MR. WHISKERS

Chloe had always loved being center stage. It was where she thrived her whole life. Sure, her father was always busy, and sure, her mother was always gone, but to everyone else, she was the most famous, the most beautiful, the most worthy of their attention.

Occasionally she’d use her status to make things work in her direction, but Chloe just saw that as using her resources.

At her lowest points, she’d use it to humiliate others, but negative attention was still attention.

To those around her, dare she say, those that care about her, it seemed her reign of boisterous claims and attention-seeking would never end. She’d assumed they thought the worst of her, that she would fall into more destructive means, and slowly she’d become too much for her Pierre, for Sabrina, for Adrien. She’d never deserve them and it seemed most stuck around for employment. Her father paid well for friendship.

Adrien always insisted that he never accepted money as there was no point for him to do so. And well, he was in the same boat. Adrien was the first person that understood her, that knew why she was always clinging to her fame. He didn’t always agree with it, but he understood it. At that point, it was all she could ask for.

Plus, for a long time, she had Adrien’s undivided attention. He didn’t know any other kids, he was homeschooled, and Chloe was the only option for companionship. Maybe Adrien was never paid, but the sentiment of sticking around simply because there were no other options had plagued Chloe as well.

Then he came to school with her. It had taken some convincing, but Adrien’s mother thought it would be good for him, as long as he kept up with modeling.

Adrien’s attention wasn’t undivided anymore. Adrien became fast friends with Alya, also new at school, and Nino seemed attached to Adrien’s hip merely two days in.

Alya and Nino tolerated her but had a nasty habit of trying to stop Chloe from picking fights with Marinette. Adding pure, soft, can do no wrong Adrien into the mix didn’t help.

She’d been forced to mellow out in order to keep Adrien around. It was a lot easier to do so after the incident. Picking fights with Marinette stopped instantaneously, though she could feel Marinette’s irritation at the prospect. Marinette never wanted pity, but it’s what she received, even from Chloe.

Marinette had sort of snapped in a weird direction.

It was like she suddenly felt the need to grow up all at once. She wasn’t at school for 2 weeks and when she reappeared, she looked completely different.

She stopped wearing handmade clothes, she stopped putting her hair into pigtails, she just stopped. Her grades slipped, though the teachers also took pity on her.

Marinette waffled in between efforts for attention and not wanting anyone to notice her.

The new clothing style said attention, Chloe thought, recognizing it in herself.

She got looked at more often for tight-fitting jeans, mesh shirts, and dark lips extenuating her blue eyes. But then her closed-off attitude, her snappy remarks, those were defense mechanisms to push people away.

Chloe realized a long time ago that looks were something you can control. Attention is something happily given to pretty people, and sometimes when you can’t control what sort of attention you’re given, looking a certain way gives you a way to drive your own narrative.

Being in the papers for being pretty is more fun than being in the papers for being a bitch. Chloe and Marinette understood that if you’re going to be a bitch, you might as well be an attractive one. People are more willing to forgive a pretty bitch.

These thoughts occurred to Chloe during her distraction phase. It was easy to be distracted by a girl who was sitting right next to her, silent but present, especially one dressed for attention-seeking.

Neither of them wanted attention right now, and they were both sitting with the precisely right person to avoid it, but Chloe allowed herself to be distracted by Marinette. It was better than the alternative.

Chloe didn’t speak; Marinette didn’t speak.

Maybe it didn’t matter if people noticed you, as long as they kept their mouth shut about it.

She couldn’t remember why they had fought so regularly. They seemed so distant, those arguments. She assumed she had done something entitled and Marinette had done something condescending and they’d argue until someone got involved and they’d part ways until their next encounter. Maybe at that point, both had each other’s attention.

Around Marinette, Chloe felt seen. Not in a positive way but definitely in a way that allowed Chloe to feel better about herself for a few quick moments. They both fought for the moral high ground and both won in their own eyes.

Occasionally, Chloe’s thoughts would circle back around to her parents, but she quickly pushed them away. She had to, otherwise, she’d break down again.

So she studied Marinette’s hair, her eyebrows hidden beneath her bangs. Her eyelashes. Her eyes stared into nothing, or maybe into something deep in her brain. Those tended to be the same. She wondered what she was thinking about.

Chloe had wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees. At some point, was it two? three? hours of sitting on the ground, Marinette said something.

“Do you,” she cleared her throat from disuse, “Do you need a place to stay?”

Chloe looked up sharply. Marinette also seemed surprised at the suggestion, despite the fact that she had offered it.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking... if you needed to...you could stay at my house…”

Of all the things Chloe had thought about, her physical things hadn’t even crossed her mind. Her physical home. Her home had collapsed. She’d cared so much about her shoe collection 12 hours ago and now she couldn’t be bothered.

“Oh…” Chloe lowered her face back into her knees, “I hadn’t thought about it, I guess.”

“Well, If you do…” Marinette trailed off, the offer hanging in the air. It was the official olive branch.

They hadn’t been fighting, but they weren’t friends by any means. It seemed like this was saying, “I’m willing to move on if you are.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe it was the best time. Maybe they desperately needed someone in their corner. Maybe Adrien hadn’t understood Chloe for a long time. Maybe Marinette and Chloe had always understood each other.

Maybe seeking attention meant seeking those that were willing to give it.

“Thank you.” And they fell back into silence.

If Chloe had thought about it, which she hadn’t, she’d probably assume that she’d stay at Adrien’s. But Adrien was in his own headspace now.

Then her thoughts shifted to the denial. This denial was justified, Chloe felt, because Adrien had practically been saying it all day.

“None of this is right.” Which in Chloe’s mind translated to, “None of this is real.”

She had felt the wrongness before but now couldn’t attribute it to anything but grief. People always tried to bargain, right?

What if none of this is real? What if my parents aren’t dead? What if I can get them back? But Adrien hadn’t lost anything. What excuse did he have for making up shit in his brain? This is what Chloe said to herself in order to decide that whatever Adrien needed to do to “fix” things, she’d do it. Because maybe, just maybe, the madman was right. That her parents shouldn’t be dead. That this was fixable.

Nino and Alya had explained their dreams to Marinette. They were more than dreams, they all understood that, but Marinette was having a hard time latching on.

