out of Chat’s mouth is, “But when will you be back?”
“I’m… I’m not sure if I will be.”
He’s smart enough to read between the lines.
It’s impossible, he thinks, that Ladybug is sick, that Ladybug is maybe dying. This is Ladybug. Fearless, brave, kind, selfless, invincible, Ladybug. Hero of Paris.
He can’t help the way he breaks down sobbing, and he doesn’t want to cry — because he’s sure that she’s probably gotten this reaction from everyone — but he can’t help it.
This is Ladybug.
His Lady.
His best friend.
His partner.
“Oh, kitty,” Ladybug murmurs as she holds him tightly.
It feels wrong. He’s the one that should be comforting her, not the other way around.
But here she is, carrying the burden, like usual.
He will feel guilty about it for days.
It's lonely, to be on his own.
Of course, Chat’s not on his own. There’s Rena Rouge, and Carapace. Ryuko and Viperion and the others. It’s a rotating cast of companions, but none of them are Ladybug.
Adrien misses her like crazy. But then, he always misses her when he’s not with her.
He finds himself thinking about her more than usual. For some reason, there are no akumas that summer. It's lucky, really, because he doesn't know how to defeat an akuma without her. But it also means that when Adrien is Chat Noir, there isn't much to do.
And when he isn't Chat Noir, he’s stuck at home. His father is out of the country for the summer, in Tibet for reasons he doesn’t disclose — not that Adrien really expected him to — and Adrien has nothing but time on his hands.
Time he uses to worry about Ladybug. He knows it isn't healthy, but he doesn't know what else to do. He has no way to contact her. No way to know if she’s okay.
It’s a strange limbo Adrien is stuck in.
He hates it.
So when school starts back, it's a welcome distraction. If nothing else, it gives him something else to focus on. If he can't see Ladybug, at least he can see his other friends again. Alya and Nino and Marinette.
But the first day, Marinette isn’t there. Alya and Nino are shocked he doesn't know that she’s been diagnosed with cancer and is going through treatment. They're sure they told him, but Adrien's head was in the clouds all summer, worried sick over Ladybug.
(Adrien supposes that he should have connected the dots, but he doesn’t.)
He doesn't like visiting her in the hospital, but he knows he should. She always looks like a shriveled old woman, hooked up to tubes and wires and huddled under blankets and it scares him to see her like that. But she always seems to smile brighter when he's there. And she's managed to stop stuttering around him, too. Adrien isn't sure what has changed, but he likes it.
Everytime he visits, though, he can't help but wonder if Ladybug is there too. If Ladybug also looks small and pale and sickly.
(Ladybug is small and pale and sickly. Ladybug is sitting right in front of him.)
Marinette is going to be okay, though. The cancer was caught early and is responding well to treatment.
Adrien just hopes that Ladybug will be okay too.
He finds out her fate a few days later. Chat Noir and Rena Rouge are sitting on the edge of a roof, swinging their feet while they wait for Carapace to arrive for patrol.
“I talked to Ladybug,” Rena Rouge says, and it makes Chat's ears perk up.
“You know Ladybug’s identity?”
Rena Rouge nods. “I do.”
He bites his tongue to keep from asking who she is. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. “And?”
“And she’s going to be okay.”
Chat Noir feels like he can finally breathe again.
Two weeks later, Chat Noir finds Ladybug standing at their usual meeting spot, looking out over the city.
He’d imagined this moment in his head for days — he's thought that maybe he’ll sneak up on her and she'll cry and he'll hug her and tell some stupid joke to break the tension.
But he’s too excited for that. He’s beside himself and squeals as soon as he sees her. Before she’s even registered he’s there, he’s running and leaping into her arms, nearly bowling her backwards off the roof.
“You’re back!” Chat Noir exclaims as she sets him back onto his feet. He just latches onto her again, hugging her tightly, trying to keep the happy tears in his eyes from falling. “You’rebackyou’rebackyou’reback!”
Ladybug giggles and pats the top of his head. “Hello, kitty. Did you miss me?”
“More than you could possibly imagine, my Lady. Welcome back.” Still hugging her waist, he looks up at her, smiling. And then he notices. “Your hair!”
Gone are her trademark pigtails and ribbons. Her hair is shorn into a short pixie cut.
She touches it self-consciously. “Do… do you like it?”
Of course he does. He’d love her no matter what.
Chat Noir finally lets go of her and takes a step back, pressing his hand to his chin, like he’s really evaluating her haircut. He circles her as if she’s a piece of fine art. He notices she looks thinner, that her face looks a little bit puffy.
She watches him cautiously the whole time.
Finally Chat nods and bends to pick up her hand so he can kiss it. “You are paws-itively gorgeous, my Lady. I think you, and your hair, are absolutely beautiful.”
The smile she gives him is an amused one, but he can see in her eyes that his words mean a lot to her. “You haven’t changed a bit, kitty.”
He gives her a dramatic bow and a wink. “If I’m going to do one thing, it’s adore you.”
“Flirt.”
“Always. It’s part of the brand.”
“Ready for patrol or are you going to try to woo me all night?”
Chat Noir declares, “My lady, I have months of wooing to make up for!”
So they don’t patrol that night.
They sit and talk until the sun sets and then rises again.
Adrien falls asleep in class the next day, but he doesn’t regret the night before for a moment. It was the happiest he'd been in months.
Marinette and Adrien grow up side by side.
She’s behind when she finally comes back to school, sporting a brand new pixie cut, which Adrien makes a point to compliment.
(Adrien will later, again, wonder how he didn’t immediately connect the dots.)
It’s with a quivering stutter in her voice that she thanks him and asks him if he’ll tutor her and help her catch up on school.
He agrees. Of course he does. Marinette is one of his close friends, of course he’ll help her out. He still feels guilty for not knowing she was ill, not visiting her all summer. He comes over to her house and they go to her room and study. Her parents bring snacks, and when they're done studying, they play video games together.
Even when she catches back up on school, they continue to study together every day. Adrien comes to look forward to it as much as patrols with Ladybug.
Marinette's funny. And creative and brave and clever and kind. So kind.
Of course, he already knew all that about her. They’ve been friends for a while. But now he feels like he’s really gotten to know her. Who she really is.
They're sitting side by side in her room, playing Mecha Strike 3, and he can't remember what the joke is that he cracks that makes her laugh.
When she laughs and shoves him, Adrien is hit with a strange sense of deja vu. The sound of her laughter. The shape of her mouth. The way her hair swings when she throws her head back.
Later, years later, he'll realize that's what gave her away. The hair.
Marinette's hair has gotten longer again, and she wears it bobbed off at her chin and tucked behind her ears with a pale pink headband. He’d gifted the headband to her, actually, when her hair had gotten to an awkward length and she couldn’t figure out what to do with it.
It’s a flash of something, of someone, that he can’t quite place. And... that's a lie. He can place exactly who it is. But that would be impossible, far too lucky, that both girls he loves are the same person.
