Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time it happens, Adrien barely notices.

He’s too high off the joy of helping an incredible girl beat a magical supervillain and making his first ever friend, all on the same day.

Well, she isn’t really his first friend. There’s still Chloé. And Nino has offered to be friends—apparently Chloé is awful, so Adrien needs new friends, and he’s starting to see that maybe Chloé isn’t the greatest friend but she is a friend—and Nino’s the reason Adrien’s been able to make up with Marinette, and he’s great but…

Nino decides they’re friends first, so Nino doesn’t count. And if Nino doesn’t count, Chloé definitely doesn’t count.

Marinette is the first friend Adrien has approached himself. The first friend he has made for himself.

He’s walking on air, standing still on the front steps of public school in the rain, watching as his umbrella—stupid thing—shuts over Marinette’s head.

Thunder cracks and rolls away in the sky as he laughs, and the shy smile she offers him from inside the umbrella once she wrestles it open again is brilliant and bright.

He’s walking on air, because they’re friends even though he’s screwed everything up.

And then his ride is there, and he has to go, and the black magical cat thing that has started following him around and stinking up his bag with Camembert says, “First day of school and we already have two lovebirds.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, because what does he know? He’s a magical cat-spirit-thing that only eats stinky cheese.

Adrien only says, “Whatever. She’s just a friend.” He smiles to himself, because he’s finally made one all on his own. “A friend.”

Plagg scoffs.

Adrien ignores him.

The second time it happens, Adrien definitely notices.

He wants to burst with all the admiration fizzing in his veins as he watches Ladybug purify yet another akuma—an akuma he causes with his own stupid jealousy. That ruins the moment a little, but that’s okay. He can learn. He’s still new to this whole outside, normal kid thing.

Ladybug and me, we’re a thing, you know?

We’re like this.

They’re partners, but he shouldn’t have said that. He can't be jealous; he doesn’t own Ladybug, and they’re not close, not like that. It just feels like she’s all he has, some days.

Maybe that’s why he says it. He wants it to be true. Jealousy is still snapping and clawing at him, deep down inside.

Maybe he wants to cling a little with his own claws.

She's special.

And next time he’ll do better.

Because jealousy isn't all he feels. He still wants to burst with it.

The love.

Whoever she is beneath the mask, I love that girl.

And he does. She’s incredible, and amazing, and she puts up with him and his stupid jokes no matter what he does, and he thinks that maybe… maybe…

Maybe this is the kind of love he’s seen in films alone in his room at night, the kind of love he reads about in books between endless poses at his photo shoots, the love his parents have—had. He’s sure that it is, even if he’s never felt it before. There’s always a first time for everything.

He just… loves her. She’s his partner in crime, his partner in superheroing, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wants to be close, and hang around, and make her laugh.

God, does he want to make her laugh. She’s always so serious, and her forehead is always so scrunched behind her beautiful red and black mask.

So he pulls out all the stops in ways he can’t do when he has to think about image and brand and press, and he makes her laugh whenever he can. He hams it up and shows off and flirts and cracks jokes, and he asks her out endlessly. He makes her groan and snap and pout, but he thinks that’s a win, too. She’s not so… serious, not so stuck in her head. She’s more real, and she’s there, and she’s a friend, too.

He thinks that she even likes it some of the time, even if she complains.

This time, as he catches Théo, the ex-Copycat, he breathes out a sigh of relief. He still feels that buzzing admiration and it makes him say, “I’m so glad you could tell the real cat from the fake one!”

She snorts. “Once I figured out which cat was really in love with me, it was a no-brainer.”

Adrien may be new to friends, and, and, social cues or whatever like Nino is always telling him, but even he can tell that she means Théo’s akumatised self.

Not him.

She doesn’t believe him.

It hurts.

It happens more and more the longer he’s outside trying to be normal with normal friends, and each time Adrien notices. Each time, he can feel that anxious hole—Why? Why are they doing this?—get just a bit deeper. But it’s not going to drag him down, not now that he’s finally out of the house.

He won’t let it.

He’ll figure it out. He’s Chat Noir, Hero of Paris, and he’s got this.

…Maybe he hasn’t got this.

Because there’s a next time—there always is, now—and it really, it really—

“I can’t accept this rose from you, Chat! I already told you—I’m in love with someone else!”

He gets that, he really does. But he just… loves her. Is that so bad?

And before he can stop himself, his mouth opens up and says, “I know, my Lady. But if he wasn’t here, would things be different between us?”

Would they be closer? Would Ladybug let him stay with her, even without an akuma calling her out?

He just… loves her. He loves her laugh and her smile and the way she takes no shit and he wants to throw his arm over her shoulder because it feels like it’s them against the world and it’s so warm and his house is so cold and everywhere else that isn’t with her is so grey and he just—

He loves her.

She paints the world in colour.

“I can’t even imagine him not being here,” Ladybug answers him.

He wants to open his mouth and say something—anything—but the look in her steady blue eyes jams steel cords and rivets into his jaw and wires it shut.

He can’t say a word.

The clear ring of truth in her voice settles into the post-attack hush of the street with the dust, heavy on his ears.

He can’t say a word.

He knows how that feels. He can’t imagine life without her here with him, even if they only ever have five-minute snatches in between heavy fighting or fleeting, carefully empty conversations on the rooftops at night. Even if their time together is almost always punctuated by his miraculous counting down, warning him to take care, to run, to hide, because he’s about to get hurt again as she swings away without a single glance back.

He gets it.

She goes on obliviously, “Sorry, Chat. I really need to get going, and you should do the same.” And she swings away on her yo-yo, earrings beeping, and she’s gone. She doesn’t look back.

He’s alone.

Adrien stands in the street, feeling his cat ears droop as he twirls the rose stem in his hands. He stares down at it, unseeing.

His ring chimes.

A world where Chat Noir stands beside Ladybug all the time is a world she can’t even imagine. A world where she lets him love her the way he wants is…

It hurts, that she doesn’t see him or his feelings, can’t even entertain the thought of them because of this… other boy.

But that's not his choice, is it?

Maybe that’s why he gives Kagami the rose later, even if she’s talking about targets, and he’s not stupid enough to think she’s talking about fencing. He likes her well enough, but he still feels… weird.

What about Ladybug?

Even if she wants him to move on…

Can he love Kagami like Ladybug?

Can it be them against the world?

And because Marinette is his friend—the first friend he’s picked for himself, and that thought still makes him smile uncontrollably—he goes to her for help with Kagami. Marinette won’t steer him wrong, and she won’t judge him.

And they go to the ice skating rink—Marinette’s idea—and it’s good. It’s great even—two friends he’s close to, and Luka seems nice enough even if Adrien still doesn’t know him well yet, and Adrien can sort of get a grip on what he’s doing here without being alone with Kagami.

“It was really cool of you to bring Luka, Marinette,” he tells her, smiling. He tries to convey all the gratitude he has that she’s there for him. It’s not like it is with Ladybug, but that’s okay. They’re still good friends.

Marinette smiles back at him, teeth bright and blinding as she flashes them. “Of course! That’s what friends are for!”

She’s a little twitchy as she says it, but Marinette is always twitchy, and he’s just so relieved that she’s listening to him. Later he sees that he should’ve paid better attention, but… in his defence, she’s always twitchy.

