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The tricky thing about Soul Marks was not just that names were a lot more an inscription on the inside of your wrist --
-- they were tricky because Fate had a sick sense of humour.
And Marinette had learned that the hard way.
They were lucky, Sabine Dupain-Cheng claimed when Marinette asked her on how they met. There were many men in her rural part of France called Thomas, so, finding her Tom proved a bit difficult until she moved to Paris and decided the tiny coffeeshop near her campus was a good place to study. One of the baristas was an ex-naval officer, a huge man who made the shop’s pastries and the best cappuccino. One day, he reached over the counter to give her cup of coffee and breakfast croissant and she spotted her name on the inside of his wrist.
Her sister, Annette, had it a lot worse, as she had Jean-Luc. But after twenty years of dating all possible Jeans, Lucs and finding specific Jean-Lucs online, she happened upon one who had gone by the Breton version of Loïc his entire life and changed it from Jean-Luc to Loïc the second he turned sixteen. It was mere fate that they were stuck waiting for the same late bus and started discussing legal names when he mentioned he had changed his birth name. Sure enough, Annette’s name was on his arm but Loïc had long been married and with two grown children. They had missed their chance, all thanks to one change.
Marinette found it a bit unfair, especially since some people had such common names. She heard that at one point in time most women on the planet were Marie, Mary and Maria but went by their second or third names, so most men walked around, never finding their Mary or her variations. Which must have made arranged marriages a lot easier to broker.
The reason this fact pinched her was that she was born with no name and had no name for two weeks while her parents squabbled over whether their chosen name became her first or second name. Sabine wanted either Marie or Annette or Marie-Annette, but, in that time, Tom referred to her by his mother’s name, Marine, then as his Little Marine and soon, Petite Marine became Marinette. By the third week they had settled on her name legally, then went back to change it again.
She guessed that that meant she went from just Marine to officially Marinette. Once that happened, her parents had her name changed when she was three but that was far too late for her soulmate. She may legally be Marinette now — a unique enough name that should be easy to find — but someone out there had Marine or Marie-Annette or, God forbid, just Marie.
Getting ones Soul Mark was something that kept people up at night in anticipation, especially these days with Internet searches helping narrow things down, but unless you had a very uncommon name, that didn’t help much. Alya had a theory that this is why so many Americans had such ridiculous names or had their common names misspelled, a misguided attempt by their parents to make them easier to find in this day and age. Though Marinette wondered if Katrine was all that different from Catherine when it came to introducing yourself to the One.
“What’s yours?” Alya asked, two months into their friendship as she toyed with her wristwatch. They were in art class, the first project of the semester was a team effort, one person would draw and the other would paint over it.
“You first,” Marinette deflected, attempting to be cheeky as she carefully outlined each circle in Alya’s bowl of grapes with a thin paintbrush.
Alya gave her an unimpressed look, staring down at her from atop the rim of her glasses, which had slid down her nose, and rolled up her sleeve. There, clear as day across the tan-line of her wristwatch was Saturnino. “It’s the name of this legendary Italian actor. I’ve tracked down a few of his movies with subtitles so I can pick up some Italian.”
“What if he’s Spanish though?” Marinette considered.
Alya waved her off. “Eh, we’ll figure it out. If he doesn’t at least know French then we should both at least speak English.”
“That’s such a rare name though,” Marinette remarked wistfully, setting her chin on her palm to angle her head across the class, right at Adrien. He was holding his middle and laughing at something Nino had done or said. Once Adrien had laughed himself back enough to curve over his chair and throw his head back Nino, and his painted-on mustache, had come into view.
Marinette smiled softly. “Hey, maybe it’s Nino.”
Alya quickly glanced at him then back to Marinette. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“He’s nice and all, but kind of dumb.”
“Oh, come on, Nino’s a sweetheart.”
“Mhm, if you like him so much why don’t you date him.”
The idea startled Marinette into sitting up straight. She didn’t know why, Nino was a nice boy, so nice that his akuma caught him on his rage on behalf of someone else rather than himself. He got akumatized because he wanted Adrien to be happy. That’s one thing they had in common, but…
…it’s not like she could ever have Adrien. Even if she had the slightest chance of catching and keeping his attention, his wasn’t the name on her arm, no matter how much she wanted it to be.
With a sigh, Marinette sat back and pushed up her sleeve and held out her arm to Alya.
Six months later, Marinette still remembered Alya’s reactive hiccup of a laugh as she said that Félix was a cat’s name and she’d have an easier time meeting pet cats with that name than boys their age.
Tante Annette visited sparingly, but whenever she did, it was guaranteed that she dropped life-changing bombshells, but this time what she came with was not news but the creeping realization of just how scary the Soul Mark system could be.
Annette had a particularly busy life ever since she moved to Rome when Marinette was nine. But the second Marinette expressed her serious love of fashion, Annette gave her her work email so they could message back and forth and Marinette could get inside scoops on the Italian fashion industry.
It was a surprise when Annette showed up right before Marinette’s sixteenth birthday, laden with expensive gifts from Italy, her hair dyed purple and five kilograms heavier from wine bloat.
“Yoo-hoo!” Annette greeted from the front door of the bakery, her red-framed glasses down the middle of her nose, her hair darkest at the top and practically lilac at the bottom, bags of gifts hanging off her arm and a hastily packed suitcase at her feet.
Marinette dropped the pan she was cleaning and rushed to give her a hug. Sabine and Tom came out of the kitchen, wiping their hands, wearing matching frowns of confusion.
“Anne, you didn’t tell us you were coming,” Sabine greeted uneasily. “And what have you done to your hair?”
Annette started stroking Marinette’s head. “Surprise! I’m overdue for a visit and figured the best time would be to stop by my favorite niece’s sixteenth birthday.”
“I’m your only niece, tante,” Marinette laughed.
“Yes, you are, and this why I’ve brought you this! Happy birthday!” Annette dropped several of the gift bags to take out a brochure from her bag. “You’re old enough to leave home, I presume.”
It was a brochure and an application for a fashion student internship for Annette’s company where she could learn first-hand from several seamstresses and tailors who worked for the biggest names that were showed here in Paris Fashion Week.
Annette pulled her back to get a good look at her. “Look at you, you’re practically a woman now. Have you found your boy yet?”
Embarrassment burned her cheeks as she thought of turning down Nathanaël, Chat’s joking flirting and Adrien, beautiful, unattainable Adrien. “No, tante.”
“Careful, if you don’t find him around now then you never will,” Annette said with a forced, hollow laugh.
Marinette forced her own nervous laugh, tugging down the sleeve of her right arm, covering Félix.
“Back to the matter at hand, what do you say to this opportunity? You can start in the summer so you can have that in your experience when you start admitting applications for universities next year,” Annette added.
“Really? Maman, can I?”
Sabine jabbed her thumb to the back of the shop. “Anne, can we talk?”