He blinks at her.
She tilts her head. Smiles. “What?”
“Nothing,” Adrien says, shaking his head. “You just… you reminded me of someone.”
As Adrien and Marinette grow up, Ladybug and Chat Noir do, too.
They still spend their nights chasing each other through Paris and finding the best rooftops to stargaze from, but talks about school turn to talks about applying for university and how the hell they're going to defeat Hawkmoth while balancing that.
They're getting older now. More mature. Taller.
Well, Chat Noir is, anyways. Ladybug stays small, barely reaching his armpit when they stand next to each other.
“You live up to your name, Ladybug,” Chat Noir teases, resting his arm on top of her head. He’s tall enough that he can do that now, even has to lean down a little to do it. “So teeny!”
She pouts.
“What?”
“You got all tall and buff and handsome and I still look like a kid,” Ladybug says, flicking his bell as she does, so it seems like a joke. “It really isn’t fair.”
Chat Noir preens at her essentially calling him sexy, but bristles at her half-insulting herself. She definitely does not look like a kid anymore, even if she can’t see it. Her suit alone proves she's more woman than girl. It does nothing to hide the soft curves of her body, and as of late, Chat Noir has been struggling not to openly ogle her. Her body in that suit has been the subject of more than a few dreams that woke him up drenched in sweat.
“Well, you’ll still ring my bell no matter what you look like, my Lady,” he purrs, which makes her snort in laughter.
And while he says it in jest, he really does mean it. He loves her and thinks she’s the most beautiful woman on the planet and nothing would change that.
“But seriously, you definitely don’t look like a kid anymore,” Chat Noir says indignantly. “I know I tell you all the time, but you really are beautiful. Not only that, but you’re intelligent, creative, and brave. And kind. Paris is lucky to have you as its hero. And I’m beyond lucky to have you as my partner.”
Ladybug blinks at him curiously, as if she’s noticing something she hasn’t seen before.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. It makes her short hair swing; she wears it bobbed just below her chin now, held back from her face with a red headband. “You just… you reminded me of someone.”
It’s a few months before Marinette gets sick, the second time, that Chat Noir and Ladybug finally get together.
It happens organically, unexpectedly.
Ladybug is yelling at him about sacrificing himself for her again, and he’s trying to pretend he’s not as shaken up about it as she is, when she grabs him by the bell and kisses him.
They both try to write it off as just that, just a kiss. Just the heat of the moment, or fear taking over, or rogue teenage hormones, but they both knew it’s a lie. They’re both just scared to admit what they both know for days, fearful of what it will do to their friendship.
Ladybug is the one to finally address it, after days of dancing around each other. At the start of patrol one afternoon, she just sighs and point-blank says, “Look, if you’re not going to say anything, I will. Can I kiss you again, Chat Noir?”
Chat Noir nearly falls off the roof they’re sitting on. He blinks at her in disbelief. “Did you just ask if you could kiss me?”
She nods, her arms wrapped around herself and blushing harder than Chat Noir has ever seen.
“What about that other boy? The one you've been in love with for so long? And… And Hawkmoth? What about Hawkmoth?”
“I... I realized life is short and I should stop ignoring what's right in front of me.”
“Okay, right, yeah, sick, coolcoolcool,” Chat Noir says, staring at the Paris skyline. He can’t look at her. He also can’t breathe or think. He has waited for this moment his whole life.
A gloved finger creeps across his cheek, gently turning his face towards her. She is mere centimeters away from him, filling his vision with blue and red and black.
“So can I kiss you, Chat Noir?”
He takes her face in his hands, ducks his head, and kisses her as his response.
And that’s that.
They have their first date that night, but if anyone asks, they’re nothing more than close friends. Partners, like always. It is a secret to be kept in alleyways, on remote rooftops and far, far from the public.
It didn’t feel like anything had changed between them, though. It was just a new word. Ladybug went from ‘best friend’ to ‘girlfriend.’ They were still the same people. Chat Noir was still the same Chat Noir, Ladybug was still the same Ladybug, but they just had different designations.
Ladybug being Chat Noir’s girlfriend means that when he tackles her to the ground, he can kiss her when they land. Despite the invincible supersuits, Chat Noir is careful about tackling her, and kissing her, though.
Of course, Chat Noir is careful with her, no matter what. He always is, scared that if he somehow hurts her, whatever illness she’d been suffering from would find its way back into her body.
And though Adrien knows science, knows that isn’t the case, that it couldn’t happen, he is careful all the same.
“That's the cat constellation,” Chat Noir says, pointing to a random clump of stars. They're lying on top of the Tour Montparnasse. It may be the ugliest building in Paris, but it's the best spot in the city to watch the sky. "See the whiskers?”
Ladybug giggles and smacks his arm. “There's no cat constellation, you dumbass furry.”
“Yes there is,” he insists, because he looked it up and knows he's right. “It’s called Felis and a French astronomer named it in the 1700s.”
“Okay,” she concedes, rolling her eyes. “I’ll give you that. But I know there’s not a Ladybug one.”
“No, but there could be, some day.” He grins and rolls over, wrapping an arm around her and laying his head on her chest. “You know, I like to think we turn into stars when we die.”
“Stars?” Her hand was raking through his hair but it stills. “Why?”
“Well, it's sort of romantic, don't you think? The idea that we become part of the universe again?”
She hums in thoughtful agreement. “It is sort of romantic. Like you're watching over everyone.”
“Right. So when you're old and I'm gone someday, you can look to the stars and think of me and know I'm looking back.”
She puts a finger under his chin to tilt his head up and presses a soft kiss against his lips. “Only if you promise to do the same.”
It’s a week before Christmas when Ladybug and Chat Noir have their first big fight as a couple. Now, looking back, Adrien can’t even remember what it was about. Knowing them, probably something stupid.
She storms off, and Chat Noir doesn’t try to follow. He stays on whatever rooftop they’d been on, fuming mad. God, he wishes he could remember what made him so angry that he didn’t go after her. He should have seen it then, what with how weird she was acting, that something was wrong with her.
Several hours later, after he’d gone home and transformed back to Adrien, Alya calls him.
I can’t find Marinette, Alya said, she was supposed to come over hours ago but I can’t — I can’t find her anywhere. She won’t answer her phone. I need you to meet me, please —
Adrien hangs up before she’d even finished her sentence. There's a pit in his stomach, and he's fairly certain he knows why.
He has never transformed faster.
Chat Noir is the one that eventually finds Marinette, thirty minutes later.
It’s Ladybug, actually, that he finds, standing on a rooftop in the snow, staring at the stars. Her nose is bright red from the cold, and so are her ears.
“Ladybug,” he shouts. “Oh, thank God! I — I need your help.”
“Help?”
“Yes. Why are you just standing out here? Are you still mad at me?” And then he steps closer. There’s blood on her face, a crimson streak that ran from her nostril to her face. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”
Ladybug looks at him and blinks. “Hm?”
