14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug.

Lucky Us

By: Princess Kitty1

Chapter 14

"Marinette."

There was a time in Marinette's life when she couldn't seem to do anything but imagine hearing Nathanael Kurtzberg say her name again.

She'd thought up all kinds of scenarios. Accidental meetings. Purposeful meetings. Some wildly different from the others, some carbon copies with minor tweaks like the weather, the time of day, the shoes she wore. She drilled them into her head, wrote mental scripts that she rehearsed constantly, so that she would be prepared when the inevitable happened.

But here was the inevitable, happening, and she was unprepared.

She blamed the cream cheese. None of her scenarios had included a grocery bag full of cream cheese.

Nathanael pointed at the sign on the bakery door. "Sorry. I could have sworn you guys closed in July," he said with a sheepish smile.

It was the smile that did her in, that yanked Marinette back into the present by the front of her shirt. "Nath," she breathed. "Oh my God!" She closed the distance between them and threw her unoccupied arm around his shoulders. "What are you doing here? Have you come back to Paris?"

Nathanael returned the hug with a gentle squeeze. "Not permanently. I had some time off so I decided to visit my parents. I've been here since Sunday night." He pulled away, but held her at arm's length. "You look great, Mari."

"So do you!" she cried, giving his shoulder a playful whack. "That California air must be doing you good, huh?" Then she remembered the cream cheese. "Oh shoot, I need to put this stuff in the fridge. Do you want to come inside? I can whip up some coffee…"

He let go of her. "No, don't worry about it. I only stopped by on my way home," he said with a vague wave behind him. "But maybe we can have dinner or something before I leave on Saturday?"

Marinette nodded a couple of times before she realized she hadn't said anything. "Dinner sounds great! My, uh, phone number hasn't changed, so… you know where to reach me." She smiled. Hugged him again. "It's so good to see you!" she said, then stepped back, toward the bakery, toward safety and normalcy and the fragile happiness she'd held in her hands just the night before.

"You too," Nathanael said in that warm and gentle voice that used to send tingles down her spine. He also took a step back, putting distance between them, and it occurred to Marinette that there had been distance between them even in their embrace. She was always being caught off guard by his uncanny ability to be miles away while standing right next to her. He lifted his hand in a wave. "I'll call you."

Marinette smiled and waved back. Like a beauty pageant queen. Like the winner of some awful prize.

She smiled and waved and watched him go and wondered why two years later she was still the one smiling and waving and watching him go.

She walked into the bakery. Up the stairs. Through the front door. To the refrigerator. The house was silent.

Marinette put away the cream cheese, shut the refrigerator, laid back against it, and slid to the floor.

She sat on the floor for a long time.

x.x.x

At the beginning of the week, Adrien had been convinced he was at the height of his misery. He now knew that he was a complete moron. Filming a commercial with a crabby director couldn't hold a candle to filming a commercial with a crabby director, a headache, and a back covered in hives, during an unexpected summer rainstorm.

According to the filming schedule, Adrien was supposed to be outside chasing Ange through the vineyard right now. Instead, he was indoors, on his phone, with the director cursing Mother Nature on one side of him and his father cursing in his ear.

"—told them to get the feathers off the property—"

"How long is this infernal storm supposed to last?" the director bellowed.

Adrien sent Ange a miserable look from across the room. She nodded sympathetically. He pointed at his temple and opened and closed his hand in a throbbing gesture. She tilted her head towards a catering table and mimicked shoveling food into her mouth. Adrien grinned, then decided his father's rant had gone on long enough.

"At any rate," he interrupted, "the damage has been done. I'm not in danger so there's no need to take action against—"

"Not in danger? Suppose you had decided to lay your head on those pillows instead, Adrien."

"But I didn't, father. Please don't make a big deal out of this. The last thing I want is people blowing the story out of proportion and calling me a spoiled brat," Adrien said. Though being called a spoiled brat was nothing new to him. He'd gotten into his fair share of trouble in the past, had a few unpleasant headlines in gossip columns dedicated to him. But at least back then he'd deserved it. "Seriously, I feel fine. Ask Nathalie if you think I'm making it up. She'll vouch for me."

He got no reply, and mentally prepared himself for another round of arguing. His father could argue for days. But after a moment of silence, Gabriel sighed. "You're certain?"

"If it'll make you feel better, I'll go to the hospital as soon as I get home tomorrow," Adrien said. He rubbed his temple in circular motions. The only consolation he had was knowing he shared a headache with Ladybug. It made him feel closer to her, in a strange way.

