33. Revealed(2)

“…You know what, never mind,” he decided, glancing back to Adrien and Marinette. “You guys should head home. It’s getting late.”

Marinette shrugged, and then instantly regretted the careless gesture when pain lanced through her right arm, as if to remind her of everything she had put it through tonight. She winced, a hand going to her right bicep, and she felt rather than saw Adrien step closer to her.

“You okay?” Emerald Shell asked, his tone alarmed. Wincing in guilt now, Marinette made herself nod.

“Yeah…just was a little rougher on my arm than I usually am,” she confessed. Shell shot her a concerned glance, looking like he wanted to say something—

Warmth closed around her left hand, and Marinette looked up, blinking at the serious expression on Adrien’s face.

“Let’s go back to my place. It’s closer,” he said. Marinette thought about protesting for a second, but the glint in Adrien’s eyes suggested that he wasn’t about to hear any excuses tonight.

Marinette sighed through her nose. It looked like ‘later’ was officially here.

“All right,” she relented, nodding to him in affirmation before she turned back to Emerald Shell, whose gaze was bouncing back and forth between them, curious. “Well…we’re gonna go. Uh, take care, Emerald Shell. You should probably get some rest, too…maybe call somebody to decompress or something.”

Marinette shot him a look, and Shell made a face at her before huffing.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, waving a hand for them to beat it already. Taking the cue, Marinette allowed Adrien to lead her out of the square, silence falling between them. Inside, Marinette’s insides began to coil into an even more convoluted knot than they had been in all night.

Her stall time was officially up; there was no doubt in her mind that Adrien would be demanding a few answers from her tonight, the first chance he got.

That was fine. It was time for them to talk.

They should especially talk about that little stunt Adrien had pulled earlier, too, because now that her fear and anxiety had subsided…Marinette realized that she was every bit as angry at Adrien for doing something so reckless as his kwami was.

So, yeah, tonight was a good night for this conversation they needed to have.

And it was going to be a long one.

Alya had never been so afraid for her best friend in her life.

The minute she had realized something was going on—she had been reworking the theme of the Ladyblog with a pair of Nino’s headphones on, the volume cranked up high enough to block out the rest of the world until she paused for a break and heard the creepy song—she had transformed and followed the sound of chaos all the way to the Eiffel Tower, just in time to see the fall. Her heart had jumped into her throat, and she had clutched her flute so hard that it might’ve snapped in two if it wasn’t magic, her brain racing her legs as she propelled herself forward, desperate to save them by any means necessary—

And then her presence was rendered unnecessary by that big, blue, flying dude, and so she had hid herself in the shadows across the square, camouflaging herself behind one of the large trees, her relief at seeing her friends rescued so profound that she had actually sank to the ground, her legs turned to jelly.

But then the worry came again—what if this guy wasn’t as charitable as she was allowing herself to believe? Sure, he had saved her stupid, heroic friends’ asses just in the nick of time, but what was his endgame?

Just as she was trying to figure it out, one of her fox ears had picked up a familiar sound in the distance that made her think of jets, propelling a board of some type forward, through the night sky…

Emerald Shell.

Nino had been courteous enough, after ignoring her texts and calls for the past week, to let her know that he would be returning sometime tonight. She just hadn’t expected it to be this soon, but whatever, she would take what she could get.

To help guide him there, Vixen had sent a signal she knew would get his attention, without him having to know that it was her: fluttering akuma glinted in the restored light of the Eiffel Tower, and just as soon as the blue stranger had disappeared into the night, the darkness had produced Emerald Shell, and Vixen had eagerly patted herself on the back for a job well done.

But she froze now in that motion when Shell’s gaze cut to her, as if he could see her…though there was no way he could, she had made sure she was hidden well here…

After a while, he looked away, but it took her a minute to be able to breathe again.

