Opening Remarks

This one-shot is my submission for day 15 of MariChat May: Something Sweet!

Many thanks to Tuvstarr's lost heart (Author ID: 5179633) for beta-reading this for me and for the help on the summary! Be sure to check out some of her work when you get the chance!

For You

"For you, Adrien."

Pushing himself up off the grass where he had been playing, Adrien ran towards his mother as fast as his spindly six-year-old legs could take him. Reaching his destination, he greedily grasped the proffered sweet. Drooling in anticipation, he sunk his teeth in it and savored the first bite of the soft macaroon, eyes closing in satisfaction. A soft giggle tugged his eyelids open to look for the source, where they settled on his mother, who looked like she was enjoying herself as much as he was enjoying his snack, even though she was empty-handed. Perplexed as to her behavior, the child ceased his chewing to silently inquire as to what was funny with a tilt of his head.

"Are you enjoying your snack?" his mother asked, voice laced with the remnants of her laughter.

Adrien nodded dumbly, still not sure what was so humorous. However, another realization soon took his mind down a completely different track. "But Maman, where's yours?"

"I only got one, mon minet; I don't need any."

Looking back and forth between his partially-eaten macaroon and his mother, Adrien seemed to struggle internally before ultimately staring intently at the sweet. With a determined grunt, his slender fingers gripped each edge of the pastry, and he pulled until it tore in two. With a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face, Adrien held up the half in his right hand to his mother and proclaimed excitedly, "For you!"

"Oh, you're such a sweet boy, Adrien, but your Maman can't eat a lot of sugar right now." His Maman replied apologetically, gently pushing his hand back to himself. Dejectedly, he ate the rest of it himself, sad that his mother couldn't experience the same sensation he was enjoying. Eyes downcast in disappointment, a splash of purple caught his eye.

"Maman taught me that flower! It's a Gourdon! She loves them!" he recalled to himself. Dashing off across the lawn once more, Adrien hastily plucked the flower and presented it to his mother. "For you!" he cried again, this time more earnest than the last, hoping his gift would not be rejected this time.

"Oh, thank you! I love it," she replied, taking the blossom from his hand.

Pleased with himself for finally succeeding, he turned to return to his toy trucks waiting for him in the grass, but he felt a tug on his arm.

"Adrien, I love the flower, but I want to make sure you understand something. Can you listen very carefully to what I'm about to say?"

Confused, Adrien nodded slowly, wondering if perhaps he had done something wrong.

Reading his expression, she smiled softly and affirmed, "Don't worry; you're not in trouble. I just wanted you to understand that just because someone gives you something doesn't mean you have to give them something in return."

"You… you don't like the flower?" Adrien asked quietly, saddened by the news. He had wanted so badly to give a good gift.

"I didn't lie earlier; I love the flower! I just don't need to get something every time I give you something. I give you things and do things for you because I love you. True love expects nothing in return and keeps on giving even when they continue to not receive anything back. I just want you to understand that, sweetie."

Pondering her words for a moment, but still not really sure how to process it, Adrien protested, "But… I WANT to give you things too!"

With a tender smile, his mother took his small hands in her own warm ones and asked, "and why do you want to give me things, mon petit chou?"

"Um," the child thought, biting his lip as he did so. Giving was something he just did, wasn't it? But there was always a feeling involved too… wanting her to taste the same things he did, see the same pretty things he did… "I… I think it's because I like you and I want you to be happy too!"

Beaming at her son, the woman released his hands and ruffled his hair affectionately as she replied, "So long as you're doing it because you love me then that's okay. I just don't want you feeling like you have to because I do."

"Don't worry, Maman! I'll still give you flowers even on days you don't feed me!" Adrien declared with conviction, face drawn in seriousness.

Eyes widening in surprise, it took a moment before she reacted, bursting out in laughter. Once she was able to regain composure, she cupped his face and replied, "First off, I'll never NOT feed you, but I'm happy to know you love me as much as I love you!"

"For you, Papa!" Adrien happily presented the shiny coin he'd found on the sidewalk proudly.

"Put that down, Adrien; you don't know where it's been," his father instructed coldly.

Adrien did as he was told, smile melting into a disappointed frown as he did so.

