She was devastated, inconsolable.
She had been the person who thought everything was perfect, only to find out in the worst way that it wasn't.
The truth was in the open. When a guy was into you, he would do whatever it takes to be with you. It didn't matter if he had work troubles or drama within family. If he wanted to contact you, he would, if he wanted to see you, he would and if he wanted a relationship, he would put in the work. Women often worked hard to keep making excuses for men. Now she was that silly woman.
Marinette was building up theories about his character to cling onto the idea that the last few months were something of real worth and not just wasted time and that the feelings he gave her were not just smoke and mirrors. She was holding onto that last sliver of hope that he might step back into her life.
The last time she had been with someone, way back when she was studying, she had had a feeling in her gut that this was it. To his merit, the guy had contacted her the next day. Receiving a text that it wasn't going to work out–she was used to that as well. With Chat she didn't even have that luxury. She knew Chat was a good person, he wouldn't do that to her without a reason, right? Was she wrong to have trusted him?
What she couldn't bear to face was plain and simple–he realised after some months that he couldn't see it working out in long term. He might have regretted starting it in the first place. She didn't quite realise she had cared that much.
She felt used and disrespected.
Nobody else around her knew how bad it felt. It hurt, the aching was unbearable. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. The disregard was insulting.
She hadn't just lost someone she had a sexual relationship with, she had also lost a good friend who she had trusted and loved. In the simplest terms they had been seeing each other casually for four months. The ground rules of their…agreement had never been clear in the first place. If she had been brave enough, they would have defined it for what it was–an actual relationship. He had wanted it and she denied him. Absence of complete honesty from the start was the final nail in the coffin.
There was never a thought in her mind that he had somehow found about who she was. They hadn't shared details about their lives, especially during the last time they were together. And if by some coincidence, her identity was the reason for his departure, why would it have been a deal breaker? She was relatively unknown and hadn't made any waves, not any she was aware of. Most likely he had never even heard of her.
She shouldn't have insisted on keeping their identities secret. Maybe then he wouldn't have left her. She put her heart out there and she got burned. It was as simple as that.
It had been almost two months since she last heard from him. Her job… she was able to wrap things up, because she had thrown herself into work every moment she was awake. After Adrien left his position as her model, her designs were worn by the alternate who had the same sort of build. The designs didn't fit as well, but it had to do.
Gabriel wasn't pleased with her actions, but due to her receiving no repercussions or no pay cuts, she figured he had at least been satisfied with her creations. She didn't know what happened to Adrien, last she heard was that he travelled abroad again, right after he told Gabriel to release him from the partnership.
A few times, she almost called or texted Adrien's personal number. Since his previous assistant had recently gone on paternity leave, the corporative number was no longer used, which was also the reason why HR department had outdated information when she had tried to get in contact with him. She wanted to apologise for her rash actions and cattiness, but she never went through with it.
She was ashamed, had been in wrong and certainly too prideful at certain points. Even now, she had too much pride to ask for assistance. She would struggle and put up walls around her and people would just end up leaving her.
Without a model or an assistant, she was an anomaly in the team. Her broken heart embodied as a sickness that was accompanied by sleepless nights, loss of appetite and detachment.
Others around her had noticed, of course. Her job was taking a toll on her. She worked overtime and spent long days in her office that sometimes turned into nights. Some looked at her dark under-eyes that she had pitifully tried to cover up with concealer. Some asked if she was okay. Some pretended nothing was abnormal.
Ultimately, Chat never came back for the jacket he had left behind. She didn't dare ask around if anyone knew who it belonged to. He wouldn't have wanted her to find out his identity this way. Odd, that she still cared about that, when he obviously didn't.
The jacket was decently elegant, black, and plain compared to last season's ones. Sometimes, when she felt particularly lonely, she would take it from the hanger from her office closet where she stored it and inhale the fabric, although his scent had long vanished.
She missed Chat's presence in her life.
After sending another message in her low moment to the profile that hadn't been updated since that night, she decided she had to move on. It was no use pining over someone, who didn't give a damn about her. And the first thing she needed to do was to get rid of the jacket as it was a constant reminder of things she couldn't have.
The clothing department was on the fifth floor and usually packed with items used for photo shoots, runway shows and events. Almost all of them were GABRIEL or other brands under Agreste Corporations umbrella that specialised in jewellery or shoes, except few additional and collaborative pieces.
The people in the department kept detailed records–if a jacket was missing, they would have it documented. If it was Chat's personal clothing item, the department would then receive a new piece for their collection. She couldn't keep it any longer.
Thankfully, as it was a lunch break, the only person present was the one managing the front desk. She set the jacket on the table and asked the man working there who it might belong to.
