Chapter Text
Adrien is laying down on a school bench, eyes squeezed tight in an effort to block out every source of light and sound. His head is pounding something awful, and if he makes even the slightest bit of movement his skull will crack apart. School ended only minutes ago, and Adrien Agreste feels dread pool in his stomach at the sound of students flooding the halls. Everyone was so loud , today. Adrien could barely focus on the lesson, the ceiling lights were far too bright for his eyes.
He had been pushing himself this past week, going to school, extracurricular activities and lessons in between. Not to mention superhero work. It’s a wonder he even had a chance to breathe right now. But that doesn’t matter, if he can just get a few minutes of uninterrupted quiet, he’d be okay. Just a few minutes…
“Adrien?”
It takes everything in him not to curse out loud. It takes even more effort for him to crack his eyes open and turn to the person speaking to him.
“Yeah?” he asks, eyes straining. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is standing before him, blushing at him with those bluebell eyes of hers. Alya is standing beside her, and she glances down briefly to tap away at her phone.
“A-Are you okay?” Marinette asks, peering at him worriedly. “You look a little...pale.”
“M’fine.” he responds, and manages a smile. To prove his point, Adrien slides to his feet, trying his best to ignore the horrible lurch in his stomach. It was time he got going, anyway. He had piano practice soon, and he had to be on time if he was going to finish his homework. “See?”
Marinette’s face turned several shades of red, and she gave him a smile that nearly split her face in two.
“Y-Yeah! You look...you look...fine.” she stammers, and her eyes widen. “Not like, damn you’re fine, but. You know.”
Adrien nods, and the motion makes his head feel like dead weight on his neck. He blinks, vision suddenly blurry.
“We’re hanging out at Luka’s today.” Alya pipes up, smiling at him. “Do you wanna come?”
Hanging out at Luka’s house sounded really nice, and the thought of not being able to go only worsens Adrien’s mood.
“I’d like to, but I don’t think my dad will let me.” He runs a hand through his blond locks, and Marinette makes a funny noise inside her throat. “I’ve been having a really busy schedule this past...month.”
Alya give him a sympathetic look. “Maybe you should take the day to get some rest.” she advises. “You do look sort of pale.”
Adrien is about to respond that yes, he should get some rest, and he plans to do so right away when he gets back home. It’s easier to lie at times like this, because the truth would just depress them. The truth is that Adrien would spend his whole day with his nose in a book or playing a song on the piano that never seemed to satisfy his father no matter how beautifully he played it. He’d stop Hawkmoth is his tracks once again and watch as the love of his life resists his advances once again in favor of a stranger that holds her heart. He wouldn’t really get any sleep until later on tonight, when his spiralling thoughts and exhaustion would finally force him into slumber. That was too much to say, however. A simple “Yeah, you’re right.” would put everything to rest.
He doesn’t get to say anything like that, however, because his knees give out from under him and he drops to the floor.
“Adrien!” Marinette cries, and she’s at his side, voice sharp with panic. “Don’t move! Oh, are you okay?!” It’s garnered a crowd, and suddenly a few students from class are looking at them. Adrien, through the rush of heat flooding his body, feels completely embarrassed. He knows they’re only worried, but it still irritates him. Was it too much for him to faint from exhaustion in peace without everyone staring?
Marinette is squawking, hands fluttering around him like nervous birds in flight. People are starting to gather around them, watching as the always put together Adrien Agreste sits on the floor, head slightly bobbing as he tries to keep himself upright. Through all the commotion, Alya gives a sigh and slips her phone into her pocket. She moves past Marinette and kneels down. Adrien suddenly feels a hand at the back of his knees and he starts. Alya is trying to lift him off the ground.
“Alya,” he says, voice slightly slurred. “It’s fine...you don’t have to…”
Instead of answering, Alya takes his arms and slips them around her neck despite Adrien’s best efforts to pull away. Then, in one fluid motion, Alya Cesaire is lifting Adrien Agrests bridal style. She jostles him a little so that he fits more comfortably in her ams and starts walking off without a word.
