It was tearing him apart.

He presumed that that was the best metaphor for how he was feeling. His chest ached with pain as he winced his way through the surfacing tears he'd worked very hard to hold back. Holding back tears, every day of every week of every month, all for people who didn't give a damn.

Father wanted him to withdraw from public school.

He cursed his last name, not even caring for once that it had once belonged to his long-lost mother, and in a fit of rage he activated cataclysm. He needed to destroy something to get rid of his rage.

He heard Plagg's mental voice seeping into his brain, giving him sound advice while he dashed over Paris in a blinding, maddening fury. He had to damage something easily replaced or that had to be destroyed anyway; he couldn't risk taking it out on innocents.

Yes, that made sense. That was why he ripped the first 'Adrien Agreste' poster he saw to pieces. That was technically his, so he didn't give a damn how badly it was damaged. He actually loved being able to rip it to shreds.

HA! He grinned wildly. SO MUCH FOR YOUR VISION, FATHER!

He let the last bit of dust disintegrate before his eyes, his eyes themselves raw with pain. If this was how it felt to be upset, he never wanted to cry again.

He crossed his legs and sat down right there on the street, sobbing a bit over his pitiful life. He needed this. He needed it badly. But now he also needed a tissue.

You need to speak to someone, have a shoulder to lean on, Plagg advised. Ah, wise, generous Plagg as always... he complained a lot, but when push came to shove, he really did care a whole awful lot. He was even helping maintain Chat Noir for much longer than usual. An extra burst of camembert to work off of from this morning had truly paid off. Chat Noir would not detransform from exhaustion.

He looked up at the innocent corner block which housed the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Ah, this place. He'd been here before... what for? Oh, yeah... multiple things, but most importantly, Marinette lived here.

His first friend, sorta, lived here.

She probably still hated him, which is why he felt a twinge of guilt as he slowed down near her window, eyeing the dim light dubiously. Would she even let him in? Would she do anything? What was the point? He felt guilty that he even considered her a friend after all this time of her avoiding him like the Plague.

Plagg urged him forward, and he touched down quietly on her balcony, the wind playing with his hair. He approached the window and tapped it demandingly, barely paying attention to the strange scene.

In moments, his classmate was at the window, staring him down. It sent shivers down his spine how she managed to unnerve pretty much anyone, but he stood his ground and gave her a pleading look.

Her face suddenly dropped, and her eyes went wide as she put a hand on the handle. She opened it slowly, and he descended into her room, giving her plenty of chances to throw him out. She didn't. Instead, she closed the window behind him and pushed him over to her bed, sitting him down next to an oversized kitten pillow and quietly murmuring something along the lines of 'give me a few minutes' before rushing downstairs.

He looked up, and the first thing he noticed was the mannequin. On it was what appeared to be an incredibly comfortable hoodie that even his father would be envious of. It seemed to be based off of him, two little pulls in the hood being present and a green-and-black colour set being the theme.

He was tempted to try it on, but it was obviously unfinished, so he let his eyes wander elsewhere.

Adrien poster. Scratch that, look elsewhere...

He paused.

Getting up, he stalked over to a poster that had a bunch of marker on it. His chest filled with dread. Oh geez, she really does hate me, doesn't she-

He heard Plagg trying to bring him to his senses. He shook his head and read it carefully.

They seemed to be... notes? Yes, notes on his features, and there were a lot of question marks. In particular, she'd circled one of his eyes and a particular part of his mouth.

Maybe she's figured it out. Maybe she knows. Oh no, what will Ladybug think? She'll-

Yet again, Plagg brought him to his senses, and he read them out to himself.

Eyes - sad, hopeful

Smirk?

extreme politeness - genuine or fake? Study pg 3

It's all there.

Was she... obsessed? He frowned. All these notes didn't seem like those of hatred... they were more... confused? He looked down at a book beneath it and began flipping through pages.

He resisted the urge to swear.

She'd read him like a book. She had his personality nailed down, she knew the boy beneath the Agreste name, it was only a matter of time before she connected the dots and decided he had to be Chat. He sighed helplessly. He would swear her to secrecy, that was how he'd do it. He hated having secrets from his Lady, but he had no choice, not really. Not if he wanted to keep himself fit to be her partner.

And anyway, he realized she probably thought he was a helpless flirt. She probably didn't even realise how much her personality showed.

Just then, he heard the door open, and he hastily put the book down, getting up to greet his host properly. He perked up when he saw a plate filled with little delicacies, the likes of which his father would never let him have.

That's why he wanted one very badly, and Marinette chuckled behind one hand, offering him the plate.

"For you," she explained. "You look like you need it."

