genevrier | 💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

Entry tags:

💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

It had been a long and hard three years.

Ladybug had run out of fingers with which to count the sticky situations she and Chat Noir had been in because of Hawkmoth. But finally, finally, she and her partner had him dead to rights. As time went on, they had grown desperate, and they'd made mistakes - but nothing they hadn't been able to fix. He'd made mistakes, too, and that was how the two of them had managed to track him down.

Heart pounding, she cast her gaze down at the man that had been their adversary for so long. Hawkmoth stared back at the both of them with a dark glare full of loathing. There were a lot of things she had wanted to ask him when she finally caught up to him, but there was only one question she was actually able to form.

"How could you?" She whispered, her voice ragged. She was breathing heavily - the fight had taken a lot out of her. Out of her partner, and out of their enemy, too; had it gone on much longer, they all might have dropped dead out of exhaustion. "You hurt so many people."

Hawkmoth's eyes glittered, and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. Ladybug felt something roll down her cheek - sweat, she hoped, and not blood or tears, but she'd taken a hit to the temple earlier and she couldn't be certain that it wasn't bleeding (and in fact it was). But she was in better shape than him, at least. He was beaten down, he had lost.

All that remained was to take his Miraculous and make sure that Nooroo's power never, ever fell int the hands of someone like him ever again.

His refusal to answer stirred anger in her where there had once been pity.

"Men. Women. Children. You used them all - and for what? What on earth could have been worth it? I don't understand. Explain yourself, Hawkmoth."

He didn't answer. He looked between the two of them, seething. Ladybug scowled and knelt down in front of him, curled her fingers around his brooch, and yanked it away from his suit.

The magic holding his transformation together fell apart, and Nooroo emerged from the butterfly Miraculous at long last. Ladybug cradled him in the crook of her arm and watched as the facial features of their nemesis became clear.

A well-dressed man, middle-aged. Nobody she recognized. Without his Miraculous, he should have been powerless. Defeated. Done for.

She didn't catch his smirk until it was too late.

His hand darted into the suit jacket that hadn't been there before, and his fingers closed around something she couldn't see. "I'll make you understand," He snarled, and the next thing she knew his hand emerged from the jacket and the crack of a gunshot split the air. "Perhaps now we'll share the same wish."

There was a gun in his hand, Ladybug realized, as a dull roar and the man's twisted, bitter laughter filled her ears. He hadn't aimed at her. She turned toward her partner with dread.

He had aimed at him, and his laughter was not the laughter of a man who had missed his mark.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... at the bakery. Her parents owned a bakery. Adrien went quiet to listen, casting his mind about the vast, clouded jumble of things he couldn't focus on. It was like being locked in a pitch-black basement packed with storage. He didn't know what anything was, but if he could feel it out-

He didn't remember unloading, but he did remember, with startling clarity, the taste of quiche.

"They... came in a lot. While we were playing video games. To give us food."

...he remembered that too.

Well, of course he did. Both of her parents were great cooks, and the bakery's wares were not to be forgotten. She grinned at the memory, although the way they'd kept coming in had annoyed her at the time.

"That's what they do best," she explained with a small, fond smile. "I think they've made it their personal mission to make sure that nobody who sets foot on their property goes home hungry."

Adrien settled down more, half-shutting his eyes, rubbing with his thumb against her hand.

It was something he'd done before, but the gesture wasn't something he recognized as that. It just felt natural.

"Are they okay with you being here?" he asked softly.

"...they haven't said they're not," Marinette answered, cautiously. "But I moved out a few months before all this happened, so it's not like I have to have their permission to be here."

Truth be told, she hadn't given her parents a whole lot of details about what had happened, simply because she had no good explanation for... well, any of it. Luckily, the press had been much more focused on Adrien's injury than her own involvement.

Unluckily, her parents liked Adrien, which meant they were worried anyway - just about him, not her.

"I think they probably want to visit you and see how you're doing, but... they're waiting until you feel more up to it. Papa's definitely going to make you a get-well-soon batch of croissants, though."

The delay was mostly so the risk of his stomach rebelling was lower, honestly.

