Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

For Marinette, that day began like any other.

She'd woken to the blare of her alarm at seven, eyelids dragging upward as if opening them was a chore. Her arms reached high above her head in a stretch, and her mouth creaked open with a yawn so fierce that it caused tears to prick at the corners of her eyes. Pulling herself out of bed and down her ladder, her bare feet collided with the wooden floor, and the chill of its surface caused her to shiver with the reminder that autumn was in full swing.

The morning had been nice. Pleasant.

Marinette had eaten breakfast, gotten dressed, kissed her parents goodbye, and made it to school like another day of the week. The excitement that had burst from her chest as a laugh once the school day had ended was loud. She couldn’t contain her enthusiasm at the mere thought of attending one of Gabriel's shows during Paris Fashion Week. Her invitation had been extended by Adrien himself, in fact—and not just her. Their entire class had been invited.

Oh, how lovely the day had been. The weather was cool, the leaves were changing color and crunching beneath her boots as she walked, and Adrien was there, smiling with bright teeth and eyes so green that Marinette had nearly fallen into his arms from how desperately she adored him.

His promise of taking their entire class to the show had surprised most of them. Gabriel had never offered such a great favor, but she supposed it was because of Adrien's encouragement. The bigger the audience, the bigger the event.

Marinette could hardly sit still as she found her seat in the crowd that afternoon after classes let out. The weather was chilly, proving the need for a light sweater and scarf. An outdoor event was a little unconventional but not unheard of, and she was thankful that she'd be out in the city where the smell of fresh pastries and wood fire floated in the crisp fall air.

As the show started, she wiggled in her seat with anticipation. Model after model strode out onto the catwalk. Her phone, snapping an absurd amount of photos for such a small device, needed to catch up to overuse. Marinette stifled a growl at its incompetence, but every negative feeling she held inside fizzled away when Alya nudged her side.

"Look," she whispered, motioning towards the stage. "Look!"

It was Adrien.

And oh, he looked divine. Dressed in black jeans and a white button-up shirt underneath a black blazer, he made his way down the catwalk with the strut he'd perfected years ago, and Marinette's legs felt like jelly as he looked straight at her and winked.

Jumping up from her seat, Marinette gave Adrien a wave, and when he responded with the same, she felt nothing could spoil her day. Everything was great! No, no—everything was more than excellent. It was… Wonderful.

But it wasn't.

A gunshot—deafening to the ears—and then the sound of a body colliding to the ground.

Marinette froze in disbelief.

Wh… What? Wait, wait, no. No.

Adrien fell on stage.

But he'd just been fine, hadn't he? That was Adrien, who had been injured there, he-

Everyone was screaming around her. Screams—shrill enough to deafen the world around her. People were panicking and rushing, no—knocking into each other and jostling their friends and family with their urgency to flee.

It was-

She was-

He was….

Marinette winced as a stranger's shoulder slammed between her and Alya, and that was when their eyes met.

With a horrified glance to the stage, they both understood what had just transpired.

"Adrien!" Marinette screamed, her senses flooding back to her like a wave crashing into her body. She focused her attention on the body of her friend, unnaturally slumped on the floor, his eyes wide and panicked.

She watched him attempt to sit up, a hand on his chest and a pale, pained expression on his face. As he pulled his hand back, she saw the way his brows shot up into his hairline as he noticed it was slick with his blood, his fingers trembling like leaves as crimson droplets dripped on his lap.

He looked at her with the fear of death in his gaze.

"Adrien!" she called again, fighting through the crowd despite everyone's incessant shoving. She had to get to him, she had to make sure he was okay, she- she-

She wasn't fast enough. Adrien was up there, lying in pain and losing blood—so much blood—and she was stuck down here in the crowd, trapped and slow.

A nauseous feeling embedded itself in her throat.

He might die , her mind wailed. He might die if you don't save him.

Panic. Panic. Panic.

"Hold on, Adrien," she called, slipping past a pair of burly men. "Just hold on!"

There was blood on his clothes, his hands, the stage… Too much blood. There was so much blood that accompanied the tears that streaked down his cheeks.

Marinette's adrenaline coursed through her veins in high waves, pushing her to jump onto the stage with no concern other than Adrien. He was her priority now. He needed her. He needed to live.

"Adrien," Marinette cried as she made it by his side, her face white in terror. Her blood felt cold as her lips trembled. Enveloping him in her arms, she wailed, "Get up! You have to get up! You have to be okay. Please!"

Her heart hammered in her chest, and her throat was tight, and oh, no, no, she needed to do something , she- she needed to...

...She needed to fly over this crowd.

Snapping open her purse, Marinette's eyes bore down into her kwami's with desperation, and her hands trembled as she pleaded to Tikki with one simple word:

"Please."

And then Tikki nodded, the only confirmation she needed.

"Tikki," Marinette said. She took a deep breath and attempted to ignore how her friends, family, classmates, and every stranger around watched her every move. "Spots on."

Her transformation filled her body with energy. Scrubbing the tears from her cheeks, Ladybug lifted her friend's head as gently as she could, desperate to look into his eyes and speak to him, to know whether these were the last moments they would share.

Adrien's eyelids were drooping. He gave her a look up and down as his mind struggled to come to terms with who was in front of him. With a weakened voice, he managed the faintest smile as he said, "My Lady."

And that destroyed her heart to its very last piece.

"Oh," she breathed, lifting him into her arms with a movement so gentle that she hoped he'd barely notice it at all. "Oh, no. No, my k-kitty... Please be okay!"

His hand cupped the edge of her cheek. Brushing her tears away with his thumb, Adrien graced her with one last upward curve of his lips, even as his face scrunched in pain. "Give Plagg some cheese for me, okay?"

"You can do it yourself," she sobbed. "Please. Oh, Chat, no."

Adrien's trembling fingers were like ice as he squeezed her hand within his feeble grasp.

He was unconscious. Breathing, heart beating, but fading fast.

Ladybug knew it was time to go.

"Adrien," she bawled. "Please, please don't die."

Her heart was beating like a drumline in her head as the blood rushed in her ears. Adrenaline ran in exhausting waves through her veins, pushing her to keep running, to keep flying, not to rest until Adrien was safe and sound in a hospital where his wounds would be tended to.

She had to keep going .

It wasn't far. Just two more alleyways to zip over, and then he'd be alright. He'd be fine. He'd be perfectly fine… He…

He was bleeding out in her arms, staining the sleek fabric of her suit in a deep, deep red.

Whimpers of desperation slipped from Ladybug's lips as she burst through the emergency room doors. A panic followed from her sudden entrance, the sight of her friend's condition startling the crowd into a frightened uproar. Sickly citizens waiting for the doctor sprung from their seats as droplets of scarlet fell to the floor, and a unanimous cloud of gasps and murmurs filled the air.

Pushing past the gutted civilians, Ladybug approached the receptionist and stated in the calmest voice she could manage, "He's been shot. He's unconscious, n-needs help. Please."

The receptionist's eyes widened, and she immediately jumped into action.

They were going to take him. Adrien was going to be okay.

The claws of pain that raked through her chest from the moment he was taken from her arms were unrivaled by anything she'd felt in her life. She could only watch as the staff laid Adrien on a gurney and rushed down the hallway until he disappeared behind two wooden double doors, gone from her sight and away from her care, where she could no longer see the gentle rise and fall of his breath, where-

Where she could no longer know whether he was alive or dead.