But it’s not her usual twitchy. She really looks sick, with her face pale and her lips all thin. So he goes after her.

It’s his fault she’s there to begin with.

And then Plagg sticks his stinky nose in it as Adrien stands outside the washroom Marinette has shut herself inside, trying to find out how she’s doing.

“You’re supposed to be in love with Ladybug, and now you ditch Kagami to go after Marinette?” His nasal voice is dripping with disbelief.

“What?” Adrien asks, blinking. “What do you mean, ‘go after Marinette?’”

Plagg scoffs loudly.

Adrien rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, Plagg. You know it’s not like that. She’s just a friend!”

How many times has he said this same sentence to Plagg? To his classmates?

To strangers on the street?

He says it what feels like all day, every day.

His tongue and his lips shape the words now without any input from his brain. It’s as rote as the poses he’s perfected for the cameras, and it’s just as taxing as holding them for hours. The words have lost all meaning.

She’s just a friend.

She’s just a friend.

She’s just a friend.

She’s just a friend.

It’s getting hard to push them out out of his mouth, over and over.

It’s getting exhausting.

It’s like each word is a weight, and they’re only getting heavier. Each of them must weigh several hundred kilos at least, because they never seem to reach anyone once they leave his mouth. They just hit the ground, thud, without touching anyone else’s ears, and lie there. Dead.

No one ever believes him. No one listens.

Not even Plagg believes him, and Plagg knows him better than anyone, even Ladybug.

It hurts.

But then the rink owner gets akumatised, and he pushes it away to focus on fighting as best he can.

He’s not at his best, but he thinks he can forgive himself for it.

And it’s not a waste.

Because after he and Ladybug defeat Hawkmoth’s newest victim, he knows for sure. That’s why he still feels so weird and uncomfortable about all of this “date” stuff. He can’t give up on the two of them—they’re Ladybug and Chat Noir. He can’t try to replace her with Kagami.

It’s the two of them against the world.

So he doesn’t say anything when Kagami kisses his cheek and tells him, “The day you realise you’ve got the wrong target, I’ll be here.”

She’s looking at Marinette as she says it, and her face is tilted toward his knowingly.

He doesn’t tell her that she’s got it all wrong. That it’s not Marinette, and it’s not a target that can switch.

He doesn’t even try, because he doesn’t think he can handle seeing that look of incomprehension on her face.

She won’t believe him anyway.

No one else does.

He loses count, after that. It doesn’t mean he notices it any less.

It doesn’t hurt any less, even if it is a blur.

He feels the sting, sharp claws digging into him each time, even if he pretends he doesn’t. Sometimes when he goes home he stares into the mirror and wonders why there aren’t scratches all over him. Plagg scoffs and suggests a cheese platter for each new jab, but he doesn’t get it.

That doesn’t hurt, either.

When they’re alone at home, Plagg teases him about pots on a stove and cheeses and girlfriends, and Adrien feels like an annoying song set on endless repeat.

“She’s just a friend, Plagg.”

Plagg scoffs, and eats cheese, and doesn’t believe him.

School is worse. He catches himself wishing he doesn’t go to public school anymore and has to go sit on the floor of his shower to be alone. He turns the water on and lets it run, staring blankly into the swirling drain.

Plagg won’t follow him in there.

When he’s at school, Nino is all knowing stares and wagging eyebrows, and he snorts every single time Adrien calls Marinette a friend.

“I don’t like her like that, Nino.”

“Man, you’re really stuck in denial, huh? You totally like her. It’s written all over your face.”

Nino puts a warm hand on his shoulder, and he shakes his head, and he doesn’t believe him.

He’s not listening.

Then he walks into the boys’ locker room before P.E. one day, and Adrien—it’s not noticing. It’s more than noticing.

It’s a thunder clap after lightning strikes.

He’s dead on the floor before the hair on his neck can finish rising in the static electricity.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t notice her!” Kim is saying.

“Who?”

“Ondine!” Kim says, spinning toward him and practically bouncing in place.

“Ondine…?” he asks cluelessly. “Who? What’d she do?”

Max snorts. “There is a 95% chance that she got akumatised and nearly drowned everyone in Paris. Kim was too dense to realise she liked him.”

Oh. Syren. That Ondine.

“Oh,” he blinks.

Except for Kim, all the guys in his class are staring at him meaningfully. None of them is staring more intensely than Nino.

Adrien blinks at them some more, feeling like this is another social thing he doesn’t get. “Uh… I remember her?”

“We’re going to a film!” Kim crows, breaking the odd silence.

“That sounds—”

“And she’s really pretty! Think she’ll make out with me in the back row if we sit there?”

Max groans. “I think that may be a bit forward for the first date, Kim.”

Ivan grunts an agreement.

“But she’s just so cute, you know?” Kim groans. “And she’s into me, so—”

Nathaniel closes his locker, already in his gym clothes. “But do you like her?”

Kim thinks for a minute, and their classmates are patient.

It is Kim, after all.

“Yeah,” he says finally, nodding emphatically. “Now I get all… you know. Maybe I didn’t see her before, but now it’s all butterflies and stuff. I think it’s going somewhere.”

The rest all nod, grinning.

“Congrats,” Ivan even mutters.

“So do you think she’ll make out with me in the back row?” Kim persists as they all start leaving for the gym. Adrien hurries to change and follow them. “Because seriously, she’s cute, no—hot, and I really really want to kiss her and what if I get to touch her boo—”

Adrien trips as he pulls his shorts up, but moves quicker.

He bites his lip, but puts it out of his mind. He has class.

That doesn’t mean he forgets.

When he finally finishes the stupid afternoon shoot he has and makes it to his room, he tosses his satchel on the couch and almost lunges for the computer, fingers shaking a little.

“Hey!” Plagg yelps, phasing out of his bag. “I was sleeping in there!”

Adrien ignores him. He carefully opens up an incognito window—what if Nathalie is monitoring his computer use and finds out about this?!—and starts to type a question into the search bar.

“How do I know if I have a crush?” Plagg reads over his shoulder incredulously.

Adrien ignores him again. It’s embarrassing, but he already knows that he won’t be able to hide this whole thing from Plagg, and he has to know. He takes a deep breath and clicks the mouse.

The results pop up and he skims the most popular.

The “butterflies and stuff” Kim mentions are the top result. Others talk about a “leap” of the heart and anxious excitement. Giddiness.

His stomach is sinking.

Swallowing hard, he reaches for the keyboard and types another question in.

Plagg starts cackling. “How do I know if someone is hot?! Seriously, kid?!”

Adrien ignores it and skims the answers. When he hits the bottom of the first page of results, he scrolls back to the top of the screen and reads it all again, more slowly, more carefully. He even reads some magazine articles that are definitely intended for preteen girls, just in case. He reads them very carefully.

The results don’t change.

They sit on his computer screen in black and white.

He closes his eyes, trying to block them out, but he can still see them in the dark. They float there in the black, burned into his retinas in reverse—white on black—taunting him.

Letting his hands fall into his lap, he takes a deep shivery breath and tries to accept the facts.

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t open his eyes.

