Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all seemed to have happened in slow motion. What had initially seemed to have been a regular day, for once, to the students of Collège Françoise Dupont quickly became a disaster in a different fashion than one would ever assume possible.

More surprising than not, there had been no Akuma attacks during the day so far, nor had there been any silly dramas or other petty squabbles stirred up that could have caused further problems for the students. All in all, quite peculiarly as it were, It was just a regular day of even more regular classes.

Or at least, that had been the case for them, right up until the end of the school day, when all of the students had finally began leaving the school grounds for the day. It was only then that disaster had finally reared its ugly head and struck them like a viper.

Most unfortunately, it just wasn't the type of disaster anyone expected quite enough to prevent. It was the kind of disaster that couldn't be fixed with a simple call out of 'lucky charm!' In the simplest of terms, It was the kind of unexpected surprise that could only blindside you when the moments preceding were so utterly mundane that they would start lulling you into a false sense of security far too easily.

This all started when, on their way out of class, Adrien, always happy and eager to spend time with his friends, was walking beside his best friend, Nino. It was innocent enough, as they were casually talking amongst themselves about some new video game that had recently come out.
Adrien really did think the game sounded good, and he could definitely afford it, but between all of his time being Chat Noir and his father toting him around town, he wasn't sure how far into the gameplay he'd actually get.

"Dude, you've got to try it," Nino insisted, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "The graphics are insane, and the storyline? Mind-blowing!"

Adrien chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know, Nino. My father's been pretty strict about my schedule lately. I'm not sure I'd have the time to come over."

Sure, they both were capable of owning it, respectively, but still, Nino was trying his darnedest to convince Adrien to hang out with him and play it together sometime soon rather than having them both play it solo.

Adrien knew better.

They would probably need to settle for discussing it over the phone or something. While the blonde was quite sure his father would never approve of a visit long enough to get some gameplay in, he found himself jokingly asking if this new game was anything like Super Penguino. Adrien even manages to get half of the teasing sentence out before Nino shuts him down with a firm and embarrassed no.

A resounding answer, if Adrien had ever seen one, and he'd seen plenty of forms of swift rejection in his time.

Guess Nino didn't want to make out?

"You stealing my boyfriend from me, Agreste?" Alya asks, tone accusatory as she chimes in from in front of them, clearly having been eavesdropping. She's only teasing, of course, barely shooting them a second glance before she draws her attention back to the conversation she was previously engrossed in with Marinette beside her Or, more fittingly, the conversation she was having at Marinette. Alya was more than passionately ranting about the amount of attention the Ladyblog was getting ever since she posted that photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir kissing on the rooftop of Montparnasse Tower; it was big news, after all, and all the theories and speculation people were coming up with seemed to come to the same conclusion, more or less: Ladybug and Chat Noir were a couple now.

Needless to say, it was distracting Marinette quite a bit. She wanted so vehemently to deny it, to let her friend know that, ' Hey! it wasn't like that!' After all, she liked Adrien, and that wasn't changing anytime soon. But she regretfully couldn't risk giving herself up like that; that would be an absolutely ridiculous way to reveal her identity to anyone, not to mention pathetically dangerous. So, sadly, she had no real choice in the matter as she bit her tongue and listened attentively to the girl beside her.

On the other hand, technically, Adrien could not deny stealing Alyas' boyfriend. He was absolutely, undeniably lapping up all the time he could get with his best friend before his aforementioned girlfriend Alya scooped him up again. Of course, he didn't mind that. He really did like Alya. She was a good friend to him, funny, always strong and courageous, and helpful with the whole superhero business, too. However, the time she and Nino spent together just made him appreciate the time he spent with his friend a little bit more gratuitously.

They had all filed out of Madame Bustiers' class, spilling out into the quad, where they continued talking in small groups, their excited voices blending together in a cacophony of sound. Some students lingered behind, too caught up in idle chitchat to move any faster, others savoring the last few moments before they had to head home for the day. A few held hands with their significant others, while others walked alone, lost in thought. It was all very dramatic and drawn out for something that happened nearly each and every day.

Marinette was still caught up in her one-sided conversation with Alya, far too focused to notice it. Her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke, her cheeks twinging a light pink for reasons beyond him, she was far too absorbed in their chat to see what Adrien saw, just barely, in his peripheral vision.

It was his childhood friend, Chloé Bourgeois, rummaging through her bag with a look of pure frustration on her face. Suddenly, a small tube of what appeared to be lip gloss or mascara fell out of her pocket and rolled towards him.

As he studied her face, Adrien noticed the subtle shimmer on her lips and the flawless coverage of her foundation. He couldn't place the brand, but he knew it was high-end. Modeling had taught him enough about makeup to recognize quality, even though he never applied it himself during photoshoots. Despite his failure to identify it, he knew for certain that it was something small and cylindrical in shape. There it fell, right from Chloe's pocket, barely making a sound as it landed on the large, looming steps outside the front of their school.

Oh, no. That wasn't very good.

Adrien's first thought and focus are on making some kind of move to pick it up and give it back to Chloe, despite the overbearing thanks he'd receive for that. Yeah, most definitely. Chloe was his friend, after all, and he cared for her a lot. Despite the circumstances and her sometimes snobbish behaviour, he couldn't leave the mystery makeup lying there, either. Unfortunately, he was so caught up in his own train of thought that he hadn't even considered the possibility of any danger lying dormant in the tiny cosmetics tube. No danger besides Chlo's lamenting over her broken makeup.

Well, no danger was his first impression, and he thought nothing of it, at least not until he saw his good friend Marinette stepping forward, her foot heading right for Chloe's makeup, totally derailing his train of thought . Normally , with anyone else, he'd just assume that her step would crush the bottle or come right off it, and that would be that. However, this was Marinette, and as unique and capable as she was, she still seemed rather... clumsy at times.

By the way, Adrien is totally correct in his assumptions. Marinette's foot makes first contact, and then whoosh —just like that, she's falling.

She feels as though the floor is being pulled out from underneath her, and she closes her eyes tight. A wave of panic washes over her as she feels the floor drop beneath her feet. Her arms reflexively shoot out in front of her, flailing to grab onto something—oh, please, anything—as she finds herself bracing for the harsh impact that was to follow. She's waiting, waiting, waiting... but it never comes.

Instead of feeling the follow-through of cold concrete, she feels two warm arms wrapping around her torso, pulling her back upright and closer until they're just holding her there, and then turning her around back onto a safer step, the two of them are stagnant and steady for half a moment. Oh my god, it's the most fantastic moment, as Adrien is the one who has caught her! she realises once her eyes finally open again. If she wasn't already breathless from the fall, she definitely was now, from looking into his eyes as he held her upright.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and this only lasts a few seconds more before she starts to get all flustered. Her adrenaline is still spiked from falling, and he's suddenly letting go of her and stepping back to ease her embarrassment. This is a big mistake because he's too focused on his classmates' comfort and not enough on their surroundings. Suddenly, his own foot misses the step, and he takes his turn, tumbling backward and landing at the bottom of the stairs with a heavy thud.

Marinette's heart leaped into her throat as she watched Adrien fall. Time seemed to slow down, her eyes widening in horror as his body twisted in the air before crashing onto the unforgiving concrete below. A collective gasp rose from the gathered students, followed by a moment of stunned silence.

Then, chaos erupted.

"Adrien!" Marinette cried out, her voice cracking with panic. She rushed down the steps, nearly tripping again in her haste to reach him. Nino was right behind her, his face pale with shock. Adrien lay motionless at the bottom of the stairs, his golden hair splayed out around his head like a halo. His eyes were closed, and a thin trickle of blood ran from his temple down his cheek.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Alya muttered, her phone already in her hand, fingers flying as she dialed emergency services. The rest was a blur; most of the surrounding student body were either panicked or in hysterics, neither a good state of being in around injury; once they noticed that Adrien was knocked out stone-cold, the panic hardly dissipated, their faces a mix of horror and concern. "Someone get a teacher!" she shouted, her voice carrying across the courtyard.

Marinette knelt beside Adrien, her hands hovering uncertainly over his still form. "Adrien? Can you hear me?" she asked, her voice trembling. There was no response.

Nino crouched on Adrien's other side, his face a mask of worry. "Dude, come on, wake up," he pleaded, gently shaking his friend's shoulder.

Chloé pushed her way through, her face pale beneath her makeup. "Adrikins!" she wailed, dropping to her knees beside him, hands reaching out to grasp at him. "This is all your fault, Dupain-Cheng!" she snapped, glaring at Marinette. Marinette felt her chest tighten at Chloé's accusation, but she pushed the guilt aside, focusing on Adrien.

"We shouldn't move him," she said firmly, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded. "We need to wait for the paramedics."

As if on cue, the sound of sirens pierced the air, growing louder as they approached the school. Madame Bustier came running out, having been called out by one of the students, her face pale with worry. "Everyone, step back," she ordered, her voice authoritative despite the tremor in it. "Give him some space."

The students reluctantly backed away, forming a circle around Adrien's prone form. Marinette remained where she was, her eyes never leaving his face. She noticed a slight flutter of his eyelids and leaned in closer. "Adrien?" she whispered hopefully. A soft groan escaped his lips, barely audible above the commotion around them. Marinette's heart leaped with hope and desperate anticipation, but no other reaction escaped him. His body is limp and unresponsive, and her hope begins to crumble into despair as the paramedics arrive, pushing through the crowd of students with a stretcher.

As the paramedics rushed to Adrien's side, Marinette felt herself being gently pulled back by Alya. She watched, her heart in her throat, as they carefully assessed Adrien's condition, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

"Possible concussion... need to stabilize the neck..." snippets of their conversation drifted to her ears, each word making her stomach churn with worry.

The paramedics worked swiftly, securing a neck brace around Adrien and carefully lifting him onto the stretcher. Marinette couldn't tear her eyes away from his pale face, the blood on his temple now dried and dark against his skin.

"We're taking him to the hospital," one of the paramedics announced, addressing Madame Bustier. "Is there a parent or guardian we can contact?"

"I'll call his father immediately," Madame Bustier replied, her voice trembling slightly as she pulled out her phone.

Chapter Text

Adrien awoke from his dreary, hazy state of unconsciousness with a few slightly delayed, drowsy blinks and a groan to accompany.

He sits up in his bed, inching and shuffling backward until he is resting comfortably against the pillows and the bed frame, respectively. The sheets that previously covered him have now shifted and fallen, pooling around his waist.

What on earth had happened to him? That was the only thing he could wonder as he gazed around, drinking in the surroundings of the unfamiliar room that he was situated in. It didn't take much time, or hard investigation for that matter, for him to figure out that it most likely wasn't his personal bedroom.

First of all, the place looked way too white and kempt for anywhere a teenage boy should be living, and secondly? Upon further inspection of the space, taking in the fact that this room had a sink, various machines with weird screens and wires attached to them, not to mention a really weird bed frame. Adrien comes to the not-so-intuitive conclusion that he was in a hospital, of all places.

But how did he even get there? That was yet another unanswered question. He felt the strangest feeling wash over him, a feeling that said it wasn't going to be the last question he would end up having either; it was apparently going to be mystery after mystery for him.

He racks his brain as best he can for a hint or any kind of clue as to what landed him there, but he just can't seem to find a reason why! Each attempt feels disorienting and foreign. It's like he's looking across a bridge that he really needs to cross, with no real knowledge of what lies in the murky waters beneath him.

In fact, it starts to occur to Adrien that he can't remember much of anything. The last vague recollection that he's able to muster up is...

Oh, well, it turns out that it's much harder to do than he'd ever have been able to anticipate. That is the act of trying to think of something very specific when he can't even manage to remember what it is that he's trying to think of in the first place. All the while, his headaches dully in the background.


So, yeah, thinking is hard!

But much to his utter relief, after a few more moments of lackluster concentration, he does, in fact, manage to remember something.

It's definitely a memory of sorts ; it feels far too realistic to be his imagination. And what he remembers specifically is himself, dressed like a cat, holding hands with his spandex-clad girlfriend while they kiss, up close and personal, on top of a tall building's rooftop, one that is part of the Parisian skyline.

Nice.

He figures that's definitely something he wants to get back to doing as quickly as humanly possible. Be that way by thinking about it some more or actually doing it again, for that matter. He starts to dig deeper into this memory, the only one he can actually manage to recall, and when he does, all of the events of that day seem to become clearer to him with each and every passing minute, flooding back. It was as if he had just woken up, and his brain was simply taking a minute to snap out of the morning haze.

The dodgy, broken elevator, Turtle Man, those small floating Bug-mice crawling through an air vent, their secret identities, the Hakuna Matata, and falling in love with a girl he had already fallen in love with. These were all things that Adrien slowly began to recall very fondly as he sat by himself in the quiet hospital room, sunlight bleeding in through the blinds and dancing against his stark white sheets. He was quite content with just thinking about these sweet things and daydreaming about that amazing girl and the fact that he was a super cool hero, as opposed to actually getting to investigate his current fugue state.

But his pleasant rumination on the topic is quickly cut short, interrupted by a small, whiny voice and an eerie rustling from inside the bedside table.

The sounds alarm the blonde boy for half a second, that is before he realises that the familiar disembodied voice and the rustling noises that quickly followed just so happened to both belong to the dark-looking, somewhat fuzzy bug-mouse-like creature that had previously helped him transform into his apparent Superhero alter-ego, Chat Noir.

What did the Turtle Man call them again? Kwamis?

The small black mass emerges from within the bedside table's top drawer before planting himself in front of the boy and just floating there lazily. Adrien tries to recall his name, and after a few seconds, it comes back to him.

"Pl... Plagg?" He asks hesitantly, and god, his voice is creaky from the sleep.

He wonders why he can only remember things from the last time he had supposedly amnesia. He makes a mental note, as unreliable as his mind seemed to be at the moment, to ask his girlfriend, to ask the turtle man, and to ask about the amnesia. But before he can spiral any further down the rabbit hole of his own thoughts, the Kwami opens his small mouth to complain.

"Oh, whoa, Adrien, you're finally awake! I was starting to get really hungry, just ravenous , but," He starts, dragging out his vowels as he speaks.

"They put you into one of those ridiculous-looking robes you're wearing, so I couldn't get myself any of that yummy cheese you keep in your pocket," Plagg finishes telling him, whirring around his head to look at him from various angles.

"They were really confused about that, by the way. Apparently, it's not normal for young men to store cheese on their person; it beats me, though; I think it smells splendid," The complaint aspect of Plagg's rambling was really half-assed of him. Adrien was the best chosen that Plagg had ever landed himself with.

Despite his strong front, the Kwami had found himself being particularly worried for the human boy, especially being in such a harrowing situation and all. H enceforth, he felt flooded with utter relief at the sight that he was awake, even if he was honestly being truthful about the hungry and robe parts of his speech.

Adrien has much to ask of the Bug-mouse.. er, Kwami, who apparently recognises him this time around, and he's frankly relieved to have the chance to finally do so; sure, he wasn't about to go hunting for the answers just yet a few minutes ago, but there was an opportunity to seize right before him now. He'd be a fool not to take it head-on, right?

Unfortunately for them, both, their little reunion is cut tragically short for the time being by the new presence of a pair of footsteps coming from the hallway and presumably heading their way.

Which meant more waiting. And less thinking about this cute girlfriend he apparently had. Or talking to his strange but cool, magical floating companion.

This was rather annoying, to say the least, and Adrien couldn't hide the disgruntled huff he gave as a short, mousey-looking Nurse and a tall, lithe businesswoman both wandered into the room. At the same time, his Kwami quickly ducked out of sight, phasing through the drawer to stay out of sight, which luckily happened to be a very normal routine for the exceptional being when it had all of its memories intact.

The nurse had come in for a routine hourly check-up, having to monitor the poor boy and his body's condition just to make double sure he was still okay. And the other woman was presumably there to discuss something? Or be her boss? Adrien couldn't tell for the life of him; she had such a firm and cold gaze, so professional, and she looked to be wound tight, so much so that it intimidated him.

Maybe she was a lawyer? Perhaps he did something really awfully bad to wind up here, and she was his only defense from a life of cruel imprisonment. The thought of that alone was enough to send a cold shiver down his spine.

Upon the nurse noticing that he was finally awake during their more or less unprecedented arrival, she gives him a bright, professional smile; having taken the unnecessary huffing of his at face value, she takes to assuming that it was just a side effect of waking up in a foreign, unfamiliar environment, and not as the actual cause, which is to say, irritation at health care in lieu of wanting to think about a pretty girl instead.

Totally mature, Adrien.

The nurse bustles into the room and greets him with a warm smile. She briskly departs for a short moment, her steps quick and purposeful, before returning with a doctor in tow. His white coat sways behind him as he enters the room with a serious expression on his face.

The Doctor in question, a tall and stern-looking man with a stethoscope hanging from his neck, introduces himself with a firm handshake to the woman, before getting down to the business at hand. He begins running a few more tests on Adrien, having already done some preliminary testing before he had awoken; this process includes taking Adrien through a line of thorough questioning to gauge his reactions and such, all of which Adrien sits through, more or less patiently. At the same time, the tall, possibly-his-lawyer woman, oversees the entire process with a watchful, eagle-eyed gaze, her stern expression not betraying any emotions that could dare slip through the cracks.

This goes on for a fair while, and it's excruciatingly boring for him. The minutes stretched on like a bungee cord, and he found himself fidgeting on the spot. Every tick of the clock felt like a hammer pounding against his skull. The Doctor tells him that they will have to run a full medical exam on him once it's approved by his caretaker or guardian. This will then lead to an MRI scan, possible blood tests, and possibly further cognitive testing.

The process moved along with surprising speed, almost too fast for Adrien to keep up. He sat anxiously in a sterile white room, tapping his foot as the doctors ran test after test. Being moved between rooms for specific machinery was a bit of a drag, and they were so thorough that it took longer than he expected, but he knew it was necessary. His heart raced as they finally finished and waited for the results.

The Doctor leaned back in his leather chair and carefully reviewed Adrien's test results. He tapped his pen against the clipboard as he asked Adrien and the woman with him a series of detailed questions about Adrien's symptoms and medical history. After thoroughly examining all the information, the Doctor nodded to himself and confidently declared, "Based on these results, I can say with certainty that your diagnosis is accurate."

Adrien felt a sense of relief wash over him at the doctor's confirmation, and yet, a sense of unrelenting dread. Adrien'sHis emotions were in turmoil, as he wasn't sure how to process these conflicting feelings, leaving him feeling even more unsettled. It was undoubtedly confirmed now.

Adrien Agreste had obtained himself a mild case of Retrograde Amnesia.

