Chapter Text
Marinette sunk deep into her bed, staring up at the ceiling and willing herself to not cry.
What was the point of crying over something so inevitable? Something so predictable, so true to her life, so typical?
“Oh, Marinette…” Tikki sighed, “I’m sorry…”
“For what?” she asked, the wobbling of her voice betraying her. The other kwamis flitted up to her, and she felt what seemed like a hundred tiny hands on her, hugging her like they always did in times like these. “It’s fine. I knew it would happen.”
It wasn’t a big deal.
Tikki didn’t say anything. Instead, she landed down beside Marinette’s head, pressing her face against Marinette’s cheek, and the tiny dorm room fell into silence.
She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling the warmth of tears slipping through the cracks— and for what? What was she even crying for?
The ‘relationship’, if one could call it that, barely lasted a month. She’d had much nastier breakups in the past— breakups from relationships that lasted longer, breakups from people she cared about more, breakups that spat harsher vitriol. And it wasn’t like she could blame Adeline for calling it quits— they’d barely been on any dates, a horrible string of the worst akuma timings imaginable left Marinette to cancel or ditch essentially every date that the two had planned since the first.
But Marinette liked Adeline. She was really nice, her lips always looked so soft, and she always gave the best critiques in class— so constructive, and yet so encouraging. She’d smile at Marinette with her bright eyes, tell her her work was amazing, and Marinette believed her. She wanted to believe that more, too. She liked the way that Adeline made her feel good, and she liked the way that Adeline held her hand under the table when they got coffee together, and she had been excited to like it more and more as she got to know her better.
“Seriously, Marinette,” Adeline had nearly hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Marinette desperately waved the apology tickets in her face— tickets that she had purchased in a panic after being abysmally late to their date to deal with a particularly perturbed construction-worker-turned-villain, “I can’t deal with this anymore. Go by yourself, if you even have the time. I’m done with this.”
Honestly, it was a miracle that she’d held out as long as she had.
Marinette threw her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to sit up and take a long, deep breath. She wiped the snot from her nose and tried to scrub the wetness from her eyes, feeling all the tiny pairs of eyes on her.
She looked to her nightstand— and there they were. The stupid cinema tickets, taunting her, willing her to collapse back into her bed, willing her to cry her eyes out like she did for all her other failed relationships, willing her to retreat back into her shell.
But she refused.
“Tikki,” Marinette sighed, “Spots on.”
Ladybug took to the skies.
Sure, maybe Marinette’s relationships were all doomed— maybe Marinette was doomed to be alone for the rest of her life, maybe Marinette was doomed to never experience romance, to never have company. Maybe even Marinette’s friends were sick of her shit, maybe her relationships were all falling apart, maybe nothing was ever going to work for her, but Ladybug—
Ladybug missed her toss, and started careening towards the street.
Something caught her, and she gasped, and whatever caught her— no, whoever caught her had their arms around her, and after a mid-air flip, they landed right on their feet on the sidewalk.
She huffed and looked up at her ‘hero’.
“Ah, my lady!” Chat Noir beamed down at her, the stupidest grin on his self-satisfied face. “Falling for me again?”
“How many times have you used that line?” she scoffed, wiggling in his arms just enough for him to get the hint and put her down on her feet. He did.
“Is that supposed to be a rib, or a self-roast?” He tilted his head, a funny look on his face that was just typical.
“A self-roast, I guess,” she sighed, turning her eyes warily to the rest of the street, watching the Parisians carrying on with their days— their happy, normal, self-satisfied little days, with their friends and lovers and loved ones who they had because they had normal lives—
She felt Chat Noir’s eyes on her, his smile dropping just a smidge, and she knew what was coming, so she tried to get ahead of it by saying “Anyway, thanks for catching—”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine!” People were staring at them— which was typical. People were always staring at Ladybug and Chat Noir. Because they were oddities. They weren’t normal. Not like everyone else got to be—
She turned and leapt up onto the nearest rooftop, fleeing from the prying eyes. She heard Chat Noir’s boots behind her in a second.