"GABRIEL, spring 2019 menswear, got it. I'll check the database." Considering it wasn't yet released to the public, Chat must have been involved with GABRIEL's designers in some way as her last project was about designing the spring wear. The thought made her feel queasy. He was much closer than she expected. It was a real possibility she had met him before, maybe even worked with him.
The time he spent on typing and checking the records, her hands were sweating and her pulse sped up. It was going to give her the closure she needed. She was prepared to find out who he was. She was prepared to associate a name and a face with her heartbreak.
"You're right, it came from here." Her heart skipped a beat. The man leaned closer to the computer screen, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "Lent out for promotional use for unlimited time on January 29th this year."
"Promotional use?"
"It means that it's being used for events that require Agreste Co. clothing. These events are in most cases private where there's not much press around. Backwards thought process naming it in the records if you asked me. This jacket particularly was also used in marketing campaign according to the information listed or well, intended to be used as it actually wasn't included in the final version."
"There is no name attached?"
"Not in our system, you need to ask the marketing team who would have worked with him. I fear I can't give you anything else."
He was a model. Chat was a model. She wasn't familiar with the models who participated in the campaign, but she could easily find it out. Now, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to. The jacket wasn't in her possession, she didn't have anything to do with it anymore and thus she didn't need to search for the person who it had been issued to.
Trying to distract herself from Chat's possible identity and prevent herself from marching up to the marketing team, she focused on completing and perfecting her next assignment, which she had almost finished. As Gabriel Agreste often asked his subordinates to do things that were not in their job description, she didn't want to rush and be bombarded with excessive tasks. After working so many hours in the last months, she still wasn't doing enough.
Considering the unpredictable April weather, she unfortunately caught a small cold. She couldn't afford to take out any sick days, so having a box of tissues around her desk to wipe her runny nose was a necessity.
When Marinette stepped into the building lobby before leaving to her lunch break, she was stopped by a woman she had seen before but never talked to. The woman thanked her in passing for delivering Adrien's jacket to the clothing department, since it was presumed lost after Adrien appeared to have misplaced it. There was only one Adrien modelling for GABRIEL.
"Adrien Agreste?" Marinette wasn't certain if the room was spinning or if she was going to pass out.
"Mhm. They had to rearrange the whole marketing campaign for that reason as there was no other sample available in that time frame."
She didn't feel good.
"Do you… have any idea… where he is now?" He knew about her. And he had made his decision.
"No, but I heard he had another business trip shortly after he came back from Italy in February. He has such a busy schedule that he can't ever catch a break. Such a shame, he seems so miserable all the time. It must be hard to have such demanding father. I'm certain that he feels as he can't leave the industry, even if he wanted to," she said with a hint of sadness in her voice, "Is everything alright? You're looking pale, almost green." The woman caught sight of the tissue in her hand. "Oh, it must be the cold, I hope you get well soon!"
Marinette nodded and left.
She skipped lunch to cry in her office.
SIX MONTHS AGO
After the candidates' applications were reviewed by human resources management, the portfolios were sent to vacant positions department, where they were accompanied with feedback in the form of comments. The added comments only affected the choosing process if they leaned overly positive or negative. Otherwise, Gabriel Agreste, who made the executive decision, didn't take the notes into account.
The selected designers didn't see the comments themselves, but rumours in the building spread. Possible newcomers were an easy topic to chat about during coffee breaks.
The selection for the open position in the design team was in its final phase. Marinette's application had been outstanding. She had done her fair share of unpaid internships, since working for GABRIEL required previous experience in fashion field. She had graduated without honours, but two of her professors had written reference letters, which was what actually counted. It didn't hurt that Gabriel Agreste was familiar with her work. Now, she only had to wait few days to find out, if she got the job or not.
So far, Marinette's circle of associates from Agreste Corporatives consisted of Gabriel Agreste himself–as she had competed in his design contests when she was in college–Chloé, who used to go to her class for almost a decade and who couldn't be nice, even if she was paid to be; and Jasmine from the Human Resources, who conducted her initial interview and who loved to gossip.
Marinette and Jasmine met in the morning before she received the results of the contest in a café down the road, which with its homey atmosphere and muted earth tones relieved Marinette from the stress.
Jasmine loved to add spoonfuls of sugar into her macchiato that she also topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. Marinette couldn't understand how someone could drink such a sweet drink. She thought she had seen it all during the time she worked with her parents in their bakery.
After short greetings and catching up on recent news, Jasmine jumped in to involve her into the fashion and office rumour mill.
"You didn't hear it from me, but I heard someone wrote in your portfolio that your designs were tacky, juvenile and only place they belonged was a trash can." Marinette almost spit out her coffee and raised her eyebrows at the information laid out to her. "And that wasn't all! Apparently that whole comment had consisted of personal attacks and insults on your person, not just work. Incredibly unprofessional."