It is with this complicated diagnosis that the Hospital staff contacts his father, Gabriel. Or rather, they contact him through his secretary, Nathalie. Who turns out to be the lithe lawyer-looking woman Adrien had seen earlier, giving him a gaze with a strength much alike to the third degree.

They do so via video chat through a small touchscreen Nathalie holds in her hands. Nathalie cradles the small touchscreen in her hands, her fingers tapping quickly as she speaks. On the other end, Gabriel's face appears on the screen, his voice echoing through the video chat. He is on a business trip and wouldn't be home for a few more days. Nathalie explains the situation to him, her worried expression reflected in his pixelated image.

Gabriel's stern face softened slightly as he listened to Nathalie's explanation. His brow furrowed with concern, but he maintained his composed demeanor.

"I see," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of worry and frustration. "And there's nothing I can pay for that can be done to reverse this condition immediately?"

The Doctor, who had been standing nearby, stepped closer to the screen. "Mr. Agreste, retrograde amnesia is a complex condition. While many patients recover their memories over time, it's not something we can guarantee or accelerate with medication. The best course of action is to provide a stable, familiar environment for Adrien and to be patient."

Gabriel nodded curtly, his jaw tightening. "Very well. Nathalie, please make the necessary arrangements for Adrien's care and recovery. I'll return as soon as my business here is concluded."

"And what of visitors? A few of Adrien's classmates have been asking, sir."

With a slight frown, hyper-aware that the Doctors were listening, the Fashion Mogul begrudgingly approved visitors and asked his secretary to invite each of his son's classmates to visit him, hoping that it might jog his memory and the whole issue could be resolved sooner rather than later. On a last note, before dismissing her, he tells Nathalie to clear the boy's schedule of extracurricular activities and requests his son call him once he's more able-bodied.

Then he hangs up.

It's a bitter irony to face, creating a supervillain that gives people total amnesia, only to have the same illness befall your only son. From what Adrien could hear and see of his supposed father briefly during the call, he felt less comforted than he had expected to. It's an unsettling feeling, but hey, he figures that his dad must just be stressed by his being in the hospital while he can't come and be with him. He's also excited to see his classmates soon. He's not sure if that includes his girlfriend, but they happened to be on a school trip during the whole building incident, so he hopes they share the same class.

As the Doctor and Nathalie finish up their discussion, letting him know that he will need a few more scans before leaving, Adrien finds himself alone in the hospital room once again. The silence feels oppressive, broken only by the steady beep of machines monitoring his vitals. He lets out a long sigh, sinking back into the pillows.

"Psst, kid," comes a tiny voice from the bedside drawer. "Coast is clear yet?"

Adrien glances around quickly before whispering back, "Yeah, Plagg. You can come out now."

The small black kwami zips out of hiding, hovering in front of Adrien's face with an uncharacteristically concerned expression. "So, amnesia, huh? That's rough, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Adrien groans, rubbing his temples. "I can barely remember anything beyond that day on the rooftop. It's like... everything else is just a blur. I know I'm supposed to be this superhero, Chat Noir, but I can't remember any of my adventures or battles. It's all so frustrating."

Plagg nods sympathetically, which is an unusual look for the typically sarcastic kwami. "Well, kid, I can fill you in on some of the details, but you're gonna have to figure out a lot of it on your own. That's just how these things work sometimes."

Adrien perks up slightly. "You can tell me about my life? About being Chat Noir?"

"Sure thing," Plagg says, settling onto Adrien's pillow. "But first, you got any cheese hidden around here? I'm starving."

Adrien chuckles softly, the familiar feeling banter with his Kwami bringing a small sense of comfort. "Sorry, Plagg. Maybe I can ask, though." He answers, realizing just how famished he feels, himself.

As he pokes at the nurse call button, his mind wanders to the gaps in his memory. He tries to piece together the fragments he does remember – but it's like trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle with most of the pieces missing. He remembers the girl in the red and black spotted suit, her bright blue eyes sparkling as she smiled at him. But her name eludes him, frustratingly just out of reach.

Adrien's thoughts are interrupted as a nurse enters the room and responds to his call. She smiles warmly at him. "How can I help you, Adrien?"

"I was wondering if I could get something to eat," he says, suddenly realizing how hungry he is. "And, um, do you happen to have any cheese?"

The nurse looks slightly puzzled but nods. "Of course, I'll bring you a meal right away. As for cheese, I think we might have some in the cafeteria. Is there any particular kind you're craving?"

Adrien glances quickly at Plagg, who has hidden himself once again. "Camembert, if possible," he says, remembering his kwami's favorite.

"I'll see what I can do," the nurse says with a kind smile before leaving the room.

Chapter Text

Later that afternoon, the relief of receiving a proper diagnosis after his MRI scan still lingered as Adrien sat alone in his hospital room, finally left in peace by the constant stream of various, rather intrusive, medical personnel. As the sun cast its golden rays through the windows, Adrien breathed a sigh of relief.

The thought that the day would soon be over was comforting in a strange and unfamiliar way. He wasn't sure why he yearned for the night, but he welcomed it all the same. And in the wake of experiencing a rather awkward yet sweet one-on-one visit from Nathalie and a large gorilla-like man, although Adrien had appreciated the gesture and care shown towards him, he was glad that he had finally been left alone to his own devices. Some (mostly) peace and quiet, not to mention some well-deserved food, too.

He hadn't even realised how hungry he was until Plagg had casually brought it up to him. He was so starved from the start of his stay that upon sighting the tray the Nurse had brought in, he found his stomach rumbling loudly in response, much to his personal embarrassment. The Nurse seemed to pay it no mind, though.

As it turns out, his Kwami's hunger hadn't died down from earlier either. Luckily for Plagg, Adrien's private healthcare came with many benefits, some of which included decent meals. This also meant they could make personal requests from the supplied menu, including menu items like cheese, for instance.

Adrien was glad that he had asked him what he liked and what he needed to eat back at the tower, having been personally unfamiliar with the nutrition requirements of a Kwami. He didn't have to make himself look like an idiot when he had spoken to the Nurse about his meal. At the mere mention of his favourite food being cheese, more specifically Camembert cheese, Adrien had made sure to voice his desire from the menu for him.

All he wanted was for his little friend to be just as comfortable as himself, after all. So what if that meant he got less to eat now? Adrien could always sort that out later. All he needed for the time being was a little burst of energy to get him through the rest of the afternoon and night before his eventual discharge from the Hospital. He could manage it.

Once their chosen meal had finally arrived, being wheeled into the room by a kind-looking nurse who quickly departed as quickly as she had arrived, the Kwami almost broke the bedside table drawer clean off at the alarming speed he shot out of it, more than eager to devour the cause of the delicious scent he had picked up on.

Sure, it wasn't exactly gourmet or anything; it was still hospital food after all, no matter how good the healthcare claimed to be, but it would have to do for now. In fact, Adrien wasn't all that bothered by it. As he eagerly shovelled his food onto his spoon and then into his mouth, it dawned upon him that he had no proper memory of ever having eaten anything before this particular moment. Whoa. He was sure he had the idea in his head that hospital food was meant to be horrible, but he had no real experience to back it up with. Strange.

That would be something for him to unpack at another time, though, because, for now, finally being alone gave them a little time to talk to one another before his classmates began to arrive. Hopefully, after his Doctor gave him a final once-over, he'd be sent home, wherever that place called home may be.

The silence between them as they ate was utterly astounding. Plagg was only focused on greedily eating a surprisingly large amount, which had thrown Adrien a bit off. The clinking of his plate hitting the table was the only sound in the dimly lit room. Adrien picked at his food, distracted by Plagg's voracious appetite. He couldn't believe how much cheese the small creature could consume in one sitting.

Nonetheless, he decided to take the first step and took a few more hurried bites of his meal before interrupting the quiet, stagnant silence of the room with a question. He kept his voice level at a hushed whisper so as not to make anyone think he was talking to himself. Otherwise, they might have thought he had hit his head a little bit too hard, and he really didn't want to deal with that right now.

"So, the kiss Marinette and I shared... It must've knocked me out cold from how great it was, and I wound up here? Right?"

Adrien hesitantly asks Plagg this, tilting his head to the side in a display of curiosity. It obviously wasn't the case, but with how his mind was…

"No, absolutely not. Actually, you totally forgot everything. And so did she, by the way." Plagg responds earnestly, adding the fact that Marinette had also forgotten only as an afterthought, drawing an exasperated little groan from the blonde-haired boy sitting across from him.

Plagg was honestly shocked; he didn't know what had happened that day (besides the fact that the two miraculous holders had kissed). But Adrien's speech, the way he said Marinette and not Ladybug when referring to the kiss, definitely confirmed a suspicion that Plagg had been ruminating on for a while without being able to ask a clueless Adrien.

His suspicion being, those two idiots had revealed a secret they'd been failing to discover for months in the span of a single afternoon.

What the hell was up with that?

"I had a bad feeling that I was wrong about that…" He sighed a little dramatically. "Would you tell me what really happened then? Please?"

Adrien moves his right hand to the back of his head and rubs it where it lies tender and probably bruised. He asks his second question, which was more of a request anyway. He starts grimacing slightly when his fingers brush against the impact zone. Ouch. Why on earth did he think touching it would be a good idea?

The question Adrien had asked him brought boisterous laughter from the small Kwami, who then wiped small tears from his eyes before sighing. His tiny body shook with mirth, and the lingering effects of their laughter could still be heard in his tone as he spoke. It was only funny because his chosen was okay now... more or less, albeit not completely unharmed.

With a satisfied chuckle, Plagg snatched a generous slab of cheese from the plate and gobbled it up in one gulp. "Oh, this is a good one, now that I can answer," Plagg starts, with a twinkle in his eye as he continued, amused with their little question-and-answer session.

Plagg's voice was laced with amusement as he spoke between bites of cheese.

"Your little girlfriend fell down the stairs, and you decided to take her place; pretty noble, don'tcha think?" Plagg muses before quickly focusing himself back on the cheese before him, which causes Adrien to roll his eyes.

"Well, no wonder it hurts! I didn't think it would be something as clumsy as that!" Adrien exclaimed, his voice thick with disbelief.

He couldn't control the sudden outburst, even though believing he had said those words was hard. Guilt washed over him, settling in the pit of his stomach before he could even finish his sentence. He didn't want to sound accusatory towards Marinette; it was just that the Marinette he knew always seemed so sure of herself, capable and intelligent; there was no way she just happened to fall down the stairs!

There must have been someone else involved. Surely , someone else had a hand in it. A small voice in his mind whispered that maybe he was just trying to shift the blame away from himself. Maybe it had been his fault? Regardless, deep down, he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this accident than meets the eye.

Plagg's eyes narrowed as he studied Adrien's face, sensing the boy's internal conflict. "Hey, don't beat yourself up about it, kid. Accidents happen, even to the best of us," he said, his tone softening. "Besides, you're both okay now, and that's what matters."

Adrien nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced. He picked at his food, pushing it around his plate as his mind raced with questions. "But Plagg, how did I end up taking her place? Did I push her out of the way or something?"

The kwami hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Well, it's a bit fuzzy, to be honest. Everything happened so fast. One moment, Marinette was stumbling; the next, you were there, and then..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his tiny paws.

Adrien leaned forward, his green eyes wide with curiosity and concern. "And then what, Plagg? What happened next?"

Plagg sighed, realizing he'd have to be careful with his words. More… forthcoming. He couldn't reveal too much about Ladybug's identity, even if Adrien had somehow figured it out before losing his memory. "Well, you kind of... swooped in. Like the hero you are," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "You managed to push Marinette to safety but lost your balance in the process."

Adrien's brow furrowed as he tried to piece together the fragments of information. "So I saved her, but at what cost?" He touched the back of his head gingerly again, wincing at the pain.

"Hey, don't be so dramatic," Plagg chided, floating closer to Adrien. "You're alive, aren't you? And Marinette's fine, too. That's what matters."

Adrien nodded slowly, processing Plagg's words. "You're right. I just wish I could remember it all." He paused, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Wait, Plagg - you said earlier that Marinette forgot everything too. What exactly did she forget?"

Plagg froze mid-bite, his eyes widening slightly. He had to tread carefully here. "Oh, you know," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, "just the details of the accident. Trauma does funny things to human brains."

Adrien narrowed his eyes, sensing there was more to it. "But you mentioned it specifically when I asked about the kiss. Did something happen between us that we both forgot?"

Plagg gulped, realizing he may have said too much. He frantically searched for a way to redirect the conversation. "Look, kid, memory loss is complicated. You both went through something traumatic. It's not unusual for details to get fuzzy."

But Adrien wasn't letting it go. His green eyes bore into Plagg with an intensity that made the kwami squirm. "Plagg, please. If you know something, tell me. It feels like there's this big piece of my life is missing, and I need to understand."

The kwami sighed heavily, conflicted. He floated down to rest on Adrien's knee, his tiny face scrunched in thought. "Adrien," Plagg began, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "there are some things that are better left forgotten, at least for now."

The blonde boy's face fell, disappointment evident in his emerald eyes. "But why, Plagg? Don't I deserve to know the truth about what happened?"

Plagg floated up to eye level with Adrien, his tiny paws gesturing emphatically. "Kid, it's not about deserving. It's about protecting you - both of you. Some secrets are meant to stay secret for a reason."

Adrien's brow furrowed in frustration. "But you said Marinette and I kissed. How can that be a secret that needs protecting?"

The kwami's whiskers twitched nervously. "That's for you two to rediscover. But kid, when you see her again, really look at her. Pay attention to how you feel. Your heart might remember what your brain forgot."

Adrien slumped back against his pillows, frustration etched across his features. He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair.

"I guess you're right. It's just... frustrating. I feel like there's this whole other life I'm missing out on."

Before he has a chance to process what had just happened and ask Plagg another question about the happenstance that led to his and his girlfriend's little accident, he's hurriedly ushering his Kwami back into the draw, dropping the cheese in there with him to keep him from complaining, all at the sound of footsteps, coming dangerously close to entering his room.

He must've had visitors arriving already. And honestly? He's annoyed that he has to put off his truth-searching for a little while longer, but the silver lining is that Marinette will probably be there any minute, and the thought of that will ease his troubled mind for the time being. He can't afford to be caught with his secret identity revealed, so he quickly hides all evidence of Plagg's existence in his room, hoping no one will suspect anything suspicious. His palms sweat, and his breath catches in his throat as the doorknob begins to turn. His mind races with potential consequences if he is discovered.

He's right about having visitors already, though, because instead of another Nurse or Doctor, a few moments later, a girl who seems to be around his age walks into the room almost immediately after he has practically stuffed the tiny floating cat-like being into the drawer and gathered his bearings.

She seemed to glide in effortlessly, her tied-back hair just barely brushing her shoulders like a waterfall of golden honey. She's a rather obnoxious-seeming girl who instantly runs up to him, squealing loudly before wrapping herself around his neck, clinging to him tightly, not much like a Boa constrictor.

That girl is none other than the mayor's only daughter and his childhood friend, Chloé Bourgeois.

Adrien's eyes widened in surprise as Chloé flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. The sudden impact made him wince slightly, his head still tender from the fall. She pulled back, her blue eyes scanning his face critically. "You don't look okay. You look awful!" She exclaimed before clinging to him once more.

Adrien chuckled nervously, gently trying to extricate himself from Chloé's grip. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chlo. I'm fine, really. Just a little banged up."

Chloé pulled back again, her perfectly manicured hands still resting on his shoulders. "Well, of course you are. I mean, falling down stairs? How utterly ridiculous! You're usually so graceful, Adrikins."

Adrien's brow furrowed slightly at her words. There was that story again - him falling down the stairs. But something about it still felt off, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

"Yeah, about that..." he started but was quickly cut off by Chloé's shrill voice.

Chapter Text

"Adrikins~!"

Chloé enthusiastically cries out her little nickname for Adrien. Her voice goes rather high-pitched and shrill as she does, and her intensity refuses to falter as she continues, apparently hugging him as closely and tightly as she possibly can. He felt like his breath had been knocked right out of him from her overt display of overbearing affection alone, yet she had also most definitely winded him or something similar because he was being totally smothered.

All he responded with was a weak-sounding yet firm complaint that he barely managed to croak out.

"I'm recovering from a head trauma here, if you wouldn't mind." Despite his plea, he couldn't help but feel guilty for the curtness of his tone.

Her fingers unclench from his shirt, and she lets out a quiet whimper, much like a toddler who has dropped their beloved toy. With a flick of the wrist, she motions for the nurse to bring in a chair, but the nurse's expression suggests she'd rather be anywhere else as she reluctantly places the chair beside the bed, an unamused look plastered on her face. Clearly, it was a request she would have turned down under any other circumstance.

Chloé sinks into the plush cushions of the otherwise hard seat, feeling the soft fabric against her skin. As the nurse nods and exits through the door, Chloé takes a deep breath and tries to relax in the unfamiliar environment of the hospital room. She leans over him so that she is still extremely close to the male, invading his personal space as best as she can manage from that spot. He isn't sure if it was intentional or if she really is just that lacking in self-awareness, but it is rather overwhelming having a complete stranger clinging to him like he is a life raft and she is in deep waters.

"So it's true? Is it really true? I had Daddy ask the Hospital what happened to you after you fell, but they wouldn't tell him! Apparently, the mayor, of all people, isn't allowed medical records! They just kept giving vague and annoying answers about you hurting your head, so I rushed over here as fast as possible! Don't worry, though... I'm sure they'll all be fired soon anyway."

Chloé rambles on like this, and it sounds more like she's bragging than acting on genuine sincerity. Adrien doesn't exactly find patient confidentiality fairgrounds for firing someone, but she obviously seems to care for him quite a bit, judging from the kung-fu death grip she gave him earlier, so he holds his tongue for the time being. He supposes that it's just the same type of reaction as his father's: one that comes from a place of worry and love and one that has a slightly negative impact on their actions towards those around them from stress itself.

This was very, very far from the truth, as unbeknownst to him, the two people in his life, in this scenario, that he's known the longest, are both deeply rooted in their not-so-kind ways, and he was extending the benefit of the doubt a little too far and spreading it a little too thin.

Adrien shifts uncomfortably in the hospital bed, trying to find a position that doesn't aggravate his aching head. He blinks slowly, struggling to focus on Chloé's face as she continues her tireless tirade.

"I mean, really, how dare they keep such important information from me? Don't they know who I am? Who you are?" She huffs, flipping her blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

"Chloé," Adrien begins gently, wincing slightly as he tries to sit up straighter, "I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure the hospital staff were just following protocol. They can't give out patient information to anyone who asks, even if it is the mayor, right?"