Whew…that had been close. It wasn’t like Nino wasn’t already upset with her for what he felt was a misuse of her powers…maybe she should get out of here, just to avoid another potential conflict…

Even as Vixen thought that, however, she couldn’t stop herself from watching Marinette and Adrien walk away, his hand clasped firmly around hers, as if she would run off if he dared to let go. Vixen clucked her tongue at the sight. Damn. While she might be having problems with her fiancé at the moment, she knew for a fact that Marinette and Adrien would probably be having a doozy of a conversation later tonight…

Still, she wasn’t too worried; as soon as they let out everything they’d been keeping pent up this whole time, they’d probably dissolve into a mushy mess of lovey-dovey honeymoon butterflies after this, their relationship stronger than ever. Vixen almost wanted to gag at the thought, but it also pleased her to know that at least her best friend’s relationship would be without its complications soon…

Vixen turned to go—

Emerald Shell stood right behind her, his arms crossed across his chest, a deadpan expression on his face.

Vixen gave a yelp and jumped about a meter in the air, falling against the tree, feeling her fox ears stand up straight as well as her tail.

When the hell did he get there?!

“I knew I sensed you,” he said flatly as Vixen clutched at her abused heart, breathing heavily. She eyed him warily.

“You can do that?” She asked, bewildered. No fair, the turtle-themed superhero had the power to sense other Miraculous wielders? Wasn’t that, like, cheating or something?

“Well, the fake akuma trick wasn’t exactly subtle, either,” Shell pointed out, and Vixen frowned at the sarcasm in his tone. Well, she had thought it was a good idea…

“It got you here, didn’t it?” She pointed out, deciding to defend herself. Shell opened his mouth, looking like he was going to argue…but after a second, his expression shifted…and he shrugged.

“True,” he conceded. Frowning, his expression lost its hardness, replaced by the warmth of his concern. “Though it looks like I got here too late…what even happened here?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Vixen admitted, shooting a furtive glance over her shoulder at the Eiffel Tower, glaring at it as it dared to sit there and look innocent after everything that had gone down tonight. “By the time I realized what was going on and got here, everything was basically over.” Vixen turned back around to fix Shell with a frown. “You’d be better off talking to Marinette.”

“…Oh, right,” Shell said after a moment of stunned blinking at Vixen. “I forgot you knew about ‘Nette.”

She knew about Chat Noir, too…but given that it wasn’t her secret to tell, she was leaving that can of worms the hell alone.

…One thing she didn’t know, however…

“Hey, do you know who Boy Blue is?” She asked, her fist resting on her hips as she raised an eyebrow at Shell from underneath her mask. “‘Cause he made an appearance tonight.”

“Boy Blue…?”

“You know—the guy in blue who flies around with a hang-glider?” At Shell’s look of incomprehension, Vixen pulled the unfamiliar name she had heard Marinette call him from her brain. “Pavone or something?”

Shell’s jaw abruptly dropped. Vixen repressed a snort.

“Wait…you saw Pavone??”

“Apparently?” Vixen folded her arms, giving Emerald Shell a curious look. “Who is he?”

“He was the dude who Chose me for the Turtle Miraculous,” Shell said, waving his hand through the air, as if that was a minor detail. “You actually saw him tonight?”

“I take it this guy’s the elusive type,” Vixen commented, feeling herself warm when Shell snorted in amusement, as if everything was normal between them…

“The most we’ve seen of him is one of his feathers he used to save LB’s ass once…” The amusement faded from Shell’s expression. “Until tonight, apparently. Damn, I miss everything.”

“So he’s an ally?”

Shell paused, looking like he was chewing over the words in his mouth.

“…I guess?” He replied after a moment, the uncertain note in his tone causing Vixen to frown. “It’s not like he goes out of his way to help us a lot, but when we really need it, he’s been known to pull some deus ex machina shit from time to time…”

Vixen sighed, her head bobbing in a nod.

“Okay,” she hummed, relieved again. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t sure what to do when he showed up, which was why I threw up the akuma illusion when I heard you coming, just in case he wasn’t someone that should’ve been hanging around Marinette…though if he had tried anything, I would’ve been on him so fast—what?” Vixen asked, cutting off her half-formed threat at the funny look Shell was giving her. He glanced away from her, but Vixen still saw that smile he was trying to smother as he rubbed the back of his hooded head.

