Author's Note: Thanks so much to Writing_Bearifficly on ao3 for their amazing prompt of spots! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Summary: Prompt: Spots. Gabriel overreacts, then overreacts some more. (But really, how is this different than any other one of these chapters?)

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August 13, Entry #39 of Gabriel Agreste's Secret Journal

I am dying. There are itchy red spots on my face, arms, and stomach, and my whole body feels as if it had been run over by a train.

I called my lawyer to tell him to come see me and redraw up my will, as it had been a while since I had last done so, and some changes needed to be made. After all, I must leave a sizable portion of my wealth to Pumpernickel to make sure he is well cared for after I am gone. And I must allocate some funds to the intern so that she can start her fashion line. Someone must run the company once I am gone, and I trust the intern's fashion sense way more than my own son's. For proof, see entry: Adrien wears the same clothes every day and I am Concerned.

But back to the matter at hand. Pumpernickel was sleeping at the edge of my bed, giving me some comfort in my last hours. I had the lights dimmed, so as to not showcase the horrible spots marring my skin and marking me for death.

"Pumpernickel," I whispered in a rasping voice, reaching out for the one thing I would miss most in this world.

Pumpernickel mewled, continuing to lick his paw.

I then heard the door to my bedroom creak open, and Adrien's face appeared. "Father?" Upon seeing me in this horrific state, Adrien inquired further. "Are you okay?"

"No," I wheezed out. "I am dying."

"What?!" Adrien exclaimed, his expression looking properly panicked.

"Say goodbye Adrien, this may be the last time you ever see me alive," I stated, draping my forearm over my forehead. I coughed weakly to convince him of my sickly state.

"Father, are you serious?"

"Deathly."

Adrien looked quite sick himself, his skin suddenly going pale and hair standing up as he raked a hand through it. Finally, I thought. We look like one another.

"What brought this on?" Adrien questioned, creeping toward my bed. "I didn't know you were sick."

"I wasn't. It all happened so suddenly—one moment I was binge-eating chocolate croissants, rewatching Stranger Things, and lamenting my lack of telekinesis powers, and then I noticed this rash all over my body. My health quickly deteriorated from there."

Adrien's brows furrowed, and he took a step toward me.

"No," I protested feebly. "Stay away! It might be contagious, and I cannot have you dying and leaving the intern to run the company by herself."

Adrien choked, freezing in place. "What did you just say?"

"No, stay back, how can I ensure I become a ghost so I can haunt the Gorilla and make sure he continues feeding Pumpernickle the good cat food. Maybe I just thought that last one in my head. See what this sickness is doing to my brain!"

"You're giving Marinette Agreste Fashions?!" Adrien looked more surprised at this than he did at my inevitable death. I huffed, turning my head away from Adrien so the light from the hallway would hit my skin and make me look even paler.

"Not right away. She has to prove herself first by making her own clothing line. I'm not irresponsible," I said, hoping Adrien did not see the mountain of empty Dupain-Cheng Bakery boxes stacked next to my bed.

Adrien just slowly shook his head. "You have no idea how much this means to us. Thank you Father."

"I am glad I could give you this last bit of peace before I depart from this world." The mention of my impending death seemed to shock Adrien out of his stupor, as he turned and began to examine the red bumps marring my pristine skin. I was too exhausted to tell him to step away lest he also catch his death.

"Father," Adrien drew out the word. "Did you say you were eating the chocolate croissants when you noticed the rash?"

"…Yes."

"Well, the rash on your skin looks like hives, and since it looks like you've been eating an awful lot of chocolate croissants, I'm guessing that you must be allergic to the chocolate in the croissants. Good news is that you aren't dying."

"NOOOOOOO!" I exclaimed. "Death would be a less cruel fate!"

I then proceeded to pull the sheets over my head and bury myself in the bed to hide from this cruel, cruel world with the intent to hide there for at least several days. Three hours later, however, Nathalie forced me to withdraw myself from my cocoon and get back to work, or else she would cancel the order for authentic Harry Potter wands I had her place.

What a cruel world indeed.