He was gone, the memory of his touch like a ghost in her hands. Crimson dripped from her fingertips, staining the pristine tile floor of the room. It smeared against her cheeks as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

She was left alone in the hallway and Adrien…

Adrien had disappeared.

Ladybug fell to her knees. Her trembling hands—spattered with the darkened red of her friend's blood—enveloped herself, and there was nothing else she could do but lower her head and hope for the best, even as her friend's lifeline ran thinner and thinner.

Surrounded by the faces of strangers, she sobbed.

The day ticked by. Not once had she detransformed. No doubt Tikki was tired, but a selfish part of Ladybug told her that didn't matter. Adrien was more important. Adrien needed to live.

(She was sorry. Ladybug was genuinely sorry for her kwami. But she knew above all that she needed to stay right where she was.)

Her evening was spent in a waiting room, the door shut and locked for her privacy. People were crowding outside the hospital—at least, that's what she had heard. Her eyes gazed heavily at the TV in the room's corner, vision glazed. News footage showed paparazzi swarming like a pack of rats in a sewer, eager to get their grubby little hands on whatever information they could scrounge up.

The world knew who she was now. There was nothing she could do about that.

The exhaustion that dragged at Ladybug's mind allowed little room for panicked thoughts about her identity when she was unsure if Adrien was alive or dead.

It was hours before she heard any news. A knock on the door startled her from a brief nap, her head snapping up in surprise as she rose from her seat. The wooden texture of the door was cool against her gloves as she placed her hand on its surface. Swallowing around the sickened lump in her throat, she called out, "What do you want?'

The person on the other side of the door spoke calmly. "It's Doctor Carriveau. Can we talk?"

The speed at which Ladybug opened the door and shoved the surgeon into the room was like lightning, and her eyes immediately swelled with tears as he regarded her with a stoic expression, the walls around her heart rising as she prepared herself for the bad news.

Adrien was dead, wasn't he? He'd died on the operating table. Lost too much blood. She'd never see her friend again, never see him smile, hear him laugh, or- or anything , because he was dead and had already been sent to the morgue, and now they'd never be together, and she'd be miserable for the rest of her life because the boy she loved was dead, nothing but a husk of—

"Adrien's okay," Dr. Carriveau said, his voice soft. "He'll need to be here awhile, but he's alive. He's recovering from surgery in ICU-"

"Then I'll go see him," Ladybug said. She barreled past the doctor and out the door despite his calling her name, racing down the hall and into the Intensive Care ward like it was her sole purpose. She only paused to ask the receptionist what room he was in and hurried down the hall toward his room, ignoring their protests.

However, she froze at the glass window as a thin figure loomed over Adrien's bed with his head buried in his hands.

It was his father.

The nauseous feeling that had been toying with her stomach earlier returned.

As if sensing her gaze, Gabriel turned and regarded her with a broad stare, his eyes cold and wet. At seeing her, he straightened his back and fixed his tie. He nodded his head to her before turning and squeezing his son's hand.

Ladybug had never imagined seeing the world-renowned fashion designer so disheveled. For someone who rarely made public appearances, she admittedly felt surprised to see him. His mused hair and purple bags underneath his eyes were certainly a sight to behold, especially when he briefly removed his glasses to dab at the tears that glistened in the hospital light.

With a final drag of his hand down his exhausted features, Gabriel headed toward the door.

That was when Ladybug saw him— Adrien— and her heart plummeted in her chest.

He was so… So pale, like a ghost. His hair was unkempt, blond tips stained brown with blood, and his body limp.

Adrien looked dead. But the telltale rise and fall of his chest was all Ladybug needed to see.

Her head hung low as moisture beaded at the corners of her eyes. The window, so cold to the touch, even with her gloves, did little to provide an adequate view of her partner.

"Oh," she sniffled. "My Chat-"

A shadow blackened out the fluorescent lights above her, causing Ladybug to snap her head up to see who was invading her personal space now , and the aggressive retort on the edge of her lips died just as she met the stare of Gabriel Agreste.

She swallowed whatever she'd wanted to say with a heavy gulp and stood straight like a beanpole.

Gabriel seemed reserved, expression firm, the only sign that he felt anything at all being the reddened hue that lined his sclera. He cleared his throat—unable to look her in the eye—as he offered his hand.

"I just wanted to give my thanks," he said, voice shaky. "For saving my son."

Ladybug nodded. She hesitantly shook his offered grasp. "O-of course. He's my friend after all, and… Uh…"

Gabriel was quiet for a moment too long, and Ladybug felt uncomfortable under his gaze. His expression hardened as his eyes met the sight of her earrings.

"...Yes," he said slowly, as if he was mulling something over. "Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, is it?"

Looking away, Ladybug snatched her hand back and held it as a fist at her side. "I'd like to visit him now."

With a nod, Gabriel swallowed. "As you wish."

And then he turned and left, leaving Ladybug to stand by her lonesome.

That man was strange.

Shaking the thought away, she entered Adrien's room and shut the door behind her. Her breath labored. Chest feeling tight, like someone was squeezing at her heart with all their might, Ladybug took a deep breath to steady herself. Her eyes stung as her throat clenched with the urge to sob.

Her head was dizzy. Feet wobbly, she stepped toward his bedside, the sound of his breathing amplified through the oxygen mask that he wore on his face. There was a tube at his bedside, sneaking underneath the hospital gown he wore and entering somewhere around his rib cage. On his cheek was a bloodstain, crusted and brown from the hours that had drawn by, and he looked so… So peaceful, resting in a deep slumber that, despite her earlier wishes, Ladybug was glad for.

She really didn't feel like having to explain her whole identity crisis right now…

With tears blurring her vision, Ladybug's gloved hand weaved through Adrien's fingers. His hands were warm—not cold like she'd expected—and it was nice to hold him, to feel his pulse in his fingertips and know that for the first time in hours, she could relax because Adrien was alive.

She slumped into the chair next to his bed. It was small in the cramped room, but the cushion was welcome to her weary legs.

"Tikki," Ladybug whispered, voice hoarse. "Spots off."

Her transformation fell without missing a beat. A nurse passing by the window stopped and stared, but Marinette couldn't find the strength within her to care. It was common knowledge at this point. She expected the entire city to know by morning.

The whole thing was mind-numbing.

Flitting out in a spark of pink light, Tikki said nothing, her antennae drooping. She placed herself on Marinette's shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. It was a slight comfort, even as her kwami's tiny blue eyes became dull with sadness.

With a shaky voice, Marinette swallowed. She gasped out a few words to her friend.

"Adrien," she said. Her thumb caressed his knuckles. "I know it's probably not the best time, and you can't hear me, but…" Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the white sheets of the hospital bed. "I love you. And I need you to stay with me, okay? Stay with me."

His pillow rustled. A blur of black darted underneath the blankets.

Rubbing her eyes, Marinette sighed, frustrated with her exhaustion for making her hallucinate.

"What am I gonna do, Tikki?" she whimpered. "How am I supposed to fight akumas? Hawk Moth knows my identity for sure by now. And Chat Noir—"

"Chat Noir will be out of commission for a while."

Tearing her gaze away from her friend's sleeping face, Marinette's eyes widened as they landed on a tiny, jet-black creature with ears and a tail to match.

"Hi, Marinette," the creature said. Despite how his whiskers perked, the sadness in his eyes and the droop of his ears made it evident that this being was suffering. "It's me. Adrien's kwami."

An attempt at a smile slowly wove its way onto her face.

