Take the hand.

by Brith0s

Summary:

Adrien has issues.

That is a given, that is a fact.

His father had for sure left his mark.

But after a dinner at Marinette's place, he is forced to confront his destructive behaviour.

Maybe his girlfriend and his kwami can help him through the worst.

Notes:

Hi, everyone!

I've never written for this fandom, and this should be set around the very start of S6, I believe.

TW!

There is mention of bulimia and eating disorders, more generally.

There is also a slight mention of underage sex (they're 16)(they mention other people have sex but it's like 10 lines and they're not the ones having sex).

Also, I'm head-canoning that both main miraculi sometimes bring their wearers to madness, and that Plagg's more so.
So, for reference, Plagg is talking at one point about his chosens either dying or killing themselves.

We also talk about Adrien being a sentimoster, although he still doesn't know, so maybe a bit of mind control.

Chapter 1

The Dupain-Cheng household had always appeared to him as nice, for a simple, easy reason: it was the opposite of his.

The walls, sofas, everything was colourful, instead of white or grey or black.
The space wasn't much, and so everything felt cozier, instead of the big void his house always seemed like to him.

And most importantly, Marinette's room, which he saw almost more than his own these days, was small, and cozy, and colorful, and didn't only have windows, no, it had a balcony.
An exit, in a way.

A way out.

Adrien just couldn't help but compare it to his own room.
Things had changed so much, and life had never been messier, and that was okay, he guessed.
But he always loved the Dupain-Cheng house.

There was always something to do, someone to listen to, something to think about.

And, as he ate silently his dinner at their table, he realised, no house was perfect.

Because at least, in his own house, the boy was free, well, mostly, to do what he wanted.
He could do nothing, or everything at the same time, without anyone checking on him for hours.

In Marinette's house, privacy or alone time had no meaning whatsoever.
Obviously, his girlfriend would've probably had more time on her own if he hadn't been there, but he imagined it couldn't be that much anyway.
She had to help prepare dinner, set up the table, eat, clean up...

All those, at first, seemed like the perfect routine to him.

Until Adrien had found out how fucking noisy a vacuum cleaner is.

He obviously knew what a vacuum was, but he was used to the newest models, and he had never used one, so he was totally unprepared for the smell, and the noise...

So, maybe, the boy was just trying to excuse himself for the jump he had made, the first time he had turned it on.

But still, everything was noisy, and he sometimes, when everything felt too much, stayed quiet and listened to the noises, trying to detect new ones.

The washing machine, the dishwasher, the dryer, the plates and cutlery clicking, the carpet under their feet, the glasses, bottles, water, laughing, talking, coughing, breathing-

"Adrien."
That voice. That he recognised, and would never categorize as noise.
"Wanna come up?" His incredible girlfriend asked.

The boy made to follow her, happy to be alone with her for a bit, thanking her parents, when he realised he needed to climb the steps, those freaking steps, the noisiest thing he had ever heard.

He gritted his teeth and made his way upstairs, counting how many more he'd need to climb.

Three, two, one...

As he finally reached the top, he felt like a real champion, a hero without the mask, and genuinely happy to be alone with his awesome girlfriend.

The first few times Adrien had been in Marinette's room, it had been really awkward.

There were many expectations from a couple, at 16, alone in a room, especially a bedroom.

But once they had settled for watching a movie that one night - a movie he felt was especially chosen for that moment - and a scene portrayed a young couple, younger than them, having sex, after knowing each other for maybe 5 days, he thought he could've died there, with his girlfriend in his arms.

But Marinette had a way to make everything feel more awkward and better at the same time, as she blushingly stuttered that she couldn't understand those people, and that even she, didn't feel ready yet, and couldn't imagine someone younger being ready.

That had made Adrien's mind stop running, and let him exhale a happy sigh.

Things had gone uphill from there, how they set up movies and just cuddled, without him having to worry about being lacking or not doing something he should be doing.

Adrien still couldn't understand why he felt so scared of intimacy.
Of course, first times were hard for everyone, but he didn't know if anyone felt so scared they had cancelled their dates 7 times, just to avoid it.

Maybe it was because of the way he could feel how his body, not used to eating anything but perfectly tailored diets, had taken to his new eating habits, made of whatever he wanted, whenever he had the time.