Unfortunately he couldn't stomach solid food, not yet, but he smiled at the prospect, more at the fact that her parents apparently cared about him enough to want to know how he was doing.

He went quiet again, stroked the back of her hand.

"What about school?" he asked, gently.

....now that was most definitely a loaded question.

Marinette bit her lip and glanced off to the side. He could just be asking about his school. He'd asked her for little details, after all - but this was going to have to be something she admitted that she didn't know, because she and Adrien hadn't talked a whole lot as themselves since the end of lycée.

"I'm not sure what you were studying," she murmured. "We both got... busy, after lycée, and didn't keep up with each other so much once we weren't at the same place. But I'm sure your professors will let you make up the work once you've recovered."

(Part of her knew he wasn't only asking about his school, which was why she didn't quite meet his eyes.)

Adrien had no idea what school he was going to, or even if he was going to school at all. But Chloé had insisted that Marinette was doing shady things in order to pay her way through ESMOD.

Adrien gave her a long look, knowing she was hiding it from him because she didn't want him to worry. That she was missing class to stay by his side. That she had talent, and she was tanking her education to be there for him.

"What about you?"

The expression on her face was guilty as sin. She'd dodged the question and they both knew it, and now he was asking her point-blank.

"I'll figure something out," she answered. "That's... what I'm good at. Figuring stuff out on the fly."

It sounded a little pathetic to say it that way, but she had spent the better part of three years as Ladybug, doing exactly that. If it could apply to her superhero life, there was no reason she couldn't make it apply to her civilian life. Eventually.

"ESMOD."

Adrien said it quietly, watching her face.

His stomach flipped over, uncomfortable, worried.

"You're a designer."

... how could they have drifted apart so much, enough to go in different directions after lycée, enough for her not to know what he was studying, and she was still at his side like this?

Chloé had said they weren't this close, and Adrien hadn't believed it, believed he must have been hiding it, whether it was from the press or from his father, but Marinette had said it herself.

Marinette flinched.

Yes, she knew it was irresponsible of her to be cutting classes to keep watch over him. Yes, she knew that by skipping she was not only tanking her classes, but also leaving bad impressions on influential people in the industry -

But Adrien was more important to her than that. She couldn't just go on with her life like nothing was wrong.

Not when she could be here, helping. If there was even one single, small thing she could do, and she missed it because she was at class, then... that would be awful.

"It'll be fine," she mumbled.

It wouldn't. In fact, with as much time having passed as it had, she wouldn't be at all surprised if her professors had simply written her off and failed her already.

It would be difficult, if not downright impossible, to manage to get herself admitted to the school again.

"I can design even if I'm not in school."

Adrien's heart sank. He had no idea how much time had actually passed, not with any clarity, but by the look on her face, it may already be too late.

She was good enough to go to ESMOD. Who knew what else he was keeping her from?

"Marinette..."

He wasn't going to scold her, but the pain and worry and disappointment and guilt was all too clear in his voice.

Why?

"Don't."

Her shoulders slumped, and she shut her eyes. ...the same way he had earlier, to hide, although she didn't want to admit it.

"What I did was my choice, okay? And I wouldn't change it even if I had the chance to. I'd still be here, so just... don't."

The last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty about it. His injury had been because of her, and any consequences she faced for her decision to cut class? Also because of her.

Adrien's heart sank still more, and he breathed in, watched her hurt.

Without thought, he pulled his hands away from hers -- then painfully sat up, reached out to wrap his arms around her and pull her close, to hug her tightly.

He'd never wanted her to lose something. He had a lot of questions, worlds of things he didn't know, years lost, but he already hadn't doubted that she cared. This was only a painful reminder.

Why did that caring have to have such a steep price? Even if she didn't need school to design, this was something she'd clearly wanted, and wanted badly.

He pulled his hands from hers, and with her eyes closed, she couldn't see his face.

She assumed it was because he was mad, or disappointed, or something else along those lines, and she couldn't bring herself to look up into the face of that disappointment. When his arms came around her, it was a shock, and she jerked slightly in surprise before she realized what was happening.

Then, slowly and carefully, she wrapped her arms around him. She was conscious of his injuries, gentle so that he wouldn't hurt -

But just for a few moments, she allowed herself to need him.

