Chapter Text
In the solitude of the studio, Hugo leaned in closer to his easel, rubbing the tip of an oil pastel across the canvas. He’d been hoping if he put in the extra hours, he’d finally get somewhere with this piece, especially when everyone else had left the room to follow more sensible pursuits, like eating dinner. But it was impossible to concentrate when his attention kept being drawn to his phone, anticipating further messages from his parents.
Because, without a doubt, something had happened today. Something bigger than just the latest interdimensional gatecrasher. Something that had caused his mother to message him saying things were fine and he should carry on with his plans – no need to rush home.
Which meant there was absolutely a reason to rush home.
He grabbed his phone, waking up the screen and checking it again. The lack of updates made his nerves stand even taller. But there was nothing he could do. Not unless he planned on disregarding his mother’s instructions and abandoning his work.
With a hard frown, he put the phone aside and tried to focus on the canvas. The central form was black, with rough streaks of vermillion, plum and cherry blossom. Now he leaned in once more, pressing the paper with his fingertip and smudging the colours until they blended together, the texture smooth.
He paused, his arm aching from the repetitive motion and his fingertips stained with rainbows. He reached for a tissue on the easel ledge – when he sensed a presence fill the doorway some metres behind him. Her presence, her aura reaching for him and refusing to be ignored.
His mother’s recent words returned to him.
‘I trust you, Hugo. And so does your father. You know better than anyone who you can talk to and who you can’t.’
She – his mother, Ladybug, and the Guardian of the miraculous – had granted him permission to share their secrets with Samia, if he thought it was safe. It should have made him feel freer. He could smash through the wall that stood between them every time they were together. But now that she was here, his pulse rushed with uncertainty.
He’d obviously lapsed into thought for longer than he’d realised, because somehow Samia was beside him now, almost close enough to brush arms. She was examining the canvas, her expression difficult to decipher as she took in the details of the black cat he’d put onto the paper. The emerald eyes – bright and determined – stared back at her as though the creature really was alive.
‘You’ve picked a new theme,’ she finally said.
He gave a small shrug, his skin heating with the proximity of her warm, golden aura. ‘I thought I’d try something new. I did a bunch of sketches, but this is my first attempt at adding colour.’
She nodded in appraisal. ‘I like it. I really like it. There’s so much expression in the face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat look so sad and broken.’
He blinked at her. ‘Broken?’
‘Yeah. I think it’s because the facial features are still rough and uneven. But maybe you’re planning on changing that?’
He took another look at his work. It was easy to say he just hadn’t finished yet, but the truth was he had been intending to leave the face a little…toothy. He hadn’t considered the emotional impact of that decision, but now that she’d pointed it out, he couldn’t unsee it.
Would his father see it, too?
‘He’s beautiful,’ Samia said. ‘Especially the eyes. They’re just like yours.’
Hugo coughed, patting his chest to get it under control.
‘Hey, what’s this?’ She pointed at the bottom-left corner, where he’d left a vaguely shaped smudge, more a suggestion than representation. ‘Is that a butterfly?’
He rubbed the back of his neck, offering her an awkward half-smile. ‘I guess I was kind of saying goodbye to the old theme.’
‘Is this your butterfly swansong, then? Because it kind of looks like the insect is dead.’
‘Y-yeah. You know. Kill the father, and all that. It’s a transition piece.’ He rubbed the back of his neck for no reason.
‘I see.’ Maybe it was paranoia, but she sounded like she saw more than he’d just admitted to her.
He stood up – so quickly that he upset his pastels, spilling a handful onto the floor. Cursing, he started cleaning up the mess. As he worked, he sensed her staring at his back. All these years honing an aura of invisibility, and it failed the second he was in the company of a pretty girl.
When he met her eyes again, she was staring at him so hard that he could feel the weight of it, like fingers pressing against his face.
‘What time were you thinking of heading home?’ she asked.
He glanced at his phone…then at his canvas…then at her again. ‘I guess now.’ There was no point in pretending he could concentrate on his work.
‘Want to walk to the metro together?’
Some sensible part of his brain urged him to say no. He was a jittery mess. But his mouth said, ‘I’d like that. Let me just finish cleaning up here.’
‘By all means.’ Grinning, she stepped out of the way, as if that would give him any more space. Even if she’d been standing on the other end of the room, he would’ve felt her.
Trying to maintain some measure of cool, he packed up, covering the canvas and leaving his name on it so everyone would know it was a work in progress. Then he checked his phone one more time.
Still no new messages.
Frowning, he sent one of his own, to the family chat group.
Hugo: You sure everything’s okay?
He waited, but his parents didn’t reply. Either they were busy, or….
Something awful has happened.
