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Chapter Text

Adrien fell onto his bed. It seemed like tears ran everywhere all along his body, never stopped on his chin and just rolled down all the way to his toes.

Plagg had told him everything, mercilessly tearing apart his soul into pieces.

He wished that he hadn’t.

His father had died, that much he found out from Ladybug. It felt like his world fell apart when he had heard it, It felt like he could never be fully himself again. From that moment on, from when his tears had flooded so much he couldn’t think clearly, the scene was blurry. He had thought Ladybug had cried in front of him, but he wasn’t sure anymore.

What Plagg had told him, however, was that he, his dad, was Monarch. Monarch, who had terrorised the city for what felt like a lifetime. Monarch, whose defeat the city was celebrating. His dad’s defeat.

His mother’s corpse was in their basement all along, his kwami had supplied. This information was the last thing from welcome in his mind. That fact, it seems, couldn’t be quite grasped by his poor brain. He didn’t think he even wants to understand it. Any of it. He wished this day didn’t happen.

Was it better to have his father dead and the whole city finally free from his grasp, or to have everybody still terrorised but his father alive?

But the second option still wouldn’t change the fact that his mother lie in his basement.

He just wished he was oblivious to everything that happened. He wished he lived somewhere far away, be someone far away, not related to Paris and its heroes, to Paris and its villains.

Ladybug had told Adrien lies in London. She had intended for him to not know. To consider him a hero, to not know the crimes he had committed.

His father was the one who akumatised the whole world in a search for him. He was the one who hurt his friends—who hurt him—so many times.

Adrien wished he could go back, wished he could see his father, could ask him why he would do such a thing. Wasn’t he enough? His son?

His mind kept replaying all the interactions he had with his father. There surely must have been signs he was—what he was. All the disappearances during the day, the coldness, the persistence on the alliance rings. Still, Monarch and his father couldn’t blend into one.  Did he love the most evil person in Paris? But his dad had been so nice over the past few weeks—his last few weeks.

A crushing sob escaped his mouth at the last thought.

He remembered his father’s twitching left arm. He cataclysmed his father. Had he played a part in killing his father? Oh Gods.  

Plagg had told him Nathalie had died. Nathalie. He had crumbled down the first time he’d heard this. It was his father’s fault too, wasn’t it? Was this Adrien’s fault too? He could have done something to stop it.

Had Nathalie known? Had she tried to stop him?

He thought of Félix. His cousin, who broke everyone’s trust to gain what he had wanted—the Peacock miraculous. A betraying thought crept into his mind, did Félix know?

No, he had known Nathalie. She would never do it, she would never side with him, she knew better—

But he couldn’t ask her if it were true anymore.

"Plagg, claws out!”

He needed to leave. He needed to escape this cage built out of lies and questions that had to be left unanswered because all the people who knew the answers were dead.

Chat leaped out the window, losing his balance and falling. He crashed at the nearby rooftop. He didn’t bother to get up, looking at the sky full of stars.

Tomorrow Ladybug is going to make a statement. Tomorrow, she was going to lie to the whole world like she did to him, he was sure of it. What did Monarch say to her to do such a thing?  Tomorrow he was going to travel to Paris. He was going to see Marinette.

Marinette.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know the Monarch has been defeated, that she won’t have to hide, that his Gabriel Agreste is gone. Tomorrow, just like the rest of the world, she was going to be fed the lies of Ladybug—that Gabriel Agreste was a hero.

How could that man be a hero? If he were Monarch, he wouldn’t be. And he was Monarch.

Chat thought about his home. Was this where Monarch created akumas? Was this where he and Ladybug foughgt? It must have been, if Plagg found out about his mother.

His mother, who lie in their basement under his father’s obsessed protection.

Chat Noir quickly transformed into Astrocat, and fled until London, and the whole Great Britain was away.

What monster would do such a thing? No, no, it couldn’t have been his father. Maybe Plagg was wrong, maybe he was mistaken. It could not be his dad. His dad, who had done everything to keep his son safe, who had cared for him. Like he’d cared for his wife?

France was on the horizon. He had to see it for himself. Plagg must have been mistaken. There couldn’t possibly be a basement in his house that he hadn’t known about. This is all a lie.

He flew right into his own open window, and transformed back into Chat Noir. There were no signs of a battle in his own room. He dragged his shaking hands to open the door to the hall. And oh, what he saw he could never forget.

There was a grand hole in the floor. Darkness seeping through it. Chat was frozen, afraid to move. No, no, no he couldn’t face it. He could face the truth! The basement! No!

He ran back into his room and slammed the door, as if it would block all the monsters from entering. The monsters of the past, of the fight, the ghost of his mom.

Casting another terrified look on the door, he jumped out. If there was this hole… then the fight happened. Ladybug fought his father, Monarch, and he is dead. If there was this hole, then there was a basement, and in the basement…

He ran to Marinette’s balcony. He needed— He needed her before he breaks. It was all real. It all happened. They are all dead. Nathalie’s corpse was probably in the same house as him.

“Marinette!” He called out selfishly. He knew it was the middle of the night, he knew she would be sleeping right now. He knew, and maybe this was a stupid idea, maybe—

“Chat?” Her voice called out from the inside.

“Chat, are you alri—” He ran up to her, hugging her.

“I—I—” he cried out in her shoulder, “I need you, Marinette,” his voice broke as tears flooded of his eyes, for n-th time tonight. He clung to her, she was, it seemed, the only thing from his past that didn’t change today.

He felt like he could finally breathe. She was there, she was holding him. There is still hope that I might live again. For a split second, all the truth seemed bearable.

He wanted to spend an eternity in her arms.

He doesn’t know for how long they stayed there, how many eternities he selfishly spent sabotaging her sleep. Yet, he slowly, unbearably slowly, let go of her. He didn’t want to leave her like this, but he had to, for both of their sakes.

Only then did he notice her red eyes. It seemed like she was crying harder than him.

“Did I hurt you?” he rushed closer to inspect her, breaking the shared silence. Did he crush heer ribs? Choke her? Could he still control his strength in this costume? Did he break her too, like today’s events did him?

“No,” she smiled, her eyes filling up with tears again. “I—I just… I can’t do this anymore,” he voice broke, she dropped her face in her arms. “I can’t imagine living another day like this. I can barely hold myself together over the past several hours, how am I going to live my life if—” She shut up, looking at him with so much regret and sadness that he felt it radiating from her.

What happened, my dear?

“Hey,” he carefully pulled her arms away from her face, “we’ll—” Chat tried to comfort her, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know what she was going through, and she didn’t know what he was. “We’re going make it through tomorrow,” he tried to sound believable, for her sake.

The weight of unshared secrets hung between them.

He wanted to stay with her, but he saw, taking care of a guest in her house was the last thing Marinette needed. She first needed to learn how to take care of herself again.

And he did too.

With a quiet “goodbye, Princess,” he leapt into the nightsky.

He couldn’t help but wonder, was he the cause of her sadness? He – Adrien, or he – Chat Noir? Was it somebody else? Was this the result of him barging into her life just now? Did she blame herself for his tears? Chat’s running became inattentive as worse ideas flooded his head.

He was truly like his father. Both of them hid a humongous part of their lives from the rest of the world. Both hurt people. Adrien got the Miraculous of Destruction, of course he was just like his father. Just like Monarch. He cataclysmed his father. He hurt Marinette.

What if after today’s events he would become exactly the copy of his father? What if he would become the new Monarch? For Gabriel Agreste, he supposes, the breaking point was losing his beloved one.

He wondered how evil Adrien Agreste could get after losing several of his.

Chat suddenly felt a jolt in his leg. Ow. He must have stumbled over something on one of the roofs. But all he could see was the building getting closer and closer… until he hit it with his face.

He didn’t try to get up from his misery.

Chapter Text

Adrien woke up on one of the hundreds of roofs of Paris. What was he doing there? In the morning, especially?

He must have run in here as Chat Noir yesterday. But, wait, why was he in his civilian clothing, then?

The events of the night before, slowly, as if preparing him, returned to his conscience.

Oh.

People at London must be searching for him right now. Well, he was a sea away, his thoughts sang sarcastically. He couldn’t seem to care. Some fan was probably going to find him and post it online for all his father’s workers to see anyway.

But for that to happen, he’s got to descend the building.

He opened his pockets. All he camembert was smashed… His little friend won’t like that, but the kwami also knew what Adrien was going through and would hopefully be sympathetic. Even if it ruins the meal.

It was weird. The camembert was already out, and not a sound was heard from The Walking Stomach.

“Plagg?”

After several seconds of silence instead of a response, which was alarming as that creature cannot shut up for his own sake, he checked all the possible places for him to hide. His thumb immediately checked his ring finger, because, well, where was Plagg?

But the ring. Wasn’t. There.

Adrien dropped to his knees, clutching his hair. He lost his ring, he lost his— What could he do? Ladybug was going kill him, fuck, he was going to kill himself. His miraculous has been stolen—but how? Plus, this person found out his real identity. This can quickly get out of hand. How could he inform Ladybug? How could he inform anybody? How could he face his friends or anybody else today without Plagg by his side to support him?

What was he thinking about right now. Honestly? Facing his friends and others? When his miraculous has been stolen? The two problems have whole different amounts of importance. Chat Noir’s identity comes first—even if there is no Monarch—his father—to fight against.

Only then did he realise he was in the middle of a roof without a way to get down.

Well, this is going to be awkward.

He knocked on a trap door, hoping with all his being that someone would hear him. “It’s fine Mom, I’ll check it myself!” He heard a familiar voice. He smiled to himself. This might be easier than he expected the descent to be.  

“Nino!” he breathed as soon as the trap door opened and launched himself at the boy.

“Who the fu—!“ his friend yelled immediately.

- - -

“What were you doing there, boy?” Nino’s father scorned.

Adrien, it seems, has never been more confused in his life. What…? Why does the man act like he doesn’t know him? They’ve met!

“I think you broke him, Dad,” Nino chuckled.

Oh, Nino… What happened? Have they been akumatised? Why doesn’t he remember him? His best friend…?

“Talk,” the father ordered again.

“Don’t you remember me?” Adrien said finally. “Nino,” he turned to the boy but was faced with eyes full of worry. For him, he’d realised. “We have been friends for this whole school year, you have been my first friend, I—,” his voice broke as nothing changed in the other’s expressions. “You spoke up to my father once and thanks to you I was allowed to have a birthday party, we…” He searched for recognition in his friend’s eyes. What was happening? “You were my first friend at the school.”

“Do you know him?”

“No, Dad…” the boy squinted his eyes in thought, “but…” an idea lit his eyes. “Oooooh!!” Nino said, Adrien was able to recognise: this was his overly sweet lying voice. His father, however, apparently didn’t. “I know him, of course! He entered our school several days ago! Yes, it was a try on my part to organise him a birthday party,” he smiled, “His dad is veeery strict. It’s interesting how just several days seem to mean so much for some people, right?”

His father looked confused, yet still held a stern look in his face, “I guess—”

“Yeah, the dude has been telling me about his problems with moonwalking, it’s a serious thing, you know?” Nino frowned. “I haven’t still figured out how it works, but I do want him to get home safely. He told me stories about how confusing it may get in the mornings.” After sending one puppy look to his dad, and without waiting for a response, he held Adrien by his back and led him outside.

Agreste was absolutely astounded by his friend’s behaviour. “When did you learn to lie like that?”

But Nino only began talking after they had exited the building. “I just saved your ass out there, dude,” he poked at him with his index finger. That’s when Adrien noticed, with wide eyes full of surprise, that Nino wore the Black Cat miraculous.

“What the—” Adrien cried. Nino stole his miraculous? How did he find out? Why did he need it? Is that why he and everybody else were acting so strangely in the apartment?

Nino, his long-lasting friend, turned against him? Like Ladybug? Like his father? Like Félix? How many other people was he supposed to have to unmask before seeing the whole picture? Adrien shuddered, shaking away the tears forming in his eyes.

“Now, you better tell me if this is some sort of akuma thing, or, what, are you Shadow Moth now?”

“Shadow Moth--?” Adrien repeated half there, his eyes never leaving the ring. “What are you talking about? M—Monarch was defeated yesterday.”

“Monarch?” Nino moved away. “Who’s Monarch?”

“Monarch is—was,” he sighed, remembering what happened, “the main terrorist of Paris this whole year, he used to call himself Shadow Moth, and Hawkmoth. Nino, are you alright?”

“The question is, whether or not you are, dude.” Nino looked at him weirdly. “Shadow Moth never changed his name from this to… Monarch,” he said it as if tasting the name on his tongue. They started walking. “Dude, where were you— wait,” Nino said. He still hadn’t noticed Adrien staring at his hand without stopping. “Coming back to my starting question, is this an akuma thing? Have you been— Have I been—”

“You couldn’t have been akumatis—” Adrien doesn’t know what pushed him to stop. Maybe it was the plan that was already forming in his head, maybe he just didn’t want to admit it, but he could not mention the ring to Nino, not when he was planning to steal it.  

He finally looked up, facing Nino’s spying eyes. “You couldn’t have been akumatised because you are such a positive person…!”

“Weird, dude…” the boy frowned. “You know, I don’t know you, but I have this feeling that I should trust you… Like, I have trusted you with my whole life many times, and it all turned out well, but, dude! I have never seen you!” Nino said, appalled. “Is this an akuma…?” He murmured, frowning. “Ugh!” he stomped. “I hate this paranoia!”

Adrien was even more confused than when he first met him. Nino sounded… genuine. He didn’t sound like somebody who would serve Monarch.

But then, he never suspected Félix or his father either, he thought bitterly.

He needed to act, he decided. He needed to act quickly before the other finds out about Adrien’s intentions.

“Hey…” he improvised. He grabbed the boy’s hand, stopping them both in the middle of the street. “I get it, Mo—Shadow Moth, his constant akumas, the fear, honestly, how are we still sane, right?” He chuckled. He pulled the hand he was holding closer, near his heart, and covered it with his two. This made the other boy clearly uncomfortable, which Adrien used to his advantage, focusing the boy on the feeling, instead of what Adrien was doing with his fingers while nobody saw. “You know,” he said, sugar-coating his voice even more, “you really saved me out there…” Adrien swiftly removed the ring from his enemy’s finger and took off, yelling an epic, very Chat Noir-like, “so thank you!”

He ran as fast as he could, not letting his conscience fully catch up with what happened. He turned on various courners, pushed through the smallest cracks in between the buildings; anything to get away from the enemy, who might be running after him.

After what he had considered a safe distance, he stopped in a dark, ominous alley. Adrien quickly put on the miraculous, the cold metal texture of it, sliding onto his skin in almost a comforting way.

“Plagg?” He cried.

“Holy camembert! Who are you?” the creature hissed at him with fear in his eyes. Yet, determination flashed when he said, “You better not hurt… the boy whom you so awfully stole the miraculous from!”

Adrien looked at him like he had never seen him before. Can kwamis get akumatised? “What…” he let out a disbelieving laugh, “what did he do to you…?”

“He…” the kwami retorted, surprised by Agreste’s talkativeness, but then changed his mind. “Nothing! You will not get a word out of me!”

“Why don’t you remember me…?” he whispered, sitting down on the dirty asphalt, clutching his hair so hard, a momentary worry flashed his subconscious that he could rip it out.

Why would Nino steal his miraculous if there is no Monarch to serve anymore? Why would Nino’s family pretend not to remember anything? Why would Plagg? Why did nobody come to him on the street to get his autograph or something for the news? Where were the people commanding him to make a statement?

Suddenly, before he could react, a yo-yo was spinning around him, trapping him in its net. He instantly widened his eyes, focusing them back on what was happening around him, wary of the person standing in front of him.

Tension left his shoulders for a split second as he recognised who it was. Then he remembered the events of yesterday. Again. “My—” he cleared his throat, hoping she didn’t hear what he said, “Ladybug? Is everything okay?”

She immediately stepped back, seeing he was cognizant of her presence. Her gaze turned deadly. He felt the lack of ring on his finger and realised what she had seen.

She saw him with the Black Cat miraculous! She had to have put the dots together by now… Why wasn’t she returning it back to her partner? Surely she knew who he was, unlike… others.

Yet, the next phrase crumbled his hopes.

“Who are you, and what do you know about what you have stolen?”

She remembers half of Paris, if not all of it and its citizens. She cried on her knees in front of him yesterday, and she doesn’t even recognise his face today? “I’m Adrien Agreste,” he spoke as his mind was filling with white, hot fury.

“Agreste…?” she mumbled, surprise colouring her voice, but she schooled her expression quickly.

Oh, so she remembers his surname, doesn’t she? He chuckled. She ruined his life, and she doesn’t even remember him?!

“And? Why did you steal it?”

He knew what he had to do, and this was not how he imagined this moment. It should have been a wonderful evening on the top of a building, celebrating the end of an era. It should have been intimate, tender, to find out the person he has spent so much time with. His partner.

Today was not the day. Today he was too fueled with anger, and she was too fucking forgetful. Lives were destroyed. This was not how it was meant to happen.

Today, instead, he wanted to see her eyes fill with shock and guilt. He wanted her to realise that he knew all about her lies. He wanted her to tell him why she lied, to cry, to beg for forgiveness. And what is a better way to do it than to put a dagger right inside her heart? To hit her where it hurts? He knows she loves Chat Noir, even as a friend, and would hate to see him hurt. Well, that’s what she has done already—hit him where it hurts.

“Because he stole what was mine, My Lady,” he spat out her name like something rotten. “Because I am fucking Chat Noir, your fucking partner. You should have figured it out by now, with taking my ring and seeing me talk with Plagg.”

Her eyes widened at the mention of the kwami. Was she fucking kidding him?

“’Chat Noir’?” she mused, reverting to her fighting position, and checking him out up and down. “You don’t look like a cat to me,” she joked, but her eyes were more focused than ever. Quite literally. It seemed like this was the fight of her life.

“What—?” For a second, all his anger disappeared. Why did she say it as if it were her first time saying it? But soon enough, it all came back, because why the fuck didn’t she recognise him?!

“Let’s play, then, Chaton. Lucky Charm!” A red, black-dotted stack of cards dropped into her hands.

What was she doing? “Ladybug!” he yelled. “You know me! How dare you pretend not to know me! YOU RUINED MY LIFE YESTERDAY!” All of her body shook at that, but not in guilt or understanding.What? “And I know you—the fact that you, for some reason, ignore. I am Chat Noir, AND WE’VE FOUGHT SIDE-BY-SIDE FOR A YEAR!” His anger left him again. He looked into her eyes, searching for his partner, His Lady, but all he could see was fear, hidden deep beneath her eyes, and, still, determination, to make that fear go away—to fight him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he voiced in disgust.

