𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

"Please, everyone, allow me to introduce the love of my life, and the woman who designed all of the merch you are wearing tonight, the woman who changed my life forever,"

Luka smiles wildly; unable to contain his excitement. Tens of thousands of fans all cheer and roam with anticipation as stage lights travel through the massive crowd, deep into a summer's night. It is the end of his performance, and rumors of a secret girlfriend have built up over months; now at last they've been confirmed.

His guitar is different than the usual blue and black, hand-decorated one that he always plays with in his concerts; 

this time white with pink polka dots and sprawling flowers.

"Marinette Dupain- Cheng!" 

The crowd hails in roars and screeching so loud the music can't be heard, cameras illuminating any person eager to capture this moment; as a beautiful blue haired girl goes up on the stage, hugging Luka.

Seconds turn to minutes and the crowd still sounds of pure celebration; a community of people who have grown with their favorite artist for years.

But the artist must go to an event.

Raising his microphone for the last time, he waits for a few moments before speaking:

"Thank you all for joining us tonight. I love you so much, and I'll never forget this moment with you. Good night, city of love."

Another uproar sounds as he takes off his jacket, covering Marinette, holding her as they go to the back of the stage.

Separating into different rooms, they each take their time to change; from their colorful clothes into garnished fabrics of pure white.

Marinette's dress contains layers stacked upon each other, beholding blooming flowers and delicate pink decorations; ones she's famously known for, even though her dress isn't entirely white after all.

Leaving the room, hair down and her makeup a beautifully done by Luka's team, she walks slowly towards his dressing room.

As though he could feel her coming, he opens the door before she has a chance to knock; 

his jaw lowering in pure silence.

"Marinette, you're stunning." 

She blushes, smiling at her soon to be fiance; although she knows nothing of it yet, in contrast to all her friends.

"You look just like you did the night I found you", he says, recalling the night they became a couple;

her hair was down and the moon shined upon it as a beautiful, celestial melody rang through the air; so loud he was certain anyone who looked at her could hear it.

He knows he had.

"You made me feel like a princess. I love you, Luka"

Hand in hand, they leave for a ball of Marinette's favorite fashion designer, orchestrated by his unknown son.

Arriving at a large estate covered by walls and a beautifully decorated gate, they take a breath before coming in.

Hands still woven together, stepping forward through the entrance; they notice that the guests are the only humans there.

Robots substitute servers, gatekeepers, and any job that could be warranted for such a night-by humans.

Marinette's brows furrow, her legs still moving as she looks around; perceiving so much hollow space that could be accompanied by laughter;

cold, eerie air that remains still instead of flowing in speech and warm embraces.

This isn't the Gabriel she remembers. When he was alive, he lived.

He had carried his brand with care and love; his passion for design had always been opaque, leaving a sweet, enticing feeling of aspiration to whomever desired to be like him one day.

Is his son really that arrogant? unfeeling of human interaction and lacking in warmth?

Approaching the final entrance to the mansion, Marinette glances to her left, her face instantly understood by Luka.

"It will all go well, Marinette. And if it won't, we'll simply leave", he reassures; seeing hope and calmness returning to her eyes.

The giant doors open before them, and they are let in by yet another robot, this time one that speaks.

Before proceeding, you must answer the following question:

Would you rather let a loved one die knowing that once upon a time, you two had loved each other-

or save their life knowing they will hate you?

if you chose to let them die, then well, your story ended when this new universe began.

However, if you chose to save them, your story is just beginning.

And remember, we humans have to make a choice.

If we don't, the universe makes it for us.

NOW THEN, CHOOSE HOW YOU MAY PROCEED:

Path 1: beggars can't be choosers

Path 2: choosers can't be beggars

if you chose path number one, please await the following chapters to be released.

Diverting his head to the opposite direction, he leaves the room;

Wondering why he ever chased after her in the first place.

Wondering if she had ever been real at all.

Nighttime crawls into Adrien's bedroom; as he straddles in attempt to sleep. It is three in the morning at this point, and the thought of rest terrifies him.