“Kid?” Plagg asks, “Are you finally cluing in to what everyone else has figured out? That you’ve got the hots for Marinette and you’re crushing hard?” His voice gets sly and suggestive. “I kept tellin’ you to go for a different piece of cheese. You should’ve listened!”

“She’s just a friend, Plagg,” he mumbles tiredly, feeling the familiar exhaustion—the familiar weight—of the words dragging at his bones.

It’s the truth, no matter what Plagg or Nino, or, or anyone else thinks.

He isn’t wrong, and everyone should have been listening to him all along.

His lips quirk with what he knows is petty satisfaction, and he holds it close, trying to warm himself on it.

It’s not enough.

He’s cold in this empty room.

Plagg scoffs again. “I guess it was too much to hope for that you’d see the light.”

“There’s no light to see!” Adrien hisses, eyes snapping open to glare at Plagg. “I don’t have a crush on Marinette, and I’m definitely not in love with her!”

Plagg twitches in surprise.

And then the anger… blows out, too tiny to fill his echoing room.

He’s so cold.

“I… don’t love Ladybug, either,” he admits in a whisper.

Plagg actually falls out of the air in shock. “Kid? Kid, what do you mean?”

“Kim was talking today,” he says distantly. “About his new girlfriend. Butterflies, and, and, her being hot. Maybe he doesn’t love her yet, but… that’s… that’s how it starts. Right?” He waves a leaden hand at his computer screen.

Plagg’s mouth opens and closes. He seems speechless, looking from Adrien’s face to the computer screen with the search results, and back again.

“That’s what all those things say. I don’t… I don’t feel that way about Ladybug. I never have. I thought I loved her. But I guess I was just being stupid about social stuff. Again.”

“Adrien…”

“I just… I want to be with her, and make her laugh, and be there for her. I want it to be us against the world. I never want to be away from her. She's special. I thought… I thought that meant I loved her.”

“You do love her,” Plagg zips in front of his face. “I can tell you that for sure, kid. You do.”

“But I’m not in love with her. She was right all along. You know. Before I…”

And that hurts almost as much as the way she never looks back when she leaves.

She’s always known what makes him tick, how to work with him in a fight even without words. Of course she doesn’t care that he’s in love with her and wants to be with her.

She’s always known that he isn't and he doesn’t. Not really.

Because even if he doesn’t always understand himself, she does.

“Adrien…” Plagg fumbles. “I… you do love her, kid. I promise.”

“But not like that,” he whispers. “Not like… that.” He waves a hand at the screen again. “And I don’t love Marinette that way either.”

Plagg stares up at him, perching on the mouse, ears drooping. He actually looks sorry. Adrien can count on one finger the other times Plagg has looked like he’s sorry.

Syren has something to do with that, too. And isn’t that ironic?

“Do you believe me now?” he asks, the lump in his throat practically choking him. “No one ever believes me—”

And then the screen and Plagg are blurring out of focus as the tears start spilling down his cheeks.

He’s pathetic. He’s Chat Noir, and he’s better than this.

“It’ll be okay, Adrien,” Plagg says, and he barely feels it as Plagg lands on his shoulder. He curls up in the crook of Adrien’s neck and purrs quietly.

He’s never done that before.

Adrien must be extra pathetic tonight.

And then Adrien’s laughing, or maybe he’s sobbing, or maybe he’s doing both, and no one comes to see what’s wrong.

It hurts.

But it hurts different.

Maybe this is progress.

Plagg finally gets it, but Adrien sure isn’t getting very far with everyone else.

It hurts a little more every time it happens, and the hooks hook a little deeper.

It’s obvious even to him, the cluelessly awkward social disaster, what’s happening now, even though he keeps telling everyone—Nino, his classmates—no.

For what feels like the six thousandth time, Alya evaporates into thin air, taking Nino with her.

“Sorry, dude!” he yells over his shoulder. “Girlfriend duty calls!”

His face isn’t very apologetic, and Adrien sighs. He knows that look on Nino’s face, and he knows what the waggling eyebrows under his cap brim mean.

He’s gone around the corner, but Adrien calls out after him with a half-hearted wave anyway. “Sure thing, bro!”

Marinette is mumbling under her breath next to him. He tries to parse her words, waits patiently for her to talk, but the mumbles don’t get any louder, and they don’t clear up.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think Alya and Nino were trying to matchmake,” he finally blurts, clutching at his satchel strap, just to have something to say.

Or maybe he just blurts it out because he’s exhausted, and he shouldn’t have to say the same things over and over, not to his best friend. Right?

Why doesn’t Nino believe him?

Isn’t that in the Bro Code or something?

Why is he doing this?

He’s not some doll for him to wind up and set in motion.

Marinette’s head snaps up, eyes and hands darting all around like someone is about to jump out of the bushes and attack her and she needs to be ready to karate chop them. “Uh! Ah hah, why would you think that?!”

“Because they keep running off and leaving us alone together?”

“Oh! Ah, hah! I hadn’t uh, noticed! That’s, um, funny!”

Adrien snorts and looks down to readjust the strap on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I do know that’s not what they’re doing, promise.”

“W-what? Uh… Wh-why?”

Adrien shrugs. “Because Alya’s the one that keeps dragging him off.”

“Huh?”

He turns to her, and her eyebrows are doing a scrunch thing that he frowns at when he sees it. It looks… oddly familiar, even though Marinette is almost always smiling when she sees him, forehead smooth. Then he shakes it off. It’s not important, and Marinette has asked him a question.

“Alya’s your best friend. She knows you’re not into me. So she wouldn’t help Nino matchmake.”

Nino by himself, on the other hand…

Adrien sighs, resisting the urge to shake his head at Nino’s… Nino-ness.

Garbled noises.

…in love with you!

Marinette’s in love with Chat Noir—and everyone knows that Adrien is not, and never has been, Chat Noir.

Marinette makes a strangled noise. “W-what?”

“She knows we’re just friends,” Adrien says with a shrug. “And I appreciate that we are, you know. A lot.” He looks down, feeling his cheeks heat. “I, uh. Thank you, for, um. Still being friends with me after that whole, wax, wax statue… thing. It really was just a joke that got out of hand, honest. I’m still bad at this friendship stuff, but I’m starting to figure it out.”

Marinette has no idea how bad he really is at being friends.

He doesn’t even know what love is.

Love.

I’m not good with jokes. The girl I’m in love with doesn’t like them, either.

He’s wrong, of course, even if he doesn’t know it then. Not about the jokes, he's finally figured out that Ladybug kind of does hate his jokes—he's been so stupid—but—

I’m glad we’re friends, Marinette tells him.

His car arrives, and he droops a little at the thought of home and the still cold silence. He doesn’t want to deal with the cold plate of food that he’ll eat all alone at a table that stretches on for forever.

He has no one to eat with.

Eating the food by himself is getting tiring.

It’s all getting tiring.

Marinette makes another strangled noise, and when he looks at her, she’s karate-chopping the air.

It’s been tiring for a long time.

“It just gets a little exhausting, you know?” he admits before he can stop himself. Only they’re talking about Nino, not his stupid life. “Having to say the same stuff over and over, I, uh, mean. I’ll have another talk with him, okay?”