“We just need to know what you think feels wrong,” Nino said. Marinette scoffed, not out of malice but out of frustration. Her arms crossed defensively against her chest, her head shook bouncing hair on her shoulders, her mouth struggled to form words. Adrien understood that frustration, as he was currently feeling it as well. It was not being able to find words that should feel so normal, and knowing something is wrong but not anything else.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what feels wrong! Everything feels wrong!”

It occurred to Adrien that you can’t really feel water when you’re surrounded by it.

Everything about Marinette’s life was wrong, as far as he could tell. He wouldn’t be able to tell you what was correct exactly, only that if you squint really hard something about her was familiarly incorrect.

It wasn’t easy to explain, and he wasn’t the best with words anyway. He glanced at his friends, who returned his glances, each with a tinge of sympathy. He couldn’t tell who the sympathy was directed towards but suspected it wasn’t mutually exclusive.

Adrien was obviously more affected by this phenomenon. Dreams were one thing, but Adrien’s mood had been violently swinging all day. It was to be expected in the midst of a national crisis, but this had begun before the building fell.

He cried when there was nothing to cry at, both in happiness and grief. He felt as though he were living two days simultaneously, one very different, but maybe not much better.  And to him, Marinette was at the epicenter.

Feelings around her thrashed like waves against a rocky shore. He tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms, becoming jittery. He paced around the hallway.

“Adrien?” Chloe sounded more concerned than she really should have been. Adrien felt guilty for not being the one next to her to deal with her parents. And then ashamed of his guilt and then ashamed of his own self-pity.

He was so caught up in his own bullshit that he had stood to the side while Marinette, of all people, comforted her. It was bizarre, wrong, and also the best thing to happen today.

“Sorry, I’m just...confused.” His mental failings shouldn’t be a priority right now. People have died.

It wasn’t his place to be more distraught than those around him. His parents were still alive and well, his home unaffected, his life unchanged. That felt incorrect too, somehow. He felt as though his life had changed significantly, just in a way that was unplaceable. Like pointing at it would be pointing at air.

The news outlets and websites said that outside wouldn’t be safe until the next morning so everyone camped out in the main gym. There were a scattered number of teachers that had arrived before the collapse but apparently most had been stuck in a Ladybug induced roadblock.

They instructed students to stay calm and a few reached out to Chloe specifically, checking in occasionally, but Chloe made it clear that the teachers should focus on the other students. They looked surprised at this sentiment, but continued to try to help those who seemed more visibly distraught than Chloe.

They had been advised to stay put until the next morning, so the teachers gathered yoga mats and the school’s few sleeping bags from upperclassmen camping trips. A few blankets scattered the floor. There wasn’t enough for everyone so some used jackets or backpacks as pillows. The students gathered together, select laughter echoing through the gymnasium. But otherwise, it was about as quiet as an entire school of 14-18 years could be.

They struggled through another explanation, but Marinette remained unconvinced. Chloe explained her dream, eerily similar to Nino’s about a purple butterfly and not being in control. They watched her carefully. When she was done, she looked over at Marinette, who looked sympathetic and maybe a little confused.

“I’m sorry, this all seems odd, I’ll give you that, but I just don’t recognize it as familiar.”

They all turned to look at Adrien. He’s the one who needed this, he’s the one with the next step. He had no answers. He hadn't told her his dream yet. He wasn't sure he could.

“No, I’m sorry. Maybe...maybe it’s nothing. Maybe nothing is going on.” he pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing away a headache he didn’t know he had. “Maybe I’m going crazy.”

“How can you say that?” Chloe glared, “How can you claim, how can you...give me hope that none of this is right, that maybe we’re in some sort of dream, and then just toss it aside like it’s nothing? What if my parents are supposed to be alive right now, Adrien? Do you want to just ignore it? You want me to live a life I’m not supposed to be living?”

“Chloe, I never claimed this world isn’t real, just that it’s wrong.”

“Then that’s what I’m saying. This world...isn’t real.”

“Chloe…” Alya reached a hand out to her.

“No.” Chloe stood, turned, and walked away, leaving Alya’s hand suspended in the air.

For the first time in months, Marinette slept in a building with other people in it. More people than she ever had, really. She slept on a blanket, sharing with Alya and Chloe, who had come back only when she realized she didn’t want to be alone.

She didn’t say that, of course, but no one commented on her return either. They didn’t talk about the feeling for the rest of the night, instead opting for silence or half-hearted plans for the next day.

Adrien said Chloe could stay at his house. Chloe didn’t even have to ask. Marinette and Chloe shared a glance before Chloe agreed.

Marinette had a dream on the gymnasium floor. She wasn’t lying when she said Alya, Chloe and Nino’s dreams didn’t sound familiar, but this one was not unfamiliar .

She stood on a rooftop, wind-battered her skin, and she was cold. She couldn’t possibly be really cold, it wasn’t real, but she shivered. She felt the chill on her arms. It wasn’t right.

When she looked down at her hands she was surprised to see them. She felt as though something was missing from her skin. Her hands bolted to her ears and felt nothing.

In front of her, the scene was incomprehensible. There were two people, wearing garishly ridiculous outfits. It didn’t seem like they should be a threat, but in her dream, her pulse quickened.

One of them had a gun. It wasn’t pointing at her but to an empty spot next to her. Panic ran through her spine all the way down to her bare fingertips. There’s someone missing. Where...where was he? For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look downwards. She knew something was just below her vision if she could move her neck every time she pulled, her vision remained stiff, forcing her chin to remain level.

The woman with the gun, she sauntered to them, Marinette and the Something. She dipped into her blind spot and came up with a ring. The man, he looked grief-stricken, panicked, and angry.

“NATALIE.” his voice boomed in the quiet city. It...shouldn't have been quiet.

“Relax, boss, once you have the miraculous everything will go back to normal. You’ll have your family back.”

“Then give me the ring”

“Hold on a second, I want to talk to the girl.”

“No, enough of this. Give me the miraculous.”

Then she held up the gun to his chest. Marinette couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything. She was hopeless. She was helpless. She was weak.

“Give me the earrings, Gabriel.”

“Nat-”

A click of the gun, “I’m not asking.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll get you your family back Gabriel, but I want something too.”

“How do I know you’ll bring her back?”

“Because I don’t want you causing me trouble on the other side. Gotta keep you fat and happy. The earrings.”

He held them out. She turned around and walked where Marinette couldn’t see. A shining light sparked into her field of vision. And then a stronger brighter one a few seconds later. And then...and then there was nothing but light.