Tom continued about his business in the kitchen once Sabine and Annette left. Marinette rushed up the stairs to the spot in the stairwell where everything echoed up and kept an ear out for their conversation. It wasn’t that Marinette wanted to go — she would love to but she was holding out for internship under Gabriel Agreste — but she also couldn’t go. Her answer would have been different a year ago, but now she was Ladybug, Paris needed her.
“What’s going on with you?” Sabine whispered. “You don’t answer me for months then you show up out of the blue and ask to take Marinette?”
“For a summer. Kids spend summers with relatives all the time.”
“Yes, but you never mentioned this before, or even asked. You haven’t seen her in three years.”
“And now I want to make up for lost time.”
“What is this really about?”
“I just told you.”
“Annette!”
“What?”
“Would you just tell me?”
They squabbled over Marinette for a good minute until Annette declared, “My applications for adoption both here and in Italy have been turned down.”
“Oh, Annie…”
“I missed my chance having my own kids, now I’m too old to even consider it with any guy who’ll have me, and no one wants to give me a kid and all my friends in the office have been married for ages, are getting married or turn up every other day with rings on their fingers or telling us all about how they met their One on a midnight jog and —” Annette stopped and sobbed loudly.
“But what happened to Armando? Weren’t you two going strong?”
“We were, just like I was with Cesare, René, Guion and Michel. It’s all fine and I start getting attached then some cunt ten to fifteen years younger than me waltzes in with his name on her arm and they drop me and all our time together for her!” Annette practically shouted, voice heavy and shaking with sobs. “I give up, I spent all my life working and trying to have a good social life and each time I think I’m getting closer to that perfect family life you slipped and fell in, it all goes to shit.”
“Annie, it can’t be that bad.”
“What would you know? You found Tom the minute you turned eighteen, you didn’t have to wait, date, search and try everyone with his name then give up and try others and fail with them too,” Annette sobbed. “It’s not fair, why does a stupid mark on my skin get to ruin my life?”
Marinette had heard enough, she crawled the rest of the way up the stairs to her room and settled into her bed. Staring at the ceiling, at the paper cranes and stars she had hung up there long before Ladybug, she sighed heavily. “Tikki?”
Tikki flew out from her spot by the bed. “What is it?”
“You’re magic and old. What do you know about this?” Marinette asked, offering her hand.
Tikki curiously took hold of her hand and checked the Soul Mark. “It’s an old part of this universe’s magic, first started appearing in lands that had alphabets and then, as civilization grew, they would appear to everyone, everywhere.”
“Did the Ladybug before me find her One?”
Tikki set Marinette’s hand down without an answer. That, in itself, was answer.
She turned on her side and tried to sleep but couldn’t stop seeing that name on the inside of her wrist. There were so many things Marinette wanted from this world, she wanted to succeed, to get praise and recognition for her effort and work, to see it in shops and on people, and she wanted to see Paris and it’s citizens safe and happy. What she didn’t want was to end up like Annette.
She wouldn’t. She surely couldn’t. Could she?
Adrien instantly filled her thoughts again, and she fell asleep to scenarios in which she had his name in full, a plain black ADRIEN AGRESTE printed on her skin and woke up twice as depressed as she was before.
Marinette put it off for months, in between schoolwork, superhero-ing and designing and sewing, she had barely time to think of anything else. Then Animan happened and she locked Nino and Alya in the panther cage. They went in with Nino more interested in Marinette and Alya dismissive of him as an idiot and came out a full-fledged couple.
She had to wonder if it was always this instantaneous, you see your name on their arm and Cupid’s arrow strikes you both? Or did you tell yourself to make it work just because some weird ancient language magic said so?
It wasn’t long after that that most of her small class became paired up, between Mylène and Ivan, Alya and Nino, Kim and Alix and whatever was going on with Rose and Juleka, Marinette could tear a ticking clock loud in her head and she was only sixteen.
The day Chloé’s belated Mark made itself known she was at her most obnoxious, claiming that her father had the resources and money to track him down and would do the same for Sabrina to find her ARIEL. Whether Ariel was a boy or a girl, that was up to the fate aspect of Soul Marks.
Chloé wouldn’t say the name, but she made sure to make it seem that it was Adrien and it made Marinette’s hairline tighten like someone was tugging at her hair.
Unsurprisingly, Chloé mocked a poor girl, Danielle, from another class for being seventeen and still not having her Mark, even though she was late herself.
“Just face the fact that no matter how much makeup you put on that plain face, you’re probably going to die alone anyway,” sent her off crying and it struck a chord so deep with Marinette she felt like one of her heartstrings had snapped and curled in opposite directions like a broken guitar string.
Hawkmoth didn’t waste any time akumatizing the poor girl and Danielle became the Heartbreaker, turning people against their soulmates and turning those unmatched into deeply depressed messes who dropped like flies to wallow in their own despair. The wave of heartbreak that hit Paris that day filled the air, not just the people struck by Hearthbreaker.
The wave of overemotional negativity hit Marinette like a train just before she could pick a spot to hide and transform. She found herself going from running to landing on her hands and knees, every ounce of dread, anxiety, fear — fear of being unsuccessful, fear of being forgotten, fear of never being found, fear of being alone forever dragged its sharp claws down her insides like nails on a chalkboard, making her twist and cringe from the cacophony and vibrate with nausea and misery.
She spotted Adrien ahead of her through her tears as she flailed on the floor, he was trying to hold himself up on the wall, his hand on his heart, trying to keep going as he blinked away his tears. He looked at his arm with abject horror, like there was a large spider rather than a name staring back at him.
They locked eyes for just a few seconds, right before a punch of overwhelming sadness went through her, worse than any crying fit sparked by PMS at its peak. She shut her eyes tight, squeezing out the tears as she decided to force herself up and to the classroom across from her.
When she opened them again, Adrien was gone.
Once she transformed into Ladybug, there was a bit of a buffer between her and Heartbreaker’s energy, so she was able to swing out and roof-hop to the source when Chat Noir pole-vaulted over to join her, running a lot slower than usual, barely keeping up with her.
“Hey, there, milady,” Chat panted.
“It’s affecting you too, isn’t it?”
“Badly.”
“Did it make you fight with your One first?”
“I would have, if I found her.”
“You’re still unmatched?”
“Would I be flirting with you if I was?”
“You would.”
He goggled at her, deeply offended. “Is that what you think of me?”
It was too late to backtrack now, Heartbreaker was hovering in the city center, tossing purple balls of light into every corner of the land, melting iron, bending lampposts and causing car crashes.
Chat extended his pole and vaulted up and away from Marinette and once it was over and she had purified the akuma and reset the town, Chat didn’t come by her and didn’t offer her a fist bump.
She had five minutes left in her earrings but she chased after him anyway, swinging herself to keep in line with his roof-hopping escape. “Chat! Wait!”
“Want more chances to accuse me of being an alleycat, milady?” he griped bitterly.
Marinate swung herself three feet ahead of him, blocking his way. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I was just a bit upset and the whole subject just sets me off these days.”