“You know, my lady,” Chat Noir said, a kindness in his voice that had her running the palms of her hands harshly down her face, “If something’s bothering you, you can always tell me.”
No, she couldn’t. They weren’t supposed to discuss their civilian lives. He always seemed to forget that fact.
“I’m fine,” she sighed, turning around to face him and forcing a smile, “Just had a rough day. It happens.”
“What was rough about it?”
“Nothing that isn’t typical,” she scoffed, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
He hummed, his kind eyes boring into her in a way that she distinctly hated. “Well… if you’re sure—”
“What are you doing out?” she interrupted, eyeing him, “We don’t usually patrol at this time.”
He shrugged. “I could ask you the same question.”
“Just blowing off some steam, I guess,” she said honestly, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye.
He twirled his baton, his eyes finally releasing her from their hold to gaze out across the skyline. “Yeah, same here. Been a purrty boring day, I guess.”
“Never say ‘purrty’ again,” she commanded, a seriousness in her tone that had him grinning at her. She couldn’t help but smile, too.
“Well, my lady, if we’re both free for the evening…” He stepped closer to her, the hands innocently placed behind his back contrasting with the mischievous glint in his eye. “Why not spend it together?”
She rolled her eyes, locking her gaze onto a particularly tall building in the distance to avoid his face. “Who said I’m free for the evening? I’m going to see a movie.”
Not that she wanted to see it alone. Not that she was sure she wanted to see it at all. But she felt obligated, because she’d already spent money on the tickets, because she wanted to at least pretend like she had her shit together, because a dear friend of hers was starring in it…
He’s not your friend anymore, a cruel voice reminded her. She bit her lip.
“Why, my lady!” he gasped, placing his hand on his chest in his dramatics, “Of course, I accept your invitation!”
He was joking. He was clearly joking. She knew that, he knew that. He didn’t actually think that she had invited him. But…
But…
“Actually. You know what?” She whipped her yoyo from her hip, checking the time. “You free in half an hour?”
He blinked. “Uh… yeah?”
“Then I guess we’re seeing a movie,” she said, unable to keep herself from smiling at his gaping face. “What? I have an extra ticket, and the person I was going to see it with, uh… canceled. So, assuming you want to…”
He whooped, doing an unnecessary little twirl and pumping his fist— he was always so unnecessary, so over the top, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of the coldness in her heart melt. She wished she could be as carefree as him. “YES! Oh, absolutely, I’ll be there! I should stop by an ATM, get some cash—”
“What?” she snorted, “I told you, I already have the tickets—”
“For snacks!” he emphasized, throwing his arms out in excitement. “It’s only fair that I treat us, since you got the tickets!”
“Oh, of course,” she chuckled, “Sounds good.”
“What movie is it?”
“In the Rain.”
He blinked at her, his smile falling.
“Uh,” she cleared her throat, “It’s that one starring… Adrien Agreste and… some… other people?”
“Oh, I’ve heard of it,” he said with a nod, his smile returning a bit too tight, and she wondered what about it would make him uncomfortab— oh.
“It’s not like that!” she huffed, feeling her cheeks grow hot, “Yes, it’s a rom com, but that doesn’t mean it’s a date—”
He barked out a laugh. “I thought you hated rom coms!”
“I don’t hate rom coms!” she groaned, “I just hate them after—” after breakups “—Okay, maybe I do hate them, but I’m obligated to see this movie, and watching it alone would be a thousand times worse than watching it with a friend! And I promise not to freak out this time!”
“Why are you obligated to see it?”
Because she knew someone in the cast. Because she wanted to support her friend, even if he wasn’t really her friend anymore, even if they hadn’t talked in years. Because maybe seeing the movie would be an excuse to reach out to him, to tell him her thoughts on it—
She crossed her arms. “That’s confidential information.”
“Well, you know I’m always here to be your support! We can face any challenge together! You know what we always say, you and me against romantic comedies—”
“Oh, please,” she snorted, “I bet you love romantic comedies.”
“I do,” he admitted with a nod and a wistful smile. “I’m just a sucker for a happy ending.”