Marinette woke up her arms tight around Chloe. She gasped (from the dream) and made eye contact with the back of Chloe’s head. She’d gotten so tense during her nightmare that she’d pulled Chloe against her chest.

Okay, I’m big spooning Chloe Bourgeois.

She couldn’t even think beyond that. She felt another body on her other side, Alya sleeping peacefully.

She needed space. Room to breathe. Sitting up proved to be easier than standing up. She managed to get free, grab her backpack, and flee into the hallway, still buzzing with public school lighting. She aimlessly walked the hallways. A teacher stopped her once, she quickly rambled about going to the bathroom and they let her go. She took deep breaths trying to remember everything about that dream. The names. The faces. The location. It already began to blur in her mind. She remembered the gun and the earrings and the ring and the chill on her skin and how wrong it felt. She felt something, someone, missing from her field of vision.

She sat and drew everything she remembered. Her hands, the roof, the gun, the earrings and the ring in the hand of the wrong people. The flashing in the corner of her eye, the grief stricken angry face of the man in purple. The cruelness of the woman in blue. She couldn’t quite remember her face.

Adrien wasn’t going to sleep, he knew that when he woke up this morning. So when he saw Marinette grab her backpack and run, it wasn’t a large leap to try and talk to her. Problem was he couldn’t find her.

“Mr. Agreste, what are you doing up and about?”

“Bathroom, ma’am.”

The teacher narrowed her eyes.

“No fooling around, Mr. Agreste.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He couldn’t remember what he had done to receive a reputation of tomfoolery but apparently word had spread. That wasn’t even his teacher. He almost asked if she had seen Marinette, but that wouldn’t have helped.

He found Marinette on the roof.

“What the fuck, Marinette?”

“GOD! Fuck, Agreste, you scared me.”

“You’re on the roof.”

“Well spotted.”

“Why?”

“Needed some air.”

“Toxic, debris-filled air?”

“That warning came down hours ago.”

“What are you doing?” he gestured to her notebook.

“Drawing, Agreste, what does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re on the ROOF during a traumatic NATIONAL CRISIS. Please just come down.”

“Oh. OH! No, Agreste, I’m fine. I’m good. I just needed to…” she trailed off.

He looked around. From here, you could see where Le Grand Paris used to be.

“The world is fucked,” he ran his fingers through his hair and sat down next to Marinette. She flipped her notebook closed. She was drawing a pair of hands.

“Well spotted.”

“Marinette, I think it’s my fault.”

“Full of yourself, are we? Center of the world Adrien Agreste? The only one who realizes the world is fucked?”

“Jesus, I’m trying to,” he sighed, “Fuck, Marinette.”

They were silent for a while.

“Marinette, your life is wrong.”

"You keep saying that."

"I mean it, I don't think this is how things were supposed to go."

"You can't just brush off things you don't like with denial, Agreste. At least, that's why my therapist says."

Adrien laughed, "Watch me."

"Blondie, I can't help but want to believe you, and that's why I can't do this. Whatever it is you're doing. I can't let myself believe that nothing is permanent. I can't just go along with it because I think I'll see my parents on the other side."

"No, I know that. Of course, I know that." Adrien uses his hands to push himself off the ground, spinning that he's sitting across from her, "I just...Marinette I'm going to tell you my dream."

"Ooookay."

"No, my literal dream, the dream that I had last night, not like, my existential drea- ya know what, never mind."

"No, I get it," Marinette smiles, and it's good to see.

"Alright, I'm on this roof."

His dream starts on a roof. Of course, of fucking course it does.

"And there's something next to me that I can't see. And I'm looking at this roof and there's a guy in purple, with, like, this butterfly brooch on it. It's a ridiculous fucking outfit." Marinette has to smile. "And he's talking some big game about something miraculous. And I'm pissed. I'm angry as fuck. And then this equally gaudy bitch pulls out this canister that's got my MOM inside which is wild, and then I'm cussing this guy out. Just screaming at him. I honestly don't remember what I said. Then he moves to that place I can't look, ya know, that blind spot? And comes back with earrings. Then the bitchy lady comes back and I wake up."

"Wow, that's quite the dream." If Marinette hadn't experienced what she just experienced, she would have thought that's a fairly normal dream dream.

"Now, I know how that sounds."

"Sounds like a dream," she lied.

"No, I know, dreams are crazy in general, but I swear more happened than that. I just, it felt so weird, like I was actually on the ruth, filled with rage. I just need to know who was next to me."

“You look as though you don’t want to be seen,” she said.

He shrugged, “And yet you are seeing me.”

“You are bad at this.”

“Not bad, just new.”

“I think those things can exist at the same time,” there was an amused glint in her eye. He smirked, embarrassed yet charmed. The moonlight fell on her shoulders, highlighting her nose and the shine in her hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. She began to walk past him, giving him a comfortable berth, as he stood in the middle of her path. “Next time I see you, I better not see you,” she said.  If it didn’t make sense to them, neither of them acknowledged it. He followed her with his shoulders.

“Hopefully I could see you, m’lady.” He bowed dramatically. If he were to be seen tonight, might as well be a show. She twirled her fingers as she walked away.

“Have fun in the shadows, Alley Cat.”

“How did you know my name?” he called after her. She laughed in the distance.

Since then, he went out as Cat Noir more often, hoping to stumble across her again. It didn’t take long. He was a simple man and the smell of bread drew him in like a moth to flame, like a dire need. He didn’t expect her there, covered in flour, so different from the night they met. She looked equally shocked to see him again. Her eyes narrowed as if to say, “you broke your promise”. He was a tad surprised at her resistance, considering how coy she’d been that night, but he soon learned that she cared about image more than anything. Not in the vain sense, but in the respectable sense. She stayed far from trouble, and well, Cat Noir reeked of it. If one was determined to remain honorable and without scandal, then avoiding a roguish vigilante was simple arithmetic. The village had entrusted her with their clothing, their food, and their children. She wouldn’t give that up.

He placed a bag coin on their kitchen table, as he had done to every house in the village, and her eyes widened. Imploring without a word where he could have possibly gotten that from and why it was appearing on this particular table. They didn’t speak, but her parents made their gratitudes before Cat Noir disappeared into the night.

Only a few nights later, she had decided to interrogate him behind her house. Before she spoke, he held out his hand and bowed.

