He came back.

It has been almost eight years since the last time he was back. Now, things are a little different. He has asserted to his father that he refused to be the face of the company anymore and his father grudgingly agreed, saying that he was too old to be the face anyway.

Now he seems to be in a more active role in the company, which made him feel marginally more useful than tapped the seat of his gleaming silver limousine impatiently, looking out the window in wonder. Eight years really could make a difference to a place. He had come across no less than a dozen new buildings and wistfully remembered what they once were. Chloé was not with him, adamantly refusing to leave New York, which she took to like a fish relocating to another pond. Not that he minded. Where he was going, he would prefer if she did not come.

"Master Agreste, we've reached your first destination," the driver said gruffly, getting out of the car and rushing to the other side to open the door for him. As usual, Adrien let him. It was a game they'd played since he was a child. If he complied, the driver would not cause him any more trouble.

With a nervous sigh, he unfolded his long limbs out of the limo and pushed his knees back as far as they could go to stretch his sore legs. He looked up at the building, comfortingly unchanged amongst the new buildings he'd seen on the way here.

Shaking his limbs to get rid of the nervous energy, he walked over to it and pushed open the door, which let out a small jingle. Nervously, he raised his eyes to the counter, trying to control his shaking before meeting the person behind it.

Which wasn't the one he was expecting.

Mrs Dupain-Cheng turned around and faced him with a wide smile that made him ache at the familiarity of it."Welcome!" she called out, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. Her hair had grey streaks in it, he noticed. It was also tied back in a bun. "Can I help you?"

She doesn't recognise him, he realised with a jolt. Well, he shouldn't be surprised. It has been eight years. He took off his sunglasses, ran his fingers through his short hair and flashed her a wide smile of his own.

"I heard this was the best bakery in Paris," he said, happy to hear his French still legible after so many years of disuse. "I'm just looking for cream buns."

"I have just the one," she said as she disappeared into the back room, reappearing soon after with a tray of cream buns. "Hot out of the oven," she smiled at him and he ignored the ache again. "How many would you like?"

"Two would be enough, Mrs Dupain-Cheng."

She blinked and packed the bread into two separate white paper bags. Adrien crossed the short way to the counter and proceeded to pay for the two packages. As he took them, his hand brushed hers and she looked at him closely, her eyes full of wisdom.

He could see exactly when she recognised him so he quickly took the bags, jammed his sunglasses over his eyes and walked over to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned and smiled at her. "Thanks for the bread, Madame. Au revoir."

He quickly strode to the limo and passed a bag to his driver, who scrambled to open the door for him. Clambering in, Adrien pressed his head against the headrest, trying to control his breathing. It was stupid for him to think that she'd be there. He should've considered the fact that she wouldn't be, that she would have her own life.

But it didn't stop him from hoping.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now!"

Alya lowered her hands and screamed. "Marinette! It's beautiful!" She ran forward and tackled her friend, sending both of them falling over on to the bed. "Now I know why you won't show me, you little devil-angel you!" She then proceeded to pinch her best friend's cheeks and pulling them.

Marinette laughed as she pushed Alya's hands away. "I'm glad you like it," she smiled, rubbing her sore cheeks.

"Like it? I love it!" Alya already had the dress and was twirling with it around the room, hugging it to her.

"Will I fit in it, though," she mumbled, eyeing the tiny waist on the dress, which was the traditional snow white, the bodice embroidered with soft apricot roses, each with a tiny pearl in the middle, the bottom of the dress beginning with the same apricot of the roses before ending with a light sherbet orange. It was droop-strapped, the straps thick lace with the same rose motif.

Marinette lightly punched her friend's shoulders. "Are you doubting me?" she teased.

"Of course not! Just teasing," she grinned as she twirled again gleefully. "To think, I'm wearing a Ma Petite Coccinelle exclusive!"

"It's not even an exclusive; it won't appear in any of my lines. I made this especially for you, Alya. Not to be made on a production line for countless others to wear." She smiled fondly at her friend, who's both the same as always yet different. Her hair was longer, tied perpetually in a ponytail. Her body was no longer that of a teen, as elegant as a woman. Her friend was a woman now, she thought wistfully.

Alya pursed her lips, deliberating on what Marinette just said. "Some people would pay me a pretty penny for a unique Ma Petite Coccinelle piece," she considered.