Adrien had never thought much about this body he was in, and had been happy when Natalie had cancelled his dietitian's appointments.
But maybe that was because he had been a model for years, and had never really had reason for crippling self-doubt.

The boy just couldn't shake the feeling his girlfriend had fallen in love with a chiseled him, and not his slightly softer current version.

Still, with clothes on, pulled close to his girlfriend, Adrien felt just as amazing and comfortable as if he had slept in a cocoon.

Until he heard her girlfriend talking to him above the music from the movie.
"Are you getting lost in your thoughts again?"

The boy, confused, looked at her with a crooked and surprised smile.
"Maybe. How do you know?"

"You always fidget when you're getting lost."

Oh.

That was... A surprise.
He didn't remember fidgeting since he was a small kid, about 5 or 6, and his mother, with her sweet, kind voice had told him that fidgeting hands made for uncouth boys, and to make sure his hands were always grounded.

He had stopped for a few years, when his mother had disappeared, and then he guessed he slowly got back to it, because his father had to remind him to keep his hands firm, in that tone that was neither sweet nor kind, that for so long he had associated with "fatherly", before any paparazzi started building castles in the air.

And now he had started once again.

Adrien instantly felt like apologizing, but then remembered how Marinette always looked at him after he did, and stopped.

Instead, the boy was anxious to change the subject.

"Your parents' dinner was really great, I need to thank them again before leaving tomorrow."

Because yes, he'd spend the night.
He was prohibited from participating in slumber parties his whole life. Sue him if he wanted to stay awake and watch movies with his girlfriend every once in a while.

"I'm sure we could teach you to cook something." She responded, holding him gently back.

She had been trying to teach him to cook, after, having stayed for dinner at his place, she noticed the lack of dirty dishes from breakfast and lunch, which he relaxedly explained as having forgotten to eat for the first half of the day.

That had been a bad, bad idea.

Of course, he could ask Natalie for any dish he wished to eat during the day, or he could make it, or just go out to get something, or get it delivered to his house, or-

He could very easily eat anything he wanted to.

But his stomach hadn't yet gotten used to the food he was now eating, so different from his previous diets.

Also, he remembered so vividly his father talking to him that one time, telling him how "it's either lunch or dinner, if you want to keep your figure, and you do want that".

Adrien also remembered how he had begged his father to let him go out with his friends to lunch, or dinner, and his father had reluctantly accepted, but ordered him to send him the exact calorie count, so he could send it to his dietitian, and how that had felt to him like the most humiliating thing in the world.

How after that, he had not been permitted to eat more than an apple for the following day.

For him, food always meant rules, exchanges, and limits.

Nowadays, when Adrien felt the void in him grow bigger and bigger, almost consuming, and the anger got so strong he almost feared he'd transform into his heroic counterpart just to cataclysm the whole world, he got food delivered.

So much food, of any kind, any available restaurant or fast food from around the city, and he'd eat it all, until he was full, and past that, until he felt sick, and past that, until he had to move to the bathroom and throw up.

The only people who knew about that, were Plagg and the Gorilla.
The Gorilla had found him once passed out in the bathroom, and so the boy had been forced to tell him his little secret.

Plagg was a different story.
His loyal, ever-present companion had, the first time, been confused and suspicious.
The other times, he had tried to stop Adrien from getting sick, trying to persuade him to stop that, or to call someone for help.

The last time, after he had been sick for almost half an hour, he... Adrien didn't really remember what happened.

He remembered pieces of conversations he knew he wasn't supposed to remember, for some reason.
He could still feel Plagg on his shoulder, talking in his ear about bigger, more infinite things than him.

About how destruction, just as creation, comes in many forms, and affects its holder without remorse.

He remembered he felt... Less alone.
Like he wasn't the first one it had happened to.

He remembered "kitten, please. I won't lose you like I did the others".

Remembered something like "destruction, just as creation, will consume you. But only if you let it. Kitten, you have to stay strong. I can't lose another one."

That had been the last time he did that.
At least for now.

Natalie and Marinette didn't know about that little thing he did.
He felt like those two understood each other more than they let on.
And that had made him scared, always had.