That was surprising; she hadn't spent enough time in the building to possibly have already made a negative and long-lasting impression. The opinions were subjective, but this went beyond the line. It was no longer constructive criticism or a blunt remark, but unnecessarily rude and frankly insulting comment. She trusted Jasmine, so she had no reason to believe she would lie to her. Not about that.
"You remember who it was?" For a person working in HR, it wasn't that unusual that Jasmine wasn't skilled at putting names and faces together, since she only had to deal with facts and numbers.
"I can't recall a name. Blonde hair, attractive–might be a model I'm not sure–close to Mr. Agreste and moves in high places, often seen with that girl, who can be quite mean and clingy. Oh, one time she came to the reception desk, right, and then started arguing with the poor guy who was attending the desk that day about why she didn't get the employee of the month award. Unbelievable!"
There was one mean girl she knew very well and if she wasn't wrong, she hadn't changed a bit. "…Chloé?"
Jasmine gulped down another sip of her sugar bomb. "Yeah, that's her!"
Chloé only had one friend–if you could call him that–who happened to be blond, a model and close to Gabriel. Daddy's boy, grown up child star, the richest most famous male model in the country–that's what everyone else said about him. She had no idea what she had done to offend Adrien Agreste. She hadn't even met him. In her teenage years, she even used to have an embarrassing crush on him.
"Great, then I know to stay away."
Marinette hadn't even been selected for the job yet and she already had an enemy in the company.
No wonder he never contacted her again.
People were rarely what you expected. Often the projection they wanted to see never quite matched up to the ideal.
Online interaction was nothing. It was words on a screen.
She knew she had been idealising Chat Noir and that he couldn't possibly measure up to the image she'd created in her head. She hoped that if she finally met him, his flaws and the differences between them would change her mind about him. Unfortunately, the reverse had happened. She had only grown more in love with him and got involved in a sexual relationship that could have potentially turned into a romantic one.
It was perhaps the worst feeling she had ever experienced and had to come to terms with. She feared it was not going to stop.
The picture she had created regarding Adrien was totally false if Chat had been sincere with her, which she was sure of. She had taken an immediate dislike. The forced teamwork had unintentionally led to conversations that were not just limited to work, but she had been stubborn and not looked past the first impression that seemed so uncharacteristic of him now.
They had actually gotten along when she allowed it to happen. She had never quite seen how the thorn in their relationship had mostly been her, not him. He was hostile only to match her disdain towards him.
That day in the rain… he had acted like he didn't know what he had written about her designs in the portfolio. He had taken her for a fool as she wouldn't have known what he had commented and pretended there was no ill history between them. She didn't like liars, and especially not when it concerned her.
From that moment on, she had justified her hatred based on that one comment and the fake facade he had put up around her. If she had been honest with herself, she would have recognised the hatred as mostly just misdirected anger that she had displaced onto him.
Maybe she shouldn't have taken his opinion so personally, but it was hard to let go of the initial showing. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Maybe there was more to the story; she just had never bothered to read the next chapter.
Though, she had to accept the reality–he had cut her off. It's scary that some people just had that switch and were perfectly able to move on like nothing happened. He obviously didn't care about her anymore.
She was partly to blame for it, she had messed up, but it didn't fully excuse his behaviour. He could have said goodbye, he could have said something. Business trip or not, he found out and went silent. It was still painful and disappointing.
If he wasn't the one to reach out, it had to be her. She had to be the one to swallow her pride and make amends.
It took her two days of preparing herself to call the personal number he had given her when they still worked together and which she had thrown in her desk drawer under all the clutter assuming she didn't need it. She pushed the digits on her phone and with a shaking hand she raised it to her ear and waited.
'The number you have dialled is not in use.' The message repeated and Marinette had to disconnect the call. It was as if the world didn't even want them to be together. An entire universe conspiring against them.
Still, she had to try one more time.
As she was close to the HR department, she didn't bother sending them a message and asked straight from the desk for Adrien's contact number. Adrien wasn't listed in the corporate contact database as he had to be officially part of Agreste Co. associated modelling agency. It was ridiculous, considering that all his contracts and offers went through Gabriel's assistant Nathalie.
Due to his close contact with the higher ups, his personal contacts were still saved and could be shared to the design department when there was a corresponding request. Marinette, eligible for the request, thus asked for Adrien's new phone number. Unfortunately, even they didn't have it.
"You know models"–administrator gestured with hands–"insane fans. Not terribly unusual to get harassed by them and needing to increase the security. Adrien switches phone numbers quite often."
"You're looking for Agreste?" The guy with a beard and multiple earrings in his ear appeared from behind her and leaned on the table.
When Marinette affirmed it he spoke again.
"He was upstairs in Gabriel's office just now."
