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Marinette snapped up at the sound of clattering objects and a small ‘yelp’.
“Emma!?”
She sprinted down the hall, veering left into the master bedroom. A plethora of books, boxes, and knick-knacks littered the floor at the mouth of her closet—where a six-year-old laid sprawled out, dazed and bewildered.
Marinette tip-toed through the mess and knelt to help her daughter sit up. Tears prickled the little girl’s eyes as she mumbled a string of apologies.
“Shh—it’s ok. I’m not mad. I promise,” Marinette assured, gently lifting Emma’s chin and turning it aside, “are you hurt?”
After a breath of silence, she sniffled. Wiping her face with one arm, shook her head, “No…I’m ok.”
Marinette exhaled with relief, “That’s…that’s good,” she slowly scoured the room, taking mental notes. Her attention returned to the closet, “what were you doing in there?”
“Um…” Emma fumbled with the hem of her dress, dropping eye contact, “…I wanted to find stuff…for something.”
“Something?” Marinette repeated as she sat, “Can you tell me what it is?”
Emma slid her knees up to her chest, “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Well,” Marinette cast her daughter a certain look, “I would appreciate you telling me anyway, since you went through my stuff without asking.”
Emma released a hefty sigh, conceding to the point “Ok…I need more clothes for my fashion show. It’s happening when Papa gets home tonight…and you have super cool stuff.” she returned her mother’s gaze, “The boxes fell down by accident. I didn’t mean it.”
Despite her daughter’s methods, Marinette felt a small twinge of pride. It was heart-warming to see Emma’s passions take shape—even taking interest in her own line of work. Children were always full of surprises.
“I see. You know, I can always help with stuff like that—just ask me next time. Communication helps us stay safe,” she emphasized, to which Emma nodded, “Though, there’s usually not this much junk. It’ll go away once Papa and I finish cleaning the attic.”
Marinette hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the clutter that encircled them.
“I can help with cleaning up?” Emma offered.
“That would be awesome,” Marinette replied with a smile, “Kiss on the cheek?”
Emma grinned in affirmation, crawling up to her mother. She planted a soft kiss, “Alright let’s get started.”
They spent the next half-hour tidying and sorting. Emma added unsolicited commentary on various items of interest, gleefully making jokes at Marinette’s expense. It was rather enjoyable banter, despite the teasing—keeping the mundane at bay.
“Maman! Look!” Emma interjected, turning with a box in hand. She cracked open the lid to reveal a plethora of old polaroids, “It’s you! And Auntie Alya! And Uncle Nino!”
Marinette paused to examine the collection.
“Oh…wow,” she murmured, plucking one up, “These are from my time at collège and lycée,” Marinette smiled fondly at the youthful faces of friends and former classmates. A wave of nostalgia for a simpler time enveloped her like a warm blanket.
“You guys look super different.”
A paparazzi shot of Ladybug surfaced, causing her to still.
Admittedly, not very simple in retrospect.
“It was a long time ago.”
Emma gasped, drawing her attention. She fixated on a photo, clutching it with both hands.
“Who's that?”
Marinette’s breath hitched.
Her daughter flipped the photo around and pointed at her younger self—wrapped in a loving embrace—in the midst of a kiss.
A kiss…with Adrien Agreste.
Every fiber of her being felt paralyzed.
Unable to fight the invisible weight that crushed her chest.
Marinette rapidly blinked, feeling the swell of heat behind her eyes.
It had been so long since…
“Maman?”
Emma’s concerned voice ground her internal spiral to a halt.
“Are you ok?”
Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat, parting her lips—but she was devoid of sound.
No…
Receiving no reply, Emma scooted forward.
I can’t…I can’t do it.
She wrapped her little arms around Marinette’s frame.
…please don’t make me.
Her lungs burned for a lick of oxygen.
Please…
Please…
Please….
Marinette exhaled sharply, hands flying up to her throat.
Once the cogs of her mind resumed, she returned Emma’s gesture.
They simply remained there.
Holding one another in deafening silence.
“He-he was—” Marinette stammered, pulling away from her daughter, “—he was my first boyfriend.”
Emma’s mouth formed a small 'o'.
After a moment, she slid to the box and resumed rifling through its contents. Marinette watched as she plucked another photo of Adrien.
He was lounging on a picnic blanket. Rosy cheeks and tan skin—frozen in time with a carefree grin.