Plagg continued. "Chat Noir's alright, you see?" He motioned with his head towards the sleeping boy. "Just hurt. But he needs you to be strong, okay? He won't be able to fight for a while."

All Marinette could do was nod. "Okay," she said.

Her eyes trailed the kwami as Plagg sighed and curled his body on Adrien's shoulder, and Marinette pitied him as he purred. One of her hands reached out to touch him, but as he regarded her with a moist expression, she hesitated, pulling it back to rest at her side.

Until now, she hadn't known kwamis could cry.

"It's okay," she said. Her fingers gently cupped him in her palms. "It's okay, Plagg. It's going to be okay."

But he said nothing. The only sounds that rose from the kwami's mouth were the faint whimpers of his broken heart.

Marinette slept by Adrien's bedside that night. Though her phone kept buzzing with text after text, she slept off the exhaustion for a few hours in the uncomfortable sitting chair before she woke from the hospital staff informing her that visiting hours were over.

At first, she refused to leave, her sleep-drunk mind causing her to become angry. How dare they ask her to leave Chat Noir when he needed her most?

She wanted to fight, to tell them that this was her partner, her best friend and that she wasn't leaving him, not now, not ever!

But she was too tired. Too dazed. They led her out of the room as her mind floated on a cloud of dust somewhere her body seldom knew. Her feet glided across the floor, brain full of fuzz and eyes heavy and damp, and she knew only that they had taken her to a back exit of the hospital when she'd already been led outside into the night.

It was cold.

Her hands were a brief release from the chill as she rubbed them up and down her arms. Breath blowing out as a puff of frost before her, Marinette shivered, absolutely exhausted.

Her hair was a mess. Her makeup was a mess. She was a mess.

"Marinette," Tikki's gentle voice soothed. "It's time to go home."

She nodded.

With no kwami energy left to transform, Marinette began the trek home with her head down. She could slip by the paparazzi unnoticed if she kept a low profile. Her hair was let loose from its pigtails to shield her face, and Tikki tucked herself safely in her purse, which she clutched close to her body for fear that if she didn't, she'd lose her only chance of escape.

For a while, it worked. She quickly slipped by the crowd gathered in front of the hospital, as the jumble of reporters were all too preoccupied with watching the front doors instead of the back entrance, which allowed her some leeway.

Things were fine, mostly. The walk home was moderately quiet.

A flashing light caught her attention as she passed a shop window.

Marinette froze as the display of TVs played the day's earlier news report. The reporter relayed everything that had transpired, from the fashion show to the gunshot, the crowd breaking into a chorus of screams, and-

...And her bursting from the crowd toward the stage, where she transformed and revealed her deepest secret to save the boy she loved. To him. To the world.

Marinette looked away, a heavy lump of regret settling hard in her stomach.

Nausea overwhelmed her.

"Hey! There she is!"

Her eyes widened in terror as a gathering of camera operators surrounded her. A microphone was rudely shoved into her personal space. Backing up, she gasped as her back slammed into the glass of the shop window, her chest heaving as they trapped her with a flurry of questions.

"Ladybug! What will you do now that your identity is public knowledge?" one asked.

A second interrupted, "Why haven't you defeated Hawk Moth? Paris is in shambles! What are you waiting for?"

Panic.

"Where's Chat Noir? How does he feel about this whole situation?"

Panic.

"Is Adrien Agreste dead?"

Panic.

"Did you save him because you love him?"

"That's enough!" she yelled, shoving her palms against the chest of a reporter in a desperate attempt to flee. The sound of a thump and an "oof" rang in her ears, but she didn't look back—no, she kept running, breath coming in quick, short gasps as she darted for the direction of home, where she would be safe and sound and away from the stress of the outside world.

Home. Home is where she needed to go.

And yet, even as she tripped over a curb and skinned her knee, her thoughts drifted back to Adrien.

Home seemed very, very far away.

As she finally reached the entrance to the bakery, her hands trembled as they rifled through her purse for her keys. Her chest burned from exertion, and her vision was blurred. She struggled to unlock the door from how fiercely her hands shook.

Energy spent, she opted to knock instead, hoping and praying that someone—anyone—inside would hear her.

Silence.

She tried again.

After a moment that felt like eons, Marinette nearly gave up and turned away. But her mother's voice from behind the wood caused her to perk up.

"Who is it now?" Sabine asked. "My daughter isn't here. Please leave us alone."

"Maman," Marinette called, voice cracked. "It's m—"

The door swung open as if a strong wind had caused it to burst. Her mother's arms were around her instantly, soft and warm and full of love and everything Marinette had ever needed.

She was home. She was safe.

The sound of the door shutting behind her was like a sigh of sweet relief.

Finally, thought Marinette. I'm home.

"Oh, Marinette," Sabine cried. "Are you okay?"

Burying her face in the comfort of her mother's shoulder, Marinette shook her head. Her wails of despair shook her body to its core.

Home was no longer a place of refuge.

For the past three days, Marinette had been bombarded with questions as cameras were rudely shoved in her face. Her personal space was nonexistent, and with the constant flash of stolen photos peeping in through her bedroom windows, she felt as if she was going insane from lack of peace (and light, for she hadn't opened her curtains since.)

She hadn't left her room. Meals were delivered to her bed as she hid under her covers with two-day-old mascara crusted on her damp cheeks. The prospect of eating hadn't sat right with her, so her plates were left relatively untouched as she did her best to sleep away the anxiety that gnawed at her gut.

Her parents, bless their hearts, had barely left her side for the first two days. They didn't talk about her identity. Instead, they left Marinette at peace with comforting words as their hands rubbed her back and dried her tears, and while she appreciated their overflowing kindness, right now…

She needed to be alone.

But, ah—as she tasted the saltiness of dried tears on her lips, Marinette knew that wasn't really a viable option.

Her stomach quivered with hunger. She had yet to eat since yesterday morning.

Sitting up, Marinette ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as her nails caught on various knots because it hadn't been brushed for the past three days. She felt gross—oily—like she needed a good shower. As she scrubbed the sleep from her eyes, Marinette gathered her strength (what little she had) and climbed down from her loft.

"No more moping around," she told herself. She kicked a stray sock for good measure. "That's not helping anyone."

With a pair of fresh pajamas and a towel, Marinette ventured downstairs and took a brief shower, feeling a wave of fresh relief wash over her body as she reveled in her cleanliness. The pajamas were soft against her skin as she wore them, the muted purple color soothing her constant headache. Her wet hair was pulled up into a bun. The cool air of her hallway greeted her once she'd opened the bathroom door, and a cloud of steam followed her as she traveled to the kitchen and opened the fridge, stomach grumbling though she was undecided on what to eat.

Opting for the brightly colored box of fruit-flavored loops, Marinette poured herself a bowl more significant than what was probably healthy and retrieved the milk from the fridge, tipping it so that it flowed out from the jug in a—

A hand on her shoulder startled her, and the milk gallon fell from her grasp and splashed onto the tile floor.

The sound was so loud and jarring that Marinette's eyes immediately welled with tears. Her chest felt tight, memories of Adrien's body collapsing to the ground flooding her mind as her lungs struggled to expand, and her hands trembled with such ferocity that she had to take a step back. Her eyes squeezed shut. She swallowed the urge to sob as her fists clenched at her sides.

Alya stepped back with a yelp of surprise. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing to grab a rag from the counter. "I'll clean it. I didn't mean to scare you, Marinette, I—"

Her toes were damp from the puddle of milk. As she looked down, the white liquid at her feet flashed red.