Adrien didn't really know how, but he felt, for some reason, that if they were so similar, that meant he was also similar to his father.
And that was the last thing he wanted to be in the world.

But he wasn't supposed to be afraid, was he?
He was supposed to be happy about the even remote possibility of becoming similar to his father, a fashion designer, an honest, successful man.

The hero of the city.

Adrien had tried to find in his father goodness, something worth saving, love, since his mother died.
And now he had it.

But then, why couldn't he accept it?

Why couldn't he reconcile the part of him that loved him, with the rest?
He tried, he could swear before Notre Dame, he tried to, but could never reconcile the hero, perè, and his father.
Three completely different personalities, it seemed.

He couldn't reconcile the good, honest, heroic man, with the one who ordered him to send him the calorie count whenever he stayed out for dinner, or made him starve the following days.

And just like that, he began to speak.

"I still can't shake a feeling I have. That I'm... Wrong. That I'm bad, and ungrateful, and-"

"Whoa."
Marinette, in her clumsy grace, put her hands on his cheeks and stopped him.
"Why would you ever feel like that?"

Since after his father's death, Adrien always felt like his girlfriend handled him like a beautiful vase.
Fragile.

"My fatherer." He answered, finding his voice somehow.

"Why would his death make you feel like that?"

"Not his death."

"What do you mean, then?"

"It's..."
He stopped, not sure whether he'd actually say it or not.
"He's a hero." He decided on that, at the end.

"He is."

"I don't... Can't see him that way."
"Why not?"

A few moments passed, although Adrien wasn't sure how long.
"How can he be an hero in death," he started, doubting he'd actually be able to finish the phrase, "if he never was in his life?"

"He... Your father wasn't... Do you hate him?"

Both seemed surprised by the question.

"No. I don't think so, at least. Not consciously. Maybe a bit. Just as much as he hated me."

"Your father didn't-"
"He did. He... I was a reminder of mum. Of what he'd lost. It came natural for him to hate me. Still, unconsciously."

"Does this..."

A few more moments passed, and Adrien felt happy he wasn't the only one taking his time talking.

"Does it have anything to do with you forgetting to eat?" She asked at last.

How could it not?
Everything in his life was a consequence of his father.

"He was very, hm... Restrictive on my eating. For the modelling. Though I'm not sure how I've gone from that to forgetting."

"It's... I don't have the answer. I don't know if I can help you with that."
"It's fine, I don't need help."
"No, Adrien, it's- your father died. And that makes you feel things. Do you understand all those things you feel?"

He shook his head, and felt lightly like he had failed.

"It's only natural." she continued, "We're children. Barely anything more. Emotions and feelings are difficult. People have studies them for years. And just as you asked me for help for our French homework, I... You can ask for help for your feelings too, you know?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"There is a project in schools, been there since the 40s. Basically, there is a counsellor in every school, and you can go see them."

"I'd need an adult's approval."

"We can forge that."

"And once there? I... Talk? And tell them how I feel? I..."
He was fidgeting again. He didn't feel like stopping.
"I'm not sure I can talk to them. I can barely talk to you."

He had nuzzled his head on her shoulder, hugged to her so close, and he felt her hands on him: one around his back, one at the base of the neck.
"Just... Maybe think about it, alright? It doesn't hurt to try. And in the mean time, you have me."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The next afternoon, Adrien was in his bathroom, after a quick shower, and while drying off, he looked at his body.
At himself.

When had he started seeing himself and his body as separate entities?

"Plagg?" He called, tying a towel around his waist.

"What is it, kit?"
Plagg's voice, too, had gotten softer, as if he was truly talking to a kitten, as he floated through the door.

"Did you eavesdrop, yesterday evening?"

"I always eavesdrop, that's how you get the good information."

"Do you... Is it possible, you think? For me to... Talk to someone?"

"I... Kitten. It's your choice to make. I can't do it for you, even if I wish I could."

"But do you think it is possible for me to talk to someone? Without... Without telling them about my secret?"

"Which secret? That you're a superhero or that you make yourself sick?"

"Plagg."

"I know you haven't told pigtails that. You should've. She would've dragged you directly to their door."

"You like Marinette too much. Her boyfriend is me."