Before she could respond, a voice came out of the sky. “Here to help, Bug!”

Beside Ladybug stood a man, shorter than her, yet clearly a superhero. Clearly a holder of the Black Cat’s miraculous—Nino. His weapon—also a stick—was not silvery colour but more of a blueish one, although still metallic. The dark costume covering the man’s body was similar to Chat’s, but the person had a body of totally different body build. More muscle, he supposed. The strap has a hole in it for the stick, which, excuse him, Chat did not acquire in his own costume. His face was totally different, though. It was covered with a hood which, obviously, had cat ears. His eyes lie beneath neon pink-blue shutter shades (how do they not fall? But, well, who was he to figure out the mechanics of costume-making), and the lower part of his face was covered with a mask of a dirty grey colour.

The superhero turned to Ladybug. “Why did he try to wear it himself instead of doing what all the others do?”

Good fucking riddance, Nino.

“This is far-fetched, but… could he be him?”

Wonderful, they are thinking he is Shadow Moth now. And, now, what the hell was he supposed to do? Fight them? Well, this would go magnificently, wouldn’t it? Turning them against him even more.

He just wanted it all to be back to normal. But what is normal if what he considered normal had his father terrorising his beloved city?

Adrien eyed the cards, given out by His Lady’s Lucky Charm. He recalled playing similar ones with his dad, back before—well, everything,—before his mom died.

“These are Memory cards,” he sighed, sinking downwards. Immediately, two wary pairs of eyes were on him. “It’s a card game. You try to memorise as many cards’ positions as you can, before they are turned around. Then you—”

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Ladybug chanted. When he did, her eyes were glued to him. “You said I am supposed to remember you, to know you. Did this situation occur with any other person?”

Was she onto something? His brows furrowed. “Yes… With everybody, anyone who’s supposed to know me.”

She squinted her eyes. “Then this situation required further investigation, but it’s no akuma.”

The yo-yo unwrapped itself, leaving him free. Ladybug disappeared, and Nino followed right behind her.

- - -

He silently walked the streets of Paris, back to the Agreste Manor, and pondered over the events of today. Why, he wondered, hasn’t anybody sent Gorilla to drive him back? The people in London who were supposed to be taking care of him must had been worried mad. That would be, if they still remember him, he recalled. Was it some sort of an akuma? Why did Ladybug and the other one view him as a threat?

Finally, he reached home. But as he lifted his finger to ring the doorbell, his gaze caught motion in one of the windows. And what he saw he could never forget.

He was sitting near the window. He was in his bedroom, not his office, like he was for most of Adrien’s life. His dad was frowning, clearly working on one of his designs. He looked much younger, as if the past couple of years didn’t happen. Slowly, she, his mother, in her pyjamas, approached him from his back. She hugged him. He leaned into her touch, a small smile forming on his lips.

Adrien ran away as fast as he could.

Chapter Text

Adrien ran, and ran, and ran. He ran until all he could think of was the burning pain in his legs and lungs. He ran into the parts of Paris that even he, as Chat Noir, rarely visited.

When his limbs could barely hold him, he stumbled and fell into a garbage can.

- - -

Waking up, he realised several things: firstly, his head was out of the trashcan, secondly, he was being dragged by his feet through the asphalt, and thirdly, his white shirt wasn’t on him, and so, he assumed, was his phone.

Somebody was dragging him by his feet.

“HELP!” he screamed. Surely someone would hear him.

However, no salvation came. What could he do? He knew how to fight back, but he couldn’t get his legs out of their grip. He tried to hold on to the cracks in the asphalt, but it was a lost cause.

Suddenly, he fell down—they let go. He quickly got up and looked around, searching for the enemy. “Hey, hey,” he heard a manly voice behind him say. He reflectively kicked him to the ground.

The other one doesn’t make a try to move towards him, complaining about the ache in his back. Adrien began to run, but something about the boy lying on the floor stops him. He just needed to—

“Why did you drag me away from the garbage can?” Agreste said, wondering if the words that were going to come next were the truth.

“You were on the territory of the narcs, man. Who knows how far they would go to get that stuff, man… Merde, who taught you to hit like that…” He got up.

Adrien turned around in surprise. “How do I know if you’re telling the truth?”

“You can’t, man. But… you can go in there and check for yourself. I won’t be saving you from there, though, not again.”

Adrien made no move to run anymore, interested in the person in front of him. He was older and taller than him, but still couldn't yet be considered a man. He had dark skin and long, untidy dreads, which covered most of his eyes. He wore a plain grey shirt, which looked more like a dishrag than a piece of clothing. Thin, ripped jeans hung on him, too small in size for his long legs. His arms lay in his pockets now, clutching to something Adrien couldn't decipher.

“What were you doing there, then?”

The other easily caught the distrustful hint in the blonde’s voice. “Nah, I don’t really smoke.” He shrugged. “Not that stuff, anyway. I was just checking up on one of my acquaintances—not there—and saw your clean blonde head pass by. Knowing where you were going, I… wanted to save you from what could have happened.”

 “Thank you. For saving me,” he smiled. Then he sighed. “You’re wondering if I have any money, aren’t you? As payback.”

The boy sat down on the street, and motioned for Adrien to sit beside him. When they both relaxed a bit slightly, he sighed and responded. “I did, before… But I was too slow. I take it your wallet got stolen?” He didn’t meet his eyes, choosing to stare at a wall.

Agreste checked his pockets. Just as he thought: no wallet, no phone. “Yeah…” He winced.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Then the guy started sending him confused glances. “Don’t you have a home to come back to? Parents waiting?” He said finally.

Adrien’s eyes widened. How could he forget? His parents were alive and well. Happy.

His breaths quickened sharply. He hit his head on the wall behind him in defeat. Everything faded to black.

- - -

“Blondie? Blondie? You there?”

Adrien tried to nod and say something, but it all came as incoherent mumbling.

“Oh, thank fuck! You really scared me out there, man. You hit your head way too hard and passed out!”

He just nodded. Seeing the worried face of the boy, he blurted out, “What’s your name?”

The guy pondered for a second but stretched out his hand, “Timéo.”

“Adrien.”

He nodded, and lies back down, searching for a comfortable position. He knew he wouldn’t have anywhere else to sleep any time soon unless this nightmare stops. Timéo lied down beside him without much questioning. It was nice to have somebody beside him. Before long, his neighbour’s breaths slowed down, creating a rhythm.

Today’s events scrambled through his brain. What had happened overnight? He hoped it was all a dream. Tears appeared in his eyes. Please, let it all be a dream. He wanted to go back. Back when he fought side-by-side with His Lady, defeating random akumas nearly every day. Back when he didn’t know Monarch was his father… He wished for Marinette. Marinette would know what to do in such a situation; she would be able to comfort him. And even if she didn’t know, her presence would still soothe him. He remembered that night on her balcony. Gods, that was yesterday.

Would he be able to meet the world tomorrow, anew? Living still, like his life hasn’t just been ruined, and his mental health turned inside out without him knowing how to put it back to how it is supposed to be?

What if he doesn’t wake up? What if the boy beside him was going to kill him? How could he trust anybody?

However yet, in this fucked-up version of the world, nobody seemed to remember him (and his parents were alive). Would anybody still want to do anything with him? Without his fame and status?

He fell asleep on the cardboard (much more comfortable than yesterday’s roof, mind you), wondering if it were better to wake up in this world tomorrow or not wake up at all.

- - -

Agreste’s sleep was interrupted by loud coughs of a middle-aged woman several meters away.

The sun was up, and he couldn’t see the boy—Timéo—anywhere nearby. Would he leave Adrien after saving him? Of course he would, why wouldn’t he? His sudden surge of panic, was immediately replaced by a soothing,  calm feeling in his chest when he saw the boy giving water to the woman.

“Timéo?” he called out, rubbing his eyes.

“Blondie!” Timéo ran towards him with a shining smile. The sight was lovely, and Agreste couldn’t stop a smile of his own spreading on his lips.

A few inches from each other, they both stopped, unsure of what to do.

The awkwardness was palpable. “Uh… I was just worried where’d you go, that all,” Adrien said, chuckling. “Not that you have to watch over me like a hen, of course!” He blushed.

“No worries,” Timéo smiled reassuringly. “You hungry?”

He was put off by this question. “I could use something to drink, yeah, but I can get by without a meal.” He remembered all the times, especially after Mom died, when his father had forgotten to feed him.

They left the alley into the busy streets of Paris. Everybody had a place to be. People running late with panicked expressions on their faces, couples walking slowly and enjoying each other’s presence, children running ahead of their parents, laughing in delight.

He also had a place. His father made sure of that. A model, omniknown in beauty and wealth, yet without a proper life, or passion to hold on to.

But that was before Chat Noir, Marinette, and his friends came in. They let him be himself, be free.

Now, he had no Chat Noir, no Marinette, nobody who would remember him.

However his father was alive. And his mother too.

He recalled the days when it was like this. Just the three of them. Happy. They would laugh and play, and life would make sense. He didn’t have to search for freedom.

Was he truly free now?

One might say he was free in its utmost sense: no people who would care to share their opinion with him. To consider him a friend.

“Blondie?” Came a voice beside him, bringing him back from his thoughts. “You seemed a little gloomy.”

Adrien chuckled bitterly, offering no further insight into his feelings. He looked around in search for clearing his mind, yet it provided no comfort.

He was so used to the fame he grew up in. People all around the world knew him, both as Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste. Now, nobody dared meet his eye, thinking he was a scary stranger.

He was a famous model cat gone rogue. Once all he knew was fame and no real proof of love from the cat’s—his—keeper. And now, he was being thrown into the streets, mistaken with any other black cat, and being banished from any sunny spot. But he was adapting.

It was only natural that his soft fur would soon turn spiky.

“Look! A foodstand! You take the attention, and I steal the food, got it?”

“Steal…?” Oh, come on, Adrien. You stole a historic artefact from your would-be friend yesterday! His mind reminded.You already crossed the line! Do what you want! “You know what? Never mind. Let’s do it.”

The cat’s collar has been long gone thrown away.

Now he was just learning how to live without it.

- - -

Less than ten minutes later, Timéo and Adrien were sitting on a bench, eating delicious breakfast. It was pastry, yet, obviously, not the best one he knew of.

Speaking of the best pastry,

He saw her moving towards them on the street. She was animatedly talking: Alya, Rose, Mylène, and the other girls were walking beside her. Her blue eyes, her midnight-coloured hair, her laugh. Oh, her laugh… The composure she held, always ready for action, but, still, always seemingly relaxed with her friends.

Oh, how he wished to speak with her…

Adrien sighed, returning back to his food. From the side of his eye, he caught Timéo staring at him tentatively. “You good, man?”

“Yes?” He answered, which sounded more like a question. He sighed once again. “It’s just… that girl…”

He didn’t know what to say. She was pretty? Absolutely. But that would undermine what he was sighing for, really. Timéo didn’t know everybody had forgotten him by the luck of his fate. He was pretty sure that two days ago, back when everything was “normal,” Timéo knew him from all the advertisements.

“Let me guess, she is beautiful?” the other boy mused.

“Oh, yes,” he smiled. “She… she is the most beautiful girl in the world, Timéo.”

The latter smirked. “Not sure this is gonna work, but… I have an idea.”

Then he ran off. To Marinette, of all people. His heart dropped to his knees. She wouldn’t remember him, just like the rest of the world. She wouldn’t.

And he wasn’t ready to face her oblivious face.

He kept his gaze on his feet. On the pastry he was holding. On anything but her. Not wanting to see what was going to happen. Soon enough, Timéo came back, and when Adrien finally looked up, Marinette wasn’t there, her friends all looking in one direction in confusion.

“I’m sorry.” The boy sounded so sad and guilty, he felt a pang of his own sadness hit his heart. “She ran off as soon as she saw you. I must have scared her off. Totally ruined your chances with her.”

“You… what?” Adrien widened his eyes in shock, chuckling in disbelief. “You… how could you scare her off? You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met!”

“You aren’t mad?”

“No! You could never scare her of!” He smiled. “She is so brave… Talked to my father in person when I was gave up in doing so. Proved to everybody that “the nice girl” was an awful bully, she set up a whole scene for it! And many more instances of her bravery. I bet I didn’t even see half of them. She inspires me everyday.”

“You know her?!”

He looked back down at the ground. “Yes… We… knew each other. But not anymore,” he said, offering no more explanation than that. It was bad enough that his voice cracked on the last part.

The other boy nodded thoughtfully. “Look. I’m not the one to pry. I don’t know what happened and won’t until you want to tell me the story, if ever. But,” Timéo sighed, “I have to ask one thing: is leaving all the people who know you behind what you want to do?”

Adrien kissed his teeth. “There are no people that I’m leaving behind. Or, better to say, it wasn’t my decision to change the fact.”

Frankly, that gave Timéo absolutely zero hints to how Adrien’s life went.

- - -

That evening, when everybody was already sleeping, an unexpected guest towered over their street.

Simple to say, Adrien couldn’t sleep. Which, honestly, had a logical explanation, unlike a lot of things these days. His body wasn’t used to using this little energy during the day and wasn’t keen on falling asleep. Well, body, the good news was that he was now able to roam around whenever he wanted—there was no school in the morning for which he had to fall asleep on time—and the bad news was that he was too afraid to get up from his sleeping position. What if there were the narcs around? What other dangers didn’t Timéo inform him of? These people were all strangers; he didn’t know if they wanted anything from him, if they caused any danger.

His father had also been a danger living in the same house as him, but no, he hadn’t know the man had wanted his miraculous. How could he trust anybody now? Everyone wanted to hurt him.

Ah, yes. His father.

He wondered if he was still Hawkmoth. Or Monarch. Or whoever else but his father and a fashion designer. Because, well, he was apparently alive and well now. And how the hell were both his parents back from the dead? He wondered if they ever felt like something was missing from their life. Their child, perhaps.

Suddenly, an awful thought came to him. What if they had another child now instead of him? How could this not be a possibility if they are both happy and without him?

Looking at everything and everybody that he saw and interacted with in some way, it felt like this was what would have happened if he never existed.

Could it be that everything around him changed overnight, or could he had travelled somewhere else? How could he get answers?

His thought process was cut short by him literally being swung into the air, landing on one of rooftops of the buildings that surrounded him a second earlier. Obviously, he was fucking tied in a yo-yo string.

Honestly, it was getting annoying.

She stood in front of him on another building, silently inspecting every inch of his body. Her eyes were determined, yet, as he learned to see it from all his time as Chat Noir, she was lost. She sat down on the edge of the roof, no doubt going over their previous interaction.

After several minutes of silence, he asked, “I take it you don’t remember me?”

Ladybug turned to him, surprise evident in her eyes. “Re…member you?” She pondered. “Why would I forget you?”

“Who the hell knows at this point?” he rolled his eyes. The number of times he has asked himself this question has made it more annoying than sad. His gaze softened as he met the all-too-familiar expression of thinking. “My name is Adrien Agreste.”

She didn’t do anything to help him out. Her eyes widened slightly, but afterwards, her expression went back to thinking. The superheroine got up and started walking from one end of the roof to another. “I promised to ‘investigate further,’ I know. But even you don’t know the reason for this!” She sat down beside him, an idea sparking inside her blue eyes. “Tell me everything. Or… you know, as much as you think is relevant to figuring stuff out.”

As if, tides of anger were coming back to him. Honestly, does she really think he didn’t go over this a million of times in his head? It durely felt like he did.

“My name is Adrien Agreste, and I am a son, the only son, of Emily and Gabriel Agreste. I am the holder of the Black Cat miraculous. I am known as Chat Noir, and you, Ladybug, were my partner for the past year. We fought Monarch together, and three days ago, you defeated him. After that, everything went to shit, and here I am explaining myself to you as if I did something wrong! Let. Me. Go. I tried to solve this riddle and failed, and I doubt you would succeed either. Especially if it isn’t even your life that became a fucking tragedy overnight. Go back to your own problems,” he seethed.

This is what this was. A tragedy. A push into nowhere and the tragic fall of the hero that the audience would be too bored to even stay in the theatres for.

She was looking a him, disturbed by his outrage. Slowly, she sat down, studying him. “You said… the whole world forgot you overnight?”

He nodded absentmindedly.

“What do you know about the defeat of… Monarch?” And so he went on.

After retelling what Plagg told him, he stared into the distance, missing the life he left behind.

“I have one idea,” she mused, “but to solidify the possible conclusion, I need more information.” She looked up at him, as if asking for permission to go on. He nodded. “What happened to your mother?”

His anger has long ago deflated. He just hoped to get out of this position, but if Ladybug could offer him answers, it would be better, he guessed. He doubted she would be able to do much though. “She fell sick… Gradually, she became more and more dependent on her bed, until she couldn’t walk. My father has been there through all of it. He grew frantic to find a solution. She died with me in her arms one night.”

She nodded. “And, I take it, you talked with Plagg?”

“Yes. He didn’t recognise me.” Her eyes filled with sympathy at that.

Finally, the superheroine voiced her conclusion. “Adrien, this might be a long shot, but… I think it could be an aftermath of the wish made by your father.”

Chapter Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life has always been a mess. She has been bullied relentlessly by Chloe Bourgeois in school, and, by a series of very fortunate events, she became Ladybug. She was always late, her nerves were always on the verge of a breakdown, and she was clumsy as hell. Still, somehow, she managed to be her class’ representative and the world’s loved superhero. Things were complicated, but she grew accustomed and started to find comfort in the chaos of her everyday life.

That was until she met Adrien Agreste.

Who proceeded to fuck with her understanding of the world.

The conclusion that she came to yesterday made quite a lot of sense. And, gods, she hadn’t wanted to tell him. He deserved peace, but the heavy weight of truth is not peace. But, fuck her, he also deserved to know at least something about his situation, some ideas. She understood, however, that this one, if no other ideas were to be given, was going to ground him, and he was only going to believe this was true. But what if it wasn’t? That was another burden for her to bear.

Marinette couldn’t stop thinking about what the boy had told her about the world he had come from. He was “Chat Noir,” her partner. She defeated Shadow Moth! Well, Monarch, technically, but that guy was even more powerful, and that said something about her power, didn’t it?

She chuckled. She wondered if his father—Gabriel Agreste—was Shadow Moth in her world too. But, she pondered, from what Adrien had told, Gabriel had become a supervillain after his wife’s death, which had not happen in this world. If he immediately assumed she was Ladybug, that means she, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been (was?) Ladybug in that universe, though, right? There was little known about making a wish, very little. She sighed. She should definitely do some research on it, even if she didn’t know how.

