Chapter Text
It began the way the worst dreams always did, quietly.
Adrien found himself standing in the middle of a pale, endless room. No walls, no ceiling, just a horizon made of fog. His breath came out in soft, crackling clouds, like the air itself was freezing around him.
“Adrien…”
The voice drifted from behind him, soft, warm, familiar in a way that made his heart seize.
He turned.
His mother stood there.
Emilie Agreste, wearing the same dress she had worn in every family portrait. She looked gentle, glowing, perfect, too perfect. Adrien’s eyes stung.
“Maman?” His voice cracked.
She smiled, stepping forward… but her footsteps made no sound. Her outline flickered. Her skin seemed more like glass than flesh. Adrien reached out
…and she shattered.
A sound like a mirror breaking split the room. Her body scattered into a thousand glowing shards, drifting into the fog like fireflies fading out.
“MAMAN!” Adrien fell forward, hands scraping against nothing. “Please, come back, please!”
His pleas dissolved into the cold air.
Then came a new sound. A soft flutter. A pulse of dark purple light. Adrien froze.
Another figure stepped out of the fog.
His father.
Gabriel Agreste.
But not as the world knew him.
The butterfly mask glowed on his face, its lines carved deep into his skin. The Hawkmoth suit clung to him like it was swallowing him whole.
“You failed them,” his father said, voice layered with something monstrous. “You always fail.”
Adrien backed away. “No, no, I didn’t… Dad, stop..”
Purple light flared. A swarm of butterflies spiraled around Gabriel, twisting the fog into violent eddies.
“You couldn’t save your mother.”
A step forward.
“You couldn’t stop me.”
Another step.
“And you won’t save the others.”
The fog behind Adrien burst open like a torn curtain, revealing Felix.
Felix, standing rigid and pale, eyes empty like he was already fading away.
“Adrien…” His voice was barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you protect me?”
Adrien reached for him. “Felix, no.. no, I would never let anything happen to you!”
But Felix’s body dissolved like smoke under his touch, drifting apart the same way his mother had. Adrien stumbled, choking on a sob.
Now Marinette appeared.
She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t bright or brave. She stood bruised, shaking, her hands cupped around a cracked yo-yo.
“Adrien,” she whispered, tears streaking her face. “You left me alone.”
“No! I would never! Marinette, I swear-”
But she sank to her knees, crumbling like a statue collapsing into dust.
Adrien spun wildly, breath ragged, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “STOP IT! PLEASE! STOP!”
That was when he heard the swords.
Two metallic clicks echoed through the air, clean, sharp, deliberate.
Kagami stepped forward, her fencing sword in her hand, its blade dripping with a dark, violet glow. Her eyes were cold, distant, unreadable.
“Even I couldn’t stay,” she said, voice as cutting as steel. “You couldn’t save me either.”
“Kagami, please!!”
She raised her blade.
The world split in two.
Adrien screamed as the ground cracked under him. Darkness swallowed the fog, swallowed his friends, swallowed even his father, leaving only Adrien falling, falling, falling.
Into nothing.
Adrien jerked upright with a strangled gasp.
The room was dark, real this time, but his chest still felt crushed, like the dream had followed him out of sleep and wrapped its fingers around his ribs. His breath came in desperate, uneven pulls. Sweat clung to his skin, cold against the sheets.
And then he realized
He was crying.
Hot tears streamed down his face, faster than he could wipe them away. His hands shook uncontrollably as he pressed them over his eyes, trying to stop the images, his mother breaking apart, Gabriel’s mask carved into his face, Felix fading to smoke, Marinette collapsing, Kagami also disappearing
“Adrien?”
A small, warm weight pressed against his shoulder.
Plagg.
The kwami’s usual lazy grin was gone, replaced with a worried softness Adrien rarely saw. Plagg nudged his cheek gently, floating until he could wrap his tiny arms around Adrien’s hairline in a clumsy hug.
“Hey, kid,” Plagg murmured. “Breathe. I’m right here.”
Adrien tried, but another sob tore out of him, raw and painful. He pressed a trembling hand to his mouth to muffle it, shoulders shaking.
“I-I lost them,” he choked. “Plagg, I couldn’t save anyone… Not my mom, not Felix, not Marinette, not Kagami..I saw them disappear right in front of me, and I…I couldn’t do anything-”
Plagg pressed closer, his little paw touching Adrien’s cheek in a surprisingly gentle gesture.
“That wasn’t real,” Plagg whispered. “But the pain is. And that’s why I’m here.”