He nodded seriously and took the plate from her, sitting down carefully on a nearby chair and balancing the plate on his legs. He grabbed the first thing his hand reached and ate it in record time, moving to the next one without stopping.

When he finally finished, he paused and said, "Thank you very much, Princess. I needed that badly."

"Glad to be of help," she smiled, and oh that was beautiful. He smiled back, not even trying to stop himself for once, and let it be for a bit.

"Well, um," she murmured, "what brings you here tonight?"

"Family troubles," he said with perfect honesty. "I just need to let off some steam. As much as it sounds selfish, the superheroes of Paris need some off-time too. We don't exactly have perfect lives without the mask."

She nodded. "I can get behind that. Feel free to get it off your chest. I'm here if you need to talk."

For a brief flickering moment, his perfectionist model instincts, forced upon him from they day he began, told him no. He had to be perfect for the camera and selfishness was not appealing. It was instantly shot down by Marinette, surprisingly.

"I know that look," she said firmly. "Adrien gives people that look all the time. Don't you dare keep it from me just because some idiot thinks you shouldn't." She huffed. "Now you're telling me whether you like it or not."

He blinked. He gave Marinette that look? Yes, he thought, yes he did. He gave everyone in school that look constantly. He sighed and exclaimed, "You wound me, Princess. I would tell you anything."

"Yes, I'm aware," she smiled. For a moment, a thought quivered on her lips, but then she shook her head and continued, "Do tell me about these family troubles."

"My father... wants me to stop going to school," he admitted. "Join the family business, and all that. But I hate it. School is my only escape from my life, other than being a superhero, y'know? Some days I feel like he's going to find out I'm Chat Noir and he's going to cut me off from Ladybug and protecting Paris, too, and I'm going to be right back where I started."

"He can't stop you from being a superhero," she murmured. "You're very important. It would be like telling the Mayor to resign."

He sighed. "He has that kind of power."

"He shouldn't..." she muttered. Sighing, she continued, "Is there anything I can do?"

He stared at her for a few moments, at her kindness, at her blue eyes that stared at him, at the face lined with concern.

"Tell me about Adrien," he requested suddenly, ignoring how weird that was. "You seem to have his posters everywhere..."

"Ah, that's embarrassing," she admitted, blushing. "I, uh, well... how do I say this?"

You hate him.

"I love him very much."

Chat stared at her with wide eyes. "You do?"

"Yes." she pointed to the poster with the notes. "I'm still figuring him out a bit, but... the more I discover, the more I love him, and the more I wish I could rescue him from the pain and suffering he goes through for everyone." she let out a shaky breath. "He has time for nobodies like me, even though he has expectations to meet and an image to maintain, no matter who the boy is underneath. He has to keep himself - the very person I've fallen in love with - under the surface." She punched thin air irritably. "Sometimes I wish I could just crack that mask on demand. As it is, it's so rare for him to show his true self that I have to watch him like a hawk to remind myself that he's still there. It's getting weaker, too."

There was a blatant frustration in her eyes, like she wanted to rip something apart out of pure despair over his troubles.

"You're very kind," he said absent-mindedly, running a clawed hand through her hair gently. "I'm sure he'd love having a friend like you."

She looked up at him and for a horrible moment he wanted to burst into tears and hug her with all his might.

Someone loves me. Someone who sees me for me.

Why am I so confused?

He took a shaky breath and looked out at the sky in blissful silence.

"Chat?" she murmured. "Are you okay?"

"No," he said firmly. "Never have been."

Dead silence.

Then a pair of arms wrapping around his waist, a chin resting on his head, two delicate hands locking together and gripping him.

He cried.

She knew.

Maybe it was the way she told him to come back sometime. Maybe it was the way she sent him off with a bag of Croissants that were suspiciously fresh enough that they'd still taste wonderful ten minutes later, bout the time it took to get from Marinette's to Adrien's. Perhaps it was even how she waved nervously at him, smiling dubiously, as if she didn't know how to react.

He smiled and waved back, wiping another tear away, and he was about to leave when he heard a sudden pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof.

"Oh, no, now it's raining!" She complained. "Wait there a moment, I'll get you an umbrella..." she ran off, and he waited patiently, seeing her return with a familiar umbrella.

"Here," she said, pushing it into his hands. His eyes flitted back and forth between her and the umbrella, and he tried desperately to hold back the familiarity he figured was in his eyes when he looked at the umbrella. With a subdued smile, he thanked her and dashed off.

Way too close.

"It's him, Tikki."

"I know."

A few nights later, Adrien woke up in the morning to a silent room, as always. He got dressed and ran downstairs, thanking Nathalie for his schedule, gritting his teeth at the large number of activities he had.

Wait, where was school?

His chest hurt as he fought the desire to cry.

