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kazhewbrekker · 5 years ago

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vilify me - chapter 4

this is the longest chapter to date! and probably the last one for a little while as im settling into college and dont have as much time. fear not though! chapter 5 is in the works and im committed to finishing this monster of a multific. without further ado!

(AO3 Link) (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Kenji seemed unimpressed as he walked into the hanger. I wasn’t expecting a huge reaction, but I thought he’d be at least a little bit excited over the prospect I was offering. I gave him a wink as he walked closer and patted the seat on the motorcycle I was leaned against, lovingly. It was a good thing I hadn’t run my plan past Warner, he would’ve been jealous.

“Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?” I asked innocently.

Definitely not impressed. “Never seemed like a necessary skill set.”

I shrugged. “Feel like learning?”

Kenji crossed his arms over his chest as I passed a helmet to him. He didn’t take it from me, which was to be expected. There was no chance he was going to go easy on me. I mean this was literally me trying to appeal to him enough to get him to trust me. Or maybe, just maybe, it was me trying to find something to relieve myself of the utter boredom that had befallen me since I came to Sector 45. Which, I had to remind myself, wasn’t Warner’s fault.

He was busy. I was also usually busy, that’s just how things were with us. And now, with this mission he’d put me on, I would find a new way to be busy.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Kenji took the helmet begrudgingly, “Where are we going?”

“Does it matter? Let me answer that, no.”

I climbed onto the seat, settling my feet in their place on either side of the bike. Kenji hesitated again, the black helmet now smugly fastened around his head, trying to figure out where he was supposed to sit on the motorcycle with me. I grabbed his wrist, between us was the layer of his military coat and the riding gloves I had fashioned myself with, as I pulled him on behind me.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“I didn’t say you would, Princess.” Kenji shifted uncomfortably and created a space between the two of us. I had the urge to roll my eyes. Like that would stop me. If I wanted him dead he would be by now. “How come you don’t wear a helmet?” Kenji asked.

I revved the bike. “Let’s hope you don’t find out.”

“Put your foot on the break,” Warner instructed. “No, hold it down.”

“Sorry,” I shot him a glare and pressed down all my weight on the car’s brake. The glare broke apart in an instance. I was too excited to be mad.

Finally, after being told over and over that he would teach me, Warner was going to show me how to drive. I’d wanted to for years, ever since he had when he was eight. Mum and Dad would never let me behind the wheel of a car, at least not until I was older no doubt, they didn’t even trust Emmaline in one yet. But I would learn how to drive first, because Anderson had left home earlier that morning and Leila wouldn’t mind if we borrowed the car. Or totalled it.

“Okay,” I said, “okay, what do I do next?”

“Shift into drive.”

I blinked down at the controls. “What am I on right now?”

“Reverse.”

I managed to shift the car into drive recalling what I’d seen in films, “You don’t have to look so nervous, we’re indestructible, remember?”

Warner sighed exasperatedly, hands tightening on the seatbelt. “Keep your eyes on the road.” I grinned and checked my mirrors, slowly pulling my foot off the brake and towards the gas. “And I wish you’d stop saying that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because my biggest fear is that one day it’ll stop being true.”

I frowned. I took it slow, but driving on a street that no one was ever going to come down again gave me the whole road to practice. I jumped between brake and gas over and over, inching forward and trying to get the hang of it. Every once and awhile, Warner pointed something out to me, but he was as patient as he was with teaching me anything. It was easy, easier than I thought it would have been.

“I’m not going to lose my powers, Aaron.”

“No,” he agreed, “but have you considered your parents’ new project.”

I sucked in a breath and the car huffed in response. Warner didn’t looked shocked as I hit the brakes to look over at him. He looked worried. “Project Canary. Emma’s losing her mind over it.” I said.

“I know, I heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me she’s bothering you about it too.”

“When she can’t call you she calls me, I’ve told you this before.” He tucked his chin and looked down at the watch affixed to his wrist. “Emmaline is just worried about you, love.”

“Of course she is, because if they can get through me it means she’s next. I don’t blame her.”

