#bugchat

Alya would’ve asked questions about the plan, getting all the information she could while continuing to observe the situation herself. Nino just accepted their information, not quite soaking it up, instead nodding along as Chat Noir told him what to do in other words Ladybug had used in an attempt to make sure he understood.

He had, but Chat Noir’s eyes had widened and he had dived at him, rendering Nino quite stunned before he realized he was supposed to put his arms under him. And then walls had appeared, blocking Nino from making eye contact with Chat Noir, who just yelled he’d find him and get him out.

Maybe he should’ve stayed put, be easier to find than a moving target, but Nino already felt like a fool, a toddler locked in an empty playpen waiting for a guardian to show up and help them with everything.

Nino was not a damn toddler.

Carapace was a hero.

At least, he was supposed to be.

Nino groaned again, this time catching the wall disappearing from under his touch. He turned right, dragging his feet, fantasizing about how he could’ve been facing the other way, instead tackling Chat Noir to safety, away from the torture that was this maze. Ladybug would’ve praised him for being so sharp immediately and Chat Noir would’ve been staring up at him, the breath knocked out of him, a ‘thank you’ hanging on his lips.

It would’ve been great.

But no. He was stuck. Alone. In the dark. It was a shame nothing on his suit glowed, and his shield didn’t exactly have a built-in lamp or torch. Shellter would emit some light, but only for five minutes, and he didn’t have any food for Wayzz, either. Detransforming would get him his phone, but lose him his secret identity. Not exactly an option.

His hand came in contact with a wall in front of him, so he turned left, only to immediately run into another one. Nino felt along the edges with both hands, desperate to find some sort of crack, instability, or secret way through, but it was just the same smooth material as every other wall had been. A dead end.

Nino breathed in deeply, trying to keep himself from losing it, and turned around again. Maybe he should find a spot where the halls split, or maybe even an intersection. He could sit in the middle, be as loud as he could, and hope Chat Noir would find him or Ladybug would capture the Akuma with whatever other temporary hero she wanted. 

But while making his way back, he could at least be loud already.

“Chat Noir!” Nino yelled again, trying to be loud without breaking his voice. “I really hope you’re at least near me so you can find me soon! I am not enjoying this and would like to get out! Or at least not be alone!”

The wall curved sharply again, turning right.

Nino really hoped his yelling wouldn’t activate some internal security measure and release minions onto him. He’d rather be alone than fight off a dozen small creatures in a confined dark space.

“Can you hear me? Chat Noir!”

Another turn right.

Maybe Chat Noir was already outside, having Cataclysmed a wall and breaking out in slow motion, leaving Nino alone. In a maze. That was dark. With high walls. Without orientation. “Chat Noir!” he yelled again, getting a little desperate. “Chat Noir !”

“Carapace!”

“Alhamdulillah,” Nino muttered. “Chat Noir! I’m here!”

Chat Noir sounded a lot closer when he yelled next, “Hold on, I’m almost there!”

The soft thumps of his boots hitting the floor reached Nino’s ears and he sagged in relief. “I’m here!”

“I know, I can see you,” he laughed, apparently having rounded a corner. “Silly.”

Right. Cat. Duh.

“Well that’s great Mr. Night Vision,” Nino said as he crossed his arms, “but I’m blind as a mole in here.”

Chat Noir hummed, suddenly right next to his ear. Nino jumped, heart rate absolutely through the roof. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “Give a guy a warning next time!”

Next time.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t suppose you know the way out?”

“I don’t.”

“Me neither,” Chat Noir sighed. “We’re the only ones in here as far as I know, so we had better start moving. No use sitting around waiting for Ladybug to fix this mess. We can get out.”

God, he sounded so convinced. 

“You’re gonna have to guide me,” Nino said. “I already walked straight into like, five walls…”

“Sure! Just hold onto me.”

With a slight wobble, Nino started reaching out into seemingly empty space, before Chat huffed (which sounded a little too filled with humor) and put his elbow into his reach. 

“There.”

“...Thanks.”

“Which way did you come from?”

“Uh, a dead end. On our left, I think.”

“I came from ahead, so let’s go right.”

“Sure.”

Nino was glad when Chat told him when they turned. Being pulled along was the last thing he needed right now. What also helped was the even floor and the slow pace they were going at. Sprinting was the last thing on Nino’s mind right now.

The first thing on his mind was the way he could feel Chat Noir moving. He heard him talk, rattling nonsense about anything and everything, but his steps reverberated into Nino’s boots all the way up to his chest, where they drummed against his ribcage. Chat was looking ahead, Nino hoped. His cheeks must’ve darkened from the casual proximity, the way he could tighten his grip on his upper arm, gauge exactly what was going on under there. 

He was glad to have his hood and glasses covering almost half his face. He was sure he’d perish otherwise. He was supposed to be a hero, a professional. And here he was, starstruck, clinging to the guy he watched save their city on tv. And now they were near equals. He was embarrassing himself. Or at least, there was a big chance he was going to.

They walked for a good long time, conversation dwindling into silence. The noise of their boots hitting the floor and the slight rustle of Nino’s suit were the only sounds. Nino could also hear the blood rushing through his head, and sincerely hoped Chat couldn’t. They found more dead ends, each time getting a little more frustrated when they were forced to turn back again. Chat hadn’t used his Cataclysm yet, saving it for an outer wall, but they had no way of knowing what the outside wall was. They had probably already reached one by now. Unless this maze was in a sub-dimension, endless, without escape –

“My arm is getting kinda numb.”

The sudden restart of conversation (it had been more of a monologue) startled Nino, who was only half present. “Huh?”

“Holding my hand up,” Chat clarified. “How about we hold hands instead?”

Nino was going to die in here.

He managed to mutter an enthusiastic “Hmhm!” and put his right hand straight down, fingers stretched completely. Chat found his hand way too easily, too quickly, too close, and wound his fingers through his, thumb coming to rest over his first knuckle. 

Nino was definitely going to die in here.

“This good?”

“Yes!”

Chat Noir chuckled, pulling on his hand to keep them moving. “C’mon, let’s get out of here and do something together outside. You keep looking right past me and it’s kinda making me sad.”

“Can’t have that.”

Getting out would make both of them happy. 

And Nino wouldn’t miss the connection of their hands, their wound-together fingers, how he could just reach out and touch him. On his shoulder to turn him around, dragging his fingers through the blond locks, cradling his cheek–

Stop.

He is stuck in a maze, temporarily practically blind, and has failed as a hero. He is sad and frustrated because he has messed up. That is what he is feeling.

Nothing else.

“Gotta say, you won the lottery.”

“Excuse me?”

“Most people have a guide dog.”

“Dude.”

“Sorry.”

---

Ladybug defeats the Akuma before Chat Noir and Nino find an exit.

One moment they’re walking through the pitch-black halls of the labyrinth, and the next Nino’s eyes shut to shield them against the first rays of the sunrise. Nights weren’t that short this time of year, but it did mean they’d been stuck in there for at least four hours. 