“I didn’t catch your name that night.” She obliged and put her hand in his. He kissed it politely. Despite the fact that this was a standard, traditional, practice, he thought he saw her blush. When they were out of sight she calmed and slid down into the grass.

“I didn’t throw it,” she blew air upwards, shifting her hair gracefully, “I assume you don’t have one, Alley Cat. Being half shadow and all that.”

“Cat Noir.”

“I was close. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“You have two last names.”

“Yes,” she hesitated, focusing her eyes on her hands.

“Why?”

“Dupain is my father. Cheng is my mother,” she said, simply. For as traditional as she was this was hardly custom. He recognized it, then, as her one small act of rebellion. Everyone had one, even someone as sensible as Marinette. His was a little more...ostentatious, but for Marinette, this name was a big thing. Her mother was a part of her.

“Where do you get the money?” she asked. It was nearly the same question as his. They meant the same thing. What is your rebellion? What allows you to feel free?

“Oh, you know, the ol’ 9-10.” He slid into the grass next to her, sitting.His back pressed into the jagged brick of Marinette’s house, one leg against his chest, the other fell into the grass, knee nearly brushing against her thigh.

“No. Really.”

He sighed. This could be the end of him before he even began, “You will not like the answer, Mademoiselle.” He let his head fall onto his leg, face turned towards Marinette. He’d seen a lot of pretty girls, it was nearly his job--aside from this, but none struck him quite so much as Marinette. Maybe it was her eyes, deep, imploring, full of expression, or her nose that crinkled when he said something distasteful. Or maybe every girl he’d met had these qualities, but Marinette was the first he noticed or at least truly paid attention to. Why was that? Why was he, right now, about to tell her his most prized and recent secret? He barely knew her, but he was this close to revealing everything. His life in her calloused, hard-working hands. For some reason, he trusted her. He imagined at some point he might even let her in on his biggest secret. Maybe that was too much for her, to be sitting behind your house in the middle of the night with a thief who was also the prince . The very prince he stole from. He would save it for another day.

“You steal from the castle.”

He looked up, surprised, “How did you know?”

“There is no reliable source of money, not in that quantity, unless it is stolen.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Well, I certainly don’t like it.” She brought her knees to her chest, “But I’m not running to the king’s guard either.”

He smiled at her. This was another of Marinette’s small rebellions.

And thus was the beginning of their friendship. A rogue and a tailor. She would playfully swat him away, and it was true, she didn’t agree with his methods, but together the village thrived on hope and stolen money. She was his first advocate and his first critic. She fixed his shirts and didn’t ask why there were blade cuts, or why his worn clothes were of the finest fabrics. She probably thought he stole them. He let her. He pushed her hair out of her face as she worked. She let him.