The only reason he was there was because this was his job. Yet again his schedule had been so busy that he had to wonder if he'd ever get a next day off. He envied the ones who had a regular, consistent and secure 9 to 5 job.
He was prepared to pack his things again when his father asked to see him after the driver picked him up from the airport. The time zone difference and overnight flight had really messed up his sleep and although it was around 3pm, the only place he wished to be was in his apartment bed which he hadn't been able to use for at least four months. Living in hotels most of the time had its perks, but for once he missed the time when he had been constantly locked in his home mansion.
The day he flew in to New York, he had a shoot right away, and after that he had been taken to a studio where he needed to be until way after midnight. Contrary to popular belief, he rarely managed to explore the sites and do touristy things. Business trip to him meant double amount of work and no energy to even leave the hotel, when he was finally done.
He had to constantly wear the expensive suits and tailored clothing, which made flying, even in business class, a difficult time. Work hours stretched into long nights, which in turn lead up to the parties and social gatherings he was invited to attend. The mornings were always early and the amount of sleep he could get insufficient.
If the hotel personnel weren't aware of his profession, they often assumed him to be one of the flight crew of some kind of commercial airline as the hotel room he occupied was as pristine and impersonal as it had been before his arrival.
The only redeeming feature of another exotic trip–as the media liked to call his work obligation – was that he had a familiar presence with him–his bodyguard since he started modelling. Surrounded by people, who were constantly doing coke and had a permanent smell of smoke and booze stuck to them, affected him and having a family member or well, closest to a family member with him was a relief. Sometimes he wondered if Gorilla cared more about his well-being than his own father.
This industry was not pretty as much as people would like to think it was. His father had been extremely strict and controlling, but due to this he had thankfully had a tame and not sexualised youth. He had never touched or desired drugs and other addictive substances, and people he worked closely with could be trusted–Gabriel had made sure of it. Compared to other models, it hadn't been that bad for him. He should be grateful, some would have said, which was appalling as they really believed what other models had to endure was the expected norm.
In the end, his father had left for his meeting already and the office was vacant save for his assistant. He hadn't even bothered coming to see him after not seeing him for months. It really made him wonder why his father made him wait if he never showed up. When Natalie informed him of his next week's schedule that she had organised and handed to him, he accepted it with a short nod and left the room.
Walking back to the stairs to get back to the car that was waiting for him to drive him to his apartment, he stopped when he came face to face with Marinette.
Her expression didn't betray her emotions. She just took one look at him and entered her office.
When she was out of his sight, he exhaled and put his hand over his chest trying to calm down his heart rate. He had dreaded the moment it would happen, but now, when it was over, he didn't know what he had even expected.
She had hatred in her heart that was deeper than her need for truce.
He walked over to her office and heard a sneeze followed by Marinette blowing her nose. The door was ajar. He owed it to himself and Marinette to get things out there, before they agreed to part ways. He took the unclosed door as an affirmation that she didn't mind being disturbed and as an invitation to come in, so he opened it–closing it completely afterwards–and stepped into her office where he had been many times before.
Marinette sat on her desk, next to the box of tissues and wasn't at all surprised to see him entering into the room.
"Do you know?" He needed confirmation, even though the answer was obvious. As resourceful as she was–she had figured it out without question.
She didn't respond.
He put his hands in his front pockets and waited near the door. If he stepped any closer, it would be more difficult.
"You left me without letting me have any say in the matter!" Marinette wasn't looking at him, but out of the window. It had started raining again.
"What was I supposed to do? We were never on the same page."
"You could have sent a message, you could have called! You just went ahead and made the choice to end it alone. You knew and you didn't say anything!" She rose from her seat on the table and looked at him. It wasn't loathing she was speaking from, but hurt and the feeling of betrayal. He hadn't wanted this to happen, but it did.
He took a step closer. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, struggling for control over the situation in hand and holding herself together to prevent falling apart.
"I should have told you when I found out, but I didn't know how. I didn't know how to react and how to confront the fact that you despised me and wanted nothing to do with me. We wouldn't be in this position, if we had been honest with each other from the beginning."
"So it's my fault? Is that what you're saying?"
"No! No… it's not. I don't know how to be around you. You disrespected me at every turn and you had this hatred towards me from the start that for the life of me I cannot understand."
"That's not true!" He continued on.
"I tried to make amends with you and you didn't listen. I was willing to look past our differences–I wanted this to work out. I know you were under a lot of pressure and it may have been easy for you to dump all the shit you were dealing with on me, but there's a line and you crossed it that day. I thought it was easier if I ended it before both of us got hurt."
In his perspective, he had done the sane and emotionally healthy thing by ending things with her. Their friendship was over, regardless. He had wanted something, which he was never going to have. No matter how much he wished things could go back to the way that they were, they just couldn't.