She wanted to help him, but she couldn’t do much, could she?

“Marinette?” Ms Bustier’s voice cut through her dreaming. The girl immediately sat up straight, reading diagonally through what was written on the board behind her teacher. “Could you answer the question, please?”

“Summarise the last chapter we’ve read of L’Étranger,” whispered Alya in her ear.

Phew, that she could easily do.

After answering (luckily correctly), she smiled to herself, proud, and thanked her best friend for, as always, saving her. She looked back up at Ms Bustier, focusing on the lesson, when she was caught off guard by the kind eyes of her teacher.

That’s when she had an idea of how to help Adrien, in some way, at least.

- - -

When Agreste woke up, it was already morning, and he was back on the floor, lying near sleeping Timéo. He slowly remembered his conversation with Ladybug.

I think it could be an aftermath of the wish made by your father.

He needed time to think.

Today, he decided, he was going to walk around the city alone, without Timéo. It’s not like he was going to get lost. Plus, the guy probably had something else to do other than babysitting him, like he had been doing the past few days.

He left. It was early in the morning still (when did he go to sleep to wake up so early and yet feel refreshed?), so there were few people in the streets. He enjoyed the cold morning breeze. The barks of French dogs tugging their owners with all their force filled the air.

It seemed like he had forgotten how much he had loved this city. Still did, technically. Its buildings, its people, his home. Even if the people have been treating him like shit and his home feels like a stranger’s house feels with even stranger people—even if he was supposed to know them.

Now, when he looked around, he realised that he had never walked like this before. Simply in the streets. Today, there were no fans he had to be constantly looking out for, no Gorilla by his side for protection, no Chat Noir costume with him, and well, no real privacy. He was free.

He gave in to the urge of spreading his arms and sighing. Just like all the characters in silly films, when they finally got everything they ever wanted. But he didn’t get everything he ever wanted. He was farthest away from all he ever wanted in his whole fucking life.

Because of that fucking wish. His father’s wish that had changed it all. And, of course, Adrien was the victim. Why him? How could his father wish him this fate? He stomped, a loud sound scaring away the pigeons beside him. He wished he had his Chat Noir powers with him. He wanted to ruin something. To cataclysm something just like his father and his stupid wish had ruined his life. Gabriel hadn’t blinked twice on what his wish would do to the rest of the world. To his son. Had Adrien not been enough? Why had he never been enough in his father’s life? He had been discarded like an overdue cottage cheese as soon as his mother died. His father had never cared about him as long as Adrien had given use to the beautiful genetics he inherited. How he fucking wished he hadn’t. Maybe his father would see past the pretty faces and see his fucking son he left behind.

But, oh, there were the times right before the fucking wish, when his father had been kind to him. When they had actually spent time together. When his father, he saw it now, he took off the pink glasses that he’d been wearing at the time, simply had decided to ignore the mistreatment he had committed over the years.

Oh yes, the mistreatment. After some time of such neglect from his father, Adrien deemed it normal. Surely other kids have that too, he’d thought. Well, he’d thought so before he had met other children’s parents. Before he’d acquainted Tom and Sabine, the wonderful people that they were. Before he had started noticing all the care and love that other parents had given to their children after an akuma attack.

All the other parents but never his father.

That’s when a thought had crept in that it wasn’t how people were supposed to treat their offspring.

There were some nights, nights of which he would never tell a soul, when he had wanted an akuma to attack him. To take over his body and mind, to cause more destruction. Uncontrolled destruction, more destruction than His Lady would ever have allowed him to cause. For her to save him and meet his father. A dad who would care and love because his child had been through a traumatic event. But that had never happened. He had woken up the next morning after such nights, a part of him wondering if he actually had been under an akuma, and if even the part of the night when his father was supposed to show up, caring and loving, had been forgotten. Those mornings he hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. Or ever again.

He guessed that had never happened, though. He knew that it had been careless for Chat Noir to wish to be akumatised—practically serving his ring on a silver platter. Now, knowing just whom his father had been all along, he wondered how that interaction would go. If he had been akumatised, would his father see all his wrongs and morph into the person Adrien had always wished him to be? Would he have taken advantage of Adrien being his son and manipulated him even more?

He guessed he would never find out.

Seeing where he had just let his legs lead him, he weighed the options of his next actions.

The Agreste Manor flaunted its high modern fence right in Adrien’s face. His old house. Grand open windows and overly big doors. The terrace which his mother had always wished to be a beautiful garden. He knew this house like the palm of his hand.

However, that had been in his last life. It felt like, simply because both his parents were there, happy and alive, the manor became brighter. Its walls, which had felt grey, now shone a shade of beige yellow. A part of him knew that the colour had been here all this time, but it had been different. His father had been different. His mother had been different. The house had been different.

Maybe it’s all because Adrien hadn’t been there to dull the house’s colours. He sat down, leaning against one of the walls at the entrance. All the spectrum of emotions he had felt in… what, the past 30 minutes? left his body in a state of tears. He let his head fall onto his hands, relaxing.

His family didn’t know him. His friends didn’t know him. The world didn’t know him. There was only Timéo, a new, unexpected friendship that bloomed from the ashes of the past ones. Timéo, whom he had left this morning without a warning.

And Ladybug. But not his Ladybug. He wasn’t her Chaton. They were strangers, and so was he a stranger in this world.

Maybe the world would be better without him. Maybe he should find the nearest dumpster to die in. Nobody would know he died anyway, because nobody would search, really. He guessed Timéo would, if he were lucky. But he thinks Timéo would forgive him.

“Young man?” said a voice right in front of him. Adrien felt a painful tug in his chest. He would know him anywhere, even in death.

Yet, he seemed frozen. He couldn’t move, couldn’t lift his head from his hands. Was he too afraid of what he might see? His father’s unknowing eyes, looking at him like a stranger.

“Cheri, do you have somebody we could give a call for you?”

Even worse, his mother’s unknowing eyes. The possibility of it, the fact that if he moved his eyes even a bit higher he’d meet them, made him shake. NononononNONOnonoNONONoononono—

His eyes couldn’t blink. He could barely feel the tears hit his jeans. There wasn’t enough air in his lungs— he couldn’t breathe in fully—

HismotherhismotherhismotherhismotherhismotherhismotherHISPARENTS—

He couldn’t move. HE COULDN’T MOVE. Gentle fingers tried to lift his chin up.

He knew this touch. He knew the fingers. He knew the tenderness. He could almost imagine her smile, confused and terrified, but willing to do anything for this unknown child.

Unknown.

He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t no no not the eyes NO

Before his unmoving eyes would reach his mother’s, he bit the hand. He bit her fingers. He bit, staring unmovingly at the asphalt of his past home. His never-to-be-home-again. He bit and ran.

He ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and—

Steady hands have caught him.

“A-Adrien?”

No. No. No. He was in a dream. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t know him. It was impossible.

She led him into a closed-off alley which stunk of trash bags, cat litter, and pigeon remains. “A-Adrien. Breathe. Breathe, can you hear me?”

Her eyes… she was the Marinette that he knew. There was the same determination, same stern voice, same care, all addressed to him.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice raw.

She sighed momentarily. “Good. Now, count and tell me seven sounds that you hear around you.”

He tried to focus his hearing. But his parents, his mom—

“Adrien? Stay with me. Stay with me. Come on, what do you hear? I hear a baby girl’s laughter from the street. What to do hear? Come on, tell me.”

He focused on his surroundings, blocking the panic. He could do this for her. For Marinette.

Marinette, who knew him, how did she know him? How did she remember him, and his parents didn’t? His parents, who saw him but didn’t know him. They didn’t know—

“Adrien.”

“Adrien, let’s do this a bit differently. I talk and talk, and you focus on my voice. When you feel like you’re grounded, tell me the seven sounds, like we agreed.” She sighed, sitting down on the asphalt, her hands never letting go of his wrists. “I messed up on chemistry today,” she started in a more-or-less monotonous and soothing voice. “The teacher had asked me to solve the problem on the board, and not only did I daydream in class, totally not capturing anything that she said for the whole period, but also didn’t do my homework for today. That topic is a blank sheet of paper for me. And I will have to explain this to my pare— my friends and ask for help because they actually learned this…”

“Your voice.” She stopped for a second, confused. But then understanding coloured her features. He tried to smile, but his mouth couldn’t quite pull it off. He probably looked hideous. She smiled at him. It was full of gentleness, just like his mo—

“So, my friends actually learned this, but I didn’t. This situation, by the way, is the complete opposite of what we have in literature…” her voice carried on, steadying his track of thoughts.

Adrien closed his eyes, imagining the street nearby, full of life. “I hear a little girl,” he said. Marinette did her best not to stop talking. He was glad she didn’t. “I hear a man yelling, I—I think he is on a phone call.” His mind travelled downwards, to the feet of the passersby. “I hear heels. I hear a car’s engine revving to move forward.” Not much else could be found on the low. He imagined the sky, the trees. “I hear a crow.” Suddenly, a loud motorcycle drove by. “I—,” he laughed at the obvious noise. He couldn’t stop it, really. Laughter escaped his mouth, and he finally opened his eyes to see Marinette in front of him, holding the laughter as well. She wasn’t talking anymore, but he never caught the change himself, too focused on the other sounds. “I heard a motorcycle,” he cackled, and she burst out laughing too.

Gods… he hasn’t laughed like this in so long.

“Thank you—”

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” a voice echoed through the alley. “One does not simply run away from assaulting my wife!”

Adrien’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t look away.

Chapter Text

Gabriel Agreste barged into their alley, well, not their alley. But before Marinette could do anything about his stupid yelling, an akuma entered the man’s glasses.

Fuck.

“Adrien!” She yelled. “Follow me!”

Yet there was literally no reaction from his side. Fuck fuck fuck. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the alley. She quickly looked around, searching for a safe place. It had to be entry-proof. Somewhere, where Agreste wouldn’t think to look into. The solution was right in front of her, she realised.; well, in that case, this mission would be more risky than others. And wasn’t that every day for her, she thought.

Marinette ran at her full speed. It was a miracle that the boy behind her didn’t fall down. But, then again, she mused, he had been a superhero, and once you have been one for a while, you don’t really get rid of those skills that easily. She knew that the time for small-talk with Shadow Moth was already over, and the newly-borne supervillain would be running after Adrien in a matter of seconds.

There was going to be a lot of explaining left to do.

Marinette quickly snatched the Boulangerie’s door open and spun around, causing the boy she was holding onto to barge into her house—the safe space she planned to put him in. Hopefully, her parents haven’t seen her.

She ran behind the closest bush and transformed.

- - -

Adrien quickly checked his surroundings, looking for a place to transform at. Luckily, nobody was in the room, but the windows were too panoramic. He dug underneath a table and said, “Plagg, claws out!”

Yet, there was no effect. He checked his pockets while his thumb immediately checked his ring finger.

But there was no ring.

And then he remembered where he was.

Somebody else, Nino, was carrying his miraculous and was saving Paris. That was his job. Transforming into Chat Noir, being a hero, it came as easily as breathing to him. How was he to live without it? He wanted to go back, to be a superhero again! a voice in his head whined. Maybe Marinette shouldn’t have hidden him here. Maybe he should have just given in, making it easier for Ladybug and Nino to win.

Speaking of which, confusion quickly replaced his sadness, where was Marinette?

But before he thought of it further, he heard footsteps coming in. “Tom, I really don’t think we should let her do that project. I mean, what if they steal something? What if something happened to her in there?”

He knew who was talking. Was he in…?

He looked around. Panoramic windows, baked goods all around, golden letters on the windows… He was at Sabine and Tom’s bakery.

Were they talking about Marinette?

Yeah, it’s not like she has a secret sister or something, you dumbass. Wait, could she have a sister in here? If she remembered him, what if it affected her family somehow, too?

“Those are homeless people, Tom, they scramble for anything they can find, I can’t believe other parents are letting their kids do this.”

Oh.

A loud quake shook the ground beneath his feet. Ah, he thought absentmindedly, the Eiffel Tower must have fallen down. A regular Tuesday.

His superhero instincts kicked in, and he got out of his hiding place. He startled Sabine and Tom, of course, but he didn’t care. They didn’t seem to care about him either when they were discussing him a second ago, did they? “Get to safety! There’s an Akuma attack!”

He got out of the building, following his instincts. “Hide! Get to safety! Everyone!” he yelled. Even if he couldn’t transform and have superpowers, he sure as hell was not letting civilians die or get injured.

- - -

Marinette dragged herself home. She was planning on talking to her parents today about her new idea, but she was tired senseless after fighting Gabriel Agreste. She knew she should be trying to uncover the Shadow Moth’s identity (especially given the fact that there was more information to check on from what Adrien had told her), and she was going to tomorrow. Before that, she was to have a restful sleep.

“Marinette, dear, I am so glad you’re home,” pleaded her mom, running up to her, hugging. “That akuma attack today was so terrifying!”

She says that every time. “Yeah, Mom. I’m glad we’re all together now.” The girl smiled. Just like she responded every time.

“Now, Marinette, before you go to sleep, we have something to talk to you about,” stated her dad, motioning at the empty seat beside him on the couch.

“Can it really not wait until tomorrow…?” she sighed, stumbling forward. She was afraid that if she were to sit on the couch, she would immediately fall asleep.

“I’m afraid not,” said her mother, “Ms Bustier wants an answer by the day after tomorrow, and both of us are out of town before that, as you know.”

“Oh.” The daughter retreated. “It’s about that.” She longingly stared at the stairway up to her room. “Can you just fill out the form? It’s in my bag.” She started walking again.

Her bed was waiting for her upstairs, so lovely, so comfortable, her goodnight’s sleeeeep. It’s Saturday, and she could sleep in tomorrow…

“Marinette, we won’t sign the form,” said Sabine. Her tone said everything. It was clear it was final.

Her world seemed to stop spinning. “What?!” she shrieked, turning around and running to her parents. All the exhaust was gone in a blink.

“Me and your mother talked, and we decided that we won’t let you go,” supplied Tom.

This was not how this was supposed to go. This was not how they were supposed to react. “But… But…” Her plan was ruining right in front of her, the required agreement seeping through her fingers like sand. “Why not?”

“Because we don’t trust anything bad not to happen to you. You always mean well, but this may cause you to be naïve. You may get hurt,” alleged her mother.

She was powerless in making her parents change their minds! She’s learned that since she was a little child! It all depends on Mom’s tone, her mind rambled in anger. And if she did change her mind after Marinette’s words, that decision was planned not to be buried that deeply for easy uprooting if the child decided to do so.

This? This was a decision buried so deep it was fucking bunker.

“Nope. Give me a better explanation.” She blurted out before she could stop herself. Sabine clutched her teeth together.

“Marinette,” tried her dad, always the mediator, “why don’t you tell us why this is so important to you?” What is the reason you can’t simply side with us?

She started pacing a little, she barely noticed it herself. “First of all, I am 15 years old, only 3 years before being considered an adult, and am considered more mature than the rest of the class! Second of all, you are my parents, can’t you just trust me if I say that I won’t answer if anybody calls me—“

“You already did,” interrupted her mother, “this whole expedition is the answer to the call of the needy! So, as you’ve said, we are your parents, and we can and will get to decide what’s best for you!”

“How can you believe to know what’s best for me if you don’t know—“

“Change the tone, right now!” yelled her mother.

“You change your tone!” Marinette yelled back.

As always, her dad sided with her mom. “Go up to your room and think about your behaviour!”

“Arrhgh!!” She stomped up, and forcefully pushed the attic door downwards faster, creating a loud bang.

Immediately, Tikki appeared. “Marinette, what are you going to tell Ms Bustier?” Apparently, the kwami wasn’t big on social cues, because that was not something you should say to a person who is dreadfully asking themselves the same.

“I don’t know, Tikki, maybe instead of asking that question, you should have an idea of an answer yourself!” she groused.

She wanted to break something! But, no, no, everything around her was too precious.

Then why not do it outside of her room?

“Tikki, spots out!”

She flung through the city, searching for places people won’t notice her ruinous impulses. Finally, Ladybug landed inside an abandoned building—never to be fully finished. Oh, what her parents would say if they saw her there.

It was cold and, to an extent, moist. There were stones lying around, and she could vaguely shape out graffiti. It was night pitch dark otherwise.

“We are your parents, and we can and will get to decide what’s best for you!”

“You may get hurt.”

Anger boiled in her again. She picked up a rock and threw it as far as she could. It did not have the desired effect; it simply flung from one wall to another. It wasn’t enough.

She hit a nearby wall with her fists.

What was she going to say to Ms Bustier? To Adrien?

It didn’t matter that the boy in question didn’t even know what she was doing. 

The wall shattered into pieces, going everywhere across the floor. It thankfully let the building remain still.

But no. The wall didn’t dereve this. Marinette did.

She was the one who let down Adrien. She was the one who screamed at her mother. She was the one who couldn’t do anything good for anybody else as Marinette.

She detransformed, letting Tikki out with a whoosh. Immediately, not caring about the kwami’s need for recharge, she ran into another wall, fist-first.

Sharp pain erupted in, what seemed, the entirety of her left arm. She gritted her teeth and did it again with her other fist.

Marinette deserved this.

And again.

She couldn’t even show up at a project of her own making.

And again.

She let everyone down.

And again.

She couldn’t even save her city, causing it to suffer from continuous attacks.

And again.

She deserved this pain.

The fingers of her right hand accidentally brushed over the knuckles of her left hand. A new wave of pain had hit her hands again. It felt like they were burning. She stopped, trying to see what her knuckles looked like.

There was no anger left. Marinette felt… numb. Her mind started thinking rationally again; no feelings to interrupt the thinking process this time. She has to cover the wounds up, because there definitely were definitely going to be signs of what happened tonight and she… didn’t want people to see it. Oh, what if there’s blood? That means she’d have to disinfect her hands. She couldn’t afford to do it at home, for her parents might see her.

Mind you, pain was still a factor, but she had been in pain a lot over the past year. Probably, she mused, her mind still hasn’t caught up with the fact that this pain was going to take much longer to heal than when she is superheroing.

She took out a macaroon for the overly quiet Tikki. The gesture was impossible to do without twitching, for her fingers had to move after all. “Eat,” she commanded, much unlike herself. She had to swing out of here, find a pharmacy, and treat her wounds.

Grimacing with every motion, Marinette took out her phone and turned on the lightswitch to check the damage made. She had to ignore the pain. She had to know.

The knuckles on her left hand were a bloody mess. The skin was torn open in some places, which had caused it to pile together in others. The whole knuckle area was basically covered in the red liquid. And so was the one on the left hand.