“Ella.”

“It’s true!” I shrugged, “You know it, I know it. I reckon if Canary succeeds, then I’ll be the only one affected. Well, and you, probably.”

“Probably? You can’t be serious.”

I sighed dramatically, shifting gears and turning us around back towards the house. I knew he was staring at me, I could feel it burning under my skin. If he was offended by the truth that was his problem. Not mine.

“If something happened to you,” I wasn’t watching his face, but I heard the way his breath caught in his throat. A chill settled around me as I waited for him to continue. “I would be devastated. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sure, of course.” I snipped back.

“Ella, I’m serious.”

Too much, too heavy. I nodded in an attempt to get him to drop it. Warner was my best friend, but God if he didn’t make everything out to be life-and-death. Though, technically, this situation could very well end in my untimely death. It didn’t matter. He was serious all right, far too serious. And I didn’t want to think about the immediate future, not like he did.

I loved motorcycles. More than cars, planes, especially boats. Nothing else could get me in contact with the same level of speed as the motorcycle could. I wondered a lot if it was anything similar to drugs, Mum and Dad would have me caged again if I experimented with anything that could mess with my brain or my body. So, death defying activities was all I had.

But I had to drive carefully, Kenji’s arms wrapped around me so tightly I had to focus on the wind whipping my hair to not break down at the feeling of being barred.

I hadn’t been lying about the helmet comment, as far as Kenji knew I was talented in hand-to-hand combat and could most likely kill someone if they just so happened to brush my skin. He had no way of knowing that a motorcycle crash was much more likely to hurt whatever I crashed into then myself. When I’d first embraced my daredevil tendencies, Warner had insisted that I wore protective garments, riding jackets and enforced padding. We hadn’t known the full extent of how much damage I could sustain. We found out though, eventually.

I came to a stop in a place where the road evened out and the buildings had grown scarce. It was strange, Southern California had always been overflowing with populace and new houses that the large expanse of nothingness was almost unnerving. I pushed those thoughts from my head and removed Kenji’s hands from my waist.

He attempted to climb down with me, but I steadied him on the bike with a smile and said, “I’m teaching you how to ride remember?”

“I never said I wanted to learn how.”

“Yes, but you also never said you didn’t.” I placed my hand on the handlebar, about to launch into a speel about what each part on the bike did, until I noticed he was staring at me strangely. “What?”

“I’m curious. What brought this on?”

“Me teaching you how to ride a motorcycle? I was bored, wanted to ride my bike, and you’re supposed to follow me everywhere I go.” I paused, sardonic in nature. “Thus, here we are.”

Kenji looked back at me as if he didn’t believe me, and I had to give him credit, he was a lot more intuitive than he had appeared at first glance. It wasn’t as if I was lying. I was currently trying to use enough of the truth that he’d have eventually just have to believe that my intentions were pure. It’s not as if I had given him any reason to believe otherwise. Beside the fact that I work for a fear mongering government that treats its citizens even worse than the ground they walk on.

I might have to rethink my plan of action.

“Okay,” I huffed. “Clutch is here, gear shift is down here, throttle, and break. You’re ready to go.”

“Wait, hold on a second, that’s the big lesson? You point at all the controls, pat me on the back and say ‘Good luck.’ You’re the worst teacher in the history of ever.”

“Jesus, that’s a little harsh.”

“Never have kids.” He said with a straight face, “You’d try to teach them how to ride a bike and then just throw them straight into oncoming traffic.”

I groaned, “Newsflash you egg, traffic isn’t as issue anymore. The 405 is dead and I’d be a great mum.”

Kenji didn’t move as he held his humorless expression. As the silence dragged and we continued to just stare at one another, something cracked. I wasn’t sure if I was the first to snort, but giggles erupted from my lips until I was crumpled on the ground holding my stomach from laughter. Kenji wasn’t much better, he had to use to the motorcycle to hold himself upright as he practically hacked up a lung.