“Nothing,” he lied, chuckling under his breath. Ah…Vixen missed that sound…

“…So,” she began slowly, leaning against the tree behind her as she regarded him somberly, “are we still fighting…?”

That sobered Shell; he took his time answering, his golden gaze fixed on Vixen’s face. She watched him just as intently, waiting for his verdict. If he was waiting for an apology, then she would give one; it probably wasn’t the same, apologizing over text or in voicemails. She wasn’t too proud to apologize again, if that’s what he wanted, and though he had yet to apologize for the things that made her angry, Vixen no longer cared about such foolish words that were said in the heat of the moment.

And she was unbelievably sorry—she never should’ve accused him of not doing his job, and if she thought about it, frankly, bearing such a heavy responsibility like that scared the shit out of her. So the fact that Shell had taken it on, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been a superhero for very long…

Vixen opened her mouth to let this spill from her, to let the words that had been whirling around in her head the minute he stormed out of her apartment two weeks ago flow, just so she could let him know just how sorry she was for saying something so hurtful and unfair, for failing to recognize that this whole superhero thing was hard all on its own without her running around behind his back with her Miraculous all on her own, to tell him that she loved and admired and respected him so much—

Before she could get any of that out, suddenly, Shell’s expression changed, and he was closer to her, his tall frame folding as he leaned into her, strong arms sliding around her…

The kiss was all warmth, love, and sweetness, encompassing everything that Vixen—no, Alya—had fallen in love with the day she first saw through to Nino’s soul. It was everything she cherished about him, everything she wanted to protect.

And it was also everything she didn’t deserve in this moment.

“Nino,” she mumbled against his lips, pulling back briefly so she could speak. “Nino, I’m sor—”

“We can talk later,” Shell mumbled, not even letting her get the full apology out before he was kissing her again, like he refused to hear a word of it. Vixen tried again, but suddenly she had his tongue to contend with as it swiped across her lips and slipped into her mouth. She let out a muffled, breathless laugh and pulled back, blinking as she tried to clear her head, keeping the fire that such kisses from her fiancé stoked within her at bay, with some difficulty.

“W-wait a minute!” She huffed, laughing as Shell kissed her cheek next, his body pressed against hers, pinning her to the tree. “We can’t make out here! What if someone comes through here and sees? D’you want to start a superhero scandal?”

Shell muttered something about where the good citizens of Paris could stick their superhero scandal, cutting Vixen’s laugh short as he kissed her again. And she let him, giving into the heat and tenderness of the moment.

Ah, fuck it—so what if someone came along and saw them? It didn’t really much matter, did it? No matter what they said, the citizens of Paris would believe of them what they wanted to believe.

Besides, no matter what they thought about the relationship status of Vixen and Emerald Shell, the citizens of Paris would never be as in their face about it as they were when discussing the relationship status of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“Let me see it.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal—”

“Let me see it, Marinette.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows at him—it was possible that she did not appreciate his tone. But Adrien did not care. Now was not the time for her to act tough; if they were going to do something about her shoulder before any permanent damage could set in, then they had to do something now.

Still, Marinette dragged her feet on the issue—metaphorically speaking, that is. Since she was currently sitting on the high counter in Adrien’s kitchen, her feet weren’t close enough to the floor to drag them. In a less tense situation, he would’ve found it adorable how her legs dangled as she sat there, lips pursed in a pout. He folded his arms and arched an eyebrow, waiting.

Finally, Marinette huffed and gave in. The wince that crossed her face as she carefully moved her right arm through her t-shirt hurt Adrien; he stepped forward to help, but she lifted her left hand to stall him.

“I’ve got it,” she huffed, sounding impatient. He supposed, in a way, he could understand why she might be put out with him—Ladybug, requiring help with taking off a shirt? It probably didn’t help that he had practically dragged her to his house in the first place, either…

Instead of hovering as Marinette carefully removed her shirt, Adrien went to the freezer, where his ice packs were stored. As he passed, he felt something whizz past him, and he managed to snag Plagg’s tail just before the mischievous creature entered the freezer.