Beaming up at his father with face smudged in evidence of his efforts, Adrien cried, "Look, Papa! I made a mud pie for you!"

"Adrien! You'll stain the rug! Throw that filth out immediately!" His father yelled indignantly, following up with an interrogation, "Who let you play out in the rain in the first place? I'm going to have to arrange a talk with your mother. Now go get yourself washed up; you're repulsively dirty!"

Adrien told himself it was the dirt stinging his eyes, resolutely refusing to let his tears fall.

"Pa- …Pere, I-I made this for you…" Adrien murmured, hesitantly presenting the model airplane with his adolescent hands outstretched. It had taken him days and several failed attempts, but he'd finally managed to assemble one. He had gone through three attempts before he'd finally managed it. Good thing too, for he only had two left in the kit he'd received for his tenth birthday. He was immensely proud of his accomplishment, but he did not dare to show it.

"I see." Was all Mr. Agreste said, inspecting the toy from a distance. When Adrien held the plane out a little further, the man reluctantly took it, but Adrien was nonetheless ecstatic that his father had accepted it.

"Hm… the wing is bent. See that next time you attempt such a craft, you don't make the same mistake." The man stated simply before handing the model off to his assistant. "Nathalie, find somewhere suitable for that thing."

Adrien tried to hide the weight of the crushing disappointment with a fake smile at his efforts having been accepted, only to be tossed away, but he still had to hang his head to hide the hurt in his eyes.

"Pere…" Adrien hazarded, tentatively approaching the man who sat imposingly behind a large desk, mulling over his work.

'Mr. Gabriel Agreste', as it said on his desk plaque, hummed curtly, not even sparing his son a complete word.

"Erm… I was just wondering," the teenager mumbled, his hand nervously scratching the back of his neck. He wasn't quite sure where to focus his eyes, as his father wasn't providing a means of eye contact, his own pouring over the designs for an upcoming deadline.

"Adrien, I'm a very busy man. I'm sure you understand this. So if you have something to say, say it and be on your way." Mr. Agreste insisted, voice dripping with annoyance.

Biting his lip to keep his resolve, Adrien forced himself to breathe before blurting out, "I-I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you… anything at all?"

Surprised by his inquiry, Gabriel actually paused his work for a moment and looked up to meet Adrien's gaze.

Breath hitching in his throat as he anxiously awaited his father's answer, Adrien dared to hope for a real answer; he'd already gotten much farther than he'd anticipated, for he had his father's full attention!

"Adrien… What could you possibly do for me?"

The question felt like a punch to his gut, the implications certainly not lost on him. He was worthless. His father had no use for him.

Rubbing salt in the wound, Mr. Agreste followed up with, "The best thing you can do right now is to occupy yourself with your studies so I can focus on my work. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm already behind on these approvals."

So Adrien did just that. From his schooling to his part-time work modeling for his father's company, he threw his all into each task, achieving the top scores, rectifying his mistakes, and honing his skills. No longer did he badger his father, presenting him with gifts or unsolicited favors. It finally dawned on him that his father found Adrien's attempts annoying and unacceptable. His father simply saw no value in such things. Instead, Adrien hung his hopes on his achievements, thinking that perhaps the next full mark, the next promotion, the next goal met, or the next word of praise from his instructors would finally turn his father's head.

When he was posing for the cameras, his only thought was, "This is for you, Father."

When he was performing a piano concerto, the thought that fueled his frenzied fingers as they drummed out the tune was, "For you, Father…"

When he was exhausted, sweaty, and close to the breaking point in a fencing match, the thought that kept him going was, "It's all for you, Father, so please…"

When his head was swimming with the next batch of Mandarin vocabulary for his upcoming Chinese test, the thought that effectively cleared his head and helped him focus was, "Wei ni… For you… For you…"

He told himself the silence was fine. After all, it was a step up from outright rejection. He tried to convince himself that he didn't need his father's approval. After all, like his mother had once said, "True love doesn't expect anything in return." He tried to get himself to believe that… really, he did… so why did he still feel this way? Did he not truly love his father?

The answer came to him clearly as he was studying for a French history exam. It wasn't that he didn't love his father. He did, unconditionally, by his mother's definition. He really didn't expect his father's love or even approval in return. No, the one thing he wanted wasn't a token of affection to assure him that his feelings were reciprocated… All he wanted was a simple affirmation. All he wished was for his father to acknowledge that he heard Adrien's cries, however silent they were now… cries of, "For you… For you… FOR YOU!" that he screamed internally while completing each task his father gave him.