“The same… stuff? Another… talk?” Marinette asks, voice tiny.

Adrien nods as he starts down the steps, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah. But like I said, don’t worry! I know we’re friends.”

Marinette says they’re friends, even though he’s probably done a tonne of stuff—the wax statue disaster probably isn’t even the stupidest—to weird her out.

Of course not! I was role-playing! I was in love with a statue, not with you!

But Marinette says they’re friends.

So he does what everyone else won’t.

I’m the Queen of Pranks!

He listens to her.

He thinks about careless comments from his friends and how they hurt, and he dials down the flirting with Ladybug, the constant invites out. She doesn’t want to know about him outside of the superheroing, and besides…

That’s lying—Ladybug says so—and he doesn’t want to lie to Ladybug. She hates liars.

I don’t want to play around with your feelings. It would be the same as lying to you.

He never wants to lie to her.

He just… loves her.

Even if it isn’t the way he thinks originally, she’s still…

She’s important.

He wants to be with her always. Everywhere that isn’t with her is dull, even if his other friends are there. Because they just don't know about stuff. He keeps thinking about what she'll say or do if she is there, and—

Life will be so much better—so much warmer—if Ladybug’s there beside him, living it with him. He wants her at the table so they can make fun of his boring chicken dinners and tiny green salads together. He wants to tell her about the latest spaghetti rant from Giuseppe so they can make weird faces about it together. He wants to hang out with her at the arcade with his other friends so they can kick their asses together.

He just knows she’ll get along with Marinette.

He’s suddenly on a rooftop again in his memory, staring down at all the candles he’s lit and the flowers he’s placed, the picnic blanket he’s spread out bright against the shingles. He’s back there, staring down at all of it, the results of all that work lying neatly arranged in front of him. But it’s just the broken pieces of a romantic date Ladybug’s too nice to point out is him lying to himself—and to her—about how he feels about her.

She knows.

“I get it, Ladybug,” he mumbles again, so quietly Plagg actually stops eating and stares at him from inside his rubbish bin, “Your friendship means everything to me.”

Her voice, catching on a breathless laugh, the day they meet, as she watches Ivan and Mylène.

They’re so made for each other.

And his answer, so ignorant. Still so stupid about the outside world and being in it.

Like us two.

“You know,” Plagg says as he comes over to sit on his shoulder, dropping a wedge of his cheese on top of Adrien’s hand, and he stares because Plagg never shares his precious Camembert, “we kwami don’t love each other like lots of humans do. That doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

He stares at Adrien, green eyes unblinking and antenna waving slowly.

Adrien slowly takes the piece of cheese and puts it in his mouth, swallows.

It tastes like smelly sock.

But it’s Plagg’s smelly sock.

“Thanks,” he says.

Plagg purrs, and he believes him.

It turns into a blur.

He’s not noticing anymore.

If he takes the time to notice, he’ll never move again.

It’s just constant exhaustion dragging him down.

When he has a spare moment between school and activities and fighting akuma and modelling, he thinks it might be affecting his partnership with Ladybug. He’s tried so hard not to let it affect his partnership with Ladybug. He tries to smile, and crack jokes, and be there for her as much as he can.

But it all adds up. Constant attempts from classmates to set him up with Marinette, like he can’t see the way they’re all looking at him, self-satisfied and eyes glittering. Like he’s blind, deaf, and dumb, or he doesn’t understand how this works.

Like he doesn’t understand his own feelings.

He tells them, “Marinette’s a very good friend.”

They don’t believe him.

The number of times he says it feels like it’s going to bury him in the ground, one tiny cut, one enormous weight, at a time.

Everything is grey, and tiring, and far away.

Every day, Plagg tries to press another cheese wedge on him, and if he had more energy, maybe he’d be more scared.

Ladybug frowns at him worriedly more often, no matter how hard he tries to smile or how hard he tries to help.

“Are… are you okay?” she asks hesitantly one evening after they’ve stopped M. Damocles from hurting himself again.

He thinks about what she’d said earlier.

We can’t spend all our time watching out for him, either!

He wonders what’s going on in her life that she doesn’t want to miss.

What he’s not there for.

“I’m fine,” he tells her. “So about the plan…”

Ladybug eyes him carefully, but finally gives up. “Well, what if we…”

After Nino refuses to believe him again, Adrien ignores the hurt and thinks about crushes and about people.

And about love.

Always love.

What is it?

He thinks about the way Nino freezes up when he’s crushing on Marinette. He thinks about the way Chloé clings to him and won’t stop. He thinks about Kagami’s straight-forward stare and the way her mouth moves when she says the word “targets.” He even thinks about Kim, and how he’s been around Chloé, and how he is about Ondine now. He thinks about Nathaniel—about Evillustrator even—and Marinette. He considers Rose and her thing for Prince Ali. Then he thinks about Ivan and Mylène, solid as rock.

He thinks about Alya and Nino.

And he realises something. That’s… almost everyone in his class.

Has he ever acted like they do?

Ever?

Is there something wrong with him?

He wants to ask Nino what crushes—what love—really feel like because he’s not an idiot and those online results probably don’t have the whole story. But he knows that’s a terrible idea almost as soon as he’s thought of it. Nino’ll think he’s crushing on Marinette and there will be another stupid matchmaking attempt. No one needs that.

Unfortunately, Chloé’s out, too, since she’s got a thing for him.

Kagami is out for the same reason. She still has that look when they fence.

Adrien can ask Ladybug about her boy, he knows.

But that still hurts.

He can ask Marinette, but he doesn’t want to drag her into this more than his classmates already have.

But he can’t stop wondering.

When do crushes start happening? Why? How?

What about him? He’s probably never had a crush in his life.

What are the boundaries of love?

With few options, he goes to his last resort.

“Kid, what do I know about human crushes and mushy stuff?” Plagg asks, staring at him flatly.

“I thought you might know, since you’ve hung out with a bunch of humans.”

Plagg rolls his eyes and shoves a wedge of cheese in Adrien’s mouth. “Why would I pay attention to humans when I could be eating cheese?”

Adrien swallows with a grimace and ignores the grumbling. “I just… everyone in class keeps talking about having all these crushes, or being into different people, and I’m not sure I’ve ever…”

Plagg stares at him, antenna waving. “Well, why don’t you ask the google? It’s pretty smart. It knows a lot about cheese.”

Adrien pauses. He… can do that. Googling is how he knows he doesn’t really love Ladybug that way, after all. It’s a genuinely good idea.

He’s already thought of it.

He just doesn’t think he can handle it if it crushes him again.

Plagg at least lets him down easy. Sort of.

Adrien takes a deep breath and sits down at his desk again. He reaches for the keyboard, and Plagg comes to sit on his shoulder. He keeps his smelly mouth shut for once, and Adrien is pathetically grateful.

He’s there.

I’m sure there’ll be another Chat Noir to give me cheese. But he won’t be you.

“You know,” Adrien says awkwardly, staring at his fingers as they begin to type, “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else, right?”

Plagg snorts. “Please. No one else would take you on. You’re a mess. And not the good and gooey kind.”

Adrien takes another deep breath, hits “enter,” and checks the results.