Chat Noir searches for a tissue in the pocket of his suit. He comes up with a folded napkin from Tom and Sabine’s bakery. Not the most sanitary thing, but it’d have to do. “What are you doing out here in the cold? What happened?”
Ladybug isn’t listening, though. She seemed to have just realized what he’d said earlier. She reaches slowly, watching her gloved hand with unfocused eyes as she does, to touch her nose. Her fingers come away crimson and she stares at it, eyes crossed, brows knitted in confusion. “Oh, would you look at that? I am.”
“Bug?”
She is swaying like a reed in the wind when she looks back up at him. “I… I don’t… who are you..?”
Chat Noir freezes. “It’s — it’s me. Chat Noir? Your… I’m your partner. I’m — I’m your kitty.”
“Kitty…”
It's clear what's going to happen before it does. Marinette's eyes are unfocused, her face pale, and he darts forward to catch her before she can pitch forward and hit the ground.
She’s limp in his arms. And cold. She’s so cold.
He’s shouting at her, begging for her to wake up, when her transformation breaks in a flash of pink.
Chat Noir does not have time to process that Ladybug is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (Later, when he does have time, he won't be surprised at all.)
The next few things that happened after that are very blurry for Adrien. You know how they say panic blinds you? Adrien didn’t believe that until then and there, but it’s true. He scoops Marinette up and runs to whatever the closest hospital is and they take her from his arms.
And then he waits and waits and waits.
It is Alya, finally, that comes and tells Adrien, who had since transformed back, what was going on. Marinette had had a seizure, the cancer was back, and this time, it was in her brain. A glioma, she calls it.
Adrien looks it up later. It isn’t a good cancer to have.
Marinette was dying. This was it. They were still going to try to treat her, but in Adrien’s mind, it’s hopeless.
When he finally gets to see her, a few miserable days later, he is shocked by how small she looks. So small and tired, bundled up under blankets.
And when he hugs her, he tries to slip his ring off his finger, tries to press it into her palm, but when she realizes what it is, her eyes tick up towards his face in understanding. Her mouth falls open.
She shoves his hands away, shaking her head fervently.
“Bug, please.”
“No. The cost…”
“I don’t care about the cost.”
“I do. I can’t let you. I don’t want you to.”
“I need you, Marinette. I love you, I — I can’t do this without you.”
Adrien can feel his lip quivering as he struggles not to cry. He is the unluckiest person in the whole world. Because not only is he going to lose Ladybug, he’s losing Marinette too. Two of his closest friends, who are actually the same person. His partner. His Lady. His love.
She holds her arms out to him, and he goes into them willingly, half-collapsing against her, sobbing into the scratchy fabric of her hospital gown.
“I’m so sorry, kitty,” Marinette murmurs, stroking the back of his neck with her thumb as she holds him. “I love you so much.”
And he is struck, as he was all those years ago, that he should be the one comforting her.
Adrien visits every day. Never empty handed. Always with flowers. Sometimes with expensive fabric swatches his father lets him have or with cards from friends. Gourmet candies and weird fruits for her to try. New movies to watch, new books to read to her.
She always assures him that she’s, “good, great, fine,” but when he looks into her eyes, those bluebell eyes that he adores so much, he can see the toll that the cancer has taken on her; when she moves, he can almost hear her bones rattling under her skin.
It’s always a mental fight not to ask her if he can use the Miraculous wish on her. But the few times he asks, she always shuts him down.
Around him, everyone seems to be accepting the inevitable. But Adrien can't. He can't. He knows how to make her better. He knows there's a solution. It's just one she won't let him use.
He knows he could just do it, just go against her wishes, but he can't. He loves her too much to do that.
He tries to go to Alya, who he has since realized is Rena Rouge. He tries to go to Tikki. Tries to get Plagg to convince her to convince Marinette, but Tikki won’t.
“It’s her choice, Adrien,” Tikki always says. She always sounds terribly mournful, too. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
Adrien wants to be angry at Marinette. But he can't be; this isn't her fault. The only person Adrien's really angry at is himself. He should have been able to see that she was sick again. He knows her better than anyone else on the planet. It's something he should have known.
If he had just seen it, if he had just realized sooner, maybe everything would have turned out differently.
But he had not, and eventually, the doctors decide there is nothing more they can do.
They send her home to die.
He knows it isn't his fault, but the guilt threatens to eat Adrien alive.
Even though Adrien's world has stuttered to a halt, the rest of the world does not.
His father, at least, is merciful. He allows Adrien to stop modeling, after quite a bit of begging. Adrien decides to forgo attending university, rejecting all of his acceptances. When his father gripes about it, Adrien levels him with a stern glare and says, “You would have done the same for Mom.”
Gabriel doesn't disagree.
But Adrien's alter ego doesn't get the same reprieve. There are still akumas to deal with.
They try to do it without Ladybug. They really do. But it's not possible. They need her — her leadership, her Lucky Charm, her miraculous ladybugs to reset everything back to normal.
They can't — can't win. Suddenly, it's Chat Noir standing alone as Paris’ last line of defense.
And then Ladybug miraculously appears beside him, grinning wildly and looking every bit the hero he knows she is.
“You looked like you could use a hand, chaton,” she quips, swinging her yo-yo.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Saving your ass!” she exclaims before calling Lucky Charm.
Marinette faints when she transforms back, and she's completely exhausted for the next three days, but they manage to win. And every time it happens, every time Ladybug has to swing in and save the day and she's sick afterwards, Adrien's furious at her. And himself. Mostly himself. He should be better than this. Smarter than this. Stronger than this. He should be able to do this on his own. He's... he's going to have to, eventually.
But it just proves one thing to him: Paris needs Ladybug more than it needs Chat Noir.
Maybe she'll change her mind.
(Adrien knows she won't.)
The good days are bad, the bad days are worse.
She spends a lot of time sleeping, on both good and bad days.
On bad days, Marinette is irritable. Sometimes she can't get her hands to work, or remember things she knows she should, like names or places. She almost always ends up throwing things and crying in frustration. On those days, she sends everyone away. Everyone except Adrien. Sometimes she wants to be totally alone, but most of the time, he's the only one she wants around.
He constantly feels the need to apologize for it.
Everyone says it's okay, but he feels like it isn't. He can see the underlying resentment, even if they aren't aware of it — why is he the special one?
But, Christ, some days he wishes he weren't.
It's hard. Hard watching her fall to pieces day after day. Hard being the one that has to pick up those pieces, day after day.
Adrien usually ends those days sobbing into Sabine's shoulder. Which, again, he feels the need to apologize for. But she just hugs him, and tells him it's all right, that he's allowed to be upset, allowed to feel. That she knows it's difficult, and he's still so young, and he shouldn't have to do this, none of them should.
The good days are almost harder. They're fewer, but on those days, Marinette smiles. She laughs. She'll want to put on real clothes. Draw or maybe sew, for a little while. Sometimes she'll want to play video games, but those mostly just give her a headache. On those days, it can be easy to forget how fragile she really is.