Chat cheers, letting go of Nino’s hand to throw his arms up, grinning toward the west where the sun is coming up. He bounces on his feet, twirling his staff, ears perked as he turns to look at Nino. The light is coming from his left now, breaking through blond, illuminating green, giving a shine to solid black. 

Nino grabs Chat Noir by his shoulders and presses his lips to his. Chat makes a surprised noise but melts quickly, one hand coming up to grab his shoulder and squeeze, the other trailing along his jaw to cup his face, thumb sliding over his cheek. Their noses brush, softly, masks barely in the way. Chat’s lips are soft, slightly red and swollen when he pulls back a bit, foreheads resting together. 

“Hi,” Chat breathes against his lips.”Where did that come from?”

“My heart.”

Chat blushes ferociously at the sincere answer and buries his face in Nino’s neck, leaning down slightly to do so. His hands are gripping Nino’s shoulders, keeping him in place. Nino lifts his arms and wraps them around Chat. “You’re so cheesy.”

Nino hums, rubbing one of his hands back and forth over his back. Chat’s shaking slightly now that he’s out of the cramped space. Nino knows how Adrien gets with this, so it’s familiar when Chat pulls back and steps away a bit, enjoying the ample empty space with his face tilted to the sun. His hand has found Nino’s, and Nino squeezes when Chat breathes deeply, shuddering. 

“We’re out.”

Ladybug finds them not long after, missed calls on Chat’s staff forgiven when she sees them. They bump fists, Nino and Chat thank her for saving them, and Ladybug looks at both of them before smiling and telling them it’s no problem. “Sorry Chat, I’m gonna have to steal him from you for a bit to take the Turtle Miraculous. You can have him back later.”

Chat perks up at that, as does Nino. “I can come back?”

Ladybug shrugs. “I don’t see why not. Everybody makes mistakes, no use sidelining you forever for making a single wrong move.”

“That’s the thing, he didn’t move.”

“Chat.”

“Sorry.”

“Come on Carapace, before he makes another one.”

Nino stands frozen as Ladybug whips out her yoyo, looking at him expectantly. He looks at Chat, who smiles with a hint of sadness pulling the corner of his lips down slightly. “Until next time, Carapace.”

“Yeah,” Nino says. “Next time.”

---

Next time ends up being that same night. 

After Ladybug has taken him to an alley, closed her hands around his as he moved to take off the bracelet, smiled at him and told him he could hang onto it for a day more. But just one. Nino had smiled and wrapped his arms around her, and she was so small as he thanked her over and over. The message to the other hero had been sent immediately but was only opened a little before Nino was already waiting.

Chat races over the rooftops of the city. Nino spots him long before Chat reaches him, and the nerves get to him again immediately. Chat lands on the rooftop, a few feet in front of him. He puts his baton on his lower back and strides forward, taking Nino’s hands in his and pressing a kiss to his lips. This one is less chaste, soft, instead filled with a longing suppressed for too long.

Nino kisses back just as enthusiastically. 

“You promised not to bring that up again!” she huffs, pointedly looking away from him.

“Not to mention you wouldn’t even say what got you distracted the first time, but I figured it out anyway! And so did the Ladyblog! Your terribly large crush on Adrien Agreste back then was out for the world to see .”

She’s trying to stop him from talking, putting her hands over his mouth, but he’s faster and backrolls over one shoulder until he crouches in front of her when she rolls onto her stomach. “ You’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“I’m keeping the ones that matter ,” she counters.

“Oh yeah, like which ones?”

“Like, my secret identity, duh. ”

He holds a hand to his chin, nodding, gesturing at her with his other hand to continue. “I do so, also. Is there another one you can hold over me?”

She suddenly has that shy look on her face, one that he rarely gets to see of her. He loves her openness with him at moments like these and treasures that he is probably the only one who gets to see it. But it also scares him because that shyness hides insecurities, and he wishes he could take them away for her.

“Well, the only other big one I can think of is the fact that we’re dating.”

He nods. “Yeah, but it’s not as big.”

“I’m just saying we shouldn’t go shouting it from the rooftops because it might attract attention to us instead of the fact that there’s been a bad guy manipulating people into working for him for the past 6 years to execute his evil bidding which could collapse reality itself.”

He watches her breathe in deep for a moment before tilting his head to the side, lips slightly pouting. “True, but…would you mind the attention?”

She sighs, standing up to move to the edge of the building. He follows her, watching as she crosses her arms to rub at them, tilting her head to the side. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world, Chaton.”

“So you’re saying that if it were to come out, you wouldn’t be…disappointed? Scared?”

“Kitty,” she sighs out, “we’re adult superheroes who've worked together for almost six years. I’d say we can handle a bit of gossip. I just think that maybe it isn’t the smart thing to announce. It might give the wrong impression.”

“But don’t you want to be able not to have to sneak behind every corner to give me a kiss?” he says, leaning into her space and watching a cloud of red blush spread over her face. She sputters, hands tensing around her arms. “If you want to keep a secret…”

“I don’t,” she says, voice impossibly soft in the midnight air.

“Then why don’t we tell?”

She sighs, leaning into his embrace with all her weight, indulging the selfish need to be away from the world and its scrutinizing eyes for a second. “Like I said, it might give the wrong impression.”

“That the two heroes protecting the City of Lights, City of Love, are together in both crime-fighting and a relationship?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with, Bugaboo,” he says, softly slotting his arms around her.

“No, I’m not uncomfortable,” she says, leaning back in his arms to look at him. His hands are still linked behind her as he looks back at her with slightly wide eyes and his eyebrows pulled up. He purses his lips and tilts his head slightly downward further, encouraging her to continue. She opens her mouth, closes it, and groans, head dropping into his chest. “Words are hard.”

“I’m like a five-year-old anyway.”

She shakes in his hold with a slight chuckle, turning her head into his shoulder. “Superheroes. City important. Protect.” She sighs again. “We don’t want to seem too busy with each other to stop the Akumas.”

Chat Noir just barely keeps from joking that the Akumas keep them too busy to be together enough, but Ladybug is being serious and honest with him. She deserves a serious answer. “You’re right, as always, M’Lady,” he says, rubbing circles into her back. “But telling people we’re together doesn’t immediately have to imply we’re not busy on other things anymore. Despite still being two people with their own lives, we have a duty to this city and its citizens. Saying there’s a second thing doesn’t make the first go away.”

“It just seems so superficial and fake to announce on TV or something.”

Lightbulb.

“Who says we have to announce it?”

He feels her frown. “What do you mean?”

“Remember what I said about keeping important secrets?”

“That you have no filter when it comes to your love life?”

“Hush Bugaboo, I have a serious proposal.”

Ladybug moves back from him, staring him down. The unspoken skepticism is so evident, that he doesn’t even have to meet her eyes to know it’s there. He’s known her long enough to nearly always know what she’s thinking, especially when it comes to his ideas. Or actions. 