Marinette had to shake the thought away. Steadying her breath, she counted to five in her head before meeting the concerned gaze of her best friend, whose pajama pants were soaked around the ankles.

"Sorry," apologized Marinette, her voice weak. "I—I'm just a little on edge right now, I… I know you didn't mean to startle me."

And she wasn't sure how she had. Alya had been here for three days, sleeping in Marinette's bed each night to be there for her. Truly, she couldn't have asked for a better friend.

Alya adjusted her glasses as she regarded her with a slight frown. "I can run downstairs for some more milk."

"Don't worry about it," Marinette said. "I'm fine."

Alya sighed. She crouched down and began to wipe the mess off the floor. "You need to eat, Marinette. At least let me run and get you some takeout or something."

"The reporters will follow you," she said grimly.

"Do I look like I care?"

Marinette smiled despite herself. "You look like you're cleaning up spilled milk."

Pausing momentarily, Alya broke the tension with a snort as a laugh bubbled from her mouth. "Yeah. I am. But seriously…" She tossed the sopping rag in the sink before giving her an expression that glowed with care. "Let me get you something to eat, okay?"

Marinette said nothing. Though she wasn't against the idea of filling the rumbling hole in her stomach, she didn't exactly favor the idea of her best friend being thrown into the jaws of thirsty reporters. They were everywhere with their cameras and microphones. They had stayed in the vicinity for days. They didn't get tired or hungry and certainly didn't take breaks.

She thought they were robots whose only programmed functions were to snap photos and ask annoying questions.

Besides, her parents were already asleep at this hour, and if Alya left...

"Can you cook something here?" she asked. A knot formed in the back of her throat. "I… I don't want to be alone."

The warmth of Alya's smile was all Marinette needed.

"Of course."

She drifted off on the couch as she waited.

A distant knocking on the door woke her not long after, however. The smell of something delicious sizzling in the kitchen told her that Alya was still occupied with dinner, so she sighed, dragging her weary legs off the couch and toward the door leading to the apartment stairwell.

She stood on the tips of her toes to peer through the peephole. As she squinted at the figure in the doorway, the sight that assaulted her caused something to lurch in her stomach, and she took a momentary step back to process exactly what—or who —she saw.

Why… Why was he here?

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Marinette opened the door a crack to ensure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing…

And as Gabriel Agreste greeted her with a polite "hello," Marinette promptly slammed the door in his face.

...She panicked.

It certainly was not her proudest moment.

"Alya!" she hissed, dashing toward her friend. "Alya! Adrien's dad is at the door!"

" What? "

"Gabriel Agreste—" Marinette said through gritted teeth, "—is at the door !"

"You're joking," Alya said. She reached forward to turn off the burner and left the pan sitting on the stove. "Why would he come here?"

Marinette pulled at her hair. "I don't know! Can you answer it? Please?"

"Mari—"

" Please, " Marinette begged.

Alya sighed deeply. "Okay," she said, a slight hint of humor in her tone. "But I'm in my Majestia pajamas, so if he laughs at me, I'm blaming you, girl."

Marinette's lips briefly twitched into a smile. "It's bold of you to assume that Gabriel Agreste has ever laughed at anything."

Snorting, Alya said, "Stop! Do you want him to hear you?"

Marinette stood back as Alya opened the door. She listened with interest, waiting while her friend greeted the man in the foyer as her curiosity regarding his visit burned at the front of her mind.

"Is Mlle. Marinette here?" Gabriel asked, though she knew he was aware of her presence because she’d slammed the door in his face thirty seconds prior.

Her eyes met his own for a fleeting moment, and she flinched as she saw them harden.

"Uhh…" Alya glanced back toward her. "Yeah?"

"I wish to speak with her."

Marinette felt something inside her shrivel up and die. What could he need? She didn't want to be bothered! Especially not by him .

Gabriel continued. "It would only be for a moment," he said, his gaze unwavering from her own. "I just have a small request."

Releasing a sigh, Marinette shook her head. Let's get this over with.

"Let him in," she said.

Alya obliged without a word.

Gabriel's shadow was long and dark as it encompassed her. He stood over her with a stoic expression that would belong to someone with years of experience hiding every emotion he felt under wraps. There were secrets in his eyes—deep ones—and the coldness of his gaze caused Marinette to shiver as he towered above her like the skyscraper of a man he was.

"Yes, M. Agreste?" Marinette asked, thankful she had enough strength to at least sound confident.

Adjusting his glasses, Gabriel regarded her with a thoughtful cock of his brow. "I have a proposition for you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. It would be in both of our interests for you to accept."

Oh, god, this dude was even more terrifying up close when she wasn't transformed. Swallowing, Marinette tilted her head to the side. "I-I can't accept if you don't tell me what it is."

Gabriel glanced back at Alya, who snapped her attention away and pretended to continue cooking their dinner as the back of her neck reddened from having been caught eavesdropping.

"I need your Miraculous," he stated bluntly. "Please."

Marinette's heart lurched in her chest from shock. Her hands instinctively went up to her right ear as she shielded one of her precious earrings. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed. "Why?"

Her idol steadied himself with a calming breath. "You must allow me to have it," he said, the faintest crack in his voice audible even through the hardness of his emotionless presence. "I—I need it. You have to give it to me."

Heart racing in her chest, Marinette took a step back. Her eyes darted to Alya, whose whole attention was now captivated by the man in the house, vigorously shaking her head at Marinette.

Marinette nodded once in response.

"M. Agreste, I think you need to leave," she said, both hands covering the studs on her earlobes. "Did my parents see you come in through the bakery?"

Gabriel ignored her as he stepped closer. "You don't understand," he growled, forehead wrinkling as he dropped the stoic facade and let his frustration permeate his once-composed face. "It's not for me. It's Adrien. He's weak. He's barely holding on, I—" he combed a hand through his hair, "—I can't lose another one. Please."

Adrien? It was for Adrien…?

Marinette briefly lowered the hands that guarded her jewelry. She'd never expected Gabriel Agreste, of all people, to come begging at her door, but if Adrien was- was…

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as her eyes welled with tears. Hands trembling, heart beating, and vision blurry, Marinette placed her hands over her ears and sighed.

"Is Adrien dying?" she asked.

Alya's warning tone rose from behind her. "Marinette—"

"Please," Gabriel interrupted. He reached out his hand as his composure wilted. "I need my son."

Marinette felt her eyes slide shut as she fought the onslaught of sobs that threatened to rack her body if she so much as lost one ounce of control. She had to keep it together. She had to stay strong.

Adrien was dying, wasn't he? Marinette had feared that. His condition wasn't well. He'd been shot in the chest, shattered his rib cage… He was lucky he even survived the surgery...

Her mind swarmed with thought after thought. Adrien couldn't die. Not after everything they'd been through, not when Hawk Moth was still on the loose and threatening the lives of Parisians, not when—

A sickly feeling bubbled in her gut as a fierce realization assaulted her like a gunshot to the heart.

How did Gabriel know about the Miraculous…? And how did he know that obtaining them would save his son?

Oh.

Oh, no.

With her breath nearly knocked out of her, Marinette began backing away from the vile man who dared to stand in front of her when he knew , and it took all of her strength not to lose what little food she had within her stomach over the new information that had settled in her mind.

Marinette straightened her posture. "No," she said firmly.