"I know, I have to watch all your lovey dovey stuff at least once a day."

"You haven't answered the question."

A sigh came as a response, before his kwami floated on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

"Kit, I don't know if you can do that without letting the secret spill. But I think you should anyway."

"But if I tell someone, then... Ladybug will-"

"It'd be our secret. I can't be sure you won't say anything, and neither can you. But I'd rather you told the secret to one person, than... Than lose you, kitten."

"You're not losing me."

"Yet. I can't tell you anything, but... But please. Don't make me grieve you too."

Adrien thought back to when he was small, just so small, when his mother was still alive, and he had fallen while running around the house.

She had laughed, and gave him a hand to get up.
But he had been too angry at her laughing at him, and hadn't taken her hand, tried to get up by himself and fallen miserably on his face.

"Okay. Tomorrow I'll drop by, see how that counsellor thing works."

He heard a sigh near his ear, and watched through the mirror his kwami lick his hair.

"Plagg! I told you not to lick me!"

"One tries to do something nice for their kitten and this is the thanks they get..."

Maybe this time, he'll take the helping hand.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hi! ❤️

I hope you all like this!

I wasn't planning on writing a second chapter, but the muses came to me!

TW!

They talk about eating disorders, not specified.
I've never had a therapy session on eating disorders, or a therapy session in a public school, so it might not be too accurate.

Also I couldn't find how school psychologists work in France too much, so it's mixed with Italian procedures, sorry.

"Adrien. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The school therapist, with a calm voice and a soft gaze, did nothing to calm his nerves.

After dropping by, the day after the conversation with his girlfriend, she had helped him forge Nathalie's signature, and managed to get him into the psychologist's schedule.

That all was fine, even though a bit nerve-wracking.

The scary part came a couple days later, when a janitor, interrupting Ms. Mendeleiev's lesson, came to call him, saying that Adrien needed to come with him for some paperwork issues.

But when Ms. Mendeleiev told the janitor to come back later, after her lesson, and then started arguing with him, he had to come near her and tell her something, almost whispering.

Adrien was already alert, knowing perfectly well it wasn't paperwork, but his appointment.

And of course, Ms. Mendeleiev, angry both at the janitor and at the boy, resigned, said, loudly, to the whole class:
"Alright, fine. If Adrien needs to go see some psychiatrist, then fine."

At that point, the whole class turned towards him, confused and concerned, and Adrien felt like he could die on the spot, and that that'd be a preferable end.

He slowly, with a red face and almost crying, got up and walked towards the door.
His eyes met Marinette's, who had an angry and apologetic look.

As soon as he was out of the class, and the door was closed behind his back, he could hear people start talking from inside, and over all of them, his girlfriend's voice, bashing Ms. Mendeleiev.

That being said, Adrien's first visit to the therapist really hadn't started well.

"Thank you, ma'am. The pleasure is mine."

"You can call me Janice, don't worry. So, is there a specific reason you wanted to talk with me?"

That part, he maybe dreaded the most.
He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, without being able to speak.

"Do you think it maybe has to do with your father passing away?"

All Adrien could do was nod.
But was that all?
Was he there to talk about his father passing away, or about his father's life?

"That's completely understandable. A parent passing away, especially in such a way, leaving you alone, can be troubling. Do you think you can tell me something more about it?"

It took all of him, to talk.
"I'm... Not taking it well. I can't make sense of things."

"What things?"

Some moments passed, and Adrien felt the tension in the room, and felt compelled to talk, to say something, anything, or he might start crying.

He didn't know what to say, though.
He didn't want his father to seem like a bad person to a random stranger, and he knew it'd be too difficult to explain: the relationship he had with his parents. The hate, the love, the longing and loss and hurt and-

"I throw up."
Because, of course, explaining that would be easier, hm?
How could he be so stupid?

The woman's expression didn't change, if only for a glint of surprise in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Can you elaborate on that a bit more?" She asked, and the boy liked the fact her tone hadn't changed.

"I sometimes... Rarely. It... It happened maybe, 6 times, it's not really a problem, uhm-"

"I understand this can be confusing, but throwing up? It's not a good sign, no matter how many times it has happened. This is a safe space. You don't need to downplay what makes you feel bad."