"Just please acknowledge that you know I love you."

Adrien hit an all-time low when his mother vanished without a trace. It was around that time that he started entertaining the thought that he was simply unlovable. Hence it was with great surprise that when his birthday came around a few months later, he received a gift from his father.

Not that he hadn't received birthday gifts from his father before; it was just that they could hardly be classified as a 'gift'. With how much money his father made, as evidenced by the mansion in which they resided, one would think that the man would put a little more effort into a birthday gift for his son. Adrien didn't even want an expensive gift, just one that indicated that he was thought of. You know, a present that says, "Hey, you, I'm happy you're alive." Instead, he always received a pen for his birthday.

He'd even be happy with a pen if he knew it was given for good reason. A pen given in some situations could say something encouraging, like, "Hey, you, I noticed your pens were all pretty drab; here's a nice one!" or, "Hey, you, I got you a -personalized- pen so you'll think of me whenever you do your homework…" or even, "Hey, you… You write good." However, Adrien knew the message behind the pens he received was: "Work harder."

This birthday was different, and Adrien couldn't help but marvel in shock at the scarf he now held in his hands. The baby-blue knit felt soft between his fingers, and he knew at first glance that it had been meticulously hand-made; he'd worked in the fashion industry long enough to tell the difference. Of course, his father hadn't made it himself or anything, but the fact that he'd taken the effort to have one commissioned left him speechless. If only his father had actually been there to present it himself. Adrien thanked Nathalie for delivering the gift and asked her to pass on his thanks, restraining the urge to pinch himself to make sure this was all real.

"For me…" he thought, over and over, floored by the realization. His father had picked out a gift for him. This was progress – HUGE progress! Adrien visibly brightened with the realization, hope once again taking root in the soil that had been left barren when his mother left him.

With great anticipation and trepidation, Adrien paced the floor in front of his father's office, waiting to be admitted. He was taking a risk; he knew, but his birthday a few months ago had lit a flame that he couldn't quell, so he had decided to deliver a gift to his father for his birthday in person this year. He'd become accustomed to leaving the gifts with Nathalie each year, for his father dearly hated being interrupted.

Fingers nervously drumming the carefully wrapped package, the teen focused his energy on maintaining a steady rhythm of breathing in and out so that he would not hyperventilate.

At last, the moment came and his father granted permission to enter.

Forcing his anxiety down with a gulp, Adrien cautiously approached the desk, gift-wrapped box behind his back. He tentatively tried to catch his father's eye, but as always, he remained focused on the screens and papers scattered across his workspace.

Clearing his throat, Adrien drummed up his courage and forced himself to speak quickly, for he knew his father didn't tolerate tarrying, "I… Happy birthday, Father. I-I got this for you." Holding out the box, he instinctively retreated a step back as his father grasped it. He twiddled his thumbs in apprehension as the man unwrapped and opened the box, revealing the red scarf Adrien had lovingly placed inside. It wasn't hand-made like his own, but when he saw it in the store, he had thought that the style was rather complimentary to the blue one he'd received on his own birthday, so he'd gotten it. He couldn't help but bite his lip as worry crept up to smother him. The longer his father took to respond, the more suffocated he started to feel.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Gabriel finally replied, staring at the scarf that still lay within the confines of the box, untouched.

"Er, I thought it kinda matched the one you got me for my birthday, though that one was blue, and this one is red…" Adrien hurriedly replied, flushing in embarrassment. He could tell already that his father didn't like the gift, and he couldn't help but revert to his old habit of nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he cast about for a way to salvage the situation. His father had gone out of his way to pick out a gift for him this year, Adrien hadn't wanted to screw this up; he had to think of a way to fix it! "I, uh, can get a different color or something if you don't like it…"

"I don't recall the scarf you say I gave you. I don't wear scarfs, too unprofessional. Thank you for the birthday wishes, but I must return to my work."