Unmoving, his eyes beg for release. Though release, for him, never comes. The nightmares he had turned into sweet dreams, then to whispers, and to nothing at all;

And yet his soul remains in a world which he does not remember;

With a girl he wishes he did.

All he knows of her is her white dress. Through it all, the fading memories and evanesce of her, the image of her dress only became clearer; as her face remains a mystery all the same.

There had been a full moon when they last parted. At least, he recalls it shining upon them, above them; both the sky and the earth were midnight blue.

Perhaps they were at the beach? in the sea?

Her indelible, faceless portrait stains his days, looming his nights; an untold tale of life that he so desperately attempts to uncover.

This ball, in his head, is white- only for a few reasons;

Well surely- it is class. A brand like Gabriel's deserves nothing but a nice goodbye.

Not to mention, all of his balls were white coded.

Though the truth is; no matter how much he attempts to deny it; is that in his heart- this ball is the only chance he'll ever get to find her.

Before, at last, he abandons the knowledge of the girl he knew as a futile dream, one that had never been and never will be.

Like father like son

A young boy plays with three toys, all of which no longer sing the songs they originally did fresh from the store.

He still plays with them, however, because there is nothing else to do and nowhere else to go.

His mother used to tell him that dolls were not like real people, and that he should try making friends;

Then- when she was able to walk.

An unknown sickness has plagued her for months, though just like his dolls; 

there is nothing else to do and nowhere else to go.

They tried the hospitals. And those hospitals tried, too.

"Don't worry Adrien. I'm sure it'll pass" his mother claims, smiling; each time he glances at her. 

And in each of those times, her smile pales into fragile skin and dull lips; her eyes beholding less and less of the spark he thought was eternal.

Of his mother he thought was eternal.

At first, he attempted to fix the dolls, too.

Two superheroes and a girl.

Then, he turned to indifference; for they appeared to never change- resting them in his toy box to rot away in his room.

And at last, realization that he can not save them, and the only way to get new toys was to be rid of the ones he already has.

Father understands that mom isn't a doll. She can't be replaced with anyone.

like father like son.

"I'll bring you back to me, Emily" he heard him say once, in a strange cave he built in his home.

Back to us, he means, certainly; Adrien whispered as he slept, for every night to come.

But why is it, that when he threw his toys away, he only got one in return?

Why is it, that in exchange of three unworking ones, he got one doll;

And it may resemble the doll of the girl,

and she may wear the same dress,

but he can not recognize her face at all.

Father did not save mom.

He did not bring her back to us.

He had went to her.

He sacrificed her existence for her love, and truly for the first time:

The world of fashion has revolutionized itself by ten fold since Marinette Dupain - Cheng joined it. In three years, she had become the best fashion designer in the world, and not just for clothes- bags, accessories and even jewelry had been adapted into her craft, making it impossible not to buy from her at least once.

A letter rests upon her desk, as she readily approaches it; eager to find out who sent this gold - lined message, right to her home.

Her old home.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Dupain-Cheng bakery

Dear fashion designers,

Thank you for your admiration, support and love for my father's brand. You are all incredibly talented, and I only invited you because, before you succeeded, you adored my father's work.

In my final goodbye to his company, I am hosting a ball at the Agreste mansion tommorow night at seven p.m. You have known of this for three weeks now, and that the guests would be invited one day prior to avoid any papparazi or rumours.

It is a masked white ball. Please bring a plus one of your choosing.

Looking forward to meet you all,

Adrien

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

"Make sure the robots scan each member who enters, and recognizes them as my guests", Adrien inquests, staring at the robotic machine standing before him.

The machine retracts its original reaction to his demand, voicing the answer that had been encoded within it.

"Yes, sir".

Adrien is still looking down at the fleeting robot as he recalls pleading; looking up at his father.

He always looked taller at those times.

Adrien could not refuse nor refute his words all the same. Still, from time to time, his conversations with Natalie feel eerily similar.

A machine that obeys;

it may retract it's original reaction and it may disagree and vow to defiance all it likes,

though below it's creator, it remains- burning it's lips away at it's heaved submission.