I was wiping tears out of the corners of my eyes when Kenji finally said, “All right, that was hilarious. But I’m still not riding this death trap with a ten second long instructional period.”

“Just,” my voice was still strangled with restrained giggles, “trust me here.”

“You don’t make that easy.”

But he listened and settled on the bike like before, keeping one boot on the ground to stabilize himself. I corrected his form and I watched as his eyes darted nervously around the open field. I couldn’t say I completely understood his nerves, I’d never had to really worry about bodily harm before. With that, I had the sudden realization that this was a terrible plan, and if it failed it would really suck to have to drive home with a dead body. Or, even worse, have to walk.

“Ready?” I asked honestly.

He didn’t in the least bit look ready. At least he knew how to brake.

Kenji gave a curt nod and I stepped away from the bike, giving him room to start the engine again and prepare for take off. The motorcycle gave a growl that I felt in my chest, that made the hair on my arms stand up, and as Kenji gave me one more glance before staring at the opened, empty road before him. I gave a silent prayer to a God I don’t believe in.

The motorcycle lurched forward, shakily and slow it made its way down the street. A couple of times I worried if it was going so slow that the machine might tip over, but at every chance Kenji shifted his weight to keep it steady. It wasn’t until he turned around and came back towards me that I saw he had a genuine smile on his face.

I rolled my eyes, he was going barely more than 20 miles per hour.

“All right. It’s not a vespa.”

He hit the brakes as he neared me and the sudden stop made him ram his stomach into the center console. Kenji took a shaky breath but his voice was only a little winded, “What’s a vespa?”

“Oh my God.”

Our bedroom was cold. It was the middle of July and from the window I could see the moon against the cloudless sky. It was the only thing lighting the room. For once I was happy that snow hadn’t come so early this year, because if it had then I wouldn’t be able to see the moon at all. I clung tightly to my blanket knowing that it was my only protector, that would stop the dark corners of the room from getting any closer to the foot of my bed.

I had been working very hard to not let it bother me, to sleep through the night without interruptions or nightmares. If Emmaline could do it then so could I. But it seemed like the harder I pushed away the negative thoughts, the stronger they came back with a vengeance. And the more they stole my breath straight from my lungs. I knew what panic was now though, I’d felt it before. It kept rising and rising like the temperature on a thermometer. Until my head started to feel dizzy and my chest began caving in.

What was it that Warner always said? Try to breathe.

Easier said than done.

At this point I should’ve been used to any form of sensory deprivation. Nothing to see, or hear, only the cold walls of the room that remind you that you’re not dead. Or asleep. Or somewhere in the middle. Mr. Anderson would turn down the oxygen in the room if I tried to fall asleep. It would go on for hours. But it always ended, sometimes I was worried it wouldn’t.

Little bird, little bird in a gilded cage. With spikes on the bars. Little bird with no escape.

“Ella,” my sister’s voice whispered across the bedroom. “Ella, go to sleep.”

I froze. My rampant neverending thoughts must have woken her up, or at the very least kept her from falling asleep. I wasn’t quite sure what Emmaline could hear and what she couldn’t. But if I hated being in my own head, then surely my sister would despise it just as much. “Sorry, Emma.”

She sighed, rolled over. I felt my face burn with shame. “No worries, just…“ Her soft words disappeared into the cloud of dark that blanketed over her half of our bedroom. We’d been sharing a room since I was born. At least that’s what I had been told. But now the sea of carpet between the two of our beds felt wider and all the more terrifying under the gaze of the moon. I had to steel myself. I couldn’t be weak, I couldn’t whimper at the idea of closing my eyes, what would Mum say?

“Ella. Come here.”

I looked over to Emmaline’s moving sheets. I could barely make out her motions across the room. But I didn’t give it a second thought. I bundled the blankets around my body, grateful for the socks that covered my feet, and I tiptoed over the lie to Emmaline’s side of the room. Where pink met purple.