Chat relaxed, smiling sadly at her. “Same. I — I’ve been having a bit of a crises the past two years actually.”
“About what exactly?”
“Whether this actually guarantees happiness?” he said, heavy-hearted. “You find each other, get married and then actually find out that you’re not perfect together and then one of you just up and leaves one day?”
Marinette hadn’t even considered that option. Sure, divorces were very common in today’s world, but a lot of them were because of the marriages Annette didn’t get to have because her boyfriends kept finding her soulmates. People settling for each other because they can’t wait around forever.
“Is that what happened to your parents?”
Chat didn’t answer her, he just checked his ring. He had four spots left. “What about you, what’s your biggest worry?”
“That I’ll never find him, or find anyone good enough to fill his place if I don’t.”
“I can be good enough,” he blurted out, green eyes big and hopeful. “I can be anything, if you just give me a chance.”
Marinette thought again of Annette, of her Jean-Luc who went ahead and got married and had a family and wouldn’t think of leaving of them for her once they found each other. She couldn’t do that to whoever had their name on Chat’s arm.
“It’s not fair to take that chance, to take it away from someone else,” she told him. “You’re a great guy, Chat, and your girl is going to be so happy to have you.”
With one last toss of her yo-yo, Marinette fled before she turned back.
Later that night, she searched for all boys called Félix in her area or even country on Facebook. There were twenty found through mutual friends and those who listed the same old schools as hers, and according to a baby name sight there were ten-thousand men in Francophone Europe called Félix, barring the unaccented Felix in Scandinavia and the Commonwealth.
She was never going to find him.
From summer to winter, Marinette had met six boys near her age, some college-aged, called Félix, and on their arms respectively were Etienne, Sandrine, Hugh, Mai Ling, Anaïs and Marie-Jeanette. Two of them still offered to date her to pass the time until they bumped into their soulmates and Marinette considered it, out of loneliness and the desperation that came with wanting to feel desirable and together with someone, in the end, she decided she couldn’t handle it emotionally.
What didn’t help was that Chat still pursued her and Adrien still considered her just a friend and Alya and Nino were getting nauseating. Marinette found herself third-wheeling them more often than not outside of school.
Sabrina found her Ariel or Ari, a boy who went to a boarding school across town, and Max was somewhat sure that he met his online on, Soulsearch, the number one site for finding ones match. His was a West Indian girl called Karina who had MAXIMILIEN and decided to seek out all Maxes in France and Québec and they were now in a long-distance relationship, already arranging for them both to go to college in Canada as they both had family there.
Everyone expected Chloé to be next with all of her huffing and puffing about her father’s men searching for the prince charming with her beautiful name gracing his wrist, but it was Nathanaël. While on a field trip to the Louvre, the whole class witnessed him stop under the same painting with a short girl with straight blonde hair and a mouth full of braces. They talked about the painting, opened their bags to show each other their sketches and lo and behold, on her arm was NATHANAËL and on his was WILHELMINA.
They excitedly made plans on how to keep in touch, swapped art Tumblrs and Instagram accounts and discussed him visiting her in Switzerland over Christmas break and Marinette felt like she was watching her life rush by and the ticking clock nagged louder in her head, like she was forty-six rather than sixteen.
She was happy for him, she really was, but that didn’t make her urge to scream and burst into tears any less insistent.
The world was moving on and falling in love without her.
She tried Soulsearch, using her name, country and the name of her soulmate. Marinette - France - Félix brought no results, neither did Marie-Annette -France - Félix. Marie - France - Félix brought about twelve results, ten of them were declared matched, and the other two Félixes had died since entering the database.
That was when she started to consider that maybe, just maybe, her Félix had died young, and became so upset her hands shook and she couldn’t sew the zipper onto her dress.
“You’re worrying too much,” Alya told her during a free period. Mrs. Mendeleiev was absent, leaving them to hang around the chemistry lab. Alya has been anxiously refreshing her blog for the past fifteen minutes, watching the hit counter grow higher and higher with yesterday’s Ladybug scoop. “People get married in their thirties these days, so there’s no rush.”
“But they start dating at fourteen,” Marinette said dully, setting her chin in her palm, back in her usual position of watching Adrien from across the room. “You know, I considered giving Nathanaël another chance, just to see what it’s like, and he’s so sweet and artistic, we could have sketched together and shared tips for our art, but I missed my chance.”
“He wasn’t yours to miss,” Alya pointed out. “Besides, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, I mean, wait till we get to university and go to parties and join clubs, you’ll meet so many guys and have your pick.”
Alya must have thought that she was cheering her up, but she was failing miserably.
“I don’t want my pick, I want my match,” Marinette sighed wistfully.
“Then you’ll need to stop mooning over Adrien and make room for this guy for when and if he comes.”
“I can’t just stop, Alya. I love him.”
“Do you? You barely know him and he barely notices you,” Alya stated bluntly, tapping her thumbs loudly against her touchscreen. “Find someone who both knows and notices you and give him a chance so you can have a bit of experience if not love.”
Marinette considered her words. She really didn’t know that much about Adrien that wasn’t superficial, wasn’t from watching him or from the many interviews she saved from magazines.“You’re right, but what if I date someone and really like him but he still isn’t the right fit for me? What if I have his name but he doesn’t have mine?”
“Then make it work,” Alya said. “Here, you want to find out the statistics of this, just so you don’t feel bad about not finding your fateful house cat Félix?”
Alya showed her the screen of her phone, open to an article featuring the study of successful soulmate matches. A whopping forty-percent didn’t end well or as well as they started. Twenty-five percent never met their matches and the remaining thirty-five percent were pretty happy. Some of the cases that ended badly were a case of Mistaken Matches, where both sides of the couple had very common names like Sarah and John but the ones they married weren’t their Sarah and John and others were thanks to the mix-up of more and more women having men’s names, confusing both gay men and women into heterosexual relationships until they happened upon their male Camille or female Dominique.
She was never going to have him, so she should focus on someone she could have, even if it wasn’t meant to be.
Chat had disappeared the second she started spinning her yo-yo to purify today’s akuma. Marinette figures she had no rush now, even with her earrings beeping their countdown, and walked home on the roofs, idly bouncing her yo-yo up and down.
It was only when she spotted Adrien Agreste of all people strolling by himself, no Nathalie or bodyguard or even Nino, did she hop off to join him.
“Hi!”
Adrien jumped back in surprise, but he quickly leaned back in, deeply interested. “Ladybug!”
“What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?”
“Trying to clear my head, figured the long walk home would help.”
“Yeah, same.”
A period of awkward silence passed, with Adrien sticking his hands in his pockets and toeing the pavement, awkwardly looking up at her through his pale lashes. “Do you wanna, maybe, join me?”
He didn’t need to ask twice.
They walked side by side all the way back to Adrien’s mansion, saying very little throughout. Marinette may have decided that she really wasn’t in love with him and could never have him anymore, but that didn’t make her stop liking him as the sweet, adorable person he was.