He falls down an Internet rabbit hole, and hitting the ground hurts—it’s never the fall that kills you, it’s hitting the ground—but Plagg is there beside him for all of it, eating a smelly piece of Camembert like everything is normal and everything is okay, and maybe it is.

Maybe hitting the ground hasn’t killed him, and he’ll get up and walk away again.

Because… some people… don’t have crushes.

There are words, and labels, and, and spectrums.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them all yet, but he’s got them.

Plagg hovers in front of him, suddenly blocking the screen from his vision.

He shoves another wedge of cheese into Adrien’s mouth as soon as he opens it to complain.

“I guess you’re more like me than I thought,” is all he says, and then he shrugs and goes zooming off to somewhere else in Adrien’s gigantic, ridiculous room.

Adrien takes a breath, holds it, and lets it out.

A tear slides down his cheek, but he scrubs it away.

We kwami don’t love each other like lots of humans do. That doesn’t mean we don’t care.

Adrien isn’t wrong about how he feels, and it’s a relief.

Everyone else is wrong.

He does love Ladybug.

He loves her so much.

She can be important. She can be special.

That’s a thing.

Love is so much bigger than that.

It’s just that he… doesn’t love her in the ways everyone—Ladybug—expects that he does when he says it, and he never will.

It’s kind of a disaster. But it’s a disaster he can come back from.

He holds his words close.

He loves Ladybug, and he can go on loving her like this, and it’s not a lie, even if it’s not what she needs.

“It’s good Ladybug has her boy,” he whispers to the computer screen, because Plagg isn’t there anymore. “He can love her all the ways she wants. The ways she deserves.”

He can love her and they can be friends like she wants.

Even if he can’t be with her all the time like he wants.

He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes.

This is good, really.

Once he figures all this shit out, everyone’ll have to believe him about Marinette, too.

She’s just a friend.

And it won’t hurt so much, even if he’s not even looking at targets and never has been.

They still don’t believe him.

“I’m not interested in romance,” he tells Nino, somehow mustering up the courage to say the words. These words are heavy, too, but they don’t slam into the ground without a sound. Somehow, not saying them is even more exhausting than saying She’s just a friend, Nino. So even if he’s afraid of how he’s going to react, Adrien still—

Nino grins and fist-bumps him.

Adrien fist-bumps him back because Nino finally gets it, and now he’s got two people in the know who won’t matchmake or tease him about it. Adrien wants to smack himself for not believing in his best bro. Nino’s awesome.

“Sure, dude,” Nino tells him, nodding emphatically, “I know it’s gonna be tough with your dad and all, but don’t worry. I’m here for you, and I’ve got this.”

But the next day Nino waggles his eyebrows and tries to set him up with Marinette again. He ditches their planned group lunch with Alya.

Again.

After the whole fiasco is finally over and school is out—Marinette’s been so quiet and she’s barely eaten anything and she’s been so upset and awkward—he gives Nino a video call. He growls, “Nino, seriously! She’s just a friend!”

“Suuure she is!” Grinning, Nino proceeds to ask about their lunch, demanding all the details.

“Nino!”

Why doesn’t Nino believe him?

He’s never been so hurt in his life. Not even when Ladybug finally realises he’s serious and turns him down for real—even if it’s for the best in the end—

“But Nino…”

Nino isn’t listening. When he starts up their online gaming session, Adrien goes along mutely.

What else is he supposed to do?

He comes into Mme. Bustier’s classroom early one day. He’s tired, and he hasn’t slept, but akuma attacks wait for no superhero. Ladybug is as amazing as always, and she smiles at him. At least he’s seen her today, and she’s still friends with him.

He still loves her in all the ways that don’t fit quite right.

Alya is sitting up in the corner with all the girls in the class except Marinette and Lila. Well, and Chloé and Sabrina, but they never hang out with the other girls. It’s a little weird that Lila isn’t there, but Marinette is almost always late, so that’s not a surprise.

“—and Nino says he’s making progress, so Adrien will have to figure out what’s in front of his nose soon!” she practically proclaims, slamming her fist into her other hand.

“Thank god,” Alix drawls. “I can’t take all the drama and Marinette’s freak-outs anymore.”

Adrien blinks, coming to a stop in the doorway.

None of them have noticed him.

“They’re going to be so cute together!” Rose squeals excitedly, bouncing in her seat.

Juleka mumbles something, but Adrien can barely hear her over the roaring in his ears.

Are they saying what he thinks they’re saying?

“Tell me about it!” Alya smirks, waving her phone at them all. “But Nino told me Adrien’s finally stopped saying Marinette’s just a ‘very good friend!’”

There is a collective eye roll up in the corner, and Adrien can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Mylène adds, “And to think Marinette wanted to give up on them, like they’re only meant to be friends or something. There’s way too much between them for that!”

Alya nods emphatically. “Nino told me Adrien was saying some bullshit about not looking for romance. He’s just too dense to see what’s in front of his nose. Poor guy’s too sheltered.”

“That’ll change as soon as he realises Marinette’s an option!” Rose squeals again, punching the air.

They all think…

Adrien backs out the open door and retreats down the hall a little, trying to get his breath back.

Why is he always wrong about how normal life works?

Alya and Nino are matchmaking.

He’s thought all along that Alya wouldn't do that to Marinette, even if he knows what the rest of the class think about his feelings for Marinette. But Alya is encouraging them.

…Is this her way of helping Marinette get over Chat Noir? Does she think Marinette has a type or something…?

“You going inside?” Plagg drawls from his pocket. He noisily eats another piece of Camembert, and Adrien wrinkles his nose at the smell.

“Yeah. Where else am I going to go?” he answers tiredly, shaking off the questions running through his brain, and he walks in loudly through the door.

All the girls freeze.

Alya beams at him like she’s not plotting behind his back and calls, “Hey, Adrien! How’re you this morning?”

“Wonderful,” he mumbles. A blinding spark of annoyance in the deep tar pit he’s steadily sinking into makes him add, “Glad that I get to see my good friend Marinette today!”

He smiles at her and tries not to enjoy the way her smile splinters and the other girls start whispering.

He fails.

He can hear Plagg snickering in his pocket. “You tell ‘em, kid,” he whispers.

He turns away to hide the Chat Noir smirk starting to tug at his lips.

What do they know about his feelings?

They haven’t got front row seats to his Ladybug-obsessed brain. She’s the one he wants to be beside, always.

That’s a thing.

So they should believe him when he tells them things.

He’s not a sheltered idiot, not anymore.

He’s got his words.

And he’s always known how he feels about Marinette.

His stomach churns.

Sometimes, being with Ladybug is like trying to dodge an akuma with rapid-fire attacks that never run out. He knows it’s going to hurt eventually, but he can’t help but show up and cause a distraction anyway. It’s a hurt he’ll be happy to take.

Ladybug has been a little off all day. She seems stressed and unhappy, and she’s made a ton of mistakes playing a video game. A video game.

She’s brilliant at video games.

“Are you okay, Bug?” he asks her as they stand on the roof, Max safely out of his akuma-induced bender.

She’s been in as much of a funk as Max has, trying to play without any love for the game, like that’s the way to win.

It’s all about loving to play.