Tucking his phone in his pocket, he turned to Samia, who was sitting on the table sometimes used to lay out supplies. ‘Okay. I’m ready.’
‘Great!’ She hopped down, the movement fluid and thoughtless and lovely.
As they headed out of the room together, she was closer than ever, her arm nearly touching his with every step. The energy between them sizzled and sparked like real electricity, making him clutch his bag tightly to his shoulder.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Why cats?’
It was a predictable question, the kind he’d have to get used to if he ever made a career out of his art. But right now, it made his chest tighten with anxiety.
He breathed out slowly, taking care with his words. ‘I just felt like I needed to move on. Can’t have people thinking I only have one thing.’
It wasn’t an answer. It didn’t explain the specific choice in subject matter. But what was he meant to say? That he’d been inspired to explore his father’s emotional turmoil – and oh, by the way, his father doubled as a cat from time to time?
‘Hugo?’
He jumped at the sound of his name. So much for playing it cool.
Samia frowned. Her aura had darkened a little, tinged blue at the edges. ‘Hugo, is everything okay?’
‘Okay? Sure. I mean, why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m – I’m okay.’
Okay, what the fuck was that?
Thank goodness, Samia didn’t comment, remaining silent until they were out of the building.
As they made their way across the campus green, she said, ‘I don’t mean to pry. But it’s obvious there’s something going on with you. Are you talking to anyone about it?’
He stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and…didn’t reply.
Samia sighed. ‘Is it that family stuff you mentioned the other day?’
He blinked at her, remembering the story he’d spun before. ‘Yeah….’
She moved in closer. He could feel her aura brushing against his own, mingling with it so sweetly that it was like touching her for real.
‘I get it,’ she said. ‘And I know what it’s like to feel like you have to keep these things in the family. But sometimes you need someone outside. Someone not involved with whatever’s going on.’
She was right.
‘I’m sure Alejandro would want to be there for you through anything you might be dealing with,’ she added. ‘And I….’ She trailed off, as if sensing the futility of continuing that sentence.
‘I know. And the truth is, if I were to talk about…about what’s going on…you and Alejandro are the only ones I’d trust with it. But I don’t want to dump my problems on you.’
‘What if it’s not dumping your problems? What if it’s just reaching out and connecting?’
Hugo swallowed, his brain stretching between the two ideas – burdens versus collaboration. It was a tightrope his mother had been walking for years. Hell, the world had nearly ended once, because she’d chosen to keep secrets.
Still – Samia didn’t know what she was talking about. She couldn’t, until she knew the truth about what was going on in his life. And then, it would be too late to change her mind.
They hit the station and shuffled down the steps in silence. The way Hugo was feeling right now, the crowds were hard to take. It was difficult to block out their energy, their thoughts almost as loud as their voices, all smooshing together into a dense haze that was making him dizzy.
He stopped walking, trying to keep out of the way. ‘Which way are you going?’ he made out.
Samia pointed at one of the signs. She was taking a different line from him. ‘I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said. The words sounded banal after the conversation they’d just had.
He nodded tightly. ‘I guess so.’ An equally empty response.
It was time to go, time to head on home and find out what the hell was happening. Instead, he remained in place, locked in Samia’s gaze. He seemed unable to leave until she released him from whatever was passing between them.
She opened her mouth like she meant to say something. Then she closed it, reaching up on tiptoes and pressing her lips to his cheek. They weren’t just warm but hot like fire, her aura invading his and mixing with it. The colours flashed in his eyes, blotting out the station and blending like his oil pastels when he smeared them together.
Then she was pulling away, removing her heat and colour – and heading for her platform.
He stared after her, numb apart from the warmth on his cheek. It wasn’t just memory but something physical, a piece of her aura left behind.
Forcing his feet to move, he headed for his own platform. When the train arrived, he boarded it in a daze. The doors closed, breaking the spell – and he remembered. His parents.
He checked his phone. Still no new messages.
A fog of uneasiness settled over him, thickening as he neared his stop – alighted – exited at his home station. By the time he was opening the front door to the apartment, his mind was a dense cloud of thought, making it difficult to see where he was going.
He blinked it away as best he could, drawing in a deep breath before entering the living room. He stumbled back a step. Although no one was here, he – he could feel them. The place felt crowded, not with bodies but with ideas, emotions, fears.
Like a fish on a line, he let himself be led to the source of those jumbled auras – the kitchen, where his parents were sitting at the table, nursing cups of tea. His mother was haloed in a bruised purple, while his father was engulfed in the black of despair.
His mother offered Hugo a weak smile in greeting.
He let the door fall closed behind him, dread knotting his stomach. ‘What…what’s going on?’
His mother looked at his father, as if seeking permission to answer. When his father didn’t respond, she said, ‘We…we brought Gabriel home with us today.’