“He’s so handsome,” Emma remarked, scanning the picture, “He looks so strong—and his hair is gold! He’s like a real-life prince…”
Marinette smiled with saddened eyes, “I thought so too.”
“He’s so…perfect.”
Marinette’s face dropped, drawing Emma’s attention.
“No…” she shook her head, “…he wasn’t, actually.”
Emma gave a quizzical look, cocking her head to the side, “huh?”
“He wasn’t perfect,” she clarified, gaze lingering on the photo, “He tried to be—some people thought he was—but he wasn’t.”
Marinette gingerly picked another polaroid.
“He…” her lips slowly turned upward, “…was a real goofball, actually. His puns—god his puns were awful,” Marinette traced the curves of his face, “He could be really stubborn too. Constantly jumping into danger to protect everyone…”
Her solemn gaze flicked back to Emma.
“But that’s what made him special. It’s what makes all of us special…”
She blinked, voice trailing.
“It…it makes us human.”
The child stared back, quietly processing her words.
“What’s his name?”
Marinette set the photo down.
“Adrien.”
As if on cue, the trampling of footsteps echoed down the hall. A little boy with wild raven hair slid into the door frame, quickly recovering to scurry inside and tackle Marinette from behind. She burst into laughter and snaked the giggling boy around to her front.
“Hello little monkey,” Marinette booped his nose.
“That’s my name!” he squealed in excitement, “He has my name!”
Marinette smiled, scrunching her features, “Well, technically, you have his name,”
Emma crossed her arms, shooting him a pointed glare, “Ugh! You’re such a snooper, Adrien.”
“No, I'm not!” he protested, sticking his tongue out at her—which she quickly mirrored.
“Yes, you are!”
“Am not!”
Marinette rolled her eyes and settled little Adrien comfortably on her lap, “Guys—guys—let’s calm down, please.”
“He started it!” Emma accused, pointing her finger.
“And he’s all done now,” Marinette tilted to the side, “right, Adrien?”
He pouted in response, chin resting between his palms.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Marinette decided triumphantly, exchanging grins with her daughter.
“Maman?”
“Yes, Emma?”
She blinked, eyes darting to the box and back.
“Where’s grown-up Adrien now?”
Just as before, Marinette’s chest and throat constricted.
Panic slithered around her numbed body, tightening its ironclad grip.
She bit her sandpaper tongue.
“He’s…”
Her vision slowly blurred. Melting the room around her.
“…gone,” Adrien softly finished beside her.
Sunlight filtered through the sea of leaves above, cascading onto the pair in soft rays of green.
Marinette trailed her teenaged fingers along his forearm.
“What do you mean?” she asked, repeating words laced with fear. Last spoken a lifetime ago.
Her bare feet grazed the soft picnic blanket underneath. A warm summer breeze swept around them, sifting through her shoulder-length hair.
Although ghosts of sorrow still lingered in the Agreste mansion, the garden remained a peaceful oasis in the heart of the city.
“The doctors advised me to take my mother off life support,” Adrien clarified gently, reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind her ear, “we’re just prolonging the inevitable at this point.”
“Oh…” her voice rang hollow, “I’m so sorry, Adrien.”
Silence filled the space between them.
Adrien’s gaze flicked downward.
“I also…spoke to Master Fu.”
Marinette reflexively tensed.
“About…” Adrien frowned. Frustration grated his features, “…about my amok.”
It was the elephant they refused to address since the truth had been exposed. How could one even begin to conceptualize something of such magnitude?
“Once she…passes,” he turned to face her again, “I will be gone too.”
Marinette’s world stopped turning once those words escaped his lips.
“No…” she whispered as tears began to trail down her cheeks.
Denial coursed through her veins.
“No…no…no…”
Her eyes frantically searched his sullen face—as if he were disappearing in that very moment.
“NO, NO, NO—”
Marinette lunged into his arms. The shrieks of pain bled into violent sobs. Her body shook as it clutched onto his shirt like an anchor—hanging on for dear life.
She cried in his embrace for what felt like hours.
Releasing every drop of despair within her until a small shriveled husk remained.
“Marinette…” Adrien murmured into her hair, rubbing his palm in slow circles on her back.
She heaved once more.
“Please…” Marinette croaked with raw vocal cords, looking up, “please…don’t do this…please…”
His cheeks were stained with dried tears, “I don’t…we don’t have a choice.”