He cautiously broke the silence. “Ladybug, can I ask a personal question?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“Do you think you’re going to do this forever, be a superhero? Or will you stop once you get a little older and have other priorities like work, marriage and kids?”
“I honestly never thought about that, not really. I’m here as long as Paris needs me and…” she sighed. “I don’t think the marriage and kids is in my future, not planned anyway.”
Adrien’s eyes grew wide with astonishment and possibly even hope. “You’re still unmatched?”
She threw up her hands weakly. “I keep waiting but he seems to be taking his sweet time to show up.”
Adrien touched his own arm thoughtlessly and reached out for Marinette’s. “Can you tell me your name?”
She was tempted, she was so very tempted to tell him who he wanted was really Marinette all along.
“You don’t seem to get the point of a secret identity,” she said coyly.
“Please,” he begged, the pleading in his eyes tugging at her heartstrings. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know in return.”
She felt stuck, she knew her name would not be his Mark.
Her earrings beeped, two minutes until transformation.
“I have to go!”
Marinette tossed her yo-yo and was ready to swing up and out when he caught her hand, looking up at her with sad eyes. “I won’t tell anyone, I just want to know, just so I can — I can…”
Taking in a deep breath, Marinette said “Marie.”
He drew back with a gasp, a hopeful smile breaking out across his face and that was when his grip was loose enough for her to escape.
She barely reached her room in time to change back. Tikki popped out, dizzy, spinning aimlessly in the air. “Are you alright?”
Marinate slid down the wall by her window and pulled her knees to her chest. “I don’t know, Tikki. I’m so confused.”
Tikki flew to her and hugged her cheek comfortingly. “You’re in a confusing time, everything will make sense as time goes on.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m ancient, and therefore full of wisdom,” Tikki joked, getting a tired laugh from Marinette.
“If you say, Tikki,” Marinette breathed. “If you say so.”
Throughout the next week, Adrien had this wistful feel about him, where he would look into the distance, hand on his Mark, and smile dreamily. No one knew what he was thinking of, but Marinette.
His soulmate was a Marie. A Marie he thought was the one and only Ladybug. And she had given him the hope that it was true.
He was going to be crushed if he ever found out it was her. This was one of the primary reasons she agreed to go to Rome with Annette for the internship.
Marinette put her face in her hands and sighed. Another summer was upon them, another year gone, and a few months where she wouldn’t see Adrien or even Alya, who was going to visit family in Martinique.
She heard them all discussing their summer plans, involving vacationing with family, friends and taking their soulmates to meet the family or, in Max’s and Nathanaël’s cases, going to other countries to specifically meet up with Karina and ‘Darling Mina’ respectively.
The first complaint she heard that day was, unsurprisingly, Chloé bitching at Sabrina. Chloé has been especially unbearable ever since Sabrina found her Ariel, she once spent an entire day trying to force doubtful feelings into Sabrina’s head, pulling out hypothetical faults about why it wouldn’t work out and how Ari was monopolizing all of Sabrina’s time, energy and devotion, probably a manipulative move to cut Sabrina off from all of her friends. When she pointed out that Chloé was her only friend, Chloé’s answer was “Exactly. Are you going to make him more important than me?”
Today, Chloé asked that exact same question and received a different answer.
“Yes,” said Sabrina. “He’s my soulmate, and you’re not my only friend anymore, he’s introduced me to so many others, I’m going to spend the whole summer getting know them. We even made a schedule.”
Chloé became so pissed off her furious flush managed to show through her three layers of makeup. “They’ll get sick of you, and when they do you’ll come crawling back to me because no one will ever put up with you like I do.”
“Put up with me? I’m the one who puts up with you!” Sabrina retorted, finally showing a bit of spine that surprised everyone. “Admit it, you’re just bitter that you’re unmatched, and at this rate, if your father didn’t find him for you, you never will.”
The same taunt Chloé herself used on Danielle all those months ago to turn her into Heartbreaker spun back at her like a boomerang. She flipped over their desk and stalked out just before the bell rang, setting them free for summer.
On their way out, Alya patted Sabrina on the shoulder, declaring that she was proud of her.
“So, what’s this Ari like?”
Sabrina eagerly showed them a picture of a dark-haired pale boy with a hooked nose and a lopsided smile. “He goes to Sainte-Geneviève, his favorite food is sushi, and he’s half-Lebanese and a Pisces, like me!”
“I’m very happy for you, Sabrina.”
“Yeah, happy,” Marinette chimed in, watching Ivan and Mylène stroll out hand-in-hand with the ugliest brand of envy. “So happy.”
Aya sensed her sour mood and took Marinette’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. They walked out hand-in-hand like Ivan and Mylène, but while Marinette did love Alya, it wasn’t that kind of love, that was something Alya already had and the kind Marinette didn’t want from Alya.
“I’m going to miss you,” said Marinette.
“Skype is a thing, do remember to keep it open on your phone,” Alya told her, lightly tapping the tip of her nose. “Don’t be so glum, Mari.”
“I can’t help it, Alya. Everyday I see more of them, so happy and relieved, and instead of it filling my heart with hope it just leaves me feeling even emptier.”
Alya hugged her. “Stop thinking so much about it.”
“How?”
“Just try.”
“Ugh.”
Alya pulled back and held her face in her hands. “You know how the clock always moves slower when you watch it? How five minutes can feel like forever when you’re waiting for them to pass?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you’re doing now. Stop harassing that poor clock and the five minutes will pass faster than you’d think.”
With a sob, Marinette nodded.
Aya hugged her again tightly. “Do me a favor, have a good angst-free summer.”
“I’ll try.” Marinette wiped her eyes and kissed Alya’s cheek. “Have a good summer, Lili.”
“You too, Mari.”
Marinate stayed by the school entrance as she watched Alya sprint across the street to meet up with Nino, their last date before she left for Martinique and he left for Réunion.
Marinate opened her bag to pick one of the cookies Tikki munched on in her spare time. “Let’s go home, we have an interesting summer ahead of us in Italy.”
“But, Marinette, what if Hawk Moth attacks while you’re away?”
“Then I’ll swing my way back here.”
Just as that joke left her mouth, a loud crash and rays of light flashes around the city.
“Guess I spoke too soon. Tikki, spots on!”
Ladybug launched into action, and not too long after Chat Noir arrived at the scene. Once again, none other than Chloé Bougeouis was at the center of the mess, clutched firmly in the monster-of-the-week’s long talons.
“Chat, I wanted to say I’m sorry for before,” Marinette said the second he landed next to her.
“It’s alright, milady,” he waved off, spinning his pole. “Besides, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Marinette tossed her yo-yo at the lamppost across the square. “It can wait, now we have to save Chloé.”
Chat extended his pole, huffing, “It’s always Chloé.”
They swung themselves into action and got separated once the sloth-like akumatized victim of the day tossed Chloé into the air. Marinette abandoned her attacking swing forward to swerve to the side and catch Chloé. The force of their slam together pushed them back and untied her yo-yo from the lamppost, dropping them both on the flat roof of an apartment building.