She looked up at the wall in front of her, the wall she’d been hitting. Red splashes were mostly focused in one spot, yet they were there. This made her freeze in fear. It felt beyond her understanding. There was no way in the world that she could do this.

She stood there, hypnotised by her own creation, when Tikki murmured that she had finished eating.

Were the wounds going to stay after the transformation? If they did… She could survive this, she told herself. All the swinging and moving of her knuckles would just prepare her for what is to come tomorrow when she had to write things down on a sheet of paper.

“Tikki, spots out!”

She checked her knuckles first and foremost. Luckily, the pain was gone. She sighed in relief.

This was going to be a long night.

- - -

“Timéo?” Adrien yelled. “Timéo, are you in here?”

The rest of the folk glared at him, one by one, for interrupting their peace. But none acted, thankfully.

He quietly left. Where could the boy? The whole city knew the attack was long gone because the sparks of creation had been flying around the city a while ago, so where would he be? He certainly shouldn’t have been hiding anymore. Even if Adrien knew the city, he didn’t exactly know the perfect places for homeless people to spend their time in.

Suddenly, big, heavy arms surrounded him, nearly breaking his ribs. He pushed as many painful spots of a human as he knew, causing the person holding him to let him go.

“What the hell, blondie?!” came out a yell of pain. Oh.

Timéo.

Adrien blushed beetroot-red. “IMSORRY!!!”

“Ow!” Timéo massaged the places the other boy had poked. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Fighting classes,” he murmured. It’s not like he could tell he learnt that from being a superhero that the world had suddenly forgotten.

Shock was evident on Timéo’s face, though he decided against voicing his thoughts.

Schooling his expression to a regular one, he looked Adrien up and down protectively. Was he checking if anything happened while he wasn’t there? That was surprisingly nice of him, Agreste noted, although he wasn’t sure what he was expecting anyway.

Timéo started walking slowly, starting the pace for the other boy to catch up to him. “So… where were you this whole time? The whole… day?”

There was something in his voice… Adrien looked up at him, but his friend didn’t meet his eyes.

“Um…” He recalled everything that happened today. Meeting his parents which caused a panic attack, Marinette calming him, Marinette possibly knowing him from Before, and his miniature part in the fight with Shadow Moth. What should he tell?

“Eh.” He shrugged, lifting his arms.

Timéo looked at him for a second, expecting more of an answer, and when that didn’t come, the boy stared in front of him, probably calming his emotions.

Adrien couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “Your face!”

“Blondie, what do you mean my face?! This is an absolutely valid reaction to your,” he mimicked his interlocutor with an excessively high voice, “eh”

“I do not sound like that!”

“’I do not sound like that!’” he mimicked again, for what Adrien lightly kicked him with his elbow. They exchanged smiles.

“How was your day? What did you do?” asked the blonde, changing the topic.

“I searched for you,” Timéo said, not meeting the other’s eyes.

Searched for him?

Adrien looked up at him. He felt this weird, uncontrollable urge to just hug the man.

But no, he wasn’t even sure they were friends. That would be bizarre behaviour. He swiftly reached out for the boy’s wrist, squeezing it with all his force. Timéo jerked around, a surprised expression on his face. “Thank you,” Adrien said earnestly, a small smile on the corner of his lips. Timéo’s face changed, gentleness embellishing his features.

“I’ve met someone today.” Adrien let go of his wrist. Suddenly, he felt very tired, but a part of him was glad he told this to Timéo, even this little. “Someone from… before.”

The other boy hummed in understanding. It was clear he didn’t expect much more information than that. “Does it ever happen to you too?” asked Adrien so quietly that it was a wonder anyone heard him.

“Sometimes I wish it did.” He didn’t say anything after that.

Chapter Text

Nino knew that when Marinette set her mind to something, she wouldn’t let go until she was faced with a clear rejection. And although her ends were always for the best, her means weren’t always that good. The least he could do was try to change her mind through talking.

And now, she was definitely up to something. It was written all over her face; she couldn’t focus in class and from time to time wrote down something in her notebook, grimacing slightly (he looked in it once, and the formatting was clearly not about anything of what they’d studied).

The grimacing was another thing. He was fairly sure it had something to do with the gloves she’s started wearing today. She didn’t talk about it.

“Woah, what’s with the new fashion, girl?” asked Alya when she came to class.

Marinette didn’t answer, the courners of her lips curling up. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. If anyone asked him, there was bitterness in them. Silently, she sat down near her friend. When Nino turned around, he saw her clench her teeth as she put her backpack down.

She barely spoke that day, and her friends made peace with it. There were whispers as she passed through the hallways, but Nino and Alya did their best to stop them.

“Can’t you see how rude you’re being?”

“Well,” drawled Chloé, “she deserves being rude to for simply existing, I don’t make the rules.”

“Ugh!” This brought more attention to Alya’s discourse. “Do all of you really want to be like her? Stop talking behind people’s backs!”

When the school day finished, Marinette stopped the two from turning their paths. “Hey guys, wait!” Both turned around at the words. “I know I haven’t talked a lot to you today, I’m sorry. I’ve just… I had to do something about the situation…”

“Which situation, dude?” Nino asked, immediately wary, wondering if something had happened to his best friend.

She looked at their oblivious expressions with confusion. “The failed Provide To The Homeless project? Isn’t this what everybody has been talking about today?”

“Oh.” Alya awkwardly scratched the back of her head. “To be honest, everybody has been discussing your cold shoulder more than anything.”

The girl nodded thoughtfully. “Now, I met this one guy,” Alya and Nino leaned closer, towering over her. She was momentarily taken aback but continued: “…there. And, no, not in that way. He is homeless, and I really wanted to help him; that’s why I’ve started this whole thing. But the project didn’t work as it didn’t become as popular as I’ve wanted, and… other factors,” she added in small voice, “so today I’ve created dozens of ideas, it seems.” She chuckled to herself. “But I don’t know what to do, because I can’t possibly pursue them all, as some of them are controversial, and stuff like that…”

“Well, have you talked to him?” asked Alya.

“…yes?” Marinette’s face was covered with confusion, but then realisation dawned over her. “Oh! Like, in general, or what do you mean?”

“What about asking him what he wants?”

“No… I haven’t done that, thanks a lot! Adrien, Adrien, Adrien, how do I meet you…” she started murmuring.

Wait.

“What did you say his name was?” Nino began hesitantly.

“Adrien.” A beat. “I don’t know his surname.”

Adrien was the name of the blonde who stole his miraculous, at least according to Ladybug. But no, it couldn’t be… right? “Could you, um, describe what he looks like in case I meet him? You know, to find the famous guy we’ve heard all about today?”

She pondered for a moment. “He’s a teenage boy, white, average height, blonde, green eyes.”

“He’s homeless?!” Nino blurted out before he could stop himself.

The two girls looked at him weirdly. “Yes? I’ve just said that a minute ago.”

“Uh, I’ve just meant, he sounds gorgeous! What would a boy like that do on the streets?”

Alya looked at both of her friends sceptically. Something had occurred in her mind. “Okay, Marinette, I say you should go and talk to him about what he wants; you know, maybe find out more about his personality itself. Everybody deserves to be listened to and known. Meanwhile, Nino and I have to go, we have something planned,” she winked at her best friend. The boy nodded. He has long ago learned that he shouldn’t fight with his girlfriend when she makes random stuff up to escape meetings.

As they said their goodbyes, Alya led them to an empty bench in a park. Her face was that of a reporter, always ready to take in new information, always curious. “Do you know him? Adrien, I mean.”

Oh, so this was that type of conversation. He sighed. “Yes,” his brows furrowed in distaste. “He spawned on the top of my roof and tried to enter the apartment. I had to lie to get him out of trouble. I… honestly don’t know why I did that. He just had good vibes, I guess. But that statement was proven wrong when he stole my ring.”

Alya’s eyes widened. “Wait, he stole your ring? Does he know?”

“Yes.” He looked down at his hands. “Bug had to retreat it from him herself; it was pure luck that she was there for it. She told me afterwards that he was speaking to Plagg when she found him. That’s how I know.”

“Hmm. How could he know about it? Could it be that he was…?”

“Akumatised? We thought so too. But then some weird stuff happened: Bug’s Lucky Charm, of course, and she let him go. Apparently, he wasn’t.”

He sighed again, letting his head fall onto his girlfriend’s shoulder. He was thankful, for more than anything, that she knew his secret identity. It was easier to bear the weight of a double life.

When he had just started dating Alya, he was a bit careless with his secret identity. No, it’s not like he was parading it, or whatever. But he took less control over his filter. For example, one time they were at a cinema date and somebody on the screen got smashed with a chunk of wall. His stupid ass had decided to say, “Been there, done that. Not as fun as it looks.”

Another time, when he was Monsieur Msh, he had faced Alya. Her phone was, as always, capturing it all. He had leapt by, smiling at the camera, posing, you know, as Msh always was, but then, and truly, he didn’t know why his filter didn’t work that time, he had yelled “Hey, babe!” across the whole of Paris. And, yes, it could have just been a superhero flirting with a regular civilian, but it still helped her solve the case.

The third big clue that he had given, that he didn’t even know about until after his girlfriend pointed it out herself, was that he had murmured “Pound it, Bug,” in his sleep. And, of course, Alya had been there to notice it because, apparently, this had happened when she spent a lot of time at his place when he was sick.

So, then, one day, she had confronted him about it. One evening, they had had a date, and he had suddenly realised that he had never told her that he was trans. “Hey, babe, there’s something you should know.” He’d leaned away, focusing his gaze on something else. Would she still want to be with him? This had been a rash decision, but he hadn’t wanted her to find out some other way. No, he just had to do it now and face the consequences later. He had started the conversation already; he had to finish it.

“That you’re Msh?” she had interrupted.

His eyes had grown sizes like coins. He hadn’t known what to do. Should he have run? Should he have confirmed? His mind had short-circuited.

Alya had leaned closer, trying to get a look at his face. “Wait, that’s true?” she had yelped.

So, his mouth had done the only thing the part of his brain that still worked could do. He had said what he had planned to say from the start. “I’m trans.”

He hadn’t seen her reaction, still staring at his shoes, unable to do much more. “Hey, Nino,” her voice had spoken soothingly. She slowly hugged him, as if trying not to scare him. “It’s okay. I know it all, and I still love you more and more with each upcoming day.”

And, truly, her knowing his identity had helped more than anything. Not only he had somebody to talk to about the other half of his life, but also, as far as he had heard, Alya provided him with all sorts of alibis when he was out fighting.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” his girlfriend said, bringing him back to reality. “If Marinette noticed him, maybe he isn’t that bad. Plus, getting closer to him might allow you to figure out what side he is on, considering his knowledge about miraculouses.”

“Well, you know how Marinette is, she will find good in anyone,” he said, avoiding answering Alya’s idea.

The girl arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for his further response. “You know, as a reporter, I can talk to the boy myself,” she smirked, knowing every ounce of how that manipulation will work out.

“No,” he looked at her sternly, “I can defend myself if something bad happens. You, meanwhile, don’t have your miraculous with you at all times, and we can’t risk that.”

“You sure?” She got up, hands on her hips, a teasing smile brightening her features, “because I want to go right now—“ She was cut off by Nino hugging her back to him. Her laugh as he did so was music to his ears.

- - -

The next time he and Ladybug were fighting an akumaised villain, he asked her as nonchalantly as he could. “Have you heard from that guy Adrien Agreste? You said something about finding out more about the situation when we let him go that day.”

“Why sudden interest, M?” She breathed as she hit the villain. “But yes, I have contacted him. He’s alive and...” A frown slipped onto her face. “He’s alive.”

“I just thought—No, you don’t, big guy—“ He hit the villain away, irritating him even more (which was what he intended to do; it was Bug’s plan). “I just thought, you know, I could talk to him, sort stuff out.”

Ladybug set the giant in place, and ordered her partner to cataclysm the man’s helmet. Then, after throwing a Lucky Charm car wheel into the air, she turned around to face him again. “Pound it.” They smiled at each other.

After the moment passed, Msh returned to the topic. “I was just wondering: if you contacted him before, you know where he lives, right?”

She sent him a sullen look. “Adrien… he… has been through stuff, connected to miraculouses, really connected to miraculouses,” she murmured, “and I… I guess I have a soft spot for him because there’s not much I can do about what happened.” Msh waited patiently, taking in the new information. “Please don’t do anything stupid.” She sighed and told him the specifics of the boy’s place of staying.

- - -

Marinette ran with all her force across the street, pushing people out of her way. How could she be so stupid? Why wouldn’t she simply swing across to the building and detransform there? No, she had to run and be even more late.

Panting, she quickly changed into her fencing uniform and silently entered the gym. The piste, the 14-meter-long fencing area, was occupied by two currently engaged fencers. It was a dance of lunges, defences, parries, and attacks.

But she wasn’t interested in the fight itself. Her eyes, with less than a second of searching, found a red spot on the horizon, easily noticeable amongst the white uniforms. She smiled to herself.

“Dupain-Cheng!” came a sudden yell. The two fencers on the piste have, apparently, finished fighting. Everybody turned to look at her. D’Argencourt stared at her, his brows furrowed in anger. “Why are you late to class?”

“I…” Quick! Think of something! Her mom needed help? No, he knows she’s a lovely woman. Oh, you know, Coach, was simply fighting akumas and their wrongdoings. Same old, same old. “My dog died!” she blurted out. Somewhere in her peripheral vision, she saw Kagami face-palm.

The man sighed, holding the bridge of his nose. He murmured something akin to “teenagers” from what she’s read on his lips. “Please, if you’re late, even though this is unacceptable, make up good lies.” He opened his eyes and looked into the souls of each one in the room. “That applies to all of you.” Then he specifically stared at Marinette. “Your dog died 8 times in the past three months,” he said, and let the silence speak for his judgment. His voice turned strict again, “Now, give me your best. Tsurugi, Dupain-Cheng.” He motioned them to come on the piste.

He knows they are the best in class, she smirked secretly. This is why he lets her go so easily for being late to class and all her lame lies.

The girls stood in front of each other for a second, staring into each other’s eyes. Marinette didn’t exactly know what her own expression was portraying, but in Kagami’s lovely chocolate eyes shone cold, calculated precision.

The two saluted, and put on the masks, taking en garde position. “En garde! Prêts! Allez!” said D’Argencourt.

Swiftly, Marinette lunged, and all Kagami could do was parry, leaving her in a defender’s position. They played with each other’ blades, touching one another’s but not going for the end. Suddenly, Marinette beat attacked and a “halt!” echoed through the room. They stepped forward and saluted, ending the round. Marinette panted as she returned to her position.

“En garde! Prêts! Allez!” This time, Kagami attacked first and scored a point. It was quick and calculated. The other girl didn’t even have a chance to defend. As they returned back to their positions, anger bubbled in Dupain-Cheng, but she let it pass through. She, as too many previous experiences had taught her, did not stand much of a chance in any competition when angry.

This was going to be a long match: she was not going to give up that easily, and so was Kagami.

A while later, with their uniforms soaking in sweat, the class ended. D’Argencourt had to physically come in and disrupt them before they would start a new round. Only then did Marinette notice that everybody else spent gods know how much time fencing in pairs. She was too engrossed in her own doing that she didn’t even notice when people had been instructed to start doing their own bouts.

The girls saluted one last time and retreated to the locker rooms. Unlike in her class, Marinette had no friends in this community, and yet, she felt pretty comfortable with that.

“Why do you come here?” scolded Kagami beside her. Oh, yeah, Marinette won the first bout and Kagami won the second one, both with the minimal distance in points. Evidently, it wasn’t enough for her. The other girl expected more complaints, but none came.

“It allows me to keep my physique—” Marinette started counting on her fingers— “I think sword fighting’s pretty cool, the uniforms are badass, it strokes my ego to be known as one of the best in class—”

“And yet you still didn’t say anything about the sport itself.” Kagami returned to her things, paying her no mind. Marinette stopped in her tracks. “Maybe you don’t belong here if you don’t enjoy it; try something else,” and leave the position in the upcoming tournament to me was unsaid. After that, Tsurugi left.

That’s the thing. The short period of time before somebody had to be chosen by D’Argencourt was shrinking with every class and day. It was clear that the choice lay between Kagami and Marinette, but only one could claim the spot.

Marinette grumbled and kicked the bench beside her foot. She immediately regretted it.

“You shouldn’t let your anger get the better of you like that,” said Tikki as they walked the empty evening streets.

“Shut up!” She sighed when the kwami looked at her expectantly. “I know, I know, sorry. It’s just…!” she motioned with her hands. “I bet Kagami doesn’t have a superhero identity she has to keep in secret from the whole of Paris.” Then she stopped as her thoughts caught up with what she just had said. “Wait,” she held her face in her palms, “she does.” Ladybug gave the other girl the Dragon Miraculous from time to time, despite their differences.

She suddenly crashed into somebody, all her fencing equipment falling everywhere out of her bag. “I’m sorry!!” she cried.

“It’s okay, Marinette, let me help you,” said a familiar voice. In any other situation she would have ushered the person away, but, well. It was Luka. She could afford being helped, she thought as she smiled at the blue-haired boy that was offering her a hand.

- - -

Msh finally arrived a the spot that his partner had told him about. The boy who’d stolen his miraculous, Adrien, was curled up in front of him. He looked innocent while sleeping, the superhero noted. He was also much dirtier than before. He’d changed from their last meeting.

If there weren’t so many pressing matters, Nino would have found another time to talk to him. However, this was the exam week, and today’s night was the only really free one before hell starts. He had to sort his shit out with the guy tonight, otherwise, it was literally going to be another week before he could talk to him.

And, of course, his sleep schedule suffered now because he ran out of excuses for leaving during the day or “staying longer at school”—basically excuses for spending more time in the body that he actually liked—in the span of a little less than his first two months of superheroing.

Clearing his throat, Msh leaned in and said right into the sleeping boy’s ear, “Adrien. Wake up.”

Agreste jerked awake, eyes wide with fear. He nearly hit the hero with his nose, but stopped in time. “What..?”

Soon enough, the boy’s eyes focused on the face of the person in front of him. “Nino? What are you doing here?”

“We have to talk,” came the response and the two leapt onto the roof of a nearby building (Nino was holding the boy’s fickle body, of course).

“So?” Adrien said, standing, his hands fidgeting behind his back.

“Okay.” Nino sat down. “Firstly, I want to say I’m sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night; there was truly no other day I could talk to you. Secondly,” his gaze sharpened, “We really need to talk. How do you know who I am? Have you been stalking me? Who are you, even?”