“There’s no cheese for you in there,” he reminded his kwami, who turned to give him a dry look, swatting Adrien’s thumb with his tail the moment he let go.

“I was heading for the cookie jar,” he drawled, jerking his head at the island that sat in the center of Adrien’s kitchen. “Tikki’s finished hers already.”

“Oh, you don’t have to get me more,” piped the red and black creature with the pretty indigo eyes that hadn’t left Plagg’s side since they had arrived at Adrien’s house. The kwami of the Ladybug Miraculous, huh…Adrien hadn’t known what to expect in regards to said kwami, but seeing her, and witnessing how polite and caring she was, he wasn’t surprised…although he was just the tiniest bit envious…

“After everything these suicidal kids put us through tonight?” Plagg scoffed, skirting around the freezer to the cookie jar. “You’re getting more cookies.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. Rare were the times when Plagg showed concern for anything that wasn’t cheese…was he on his best behavior because Tikki was here? Hmm, maybe she brought out a better side of him…

“Move,” Plagg hissed at Adrien when he returned from the cookie jar, laden down with a couple cookies. Startled, Adrien stepped back, though Plagg could’ve easily flown around him, and the kwami glided past with his nose in the air. Adrien rolled his eyes. So much for his previous assumption…

The cold of the ice packs in his hands reminded him of his previous purpose in going to the freezer; he turned around and moved back to Marinette. Her shirt rested on the counter, and while Adrien normally would’ve spent some time focusing on that lacy pink and white polka-dotted bra she was wearing, his attention was immediately stolen by that dark bruise that was spreading around her right shoulder. Adrien let out a hiss at the sight.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not if I don’t move it,” Marinette admitted, and Adrien shook his head. What a disaster this night had turned out to be.

Still…he supposed it could have been worse…

He carefully positioned the ice packs on Marinette’s shoulder, rummaging around in a nearby drawer until he found some gauze to wrap around her shoulder to hold the packs in place. As he worked, he could see Marinette eyeing him from her peripheral vision. Her eyes were intent on his face, and her lips were pursed, but she wasn’t pouting this time—by the set of her jaw, Adrien could tell that she was trying to hold back from saying something. He made himself finish what he was doing, for sooner rather than later, Marinette would spit out what was on her mind…

His prediction came true the minute he finished securing the gauze.

“Adrien,” Marinette began darkly, pausing until Adrien dared to meet her eyes, their normally bright color dark to match her grave expression. “…What the hell were you thinking?”

Adrien frowned. Boy, this was going to be a fun conversation…

“I wanted to protect you,” he said simply, looking away from Marinette’s burning look as rebellion and shame battled it out inside him. While he didn’t feel he had done anything wrong here, he knew Marinette wouldn’t see it that way.

Sure enough, she gripped his jaw to make him look at her again, her scowl fierce and unrelenting.

“That doesn’t mean you do something like that!” She protested hotly. “Do you realize what would have happened if I hadn’t caught you in time, or if Pavone hadn’t shown up?!”

Oh, yes…that was another thing…

“So it wasn’t okay for me to let go,” Adrien said slowly, pulling his chin from Marinette’s grasp and frowning at her, “but it was fine for you to do so? Even though I let go so you’d have a chance to survive?”

“I wouldn’t have let go if you hadn’t let go!”

“Really? Not even if our positions were reversed?”

Marinette opened her mouth to argue, but then she shut it again, her glare failing to cover up the fact that Adrien had a point, and she knew it. She quickly found a way around it, however.

“I hate it when you do stuff like that,” she growled, wincing when she jostled her right shoulder as she folded her arms. “Always jumping in the way or something…it’s not like I can’t take a hit. I’m not helpless, you know.”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Did she just…?

“I know you’re Ladybug,” he said, and the relief of actually being able to acknowledge this fact out loud was unfortunately short-lived, giving way to Adrien’s greater irritation. Marinette twitched, but Adrien went on. “I know what you’re capable of, okay? That’s not why I jump in the way, and you know it.”