The words felt like a stab to the heart. He didn't even remember? After he'd gone and commissioned a hand-made scarf? Something didn't add up… and worse, all those feelings of outright rejection he'd tried to forget came flooding back. Now he remembered why he'd stopped being so forward with his attempts to show his affection… Silence was a kinder response than rejection.

Hardly realizing what his own body was doing, he found himself outside his father's office once more, approaching Nathalie's in a daze. He dreaded the answer to what he was about to ask, but he had to know…

"Nathalie… I need you to be completely honest with me," he pleaded, voice grave and barely above a whisper.

The secretary, usually expressionless, couldn't hide her surprise and concern at the unnatural tone in Adrien's voice as she grimly nodded her agreement.

"Where did that scarf come from? The one my father supposedly got for me?"

Her expression gave everything away, for written on it was shock, guilt, sadness, and fear.

He had hardly waited for Nathalie's full explanation before he fled, the choking sensation taking hold and overwhelming him, such that he felt he would suffocate if he stayed in this mansion even a second longer. He needed air, space, freedom, and a place to clear his mind, so he was grateful when his kwami didn't put up a fight, sensing Adrien's dire need.

Transformed as Chat Noir, Adrien fled the place he called 'home', but now, more than ever, felt was only a prison.

Letting his body guide him, Adrien paid no mind to where he was going, savoring the sensation of freedom as he breathed in the night air, cool and calming.

His thoughts were anything but, racing a mile a minute as they tried to reconcile the years of wasted effort. He tried to soothe himself as he had in the past, repeating the mantra his mother had taught him all those years ago: "True love expects nothing in return."

It wasn't working like it usually had, though, and no wonder… The person who'd said it proved her love for him wasn't so true after all, abandoning him like she had. He found himself suddenly spent, all strength leaving him, and he was forced to settle on a rooftop, no longer trusting himself to leap from rooftop to rooftop in his current condition. Before he could even try to compose himself, the strength left his legs completely and he sank to his knees, tears beginning to spill as the bitter truth washed over him. His mother didn't love him, his father didn't love him, and even after all his efforts, Adrien's worst fear was proven true: his father didn't merely reject Adrien's love, didn't merely remain silent in response, but was rather completely ignorant of it.

His thoughts spiraled from there, questioning everything he thought he knew as he despaired. He was alone in the world, desperately trying to show his feelings for the people he cared about – his mother, his father, Ladybug…. but was never heard no matter how much he gave of himself. He never expected anything in return; just an acknowledgement that they had heard him, so why….?

A sudden flash of light caught his attention and he turned his head to see a familiar balcony. Somehow, he had ended up on an adjacent rooftop overhanging the building that bore the name: "T&S Bakery" - the home of his classmate, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl had emerged from the hatch landing and had plugged in the strand of paper lanterns to light her path as she took a watering can to her rooftop garden.

He watched as she went about her work and noted that she seemed happy. He had often found himself jealous of the girl, for she seemed to have a happy family and was well-loved by them and her friends. However now, he contemplated her in light of his new knowledge. It had been Marinette who had made him that scarf for his birthday. It had been Marinette's name that was ripped off the package before it was presented to him as a substitute for the birthday present his father didn't get him. It would have been easy for Marinette to rectify the situation when he had proudly worn the scarf to school the day after his birthday. After all, she and Alya had asked how he liked it, and in his answer, he had blabbed about how excited he had been to get it from his father. Yet Marinette had stayed silent on the matter despite having every right to correct his knowledge. All she'd done was smile warmly at him, empathizing with his happiness that day.

"True love expects nothing in return…" The words returned, unbidden, to his mind, but rather than propelling him into hopelessness like they had minutes ago, he found himself entertaining a flicker of hope once more. Marinette may or may not have expected something in return for her gift, like a 'Thank you.', but regardless of her expectation, she accepted nothing in return, and instead chose what she thought would make Adrien happiest. So, it was possible; there were people in the world who still gave sincerely… people besides himself… He may not be so alone in the world after all.