Adrien snuck out frequently. It was how he kept up his ruse, and the problem with having a person escorting you from place to place all day long was that it was a lot harder to go somewhere unnoticed. It was why he had convinced every girl hired for the position of lady-in-waiting that this job wasn’t for them and they would quietly quit. Some held on longer than others, but really, he was the prince and very persuasive. In the time in between when a girl was fired and a girl was hired, Adrien had complete freedom. Or, at least, an opportunity for it.

~~~~~~~~~

He sat on a throne, smaller than his fathers, and the empty one that stood next to him. He felt small up there when the throne room was empty, but far too large when people stood below him. He had been called to the throne room, ripped from his free hour in between lessons and anticipated another scolding. It is not what he received, but he was bitter anyway. The large doors creaked open, and two women walked inside. His father’s advisor, Natalie, and...

“Your Royal Highnesses, this is Mademoiselle Marinette Dupain.”

Adrien’s heart stopped. Marinette in all her poise and sensibility walked gracefully behind Natalie. For a second he thought he’d never breathe again. Here? Now? Could he survive with her just below his fingertips?

Dupain. She had dropped her mother’s name. His teeth grit, and his hands gripped the sides of his throne. Coming here she would lose her bit of rebellion. It wasn’t her fault, he knew why she had done it, but he was ready to spit blood on the very chair he sat.

“I have considered her for the replacement of Ariana,” Natalie spoke as if the sentence wouldn’t force all the air out of Adrien’s lungs. Nope he was never breathing again, ever. This jacket was too tight. Everything in him held.

“Interesting,” Gabriel regarded her, “Step forward, Mademoiselle Dupain.” She did. She curtsied.

“Your Royal Highness.”

“Mademoiselle Dupain, allow me to make very plainly what your intended position will be. You will be in service directly to the prince, make sure he is comfortable, make sure he is presentable for various functions, and possibly most importantly, teach the young man some manners.”

Adrien flushed ferociously but bit his tongue. Marinette looked equally as shocked. This is the first she’s heard of this position. She didn’t come in for this. She was probably here to replace the retired woman from the kitchens. This was a much better position, much higher pay, but Adrien himself had given it a bad reputation. Everyone in the castle thought he was so rude to them they had scurried away, and he let them believe it.

“Y-yes, Your Highness.” She didn’t look at Adrien, gaze held on the king, even then she didn’t meet his eye. She was well mannered, but Adrien had long thought low of this custom in particular. To think his father was too good for Marinette to look in the eye? It was ridiculous. At the least, they were equals, and at the most, it should be Gabriel avoiding her gaze.

“And you would be living in the castle.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Do you accept?”

She hesitated, and for the first time glanced at the prince. He knew her eyes well, but she stared into him like a stranger. Both sets were full of shock and adrenaline. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Fantastic! Welcome to Castle Agreste.”

Every possible outcome ran through Adrien’s mind. If Marinette were here, that means she wouldn’t be in the village. Sneaking out would be to walk away from her, in a literal sense, but it also meant to completely rebuild a friendship he’d worked so hard on. The dynamic was different now. Marinette would never be caught dead acting so cavalier with the prince, so there would be no late-night talks in the moonlight. If he told her…maybe having someone on the inside to help Cat Noir would be a good thing, he’d had a few close calls lately. Marinette would probably be frustratingly good at this job, and therefore it would be harder to sneak out with her around unless he told her that he was Cat Noir. The thought of that conversation made his heart curl and not in a good way. He was her employer, directly responsible for the well-being of her family, he was also the BLOODY PRINCE. There were a million possibilities that ran through his mind about how Marinette would react to the news that the wanted thief and the prince were one in the same. None of them were great.

Marinette was escorted away for instruction and Adrien was left alone with his father. They stared forward at the empty throne room. Adrien didn’t dare turn his head.

“Adrien.”

“Father.”

“You will treat this girl with the utmost respect, if I find out she wishes to quit like any of the other girls we’ve hired, you will be watched over by Natalie personally. You will be under lockdown. It’s clear I have given you too much freedom in this regard.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You will have to find a wife soon, and that will require a certain demeanor, one that I have yet to see displayed by you, son.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Dismissed.”

“Yes, Father.”

The downside of pretending to be a cold asshole is having a worse cold asshole think he’s better than you. A “certain demeanor”, Adrien almost scoffed. That demeanor drove his mother away, a woman his father claimed to love. Adrien stood, and flipped his coattail.

“ADRIEN!”

“Sorry father, only an accident.” It wasn’t.

Prince Adrien had stumbled through his fencing lesson, mind clouded with thoughts. How he would escape the castle under close watch if he had Marinette quit. If he should even attempt his ploy again. Could he win over Marinette without his mask? If so, why would he want for anything else?

“So have you found a new lady-in-waiting, Your Highness?” Nino sat in the grass next to the courtyard Adrien sparred in. Cross-legged, knees apart and feet together, a book perching on his ankles, like a young boy.

“Uhhh, yes.” He was distracted that he didn’t even glare at the title like he normally did. To be fair, he did have D’Argencourt’s blade to think about.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“No, I’m sure we found one, but…” he parried.

“What’s her name?”

“Uhm, Mar...y. Mary,” Adrien dodged. D’Argencourt was not, shall we say, going easy on him, in spite of the prying conversation.

“Does it seem like she’ll be good?”

“Well, she’s got...a good… resume?”

“She’s got a good resume?” Nino asked in disbelief. Not at the statement but the fact that Adrien had said it. Adrien had gone through 5 handmaidens “with good resumes”. All had left within the month. It had surprised Nino, possibly most of all. Adrien was polite and rational to everyone else, and yet somehow drove away every lady-in-waiting hired by his father. They’d attempted pages and squires, but often they just got into trouble with each other. Adrien was not the best influence on the youth. He was hopeless. And he fumbled. And now he lost his match.

“Thanks, Nino.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” Nino laughed as D’Argencourt smirked with his blade against Adrien’s chest. He popped up from his spot in the grass, book in hand. “Well, I better prepare the boys for your riding lesson. But this conversation isn’t over.” Adrien only glared at Nino as he walked away. Adrien brushed his lengthening hair out of his face, and turned back to D’Argencourt, already waiting with his blade at the ready.

Nino knew the castle well. He’d pretty much grown up there, at Adrien’s side. His mother worked there before retiring, but Nino had been brought up knowing the palace stables better than anybody, and well, the prince too for that matter. Natalie decided to let Nino stay. He served a purpose to the only child of the king, he was a friend and a brother. The castle had nearly always been his home, his mother didn’t live too far away, it was a good way to live. He walked down an open corridor, the courtyard visible through open archways, the

“Hello, Nino!” Alya cried as they walked down the hallway.

“Alya! And friends. You must be the new lady-in-waiting.” Nino politely kissed her hand, “The prince mentioned you.”