It’s all about enjoying the good things in life when you find them, even if it’s where you least expect them.

That’s the way to win, because that is the win.

Adrien hasn't lied to Ladybug. It’s the truth. He loves to play. He loves to play when she’s with him—he can admit that he maybe loves it a bit too much while they’re fighting akuma sometimes, no matter what Plagg says. But he’ll play any game, try out anything new that he can’t do or be in his real life, just as long as she’s there with him. He can’t imagine her not being there while they have this much fun. While they see all this. While they enjoy all the good stuff this crazy superhero life has to offer.

And there is good stuff.

He can't imagine her not being there for any of the good stuff in his life, really, suit or no.

He needs her there with him.

…This is really getting to be a problem, isn’t it?

“Hey, Chat Noir…” she says after so long he almost forgets he’s asked her a question.

He hums encouragingly.

She fidgets. “Between being a superhero, and, and, everything else in your life… how do you manage to still have fun?” She pauses, fidgets again. “Aren’t you scared that eventually you’ll have to sacrifice everything you love for all of… this?”

He bristles instantly, and he hates the way his belt tail tries to bush out and his ears flatten.

Ladybug blinks at him, mouth dropping open in surprise. “Chat?”

Adrien isn’t listening.

Everything you love.

He knows what she’s getting at.

And love is a loaded word.

Love is a stupid word.

It’s a reductive word.

He kind of hates it.

Love doesn’t include him.

To her, he’s just all of… this.

He’s not part of everything you love.

It’s you and me against the world, my Lady.

What a hilarious joke.

Maybe he really is just an annoying, unfunny clown like everyone is always saying.

Or maybe he’s just the butt of the joke.

Because love the way practically everyone in Paris—the way Ladybug—means it, doesn’t include—will never include—the warmth, the admiration, the trust, the need to share everything with her as a complete team that he feels.

Because Ladybug’s love—everything she loves—Ladybug’s love, the love that she wants to spend her life with—includes everything—romantic attraction, sexual attraction, whatever—that he just doesn’t feel—

And it’s the same everywhere.

At home he starts up his old favourite rom-coms and comfort shows, and now they just make him feel empty. He opens a new literary classic at his photo shoot, and he can’t read it. He tries another. But every time he sees the word love or a relationship or anything he slams it closed.

They’re all filled with love.

But it’s not his kind of love.

His love doesn’t exist there.

He doesn’t exist there.

And now that he knows it—

Everything that he loves.

Adrien still manages to deliver the goods in his job, but it’s harder than it used to be. It’s harder than when he could just read the books like an oblivious idiot and picture more.

He knows now that that kind of love isn’t waiting for him, and he doesn't even really want it to be. But everyone else expects—

It’s exhausting, even if it is an answer to his confusion.

Nathalie has started frowning at him more.

Giuseppe has started shoving plates of pasta at him more.

Any day now his father will start to yell at him more.

But none of this is Ladybug’s fault. She’s asked him an innocent question, and she wants a real answer. She’s upset, and he’ll always want to be there for her.

Everything he loves.

The good stuff.

The truth is… everything he loves most… is already here.

And the truth is…

He knows that not even the word love can ruin that.

That doesn’t mean we don’t care.

So when Adrien answers, he tells her the truth. “The times when I have the most fun—my favourite moments—are when I’m with you, my Lady. And I would give up everything just for that.”

He can’t stand to look at her reaction, so he leaves.

He just… loves her.

Is that so bad?

But she has her boy, and he knows they’ll live happily ever after in an apartment with three adopted hamsters and maybe a cat—

But there’s no room for Ladybug’s partner Chat Noir in that. There’s no room for an awkward roommate who still doesn’t get friends and social interaction and has trouble with personal space. No room for a boy who wants to make jokes and play video games and occasionally has to spend too much time in a makeup chair and in front of cameras and fighting akuma.

He can’t be beside her the way he wants.

He’s dealing with it.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Everything is fine.

The last time someone does it, literature class has just ended for the day, and he’s so tired.

“Thank god the day is over,” Nino groans, stretching. He resettles his cap on his head.

“Yeah,” Adrien manages to mumble. “It’s been… a really long week.”

Fashion Week is coming, and he’s been doing a lot of advertisements for the brand. Far too many of them are stunts concocted by Bob Roth, and they wind up being completely pointless because they don’t work, and they’re just… completely exhausting. Always the opportunistic arsehole, Hawkmoth has been taking advantage of all the stress in the fashion industry to create even more akuma than usual. Audrey Bourgeois has already been akumatised twice, and then once more with Chloé into the bargain.

He never wants to see a fused akuma made out of Chloé and her mother ever again, okay?

He stumbles to his feet and starts shoving his books and his tablet into his bag, because he’s got Mandarin in half an hour.

It feels like he’s going to drop any second.

Maybe that’s why when Nino gives him the eyebrow waggle and says, “Want to come out for ice cream with Alya, Marinette, and me?” Adrien bursts out laughing.

It’s not his usual Gabriel-approved laugh.

It’s his Chat Noir laugh. It’s the one he uses when an akuma skewers him and he’s dying but he gets them good just before everything goes black.

It’s flashing fangs and petty vengeance.

It’s not a nice laugh.

“Adrien?” Marinette asks, and she sounds so concerned.

“Adrien, are you okay?” Alya asks, and now she’s asking him how he feels.

“Bro?”

Now Nino’s listening to him.

It’s ludicrous. It’s stupid.

It’s laughable.

So he laughs some more.

When his father hears about his hysterical laughter—from Lila, no doubt—he’ll be doing damage control immediately, what with the showcase coming and the paparazzi itching for a scoop. Adrien foresees a grounding in his near future and the security system engaged to keep him in unless he’s got a shoot or an event. If he’s locked up, he can’t give the paparazzi any fodder for their made-up celebrity mental breakdown.

He can see the headlines now:

Adrien Agreste—Cracking Up!

Adrien might as well make his isolation worth it.

Maybe it’s that thought that makes him say very flatly, “If you’re trying to set me up with Marinette again, the answer is no, Nino.”

The entire class gasps, and Marinette squeaks.

He throws a glance at Marinette. “Sorry,” he apologises for Nino. Again. “I keep telling him we’re friends, but he doesn’t get it.”

“You’re the one that doesn’t get it!” Alya suddenly snaps, staring at him in disbelief. “I know you’re dense, but this is ridiculous.”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’re the one that doesn’t get it.”

You tell ‘em, kid.

“You and Nino and everyone else.”

Alya rolls her eyes, and Adrien has to look down to be sure he hasn’t accidentally summoned Cataclysm. His fist is hot and prickling like it’s writhing in the air at his fingertips.

But it’s not there.

He’s not vaguely disappointed by that.

Chat Noir is never irresponsible with Destruction.

Alya says impatiently, voice snapping just like his father’s, “If you’d just open up your eyes and actually look, there’s an amazing girl right here and—”

“Who the fuck says I’m looking for an amazing girl?” Adrien snaps back before he can stop himself.

It’s dead silent in the room.

Now he really wishes that he had called Cataclysm.

He needs to use it on himself. Immediately.

Adrien puts his bag down on his desk very carefully and rubs at his temples. “Sorry,” he grinds out, trying to shove the anger away. He doesn’t want to attract Hawkmoth’s attention.