"Fine," Gabriel said. "I will… trust your judgment."

Adrien almost let the phone slip out of his hand.

"In this matter alone. And you will schedule an appointment with your doctor upon your arrival."

He must have had an odd look on his face, because Ange mouthed "are you ok?" at him.

His father, trusting his judgment. It was nothing short of a miracle.

"Thank you, Father," he said. "I'll be sure to do that." There was an awkward lapse in conversation. "Is Plagg still hanging out in your office?"

"Yes," Gabriel replied. "He chirps at birds. I didn't know cats did that."

Adrien smiled. "I didn't either when we first got him. Doesn't he sound kind of like a typewriter?"

"That's the word I was looking for. The sound reminded me of something, but I could not place it… hmm. He's been crying at the refrigerator, too, but the kitchen staff warned me not to give him any cheese."

"Definitely don't give him cheese. He's lactose intolerant," Adrien said. The thought of his cat begging his father for camembert filled him with unexpected joy. "Oh, it looks like the rain's letting up." The director had resumed barking orders. The camera crew wheeled expensive equipment out the front door as fast as they could, and Ange stood from her seat, stretching.

"Don't strain yourself. If you feel uncomfortable, let someone know," Gabriel said.

"I will." Adrien hesitated. Despite its rough beginning, he could count on one hand the amount of pleasant conversations he'd had with his father, and he was reluctant to let it end. "Call me before your flight tomorrow?"

Silence. Perhaps, Adrien thought, his father felt the same way. "I'll do that," Gabriel said. "Goodbye, Adrien."

"Bye."

Adrien ended the call, sighed, then impulsively checked his email. Nothing new from Ladybug. She hadn't messaged him at all since that morning, which was strange, considering the time of day. He reminded himself that she, too, had a full-time job, and probably snuck her messages to him when she wasn't supposed to be emailing anyone.

But he couldn't shake the feeling of strangeness that settled over him on his way out the door, like the whole world had shifted two inches to the left and waited patiently for him to notice. In the end, he blamed the pleasant conversation with his father. How sad that he considered such a thing extraordinary.

x.x.x

Marinette's phone chimed several times in a row: texts from Alya. She scrolled down the wall of text with a smile as Alya dished every detail of her post-show drink with Nino. Had there been flirting? Yes. Were they dating? No. Were they going to hang out again sometime in the near future? Absolutely. It wasn't a relationship, but Marinette considered it a victory. Alya's gushing was proof enough that the romance was on the way.

Marinette hadn't told her about Nathanael. She hadn't told anyone. She'd spent the afternoon distractedly sewing doll clothes and replaying every second of the encounter in her mind. Why should she ruin Alya's day over a trifle? Why worry her parents while they were half a world away, unable to help her?

She was fine. She could handle it.

She stood from her desk and climbed up to her loft, thinking some fresh air might do her good. But she couldn't find the energy to make it to the balcony, and ended up sprawled on top of her unmade bed.

Marinette stared blankly at the wall. The desire to look Nathanael up on social media reared its ugly head. Just a peek, to see what he'd been up to. She grabbed her phone. Her thumb hovered over her internet browser icon.

She opened her email instead.

x.x.x

It rained on and off throughout the day. Adrien took advantage of the breaks to text Nino so he could fill in the gaps of what happened after Marinette left the club.

According to Nino, Alya had accepted his offer to buy her a drink, then they'd launched into an animated conversation about the music. It gave Nino the chance to show off a little—which he'd worried would annoy her, but she'd listened with keen interest and asked a ton of follow up questions, like any great reporter would. He'd left an open invitation for her to come by and see his recording set-up. She'd promised to take him up on it. Then he'd suggested they all go out again once Adrien was back in town, and Alya had casually commented that they didn't have to invite Marinette and Adrien, and Nino was still smiling like an idiot more than twelve hours later.

Adrien wondered if Marinette had heard the same story from Alya. She had yet to text him about it. Should he text first? He groaned, chiding himself for feeling nervous over a first text. This was Marinette, his friend, and whatever delusions he had about her would be put to rest in twenty-four hours.

His phone vibrated. Ladybug, RE: Summer.

Adrien smiled and tapped on the notification to open his email. Was it sad that he'd felt deprived of his Lady's attention, even though he wouldn't have been able to reply to her if the weather had been cooperative?