Shaking his head, Adrien makes way to his room through the stairs of his mansion. 

His old home.

This is the very last night, before the final evening of Agreste Brand. Before the legacy his father held and carried through his life experiences death, somehow dying after it's founding soul.

He's moving away. The house had already been sold, and after tomorrow Paris will fog into a distant memory for the years to come, in his new home: London.

But there is one, final thing left to do..

Reaching the top of the stairs, he enters his old bedroom.

The one he hasn't entered in three years.

A diary sits upon his table. It is covered by only four words, words that have corrupted him.

Approaching it, his heart is pierced down to his stomach; a headlock of thoughts imprisoning him; the feeling of dread he's grown to crave,

if only it would bring her back to him.

A girl I knew. 

He does not write in it. Does not read, nor dare to look.

because, as he'd come to derray, time does not take away his knowledge of the old, drowned world; does not erase his nightmares sunrise by sunrise;

does not relinquish him of the sorrows that cold oceans bring with them;

never ceases his disparate anguish as he looks up at buildings around him.

Haze wraps Adrien's vision, wriggling the corners of his sight in ominous waves. He is in a field of withering flowers, bent and fallen so much so that he can not tell their sullen color. The sun does not shine on them, or at the skies or at any living being at all;

it shines only on a faceless girl standing before him.

She has blue hair or a white dress or a

Attempting to look away, all he may muster is to gaze at the horizon above him, pale blue surface enticing him with the cold lume they still behold, as their shining star pours all of its warmth on her.

It is a freezing day in this indelible prison, though he had never been here at all.

The only warmth found here is an unreachable, orphic portrait of a soul he once knew, and never will again.

Or, perhaps he will. Raising his arm toward her, she appears to descend farther into the endless field, embodying his own, personal vestige that he carved by hand.

Taking a step, and then another, she does not falter in evanesce as does he in chase; running for eternity as they may.

Though morning time echoes with the sun, the one who in this universe; seems to shine on everything but her.

A girl he knew.

Hello, Diary. It seems I'm having nightmares now. Or perhaps these are delightful dreams, yet to be understood by me.

Regardless, I should go on and write everything I remember about her, before I inevitably forget.

She was like sunshine in a field of flowers. Her warmth was unmistakable, and the color of her hair held the nepenthe daze of summer, though she never had to take it from any other flower, or person.

I do have one memory of her. Once, she had come by my fencing training just to give me a lost item back.

Her hair was down, and it moved as though it was one with the wind. I had known then that I had loved her. I don't remember if she returned the same.

The last thing I recall, was her dress the night we were stripped of one another. Why?

 All this is probably not real, anyway. I won't bother describing it to you. I'm quitting the madness of my despair for human experience; it is a futile effort. In four months, I will take over my father's company, and be as free as I will wish.

Adrien does not close the pen as he leaves his desk, and the diary's pages flow in the winds which enter through one open, unmoving window.

Marinette has launched her very own fashion brand recently, and nothing is more exciting than receiving custom orders of clothes.

"Alya, I'm so sorry, but I'm completely booked this week! lets have our sleepover next saturday, okay?"

"Awww, Mari! this is the third time it happens. Don't forget me now that you're famous.

I can't even see you in person anymore"

Marinette giggles, though this truth burns her heart. She misses her best friend, but just for now, there is hard work that demands her first.

It is morning time in Paris, France, as a young girl named Marinette is preparing for school. It seems as though her timing intentionally aims to surpass the maximum time of arrival she is confined to at school, however that is far beyond her worries now.

She isn't a normal girl, after all.

Putting her ballet flats on, she goes through the door to the last day as a high school student.

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

Adrien does not prepare for school. He does not go.

He's not a normal boy, after all.

"Your breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes, Adrien. In the meantime, get dressed for your shoot".

"Yes, Natalie".

His breakfast does not include dairy, and the house does not stink of cheese.

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

Strolling down the stairs outside of school on her way out, Alya watches as her best friend runs to her boyfriend, Luka, and hugs him as he spins her around in the air.