Gabriel's surprise at her response was almost laughable. Taken aback, it took him a moment to speak. "You don't understand," he accused. "I need your Miraculous so I can save him, you being Ladybug of all people should understand —"

" No, " Marinette growled. "Adrien is my dear friend, but I can't put the rest of the world in danger to save one life. No matter how much I care about him or how much it would kill me to see him leave this world..." She swallowed around the heavy lump in her throat as tears stung her eyes. "There's always a cost. Giving life means taking one, and I would never want anyone else to experience the pain I'm feeling."

"But what does it matter?" Gabriel hissed. "Don't you want him to live? Would you be so selfish as to deny his friends, to deny himself the life he deserves? You can make any wish. Anything—"

Marinette stiffened. She couldn't bear to hear anymore. "Get out of my house."

It was quiet.

She was sure Gabriel would politely excuse himself and head for home.

But, as his expression tightened and he regained his upright posture, Marinette felt a shiver run up her spine from how icy his stare was as it cut right through her.

"Fine," he said, voice calm despite the rage she saw burning within him. "But if my son dies, his blood is on your hands."

And with that, Gabriel shot her a sickeningly irate glare, straightened his tie, and let himself out with a slam of the door so intense it shook the apartment to its core.

Alya's hand stroked her shoulder. "Don't listen to him. It's not your fault. He-"

Hands quivering, Marinette placed a palm to her forehead as she stared at the floor and broke into a fit of sobs.

On the fourth day, Marinette returned to her regularly scheduled schooling.

The classroom felt dreadfully sad without Adrien, though.

Through the weeks, Marinette hadn't planned to visit him all that often. Despite how badly she wished to see his face, she knew she needed to give him space to recover without fussing over him.

And besides… Leaving the house these days was more complicated than it used to be. She couldn't step two meters outside her door without someone pestering her for answers to all their dumb questions regarding her personal life. This only made fighting akumas harder—especially when they seemed less flamboyant in their search for her Miraculous and more… Murdery.

They'd been attacking four or five times a week now without a moment of rest and when she was especially vulnerable, like during school or in the middle of the night when she was cranky and tired. It left her feeling exhausted most days—some to the point where she found it grueling to simply drag herself out of bed.

Still, it didn't mean she hadn't felt the weight of guilt settle in her stomach as nights went by where she hadn't visited, and even though she'd heard from Nino (and Chloe, surprisingly) that Adrien was doing better, there was a small thorn in her side that made her feel anxious about visiting in case he started asking questions she wasn't fully prepared to answer.

There were a few nights where, while he slumbered in the dull light of his hospital room, she'd swing by and perch herself on his window, dangling at the mercy of her yo-yo as she hoped to catch even just a glimpse of his face. Though most evenings his curtains were shut, there was one where they were parted just enough to wash away her anxieties and assure her that her friend—her partner—was doing just fine.

He was healing. The color in his cheeks was returning.

She wished she could hold his hand.

Marinette couldn't look at him.

Sunlight poured in through the glass panes in his hospital room, illuminating the marigolds she'd brought him a day prior. The plushie she'd made—the adorable little Chat Noir with a jingly bell—sat nestled in the warmth of the petals, its cheery expression a hope for a better future.

Adrien was in bed. Crumbs from the croissants she'd gifted him sat in his lap, which he had scarfed down greedily. He thanked her for the food, his teeth shining as brightly as his smile.

But she couldn't look at him.

This was the first time she'd seen him lucid, and her anxiety was off the charts. Nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists, Marinette swallowed around the knot of nerves in her throat and tapped her foot, hoping—praying—that someone would say something to break the silence she'd created.

"Did I... Miss something?" Adrien asked. His bangs fell in his face as he turned his attention from Nino to her. "What's wrong?"

Nino responded, "You mean… You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Adrien asked.

Marinette's resolve nearly shattered. "He doesn't know," she whispered. Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and her hands gripped at the bottom of her shirt. Her gaze shot to Alya. "Oh, my god. He doesn't remember! I thought for sure he would have—"

But, as Adrien snapped and demanded to know what was happening (which she knew he was entitled to know…)

She wilted. She could understand he was frustrated—reasonably so—but Adrien not remembering who had saved his life made her legs weak and her stomach churn.

For days, she had been preparing herself for the inevitable conversation. Whenever he awoke, she thought he'd know, and she'd be ready to tell him that, yes, it was her, she saved him, and it's okay that he knows. It's not okay, but it's okay… Because she loves him.

But that wasn't what happened. He didn't know.

She backed out of the room without a second thought. She needed space. She- she had prepared for everything he could've said, for any words that could've come out of his mouth, but…

She hadn't prepared for this.

With thoughts swarming in her mind, Marinette slipped out onto the hospital balcony and transformed, feeling for home.

Nightmares plagued her mind. Flashbacks—horrible, agonizing flashbacks—filled her dreams with images of blood and a bang so loud that it constantly started her out of sleep.

When she awoke, her pillow was always damp with tears, her back and clothing slick with sweat.

Marinette sighed as she sat up and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Nose stuffed, she sniveled, hands still trembling from the memories that wracked her brain.

She knew Adrien was fine. She knew he was safe. She'd just seen him the other day…

And yet, as her eyes wandered to her skylight in consideration, the nagging fear that he was still barely clinging to life clawed at her brain.

She needed some water.

Heart racing, Marinette climbed down from her bed with shaking fingers, her footsteps light as she made her way to the sink below her loft. The icy temperature of the water helped clear her mind. Gulping a cup of water made her feel grounded, her body thankful for the hydration she desperately needed.

Lately, she hadn't taken care of herself very well. The weight loss since Adrien's injury was concerning.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was Adrien. She knew he was fine, but-

But-

But she wanted to see him. She missed him. Marinette missed her partner, damn it, and she hated herself for being unable to face him without her mind trying to travel back in time to the moment he was shot.

...She was probably going to need some therapy.

It wasn't fair to Adrien that she was avoiding him. It wasn't his fault he'd been hurt, after all… And above all, he deserved to know the truth. Her identity had been revealed to everyone in the world but him. And he, above anyone else, had a right to know!

Repressing what anxiety she could, Marinette called for Tikki and transformed, setting off through her skylight toward the hospital. Though visiting hours were over, she decided that, just for once, she'd use her superhero identity to her advantage to ask the receptionist for permission to visit her dear friend.

But the receptionist's refusal— "Visiting hours are over" —was enough to cause her internal war with herself to resurface, and it was as easy enough of an excuse for her worries to take over and assure her that her returning home was probably for the best. Adrien would be tired, after all. He needed to recover.

Despite how her brain had already decided, her body moved independently. Her yo-yo—almost as if it had a mind of its own—zipped out to grab hold of the hospital roof, its pull practically magnetic as her body rose from the floor.

Despite her distress, she missed him. Marinette wanted to see him, to hold his hand and be reassured that he was still here, with her, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

So, in pure defiance against the hospital staff's wishes, she slipped through the air vents, intent on seeing the boy she loved, whether anyone liked it or not.

Falling asleep next to him in his hospital bed that night hadn't exactly been on her to-do list.

It had been a rough hour. She'd cried in front of him—unable to express the truth about her identity—before dozing off into a much-needed rest by his side.

When she woke because of movement, she was alone on the mattress. It was dark in the room, but a yellow light filtered through the cracked bathroom door as the sound of a sink running caused her to rise out of bed, her vision bleary and her head groggy. She squinted at the TV on the wall as it played a news report about the day's akuma that had nearly done her in.

Embarrassed by her sudden slumber, she lifted herself out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. She knocked twice on the door. "Adrien?