Adrien knows she does a lot of it for their benefit — her family, her friends, him — so they can all have some happy memories. But she'll confide to Adrien, late one night, that she's tired. She's so tired, and she's trying to stay strong for everyone, especially for her parents, but she's so tired and she just doesn't want to do this anymore.
Adrien doesn't know how she's held on for so long, but her sense of duty has always been stronger than his. And he knows what she really means, when she says she's tired, but he chooses to pretend he doesn't.
He kisses her cheek and tells her that she can rest, then, if she's tired.
On Marinette's last good day, she feels well enough to sit on her balcony, enjoying the sunshine and listening to Adrien read to her.
“Adrien?”
“Mm?”
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
Adrien jerks his head up to look at her. “Right now?”
“Maybe it's stupid, but I don't want to die a virgin.”
Adrien is still staring at her in surprise. The book has fallen out of his hands, forgotten entirely. “You want to have sex, right now?”
“I — I mean, we don't — we don't have to.” Her eyes are on the floor and she rubs the scar on her head as she says it, a new nervous habit of hers. “I know I'm — I don't look like who you fell in love with anymore.”
“No, no, no, that's not it at all,” Adrien insists. He catches her face in his hands and kisses her forehead. “My love, you're still the most beautiful woman on this planet and I love you forever. Like I've always said, you'll ring my bell no matter what. I was just surprised because I can't believe my luck. I want to. I want to so badly.”
She lets him sweep her off her feet and carry her inside like a bride, giggling as he does.
They take their time. Undressing each other, exploring each other's bodies, peppering kisses and sweet nothings on every bare inch of skin. Adrien makes a point to kiss every single one of her scars.
Marinette stops him, right before, with an, are… are you sure? He kisses her fiercely and tells her, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life and she nods and tells him she’s ready.
It's slow and sweet. Gentle. Neither of them know what they’re doing, but they figure it out. How to move, how to touch, how to give, how to love.
It is, also, unfortunately, quick. Adrien is young and inexperienced and her body is heaven.
She raises an eyebrow at him, as if to ask if he thinks they’re already done, and her expression is totally Ladybug.
“Oh, my Lady,” he says, “we’re just getting started.”
And the grin he gives her before diving between her thighs is all Chat Noir.
Later, afterwards, as they lie in her bed, Marinette will tell him it was everything she's ever wanted.
Adrien will agree.
They won’t get the chance to do it again.
After the Last Good Day, which at the time, they didn’t realize was the last good day, things start deteriorating quickly.
Walking becomes almost impossible for her. She can't hold a pen. She sleeps all the time. When she's awake, she's often confused. Her moments of clarity become few and far between.
The end is here.
Everyone takes turns sitting with her and holding her hand while she sleeps. When Adrien takes his turn, he spends the hours committing every detail of her face to memory.
It’s late.
A Monday night, he’ll never forget, when she makes him promise her two things.
They’re lying on the couch, watching the credits to a movie roll past. She's got her head on his chest and he's gently stroking her hair. Tikki and Plagg are both nestled in the hood of her sweatshirt.
Adrien thinks she's asleep, and he's half asleep himself.
“Adrien?” Marinette asks, gently touching his shoulder. Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m here,” Adrien says, immediately awake. “I’m here, my love.”
Her eyes rove his face. Her eyes are big and luminously blue, dominating her face. Her eyes are eyes you can’t look away from. When you look at them, you almost can’t notice how prominent her cheekbones are. “I'm tired.”
“Okay, my love, let’s go to bed.”
“Wait.” She reaches and grabs his hand. It's the most strength she's had in days. Adrien’s nerves feel like they’re on fire. “You have to promise me something first.”
“Anything, bug.”
“You can’t use our Miraculous to bring me back.”
“I know. You've — you've told me.”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“But—”
“You can’t, Adrien.”
“Why are you so against it? I don’t — I don’t understand.” (Don’t you love me? He wants to add. He doesn’t.)
“Hawkmoth.”
“What about Hawkmoth?”
“Hawkmoth’s trying to bring back his dead wife,” Marinette murmurs. Her eyes flutter shut. Talking this much is taking a lot out of her. “If I let you… then we’re just as bad as he is. You have to keep going without me. Paris needs you, and it’ll need you more than ever once I’m gone.”
Adrien swallows hard. He feels terrible for thinking that he kind of gets where Hawkmoth is coming from. “It’s — but you’re Ladybug. Paris… Paris doesn't need me. It needs you. I… I need you.”
Marinette grabs onto his the collar of his shirt to gently reel him down to her.
This kiss is everything they can’t say.
He cups her face in his hands and it says: I'm so scared. I don’t know how to be Chat Noir without you.
Her fingertips dance across his jaw and they say: I know you’re scared, but you are more capable than you think.
He presses his forehead against hers and it says: This isn't... it isn't fair. Please don't leave me.
She strokes his cheek and it says: My love, I'll be with you always. Be brave.
But above all, that kiss, their last kiss, says, I love you, I love you, I love you.
Neither of them want to be the one to pull away first, but eventually it's Adrien that does. He can feel how exhausted she is. “We should go to bed, my love.”
“Say it first.”
It's through gritted teeth that he promises: “I won't use our Miraculous to bring you back.”
That seems to appease her. She nods and closes her eyes; her face is all gaunt lines and valleys and mountains.
Adrien carries her to her room, up to the chaise — she can’t get up and down the stairs to her loft anymore. She’s lost so much weight that Adrien can carry her as easily as he could a sack of flour. Her knees knock together like pitiful wind chimes.
He lays her down and wraps her in a blanket, tucking it carefully around her.
Adrien has not seen death before, but he knows it is close. Can see it lurking in the shadows under her eyes.
Marinette grabs his hand before he can pull away. Her grip is weak, but incredibly vice-like. “Stay with me.”
“I’m — I’m going to get your parents.”
“No. I just want you.”
“But—”
“Please, kitty. Stay with me.”
Adrien lies down beside her. They don’t touch. They rarely do, when they sit like this. He’s so scared of hurting her. They sit shoulder to shoulder, only slivers of skin meeting. A caress of the pinky, a curve of an arm, the brush of a toe.
“Tell me our story.”
It nearly breaks him. Her memory started going bad a while ago, and she can't recall most of Ladybug and Chat Noir's adventures anymore. Adrien wonders, briefly, if she remembers that she asked for this same story last night, too.
“Okay,” he whispers finally.
Marinette reaches over and takes his hand, interlocking their fingers, tangling them together and making them whole, making them one. Her hand is cold in Adrien’s, her skin clammy. Her breath rattles in her chest as she waits for Adrien to start talking.
And Adrien knows what’s coming next. Can see it on her face. It has gone a strange yellow-gray color, like a healing bruise.
“It was the first day of school,” he starts, and he can feel her hanging onto his every word.
He struggles to keep the quiver out of his voice as he recounts Ladybug and Chat Noir’s first adventure together to her. But he resolves himself to be strong, to be brave, for his Lady this time.