(It makes him wonder whether she knows him as well as he does her, and it makes him fuzzy to think about her paying that much attention to him.)

“Battle of the Secrets; whoever lets slip first we’re dating loses.”

Her mouth drops open, a smile tugging at the ends, eyes crinkled with ridicule and joy. “You’re turning this into a game ?”

“Contest.”

“To keep a secret we want to come out.” 

“Correct.”

“What did I just say about being too busy for a second thing? Now you want to add a third?”

“Technically, this is still part of the second. And like I said, just because there’s a second…”

“If we’re counting like that, shouldn’t a civilian life count as the first?”

“Exactly!”

Ladybug groans, laughing as Chat Noir spins her around. “What do you say, M’Lady? You up for it?”

She only half notices her surroundings in the parking lot, an anomaly quickly forgotten as the doors start closing. “Wait!” she yells, not daring to run faster through the puddles on the crappy asphalt. A hand from inside sneaks its way between the glass door and the wooden frame, halting the automatic closing. Marinette squeezes through with a quickly said “Thanks,” to her savior before moving through the lobby toward her office to find a towel.

The elevator ride up takes too long. “ Pluie maudite, ” she swears, dripping water over the carpet Césaire got her just last week. Dropping her bag by the side of her desk, she leaves the blinds closed as she rams open the bottom big drawer deemed ‘lost cause’, rummaging through its contents. The towel is at the very bottom, because of course it is, but it is a piece of the holy grail nonetheless.

“Morning boss.”

“Morning, Tsurugi,” Marinette replies, by now used to her sudden appearances at her office door. “Anything new on the Lockley case?” 

“Ballistics came back negative, gun from the safe wasn’t a match. DNA from under the fingernails was also a bust. It’s been filed in the system for later cross-referencing.”

Marinette finishes drying off her hair, dropping the wet towel in the empty paper trash can. She’ll switch it out later. Sitting at her desk and booting up the computer, she waves Tsurugi in further. “Any alibis give out while I was not getting the sleep I needed?”

Tsurigu takes a few steps to stand right in front of Marinette’s desk. “Wife came up clean.”

“How clean?”

“Her boyfriend alibied her.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow, then shakes her head. “Any other family? Work?”

“Parents seem stuck in Vermont, and we haven’t talked to our vic’s colleagues yet. Césaire and Lahiffe should be on their way here. I’ll take Lahiffe to talk to them.”

“Let me know if you get anything else. Oh, and make sure to check back with CSU whether there were any inconsistencies. This crime scene is really rubbing me the wrong way.”

“Will do, boss.”

Tsurugi leaves the door open with a slight crack, just how Marinette likes it. Close enough to warrant privacy, yet an invitation to come in for updates on their cases or any other issues.

This damn case…

Man found dead in his own home, one single GSW to his head from the back.

His blood used to draw on the walls.

Marinette shivers, and it’s not from the rainwater sneaking under her collar.

Lahiffe and Césaire arrive at the office not much later, the sun already seeping through the dusty windows of the bullpen. The streaks of light hurt Marinette’s eyes a bit as she walks into the space, eyes turning towards her when she says, “Well, any updates?”

Césaire is the first to speak up. “Security footage is clean. No one entered or left within our time frame between 6 and 10 PM. It’s like a ghost did it.”

Tsurugi rolls her eyes.

“I just got off the call with the parents,” Lahiffe continues. “They had no idea Lockley was even dead. Apparently, he hadn’t called home in a while.”

“Did they know about any arguments? Or was there bad blood between Lockley and the parents?”

“Not that they let slip.”

Marinette nods. “Césaire, dig into the parents some more. Maybe there was a reason Lockley hadn’t called home in a while. Lahiffe and Tsurugi, get to the place he worked. Mrs. Lockley had dropped a not-so-subtle hint something was going on with one of the coworkers there.”

“Another affair?” Tsurugi asks.

“No idea, but it’s worth talking to everybody. Maybe they can shed some light on whatever Lockley had going on.”

“Dupain-Cheng!”

Marinette winces as Bourgeois’ voice shrills over the floor. “Get going now, before we are grounded,” she hisses, turning a swift 180 to face their boss as the rest of her team scurries through the other hallway. “Yes?”

“Someone’s here to see you,” she merely says, whipping her ponytail to gesture at the elevator. “Get it done with quickly, I don’t want him hanging around here any longer than necessary.”

“Of course,” Marinette nods, speed-walking away from the fury that is Bourgeois. Someone is here for her specifically? Of course that pisses off Bourgeois. Because that means Marinette is about to walk into what has to be an opportunity for her. Maybe someone wants to hire her?

Turning the corner, she nearly bumps into a gray vest with a mop of blond hair above it. “Sorry!” she says, straightening back up again. She has to crane her neck upwards to make eye contact with him. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“That’s okay,” he says, his French accent immediately registering in Marinette’s brain. Kind green eyes peer back at her from dizzying heights, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You must be Special Agent Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette takes another step back to give her neck some breathing room, quickly scanning the man in front of her. He’s her age, very tall, and a bit scrawny. The way he holds himself is with an air of confidence, stance wide and open. His clothes are a bit dusty, his jacket slung over his arm. His hair is a bit matted because of the rain.

And he’s very much drenched, looking a bit like a wet cat.

It’s almost pathetic how out of place he looks.

And yet…

The odd car in the parking lot. 

A hand keeping the door open. 

“And you are..?”

“Ah, Adrien Agreste,” he says, quickly moving his jacket to hang over his left arm. His right hand comes forward to shake hers. “I understand you’re working on a new Red Jean case?”

Oh.

Oh no.

Agreste. Former model and Vegas psychic, famous French rich boy, worldwide heartthrob. His name was on the international news last year. ‘ Woman found killed in own home, killer still on the loose.’ He had found her. After ridiculing Red Jean on live television. He’d called them ‘sad and pathetic’ for hiding, only coming out to kill and never for anything else. 

When he came home his mother was dead.

“I can’t disclose information about cases to civilians,” Marinette settles on eventually.

“I worked with the local PD to catch him,” he says, letting go of her hand and folding it under the jacket. “I might be of use to you and your team.”

Marinette wants to sigh and walk away. “Mr. Agreste, at this point, we don’t even know whether this is a Red Jean case or not.”

“So there wasn’t a drawing in blood on the wall?”

Marinette keeps her mouth shut. She can’t let him in, he’s a civilian. One with a personal connection to their potential killer no less! It just wouldn’t be the right thing. Marinette knows from experience how being close to a case can mess up a trained Agent. This man was a– an entertainer .

His eyes turn pleading as if sensing her decline. “Mrs. Du–”

“Miss,” she corrects. “And it’s Special Agent. Or just Dupain-Cheng.”