Marinette had retreated back into her room, and Adrien found himself mesmerized by the glow that flowed out from her quarters – a beacon of hope amidst his dark outlook. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, drawn like a moth to the flame as he basked in the welcoming glow, but inevitably, the time came for the lights to go out for the night. Her rooftop lights remained on, however, and that's when he noticed it. One of the spokes the strand had been secured to had come loose, causing it to sag in a half-smile, which he couldn't help but think mirrored his own uncertain half-grins he often flashed as Chat Noir. The sight looked so foreign and out of place when it was on the rooftop of the girl whose smile was always warm and reassuring. It was downright wrong, hypocritical even. He had to fix it. Before he had a chance to really think it over, Chat vaulted the distance between the two roofs and silently landed on the railing of her balcony, silhouette cast against the chimney in the light of the lanterns.

He stayed stock still for a moment to make sure he hadn't been heard, then cautiously crossed the threshold and deftly fixed the strand of lights so that it smiled brightly once more. He turned to go, his job done, when a bulb at the end of the strand caught his attention. Now that he was up close, he noticed that the bulb was broken. Now that simply wouldn't do. For someone who shone as brightly as Marinette, she needed a well-lit balcony. Resolving himself to fix the problem tomorrow, Adrien stealthily leapt from the roof and forced himself to return to his residence, for the hour was late.

As summer progressed, so did the heat, and as he was casually passing by one evening, Chat Noir couldn't help but notice that Marinette's rooftop plants weren't fairing so well in the drought. It really wasn't any trouble to just go a few blocks out of his way to get some water from the Seine and shower the browning plants.

After some research, he decided to check in on the plants again a few days later, checking the soil first to see if they needed more water. Couldn't let that first trip go to waste, after all – follow-up was necessary to have any sort of effect.

The plants began to perk up under the steady care of Chat Noir, starting to reflect the bright and cheery demeanor of their owner. Chat found himself swelling with pride every time he passed by the blooms, feeling like he'd actually done something beneficial for the person who'd only wanted him to enjoy his birthday.

He'd taken to hanging around for a bit after watering the flowers, for he'd read that plants thrived when you spoke to them, due to the boost of carbon dioxide in one's breath it gave them. He didn't talk, for he didn't want to give away his presence, so he simply lounged and blew on them. It had never been his intention to eavesdrop, but thanks to Plagg's cat senses, he couldn't help but overhear Marinette sometimes. Usually she was muttering about her homework or some design to herself, or sometimes she'd be talking over the phone with Alya or some girl named 'Tikki'. He'd made a mental note to casually start up a conversation with Marinette in class someday to ask what speakers she was using, 'cause they were so good, he could've sworn it sounded like Tikki was in the room with her instead of coming through a speaker, but there was ever only one shadow cast from her bedroom window at these times.

He had always known Marinette was a cool person, but he learned so much more from the snippets of conversation he heard below. It seemed they had a lot in common, and he found himself drawn in by her passion for even the smallest of tasks she pursued; she always seemed to give things her all, no matter the anticipated result, and that was something he could definitely resonate with.

He wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point, the balcony had become his safe haven. Here he could escape the suffocating atmosphere of home where he barely even existed. Here he could let his thoughts roam and bask in the closeness (albeit unknown to her) of a friend. Here no one told him to stop doing things for them or told him he wasn't even capable of doing anything useful. Here was evidence that he HAD done something useful for someone. Here was someone who could possibly even care for him – not that he was ready to cross that bridge yet… He'd faced one too many rejections recently from the people he cared most about, so he continued to keep his efforts hidden, secret, and safe. One can't reject what they don't even know about, right? At least, that's what he kept telling himself… That it was better this way… that Marinette… that his father… That it was better that they didn't know what he did for them, because then he wouldn't feel their inevitable dismissal.

As summer came to an end, Chat made his routine stop on Marinette's balcony, and immediately felt that something was off. He tensed, fearing that the feeling was an indication that he was being watched… that he'd been caught. He waited for the feeling to pass before he dared to move, surveilling every angle cautiously for any observers. Once he dubbed the area clear, he finally took in his more immediate surroundings, and that's when he saw it. Atop the tea table was something new… or rather, somethings. A box the size of an appetizer plate sat atop the wooden surface, and adjacent, one of the teacups weighed down a neatly folded piece of rosy-pink paper.

Warily approaching the table, he noted that the box had the bakery's logo stamped on the sticker that sealed it, and a cellophane window allowed him to peer in and view the contents. Four petite macaroons of varying colors lay within, looking rather tasty in the pale light of the paper lanterns. Feeling himself begin to drool, he resisted the urge to open the box. After all, what sort of a friend would he be if he just so rudely dug into Marinette's possessions? The dear girl was notoriously scatter-brained; she'd probably had a tea party on the balcony earlier in the day and had forgotten to clean up the leftovers.