"Alya!" Marinette groaned. "Are you serious?"

Alya grinned devilishly. "No."

The dark haired girl rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get you dressed. You don't want to be late for your own wedding, don't you?" Firmly, she plucked the dress out of Alya's hands and plopped her friend on the seat opposite the vanity. She began to untie the ponytail and brushed it, carefully detangling as she did.

"You mean like when you were late for yours?" Alya asked cheekily.

Marinette flinched and continued brushing Alya's hair. "I had some things to work out before going through with my wedding," she said slowly, eyes clouding at the memory of it.

"You want me to leave? But Marinette why? Did I do something wrong?"

Marinette shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. Her chest felt tight; she can't breathe. But she knew she needed to do this.

"You are a wonderful friend to me, Tikki. No one else has been this close to me. No one is as close to me as you have been. I kept you even from my best friend. You're very special to me."

"Then why are you sending me away?" The pink kwami closed her eyes slowly, like she was in pain. "What about Ladybug?"

"People will always need Ladybug. But we both know that I can no longer be the Ladybug everyone needs. It would be selfish for me to keep doing what I'm not fit to do, anymore. You know that more than anyone else."

Tikki was quiet for a long time. "I know," she whispered. "I know you're right. Doesn't mean I like it. Okay. I will find another chosen. Hawkmoth is not done yet. Ladybug is still needed. I will go." She zoomed over and nuzzled Marinette's cheek, longer than ever before. "I will miss you, Marinette. Remember, no matter what, you're still the cutest Ladybug." Tikki smiled as she went away.

Marinette smiled back, tears falling hot and fast as she felt her earrings disappear with Tikki. Trying to control her sobs, she turned away from the window and put on her diamond drop earrings for her wedding.

She shook herself to get rid of the cobwebs of the memory and to focus on getting the bride ready for her wedding. "Besides, I wasn't that late. It was only, what, fifteen minutes late?"

"Around that," Alya agreed. "But it was long enough that people began looking for you." She was quiet for awhile as Marinette brushed her hair. "You did a good job, though. Hiding your eyes."

"What?" Marinette's hands stilled.

"Your makeup was good. People didn't even know that you'd been crying." Marinette kept quiet for a minute before continuing to detangle Alya's hair.

"You knew," she smiled. She should've known.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Alya turned around on her seat, forcing her friend to stop. She looked straight at Marinette's eyes, daring her to turn away. When she didn't, Alya continued. "Are you okay?"

"I wish you would stop asking that," Marinette chuckled. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Fine enough that you didn't even send Adrien an invitation to your own wedding?"

Damn. "I did send it. It maybe got lost in the mail." Or Chloé threw it out, she thought sardonically.

"Uhuh." She could tell that Alya was thinking of exactly the same thing. "Listen," Alya began uncharacteristically fidgeting. "You know Adrien's Nino's best friend, right?" She didn't allow Marinette to answer. "Despite everything, they've still kept contact-"

"He's here, isn't he?" Marinette interrupted, feeling cold all of a sudden.

"He might not come!" Alya said quickly. "Maybe his invitation got lost in the mail, too."

Marinette considered it for a moment before firmly turning her friend around to face the window again. "Maybe," she smiled. "Now stop fidgeting and let me get you ready."

When Adrien stepped out of the limo, his first thought was, 'This is…grand.'

Which was true. He would've never pegged Nino as the kind of person who'd go for the whole nine yards for his own wedding. The outside of the church had two large flower bouquets on either side of the door and the inside was packed with more people than he would've thought Nino would know. On the church lawn, at least five photographers lounged, casually talking to one another or lazily snapping pictures of the guests arriving. At the entrance of the church was Nino, pacing back and forth nervously with a cigarette between his fingers. Adrien's eyebrows lifted marginally; he didn't think Nino would be the type to smoke. With a jolt, he realised that he'd been away for longer than he realised. Fixing his collar and smoothing his tuxedo, he strode towards the front of the church.

As he did, the photographers began nudging one another and pointing at him. Not long after that, all the photographers began murmuring with the other and several of them even snapped a couple photos. Adrien ignored them and never broke his stride. Several paces from the doors, he was stopped by a tiny photographer with three cameras around his neck which looked heavy enough that he should have been stooping.

"Excusez moi," the photographer began. "Are you, by any chance, Adrien Agreste? Son of Gabriel Agreste?"