Emmaline was waiting patiently with arms outstretched. She pulled me and my blankets up onto the sheets with her, and that’s when I noticed the long sleeves pajamas and the gloves. How had she been wearing gloves to bed? Emmaline pulled my head to her shoulder and hugged me tightly. I wished I could see her expression. I wished I could read her thoughts for a change. My panic spiked once more.

“Calm down,” Emmaline yawned. “Give it a rest.”

“S-Sorry.”

It was dangerous to be this close to my sister. It was dangerous to be around anyone, ever. This was my curse. My burden. Mum called it a gift, she said it made me special. But I had to work harder, so I could be just like my sister. Mum would kill me if anything happened to Emmaline. She’d actually kill me.

“Shhh, go to sleep.”

“I-I…”

My sister’s finger combed through my hair. I closed my eyes against her pillow.

“Sleep, Ella. You can worry about things in the morning.”

She was right. I knew somewhere deep down that she was, but a part of me refused to accept it. It seemed like no matter what I did, my worries would follow me into my dreams too. I focused on Emmaline’s breath, her heartbeat, the slight brush of my hair from my forehead. It made me crave the blurry memories of climbing into bed with Mum and Dad, falling asleep in the safety they provided. Now it didn’t feel safe to be near their wing of the house, or even near them.

“I don’t want nightmares.” I whispered back to her.

Emmaline paused. If I paid close enough attention I could feel the edges of her power just on the cusp of my consciousness. If I dared to push against it all I would feel would be numb. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.”

I blinked my eyes opened, “A deal?”

“Sure,” she pinched my shoulder. “If you try to sleep, I promise I’ll chase all the bad dreams away.”

It was far too dark in the room for me to see the look on her face. I couldn’t even tell from her tone if she was messing with me. I was a bit too old to believe that anyone could chase away my bad dreams, especially when they had been formed out of reality. But then again, Emmaline had power over the mind. Even now I could feel her rooting herself in my thoughts, sharing them with me, but blocking me from following that path back into her own head. It was a one way trip, or so she said.

If anyone could get rid of the nightmares, actually get rid of them, it would be Emmaline.

“All right.” I said.

She nodded once into the dark, “Close your eyes, then.”

I did as she asked. A moment passed, but in the moment the darkness of my eyelids didn’t feel constraining, like I was being pressed against the walls of a prison. It felt almost calm. Like a purring cat under my bare fingers, enjoying the feeling of my touch. It felt like I was back in North America, tucked into familiar sheets, pressed against the side of someone else. But only for a moment.

And then I opened my eyes and Emmaline was gone.

I sat up, wrapped in pink sheets, and stared across the room to the bed I had fallen asleep in. Purple sheets as pristine as if they had never been slept in at all. I should have figured. That kind of comfort and safety could only last a night.

Kenji wasn’t confident enough to drive us back, and I wasn’t entirely confident he could either. So, I drove the motorcycle to the compound, stopping myself from taking any unnecessary risks, least Kenji never go on another adventure with me again.

As much as I loathed to admit it, my plan was almost certainly backfiring. I was having fun just making friends with someone new. Socializing wasn’t exactly a skill I excelled in and the fact that Kenji almost didn’t seem nervous to get on the back of the bike with me after spending the afternoon in my company made me feel better than I had in awhile. There was a churning afterthought though, that if he wasn’t who he said he was, if Warner was right; then Kenji would die by my hand. There was no way around it.

Or so I told myself as we parked in the hanger.

I shot a scathing look at the soldier who carted off my bike, knowing they would take care of it, but trying to retain the menacing aura I had accumulated before I started letting myself go soft. Maybe Warner was right and I really should go back to training in the mornings.

It was only a second later as I turned to speak to Kenji that I felt a thrum of energy go through my body. The sensation stilled me to my core, even my lungs refused to take in oxygen as my brain scrambled for concrete meaning. I knew this feeling and I knew it well. My body restarted.

“Kishimoto,” my voice was harsh, “you are dismissed.”

“But--”

“Now, soldier.” There was a bite at the end of my words that I hadn’t ever used in conversation with him before. He registered this and, probably with some sense of betrayal, turned on his heel and marched away from the hanger. I hoped he was fast enough.