The blonde pondered for a moment. “What day is it today?”

“Uh… technically June 26th?”

“Ah.” Adrien smiled to himself. “Exams.”

Msh decided not to think about how the guy knew. Probably he went to school at some point, right? Right? “Back to my question?” He wanted to sound assertive, but it sounded more like a question.

“Look.” The boy started walking a bit, his hands now fidgeting in front of his chest. The fact that the hero was sitting down while the questioned person roamed freely didn’t bring power to Msh’s situation. He wondered if he should stand up too. Would that be weird? Focus, he grumbled. “Nobody is really sure of how the universe changed in a day,” then he murmured amd went on rambling, “or did I change? What if my memories were changed? Well, that’s terrifying, Adrien, why would you think of that?” A beat. He looked at the person beside him with an odd look. “It’s really weird to see you like this, Nino. What’s your new name?”

He was giving him the heebee-jeebees, dude. Not cool. But, his mind supplied, this is the perfect time to stand up. So he did. “I’m Monsieur Msh. The second part is how you say ‘cat’, a male cat, in Moroccan Arabic.” He stopped. “Don’t change the topic. I don’t have the whole night. How do you know me?”

The boy chuckled. It was a bitter, yet nice sound. “You know, technically, you are the one who is desperate for information in here. But, exams are a shitty deal, so let’s get right into it.” He told the superhero quite a lot about his life before the Jump, or that’s how the guy called the sudden change in the environment around him. He told him about their relationship and their friends. He told him that he wielded the Miraculous of Destruction instead of Msh before everything changed.

Soon enough, the wariness in the Monsieur’s gaze changed into sympathy. “Wow… I guess I can see why my heart told me to trust you when we first met.” He pitied Agreste. Who would be that heartless to cause such destruction in somebody’s life?

Chapter Text

Marinette didn’t know how to confront Adrien. Should it be in her Ladybug form, should it be in her civilian attire? He’d met both! This was such a simple choice, and yet she couldn’t do it. She should probably meet up with Luka at some point and discuss her inability to decide. Oh, but what would she tell him…!

“Girl, relax,” Alya’s voice put a stop to her overthinking. “I know meeting new people may be scary, but you’re, like, a social butterfly! Plus, not everybody is like Chloé. You may make a new friend! Or, even then…” her friend went on, but Marinette’s thoughts travelled elsewhere.

It was nice that Alya tried to comfort her, even though the girl thought that her worries were about the upcoming friendship tournament. Everyone in their friend group took part in the tournament, and, honestly, this was the last of Marinette’s concerns.

“Now! You’ve all heard the instructions!” yelled Myléne. Everybody checked their phones for the upcoming riddle. One by one, the girls exclaimed their answers and ran outside to meet their partners in the game.

“The Paris zoo!” the blue-haired girl declared victoriously and fled. At the location, she waited and waited. She checked the riddle several times, and even asked some strangers what they thought the answer to the riddle was. Everybody’s answer was the same as the spot they were walking at. How stupid can her partner be?! This will end up as a complete failure; she won’t even be able to go on to the next point because to get the next riddle, they have to scan QR codes on their phones. She groaned, “This is a compleeeete disaster, Tikki.”

“Who’s Tikki?”

“KAGAMI?!” she screeched and jumped away, taken aback.

“Yes,” the girl in front of her said, again with her cold and calculated tone. There was a glint of deep sadness in her eyes. “It seems that—“

“Wait, you’re here because of the friendship tournament?” Marinette perked up, pointing one accusatory finger at her.

Tsurugi slowly put the other girl’s hand away from her face. For a moment, it seemed that her eyes became even sadder; but, no, Marinette told herself, it was her brain being wrong. “Are we in for the tournament or not? We are clearly put together as partners.” Her gaze studied her. Marinette sighed, determined to win even if she had to work with Kagami of all people. In reponse, she stretched out her hand with the QR.

When they finished scanning one another’s phones, another riddle appeared. Out of the two of them, Dupain-Cheng was the first one to yell out, “Le Grand Paris hotel! Of course!” and ran towards it without looking back.

When they got to the hotel, Marinette looked around for the first time and, thankfully, Kagami was catching up several feet behind her. She ran to the reception and got the hint to the next place from the person behind the table. The man smiled at them. It was a nice smile. Kagami, who had just come to the reception bar, smiled back at him. Marinette didn’t do so—she was too focused on figuring out the solution, but seeing her partner for today smile was simply new, to say the least. She had never seen her smile before. All that they had ever exchanged were nasty comments, but, no, they weren’t rivals per se. She had seen her smirking at her, that she remembered. Plus, they were working together now, and could rivals do that? Marinette didn’t think so.

But then she realised that they hadn’t spoken a word ever since they had met each other today. She suddenly remembered how sad Kagami’s eyes had looked. “What happened?” She looked away from the riddle. She was met with a gentle quirk of the girl’s lips. “Why were you so sad?” With that, the beautiful smile disappeared.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go. Have you solved the riddle already?” She was back again, with that placid look and a calculated gaze. Marinette grumbled the name of the next clue in response. “Why are you letting yourself get sidetracked from achieving what you want?” Kagami asked, curiosity seeping through her voice. Did she notice how Marinette get distracted when solving the riddle?

Yet, she shrugged half-heartedly. “Sometimes a sidetrack may become more important than what we wanted to achieve from the start, in the end of things.”

Kagami didn’t comment on that. Instead, they ran to the next point, and soon the next, and the next.

They worked well as a team, Marinette noted. Not that they would work together ever again, probably. Dupain-Cheng made sure they were quick and led them through all the city’s good shortcuts. She learnt about them in her Ladybug Time, and it was honestly surprising how Kagami hadn’t said anything about her extensive knowledge. Meanwhile, Tsurugi kept them on task. Interestingly enough, she was the one whom the person on the location who had to deliver the next riddle – if there were any – liked better. This usually meant that they got from one place to another without any trouble. Once, even, on a particularly nasty riddle, she had managed to get out the name of the next station from one of them.

“Marinette, the answer is the Louvre! Let’s go!” Oh yeah, that’s another thing. Kagami was also incredibly interested in winning. Just like Marinette. The blue-haired girl smirked despite herself.

She quickly looked down at her phone. A long time has passed since they had started . And the predicted time of when somebody would win is around 17:00, which was…

“WHAT!? We are 30 minutes away from the end?!” she gasped. A deep-rooted panic filled the other girl’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with determination.

“If we move on a bike, we will get sixty percent of advantage compared to if we run since we won’t be that tired, and, additionally, it is narrower compared to...” Dupain-Cheng nodded hastily, not listening to the rest of the sentence. They had to get to the museum before anybody else, and whichever places were left until their final destination. They had to win.

“But where do we find a bike? We don’t have one!” An idea occurred in her mind. “Wait! I have a friend, Luka, he can drive us—“ But before she could finish the sentence, she saw Kagami run up to a bike, somebody else’s bike…

And then she changed her course and sat on a nearby motorbike.

Marinette fought the urge to scream.

“Are you coming or not?” she yelled over the roaring of the machine. It was a miracle that the person to whom it belonged wasn’t seeing this. Otherwise, it must have seemed completely normal, for nobody really turned around at her antics.

“Yes!” she yelled back, anger and disgust written all over her face as she took the second helmet Kagami somehow found. “This is insane! We shouldn’t do this!”

“We’ve wasted already whole 2 minutes, Marinette. Our chances of winning are shrinking as we are speaking.” And, with no more things said, they took off to their next clue.

- - -

It was weird, that’s what Adrien could say for sure. He was growing more and more used to this world, which was a disturbing thought to say the least. He had Timéo, and it was nice. Heart-warming, even. But also, he had all the people from before the Jump showing back up in his life: Nino, Marinette, Ladybug… did his parents count too?

Yet, despite the growing comfort, there was a darkness in him. A small, minuscule part of his mind that gnawed and spoke to him in tongues. It wished for how things were before. Because he knew that if nothing was done—and nothing could be done, really—he’d be stuck here, on the streets, living a miserable life and reminiscing about the days before fate decided to play a trick on him. And he could do nothing about it. Not in the awaiting future, not today.

He couldn’t go back to school anymore, couldn’t find a soul on this Earth who would remember him from the start, from when he could remember them. Although! his mind supplied, Marinette might!

He remembered how she had soothed him that day. Vivid in his memory, her “Adrien!” stuck to his brain like a tattoo. Could she have also been affected by the Wish that his father had made? Her parents have been okay, though. And she still had friends who remembered her. And the life of a superheroine. Now that he thought about it, the prospect of her jumping from Before made less and less sense; but then, why did she run away when Timéo tried to talk to her (it was definitely Adrien’s fault that she left, not Timéo’s. Adrien knew), and how did she know his name?

No. He pushed away the stupid theory. He was alone in this. His life turned upside down, and all he was left to do was come to terms with it. He hated feeling so helpless. It was his life, didn’t he have a say in it?

This was probably what his father had thought before deciding on terrorising Paris, his mind supplied. He had felt helpless about Adrien’s mother’s death and decided to do something about it.

To do something about it—

“Blondie, I know you are the brooding type—have figured just as much, by the way—but you not even replying to my questions is mildly offending.”

That’s something that has been continuously evolving during his stay here. His stay; as if he wasn’t doomed to spend the rest of his days here. He started responding to that nickname of his friend’s. It even caused him to get out of his “brooding.”

“Yeah? Sorry, got…” he swirled his fingers around his head, “…lost. What were you saying? I promise I’ll pay attention now,” he added in a small voice.

“It’s fine, whatever, doesn’t matter. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I really hope you don’t zone out this time,” he chuckled half-heartedly. Adrien nodded, forcing all his attention onto the man beside him. “I will be searching for a job.” A beat. That statement felt like… a lot. “Somebody told me to try to change my life while I still can, before I get… stuck…” he paused, clearly skipping over valuable information. Adrien let it slide. “And I don’t know if it will be inside the city. Probably on the outskirts.”

There was a pregnant pause. Timéo was surely fighting over something inside of himself. “And you don’t know what to do with me, do you?” the younger guessed. Timéo nodded guiltily.

Just like a mother hen, then. Adrien pondered. Hadn’t he been contemplating how his life was as miserable as it could get? That he couldn’t get out of the never-ending circle of sadness? This could be his one-way ticket to get out of it; to have a chance at a happy life. If it ever could be happy again. He pushed that thought away. Why hasn’t he thought of searching for a job himself before?

“Wait,” Adrien changed the topic before he realised it himself, “why didn’t you let me go to some sort of Child Services?” He understood that he had been too busy dealing with what happened to think much of any other place except where he’d been, for in his mind, everything seemed unreachable for a while. But Timéo, his friend and only companion since the start of his jorney of After The Jump; he was supposed to give a child without parents to the Services.

“I’m not the one to pry. I don’t know what happened and won’t until you want to tell me the story, if ever.” He had said when they’d first met.

At his question, Timéo’s face became emotionless as a stone. “I had a friend who was taken there. She was given to some sort of family. It was all good and nice in the start, I even got to see her from time to time, but that family…” His face grimaced in anger. “She killed herself because of them.”

Oh. Adrien stared in front of him in shock. “My condolences.”

“I didn’t want that happening to you. To anyone, frankly.” The boy’s voice was tear-filled, and he spoke in whispers, but the blonde couldn’t bring himself to look at the man before him.

“Don’t you have a home to come back to? Parents waiting?” He had asked about his parents, Adrien recalled. Right before Adrien had made himself lose consciousness. Timéo had wanted to know if the boy in front of him had somebody to return to; somebody instead of Child Services, where he was supposed to go to in such a case.

“I want to go searching for a job with you.”

At first, Timéo looked at him like he’d grown two heads. But, quickly enough, his gaze coloured with something akin to understanding. They were quite similar. Adrien didn’t know much about the boy in front of him, but there was a sense that they were more of the same that they could imagine. Yeah, as if his loved ones forgot him overnight. He pushed the ridiculous thought away.

Nevertheless, it was nice to have somebody by his side who didn’t know anything about his past—and still wanted to be there, to be beside him. To help him, but not out of pity. To help him because they are in the same position. With everybody else—like Ladybug and Nino (he doubts he will call him Msh any time soon—if ever)—coming back into his life, talking to him and interrogating him about how he lived before, having Timéo there with their I-don’t-know-anything-about-you-really-but-I-like-it-beside-you friendship was a luxury he didn’t know he’d acquire.

As they sat down and discussed their possible futures, a nice, warm feeling settled in his guts. Maybe, everything was going to turn out better than he’d expected.

Yet, the darkness, deep in the back of his mind, still gnawed, still persistent on doing something. It was still there, still chanting its genius, still waiting to be noticed.

But no. Everything was going to be alright, Adrien told himself.

Chapter Text

They miraculously hadn’t been caught by the police. Marinette had been terrified for her life nearly every minute of their drive-through (meaning all the time, except for when they had been standing still in front of the traffic lights). Marinette had driven a motorcycle once as Ladybug, sure, but she had then gave in to her senses—perks of being a superheroine, she supposed. She also had a scooter, so she could see it was Kagami’s first time driving the machine: there had been a certain unsureness to her moves. Needless to say, this had only terrified her more. She’d tried to offer herself as the driver but had been cut off with a sharp “no, we’ll lose time if we do that, Marinette!”

Now, when they’ve finally arrived at the Louvre, the next and hopefully last station in their journey of the friendship tournament, Marinette looked back at Kagami, who was taking off one of the stolen helmets. The angry “what would you have done if I died?!” monologue that she had prepared for the girl left her mind immediately. Kagami looked… hot.

And, really, were those bad things to think about her rival? Just hot, nothing else. They knew little about each other, so it didn’t mean much, Marinette shrugged in her head, savouring the view.

The girl’s always neatly styled hair was fluffy and coming out in different directions—no doubt the aftermath of the speed they had been racing at. It was positively electric. Her usually cold chocolate eyes—the type of cold you feel when you get burnt—were now blazing with excitement. Her previously tidy white blazer and mini-skirt were now dishevelled, and, while Marinette didn’t let her gaze linger for too long, she guessed that there were little holes in her leggings.

When she looked back up, she felt blood flow up to her cheeks because Kagami had been looking at her the whole time Marinette’s eyes were studying her new appearance. But, no, Kagami would not witness her blush, Kagami of all people. She blamed her taste in women; specifically in their looks.

“Are we going inside?” she managed to say, as nonchalantly as possible. Kagami was hot; old news, brain, stop reacting this way.

The girl didn’t comment on Marinette’s odd behaviour. What she did comment on, though, was their excessive loss of time. Not in a speaking manner though, because, of course, talking to other people above Kagami; no, she just ran, simply expecting the blue-haired girl to catch up. Rude.

The tournament, luckily, was on the same day as when the entrance to the museum was free. Which, unluckily, meant more searching. Marinette slowed down in the middle of the biggest room of the museum while Kagami marched farther. She had to make sure they weren’t missing anything. The previous places usually had a riddle simply plastered on a wall, sometimes there were people giving hints themselves, and a few times—the longest ones—there were QRs that they had to scan with a phone to know what to do. She returned to the entrance to the museum, in case they had overlooked something when running like idiots (before they were instructed not to run by the officers). And there it was, a QR.

“Kagami!” she whisper-yelled like a child. How was the girl to hear if she were on the other side of the Louvre? Marinette sighed, taking out her phone to scan; this would get really annoying if the task required two people. She didn’t even have Kagami’s number.

A text showed up on her screen, but before she could start reading, a loud screech broke through the air. The guards immediately rushed to the place where the scream came from. And so did Marinette. She had to check if everything was alright; was somebody akumatised? She couldn’t just barge in as Ladybug if it was a false alarm.

- - -

“No, you don’t, bitch.” Kagami threw somebody’s purse, which lay on the floor, onto a shapeless blob of smiling faces—stickers of smiling faces, to be precise. All of their body (was there even a body? Their shape was constantly changing) was covered with them. It was an akumatised villian, but they didn’t speak. All that Kagami knew was that whoever got hit with a smiley face became… she wasn’t sure how to describe it. The reactions varied. Some broke down crying and still lay there; others stopped reacting to anything around them and simply left the museum with a deep frown on their face. Overall, they became sad, depressed shells of themselves, and fuck no, Kagami is not turning into that.

She motioned to two kids, who still hadn’t miraculously been hit, to get closer to her. She could only guess what happened to their parents. She swiftly opened an umbrella she found beside—that was the main reason she had called for the children to come to her. She didn’t know how well it would hold: could simple stickers break through the object’s tissue?

“Hey, Smiley Face!” came a yell from behind her, but above. Ladybug. Kagami wondered if she needed any help with defeating the villain. She caught a small motion of the superheroine’s fingers telling her to get away. Did she imagine it?

“Go after me, stay with me,” she instructed the two children beside her. The group slowly crept away with an umbrella as their only defence. Luckily for them, “Smiley Face” was too busy trying to take down Ladybug. Not a chance, Kagami smirked.

She hid the kids at the reception, near a terrified worker of the museum. She then went searching for Marinette. She hoped the girl was able to hide herself well.

She didn’t let her thoughts linger on her for too long; now was not the time. “Distract them, M! I need to get somebody!” she heard the superheroine yell to her partner.

If Kagami was the one Ladybug was looking for, she needed to be ready, she thought. She needed to be seen. The girl ran outside. As if by a switch, her body was immediately caught by strong arms… in a red and black pattern. She saw buildings flying past them; it was breathtaking. The wind was ruffling up her hair just like it had done when she was biking a while earlier. She couldn’t hide the smile that was creeping up her lips. She loved being in the air. Running and leaping from one place as Ryuko was freeing, the adrenaline was her drug.

They landed at Kagami’s balcony, scaring away all the nearby pigeons. “Why were you waiting for me to lift you up? I told you to run away.” Ladybug inquired, her expression tired and angry.

Was this about that? Kagami frowned back. “You didn’t exactly say it. Plus, I heard you tell Mesh that you would go looking for somebody. I just made your searching easier.” A beat. “Anyway,” she sighed, letting go of the argument, “you have Longg, right?”

The heroine was shocked for a second but schooled her expression. Kagami never really saw her being very emotional, she noted absentmindedly. The woman always kept her sentiment intact, it seemed. Was this what it meant to be a full-time superhero? “No, I don’t,” she said, her face turned away, and her tone being one of steel.

“What?! Why?” she tried not to show the hurt in her voice. “Why would you bring me all the way here… for what? To keep me safe, or something? You are surely smarter than that, Ladybug. The city needs the security you provide. Why are you here instead of the battle?!”