That... That actually helped him talk a bit more.
"I- Maybe 6, or... 10 times, I just, hm, ordered a lot of food. I get it delivered at home. And I eat it. All of it. And I... I guess I eat too much of it. Because I get sick. Sometimes I pass out from getting too sick."

And it was out. All out. And at the same time, said it like that, it didn't work. It seemed to him like it was all wrong.

How was he supposed to describe the way he didn't feel hungry, but as soon as he started eating, he couldn't stop?
How could he tell her about the void, about the anger, the hate?
That hate that was as much confusion as it was love?

"What you're telling me, it seems like a big issue. A big thing. I need you to know that: it's a real issue. Have you told anyone?"

He hesitated, then shook his head.

"You coming here, talking about it, it's a very big step in the right direction, Adrien. I'm very proud of that. How did you find the strength?"

Getting told someone was proud of him, that was very nice. It made him feel all warm.

"My girlfriend, Marinette. She made made me promise to try this, after I told her-"
He stopped, realising he should've, maybe, also told the therapist that part.
"I didn't... Sometimes I forget to eat. For, maybe a day. I guess, sometimes, more."

"Does that happen in relation to the throwing up? Maybe you do that, and then forget to eat for a while, and then you do it again, and-"

"No, no. It's... It hasn't happened that many times, the throwing up. And I forget... Maybe I go out to eat, or I have planned a dinner with someone, and I... Forget to eat."

"This forgetting, what is it like?"

What could forgetting be like? Forgetting. Not everything needed to have a deeper meaning.
"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you an example, and it doesn't have to be anything similar to that. Maybe you are doing something that has your attention, and you look at the clock and notice time for lunch or dinner is passed, and you just resign to not eating. Does it make sense to you?"

... Alright. Maybe this therapist was onto something.
Adrien stayed quiet for some time, and he could see in the therapist's eyes she recognised when she had hit her mark.

"I... Not exactly like that. Sometimes it happened, thought. But mostly, I'm doing something, and I see that it's time to eat, and I think I'd need to, you know, stop doing what I'm doing, or get up, and eat, and it just... I don't feel like the need to eat is superior to the annoyance it would cause me to stop doing whatever I'm doing."

"I think I got what you're saying. Do you think this ties somehow with your body image?"

"I guess, sometimes. But not... It's mostly an afterthought."

"And what's the main thought?"

That made him think. Long. And hard.
And he still didn't come up with an answer.

"I'm not sure. I have a few reasons, but... They don't make sense."

She nodded, and the fact she seemed to get that, made him somewhat happy, or at least calmer.

"Alright, we've already talked about this quite a bit. Is there anything else you think we need to work on?"

And he knew, if he didn't say anything now, he'd never say it.

"I hate my dad."
Whoa. What a way to fuck up.
"No, I- I don't hate my dad. I, hm, maybe, but..."

"It's difficult, to articulate one's feelings, sometimes, especially at such age. We can work on it. Would you like that?"

Adrien nodded, not too sure of what to say.

"I can set you up with a follow up appointment, maybe not during school time."

"I'd... Prefer it, yes."

"You can go back to class, or you could go home, maybe relax. I can send your professor a note, and you can wait for your guardian to pick you up."

The boy didn't need 2 seconds to think about it.

"Going home seems better."

"Alright. I'll see you soon, Adrien. I'm very happy you came to meet me."

As soon as he started walking outside the room, the therapist called him back.

"Oh, and I'll need to talk to your legal guardian, before our next appointment."

His hands stopped on the door handle, frozen.

What?
Nathalie? How was he supposed to tell Nathalie all that? He could never.

"I... Could tell them that you're simply having issues with your father's loss. That I'm gonna help you with your grieving process. Would that be alright for you? You're not yet 18, and I have to tell your guardian something."

That... That would be alright. At least better.

"Good. I'll see you soon."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

That evening, after having talked to Marinette on the phone for... More than an hour, he was sure of that, and having let Plagg lick his hair for a little bit while unwinding, Adrien got up.

He made his way to the kitchen, prepared dinner for two, and went to Nathalie's office.

She was late for dinner, how she usually was, and hadn't prepared anything, too lost in paperwork.