By the time he gets to: and that was when I fell in love with you, she’s gone.
There are things no one tells you about death.
Like that if someone dies with their eyes open, you can’t close them. Or that the body feels different. Heavier. Stiffer.
No one tells you what happens when you’re alone with the person when they die. That you have to be the one to scream for her parents. That you have to be the one to tell them their daughter, their only child, their baby, is dead.
No one tells you what it sounds like when a mother and father find out that their little girl is gone forever.
No one tells you, and you can’t prepare yourself for any of it.
But you will never forget it.
Adrien wakes up on top of the covers of his bed.
He can’t remember how he got here. He’ll try forever to remember how he got home, or into his bed, but he can’t. He isn’t wearing shoes; they’re placed neatly on the floor. His phone is on the charger, on the nightstand. There’s a glass of water next to it.
His eyes are dry and puffy. Crusty, like he’s been crying. And his head… It feels like bowling balls are rolling around in it when he turns to look at the clock.
10:32 a.m.
He curses and jumps out of bed.
He’s late to see Marinette. He’d promised her he’d bring over a movie for them to watch, and here he is, late to —
And then he stops.
Because he remembers what happened the night before.
And he laughs. Laughs at himself for being stupid. Laughs so hard that it turns to helpless, hysterical tears.
Marinette.
Ladybug.
My love…
And oh, God, they’re going to have to tell Paris. They’re going to have to tell Paris that Ladybug is...
Adrien runs to the bathroom to throw up.
He doesn’t make it in time; he ends up wearing most of it.
Dizzy, he half-falls against his sink. This can't be happening, he thinks, this is all just a terrible dream and I'll wake up soon.
Yes. That's it.
It's a dream. A nightmare, really. He'll take a shower, clean the vomit off of himself. Marinette will be calling him, soon, asking him why he's so late, and he wants to be ready when she does.
Adrien steps into the shower still fully-clothed.
Only Plagg, pressing his tiny little paws against Adrien's cheek snaps him back to reality. His kwami's eyes are filled with sadness and Adrien knows.
This is not a nightmare.
This is real.
Ladybug… Marinette... is really...
He crouches down, pressing his face into his hands, letting the scorching water continue to stream down his back.
Adrien can’t stop thinking about Marinette's eyes, how they sat so nicely in her face when she was healthy, like two little crystallized puddles of ocean.
He’d always liked her eyes, even before he’d fallen in love with her. But when she was ill, with the sharp angles of her face, they’d made her look otherworldly and nearly grotesque. How could something so perfect become the thing to mark her as having one foot in the grave?
Another wave of nausea hits him, and he briefly considered drinking his soap, wondering if it would make his insides feel clean. No, you can’t do that, he tells himself, biting down on his tongue hard enough to taste copper blood.
Eventually, Plagg turns the water off.
Adrien spends the days leading up to the funeral expecting to be akumatized, but evidently, even Hawkmoth can show mercy sometimes.
The reality is that Adrien is too shattered to feel any emotions at all.
The funeral is a blur of memories Adrien will eventually try to forget. He can never quite figure out if they’re real or not.
Running his fingers over the stiff black fabric of a suit jacket. Gray light filtering in through the kitchen window and cold coffee. Wine red cushions on church pews and pink flowers. Crying into Alya’s shoulder and her clutching his hand.
They’re the only ones who know. The only ones who know that not only is Marinette gone, but so is Ladybug.
They go and place a bouquet of red roses on Ladybug’s statue in the park that night.
The first akuma battle after Ladybug’s death is frantic. Chaotic.
Disastrous.
Everyone is looking at Chat Noir to lead and he has no clue how.
That was always Ladybug’s role.
Not his.
“I don’t know how to do this! I can’t — I can’t do this!” Chat Noir shouts finally, throwing his staff in frustration. Everyone is staring at him in shock, even the akuma.
He stalks forward, grabs the akuma roughly by its front so he can do what he’s wanted to for a while: yell at Hawkmoth. “You're not getting the fucking earrings today, Hawkbitch, she isn't here. She isn't — she's dead! She's dead and she's not coming back!”
He wishes he could say that after that, he took a deep breath, got his head on straight, and led them to victory.
That’s not what happens.
Adrien is embarrassed to say that he runs away.
He knows Ladybug would be disappointed in him but it’s all too much for him too soon. No one will blame him for it. In fact, when Paris finds out what happened, the media and the public will be quite sympathetic towards him. But Chat Noir still feels like a failure, curled up between trash cans like the alley cat he is, pressing his hands over his ears. He knows this isn’t how a superhero should behave.
But he doesn’t really want to be a superhero. Not anymore. Not without Ladybug.
You have to keep going without me.
“How?” Chat Noir hisses. “How?”
He doesn’t know how to lead a team. He doesn’t know how to strategize — not like she does... did. Like she did. He doesn’t have a Lucky Charm that will miraculously fix everything. Paris doesn't need him, Paris needs Ladybug.
What would Ladybug do?
Ladybug would not run away from a fight. Ladybug would come up with a plan and save the day.
Ladybug would —
Adrien is not Ladybug. Adrien is young and soft and sensitive and grieving.
It's not fair. It isn't fair that he has to learn how to survive without her.
But he supposes she had to do it, so many times. So many battles where he sacrificed himself for her and she had to carry on without him. The only difference was that, at the end of the battle, Ladybug could always bring him back with a swirl of magic ladybugs.
Adrien cannot do that.
That is the one thing she has forbidden him from doing, and oh, it hurts. Knowing there's a way he can have her back and not being able to do a thing about it.
It isn't fair. It isn't fair that Marinette only got eighteen years. She had so much life ahead of her. She wants... wanted. Wanted to go to design school. And own her own fashion label. And a hamster. She wanted a hamster so bad. Maybe she and Adrien would have even gotten married, after they defeated Hawkmoth together. She had dreams and goals and wants and wishes.
Adrien’s only dream was her.
It isn't fair. Adrien is only eighteen and now he has to learn how to survive without his soulmate for the rest of his life.
He kicks one of the trashcans over in a fit of rage. There's a metallic clanging that echoes through the alleyway.
It alerts Rena Rouge and Carapace to his presence. They were looking for him, he realizes, as they carefully pick their way towards him and kneel down in front of him.
“You're okay. It's okay,” Rena Rouge says, drawing him into her arms.
Chat Noir drops his head forward against Rena Rouge's collarbone. He is decidedly not okay. “Is it… over?”
“Yes.”
“Did... did we win?”
Rena Rouge swallows. Hesitates. “Hawkmoth called off the akuma after your... after you left. So...”
Good, Adrien thinks. He isn't ready to reckon with how just how badly Paris needs Ladybug. And he certainly isn't ready for someone else to wear the earrings.
But still...
Our first akuma battle without her is over.
None of them say it, but Adrien knows they're all thinking it.