"I am those, yes."

Excitedly, the photographers began crowding him, calling for his picture. Adrien looked down and held up a hand to shield his face. "Please move," he said, to no avail. What looked like five photographers felt like far more. He hadn't felt like this since he first took part in the company and he felt his throat tighten as they encroached deeper within his personal space.

Just as he was about to yell out, someone else did the yelling. "Hey, hey! Don't bother my guests! You were hired to take their pictures, not hound them like starving dogs!" Nino appeared with Adrien's bodyguard, both bodily pushing the photographers away. "Adrien! You came!" Instantly, Adrien was swept into a huge hug that made his ribs squeak in protest.

"Nino!" Adrien gasped. Nino dropped him and led him to the front of the doors of the church.

"He's with me," he told the people at the front desk, who nodded and turned back to their invitation lists. "I didn't know you smoked," Adrien nodded at the cigarette still between his fingers.

Nino grinned and tapped the lit end to his sleeve. "Electronic cigarettes. Trying to break the habit; Alya doesn't like it." Then he jumped, as though just remembering something.

"Adrien! My god, I had no idea you'd be coming!" He hugged Adrien tightly again and this time Adrien just laughed along. The once-gangly teen had filled out and was built like a barrel, with a wide chest and large hands. He never would've known when they were kids. "Man, you're skinny!" Nino commented as he dropped his best friend, eyeing him with concern. "Have you been eating right?"

"I have, don't worry. Look at you, you world famous director! I thought you said you hated film school!" he punched Nino's arm playfully. It felt like punching steak.

"I did, initially," Nino looked down bashfully. "I was even thinking about dropping out, if Alya hadn't said she'd refuse to see me anymore if I did. For someone so tiny, she's scary."

Adrien threw his head back and laughed, his first sincere one in a long time. "She's always demanding, isn't she? Ever since school." His mind flashed a memory of Lady Wifi and he shook his head; now was not the time."And this wedding," he let out a whistle as he peeked inside. "That's a lot of people."

His friend laughed. "Man, after this you don't even need to bother giving me a present. Just you being here is the best thing you could've given me!"

"So you don't want the extremely expensive present I bought especially for you?"

"Well…" Nino playfully considered, "I wouldn't refuse it."

"Do you want it now?"

"Really?"

"I have it in my pocket right now."

"How expensive could it be if you could have it in your pocket," Nino asked doubtfully.

"My friend," Adrien draped an arm around his friend's shoulders. "You should know that good things come in small packages."

"Okay, okay. Gimme it."

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Nino did as he was told. Then in his right hand, he felt something smooth like metal, still warm from being inside Adrien's pocket. He ran his fingers over it. "Adrien I told you I'm quitting the smoking thing," he said with his eyes still closed. "Hey, I didn't even know you smoked. Open your eyes."

He opened them and in his right hand was a cylindrical thing made of chrome about three inches long, with an elaborate cap. "I'm sorry to say, I'm going to need a lot more than this to get me drunk," he laughed as he twisted the cap open…only to reveal a bubble wand. He stared at it for a couple minutes before howling with laughter. His laughter was so loud that the guests inside turned to see what was going on. "Are you serious? Get in there and take your seat!"

Adrien laughed along as he was ushered to an empty seat at the end of the aisle, somewhere near the middle of the church. He sat down and his laughter died on his lips. There she was, looking breathtakingly beautiful in her simple salmon pink maid-of-honour dress, her hair swept up in a sleek French twist with tendrils framing her face. She was making her way to the front of the church when a man with red hair put a hand on her elbow. She turned and the ache in his chest intensified as her eyes, blue as the sky after the flush of dawn, remained the same as he remembered them. She was still pale, but he'd always loved that about her. She said something to the man and smiled at him before turning around to face him fully. She raised a hand and placed it on the man's cheek tenderly and Adrien felt the blood rush to his head when he noticed the ring on her left ring finger. No. No it can't be.

Unthinkingly, he shot to his feet. That caught her attention. Her eyes flitted to meet his and her pale face became even paler, until even the lipstick colouring her lips could not hide the fact that the blood had drained from her face. She smiled at the man again and said something to him. The man nodded and turned around, heading for his seat. A flash of recognition hit him and he realised that the man was no other than Nathanael, his old classmate.