In nights like those, either he made her something, or they ordered food.
Other times, he forgot, and told her he already ate when she asked.

The boy brought her dinner, sat with her, nibbled at his food, and talked a few minutes about school.

"Also, apparently there is this project in schools. Psychologists, in all public schools. Marinette told me about it."

"Yes, it has been there since the 40s." she said back, looking at her plate.

As a few moments passed in silence, she stopped eating and looked up at him.

"Is there a reason you bring this up, Adrien?"

"I... After mum and dad... I thought... Maybe it'd be a good idea, to visit a therapist. Just to... I don't know. Maybe it's dumb."

He could feel himself starting to sweat, every sound getting louder and louder, the plates and cutlery clicking, his heart pounding, his breathing-

"It's understandable. If you feel the need to go, you can go. But maybe we could find you a private therapist. One more specialised on grief."

"No, it's... It's fine the school psychologist."

"Alright. I'll look into it. But you need to remember, Adrien: I can be there for you, if you need to talk."
Nathalie grabbed his hand on the table, and he felt himself physically relax.

"I know, Nathalie. But I'd prefer... Talking to them? I'm not saying I can't talk to you. But... External point of view, you know?"

"I know. We'll see what we can do."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in his own room, with Plagg cuddled near his head and hugging a pillow, Adrien felt better, definitely.

Dinner weighted heavy in his belly, and he slightly poked it.

"Stop it." Said Plagg, without looking at him.

"You didn't even see it."

"Did I?"

A few more silent moments were all it took.
"Plagg?"

"You don't have to call me, kit. There's only us here."

"Did I do the right thing?"
That had weighed more than dinner on his chest since he forged the signature and put out the appointment request.

"Yes, kitten. You did the right thing."

Notes:

Hi, everyone! ❤️

I hope you liked this!

Tell me what you thought about this chapter!
Should I write a third one?

I'm always open for constructive criticism!

Chapter 3

Notes:

Hi, everyone! ❤️

I hope you like this chapter!

Now the story is getting a bit more plot than I originally thought.

I have to warn that I have added a few phrases in the first chapter, as I didn't think the story would go this way initially.

"You seem... Troubled, kitty."

Chat Noir turned to look at Ladybug, surprised by her comment.

They were sitting on a rooftop, having just finished their routine check ups on the city, talking and teasing.

"What do you mean?"
Having just come from a therapy session, Chat knew exactly what she meant.

"These past few days, you... You always look like there's something in your head, that is trying to get out, but you won't let it."

She poked his head to emphasise the concept.

"Yeah, I guess that checks out."

"And the last months, you were... Different. Sadder. But now you're just pensive."

"I know, my lady. I get what you mean."

"You know you can talk to me, right? You're my best friend."

"I know, and you're mine. It's just a pretty big part of my private life."

"I mean... You don't have to tell me everything. But if you let it out, maybe it'll be better."

"I don't want to overwhelm you."
That had been a recurring thought, whenever anyone asked him how he was doing.

"Look how lucky you are, I'm not easily overwhelmed!"

"Fine, fine. So, it's... A few months ago, I... We suffered a loss, in my family."

Ladybug's look immediately changed, becoming softer and more apprehensive.
"I'm sorry, chaton. Thank you for telling me."

"Yeah, it's... It was really unexpected. An accident." He could call it that.
"And I just... Have had trouble making sense of things."

"I heard that's usually what happens with similar deaths. Many unresolved questions, issues and the likes."

"Yeah."

A few minutes passed, in an atmosphere that was both warm and bittersweet, like everything was with them.

"If I were to tell you some things, you wouldn't... Think bad of me, right?"

"You know I wouldn't."

"Good. Because it's been keeping me awake at night. Well, that and the akumas. But... It's like there are many versions of my father. The version for my family, for my memories, and for my nightmares."

"Whoa. That sounds... Troubling."

"Yeah. And I can't reconcile those three versions. How do you mix a man who had was admired by the whole family for being so honest and nice and good, and one who sent me to a dietician at 6? It's just-"

"Wait, what?" She looked at him like his head was going to explode: surprised, shocked and concerned.
"He sent you- when you were 6?"

"Yes, he... Always wanted me to be in shape, I guess. Sometimes I just felt like that was a bit more of control he could have over me."