Adrien turned away as Marinette crossed her arms and leaned forward. It was already a sinking ship, might as well watch it burn.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now? No matter what definition the relationship we had fell in, I considered you to be my friend. Past couple of months I was worried sick not knowing what happened to you until I just had to accept I was not worth your time and spend the rest of my life questioning what it was I did wrong." She put her hands up in surrender. "You know what? That's fine. It doesn't matter anymore. I just wish you'd have told me."
It seemed that they both had difficulties recognising what either of them was basing their arguments on. Connecting the relationship that they had in the forum as Ladybug and Chat Noir with the dynamic between Adrien and Marinette wasn't an easy task to accomplish.
"I didn't expect things to turn out like this."
"And you think I did? You think I wanted him to be you?" He drew in a sharp breath and she was shocked at her own foulness. She was acting like a brat. "I-I'm sorry, this was uncalled for."
The feelings of anger, resentment and sense of loss–it poisoned her mind, she couldn't think clearly. Chat had often reminded her to take responsibility for her actions. Why couldn't she follow his advice now, when it was the deciding factor, whether they could get out of this mess or not? She wasn't just burning the ship, she was dropping a bomb on it.
"Marinette, what did you think was going to happen?"
It was evident that he wasn't interested in restoring their relationship. Shame on her for expecting anything different. She was only making things worse and it was too late to retreat.
"You can't do that to me." Her voice caught in her throat and she was on the verge of tears. She had made a mistake once and she was not going to make that mistake again. "I wish you never came back."
She just broke down.
Marinette took another tissue from the box and swiped at her eyes with it before blowing her nose again. She hated feeling so vulnerable around him. She had to reapply mascara when it was over, right now she didn't care about how she looked. He hadn't given shit about her appearance before anyway.
She was resigned to the fact that she was going to lose him either way after this conversation. She wasn't stupid. She didn't deserve his forgiveness or his respect.
Adrien wanted to step out of the office for a minute and take a breath. He had had time to think about their situation, but it seemed that Marinette had just recently found out and without intending to do so, he had rubbed salt in a fresh wound.
The standard disclaimer as to why one shouldn't get involved with someone at work was that it was difficult to avoid awkwardness and embarrassment when things had gone sour or when the colleagues kept making inappropriate comments about things that didn't concern them. They didn't work directly together on a daily basis, but they had worked on the same project, and once in a while they would attend the same meetings and events. Absolutely no contact in their line of work was out of the question.
He thought she would be glad if she had to interact with him only when it really couldn't be avoided. She had always complained about her co-worker when he was in the role of Chat Noir.
Her present-day reaction to his abrupt departure spoke volumes. He hadn't considered that she valued what they had as Ladybug and Chat Noir more than to be swayed by their dysfunctional relationship in public as co-workers. He had made an assumption and been wrong.
"I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. It just turned out that way."
Marinette looked crushed. She was crying and he couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't even able to hold her.
"It all happened so quickly, I acted without thinking and made a decision to shut myself off from the situation. I didn't understand exactly how I felt, and had to process things for few days. I focused only on avoiding my own discomfort." He threaded a hand through his hair.
"I deleted my account the same night I found out who you were and couldn't undo it later. Next thing I knew I was on flight to New York and far away from these circumstances." In retrospect, there was so much he could have done.
She was leaning on the table blankly staring at the wall.
"I don't need your reasons."
"Despite what people often think of me, I'm used to giving and not getting a lot in return. Eventually, I don't have anything left to give. I just… really didn't think you'd want to see me again. You wouldn't understand." Marinette straightened and lifted her chin.
"No, I don't understand. Why are you telling me these things? You started it when you insulted my designs and verbally attacked me for no apparent reason. I didn't know you–what had I ever done to you?"
His mouth was slightly open and he was utterly confused.
"I have never insulted your designs."
"You left a comment on my portfolio with offensive remarks, don't you remember?"
"I don't provide feedback on designers' portfolios. It's a conflict of interest, because my notes might influence my father's final decision. I swear I've never seen the inside of your portfolio."
"…If it wasn't you, then who–" She suddenly remembered that conversation from café.
It was almost eerie thinking back and remembering Adrien's speech to remind her that it wouldn't work out if she refused to communicate clearly. He told her exactly what was going to happen, and it did.
"The things I said–" He raised his head. "I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry, I got it all mixed up." At some point they just had to put an end to it.
In a horrible way, she had been sabotaging herself all along. She had been the worst version of herself when she was around him and her actions had only been amplified in her misery and spite.
Adrien had been someone she already didn't like, an easy target for her to go after and take her anger and frustration out on. She had acted like a child and started problems where there didn't need to be any. Instead of making amends, she berated him for months.