“Miss Special Agent Dupain-Cheng…” She rolls her eyes. He smirks back. “Would you do me the pleasure of letting me shadow you for this case? I can help you see some connections to earlier crimes you might not get from dusty files, and it might help close the case a bit faster. And I get a closer look at Red Jean’s more current work. We both profit.”

Adrien Agreste is an attractive man. Marinette is very aware of that. She’s also very aware that he knows he is. He’s raked his hand through his hair multiple times by now, each time letting it flop back down onto his forehead as if pointing at his enchantingly bright green eyes. 

They’re begging her to let him in.

Marinette bites her lip. It is a pretty tempting offer. A quick wrap-up of this case might help her get some sleep back, and it gets him off her back and out of the press. As long as Bourgeois doesn’t find out, that is.

But her team…

“I’ll have to ask some people whether you’ll be allowed on the case,” she says, nearly pointing a finger at him in a warning. She barely manages to hold off on it, instead crossing her arms. “If my boss finds out, you’re out anyway. And I get to send you off as soon as I deem you as interference.”

“Seems fair, Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien Agreste has had to deal with many hardships during his short life.

Most of these hardships were created by Gabriel Agreste, who, in his twenties, had been an excited and aspiring fashion designer. Emilie Graham de Vanily had been a little less materialistic, and more on the activistic side. Exactly how they got together had been a mystery to many, but no one could deny their allure or influence as a couple.

As time went on, their appearances in the public increased, swiftly becoming one of the most desirable couples in France. And as they grew closer together, the public wanted to see their next step. Engagement, marriage, and a baby. And so they made a baby.

The circumstances of one's younger years are usually filled with love, doting, and adoration. Gabriel Agreste had never been a person for children, even less for his own. He loathed the tiny humans more than he did terrible fashion, so that meant he withdrew. Emilie Graham de Vanily tried her absolute hardest to make her son feel cared for in his younger years, and almost filled the void that Gabriel created with her light.

Despite Gabriel’s loathing for the child, he was bound to his son. And his son was bound to him. Some of these ties ran only one way, and some were thicker than others. The cord of the family name was a big and nasty one, drenched in expectations and decorum. The string of love was frail, running only from the child to Gabriel.

The line of control ran only from Gabriel to Adrien.

When Emilie left their little family, she took with her the damage she did to that tie, and it grew tense and harsh in her absence.

Adrien grew used to it controlling his mind and soul.

He missed his mother, and he had a father that cared more about his looks on the cover of the latest magazine than how he looked when he stood perched at the end of the runway in his office, timidly asking for something reasonable, only to be blown off while the wires tightened around his limbs and body, reeling in and then pushing him out of the room. His brilliantly big room provided enough distractions, sometimes, but not always. Climbing walls, video games, a grand piano hidden in the floor… Nothing but the best for the Agrestes, right?

That included school.

Nathalie Sancoeur, who had been a dear friend of Emilie’s, had taken over from her position as a personal assistant and had turned into Adrien’s walking and talking schedule announcer. Her eyes had turned dull within a short time after Emilie had vanished, no longer razor-sharp, sometimes enough to damage the strings around Adrien. Brilliant blue became lifeless gray, merely growing exasperated with the child she was now partly responsible for.

Nathalie did everything for Adrien. Everything Gabriel Agreste desired. She was in charge of organizing his life’s schedule. Events, photoshoots, fencing, piano… She made sure it all fit and he was present at all times. She became a teacher where she could, and she was strict. Horribly so, at times. But she could not teach him everything. Adrien hated those private tutors with a burning passion but was powerless against the ties of his father.

One day, the rope was lenient. It was slack around him, laying in spools on the floor, and when Adrien moved, it moved with him. It wasn’t cutting, burrowing into his skin and deeper, but a mere loose bracelet on his consciousness.

And so he ran.

To that building he had only been able to stare at from across the river during shoots, he rode past during car rides from the photoshoot locations back to his marble prison, he could barely see through the bars of the windows of his room. To the school, where he might have some freedom.

The strings spun and twirled in the wind behind him as he ran, away from the controlling coils of his life, and toward the weaving chaos that could be his escape.

Paris was alive with sounds as he whipped past moving cars, yelling at cyclists, and talking pedestrians. He could taste the air of the breathing city, felt the wind on his bare arms, hands clinging to the bag he’d emptied of clothes for photoshoots earlier. The sun was in his eyes, and he laughed as he felt the rays warming his soul. The sound seemed foreign to his ears, noises he didn’t understand. People were talking on the sidewalks, going about their day, listening to music, and interacting with the world in ways that were unfamiliar, but so terrifyingly enchanting.

A bakery on a corner made his mouth water as he turned the final corner.

His brain jumped into a state of distress immediately.

Nathalie was staring straight at him, dull eyes cutting into his arms as the ropes tightened in an instant. The blood flow to his ears seemed to be cut off, the noises of the city feeling far away suddenly. He started walking towards her without wanting to and came to a stop just before her, eyes cast down at her shoes.

She was speaking, he guessed. He could see her arms moving, towering above him. Reprimanding him about running away, probably. She didn’t do much else besides reprimanding him these days. He had gotten in a bad habit of tuning her out when he’d been disobedient, pulling at the strings instead of letting them move his arms and legs and head and mouth like a puppet.

Just for once, he wanted to make his own decisions. To have the freedom to go where he wanted, do as he wished, and choose who he had to listen to. To not feel the strings dragging him in ways he didn’t want to, slicing and splitting and piercing. As the ties moved, they dragged his limbs and brain and words into the shape of the image of an Agreste.

But Adrien didn’t want to just be an Agreste. He wanted to be his own person, with his own friends and ideas and life . The mere thought of living out there, in the world with people, had Gabriel call him to his office to tell him off on even thinking about it, ropes tightening to match his brain and heart clenching in on themselves to protect the precious parts of his insides. Imagining silence instead of the harsh words had turned into his only escape, and he hated it.

There was a sound. It was not very loud, but it was very close and very much intended for him to hear. Adrien didn’t know how or why, but there was a new string around his consciousness. One that didn’t cut and burrow and control, but one that gently pulled at his mind until he could hear the engine of the car running, the Gorilla’s breathing, and his own heart ringing in his ears. He turned his head and found the new string.

It was the first good string he ever felt. Gentle, certain, and wanting . Of him .

Not thin or sharp or pulling, but just there .

It remains there as he sits in the car, put back in his spot. Nathalie continues to be impersonal about it all beside him, the driver an ever unbudging wall of neutrality. Adrien feels…alright. Sane, maybe, as the sounds filter back in as the ropes loosen slightly around his brain.

They allow him to go back to his room after another lecture, so he retreats to a space that feels like he might own a little bit of it. His room is illuminated by the late morning sun as he plops down on his couch and exhaustedly claws at the remote to budge into his palm. He hits the button, and the news flashes on, Nadja Chamack gazing intently at him.