Adrien’s vision blurred again as he curled forward, hugging his knees tight to his chest. Plagg rested against him, glowing faintly like a night-light fighting back the dark.
“You try so hard,” Plagg continued, voice soft and low, almost fatherly. “Too hard sometimes. You think everything is your fault because you care so much. But listen to me, Adrien Agreste.”
He floated up to eye level and tapped Adrien’s forehead lightly.
“You are not your father. And you are not responsible for everyone’s fate.”
Adrien shut his eyes, tears spilling over. “But what if… what if something happens to them? What if I lose them for real?”
Plagg settled into his lap, curling up like a warm cat.
“Then you’ll face it when it comes. Not alone. You’ve got me. And Ladybug. And Felix. And Kagami. And Marinette. And all the people who love you.”
Adrien let out a shaky breath, wiping his cheeks.
The nightmare still clung to him, but Plagg’s warmth pulled him slowly, gently, back into reality.
After a long moment, Adrien whispered, voice hoarse:
“Stay with me for a bit?”
Plagg climbed up his arm and nestled against his chest.
“Kid, I’m not going anywhere.”
Adrien leaned back against the headboard, eyes heavy but calmer now, his hand brushing over Plagg like someone anchoring themselves to a lifeline.
The dark room felt a little less suffocating.
A little more real.
A little safer.
Adrien took a long time before he trusted his legs enough to stand.
Even then, his hands trembled as he reached for his cane leaning against the nightstand.
The polished wood felt cold against his palm.
He pulled in one last shaky breath, wiped his face, and made his way out of his room.
Step.
Tap.
Step.
Tap.
The cane’s sound echoed through the mansion’s halls more loudly than it ever had before.
Maybe because the house was so much emptier now.
No faint footsteps from Nathalie checking on schedules.
No rustle of staff who used to tidy, arrange, polish.
No sharp, clipped orders from his father.
Just silence.
Adrien paused at the top of the stairs, gripping the railing. His chest tightened.
Nathalie’s absence hit hardest here.
She used to stand at the bottom of these stairs every morning, tablet in hand, softening only slightly when she looked at the boys. Even when she was trying to assist their father in his plans. Even when she was dying. She had still tried.
And she had died fighting, fighting for them. For their mother to return to them
Adrien blinked fast, pushing away the tears trying to form again.
He exhaled, adjusted his cane, and made his way down the stairs.
Tap. Clack. Tap.
Every sound reminded him that nothing was the same anymore.
When he reached the kitchen doorway, he stopped.
Felix was inside, hair still messy with sleep, sleeves rolled up, standing over the stove with a determined scowl. A frying pan sizzled next to a mixing bowl he very clearly had no idea how to use.
Felix poked something that might once have been an omelet.
“…I think it’s rebelling,” he muttered under his breath.
Adrien’s lips twitched despite everything.
Felix jumped almost a foot when he heard the cane tap the doorway. He turned, eyes widening as he took in Adrien’s pale face, the exhaustion in his posture, the lingering redness around his eyes.
“…You’re up early,” Felix said quietly. He didn’t ask why.
Adrien swallowed. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Felix nodded once, understanding far more than he said. He glanced down at the pan like it was a personal enemy.
“I’m attempting breakfast,” he announced stiffly. “It’s… not cooperating.”
Adrien let out a warmer exhale that almost, almost resembled a laugh as he crossed the kitchen slowly, cane tapping lightly against the tile.
“You don’t have to do that alone,” he murmured.
Felix looked at him, expression softening by a fraction. “I know. But somebody has to make sure you eat something. You didn’t touch dinner last night.”
Adrien lowered his gaze.
“I just… couldn’t,” he whispered.
Felix’s shoulders eased. He lowered the spatula.
Then, in a rare moment, Felix’s voice gentled.
“You had another nightmare.”
It wasn’t a question.
Adrien’s grip tightened on his cane. “Yeah.”
Felix didn’t push.
Didn’t pry.
Didn’t lecture.
He simply stepped aside and said:
“Here. Help me salvage this disaster before the kitchen catches fire.”
It wasn’t comfort in words.
It was comfort in presence.
And right then, that was exactly what Adrien needed.
Felix slid the ruined omelet onto a plate with the expression of someone handling toxic waste. Adrien leaned against the counter, cane balanced lightly between his fingers. The kitchen smelled like slightly burnt eggs, but it was warm, lived-in… something the mansion hadn’t felt like in years.