When my ability had first manifested, there were a lot of things going through my five year old head. And still it wasn’t anywhere near as complicated as Emmaline’s own mind. My sister, being a year older than me, took it upon herself to compare us in everything. Even before our powers. Shockingly, she wasn’t so far off when it came to this over everything else. Our abilities were simultaneously complete opposites and so similar that they could not be recreated in any test subjects. Though it wasn’t from lack of trying.

I could feel the energy of living things. Around me were spools of thread that tied back to every living creature, I could feel their hearts pumping, I could sense the electricity beneath their skin. By extension, Emmaline was connected to life through their minds. She had her own network that she organized and colorcoded, more orderly than my own, efficient. But our largest connector remained each other, and it was at that moment that I felt my sister’s ability wrap itself around me. As if it wanted me to know she was here, listening in to the private confines of my head. So, I did what any little sister would do.

I immediately thought back to the last time Warner’s lips were on mine, the heat of our breath as I undid the buttons of his shirt. I let my eyes close as the memories washed over me, leaving a singing fever in their wake.

Emmaline withdrew faster than a bat out of hell.

“That was rude.”

I heard her before I saw her. My eyes blinked opened tentatively as I watched my sister walked down the stairs into the hanger. Soldiers stopped, if only for a moment, to stare and wonder. Emmaline looked a lot like our mother. Her hair was two shades darker than mine and always laid flat down her back, her face was older, wiser. And she wore that red lipstick that Mum liked.

It was hard not to think of that woman when I looked at her. “What, like looking through someone’s head? Tell me, is that real rude?”

She rolled her eyes, “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?”

When she stepped down from the last stair a smile appeared on her face, out of nowhere. And then she held her arms open towards me. I noticed the sleeves of her coat, the collar of her shirt that covered her neck, the gloves that seemed to permanently cling to her hands. This wasn’t a last minute decision, my sister had come to Sector 45 with the full intent to see me.

I tried to walk calmly towards her. I’m pretty sure I failed.

Emmaline hugged me. She squeezed my shoulders and rocked us from side to side like a dance. It wasn’t appropriate, to be so excited to see each other, if our mother was there she would have chastised us greatly. But Mummy dearest wasn’t there, and we could do whatever the hell we wanted.

“This is a surprise,” I said as we pulled away.

“I told you I’d be visiting shortly.”

“Actually, you asked if you could visit and I never got back to you.”

Emmaline huffed as if I’d greatly inconvenienced her, “Doesn’t matter. It’s not as if you’re busy, hiding out from our parents and what have you.”

“They know where I am.” My eyes narrowed on her as a mischievous smile inched its way onto her face. “Mum does know where I am, right Emma?”

“Oh, she could guess, but I’m afraid she’s preoccupied right now.”

I held my breath. No wonder I’d been left alone for almost a month. Emmaline was covering for me and with her powers no less. It was starting to get scary how easily she could deceive the people that more or less ran the world.

“And what was your excuse for flying out here?”

Emmaline glanced at me, her lips upturned in a smug expression that made her lipstick seem darker. The color of blood. “I’m allowed holidays just like you.”

There was a palpable moment of tension between us that shattered with a clap of my sister’s hands. She turned on her heel and made her way back towards the stairs. I followed, just as she had expected me to do, and I watched as her hair flew behind her like a black veil. Nothing was different about Emmaline from the last time I had seen her, but I knew my sister better than that. She wasn’t a consistent person in the least.

She had plans. Always.

“Why didn’t you introduce me to your friend?”

I met her eyes as she glanced back at me, “Didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Emmaline hummed to herself for a moment before we entered the main hallway. She let me move to take the lead as I headed for the nearest elevator. It was just around dinner time now, the sun had already begun it’s decline over the ocean. Well, it would’ve anyways, if it wasn’t for the clouds hiding it. And I was starved from messing around in God knows where for hours.

“Y’know, sis,” she spoke finally after the elevator doors closed. “You can’t exactly lie to me.”