A flash of something - disappointment? Anger? - crosses Chloé's face before it's quickly replaced by a saccharine smile.

"Oh, Adrikins, you're so sweet and naive," she coos, patting his hand condescendingly. "Don't you know that rules are meant to be bent for people like us? Anyway, that's not important right now. What matters is that you're okay, and I'm here to take care of you. Besides, they've crossed me." Chloé's eyes narrow as she leans in even closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And nobody crosses Chloé Bourgeois without consequences."

"That's a bit dramatic." He argued, the statement seemed to hang in the air, heavy and tense. His voice wavered with nervousness as he spoke, anxious about the potential consequences. "I don't want anyone losing their job because of this," he pleaded, his words tinged with regret and uncertainty. He paused, taking a deep breath, before continuing, "And besides, I'm not even sure who you are..." The weight of the situation settled on his shoulders, making him feel small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The uncertainty of it all made him wish he could turn back time and avoid this moment altogether.

He's being completely honest with her, laying it all out on the table so that Chloé could understand the situation better and be prompted to be more compassionate. Still, she perceives his words in the wrong way and takes them as a form of rejection. He had meant that he didn't know who she was quite literally, on account of the Amnesia and all, but she took it as him besmirching her attitude and haughtily stood up, placing her hands on her hips proudly.

"Why are you being like this, Adrikins? I'm only looking out for you... Besides, if it weren't for that idiot Dupain-Cheng, you wouldn't even be here in the first place! You need to be mad at her instead! Not me!"

Adrien last heard the name Dupain-Cheng when he told the owner of said name that he was pleased to meet her. He bowed and everything, so that makes it totally official and true, and Chloe would just have to deal with that.

Besides, the way Chloé addressed him, treated Marinette, and shifted the blame, well, it just made him feel like she was reprimanding him personally more than anything. He took it personally because that was his girlfriend. She was bad-mouthing, and it took every inch of personal restraint he had to not get mad about it to her face. He couldn't sully any of his personal connections, at least not until he knew who they were, what role they played in his life, and how he felt towards them.

Damn it, it's so unnecessarily complicated meeting people who know you when you don't remember how you know them in return.

"No, I mean, I really don't know who you are, I have Amnesia."

He makes this statement in a deadpan tone. It's as nice as he can manage right now. He quickly extended his arm, pointing at the small whiteboard stuck to the wall that listed his and his Doctors' names, respectively, his type of infliction, and the other important details pertaining to his condition that were left up there to help the Nurses when shifts were swapped. Chloé gawks at him for a few seconds, seemingly unable to process his bitter attitude, before her expression drifts back to a sickly sweet smile. It's not long at all before she's quickly apologizing for the whole 'big misunderstanding!!' and everything.

"Oh! Why didn't you say so silly? " she chides him softly, while Adrien thinks something like, 'You didn't actually give me a chance to tell you,' which, to be fair, is absolutely true.

"Well! My name is Chloé, and we're childhood friends, best friends really, and... Well, a little more than that, too, if I'm being truly honest with you."

So that was a lie.

Adrien knew it must be a lie because he already had a girlfriend. Why else would he and Marinette have photos of each other like that? It didn't make sense; any other scenario he could think of seemed absurd. He doesn't call her out on it, not yet; he needs to know why she would say something like that, though. It's confusing; he feels almost as disorientated as when he woke up that morning, maybe more so.

He almost asks her. He's so close, but as he starts to speak, she briskly kisses him on the cheek and tells him she has to go, but I'll check up on him later. And then, without another word, she's out the door, and Adrien wipes his cheek thanks to the sticky lipgloss Chloé left behind on his face. It felt gross . He mentally bets himself that it wouldn't feel gross if Marinette wore lip gloss.

What was he even thinking? That's just embarrassing.

Soon after the whole Chloé dilemma, a few more of his classmates showed up to pay him a visit, as requested by his father, though they really just came because he was their friend, and that's what you do when you're worried about the people you care for. It was relieving that most of the next few visits were quick and stress-free, and he tried his best to mentally note each person.

There was a big, tough-looking guy with a smaller girl in tow. He had the most colourful hair Adrien had ever seen since that morning. They both wished him well before they left. A timid red-haired boy came in with a short girl with bright pink hair. She gave him a high five, which Adrien was very confused about because, from the sound of it, he didn't exactly injure himself in a cool way. But they left him a really cool hand-drawn get well soon card, which Adrien appreciated a lot and carefully sat on top of the bedside table.

Next was a... well, stereotypical-looking nerd and jock pair. Adrien felt bad for even calling them that in his head, but he was sure it was nothing they hadn't heard before. They had made a few lighthearted jokes on their own behalf about how anyone could fall like that, and he need not worry about it before their departure, so he was pretty sure they wouldn't mind either.

He had two nice enough girls also visit him, and a tall boy with blue and black hair also seemed to accompany them. One of the girls was very soft-spoken and had jet-black hair with a purple streak. The other was a rather petite blonde who seemed very sweet. They all followed the same actions as their peers before them, exchanging niceties, well wishes, and the like before leaving.

Adrien was feeling somewhat exhausted by this point, but he really did appreciate the sentiment behind it all, and seeing all these people who cared for him come say hello to him really did feel great. So he couldn't really complain. He was just a little bummed out that she hadn't made an appearance yet.

The last two people to pay him a visit were a cute couple: an Auburn-haired girl and a tall boy who was wearing a bright red cap despite being indoors. They ended up staying a lot longer than the rest, and they explained to him how they were his good, close friends and how they were with him when the accident occurred. Their visit was more comforting than all the others, being familiar faces and all, but he found it unfortunate that he couldn't tell them that he sort of remembered them.

He didn't exactly remember them in the way he was shown he did on the photos in their phones, but in the way that they were the last Hakuna Matata that he had fought with his lady before they both apparently forgot.

"You okay, dude?" The boy in the red cap—Nino, he'd introduced himself as—asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, just... trying to piece things together," Adrien replied, offering a weak smile. "It's all a bit jumbled up here." He tapped his temple lightly.

The girl, Alya, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Oh? Anything specific coming back to you?"

Adrien hesitated, unsure how to explain the bizarre fragments floating around in his mind. "It's… No, nothing, really."

He was remorseful for hastily dismissing them but knew it was his only option. The weight of his decision hung heavy in the air, like a thick fog that could not be shaken off. He wished there was another way, but deep down, he knew this was the only course of action he was willing to take.

But eventually, they left, too, once it started getting dark. As exhausting as it was dealing with so many new faces in such a short span of time, he was starting to realise that he didn't much like being all on his own either. And why hadn't Marinette visited him? That was a depressing thought he hoped to clear from his mind as quickly as it came.

What if they'd had another lovers spat, and she was mad at him still for whatever it was, so she wouldn't be showing up? No, no way, she was part of the reason that he was there in the first place, not that he blames her or anything, but he feels as if she'd be the type of person to show up to check up on him even if they were in the middle of an argument.

He leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes with a sigh, desperately trying to convince himself that it was no big deal.

Meanwhile, Marinette walks down the hall and arrives at the hospital room that she was told Adrien would be staying in via a text from Alya. The rest of that text is Alya telling her to hurry up and get a move on lest she miss visiting hours. It's already open, so she quickly and quietly raps her knuckles against the side of the door to alert anyone inside that she's about to enter.

She walks in, and he's still sitting in his bed, but his eyes are shut, leaving the dark-haired girl under the impression that he must have dozed off. Damn it, she really did want to be his first visitor, but things just got out of hand, and she ended up helping her parents at the bakery a little too long. She was exhausted from running all the way there, but she couldn't miss this for anything; plus, she felt a fair bit guilty about the whole stair incident. It was her fault, after all.

"Oh, he's asleep already; I guess I'll just return later..." She mumbles somberly, instantly disappointed, so much so that it practically drips into her words. She's turning to leave before a familiar voice pipes up.

Adriens's attention had been caught by her quiet, sad-sounding comment, and his eyes fluttered open in a mere instant.

"Marinette! I was wondering when you'd show up!" Adrien calls out to her to keep her from leaving. He speaks rather cheerily for someone sitting in a hospital bed who'd fallen headfirst down a flight of stairs yesterday.

With that attitude, you'd certainly never guess.

"Huh? Me? " She asks in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns around on her heels, half-heartedly pointing to herself, ever so meekly, before walking over to him and sitting down quickly in the bedside chair of his Hospital room that Chloé had previously demanded in, her hands folding together in her lap. She looks rigid and awkward and rather unsure of herself as she does this. He finds it to be extremely heartwarming.

"Yes, you. " He reiterates, slowly nodding. He looked rather amused by her nervous antics, guessing correctly that she must feel guilty for it all.

"Oh, " She says simply, feeling her cheeks heating up even more. She's starting to get all emotionally malfunction-y before confusion strikes her once again, the first time being when he had called her name.

How did he know her name?

Maybe Alya or Nino described her to him? Maybe they told him she would be late, which, ah geez, that's embarrassing, but judging from Alyas' text, it seemed to be the most likely explanation. Alya had explained in her text that Adrien had Amnesia, so there was no other way he'd know something like that. She's unsure what she should say to him but soon decides that it would be best to just apologise. She doesn't want to make a bad second first impression after all.

"I hope I didn't wake you up... um, I got kinda held up, " She grimaces a little at her own lateness as she speaks, and oh god, it sounds like she's making excuses, doesn't it? Are you allowed to make excuses for an amnesiac?  She really doesn't want Adrien to think she's unreliable or anything. Before the self-doubt totally sets in and drives her up the wall, Adrien interjects.

"Oh, no, I just felt a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people I couldn't seem to recognise."

Disappointed, more like, he thinks.

"But... I'm thrilled you're here. " He reassures her, assuming the wavering in her voice comes from a place of worry. His assumptions are, for the most part, wrong again. But at least this time, she actually had pure intention on her side. The same couldn't be said for Chloé nor Gabriel.

"But... You have Amnesia. I was told you don't remember anything, so how do you know who I am? How can you possibly be glad that I'm here, Adrien?"

She asks him this question with a unique expression, and the confusion from before is definitely coming back full throttle. Adrien's eyes widened slightly, realizing his mistake. He had been so excited to see Marinette that he'd forgotten he wasn't supposed to remember her. He quickly tried to think of a plausible explanation. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stumbled over excuse after excuse, realizing plausible deniability went out the window. With a heavy sigh, he decided to come clean and tell the truth. Honesty would have to do!

"Because… I remember you, Marinette. How could I ever forget someone like you? How could I ever forget the girl that I love?" He admits, gazing at her so very lovingly as he does.

Marinette stops functioning. Completely.

She's gone absolutely dark cherry red, and she's pretty sure she knew how to breathe at some point in her life , but much like Adrien here, she guesses that she forgot.

"I… What? Me? You? L…Luh…love?"

Her stuttering in the past made her seem like the world's most intelligent poet at that moment, compared to what she had devolved into upon hearing those specific words actually leave Adrien's mouth. The only other thing she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

"I'm sorry, wah… what? " She reiterates, shaking her head and furrowing her eyebrows.

Had she heard wrong? What the heck was going on?

Adrien just laughs, still smiling fondly at her. God, why was his laughter so adorable?

It was so unfair, but she's not sure whether she should be swooning, passing out, or kicking him for it.

"What? Are you embarrassed or something? " he asks teasingly, his clear amusement showing through the cheeky, smitten-sounding tone he adopts when he reacts to her reaction. She looks cute, all flustered like that.

"I'm um... I'm more confused than anything, but I guess you could say that too," she admits, sneakily casting a downward glance into her slightly open bag, where her Kwami Tikki was hidden. She silently pleads for some sort of answer that she gets no response to before drawing her gaze back up to Adrien.

"Oh, right," He pauses, pouting slightly before speaking up again. "I should explain. I don't actually have Amnesia! Well, that's not true. Actually, I do technically have Amnesia, but not totally. You see, I remember being at Montparnasse Tower with you."

Marinette wonders what he means by not totally having Amnesia. How can you not totally have something like Amnesia? It's as if he's implying he has to pick and choose or something, but at least the confusion is prolonging her inevitable heart attack.

"The um… the school trip? I don't even remember the trip, so how would you?"

She's starting to think that he hit his head way harder than he was letting on, and oh god, she broke Adrien Agreste.

"Oh, it was a school trip? Yeah, that makes sense. Well… basically, We woke up in the elevator together, and we had to run away from that Hakuna Matata, who was actually just our best friends, and we only survived thanks to you, my strong, amazing girlfriend, and the power of Ladybug and Chat Noir. It turns out everything that happened while I was under the influence of that villain's Amnesia, the things that I had forgotten, came back to me for some reason when I got myself some er… Real Amnesia? I don't quite understand it myself yet, but that seems about right."

That was a lot of information to process.

What.

"Well, I don't want to use the word crazy, but um... okay, let me get this straight," Marinette takes a deep breath, looking at Adrien with a strange intensity, as if she was gauging symptoms to refer back to his Doctor later. "So you're saying that we were... stuck in a building together with a..amnesia, being chased by a...er. Hakuna Matata and... I'm your girlfriend?" She asks, clearly dumbfounded and skeptical. She feels slightly giddy and bashful at being called his girlfriend, at calling herself his girlfriend, but it's totally, without a doubt, negated by the crazy story that had come spilling from his mouth.

Adrien simply nods and smiles at her in response, confirming her words as she says them.

"That's about it, yes, and… well. There's one little detail I left out, but… you already know that, so…"

Oh, great! She really messed him up worse than she had imagined possible.

She was filled to the brim with worry and concern for him, but she was curious, so she decided to hear him out a little longer to humour him.

"Oh, um… You mean like how Ladybug and Chat Noir saved us?"

She assumes that was what he was implying, and it seems she was right, judging by his confirmation: "If you mean how transforming into Ladybug and Chat Noir saved us, then yes! But that was obvious, right?"

Chapter Text

"If you mean how transforming into Ladybug and Chat Noir saved us, then yes! But that was obvious, right?"

Huh, That was strange.

Marinette had miraculously found herself sitting right across from the very boy she loved, all alone together, even! Yet the only thing that she wanted to do at that moment was run far away, as far as her legs would take her if she was being sincere . What better way to handle a difficult situation than to run away from it?

Ugh, she doesn't even need Tikki chiming in this time to tell her that that's inherently wrong.

Was this a joke, though? No, it was way too specific to be a joke. It's way too accurate on her part, considering that she actually is Ladybug! Surely, that wasn't just a lucky guess. Marinette could barely process the words that had just spilled from his lips, let alone comprehend the entire situation as a whole.

There has to be some sort of reasonable explanation for his sudden epiphany, no matter how odd it may be!

That's what she thought to herself, but no matter how she posed the question or thought about it, she couldn't make perfect sense of it. Chat always respected her choices regarding keeping their civilian identities a secret, albeit somewhat reluctantly at times. Yeah, he pushed, but he never, ever shoved. He always carefully toed the line and casually suggested every now and then that they ought to reveal it. He was never forceful, never too insistent.

And sure, they seemed to have gotten close enough during their last Akuma attack to have shared an extremely close-quartered kiss, but even if he did know of her secret identity somehow (Which was just totally, irrefutably impossible! Even he knew deep down that it was the right thing to do), He'd never be so careless as to let it slip to her that he knew in the first place, let alone would he actually say it in a public space... or so she desperately hoped, for both their sake.

Unfortunately for her, any scrap of self-awareness that he had left had flown right out of the window the minute he woke up with this pesky case of Amnesia; His nature was meager at best, and it wasn't his fault either; he couldn't remember anything about there being any sort of dangerous consequences, nor could he remember the promises that they had made to one another about keeping these secrets to themselves and the inner turmoil that accompanied that.

It was rough, admittedly so, but it was just how things were. The way things had to be for the greater good of the universe, for balance. Thus, Marinette struggled desperately to justify his claims further as some silly hoax, just anything but the truth. She couldn't accept that so easily. It made no sense!

Adrien must have just been horribly disorientated and confused from his unfortunate head injury! Maybe during his recovery time in the Hospital, he had accidentally watched some weird, gossipy, tabloid-like news show thanks to the small TV mounted on the wall, or maybe he had experienced a rather strange conversation with one of their mutual classmates at some point, wherein the idea was planted by some wild misconception on something else that they had told him.

Yeah, that had to be it; something ridiculous like that, an explanation that seemed so crazy and outlandish that it just had to be true because no one could ever make something so crazy up. In fact, she was nearly certain they'd be laughing about it together later, And then she'd go tell Chat on their nightly patrol! Then he'd be in on the joke too! How funny; there was just no plausible way that Adrien Agreste could ever be Chat Noir.

…Right?

He was simply having delusions of grandeur, the poor thing, and she honestly felt really bad for accidentally having played a hand in muddling him up this way in the first place. It was something like her hair that made him assume these things anyway. After all, She shared a hairstyle with Ladybug, and he almost shared one with… Shit.

Chat Noir.

Her shoulders were tense, and her breath came in quick bursts as she forced out a strained, high-pitched laugh. Adrien furrowed his brow, sensing her nervousness and growing suspicious. She nervously fidgeted with her hands as she tried to explain the situation.

What was she about to say again?

"Um... heh... what are you talking about? Me? Being Ladybug? Well… well, that's just impossible. Come on! Think about it for a second. I can barely stand on my own two feet by myself, let alone defeat an entire Akuma, so... I'm not sure how to tell you this exactly, and I'm really sorry, Adrien, But I think you're mistaken… and I… wouldn't say that so loudly either!"

Her voice is rather sombre, her tone apologetic, only rising near the end as she urged him to hush up. Yet deep down, she starts to wish that, on some level, this was the truth.

It's just the smallest part of her, really. She wants to trust Adriens' word as the truth, she really does!

For starters, it would make things a hell of a lot easier on her heart, despite the imminent danger if someone were to slip up; it would also mean that maybe... On some level, it meant that Adrien honestly liked her in a way that was more than 'just a friend.' And it would also mean that some slight inclination she had started to form towards Chat wouldn't be so baseless after all. It's thanks to all this rumination, that she was suddenly reminded of how fond she was of something like that happening (Adrien liking her back! Wow!). She finds her hand reflexively flicking up, planting itself against the back of her neck as she attempts to snap back to reality, back to this awkward encounter she was aimlessly floating through.

She knew it was wrong to hope for anything that might jeopardise things, but if the cat were out of the bag already by circumstances unrelated to her own doing, she couldn't be blamed, surely?

"It's okay, listen, Marinette. No one else can hear us in here. Don't worry your pretty little head about it. You don't have to lie to me. They won't find out." He speaks to her honestly and openly. He's absolutely clueless about the fact that they don't actually know one another's identities.