Going into his limo, he sat down and waited for his father to talk through the camera that day.

Nothing. Nothing for a solid fifteen minutes.

As they rolled into his Chinese lessons, Nathalie got a call. The first few words caused her to shiver, and at some point she dropped the phone entirely.

Adrien picked it up and said, "Adrien Agreste speaking. It seems you've shocked Nathalie out of her mind, so would you please repeat the message so I can relay it later?"

All the voice said was, "I'm sorry, Adrien. Your father is dead."

That night was filled with confusion.

He was free.

The cage was dead.

But he didn't really want his cage dead; he wanted it alive and he wanted it to stop being a cage. Unfortunately, it died a cage, and he cried not out of sadness over his father but anger over the fact that he never got a shot at family.

He forgot to go to patrol. He just sat there in his bed for a full day, feeling conflicted and sorrowful.

It was looking out at his window that snapped him out of it.

"Ladybug?!"

I am a grade-A idiot.

This is what she told herself as she hung upside down from his roof, holding on by just her yoyo as she stared at him Spiderman-style.

"Hey," she murmured.

"Hi," he breathed back.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's just me. Maybe-

"So. I'm sorry things ended up like this. You can take a break from patrols if you need to."

She let the implications set in. His face rippled from relief to guilt to realization, and now to awe.

"You knew?"

"Only for a week or so!" She corrected quickly. "I, uh... figured it out." A pause. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he replied, opening the window and holding out a hand to his Lady, who stepped down into the room gently and helped him close the window behind her.

"Listen, I..." she shook her head. "It isn't fair as it is. I'm going to drop my transformation."

An electric thrill went through his body. He didn't even care that he was supposed to be mourning over his father, this was Ladybug who was about to reveal herself to him.

She paused, and in the shaky voice he remembered from the day they met, she asked, "Promise me that... you won't expect some sort of perfection to hop out of the suit. I'm not as amazing as you think I am."

"I'm ready for that," he said calmly. "I know very well that you're going to be amazing anyway, no matter what you say."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Tikki? Spots off."

The little sparks of magical residue dispersed, and left in her place was-

Oh.

OH.

"Marinette?" He asked carefully, taking a step towards her.

"Yeah," she nodded, swallowing deeply. "I'm sorry-"

Adrien said nothing. Instead, he grabbed her and hugged her tightly, and after a few moments she relented.

"Best. Day. Of. My. Life." He said firmly. "I know my father is gone, but... I'm willing to forgive myself for hating him so much, if this is what I was missing." He let go gently and she pulled away, eyes wide.

"Marinette, can I come over more often?" He inquired. "And, uh, can we-"

"Of course," she interrupted. "uh, go on. Sorry." she blushed furiously, and finally he gave in.

Hopefully if she doesn't return my feelings I can brush it off as platonic.

Both of their minds went blank for a few moments, and then they pulled apart.

"I... uh, sorry, I mean um-" Adrien began, trying desperately to cover over what he'd done.

"Hush," she murmured. "and... let's do that again."

The next morning, Alya fully expected Adrien to be late again, if he showed up at all. It wasn't on headlines why, but being who she was, she could tell from a mile off that something had happened, and that that something was big.

Instead, she saw him walk in five minutes early, Marinette by his side.

"Sure!" She agreed, though to what Alya wasn't sure. "I'll prepare some of those Croissants you like, I'll bring them with me now that that dietician is out of the way."

"Thank you, Marinette," He smiled softly at her and Alya noticed with a start that he had touched her shoulder for a prolonged period of time without Marinette freaking out.

Wait, Marinette was spewing coherent sentences in front of him too. What was all this?

Right, time to get her to spill.

As Marinette sat down next to her, the two sharing greetings, she focused hard on Adrien's presence. The moment he left, she gripped her friend's shoulder and said, "Spill."

Marinette giggled. "I got lucky."

"More specific, girl."

"Um," Marinette considered. "Well, you could say he called me near midnight yesterday."

"And?"

"He might have asked me on a date after a very long night of gushing over Ladybug and trying not to think of his dad."

Alya paused, then said, "THE HECK?!"

"Shush, it's not on the media yet!" She hissed. "Gabriel passed away recently. It hasn't been released due to the... unfortunate... nature of his under-the-table actions. One phrase: Hawkmoth is also dead."

There was a quiet widening of eyes, and Marinette continued, "Also, just a heads up, you're talking to Ladybug."

Alya got up and dropped her stuff.

"Alya?"

"Nope. Nope, nope, nope."

"Alya."

"This is madness. I'm dreaming."

"Alya."

"All aboard the nope train to fuck that ville."

"ALYA!"

She snapped around and walked out the door.