The superheroine’s eyes turned to ice as she looked at her. The girl felt a her heart drop to her knees. The sight was terryfying. Was this how Kagami looked like most of the time? “Ryuko’s attributes won’t be as helpful as somebody else’s. You’re right, the city needs my help. Your house was on the way, so I decided to save you too, but you clearly aren’t grateful.” She didn’t even question how Ladybug knew where she lived. Speculation has been done about that years ago: Tsurugi Motors are a famous brand after all. However, she did notice that the superheroine didn’t answer half of her questions.

Before she knew it, Ladybug was about to jump. If fencing had given her something, it was her advanced reflexes. “Wait!” she yelped right in time. The woman stopped. “Make sure Marinette Dupain-Cheng is safe, too. Please.” She tried to keep her tone casual. A soft shocked “oh” escaped the woman’s lips. Kagami didn’t give it much thought. “Please.” The girl nodded to herself, showing that this was all she was asking for.

Then Ladybug left. Thinking back at their interaction—at her own plea—she didn’t really know what had caused her to say it. It’s not that Kagami didn’t believe in the heroes to keep everybody safe. It’s not that she hadn’t hoped everybody would be safe, in the end, at least. Why Marinette, of all people…?

That night, after telling numerous lies to her mother, the girl lay down on her bed thinking of a certain blue-eyed girl. She let her mind wander and delusionally make up a universe in which they become friends. They’d joke, smile, and spend time together, just like Kagami always wanted with somebody—with a friend. She thought about Ladybug’s cold eyes and closeted personality. What did she hide beneath that mask? Did Kagami look equally cold with such an expression? She had tried to copy that expression from beneath the dark glasses of her mother since her childhood. She wasn’t so sure that’s who she wanted to be.

Chapter Text

The job search was not going well. Timéo had said that he knows which jobs to pick. Yeah, maybe, he knew that, but what he didn’t know was that there would be so many people against additional workforce.

“It’s not that we’re against having you here, we do need help, but,” had reasoned some sort of manager at the unpacking of train wagons as he’d shrugged, “we don’t want problems or any lawsuits…”

Basically, things were not going well and the list of possible recruits shortened and shortened.

“Can you stop fidgeting, blondie? Your anxiety is contagious.” Timéo’s usually forgiving and nice demeanour was rarely present these days. At times, it seemed that somebody else was in front of Adrien, but, he guessed, he never really knew the man.

“Sorry.” He dropped his head onto his knees. They were sitting outside of some restaurant, waiting for the working day of the person in charge. Unlike the younger, Timéo knew how to cook, or, at least, so he’d said.

Searching for a job had brought so much stress into his life on the streets. See, there, he could live carelessly, surviving on the scraps of what others had left. Meanwhile, he and Timéo were now trying to revive the past of endless stress and demands from other people. His friend never demanded much of him, except for this different version Timéo—he did, but Adrien wouldn’t leave the man just for that. People had wanted something from him his entire life, and living like this, with nobody to tell him what to do, had been a nice change, but the darkness had roared. It, he—it was a part of him, not some other entity—had wanted people to remember him. It had agreed that doing nothing was nice, had lavished in the thought, but it still had felt lonely. When, in his mind, he had replied that there was nothing he could do about it, and that it—he—should just let it go, it cackled.

The answer it had supplied him with had made him break out in cold sweat. So he did what he had thought would a) take his mind away from that and help his friend, and b) would prove to the darkness residing in him that it was wrong, that he didn’t need to go to such drastic measures to find fucking happiness in his life. Before that point in time, he hadn’t been an active part of trying to find a job. Partially, it felt like the whole decision to go searching with Timéo had been made on a whim: it had rained the other night, and it was pretty damn cold, which got him wishing for a roof above his head. Plus, he didn’t want to let his friend go out in the world alone. He felt a little remorseful of it now, since, in his opinion, the man would have much better chances without a 16-year-old tugging at his tail.

That was around two and a half weeks ago.

A stark yelp came out to left from where Timéo and Adrien were sitting. “I don’t have food! It’s all closed, you know, I’m not even the General Manager of this building! What, this building? Oh, I don’t even know wh—“

That man was already creating a very annoying image of himself. “Hey.” Timéo tone was all business but a little soothing. “The others said you’re the manager, so…” He cleared his throat. “The thing is, me and this guy over here,” he motioned at Adrien, “would like to get a job; maybe, working during the night? We know how to cook, and we promise we won’t steal anything. But we are looking for payment only in cash…”

Shortly after, the man led them inside, asking them to show their skills in the kitchen. He continuously sent cautious looks at the blonde.

Surprisingly enough, Timéo did very well. He created a neat dish, similar to the one in a picture given by the manager. Adrien couldn’t read the man’s expression, but if he were him, he would have hired him on the spot; the dish looked mouth-watering.

“Now, your turn.” The manager looked pointedly at the younger. Agreste’s mouth opened in shock. Surely not. Well, what did he think it was? He came here to get a job. He mentally hit himself a dozen times on the table in front him. Why did he even agree to go here with Timéo? Adrien Agreste, who never cooked a meal for himself in his life; who lived nearly all his life with dishes cooked and served by the chefs hired by his father.

“I…” he couldn’t bear to look at his mate, “yes.” He pretended to study the picture of the dish given to him while he tried to remember everything and anything from his cooking knowledge.

The instructions were written beside the picture shown on the iPad. But what cup was he supposed to use when it said a cup of milk?! Were there special cups or any could work!? How do people measure 200mL?! And do not get him started on the mixing of ingredients: what, he was supposed to do that with his hands?!

He could barely register the man in charge clearing his throat through his panic. Okay, he exhaled. How bad could it be?

- - -

Adrien could not imagine it going worse than it had been. His pan set on fire, the milk he had tried to move from one place to another in his hands—which made a ton of sense at the time but now not so much—had spilt everywhere on the table, and when he had tried to clean everything, he had accidentally overturned a cup of flour that he had meticulously put in one place before, making an even bigger mess. Now, half an hour later, he understood that it was a miracle that the manager hadn’t called the cops for two homeless people entering his private property.

The man had instead called Timéo in and had given him some papers to sign to get the job. He had sounded desperate: he hadn’t even asked for the documents on the boy’s behalf, but not desperate enough to even think about hiring Adrien. He hadn’t even tried to hide the fact when he had met with the Agreste himself: “You are a hazard in this whole ordeal. I will not let you poison any of my customers, or worse, ruin my kitchen and the little reputation this place has.”

At last, Timéo’d asked if the man knew any other recruiters who would be willing to look past one’s age. He’d thought for a moment and written something on a sheet of paper. Two addresses and names. “I wanted to give you phone numbers, but I doubted you would… need them.” His voice was sleazy and slimish, too high for Adrien’s liking—for anyone’s liking, he bet—just like his personality. Quickly thanking them and getting the job details for Timéo, they had left.

Now, they were walking back in silence.

“I’m sorry?” Adrien felt the need to apologise.

“It’s fine,” Timéo grumbled in response.

“Look, listen, I’m really sorry, I should have done better. I should have…” He didn’t even know what to add. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he felt so guilty.

“It’s fine, blondie,” the man repeated.

“No, no, this is all my fault, I—”

“Stop that, Adrien!” They both stopped in their tracks, Agreste not being able to look up to meet his friend’s eyes. “You think you’re guilty? Why?!” he suddenly yelled. “I guessed you were shit at cooking, I just didn’t know…” that you were that bad. “I mean— ” he rubbed his forehead— “you were all ‘stylist hair and model looks and branded clothing.’ Not a hard guess. Still, you never tell me what got you here with me, and I- I opened up to you, and, mind you, that shit does not come easy to me. But you still didn’t! And, yes, it’s fine and I don’t need reciprocation of that, really… But if this goes on like this,” he resumed, “we’re not going to get you anywhere.” The yelling was long gone, now replaced by a plea. “I don’t know what you’re good at. And, yes, I know that probably what you’re good at is not anywhere on the possible appliances—” He sighed, sinking into himself. Adrien watched his every move. What was this all about? “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to know more about you, man. I just… You’re a child, you shouldn’t be on the streets. You should be in the arms of your family, or whoever loves you.” A beat. “And studying in a lyceum, for Gods’ sakes, not searching for jobs like this.”

His tone was soothing, and an incredible softness lay within it. Agreste hated to ruin the moment, but: “You’re one to talk.” Timéo’s head jerked back up. “I don’t know shit about you either! Only snippets that I catch day by day. The biggest chunk of information that I got from you was about your friend, not you. You—you’re not an adult either, from what I can tell, buddy— ” at which Timéo turned around and mouthed the word “buddy” to some third-person camera, his face curled in a grimace— “so you’ve also got a backstory to unlock; don’t paint the guilt of that over me.”

“Also, about that guilt thing that I was doing? Remember that? The start of our conversation?” Adrien’s whole body jerked at that; he didn’t know why; it didn’t matter. “Yeah, that was because whenever something went wrong in my household, people just never told me anything—or, more specifically, never told me the reason for all the problems—so I just started assuming it was me at some point. And, oh, by the way, there is this irreplacable darkness within me that tells me to destroy the whole world just like my father did, possibly traumatizing somebody else like this event had me, you know, just the usual teenage angst, as they say, nothing to be severely worried about. Are you satisfied? I wanted you to be the one person who doesn’t know about my past, and I thought we still could be friends without that, but apparently, I was wrong, and that cannot be achieved. How nice, let’s go.” And then he proceeded to walk.

He hurt from that rant. He marched and marched forward, letting Timéo mumble at where to turn, as if Adrien didn’t know where to go.

The other boy didn’t comment on the tears that lingered on his cheeks.

Silent or not, soon enough, his anger left him, and he realized what he had done.

Shit. He just a) ruined his plans of not telling Timéo of his past, and told him about those before-mentioned plans too, and b) just told an unsuspecting Parisian about the Ultimate Wish. Was it wrong of him to be more worried about the first one than the second?

- - -

Today was The Day!!! Marinette was going to talk to Adrien Agreste. Well, not Marinette, per se, Ladybug, actually, but those were just technicalities. She was going to face the boy, and it’s totally fine if his expectations of help don’t reach up to her abilities or expectations. It’s absolutely okay. At least that’s what she told herself as she transformed. And, well, what Alya would have told her to if Alya knew about this whole thing.

The superheroine swung from building to building. She remembered when the feeling of being caught up in the air, flying from building to building, had been freeing. How she had looked forward to the power she felt in herself when fighting and being Ladybug. Tikki had told her that she was Ladybug with or without the costume. Whatever. Some time later, she had realised that what she had been looking forward to had been basically Hawk Moth (as that was her name at the time) akumatising somebody against their will. And so after that, the feeling had been pushed down and, after a lot of fighting and saving, transforming into a superheroine had begun to cause a chronic feeling of tiredness and dread. She wondered how she would have been today if she hadn’t pushed down those positive emotions that day. It felt like the heroine of Paris stopped loving what she did, but that did not mean that, for one second, she would stop protecting her people.

Ladybug landed and observed Adrien. He sat on a bench with a dark-skinned boy. The boy held a piece of paper in his hands, while Adrien studied it from behind him, not saying a word. Both their faces were frowning; they didn’t talk, but the unknown boy’s hand held blonde’s wrist in an almost comforting manner. She wondered if they were going to leave soon: as far as she knew, that last part of her chemistry lab report wasn’t going to be done by itself, she, technically, it was in her best interest to rush them; or should she let them take their time, for she came here to be nothing but nice?

After having waited for a while, Ladybug set out her new complicated mastermind plan.

- - -

“How come we meet again, Bugaboo?” Adrien drawled. Oh, he wished the stick were beside him so he could dramatically lean on it. Alas.

Ladybug scrunched her nose. “Do not use that nickname on me. Ever. Again.”

They were standing on a rooftop near where he’d usually reside with Timéo, but, as far as he knew, it was a different one from his past meetings.

“So… I assume you wanted to talk to me? You seemed awfully demanding.” He started to notice this sometimes. His personality often switched between Adrien’s and Chat’s. He wondered if he should be worried. But, then again… maybe it was because he was living without his dad and his workers around him? Like, he was maybe being able to slowly morph into himself?

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I did.” She was silently still.

“Look.” He ruffled his hair in boredom or distress—he wasn’t sure. “I am and… was, technically, since yesterday, in a big no-facing-it argument with my friend. Exactly the one you so blatantly snatched me away from. So… you know, Bugaboo,” he smirked at the last word, not meeting her eye, “if we could get this over with fast, I’d be grateful.

“Go on, put some antagonising privacy questions that you might need for your research of the villain’s identity and pop off, I assume?”

She stopped at that. Her mind seemed to be going a thousand miles per minute; he could see it in her eyes. During this whole ordeal, she seemed present but not so much; her eyes were often drifting away from him and her mind, clearly, did too.

He took a step closer to her. She didn’t notice. Then again. He stared deep into her eyes, practically studying with a knowledge of 100 year old professor, her expression. A regular person would guess she was sad, but nooo… He knew His Lady. Her thoughts were nasty, but not too nasty to pull her back into reality in a blip. She suffered, tearing her mind apart. He took a step closer. And then, he pulled on one of the hairs on her head.

She immediately came back, and he jumped away, laughing as he did so. He had never allowed himself such proximity with his partner back in Before, it seemed. She growled and mumbled something, but her look was now one of gentleness. It was nice.

“Why don’t you tell me about your friend? The argument, maybe…?” She asked.

He shrugged, leaning onto one of the chimneys. “His name is Timéo. I don’t know that much about him… unfortunately.” He saddened. “He saved me from some narcs the first day that I came in here,” meaning this whole world after the wish, of course. “He’s kind and can be funny. ‘M glad to have met him, really.” He smiled. “We are now searching for jobs. To… get out of this. Didn’t ask him about why he decided to start doing so specifically now, but even if I did… it’s pretty personal, you know? And it takes time for anybody to share those things. From what I’ve learned, everybody in the streets has a story, and in here, they may get saddeningly gruesome, helplessly so. Take Adres, for example, I’d say he’s 43, give or take. All I know is that he got evicted from his own household for not paying taxes. He’s a very nice man, always smiles gently when I come around. I know it would do marvels if he wasn’t stuck on the streets, but, yet, from the judge’s decision, he is. Teresa, another homeless person,” he gritted through his teeth, trying to prove some non-existent point. He was on the streets. He was homeless. “She lost custody of her baby girl. Not much has been shared, and we don’t talk about it. I think after that point in time, it all just went downhill, and she ended up here. She spends her days trying to make up for the lost time with her child. Actually, I rarely see her in this courner of town. She spends most of her time near a kindergarten, from which, obviously, she is always pushed away by different authorities. Rufus, probably the last example I’ll give, really, worked on some sort of factory. As a result of deindustrialization, soon that factory closed, and the authorities were not interested in his (and dozens of other people’s) retraining, which, sooner or later, got him into being in a position where he had to become homeless.

“Point is, Ladybug, that people shouldn’t judge others by their looks or statuses. I know you,” he chuckled,” I know that that move of yours of always getting me from and to a place where nobody would see us together is on purpose.” A beat. “Has there been any progress lately with solving Shadow Moth?” he cracked a wry grin. It felt like he already knew the answer.

Ladybug sighed, taking in what the boy had told her. It was completely useless concerning fairly anything she came to ask about today, but it was educational. She was grateful for that. “No, not really.” She then decided to ask him about exactly what she came here for (well, technically, dragged him here for). “I was wondering… Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I have been talking about you.” The boy’s face strikingly changed at that.

“What!?”

She smiled at her own lie. “Both of us really want to help you get out of your situation. We want to help you, but it would be nice to know what specifically you desire so we can see what we can do about it.” She smiled again, putting all her compassion into the gesture.

Instead of “no, no, no need” like she would often hear people say at such words, Adrien clearly began to think about the proposal. But, well, if she were in his situation, she would have gotten as much as she could, too. The boy paced, his blonde hair rumbling in the breeze. It grew out since she first saw him; it became a proper mess, too.

“I don’t know if the two of you will be able to do anything about our situation, honestly. It would be nice to have a job with an income that both of us can do something with. Although technically Timéo already signed up...” he rambled.

Timéo too?! Ladybug nearly yelled out. She tried to keep her face neutral, but from Agreste’s (it was still weird to call him that) next words, she failed.

“He and I are a packaged deal. I won’t take anything that will put my status above his, or lower his compared to mine.” He crossed his hands. How noble of you, nearly blurted out Ladybug. Sure, she wanted to do a nice thing and help out somebody, but how certain was she that it would actually work!? She tried not to show the anger on her face.

Adrien didn’t care. “I think some sort of housing would be appreciated, although it would mean payment…” She could see the problems multiplying in his eyes. “Look,” he turned back at her, “if, in some marvelous universe—no, that was a shit way to phrase it, fuck—if a miracle happens—” he hummed to himself— “don’t like that either, but I’ll stick to that—and you find a job that doesn’t ask for documents and pays in cash, which hopefully means they could hire a minor, it would be fucking majestic. Some housing would be cool—no, Adrien, you aren’t even making any income—” he chuckled nervously—“I take that back, forget about housing. But, anyway, some things like cash, food, drinking water, and—oooooh—warm clothes. Warm clothing for the winter that is coming. Shiiiiit, winter is coming.” He ruffled his hair. Then he looked expectantly at her as if she were supposed to take notes.

That was arguably a lot. And, gods, did she wish she could fulfil anything from that list to not come back empty-handed next time.

Suddenly, the boy came to an abrupt stop. “Wait. How does Marinette Dupain-Cheng know me?”

Shit. Ladybug did her best not to react at the words and think of a quick, believable answer. “She told me you’ve met and said that she wanted to help your cause.” She tried to shrug nonchalantly. Afterwards, her thoughts caught up with his tone. “You know her?”

His mouth opened, but no words came out. “…yes? Um, we were…” he stopped and mauled over his words for a while, “together.”

Despite herself, the superheroine’s cheeks flushed bright red. She gulped, trying to bury her shock and, frankly, astonishment. “Damn,” she cleared her throat.

A minute of silence passed. All she did was try to imagine the two of them together. Would it actually work out? He did have model looks the day that they first met… And then it hit her. He had been a superhero. With her. Could he… know?

This road had to be treaded carefully. “Do you want to talk about her? Or at all? I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it is for you to see all those people whom you love treat you like a stranger.” And damn, his parents.

He started to tread the rooftop again. “See, Ladybug, the thing is, she—she might have travelled from before she Wish.” Then he looked deep inside her eyes. The hope in his gaze was unmistakable. This was the only thread he could hold on to, believing that somebody was still out there who remembered him. “Just like me,” he added quietly, and, at that, Ladybug’s—Marinette’s—heart broke a little.