It took longer than usual for the email to load, and when it did, Adrien's eyes widened.

In place of Ladybug's usual one-line paragraphs was a wall of text.

His smile faded as he scanned the first few lines. He looked up at Ange, who was glued to her own phone a few steps away. "Hey," he said, "I'm going upstairs for a bit. Text me if it stops raining?"

"Sure," Ange said.

Adrien left the crowded foyer and walked up the stairs. He found a seat in an empty room, made sure there were no feather pillows around, and sat down, his heart racing as if he'd run the entire way. He reopened Ladybug's email.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: Summer4 minutes ago

You know what one of the worst and most overlooked things about a breakup is? Surprisingly, it's not the crippling loneliness, though that part sucks too. Every part of a breakup sucks. But there's one aspect of it that'll do you in for years, and that's the complete and total destruction of your confidence.

I know I told you about my ex before, the one who left me and went off to America to pursue his dream. But that story's kind of vague, don't you think?

A few years ago, I was on the cusp of graduating college with my degree in fashion and textiles. And—you might find this hard to believe—I was a hopeless romantic. Worse: I was a hopeless romantic who had never been in love before. There were one or two guys in high school, but that's high school, right? Nothing serious. Anyway, I was about to graduate college and I had this idea in my head that it was finally my turn to find love. Except that I hadn't found love in college, and time was running out to do it the traditional way.

So I decided to look online. And in a matter of days, I had a match.

We talked for a couple of weeks before we decided to meet each other in person. I was terrified that the magic was going to wear off, but wouldn't you know it, he was even better than I imagined. Good-looking, quiet, funny, with a passion for art that matched my own. By the end of that first date, I was smitten. When my friends and my parents gave their approval, I lost my mind with love.

We were together for almost two years before I moved in with him. He had this gorgeous apartment with all these windows, and every afternoon it became a paradise of sunlight. When we weren't working, we were there, creating and offering each other constructive criticism and building our little kingdom of happiness. He even talked me into entering Gabriel Agreste's design competition. Filled my head with all this nonsense about how I'd blow everyone out of the water. I must have sketched more than a hundred designs before I settled on the ones I'd enter come August.

Well. That summer, his agent contacted him. Some Hollywood bigshot wanted to make a movie adaptation of one of my boyfriend's graphic novels. Naturally, he was thrilled. I was thrilled for him. We celebrated for like a week straight while his agent and publisher negotiated the details. This was huge for us. A dream come true. He wouldn't just be moderately successful anymore. This was IT.

I had all these fantasies that we'd get married and move to the United States, and I'd open my own boutique and he'd have his graphic novels and that would be our happily ever after. And I could see in his eyes that he had some ideas of his own. It never occurred to me that they might be different from mine.

Then one bright and cheerful afternoon, he comes home for lunch and tells me he wants to talk to me. I correctly assume that it's about our future, but once again, I have happily ever after at the forefront of my mind.

So we're standing in the living room and I'm excited and he looks me dead in the eye and says, "I know you want to get married, Ladybug, but I'm not ready for that. I won't be for a long time. And it isn't fair of me to keep stringing you along."

Take a moment to picture the look on my face, chaton. It was pretty freaking priceless.

At this point, I swear I'm plummeting right to the center of the earth and any moment now I'm going to hit its magma core, but of course I'm still standing in the living room, frozen, staring at him like an idiot. And all I can hear in my head is screaming because doesn't he love me? Doesn't he want a future with me? I mean, what is he saying? You don't tell someone you're madly in love with that you don't want to marry them "for a long time." Like, why not? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not good enough to stand beside him during this new and exciting chapter of his life—which I thought was our life?

But you know what I did, Chat Noir? Instead of yelling all these things at him?

I smiled.

I smiled and I told him I understood when I didn't understand at all.

And as soon as he went back to work, I packed up all my things and left. I just went home. And I never spoke to him again.

I tried to be mad at him. I wanted to be. But when I thought about it—and I did think about it, obsessively—I couldn't. What right did I have to be angry at him when all he'd done was tell me the truth? Most guys wouldn't have gone to the trouble. It was kind of him, really.

But by now you're probably wondering what all of this has to do with confidence.

The day after we broke up, I was walking home from the grocery store when some idiot across the street cat-called me. You'd think I would have gotten in his face about it, or at least flipped him off. But I didn't. I kept walking, asking myself all the while: Why did that man whistle at me? You whistle at people because you think they're attractive, and if I'm so attractive, why didn't my own boyfriend want me? Why couldn't I make him ask me to stay? What's so desirable about me? Nothing.