“What did you do now?” Marinette groaned, rolling Chloé off her. “Who could you possibly have pissed off so bad on the last day of school?”
She didn’t get an answer or an offended deflection, all she heard was a loud inhale of a snort, the kind that came with the runny nose brought on by crying.
Marinette sat up, she could see Chat distracting the giant sloth by practically pole-dancing around it, and Chloé sitting on her heels, hugging her middle, her makeup ruined by her crying.
“You — you didn’t do this, did you?”
Chloé shook her head, rubbing at her eyes, smudging her eyeliner.
Marinette put a hand on her arm and another under her chin, getting her to look up. “Chloé, what is it?”
“Sarbina’s right,” she sniffled loudly. “No one’s going to put up with me, even the one who’s supposed to do it forever because I can’t find him! Daddy and I have tried everything and we still can’t find anyone with my name that isn’t already matched! I’m going to be alone forever, not just without friends but without a soulmate!”
“Have you considered that maybe if you were a little nicer, a bit more considerate and thoughtful that you would have more friends?”
The Chloé she knew returned with a condescending sneer. “Well, yeah, but I don’t want to do that, it’s not in my nature.”
“Alright, looks like a heart-to-heart is not going to work with you. Goodbye!” Marinette hopped up on the ledge to launch back into battle but a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back onto the roof. “Wait! I’m sorry! Don’t go yet!”
“I have to, Paris needs me.”
“I need you.”
“What did I just say about being considerate? Right now others need me more than you do.”
“I know, it’s just…” Chloé trailed off and hugged Marinette closer. “You know, I never thanked you for all the times you saved my life.”
Marinette removed the arms from around her waist. “Thank me later.”
“Will you come back for me when you’re done?”
“I’ll come back for you.”
With a big, teary smile, Chloé released Marinette back into battle.
Capturing the akuma was a wild goose-chase and once she tossed the lucky charm back into the air she fell back on the apartment building roof.
“Ladybug, you said we could talk!” Chat called from the next building.
“We will, just give me a minute!”
“I only have five!”
“And I need just one!” Marinette landed on the ledge in front of Chloé, who had pulled herself together and was actually smiling, not smirking, not sneering, smiling. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”
“I’ve never been good with words, so here goes nothing.” Chloé caught Marinette by the shoulders and pulled her into a headbutt of a kiss.
Marinette pulled back so fast she tipped herself back off the building, stopping her fall only by catching the window ledge right below the roof. She used that to fling herself back up. “What was that?”
“Me thanking you.”
“A hug would have been fine.”
“Didn’t you like it?”
“Uh…” Marinette had to hold herself back from answering “No, I just don’t like you.”
It was then that it finally hit her that Chloé, a girl, a girl who threw herself all over Adrien constantly, just kissed her.
Marinette tilted her head to check Chloé’s wrist. “Wait, you’re into girls?”
“For the most part, yeah.”
“What about Adrien?”
“What about him?” Chloé asked defensively.
“Aren’t you like in love with him?”
“What? No. Adrien’s a doll, but he’s a status symbol, if you date a model, you’re basically royalty,” she explained with a vague toss of her hand. “Why? Are you?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good!” Chloé said a bit too forcefully, then she reached out for her hand.
It took Marinette a good minute of replaying all her run-ins with Chloé as Ladybug for her to finally put together what was going on.
Chloé had a crush on Ladybug. Oh, just how delicious of a revenge this would be if Chloé ever found out who she really was.
But still, just because Marinette hated Chloé doesn’t mean Ladybug did or should, Ladybug was a hero. Heroes were not allowed to be petty assholes.
“I’m sorry, but you know this can’t work.”
“Why not? Don’t you like me?”
“It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Of course it matters, and you can’t say you don’t, you keep saving me from all the villains.”
“That’s my job here.”
“But it’s me most of the time, it’s like I’m Mary Jane and you’re Spider-Man.”
“More like you’re Flash Thompson,” she grumbled.
She tried taking her hand back but Chloé clung on tighter, hope and expectation in her huge blue eyes.
“Chloé, I’m flattered, but you’re not my soulmate.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have a boy’s name.”
“So do I, I think.” A hint of sadness weighed down her voice as she peered up at Marinette worriedly. “You’re not Dominique, are you?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter, we can make it work.”
“But I don’t want to. I want to find my match, and frankly, I’m straight.”
“Are you sure you can’t think about it? I mean, you’ve read the statistics, most people don’t meet their soulmates, and if they do, that’s not a chance for a happily ever after. Look at my parents.”
But look at Marinette’s parents as well.
“Afraid not.”
Chloé’s entire being sagged as she wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s not like there’s a point in waiting, even if I find him or her, they won’t want me.”
“They would if you became someone worth wanting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember what I said about being considerate and nice? You need to work on that so that by the time you do meet him or her you’ll be the best person you can be for them.”
“I’m seventeen, Ladybug, everyone else in my class has already met their match. If I don’t meet them now, then when?”
“You know how a clock moves slower when you watch it? Try to forget about the clock and time will go faster, and sooner than you know it, you’ll be together.”
Chloé smiled simply. “Thanks, I guess.”
Marinette’s earrings beeped loudly and she suddenly remembered Chat. She checked behind her and found him long gone.
She felt bad for some reason. He looked like he really needed someone to talk to and she forgot about him.
“Want me to take you home?”
Chloé didn’t need to be asked twice to jump into her arms.
The summer in Rome was a lot less exciting than anticipated. Marinette did learn a lot, mostly that models were very difficult to work with and everyone was deeply pretentious, and that Tante Annette’s midlife crisis was becoming less sad and more concerning.
“Still haven’t found your boy?” Annette asked her the weekend she was leaving, passing the bottle of dessert wine to Marinette. One of the many things that fell under the Just-Between-Us bar Annette had set up the second Marinette set foot in her apartment.
“I’m giving up on finding him,” Marinette admitted. “He can come find me.”
“That’s what I said, until he did and I was already thirty while he had a wife and two kids.”
Marinette took a large gulp of the wine, feeling her face and fingers heat up fast. “What am I supposed to do about it then? I searched as best as I could for Félix. He’s not showing up. And I give up.”
“You don’t want to end up like me, do you? I prioritized my career, said he could come find me, then your mom found your dad at eighteen, had you at twenty-three and opened that bakery at twenty-five. Meanwhile, I’m forty-five, no longer able to have my own kids, won’t be given one to adopt and can’t find a man that isn’t a divorced father who’ll never make me his priority.”
She thought of Adrien and Chloé and their doubts about soulmates leading to loving and accepting relationships thanks to their own parents, thought of the statistics, of those whose matches died before they could meet and the ones with Mistaken Matches, marrying the wrong Jean or Marie. None of this was fair to any of them, people should be allowed to choose their own partners, not have some ancient letter magic dictate their perfect mate for them.