Felix set the plate down, reached for a clean bowl, and froze when he noticed Adrien staring at the table, really staring, like the weight of everything had just dropped onto his shoulders again.
“Felix…” Adrien began softly.
Felix hummed, distracted, looking for a whisk he definitely didn’t know how to use.
Adrien’s voice tightened.
“What are we going to do now? Without… anyone?”
Felix stopped moving.
The silence that followed was sharper than any knife in the kitchen.
Adrien looked down at his own hands, fingers trembling slightly. “Nathalie’s gone. Father’s in prison. Mother…” His voice cracked, just a little. “Mother isn’t coming back. And we’re just..!”
He swallowed.
“It’s just us. In this huge house. And I don’t know what we’re supposed to do anymore.”
Felix set the whisk down very slowly, as if putting away something fragile. He turned toward Adrien, leaning back against the counter beside him.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything.
Then, quietly:
“We’ll figure it out.”
Adrien shook his head. “How? We’re not even adults yet.”
“You’re right,” Felix said. “We’re not.”
There was no bravado in his tone, no stubborn pride, just honesty.
“But adults aren’t a requirement for surviving,” Felix added, crossing his arms. “If they were, the two of us would’ve been dead emotionally years ago.”
Adrien huffed a sad, tired breath. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Felix met his eyes, steady, sharp, but not cold.
“For now,” Felix continued, “we handle mornings. We make breakfast. We keep the house running. We go to school. We exist. And when we have to make bigger decisions…” He hesitated, glancing at the kitchen doorway as if checking the emptiness. “We’ll make them together.”
Adrien’s throat tightened.
He looked away. “I don’t want to mess everything up, Felix.”
Felix’s brows softened.
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Felix exhaled. “Because I’m here. And because you’re not him.”
Adrien froze, breath catching.
Felix lifted the pan again, turning back toward the stove. “You’re nothing like your father. And you never will be.”
Adrien blinked hard, tears gathering again, but this time they weren’t from fear.
He steadied himself with his cane and stepped closer to the counter.
“…Okay,” he whispered. “Together.”
Felix didn’t look at him, but a small, fleeting smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Together.”
The kitchen, once too big and too empty, felt a little fuller.
A little warmer.
A little like home, for now.
“And besides,” Adrien murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, “we only have a few days of school left.”
Felix sighed, setting the spatula down. “Exactly. Just a few days. We can survive that much.”
Adrien nodded slowly. The thought didn’t exactly comfort him, but it gave shape to the fog in his chest. An ending point. Something small and manageable when everything else felt too big.
Felix glanced at the clock. “We should get ready. The bus comes sooner than we think.”
Adrien’s shoulders slumped. The idea of seeing crowds of people, the noise, the questions, the weight of pretending everything was normal, felt exhausting already. But he gave a quiet hum of agreement.
Felix nudged his arm, as gentle as Felix ever got. “Go get dressed. I’ll… try not to burn anything else.”
Adrien managed a tiny smile. “Plagg might actually haunt you if you do.”
Felix scoffed. “Your gremlin already haunts me. Burnt food is irrelevant.”
From Adrien’s pocket, Plagg made a deeply offended noise.
Adrien let out the softest laugh, small, but real, and turned toward the hallway.
He moved slowly, cane tapping lightly against the tile as he made his way out of the kitchen. The house felt colder again as he stepped into the main hallway, but lighter, too. Felix’s presence always did that, pulled him away from the edge.
He reached the base of the stairs and paused, looking up.
Once upon a time, he would’ve expected Nathalie to step out of her office, adjusting her glasses, giving him that tired nod of acknowledgment.
Now there was only silence.
Adrien bit his lip, drew a steadying breath, and climbed the stairs.
Felix’s voice drifted faintly from the kitchen behind him, muttering at the stove, the clink of plates, Plagg snickering at him. Despite everything, a warmth lingered in Adrien’s chest.
They were figuring this out.
Not perfectly, not painlessly, but… together.
He reached his room, pushed the door open, and began pulling out clothes for the day. A button-up. A light jacket. Shoes he still had to sit down to tie because of his leg.
The nightmare still ghosted the edges of his mind, but each piece of morning routine grounded him more.
Behind him, Plagg floated up, quietly watching, unusually calm.
“Feeling any better?” the kwami asked softly.
Adrien didn’t answer right away. He straightened his jacket, stared at himself in the mirror, pale, tired, but standing.
“A little,” he finally said.
He grabbed his bag, adjusted his grip on his cane.
And took one more breath.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s get through today.”