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He wrapped his hands around her ankle, loose, not to stop her from moving but just to know she was there. The red silicon-graphene was cold against his hands and the morning dew on the grass dampened his knees, and he looked up at her as if she was a God and he were begging for her forgiveness for the sin of existing in her presence. The sun was rising over her shoulder, shrouding her face in shadow, her blue hair like a halo around her head.
She looked down at him, head tilted, brows furrowed, confused, ethereal. He let go of her ankle, sitting back on his heels and resting his hands on his knees.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and he looked up, meeting her gaze for a slight moment before flicking his eyes away again, over her shoulder. “I took you being with me for granted.”
“I just want to be with you,” he admitted, voice more hesitant than he’d have liked, and she let out a soft, shaky sigh. She reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears, where she quickly brushed a finger against her earlobe as if to ensure her Miraculous were still there.
“Chat Noir,” she said, and it was so strange to be called that name while in his civilian form. Had he been transformed, his cat ears would have twitched at the sound of his name. He rested his head against her shin.
He couldn’t look up at her as he said, “I don’t know who I am without you.”
“You’re Chat Noir,” she said. “You’re Adrien.”
He wasn’t sure if either of those things were true. Part of him wondered if both were just different masks he wore, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, tricking Ladybug and all his friends into caring about him. As if one small misstep could cause the mask to slip and everything he had would come crumbling down around him. And here he was, collapsed on the floor at her feet, and if he hadn’t already ruined everything, he was probably ruining it now.
“It’s-- I’m not just Chat Noir. We’re Ladybug and Chat Noir. That’s why I’m here. That’s why Master Fu gave me my Miraculous.” He slipped the ring off his finger, holding it up to her. She met his eyes, an indecipherable sadness in her gaze. She took the ring but held onto his hand, slipping it back onto his finger. He let his hand fall down again. “I only exist in the warmth of your gaze.”
“Chat Noir,” she said again, as though she were hoping the right words would fall onto her tongue as she spoke. “Kitty.”
“Without you, I’m just another cat Miraculous holder who destroys anything he touches.”
“You’re not,” she said, quietly, and she sunk down to her knees in front of him, taking both her hands in his. She ran her finger over the ring and then glanced back up at him. “You’re not just anything, Adrien.” And hearing his name, his real name, from her mouth... The name his father often said with such distaste he felt as though he should crumple into himself and hide. The way he spoke as though Adrien were a stray dog scratching at the door begging for scraps from the garbage can. The softness in her voice, the care, the gentle worry. He wasn’t sure of the last time someone said his name like it was something worth saying.
“What have I done that anyone else couldn’t?” He asked her, half-rhetorical, half-desperate. Her gaze dropped back down to the ring on his finger. “Anyone can be a Miraculous holder. Anyone can model for my father if they hate themselves enough. What- what else do I have? Other than you?”
She tried to meet his gaze. He looked away from her again, staring stubbornly at the ground. “You’re Adrien. You’re not your Miraculous, you’re not your career, you’re not your father. You’re more than all that.”
“My jokes?” He tried, with a forced smile. She didn’t return it.
“You’re not even your jokes,” she said. “Maybe some of the things you thought made you you aren’t really you. You’re not just, what, a pianist? A model? A hero?”
“A very handsome and charming hero?” Adrien tried, but the shakiness of his voice betrayed him.
“Even if you were the most average and unremarkable person alive, you’d still be you,” she said. “And that’d still be enough. Maybe it’s Ladybug, and it’s Chat Noir.”
She still held both his hands in hers, and suddenly she was also unable to meet his eyes, instead staring down at their interlocked hands. She took a breath as if to say more, and her hesitation prompted him to look up at her. Again, she took a shaky breath, and he could feel the gravity of what she was about to say hanging in the air.
“Maybe it’s Marinette, and it’s Adrien.”
A whispered “Oh” slipped out from his lips before he could stop it and he threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. She wrapped her arms around him in return, leaning into the hug, and he heard her mumble a tiny, shaky “Spots off.”
And it was Marinette’s voice, and everything made sense. The warm pink sparks enveloped her from head to toe, and left behind Marinette, his friend, Marinette, and he pulled back to look at her and saw Marinette, and in her eyes he saw Ladybug, his Lady, and internally, he scolded himself for being so blind. Of course it was her. Who else could it have been?
“It’s Marinette and Adrien,” she said again, and he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes, and he reached for her, letting her wrap her arms around him again.
“It’s you and me,” he replied. “It’s you and me against the world, my Lady.”