Chapter Text
Yesterday had been a weird day.
Marinette didn't typically cause people to be akumatized, Adrien thought. A lot of people around her got akumatized, but that applied to him, too. If he had a nickel for every time he was late to a fight because he was personally trapped by the akuma, he would probably be richer than his Father.
But yesterday? Marinette had somehow managed to get five people akumatized in one shot.
He'd seen multiple people be akumatized before, of course. Oblivio was the big one. And there was the other day, where both of Luka and Juleka's parents had been akumatized together, resulting in the returns of Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock. The Ladyblog was calling it The Battle of the Crocoduel.
But up to two people was fairly normal. Marinette had gotten five people akumatized, and they'd had to go another round with Timebreaker (Alix), Reflekta (Juleka), Princess Fragrance (Rose), Lady Wifi (Alya), and Horrificator (Mylène). The Ladyblog titled this entry Gang of Secrets.
Adrien (as both himself and as Chat Noir) didn't dig too deep into what actually happened, as he wanted to respect Marinette's privacy, but from what he'd gathered, the girls were upset because Marinette was keeping some sort of secret from them. When they'd pushed her to tell them, she'd pushed them away. This was what caused the negative feeling allowing them to be akumatized — and why their primary goal had been to capture Marinette and force her to tell them her secret.
If Marinette had a secret, it was a secret for a good reason. Adrien trusted her judgement. She was a good person.
The girls had all apologized and made up, as far as he could tell. But the weirdness continued into today. It was like a cloud of unease and misery hung over the city. Adrien wondered if he was the only one who could feel it, because nobody seemed to be acknowledging it.
At lunch alone in the mansion, he suddenly became nauseous. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew something was very wrong.
The closer he came to the school on his way back from lunch, the more anxious he became. His stomach twisted in knots and his mouth dried out. He could feel the skin on his lips beginning to flake and crack. Normally he'd be worried about how Father would say that was unsightly and unbecoming of a model, but he couldn't even care about that right now. The churning in his gut was all he could focus on.
Adrien walked through the hallway to his classroom, feeling not unlike a prisoner walking to their execution. He rubbed his arms as he did so — they were burning, itching, like he'd been scratched, but there was no sign of any injuries.
He got to the doorway and stopped. At the same time his feet stilled, so did his heart.
Nobody seemed to notice his arrival. The entire class was in their seats, talking quietly amongst themselves, save for one person.
"…where's Marinette?" he asked, the words almost getting stuck in his throat.
It was entirely possible these events were unrelated. But this weirdness, this heaviness that hung in the air, had started yesterday after the akuma battle. Adrien didn't know how he knew, but he knew this wasn't just a coincidence.
Alya's eyes drifted over to him. She wore a blank expression. She shrugged and turned her face away.
That was… not normal. Adrien's stomach sank. Alya was Marinette's best friend. Why wasn't she more concerned?
"Oh, Adrien, it was just horrible!"
Adrien flinched when this voice spoke up. Lila Rossi.
Lila wiped her eyes, clearing away tears that were never there. Adrien knew her mascara wasn't waterproof; he used that exact same brand during photoshoots that required heavy makeup.
If she'd really been crying, her thumb would smear the black streaks and make her look like a raccoon.
"Marinette attacked me when I was in the bathroom, and—"
And Adrien turned on his heel and walked out of the room, because he didn't have time for this nonsense when alarm bells were ringing so urgently in his head. He'd heard enough.
If Marinette had attacked Lila in the bathroom, then Chloé Bourgeois was Ladybug.
He walked down the hallway, striding with purpose, toward the front door. As he got closer, he picked up his pace to a jog, before turning into a full-on sprint once he was outside. The closer he got to Marinette's family bakery, the faster he moved, and the harder his heart pounded.
She had to be home. If she wasn't, he'd transform and search the whole city if he had to. He couldn't explain it, but he had this sudden and overwhelming need to make sure she was alright.
Adrien was so focused on what the plan would be if she wasn't home — beginning to mentally map out the best search route over the rooftops — that he almost got flattened by a car as he crossed the street. The driver honked, scaring Adrien nearly out of his skin and causing him to jump, but he'd never been more grateful for the instinctive reflexes being Chat Noir had granted him.
"Hello, welcome to— oh, Adrien. Welcome," Marinette's mother Sabine greeted him as he came inside. There were no other customers in the shop.
Adrien doubled over, out of breath. "Is — Marinette — here?" he asked between breaths he struggled to take.