The endless conflict had borne out of mutual animosity, and it had been too much for either of them to overcome.
"There's no excuse for my behaviour. I was lashing out. I was being immature and petty, and saying everything I could possibly say to hurt you. I attacked you on personal level multiple times. I allowed it to get this far, I really am sorry."
His hand moved to scratch the back of his head–a nervous tick she had caught on to during the time they kept on arguing over meaningless things, never settling out their disputes.
"No, I'm the one that's sorry. I'm not going to try and fool you here by saying that, you know, we were close and talked about our issues outside all that. We both made the same mistakes. I've said some things that I regret saying and I'm fairly certain it's the same vice versa. I don't think it was fair for you to treat me the way that you did as my partner." It was hard not to take it personally when someone treated you poorly, even if it had very little to do with you. She hung her head in shame as he carried on.
"I want you to know… that I meant everything I said in that room and I'm–I'm truly sorry for putting you through the uncertainty–it wasn't my intention to cause you any pain."
"We can't change what's happened."
As much as she wanted to hold Chloé accountable for what she did–setting things in motion in the first place–it was Marinette's own fault for misunderstanding and presuming the rumours were true without seeing any actual proof or asking Adrien himself. He had tried and she had shut him down.
"Why did you think it was me?"
"Chloé."
"Ah. Makes sense." He nodded.
"How can you stand to be around her?"
"I have an exceptional ability to blankly space out through egotistical monologues." Adrien said with no added humour in his tone and she gave a mirthless laugh. He shifted from one foot to the other. "She's not always nice, but she's… the only friend I have."
Chloé had no respect for anyone, but wanted everyone else to respect her. She couldn't have it both ways. The only means for her to have some sort of self-worth was to make others feel isolated and unsupported. If Chloé was all Adrien had for companionship, Marinette shouldn't have been taken aback by Adrien's lack of communication skills. Networking–he aced it, but he had without fail been deprived of a sincere friendship.
"Why didn't you–"
Adrien shrugged. "You refused to listen. I thought there was no use in talking to you." Averting his eyes, Adrien fixated on the trails rain left on the window glass, water trickling down. "I wish things had been different and we could go back and just erase all the bad things that have happened but we can't… we just have to go with it, right?"
He was not going to silently torture himself knowing he wanted something with her that he was never going to have. It would never be like it was.
"I… I would have told you… the truth about myself, but I had too many doubts. I thought you'd be disappointed in knowing who I actually was. I'm not that amazing gamer Ladybug in real life. I didn't want you to think of me any differently."
He scoffed. "I don't give a fuck about that. Do you remember our first interaction, the first thing I wrote to you in the forum?"
She had been playing AkumaCity on Stoneheart level the week the game came out. On the forum thread she had offered a solution for everyone how to defeat him, since nobody else before her had been able to.
Unfortunately, she hadn't known about one of the key elements, which was purifying the butterfly. In forgetting to do so, the game restarted with increased difficulty that was almost impossible to get through without knowing the cheat codes. She had gotten so much heat from the users that had been starting out and couldn't get on the easy levels. Of course, she blamed herself for ruining everyone's experience. The situation had been her fault.
That's when Chat Noir sent her a private message and offered to help her. She had shown the most vulnerable side of herself to him and he had given her the courage to pull off the most incredible game move and defeat the main villain Hawk Moth, at least temporarily.
"When I talked with you, I didn't focus on your insecurities or your mistakes. I wanted you to get better, you had potential, and I wanted to help you in the game. In that moment, I knew that whoever you were behind the screen, I lov–"He choked on his words. "I would... I would want to be with you."
Marinette touched the tear duct of her eye with her middle finger and turned her face away, sucking in her lips and blinking repeatedly as her eyes had welled up with tears.
"And I still feel the same way right now." His face looked pained. "I don't know what else to tell you at this point of time."
He took a step back and he positioned himself ready to leave the room.
All the blood rushed out of her body.
"Adrien, wait!" He stopped and looked back, his hand set on the door handle.
"I–I need you to know that I wasn't completely honest with you. I should've said it before… I wanted a relationship. I was just too scared to admit it.
"I screwed up. I'm aware that our situation is complicated… If there's ever anything I can do, anything you need, I will be there, just call." His hand dropped from the handle. "You have my word on that. You don't have to be alone." 'You don't have to choose to isolate yourself.'
"See you around." He said quietly.
It was as if he had taken her heart and shattered it on the floor. She didn't want it to be over, but she couldn't convince him to stay.
"Yeah."
"Bye." His body was stiff and his smile didn't seem genuine. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was purposefully denying himself the happiness, but he didn't know how to fix this. Every man had their right to destroy their own life.