Right?
“This isn’t he seventies anymore, tante,” said Marinette. “I don’t have to choose between a man and a career, I can have both, I just have to be smart about it.”
“Your job will keep you from meeting him.”
She thought of Chat. She had been thinking a lot about him her entire stay here, about what he really wanted to say to her, why he left so early, and about whether or not she should ask him whose name he had or what his own name was. “Then I’ll meet someone else and make it work.”
“It can’t work like that.”
“Have you tried? Really tried working it out with a man without keeping his ex and the match you missed out on as the third person in your relationship?”
“Of course I haven’t, he’ll never be Mr. Right.”
“Then let him try being Mr. Right Now.”
Annette regarded her skeptically then smiled, taking the bottle back. “When did you get so level-headed and mature?”
“I’ve had an eye-opener of a year.”
She was definitely going to seriously consider Chat, even as her Mr. Right Now.
Paris had been pretty peaceful while she was away, which made it all the more odd when the akumas came flying out the second she started her last year of school at the collège.
Chat was weirdly not happy to see her, or his usual pun-y self.
“What’s the matter?”
Chat didn’t answer her, he continued hopping ahead of her on the roofs.
“Kitty, come on.”
Still nothing.
She caught with him and bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “Is this about what you wanted to tell me the last time?”
“Maybe.”
“Then tell me, when we don’t have five minutes till we turn back.”
“There’s no point now.”
“Don’t be vague, out with it already.”
“I don’t want to intrude on whatever you and Chloé have going on, so I’d rather not.”
“Chloé? CHLOÉ? Oh, no. No no no no no nooooooo!”
“No?”
“No.”
“So there’s no thing?”
“Nothing and no thing.”
“Then why —”
“Expressing her thanks in her own special way. Why, are you interested in her? Thought I was stepping in on your girl?” Marinette teased, nudging him with her elbow, though Chat and Chloé was really the last thought she wanted to consider.
He gave her a meaningful look. “I thought she was moving in on you.”
“Listen, Chat, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this.” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “If you still want to, of course.”
He instantly lightened up, hopping excitedly. “Are you serious? This is what I wanted to talk to you about, I think what I’m about to tell you could change our lives.”
“Could it?”
“Yeah, if my suspicion is correct.”
“What’s the suspicion hanging on?”
“You telling me your name, or the name on your arm?”
She chickened out. “I — uh — we should discuss this once we’re done.”
They were done pretty fast, which left them five minutes of time to talk.
“Have you met your match?” Marinette asked him nervously, rubbing her arm up and down.
“I think I have,” he said, stepping closer. “I’d know for sure if you told me your name.”
“You want us to reveal our identities to each other? Chat, we talked about this.”
“Then how else are we supposed to give this a chance if we don’t know each other?”
“We can meet up like this, in costume.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough to know if this would work or not, or until you do meet your match.”
“I really don’t mind either way. If this doesn’t work, I’ll accept it, I’ll be happy enough to have just had your attention for that long,” he said with big, begging eyes. “Please.”
The broken crack in his “Please,” flashed her back to the night she gave Adrien a name for Ladybug.
“Marie,” she said. “You can call me Marie.”
“That’s not your real name, is it?” He asked, his growing smile just a big sad.
“It’s half of it,” she admitted. “What do I call you?”
He leaned forward, in a rush, answering without thinking. She pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him. “Not your real name, not now at least.”
“Well, then,” he said, straightening up, coming closer into her space. “Then I guess you can call me Félix.”
The loud gasp and cooling intake of breath that came with it shocked her just as much as that name did.
“A popular cat’s name.”
“Is it really?”
“Really.” She held his face, sliding her fingers through his thick blond hair, and pulled him into a kiss.
There were no fireworks, no dawning realization that this was significant in the plan of the universe, or music in her mind, instead it was like a switch had been flipped in her head, filling a dark room with soothing light, showing her where everything was and highlighting what was there and helping her find her way through her feelings. There was familiarity, warmth, trust, fondness and even safety.
Marinette never realized just how much Chat leaned to her as a partner, his reliability, his devotion, his sweetness, his humor, his infectious personality and his strength, and just how much he complimented her as a hero and as a person.
With her arms hooked around his neck, her hand in his soft messy hair and his arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug that was careful to not let her slip away, it felt good, it felt safe, it felt right.
They broke the kiss once they remembered that they needed to breathe.
He gave her that dorky grin he obviously thought was cheeky or sexy and she felt herself blush, ducking her head and pushing his face away. “So, this is a thing.”
“This is definitely a thing,” he agreed, a bit of a giggle finding its way into his voice.
His ring and her earrings beeped loudly. They moved back from each other, her hand slipping down his face then shoulder and to his arm and his going up front her waist to softly stroke the underside of her arm.
Their hands brushed against each other on the last step.
“Goodnight, Félix.”
“Goodnight, Marie.”
Adrien showed up to class the next day and tackled Nino with a delighted shout of “Nino! Nino, I think I found her!” and Marinette felt the sour bile in her stomach shoot up into her mouth to worsen the bitter taste on her tongue.
She needed to give up on Adrien, for real this time. He had found his soulmate and they were graduating this year, no point in continuing to hope, sigh and daydream of what life could be as his primary designer and the mother of Louis, Emma and Hugo Agreste.
Alya rubbed her back, Marinette could feel the beads of the prayer bead bracelet Nino got her rolling over her shirt. “Don’t dwell on it.”
Marinette grumbled cranky nonsense against the slippery page of her textbook.
This now left Chloé and Marinette as the only ones left in the class. It was too hard not to dwell on it.
When she lifted her head, she caught Adrien’s eye. He noticed her looking back and waved, doing that adorable thing where he shut his eyes, lifted his shoulders a little and smiled sweetly. Marinette’s heartbeat whimpered pathetically.
At the end of the school day, Marinette and Alya trailed behind Adrien and Nino to the main entrance, parts of their conversation flowed back to them.
“Do you really like this girl because you like her or because the Soul Mark is telling you to like her?” Nino asked Adrien.
“I liked her long before the marks had anything to do with it, and I said I think I found her, if it really is her, then it’s a bonus,” said Adrien cheerily.
“How does she feel?”
“I haven’t really talked to her much about this. I want to give this a go, the best go of it that we can have so we can see if we really are made to be, and I think we are.”
“You’re hopeless, Agreste.” Nino thumped him on the back. “Have you thought that it might be a case of Mistaken Matches? I mean Marie is a super-common name, unless she’s got something weird attached to it like Marie-Zenobie or something.”
“Even if it is, I don’t care, having the right name doesn’t guarantee happiness just like having the wrong name doesn’t guarantee failure,” Adrien said firmly, adjusting the strap of his bag as they descended the stairs to his car. “Even if she is the wrong Marie, I choose her to be the right one for me.”
Marinette’s insides melted into expired butter, a warm and oily feeling, both softening and nauseating her.