Marinette can only stammer and follow. Adrien is still trying to protest, but to no avail. He’s just so surprised that Alya can carry him with such ease. He wasn’t heavy, per se, but Alya was much shorter than him, and she was the last person he’d ever expect to do something like this. If he’s heavy, she doesn’t let it show. She carries him like she would a little kid, and he has no choice but to give in.
In the end, Adrien sits in the nurse’s office, ignoring the texts from his driver out front of the school.
“Thans, Ahya.” Adrien says, words clumsy from the thermometer under his tongue. She looks up from her phone, and gives him a brilliant smile.
“What’re friends for?”
Adrien stays home from school the next day, burning with fever. Nathalie does her best to help him, and it hurts Adrien to think that his father was too busy to even see if his only son was okay. It’s ridiculous, because what else could Adrien expect from the man? He had been eating dinner alone for years now, a simple cold wasn’t going to change anything, but still. Angry and miserable, Adrien is burrowed under his covers, stewing in the fact that he had to miss school and his father clearly didn’t care about his well-being and nobody had texted him all day and that he was currently sweating through his shirt and would have to put on another one…
There’s a sudden knock on his door that interrupts his flow of miserable thoughts, and Adrien pokes his head out of the covers at the same time Nathalie sticks her head in his room.
“Adrien?” she whispers. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” he responds, wincing at the ache in his throat. Nathalie shifts, and her eyes dart to something beside her before she glances his way again.
“There’s someone here to see you.” she says, and steps out of the way. Alya then swaggers into his room, eyes glinting behind her glasses.
“Yo.” she greets, grinning at the shocked look on Adrien’s face. She settles into his room as if she has done so every day of her life, sitting on one of his couches and rubbing a hand across the leather. “ Wow , this couch is nice.” Nathalie can only manage to blink in shock, and shakes her head before closing the door.
It takes a minute for Adrien to get his thoughts together, and even longer to form a coherent sentence. What comes out is a hoarse, “What are you doing here?” and Alya gives him a sympathetic look.
“I came here to see you! Didn’t you get my texts?” Adrien blinks and looks to his phone that is way across the room. His earlier frustrations about nobody texting him dries up, and he gives an embarrassed half-smile.
“No, sorry.” He wants nothing more than to lay back down, but finds himself unable to fully relax in her presence. This was the first time in his memory that someone other than Nino had come into his room....No, scratch that. He vaguely remembers helping Lila study that one time. A thought occurs to him.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
At this, Alya gives him a deadpan look. “Adrien, school ended like, an hour ago. Everyone hopes you feel better, they were all pretty worried about you.” Adrien inwardly cringes. So everyone knows about him falling over at school yesterday, which also means they know about Alya carrying him to the nurse’s office. Great. Alya must notice the embarrassment on his face because she smiles at him.
“Aw, don’t worry, Adrien. If anything, this will pass in a day or two; and you’ll be feeling better by then, anyway.” Adrien’s shoulders relax, and his smile is more genuine this time.
“You’re right, thanks.”
Alya gives a distracted, “Uh-huh.” She’s digging through her book-bag and sets a folder down on his desk, and it’s only then does Adrien notice that Alya has a plastic bag hanging on her wrist. She checks her phone and pushes her glasses up to her face. She walks over and plops the plastic bag onto his bed with a wink.
“Here you go.” she says, and heads towards the door. “Ms. Bustier said take your time with the homework. Get well soon!” she gives him a wave and slips out of his room, shutting the door softly behind her.
Not ready to tackle his missing work just yet, Adrien fishes through the plastic bag. There’s a bottle of orange juice, a small bottle of medicine and a warm chocolate chip cookie. Adrien can’t help but smile. He unwraps the cookie and bites into it. He knows that chocolate probably isn’t the best thing for him right now, but he can’t bring himself to care. The cookie, and the girl that gave it to him, are just too sweet.
As it turns out, the minute his cold leaves, the stress appears. Adrien manages to keep both in check for nearly a month straight before things take a turn for the worst. He catches up on his homework, gets straight A’s in all of his subjects, and even manages to hang out a couple of times with his friends. But one day, on a rainy spring afternoon, Adrien loses track of time when all of his friends crowd into the art room, coming up with new mask designs for Kitty Section.