The sink shut off. Adrien's shadow briefly flashed on the wall across from the bed, swallowing the dull yellow light that peeked out from the bathroom door.

Marinette heard him sigh. The light in the bathroom shut off.

Peeking his head out from the door, Adrien's smile was weak—tired—as he walked back over to the bed. "Hey," he said, voice soft. "What are you doing up? You only just fell asleep."

"I-I didn't mean to," she said. Her hand rubbed at her arm self-consciously. "It was just, um… Nice to lie with you."

That caused him to smile for real. He laughed as he ran a hand through his messy hair, patting the spot on the bed next to him. "C'mere. We need to talk."

Her body froze.

Oh, boy. Here it comes.

Placing herself on the mattress, Marinette sighed. She was thankful for his patience with her. She was acting strange, and she wasn't surprised he was willing to be patient. Adrien was just like that, full of endless amounts of kindness.

He looked tired. With faint bags underneath his eyes and a messy mop of golden hair atop his head, he looked as if he hadn't slept well in weeks. Marinette pitied him.

"Talk about what?" she asked, though she knew. Her voice felt as if it was stuck in her throat.

The warmth of his fingers brushing over her own caused her to shiver.

"When you fell asleep, I was watching TV," he said. He squeezed her hand. "And the news was on."

He knew.

Oh, god, he knew.

He knew, and he was going to tell her he knew, and he was going to be so shocked and think of her differently, and ugh, this is precisely what she'd been afraid of—

"I saw you saved me," he said. Reaching a hand to rub at the nape of his neck, he flashed her a smile so full of warmth and light that it was blinding. "So I wanted to say thank you."

Thank you?

...Thank you? That's all he had to say?

No shocked exclamations, no pointing out the obvious, not even a mention of the fact that she was Ladybug? He wasn't freaking out. He wasn't acting as if the information was jarring to him, nothing at all!

Adrien was calm. Smiling.

Adrien was fine.

"Oh," she said. "You're... Welcome."

With a chuckle, her partner's eyes glowed with pure adoration as he stared at her. The smile on his face was so wide it nearly reached his ears.

His fingers enveloped her own. "I'm happy, you know," he said, squeezing her hand.

Marinette gulped. She wondered if he could feel her hands shaking. "That I saved you?"

"No," Adrien laughed. "Well, yes. But I'm happy about you, too."

"Me?"

"Yeah," he said. "You're you. And that's all I'll ever need."

If hearts could melt, hers had. Touched by his words, her eyes pricked with tears, and she had to blink them out of her eyes as they streamed down her cheeks. Marinette had cried so much these past few weeks… But for the first time since Adrien had first been shot, they were tears of relief.

His hand was warm as he brushed his knuckle against her face to dry her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want to see you cry…"

All Marinette could do was shake her head. Lips curling upward into a smile, she buried her face into his neck, the feel of his pulse—healthy and right—enough to chase her worries away.

Because he was himself, and that's all she'd ever need.

"Everything's okay now," he reassured her. "It's okay, Marinette. This doesn't change how I feel about you. I promise I still—"

That statement made her snap her head up from the comfort of his body, her eyes wide and hopeful. "How you… Feel?"

Seeing her partner's cheeks flush outside the mask was a sight to behold.

"Ah," he said, his gaze retreating to his bedside table. "Well, you know…"

Marinette swallowed. "I don't."

Tell me, she begged. Tell me. Oh, please tell me what I think you're going to say… I need to hear it!

A sheepish smile weaved its way onto Adrien's cheeks. "I… I like you, Marinette. A lot. I mean, so much! And I'm sorry it took me so long to say that."

There were fireworks in her tummy. The butterflies had gone home, retired, and now full-blown explosions were going off in her gut. Marinette wasn't sure if she was going to laugh or be sick.

"Oh, Adrien," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

Her partner—her best friend, her Adrien —returned the hug much stronger than she'd expected, and it took everything in her power not to burst into tears of joy. She'd cried too much lately. Too many tears had been shed. She'd had too many worries plaguing her mind and still had plenty to mull over. Things to tell him, things she needed to say—but...

But... Tonight, she would smile.

Everything was okay now. Whatever happened… They'd face it together.

It was dark.

The night's chill caused a shiver to run up Ladybug's spine as she peered into her friend's bedroom window. Her eyes squinted to search for a mop of blond hair or any sign of movement, but the only sight that caught her attention was the faint blue light of Adrien's cell phone, the screen on despite him not being in the room.

Ladybug sighed. Her feet shifted on the sleek paneling of the apartment rooftop she stood upon. Gloved yet still not immune to the cold, her hands clenched and unclenched around her yo-yo as she mulled over whether she should return home.

Adrien wasn't inside. That should've been a good sign—that he was up and moving around—but it did little to quell the nervous bubble that fluttered in Ladybug's stomach.

She waited. The cold was biting at her bones.

Ladybug's face scrunched in displeasure as a snowflake landed on her nose. Well, that was as good a sign as any. It was time to leave, she supposed—no use standing out in the snow while her friend was occupied elsewhere.

Just as she placed her yo-yo back on her hip, the lights in his bedroom flickered on, and her heart leaped in her chest as she saw Adrien ruffling his damp hair with a towel, clad in a white long-sleeved pajama shirt and black sleep pants. He must've been bathing, so he hadn't been in his room.

Was he alright? Did he have an easy time stepping in and out of the shower?

Adrien looked tired. Though his features were unreadable from a distance, Ladybug recognized the familiar slump in his shoulders and how he dragged his feet across the floor, body sagging into bed as the lights were switched off with a remote in his hands.

Was he going to bed already? Huh…

Guilt tugged at Ladybug's heart. She shouldn't have been there… She should let him sleep, not interrupt his night to see how he was doing.

Besides, she could use the rest as well. While Hawk Moth had let up on the attacks significantly more as Adrien healed, returning to his usual "villain of the week" style, it didn't mean he would not come after the Miraculous again. It would be wise of her to head home and get some sleep just in case he threw another villain at her during the night.

She turned to leave.

But the blue light of his phone returned, and her eyes sparkled with joy. He wasn't sleeping just yet.

Throwing her inhibitions to the wind, Ladybug took in a breath of the crisp winter air and swung over to his window, fighting her nerves with every knock her knuckles placed on its surface.

Adrien's reaction was instantaneous. His eyes lit up like the moon (which rose so high above them outside), and he scrambled out of bed, nearly hurling himself over the couch as he tripped on a stray sneaker. Ladybug placed her palm on the window as her breath fogged the glass.

Having made it to stand in front of her, Adrien smoothed his hand over her own, the corners of his lips quirking upward at the way their fingers connected even through the invisible barrier between them.

A puff of frost rose from his lips as he opened the window. "Hey," he breathed, his shoulders trembling slightly from the cold. "You're here."

Ladybug nodded. A gust of cool air caused her to sway as she hung from her yo-yo. "Hey."

"C'mon," Adrien said. He threaded his fingers between hers and offered her access to his bedroom. "You'll get sick out here."

No protests were heard from her, that was certain. As she stepped into the warmth of his room, Ladybug sighed in relief, wrapping her arms around herself as her body shuddered from the sudden cozy heat. "It's nice here," she said, watching her partner shut the window. "Toasty."

"Better than outside, that's for sure," replied Adrien. A soft laugh fell from his lips as he guided her to sit on his bed. "What are you doing here, Marinette?"