She rolled her eyes and gently hit his pectoral. “Then I’m sure you’ll love it! What are you waiting for? Go get your cash, I’ll meet you there. Might as well get there early if we’re getting snacks!”
She relayed to him the theater, and he left with a bow. She rushed back to her dorm room and snatched the tickets off the nightstand. Leaving the kwamis with a timid wave, she made her way to the theater and idled at the entrance until metal boots hit the concrete beside her.
“We’re going to get sooo many snacks,” he said with a grin, and she couldn’t help but smile as she led him into the theater, ignoring all the prying eyes.
Yes, she was having a terrible day, and she was about to watch a movie that was absolutely guaranteed to make her feel even worse, but maybe, just maybe, Chat Noir’s positive energy would find a way to mitigate the inevitable and insurmountable damage to her psyche. His energy was always good at doing that, at guiding her through the worst disasters.
She told Chat Noir what she wanted, and while he picked up the snacks at the lobby, she found herself distracted by a poster.
In the Rain
Starring Adrien Agreste, …
She didn’t care about the other names.
She chewed her finger as she stared at it. There he was— Adrien Agreste, her first love (could she call him that if she never even told him that he was?) and once a dear friend, looking older than the last time she’d seen him in person, but just as old as the last time she’d seen him in a magazine, staring lovingly down at his co-star as the two stood under a black umbrella.
She couldn’t help but huff.
She could do this. She could make it through the movie. What was the problem? It wasn’t like she was still in love with the guy— she hadn’t seen him in years, not since his father pulled him out of public school halfway through lycée. They’d fallen out of touch, Adrien went back to his gilded life as a celebrity— as a star— and he was happy, and he deserved all the fame and opportunities that he got, and she was happy for him, and there were no problems, and it was totally normal to watch a movie with him in it, and it totally wouldn’t be weird or awkward or out of touch to watch the movie and then send him a text telling him she loved it even if she didn’t and he definitely still remembered who she was and totally wouldn’t scoff and roll his eyes at her name in his notificatio—
“My lady!”
“AH!” She shrieked, jumping back from the green cat eyes that appeared before her.
“I got everything!” Chat Noir said with a grin, his arms full of popcorn and candy, two soda cups in either hand. He held up the cup in his right hand. “This one’s yours!”
“Great,” she cleared her throat, grabbing the cup and some of the snacks to lighten his load, and then turned and headed into the theater.
She led the two of them to the back row of seats and settled down. She hoped that staying in the back could keep some of the eyes off of her, as she was feeling at least a tad self-conscious of her spots. She shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth.
Chat Noir leaned back in his seat, picking at some of the candy he’d got with his claws and opening it easily.
“You know,” she began, mouth full before washing down her popcorn with some soda, “It’s been a while since I actually had theater food. I usually sneak in my own snacks—”
He gasped, feigning offense. “That’s illegal!”
She laughed. “No it’s not! The only thing that should be illegal is how overpriced all that stuff is.”
“Ah, but what an authentic experience!” He grabbed some of the popcorn and tossed it into his mouth. “Nothing beats movie-theater popcorn!”
“Oh yeah? Well, nothing beats…” she snatched her yoyo from her hip, opening up the compartment and reaching her hand inside. With her tongue stuck out, she patted around in the hammerspace until she found something, pulled it out and presented it to him, “... Old breath mints!”
“Illegal contraband, just for me?” He grabbed one of the mints from her palm and tossed it into his mouth just like he did the popcorn. “Ah, my lady, you shouldn’t have! This isn’t a thinly veiled insult, I hope?”
“Nothing thinly veiled about it.” She smiled and shoved the mints back into her yoyo. “Your breath totally smells like cat food.”
“Me-owch! I’d much rather it smell like butter.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn. She did, too.
Eventually, the advertisements and trailers finished their runs, and the lights dimmed. She zipped her trap shut and sunk into her chair, narrowing her eyes at the screen and willing herself to focus on the movie, focus focus focus, watch the damn movie.
It was torture.