Chat Noir tries to hold it together, biting down on his lip and pinching his eyes shut, but he hears Carapace sniffle from behind him, and it sets him off again.
“This fucking sucks,” Carapace says, rocking back onto his heels.
It sucks so hard.
Rena Rouge clutches Chat tighter, as he whimpers, pressing her hand against his hair. “I know, I know, we loved her too.”
Her words make him feel as though he's stuck his finger in a socket.
Loved.
As in, past tense. As in not anymore.
It’s the first time it really hits him that she’s gone.
Adrien’s father is waiting for him when he returns.
“Adrien, I’d like to speak with you.”
He stares wordlessly at his father. Chat Noir may yell and scream and sob his frustrations, but Adrien’s not really speaking much to anyone these days.
Gabriel Agreste clears his throat awkwardly. “How are you?”
Adrien wants to laugh.
How is he? He’s never felt worse in his life. The only comparable thing he can think of is the first few months after his mother went missing. But there's still a chance she could walk through the door. Marinette is gone forever.
He’s barely eating, barely sleeping. He’s stopped crying, at least.
Adrien shrugs a shoulder.
“I’m here if you want to talk. I — I understand what you’re going through.”
Adrien just nods and turns to walk away. He doesn’t feel up to playing nice right now.
His father’s voice stops him before he can get any father. “You know, they say that the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous, if combined—”
Adrien whips back around.
“No.”
His father is so shocked by the venom Adrien spits that he takes a step back.
“No,” Adrien growls. “No. I promised her I wouldn’t go looking. It's wrong.”
“You don’t want to bring her back?”
“Of course I do,” Adrien snaps. “There’s nothing more I want than to have her back. But I love her too much to go against her wishes. Even if going against her wishes means I could have her back. I love her too much to do that.”
Adrien lets the door slam shut as he leaves.
The akumas stop just as suddenly as they started.
Paris wants answers.
There are none.
Alya writes one final update for the Ladyblog.
She asks Adrien if he wants to read it before she posts it.
He doesn't.
She asks if there's anything he wants to say.
(There is too much that he wants to say.)
He tells her there isn't.
The morning after Paris finds out Ladybug is dead Rena Rouge jumps through Adrien’s window, nearly scaring him out of his skin.
There’s a flash of orange and then suddenly Alya is standing there instead, her hands shoved into her coat pockets.
She wrinkles her nose up when her gaze lands on him. “You look awful, Adrien. Have you brushed your hair today or… this week?”
Adrien scowls. Truthfully, he can’t remember the last time he did. “Are you just here to insult me or do you have something to tell me?”
She pulls her hand out of her pocket and, with it, an envelope. Adrien’s name is written on the front in pink. “I… I was going through her stuff earlier and found this.”
Adrien didn’t have to ask which her she's referring to.
He holds out his hand for it. Alya retracts hers.
“I’m not going to give this to you until you go take a shower,” Alya says, holding the envelope against her chest. “She made me promise to look after you.”
Adrien’s hands ball into fists. “I’m not — I don’t need to be looked after.”
“He does,” Plagg says, floating out from wherever he was hiding.
Adrien blanches. “Plagg, you can’t—”
“He's the one that called me here. Besides, I've known for years,” Alya says with a shrug. He doesn’t bother to ask how; it doesn’t really matter. He supposes he should have known, when she asked if there was anything he wanted to add to the Ladyblog. There are a lot of things he should have known.
Adrien levels a glare at his kwami.
Plagg doesn't hesitate to return it. “Come on, kid, I'm worried about you. When’s the last time you ate a proper meal? Ladybug wouldn’t want this.”
Ladybug isn't here anymore, Adrien wants to yell, what does it matter what she would want?
But he doesn't. He does what they tell him to, because he loves Ladybug, and he knows they're right.
An hour later, he is showered and shaved and dressed in clean clothes for the first time in days. Alya sits across from him on the couch, watching with a bland sort of interest as he picks at a croissant. It tastes like nothing at all. But Alya said she wouldn't give him the envelope until he eats.
“Are... are... how are you doing?” Adrien asks finally. He's been so wrapped up in his own sadness he hasn't thought about anyone else. Alya is — was. Alya was her best friend. Alya is hurting just as much as he is.
Alya exhales a puff of air. “Not great.”
“I — I'm so sorry, Alya. I should... I should...” He should what? “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”
She shrugs. “Nino and I have been managing. We have each other, at least. You should... we're... there's going to be a memorial. For Ladybug, tonight. It would... it would probably be nice if you, well, Chat Noir spoke.”
Adrien blinks at her. This is the most Adrien has spoken since Marinette died. And Chat Noir has not made an appearance since the terrible akuma battle.
“Or... or maybe not. But you should come.”
“Maybe.” Adrien sets the croissant down. He doesn't feel like eating anymore. “Can I have the envelope now?”
Silently, she hands it to him.
Adrien starts to rip it open, but something stops him.
He frowns.
“Are you not going to open it?” Alya asks.
Adrien stares at the envelope in his hands. His name written in careful cursive. A cat has been doodled underneath it. The sticker that seals it shut is shaped like a heart.
Once he opens it, once he reads it, it's over. This is it. This is all that's left of her.
And Adrien shakes his head.
Chat Noir does not attend the memorial service.
He watches it, though, from a rooftop high above. He knows people can see him, but they don't dare try to engage with him. They leave him to mourn, alone.
Thousands show up for the ceremony. They bring flowers, and candles, and posters, and notes, which they stack at the base of Ladybug and Chat Noir's statue in the park. The flowers are so numerous they reach all the way up to the toes of statue-Chat's boots.
Jagged Stone performs an original song.
Chat Noir knows Ladybug would have loved it.
But he also knows, if he were the one that was dead, Ladybug would have given him the best damn eulogy of all time. But words aren't enough to describe what Ladybug meant — means. What Ladybug means to him.
He knows he should try to come up with something, to pull himself together and be strong for Paris, to provide them the comfort they need, but he can't.
In fact, he thinks tonight is going to be Chat Noir's last appearance for a while. He knows what he promised Ladybug, but her sense of duty was always much stronger than his. And he knows he's being selfish, but damn it, he is eighteen and he has been indentured to Paris since he was a child.
But before he goes, he wants to pay his respects to his Lady. He plucks a random flower off of a random Parisian's bush; it can be sacrificed for the Miraculous Ladybug.
There's a crowd still gathered at the statue when he leaps off his rooftop perch, but it parts for him immediately.
They're all looking at him. Staring at him with pity and fear in their eyes. They expect him to say something, he can tell. He is Chat Noir, the flirty, funny and strong hero of Paris. And the people of Paris need a hero right now.
But so does Chat Noir.
He's about to bolt when Paris steps up for him, in the form of a pig-tailed little girl.
She darts forward and hands him a single white rose. She doesn't give Chat Noir the opportunity to thank her, just runs away again.
Others in the crowd follow suit. Most of them silently hand him their bouquet, but some of them offer him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder or ruffle his hair. A few older women kiss his cheeks.