“Adrien…” It’s Marinette.

When he looks up, she’s biting her lip. “What do you mean—”

“I mean,” he says very evenly, “that I’m not looking for a romantic relationship.”

And he isn’t.

“But you like her!” Alya bursts out. “It’s totally obvious! You’ve always got this look on your face whenever you see her, and she likes you too so I don’t see what the problem—”

“I do not like Marinette!” he yells, and it feels so good.

“Bro, you know you’re kinda dense about stuff like this—”

“No, I’m not,” he hisses. He actually hisses.

Dammit, Plagg.

“Uh, dude—” That’s Kim, looking awkward.

Adrien growls at him, and everyone stares.

He decides to screw it, because nothing else is working.

“No. I have had it!” He takes a deep breath. “I am not looking for a romantic relationship. Marinette is amazing, and she’s one of my closest friends, but she is just a friend.”

Alya scoffs and starts to say something, but Adrien just talks over her.

It feels so good.

“I am not looking for a romantic relationship because I am aromantic and asexual and I’m sex-repulsed!”

Alya’s mouth drops open.

Nino’s mouth drops open.

Marinette’s mouth quivers.

Lila is the one to break the silence. Of course she is. “Oh, Adrien, I’m sure you just haven’t met the right person yet! Maybe if you went to see a film with me—”

“Oh my god,” Adrien yowls. “Shut up, Lila! You’re the last person I’d want to go anywhere with!”

“But if you just give me a chance—” she says, trying for earnest and and sweet and missing the mark completely. Her eyes are too narrowed to ever pass for innocent and concerned. He doesn’t understand what his father sees in her as a model. She can’t emote worth a damn for all her lies and pretending.

“No! What part of aromantic and asexual don’t you understand?! I’m not wired that way! I don’t want to give anyone a chance!” He forgets himself and their deal and yowls, “And you already lied your way into my house and kissed me without my consent, and, and, took a picture, and sent it to my friends! To try and make them think we were already in a relationship! You got my friend akumatised! Why the fuck would I ever trust you?!”

His voice rises to a shout and it rings in the classroom as Lila stares at him, shocked.

“So,” he says, sweeping up his bag again, “no. I will not go out with you, and I will not go out with Marinette. I am not confused, I am not going to suddenly develop a romantic or, or sexual attraction to someone, I am not—”

His voice breaks.

“Bro…” Nino whispers.

“No. Don’t talk to me.” His voice cracks again. “I’m… I’m angry at you.”

It hurts, that it’s so true.

Nino is his best bro.

Alya bristles. “You shouldn’t be! He didn’t—”

“But he did,” Marinette says suddenly, and if the classroom is silent before, now everyone is holding their breath. “We all did. And we all owe him an apology.”

Adrien risks a look at her.

She’s biting her lip, but she doesn’t look upset at him.

He takes a deeper breath, feeling some of his muscles unwind.

“He’s been trying to tell us all along how he feels, and we all ignored him. Nino, me, and Alya especially.”

“If you do like me,” Adrien manages to say, voice cracking yet again, “I’m sorry. But…”

Marinette shakes her head, and she’s smiling. It’s watery, but it’s real. “That’s okay. Y-you're not obligated. I’m just sorry we ignored your feelings.”

There’s a murmur that sounds like a wave of apologies, and it just makes him scan the corners again for more purple butterflies.

He can’t afford to be this angry. He doesn’t want to fight his Lady.

“You never believe me,” he tells the entire class when he doesn’t see any. “Whenever I tell you how I feel, you all ignore it. You just assume I have no clue what I’m feeling and that you all know better. But as soon as someone else says I might not feel that way, you believe me?” He takes a deep breath, feeling his heart race, trying to slow it down. “The thing is. The only person who knows anything about how I feel… is me. None of you are in my head. What the fuck would any of you know about any of it?”

He stares them all down, and one by one they look away.

“The only person here who listened to me at all… was Marinette. And that means more to me than I can possibly say. She’s my very good friend. Better than all of you are.”

He puts his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you all after I finally get out of the house again. You know. After my father grounds me for all this.”

Adrien stalks out, feeling Plagg’s supportive purr against his chest.

Adrien has been on lockdown for three days before he sneaks out to go sit near the top of the Eiffel Tower. He sends a message to Ladybug over his baton and tries not to get his hopes up.

He wants to see her.

He wants to… to tell her.

She’s the one that matters most to him, and everyone else already knows.

He wishes now she’d known first.

So of course she still doesn’t know.

Nathalie has been running damage control, and his father has been telling him to take it back, but it’s already leaked. It’s too late, and he probably has Lila to thank for that. She’s trying to get even for him going back on their deal and talking about that cheek kiss she forced on him. No matter how angry with them he is, Adrien knows that Nino and Alya and Marinette won’t let that pass. Maybe the rest of their classmates will finally realise Lila has been lying to them all for months.

It’s hard to care about any of that, though. His father has been at the table every night for the past three nights, interrogating him for hours over cold food neither of them touches. It’s exhausting, and the room feels so empty when his father’s lips thin and flatten and he stares at him. Adrien can’t look at him. His father’s disdain and annoyance about what this “stupidity” has done to Adrien’s modelling career and the company’s bottom line feels like it’s flaying him open. He watches the sauce congeal on his plate instead.

Plagg’s been growling whenever anyone—Adrien—so much as mentions his father.

But maybe Lila’s sort of done him a really fucked-up favour. He doesn’t want to pretend he’s available anymore just to sell clothes when he knows that he very much isn’t. And he's never liked modelling much. It's looking like maybe he won’t have to do it again after this, with the thunderous look on his father’s face and the many calls Nathalie has been fielding from shareholders.

He’s just lucky no one’s gotten akumatised over his explosion.

He’s lucky that he hasn’t got akumatised.

He sits there at the top of the tower, legs swinging, as he looks out on the city, eyes picking out the most distant twinkling lights.

He’s only been there for an hour when he hears the twang of a yo-yo string on the wind. When he looks down between his boots, a red and black blur is hopping and leaping up the beams and swinging and flipping off the girders.

“Hey,” she says softly as she sits beside him. “You said you needed to talk?”

Adrien nods blindly, looking up to stare out at the city again.

“About what?” she asks.

When he looks at her, she seems tired, and her eyes are red-rimmed even behind the mask.

“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, forgetting his own issues for a second.

Ladybug should never look like that.

She sags into his shoulder, and he puts an arm around her. “I’m… disappointed, I guess,” she says tonelessly.

“I’m sorry?”

Ladybug shrugs. “I… got my hopes up about something in my regular life, and it… didn’t end very well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says quietly, immediately understanding the overly-careful tones she’s using. He knows not to ask for more, because that’s how she talks when she’s trying to protect her secret identity. He squeezes her against him once and lets go.

Chat Noir isn’t an arse, and he won’t push her on this.

“So. What’s up?”

Adrien hums. “I told a bunch of people something purr-sonal about me the other day. I was yelling at them, and it sort of slipped out accidentally. You know how it is.”

She looks up at him in alarm. “Chat, if your identity is compromised—”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, LB. The fact that I like to wear a cat suit isn’t my only secret. Give me some credit here.”