Taking that as a cue to release her transformation, Marinette's cheeks dusted pink as her friend gazed at her with a fondness in his smile, and her heart only picked up its pace as his bare fingers brushed against her own.

The air was a little cooler in her pajamas, but at least Adrien's home was heated.

She cleared her throat. "I just wanted to check up on you."

"Aw." Adrien's smile grew at her response. "Why, do you care about me or something?" Scooting closer, he gave her shoulder a nudge and grinned down at her, and Marinette ignored the instinctive urge to give him a playful shove.

"Yes," she said. Her voice was soft as she continued, "You know I do, Adrien."

"How could I not?" he asked. As if he even had to wonder. "You saved my life, after all."

His hands enveloped her own in a warmth that only he could provide, and Marinette felt her chest swell with pure love for this boy that she didn't protest as he placed her palm to his heart. The beating in his ribs was there, evident—a telltale sign he was alive and well and that this boy ( her boy, she wanted to say) wasn't going anywhere.

"Of course," Marinette said. She smiled up at him. "I always will. You're—you're a really good friend, Adrien."

The word "friend" left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Marinette knew she was grateful for his platonic companionship nonetheless. How could she not be? He cared about her, and that was enough. That was more than she could ever ask for.

(Still… It didn't mean she hadn't wanted to kiss him as soon as she'd arrived. But she digressed.)

Adrien nuzzled the back of her hand with his cheek. "Friend, huh?"

Swallowing around the nervous lump in her throat, Marinette nodded, ignoring how her hands trembled at his affectionate nature. "I'm… I'm glad you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mari," he promised, and Marinette knew it to be true.

"I…" she sighed. It was she who grasped his hands this time, hugging them to her chest as if she was afraid he'd turn to dust the moment her touch faded, and the way she stroked his knuckles with her thumb was another personal confirmation that Adrien's blood still ran through his veins. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you that day. I just… I needed to talk to you. I don't know why. I don't…"

"It's okay," Adrien said. "You can talk to me anytime you want to."

The way the moonlight reflected in his summer green eyes made Marinette's anxiety melt like a popsicle on a hot day. She melded into him, from the way his hand trailed along her cheek and how his arms wrapped around her like a perfect fit, as if that's where she was meant to be all this time. With Adrien by her side, as the year's first snowfall painted the city in white, she felt safe—and that was all she ever needed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have prevented the whole thing," she lamented. Her voice was soft, timid as she spoke, "If only I had been on watch as Ladybug… I might have been able to stop whoever hurt you. And then you wouldn't have been in the hospital, and you wouldn't have to be embarrassed by the entire world seeing you hurt, and ugh, Adrien, I'm so sorry I couldn't have done more to—"

"Hey," Adrien said. "Shut up."

Taken aback by his response, Marinette blinked in surprise and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He was smiling, though, his eyes bright and full of mirth. Marinette rolled hers in response, the grin that fought its way onto her lips unable to be suppressed.

"You're funny," she chuckled.

"I'm also alive," he said, and the fond smile he'd been wearing all night grew twice its size. Thumb brushing against her cheek, Adrien touched her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. His skin was warm as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Marinette swallowed. Unable to locate her voice, she whispered, "I know."

"So what's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm just worried about you, is all." Placing her hand over his, Marinette sighed, gaze flicking away to stare at the corner of the room instead of getting lost in his deep, lovable eyes. "You almost died, and I… I guess I just came over tonight because I missed you."

Adrien's laugh was as sweet as vanilla. "I saw you yesterday."

"Yeah, well," Marinette said, finding the courage to look into his eyes, "It's hard not being around the person you love, you know?"

She knew immediately that as soon as those words had slipped from her lips, she was screwed.

She...hadn't meant to say that. At least, not now. It was an accident, really! She had planned to confess much later, after he'd recovered, and she could plan the perfect romantic setting, like a rooftop dinner with candles and rose petals and oh, man...

Adrien was silent. His mouth hung slightly agape as he stared at her, his gaze sparkling and hands frozen on her shoulders. He wasn't speaking—no words penetrated through the quiet—but the corners of his mouth moved, curling ever so slowly into a wide, satisfied grin.

"Say that again," he said, his breath warm against her lips. "That you love me."

"I—" she swallowed. "I love you?"

Adrien laughed, and the sound was so incredible that Marinette couldn't help but share in his laughter, the force of their voices causing them both to shake. She was trembling. The corners of her eyes pricked with the threat of tears. As she raised a hand to rub at them, her resolve cracked, and the walls she'd been holding around her heart crumbled like useless debris that fell to dust around her feet.

Her cheeks were damp when Adrien pulled her into his arms.

Sniffling away the onslaught of emotions, Marinette smiled, squeezing her eyes shut to cease the flow of her tears. His arms were warm, a safe comfort that Marinette knew as not only her friend but also her partner . And oh, how nice it felt to simply allow him to hold her like she was his and his alone…

But then she realized she was squeezing him too tight, and a momentary panic flashed in her mind as she pulled away.

Adrien, his brows furrowed in confusion, regarded her with a frown as she broke their contact. "What?"

"S-sorry," she said. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A sigh rose from her partner's lips. "You can hug me, Marinette. You won’t break me."

"I know," replied Marinette, but the concern in her voice remained. "I just—I'd never want to hurt you. Especially not after—"

A finger was placed over her lips before she could continue. "Shush," Adrien said, a playful grin replacing his frown. "You could never hurt me, okay? You're Ladybug. You save people, not hurt them. You won't injure me if you touch me, Mari."

She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him he'd been shot, he'd nearly died and had one of his ribs broken, but…

She didn't.

She didn't because she knew she was wrong. Marinette had watched Adrien face death like a hero, and he'd punched the bastard away with a clawed first in refusal.

Adrien was fine. He'd lived, hadn't he?

With a nod, Marinette said, "Okay."

And that was all she needed.

A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't unpleasant.

Marinette could feel the heat in her cheeks as Adrien's fingertips brushed over her forearm, and her lips itched for contact as his hand traveled to her face, thumb tenderly stroking her jaw. His touch was wonderful; even with such a simple motion, his fingers were like a flame to her chest, igniting her heart like no other person could.

She placed her palm over his knuckles, unable to resist returning his grin. With her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "What?"

"Nothing," Adrien replied. He cupped her chin with a movement so gentle that she barely noticed the contact. "I like you."

Marinette laughed. "I got that."

Raising a brow in challenge, Adrien asked, "Did you?"

"I mean…" She looked away as a blush threatened to appear on her cheeks. "If you need to tell me again, I wouldn't mind."

Adrien's responding smirk made Marinette swallow hard.

"Can I show you this time?" he asked, and she could practically taste his breath as his nose brushed the tip of her own. His eyelashes fluttered against his skin, his green eyes so warm and inviting that Marinette had to restrain herself from squishing his cheeks in her hands and pulling him in for a long, needy kiss.

She swallowed around the nervous lump in her throat. "L-like how?"

His laughter blew hot against her lips as his finger trailed up and down her left arm. "I dunno, with a fifty-slide PowerPoint presentation? I promise I'll include detailed citations."

Marinette snorted. "I'll only accept a five-page essay in MLA format."

"Bummer," replied Adrien. "And here I was going to make a presentation about why you're my favorite person."

A noise akin to a squeak rose from Marinette's throat, and she both hated and loved the way he could turn her into a pile of incomprehensible goo with just a few words. "Y-you- damn it."

"What?" Adrien snickered, and the devious little grin on his face was so cute that Marinette couldn't hold back any longer.