"He was very controlling?"

"Yeah, like, absolutely. He wanted to know where, when, who, why, and how, before he ever considered sending me anywhere."

"That's... A bit much."

"And then, when he started to let me out, he wanted me to send him calorie counts of what I ate, so-"

"Are you serious? You can't be, you must be joking."

"I'm dead serious."

"What a fucking asshole."

They both turned to look at each other, Ladybug mortified, and Chat Noir just surprised.

"I'm so- so incredibly sorry, Chat. I... I didn't even think, I..."

"You know what? You're right. He was an asshole. The biggest asshole."

He turned to look to the city.

So what if Chat Noir had an awful dad? At least he could say it.
For as much as Adrien was trapped in a body he had learnt to take a distance from, Chat Noir was just a mask, and no one would ever connect his awful father to the great, heroic Gabriel Agreste.

And maybe, even though, he could not bring himself to utter similar words in the presence of no one, especially his girlfriend, in fear of debasing his father's memories, maybe he could tell his best friend, who would not judge him, nor make him feel guilty to shit talk an honest man.

"He was fucking awful to me sometimes. Made me skip meals, treated me like I was an object he could use, he fed me only an apple for at least 24 hours before or after I went to dinner with friends. He was freaking awful to me."

He felt Ladybug's hand in his hair, gently playing with it.

"And you know what the worst part is? I can't tell that to anyone, because, how could anyone believe me? They're so fixed on my father being such a good person, they're gonna trust a myth over me."

"You can't be sure of that."

"I can. My father was an asshole to me specifically, though I still don't understand why. He was so nice before, when I was a kid. But then when... When I grew up, he started setting expectations higher and higher, and I could never predict his reactions."

Chat let a few silent moments pass, convinced he had said the wrong thing, or he had said things the wrong way, and now Ladybug would look at him confused by why he had so much to cry about.

Instead, she spoke up.
"If... Your dad wasn't already passed away... Well, I'd make a good joke about killing him."

And just like that, the boy had no idea why, he almost fell out of the rooftop laughing.
This whole situation seemed so weird to him: being able to speak plainly about his father, being able to talk freely, and having someone tell him his feelings were right, and she felt in a similar way.

And just as easily as he started laughing, he started crying.

"I just wanted to be loved by him. Now that he's dead, everyone tells me he did love me. And I just can't believe it."

Chat was crying on her shoulder, hugged to her so close, and he felt her hands on him: one around his back, one at the base of the neck.

"It'll be alright, kitty. You'll be okay, even without him. You have your girlfriend, your friends."

"But-"

"And you have me."

... Wait.
'you have me'.
Where had he heard that before, just like that, in the same voice, in a similar position?

Chat pulled himself together enough to look her in the eyes, so blue, and teary, and...

Oh, fuck.

Could it...?
No, there was no way, it was impossible!
But...

He needed to know, needed to find out if his partner was... His partner.

"Bug, you..."
He scrutinized her face closely, finding more proof the more he looked at her.
And the more he looked at her, the closer they got.
His eyes danced between her eyes and her lips, and before he could think, they were kissing.

And yeah. Adrien would never forget the way Marinette felt, and that was it.

How had he been so blind?

They stayed like that for a bit, and Ladybug even kissed Chat back, before freezing and pulling them apart.

"Oh, shit." She whispered, eyes searching and panicked.

"I'm sorry, bug, I... I..."

"It's fine!"
She got up and distanced them.
"I... But we're both with other people, Chat. We... We made a mistake, but we're fine, yeah? It's not... You can still talk to me. We don't need to make things awkward. But I seriously need to go, before we... Before I make things worse. Bye!"

She rushed off, leaving him on the rooftop, alone, like she had so many times.

... Fuck.
He had the distinctive feeling that things were gonna change, from then on.

And how couldn't they?

The little kitty had finally found his lady.

Notes:

Hi! ❤️

I hope you liked it!

I'm not sure if I will add another chapter, I guess I'll find out.

Don't be afraid to leave kudos and comments, I'm always open to constructive criticism!

Notes:

Hi! ❤️

I hope you liked this fic!

Let me know what you thought of this, send a comment or kudos, I'd love some constructive criticism!