She tapped her fingers rapidly against the armrest as the plot played on. It was fine, at first, before he made an appearance on the screen— and then she realized, belatedly, how long it had been since she really heard his voice. Magazines had always spared her from that.
Of course the character he was playing was a sweetheart. Of course he was! It was the perfect type of character for him to play, so sweet, so generous, so kind with gentle smiles.
She missed him.
No, she wasn’t still in love with him. She was sure of that— it had been years, after all, and she was pretty sure she never even knew him as well as she thought she did.
But he was her friend. And she missed him. And they’d already blown through their snacks, so there was nothing left to distract her as Adrien handed an umbrella to the female lead.
“You good?” Chat Noir whispered in her ear, and she bristled.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she hissed under her breath, “What makes you think I’m not?”
“You’re growling,” he snorted. And, okay, maybe she had let out some air from her throat in a low rumble— but she didn’t think he could hear it. “And very clearly tense.”
“You’re tense,” she scoffed, and it wasn’t a lie. “Quit shifting around, you’re distracting me.”
“So true, I can be very distracting,” he said, and then readjusted his sitting position for the millionth time in the past half hour, “And I’m just— having trouble getting comfortable.”
“That’s not my problem,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Adrien’s smile filled the screen, and Chat Noir shifted more, and she sunk deep into her chair.
“Seriously,” he whispered, “We don’t have to stay if you hate it—”
“I don’t hate it,” she lied through her snarl, “And I told you, I have to watch it. You’re free to leave if you want.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fine, then.”
Somebody shushed them, and she huffed, crossing her arms tight over her chest and sinking even deeper into her seat. She felt an arm around her shoulders, and couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
“Ah, much more comfortable,” Chat Noir cooed, and she could hear his shitty smile. She sighed and shook her head, not bothering to push him off as her eyes stayed locked on the screen.
As annoying as he could be, she was definitely glad he was there. She couldn’t imagine how cripplingly lonely and awful she would feel if she really had come alone. She was fairly certain she would’ve started crying by this point if he wasn’t there— actually, it was a miracle that she hadn’t yet. She felt constantly on the brink.
Why did she ever think she’d be able to handle watching this stupid movie? She hated watching romantic comedies when her life felt anything but— just a desolate, lonely, superhero action movie— and the fact it starred Adrien only made it a thousand times worse. It was something about the hole that he’d left in her heart, about all the things she’d wanted to say to him but couldn’t and never did, about how pathetic she’d been, about how typical it was, for good things in her life to slip through the cracks. Romance was something that was unattainable for her, as Adrien so perfectly served as a reminder for.
And then the emotional climax came, and she did cry. She allowed herself to, because Adrien and his co-star and at least one other person in the theater were crying, and she was so lonely, destined to be alone, unlike Adrien, who was now sharing a lovely kiss in the rain with the pretty woman who she would never be, because she would never kiss someone in the rain, because nobody would ever love her because she was destined to hurt all the people closest to her and be alone forever because she had so many responsibilities and she couldn’t live a normal life—
She felt a clawed hand rubbing her shoulder, and a familiar warmth leaning in against her, and she cried harder.
At some point, the movie ended, and the moment the credits began to roll, she shot to her feet and exited the theater.
“Hey,” she heard Chat Noir’s voice come from behind her, but she ignored it, surging through the crowds, hoping not too many of the staring people noticed the tears staining her mask— because she was Ladybug right now, dammit— and leapt to the nearest rooftop to be away from prying eyes. She sniffled, wiping away the last remaining remnants of her tears, patting her cheeks hard to get ahold of herself, and his voice came again, “You okay?”
She turned around to face him, and he was standing right behind her on the rooftop, his eyes soft and genuine with concern as he stepped closer to her.
“Yeah,” she huffed, wiping under her nose, “I’m fine. I-I just hate rom coms.”
He smiled, but something about the nervous look in his eyes told her that he knew there was more to it than that. He took another step closer to her, and she allowed it. “You know… I cry at rom coms all the time.”