"Bye." She felt as if she was sucked dry and got stuck in a void. One of the strongest feelings she wished she was able to get over was the feeling of regret–if only she'd done things differently, she could have saved it. She had sentenced herself to a slow death by thousand cuts.
It just didn't work out. And it was her fault, she was an idiot.
Maybe it was her fate to go through heartbreaks. Always yearning and never learning. She had just hoped this time things were different. For the most fleeting second, she hoped he would turn back and not leave again. He didn't.
She did the best she could given the circumstances.
He closed the door after him and inhaled deeply, looking up to the ceiling, trying desperately to not let the tears fall that had formed in his eyes. It was so hard to keep his face and voice unaffected by her words. At least they had closure.
He was used to hiding a great pain beneath the surface. Having to walk away sometimes was one of the hardest things one could do.
This was life. It was really not fair. It just fucking sucked.
Self-blame, misguided anger, depression, lack of appetite–he had to endure it all last few months. He felt like he was losing it. Being near her, having feelings for her, but not being able to be with her had already been agonising. She was not to blame, she had set the boundaries and he had agreed on these terms. Every time he was reminded that she didn't feel the same way about him. It had been bearable pain until now.
Ladybug–the forum and her presence in his life had been the only things he was excited about that weren't beforehand decided by his father. His mother was not around anymore, and he had suffered greatly from it, his father more so as he had never been the same. He grew up with no friends, aside from Chloé and even he knew it was a shallow and unbalanced relationship. He was always expected to be someone, an image of perfection. In reality, he felt …empty.
Adrien hadn't chosen to become a model, because of the lifestyle. He hadn't chosen his path and made his own choices.
Ideally, if you worked for your family, you should have expected to be treated like any other employee, but Adrien had felt obligated to stay in the family business even after he became an adult and constantly received job offers that he would have considered taking if he had gathered enough courage.
He didn't want to disappoint his father, but it seemed that he did it anyway without even trying to. He didn't have much to lose, just his father's respect or what was left of it. All he did was criticise him and he didn't deserve it. He had to finally realise that he didn't have to take it anymore and could dictate his own future.
The most important thing in life was to recognise what in life was the most important. And at times, gratification had to be delayed.
Gabriel Agreste was in a heated argument with someone on the phone.
"Are you incapable of following the notes I left? We can't pay people out of your stupidity again." She shouldn't have been eavesdropping on their conversation.
The legal team of Agreste Co. was… something else. The arguments about dishonest values and disagreements between merchants and suppliers were frequent, but settled down quietly accompanied with exchanges of large sums of money. In this industry everyone knew everyone.
It didn't necessary mean that the company's business practices were either unethical or shady. It was just easier to not spend resources and burden the employees with meaningless lawsuits that only benefited the accusers, who most often were either antagonistic business associates or unsatisfied customers. It might have been immoral, but the aggrieved agreed to it.
As fashion was a business, it was naïve and erroneous for the world to assume that a fashion related corporation itself held a larger responsibility than the responsibility of company's shareholders just because of its general accessibility to the public. It was unavoidable that the questions of ethical background and concept of capitalism affected the sales, but the management with Gabriel Agreste in front took care of even the smallest mishaps. His reputation was the most essential for him.
"I'm not cutting another deal with them," he said stubbornly, "I don't care what he says."
Marinette raised a hand to knock on the door a couple of times, but the intensity of the conversation took a turn for the worse and she didn't dare to interrupt him. She couldn't leave as it was rare occasion, when Gabriel didn't opt for working from his home office, and she didn't plan on stepping into the ghostly Agreste mansion in the near future.
All she had to do was keep the door closed and wait out the storm.
During the eight months she had been working directly for him, she liked to believe she had gotten to know Gabriel well. He got a little frustrated sometimes, he screamed, he yelled. He didn't tolerate disobedience. Nor tardiness.
To her relief, she grew out of the phase of being late to everywhere during the last years of school. It would be insolent of her to not show up in time for the meetings and appointments–yet it wasn't on top of the list of priorities for Gabriel as he often made his employees wait for him.
However, Gabriel was wise to the downfall among others of his status. He was a good businessman and due to this he handled the company affairs with absolute professionality. Despite his unpleasant calculating and overly controlling personality, he could also be polite and even sympathetic at times, so that he was very effective at getting people to do his way. He was good at persuading people to succumb to his wishes seemingly with no care for them.
He had been her favourite designer since she was young and she had been dreaming about working for him for just as long. Since coming to work for him, she still respected him and appreciated his hard work, undeterred by his many faults.
"He's not expecting you." Marinette quickly turned around to the voice and met a stoic-faced Nathalie, her arms securely crossed around the clipboard. She felt embarrassed for getting caught listening into private conversation as she could have very well heard confidential information and she knew that an explanation was in order.
"I didn't make an appointment."