“Marinette, pleasure.”

“Strange, he said your name was Mary. Marinette?” Nino seemed to recognize the name and pondered where he had heard it.

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t suppose he’d learn my name just yet. I’ve only just met him, and he is the prin--”

Nino looked like he’d been slapped, suddenly. His face fell into his hand and he began laughing. Marinette and Alya looked at each other in surprise, and then Marinette squinted at the insolence. Then he started talking really fast and looked about ready to take off. “I hate to be rude, but I really must go chase down a prince. It was nice to meet you, Marinette.” Then he slowed for a moment and took Alya’s hand and kissed it much more intensely than he had kissed Marinette’s, “Alya.” He winked at her before taking off down the hallway.

“That blasted stable boy,” Alya blushed before they continued down the hallway.

“Well, that was bizarre.”

“Quite.”

Marinette cleared her throat and turned to Alya, her eyes knowing, “Curious, how Nino treats you, as well.” Alya blushed more, and Marinette smirked.

“Yes, well, I’m more curious about why he went to chase down the prince after hearing your name, personally.” Changing the subject. Typical. Marinette didn’t push her new friend.

“Possibly to impose on him a lesson to be more careful reciting the names of people he just met. It’s just manners, after all. I suppose I have my work cut out for me.”

Alya didn’t seem convinced but shrugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the courtyard, the prince stood in the flower garden, well-trimmed hedges lined the red brick paths as flowers of every color and shape and size filled the space in between. He came out there to contemplate the consequences of his actions when one of them came running towards him.

“ADRIEN AGRESTE”

“Nino! My dearest friend! How are you? How’re Plagg and Tikki? Lively as ev-- uh oh” His face turned panicked as his friend didn’t seem to slow as he grew closer. He was about to be tackled. Adrien began his retreat, first stumbling backward, “Nino, please, I’m not sure what I’ve done but I can explain” He didn’t sound serious, and Nino didn’t slow. So he turned and booked it. He ran along the brick path towards the exit on the other side, a stone arch, so if we were tackled he could fall in the grass and not brick. Nino would catch up to him. He was taller and faster. They had, of course, been determining this every week since they were seven. For a few years in between, when Adrien had peaked first, he’d had an advantage, but had lost it when Nino shot up 8 inches practically overnight. Only now did he realize his serious disadvantage. It was also unfortunate in this moment that Nino had been given certain liberties around the prince, for example, tackling him whenever necessary. No one would save him, this was a normal Tuesday. Adrien had just stepped in the grass when Nino tackled him.

“Get off me!” he couldn’t control his laughter, “I am your prince!”

“Marinette, huh?” Nino was laughing too.

“Oh...yes… crazy coincidence is it not?”

“You’re crazy, more like it.” Nino got off of him and sat on the ground, panting.

“Hey, for once, this wasn’t me. She told me she was getting a job. I didn’t know where, and I certainly didn’t think as my personal handmaiden. To be honest, I’m kind of losing my mind over here.” Adrien ruffled his hands into his bright hair, already messy from running.

“You can’t lose what you never had.”

“Haha.”

“You’re still unbelievably foolish.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Haha. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing different anyway.”

“You’re going to get her to quit?”

“Well, ok, I’m doing that differently.” He rubbed a finger to his eye, "Look, I really like Marinette, but she's incredibly good at whatever she does. She will figure out my secret eventually."

"Right, when you tell her to her face because you're WEAK. The first DAY that you went out you were halfway convinced to tell her. You'll do it eventually."

"She'd keep the secret."

"You don't know that for certain."

"Nino! She's already been keeping it!"

"All I'm suggesting is to test out the waters first. See how she is. Figure out what her actual thoughts about Cat Noir are."

"Yeah she's not exactly going to divulge that information to me, her employer, THE PEOPLE THAT CAT NOIR IS STEALING FROM."

"Hm. Well, just, be careful."

“Fall back!” Cat screams but Ladybug’s thoughts drive her to hesitate and in a rumbling of the streets Stoneheart picks up Ladybug crushing her body down hard. She screams in pain and passes out in his hand.

“LADYBUG!” tears spill down his cheeks as he scrambles for some semblance of a plan. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Today was supposed to be normal.

The booming voice of Hawkmoth shakes the streets, “CAT NOIR, I’VE CAPTURED LADYBUG. I HAVE HER MIRACULOUS. GIVE UP YOURS AND I WILL GRANT YOU YOUR LIFE.”

Cat Noir collapses on the ground, holding back dry heaving sobs. Stoneheart releases Ladybug in front of Hawkmoth, her body drops like a sack of bricks. He can hear the thud. Hawkmoth reaches down. Cat Noir is stuck. Body heavy, tired. He can’t move, solidified to the ground as if he is part of it. He needs to save her. She’s hurt, she’s...about to be revealed. He has to… save her. He rises from the ground.

“I have to say, Cat Noir,” Hawkmoth drags out his words, as if he has all the time in the world, “You... are... loyal. Bring him to me.”

Someone, he doesn’t know who, lifts Cat Noir off the ground to drop him off at Hawkmoth’s feet. He buckles once more, pathetically. His knees are weak, and every muscle in his body shakes from exhaustion. Hawkmoth leans over and removes an earring from Ladybug’s ear. “No,” he attempts to scream, but his voice cracks instead. He wants to close his eyes, for her sake, but it’s too late. Her transformation slips off as Hawkmoth removes the second earring. Marinette. He thought about how he would react to this many nights before. What his reaction might be to seeing who his lady is. Would they see each other and have sudden epiphanies about how much they loved each other and celebrate with a dance atop the Eiffel Tower or the Notre Dame Cathedral? Together they could do anything. A joyful celebration of mutual love and respect seems so far away it might as well be a different universe. He sobs. He sees everything that she is. He loves her and didn’t save her. He didn’t stop this. He never ever wanted it to be this way. Quickly, pushing the hurt from his mind, he remembers where is his: on his knees in front of Hawkmoth. His sobs turn to anger.

“I can see it in you, Cat Noir. You’d do anything for her.” He’s tired and stiff, but can still retort with, “Including kill you.” If Ladybug and Cat Noir were balanced, and Ladybug was gone, what was he capable of?

“Bold words from someone who can barely stand. But you are missing the point. You and I, we are the same.” Ah yes, that thing villains love to do: pretend they are heroes after taking over the entire city of Paris.

“Don’t you ever compare me to you.” he spits at Hawkmoth’s feet.

“I would also do anything for the woman I love. That’s what this is all for. I lost my wife, and I intend to get her back.”

Then Le Paon walks out rolling a woman in a glass tube out onto the roof where they stand, then walks away again. Apparently she has better things to do. When he sees the encased woman, Cat Noir’s heart plummets. If it was possible to feel worse, kneeling next to Marinette’s limp body, he did. His mother. His mother is in that tube. My wife. Cat Noir retches.

“With the powers of the Ladybug’s and Cat Noir’s miraculous, I can bring her back to me. Nothing else matters. Nothing.”

“Not even your son?”

“What?”

“Tell me Hawkmoth, where is your son right now?”

Hawkmoth looks around, confused, “Who said anything about a son?”

“I did,” Cat Noir stands once more, leaning on the building if only to try to remove the sick, bitter feeling in his stomach. He replaces it with rages. Through gritted teeth, he says, “That’s Emelie Agreste. Which makes you Gabriel. Which makes me your son. Am I going too fast?”