She couldn’t help but let out a small wet laugh at that. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” He smiled brighter, and she felt a little less cripplingly lonesome. “Though, usually not because I hate the movie…”
“I didn’t actually hate it,” she sighed, “I… I liked it. I’m happy for them. They— They looked… really good together.”
He hummed in noncommittal agreement and gave a small nod.
“They’d have such pretty babies. I’m sure they’re super happy. And super in love. Good for them! I’m sure Adrien is very… happy with her,” she huffed, turning her gaze to the sky, “Good. He deserves that.”
“You… mean Théodore?”
She gave him a look. “Who?”
He blinked. “Um… the… character played by Adrien Agreste?”
“His name was Théodore?”
“Yes,” Chat Noir chuckled, “Didn’t you watch the movie?”
“I was a bit distracted,” she shook her head, looking off again. “Also, there’s no way I’m ever going to call Adrien Agreste ‘Théodore’. What the hell?”
“It’s called acting, my lady!” He shot her an amused look. “But of course, I understand why you were distracted. After all, I was right there—”
“Uh huh,” she snorted.
“—and purrsonally, I was a bit distracted, myself. By my lovely date, of course—”
“Not a date.”
“—and, more seriously…” he hummed, resting his chin against his fist, “I found the product placement a tad overbearing.”
“Product placement? What product placement?”
“You didn’t notice?” He looked out over the skyline. “The wardrobe was all ‘G’s. Nearly every character was wearing one, every scene. I bet practically the whole movie was funded by Gabriel.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t noticed that. For once, she hadn’t been looking at the clothes at all.
“No wonder Adrien Agreste got a part,” he said with a tight smile.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, “He totally could’ve gotten the part either way. He’s a really good actor!”
“You think?” he said, casting his eyes to the side.
“Are you kidding me? He was great!” Maybe she’d even get the courage to tell Adrien that herself. Maybe. Probably not. “Besides, have you seen him? He was practically made to be the love interest in a rom com.”
“Oh yeah?” Chat Noir laughed, an inexplicable pinkness to his cheeks as he looked at her, “What, you’re saying he’s boyfriend material?”
“It’s hardly a hot take,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “What, you don’t think he’s attractive?”
“Hmmm…” he hummed in mock thought, though the act was a bit weak with the big dopey smile on his face, “Not my type.”
“I don’t trust people who say Adrien Agreste is not their type.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anyway, because he’s off living his normal life—”
“‘Normal life’?”
“—Okay, fine, his fun rich celebrity life,” she scoffed, “Being good at everything he does and being pretty and loveable and having no superhero problems and falling in love and kissing his lovely little girlfriend in the rain—”
“You do know what acting is, right?” he asked, eyeing her.
“Did you see their chemistry? The way they looked at each other?”
“Asking again— do you know what acting is?”
“Co-stars hook up all the time!” she defended.
“Stella Mounier is married.”
“Who?”
“The actress who played Elise.”
“Elise?”
“Asking again— did you watch the movie?” he laughed.
“Whatever,” she scoffed, “It doesn’t matter. If he’s not with her, he’s probably with someone else. Adrien Agreste is like a pretty little princess in a fairytale, locked away in some unreachable tower, out of sight and out of mind, rich and famous and high above everyone else and surrounded by love and happiness—”
“Another question comes to me,” he said, “Have you ever read a fairytale?”
“Anyway,” she huffed, “My point is, it doesn’t matter what I think of him, because there’s no way he’d ever care what I think, and it’s not even about him, really, it’s about what he represents, and— and why are we still talking about him?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said with a strange look on his face.
“Yeah,” she sighed, turning towards the city and plopping down onto her behind. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared out over the skyline. “Who knows.”
Chat Noir sat down beside her, his movements careful as he scooted up close to her, his hip bumping against hers. “My lady… you know, I’ve been getting an inkling that this is about more than just a movie.”
“Like I said before,” she sighed, letting her eyes droop to the crowds below, “I just… had a rough day. In the most typical of ways.”
He leaned close to her, his shoulder brushing against hers, and she couldn’t help but curl in tighter on herself.