“Well I wish you’d stop anyway!” Marinette fussed, sliding off the counter to stand her ground against him, despite being shorter than him. Her left hand went to her hip as she glared up at him, her injured arm held stiffly at her side. “You could have died tonight! Do you understand that?!”

“Amazingly enough, I’m not stupid,” Adrien shot back, folding his arms and returning her glare, thoroughly annoyed by her attitude. “I know the risks of what we do, Marinette. I know the supersuits can only keep us from so much damage. I was there when my father died, too.”

Marinette blanched, and instantly, Adrien regretted the words. Part of him wanted to apologize, but the words got lost somewhere on the way to his throat, and they just ended up staring at each other.

“…Maybe we should—” whispered Tikki’s voice from behind Adrien, but Plagg shushed her, apparently eager to see the outcome of the fight. Adrien threw a scowl behind him at the kwami, who didn’t bother to react, his tail flicking back and forth, green eyes glittering.

“…You were there,” Marinette mumbled, and Adrien turned back around, watching as her expression grew slowly more horrified the longer he looked at her. “You were there that night…”

Though Adrien knew that Marinette had known that he was Chat Noir for quite some time, it seemed that she was just now realizing that he had also been there to witness Hawk Moth’s demise; she covered her mouth with a hand, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the whimper that escaped her.

He glanced away, hating the pity in her gaze. He had finally moved on from Hawk Moth’s death; he wasn’t about to let her drag him back into the horror that was that night.

“I’m over it,” he said roughly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let it go.”

She didn’t seem ready to let it go, however.

“Adrien,” she whimpered through her fingers, and he hated the tears that began to gather in her eyes. “Adrien, I’m sorry.”

“I know. You apologized months ago, remember?” Adrien reminded her wearily, for though he hated to rehash old issues, it looked like they wouldn’t be getting through the night without doing so. “When you showed up as Ladybug upstairs on my balcony.”

Again, on the word ‘Ladybug’, Marinette flinched, as if Adrien had made an aggressive move towards her. He stared at her, not understanding the reaction.

“What? You don’t like me calling you ‘Ladybug’?”

Marinette lowered her head, clutching her right arm self-consciously.

“I…i-it’s still new…” she mumbled.

“We’ve known about each other’s identities for about a month, Marinette.”

“Well yeah, but…” Marinette huffed, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, catching her bottom lip in between her teeth. “Knowing it and talking about it are two different things…”

“But why?” Adrien pressed, stepping forward as he searched Marinette’s expression, like the answers themselves would start inking themselves over her skin if he stared long enough. “Why is it different? And why did we have to wait so long to talk about it?”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Marinette protested, and though Adrien knew this, it still didn’t make any sense to him.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, frustrated by it. “What did you have to be ready for? It’s me.”

“Exactly,” Marinette answered, though this response made even less sense to him, especially when she added, “it’s you, Adrien! I mean, yeah, I started getting suspicious after Valentine’s Day, but before then, never in all my life would I have guessed…I mean…weren’t you surprised to find out it was me?”

“No,” Adrien said, a part of him amused at the look of blatant shock that crossed Marinette’s features. She was so nonsensical—why in the world would he have trouble believing she was Ladybug? His amusement faded as soon as it had come, and Adrien was serious again. “But I don’t understand you—if you needed time to process that I’m Chat Noir…does that mean you were disappointed when you found out?”

“No,” Marinette denied with a shake of her head, but the swift response made Adrien suspicious.

“Then what was it? Why couldn’t we talk about it until now? Were you afraid I was going to broadcast it to the world or something?” Adrien shook his head at that ridiculous thought. “Don’t you trust me, Marinette?”

The words were thoughtless, a jest. Adrien didn’t honestly doubt that Marinette lacked faith in him whatsoever…

But he hadn’t expected her to hesitate.

The kitchen grew still and silent. As Adrien stared at Marinette, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, he felt himself go cold.

“You don’t trust me,” he whispered, feeling the fissure that cracked through his heart at the crushing, yet unsurprising fact. Marinette’s expression grew contrite.