The atmosphere had been so warm and friendly despite the dreary weather outside, that Adrien had forgotten all about his rigid schedule. His driver had waited outside for ten minutes, then twenty. When forty-five minutes had passed, he had left, thinking that perhaps Adrien had gotten a ride home by other means.
It isn’t until Adrien checks his watch does he see the time. An hour has gone by already, and his jaw nearly hit the floor. He leaves in a flash, smiling apologetically at the crestfallen expressions on the faces of Marinette, Nino and the rest as he darts from the art room, up several flights of steps and out the front doors of his school. Adrien pants, trying to catch his breath as his eyes scan the street.
His driver is nowhere to be found, but that doesn’t surprise him. His chauffeur was never a patient man, and he must have waited for almost an hour before driving off. Adrien closes his eyes and swears, he’ll never make it back to his house in time for his piano lesson. He can’t bear to think about what his father was going to say, much less Nathalie…
Anxiety coils tightly in his stomach as he steps out onto the sidewalk. Nervously, Adrien checks his phone again. He thinks about calling Nathalie, but slides his phone back into his pocket. He doesn’t want to call her, he doesn’t want to call anyone. He just wants to go home without another lecture or a disappointed glare.
“Hey!” Adrien jumps and looks to the street. Alya Cesaire is at the sidewalk, a helmet over her head as she steadies herself on her bike. She waves at him. “Come on!”
Without a word, Adrien runs to her. He stands on the bike pegs and places his hands carefully on her shoulders. “Alya,” he says, feeling unease battle with the anxiety in his stomach. “A-are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, it’s raining and all…”
“It’s better than you running in this mess.” She puts her feet on the pedals. “Now, hold on tight. I don’t have an extra helmet.” Alya adjusts her grip on the handle bars and pushes off. She weaves through the heavy traffic and rain-slicked streets with relative ease, but Adrien is tense the entire ride. He can’t bear to think of what would happen should Alya lose control because of the rain, or if they happened to come across a reckless driver. He doesn’t know how she manages to ride with her book-bag strapped to her, along with him on the spokes and his too-heavy book-bag as well. If the combined weight is a burden, she doesn’t show it.
“How are you doing?” Adrien asks as Alya banks a corner.
“Fine!” she calls back over the rain. He’s worried about her glasses. Would she be able to see properly? “I used to do this for Marinette all the time.”
“We’re almost there.” Adrien blinks, and hesitantly uses one hand to wipe at his face before quickly placing is back on Alya’s shoulder. He risks glances at this watch and realizes they’re making good time. If Alya keeps up this pace, his father would only be mildly angry instead of that quiet steely anger he got whenever he was really furious. Alya suddenly swivels, barely managing to avoid a speeding car, and Adrien sucks in a breath.
“Sorry!” Alya calls, and mutters something under her breath that sounds vaguely like, “speedy jackass…”
The ride goes smoothly the rest of the way, but Adrien digs his nails into Alya’s book-bag straps anyway.
By the time they get to his house, they are both properly drenched, and Adrien leads them into his house. He instructs Alya to take off her shoes and runs in his socks to fetch them both towels. When he comes back, he nearly slips and falls to the floor. Alya is dripping wet, shivering on the spot.
Gabriel Agreste is standing before them, stern and accusatory.
The air he exudes is frosted and old, like a library shut away to rot. Adrien swallows, and he can feel a familiar heat rising to his face. If he was getting another cold Adrien was certain he was going to scream. There are a few moments of uninterrupted awkward silence before his father speaks.
“So,” Gabriel says, voice clipped. “I see you’re late. Again.”
“Uh, yeah.” Adrien responds, feeling water drip down his back. “Time sort of got away from me.” He goes to pass Alya a towel and she takes it quickly. It’s only then does his father take notice of Alya. He observes her soaked appearance and there’s the barest curl of his mouth that shows the disgust on his face.
“Your driver called and said he had been waiting outside for an hour.” Gabriel says, the barest hint of impatience creeping into his voice. “I would’ve thought that you would know the importance of punctuality by now, but I guess I was wrong. What exactly were you doing that caused you to be so late coming home?”