"She is," Sabine responded. "She said she didn't feel well, but she seemed upset."
"Can I — talk to — her?"
Sabine nodded. As Adrien walked past her to go up the stairs to the residential part of the building, Sabine slid him a bottle of water, which he took gratefully. He quickly downed the entire thing on the stairs and then stood outside the door to the living room for a moment, catching his breath.
Once he got his breathing under control, he headed into the Dupain-Cheng home. As he stood on the stairs outside Marinette's loft, he hesitated. Plagg vibrated in his pocket as if to say get a move on, kid.
Adrien, at least a small bit concerned that Plagg had an aura of urgency about him — the cat-like kwami hardly ever felt strongly about anything except cheese — banged on the trap door above his head.
"Go away, Mama," Marinette yelled through the closed door, her voice cracking. "I'm fine."
Marinette was not a liar. She despised liars more than anything in the world, which was why, Adrien assumed, she had so many issues with Lila Rossi, who Adrien didn't think would be able to tell the truth if her life depended on it.
But obviously she wasn't okay, given that it sounded like she'd been crying.
"Marinette, it's me," Adrien called to her. "Can I please talk to you?"
The response was immediate: it was a symphony of crashes — probably Marinette knocking over several large items with her legendary clumsiness, which Adrien always saw most impressively whenever he startled her. He wouldn't be surprised if one of the louder thumps was Marinette herself falling over. As soon as the noises settled, she stuttered out in surprise, "A-A-A-A-Adrien?!"
This was followed by the sound of, as best as Adrien could tell, Marinette crawling along the floor before settling on top of the trapdoor; at least she sounded closer when she spoke again. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
"I needed to check on you," Adrien explained. "You weren't in class. I just had this really bad feeling, and Lila started saying some nonsense about you attacking her, and I just really, really needed to know you're okay; can you please come out and talk to me?"
Marinette didn't answer right away, but finally she spoke in a soft voice. "Can I have a minute? I'm not… decent."
Adrien had been modeling since he was five years old, so he had a very different idea of modesty than the average person. He didn't quite understand what she meant at first, but then something clicked. He'd heard Chloé use the expression, once or twice.
"Of course! Take all the time you need," he answered.
What followed was the sound of footsteps frantically pacing about the room, doing what Adrien assumed was scrambling about to straighten up the chaos from the fall as she also got more properly dressed. He wondered what it was that she was wearing that she considered indecent for him to see, not that he was wondering in a sexual way! Marinette was undoubtedly very pretty, but he was less curious about her body underneath the clothes than the actual clothes themselves.
Whatever she was wearing, had she designed it? He certainly wasn't assuming Marinette was completely innocent — he honestly had no idea — but surely if it was her own creation it was gorgeous and she should want to show it off, no matter how revealing it was. He could be professional.
Then again, considering she was alone in her room, and he suspected having a hard day, maybe it was indecent due to its age or wear. Chloé had tried to explain the concept of "granny panties" to him once — underwear that was meant to be comfortable only and not cute.
Or, Adrien thought Marinette was alone in her room. He thought he could hear her talking, but was unable to make out any specific words, or even hear a response.
Just when Adrien decided she was talking to herself — not that he could judge; before he met Plagg, he did that a lot — the trapdoor cracked open above him. He saw only part of Marinette's face peering down at him, her eyes red from crying.
"Do you want me to come down," she asked hesitantly, "or do you want to come up?"
"I'll come up, if you don't mind," he answered easily with a gentle smile. "I like your room. It's so… cozy in there."
It was the complete opposite of his bedroom in the mansion. It was open, empty, cold. Marinette's room always seemed to be so packed full of stuff, despite how small it was. It was full of the love and life Marinette spread everywhere she went.
She disappeared from his view and the door completely opened. Adrien noted as he came in that Marinette was a fast cleaner — the room was as neat as the last time he'd been in here, when they were training for the Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament.
"So… do you wanna sit on the chaise, or—"
Marinette had motioned to her chaise lounge, and had turned to motion toward her desk chair, when she managed to do something Adrien would later describe as impossibly twisting her ankles together, while rolling the rug beneath her into a spiral with her feet, causing her to fall.
Instinctively, he lunged forward to grab her and keep her from hitting the floor, expertly dodging Marinette's flailing arms but dropping his messenger bag in the process. Briefly he thought of Ladybug, as they ended up in a position he'd dreamed of holding her in — most of Marinette's weight was on his left arm that was supporting her back, as if they'd been dancing and had moved as though to dip her. His right hand had come to rest on her left forearm, sliding up her sleeve.