Hugo’s mouth fell open. ‘What?’
‘He helped us in battle,’ she explained, her voice as weary as her posture. ‘He…got hurt.’
Hurt…. ‘Is he okay?’ Hugo demanded, though the answer was obvious.
She exhaled. ‘No. He was cataclysmed.’
Hugo’s jaw dropped. His gaze darted to his father. ‘Did you –’
‘No,’ his mother said, her tone hard. ‘Your father had nothing to do with this.’
His father grimaced like he had a different idea, and his aura flashed an ugly violet before settling on black again.
Hugo turned back to his mother. ‘Then, who? What…?’
‘That’s…hard to explain.’ Instinct said she wasn’t just being evasive.
And his father…his father was worried, even after everything Gabriel had done to them.
It had wrung his father dry, too. Sitting at the table, with his head hanging over his tea like that, he…he looked terrified. Even after everything Gabriel had done to them, his father was worried about him.
‘Where is he now?’ Hugo asked.
‘He’s resting,’ his mother said. ‘He’s in your room, actually.’
My room.
My grandfather is in my room.
So, that was why his mother had told him not to rush him.
‘Did today’s akuma alert impact you in any way?’ she asked.
Only half hearing her, Hugo turned to the door. Through there, across the living room and down the hall and through another door, was his grandfather. Right there in the apartment. In his room.
‘Hugo?’ his mother said.
‘No, it – it didn’t impact me. The university locked us all in until it was over, and then it was fine.’
She nodded softly in his periphery. ‘Did you spend any more time with that girl you told me about?’
His head snapped back in her direction – but he didn’t get a chance to reply, because his father suddenly lifted his head. A hint of life glimmered in his eyes.
‘What girl?’ he asked.
‘Just…a girl I know.’ Hugo rubbed at his arms, unsure how they’d managed to turn the focus of the conversation on him.
‘Is she beautiful?’ his father asked.
Hugo’s skin flushed, and his hand went to his cheek without thought, feeling her there again.
His parents exchanged a look that he really could’ve done without, even if it did seem to make his father temporarily forget to be miserable.
‘It’s irrelevant,’ Hugo said, not quite able to meet their eyes. ‘I already told Maman I’m not going to start blabbing your secrets. It’s not my place. And now, with this stuff with my grandfather….’
He paused there, wincing as his father’s aura darkened again.
Samia’s probably would, too, if she knew the extent of what was happening. No matter how understanding his parents were, there was no way he could tell her Gabriel Agreste had come back from another reality. It wasn’t just a matter of telling her about the miraculous or other dimensions. His grandfather was a terrorist, a dangerous person everyone believed was gone for good, but now was….
In my bedroom.
Again, he looked at the door. Gabriel’s presence seemed to reach for him through the wood, weaving through the empty spaces of the apartment. It was even blacker than his father’s, and thready like webs.
Or the mark of a cataclysm.
With a deep shudder, he looked at his parents. ‘Just how bad was his injury?’
Their silence was answer enough.
‘But – how did he know?’ he whispered. ‘How did he know he was going to….’
Die.
Again, they shared a look, this one longer than before.
‘We don’t know,’ his mother said slowly. ‘All we can say for sure is that it feels like he’s hiding something from us. Something more than just that he was going to…leave.’
The euphemism was like a hard stone in Hugo’s chest. ‘Like what?’ he asked.
‘You haven’t picked up anything more than what you’ve already told us?’ his father asked.
‘No. I promise, if I had, I would’ve –’ He stopped there, his words cut off by the sound of the front door opening, followed by careless chatter.
‘The twins,’ his mother murmured.
His father paled, as if she’d just announced he was due for a beheading. He leaned over the table again, clutching his tea for support.
He must have known this would happen. It was inevitable, given the decision to bring Gabriel to the apartment. But it was clear in his eyes, hollow with fear, that he wasn’t prepared for it. Years could pass and he still might not be ready.
‘Do you want me to talk to them first?’ Hugo offered.
His father remained motionless.
Then he drank down the rest of his tea and set down the cup with resolve. ‘No,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I need to be able to face this.’
‘Well, you’re not facing it alone,’ his mother said, also standing. ‘You may have brought him to the apartment, but I’m the one who agreed to it.’
His father gave her a faint smile of gratitude. ‘Alright, then. Hugo – lead the way.’ His voice was strong and bold, though his flickering aura said otherwise.
Hugo approached him, wrapping him in a fierce hug – attempting to inject him with some of his own energy. When he pulled back, his father looked back at him with wide, appreciative eyes. Then Hugo turned for the door, drawing in another deep breath and leading the troops into the living room.
It was time for an Agreste family reunion.