He was right though, and so was Chloé, the matching marks didn’t guarantee true and pure love anymore, at least not effortless, God knows her parents worked hard for their relationship to not get ignored in favor of their work. She had to chose Chat, even if he wasn’t who was chosen for her.
Three months passed of her and Chat’s masked romance. Their day was Saturday, where they would suit up and communicate their spot for the day and meet up. Without needing to use Cataslysm or Lucky Charm, they could stay in their disguises for as long as they wanted.
And it was nice. Very nice. Under all the bravado and cheesy puns, Chat was great company, a bit overenthusiastic in the romantic department but Marinette appreciated that now more than ever. She still had a hard time thinking of him as Félix, mostly because the name Chat Noir is what her brain associated with his mask, ears and catsuit, it might be easier to separate them once she sees what he really looks like.
Halfway into December, Marinette swung herself onto the snow-covered flat roof of the restaurant Le Petit Vigntieme. Chat excitedly surged forward and stuck a bouquet of multi-colored roses under her nose. “For you my lady, one for every color in the rainbow.”
“Pink isn’t part of the rainbow, kitty,” she snorted, taking the roses.
“You’re telling me there are two types of purple but there isn’t pink?”
“Yes,” she said, offering her arm. “I am.”
They linked arms and headed down from the roof to the restaurant. The owner, Georges, had been saved all of three times by Ladybug and Chat Noir and offered them any time to pop right in for a date, of course every other time Marinette had denied that they were together.
Georges snuck them to a private booth at the very back for privacy and took a list of any or all allergies before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“So, milady, how was your week?”
Marinette picked bashfully at her orange rose. They had agreed that every successful months they could let some information slip, Chat now knew her age and that she went to school and that had no siblings, and she knew the same of him. Other tidbits were star signs, favorite food, Disney movies and colors, Chat hilariously being a Leo who loved anything baked, The Little Mermaid and green, and Marinette being a Pisces who loved pasta, Sleeping Beauty and coral pink. “I won’t lie, finals week is coming up and I don’t think I’m going to do fine on Chemistry.”
“I can help you with that!”
“You’re into science?”
“No, but I get tutoring for all subjects whether I like it or not, so I know all the rules like I know the back of my hand.”
“You mean the back of your paw?”
“I thought you thought cat puns were stupid.”
“Not if I say them,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “Everything’s cooler when I say it.”
“Then say ‘Chat is the handsomest man in all of Paris,’.”
“Sorry but that honor is reserved for Adrien Agreste.”
Chat suddenly got very quiet, she feared that she had offended him until he leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table and his chin in his palm to gaze dreamily at her. “Is that so?”
“Chat, I was kidding. And it’s kind of hard to give you an answer since I can only see half your face and can’t imagine you without cat ears.”
“I keep offering to tell you who I am but you keep refusing.”
She fidgeted in her seat. “I’m not ready.”
“Tell me when you are, just as long as at some point you are ready. I don’t want us to be twenty-five and engaged with us still in these outfits.”
“You think we’ll last that long?”
“Well, why not?”
“I don’t know, life happens. One of us could move for university or leave the country or find their real soulmate. Anything could happen.”
“If we’re really invested in this, then we’ll make it work. If you move, we have the Internet and trains and even airplanes, and I already feel as though I found my match in you,” he admitted. “This is not just my feelings, think about it. How big of a coincidence would it have to be for us to be the defenders of Paris, bad luck and good luck, that balance each other out, if we were not meant to meet, if we’re not to complete each other?”
Her heart squeezed, his words tugging at her heartstrings.
“I don’t know anymore.”
“You could know, I’m just a ‘Claws in!’ away.”
She picked a petal from her rose, smiling slightly. “I know, but ’Spots off!’ will have to wait.”
Georges returned with their surprise meal. They started off with bowls of clam chowder, then the main course of seafood pasta with white wine cream sauce and a basket of garlic bread along with creamers of extra sauce and a grated cheese shaker. Chat tore into the bread first and Marinette picked out the small shrimps to eat first.
Their dessert was raspberry cheesecake and a fudge brownie á la mode. They fought over the raspberry topping and tried to eat the ice cream as fast possible as it quickly melted over the brownie.
They left with huge cups of fountain drinks, Chat filled his with three different sodas, Coke, Fanta and Sprite, making a fizzy brown sugar disaster, and Marinette’s large cup was filled purely with Cherry Coke. Chat reached out and took her hand and she in turn threaded their fingers together, the material of their gloves dragging against one another.
It was a very peaceful kind of quiet between them as they walked to the nearest town square, nodding and waving their cups at a few passersby who shouted their names, idly swinging their clasped hands.
They reached their departure spot and faced each other.
“Thank you, Félix.”
“For what?”
“Not rushing me.”
“I’m just happy to have you, in any way that I can, so I’m in no position to rush.”
She leaned in to kiss him goodnight but a blast from their far left reined her back. “Seriously?”
Chat sucked what remained of his soda concoction and flung the cup into the nearest can, running in place to warm up. “Well, that’s one way to burn off that meal.”
Marinette stuffed her bouquet and drink behind a bench. “If you say so.”
They sprung into action, laughing.
She really couldn’t imagine life with him as anyone but Chat Noir —
—until she was forced to see it.
The akumatized terror of the night was Bijourgler, an ugly name for a jewel thief, but it was fitting enough, as she flit from building to building with a sack full of three shop’s worth of jewelry in a catsuit and goggles like Catwoman. Naturally, Chat chased her the most, even when she threw exploding gems at him that grew into deadly shards of glass.
Marinette took over for a bit, tossing her yo-yo at the gem being geared up to explode in her direction, knocking it out of her hand. Chat and her traded Bijougler off in combat, Chat batting the assailing diamonds with his pole, sending them exploding into the distance, and Marinette kicking and knocking each knew one out of her hand. It was going well until Chat used Cataclysm to destroy Bijougler’s belt of tricks and his countdown started fast.
Chat’s ring beeped. “Ladybug, hurry!”
“I’m trying, but I can’t figure out where her akuma is!”
They each patted her down when they traded being the distraction. Her belt crumbled, there was nothing in her pockets but stolen necklaces and the same went for her boots.
His ring beeped again.
Marinette spotted the necklace she wore and tore it out, tossing it to the floor and stomping on it. “AHA!”
No black butterfly came out and Chat’s ring beeped for the third time.
“Where is it?”
Bijougler elbowed Chat in the face and backflipped away, her rising foot kicking Marinette under the chin. She escaped to another roof with the bag of jewelry. Chat shot after, catching her by the collar. She spun around and kicked him off the roof. Marinette tossed her yo-yo, its round end hooking over the ledge to create a wire that Chat used to shakily walk his way on with his pole held sideways like an acrobat on a tightrope. A loud beep came from his ring, the fourth.
He hopped onto the roof and caught Bijougler around the waist and extended his pole, lifting them high up. She struggled against him, he used his legs to steady her long enough to free one hand. “I think the akuma’s in her goggles!”