“No, it’s not- it’s not possible!”

“Then where’s your son, Gabriel?” The blood drains from the villain’s face. The darkness in Adrien, the one the was almost required for someone to be Cat Noir, the miraculous of destruction, shows itself in the moments that he has lost everything, “Did you lose him in the chaos?” With the upper hand, he makes the choice to walk closer to Hawkmoth, “No, I think you lost him a long time ago. Yeah, around the same you lost her,” Adrien points finger roughly at his mother, “When we lost her. But no, there’s no we. There never was, was there, dad?” he spit the word so hard Gabriel looked stricken. Not a word, a bullet. “Now looks at this bitter irony, huh? Neither even realized it. HA! We never realized we were living under the same fucking roof as our sworn enemy!” he laughs in a scary, hysterical way that turns into a coughing fit, which causes a huge pang of pain throughout his body. Hawkmoth, stupid fucking Hawkmoth, stands there with a dumb look on his face.

“Adrien,” the word hurts him, “you can help me. You can help me bring your mother back. Just give me your miraculous!”

“Fuck you.”

“Adrien, I can fix everything! I can fix your mother! I can fix us! I can fix the whole world! Just give m--”

“Fuck. You. You’re delusional. You always have been! I thought it was some form of protection like you wanted to save me or something. But obviously it’s just so I wouldn’t stand in your way. Let’s send Adrien to this stupid charity event! Or this fucking photoshoot! Let’s keep him from the outside world completely and totally, that will keep him out of my hair! You are so stupid. You are so fucking dumb. And I WAS THE ONE STOPPING YOU! THE WHOLE TIME! HAHAHA. You wanted me out of your hair! HAHAHA” As his laughter crescendoed so did the pain. “Adrien, if you don’t give it to me, I will take it from you.”

The crazed smile on Cat Noir’s face drops suddenly, “Go for it. You ripped everything I love away, what’s one more, right? I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of giving it to you, you better kill me first. Rip it off my cold dead hand. Kill your son to bring back your wife. Go for it, asshole.” Le Paon appears again, “That can be arranged,” and Adrien hears a gunshot. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien woke up in a comfy bed in a large room.

The first thought that crossed his mind was “Am I dead?” No, wait. Of course not. Why did he think that? There was a dream. A weird dream.

“Adrien, mon cher, wake up you’re going to be late for school!” a woman’s voice comes from behind the door.

“Oui, oui, mère, Je suis réveillé.” For a moment the word “mère” feels weird on his tongue, but that quickly passes. He dresses in his normal clothes and goes downstairs to find his mother and father sitting at the table with a plate of tartine waiting for him. Once again, something feels off, only for a moment. Maybe it was that dream? There was a sudden surge of hate and bitterness toward his father before pushing it away. It would be strange to feel angry for something his father did in a dream.

“You’d better hurry, darling, Gorilla’s waiting outside.”

“Yeah, I’d better go. Love you!”

A chorus of nonchalant I love you’s follow him out the door.

“Good morning, Gorilla, how are you today.”

“Monsieur Adrien, are you okay?”

“Of course, I am, why would you think otherwise?”

“Well, monsieur, you’re crying.” Adrien reaches up to his cheek to find wet trails down his face. How could he be crying? “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s almost, well, happy?”

“I see. Well, I’m glad you’re in such a good mood!”

“Right…” Adrien looked at his hand, perplexed by the wetness from tears he didn’t even realize he had. _______________

The feeling of wrongness followed Adrien all day. He didn’t know where it came from, but his stomach was just a little wobbly. His friends were there, Alya, Nino, Chloe. They talked in the hallway. Chloe had had a very weird dream and started on a tangent, “And this butterfly just comes up and possesses me…” Nino looked oddly interested, odd only because he’s never had any interest in Chloe’s weird tangents before.

But before he could dwell too long on Chloe’s dream, Marinette walked in. She was just AURATING with wrong. Everything about her. There was nothing different that he could see, her dark, black hair fell down to lay on her shoulders, she wore a black v-neck t-shirt, black ripped jeans with a blue jean jacket. Her lips tinted red. Beautiful as always, but still, something felt off. He was sort of getting sick of this feeling, but then he noticed to look on Alya’s face, who was looking straight at Marinette.

“You feel it too.” He interrupted Chloe.

“What?” Alya snapped out of her daze to look at Adrien’s concerned face.

“The feeling. It’s been following me all day,” Adrien ignored Chloe’s offended face at being ignored, but Alya’s eyes widened, in confusion or fear, Adrien didn’t know.

“What feeling, dude?” Nino pulled himself away from his own thoughts.

“The feeling of complete and utter wrong.”

“Like reverse deja-vu.” Alya said suddenly, “Like something should feel familiar but doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you guys listen to me at all? That’s what I’m saying! This butterfly thing didn’t feel like a dream! It felt like a memory,” Chloe added, “That’s impossible, right?”

Nino looked down and said, “I think what’s more impossible is I had the same dream.”

They all turned to look at him.

“Ok, so what the hell is going on?” Adrien tried to reel himself in. It’s one thing to have a weird dream and a weird feeling, it’s an entirely different thing to have his friends experience the exact same thing.

“It’s probably a coincidence,” Nino said, “maybe we were watching the same YouTube video or some shit, the YouTube algorithms do that now.”

“Yeah, could be, or maybe that doesn’t make any sense at all.” Chloe thwacked his arm.

“Alya, did you have that dream?” Nino asked.

“I had one a little different. There was no purple butterfly but there was an arrow followed by a huge hateful feeling. It still felt weird though. What about you Adrien?”

“I did have a dream, I just… ugh, I don’t remember it as well. I just remember my father and the feeling of betrayal and a girl…I think she was dead, or unconscious or something,” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I just don’t remember it, but it sucked.”

“So we all had major crap dreams. What does that mean?” Chloe leaned against a locker, inspecting a fingernail.

“Well,” Alya considered, “Maybe let’s focus on the wrong feeling. We feel it more in different places, yeah? What feels wrong?”

“My entire house feels off,” Adrien thought about his big house, his mom, his father, the chorus of I love you’s. It felt nice. It felt happy. It felt wrong. As crappy as that was, his big happy house with the happy family felt so wrong it gave him vertigo.

“The news. Ladybug feels wrong.”

“Lady..bug?”

“Yeah, she was wreaking havoc all over again.” Yep, that definitely felt wrong.

“What feels the most wrong?”

“Marinette.” Alya’s eyes grew distant. The four of them collectively turned to Marinette, Who was talking to Kim as they entered the classroom. The pit in Adrien’s stomach got bigger and emptier.

“Adrien? Are you okay?” Nino glanced over at him. This wasn’t the first time he’s been asked that today, but it felt so much worse than earlier. This was heartbreak. Love and loss. It went away as suddenly as it came, but Nino had caught it, “You’re crying.”

So he was. The first time had been of joy, but this was a wave of brokenness. He needed to find out what the hell was going on.

“I hate this. I hate this guessing game. Why do we feel like this? WHAT. IS. GOING. ON.” he slung his backpack over his shoulder and marched inside the classroom and slammed his hand in front Marinette. She barely looked up at him. Wrong.

“Blondie.”

“Do you feel it?” Now she looked up.

“What?”

“Do you feel what we feel?”

“Are you crazy?” He felt a little crazy, but goddamn this day was the thing doing it. Marinette was the one doing it. She looked at him straight in the eye.

“The feeling that something...is wrong.”