Pretty!? No, now's not the time to worry about that.

Trying to confirm his identity in a subtle way would be easy enough. Still, without the memory of any prior inside jokes or conversations, they have nothing else to rely on except one little thing…

"Transform then."

Adrien blinked, taken aback by Marinette's sudden challenge. His eyes darted around the empty room, a mix of confusion and uncertainty clouding his features.

"Huh?"

Marinette nodded firmly, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it - the moment of truth. If he really was Chat Noir and knew their secret identities, he should have no problem transforming right here and now. And if he couldn't...well, that would prove once and for all that this was all just a misunderstanding.

"If you're really Chat Noir like you claim to be, then you'd have no trouble transforming, right?" She said, her voice steadier than she felt. "If you're really Chat Noir, and if you really know who I am, then prove it. Transform."

"You're joking? In here?"

Adrien hesitated, his brow furrowing. She seemed utterly clueless, though he had no clue why she'd lie to him in the first place. Maybe they really didn't know one another's true identities after all… That was a little disheartening.

Adrien's hesitation only fueled Marinette's suspicion. She leaned forward, her blue eyes piercing into his.

"Well?" she pressed, trying to keep her voice steady. "What's the problem?"

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, looking increasingly flustered. "I... I can't just transform here, Marinette. What if someone walks in?"

"No one's going to walk in," Marinette insisted, gesturing around the empty room. "We're alone. If you're really Chat Noir, and you really know who I am, then there shouldn't be any issue, right?"

A flicker of doubt crossed Adrien's face. "I... I know I'm Chat Noir. And I know you're Ladybug. But..." he trailed off, looking uncertain.

He felt like transforming here would be pushing it. Did she not know any better?

"I... I don't think I should," Adrien said, his voice low. "Even if we're alone, it feels wrong somehow. Like I'd be breaking a rule or something important."

Marinette's breath caught in her throat. That hesitation, that sense of responsibility - it was so like Chat Noir. But it was also very Adrien. She found herself more confused than ever.

Her expression felt like it could ruin him. It was irresponsible, wrong, and downright foolish, but… if a transformation was all that she needed from him, then a transformation was what she would get. He would reassure his girlfriend lest her faith in him wavers.

He motioned for her to shut the door and draw the blinds that hung on the window. She followed his instructions, carefully closing the window blinds attached to it and creating a cocoon of privacy around them. The dim light that filtered through the thin fabric cast a peaceful glow in the room. Adrien slowly maneuvered out of his hospital bed, wincing at the sharp pain shooting through his limbs as he stood up straight. With determination etched onto his features, he proudly exclaimed, "Plagg! Claws out!" The sound of metal scraping against wood echoed through the room as his transformation began, filling the air with an electric energy.

Marinette's eyes widened in shock as an almost blinding flash of green light engulfed the room. Surely enough, once it subsided, a leather-clad boy with familiar blonde hair and green eyes to match stood before her. She had watched in awe as the familiar black leather suit materialized, cat ears sprouted from his messy blonde hair, and a sleek black mask covered his eyes. Where Adrien had stood moments before, Chat Noir now stood in his place, looking just as surprised as she felt.

"Chat?" She asks, her eyes widening as she speaks. "I... I don't believe it," Marinette whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. All her doubts and denials crumbled in an instant. It was true. Adrien was Chat Noir. Her partner, her flirty kitty, had been right in front of her all along.

Marinette's mind raced, trying to process this new reality. All this time, the boy she loved and her trusted partner had been one and the same. How had she never noticed? The similarities were suddenly so obvious - the hair, the eyes, even their mannerisms. She felt like she was seeing Adrien - Chat - for the first time.

"I... I can't believe it," she repeated her voice barely above a whisper. "All this time..."

Chat Noir - Adrien - took a tentative step towards her, his cat-like eyes searching her face. "I guess so, huh. Are you okay, Marinette? I thought... I thought you knew. I'm sorry if this is a shock."

Marinette's legs felt weak, and she sank into the nearby chair. "I didn't know," she admitted.

"You are Ladybug, aren't you?"

"I..." Marinette hesitated, her heart pounding. She had spent so long protecting her secret identity, and now here she was, face to face with her partner who had just revealed himself to her. The shock of seeing Adrien transform into Chat Noir was still reverberating through her. This was bad, really bad. The consequences of this kind of situation could be fatal in the end. This whole conversation could put everyone they cared about at risk. Her answer was risking everything, so she had to handle it accordingly, responsibly, and with grace.

"Y-Yeah, that's me, alright," She nervously blurts out.

Or not.

Chapter Text

It's a cold night, and Marinette is still awake. She sits perched on her computer chair, pyjamas and all, hunched over her desk, idly tapping her pencil against her sketchbook. She has a lot on her to-do list, as it were, but it seems as if she is going to be constantly distracted by thoughts of Adrien, more so than usual, thanks to the strange turn of events that had recently transpired and a pressing worry in her chest to follow.

She sighs, glancing at the clock on her computer screen. It's well past midnight, but sleep seems a distant possibility. Her mind keeps replaying the scene from earlier that day, running a hand through her loose hair. She should be sleeping, but her mind just won't quiet down.

After the whole ordeal of seeing him transform into Chat Noir in his hospital room as if it were as routine as brushing his teeth, they had agreed to keep this as their little secret and discuss it later when he wasn't hospitalised, surrounded by all of the nurses and doctors within earshot. He would be discharged late that night, and she wasn't family, so she couldn't wait around after hours for him.

While it hurt her to see him look disappointed at being left alone, she secretly felt, well, a little relieved. She honestly just needed some time to wrap her head around the whole situation. Seriously! This wasn't at all how she had imagined a reveal between them both, and his true identity was… well, she honestly couldn't say she expected that either. So there she sat, lost deep in thought.

Her eyes were fixed on the computer screen, her fingers typing furiously as she tried to find some reference images for the design she was working on, when all of a sudden, her concentration, or lack thereof, was shattered by the sound of something crashing outside, eagerly calling for her attention. She was totally concerned about it and not at all procrastinating her own feelings.

"Oh?" she hummed in question, her eyebrows instinctively furrowing with curiosity as she looked up at the window to her balcony. She rose to her feet and climbed onto her bed, peering through the small space above, only to come face to face with the blonde already occupying her head at that very moment.

Marinette's heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes with Adrien, or rather, Chat Noir, perched precariously on her balcony railing. His green eyes glowed in the darkness, a mix of uncertainty and determination evident in his gaze. For a moment, Marinette froze her hand still on the window latch. She blinked rapidly, wondering if her sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on her. But no, Chat Noir—Adrien—was still there, his tail swishing nervously behind him.

She stood on her tiptoes and strained to open the stubborn window, cursing under her breath as she pressed her palms against the cold glass and pushed the bedroom window open with all her might, wincing as it squeaked in protest. Her heart raced as she leaned out, the crisp night air biting at her cheeks. She strained to see him through the darkness, her voice trembling as she called out his name.

"Chat? Er... Adrien? What are you doing here? It's so late..." She asks him these small questions while her gaze momentarily flicks down to her room as though she had the instinct to check the clock, which was obscured from her line of sight. It still feels weird correcting their names like that. It has yet to quite click.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous habit she remembered well. But as he smiled, a sheepish sort of grin, so familiar yet so different now that she knew the truth, she realized with a jolt that he wasn't quite the same person or persons that she knew.

"Oh… honestly? I didn't want to be alone. Or bother you for that matter, but you did insist so…" He nervously twiddles with his clawed thumbs, his eyes longingly flicking back and forth from her face and the entrance to her room. He was clearly trying to goad her into letting him enter her room, and if it weren't for the fragile state and look he seemed to be sporting, she probably would've rolled her eyes at his somewhat needy demeanour. For the regular Chat, anyway.

"Well, what's wrong specifically?" She asks him, climbing onto her balcony to move beside him, her head tilting to the side somewhat. "You have people there with you, don't you?" She asks him, something tugging at her heart as she does.

Chat Noir's black cat ears twitched and flattened against his head. He turned away, avoiding eye contact, and spoke in a soft, barely audible voice.

"Not really. My father... he's away on business. And Nathalie, she's..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Maybe there are people there with me physically, but it's not like I can talk to them; it feels weird and awkward. Unnatural. Plagg is the only one I can talk to, and even he has his limits."

She pauses momentarily to consider his answer, and the world stands silent for that moment; the only movement between them is their hair moving in the cool night breeze. Seeing this side of Adrien blended with Chat Noir's openness was strange. Adrien's posture is a mix of his usual reserved self and Chat Noir's carefree demeanor, making for an odd combination. She reached out, hesitating momentarily before placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad you came here, then," she agrees, ushering him inside with a wave of her arm. Relief washed over his face as he followed her through the window. They both stood at the foot of her bedroom's ladder, letting their bodies adjust to the warmth as he began to slowly open up to her.

"I couldn't do it. I just couldn't stand being cooped up in that big empty mansion all by myself. Maybe I was content with it in another life or another day, but right now, I can't remember that past, and I hate it; I hate being alone in the present, you know?" He slumps atop Marinette's chaise, and she feels everything from overwhelmed to pity.

No, that was wrong. It wasn't pitying at all. Pity was an emotion reserved for spectators who looked down upon people yet remained firm and unhelpful. What Marinette felt for the black leather-clad boy before her was compassion and sympathy. It was an urge to help him and protect him dearly with every fibre of her being.

"I understand," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It must be hard, carrying all of that on your own." She paused, choosing her words carefully. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill that still clung to her skin from the night air. She thought to herself that he must run hotter than most people. "But I will help you."

Chat Noir's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and gratitude flickering across his face. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Marinette. That means more to me than you know."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of their shared secret hanging between them. Marinette's mind raced, trying to reconcile the two sides of the boy she thought she knew so well.

Marinette cleared her throat softly, breaking the silence.

"So, um, do you want to talk about it? About everything that's happened?" She fidgeted with the hem of her pajama top, unsure how to navigate this new dynamic between them.

Chat Noir – Adrien – let out a long sigh, running a clawed hand through his messy blonde hair. "I don't even know where to start, to be honest. It's all so... overwhelming." He paused, his green eyes meeting hers.

Marinette cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "So, um, how are you feeling? Physically, I mean. After the hospital and everything."

Chat Noir—Adrien—flexed his clawed hands, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Better, I think. The suit helps, actually. It's like it accelerates the healing process or something? Though I can't remember anything, still. So it can't be that good."
Marinette nodded, filing away that piece of information for later. She'd never really considered how their suits affected their bodies beyond their apparent enhanced abilities.

"That's good," she said, offering him a small smile. "I was worried about you, you know."

His cat ears perked up at that, and a hint of his usual Chat Noir charm peeked through. "Aw, were you, Princess? I'm touched."

Marinette rolled her eyes but couldn't help the warmth that spread throughout her chest at the words. She supposed that his nicknames came naturally, or perhaps there was a pattern of recognition happening in his mind? The prospect was warming and filled her with hope for his recovery.

Marinette felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she pushed it down, focusing on the matter at hand. "Of course, I was worried. You're my friend, Adrien. And... well, you're Chat Noir too. It's a lot to process."

Adrien's playful expression softened, and he nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I know. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all myself. It's like... I know I'm both Adrien and Chat Noir, but I can't quite remember how it all fits together. Does that make sense?"

Marinette nodded, her heart aching for him. "It does."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the city outside. Marinette found herself studying Adrien's face, noting the subtle differences in his expression now that she knew he was Chat Noir. She noticed the way his green eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief and the slight quirk of his lips, which she now recognized as his trademark smirk.

"Can I ask you something?" Adrien's voice was hesitant, breaking her out of her reverie.

Marinette nodded, curious. "Of course. Anything."

"How well do you know my family?" He freezes for a moment. "In the sense that… Do you think it was always this lonely?" His voice sounds so vulnerable that she's sure her heart could break right then and there.

Marinette blinked, caught off guard by the question. She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Well, I know your father is the famous fashion designer Gabriel Agreste. And I've met Nathalie a few times when she came to school on your behalf. But beyond that…" She trailed off, realizing how little she actually knew about Adrien's home life.

Adrien nodded slowly, his cat ears drooping slightly. "I see. It's just... I can't shake this feeling that something's not right. At home, I mean. I look around the mansion, and it feels cold and empty. Like it's missing something important."

Marinette's heart clenched at the lost look in his eyes. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Adrien, I..."

"Sorry," he said quickly, shaking his head.

"No… Don't be sorry!" She insists in a panic. She mulls over it for a moment, before settling on the one thing she probably could mention, without calling his father any kind of names.


"Well, your mother…" She paused, watching his face for any kind of reaction. Maybe she shouldn't have picked this wound open, but she felt like he deserved to know the truth or her limited knowledge of it. "Your mother, she disappeared a few years ago. Before that, I think things were different. Happier."
He didn't look as shattered as she had anticipated. Which might have been a good thing?

"I see. I thought it might be something like that. I have these... flashes sometimes. Memories, maybe. Of laughter and warmth. But they're so faint, like trying to catch smoke."

Marinette felt her heart breaking for him. She squeezed his arm gently, wishing she could do more to comfort him. "I'm so sorry, Adrien. I can't imagine how hard that must be."

He gave her a sad smile. "It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but... I'm glad I have you to talk to about this. It helps, you know?"

Chapter Text

As she settled onto the plush chaise next to him, her hand found its way to his shoulder. She traced soothing circles with her fingertips, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. He sighed, leaning into her touch. The warmth of her hand melted away some of the stress he'd been carrying. She could feel him relax incrementally beneath her fingers.

"I know..." she says softly, slowly. Her gaze drops to her feet as guilt pangs in her chest, and her eyes get slightly watery.

"I really hope that's not how you felt," Marinette said, her voice filled with sadness and longing. "An unshakeable loneliness every day, without me having a single clue? That's not fair." Her eyes searched desperately for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. "I'd have done something more for you," she continued, her voice pleading and remorseful. "If I just knew, maybe it could have been different sooner."

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on some distant point. Just as she thought he might not answer, he spoke.

"Please don't blame yourself. It's really not your fault, and besides, it's just the blank spaces left in my mind at play; I'm sure it was better before.

"You think?"

"Well, not as well lately, but yeah."

A loud snort escaped from her nose, and she quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She glanced up at him through watery eyes, trying to regain composure.

"You're ridiculous ," She sniffles and wipes her nose on her sleeve, then releases his shoulder to turn and embrace him. She wraps her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face in his chest as she holds on for dear life.

He just freezes in her embrace, not expecting the contact. He feels a little embarrassed. Shy, maybe? But the moment is warmer than anything, and he soon relaxes and melts into the hug, wrapping his own arms around her waist in turn.

"I'm meant to be the one comforting you, silly kitty." The girl complains, but there is no real annoyance behind her words.

"You are." He whispers into her neck while something hazy tugs at the back of his mind. The instinct to say something he doesn't quite know, perhaps.

A look of concentration crosses her face, causing her brows to furrow and her lips to purse. Suddenly, her expression changes as one eyebrow shoots up in surprise, a frightening realization dawning on her.

"Wait, how did you find my address? I mean, yes, you've been here before, but..."

"Oh, well, I decided to ask Plagg since he said he knew where you lived, and after some struggle to imply it was you, he told me that you lived in the Bakery—well, not in the Bakery, but above it. So I found a map on my phone, and yeah, I got a little lost, but here I am."

He makes a rushed, sheepish-sounding explanation, but she's only amused by it and somewhat surprised at his dedication to the task. Any unease melts away as she acknowledges the clumsy and silly method he had taken in visiting her. Not a mastermind stalker, then. Wonderful! She hums a sound of acknowledgment, closing her eyes and resting her head back on the crook of his neck.

The embrace lasts for what feels like a solid five minutes. They hold one another in silence, eyes shut, stuck breathing in a steady rhythm. Then, slowly and hesitantly, she unclasps her arms from around his neck, sitting up straight once again after he follows suit and removes his own arms from where they had been around her waist. After another eternity of comfortable silence, she breaks the streak.

"You know…" she whispers, staring at his inscrutable features and reaching out to brush the messy hair from his mask-covered face.

"I am happy that you're here, of course, but…" She sighed a little shakily, welled up with her emotions. "Part of me really does wish that we could have done this whole… knowing each other's identity thing when you were still you. You would have been so excited."

She studies his features more in the beat of silence that returns, scanning for any defining marks on his complexion she could have never noticed before, any scars, freckles, or anything else that the two men, apparently one man, had in common. But in the end, it was clear they were one and the same person.

Chat's face felt hot, and not in a good way, cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes as he observed her, trying to read her intentions. He kept it tight-lipped as he decided to survey her some more.

"I am me. You know that, right?"

Adrien's voice broke as he spoke, his usual confidence faltering. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and full of self-doubt. He grappled with an identity crisis, torn between two personas and struggling to make sense of who he truly was.

It's hard enough to have an identity crisis with two identities, let alone deal with the harsh implication that neither is actually really there anymore.

Marinette doesn't seem to pick up on his emotional disturbance at her well-meaning comment. She had previously been a little too preoccupied with decoding his masked appearance to notice the subtler signs in his expression, tone, and heart.

"Well, yes," She replies bluntly, too casually.

"Technically. But you're really more demure… as… you And Chat Noir is more… Extravagant? Brave maybe? Selfless?"

She hesitantly spoke, her words lacking confidence and struggling to capture the essence of who he was. She seemed frustrated that she couldn't find the right words to truly encapsulate him, and he felt a pang of hurt at her struggle. It was like trying to fit an entire universe into a single sentence. He wished she could see herself as he saw her, as something complex and beautiful that couldn't be easily summarized in mere words, and he couldn't understand why it left him scathing.

"Oh, I see," He whispers, nodding slowly, trying to hold a straight, not bothered, face.

Why was he feeling so jealous of her apparent deep and personal knowledge of a man that was his own damn self? He thinks he should be feeling happy to hear such high compliments, but he berates himself mentally for it.

"Yeah. I'm sure I would have been excited." Adrien murmured, a tired feeling creeping up on him.

It was exhausting to be so jealous of himself, and he really wished he wasn't. It was humiliating .

Seriously? She didn't even know who he was under the mask back then, but apparently, it didn't, or didn't, even matter to her! She actually regarded him as someone so important to her, nonetheless? It was unfathomable to Adrien. He couldn't deny that he, too, had felt a strong connection to her, one that he could get lost in despite having no memory of her besides their one battle together.

He could relate on some level, he argued. Yet he enviously wished he could live up to his own expectations and reputation in her heart. Maybe he had been looking for his comfort in the wrong place.