For a second, Adrien thinks his hearing is still wrong, because he cannot be hearing the word “supervillain” on the national news. But then the studio cuts to footage of a walking stone of what had to be at least 25 meters tall, causing destruction in the streets, and it hits.

The new string yanks , and it is slack when his eyes land on the black and red box in front of him, perched on the edge of his white coffee table. For him. A gift.

A blessing.

Plagg is a tiny bastard, but Adrien loves him the second he opens his mouth and explains it all. He’s been chosen, selected out of the thousands of residents of Paris, to fight the evil displayed on the screen, rampaging through the streets. He’s been given a responsibility, and he is not going to let the person who entrusted him with this down.

It’s exhilarating, the magic flowing over him to form a layer of protection. He falls down as the strings that usually tie him down vanish. He’s cut loose from the expectations and decorum and his father, and he cries as he feels freedom for the first time in his life.

The leap out of the window turns into a sprint over the rooftops of the city, and he hollers and whoops as he jumps from one building to the next, further and further away from the prison and the broken cuffs made of rope around him. He’s getting used to the sound of his own laughter as he launches himself, using his baton as a propeller to slow his descent. The view he has over the city is amazing as he comes to a stop at the top of a chimney, heart beating in his chest and breaths coming out in heavy pants. He eyes the drop to the street and strangely doesn’t feel the tingle in his legs he usually does when he’s somewhere high.

It’s a precarious balance as he stretches his staff over the span of a street between two buildings, gently stepping onto the magical steel. It doesn’t roll as he leans too far to the right, instead staying in place as he puts his second foot in front of the other, gently testing the strength of his weapon. It holds, doesn’t move or bend in the slightest, as he keeps going, arms spread to feel the sun on the material of his suit.

He’s free .

Then there’s a yell. He barely has time to spot a red blur before he’s knocked off, string winding around him, tightening as he drops further, and he’s suffocating, pressurized, breathless. The rope snaps in place and he bounces once, twice, slowly turning in his spot, heaving for air. A low groan emerges from somewhere, and his eyes zero in on a spot of blue between all the reds and blacks filling his vision in the corners. He’s looking in someone’s eyes, he realizes as the other person furrows their brows.

“Well hey there,” he barely manages, plastering a smile on his face as the string burns in his back. “Nice of you to…drop in.”

There’s a smile back as she groans in embarrassment, and maybe a hint of frustration and panic. She apologizes ferociously as she lets them both down, and Adrien feels as though he can breathe again when the string finally disappears back in her yoyo.

She’s shorter than he is, in her red and black polka-dotted suit. She seems unsure of herself as she turns the yoyo back and forth between her hands, not quite meeting his eyes. Her brilliantly black bangs sweep back and forth over her eyes and mask, and his vision is blurry when he stares too long at her face, trying to decipher the secrets behind it.

There’s still something tangible running from him to her as a building crumbles to the streets maybe a kilometer from where they are, and he needs to get some space and to do what he was chosen to do, so he calls for her to follow and leaps up onto the rooftops and starts sprinting again. He feels sick as he senses her doubt and insecurity wavers over to him through that unseen connection, but moves on and chases the villain.

He finds himself in the stadium where the walking pile of rocks seems to be too busy with someone to notice him, so he creeps up on the villain and smacks him on the head with the end of his staff.

The pile of rocks grows.

Being snatched out of the air feels even worse than he’d imagined, and the hand he’s wrapped in squeezes as he moves. He yells out in pain, unable to move or defend himself. He’s trapped with no way out, and his partner is nowhere in sight. The hand around him feels like a million wires all at once, gripping and moving him when he doesn’t want to. He’s lost control over his own person again. Even while being a superhero, he can’t escape.

There’s a sound breaking through his walls of silence as his partner slides under the villain and comes to a stop in the middle of Adrien’s vision, a beacon of shiny red hope. She pulls, and he feels gravity take hold of everything . The pile of rocks is on the floor, unmoving for a second, and the moment her eyes make contact with his, he feels the connection between them grow solid as she explains her plan, radiating confidence and determination.

Something happened on her way here, he’s sure of it. The fire in her eyes burns brightly when she looks at him, an inferno of security and assurance. He continues relishing in her warmth as they take down the bad guy, and misses it the moment his ring beeps at him he needs to get back to his imprisoned life.

He cannot imagine what she must feel like as he watches thousands of Akumas fly away from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Adrien Agreste runs for his life too often. He did it in the stadium yesterday to get away from a villain made of rocks, but right now he’s running to get a chance at life. Françoise Dupont is looming in the distance, and his heartbeat quickens as he gets closer without spotting that dreaded silver car. He doesn’t hate Nathalie or his driver, but they embody the things his father wants from him. Punctuality, presence, and perfection.

He detests what they stand for.

The frozen stone statues all over the city only remind him of how he feels back at the Manor. Frozen in time, held by a yet unstoppable force, forced to bend to someone else’s will.

His walls of silence protect him from the incoming barrage of information when he jumps up the steps, and he pointedly decides not to wait too long before making his way down the stairs on the inside of the building, afraid of what might happen, who might find him, if he stays out in the open too long. The strings pull taut, trying to stop him from stepping forward into the school, but he thinks of Ladybug’s courage, and moves .

Chloé pulls him to her side immediately, but he’s grateful for the barrier she provides as they make their way to the classroom. His eyes can’t take in everything fast enough. The slightly chipped paint on the railings of the gallery and the stairs, the wooden doors separating the atrium from classrooms and offices, the way the sun catches in the slightly dusty windows. The classroom Chloé maneuvers him into has a few rows of desks with benches behind them, and Chloé is quick to work him into the front row next to a boy with headphones on. She makes kissy faces at him before disappearing a row back to the other side of the room.

Adrien turns to the front of the class and relishes in the fact that he made it here. The ties running to the Manor are under stress, afraid of pulling so hard they’ll snap, and Adrien feels sick as the tension worsens when he turns to the other boy, offering his sincerest smile with his hand as he says his name.

He is horrified as the boy looks from him to Chloé and nearly scoffs he does not want anything to do with him. There’s acid in his throat, water behind his eyes, and he’s forced still by the realization that he will not be accepted instantly, despite how hard he had to fight to even get here. Friends and relationships are not going to be handed to him on a silver platter. He’s going to have to work for it.

Turning back away from him, Adrien spots Chloé and her friend Sabrina hunched over one of the benches of another desk. He’s next to her before he understands what he’s doing, and when he sees the chewed gum in Sabrina’s hands he snaps.

One of the strings snaps with him.

It’s kind of gross, after he’s worked Chloé and Sabrina away, to be touching the gum, but he does not want anyone to fall victim to her senseless… bullying , he decides is the right word. It hurts less to associate it with a friend than he thought it would.

There’s a spark of fury behind him, and seconds later a girl is up in his face. She’s all reds, pinks, blacks, and shining blues as she tells him off, accusing him of things he hasn’t done. He puts his hand up, terrified of her presence and the power of her remarks and actions, and can merely stutter out he didn’t do it.