Physically pulling herself together, Marinette stomped over to him and took his elbow. She pulled him into an empty antechamber and closed the door behind her.

"Marinette…" Adrien made his way towards her and placed a hand on her cheek. She was cold but soft to the touch.

Instinctually, she raised her face towards his and her lips parted. Catching herself just in time, she smacked his hand away. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited. What are you doing here?"

"I am the maid of honour! And Alya is my best friend. I will not miss her wedding!"

"And Nino is my best friend; I will not miss his wedding either!"

They stared at each other. Adrien didn't know what was going on in her mind at the moment, but he clenched his hands against his trousers to keep them from grabbing her, biting his lips hard to keep them from kissing her. She was so close that he could smell her, a scent he thought he'd never smell again. The scent of coming home.

"Where's Chloé?"

"What?" He had to shake himself to remember where he was.

"Where's your wife." The way she said it made it sound like she was reminding herself of something. Maybe she felt the same as he did. Even a little.

"She didn't want to come." She threw up her hands and snorted, unimpressed. "Where's your husband?"

She jumped. He knew. She stared at him as he stared at her ring. Consciously, she fiddled with it. "Outside. You saw him just now."

It took a while before what she said sank in. "Nathanaël?" he spluttered. "You married Nathanaël?"

"And what's wrong with that?" Marinette asked defensively. "What was I supposed to do, Adrien? Wait for you? Hope for you? Cry myself dry for you? Because I've done that and a whole lot more, trust me."

"I," Adrien moved forward, closing the small gap they had between them. "I'm sorry," he placed a hand on her cheek automatically.

"Don't touch me!" Marinette exploded and he leapt back, alarmed. She was shaking like a leaf, tears already threatening to fall. "Please, it's taken me so long to feel okay. Please don't take that away from me again."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"You should be," she retorted, her voice hard.

"Hey, it hasn't been easy for me, either," Adrien argued hotly. It wasn't fair, to blame just him on this. He was a victim too. "I don't like it any more than you do!"

"But do you feel like a hole has been formed somewhere inside of you? Like a large chunk of your flesh was yanked out but never healed? Do you ever look at every golden sun-tipped leaf and think of him and only him? How you could never get him out of your mind? His smile is there at every corner, his laughter ringing forever in your ears? Or do you just feel like a dull ache of regret?"

Adrien licked his lips. "I feel all that and more. I feel her smile every time I lie down on my side. I feel her hand on my cheek every time it's spring and a breeze hits my face. I feel her laughter every winter and I'm on the roof, looking down, her smile on my lips and her laughter in my ear. I see her face every time I close my eyes, the face she showed me when I made the biggest mistake of my life, when I pulled away from Chloé at my wedding."

"Yet you chose differently."

"Yet I chose differently."

They remained silent for a while, staring at each other. The room was too small for the two of them; they were too close to each other, even when they were both pressed against opposite walls. Their breaths were mingling even with the space between them. They only had to reach out and they would be touching. She was so close to him, yet so far.

She pushed herself away from her wall just as he pushed himself off his and suddenly they bumped into each other. "I'm sorry-" she said automatically, her eyes rising to meet his, her hand on his chest to steady herself.

He couldn't help it; he dipped his head to meet her soft lips. Only to be met with her cheek as she turned away. "I can't," she whispered, already pushing away from him and making her way to the door.

She had her hand on the doorknob when she looked up, blinked profusely as she took in deep breaths. "You might not like me marrying Nathanael," she said softly, her back towards him. "He is not you and he can never be you; but at least he can save me from myself."

Adrien found himself breathing hard."What about Ladybug?" he asked suddenly.

She fiddled unconsciously with her ears, which had stud earrings in the shape of a flower. She turned towards him with a wan smile. "A Ladybug is nothing without her Chat Noir," she said as she turned away and opened the door.

He stood there in the darkness for a while, trying to control himself. By the time he could trust himself enough to keep a façade in public, he stepped out of the tiny room. The service was well underway by the time he came out, Alya already radiant as the sun at the front of the church; Marinette standing proudly next to her. He quietly slipped into his chair and watched his best friend get married. He wondered if his bride ever looked as happy as Alya did right now. He wondered if Marinette looked as happy on her wedding day as Alya does right now. At the thought, he turned his gaze towards her and the same thought from eight years ago popped back up in his head. She was too strong for her own good.