Chat tore off her goggles and flung them off. Marinette caught them and stomped on them, with the breaking of the lenses came the akuma.
Chat’s ring beeped its final minute and his pole disappeared out from under him, plunging him and Bijougler down into the gap between the buildings.
Time slowed down, the both of them falling while the akuma flew up and she couldn’t tell who to go after first.
“LADYBUG! LADYBUG, DO SOMETHING!” Chat screamed up as he plummeted further down.
Marinette flung her yo-yo up. “Lucky charm!”
A red, polka dotted net fell and she tossed it down into the alley, it settled and stuck to both walls catching Chat and Bijougler.
“Time to de-evilize!” With one jump off the ledge, she flung it up once again, capturing the akuma and falling down to join them.
She landed in the net, jostling it to drop them all safely onto the ground, and released the white butterfly. “Bye-bye, little butterfly.”
She got up to dust her hands, breathing out a sigh of relief. “That was a close one, wasn’t it, Félix —”
Her words got caught in her throat when she saw the people in her net. One was a knocked-out redheaded girl and the other — the other —
Adrien Agreste was in her net.
“No,” she whispered, denial and shock buckling her knees and slouching her shoulders.
Adrien sat up and rubbed the back of his head, grinning at her weakly. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
If she wasn’t shaken to the core, she would have pinched him for that joke, but all she could think of was, “This is a trick.”
“What is?”
“You. It can’t be you. This is another akumatized person — a shape-shifter! A mirror entity that shows us what we want.”
“Aww, so you admit you want me?” he said jokingly with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Chat behavior on Adrien’s face was a truly uncomfortable mix.
Adrien rolled up and handed her the net. “What’s the matter? I thought you liked me, this me.”
Marinette snatched the net and backed away, the shock started to melt off. “You’re not Adrien.”
“Of course I’m Adrien. If you don’t believe me, look!” He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a black cat kwami the same size as Tikki. “This is Plagg.”
Plagg waved at her. “Hey, Tikki’s holder.”
A strangled noise escaped Marinette’s throat.
Adrien reached out and touched her elbow, concern and a slight tinge of fear in his big green eyes. “Are you disappointed?”
“I don’t know how I’m feeling right now.”
“Relieved, I hope? You now know what the rest of my face looks like,” he laughed nervously. “I’ve wanted to tell you since our first year as heroes, so, I’m relieved. It’s like I can finally breathe.”
“Uh-huh,” Marinette huffed, still stunned, clutching the net tighter.
Scenes from many missions over many years started to calculate and compare in her mind at a rapid speed and from the amount of sheer coincidences, taking Adrien’s disappearances and Chat’s availability in a crisis started to click.
She took one good look at him, mentally placing a black domino mask, a catsuit and lighter, messier hair and lo and behold, standing in front of her was Chat Noir who was Adrien Agreste who was —
“Félix,” she laughed tiredly. “God, that gave me so much hope.”
“Hope for what?”
She stepped backwards out of the alley and he followed quickly. With a deep breath, she tossed up the net. “Miraculous Ladybug!”
The red and pink blur rushed around Paris, returning the stolen jewels, repairing the broken stores and lifting the redhead that was Bijougler out of the alley. Marinette quickly ducked back in and turned against the wall, breathing in and out deeply.
This was Adrien, who was all she had ever wanted. Adrien was Chat Noir, who had longed for her attention and been such a great boyfriend for the past three months, who never pressured or guilted her for her identity, who was perfect. Who wasn’t Félix.
“It’s not that name, is it?” Adrien asked quietly, setting a hand on her shoulder.
She turned her head enough to see the Soul Mark on the inside of his arm. There, clear as day, was MARIE-ANNETTE.
At that point her eyes nearly jumped out of her skull.
Taking in another deep breathe and breathing it out, she straightened up and turned to face him. “Adrien, why did you pick Félix?”
“Oh? I — uh, I was baptized Félix Adrien Gabriel Agreste, but on the birth certificate I’m just Adrien,” he said with a slight nervous laugh.
Her own heartbeat blared loud in her ears, practically deafening her to any other sound.
“Tikki, spots off!”
A rush went up her body and with it went her costume, mask and yo-yo. Tikki spun into being, dizzy. Once she noticed what was going on, she spotted Plagg. “Marinette! What did you do?”
“What I wanted to do.”
Adrien’s jaw dropped and he started gesturing aimlessly around his face, between them then to her hair. “Your — your pigtails.”
Marinette smiled at him. “Hi.”
Dumbfounded, Adrien sagged back against the wall of the alley. “Is this the point where we crack a joke about Clark Kent’s glasses?”
“This would be the moment.”
“Wow,” he said dazedly. “You’ve been under my nose the whole time.”
“So have you.”
“We’re in the same class!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.
“Our best friends are dating!” Marinette added.
“I’ve been to your house!”
“I’ve been obsessing your face for years!”
Adrien burst out laughing and Marinette found herself joining him.
“So, what does this mean for us?” Adrien asked her. “Also, is Marinette a contraction of Marie-Annette? Please say yes.”
“It was when I was a newborn, but not legally,” she admitted. “I think you were right about us balancing each other out, good luck and bad luck, because this is too good to be a coincidence.” She rubbed the arm that held her Soul Mark up and down anxiously. “Are we going to stay together or have you changed your mind?”
Adrien jumped forward, waving. “No! Are you crazy?”
“I’m just giving you the option, because you didn’t pick me, you picked Ladybug, and someone else fated for you might come along in the future,” she rambled off. “You could not be my Félix and I could not be your Marie.”
“You are to me!” Adrien insisted, taking her hand, turning up. His brows rose up when he spotted FÉLIX.
Taken aback, Marinette set a hand on her heart. “And so are you, where it counts.”
He beamed at, smile blindingly bright. “Knowing our luck, if fate made us Chat Noir and Ladybug, then it would have given us those birth names just like it gave us these disguises, close enough but not exact.”
“Close enough but still far apart,” she said wistfully. “That does sound kind of fateful, assuming Fate is an asshole.”
“Probably is, so fate be damned! Just because luck or chance drops something on you doesn’t mean you have to take it,” he said. “I chose to be Chat Noir and I chose you. I still choose you, in any form, fate or not.”
She felt herself tearing up, suddenly overwhelmed beyond belief. “That’s really all I ever wanted to hear, that someone chose me for me, not because magic told them to.”
Adrien stepped forward and cupped her face, she could feel his Miraculous ring cold against her flushing skin. She returned the gesture, holding his face and thumbing his cheekbones, finally looking right into his eyes without the mask and cat-pupils.
This was the face she had wanted to see looking back at her, not Adrien Agreste the model, but Chat Noir the wisecracking hero.
“Hello, Adrien.”
“Hello, Marinette.”
They met halfway, smiling into their kiss and intertwining their Marked hands.
Looking back on their lives, Marinette was sure of one thing now, and that their story, full of magic, luck, adventure, hits and misses, loose threads and resolutions, was simply miraculous.