Ladybug’s mouth drops open before she shuts it sheepishly. He can see the flush with his night vision. “Right. Sorry.”

“But, it’s sort of important to me,” he continues, “and I’ve been trying to tell you about it for a while.” He pauses and looks away, knowing he’s flushing and hoping she can’t see it in the dark. “I wanted to tell you first. So of course I messed up and everyone else knows before you do. But I can tell you now at least.”

“Chat…”

He rolls his eyes again. “It’s not going to give my identity away. There are plenty of people like me.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you that… I figured out I was aro-ace a while ago.”

Ladybug stares up at him in surprise. “Wait, really?!”

Adrien is ready to explain what his words mean, but Ladybug doesn’t seem to need the explanation.

Of course she doesn’t. She’s Ladybug.

Warmth flickers to life in his chest after too long.

It’s been so cold locked in his room, and he just…

He just… loves her.

He still loves her with all the fizzing, gleaming sparks in his chest.

He still wants it to be them against the world, going out and trying everything new together.

He still wants it, even if he knows it will never happen the way he wants it to.

He still wants it, even if she has her boy and her hamsters, and she is forever the wrong target.

“Yeah,” is all he says out loud.

“Thanks for telling me,” she says warmly. “Not that it, uh, makes a difference,” she starts flailing and waving her hands around. She almost flails her way right off the beam they’re sitting on.

Adrien laughs loud and long. He can’t help himself, and it echoes in the still night air. He puts a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking, and his eyes squinch shut.

Ladybug is staring at him, blinking in shock, when he opens them again.

“What?” he asks, mouth clicking shut in embarrassment. He can feel himself flushing again.

“Um… nothing!” Ladybug says. “Just… never mind. It’s just sort of funny, since I had another friend come out as aro-ace a little while ago. I guess you just reminded me of, um, hi- them. A little? No one was really expecting it, so it didn’t go great, but um. I wanted to be prepared, so—research!” Ladybug flashes her jazz hands, and Adrien smiles helplessly at her.

He’s reminded of Marinette and her karate-chopping, and it makes the sparks warmer.

There’s a reason he’s thought more than once that Marinette could be his Lady, even if he knows he’s wrong.

She really has been a good friend to him, just like Ladybug.

“Guess the research already came in handy then,” he says, unable to wipe the small smile off his face at the thought. It’s not one he often wears under the Chat Noir mask, but Adrien’ll always make an exception for his Lady.

They’re friends—great friends—and they’re a team.

They’re partners.

That means something to her, even if it’s not everything he wants it to mean.

It’s fine.

It’s completely fine.

She’s frowning at him when he looks over at her.

“Ladybug?”

“N-nothing. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

She looks away, out at the city, shaking herself. “Nothing. I’m seeing things.” She takes a deep breath. “So how’d it go once you told everyone? Well, I’m guessing? After the yelling was over, I mean.”

Adrien snorts. “I wish.”

Ladybug hunches in on herself. “Oh.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, come on, LB. It’s not like it was your fault.”

“But I’m still sorry it didn’t go well.”

He sighs a little and shrugs. “I got grounded. But that’ll end eventually.” He pauses, thinking. “I probably should have said something ages ago, so maybe it was at least partly my fault, too. I sort of… exploded,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heat. “I try to keep a low profile in my everyday life, and it just got out of hand.”

“You do?” she whispers. “You? What?”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Um…” he trails off.

“Oh! Um, sorry! Sorry.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “What got out of hand?” she asks instead.

Her eyes are huge and luminous in the dark, reflecting the lights and the half-dimness of Paris at night. She’s staring at him like she’s never seen him before.

“Things,” he says slowly, trying to decide what details he can share and still keep his promise to Ladybug about identities. “All my friends… like to matchmake. They’ve been… trying to set me up with… with this other friend for almost a year. They thought I liked her, and that I just needed help figuring that out.” He snorts. “Spoiler: I didn’t need help, LB. She’s just a friend.”

“Really,” Ladybug says, and he doesn’t know what she’s thinking.

When he glances at her, she’s looking at him like Tikki’s magic gave her him as a Lucky Charm. That stare is sharp enough to cut, and he twitches. A shiver races down his spine.

He’s not afraid to admit that that look makes him scared for his life.

“LB?”

“Go on,” she tells him.

He fumbles, because Ladybug never tells him to keep talking. She always wants him to shut up.

“She’s almost as good a friend as you! But that’s all, I guess. It just… it really hurt, how my other friends kept helping me.”

“What do you mean?”

He blinks at her in surprise, but she just waves him on impatiently.

Ladybug never wants details.

“LB?” he asks again, hesitantly.

“Really. I want to help.” She swallows. “Tell me.”

So he tells her. He really wants to talk about it with someone. Nathalie and his father haven’t wanted to listen, and Plagg has been too busy eating cheese to care about Adrien’s “moaning.”

But Ladybug has time for him, even though she’s… disappointed, and she’s got her own problems.

Of course she does.

“It… it was so tiring, all the time, how they just kept assuming things. Everyone constantly finding ways to… to set me up with… with her, like they just needed to trick me into being like, receptive to her or something. I… I hated that. It was like they were all laughing at me, and ignoring me whenever I tried to say that it wasn’t like that, like I couldn’t see what they were all doing. Of course I could! I’m not stupid!”

He’s yelling, voice loud in the quiet night, before he even realises. He flinches. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Ladybug’s mouth is hanging open. “I thought you…”

He flinches again and takes a deep breath. “Look. I know you’re about to say that I’m an idiot and I’m bad at feelings. Which is fair. Because you knew before I did that I didn’t really love you, even if I thought I did. Well, you knew I didn’t love you like that anyway,” he hurries to add. “I do love you. More than… than anyone else I know. You’re important. And it’s important to me that you know that.”

Ladybug is trying to say something but he shakes his head.

“No. Let me… let me finish,” he gets out.

He can do this.

It’s exactly when something is important that it’s important to say it, no matter what.

Ladybug looks uncertain, but nods.

He can do this.

“When I finally got my shit together and worked it all out, I… really appreciated how nice you were about letting me down gently. But I also want you to know that just because I… I don’t love you like that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do care, so much, and I’m not just saying that, or… or being an idiot about feelings.”

He stops and looks at her for an answer, but Ladybug is frozen into silence, eyes wide and staring at him.

He can see the city lights in those eyes.

“You… told me once that you can’t imagine the world without, um, your boy being here. With you, I mean.”

He suddenly can’t meet that stare anymore and looks away.

“That’s… that’s how I feel about you. That’s… how I’ve always felt about you.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh.”

He stares determinedly at the Seine where it snakes away into the distance.

“I’m… not an idiot. Not anymore. So I guess the worst part of everything at, at school, with, with my friends—the thing that really hurt me—is that they all decided that they knew how I felt better than I did. They never believed me when I tried to tell them that they were wrong. But seriously. What do they know about what I think or what I feel?” He snorts. “Nothing. They don’t even know I’m Chat Noir.”

When she doesn’t answer, he turns to look at her. “Ladybug?”

She’s really pale, and her lips are bloodless, and her voice is shaking.

“Adrien?”