“I didn’t say that,” she denied, crossing her arms around herself, as if to protect herself from the accusation…or maybe it was just hitting her that she was still shirtless. Either way, she looked uncomfortable. And Adrien was hurt.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He pressed, taking another step forward, his heart throbbing painfully when Marinette stepped back from him, the distance between them sharp and stinging. “Or is it that you don’t really trust Chat Noir, and now that it turns out that he’s me, that distrust extends to me now, too?”

“That’s not true!” Marinette protested, but it sounded like something she was saying just to avoid a fight. Adrien stared at her, his hands flexing at his sides as he tried to keep his composure, composure that was quickly splintering, coming apart at the seams—

“Now I get it…” He laughed, his voice hollow, devoid of actual cheer. “Is that the real reason you didn’t want to keep your fashion career associated with me? So you could endorse AVA with a clear conscience?”

“Adrien, you know why I want to branch out on my own—”

“But did you have to include AVA?” Adrien cut across her, all the anger, hurt, and frustration he had been holding inside welling up to the surface, finally given an outlet to be free. “After everything they put us through?”

As petulant as it sounded, Adrien’s frustrations would not allow him to omit his next words: 

“After everything they put me through?! I thought you were on my side, Marinette!”

“Adrien, please try to understand,” Marinette asked of him, determined calm in her voice as she raised her hands to placate him. “What AVA did to us—and to you—was wrong, but they’re trying to change now. And they needed me.”

The doubt must’ve been clear on Adrien’s face, for Marinette grew indignant.

“What, did you just want me to turn my back on them? After I’ve seen, with my own two eyes, how hard they’re trying to turn themselves around? What if I had done that to you?”

And there it was: the issue that clearly divided them, no matter what either of them said to the contrary. And all this time, Adrien had been foolish enough to believe that Marinette was actually over it…

“I thought you meant it when you said you forgave me,” he said quietly, the words burning like acid, because things shouldn’t be this way, and this wasn’t how Adrien pictured this going down at all. He thought that, when they had finally gotten around to discussing this, that they would laugh at their own mutual stupidity over how long it had taken them both to realize the truth, after all the clues they had been given, and yet foolishly disregarded as coincidence. He shouldn’t be learning that Marinette didn’t even trust him; he should be holding her, telling her how much he loved her, whether she was in or out of her costume. They should be coming together, body and heart and soul, ready to finally accept each other fully, just as they were…

There was heartbreak there in Marinette’s eyes, and Adrien wondered if he, too, looked as bad as she seemed to feel.

“Adrien…” She trailed off, shaking her head before starting again. “Chat, I did mean it when I said I forgave you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, either…it’s…” She sighed, lowering her eyes to the floor. “I forgave you…but you still hurt me, so much. And to find out that you were my boyfriend and my partner?”

Marinette looked up to meet his gaze again, her eyes tight and anxious.

“Can’t you understand how hard that was for me?”

…Adrien did understand that, actually. Probably a lot better than Marinette wanted him to.

“You hurt me, too,” he reminded her, feeling so petty for pointing it out, and yet, still feeling that it needed to be said if they were going to gain any closure on this matter. “That night, when you left me standing on my balcony, feeling like an idiot…I didn’t come out of this unscathed either, you know.”

Marinette blinked at him.

“…I know,” she said slowly, her brows knitting together as she stared up at him. “But I said I was sorry.”

“So did I.”

“…So what are you saying?” Marinette wanted to know, attempting to fold her arms again and wincing when she seemed to remember her injury. Adrien wished she would stay still. “Since we’ve hurt each other in the past, that makes us even?”

“No,” Adrien answered, his offense growing at such a ridiculous insinuation. “What I’m saying is, though you hurt me, I never lost faith in you.”

“So, what, that makes you the better person in this scenario?” Marinette asked, her tone as heated as her gaze. “I’m sorry I broke your heart, Adrien, but these two situations are not the same! I might have rejected you, but it wasn’t me who turned my back on my partner and started terrorizing half of Paris in a black, leather cat suit!”