"Your heart is a beautiful melody, Marinette", he always says, but now, he's telling her that a new melody of hers is beginning.

"I love you, Luka", she confesses, as he lets her down to the ground.

"Guess what."

His expression changes from infatuation to excitement, realizing what this must mean.

"You got in?"

He asks, a broad smile appearing on his face, growing wider and wilder by the second;

Marinette smiles with content, her eyes shining brightly as she looks up at him.

"You got accepted to the internship!"

She can't help it; giggling and bursting into excited zeal as they celebrate her success, the last page before she can finally launch her very own fashion brand.

"I'm so proud of you".

"Enough of you two, now. We have a sleepover to get to!"

Marinette and Alya depart from their lovers as they head home, to watch cartoons and eat pastries and reminisce of their final day as students, and of the first day they became friends.

Marinette only has one diary, and no cookie disappears from her trays.

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

Opening his Diary, the first page holds nothing but four words: A girl I knew.

No name will ever be written in this diary, as names are shallow and pointless. All we remember of people anyway is their smile, how we made them laugh, and the despair in which they at last left us.

In any case, a name can not be written in this diary, anyway. He does not remember. Not a name, nor a face; nor anything he could identify her with. It is almost as though it really was a dream, but he's certain of it.

It once truly was.

So, the first sentence commences, and thus our story at last begins:

The girl I knew was never a normal one, though she liked to pretend to be. Her clumsiness was her blueprint, so to say; as she appeared to bump her toes in whatever corner, to slip and fall over every barrel, and to forget all that was not a constant reminder, and what was. Though her true mark on the world was how brilliant she was, beyond all her unfortunateness. No stone was left unturned on her watch, as a solution was always opaque and clear in her eyes, even in the foggiest of days. Though as she turned those stones, she did not hurt the bugs underneath them.

Her kindness was undeniable, one that brought much jealously to her from others. She did not mind. In fact, I'm certain that sometime in the days I had known her, she must have said that jealously is inspiration that we do not act upon. But I don't remember.

The first diary entry came to an end when dinner had been prepared, by his only guardian that was left alive: Natalie. 

She does not know of his sorrows or of her own past, as none of it truly ever occurred. Nor will it ever, now that a new page was turned.

Unfortunately for Adrien, he will have to live with each page he read before it, and no one will ever know it is a part of his book. A book he now writes, as he barely remembers it himself.

"Read my heart".

"What do you sacrifice?"

"Read my soul".

"Plagg, tikki, reveal yourselves".

All at once, the kwamis glow and expand into massive creatures, towering over Adrien. Looking up, not a silver of surprise or content appears on his face; though it is a sight never before perceived.

A giant entity, who he knows to be tikki; glances back at him with nothing but blaring irises, unwavering from his kneeling body; never averting her gaze.

He looks away.

As though the words are stolen from her mouth, as though they are not truly hers; she begins the ceremony of The Wish.

"I am Tikki, the Kwami of Creation. I am everything that isn't yet and is yet to be." 

Winds whirl and yell and whistle all around the scene; causing a soulless world to recognize that the world has a soul of it's own-

that, those who once lived- enrottened to decay.

A world that has bloomed an unwelcomed stranger who had risen from it's womb; A womb that now echoes in regret.

Stars of light embody the solaria, unobserved by most of those who lived in it. Paths of purple - blue dazzling bodies dance upon the skies.

All of the buildings and streets and homes were swollen by sea; No electricity dares to stop them now.

Thousands of white stars emit all the light humans would ever need; and yet they bare the skies only as we deter in the oceans; incapable of witnessing them.

Is it our fault for lighting the ground and dimming the skies, if we could not see the light in them in the first place? Is it our fault, for refusing to believe in light we've never seen?

Well, it is no matter. We are not eternal. All we are, and all we were ever going to be;

are ephemeral beings. Born from ash, and to ash we must return. 

The stars know this, perhaps that is the reason for their unwavering smile. They are eternal.

Though as Adrien stares at Marinette's cool body, at her unbeating heart; he refuses it. Perhaps humans are ephemeral, but wishes are entirely too permanent.