Marinette seemed to sense the shift in Adrien's mood. She tilted her head, studying him with concern in her blue eyes. "Hey, what's wrong? Did I say something to upset you?"

Adrien hesitated, struggling to put his jumbled emotions into words. "It's just... the way you talk about me - about Chat Noir - it's like you're describing someone else entirely. Someone better, braver, more worthy of your admiration." He swallowed hard. "And I can't help feeling like I'm falling short somehow. Like I'm disappointing you by not being that person anymore."

Marinette's eyes widened in dismay. "Oh, Adrien, no! That's not what I meant at all." She reached out, cupping his face gently in her hands. "You're not disappointing me. You could never disappoint me."

Marinette's eyes softened as she gazed at Adrien, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. The truth is, you're still you - all the parts that make you who you are. The brave, selfless, kind-hearted person I admire so much? That's still in there."

She took a deep breath, choosing her next words carefully. "When I talk about Chat Noir or Adrien from before, I'm not comparing you to some impossible standard. I'm just… remembering. Cherishing the memories we shared. But that doesn't mean I value you any less now."

Adrien leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he absorbed her words. When he opened them again, there was a vulnerability there that made Marinette's heartache. He felt a lump form in his throat at her words. He wanted desperately to believe her, but doubt still gnawed at him. "But what if I can't be that person anymore? What if I've lost that part of myself for good?"

Marinette's expression softened further, her blue eyes shimmering with emotion. She gently brushed a strand of hair from Adrien's forehead, her touch feather-light.

"Adrien," she said softly, "those parts of you aren't lost. They're just… sleeping right now. And even if some memories don't come back, the essence of who you are - your kindness, your bravery, your heart - that's all still there."

She took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. "I see it every day. In the way you smile at strangers, in how determined you are to figure things out, in the way you're here right now, trying so hard to understand and be understood."

Adrien's gaze dropped to their joined hands, a small furrow appearing between his brows as he processed her words. When he looked back up, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, though uncertainty still lingered.

"I... I want to believe you," Adrien said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it feels like I'm trying to live up to a ghost of myself.”

Chapter Text

Marinette's words hit Adrien like a ton of bricks. On one hand, he was flattered that she saw him as formidable and confident when he was in his superhero persona. But on the other hand, her statement revealed that she didn't fully comprehend the complexities and vulnerabilities that made up his true self. He wanted to confront her about her careless choice of words, but at the same time, he was afraid of what her response might be. Did she really see him as nothing more than a flashy symbol and not the person behind the mask? Her words hurt and feels like it’s not fair of her to sum him up with so few of them.

"Marinette, do you really think I'm not extravagant when I’m not a superhero?", He asks her, toying with his arm. He is trying to hold a straight face but it is clear that he is nervous and the words are coming out of him timidly.

Marinette's face showed a mix of panic and uncertainty as she struggled to find the right words to comfort her friend. She wanted to ease the sweet blonde's fears, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel her own doubts creeping in. How could she convince someone else when she couldn't even reassure herself?

"No, no, that's not what I meant at all. Adrien. I'm so.. so sorry if what I said made you feel like I don't like you, or that I don’t understand you. I just meant that you have different aspects of your personality that come out more or less in different situations; I see the extravagant side of you in Chat Noir and the more demure side of you in Adrien. But sometimes that’s completely flipped. I’m just not entirely used to thinking about it that way, and if we’re being honest, I'm still getting used to blurring the lines between the two identities."

"Sorry, I'm just a little confused and I'm not sure if... if you understand me completely. You say you do, but that’s contradictory, right? If you can’t come to grips with the reality of our situation. I don't know what to believe. Maybe it's my fault for not fully explaining myself, or maybe it's your inability to truly comprehend. Either way, I can't help feeling conflicted and unsure about where we stand.”

Marinette's mind was racing as she shook her head back and forth fervently, a knot forming in her stomach. She didn't know what to do or how to feel about the situation at hand. Part of her wanted to believe one thing, while another part tugged at her thoughts, questioning everything. The inner turmoil only intensified as she tried to make sense of it all.

"I understand you more than you think.” She started, desperately. “I know that you have a different perspective of yourself right now and that it's important for me to nurture that, and to try to see things from your point of view. It’s not that I don’t know you well, It’s just like.. knowing two people really well, and then finding out that they’re one and the same. I have to combine it all in my mind. You’ve given me your own contradictions in times when you’ve tried to conceal your secret identity, so it’s a process for me, but I promise, I didn't mean to offend you or misunderstand you."

As her words hit him, Adrien's hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, scratching at a particularly stubborn itch; he nervously dug his fingers into the skin on the back of his neck, feeling the rough texture of his calloused hands against his sensitive skin before his fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands as he tried to process her statement. The nervous gesture betrayed his inner turmoil, a tangible display of his unease. He shifted his weight from one side to the other as he contemplated her words, the worry lines on his forehead deepening with each passing second.

"I appreciate that you’re trying to understand where I'm coming from... and I'm sorry if I overreacted." He forced.

"No, you didn't overreact," she said softly, her voice laced with regret. "I should have been more careful with my words." She paused for a moment, searching his face for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. "But at least after talking about this," she gestured between them, "I feel like we can understand each other a little better now." The tension in the room seemed to dissipate as their eyes met and a small glimmer of hope appeared on both of their faces. It was a small step, but it felt like progress.

"Yes, and I like that. I like knowing you. Thank you for taking the chance to discuss things with me. My thoughts were... making me a little antsy."

With a gentle smile, she looked into his eyes and spoke in a calm voice. "As friends, it's important for us to have a clear understanding of each other. Communication is key, after all." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "That is what friends are for, right?"

Adrien looked a little offended at the use of the word friend, but he soon sobered up as she continued her campaign of sorting things out and speaking kindly to him. Her words were like a balm to him, and he didn’t wan to stop her so hastily.

“Adrien... It's so hard trying to put someone's complex personality into a few words, a constant struggle trying to condense someone's intricate persona into something… unprecedented. I'm still getting used to the idea of Chat Noir and Adrien being the same person. But I want you to know that I see both sides of you and I value and appreciate both of them."

"I suppose... I suppose I couldn't help but feel like you were showing favoritism or something stupid like that, and it made me question if you could ever truly see all of me as I yearn to see myself."

She lowered her head and took a deep breath before speaking. "I hope you can forgive me," she said, her voice quivering with sincerity. "Again, I'm so sorry, if I made you feel that way. That was never my intention. I truly see both of you for you and all of the wonderful qualities that make you who you are."

"Thank you for understanding, Marinette. I know it must be hard for you too.”

"It is, but I want to try my best to understand and accept both of you, Adrien and Chat Noir. Besides, you’re the one with the injury, not me. It’s certainly harder for you.”

"I appreciate that, Marinette. I understand," He whispers, nodding slightly. "It might feel hard to reconcile my two identities, I’m still struggling with it myself, I even feel a little jealous of myself, but I assure you that I am still the same person deep down, just with different parts of myself that I show to different people. And I am still excited to be here with you, regardless of how we found out about each other's identities, regardless of what I can and can’t remember, I know in here,” He murmurs, touching his chest, over his heart. “That I trust you, and care for you.” He smiles at her reassuringly, trying to put her at ease. "Please understand, doubt aside, it's not that I don't appreciate who I am now, it's just that it's hard to come to terms with the fact that I've lost a part of myself, and it's hard to see myself as the person I used to be. But I am still me, and I will continue to be me, with or without my past identity. And I really can’t explain enough how much I appreciate your support."

Marinette nods, understanding his words wholeheartedly. She reaches out and takes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here for you, always. And I will always support you, no matter what. We'll figure this out together." She smiles at him, her eyes warm with affection. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, before Marinette speaks again. "So, what do you want to do now? Anything about this? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want to talk more?"

Adrien's head shook back and forth, a clear sign of his mind still struggling to make sense of everything. He felt a weight on his chest, like a heavy boulder threatening to crush him. "I think I need some time to gather my thoughts and understand what's happening," he said, his voice strained with emotion. His eyes turned towards his friend, grateful for her support and understanding in this chaotic moment.

Marinette's heart ached as she watched her friend struggle with his emotions. She nods in understanding and stands up, pulling him to his feet as well. "Take all the time you need. And remember, I'm always here for you." She gives him a gentle hug, before stepping back and smiling at him.

"I'll let you have some time alone, but if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know, okay?" He nods and watches as Marinette pulls on a warm looking cardigan and leaves the room through the small hatch above her bed, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

He inhales deeply, letting the cool air from the window fill his lungs as he takes in the chaotic thoughts swirling in his head like a tempest, trying to make sense of everything that has happened. He knows it's going to be a long journey, but he's grateful to have Marinette by his side. And he's determined to figure out who he truly is, with or without his past as guidance.

In the wake of her absence, Adrien glances around Marinette's room, taking in the details of the space. He notices the colorful posters and drawings on the walls, the photos of him... the cozy bed with a lovingly handmade quilt, and the small desk with a sketchpad and pencils, trinkets galore. He can see that Marinette has put a lot of thought and care into decorating her room, and it really reflects her creative and artistic personality. As he looks around, he feels a sense of comfort and familiarity, as if he has been here before. As if he knows her more and more with each moment he spends between the four walls. He takes a deep breath, feeling another, deeper sense of calm wash over him. He knows that he has a lot to process and figure out, but for the moment, he is content to be in this familiar space, surrounded by Marinette's warmth and creativity.

Adrien was struggling to come to terms with his condition. He felt like a stranger in his own body, and he couldn't help himself to shake the impossible feeling that he was missing something important. He was frustrated and scared, and he didn't know how to move forward. He was terrified that it was possible he would never regain his memories, and he found the thought unbearable; He couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without truly knowing who he was or where he belonged. He was haunted by the idea of losing his past forever. He felt like an actor on a stage without a script, where everyone in the audience knew his lines, and he didn't. What if he somehow betrayed himself? Tarnished his own personal code of conduct without even knowing it? It was all so confusing. He was determined to fix things. But the question was of how?

Chapter Text

Adrien's mind buzzed as though he had a swarm full of bees nestled within his skull.

It buzzed heavy with a mix of emotions and questions, both of which, he found hard to stomach, let alone try to consider answering.

At the very least, as he sat in Marinette's room, he had the luxury of being wrapped within the warmth of her presence. And oh, how lovely it was to him.

His own room felt so chemical. It was a reflection of his past, of his life, yes, but it tasted like something much more sinister lay beneath the surface. Maybe it was the recesses of his own mind trying to communicate with him.  

It felt like his bedroom was something built to pre-occupy his time, and imprison him within it , rather than something purposed to facilitate his interests and spare time.

It was a crazy thought, though. He knew this.
He was rational enough to admit it to himself, that he was sounding crazy. 

Lately, though, the only thoughts he seemed to have were the crazy kind. 

He was utterly overwhelmed by the world that held him.

Despite his weariness, He knew it was probably nigh time he went home, though that also left yet another nagging worry to tug at his thoughts.

He had enough troubles getting over to Marinette’s in the first place.

Thus, he just couldn't shake the concern of making it home safely in his current state.
He didn’t feel too worried about self-preservation, not as much as he ought to, anyway, but the thought of venturing out into the night with such a heavy fog clouding his mind? Well, that just filled him with a murky-feeling sense of unease.

With a determined resolve, Adrien rose from the bed and quietly made his way to the window, peering out into the darkness.
The city lights twinkled below, casting a soft glow on the quiet streets. It was actually quite beautiful, this view, from this room; Maybe not as much as its usual occupant, but it was still a sight to behold.

One that he had likely taken for granted in the past.

He sighed to himself. He knew he couldn't simply dismiss his weariness at the snap of his fingers, but the thought of facing the journey home alone was… daunting to say the least.

Turning away from the window, Adrien's gaze fell upon the small hatch above Marinette's bed.
It was an intriguing feature he hadn't thought too much about before now, but it seemed to spark inspiration, as a sudden thought lit up within his synapses. Perhaps he could seek a moment of respite on Marinette's balcony, just to gather his strength before setting off.

His decision made, Adrien gently opened the hatch and carefully climbed out onto the balcony.
The cool night air enveloped him, a stark difference from the room below, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He forgot how cold it had previously been.

He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, seeking solace from the chill of the air, and took a rather unceremonious seat on the balcony's edge.

Adrien glanced up, his eyes searching for the silhouette of Marinette on her own balcony.
It wasn't long before he spotted her, a familiar figure bathed in the soft moonlight.  Of course, she was there, it wasn’t like she had very far to go. She turned toward him, her eyes widening in surprise at his decision to join her so soon.

"Adrien?" Marinette's voice held a mix of concern and curiosity. He almost felt a little bad for making her run around the place so much.

"I'm sorry for intruding, I’m now thinking that maybe the alone time was for you more than for me," Adrien began, his voice filled with a hint of weariness. "I didn't want to disturb you, but I... I'm really tired, and I'm honestly worried about making it home safely."

Marinette's expression softened as she approached him, concern etched on her face. "You don't have to apologise, Adrien. I understand. It's late, and you've been through so much today. Just give me a moment."

She disappeared back into her room briefly before returning with a rather cosy looking blanket, which she draped around Adrien's shoulders. The warmth instantly seeped into his tired body, easing his tension.

"I can't let you go home exhausted like this," Marinette said gently, her voice laced with empathy. "Why don't you rest here for a while? You can stay on the balcony, or come inside, if you’d like, and I'll keep an eye on you. We can figure out a solution together."

Adrien's gratitude washed over him as he settled more comfortably against the balcony railing, his tiredness beginning to weigh on him. Marinette sat beside him, their shoulders almost touching, offering a comforting presence. In that moment, Adrien felt a sense of safety and trust that he was sure, down to his bones, he may have never experienced before.

As the minutes ticked by, Adrien's eyelids grew heavier, and a sense of peace settled within him. He glanced over at Marinette, their eyes meeting briefly. "Thank you, Marinette. Your kindness means the world to me. I'm grateful to have you by my side."

A soft smile graced Marinette's lips as she replied, "You don't have to thank me, Adrien. We're friends, and friends take care of each other. We'll navigate this together, step by step."

This time, calling him her friend didn’t hurt. Regardless, they really were friends.

With those comforting words, Adrien allowed himself to surrender to the weariness that consumed him. He leaned his head against the cool balcony railing, feeling a sense of security envelop him. As he closed his eyes, he knew that, in the presence of Marinette's unwavering support, he would surely find the strength to face whatever came ahead for him.

The rhythmic sound of his steady breathing, and the breath of the girl who sat beside him, occasionally murmuring to him, mingled with the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze, created a peaceful melody that lulled him into a deep, well deserved sleep.

Marinette sat beside Adrien, her gaze fixed on his serene face. She couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him, one that came freely, tinged with a hint of underlying worry.

As the weight of his burdens had slowly become more apparent to her, she couldn't shake off the harrowing realisation that she held a secret from him that he was still yet to discover— the truth about their intertwined lives as Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Her mind spun with rather conflicting thoughts.

Should she reveal the truth to him now, in this vulnerable state? Or should she respect his journey of self-discovery and simply allow him to uncover the pieces of his past at his own pace? It was a heavy responsibility to bear, but one she knew she had to navigate with the utmost level of care.

Leaning in closer, Marinette brushed a strand of hair away from Adrien's peaceful looking face. She felt the relief flood her at the fact he was getting some level of sleep. She wasn’t really sure if he would be able to or not, so the live confirmation was something wonderful to behold.

"Rest well, Adrien," she whispered, her voice carrying a mixture of tenderness and determination. "When you wake, I'll be here for you, ready to support you in any way I can."

With a gentle touch, Marinette hesitated, before she placed a soft kiss on Adrien's forehead, the intimate gesture carrying a multitude of unspoken emotions. She couldn't deny the burgeoning feelings she held for him, nor could she ignore the complexities of their shared destiny, but she promised herself that this kiss was nothing more than a purely platonic peck. It was her love for him, manifested in the least selfish capacity she had ever expected to kiss a boy. A way she’d never have dreamed to have kissed Adrien in, in the past.

As she sat there in the quietude of the night, Marinette promised herself that she would be Adrien's steadfast anchor, guiding him through the storm of forgotten memories and uncertain identities. She would be his unwavering support, even if it meant carrying the weight of their intertwined secret alone, for the time being.

As the night enveloped them in its comforting embrace, Marinette's gaze shifted to the starlit sky above. She found solace in the twinkling constellations, a reminder that even in the vastness of the universe, some things would always be concrete.

She knew she’d have to wake him soon, to get him in an actual bed, and let Plagg rest, too. But for now, she’d let Adrien have what he needed. That was enough, for now. 

Chapter Text

Within the dimly lit corridors of Gabriel Agreste's mansion, the aforementioned man, and his assistant Nathalie, moved with purpose, their steps echoing through the empty, tiled halls.

Clack, clack, clack.

It was as though their steps held all the weight of their shared secret, and the anticipation of what lay ahead filled the otherwise silent air.

As they entered a secluded chamber deep within the mansion, mechanics whirring underfoot, Nathalie's eyes widened in surprise as she noticed the presence of a small steel briefcase, one that hadn’t been there previously. There wasn’t much that entered these halls without passing through her first, so what could it have possibly been? And why wasn’t she sent to retrieve it in the first place? Was Gabriel losing trust in her? Had her loyalty meant nothing?

It was an unspeakable concept. A frightening possibility nonetheless.

The room was filled with intricate machinery, some, small artefacts that seemed to be glowing with an otherworldly aura. It was a stark contrast to the opulence of the rest of the mansion, a living, breathing testament to the very depth of Hawkmoth's obsession.

With a deep breath, Gabriel closed his eyes, his hands gripping the sides of his suit jacket. Slowly, he began to channel the dormant energy within him, his body trembling with a mixture of excitement and limitation. His transformation into Hawkmoth was about to commence.

“Nooroo, dark wings, rise!”

A brilliant purple light enveloped Gabriel, illuminating the room with an ethereal glow; As the light intensified, his form started to change, his features becoming shrouded in darkness. No, it was more like he absorbed any light that dared exist in his presence. His sleek, silver hair turned midnight black, cascading around his shoulders with an air of malevolence, before slowly becoming encased within his mask.

His once-bespectacled eyes transformed into a chilling shade of deep purple, gleaming with a twisted hunger for power. The dark, ornate mask that had begun to materialise on his face,  finally engulfed him fully, concealing his true identity from the world. The suit he wore shifted, the colours blending seamlessly into a dark ensemble, one truly befitting of his nefarious alter ego. With a final surge of energy, the transformation was complete.