Something in his heart tenses, and he recognizes the fluttering in his stomach as the heroine of yesterday. She’s glaring at him still as he gulps. He wants to explain everything. It's his first day, he ran from his prison, Chloé is the only person he knows, and he’s terrified of making the wrong impression. He just wants a friend.

Instead of the truth, he mutters a meek response, which is drowned by her strong words, and he’s worked aside by her atmosphere as she moves past him, putting a napkin over the gum and sitting next to it.

He floats back to his spot in a haze, numbed by the experience of being looked in the eye while someone tells him what he’s done wrong while he's done nothing wrong, and feels it hurts less than when his father dismisses him with a shake of his head or a silent wave.

The boy next to him takes off his headphones and shakes his hand, saying he’s not that bad, and Adrien almost believes him.

It does not take too long before the stone giant is back, as Plagg warned him, but Adrien had not expected it to turn up in the classroom he was in. He ducks out of the way and stares as the Akuma takes Chloé and Mylène, raging about paper notes and words and bullies.

The girl with the strong words and unexplainable bond suddenly seems so small, ducked behind her desk with her friend, who has her phone out and has the marks of a bad idea written all over her face as the villain leaves the classroom to wreak havoc elsewhere. She yells to stay put, begs her friend not to go, and Adrien wishes nothing but good things for her as her friend doesn’t listen and runs after the villain. He feels immensely guilty as she deflates, curling up in the corner of the bench.

But he can’t stay. He has a job to do.

It’s ridiculous how easily he slips out and manages to find a quiet place to transform. Stoneheart is easy to follow, with his frozen minions converging on him. He’s making his way to the Eiffel Tower, climbing his way to the top as helicopters surround him.

There’s an immensely determined look on Ladybug’s face as she joins him a while later, glaring at the scene set before them. Stoneheart is swinging on the top of the tower, the minions swarming the plaza around the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug’s fire beside him keeps him warm as he too turns to face their impossible opponent. Stoneheart spits out thousands of Akumas and falls still as the butterflies form a cloud that turns into a talking face.

It’s ginormous, powerful, and insanely terrifying as the voice booms over Paris, demanding that Chat Noir and Ladybug hand in their Miraculous, or Hawkmoth will unleash villain after villain upon the city to get his wish.

Adrien does not care what wish he has, nothing is worth terrorizing all the citizens of Paris. He tries to step forward, but Ladybug is ahead of him in an instant, her stance powerful and her words truthful. She yells at the disembodied face the city is under her protection, under their protection, and she uses her yoyo to purify the Akumas that make up the head. A harmless avalanche of white wings washes over the city, and damages are restored as hope returns.

Hope for the two of them to keep the people safe.

“You disobeyed me, Adrien.”

He’s in the car outside Françoise Dupont with Nathalie and the driver. Gabriel is at the Manor, on a video call with the car’s system. His face is right in front of Adrien, in the back of the passenger’s seat. He looks stern, unmoving, and inconvincible.

“Take a look at that school.”

It grinds.

Adrien looks at the building. The faded yellow bricks, the opened green doors, and the people entering. The sun is reflecting on the windows, casting rays of light that shine on Adrien’s face. He feels his eyes water, and can’t tell if it’s because of the sun, or because the strings yank his head back to look at the screen. “Yes, father…”

“You will never, I say never go back there again…”

No. He can't do that . He can’t take away the one thing Adrien fought so hard for. Yes, he’s made a mistake, but to take him away from here? From his chance at just a tiny piece of a normal life? It was cruel. It was mean, it was ignorant, and it was selfish of his father to take him all for himself, locked in a cage that he claimed was to protect him.

Adrien did not want to be protected by him. He wanted to be free from the strings that wound into the bars of that cage, to watch sunlight through the glass of his windows, his acquaintances carefully selected out of the ones he deemed worthy. He wanted to go back out of the clutches that held on too tight. Back to sprinting across the rooftops of the city, fighting bad guys, making an actual difference in this world.

“Father, no –”

“Without your bodyguard.”

Snap .

The bar made of woven strings that broke off from his cage is left in the car, driven away, far away from Adrien. The distance feels insignificant yet immense at the same time. Like it’s still a part of the prison, but also like he’s finally left and has escaped it.

He’s back in class before he knows it, still giddy from the battle and the fact that his father is letting him stay here, Plagg safely rumbling in his chest pocket. He feels so right, like he is where he should be, part of something bigger than he is by himself.

Nino looks at him strangely throughout the day. It’s probably because of the grin etched on his face. Nino can’t know about him being Chat Noir, partner of Ladybug, Hero of Paris. But it’s fine. He can chalk it up to being at school and having a first friend.

A friend .

He’s between people his age all day, eating in the cafeteria, laughing at jokes, participating in conversations. People drill him about being famous, an Agreste, and he’s not as winded as he answers questions with an easy smile. His hands sign the cards of their own volition, without the strings guiding their path. Other people let him be, figuring the heat will die down and he’ll leave again, that’s it’s all some publicity stunt.

He’s going to prove them wrong.

Nino is nice. Patient. He quietly and softly laughs at Adrien when he makes an honest mistake, but he doesn’t mention the missed social queues or embarrassing things he says. He’s fast in his explanations, but they’re thorough and Adrien has no trouble keeping up with him throughout the day.

“You want to make friends, right?” Nino asks him somewhere in the day. “Well go talk to Marinette. You know, about the chewing gum.”

“But what should I say to her?” he asks in a whisper, extremely aware of her eyes boring a hole in the back of his skull. She’s right behind him, having told Chloé she wasn’t going to be pushed around anymore and has claimed the second row with Alya. They are laughing about something. Something Adrien doesn’t understand. But he can feel Marinette’s disdain toward him.

“Just be yourself.”

It’s good advice, probably, but Adrien has no idea what to do with it.

Classes continue, probably less refined than before a supervillain showed up and tore half the city apart and it got restored in an instant again, but Adrien savors every second of it. The freedom of being here is a precious gift, and he won’t squander it by daydreaming and not giving his everything.

He stays in the school as long as he can, exploring the building and making his way through all the rooms he can get into. The library is huge and brown and warm, and he feels as though it might be his favorite spot in the school.

Eventually, Nathalie calls him to let him know the car is outside.

He takes an umbrella from the lost and found box by the door, promising to himself he’ll return it tomorrow, and walks through the opened doors.

Marinette stands at the threshold, looking over the street as rain pours from the heavens. She looks tired, he thinks as he unties the cords around the umbrella. Maybe even defeated. It’s been half a day of having the pleasure of knowing Marinette, and he already feels as though she should not look like this. She should look like a leader, someone who knows what she’s doing, and who is so inexcusably right, Adrien would follow her in a heartbeat.

“Hey,” he waves, coming to a stop next to her. She clenches the bag in her hands tighter, fingers whitening around the black straps, and she looks away from him. He sighs in defeat, opening the umbrella and stepping forward.