“Ladybug, I… I know we can’t talk about our personal lives…” he said, and the genuine softness already in his tone was nearly enough to make her want to get up and run, “But anything that you can tell me, I’m here to listen. Always.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, her eyes still watching the normal people below. She couldn’t bear to look at him. “It wouldn’t change anything.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed softly, “But like I said, I’ll listen.”
The two were silent as the city below continued about its business— the quiet chatter of civilians walking and talking the only sounds filling the air.
She hated this. She hated feeling this way, she hated keeping it to herself— but who else was she supposed to talk to? She’d already talked Alya’s ear off about her problems, time and time again— she’d already heard the whole “Don’t give up hope!” spiel from her from her last three breakups, and she didn’t want to bother her again with her predictable problems while she was busy in Martinique visiting family. And it wasn’t like she had any friends from her university that would have anything to say to her other than a “What did you expect? Of course she dumped you. You’re so flaky, all the time, and frankly, we’re sick of you, too—”
“Do you ever wish…” she began, barely a whisper, “... that you never got your miraculous?”
Chat Noir was silent for a moment, and she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.
If anyone understood what she was going through, if anyone in the world was like her at all, it would be him—
“No,” he said, and she wondered why it hurt so much, “I don’t.”
“So… you never feel like…” she took another deep breath, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, not even as she felt his arm being placed across her shoulders, “Like being a superhero is keeping you alone? Like… that if this whole mess never happened, you’d be so much happier?”
She couldn’t believe that he didn’t know what she was talking about, that he’d never experienced it. She couldn’t believe that at all— of course, Chat Noir had the easier job of the two of them, less obligation to come to every single akuma and a whole lot less kwamis to babysit, but he still came to every akuma attack, and he still had the responsibility of keeping Paris safe on his shoulders. Maybe he couldn’t understand it to the same extent, but surely he was at least partially in the same boat as her—
“No,” he said again, and she couldn’t help but bristle, “I’ve never—”
She pushed his arm off of her and pulled herself to her feet. “Well. Nevermind then.”
Of course he wouldn’t understand. How could he? Chat Noir was always happy, always smiling, always cool in even the worst situations. He was happy. He was fine. He didn’t have the responsibility worth a thousand suns. It was just her, only her, it was always only her—
“No, wait,” he said, standing up next to her, “My lady, I’m sorry you feel that way—”
She snatched her yoyo off her hip and tossed it, catching it onto a far-off chimney.
“It’s fine,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone, “I’m glad you’re happy, Chat Noir.”
She was gone before he could respond.
*****
Hey, Adrien! Is this still your number? I know we haven’t talked to each other in a long time, and I’m not sure if you even remember who I am or if you still have me in your contacts at all, but this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I’m just writing to you to tell you that I saw the movie that you starred in and I thought that your acting skills were very proficient and
Too wordy and formal.
Delete.
hey adrien! this is marinette! :) i liked your movie!
Too short and casual.
Delete.
Hey, Adrien! this is Marinette! do you remember me? Dupain-Cheng? anyway, I just wanted to text you to tell you that I really liked your movie. anyway, bye! maybe message you again in another few years! haha
Pointless.
Delete.
Hi! You’re a really good actor!
Cryptic and weird.
Delete.
Adrien! I’m so proud of you! You really made it big! -Marinette
Stupid.
Delete.
Hey, Adrien! Pretty funny that you gave that girl an umbrella in that movie, since you gave me an umbrella too once, haha! Talk about deja vu, am I right? actually you probably don’t remember that. in fact you probably dont care so i dont know why im typing this or what im doing with my life
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
Marinette sighed and sunk further into her mattress, her phone abandoned on her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling. Maybe watching the movie wasn’t worth it. Maybe she never should have gone at all if she couldn’t even think of a single thing to say to Adrien about it, if all it did was make her sad and bitter.
She grabbed her phone again.
—
Marinette: does nino still talk to adrien ever?
Alya: I’m not sure
Alya: why?
Marinette: can you tell nino to tell adrien that i saw his movie and liked it?
Alya: 👍
—
She dropped her phone on her nightstand and pulled the covers over herself.