No price is too heavy to bear.

Plagg remains unmoving, all but his body swaying with the harsh winds.

"I am Plagg, the Kwami of Destruction. I am everything that is and no longer will be."

"Now, fuse together".

The two entities embance each other, wrapping their arms around their bodies; now woven as one. Waves of scorching light escape in every direction, blinding all perceiving eyes.

Covering his face with his arm, only a blur of the cardinal colored entity before him slips through; marking the final stage of his Wish.

"I am Gimmi, the Kwami of Reality. I am everything that was, is, and will be."

Glancing down at the human who called upon it, the entity's expression bores in the everlong calamity this event brings.

Pausing for a moment, Adrien ponders at how he's presumed to make the wish. Surely, he can't just speak the words.

Sunset now glimmers and simmers down the tides of horizon; appearing to stray away from this sight of earth.

Sending but a silver of rays right to the silver ring in his palm; shining a crimson line of light over it.

Soft breeze blows against his back; seeming to be a ball of wind. Turning around, a small floating body of black matter appears before him; struggling to open it's eyes.

Plagg.

For months, Plagg hasn't seen the outside. The sun, or the now withering moon; sea or desert, soul or machine.

Now there's nothing to see, and yet it is unbearably difficult to adjust his eyes. Why is it, that in scarcity of the troubles and suffering and demise people bring with them, we are still unable to look at the world?

Is it because it lacks kindness? after all, the evil of consciousness had left. Is it because it lacks beauty? well, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

Or is it because we perceive the world as we do ourselves? Because, now that every soul, each sin engraved on nature; each path of terror any human chose to take - is gone,

we are left with no one else to blame, for how ugly the world has become.

Plagg knows why the world has perished. He watched it all, embodied the very core of an impaled bystander.

He watched it burn, and now drown in the waters who birthed it's killer.

He knows, he is that killer.

Turning around, slowly; opening his emerald green eyes, he glances at the owner who had loved him.

Then, when he was capable of loving.

"Adrien.."

The black kwami stutters. He had expected to be met with regret, or sorrow; or perhaps even tears. 

Though all he's met with, watching the eyes of a human who, to him, represents them all;

is indifference. Darkness only akin to cold, hollow stars stare back at him.

"Adrien, don't make the wish. You don't know what you're wishing for". He pleads, flying right before him; attempting to shield his vision from Marinette's body. 

From any of this, at all.

Now a glint of calm, muted anger springs in his iris, right before calmly replying.

"Marinette!"

Reaching his arms out for her, it is too late. She has already fallen.

Jumping off, the air cold and cruel; attempting to spin him in every direction as the earth pulls him down- she's nowhere to be found.

He lands on a piece of floating rooftops, ones that had been slashed in a battle he doesn't remember fighting.

Looking down and through and across, he can not find her.

When we lose someone, the ocean grieves with us; tides becoming wild and erratic,

their color deepening to midnight blue. Only that, when we attempt to find that person; we find it is impossible to see through those deep, dark waters.

There is no way to find her, but through.

His heart, which had seemingly frozen for all these months is now livid, clawing at him;

his eyes wide, frantically looking for his lover; Chest heavier with each disparate inhale.

Diving in, his muscles burn with the freeze of the cold, barely keeping up as he swims down.

All cat blanc is met with, is the same infinity of sea he'd befriended in his time here.

It no longer seems friendly.

Bodies and faces and remains of all he's ever known stare right back at him; haunting the boy who drowned them. We died for nothing, they almost whisper. In his mind, they always do.

Realizing this is only a waste of time, he strings himself up to the highest point of a building using his baton; careful not to stop scouring for her as he goes up.

We only realize the value of things when we lose them, his mother used to say.

And at that point we can't get them back. Though, as a miracle seems to occur;

Cat blanc spots a floating body rise from the waters, and if only for a minute;

it seems to have moved.

Running towards her, soaring the sky for a chance of saving her; he picks her up, aligning his miraculous with the building to help him return.