And he noticed something that made his blood run cold.
"Marinette," he said carefully, evenly, in that practiced voice he used with his Father and photographers to not betray his panic that it was what it looked like, "what is that?"
= =
Marinette didn't know how to process this.
She was in her room, with Adrien Agreste — model, classmate, love of her life (although he didn't know that) — and he was holding her in what felt like an intimate, romantic embrace.
Yes, he had only grabbed her to stop her from falling, because he was firstly a good person and secondly her friend. He certainly hadn't meant for them to end up like this. But a girl could dream, couldn't she?
She'd been having a rough time recently, what with the overwhelming pressures of becoming the Guardian of the Miraculous and essentially having adopted fifteen scared and anxious, pocket-sized gods. She could use a win, even if she knew it was entirely made up.
But then he noticed what she'd been doing earlier and tried to hide, and her illusion shattered.
"Marinette," Adrien said, his voice pulled taut in a way that made her heart fling out of her chest the same way her yoyo did, "what is that?"
Marinette couldn't look him in the eyes, because she couldn't tell him the truth. Not because she feared he'd think less of her — Adrien was too good for that. But, considering who her alter ego was and what she did, it was embarrassing.
Her arms were covered in fresh cuts, hastily wrapped in bandages. The great Miraculous Ladybug, fighter of supernatural villains and restorer of the city, Guardian of the Miracle Box and its kwamis, reduced to harming herself, and by a teenage girl, of all people.
"Crafting accident," she mumbled.
Adrien didn't look away from her, keeping his gaze steady. It was firm, but didn't hide his concern. He didn't seem to believe her, but Marinette knew that she had always been a terrible liar.
Adrien's look was familiar, though; despite how different they were, she briefly thought of Chat Noir. It was the exact same look that crossed his face whenever she told him a lie and he knew it was a lie.
But Chat Noir was a dutiful kitty cat, and he never called her out on her shit. He knew there were times in their line of work that secrecy was called for — and trusted that she lied for good reason.
Adrien was not Chat Noir.
"I think you're lying to me, Marinette," he said simply.
He didn't call her a liar. She appreciated it wholeheartedly, that he understood lying was not something that she wanted to define her.
He didn't demand answers, like Alya did yesterday. Like Rose, Alix, Mylène, Juleka. He didn't insist he was entitled to all the details of her life.
He merely stated that her answer was unsatisfactory, that he didn't believe her. The ball was lobbed gently back into her court, and he was patient enough to wait until she was ready.
Marinette felt herself squirm in Adrien's arms anxiously under his intense gaze. And suddenly, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
She had barely held it together yesterday; she had almost told Alya her deepest, most personal secret. The weight of it was crushing her and she had to get it out.
Surely Alya, her dearest, bestest friend, would understand?
But Alya also ran the Ladyblog. Alya wanted, more than anything in the universe, to be the one who revealed Ladybug's secret identity to the world. Could she ask her closest companion to choose between her greatest dream and their friendship?
Would Alya even hesitate?
So Marinette had bitten her tongue, though barely. She had kept her secrets, but they still threatened to rush out of her, and she knew if she kept them in, she would drown.
Drown.
Like all the cataclysmed Parisians under that broken moon in that broken future.
Was Adrien any safer of a choice? It was her mistake that revealed her identity to him, and — although she still wasn't sure how — somewhere down the line, Chat Noir found out, and it led to whatever happened that caused Chat Blanc. Adrien had to have told someone, but at least it probably wasn't the entire world.
But he was here now, and she was more broken than yesterday. Today, she wasn't strong enough to keep it to herself anymore.
Marinette broke into sobs and sank to her knees. Adrien followed her to the floor, keeping pace with her, making sure she landed gently.
"I can't do this anymore, Adrien!" she cried, streaks of tears staining her face. "I'm only a fourteen year old girl; there's too much responsibility on my shoulders, and I can't do it anymore! I can't handle it. Something has to give and I guess it's Marinette, because everything else is just too important."
"Whoa, whoa, Marinette, slow down," Adrien said soothingly. He put up both his hands in a placating gesture. "Don't cry. We'll figure this out. I know a thing or two about having too much being expected of you, so let's try to go through this together, okay?"
Marinette dared to peek at Adrien's face through her tears and saw him offering her one of his genuine, comforting smiles.