“I can—I can—”
“No.” Adrien replied firmly, holding her gaze, “I’m not letting anyone else die on my behalf.”
She could see the mask finally drop.
All the ugly guilt that had been festering seeped out. The unexpected burden of Emilie’s sacrifice had been eating away at his psyche for months.
“Not again.”
“Adrien, I can’t do this without you,” Marinette whispered. “Please, please, please, please…” she repeated manically, burying herself back into his embrace.
“I know—I know—I’m so sorry, Bugaboo,” he consoled, rocking her back and forth, “I know I’m asking for a lot, but—”
“It’s not fair!” Marinette crumpled, sobs wrenching through her body once more, “W-we were supposed to be free once he was defeated!
“W-we were supposed to go on dates and graduate—fall in love and get married—” she cried out like a wounded animal, “—and move in together—and have babies—a family! Adrien, you deserve to have a real family!”
Marinette watched his tears fall—mourning a lifetime of lost love between them. Moments of joy, pain, laughter, and sorrow—cut from the fabric of existence itself.
“Mari, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” he begged, wiping a palm across his face.
She shook her head vehemently, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Adrien. I want to wake up by your side every morning. I want you to be the father of my children. I want to grow old together. I want—”
“—And I wish I could give it to you. All of it,” Adrien tenderly cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek, “More than anything. But I can’t—I just can’t.”
Marinette stared at him intently. Committing every centimeter of his face to memory.
“I need you to live,” he went on, “I need you to live for both of us.”
Her lip trembled. Overwhelmed by the sight of Adrien’s resignation to fate.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you are going to live. A long, wonderful life. You will become an amazing designer and change the industry for the better. You’re going to find someone that loves you just as much as I do—and you’re going to be an amazing mother. You’re going to do everything I can’t…
“You will embrace everything this world has to offer. For me.”
Adrien leaned in—delicately pressing his lips to hers. He imparted all the love he possessed for her in that single kiss—along with many decades’ worth of stolen intimacy and heartfelt touches.
His face broke into a genuine smile as he pulled away, “I may be a cosmic fuck up—but I think the universe owes me one now.”
Marinette let out a strangled laugh, slightly taken aback by the sheer audacity to crack a joke.
Adrien glanced upward, pointing at the sky, “Just so you know, I mean it. Sacrificing myself to balance the scales is a big ask. Hope you know that.”
“Oh, Kitty…” she murmured, letting her body slump against his. He automatically wrapped his arms around her. Sharing the steady beat of the heart he had given her.
“At the risk of sounding super cheesy—our story isn’t done, Marinette.”
His unwavering green eyes echoed the promise.
“We’ll find a way back to each other…”
“…we always do.” Marinette finished with a blank expression.
The bedroom slowed its spin around her, emerging into focus once more.
“Huh?” Emma blinked, puzzled by her mother’s odd response.
“I’m sorry little ones,” Marinette frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose, “…I think I got a headache.”
“It’s ok, Maman.” Adrien pat her leg with a smile of understanding.
Contemplative silence took hold of her thoughts.
“You know,” she hummed, shifting little Adrien off her lap before collecting the scattered photographs, “I haven’t finished telling you about The Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”
Pure elation struck both their faces. Emma clasped her hands together, while Adrien leaped up with a sudden burst of energy, arms outstretched.
“The bestest superheroes! Beating Hawkmoth’s evil butt!” Adrien kicked the air with enthusiasm, losing balance in the process and landing on his behind. The girls giggled in response, with Marinette ruffling her son’s hair.
“Yes,” Marinette agreed with a smile, “but did you know that Hawkmoth had a son?”
“What?” the kids replied in unison, exchanging looks of surprise. Marinette nodded, closing the box of teenaged mementos and setting it aside.
“I think it’s time for another story,” Marinette decided, standing up, “but we should start making dinner first—Auntie Juleka and Auntie Rose are coming over tonight.”
Adrien bounced up, latching onto her hand with a wild grin, “Can we have pizza!? Pleeeeease?”
“I think we can manage that, how do you feel about pizza?” Marinette turned to Emma, who responded with a thumbs-up.
“Let’s goooo—” Adrien tugged Marinette in direction of the kitchen, making a quick face at his unimpressed sister, “Come on slowpoke!”
“You’re a total pain in the butt,” Emma stood in a dramatic fashion, walking past them with a haughty expression, “Snooper.”