Laying her on the rooftop, he scavenges around him to find anything for her head to rest upon, eventually using his baton for her pillow.

"Marinette, come back to me", he pleads, eyes burning with tears.

He couldn't have caused this, couldn't have killed the girl he loves.

Twice.

attempting to revive her, again and again taking in the water she breathed in;  her lips a hollow tint of blue, skin pale and taunt.

Why won't she wake up?

Putting his hand on her chest, he feels for any sign of life; but to no avail.

Electricity of pure, irrevocable rage flows through his spine; now clinging to every muscle in his body.

Glancing down at his hand, resting over an unbeating heart; he is met with the white fabric of his suit.

His heart can not take it anymore.

Raising his hand to his bell, he enwraps it,

His arm shakes with the force he summons; rage clouding his vision. He doesn't feel any of it.

He does, however, feel the akuma leaving his broken bell; now back to the same suit that began it all.

He knows what he must do.

Peaceful serenity suddenly downs upon him, letting his shoulders rest; no longer fearful or worried or desperate.

Removing Marinette's earrings, he stares at his ring one last time.

Marinette's face shakes in response. Slowly, not to deny his words, but rather refuse their truth. 

"I have no secre-"

"Don't lie to me, Marinette."

Chat blanc's voice is strong, fierce as he tires of this moment. All alone he's been for all these months, days of wishing the worst company was next to him, because at least he would have company at all. When there is a soul to hate, there is a soul to love; and even if you have to transform your heart into a decayed, wretched thing just to love that cruel soul; you would.

But not hers. Love between people is a pure thing, a melody that harmonizes the closer they are to each other. Though it seems the closer Marinette got to Adrien, the more deceitful she became.

Lies are impure illnesses; they only spread and ensicken as time passes, because lies do not exist alone. They multiply, growing only as their feign of truth goes on.

"I know who my father is. I know you hid my letter from me, and I know you did it all to protect me. Look where your protection has led me."

He pauses, his lower lip twitching from anger. Anger at the face she had made when he found out, as she wasn't angry at his father. Not even at the letter.

She was angry that he found out she lied.

Hands balled to fists, Chat's nails are digging into his skin. Panting breaths accelerate as Heartfixer's face is unreadable; almost agonised in pain.

It pushes him further.

A laugh escapes his lips, deterred and baffled by her reaction. The world has drowned in its sorrows and decay, and yet all she thinks of is what she's lost.

"You know the best part of secrets, Marinette?" He takes steps closer to her, now shortening the distance between them. He was less than a meter away from the edge of the building, with only endless oceans visible beneath it.

"They make you face the truths you so desperately tried to erase".

A tear escapes her eye. Then, another. Her lips quiver at the echo of his shouts, embedding within her why she came here in the first place.

Chat advances towards her, faster, uncaring for her feelings. This is beyond guilt, now. 

This is his only chance for closure.

Suddenly, her eyes filled with rage shoot up to him, stopping him in his tracks. They can now feel each other's breaths, willing to scuff and yell and rum all they have to say to the whole world, as they can not be heard anyway. Only their souls perceive one another.

Tearful eyes filled with melancholy remain unmoving, paralysed to concentrate on the pair in front of them. Heartfixer's mask begins to break apart, torn pieces of it becoming one with the wind; 

Her pigtails previously imprisoned by tiles are now set free, slowly returning to their bluebell color.

Marinette now stands before him, a face he had seen crumble to dust; deep in the forsaken sea. Alive, bearing of heart and limb and bone.

His lover has come back from the dead, and Chat can muster nothing but wrath.

"Adrien, I didn't come here for you to forgive me", she admits, reddened lips and sore eyes moving in grave shame over her words;

"I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, Adrien. But you have to understand.

The one time that you knew about your father, this happened. What could I have possibly done to prevent this from happening? From you, destroying the world?"

Her heels are not touching the rooftop beneath her anymore; only the tips of her feet now meet with ground.

A storm has come, dark gray skies hover over her back, beckoning curved waves to parade against their building.