"C'mere," she said with a girlish giggle that would have been embarrassing had she been with anyone else. Marinette wrapped her arms around Adrien's neck, scooting so that she was directly facing him with her legs tucked underneath her thighs, her nose brushing lightly over her partner's as a grin split her cheeks. "Silly boy."

"Your silly boy."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Adrien said, his forehead against hers. "If you're okay with that."

Her teeth nibbled into her lower lip. "Does this answer your question?"

She pressed her lips to his in a brief touch, making the faintest contact before he dove in with the desire to become lost in her. Though they fumbled a little—unsure what to do with their hands—the kiss was soft and wonderful, just as Marinette had always dreamed it would be.

Well, except for the occasional bumping of their noses or frequent giggles from their nerves. But it was nice. More than nice, actually.

Their lips melded together as if they were meant to be connected. Adrien smelled clean, like a misty sunrise after a rain, and the taste of his kiss sent waves of giddiness to Marinette's brain. The "sparks" she'd heard about during a first kiss weren't present in the burning way she'd imagined but more like a lowly lit flame, the embers of a calming fire that still had enough energy to burn brightly once again if prompted.

His lips were soft, warm and-

And gone.

Adrien had pulled away.

She couldn't suppress her whimper of disappointment.

"Wait," he said, his voice husky in a way that Marinette enjoyed. "Marinette, I love kissing you, and I—I love you , but…"

Placing a finger to her lips, which buzzed from recent contact, Marinette blinked up at him through her lashes. "But…?"

His hand retreated to rub at the back of his neck as his eyes flicked to the bed. "I have to talk to you. You… You have to know who I am before we continue this. Whatever this is."

Marinette nodded. Her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her throat, though she had a decent idea of what path this conversation was taking.

"Marinette," Adrien said. He cleared his throat, and his hands enveloped her own with an affectionate squeeze, gaze meeting hers with love glowing within his eyes. "Ladybug. You know me as Adrien, but… Someone else, too."

She nodded in encouragement.

He breathed in, then out. His muscles relaxed before he continued.

"I'm Chat Noir."

Oh, minou.

Lips curling into a sheepish grin, Marinette said, "I know."

"I know it's probably surprising, and I know you didn't like Chat Noir that way, but—" Adrien paused. Shaking his head as if the information was mind-boggling, he looked at her with his eyebrows quirked in question. "Wait, what? You knew ?"

Marinette nodded.

" How?! "

Shrugging her shoulders, Marinette glanced at a particular trophy shelf where she'd known Plagg had been hiding since she'd arrived that evening. "That day… When you were hurt," she began, speaking slowly as she recalled the events. "I was scared. I had to be by your side." She sighed, squeezing his hand. "I sat by you. And I transformed because I knew I had to. And when I did..."

Adrien nodded in encouragement.

Marinette smiled as her thumb rubbed his knuckles. "You called me 'My Lady.' And that's when I knew."

Adrien swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement. Rubbing at the hairs on his nape, he stared down at his sheets in contemplation, his fingers idly running against her own. His mind was clearly working overtime to make sense of this information. Marinette pitied him; she should've mentioned something sooner.

"And this…" he said, speaking as though he was treading in unfamiliar territory, "...doesn't change anything?"

"It does," Marinette said. "But in a good way. It makes me realize how much more you mean to me."

"Yeah?" The happiness in his tone was unmistakable. "It does?"

With a laugh, she nodded. "Of course. My amazing crush was also my amazing best friend? How could I not be in love with you?"

Bashful, Adrien said, "Yeah, well, you're pretty amazing too, you know."

"Now that I do know," she chuckled.

Wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close, Adrien buried his head in the crook of her neck and laughed , and it was such an adorable sound that Marinette had to stop herself from kissing his face as she combed her fingers through his hair. He melted into her, his body slumping against her form, and she allowed herself to lie back on his sheets as they simply held each other in the quiet darkness of the room. The only light that penetrated the darkness was the moonbeams that filtered through the glass, bathing the pair in a faint, calming blue.

Marinette's hand rubbed her partner's back as he lay his head on her chest. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, the tickle of his hair as it brushed against her shoulder, and how his heartbeat in his ribcage, pumping and flowing the passage of blood all across his body as it was meant to do.

He was alive. And with him by her side, she'd always be content.

"Mari?" Adrien asked, the sudden sound in the otherwise silent room startling her.

She hummed in question.

He paused before he spoke again. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? That you knew?"

Her hand stilled atop his head.

"Mari?"

"It was hard," she said, eyebrows furrowing together as she fought to recall why she'd kept it secret. "There was so much going on. I… I wanted you to focus on improving before I stressed you with that information. I just wanted to keep you happy. And I know it was wrong of me to keep that information from you. I should have said something. I'm sorry."

As for the fact that his father was Hawk Moth, well... She'd tell him. She'd still him everything, and they'd figure it out. Together. Just... Not now. Not when they were so happy.

He was quiet for no longer than a few fleeting seconds. "It's okay," he said, nuzzling his face against her neck. "I understand. I would've been happy to know, though."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She hadn't intended to stay the night there.

Though they'd only shared one kiss, the minutes they lay together were endless, stretching into hours as they talked and laughed. She had drifted off at some point, though Marinette wasn't sure when. All she could recall was Adrien's voice, so soft and wonderful… And then she was out like a light, happily nuzzled up against her partner and best friend.

Morning came with an orange hue. It painted the walls of his bedroom as the sun climbed the sky, washing over his mattress and illuminating the golden wisps of his bedhead. He was next to her now, Marinette realized, careful not to stir him as she rubbed at her groggy eyelids.

Her parents would expect her downstairs for breakfast. If she didn't show up soon, they'd worry.

She sat up with a yawn, stretched her arms before her, and turned to look at her partner.

Adrien… What a pleasant sight. His hair was a disheveled mess atop his head, and the picture of that alone made Marinette stifle a laugh. Oh, if only she'd seen him like this before she'd found out—his look was so pure Chat Noir that even an idiot wouldn't have a hard time guessing his secret alter-ego's identity.

The urge to wake him was strong, but she resisted. He needed his rest.

Scooting towards the edge of the bed, Marinette tossed her legs over the side and whispered for her kwami, grinning as the tiny creature zipped into sight.

"Ready to go?" Tikki asked, but before Marinette could respond with an affirmative nod, a hand grazed her knuckles before enveloping it over her own.

She turned to see Adrien— her Adrien—gazing up at her with sleepy eyes and messy hair, and it nearly pained her to know she'd have to return to the bitter cold outside instead of curling back up in his arms underneath the covers where she was safe from winter's harm.

"You leaving?" he asked, voice raspy and full of everything good in life.

Marinette sighed sadly. "Sorry," she said. "My parents will wonder where I am. I don't want them worrying."

Adrien pressed his face against her forearm. "S'okay."

"I'll see you later, though. I promise."

Looking up at her with a lopsided smile, Adrien said, "I'll hold you to that."

Marinette gave a playful roll of her eyes. With a burst of confidence, she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, their contact lingering for a few blissful seconds before she reluctantly pulled away.

"I promise," she repeated, though she knew he'd believed her when she'd first uttered the words. "Now go back to sleep, sleepyhead."

He had no qualms with that.

With her transformation hugging her body and filling her with rejuvenated energy, Marinette paused at his windowsill to take one last look at the boy she'd fallen in love with two times over. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how lucky she was to call him hers.

It was cold outside, but her journey home felt warm.