I gritted my teeth.

“And I’m not just saying that because I can read your mind. What, can’t trust me now? Especially when you’ve decided on making friends with someone you think is working for the rebellion.”

“Hush up,” I hissed.

The elevator was still steadily moving up towards the higher floors. That left us with little time left to speak with the comfort of not being recorded. Once we were out in the open, anyone could overhear us and report back to Anderson, Kenji would be as good as dead.

“I don’t know for sure.”

Emmaline scoffed.

“I don’t. Doesn’t matter, I just don’t want you rooting around in his head while I’m trying to do my job. Because if he is with the rebels, then maybe he can lead me to that base.”

“The base Anderson’s on your ass about.”

The doors open, “That’s the one.”

We walked in silence towards the dining room. There was something strange and familiar about wandering these halls with my sister beside me. Maybe it reminded me of when we were children, I scrunched my nose. Emmaline and I hadn’t wandered the halls together when we were little. We barely interacted outside of bedtimes and Sunday breakfasts. I watched her out of the corner of my eye and found her looking back at me. Her expression was blank.

Before I even opened the door to the dining room, Emmaline groaned from beside me. I felt a tinge of a smile make its way onto my lips before I waltzed inside, emulating the grace of a person with the ball in their side of the court. If she was going to be confrontational or then I simply wouldn’t let it get to me, Emmaline could whine all we wanted but this was still Warner’s sector.

A telepath and an empath walk into a bar… I’d hate to hear the punchline.

Emmaline hesitated by the door as I swept inside to take my usual seat beside him. He barely spared a glance at my sister, before turning to me, his side of the table devoid of paperwork for the first time in weeks. I narrowed my eyes, had he heard of her arrival before I had? Most likely.

I leaned close enough to press my lips to his cheek as he whispered, “A nice surprise.” I had to stifle the laugh the built up in my throat.

As much as I liked to taunt my sister, I also found myself increasingly more demure in her presenance. My cheeks reddened and I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I pulled away from Warner and into my own space. I caught Emmaline’s eye as she, now quiet for the first time since I’d seen her, sat down carefully beside us. I braced myself for whatever she was reading, whatever she could feel.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

My nerves blew out of my lungs in an instant. Warner brought a water glass to his mouth rather enthusiastically, he was hiding a grin. I could rest easy knowing that this dinner wasn’t going to be a normal Emma-Aaron staredown, where I was placed in the middle and forced to choose which one I would have to calm down first. Frankly, I found it unfair that they put me in such a position at all.

Emmaline and I had been rivals since the beginning on account of our abilites and the expectations that came with them. It made our relationship difficult to say the least, stressful and even distant. We rekindled what we could salvage the older we got, but it was hard to put the pressures our mother had forced down our throats away. Warner and Emmaline’s rivalry was different. And I couldn’t even be sure when it started. It almost felt like I had woken up one day to the both of them being at each other’s throats with no explanation other than, “Because I hate him, Ella.” on my sister’s lips.

I had my assumptions. But I certainly wasn’t going to tell them that.

“C’mon now,” Emmaline spoke first. “What have you two been up to, spare no details.”

“Is that why you came here? To catch up?” Warner raised an eyebrow and I felt his hand find mine underneath the table.

Emmaline amused herself my looking through the assortment of bottles on the table, in Sector 45 there never seemed to be a shortage of alcohol, before picking one that suited her tastes. “Why else would I be here?” She said as if there was a very obvious, very necessary reason for her to be here. Her eyes met his with something I could only describe as contempt, “To make sure you haven’t defiled my little sister?”

I felt more than saw Warner’s reaction to her words. It was like the walls turned ruby red, the air became almost stifling, but neither of the other occupants seemed to notice. No, Emmaline was reveling in my love’s discomfort. There was a gnawing dread in my stomach that colorfully plated breads weren’t going to fix. I squeezed Warner’s hand.

“Behave,” I said.

Emmaline shrugged, “I haven’t done anything that warrants punishment, Els. Even if punishment is your specialty.”

“For someone so gifted in speech, you’d think you would have learned when to shut up.”

“Bite me.” She laughed and buttered a roll.

The heat had dulled, but only slightly, and a dull blade was worse than a sharp one. I turned to Warner, who was still fixing my sister with a death stare. I raised his hand to my cheek. If I kept his attention on me, then hopefully they wouldn’t do something I would end up regretting.

“I rode my motorcycle today.”

“You did?” Distraction successful, he answered curiously.

“I missed it. We should do it more often, it wasn’t the same without you.” The room smelled like lilac. “It’s getting pretty cold out, as well, so if you want to go riding--”

“A metal deathtrap.”

“--We’ll have to go soon.” I gritted my teeth again and caught Emmaline’s gaze out of the corner of my eye. “You never have anything helpful to add, do you?”

Emmaline was watching our exchange, eyes shimmering with something that I couldn’t place. But Warner could. I could read his movements better than his facial expressions, as he tilted his body in front of me. The lilac that had misted the air had turned frigid, but hadn’t disappeared. Not yet anyways. Emmaline placed her chin on the palm of her hand.

“Still trying to find a way to break your neck?”

How dare she pretend to be innocent. “Why? Decided to give it a go afterall?” I answered.

There was an ebb and flow to the frequencies that surrounded the table. Emmaline, ever the bringer of chaos, was upsetting my natural balance. I knew she would, hypothetically, and I could handle it. Hypothetically. But what I couldn’t handle was my sister trying to infuriate the both of us at the same time. Though that was what she did best wasn’t it?

“Tell us why you’re really here, Emmaline.” Warner’s voice was serious.

I stiffened as my sister’s lazy smile faded. “You already know, don’t you?”

“Tell her, then.”

“Or you will. I’m familiar with the threat, thank you.” She rolled her eyes and the childish glee she’d been playing with from the moment she’d hugged me, disappeared completely. If I could feel emotions like Warner, I’d suspect any cheerfulness in my sister had blown away, almost like it never existed. “Project Canary.”

My blood froze in my veins.

“They’ve completed it?”

Emmaline appraised Warner’s question, “They believe they have.”

“And that’s all that really matters.” His fingers tightened their grip on my hand and I squeezed back with just as much force. I couldn't feel the rest of my body, I was grasping for anything, and had settled on my power. It covered me like a blanket, extended itself to Warner and wrapped him in it as well. It was protecting us, it would protect us. But not from that, not if they had succeeded.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Emmaline chasitied. “As if I would let them create something powerful enough to neutralize Ella. I’m not an idiot.” That was a pointed statement if I ever heard one.

“What were you doing in Asia?” How could Warner be so calm?

“Testing it, obviously.”

He leaned back, “And?”

Emmaline was silent for a long time. Long enough that I began to count. I hated counting, more than anything. As much as I loved mathematics and sciences, the theory of numbers and how they could organize the entire universe, I despised counting with a passion. Because once I started, it was almost impossible to stop. To pull myself out of that scared little corner of my head that I only fell into against my own will.

1, 2, 3, 4…

Warner’s pointer finger tapped on the inside of my wrist.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious.” Emmaline continued, “I could have waited for my sister to come home to see her again, but it couldn’t wait. So, here I am.”

“Here you are.”

It was a message, it was a message and I couldn’t decipher it, but I would keep trying. For him. I focused on the feeling. The soft brushes of the pads of his fingers as they typed out a message to me and only me, heavily coded, even in his mind. Emmaline couldn’t read this, only I could. If I just--

“The Unnaturals they found in the last raid have been wiped out. Overseen by Supreme Commander Ibrahim and Mummy dearest, of course. It wasn’t a diplomatic mission, I lied, Nazeera and I watched the precessions.” Warner could no doubt see what Emmaline was recalling in her mind, “Their frequencies, their signatures, just vanished. Like they were dead.”

“But they weren’t dead, not when they disappeared.”

Emmaline nodded, “It was like a blackhole. I’ve never felt anything so… wrong.”