He was thus pleasantly surprised when the neatly-scripted letters written on the outer leaf of the paper caught his eye, for it read: "Chat Noir". His whole body went taught at the thought that he'd been caught, but he couldn't stop his hand from instinctively reaching out and grasping it, carefully tugging it free of the teacup.

Unfolding it with a nervous tremble in his fingers, he slowly read the contents:

Dear Chat Noir,

It took me awhile to figure out how my balcony was being so well cared for.
I didn't realize the dark hero of Paris was such a handyman on the side!

Thank you so much! These sweets are for you.
Fondly,
Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Eyes growing wide in disbelief, Chat read and re-read the letter, making sure he'd read it correctly. He especially didn't believe those two little words at the end of the body… 'For you,' they had said.

"Is this really… for me?" He mused, letting the words sink in as his heart slowly absorbed them and felt their impact.

"For me…"

"For me!"

"For me!" He cried gleefully, no longer caring if he was caught, for his heart was soaring.

~ Fin ~

Closing Remarks

I chose macaroons as the 'Something Sweet' for this fic for the sole purpose of them being a symbol of friendship between Marinette and Alya in the episode "Stoneheart". I just thought that Marinette sharing her only macaroon with her new friend by splitting it in half was a beautiful picture and I wanted to carry that through here. So at first I wanted to show that Adrien is of like spirit by replicating the scene, but with him and his mother. Then I wanted to end it with macaroons as well, signifying the official start of the Marichat friendship, for I imagine they start having balcony rendezvous after this since Marinette's on to his little caretaker shenanigans. I just thought they made the perfect 'for you' gift… the very first 'in return' gift the poor, affection-deprived boy has gotten.

I used a lot more French references than I have before in this fic, so here's an explanation of them all in case you missed them. I warn you that most of this knowledge was gleaned from Google, so I apologize for any errors in my understanding and/or presentation of them. If you notice any mistakes, please let me know!
Maman – Mamma
Mon Minet – My pussycat (had to use that one, 'cause you know, he's gonna be Chat Noir!)
Gourdon – A type of flower that grows natively in France and graces the city of Paris with purple blooms
Mon Petite Chou – Literally 'my little cabbage', another term of endearment for a child
Pere – Formal 'Father'. It had always struck me as odd that Adrien addressed his father as 'Pere'… so formal for a young teenager to do so, I thought. But knowing their relationship better after watching the whole season, my guess is that the way Adrien addressed his father progressed from informal and affectionate to cold and formal gradually. I thus tried to reflect that progression in this story.

I also attempted to include some of Adrien's Chinese in here… but I relied on Google translate. xD 'Wei ni' is supposed to be the Chinese (I assume Mandarin) equivalent of 'For you'.

I couldn't resist the slight reference to a Mulan quote, either. "You… You write good." Is meant to be a pun of "You… You fight good.", when Shang attempted to compliment Mulan.

Adrien's birthday scarf situation happened in the episode "The Bubbler". The only parts that are original to this story are of Adrien getting his father a scarf in return and finding out that Marinette made his blue one. (Though I dearly hope he does find out at some point in the upcoming seasons.)

Concerning Adrien's Mother: Since we don't have a lot of conclusive insight into her character, I made a few assumptions concerning her for the purpose of this story. I only included her in the 6-year-old scene as I didn't want to extrapolate her character into the more recent parts of Adrien's life, as I figure anyone can change over time and so if I didn't get her character right, it would still be believable that she was like this at some point, a long time ago. There's also been some questioning as to what was her motive for telling Adrien that 'True love expects nothing in return". Did she mean to prepare him for inevitable rejection by his father, and thus encourage him to persevere no matter the abuse he received? Or was she simply making sure that he didn't feel the need to always reciprocate a gift and to simply be able to accept another's love? No matter her motives, I feel like it was a lesson Adrien needed to cling to. He saw the one extreme of neglect all his life through his father… but then finally got to see the other side of the spectrum through Marinette… when it is reciprocated… and he understands how precious it is for that to happen.

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