Chat blanc does not say a thing. His fists no longer bear the energy to berate his hands; eyes no longer burning with anger. We all wish that villains were true, that they had no reason for their cruelty. Their destruction. And at times, that is true. Some people really are monsters.

Though glancing at her once again, he notices the two of them. Not her faults, and not his loneliness. He notices them.

A girl who would hide in the name of love, with intention and guilt behind every action she takes; every lie she utters and each time her secrets bury her.

A boy, who would reveal and destroy in the name of love, giving up all control and shame of each disaster he creates, every violent act he takes, each time he causes the world to rot.

Those unfortunate souls, even at their worst state, complete each other.

But today is not the day they do so. It is not the world nor the circumstance at which they find that truth; that path to one another.

Because, as Chat stretches his arm for hers, ready to confess their love for one another, ready to fix the world;

Chat stops his infatuation with how she got here, to his world-

But rather, why.

Without warning, her yoyo shoots at him, barely missing by half his head as he scoots down. He hasn't fought in months.

"It's heartfixer for you".

Running towards him now, an expressionless face of the girl he loves hurries towards him;

With what was once a string of love. A yoyo that's saved them both many times, that has healed cruel moths and turned them into beautiful butterflies; a yoyo that defined marinette's identity as a hero. 

Now on her way to capture him. When a loved one runs to you, your first impression is that they're coming to hug you. However when they attack, what do you do? Do you fight back? Or do you love them enough to hug them anyway, as they hit you? 

Then, he realized something. An idea came to his head, carrying with it great risk. Risk he's willing to take, as it is now or never. And never is a long time in the soulless eternity of this ruined world.

Halting to a stop, refusing to fight;

Chat stands in front of the akumatized villain before him as she runs. Runs to hit him,

Runs to destroy him, runs to enfatuate him with loving her. Or hating her. It doesn't matter. Any feeling is better than indifference, come to find.

She doesn't hesitate, either. Villains do bite.

Marinette's yoyo hits him in the chest, blunt force strikes him to his core, through his heart. It doesn't stumble him.

Heartfixer now pauses. She, for the first time since they met, is confused as well. He's supposed to love her now.

Though all she sees standing before Chat blanc, whom she'll realize in a minute is simply Adrien; is a boy no different than he was before the strike.

"I love you, Marinette. But not because you force me to.

chapter 1 of ' One Wish" by Alina100111 on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83464446

what would happen if heartfixer met chatblanc in his world?

"Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady.."

Chat blanc sits at the edge- on the very tall rooftop of a building, one of the few that had remained after his attack. Oceans stretching below his legs; across mountains, cities, civilizations, and arctic deserts.

It's been forty-nine days without seeing a soul, without seeing hers. Though, faces- he could see. At first, it was peaceful. All people, good and evil, turned to frail dust at the very bottom of endless bodies of water. He could erase them with a simple touch, watching the tides carry their vanishing remains away. They would be erased from a world on which they inflicted great sorrow.

And then, there were the good ones. He didn't like looking at those, however, because if he looked at them long enough he would remember that they died because of him. Now they're soulless caricatures of those who trusted him, trusted him to defend them from a monster he has now become.

A big portal, seemingly originating from a white realm of portals, opens behind him. Two steps sound their way outside of it as he turns around, overjoyed of newfound company. His brows frown, instantly rising from his disadvantaged position. Is that an akumatized villain? what is she doing here? A girl with purple skin, hair and suit stands before him. cracks of light form paths away from her heart, spreading on her chest. Metal wires chain her pigtails in a circular formation, a yoyo in her hand.

It took him a while to realize.

"Marinette?" He utters, his voice coming out as a brittle whisper. How could Marinette be akumatized? Why is she here?

She doesn't move. The company of seas reminds him of the cold they bring with them; chills spreading across him back, marking their presence on his skin.

"Marinette, answer me!"

Nothing. Silence fills the air between them, suffocating him. Her, it won't budge. It doesn't seem she's breathing at all.

At once, her yoyo unleashes from its case, startling chat as he regains his alertness. She makes a calculative motion before opening her mouth.