She felt her heart sinking. She had to tell him the truth. But then she heard a breathless gasp come out of his lips and understood that her expression told him enough.

He walked in circles, and she saw his fingers wiping away the tears from his eyes in a rush. “But—but she knew my name! She recognised me both times I saw her!” He rambled, suddenly clutching his head, as if punishing himself, searching for what was wrong in his brain.

His words seemed to bring her back to the present and out of the heart shattering view in front of her. She was a superheroine with a secret identity. He was a regular civilian who had to know nothing about it. And she failed in keeping the two separate! He saw the loophole and crawled into it, making place for his little theories. Today, they might have been about Marinette Dupain-Cheng still being his friend, and another day, they might be about the black-spotted heroine of Paris.

One of the things being Ladybug had taught her was that Ladybug was a separate entity from the civilian folk; they looked up to her and were mesmerised. They didn’t expect the heart of a desperate fifteen-year-old girl to get in the way of things, and so it shouldn’t, because the possible outcomes of that were what nobody wanted.

She got all she needed to know—he didn’t connect the identities—told and asked what she had intended to find out, and discovered a loophole of her own creation that had to disappear immediately.

Ladybug came closer to the boy, stopping him in his tracks. He shakily looked up, his eyes red from crying. She put her hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture, and when she started talking, her voice was gentle, but it still had a metallic tone to it, reminding him, “I’m the superheroine here, and I’m not here to comfort you.”

“I’m so sorry, Adrien. She told me that she knew your name from when your friend introduced her to you, and then when she saw you on the street running away with a panic look on your face, she decided to help you—not much outside of those facts. After that, I saved her from an akumatised villain, and she asked if I could find you and make sure you were okay. Then we started talking more and more, and I told her about your situation, so we decided on this little meeting. That’s it. I’m sorry.” She quickly snatched him and put him down on the street, then disappeared into the sky.

Comforting and babysitting lonely boys may have been what Msh and Marinette wanted to do, but Ladybug couldn’t be seen softening her walls. Shadow Moth had a secret identity too, and the woman could have been lurking wherever, using all the help she could get.

- - -

When Adrien came back to their usual sleeping place, Timéo sent him a cautious look. Timéo was sitting on the floor, his knees pressed to his chest, while the blonde stood. They still haven’t talked, but it was time to let go of the childish game. “Before you ask anything,” and at that, Timéo smirked, as if saying, “You were the first one to speak! I won!” The boy in front of him was such a child. “Before you ask anything,” he repeated, smirking back, “yes, I did speak with Ladybug. We…” he tried to think of what to tell without talking about the Jump or life before it again, “we’ve met before.” He rubbed his neck, looking away. How could he explain any more?

The conversation and the sad truth reappeared in his mind. Marinette didn’t remember him, and it was all just a trick of his mind. The hard look in Ladybug’s eyes when she had said her last words reminded him of her cunningness and the image she had to uphold; the distinction she had insisted on making between their superhero lives and civilian ones back when they were partners. It was sobering. He wondered if her civilian self had accidentally shown through all her mask, and if, by the end of their conversation, she had to hide it beneath the cold, hard stare. Ladybug was much, much more closeted and cold here than the one he knew before; different from the woman he remembered; yet, he bet, as effective and capable of defeating akumas as ever. The darkness laughed as he felt a pang of anger and pain. He couldn’t bring back the Ladybug that he had fought side-by-side with. All that he was left with was this estranged version of her in the same wrapper. Did others change that much too?

He saw movement in front of him. It was Timéo rocking from side to side, mirth dancing in his eyes. His dreads swung with him. The boy waited for the continuation of the story.

Adrien smiled. It was nice to finally talk to Timéo again. He felt a warm spread inside his chest—love. Timéo and he weren’t acquainted back then; there wasn’t anything for him to miss about the man from Before because Adrien didn’t know him. Timéo was somebody he could trust not to change, or, at least, change on Adrien’s own accord—unlike all those people that he had known.

When he looked back at the boy, he found a similar smile plastered on his lips. “She asked how she and her friend could help my situation,” he gestured at everything around them. “I said different things that could help us in the long run. Even asked if she knew any job recruits,” he chuckled in disbelief as he pushed a hand through his hair.

Timéo’s face was dreamy. He started to talk, gesturing with his hands, “Look, about what you’ve said earlier. I didn’t understand much, only that…” He stared at Adrien’s eyes, his head hung up. Agreste felt a curious anticipation of what Timéo would say, nerves tingling on his fingertips. “You’ve been through shit.” He felt a smile tugging on his lips. Yes, he had been. At least somebody was calling things by their names. “Me too,” the man added quietly. “Thanks for sharing with me… I guess?” The boy smiled awkwardly. He sighed, leaning back onto the wall behind him and stretching his legs. “No idea how to finish this monologue, man.” This earned a chuckle from Adrien as he sat down beside him.

After a bit of silence, Agreste knew what to say. “I’m a cat person. Although I like animals in general, really.” Timéo turned back to his friend, sending him a confused smile, his brows raised. “What?” Adrien smirked. “You wanted to know more about me; here I am.” He dramatically gestured at himself, curling his fingers.

Timéo broke down laughing, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

A month had passed since her last interaction with Adrien Agreste.

School had finished, and the summer break had begun. Not much happened… technically? She was freer, definitely. And what did that mean? Correct; she had been spending all of that time trying to help Adrien and Timéo. It was hooooopeless. She’d asked everybody she knew closely and not so much if they had been ready to recruit somebody for a job. At first, some of them had been happy at the idea, because, apparently, they had thought it had been she who wanted to work for them. Others, for the same reason, had grimaced; she hadn’t even tried to ask them about the two guys she had been doing it all for. However, it was also nice to know where she should go in bad times if they were to hit her. But, no, nobody had been ready to give jobs to two homeless people, at least one of whom was underage; she wasn’t sure about Timéo. Technically, the man had already signed up for a job, but it would be great to find somebody who’d be ready to take him the next day if shit hit the fan.

All in all, she could not believe it was a dead end. It couldn’t be. She simply didn’t search enough places. Maybe the fact that she was only asking the people she knew semi-closely was the reason… She should start asking around the people outside of her contacts. She nearly hit her head at that. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

The girl was walking back home from another failed attempt to help the boys. Funnily enough, her parents even encouraged her “little project” to help her “friends” find jobs, as they called it, claiming it would help her with her future searches and set her place in the world. After the word got to them from the people she’d been asking that the two boys she’d been trying the help were homeless, they stopped discussing the topic. It’s not that they were against it, Marinette thought; it just reminded them of that argument. Which was… which was how her parents always acted. It reminded us of something bad that we had done in the past? Oh, then we would just brush it off and pretend it never had happened.

She had also checked other ways that she could help them. She was really taking the task personally, it seemed; she was doing all she could.

Several days after her conversation with Agreste (now she was growing accustomed to calling him that), where he told her of how she could help, Marinette Dupain-Cheng herself had brought several packs of big bottles of drinking water for the whole alley. Yes, it had been a rash decision. Luckily, the consequences of that action weren’t present. No homeless people had followed her, asking for more help. Luka helped her prepare and set her tone right, though she talked him out of coming with her—she feared it could have felt like she is including different people into her project one by one.

She felt a smile tingling on her lips just from thinking about that. Luka was simply so great. He was always there for her. She could always count on him to help her out and, sometimes, guide her. He knew her role outside of being a regular Parisian citizen, just like Alya. She felt like she could be her utmost real self with him without being judged—for her competitiveness, for not being the way everybody expects her to be—for anything; because he has seen her through it all.

He was also the one who was helping her the most with things concerning Adrien and his friend. Luka had helped massively with adding people to the job list and searching for apartments. Because, yes, apartments were another thing that she had been searching for—because what if?

Her phone buzzed, and she took it out. Maybe it could have been one of those job recruiters she had talked to, saying they’ve changed their opinion? Gods, she hoped so.

Disappointment settled on her features when she saw it was just a text from her dad. It said that “Somebody” was waiting for her at their bakery. “Somebody” with that capitalised “s?” Yeah, she snorted audibly, that was Luka. Her parents were continuously hoping that she and Luka would hit it off like they did nearly a year ago when they dated for like a week; please. And it was she who ended things because she’d realised she couldn’t be honest enough with him. Marinette had told her parents as much; it honestly seemed like this news hit them harder than it did Luka. Nevertheless, she and he had walked on tiptoes around each other for about a month but still hadn’t let each other go, and soon enough she’d joked about something that happened when they’d dated and he’d laughed and everything had gone back to normal. Except for when he’d found out her secret identity. He had been in shock and regret for a while—it had been evident in the way he moved, his distance. She’d been sure she messed it all up, and that now she’d not only lose a friend but also have somebody wander in the world, knowing her secret identity, who hadn’t even been loyal to her. However, luckily, the revelation had slowly upgraded their relationship to a level, she bet, no other relationship had. Even hers and M’s.

Marinette offhandedly checked the other messages. A link to some place from Mom, not important, not important, that one app whose messages she should have turned off ages ago, Kagami.

She couldn’t help but grin as she tapped for the latter to open.

It just said “dolphins use pufferfish to get high.” One sentence with no emotional attachment to it. But didn’t stop Dupain-Cheng from replying with “WHAAATTTTT” and “your facts abt them keeeeep blowing my mind. I used to think dolphins were so nice before” and “…do you have more”.

That was The Development of the past month. After that friendship tournament that they’d kind of… lost due to that stupid akuma attack, they had begun to talk more; the friendly kind of talk. Actually, as far as she recalled, it was Marinette who’d made the first step: at the end of their many silences during fencing, she’d decided to compliment Kagami’s skills. Right after that, the class had ended, and all the girl could do had been to open her mouth in shock. She then had proceeded to mumble “thank you” and leave. And so after that, their interactions had started to grow.

They only ever interacted in and after the fencing classes; two sworn rivals becoming friendly with one another, who would have thought. That was until Marinette told some quirky joke that she couldn’t even remember anymore, and Kagami had laughed. Actually laughed—mouth open, eyes closed, snorts escaping in between the laughs. And in that moment, Marinette had blurted out, “go out with me,” despite herself. Luckily for the situation, Kagami hadn’t heard it (which, honestly, Marinette couldn’t help but wonder how that would have gone), and when the girl had settled herself and asked “what did you say again?” a real smile adorned her face, Dupain-Cheng had went on with “oh, I was just wondering if you would like to exchange our phone numbers, or, you know, Instagram accounts…” which turned into what they had now.

Kagami had no texting schedule. She texted her at any point during the day (even when Marinette was sure she was in class), and even began doing so during the night after one such text from Dupain-Cheng herself at an ungodly hour.

For the record, like, 90% of what Kagami had been sending her were random facts: from today’s scandalous news and her comments on them (1 instance) to… well, dolphins getting high off of pufferfish, apparently. And, yes, she had talked about those facts (different ones, obviously) before they started texting each other, but now it seemed like they were the only things the girl could talk about. Who knew Kagami was a walking encyclopaedia?

Marinette hid her phone as she entered her parents’ bakery. Walking past the customers who were under Dad’s supervision (he smiled and winked at her as she passed by), she ran upstairs to their living room.

Of course, just as she expected, Luka was sitting there, small-talking with her mom. His eyes lit up when he saw her. She loved to see it happen every time. “Mrs. Cheng, may Marinette and I have a talk upstairs in her room?” he asked politely, getting up from the chair he’d been sitting on. Her mother replied with “of course, of course,” and smirked.

Marinette was ready to groan out loud.

After they got up in comfortable silence, after the entrance to her room had been closed, and only after he led her outside to her balcony, he actually said something.

Oh. It was something important, then, she pondered. The balcony was the only spot her parents wouldn’t eavesdrop on.

Luka curled his hands around her arms, an excited smile contrasting his usual calm demeanour. “I found the perfect apartment!” he chirped.

* * *

Interlude: Guilt

This year’s July was not very welcoming. It was hot some days, and terribly cold—with wind hurling through one’s ears—on others. Summer had started out early, somewhere mid-spring, to be precise. The rich kids had been jumping out of their schools at the end of the day and running to the Seine with their friends. And exactly mid-spring was when Timéo had joined the homeless life. So, whatever Blondie might think, he had never actually spent such cold nights, outside, with no place to sleep before.

The two boys had slept for around two hours at a nice, warm staircase inside some apartment building before its inhabitants had started screaming to get out and threatened to call the police. The two had run away, quickly checking if their money still lay in their pockets. Thankfully, it had been.

The cold wind that welcomed them back outside splashed into their faces in full force. Timéo looked around for another place to stay at. This had been their second try on finding a warm place inside a building tonight. And, probably, after that, the neighbourhood would be on the lookout for them.

Timéo called to the sleepy kid beside him to go back to an abandoned building they had been residing in for the past few days. This was going to be a long night.

As the two lay on the solid soil beneath them, a sullen silence, broken only by the clattering of the blonde’s teeth from the cold, prolonged. He didn’t see him, but it was too obvious that the boy beside him wasn’t sleeping. And how could Timéo help him with that? He couldn’t go to sleep himself.

Adrien’s teeth clattered.

He should have found a better place for them to sleep. He should have led them to another house and tried to steal a few more hours of warmth despite the growing danger. Now, both of them could catch a cold and skip tomorrow’s workday. And he would be to blame for that.

Adrien’s teeth clattered.

“When guilt pushes you down into the waters like no other, don’t let it drown you.”

He forced his mind to think of something else. “Hey. If we were in some other universe,” a better one was left unspoken, “how would it be?”

The clattering stopped. A quiet “I don’t know, you tell me,” rang out.

“Well,” he tried to chuckle, but it came out as an awful-sounding cough. Here it was, he was already starting to get a cold. “We would definitely feel warmer right now in that universe, maybe even more comfortable.”

“Would we still be together? Would we still have met?” comes a whisper. The wonder in the boy’s words reminds Timéo too much of his past; of her. He feels a painful tug in his chest.

“Oh, yes,” and, yes, yes! He used that playful tone with her in the same conversation. He lets his mind bask in painful yet lovely reminiscence. But it always, always leads to guilt.

It was unfair to Adrien. He could feel the sadness radiating off him on these cold grounds, and even then, he didn’t pay enough attention to him. “We would have met, but maybe under different circumstances.”

That earned a breathless laugh from the other. “Different circumstances, for sure.”

He could imagine it all clear now. The two of them walking the streets of his hometown, Élise by their side, chatting. It would have taken the two a couple of days to warm up to each other, but they would have found so many topics to talk about, he bet.

“Hmmm,” he mused in a joking manner, “do you think we would live in a castle or a regular apartment?”

A bright laugh broke their whispering, and he felt Adrien turn over to look at him. The two of them were now lying on their sides, trying to make out more of each other’s faces. “Castle or not, I am bringing cats.”

Timéo felt his whole body shudder at the mention of animals.

The dead holes instead of her eyes staring through him. The weeds by a polluted lake. The dogs— THE DOGS—

“Would we make friends and invite them over?” For once, Timéo was thankful that the boy couldn’t see his face and continued with the mirth. “Oh! Would we go to parties? I had never been to a real party!”

He tried to put the cheerfulness back into his tone. “I never was at a party either.” No, he never had been. He had been too busy for parties. And for what? To end up here.

From the change in the blonde’s demeanour, Timéo could guess that he had done a poor job of hiding his emotions. “Right.” The body beside him turned and lay on its back. He tried not to let “You ruined the mood. It’s your fault. Always your fault” bounce around his mind for too long as he stared at the boy’s poorly lit profile.

Adrien’s teeth clattered.

* * *

Another month passed of Adrien living anew.

Now, it all seemed pretty normal. The life where his dad was a terrorist, where he dated Marinette, where he was Chat Noir and was friends with Plagg, and where he lived in a house and went to a school seemed so far away. He found a workplace; Timéo helped him, obviously.

The two of them spent their nights near a forgotten building. It was located on the outskirts of Paris, and near both of their jobs, just as Timéo had predicted it would be long ago. He wondered if Ladybug or Nino had searched for him. Did they know the two of them were here? Did they forget about him? He wanted to chuckle at the stupidity of his thoughts, but he only sighed. He was no Ladybug or Monsieur Msh (not anymore)—he didn’t know if they’d forgotten the people they’d interacted with and talked outside.

He would give anything to just fly over the city again and get recognised by Plagg again.

“Hey, blondie?” came a voice from upstairs. Right. Adrien shook his head. He was supposed to be searching around the building for anything that might cause harm for their future stay. He shone a match as he walked forward. Probably, weeks ago, he would have had grimaced from just looking at the mold in the courner of the cement wall because of all the bad possible outcomes already forming in his brain. Now he just… stared at it emotionlessly. “Yeah?” he yelled back. “I’ve found something!” Timéo said. His voice was cold; somehow, Adrien could already see the other boy’s eyes widen in fear and his dark lips shake.

He and Timéo grew much, much closer yet again. They still didn’t know much about each other’s past, but didn’t push it anymore. Timéo had his flashbacks. All Adrien knew was that something truly terrible had happened. Sometimes the memories snowed when his friend was sleeping, and the blonde woke up at night and had to shake the other to wake. To make his cries stop. It was terrifying—after such happenings, Adrien hadn’t been able to fall asleep for the rest of the night, scared that he might be needed again—he was thankful Timéo hadn’t had to calm him in the middle of the night and experience this. Although undoubtedly, the man had experienced worse.

Adrien braced himself. He walked upstairs as he once again regretted not asking why they were doing the checking-up ordeal. In the middle of the dark floor, he could shape out Timéo’s silhouette from behind. As he stepped closer, he could see the match in the man’s own hand and, yes, just as Agreste’s mind had earlier supplied, his shocked face.

Adrien stepped towards the wall that the man was staring at. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was metallic, earthy, and rotten, hitting him with a heavy wave straight into his nose. Now was the time to grimace. The wall was covered with dark… something. In some places, it was just dark spots, and in some, as far as he could understand, there lay a moldy texture. The area that the scene covered wasn’t that big. He stepped back and stood near his friend, staring at the same view as him.

“It’s blood,” Timéo whispered. “It was, at least, at some point.”

Adrien didn’t ask about how he knew. Now that he thought about it, he could guess how the smell could have blood’s essence, but most of it was covered with rot and mold.

“Did you touch it?” Agreste looked up.

Timéo huffed, breathless. “No. Of course, not.” The other boy nodded in return. If any government officer did find this, their fingerprints may get tracked. Timéo’s at least. Adrien didn’t exist in the documents.

Adrien reached out and grabbed the boy’s wrist. “Then we should go.” …and search for a new place to stay.