“HA!” The laugh was bitter, “No, Adrien, I don’t feel what you’re feeling.” She rolled her eyes. Wrong.

“Um, Adrien, maybe not.” Alya pulled his arm away from the desk.

“Yeah, maybe cut her some slack.” Nino’s eyes looked sympathetic. Even Chloe looked like she just saw Adrien kick a puppy. They pulled him into the hallway.

“Maybe approaching Marinette like that after what happened to her parents isn't such a good idea, Adrien.”

“Her... parents?”

All three of them narrowed their eyes and furrowed their eyebrows in concern.

Alya started slowly, “Ladybug was involved with an attack on the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” Chloe pulled the news article up on her phone and showed him.

Oh right, Adrien didn’t remember until he did, if that made any sense, Marinette’s parents died 3 months ago.

Wrong. Wrong, so very wrong. The feeling made his tongue swell and his stomach into a pit. As Alya said it, her face twisted.

“Adrien, why do you seem more affected by it?” Nino mused, “You seem to “remember” less, you know? What else do you not remember?”

“How the hell am I supposed to answer th-” Adrien was cut off by a rumbling through the floor, “What was that?” The rumbling turned into straight-up shaking. Then the sound. It was deafening. Everyone in the class started screaming at once. There was screaming from outside. The rumbling lasted for what seemed like minutes and then trickled to a stop. Chloe frantically searched her phone but it didn’t take long to find out what had happened; she gasped at her phone, horrified. “Chlo?” The phone fell from her grasp and she buckled, “Chloe?” Alya and Nino rushed to her aide asking if she was okay, but she burst into tears. It wasn’t until Adrien picked up her now shattered phone that he saw what she was looking at: A live feed of the news played faintly from the speakers as the famous Parisian Hotel Chloe called home collapsed.“Oh my god.”

Chloe wailed from the floor as the rest of the class asked what happened, they must have seen the horror on Adrien’s face as everyone continued to panic.

“Adrien, what’s going on?”

“What happened?”

“Was it Ladybug?”

Adrien took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly, “Le Grand Paris collapsed.” Alya’s face went slack.

“WHAT?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN COLLAPSED?”

“WHAT COULD HAVE DONE THAT?”

Everyone seemed to have questions that already had an answer, it was Ladybug, obviously, she had caused the building to collapse but it was Marinette who asked the question that really needed asking: “How many people were inside?”

She looked distantly on the floor, numb from the events that had already happened in her life. This world, the wrong world that it was, was a war zone. Ladybug vs Paris. And Ladybug was winning.

The class went quiet, the only sounds heard came from Chloe on the ground, fetal position, dry sobbing, her voice scratched all the ears in the room. Adrien looked at his phone for more headlines only to see the same thing:

“SUPERVILLAIN STRIKES AGAIN AT LE GRAND PARIS”

“INVESTIGATION ON THE COLLAPSE OF PARIS HOTEL, IS LADYBUG INVOLVED?”

“WILL LADYBUG’S REIGN OF TERROR EVER END???”

“THE MAYOR OF PARIS, ANDRE BOURGEOIS AND WIFE CONFIRMED DEAD ON THE SCENE”

Marinette stood, the only one to seem to have her wits about her, and moved to Chloe.

“Hey, Chloe, come here.” She wrapped her arms around the blonde, who reciprocated. She let her cry. They had hated each other for years and years, but now was not the time for past rivalries. It hadn’t been since Mari’s parents… Well, there were far more important things. Far worse things.

Alya stood too, “Adrien...does it say anything about the other survivors?”

“It’s all too new, they… they only started investigating.”

“There’s no investigating to be done. It’s Ladybug. It has to be.” Alya clenched her fists. Nino put his hand on her shoulder.

“Well, yeah, but unless you can capture a supervillain there doesn’t seem to be a lot we can do.”

“WHERE IS THE GODDAMN TEACHER?” Alya slammed her fist on a nearby desk, “Aren’t there supposed to be some fucking adults here? Why are we dealing with this by OURSELVES?” It was a good question. They were in a room a 16-17 year olds, this was a national tragedy. Where was everyone?

At that, the class seemed to come out of their stupor and went to work. Max started setting up a live feed of the news on the projector, Kim and Alix ran to other classrooms to check if they were alright. No teachers there either, turns out. The rest got on their phones to see if their loved ones were ok. Adrien finally called his dad.

“Dad? Are you and mom okay?”

“We’re fine, are you with Chloe? Is she okay?”

“No, she’s not, but we are helping her.”

“Okay. Adrien, your mom says to stay inside, it’s a war zone out there, alright?” Adrien glanced out the window, debris and ash flooded the sky.

“Yeah, we’ll stay here.”

“Good, love you, son.”

“Love you too, Dad.” Adrien didn’t have time to dwell on the foreign feeling from the conversation. Suddenly the feeling in the pit of his stomach had virtually nothing to do with his dad and entirely to do with Ladybug. More students gathered in their classroom and Max’s live feed came onto the screen.

“Updates from Le Grand Paris, officials are pulling survivors from the wreckage, but so far only a few of the hundreds in the hotel seem to be alive. Among the dead, the mayor of Paris and his wife Andre and Andrey Bourgeois, rockstar Jagged Stone and many many more. Among the survivors are most of the kitchen staff, who had been in kitchens in the basement during the collapse.” Alya tried to hold in her relief, especially surrounded by so much tragedy, but hearing her mom is likely alive was the best news she received all day. “It is advised the people in Paris, especially within 4 miles of the hotel stay inside for the time being. The air is currently not safe to breathe due to ash and debris.”

After a few hours of painstaking waiting, Adrien decided to do something, it wasn’t the right time or place, but it seemed as though there was no other option, “Nino, Alya, Chloe, Marinette. Can I please talk to you in the hallway?”

Chloe had stopped sobbing a little while ago, too exhausted for more tears. Now she looked distant and numb, like Marinette had when the Le Grande Paris collapsed.

“Chloe, actually, if you don’t want to be a part of this--”

“Don’t, Agreste…” she threw her hand up to stop him from suggesting that she should be anywhere other than right here and stood, “Now more than ever, I know that something is very wrong. We need to fix it. And that starts with her,” Chloe pointed a thumb at Marinette.

“What? What does that mean?”

“Come on,” Adrien put his hand out to help Marinette off the floor. She’d been sitting with Chloe the whole time. She didn’t accept his hand, and stood herself.

“I don’t know what you guys think I’m responsible for but I’m not. Please just leave me out of it.” Marinette didn’t really look him in the eye, and futzed with her bangs.

“Mari, please.” The nickname made her squint at him, but his face was so pleading and panicked that she relented pretty quickly. He wasn’t alone in his resolve to look for a solution, a real solution that apparently no one else in Paris had, and all the people that did were crushed under Le Grand Paris.

Marinette followed Adrien out of the room to find Alya, Nino, and Chloe suddenly hush their conversation.

“Alright, what are you talking about?” Marinette crossed her arms.

“At most, solutions, at least, answers.” Nino shrugged.

“What makes you think I have them?”

“What all had weirdly eerie dreams last night, very similar to each other.” Adrien was talking softly, tiptoeing around her and possibly Chloe, like they were fragile. It pissed Mari off. Mari had come to realize Chloe as one of the strongest people she knew, bookended by these past few hours and right this second. She had lost her parents, and while surely still grieving, pushes for answers and solutions. She wasn’t fragile, not ever.

“Listen, Agreste, I didn’t have a dream last night, or the night before, or the night before that. I don't know what you're talking about."