I didn't enter Gabriel Agreste's design competition that year. Or the year after that. It took me until now to even consider it, and I still have that question echoing around in my head: Why would Gabriel Agreste, or anybody else, want me? What the hell is so good about me?

So yeah that's why breakups are fucking awful haha.

How's your day going, Chat Noir?

x.x.x

It took every ounce of Adrien's willpower not to throw his phone at the wall. He sat in the empty room shaking until a text from Ange informed him they were wanted back on set. He stood up, stared at Ladybug's email a moment longer, then turned off his phone.

He needed to think.

x.x.x

Marinette woke up to raindrops splattering against the trapdoor to the balcony. She sat up slowly, disoriented. Had the weather said anything about rain that evening? She tried to recall, then her encounter with Nathanael came rushing back and she realized she hadn't watched the news that day. She hadn't eaten lunch, either. Her stomach growled at her, demanding food despite her lack of appetite. She crawled out of bed.

Once she had a decent meal cooking, she reached for her phone, only to remember she'd left it upstairs.

A spark of fear ignited panic in her body.

She'd emailed Chat Noir.

At the height of her emotional distress.

She'd practically sent him her life story.

"Oh God," she whispered, running for the stairs. Five minutes with her ex-boyfriend and she'd lost her damn mind. Five lousy minutes had managed to undo one and a half years of sanity. Ladybug was supposed to be her competent adult persona; the Marinette that she aspired to be. The Marinette who went through a bad breakup, shrugged it off, and didn't let it affect her self-esteem.

Which sounded totally unrealistic, but she was allowed to have an ideal, damn it.

Marinette climbed up to her bed and dug through the sheets until she found her phone. No reply from Chat Noir. She couldn't decide whether to freak out or be relieved. Either way, it was time for some damage control. She perched on the edge of her bed and tried to imagine the best way to make herself sound like an emotionally stable human being.

Then her phone chimed. Chat Noir, RE: Summer.

Marinette's heart pounded in her throat. The steady rain filled her ears like static. She opened the email.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: Summer12 seconds ago

What the hell do you mean you don't have the right to be angry at him? You have every right to be angry at him. I'm angry at him, and I don't even know him. I want to break his fucking teeth.

Sorry. I went for a walk hoping it would calm me down. It didn't work.

Your ex-boyfriend's an asshole.

You don't do that to people. You don't let a relationship go on that long without making your intentions clear. You don't let the person you love walk away feeling like they aren't good enough for you.

I'm so pissed off.

And I know this isn't about me, but I just… I don't understand this guy. I can't understand him. You and I have only known each other for a year and we're not even dating but damn it, Ladybug, I can't even begin to imagine my future without you. If I had to leave the country to take some awesome new job opportunity, I wouldn't step one foot into an airport if you weren't right there next to me.

You're one of the most important people in my life. And I HATE that I can't be there for you right now. I hate that I can't be anything for you other than a bunch of well-meaning words from some stranger on the internet.

But for what it's worth, I think you're amazing. You're a talented and funny and beautiful person with an extremely unfortunate taste in movies, and you made me feel like my stupid parody of a life is worth living.

That's what the hell is so good about you.

x.x.x

Marinette stared at her phone until Chat Noir's words stopped making sense.

It took a rumble of thunder to revive her. She gasped, reached up and wiped her wet cheeks with the heel of her palm, and stood from the bed. She'd left the food on the stove.

Thankfully, it hadn't burned. She carried her dinner to the living room sofa and ate with the television on, volume down low. When she'd finished, she laid her head back on the couch and looked out the rain-spattered window at the gray summer sunset, feeling agitated.

"Stupid cat," she murmured.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Shut up about my taste in movies, Chat Noir.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Never.

(Are you mad at me?)

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

I'm not mad at you.

I'm mad at myself for making you worry about me.

But… I'm okay, I promise.

I just had a weird day and I wish it was over but it's too early to go to sleep.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Well, you don't have to tell me about your day if you don't want to, but if you're still up for talking, I'm up for listening.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

I know.

Thank you.

And for what it's worth… I couldn't imagine my future without you, either.

To Be Continued

A/N: My classes start tomorrow, so the regular updates must end for the time being. The good news is that I have no writing courses this semester! We'll see how everything goes these first few weeks.

A lot happened this chapter! You probably want to talk about it in that review box down there…