As they collected the little amount of things that they had, Adrien looked around at the dark construction behind them. He hoped nothing bad had happened there. Yet, he didn’t have the authority of Chat Noir, or even of Adrien Agreste to ask around and satisfy his curiosity.

He was just a kid with no house or documents. No proof of his existence in the world.

Just a knife in his pocket and hate at the unfairness of the situation.

- - -

Adrien was coming back to his and Timéo’s little hiding place, near another abandoned building—one that had been used at some point before and now had broken windows and smelled foul. They were positioned several minutes of walking near a small river (which was usually full of people playing and splashing each other), so, finally, they were able to wash themselves more regularly. He was carrying a pocket full of cash that he had been given. He worked at a railroad, unpacking wagons. In the first weeks, his body ached like it never had before. After that period of time passed, he started building up muscle; he was pretty sure some of it was damaged because of how he was repeatedly using them—probably in the wrong position.

Suddenly, he heard a voice whisper beside him: “Wow, you’ve grown!”

His hand immediately gripped the knife in his pocket. But before he could fully bring it up, a familiar face stepped right in front of him. “Woah, woah, okay! Relax! It’s me!” It was Marinette, her hands up in the air in a position of surrender, her eyes gazing curiously at him.

“I could have killed you!” He replied, surprise evident on his face. “Accidentally, of course,” he grumbled looking away, ashamed.

The girl fell into place, walking beside him. Except, she walked forward, and he just stared at her in shock from the back. What was he supposed to do now? Was this supposed to be normal…? Or something he should get used to in time? He didn’t know what to think of the idea. He guessed it was nice to have Marinette by his side, but after so much time spent acclimatising to be without her, it felt… weird.

“Are you leading the way, or not? Or do you expect me to find your friend by myself?” she said, a smile gracing her features, turning around to face him. Adrien shook his head and ran towards her, catching up.

As they walked forward and touched on the light topics: how was work, how had life been the past month. Neither addressed the elephant in the room: the help that she and Ladybug had promised to give. When Adrien had already come to terms with the fact that the drinking water was the only help they were going to get (goodbye, warm clothing for free!) somebody showed up. Somebody that Adrien didn’t expect at all to see.

“Adrien,” said Luka. The boy had just appeared out of nowhere. He noticed Agreste staring at him, and proceeded, “I’m Luka. I’m Marinette’s friend,” he said, his voice as calm as always.

Something bubbled inside the blonde’s chest. He didn’t want to face yet another person who didn’t remember him, not when he was building his life all over again. “Hi, Luka.” He didn’t even try to smile. He went on too many rants after things had changed. Poor, calm-eyed Luka didn’t deserve a rant about how Adrien’s life has been all sorts of fucked up in a way that his power to turn back time wouldn’t help save.

But it was the calm in Luka’s eyes that got to Adrien. “I’ve met you, Luka. I know you,” he said, his tone ice cold. He did. He had known him in the past life, but didn’t know him in this one. Nobody cared. The hurt that flashed all across Couffaine’s face was worth it.

He turned to Marinette, who stood beside him, angry. “Why is he here?”

“He is my best friend, and you don’t get to treat him like that,” said the girl, furious. Her hands were on her hips.

“Well then—” he was met with the stern look in the girl’s eyes. What was he doing? He knew Luka. He knew Marinette; why was he irritating them just for the sake of irritation? “I just—” he let his shoulders drop as he turned to the boy— “Why are you so calm all the time?”

At that, Couffaine smiled gently. “Some people find it reassuring.” His face became more animated in less than a second. He looked at Marinette, his eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.

“Wait.” Adrien clenched the bridge of his nose. “Do— Don’t change your whole personality just for my wishes.” He chuckled at his own words. “Sorry, I’ve had a stressful day.” He looked down at his pockets—cash in one and a knife in another. “What I mean is be whomever you want—I’m just a moody teenager.” He tried not to grimace at the last word. It felt like he went through more than some adults; who decided when people stopped being teenagers? “Don’t let people dictate how you should act like.” He tried to smile encouragingly. Ha, as if Luka didn’t know all this already. What was this therapeutic advice coming from?

“Okay, I will.” The blue-haired boy smiled. It didn’t slip Adrien’s gaze how the boy sent an awkward gaze to Marinette.

“Right.” The girl clasped her hands.

Well, that was awful; what’s new?

When they reached Timéo, whose working shift had also ended, the man immediately got up, defensive. As soon as Adrien opened his mouth to say something, the man interrupted with “wait.” His brows furrowed. “Aren’t you the girl I talked to for Adrien that one time?”

She blushed, but her look swiftly turned stern. “Yes. We’re not here to discuss that. This is Luka.” She motioned. “And, oh, my name is Marinette.”

“Marinette and Ladybug have been working to help you both,” said Luka. “I’ve heard about what they were doing and decided to join the party. Now, we have something to offer you.”

Adrien and Timéo exchanged glances. The man asked, “Why us two? This is not charity. This is some weird hyperfixation that you have. Not only us need and deserve help. What about the rest of the people who live on the streets?”

Marinette stepped forward, righteous. “We would love to help them and will continue doing so after you accept this offer. We worked hard on making it happen.”

Adrien’s brows furrowed. An offer? What were they talking about?

“I know you’ve said it isn’t the best idea,” chirped the girl. “But—

His mind caught up with her words. OH NO—

“We found you an apartment to live in!”

“What?!” blasted Timéo. Then he turned, his expression stern. “Blondie, is this your doing?”

“Hell no!” Adrien gestured wildly with his hands. Was this really happening?

“They don’t seem too happy about it,” murmured Luka to his friend.

Timéo’s head turned around once again. He could practically feel the stress radiating off him. “Of course, we don’t seem too happy about it! Your team has asked Adrien what he would want in such a situation, and he did not say a fucking apartment!” A beat. “We don’t even have the money to pay a monthly rent!”

“Oh. You don’t have to pay. We’ve got that covered.” Marinette smirked. The two others looked back up, their faces screaming “explain.”

“It’s my dad’s,” said Luka. “He couldn’t care less about the rent. He’s a—”

“Oh shit,” interrupted Adrien, his eyes wide with realisation. “Jagged Stone is giving us his apartment?” He sent a shocked look at Timéo, who mirrored it. “Why didn’t he sell it in the first place?”

“We asked him the same thing! He said that he rented it when he stopped living at his dad’s. And when he earned his first big money from music, he bought the apartment. Didn’t live for long in there, though. His career started building, and he had to spend more and more time at hotels and in other countries, hoping to catch more fame. He’d stopped living in it ages ago, I assume.”

“Oh." It was all Adrien could say. He looked at Timéo for the nth time in this interaction. The man stared back; both their eyes said the unspoken question: "should we do it?"

Chapter Text

Marinette and Luka stood quietly while Timéo and Adrien thought through all the aspects of getting an apartment. Agreste searched for all the possible reasons to decline, but… why do so? They would finally get a roof above their heads, they would have a place to return to every night, even keep their money in and feel, maybe, a bit safer! But… it was such a big change, his brain whined.

"So... we don't have to pay for it?" Timéo asked, unsure. 

"No,” replied Dupain-Cheng. “Jagged has quite a lot of money for himself. He said that he ‘doesn’t need a bunch of teenagers to give him money.’ But, if you think of it, quite a lot of teenagers do pay him from all the concerts, technically, so that was a bad phrase to use."

“Let’s check it out, then?” replied the oldest. It was unstable ground for both of them.

As they walked the streets, a grim mood settled in the air. Why? Adrien didn’t know. But it was clear from the way Timéo’s hands were curled up in the pockets of his jeans, which Adrien was pretty sure had a hole in them. The silence wasn’t exactly awkward… Agreste was sure everyone just had something on their mind—he just didn’t.

Wait, would the apartment be somewhere near his parents? Oh no… What would Timéo say if Adrien didn’t want to accept the offer? Did Timéo even want to accept it himself?

“Here it is,” said Luka, calm now reeking from his voice.

It was a 4-story building in between two others. For the record, it was the least nice-looking one from all three. Adrien knew approximately which street they were at and nearly audibly sighed in relief when he realised that it essentially wasn’t that close to his home. He didn’t know how to rate the building, really. The part of him that grew up in a whole-ass manor (he now knew how much of a privilege that was) said that this building looked bad, but the part of him that had spent more than a month on the streets, sometimes looking for warm shelter under a roof, was mentally jumping up and down from the given opportunity.

The stairs that led up to their apartment were tilted, and the paint on the walls was coming off in chunks, leaving white cement instead. They were still silent as they walked up.

Finally, they stood before a regular wooden door. Adrein braced himself. What would he find there? The excitement must have shown on his face, because Luka stood before him with a lonely key swinging on the keychain. Adrien didn’t know—should he take it? The excitement momentarily disappeared. What if the room is so awful that they wouldn’t want it? What if Timéo didn’t like it and Adrien did? What if it were the other way around? What if somebody was already staying there and it was all a big mistake, and they would have to return to lying on the cold cement that gets even colder with time?

Adrien’s scared, sad eyes looked up to meet Couffaine’s. They read “come on, you can do it. We’ll be here beside you.” Adrien smiled shakily in response and took the keys.

There was a click, and the door opened. Agreste only realised that his eyes closed when he felt somebody clench his right wrist, and his eyes opened wide from the suddenness of it all.

Timéo. Of course.

Was he scared too? But before he could turn around to see the man’s face, he noticed the room. It was dark—Marinette and Luka already shone a lighter on their phones. The girl was on the side, trying to make a small lightbulb turn on, while the boy stood in the middle, staring at them with, what Adrien could guess, calm and patient eyes, the lighter on his phone facing a courner of the room.

“I swear it worked the last time we were here!” growled Dupain-Cheng.

“Hm. It did work before. We’re sorry,” said Luka. “Here is the room… do you want my phone to look around?”

Adrien numbly accepted with a nod. Timéo’s grip grounded him.

The place wasn’t very big. It was twice as small as his own room in the manor had been (that is not even counting the second floor). Its walls were full of posters—rock bands that he hadn’t heard of much before. There was a small kitchen with a sink and some working space, some cupboards. A mattress (big enough to fit two people, luckily; Adrien didn’t want to think too hard about why Jagged Stone, who had been living alone here, felt the need to buy a mattress of that size) lay in the courner of the room. He could only imagine how big a problem this would seem for a regular Parisian (to have to be forced to share a bed with another man! Imagine!), but due to all the proximity they’ve been exposed to the past month, he didn’t react. Above the bed was a relatively small window, from which he could see cars driving from time to time.

The bathroom had a shower which was barely separated from the rest of the room—everything was so tucked in together. Timéo turned it on, and Adrien couldn’t hold back his happy gasp—the water was running with good pressure! There was a sink and a toilet seat, both of which also had good running water.

“We checked for any life, meaning cockroaches and anything else that could be living in here, but you’re lucky. We didn’t see anything,” said Marinette. She stood at the bathroom’s entrance with her hands on her hips, a satisfied smile plastered on her lips.

Adrien put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. He tried to keep a smile away from his face, but he really couldn’t. Would they actually live there? He felt something touch his hand. Oh, money lay there! “Hey, is there any safe in here?”

“…no, I’m sorry.” Dupain-Cheng pouted.

Timéo sighed; Adrien could guess that the man wanted this conversation to be over—probably to act however he wanted. Adrien did too, he realised. He surprised himself with how closeted he had become: what reactions his mind allowed him to show around other people—everyone except Timéo, of course—and what it didn’t. He thought that if he’d searched for an apartment with Marinette and Luka from before the Jump—the people who would have known him for close to a year now—he would have been more fun, more visibly invested, more together with his friends. But he’d understood to the full extent that they weren’t his friends. They didn’t remember him, and that realisation had come one numb evening when he was talking to Timéo about nothing.

Adrien’s eyes stared at the closest wall, registering that there was noise around him, but not really hearing it.

He hadn’t cried in a while now. He thought his mind was trying to protect itself from breaking because of how much he would have to cry about. From how much he’d panicked about the last time he had a panic attack.

Oh, well, he’d just keep it all inside, working as much as he could not to think about it. Obviously, that’s going to work.

Adrien let out a shaky sigh and wished to be hugged. He wished that Timéo, who was leaning on the wall near the shower, were in his reach.

Right.

“Do we keep the keys?” He looked around, and only then did he realise he interrupted their conversation. “Sorry. Do we have to meet Jagged Stone? What do we do to keep this apartme— Wait, you do want to keep this apartment,” he turned to Timéo. It had occurred to him that he didn’t know the man’s complete opinion to voice such ideas, “or not? If you don’t… that’s fine.” He shrugged. He really felt helpless. Like the true child in the room.  “Do you want to talk about it in private?” His eyes never left Timéo’s.

Something changed in his expression when Adrien asked the question. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but he could see it. “Yes.” His voice sounded a little breathless; his eyes didn’t leave Adrien’s as he said it either. The man turned to the two other people in the room. “I’d love to keep it.” Why were all of them crowded in a small bathroom? He’d love to run around, high on happiness. “What are our next steps, exactly?”

Luka, standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his lips, said, “We give you the keys. We create a meeting with Jagged if any questions were to arise, and… that’s it?” He turned to Marinette with a question. She shrugged, smiling with the type of smile he used to see her after she’d accomplished something very important to her.

When the two blue-haired people—one artificially coloured and the other not—left, Adrien and Timéo jumped onto the mattress in shared excitement and happiness. Their backs painfully hit the rough floor as the mattress bent from the force of their jump. They wailed from the sudden pain, probably antagonising any of the neighbours they had. Then the two laughed a little hysterically, jumped around the little place they had, opened all the possible cupboards, and slumped back onto the mattress, tired and happy.

Adrien was happy.

- - -

Marinette walked the Parisian streets, satisfied with herself. She found an apartment for Adrien and Timéo, and, on top of that, she was not going to be late for fencing class! She skipped steps, feeling finally fulfilled after a month of searching.

When she entered the changing rooms and saw Kagami, she smiled even brighter. She knew that the mood would soon disappear when Hawk Moth would decide to attack again, or when somebody would say something shitty. But it didn’t matter now.

“Hi Kagami!” she said, beaming.

The girl turned around, her eyes a bit wider than usual. “You’re… happy?” she said, in her usual monotonous voice.

Okay, that was mean.

“Yeah, I finally did something worthwhile. It’s a nice feeling. Anyway,” she wasn’t willing to explain all about who Adrien was. “How are you?” At that, Kagami turned back to her locker, searching for something. A courner of her lips was quirked up, which made Marinette’s heart flutter just a little bit.

“I’m okay. I’ve been practising outside of these classes for the tournament.” Okay, from her hand-made Kagami Translator, that would mean something along the lines of “You aren’t going to make it to the tournament (because, obviously, that will be me, because I’m the best),” but the sad undertone in her voice could mean “But I wish we had practised there together.” This kind of made sense (…?) because she was really the only competition Kagami did have, but also could she just willfully want that…? No. It couldn’t be. That was just wishful thinking. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I will join you sometime. Just text me about it.” She smiled at the suddenly carefuly emotionless face of the girl in front of her. Interesting reaction.

“Children, where the hell are you?!” D’Argencourt’s voice echoed through the walls, and she fought the urge to wince. The students slowly filed into the gym.

- - -

Kagami was a beautiful as always. Her moves were delicate and with precision—a contrast to Marinette’s graceless poking. Dupain-Cheng knew how to twist to touch the right spot, while Kagami knew how to attack. Whenever Marinette’s gaze lingered for too long, she would feel something on her stomach. Another point taken.

They never worked just by themselves as Ryuko and Ladybug, and now she couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like. Would they supplement one another? In the gym, the two fought well; however, they knew each other’s weak suits—and this only grew once they became closer. Now, a mirthful undertone lay in some of their moves. It felt like Marinette could almost see when Kagami would smirk beneath that mask and when she would bare her teeth in a suppressed growl. The girl thought nobody could see her beneath it, that everyone would think she’d just keep that cold expression from the moment she put on the mask, but that really wasn’t true.

Maybe Marinette was the only one who was able to see that. Sometimes she thought all the other people were a bit scared of Kagami. Nobody really talked to her besides Marinette, which was something she’d noticed only a few days ago. But nobody really talked to Marinette here either. They were the queens on the pedestal that nobody dared touch.

“You are out of it today, Marinette.” Kagami’s voice rang beside her ear. She swiftly turned around, facing Tsurugi. The girl’s hair was the opposite of styled, although it didn’t have that look from the motorbike ride. The fencing helmet always made it look funny, too high up, curled in the wrong places. Dupain-Cheng smiled with her teeth wide. She’d never told Kagami of that look and doubts she ever will. Let this be a mystery for her to solve.

“How can I not be when your pretty fencing is in front of me?” She took off her helmet. She knew that complimenting her fencing would always cause… Kagami’s face didn’t change much, but a little red colouring, barely visible to any regular person, appeared, and a miniature smirk graced her face.

Kagami opened her mouth to say something, but she knew what would happen next from all the times Marinette had complimented the girl. Yet, Kagami didn’t get to say anything because Dupain-Cheng interrupted with “You know, I do think we should go and practice just by ourselves outside of the classes. I would get the premium pack of seeing you practice.” And then she whispered, “with no prying eyes,” as if that meant anything. Now Kagami smirked more fully. Marinette nearly laughed gloriously. She knew all those films she watched weren’t for nothing.

“That is if you arrive on time,” Tsurugi suddenly replied, “Your time scheduling is horrible, what keeps making you late?” She didn’t know what Kagami was expecting as an answer; she didn’t know…! Her face suddenly grew hot. Nothing came to her mind among the flirtatious answers, and she couldn’t say that she was saving the fucking city!

“Um, thinking of you?” she said in a small voice. This was horrendous. Nevermind, those films didn’t help her at all! Every time Kagami reciprocated even a little bit, Marinette’s mind would just stop processing. This couldn’t continue on like this.

“Good.” Was it just her, or did Kagami suddenly move closer? “I wouldn’t want to waste my fencing outside of class on somebody who doesn’t recipro—”

“Mademoiselle Tsurugi, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” came several meters from behind her. Kagami immediately backed away. They were so far now, it seemed. Wait, how close had they been? Had Kagami said “reciprocate”? Had Kagami said “reciprocate” in the end?! Had Kagami thought of her often? Had it all been just flirting? How had they moved into the flirting area? What the hell had happened? Everything felt outside of her reach, her own memories, and only now did she notice just how fast her heartbeat was. Did Kagami notice it as well? “…I suggest one of you fences with me, while the other one observes.”

She thought she heard Kagami mutter, “Ah, again, as if we don’t know your weaknesses already.”