"...thanks," she whispered, her voice quiet and barely there.

"It's okay."

It hurt, but he was fine with that. So long as she was close.

Adrien sighed softly, lifted his shaky hand to pet her hair, and it stilled, settling into something like how he used to be, if not quite so steady.

"We'll figure something out," he amended. She could. She would. But he wanted to help. He would help, he'd do anything.

"We will," she echoed.

Marinette wasn't sure how on Earth they would manage to do that, but... She was certain that they would. Somehow.

As Ladybug, she'd believed she could do anything as long as she had Chat Noir to back her up. ...that was still true now.

He wanted to hold her much longer than this, but soon his muscles were screaming, and it was difficult to draw a full breath. He had to let go, to sink back down into the pillows with a sigh, hating how little he could do before he was completely exhausted.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm falling asleep on you."

"It's fine."

She was quick to assure him, to reach over and brush his hair away from his eyes so that it would settle more easily and wouldn't get tangled when he did fall asleep, which... was sure to be soon, at this rate.

"You need your rest." Marinette managed a small smile. "I'll be here when you wake up. If - if that's okay with you?"

The simple touch made him smile, open his eyes to focus on her, made his shoulders relax.

"I'd like that," he answered with a soft sigh. He didn't want to leave her so soon after a difficult conversation, either, but... he wanted to be worth a damn when it came to paying attention, too.

"... the bed's big enough," he pointed out again. "... do you want up?"

From the look on her face, it was very clear that her honest answer to that would be an unequivocal yes.

But she hesitated a moment too long, lost her nerve, and shook her head.

"I better not," she sighed. "If Chloé comes back, we don't want to give her something else to scream about. ...and if your father comes in, that... probably wouldn't be the best thing for him to see. I'm actually not sure which would be worse...?"

The poor fool still thought that Gabriel didn't know. To be fair, she hadn't been present for his conversation with Chloé where the other girl had ratted her out.

Adrien's heart sank, and it was visible on his face.

"She won't be back for a while," he protested, then looked miserable as she pointed out what his father would think. They were eighteen, weren't they? Adults? What did it matter?

But he remembered the look in Marinette's eyes, the want, and how tightly she'd held him.

He reached out with both hands, found hers, and tugged.

They were eighteen, but there was a distinct possibility that he was brain-damaged and she was a guest in his house and his father was going to think she was taking advantage of him, but-

He took her hands, tugged on them, and she was lost.

...what Adrien wanted, he got. She would just have to be careful not to hurt him, careful not to do anything she shouldn't. But if they were just resting - if they were just sleeping... if it gave him comfort...

Marinette climbed up into his bed and settled down beside him.

Her fifteen-year-old self would have been imploding. Honestly, her eighteen-year-old self wasn't all that far off from doing the same thing.

With her next to him, Adrien slowly relaxed, eased the blankets up a bit more, settled down to half close his eyes.

He was not worried about being taken advantage of.

With a sigh, he eased himself closer, until their were lightly touching but not quite snuggled together, and shut his eyes.

"... did we do this before?" he asked, very softly.

He knew they weren't pushing themselves. They were building something. ... but he had to know.

On the one hand, yes. They had, when he was Chat Noir and she was herself. In her room where it was safe, when they hadn't thought there was anything between them, when they'd both accepted the casual touches, the way they gravitated toward each other, as merely platonic.

On the other, as Adrien, he had never seemed at all interested in being this close to Marinette, and she didn't know how to answer his question without telling him that he was Chat Noir.

Gabriel wouldn't want her to. And Adrien... she wasn't sure he would even believe her.

"Not exactly," she whispered, not quite meeting his eyes. "Like I said awhile back, it was... things were sort of complicated."

...

Oh, god.

Was she going to have to be the one to tell him he'd been in love with Ladybug?

Nothing made sense.

He only knew that he was comfortable with her, that he wanted to be close to her, and that she genuinely cared for him, but there was so much that didn't fit together correctly, so much that didn't add up.

"How complicated?" he asked, worried.

He was so tired, he hurt so badly, and he wasn't sure what was up or down any longer, but she was there, and in the end, that was what mattered most, wasn't it?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject