[Miraculous Ladybug] x [DC]
(You can also read it here on AO3!)
Disclaimer: This is a canon diverge fic, so there will be a lot of changes to the canon, especially to the MLB characters and the MLB storyline! I have tried to keep the core of who they are intact, but they have been changed! Also, there will be NO CHARACTER BASHING! No character bashing for Marinette, or Adrien, or the Batfam, or anyone else!
Also, I personally don't have a physical disability, and while I have done a lot of research on the topic, I know that I won't be able to get all of the facets of being disabled or even be wrong in my portrayal. So if I got something wrong, please tell me in the comments!
Author's note: To all of my TBHX followers, hi! I am not dead! Parts 4 and 5 of Lin Ling's guide to becoming an emotional support civilian [YANDERE EDITION] are still going to come out! But it will take a while since I have unfortunately fallen out of love with the series. So I hope you enjoy this in its stead!
Itâs been two weeks since Hawkmoth's defeat.
Marinette is worried, and Adrien would be blind not to notice. He knows he hasnât been eating much, or talking, or doing anything outside of work. He can feel her concern radiate from her, but isnât this good? Heâs not moping in bed anymore, and heâs actually helping! After everything the Dupain-Chengs have done for him, he refuses to lounge around and be some kind of dead weight to them. They have treated him so kindlyâeven after everything andâ
âI think thatâs enough frosting, dear.â
Snapping out of his spiraling thoughts, he looked down and promptly winced at the monstrosity in front of him. The cupcake was drowning in a sea of red, looking more like a crime scene than a ladybug-themed cupcake. He bit his lip. Before he can even try to salvage the cupcake in front of him, Sabine gently places a hand over his, her body heat burning him. He quickly snatches his hand back. Her brow softens at this, and before he can utter an apology, she waves him off.
âHow about a breakââ
Adrienâs mouth was quicker than his brain. âNo.â His brain, having caught on to just how rude that was, tried to smooth things out hurriedly. âNoâIâm sorry that came out wrong! I justâIâm sorry I ruined the cupcake; I can do better! OrâŚI can do something else! I am really sorry again, Miss Cheng. It wonât happen again!â Sabine was staring at him with that pitying look again, and he could feel his hands begin to shake behind his backâor perhaps they had been shaking this whole time. The lack of sleep certainly wasnât helping him think clearly. Before he can try to plead again, she huffs.Â
âWell, if you insist, how about you take over the front?â
He knew what she was doing. With Heroâs Day just around the corner and the bakery being commissioned by the mayor to supply the party that night, the bakery has been closed due to the high demand and short deadline. It was an all-hands-on-deck type of situation with Marinette and her dad rushing to the store for emergency milk and eggs, Sabine on baking, and him on decorationâor was on decoration. Because he couldnât even do that right. He wanted to refuse and insist he could keep going, but he swallowed those complaints down, causing a lump to form in his throat. Sabine was kind enough not to already send him packing; best not to test her patience.Â
Nodding, he told her to call him if she needed any help as he took his cane and walked out front to the register. Pulling a nearby chair closer to him, he sat and waited. And waited. And waited some more. After a solid 30 minutes, the only thing holding him back from pulling out his phone was his fear of getting scolded by Sabine for not paying attention to the store more (even though logically he knew she wouldnât. Heâd seen Marinette do it a million times.) and the factâŚ
âVILLAIN OF PARIS HAS BEEN UNVEILED AS NONE OTHER THAN MILLIONAIRE FASHION DESIGNER, GABRIEL AGRESTEââ
âTOP TEN SIGNS GABRIEL AGRESTE WAS NOT WHO HE SEEMEDââ
âGABRIEL AGRESTE TRIAL HAPPENING ON THEââ
âLADYBUG HAS GONE ON RECORD TO DEFEND HAWKMOTHâS SON, ADRIEN AGRESTE, BUT IS SHE TELLING THE TRUTH? FIND OUT MORE ON-â
âOmg, y'all, Adr*en is literally the son of a supervillain, and y'all are all still supporting him? Adr*en stans need to grow up.. #CancelAdrienAgreste #AntiAdrienAgreste #FuckThatBoyâ
âHeâs just a teen hoe, shut up. His dad is literally on the top 100th supervillain list, like #AntiAdrienAgreste #Hawkmoth #HawkmothSon #HawkmothIsADumbAssName.â
âŚYeah, he hasnât really touched social media in a while, has he? Heaving out a long sigh, a quiet thump echoed throughout the room as he lay his forehead on the warm wooden counter. Behind him, he can hear Sabine bustling in the kitchen, and the warmth and white noise of it all was almost enough to lull him to sleep. Before he could close his drooping eyes, however, a loud bang startled him back into his ramrod posture as he blinked wildly. âI am so sorry, but weâre closed for todayââ
âARE YOU ADRIEN AGRESTE!?â
âDID YOU KNOW YOUR DAD WAS HAWKMOTH!?â
âWILL YOU BE TESTIFYING AT HIS TRIAL LATER THIS WEEK!?â
Lights were flashing in his eyes as he heard the shutters of cameras snapping as a microphone was jabbed in his face, forcing him out of his chair and hobbling back until his back collided against the walls. He hissed as the pain on his right side flared up, but the lady with the microphone didnât stop, as she kept yelling on and on, and with every scream, he could feel his throat closing up. His breath was short and shaky, and he knew he should take a deep breath, but it was a fight to even remain focused, his eyes blurring with tears.Â
âWhat is going on hereâ!?â
âWeâre reporting fromââ
âI donât care where youâre from; I need you to leave right now! Canât you see youâre hurting him!?â
âThere are just a few questions! Itâs not our fault heâs sensitive!â
âSENSITIVE!? YOU AREâAdrien? ADRIEN!â
He didnât know where he was going, but all he knew was that he needed to get out of there.
.
He heard her coming from a mile away. Perks of having cat ears, he supposed. His legs were hugged close to his chest, and the usual feeling of freedom was absent from his chest. Instead, all he could feel was numb. A soft thump rang out behind him. Ladybug. She sat beside him, and they both looked out at the city from the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug knew to give him space when he was in one of his moods. She was always so kind; he doesnât deserve her.Â
A minute of quiet passed between them.Â
Then âTell your mom Iâm sorry for bailing halfway through my shift.â
âWhat? No! Chaton, itâs alright! Mama understands. Besides, those reporters were way out of line! They wereâurgh! I want to punch them! They are so lucky that Papa and I came back after they left!â Ladybugâs hands were clenched into fists as she animatedly waved them around, a fire in her eyes. Chat couldnât help but crack a smile at her.Â
âThank you, Mâlady.â Ladybugâs eyes widened, and he wished so fiercely for a moment that he could kiss the look of surprise away from her face. To lean in and close the gap between them. To be able to love and be loved back. He swallows it all down like he has done a million times and instead offers her a small smile. âIââ Even with her mask, he could see the red on her cheeks before she shook her head. âOf course, weâre partners after all, Chaton.âÂ
Partners. Yeah, right. He knew she was trying to make his mood better, but what a bold-faced lie. Everyone knew Chat Noir was just the sidekick meant to prop Ladybug (not that she needed it). He was always the first one knocked out, brainwashed, or otherwise incapacitated in battle, and He was the first one to get their miraculous stolen by his own goddamn father. It was always Ladybug who saved the day in the end. She was the queen and king; meanwhile, he was just some...rook.
âYeah, yeah, we are.â The words tasted like sandpaper in his mouth. He looked away, back to the now dark skies, the air much chillier than before.
Ladybug looked at him before carefully asking, âWhat do you want to do after this?â
âIâŚâ Shit, thatâs a good question. Before, if he was asked this, he would have laughed it off and said something along the lines of modeling or taking over his fatherâs company when he stepped down. Now look at him, his modeling career firmly dead and his father being outed as the supervillain whoâs been terrorizing Paris for the last 2 years. His plans for the future are as dead as his reputation is. âI donât know. What about you?â
âMe?â
âYeah,â Chat tilted his head as he regarded her. âYou have way more free time now, so?â
Ladybug hummed, as if considering her now endless possibilities. With her determination and passion, he knows sheâll go far. âWell, Iâll be able to catch up with all the sleep I lost, thatâs for sure.â Counting off her fingers, she continued, âOh! And Iâll be able to finally start on real commissions! Also, schoolwork will now be a breeze with no more Akumas breathing down my neck. Alya and I also planned some cool stuff we can doâuh! We meaning you, me, Alya, and Nino!â
âOh,â A sense of dread fell over him as he thought of just being outside without the mask. Of having to suffer through the same looks of pity or even worseâcontemptâfrom his friends. He tried to mask the dread with a smile, but Ladybug saw right through him, as always. âYou donât have to, of courseâ!â She panicked, waving her arms around. âNot that we wouldnât want youâno, I mean yes, we want you, but no, you donât have toâ!â He reached a black leathered claw to shush her mid-ramble.
âItâs okay, Marinette. I get it.â
Flushed red, she muttered a half-hearted âno real names in publicâ before looking back at Paris. Paris. He once thought of it as his home because he had his friends, school, and⌠a family, but now? Now this city he once called home, felt suffocating. It was as if the air itself was trying to purge him out of its system. Maybe he should take the hint and run. Run somewhere far, far away, where the name Adrien Agreste means nothing. Where his past isnât screaming in his face every day. MaybeâŚ
âYou still with me, Chat?â A red and black hand waved in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at her, with her blue bob cut hair swaying gently in the wind and her concern written clear as day on her lovely, lovely face. And suddenly, everything he had been bottling came back with a raging vengeance, his throat burning with everything he had ever wanted to say.Â
âYour parents are wonderful people, and every time they help me, the more I want to die. Isnât that terrible?â
âIâm scared, Marinette. Iâm so scared Iâll be known as my fatherâs son for the rest of my life.â
âI donât want to be an Agresteâhell, I donât even know if Iâm Adrien anymore. Cat Noir has outlived his usefulness, so if I canât be Adrien or Cat Noir, then who am I?â
âI love you so much it hurts, but I know you love someone elseâyour buttercupâand I donât think I can ever recover that piece of my heart that I gave to you.â
âI donât think Paris is my home anymore, even after I bled and died for it more times than I could count.â
âThe pain in my sides is getting worse and worse every day, and I know that Iâm running on borrowed time, even with the painkillers. I know you cry at night when you think Iâm asleep, trying to find a cure, butâŚ.â
He smiles. âLetâs head back; I think weâve worried your parents long enough.â Before she could object, he pulled out his baton and jumped off. A second later, he could make out the tall tale sound of a yo-yo slicing through the air behind him as the two of them made their quiet trip back.Â
The quietness didnât last for long, however, as he neared the bakery, he could hear the sound of peopleâpeople with expensive blocky cameras and boomboxes meant to capture every sound. The cold pit of dread morphed into a shaking anxiety as he got closer and closer to the bakery. Ladybug hissed out a âWhat the fuck are they doing here?â behind him. Just before he could suggest they do another lap around the city to get away, one of the reporters caught a glimpse of red, and before he knew it, all the press was wrapped around the base of the building they were on top of.Â
âHELLO! MY NAME ISââ
âLADYBUG! DO YOU HAVE ANY THOUGHTS ON THE UPCOMING TRIAL AGAINST YOUR ARCHNEMESIS!?â
âNOW THAT HAWKMOTH IS BEHIND BARS, WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS MOVING FORWARD REGARDING THE CITY OF PARIS!?â
âWILL YOU BE JOINING THE JUSTICE LEAGUE YOURSELF AFTER THISâ!?â
He bit his tongue hard to keep the panic at bay as he looked down at the sea of reporters. Every time he blinked, two more seemed to duplicate, and he could feel his anxiety clawing up his throat and his hands shaking. Before he could do something dumb like throw up all his secrets, a warm hand pressed against the back of his arm, anchoring him to the present. Ladybug stepped forward and met his gaze with determination. âGo,â she mouthed before jumping down into the sea of reporters.
Cat Noir remembers when it was he who had to handle all the press, back when they just started. Ladybug would always freak out, nervously pacing back and forth and using him as a test dummy to make sure she didnât stumble through interviews. After a while, she found her stride, and now? Looking down at her, confidently taking charge and redirecting the press with wit, he canât help but feel thatâŚhis time has come. He was a crutch, but now, she has outgrown him. Thereâs no more space for him.Â
Biting down a bitter smile, he jumped off the roof and continued to the Dupain-Chengs bakery. No one noticed his departure.Â
Sliding down the trapdoor, he looks around, spotting his cane propped up next to the chaise longue he has been using as his bed for he past two weeks. On the chaise itself, there were his specially made painkillers and a bottle of water. The right side of his torso ached at the sight of them. Normal painkillers do nothing for the pain, even when the pain itself is mild, becauseâŚ
(âWhy is nothing working!?â Marinette was pacing around the room, ripping through her medicine cabinet as if it personally offended her. Adrien would have cracked a jokeâanything to wipe off the pure look of panic on her face when she started to realize that none of her painkillers were working on him, but he was already using all his energy not to scream as the pain ravaged through his body. It was as if his body was set on fire, like his body was left in the cold for far too long, like his body was an exposed wire, and with every breath, he could feel the shocks coursing through him.
His lips were bloody from how hard he was biting them to stop the screaming. His breath was shaky and labored, and the only thing holding him together was Plagg sitting on top of his forehead, purring viciously as if it could distract him from the pain.Â
Tikki hovered anxiously around Marinette before flying in front of her, stopping her from ripping the cabinetâs door clean off its hinges. âMarinette, normal painkillers wonât be able to help him.â Marinette stopped in her tracks before a manic look appeared in her eyes. âYeahâ! Yeah, youâre right, I should get the stronger stuffâI can fake a prescription! OrâŚor I could steal some! Yeah, okay, hold on, Chat, Iâll go.â Before she could run off and commit a felony, Tikki shook her head. âNo painkillers can help him. No normal ones, at least.â
âNormal? Wait! So, youâre saying some painkillers can help him?âÂ
Tikki's eyes narrowed as she looked away. âIââ Before she could continue, however, Plagg cuts her off. âI know a way to help his pain.â He said, his voice determined.Â
âPlagg! No, we canât!â
Plagg ignores her, instead focusing on Marinette. âAre you in Pigtails?â
âYes!â Marinette nodded.
Plagg took one last look and whispered, âIâll be right back, kid,â at Adrien before flying up. Adrien whined at the sudden loss. Plagg left the room, Marinette and Tikki following after.Â
He didnât know how much time had passed. It could have been a second; it could have been hours. All he knew was that they came back with a small pink pill and slipped it into his dry mouth. The pain didnât stop, but it was lessened, more akin to an aching throb than the absolute hell it was before. Marinette and Plagg looked relieved, while Tikki hung back.)
He later learned that the painkillers they made were special and could only be made by the Guardian of the Miraculouses. Adrien knew there was more than what they were telling him, but every time he brought up the conversation, Marinette got that panicked look in her eyes, and Plagg would throw himself against Adrien, whining about the lack of good-quality Camembert, and then he would scold Plagg, and it would just turn into a big mess.
Sighing at the memory, he sank into the couch, thumbing the pill bottle in his hand. Adrien was quick to find out that while the suit prevented him from feeling the worst of the pain, the minute he de-transformed, it would come back tenfold, even with the medication. Gritting his teeth, he washed down two of the pills before uttering a small âClaws out.âÂ
The pain was now a well-known enemy, and as he lay there, riding out the worst wave, his mind couldnât help but rewind the day's events. How he couldnât help Sabine with the decoration, how he froze up when the press came, how he couldnât even muster up any excitement to see his friends anymore, how useless he is now that Ladybug has all but surpassed him, how he has to depend on her for his goddamn medication. All the signs were pointing to him being but a burden to those around him. He furrowed his brows as he thought.
Plagg opened one of his eyes to peer at him as he lay flat on Adrienâs stomach. âYeah, kid?â
âWhat do you think aboutâŚleaving?â
Now that got Plaggâs attention as he opened both of his eyes to look at Adrien, curious. âLeaving? Where to? Kid, what are you up to this time?â Adrien rolled his eyes as he flicked Plagg on the head.Â
âOw! What was that for?â
âFor stinking up Marinetteâs room with your Camembert. I thought I told you to eat it in the bathroom.â
Plagg gasped, âExcuse me for not wanting to eat my beloved Camembert in the bathroom of all places! I am a classy guy! I canât eat my camembert next to the toilet!â After a second, though, the Kwami sobered up as he regarded Adrien wearily. âSeriously, though, whatâs with all this talk about leaving?.âÂ
Adrien looked away, ashamed. Plagg softened as he floated up to his face. âCome on, kid, talk to me. Why do you want to leave?â Adrien's throat burned as he choked out,
Before he can finish, though, a loud thump echoes out, followed closely by a thundering âWHAT!?â Plagg and Adrien looked at each other before Adrien hobbled up, grabbing his cane and heading downstairs as fast as he could.Â
Heâs in a cold sweat once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the pain flaring up with each breath he takes. Plagg was looking at him and back up the attic door, but he shook his head. He already took two of the pills; heâd be fine. Leaning against the wall and using his cane to move, he poked his head around the corner to get a better view of what was happening.
Tom was back and covered in flour. His hands were covered with the stuff, but he didnât seem to care as he ruffled his hair in agitation, spreading it around even more. He was pacing back and forth as he listened to the person on the phone. Sabine was by his side, looking both pissed and worried as she listened in. The phone wasnât on speaker, so he couldnât hear what was being said, but from the looks of things, it wasnât good news.
âWhat do you mean? Mr.. Mayor, please reconsider! All the preparation, and 80% of the work, is already done! You canât just cancel now!â Tom begged.
Ah, so it was the mayor then. Adrien couldnât say he was surprised that the mayor did something like this, but why? Maybe Chloe wanted someone else to cater for the event? Still, even she acknowledged, albeit begrudgingly, that the pastries from Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie were good. So what could possibly be the reason he would cancel last minute?
âA- A CRIMINAL!? MAYOR, I CAN ASSURE YOU ADRIEN IS THE SWEETEST YOUNG MAN I HAVE EVER KNOWN! LOOK, JUST BECAUSE HIS FATHER WAS HAWKMOTH DOESNâT MEANââ
Tom and Sabine have surely noticed him at this point, but he didnât care as he all but threw himself up the stairs and into Marinetteâs room. He felt sick; a dam had broken within him, and now something was clawing up his throat, demanding to be let out. Opening the bathroom door, he stumbled to the sink, dry heaving. Nothing came out. After a minute, he thunked his head against the sink and fell to his knees onto the bathroom floor.
His side was inflamed by his kneeling, but he didnât get up. He didnât know if he could.
âKid⌠Come on, get up and take a nap. Youâll feel better after.â
â-But shouldnât we wake him up? Itâs dinner time-!â
â-Pigtails, let him nap. He can eat afterââ
â-I mean, he does have those eyebags, so I guess itâs okayââ
â-Also, weâre going to need another bottle of those painkillers, preferably a jar actuallyââ
â-Alright, got it. I can get that done after dinner.â
It was pitch black when he woke up.
Good, that will make this easier then. Gently moving Plagg off of him, he grabbed his cane and walked to the closet where his backpack was. âIt's not great,â he grimaced to himself as he examined the medium-sized bag in his hands. If he had his fencing bag with him, he could store more luggage, butâno, no, this will work. He canât carry much anyway, and besides, he doesnât have a lot of stuff anymore to begin with. With that in mind, he began scouring the room to grab all his stuff, careful not to wake up anyone.Â
He grabbed all the clothes Ladybug was able to steal back from the mansion, pausing as his hand grabbed a familiar blue scarf. The one his father made for him⌠He remembered the first year of high schoolâhe remembered the joy he felt when he first walked through those halls, how everything was new and unique. He remembered the exhilaration he felt when he first transformed, the first time he leaped through the skies towards danger, eager and ready to take on everything. He rememberedâŚmaking his first true friends.
And now suddenly all he could think of was his friendsâof Ninoâs smile and fist bumps as he patiently showed him what it was like to be a teen, to have fun, to rebel, to not have to be Adrien Agreste the model and son but instead just Adrien. He thought of Alya and her bravery, of how she was always able to stand up for whatâs right. To be honest, he hadnât had the chance to talk or hang out with her much, but every time he sees her fight for what she believes in, he canât help but feel a similar ember burn inside him. And thenâŚhe thinks of Marinette.
Marinette, his lady, his first love, hisâŚeverything. Marinette with her big expressive eyes that are always bouncing from one emotion to another, Marinette with her unyielding kindness who always helps others no matter what, and Marinette whoâŚ
FatherâŚFather, how could he? The pain. The pain was searing, devouring him from the outside in, but all he could do was lie there as Hawkmoth ran away with their Miraculouses. He failed; he choked up at the realization. He failed to protect Paris, he failed to protect his Miraculous, and he failedâŚto notice his own father was Hawkmoth.Â
âADRIEN! Come on, kitty, get up. We need to regroup with the others.â Ladybugâsâno, Marinetteâs face engulfed his vision as he stared up at her. She wasnât as bruised as he was, and the thought brought him some comfort. He failed at everything else, but at least his lady came out relatively unscathed. Her hand was outstretched for him to take it. Adrien shook his head. âLadybug. Go. Leave me,â he hissed through gritted teeth.Â
Marinette stepped out of his now limited field of vision, and he couldnât help the bitter satisfaction that welled up. Good. Now she can go make up some wacky but brilliant plan to save the day andâ"Huh!?" He yelped as he was lifted into the air by his armpit. Marinette was beside him, his arm slung around her shoulders as she started to march, his dragging behind her.
âIâm not going to leave you here, Chaton!â
âButâHawkmoth! The wish! Youâd be too late!â
Marinetteâs face hardened with determination as she turned to him. âLet him make his stupid wish. Weâll just have to kick his ass afterwards.â She turned back to the ruined streets before her, carefully side-stepping the rubble. âWeâre Chat Noir and Ladybug. We can do this.â Adrien, at that very moment, couldnât help but fall in love with her all over again.)
SheâdâŚprobably be sad if he leaves, and the thought of that alone was enough to make him reconsiderâto unpack everything and slip back under his cover and pretend like this never happened. He pauses and thinks. Adrien doesnât want to admit it, butâŚhe still wants to stick around. Paris itself might not feel like a home anymore, but his friends are still here, and they are the most amazing, talented, and kind people he has ever known.
He knows that he should leave. Heâs the problem, heâs the burden, and heâs the thing weighing them down.Â
âTo love is to let goââisnât that the saying? If he loves them, then he should leave. Let them heal, let them shine, and let them forget about him until he is nothing more than a faded memory. Someone that pops up randomly in the middle of the night, someone who you ask, âOh, hey, remember that guy?â someone who you can only recall the silhouette of. This is the right thing. He loves them, so heâll let them go.
The packing process went smoothly after that; the blue scarf was wrapped deep at the bottom of the bag as he grabbed all his documents and debit card (it wasnât his main card; it was an offshore one his dad gave to him one day, under a different name. He hates that he now understands why he was given it.) electronics, food, and water (not muchâhe doesnât want to trouble the Dupain-Chengs any more than he already has. Just some saltine crackers and two large water bottles.) his pills, and finallyâŚPlagg. He hesitated before slowly beginning to slip off the ring, ready to let his friend go whenâ
âKid. I donât recommend that.â
He flinched at the noise, looking up at Marinette, who thankfully was still asleep, before looking back down to Plagg. Plagg flew up from the chaise and zoomed over to his backpack as if inspecting it. He nodded at most of his choices before glaring at his food supply. âYou need more food. Preferably Camembert, but anything will do.â
âI canât do that! Iâve already caused them enough trouble! Iâm not going to steal more than I need!â He whisper-stammered before making an aggressive shushing motion. âAlso, quiet down! I donât want to wake up Marinette!â
Plagg rolled his eyes. âAdrien, Pigtailsâs family is hardly going to notice a few of their pantry items going missing. Besides, Iâm also coming along, so I need food too, you know!â He sighed dramatically, as if in great pain. âOh, if I knew you would abuse your Kwami like this, I would have never chosen youââ
âOkay, okay!â He relented, already making his way to the trapdoor with the bag in hand before realizing, âWait, wasnât I supposed to leave him behind?â But when he turned around, Plagg was already glaring at him, his slit eyes narrowed as if daring him to even think about trying that again. He smiles at that. MaybeâŚmaybe he could keep at least one of his friends after all.Â
Coming back with his bag stuffed full of all the Camembert in the house and a few canned beans, he gave Plagg an âAre you satisfied?â before Plagg curtly nodded. âItâll have to do.â He said. Glancing up at Marinette, Plagg asked, âGonna write something for Pigtails?â Adrien froze at that. Right, a note. A final note. The last thing sheâll ever read from him ever again. Itâs the least he could do, he thinks as he pulls out a sheet of paper and a pencil from her desk. To mitigate as much as he can and explain to her that this is for the best.Â
The two of them fell silent, Plagg being nice enough not to point out the tear burning in the corner of his eyes as he folded up the letter.Â
(And if he stopped by at every friendâs house to stare at them wishfully before departing, well, thatâs between him and Plagg.)
âGood evening, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of Air France, it is my pleasure to welcome you aboard flight 192 with service from Paris, France, and continuing service to Gotham City, America. Now, pleaseââ James turned out the rest of the lecture, instead surveying the sleeping guy thatâd be his seatmate for the next 8 and a half hours. Now, usually he wouldnât do thisâhe couldnât give a ratâs ass about who his seatmate is as long as theyâre quiet and not drooling on his shoulder.Â
But this guyâor, he guesses, kidâlooks so eerily familiar, but he canât place his finger on it. With his bright, almost sunshine-yellow blond hair, an unhealthy sheen to his pale skin, and all-black clothes, James could have sworn he had seen this kid before. Maybe on the street? No, no, he must have seen him somewhere else, but where?
âHello, sir! What would you like to drink?â
James snapped out of his stare. âAh, just Coke, please, thank you.â Paying for his Coke, he decided that, eh, it didnât matter who the kid was. So what if he looked vaguely familiar? He probably just saw the kid in the airport or something. With that in mind, he let his mind drift to other things as the plane flew them to the most dangerous city in all of America.Â