Gabriel Agreste had shed his mortal facade, emerging as Hawkmoth, the embodiment of his darkest, most desperate desires. A sinister aura radiated from him, casting a foreboding shadow across the already darkened chamber.

Hawkmoth opened his eyes, his gaze now filled with a newfound determination. The room seemed to vibrate with an undercurrent of malevolence as Hawkmoth's footsteps echoed with purpose. He glanced back at Nathalie, a chilling smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Nathalie, I have something I’d like you to see,” He explained, opening the steel briefcase, and sliding it toward his assistant, Nathalie, her own eyes wide with a mix of fear and loyalty. She nodded meekly in response. 

She had seen this transformation countless times before, but each time it sent a shiver down her spine. The weight of their mission and the consequences of their actions hung heavy in the air. The briefcase seemed heaviest, somehow.

Hawkmoth stood before it, his fingers delicately tracing the surface as if he were caressing a long-lost lover. His gaze fixed on the expression of his assistant, studying, as she looked over the information within; and after a few more moments, Hawkmoth turned away, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and determination. "Nathalie, behold the culmination of my research.”

Nathalie's breath caught in her throat as the implications of his words sank in.

These words…

This was far more ambitious than anything they had attempted before.
She couldn't help but feel a surge of unease. Nathalie's gaze flickered between the contents of the briefcase and Hawkmoth, torn between her loyalty and her concerns. She had always been the voice of reason , the grounding force in their partnership. But now, she found herself questioning the very foundation of their mission.

The heavy sound of heeled shoes impacting upon a solid floor echoed with a resounding  feeling of emptiness as Hawkmoth paced back and forth in the damp space of his horribly lavish lair, as he waited for her to mull it over, his mind consumed with nothing else but thoughts of his grand plan.

He was so preoccupied by his perceived failures, that they were the only thing he ever seemed to have time for in his life anymore. It made sense, one would suppose , with the divine goal he had in mind for himself. Surely he could fix anything else once he had what he wanted. But the obsession was a sickness , and it was plain to see it.

It clouded him from being able to make any level of pure judgement on the situations he would create for himself and the people of Paris. Over and over and over. He had awfully twisted tunnel vision, a kind that would only let him reach for the destruction of Ladybug, and Chat Noir, too. He could only truly allow himself to rest when he finally had his wish in the palm of his hands.

Ever so Patiently, Nathalie stood nearby, stationed and ready, she slowly lowered the documents, her expression tense with anticipation and a hint of concern to follow.

She tried to think of anything else, to prevent him from detecting her actual emotions on the matter. She thought of how she had always had found his lair to be rather… gaudy; his outfit too, especially for such a high-end fashion designer, the type that he so often claimed to be, with such pride in his stance.

Start with the small parts, first, she reminded herself.

"Hawkmoth,” She began with a sigh, addressing him by his villainous moniker.
“The plan in Shanghai... are we really considering scrapping it?” Nathalie asked, her voice wavering slightly. There was trepidation written clear on her face as she pinched at the bridge of her nose. 

Hawkmoth turned to face her, a mysteriously sinister smile playing on his lips.
"Yes, Nathalie. Sometimes , even the best-laid plans need to be re-evaluated. I've come up with this even more enticing idea, one that will give us what I consider the ultimate advantage."

Nathalie's brows furrowed, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for answers.

Please, anything else.

"But... what about the miraculous? Isn't that our primary objective?"

Hawkmoth chuckled, his voice dripping with confidence, like he had already succeeded in the hypothetical.

"Ah, my dear Nathalie, the miraculous is only the beginning. Our true power lies in the depths of our desires. I have discovered a way to tap into the very essence of human emotions, to harness their raw energy for our cause. Are you really going to doubt me now?" He asked, his voice growing more stern, more… warning.

Nathalie's eyes widened, a mixture of intrigue and further trepidation. "But, sir... the risks, not to mention the consequences. Are you sure this is wise?"

Hawkmoth approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His voice lowered to a whisper, laced with a tantalising charm. "Nathalie, my dear assistant; in every great endeavour, there are risks. But what is greatness without a little risk? This new plan holds the key to unlocking the ultimate power, the power that will ensure our victory. I am not scrapping the Shanghai plan just yet, I am merely… Modifying it. "

Nathalie's gaze wavered, uncertainty etched across her features. "And what about Adrien? Ou… your son.. . Is this new plan safe for him? He did just have that accident… "

Hawkmoth's eyes gleamed with newfound determination, at the mention of his son. "Ah yes, Adrien... He will play a pivotal role, Nathalie. His destiny is intertwined with this just as much as ours is, and with this new plan, we will shape his path in ways he could never imagine, nor comprehend. The sacrifices we make will pale in comparison to the rewards that await us."

Nathalie took a deep breath, her conflicted emotions palpable. She glanced at Hawkmoth, a mixture of fear and loyalty in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she necessarily agreed with him, just yet. But it was what was necessary in the moment. She nodded.

"Very well, Hawkmoth. If this is the path you choose, then I will stand by your side."

Hawkmoth smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes . "Excellent, Nathalie. I am glad you had the sense to agree. Together, we will reshape the world and claim what is rightfully ours. Prepare yourself aptly, for our journey is about to take an exhilarating turn."

As they shared a knowing look, the room was engulfed in shadows as they made their departure, Gabriel dropping his transformation with ease. Irrespective of her future plans,  Nathalie wouldn’t let her hesitation follow her. Not yet, at least. Letting her worries fade into the darkness with the changing of rooms. The stage was set for a new chapter in their mission, leaving the world to wonder what malevolent plans Hawkmoth had in store, and what consequences would befall the city of Paris. More specifically, Ladybug and Chat noir, and Gabriel’s son, Adrien.

What, Indeed?

Chapter Text

So much had happened, in so little time. 

Once Marinette had, rather regretfully, finally awoken a very cute and very sleepy Chat Noir from his fretful balcony slumber, she had initially tried to invite him inside of her bedroom, insisting he take a break before he left, since he was already so tired, maybe wake himself up a little before embarking on his journey, but much to her disappointment, he had said no. She tried to not take it personally, she understood, after all. Still, she felt guilt gnawing at her in a way that made her feel sick.

What she didn’t understand, though, is why she was already face to face with him again, on her balcony of all places, a mere 6 hours later.

After sorting themselves out, she had managed to get him inside, this time, and had introduced him to her wonderful theory board, where she had been trying to solve the entire amnesia debacle, amongst other things. Regardless, she couldn't help herself but to hope denial struck her. Everything will be okay, she insisted.

His surprisingly cheery voice cut through her train of thought. 

“Oh. By the way, when I was stuck in the hospital, my father asked that I call him, when I was finally feeling a lot more ‘put together.’” He explained, wringing his hands together.

“That’s… a bit harsh.” Marinette sighed, furrowing her brows in slight annoyance at the concept, as she chewed on the end of her pen more fervently, the plastic slowly moulding into grooves in the very shape of her bite. 

“Oh no, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that ,” Adrien reassured her, kicking his feet a little. "He probably just preferred that I didn't focus my energy on anything besides getting better and starting my ‘healing journey’ or whatever the nurses called it." He added air quotes, grinning.

Well, if anything, it seemed like he was still programmed to assume the best of his father. Some habits would just transcend memory, apparently, and unfortunately that happened to be one. 

No, what was she thinking? Mr. Agreste was probably a very caring father underneath that strict guise. Marinette reassured herself of that fact, even if she didn’t fully believe it, feeling a little guilty suddenly for having questioned a father's love for his son in the first place. She would never do such a thing to her own father, after all. Mr Agreste just had a… funny way of showing it, she supposed.

She tugs at her collar a little. “Oh, well, that’s too bad, regardless…” She sighed, tapping the pen against her lower lip, sparing it a little mercy for a moment. “I was going to ask you to come train with me… I thought that, well, maybe it might jog something like a memory or an inner instinct for you, or something , while also helping you learn some fighting skills just in case Hawkmoth were to attack…” She explains, defeatedly placing the battered pen down, recapping it and placing her hands on her hips, still looking ever deep in her own thoughts. 

“We can postpone that, though. We might not even need it, come next week! In the meantime, I’ll work on the theory board some more!” 

“I hate the board–” Adrien groaned, in a very chat-esque manner, a behaviour that felt like a major case of deja vu for a moment, for Marinette, at least. He barely knew the board! Why was he so quick to hate on it? For shame…

“–Training is a much better idea. Let’s go!”

“Um , but Adrien, your father said-“

Adrien reached down and quickly, without a moment’s hesitation, tugged on one of the middle buttons of his shirt, until he pulled it clean off, promptly throwing it over his own shoulder, before sighing rather dramatically, faux sincerity filling the air.

“Oh, Marinette, what a disaster , it looks as though I’m not put together at all!" He sighed, giving her a pleading expression. " Oh well, let's get moving on, then. I can call my father later.” 

She found it hard to believe he could ever be an actor with lines like that. 

Stick to modelling, poster boy. 

“Why, hey– That’s not what he meant at all, and you know it!” 

“I’m sorry, but I simply cannot call my father, for you see, my poor lowly shirt is missing a button, and that would be dreadfully embarrassing for a fashion mogul… but alas! luckily, my super-hero suit happens to be in just fine condition, simply purrfect, so let’s go!”

“Ughhhhh, you bothersome alley cat!” 

“Don’t worry about it, bug, I happen to know a very skilled seamstress.”

 
They watched the breeze roll in on the Parisian skyline, hair fluttering in the outskirts of their vision. Adri-cat had won. They were exploring the city. Training, as it were.

“So, I know you’re… unaware, but  right about now, school is finally out, and it was going to be amazing. We even organised a huge potluck picnic for all of us, and this time, Adrien, you would have joined us too. Your father had given you permission! He doesn’t do that often… That was before, though… Ah, It’s no matter, I think everyone is too worried or shaken up for that now, anyway. I’m not worried, though.”

She felt her cheeks heat up considerably. “Oh! I mean, of course I’m worried for you, I’m just super confident that you’re going to get through this, so… heh... Please don’t misunderstand.” She smiled awkwardly. 

She gestured towards him with a come hither motion, and took a leap up to one of the nearby buildings. She was teaching him how to move around the city better, but he was annoyingly good at it off the bat. Now that she had recalled it, it had been like that the first time they had met, too. 

A young boy playing on the Pont des Arts places a cute stuffed rabbit on the edge of the bridge while eating his ice-cream to avoid getting anything on it. It’s a peaceful day, after all, if not a little windy, but with no Akumatized villain in sight.

Much to his dismay, the child ends up bumping the rabbit off the edge and dropping it, yelling out in despair as he watches his beloved toy careen away. Chat Noir leaps forward with the instincts of a trained fighter and catches the toy rabbit with his stick, and Ladybug uses her yo-yo to grab it from him, returning it to the boy. Some passer-by citizens and the child himself cheer, and thank them, and moments later, Ladybug and Chat Noir take a commemorative photo with the boy to keep him happy. Just in case.

Ladybug smiles at the scene, glad there is a remnant of instinct there. Muscle-memory. It didn’t last, though. The two heroes went and got their own ice creams, taking inspiration from the young man, and now they sat upon the bridge, lazing about. Ladybug looked troubled.

“It seems like Hawk Moth has taken holidays, too.” She sighed, kicking her legs off the side of the bridge. “Not that I'm complaining, Per se, but it’s a little concerning, you know? Just knowing he's out there somewhere, probably plotting something… sinister. It gives me the shivers!” 

“I’m sure it’s okay. We probably scared him off with our last daring defeat,” Chat smiles, making a faux punching move with his arm, for a little emphasis. Ladybug snorts in response.

“What was that daring defeat again?” She asked pointedly, Smile softening when he had no response for her. Her point being that he shouldn’t brag about what he can’t remember.

It was never that easy, after all.


“Look, I'm sure you’re right, but there’s definitely something off about this!” She explains, throwing her hands up in the air in an exasperated motion. “It’s downright creepy, Chaton.”

She brushes her hands off against the side of her suit, and looks off into the water; observing the way it ripples in a way that makes her wonder if there’s fish living under the surface there. It was way too calm, her nerves were shot. It felt like she was the one falling for some kind of lure. She hated that feeling more than anything.


“We can start to relax and feel relieved all we want, but we can’t actually let our guards down, because we still didn't know what a holiday for Hawk Moth truly means.” She twisted her hands nervously as she spoke, nearly dropping her ice cream several times throughout her explanation, and that very last movement of hers certainly didn’t help.

“Well, it’s no matter. This opportunity just gives us time to get you up to speed on your skills, and look for ways to further help your condition. I’d rather do this now, then have you try to learn things under the pressure of protecting the Parisian citizens. We’re really lucky hawkmoth doesn’t know you have amnesia, that would’ve been a disaster, for sure.”
 

“I had to learn under pressure once before, didn’t I? I had it handled, clearly .” Chat interjects. He was right, to an extent, considering the fact that they had worked under these roles at one point for the very first time, battle thrust upon them in moments of peril. No training wheels required. 

“Oh, Chaton,” she sighed heftily. “It’s not that I doubt your capabilities. It’s just that I want to protect you. I’m sure you could get the hang of it, just like that–“ She snapped her fingers and smiled at him. “–you’re a pretty fast learner, after all; I’d just rather avoid it. It’s a delicate situation. Besides, I could’ve just lied to you and said that you had months of training first. I didn’t, obviously, I really hate liars , but, please just trust me on this, okay?” 

“Okay.” He pouted. “You haven’t shown me a bad idea yet, So of course I’ll trust you, Mari-bug.” 

“Thank you Chaton. Good kitty.” 

The day was passing with an unprecedented speed. It felt stagnant, but every moment seemed to slip all the same. Would they have enough time to get everything done before disaster struck? Marinette was going to worry a hole right through the lining of her stomach.

"Are you alright? Or should we stop training for now? You told me your nurses said you needed to start your healing journey, and I feel like banging you up more isn't going to achieve that." She was over thinking it, she knew this. And yet…

"Purr-sonally, I think I just need some tender loving care, or some careful tender loving, whatever you pre-fur."

It seemed like whether you dropped him on his head or not, a cat was a cat, and this one was troublesome, to say the least.  She suppressed a groan. He was mentally damaged. She reminded herself, like a manta.

"I'm serious! I'm worried about you, kitty." She pouted.

"Hi serious, I'm–" He started, before catching her glare and smiling . "Finished! Scout’s honor!" He beamed, an air of innocence surrounding him, despite what his actions would leave one to believe. 

“Scouts honor…? I don’t think you were ever… ugh, whatever, okay, let’s call it quits for the day. You do know how to get home, right? Or should I drop you off?” She asked, looking like she was coming down with a headache.

“Wouldn’t two heroes climbing through my window raise some red flags?”

Oh?  

He was so hard swerving; there was no reason for him to be avoiding the superhero style lift, after all; he was merely pretending to be fine, despite looking much less than confident in his so-called directional expertise. 

“Admittedly, yes, Buuuut , I already gave you amnesia by-proxy and I’m not exactly here to give you a missing person's poster either. You’ll just have to de-transform back into your civilian self, and then I’ll simply take a very lost Adrien Agreste home like any good hero would! No excuses.” 

“But-“ He protested.

“No excuses!” She snapped with a huff.

A small sigh escaped him, one that had him wishing he could hang his head in shame. 

“Yes. Of course.” 

He’s not sure if he can handle having such a strong woman carry him to his room. Let alone be in there with him and his…. Belongings. 

Adrien was not convinced he could convince her to swing in with her eyes shut, after all.

Chapter Text

The silence on the way to the Agreste mansion was heavy, Adrien’s shoulders were tense, and Marinette wasn’t sure if Adrien was brooding, exhausted, or just trying to look normal while every moment betrayed how unsteady he still felt. She leant in a little closer than she probably should have, hands twitching as she held on to him, trying to direct all of her focus purely on transporting him. She was getting the feeling that he was embarrassed, or something.

The night air roared around them as Marinette swung through the city, Adrien clinging to her also a little too tightly. His grip was much more solid, at least. Her heart pounded, not just from the height, but from the warmth of him pressed against her. Every time his hand shifted on her waist, it sent sparks she couldn’t name straight to her chest.

“You’re… really fast,” Adrien murmured, his voice low, breath hitching slightly against her ear. “And… um… strong.”

Her cheeks burned. “I’ve had some practice,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the rooftops ahead. But she could feel his chest brushing against her back, his head sometimes tilting close enough that she caught a whiff of his shampoo. Her knees almost wobbled, mid-run of all times, as she swapped masterfully from running along the roof-tops to using her yo-yo to swing them.

“Careful!” he said suddenly, gripping her shoulders as she adjusted their trajectory. His hands lingered longer than needed. Marinette’s heart leapt. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her still trembling fingers tighten too much where they touched him. 

“I know, it’s a lot different when you’re not in charge up here, huh..”

The front gates loomed. Adrien swallowed. “Oh look, we’re here.” he muttered.

Marinette bit her lip. She wanted to laugh, but it came out too tight. It was cute, the way in which he was acting. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. I’ve seen your room once or twice already, I doubt much has changed.” 

He gave her a look that said Really? but didn’t push it. Usually he imagined that he cleaned up, before people were expected to see his room. He lamented the thought of her seeing it now. Especially if she knew what it looked like when he didn’t mind.

They soared across the skyline, wind tearing at her hair, but all she could feel was the dizzying closeness of him. Adrien’s side pressed against hers every time she shifted, and she swore she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her hands. She bit her lip, focusing desperately on the next landing.

Convinced that he could get her to not enter his room, he instructed her to enter through a hallway window and not his bedroom. She looked puzzled, but agreed, and they landed inside with a gentle thud. She looked nervous to be caught, though, her head whipping about almost comically. 

Inside, the house was pristine, cavernous, and utterly sterile. Adrien let out a low whistle.
“Wow. My place really has less personality than the hospital room, huh.”

Marinette’s hand flew to her mouth before she could stop herself. A laugh burst out, sharp and nervous. “Sorry! I just… no, you’re right.”

They made their way through the hallway and Adrien slowed as they reached his bedroom door, fingers brushing the knob like it might burn him. He exhaled deeply.

“You okay?” Marinette asked softly.

He shook his head. “I don’t… know. I just think, you know. I’m here now. You don’t have to hang around or anything, I know my room by now.” He was clearly trying to avoid the issue, whatever it was. She wasn’t buying it though. She wanted to be able to reassure him.

Marinette, heart caught somewhere between sympathy and fondness, stepped closer. “It’s a lot, I know. But you’re not alone in this. Okay?”

When he looked up, there was a flicker in his eyes. Not just fear, but relief.