The rain patters on the black fabric, and Adrien feels… He doesn’t know. He can’t quite describe the serenity, the boldness, the courage, and the fear he feels right now.

“I just wanted you to know… that I was only trying to take the chewing gum off your seat. I swear.” Her eyes are wide as she looks at him, mouth slightly parted. “I’ve never been to school before. I’ve never had…friends… It’s all sort of new to me.”

He doesn’t say how hard it’s been to even get to this point, where he has to figure out how friends work. This is not about making excuses for his actions, or to make her feel bad about how she interpreted them. This is about her understanding that at that moment, just before they first met, he tried to help her. Save her even, maybe. Because that’s what he wants to do and who he is.

He looks back at her and smiles, before stretching his hand and offering her the umbrella. She’s as still as the time seems to move, frozen in place, holding this moment in a balance.

A lightning strike hits, thunder follows seconds after, and the moment is broken.

More villains get created. Some are easy to defeat, others are more difficult. Adrien feels confident as Chat Noir, free to move of his own volition, untouchable unless he desires otherwise. The strings gently dance with him as he dodges attacks, no longer cut off entirely as the first few times he transformed to face Stoneheart. They’re still there, winding around him, but they move with him instead of against him, following instead of demanding movement in a direction of him.

Some victims are complete strangers, like people on tv or civilians from the city.

Others are his classmates.

It’s mortifying to see the effects an Akumatization can have, even after a while. Sometimes the changes are good, like how Ivan managed to confess to Mylène after Ladybug encouraged him. Others are more mindful of their words and actions, conscious of the repercussions that they might have. There is a general awareness of mental health in Paris, which leaves fewer people vulnerable.

Some changes are bad. Chloé’s relationship with her mother grows more complicated, strings winding in ways he doesn’t understand. People feel betrayed or weak for getting Akumatized, and hurtful words are thrown around after an Akumatization. Guilt for causing suffering is one of the consequences of falling victim to Hawkmoth’s twisting words, along with shame and rage.

Ladybug brings in more heroes. It’s good at first. One at a time, only when absolutely needed, and they’re never permanent. They help with the battle, give the Miraculous back to Ladybug, and then he doesn’t see them again. He likes meeting new heroes, even if he only knows the surface of who they are. But then again, so do they, so he guesses it’s only fair.

But Ladybug knows.

It doesn’t bother him at first, that she knows the Guardian, gets advice from him, and is free to call upon Miraculous when she needs them. That she knows who the heroes are underneath the surface, aware of them in ways Adrien isn’t as they run into battle with the two of them, to save Paris. Which is what they did. Used to do.

Just the two of them.

And then she becomes the Guardian.

It’s a logical choice, obviously. She’s trained under Master Fu for a while, knows the Miraculous, and is the Hope of Paris. Long ago, they were occasionally called Chat Noir and Ladybug. Over time, it had turned into always being Ladybug and Chat Noir. And eventually, it became Ladybug. Sometimes Ladybug and her Heroes.

He became just another one of them.

It hurt.

He never quit though.

He almost does, sometimes. And then he actually does. It hurts him more to be the new guy than actually being Chat Noir. Ladybug seems genuinely upset when Chat Noir leaves. The moment she sees the black cat-Sentimonster with a bell, she assumes it is him. Tells him it must’ve happened because he regretted giving up his Miraculous. She was quite frantic in trying to get him back.

It is…strange to watch Ladybug act so rash, just because of him. He feels guilty, shameful, and flattered at the same time. He is diligent in acting right by Ladybug and the repercussions he knows her actions could have, and it all works out in the end.

Chat Noir and Ladybug talk. He apologizes for acting out, and she does for making him feel obsolete.

“Just because I don't need you all the time doesn't mean that I don't need you at all, Chat Noir. No one could ever replace you.”

Something unwinds, loosens, unstrains, and he figures it’s the tension on the string running between them finally dissolving a little. And it’s enough for now.

“I don't need you to protect me. We'll never get akumatized!”

His civilian life is falling apart and Ladybug is not on his side today. Leaving on a world tour for half a year to make an ad campaign sounds like a punishment, and it feels like his father is only doing it to take Adrien away away away from everything. The feeble strings he’s made between himself and his classmates, his teachers, his friends, they’re already straining from the distance he has to take from them. And now they’re being cut, all at once, like the fates with the lines of life.

He feels like he might perish with them.

Félix has decided to help by pretending to be him and actually stand up to Gabriel Agreste, and Adrien is eternally grateful to at least have a chance. A chance to stay in this new life he’s created, surrounded by friends and life . He’s not about to have it be taken away. He needs this, the freedom, the rush, the sense of accomplishment .

The trust.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Ladybug mumbles, obviously once again leaving out information. Information he should know. Because he’s her partner. They fight the bad guys together, and he deserves to know what she does. He doesn’t care that she’s the Guardian, that she’s above him, he just wants to be beside her.

“Maybe because you never talk to me about anything!”

He’s so angry with her. Angry because she has been pushing him away, replacing him, filling the void he creates wherever he goes with new heroes. They were supposed to fight this together . Just the two of them.

Ladybug suddenly looks up and exclaims in surprise. She jumps from their spot on the roof, and he follows without really thinking about it. Ladybug straightens herself and sighs in relief. “Nice one, Rena.”

What? Alya ?

“Huh? Rena Rouge? Where is she?”

“Uh…” Ladybug is kicked with her feet, fiddling with her hands, and won’t meet his gaze. She taps her index fingers together and throws him a nervous smile. “Rena who?”

Adrien squints at her, trying to express his feeling with the single gaze he can still manage while looking at her.

“Fine, she's hidden. It's best you don't know where, it's—”

He finally looks away. “Risky, yeah, right. I think I get it.”

He’s told to distract the villains while Ladybug gets reinforcements. He keeps having to chase civilians away, pulling them out of the way of incoming danger, but it doesn’t take long for Ladybug to return with her flock of heroes. Vesperia attacks, as does Purple Tigress, but it only results in Polymouse having to use her ability to protect them from Strikeback, which has copied the two powers, and now has a third. It splits into three separate entities.

They have to retreat.

Ryuko has to use her powers to protect them as well, and Carapace rushes to use his power to protect Rena. Adrien can only see Nino protecting Alya, and Ladybug telling him off for revealing her location. It’s upsetting to watch because Ladybug has no idea how much those two mean to each other. How much they would sacrifice to protect them, to be with them.

The heroes are confused and a bit angry when they realize some of them know each others’ identities. Adrien opts to get the child that has made their way back into the fight again. He has enough emotions of his own right now, and being around people who are as frustrated as he is won’t help anyone. For now, he needs a simple task.

He’s good with kids, he tells Ladybug, and he leaps away before anyone can butt in. He drops in front of the tricycle headed toward the Strikebacks, halting the movement of the bike. The child is dressed up like a frog, strangely enough. They went the extra mile, with the colors, the glasses, the angry smirk… What? Angry smirk?