The biggest shock of them all is the appearance his father and Nathalie. They each have a large bouquet of white tulips that they place into a stunned Chat Noir's arms.
“We are so sorry for your loss, Chat Noir.”
“T-thank you.”
“It's okay to mourn,” Gabriel says awkwardly, avoiding Chat Noir's eyes, “for as long as you need. It's going to hurt for a long time. But you can't let it consume you. I made that mistake, and it has cost me greatly.”
“But... how?”
“I'm still figuring that out myself.” Gabriel Agreste pats Chat Noir's shoulder and then he and Nathalie melt back into the crowd, swallowed by the mass of mourners as more people press forward to give Chat Noir their condolences.
Later, Chat Noir will find the butterfly and peacock Miraculous in his pocket. For a long time, he will question who placed it there, but deep down, he thinks he knows.
For the sake of his own sanity, he will choose to ignore the obvious truth in front of him.
After the memorial, Adrien goes to Marinette's house.
He goes as Chat Noir, so he can land on the balcony and duck through the skylight instead of having to face her parents.
It’s not like they don’t adore him. Alya says they’re always asking after him. But he can see Marinette in their features. In their expressions.
Marinette's room is mostly untouched, left almost exactly how he remembers it. There's still a half-finished project in her sewing machine. There are still pillows tossed on the floor. Colored pencils litter her desk. If it weren't for the layer of dust covering everything, Adrien could almost believe Marinette had just stepped away for a moment.
It feels wrong to move anything. It's still too fresh. The only thing Adrien does, and it's with a great deal of hesitation, is toss out an old vase of flowers and replace it with some of the multitude of flowers that the mourners gave him.
When he returns the flowers to where they were before, settling it back in the dustless ring on top of her desk, he nearly knocks something over.
It's the box that holds her diary.
She's shown him how to disarm it. When she struggled to hold a pen, sometimes she'd dictate to him and he'd write for her. Out of respect for her, he'd never read any of it, except what he wrote for her, before.
But as they say, curiosity kills the cat.
Adrien grabs a blanket and curls himself up in her desk chair, where they used to sit for hours, playing video games and studying. The blanket doesn't smell like her anymore, but he didn't really expect it to.
He cracks the diary open and starts from the beginning.
Dear Diary…
Adrien laughs and cries and pouts and groans as he reads Marinette’s diary. Rereading their adventures, both as heroes and civilians, is… indescribable. It's physically painful, almost. Those memories that he loves are now tainted with sadness.
Mostly, though, he realizes that she loved him for so long. That’s what her diary essentially is: a love letter to him.
Since they were kids, she'd been in love with him. If he'd seen it sooner, who Ladybug was, who Marinette was, they could have had so much longer together.
He's such an idiot.
Angry, he hurls the diary across the room, It hits the wall with a satisfying smack before thumping to the ground.
When the realization hits him, what he’s just done, he wants to throw up.
How… how could he? That’s Marinette’s diary. And he’s just launched it across the room like a piece of garbage.
He scrambles to pick it up off the floor, whimpering apologies as he does. Just as he gets to his feet, clutching the diary to his chest, the trap door opens tentatively.
For half a second, Adrien expects to see Marinette there.
But it isn't. It's her mother.
“Adrien?” Sabine asks. Her eyes are wide. She looks more tired than Adrien remembers.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, and he realizes she called him Adrien. He's still Chat Noir. How long has she known? Does she know her daughter was Ladybug? “I’m so sorry, I just—”
“It's all right. No need to apologize. You just surprised me, is all. No one really comes up here anymore.”
“I can — I was at the — I didn't mean to come here. I'm sorry to bother you. I can go.” Chat Noir turns to do just that, but he feels a small hand close around his wrist.
“You aren't bothering us,” Sabine says calmly. “Tom and I were about to put on a movie downstairs. Would you like to stay for a little while?”
It’s impulsive and selfish, but Adrien takes Marinette's diary with him when he eventually leaves that night. He had fallen asleep on the Dupain-Chengs' couch and woken up with a blanket around him. He flees without saying goodbye.
When he gets home, he starts writing, picking up where she left off. Some of it is easy to write about. Most of it isn’t.
He writes about deciding to take a break from being Chat Noir. He writes about the park they decide to name after Ladybug. He writes about Plagg making him laugh and feeling intensely guilty about if afterwards. He writes about his father sitting down and apologizing and trying to take steps to repair their relationship. (Adrien doesn’t accept that apology, and won't, because it isn't enough, but he does appreciate the effort.)
All the things he would tell her if she were still here.
His handwriting is nowhere near as nice as hers, nor is what he writes half as interesting, but he likes doing it.
It makes him feel connected to her, still. He finds comfort in her words, her careful handwriting, her doodles in the margins.
He knows he would find the same thing in her last letter to him, but he still isn't brave enough to open it. He just carries it, folded in his pocket, wherever he goes, and Marinette’s last words remain a mystery to him.
Sometimes, when he’s alone, he’ll take it out, run his fingers over the folds that had been worn into that damned envelope from being folded and unfolded too many times. All those pages — he could guess at what they say — all the I love you’s and first and only’s, all the things they said to each other so many times, but never got less exciting.
Adrien knows what he meant to her. He doesn’t want to, need to, hear it.
Because then he would have to think about what Marinette means to him, and that makes the hurt fresh and real over and over again, every time that thought forces its way into his brain. Then it becomes something he has to face instead of pretending everything is normal. That everything is okay.
He tries and tries to pretend like everything is okay. It isn't. He isn't, but he's trying to be. He's taking steps to be.
At Alya and Nino's insistence, Adrien starts going to therapy. Trying to keep his promise to Marinette that he'll keep going without her. But he still can’t see a rose without thinking of her. Or the color red. Macarons and Mecha Strike 3 are forever ruined too.
Sometimes he still finds himself turning to speak to someone who isn’t there. Holding up his fist, expecting to see a red, spotted one waiting to give him a bien joue!
What he wouldn’t give for that again.
And what he wouldn’t give for her to shove her cold toes against his leg one more time. To watch her nose scrunch up as she glares at her sewing machine when a piece of fabric got snagged in it. To hear her call him kitty. To run across the rooftops of Paris with her. To see her bright smile. To hear her groan as she pressed her nose into his shoulder when his alarm went off. Too early, she’d always mumble, five more minutes. He should have given her those five more minutes every morning.
What he wouldn’t give to have his Lady back.
But Adrien made her a promise, and it's one he intends to keep, no matter how hard it is.
Plagg urges him to get back in the saddle.
(The saddle being Chat Noir.)
Chat Noir has been missing in action for several months now and people are starting to worry. Not that there's much action to miss anymore. Or at all. There hasn't been an akuma attack in what feels like forever.
“You hate transforming,” Adrien reminds his kwami.
“But you love being Chat Noir,” Plagg says, looking at Adrien over a cube of cheese.
Adrien shrugs. “Carapace and Rena are handling it just fine.”