“Okay,” he whispered. “You can stay for a bit.”

He pushed the door open and stopped dead in his tracks, swallowing thickly.

“...Oh no.”

The room was not the pristine model of restraint she’d expected. Sure, the fancy furniture and towering windows were still there. But the couch was buried under a scatter of blankets, socks, and an open photobook. More open books were sprawled across the desk. And worst of all, there were photos of Ladybug tacked across a corkboard, spilling onto the desk, even propped up by the piano.

Marinette froze. Heat rushed to her face so fast she thought she’d combust on the spot.

In another life, it seemed, she would have been thrilled by the sight, but right now, she was overwhelmed, and embarrassed. Flattered, too, but it all just felt so… real. It was endearing?

Adrien lunged for the board, flailing to block her view. “Don’t… don’t look at that! Oh my god, that’s just…” He grabbed a photo, then another, then nearly tripped over a shoe on the floor. “It’s not… they’re not mine, It’s not creepy, I swear! I… He…I must’ve… It’s just admiration, right? Like… like an athlete! Yeah! Posters of a sports star, that’s normal!”

Marinette’s lips trembled, caught between horrified embarrassment and the urge to laugh. “Adrien…”

“I swear I’m not some… some Ladybug super-freak,” he babbled, clutching an armful of glossy prints like incriminating evidence. “This is mortifying. These aren’t mine!!”

A familiar, lazy drawl cut in.

“Pfft. You think this is embarrassing? You should’ve seen him when you weren’t around. The guy sighed your name in his sleep. He arranged the photo into little heart formations and s-”

Marinette, who wanted to crawl under the floorboards and never return , squeaked, “Plagg!”

Adrien buried his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “So not only am I a slob, but now also… obsessed with Ladybug? That’s my big personality reveal? I want to know less about myself, quite honestly."

Plagg floated to his shoulder, utterly smug. “Trust me, kid. It’s even worse than that.”

Adrien peeked through his fingers at Marinette, cheeks flaming. “Please tell me you don’t think I'm, like, completely pathetic.”

Her own face was just as red. Beet red. “N-no! I mean… I don’t think so. At all. It’s just…” she glanced at the collage of herself, then away quickly, voice cracking, “A little… intense.”

Plagg snorted. “Understatement of the century.”

Adrien groaned again, collapsing onto the couch and sending socks tumbling to the floor. “Kill me now.”

Adrien buried his face in his hands, trying and failing, to disappear into the couch cushions.

Marinette crouched beside him, careful not to touch the scattered mess. “Adrien… it’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s… it’s normal to have things you like. To have… feelings. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. I have to admit, I might have done… similar things, in the past.”

She tried to hide her equally guilty expression as best as she could.

He peeked through his fingers, eyes wide. Her words were almost comforting, but it left something to be desired. Something that made him feel less freaky. When he thought of her doing it, it was cute, and sweet. But him? That was an entirely different issue! He was a man!

“Normal? Normal ? I have an entire shrine!” He gestured vaguely at the cluttered photos. “And socks! And a half-eaten wheel of cheese under the bed!” He wanted to die, he thought over and over, like a mantra in his mind.

Plagg floated lazily above him, tail swishing. 

“And yet you somehow survived your childhood. Impressive.” His words were teasing, but he was just relieved the kid was having… fun. Was this fun?

Adrien groaned. “I think I’d rather not have survived if this is the evidence.”

Marinette finally let herself grin. “You know, I think it’s… kind of cute,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “You like someone. You can be a little obsessive. That doesn’t make you pathetic… it makes you… you.”

He froze. Her words hit in a way that was equal parts horrifying and heart-fluttering.

“You… really mean that?”

“I do,” she said, reaching out to tug one stray sock off the desk and toss it onto the floor. 

“And, uh… it doesn’t change anything about you. About… us. I think we um. We have a lot in common. That’s nice, isn’t it?”

Adrien’s hands fell from his face. His cheeks burned, but he gave a small, uncertain smile. 

“Us… yeah. Okay.”

Marinette laughed softly, and for the first time since he’d stepped into his bedroom, Adrien felt something close to peace. It was messy, chaotic, slightly ridiculous, but it was home .

It actually felt good, having her here with him, in spite of himself. He felt closer to having an actual identity, riffing with her like this. She was… she was his home, maybe.

Could that be what was missing?

Marinette smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You’re going to be fine, Adrien. Really.” She added, peering at him.

He nodded, still red-faced but calmer. “I think… I believe you.”

Adrien sank further into the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might hold some secret escape. He definitely felt more content, though. Still embarrassed, unfortunately!

Marinette hovered nearby, unsure how much more she could do without overstepping. She was starting to over think it, but his cute flustered face made her want to protect him, to take care of him. She could only hope that he wouldn’t turn it on her, in the very Chat-like fashion that she was used to in the past. Given recent revelations, She thought she’d simply pass away if that were the case.

Maybe… maybe I could help him settle, she thought, her stomach flipping at the idea. Like… tuck him in. Make sure he’s comfortable. He looked exhausted back there… and I could, maybe, be the one to help him through this night.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought, and she caught herself biting her lip. That’s so… personal. But… but it feels right. He trusts me. He’s… him, just here, not a hero, not Chat Noir… just Adrien. Maybe we can be close like this, just for a moment.

She took a deep breath, letting the thought guide her as adored his features, mind racing.

Okay… just blankets… make sure he’s warm… but maybe linger a little… not too much… just enough.

“Do you… want me to help you get comfortable?” she blurts out quickly and quietly, curiosity and hopefulness bleeding into her tone.

He blinked at her. “You mean… like, a blanket orrrr?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, though her heart was racing. “Or… um, pillows, or… anything. I…I know I'm being pushy, but you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

He hesitated, before noticing how cute her expression was looking. She wasn’t obligated, she wanted this. He gave a tiny nod. “Okay. But just for the record, though, I don’t think you’re pushy. You just… care.”

“Thanks,” She blushed. “Hey, Adrien, why don’t I wait here, and you can go get changed for bed?”

Adrien hesitated, a faint pink creeping across his cheeks. “Uh… yeah… okay.” he murmured, stepping toward his dresser.

Marinette’s heart thumped audibly in her chest as she watched him go.

He’s so… close. So vulnerable. And he trusts me. Her fingers fidgeted nervously at her sides. Okay, just blankets and pillows… nothing else. 

Keep it calm, Marinette.

Chapter Text

Now that she had a chance to think about it, and get her olfactory in check, Adrien’s room smelled faintly of cologne and books, a mix that was surprisingly grounding. She was surprised it wasn’t the scent of his own fragrance, but then again, that would be kind of odd, wouldn’t it? Marinette perched nervously on the edge of his bed, legs curled up, hands twisting in her lap . God, what had she gotten herself into?

Adrien, oblivious to her fidgeting at first, gave Plagg a nice chunk of cheese and watched as he flew off into one of his cupboards and let out a small sigh. He really hoped he was eating the rinds too, otherwise that was going to stink. He took a cautionary sniff of the air, and was relieved that it didn’t reek.

“I guess I should… change,” he said, matter-of-factly, glancing toward the dresser.

Marinette’s stomach dropped. “Oh! Uh… right. Of course. I’ll… um…” She scrambled to find something to do with her hands, finally settling on clutching a corner of the blanket, her gaze moving to anywhere but Adrien. She felt braver, like her suit would protect her from his eyes seeing her fluster. But, if anything, the glaring red of her suit only helped emphasise how red her skin underneath was getting.

She had been the one to suggest it, JUST FOR HIS COMFORT OF COURSE, and yet, being faced with the reality of her suggestion was an entirely different issue. Oh well!

Adrien gave her a reassuring smile, completely unaware of the way her pulse had spiked because of him. He thought it must have been annoying, that he was taking his time. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep it quick.” He grinned at her. “Sorry to keep you waiting on your noble pursuit of getting me settled, Marinette.”

He turned toward the dresser and reached for his pajama top and shorts. A matching set. It was too hot to sleep in long pants, at the moment. As he removed his old top and overshirt, the room was quiet except for the faint rustle of fabric. 

Marinette’s gaze involuntarily flicked over to him, looking down, then immediately back up, her cheeks rapidly heating. In a silent panic, her eyes kept darting toward him, as if she couldn’t decide whether to look or pretend she hadn’t. 

She decided to go with hadn’t, deniability could be her best friend here, sorry Alya, but at the end of the day, she just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t perturbed in the slightest by this. It wasn’t like he was naked or anything! But seeing him shirtless had her in a tizzy of sorts.  

“Uh… do you… need… some space?” she stammered, shifting slightly.

He froze mid-motion, only just now realizing how awkward it probably looked to her. Why was he making a spectacle of this, again? “Oh! Right. Sorry, I uh…” He backed a few steps, holding the shirt in front of him like a shield. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so confronting. “I didn’t… I mean… I can just…”

Marinette waved her hands frantically. She didn’t want him to feel bad because she was being a bit of a creep. “No! It’s fine! Really, I… I’m fine, don’t worry about me!”

He gave a sheepish laugh, tension melting a little, and he moved, stepping behind the chair so he could pull his shirt on without… Well, without too much embarrassment on either of their parts. “You’re… really brave, staying in here,” he teased, though his voice was soft, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Her bashfulness was making him feel a lot lighter, it seemed.

Marinette’s heart thudded. “I… I just… I’m used to… you know… working together. Being around each other. I, erm…” She stopped herself, realizing how flustered she sounded.

“Also… I didn’t want to leave you alone, truthfully.” She admitted. “But I didn’t think it through.”

Adrien peeked out from behind the chair, green eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and something softer, more vulnerable. “I’m… glad you’re here,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

The room felt suddenly smaller, warmer. Marinette’s hand trembled slightly as she hugged her knees closer, and Adrien, finally fully dressed in his pajamas, walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed, not too close to her, but close enough that the space between them felt charged all the same.

For a moment, neither spoke. Just the quiet hum of the city outside, the shared, silent acknowledgment that being this close, alone like this, was something they both seemed to cherish, despite the embarrassment. Adrien swung his legs onto the bed, careful not to get too close, but somehow his knee brushed Marinette’s as she hugged her knees tighter. 

Both froze. Then laughed awkwardly. She silently cursed her suit for doing nothing to stop the feeling getting through, otherwise she’d have been oblivious to it. Her heart, better off.

“Oh! Sorry,” he said quickly, pulling back a little, but his cheeks were pink.

“It’s… it’s fine,” Marinette stammered, avoiding his gaze, but she could feel her heart racing, scared it was going to beat right out of her fragile chest. 

Why does he have to look so… so… adorable in pajamas?

He glanced at her sideways, a teasing glint in his green eyes despite the flush on his cheeks. “You know,” he said softly, “you don’t have to look so nervous. I… I mean, it’s just us here.”

Marinette swallowed, heat rising to her ears. “I know… it’s just, well… you’re Adrien,” she muttered, almost inaudibly. She instantly wished she hadn’t said it. That was too much to bear. She could slowly feel her death by humiliation encroaching on her second by second.

Adrien froze mid-breath. 

Did she just… say that? 

His heart stuttered, but relief washed over him too, some of the weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying suddenly felt lighter. He smiled faintly, though his voice remained low, careful. 

“Yeah… it’s me. I guess we’ve both admired things about each other, huh .” He said thoughtfully. Curse him, for being so well put together. In more ways than one.

Marinette looked away, cheeks burning. “ I didn’t mean to say that…” She squeaked.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, softer now. “I… I liked hearing it.” He admitted.

The words hung in the air like electricity. Neither moved at first, just breathing in the shared, charged silence. Then, without thinking, Adrien shifted closer, not to invade her space, per se, but just close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly. He liked being near her.

Marinette’s eyes widened, and she let out a tiny, startled laugh at the prospect. “Adrien!”
She was wrought with affection and nervous energy, that was bubbling up out of her.

“I know, I know,” he whispered, a little breathless, green eyes glimmering in the dim lights of his room. “It’s… just… nice… being close.”

For a moment, everything else, the chaos of their lives, the masks, the secrets all vanished. It was just the two of them, inches apart, hearts racing, in a quiet room that suddenly felt impossibly smaller. All of their struggles, his memory loss, her guilt. It just gradually melted away in the seconds they spent together. They could just be two people, this way.

He leaned slightly forward, resting an arm across the back of the bed just above her head. The movement was casual… but it practically pinned her in place.

“You’re really warm,” he said, almost offhandedly, and the way his gaze lingered made her feel dizzy, like the room was spinning just for her, and her alone. Marinette’s stomach flipped.

 “Oh? And Y-You’re… too close,” she stammered, but her words came out softer, almost breathless. She tried to shift back, but his presence made it impossible to think straight. Every small movement, every glance he shot her, sent a jolt straight through her.

Adrien tilted his head, studying her as if noticing for the first time how flustered she was. “Hmm… are you nervous?” he asked softly, voice low enough to make her heart hammer.

“I…” she began, but her words caught in her throat as his knee brushed hers again, this time just a fraction closer. The air between them felt electric, charged. Her thoughts scrambled; her cheeks burned hotter than she thought possible.

Marinette’s chest tightened. She could not handle this. 

She jumped up, suddenly remembering the small pile of clothes and blankets on the couch.

“I need to, um… make your bed for you!” she exclaimed, flustered, cheeks blazing as she grabbed the blankets and sheets, scrambling for a reprieve and a breath of air in her lungs.

Adrien blinked, surprised, then grinned softly. “Ah… clever,” he said, a faint chuckle in his voice. “Trying to escape because I’m… too much?”

Marinette shot him a glare she didn’t mean, practically tripping over her own feet as she spread the sheets. “N-No! I mean… yes… but no! I just… You’re not too much!” She threw the blankets over the mattress, heart racing so fast she thought it might leap from her chest.

Adrien watched her, leaning back, utterly relaxed now, but still glowing with that dizzying charm. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “And… you know, making my bed like that… you’re kind of perfect.”

Marinette’s hands froze mid-fold, and she felt her knees weaken. “Adrien…” she whispered, voice barely audible, a mixture of exasperation, longing, and complete fluster. 

He just smiled, green eyes softening, leaning back as if nothing else existed but her. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, their breaths mingling, hearts racing, and the world outside the room seemed miles away.

“Why did you say that, are you some kind of misogynist? Think you need a maid?” She laughed, trying to calm down.

“What, no!” He laughed. “You’re just… really attentive,” Adrien murmured, cheeks still pink. “What I mean is… thank you.”

She ducked her head. “Of course. You helped me the other day. It’s… only fair.”

He flopped back more with a sigh, letting the warmth of the blanket settle around him. “I feel… really weird. Vulnerable. But… not bad. Weirdly okay.”

Marinette smiled softly. “That’s good. You deserve to feel okay, Adrien.”

And as she finished tucking in the last corner, she realized something terrifying and thrilling all at once: she didn’t want to stop being near him , even if it made her dizzy and flustered beyond reason.

Marinette finally stepped back, breathing a little too fast, hands trembling from tucking in the last corner of the blanket. She thought maybe, just maybe, the intensity would ease now.

But Adrien didn’t move back. He shifted slightly on the bed, his gaze soft but piercing, making her chest tighten. “You did a great job,” he said quietly, voice low and intimate, “though… I think you might’ve been a little distracted.”

Marinette blinked, heart racing. “D-Distracted? Me? N-No…” She tried to sound composed, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

Adrien smirked, leaning forward just enough that the distance between them felt electric. “Hmm… your hands were shaking… and you kept looking at me… like you couldn’t breathe.”

Marinette’s stomach did a somersault. “I was not!” she protested, though her voice wavered.

“Oh really?” he teased, voice low, almost a whisper now. “You seemed… very aware of me.” His fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the blanket, near where her hands had been, and the small contact sent a shiver up her spine.

She stumbled slightly backward, almost tripping over her own feet, her heart hammering like a drum. “A-Adrien! Stop teasing me!” She pleaded, the request pretty hollow.

Adrien’s grin softened, but the sparkle in his eyes remained mischievous. “I can’t… it’s impossible when you’re like this,” he murmured. “You… you look… dizzy and perfect all at once. I wonder if I had ever noticed this before. You’re so… weird. I love it.”

Marinette froze, breath caught in her throat. She felt dizzy indeed, not from spinning, but from him , from being this close, from the heat of his gaze, from every subtle movement he made that seemed to draw her in. She shook her head, trying to regain composure, but the effect only intensified when he leaned in just slightly, brushing his shoulder against hers ever so faintly. Her knees wobbled. He loved it? That was too much.

“Okay, okay,” she whispered, backing toward the door, her palms raised, cheeks aflame.

 “I… I think… I should go…”

Adrien’s gaze followed her, calm but teasing, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

“Go?” he murmured, voice soft but carrying a weight that made her stop in her tracks. “But… don’t you want to… stay… just a little longer?”

Marinette’s heart threatened to leap out of her chest. She glanced at him, eyes wide, and realized that every part of her wanted to stay… but she couldn’t handle how close it was, how dizzyingly intimate it felt. She didn’t want to get too close to him when he wasn’t fully here. It felt like every part of him that she liked, from both the boys she knew, was right here with her. Pleading for her, but something still gnawed at her inside. 

She swallowed hard, turning to leave, and with a final glance over her shoulder, whispered, “Just… don’t push me too far, Adrien.” His smile followed her to the door, soft and knowing, a promise lingering in the air: he knew exactly how far he could push her, and he wasn’t done by any means.

For tonight? Perhaps. Overall? It was hard to deny himself such sweet and endearing interactions with the girl that he loved. The door clicked shut behind her, but the room still felt charged, every heartbeat echoing the tension, every unspoken word between them like a flame that refused to die out. The room was quiet after Marinette left, but Adrien didn’t move. 

He stayed on the bed, fingers idly tracing the blanket where her hands had been, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The space between them still hummed with the energy she’d left behind, and he could almost feel her heartbeat in the room.

Meanwhile, Marinette leaned against the closed door, chest heaving, hands pressed against the wood as if it could steady her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind.

Why does he have to do this to me? Why is it so impossible to act normal around him?

Suddenly, her resolve wavered. She knew that every moment she spent avoiding the truth, her guilt, the amnesia, the memory gap, everything she’d lived through while he forgot, was only making the weight heavier for both of them. And yet…

Adrien’s voice broke the silence, soft, teasing, interrupting her spiral but somehow intimate enough to make her heart stop. “Marinette… you’re not really gone, are you?”

Her pulse skipped. “I’m just… checking something…” she whispered, though the lie tasted bitter even as it left her lips. She’d been caught lingering. Ugh. Even more embarrassing.