Wait a minute.

One of the Strikebacks has made its way around the buildings and is now behind Adrien. He can only turn around and watch the black foot come for him before he's knocked into a wall somewhere near the heroes. He groans, sliding down onto the rooftop, and is slow to get up. Everything hurts, there are no strings to help him stand, and he is so tired . He makes his way back over to Ladybug and her delegation without enthusiasm, feeling watched as he jumps over the street onto the next building.

He’s so frustrated, because nothing is working with him, everything is seemingly dedicated to making his day miserable , and he just got punted into a wall because he thought he had it all figured out. But once again , he was unaware of important information.

“Blind! We were blind,” he shouts out as he makes the final jump. His arms are flailing, he’s being way too loud, and they’re all looking at him like he’s crazy. “We're not just dealing with a Sentimonster. There's also an akumatized villain!”

Ladybug’s eyes are wide, darting around the scene that has become Paris, eyes of the expectant heroes on her. “That's why we're being so careless. It's him that's making us take all these risks! Chat Noir, you need to de-transform!”

No. No. He’s being shoved aside again! Discarded like a one-use tool, and for what? Because she has better heroes now? Because he’s a danger to himself and others? The strings are straining under the pressure, but he can’t tell which ones are breaking and which ones are getting stronger, but he feels so trapped.

“What?”

“Until I've de-akumatized him, I can't leave you with your cataclysm. It's too risky!”

He doesn’t hear the rest of her instructions, the noise of his void forming a barrier between him and the world. He watches Ladybug sprint away from him, converging with her team, the others darting in directions he can’t follow. They work well together, with a clear leader and the underlings, with just her to tell them how it’s done.

Adrien watches Ladybug sprint away, in front of him, and only sees her from behind before she disappears. He supposes he has to get used to this view, this feeling of loneliness as he stands at the top of the world while it crumbles before him.

There’s an urging tug, pulling him toward one of the Sentimonsters, and he decides then and there he can make his own damn rules. Ladybug has her own plans, but he is still his own person. She does not control him. He stands there for a moment, thinking about what he should do, before there’s a scream from one of the civilians that is still near and he decides he has to end this .

The Cataclysm flows from the ring into his hand, having crept ever so slowly up to his elbow with every time he’s called it before, and jumps in front of the Sentimonster. It’s quicker than he is, and the black hand has him pinned to the wall before he can even breathe. The air is slammed out of him as he makes contact with the building, and he catches Ladybug’s eyes. They’re wide open in shock, disbelief, and maybe even betrayal as she watches the Sentimonster take his power.

The connection between Chat Noir and Ladybug strains further and further, until it is but a single line instead of the tightly woven cord it was before.

Ladybug comes to Adrien later that night, when the villains are gone and the City is restored. She says she’s been looking for him to have him give the Miraculous back. She’s confused, because she told him. On the train. To England.

The train which Félix was on.

It’s slipped his mind for a while, but the moment he and Ladybug realize what has happened, she panics. She’s shaking, crying, speaking fast and quietly and he doesn’t understand what’s going on until the yoyo disappears from her waist and she breaks down. “The ball... of the dog... Félix... He has the yoyo, and that means... he has the Miraculous!”

Adrien feels panic seize hold of him as well, but he needs to be calm. Ladybug is not able to think with her mind as scrambled as he is, but he can still think with his heart. “Ladybug,” he starts, softly and slowly grabbing a hold of her shoulders as he crouches in front of her. He searches for her eyes, and finds them red and puffy from the tears. She’s breathing abnormally fast, and he’s impressed she’s still standing. “Try to keep calm. Think . There must be a way to get your yoyo back.”

“Maybe if I transform back and then–”

“Okay, good. Go in here.” He’s opened the bathroom door in a second, pushing her through. “You’ll be safe.”

“But–”

“If you're gonna trust me once, please let it be this time!”

He means every word. Despite everything, he will protect her. His Lady.

She’s in there for a while, talking to Tikki, trying to control her breathing and rationalize the situation. He hears the transformation wash over her, scrambling to grab hold of anything in the yoyo, and then there’s a tumble before it’s completely quiet. He slams the door open, but she’s already gone.

Adrien races to the rooftops of the Jardins du Trocadéro on instinct alone. The building is tall and secluded, and it has an amazing view over the Eiffel Tower. It’s become their spot over the last year, and they tend to go there alone when they need space.

Or each other.

Hawkmoth is there, just like with Stoneheart back then, and is threatening the city using the same words he did a whole year ago. The ginormous Shellter is cast around the storm of Akumas, and Mirage has been used to project the icons of the captured Miraculous within the dome. Hawkmoth’s voice booms over the pavement, rumbling through the ground and into Adrien’s heart.

“Ladybug had promised to protect you. Well, she lied!”

It’s downright cruel.

Ladybug is hunched in on herself, arms folded around her legs, head hidden between her knees. She’s still crying. “I’ve lost everything !”

“You haven’t lost me.”

It’s out before he can help it, and hopes she can’t see the surprised look on his face when he realizes he’s said it out loud. He’s turned back to Hawkmoth, determination taking over his face. He may not be able to protect this city from harm, but he can protect the one person who can.

She’s looking at him with that stupid crestfallen look in her eyes. The one where it’s clear she doesn’t trust herself with the task she’s been given. He can’t imagine the stress she must be feeling right now, the feeling of being responsible for the evil threatening their world. “Why don't you just give up on me? I lost all the Miraculous, I'm the worst Guardian ever! I wanted to control everything, I didn't listen to you, I lied to you, I kept you at a distance! Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it! I really made a mess of everything..!”

“M’Lady…”

He holds out his hand, offers his most sincere and understanding smile, and picks her up until he has his arms wrapped around her, putting pressure on her so she knows he’s real, and here , and tries to hold her crumbling parts together. She clings to him like a lifeline, feeling drowning if it weren’t for him. “We’re gonna get them back one by one, until the very last. And we’ll make sure this ever happens again.”

She unfolds a bit, taking her head back and looking him in the eye. “You… and me?”

She sounds so broken , and he clings on tighter. He wants to use the strings he’s broken to wrap around her and keep her in place, because he’ll gladly sacrifice his broken pieces if it means she can hold on a little longer.

“You, the people of Paris–” he points to the crowds in the park, all chanting for her, saying she can – “and me.” He meets her gaze again as she looks back at him, eyes wide and mouth parted in disbelief. “Your loyal partner.”

It’s a compromise, a reassurance, and a promise.

They’ve been doing this together since the beginning. On day one, he told her she could handle fighting the evil of this world and time, despite having failed once before. He told her that people were saved because of her, and that people would not be if she was not there. He told her they could do it together, because they had proven they could. That he was right about her, and that she should trust him .

He holds her hand in his, and feels like they can do it. The girl with the world on her shoulders and the boy with the broken strings.