"Mr. Agreste is not available until 4pm. You should come back after his afternoon meeting and I'll see if he's able to make time for you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."
"I–"
"Send her in." Nathalie looked towards the closed door–surprise evident on her face–and she took a step back. Marinette hadn't even noticed when the shouting inside the room had stopped. Gabriel apparently either had an impeccable hearing or he had a microphone hidden outside his office entrance.
Nathalie jerked her head slightly in the direction of Gabriel's office–a sign of approval–and Marinette took a deep breath before she pushed the door open.
"Is there a reason you're here? Do you need another extension? Or perhaps you want to resign as you're making me doubt in your ability to do well under pressure." He said nonchalantly, not paying attention to her whatsoever.
She didn't handle it well, when authority figures talked down at her, in particular people she looked up to, and occasionally she had shed some tears out of frustration. She couldn't appear weak in front of him now.
"I take full responsibility for any discomfort I caused in relation to the design project. Adrien was not at fault."
Gabriel looked up from his desk for a second, but continued typing on his laptop.
She couldn't make things worse for Adrien, when he wasn't even in present. It didn't do any good to completely ruin his parental relationship and do more damage than anticipated as she had no right to involve herself. She didn't know how much neglect and emotional abuse he had endured, so she had to be careful wording what she said next.
"Did you really think it was in his best interest to pursue the partnership when his schedule was already full with the business trips and events? He wasn't in the list of available models. There was no need to double his workload."
"You and him never got along. In this line of work, you have to establish a good chemistry with the team, so it can succeed, regardless of how you may feel deep down. Adrien was perfectly capable of managing multiple commitments at once." He took a pen from his breast pocket and signed the paper next to his laptop before he resumed his work on the computer.
She shouldn't have been taken by surprise that Gabriel had known about the issues between her and Adrien and he had assigned him to be her model anyway.
"Since he was young, you have made him submit to the decisions that you would like refusing to consider how he may feel about them."
Finishing typing the sentence, Gabriel leaned his elbows on the table, chin resting on the hands clenched in front of him, and focused his attention entirely on her.
"Did he tell you that?" His voice didn't waver.
"You wouldn't know. You've never had time to listen to him."
Marinette had seen it–the cracking facade and serious emotional issues he took such meticulous care of not to show to anyone. He needed to define himself outside of his father's influence and decide what was best for him himself.
"Adrien is allowed to leave the corporation just like all the other employees. I cannot prohibit it."
"He hasn't brought up the topic to you at all, is that what you're saying?"
Gabriel was quiet. There was a tiny hole in the wall behind his chair from the time an enraged business partner threw a pencil at him. It wasn't painted over, but Gabriel's desk didn't have any pens lying around either.
She waited for Gabriel to make the move that she expected–tell her to leave and reprimand her for wasting his valuable time.
"Marinette?" That was the first time he had addressed her with her first name.
"I have heard the stories about myself and they are for the most part fairly accurate." He sighed. "I do care about my employees and my son. I'm certain you have noticed that this job isn't easy. And it's especially hard when you realise that you are hurting the people you care about."
"I appreciate that you have come here and voiced your opinion. You have exceptional talent and despite your young age, I once wondered…" His voice trailed off and he looked at the small picture frame on his otherwise tidy desk. He coughed into his hand and adjusted his black-framed glasses.
Marinette raised her eyebrows and she felt a little bit uncomfortable standing there in the middle of the room. This conversation had turned more personal than she had predicted. This was the most emotion Gabriel had ever knowingly shown. Nonetheless, his demanding job and any amount of grief he was feeling didn't excuse the distance towards his son and depriving him of his freedom.
"I don't think anything I could have said would have changed his mind."
Her stomach was in knots. He stood up and walked over to the cabinet, where he pulled out a single sheet of paper from the drawer.
"The HR department gave me this a few days ago," he gestured to the paper he was holding, a notice. Her eyes widened–he outright confirmed what she had suspected.
"Adrien is constantly being featured in the media, his absence will be noticeable. He agreed to cooperate and finish his previously scheduled commitments to ease the transition, so it's not as if things have to immensely change here." He stroked the wedding ring on his finger and looked at the calendar that hung on the wall next to him. "This is definitely something I have to share, but not right away."
The conversation was now over. He didn't hold back information and if he suspected anything about her and Adrien, he didn't show it. At this point, she wouldn't have been taken by surprise, if he actually had put two and two together.
As she was leaving, he spoke up and requested her to bring him the files on the next show arrangements from downstairs.
When she asked the reception desk to see the files, their response was limited to affirming that they hadn't received the file folder yet. The receptionist did give her a sealed envelope her full name written on it in cursive. She thanked the secretary and took it back to her office.
She opened it without a second thought and unfolded the note.
Inside, there was an e-mail address.