That’s a loaded question, one Adrien knows his father already knows the answer to. He can’t even bring himself to wipe the water off his hair. The very idea of being scolded in that icy tone of voice, right in front of a friend, is mortifying. Right now, Adrien feels smaller than he ever thought possible. “I was hanging out with some friends,” he responds, and Gabriel’s mouth presses into a thin line.
“And I suppose that hanging out with your friends is more important than your schoolwork? Or the extra lessons that had to be cancelled because time just ‘got away from you?’”
Adrien bristles, and the first flares of anger ignite in his chest. “I didn’t say that.” he retorts, and Gabriel gives him a patronizing look.
“You didn’t have to, you being an hour late says it all. I don’t know how you expect to graduate when it’s clear you have no respect for time or the effort I put in to make sure you get the best education possible.” Something akin to a smirk crosses Gabriel’s face. “Perhaps that isn’t the best school for you. Maybe I should look into something further away from all of these... distractions.” Adrien can feel a lump in his throat, and it only makes his face burn hotter. There’s a fine tremble in his hands that he can’t control. He blinks, trying to dispel the sting in his eyes. Adrien absolutely cannot afford to cry right now. He never has before, and he sure as hell won’t do it now. This is the most his father had ever spoken to him, and it was nothing more cruel mockery.
“Dude, I seriously think you need to chill out.” Adrien jumps, he had completely forgotten Alya was here. Her voice had cut through Gabriel’s tirade, and they both turn to face her. Gabriel’s glare is sharp enough to cut, but Alya only meets his glower with an irritated look of her own. Nobody had ever spoken to his dad like that. It only took a simple gaze from him to have Nino practically sprinting to the door.
And here was Alya, staring up at Gabriel Agreste without even a trace of fear. It was incredibly daunting, but Adrien manages to shake off the surprise in hopes of catching her eye.
“Excuse me?” Gabriel says, squinting down at her. “And who are you?”
“I’m Alya Cesaire. I’m his friend.”
“Well, Alya ,” her name is practically hissed through Gabriel’s teeth. “I hope you realize that you are in no position to tell me how I should act around my son. This conversation doesn’t concern you.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t. But Adrien obviously didn’t mean to be late getting home. If I hadn’t given him a ride here, he most likely would’ve ran all the way home in the rain.”
“An effort in futility, I see, since the two of you are a mess anyway.”
“I guess scolding your son while he’s soaking wet is more important than making sure he doesn’t catch a cold. Again.”
“If my son gets sick because of his irresponsibility, that’s no fault of mine. Perhaps it’ll teach him a lesson.”
“Your son gets sick because he runs himself ragged trying to live up to your insane expectations! Maybe someone should teach you a lesson on how to be a better parent.” Alya cocks her hip and folds her arms, peering up at Gabriel with all the sass and fire in the world. Adrien can’t believe what he’s hearing. He’s starting to think that maybe he’s suffered a stroke and is hallucinating, because there’s no way Alya just said all of that to his dad. Rage crosses Gabriel’s face, and he appears almost ruffled. To think, a simple high-school girl could flummox and unnerve the most intimidating man in all of Paris.
“Get out of my house this instant.” Gabriel growls, and Alya tosses the towel onto the floor with as much flair as possible.
“Gladly.” she retorts, and spins on her heel, flipping her hair so that the rain droplets from the ends of her hair flick onto Gabriel’s pristine expensive suit. She puts her shoes on without untying them and leaves, the front door clipping shut behind her.
When Gabriel turns back around, his face turning several shades of red, and he finds Adrien has left.
In the safety of his own room, Adrien quickly strips off his clothes and puts on a pair of fresh pajamas. He lays down on his bed, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes. The lump in his throat has gotten bigger, and it blocks the sobs rising up inside. It doesn’t quell the tears, which slip out of his eyes despite his best efforts. Somewhere, he hears shuffling, and it can only be Plagg rising from his place in one of Adrien’s desk drawers.
“Adrien, are you okay?”
Slowly, somewhere deep inside, the urge to cry is replaced with a strange sort of laughter. It’s an odd mix that swirls inside his chest. Adrien’s shoulders shake with the effort to keep himself composed. He can’t believe what just happened.
“I’m fine, Plagg.” He removes his hands and looks at Plagg with teary eyes but a steady smile. “I’m fine.”