He tilted his head, green eyes sharper now, almost as if he could see straight through her, despite the space and door between them. Marinette’s chest tightened. She could feel his presence there. And the fact he had gotten back up for her? It was so charming.

She wanted to reach out, to throw herself into his arms, to confess all of it, her heart, the memory, the fear, the dizzying pull she couldn’t resist. But she stepped back, shaking, torn between the need to protect him and the unbearable tension that had built between them.

“I thought I got you all cosy, why are you at the door?” She asked, faux anger very clear.

He laughed a little. “Sorry, couldn’t resist checking on you.” He admitted.

And then, before she could decide, the floorboards creaked behind her. A shadow passed the hall, silent, almost too quiet, but enough to make her freeze.

Adrien’s eyes widened, expression alight with surprise and something deeper, something unspoken. “Marinette?” he called softly, nearly a whisper, a mixture of hope and fear threading through his voice.

Her stomach flipped, breath catching, as she realized… she wasn’t alone anymore. And in that heartbeat, she understood that the next moment could change everything, or nothing at all.

The door slowly creaked open.

Chapter Text

The door creaked open just a fraction, and Marinette’s breath lodged in her throat. She froze, hands flat against the cool wood, her heart pounding loud enough that she was certain whoever was outside could hear it. She had meant to slip back in, to hide. Then go out the window. It was meant to be so easy. She hadn’t expected it to creak like that, though. 

The door barely moved, just enough to slice a wedge of deeper shadow into the hallway, but to Marinette it may as well have been a klaxon. She felt herself stop breathing.

In the silence, she could now hear the distant tick of the grandfather clock two floors below, and her own pulse thudding against her ribs. She pressed herself even harder to the door, as if she could merge with its grain, and silently cursed herself. 

The mansion was so ostentatious it was a lmost insulting, but they couldn’t afford oil?  

She’d thought back and scoffed, internally, at every gold-tipped baluster she passed, that Gabriel Agreste could apparently afford, shocked and rueful for how the door could possibly sound like that.

Her own trapdoor to her bedroom was so thin that it was nigh impossible to make it creak like that. But here, the oak slab groaned with the complaint of what must be centuries, and the sound itself seemed to ripple down the corridor, bouncing from one wall to the next. She shifted her weight, trying to brace herself against the inevitable, and wondered about whether or not she should just bolt, before the muffled footsteps she heard before seemed to turn around.

She let out a shaky exhale, then rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might stick.

Seriously? What kind of fashion mogul has creaky doors in his mansion!?

Adrien’s eyes snapped to her through the gap, In a split-second decision, his hand shot out, fingers curling around her wrist. He had to be quick about it, he had realised. That woman, Nathalie, surely would leave if there was nothing to be seen down the hall.

“Adrien!” she whisper-gasped, but it was too late. With one sharp tug, he yanked her back into the room, shutting the door behind her with a muted thud. He cringed a little at the sound.

Marinette stumbled backward, straight into his chest, the force knocking a surprised laugh out of him. His arms wrapped around her instinctively to steady her, holding her flush against him. Suddenly the air between them was molten.

Marinette’s pulse raced. She was so close to him to the point where she could feel his heartbeat thundering against her ribs, smell the faint remnant traces of his cologne from his skin clinging to his fresh shirt. Her face heated, panic and longing warring in her chest.

“I…I could’ve hidden on my own,” she whispered back, though her voice betrayed her.

Adrien smirked faintly, though his grip on her tightened. “Not fast enough. Not with her right there.” His tone dropped lower, softer, almost conspiratorial. “I’m not l etting her see you.”

Her breath caught. The weight of his words, the protectiveness laced in them, only tangled her further in the moment. She knew this was dangerous, reckless even, but pressed against him like this, his body shielding hers, his voice dripping with urgency…it was impossible to think clearly. And god she wished she could think. She was being an idiot. She was aware enough to acknowledge it and stupid enough to not stop. 

Marinette froze as Adrien’s warm hand grazed her arm, then gently but firmly guided her closer towards him. His chest fully pressed against her back now, his warmth enveloping her like a human shield,every instinct in her screaming at the dizzying closeness. It was cloying.

“Shh…” he murmured, voice coming out in a way that sounded low and urgent, breath brushing against her ear. “Don’t move. Just… stay still.”

Her heart thudded painfully as she tried to regulate her breathing. She was trying t o listen to his instructions, she truly was.

God curse boys, the lot of them.

The space between them was burning electric, every inch of contact igniting a fire she hadn’t been able to contain for what felt like a lifetime. With her arms pinned loosely at her sides by the closeness, the mere pressure of his body against her made her knees weak. Damn it.

His fingers traced idly over her arm, not touching her like he wanted, but just enough to make her pulse spike. “ Nathalie’s… out there, I think. She’s the only one with heels.” he whispered, almost trembling with the same tension she felt. “ You can’t go… not yet.”

Her stomach knotted. The thought of being caught by someone like Nathalie only heightened the intimate feeling, made every brush of his skin and subtle movement between them unbearable and magnetic. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the smell of his shampoo. 

This whole situation was ridiculous. How was she meant to contain all of these feelings? 

“I… I can’t think straight,” She admitted softly, though her voice was little more than a breath. “You’re… too close.” She pleaded.

Adrien’s lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “I know,” he breathed. “But I can’t help it. If we move, she might hear us.”

Every nerve in her body screamed as she leaned slightly into him, the closeness overwhelming. Her hands twitched, itching to touch him, to feel more, but they stayed pinned at her sides. There had to be something wrong with her. She had done so well up until now to contain herself, to resist falling for his charms when he was compromised, and now… well he was making the entire operation considerably painful!

Their only focus was holding still, holding back, and not letting the person outside the door realize Ladybug was in Adrien’s room, let alone how charged this moment had become.

She reinforced this fact over and over in her mind. BEGGING herself to behave and be rational about everything.

The creak of floorboards somewhere beyond the room made them both stiffen. 

Almost snapped them to their senses. Almost.

Adrien pressed a little closer, almost instinctively shielding her, and she gasped softly, trapped between fear and an electric, intoxicating and quite frankly painful desire.

Her mind spun.

How is it possible that being caught, or rather, not caught, could feel like this?

And just as she thought she might lose herself entirely to the warmth of his body, a shadow shifted in the hallway, accompanying the creaking of the floor. They both froze, if there was any less motion to be had already, breathless, hearts hammering in rhythm as every lingering second stretched impossibly long.

“Shouldn’t I just… try to escape out the window, instead of waiting?” She whispered, furrowing her brows at him, even though he couldn’t see her face. It was like she could feel both of her brain cells trying to rub together and start a fire. Just both of them. Only two.

The mysterious possibly Nathalie shadow paused outside the door, interrupting the light under the frame, footsteps slow and deliberate. Adrien’s chest pressed even harder against her back as he guided her closer, trying to make them as small a target as possible. It wasn’t really working and they probably looked super dumb. Every nerve in Marinette’s body screamed, part fear, part something else entirely, as she felt his full heat radiating from him.

This was like an actual, real life, horror movie. She thought.

“No, don’t… move,” He whispered again, his voice almost a tremor, still brushing the shell of her ear. She could feel his breath, warm and uneven, and her own inhalations became shallow, ever caught between panic and something more dangerous.

Marinette’s hands twitched, wanting to slide along him, wanting to cling, but she dared not. 

Focus. Just… don’t get caught. That’s all that matters, she told herself. 

Yet every heartbeat against his chest felt like it was echoing in the room, like a secret pulse shared only between them. The hallway grew silent for a tense moment. Then a muffled voice, unmistakable, floated in. It was Nathalie, calling out softly. It was awfully muffled, and Marinette wasn’t sure if that was from the door or the blood rushing in her ears. 

Maybe both? Probably both.

Adrien’s grip on her tightened ever so slightly, as if holding her could make the world outside disappear. She wanted to turn, look up at him, feel the intensity in his gaze, but the doorway and Nathalie’s ears held them hostage still.

Her voice came out a whisper, trembling. “Adrien… this… it’s too much.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his lips brushed along her hairline, a feather-light touch that made her shiver uncontrollably. “I know,” he murmured. “Way too much.” He agreed, sucking out a breath.

Time stretched. Every second was agony, every inch of proximity charged the unspoken that hovered just between them. They weren’t safe. And yet… the world outside had vanished, leaving only heat, breath, and two very erratic heartbeats.

Then, a sharp noise. 

Adrien froze, eyes widening, and Marinette’s stomach dropped; the doorway suddenly felt impossibly close. It’s now or never, her mind screamed, but what happens if we’re caught?

She started to pull away, deciding on her window plan in an instant. 

The doorknob turned.

It rattled, in a way that felt painfully slow and deliberate. Adrien seemed to think that he could shield them both from the intrusion, and still held onto her wrist as she madly gestured at him, silently, to let her try the window. He shook his head intently and her breath hitched, heart hammering in her chest. Did she have to kick his ass, or something? Jeez.

Nathalie’s voice came first, calm and measured, yet laced with suspicion. “Adrien… are you in there?” She tested.

Marinette’s hands twitched, but Adrien’s grip on her tightened ever so slightly, grounding her. She couldn’t help the underlying panic though, the heat of him, the nearness, made her pulse race beyond reason. More than usual, even.

“I… uh…” Adrien’s voice cracked, flustered, the vulnerability she could feel through his pulse making her stomach twist. He trailed down her wrist and pressed a hand over hers, holding it still.

Adrien’s lips brushed her temple. “ Don’t move. Don’t breathe too loud.”

The moment stretched further into eternity. Their bodies sharing every rapid heartbeat, every shallow breath. Marinette could see his chest rise and fall even more intensely.

And then… the door creaked just enough. It was opening.

If she sees us…

The door inched open a fraction more. 

Adrien’s eyes darted around, panic flaring, until they landed on the bed. With a quick, silent decision, he dove toward the sheets, dragging Marinette with him. She yelped softly, muffled into the pillow as he fumbled to cover her up under the blankets.

He grabbed the nearest cushion and held it strategically in front of him, a fortress of soft dignity. “ Okay… okay… play it cool, ” he muttered under his breath, cheeks flaming.

The door swung open. Nathalie’s silhouette filled the frame. “Adrien,” her voice was smooth but sharp, like a scalpel. “Is everything in order?” 

“Y-yes, Nathalie!” he called back, voice slightly higher than intended, heart hammering. “I’m just… uh… making sure everything is… presentable.”

From under the sheets, Marinette stifled a laugh, muffled by the pillow. Adrien shot her a panicked glance, eyes wide, and gently kicked the blanket, before returning to his role as the epitome of composure… well, as composed as a boy half-hidden under a cushion with a girl hidden under his sheets, could be. A SUPERHERO, no less!

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. “I see…” She paused, stepping closer, glancing around the room. “Very… thorough.” She said, looking very disapprovingly at the mess.

Adrien swallowed. “Y-yeah. Very thorough,” he repeated, squeezing the cushion like it was a lifeline. His brain was firing a million miles a second: Don’t move. Don’t breathe too loud. Don’t make her suspicious. Curse his stupid teenaged boy brain.

“Adrien, I…” Nathalie’s voice trailed, uncertain now, her gaze flicking from the floor to the bed, to the faintly disheveled blankets. He was going through a lot, she reminded herself. He certainly wouldn't remember the rules.

“Alright, just make sure you clean up.”She said tersely.

After another tense moment, Nathalie gave a slight nod and turned. Adrien in turn, exhaled, slumping on the spot, heat rising to his ear and chest. He could feel the wrought tension bleeding from his body slowly. Thank god.

That could have gone better. It could have gone worse too, though. He reminded himself.

From beneath the blanket, Marinette peeked one eye at him. “Smooth. ” she whispered.

Adrien groaned, burying his face in the cushion. “ Shut up…”

The door clicked shut behind Nathalie, leaving the room bathed once again in quiet.Relief and adrenaline slammed through Marinette, yet her heart hammered still. 

“You… you okay?” he murmured, voice low, laced with something unspoken.

“Yeah… just… that was a little too close,” she admitted, breathless.

He tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, green eyes sparkling.

 “Too close… or not close enough?”

Her heart stuttered. Oh no…

Marinette sat up, perched awkwardly on the edge of Adrien’s bed, trying not to move too much. Somewhere between fussing with the pillows and straightening the sheets, trying to hide and look like a pile of pillows and not a girl, she had managed to tangle herself into the blanket, and now it clung around her waist and legs like some conspiratorial trap.

Adrien laughed softly from where he stood, shaking his head in disbelief. “You must always find a way to get into trouble, huh?”

Her cheeks burned. “I was just trying to…ugh, it’s stuck!” she tugged at the fabric, making it worse.

Adrien’s smile softened, and before she could argue, he slid onto the bed beside her, stretching out so that they were eye-level. “ Hold still,” he murmured. His hand brushed over hers as he gently pulled at the knotted blanket. Adrien’s whisper grazed her ear, so soft she nearly melted into him. “Seriously, stop wiggling, stay still … I’ve got you.”

Every brush of his fingers felt deliberate, even though it wasn’t. Warmth bled into her skin as he tugged, slowly freeing her from the cocoon she’d wound herself into. Marinette’s breath caught, because he was so close, close enough that she could see the way his lashes framed his pretty green eyes, close enough that she could feel his breath ghost across her cheek, and her ears… just, everywhere.


Chill out, Chill out, Chill out. She begged herself.

“There,” he whispered when the last fold slipped loose, his hand lingering just a fraction longer than necessary on her leg before withdrawing.

She swallowed, her throat dry. “T-thank you,” she managed, but the words came out so faint she wasn’t sure he even heard them.

Adrien didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he hovered slightly above her. The mattress dipped under his weight, tilting her toward him. The blanket lay forgotten around them, but the tension wrapped tighter than any fabric could.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, his gaze locked on hers, almost daring her not to look away. His smile had changed, gentler, yes, but edged with something warmer, something she wasn’t sure she could handle without combusting.

Her breath hitched when his hand brushed against the side of her arm, almost idly, almost like he hadn’t realized he was doing it. But she knew he had. She could see it in his eyes. The raw awareness, the hesitation, the question hanging unspoken in the small space left between them.

Too close. Way too close. And yet… he was right. Not nearly close enough.

“Marinette…” His voice was low, rougher than usual, carrying something he’d never let anyone hear. “You scared me.”

“I scared you? ” she whispered, her words trembling as much as her heartbeat. 

Adrien’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never… felt like this before.”

Marinette swallowed hard. She could feel the heat of him seeping into her, the tension curling around them like a living thing. His uncertainty made her insides churn. What if he had? Wishful thinking let her give him the benefit of the doubt. “Me neither,” she admitted, though her voice trembled with more than just fear of him being wrong.

A pause, then his hand slid a little lower, brushing against hers in a way that made her knees weaken. Her stomach churned, part excitement, part panic. Not here… not like this…

He pressed just a fraction closer. “If… if we’re careful, no one has to know,” he murmured.

Marinette’s mind raced. She knew one wrong move could shatter the fragile illusion, yet every instinct screamed at her to lean back into him, to let herself feel what she’d been denying. Just one kiss… Her pulse hammered in her throat, and she could feel his breath against her neck, hot and intoxicating.

“Adrien…” she whispered, warning and invitation tangled together.

His arms circled her, fingers threading through her hair, tracing lines down her spine. She shivered, a gasp caught in her throat as he pressed closer, his warmth dizzying, grounding, and maddening all at once.

“God, it feels so… right like this,” he murmured, cheek brushing hers. Her stomach flipped, heat flooded every inch of her, and yet fear lingered at the edges, they couldn’t act on this. Not like this. Not now.Why did he have to be so enticing?

He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed for a heartbeat. “I could stay like this forever…”

Marinette’s hands pressed against his chest, needing him, daring him, yet pulling back ever so slightly. “Forever… isn’t safe, ” she breathed, teasing tension lacing her words, but her body betrayed her, leaning fully into him.

A quiet laugh, more of a growl than sound, rumbled through him. “Since when have we ever been safe? You’re the one who remembers, give me just one example, and I’ll stop.”

His lips grazed the side of her hair, and then he saw the pained expression on her face and froze, eyes wide, green and unreadable. 

“We… should stop,” he said, though the heat in his tone betrayed him. “You’re right, I'm sorry… I got carried away..”

The words hung between them like a spark over gasoline. Both knew the danger, both knew the temptation, but neither moved, caught between what was safe and what was inevitable. A choice Marinette wasn’t sure she’d have been able to resist under better circumstances.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Every part of her wanted to give in, to close that tiny, aching distance. To finally let herself want what she had wanted for so long. She could almost cry. 

But she saw it in him too, the uncertainty, the raw need for something stable in the middle of everything that wasn’t. And suddenly, she knew. If they crossed this line now, with all the secrets, the unspoken truths, the looming danger of discovery, he might think she regretted it later. She very well might. He just wasn’t himself, even if he was, in so many ways , she couldn’t live with herself if he regretted things, either. She couldn’t let that happen.

Her hand moved before her thoughts caught up, gently covering his. “Adrien, ” she whispered, steadying her voice though it quivered at the edges.

He stilled, searching her face. “Marinette…?”

She gave him the softest smile, her thumb brushing his knuckles. “I want this. I want you. More than I can even explain.” The confession tumbled out, quiet but fierce, she felt her face burn so, so hot, and she felt him shiver beneath her touch.

“Then why…”

“Because…” She leaned in, her forehead resting against his once more, so he couldn’t mistake her closeness for rejection. “Because right now isn’t the right time. Not with everything hanging over us. Not when you need closure, not more weight.”

His jaw flexed, but his eyes softened. “So you’re saying… not now, but… someday?”

Her lips curved into a shaky smile. “Someday,” she promised, her voice breaking just a little. “And when it is, you won’t have to wonder for even a second if I want you.”

For a moment, he just breathed her in, his hand tightening around hers. Then, with a sigh that sounded both disappointed and relieved, he let his forehead press more firmly against hers. “Okay,” he murmured. “I can wait.”

Her heart squeezed. She almost kissed him then. Almost. Instead, she let the warmth of his closeness be enough, tucking the promise away like a secret ember to hold onto until the world finally gave them a chance. She relished in the burn.

Adrien finally leaned back, eyes heavy, letting the blanket settle snugly over him. His breathing slowed, and for the first time all evening, he seemed almost peaceful.

Marinette stayed a moment longer, making sure he was comfortable, before quietly stepping toward the now open window, yo-yo at the ready.

“Good night, Adrien,” she whispered.

The tumultuous chaos of his life was still there, but for the first time in a while, Adrien didn’t feel completely alone in it. And somehow, that made all the difference. 

He knew that despite the whirlwind of emotions, he’d sleep well tonight.