“I’m not denying what I did!” Adrien protested, feeling his face grow hot in anger and shame. “But if you actually forgave me, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to be okay with the fact that I’m Chat Noir!”

“I can’t help how I feel about all this, Adrien! I needed time! I thought you understood that!”

“I did until I found out it was because you were having issues seeing me and Chat Noir as the same person,” Adrien said bitterly. Marinette’s mouth opened in outrage.

“What did you want me to do, force myself to be okay with the fact that my boyfriend was the same guy who betrayed and abandoned me just a few months ago?!” She spat at him. Whatever shred of patience Adrien possessed in this moment vanished, and he snapped.

“If I can be okay with the fact that my girlfriend murdered my father seven years ago, what’s your excuse?!”

Marinette stared at him like he had struck her, all the color draining from her face. Adrien felt himself panting, his savage pleasure at rendering her speechless fading quickly, once he realized what he had just said. Again, silence fell between them, though this silence was sharper than the last.

This…was pointless, wasn’t it? They kept arguing in circles, insisting in a roundabout way that the scars of the past they still carried were more painful than the scars they had inflicted. No one was wrong here, exactly, but were either of them right?

Just what were they supposed to do here? How on earth could they be okay after this…?

Marinette’s hands had closed into fists, and they were trembling along with her bottom lip. But her expression was still furious as she said, in a flat voice,

“Well…if you’re so concerned about the fact that I’m a murderer…then maybe we’re done here.”

“…”

Was she…breaking up with him?

Adrien’s jaw locked, his horror at such a thought overridden by his anger.

Here she was, running away again, refusing to face the problem head on. She wanted things to be this way? Fine. If she wanted to run, then Adrien wasn’t going to chase her.

Not anymore.

“Since you’re so caught up over me being a traitor, I guess we are,” he replied tersely.

Marinette stared up at him, looking like she wanted to say more…but she didn’t. Instead, she snatched up her shirt, pulled it back on awkwardly over the ice packs, and began to march her way out of the kitchen.

“Tikki,” she called, pausing only long enough to say her kwami’s name before she continued out into the dining room, her back ramrod straight with her head held high. Adrien’s gaze was ripped from her back only when Tikki entered his line of sight. The kwami gave him a sad little smile, reaching forward and touching the tip of his nose with her tiny hand.

Abruptly, Adrien thought of the way Marinette would always poke his nose, and his throat closed up.

“Thanks for the cookies,” she said, polite as ever, gliding away after her Chosen when Marinette called for her a second time, an impatient snap in her tone.

The slam of the front door was distant, and yet it echoed through Adrien, sending him staggering against the very counter Marinette had been perched upon just a few minutes ago, before everything went wrong, so horribly wrong…

“Congratulations, kid,” Plagg drawled from the island, his gaze flat as he watched Adrien dispassionately. “Not only did you almost get yourself killed tonight, but you’ve also managed to alienate both your crime-fighting partner and your girlfriend in one fell swoop…though I’m taking points off because they just happen to be the same person. Otherwise, bravo.”

The mocking applause of his kwami should have made him angry. But it didn’t. Instead, Adrien just found that he was so very, very tired.

“Plagg,” he grumbled, raising a hand and massaging his temple, briefly closing his eyes, “I will give you all the cheese that is currently in the fridge if you just stop talking.”

He opened his eyes to watch as Plagg stared at him, as if the bribery of so much camembert would not work on him this time around. But after a minute or two, he shrugged, making a zipper motion across his mouth. Feeling relieved, and yet strangely let down, Adrien moved to the fridge again, stacking wheel after wheel of camembert on the island until there was no more left in the fridge. As Plagg dive-bombed the leaning tower of cheese, Adrien rummaged through the cabinet next to the fridge, his hand closing around a bottle of whiskey.

Tonight was not a night for ‘that zinfandel crap’ he liked, as Nino would say. Adrien had nearly fallen to his death, had managed to enrage his crime-fighting partner, and his girlfriend had just broken up with him.

It was a rough Friday night, to say the very least. So yeah, now was a good time for the hard liquor.