"Also, Marinette?" he asked gently as he put his hands on her shoulders. It was unfamiliar, because Adrien rarely touched her like that, but it was calming all the same, and for the second time she imagined, if only for a second, another important blonde boy in her life. "You are so important. I need to know you know that."
Marinette didn't respond except to give a little sniffle. Maybe she could get some of this off her chest without actually compromising her identity. Because if anyone understood how overwhelmed she was with all of her responsibilities, it was probably Adrien: fourteen year old student, model, actor, pianist, and fencer, who had an unlucky habit of being personally targeted by akumas.
At least he didn't have to balance all of that on top of a secret identity and saving the world.
"I suppose if anyone would understand, it's probably you," she mumbled finally. "You have nearly as much going on as I do."
"Exactly!" Adrien's entire face lit up, seemingly glad that she was responding. "I'm an expert by now in managing tons of responsibilities — though it's a big help to have Nathalie scheduling things for me. So let's see if I can help you find somewhere maybe you can cut back or something you can drop. Let me be your Nathalie."
Marinette quickly ran over all the non-Ladybug-related responsibilities she had on her plate through her head: being class representative; design commissions for both Kitty Section and Jagged Stone; shifts at the bakery, including sometimes making deliveries and assisting with catering events; homework and studying; babysitting Manon and Chris; and… helping Alya with the Ladyblog. While technically that was Ladybug-related, she did that on her civilian time, so she felt it counted.
"The real problem is that I'm keeping secrets, and I have no one to talk to about it," Marinette said, surprising herself with her honesty. "I'm keeping a huge secret from my friends, and I know they want to help me, but I… I can't. I'm not allowed to tell them." She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched closer to the floor. "The girls were akumatized yesterday because of that."
Adrien laughed nervously before he said, "Yeah, I heard about that. Do you… want to talk about it?"
"I'm keeping secrets from my friends, and on top of that I just don't have time for them anymore." The tears were coming at full force, again. "Between my homework, my commissions, being class representative, working for the bakery, babysitting, and… the secret thing… I'm just so tired, Adrien."
"Okay," he answered slowly as he thought that over. "Okay. We can try to talk to Mrs. Bustier and see if we can let someone else be class rep? I'm sure she would understand that the bakery seems to be extra busy lately and you just can't devote the time you used to. That would take that off your plate." Adrien nodded, mostly to himself, before continuing, "I can help you with your homework if you want. I developed a system for getting it done quickly back when Nathalie still homeschooled me. And maybe you should consider not taking on any new commissions until you're a little less busy."
Adrien made it sound so easy.
Just someone knowing part of what she went through, part of all the things she had to juggle, made her feel better. She felt the knowledge of her deepest secret churning inside her again, fighting to break free.
If the small stuff felt this good, how euphoric would it feel to have that weight off her chest?
Would it feel… miraculous?
"I don't know about Manon, but you can probably stop babysitting Chris. Nino can take back over; that's his brother. As for the secret thing…" Adrien trailed off, obviously not really sure what advice to give about a mystery agenda item.
"But that's the thing," Marinette explained. "The secret thing is the thing that's hurting me the most. It's huge, and its weight is crushing me because I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it. They tried to push me into revealing it yesterday so they could find a way to help, but they can't! So I pushed them away. I thought it would be better." Marinette paused and turned her gaze to the floor. "But then they were akumatized, and yeah, after Ladybug and Chat Noir saved them, they apologized to me and promised to stop pushing me to tell them until I was ready, but I almost told Alya."
"This is bigger than us, Alya. Way too big."
Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "If it's too big, two of us can handle it better than one."
"If I tell you, things will never be the same between us again." Marinette shook her head. "It'll mess up everything, maybe even destroy it."
"Marinette," Alya begged, her voice cracking, "I'm your very best friend."
"And I…"
The words threatened to spill out from Marinette's lips. I'm Ladybug. But they stuck in her throat.
"I know," she said instead, her voice small and weak, turning away from the other girl and curling up onto her chaise. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the hurt look on her friend's face. "I'm tired, Alya. Please go home."
"But it's suffocating me, Adrien," Marinette continued. Mentally she apologized to Tikki as she felt what bits of strength were left fighting to keep the words in finally shatter like a glass pane hit by her partner's cataclysm. "I can't do it anymore; I have to tell someone. I can't keep it in anymore, and I'm sorry for dragging you into this, but I…"
= =
"I'm Ladybug."