He has not spoken to Carapace and Rena in days. He has no idea how they’re handling it. If they are handling it at all. Adrien has been on a constant rollercoaster of emotions lately. Some days are up, some are down, and his head constantly feels like it's spinning.
“I hate to tell you this, kid, but you’re acting like Hawkmoth.” He pops his cheese cube into his mouth as he says it, so it feels like it's casual. But it isn't.
“What? How am I acting like Hawkmoth? I’m not running around akumatizing people.”
“Adrien, you still spend most of your time moping.”
“I’m grieving. A lack of energy is a normal part of the grieving process.” It’s a line fed directly to him from his therapist, but he's not sure how much he believes it. “Besides. I go to therapy. I doubt Hawkmoth ever went to therapy.”
Plagg makes a vague gesture to Adrien. “This is not normal.”
So maybe Adrien is wearing the same clothes he's had on for three days. Maybe his T-shirt has a toothpaste stain on it. At least he's brushing his teeth again. “You don't understand Plagg.”
Plagg floats up in front of Adrien’s face, glaring. He’s so close that Adrien has to go cross-eyed to look at the seething little god.
“You think I haven't lost people? I am thousands of years old, Adrien. I've lost more people than you can count. If anyone understands, it's me. You can't just live like this forever! You promised Ladybug you would keep going and you're not! I expected this for a few weeks, but you can’t live the rest of your life like this! Your friends miss you, Paris misses you, and I miss my kitten.”
It's the slap in the face he's needed, but that everyone else has been too scared to give him.
He's not going to cry. Adrien is not going to cry. He wants to, but he won't. Plagg is right.
Adrien looks down at his ring with a frown. The little circlet of silver has gotten him through so much over the years. His memories of being Chat Noir, being with Ladybug, are some of his favorite.
He isn’t ready. He will never be ready.
“The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
Adrien inhales. Exhales. Inhales again.
“Plagg, claws out.”
When Chat Noir finally returns, despite that it is somewhat against his will, Paris rejoices.
There is a sort of palpable relief that falls over the city that Adrien hadn't expected, as if some sort of imbalance has been restored. Like just his mere presence is a comfort to Parisians.
There are apologies he'll have to make, to Rena and Carapace and the rest of the team, for leaving them high and dry. They'll hug him and forgive him, of course, but it will still be a point of shame for him for a long time.
Paris doesn't need apologies, though. The Parisians, in a very non-French manner, want to hug him. They want to talk to him. They want to make sure he's okay after being away for so long.
He's honest with Paris. He hasn't been well, he's not okay. And in return, Paris is honest with him. They've missed him, but they understand. That he may be a superhero, but he should take care of himself first. They ask what they can do, if there's anything they can do, to help. They tell him about the initiatives they've taken, programs they've started, in his and Ladybug's honor.
Adrien is shocked.
Because though he is a hero of Paris, in his absence, Paris has stepped up to become his.
As his city welcomes him back with open arms, with flowers and kind words, Adrien thinks that maybe Ladybug was right.
Paris does need him, after all.
He just didn't realize how much he needs Paris, too.
Adrien delicately places a framed photo of himself and Marinette on his dresser, adjusting the placement until he thinks it's just right.
He's still working on keeping his promises.
Today, he moved out of the Agreste mansion and into an apartment he'll share with Alya and Nino. It's near where Chat Noir and Ladybug used to meet for patrols. In a few weeks, he'll start university.
Adrien still isn't okay, exactly, and he isn't sure he ever will be, but he's better. His friends help. And Plagg. And therapy.
There are still days where he wakes up gasping, with tears in his eyes and feeling like his chest is splitting open. When the dark cloud hanging over his heart becomes so heavy he can’t get out of bed.
But those days are becoming less frequent as time goes by.
He doesn't feel guilty when he laughs or smiles anymore. He remembers to eat and shower and shave. Patrols actually become something Adrien looks forward to. Fencing has become something he enjoys doing again. He has dinner with Marinette's parents once a week. Tom is teaching him how to bake.
He keeps a diary of his own, now, too. Pocket-sized, so he can carry it with him everywhere. He jots random thoughts in it, talks about his day. Like Marinette's diary, it becomes something of a comfort.
This room will quickly become a comfort too. It is cozy and warm and bright, but more importantly, it's exclusively his. His father has officially been cut off. (Though Adrien still isn't ready to acknowledge who his father really was.)
As Adrien decides the picture is finally right, there's a soft knock on his new bedroom's door.
“Hey, Adrien? Can I... talk to you?” Alya hovers in the doorway. Nino lingers behind her, looking unsure.
“What's up?”
Alya's gaze catches on the photo Adrien has been fussing over. “So, when we were, like, fourteen, Marinette got a bunch of gifts for you. Like years worth. This isn't one of them, but... this is the first one she wanted you to have.”
He recognizes the box that she holds out to him. Black and octagonal. Identical to the box his own Miraculous came in.
Adrien sucks in a breath. “I thought she would have given them back to the Guardian.”
Alya averts her eyes. “I — I am the Guardian.”
“Oh.” He supposes that makes sense; she always knew the most about the Miraculous.
“Marinette made me swear not to tell you, or give these to you until I thought you were ready. She... she wanted you to be the next Ladybug.”
Still eyeing the box in Alya's hand, Adrien says, “But... I'm... I'm Chat Noir.”
“I know.”
“Oh.”
And he realizes what she's asking. Plagg is nestled in the pocket of his shirt, looking at him with sympathetic eyes, as if to say it's okay if he wants to.
But he can't do that to his kwami.
He can't do that to Paris. Not when it’s finally starting to heal.
“You keep them,” Adrien says. He's not worried about he would do if he had both Miraculous, not anymore, but he still doesn't want to allow the temptation. “If Paris needs a new Ladyb— someone to wear the earrings, I'll do it. But right now, I think Paris needs Chat Noir more.”
Alya nods, accepting this answer, almost like she expected it.
For the first time in a long time, Adrien thinks Marinette would be proud of him.
Chat Noir sits atop Tour Montparnasse, swinging his feet.
It's the ugliest building in Paris, but it's where he and Ladybug used to come to watch sunsets, and sunrises, and star gaze. It's where they would hide and steal kisses from each other. He doesn't come here at all anymore, but tonight, he felt a pull.
It's the first anniversary of Marinette's death. He knows he probably shouldn't be alone, but once he leaves here, he's going to meet Marinette's parents, Alya, and Nino for dinner.
But he wants to watch the sunset first. He hadn't planned on it, but when he'd seen it out his window, a brilliant combination of pink and red, he couldn't resist.
In his hands, Chat Noir is holding an envelope. The words on the front of it are faded, the pink ink barely visible, and it's soft from being folded and unfolded too many times.
He's never been ready to open it, to read it, until now.
With one clawed finger, he finally tears into it.
And when he's done reading the letter, when he tilts his head back up towards the stars and smiles, one star, one that shines more brightly than all the rest, seems to smile back.