“I can understand that at least.” Warner went quiet again, and deep inside my mind where reality couldn’t touch me I felt all the more trapped losing that tether. I shut my eyes tightly. Without the sound of their voices, the darkness, the frequencies were consuming the edges of the room, and I could feel them sting across my skin. The hand that Warner held was the only place that cooled, like soaked in water, safe. “Love, you need to come back to us now.”

I was weak. How could I be falling apart so easily? Here the two of them were speaking calmly and I was falling apart at the dinner table. If Anderson saw me, if our mother heard--

27, 28, 29, 30…

“Thinking like that isn’t going to get you anywhere, sis.”

Warner’s free hand came up to tuck my hair behind my ear and slid down to cup the side of my face. It was like balm on a sunburn. If I could just move, then I could disappear into the circle of his arms where I would be safe, and loved, and

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

I gasped and the ticking of a clock. The numbers. The counting stopped.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered to the both of them, my eyes trained on the tablecloth. Embarrassment, shame, weakness burned in my gut.

Warner stroked my temple, his eyes never left my face but Emmaline turned away and I had to restrain my own wince. My mind was not a serene place to be in at this moment, that was for damn sure. Maybe if she learned to stay out of my head then she wouldn’t read things she couldn’t stomach.

“But that wouldn’t be very fun, would it?” She mused.

Warner pursed his lips and answered her, gaze still trained on me. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Actually, I think that’s enough entirely. You passed on your information, Emmaline, go home.”

“Gladly,” she responded, “if my sister comes with me.”

“No,”

The noise was raw and strained, I wasn’t sure where it came from until I saw my sister’s eyes turn to me. There was a mix of pity and desperation in them that made me feel all the more sick to my stomach. Maybe she believed the best way to protect me was by us staying together, but if her information had solidified anything it was that I couldn’t return home. Not anytime soon anyway.

“Emma, I can’t.”

“And why not?” Emmaline stood to her full height. She towered over the table, but I could feel her unease rolling off her frequencies in waves. It had been awhile since I had fallen apart in front of her. Probably almost a decade.

“Mum, she plans to test it on me.” To my surprise, my lips didn’t quiver. “It will work.”

“And I’ll stop her.”

I shook my head. She didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand what losing my powers even for a moment would mean for me. The vulnerability that I hadn’t felt since I was a child. How stripping me of something so intertwined with my entire being would be alike to killing me. The fact that the Reestablishment could very well kill me using such an object.

I watched the warring emotions on my sister’s face as she considered my thoughts. I wished that I could read her own and understand why she would be so insistent that I return home with her. It didn’t work. Emmaline turned away from me, and away from the table, and walked back towards the door. We hadn’t even gotten the chance to eat anything. I hadn’t noticed until now.

“Els,” Emmaline called back to me. “I’ll see you in the morning. For training, yeah?”

She paused. I bit my lip, “Of course.”

And with that she nodded and left. The door slamming behind her with more force than necessary and a weight settling in my gut that I could be sure would disappear overnight. I glanced to Warner, his eyes still heavy on my face, and I found something in them that perfectly reflected how I felt. How this whole situation felt.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into the collar of his jacket. And I cried.

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sadrien · 7 years ago

Text

prince of cats

chapter five: to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss

on ao3 || on ffnet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

hey everyone, how was your week!

posting wise, we've passed the halfway point of what i currently have written (i have through ch9 written at the moment). i'll hopefully write most of the rest of the fic in august, just at the moment my productivity writing wise is down because i've been drawing a lot and listening to taz!

enjoy!

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess just letting u kno that i hate my boyfriend

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Thats a lie and you know it Whats he making you do

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess >:( hes making us go out to dinner with his moms

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Oh THIS dinner

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess yup

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful First of all I talked to Nino about it last time you brought it up and its just a normal dinner His moms just want to spend time with you two From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess ur sure From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Absolutely Alya you love Ninos moms Theyve basically adopted you

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess ur right im just tired ninos really excited so i was worried im missing something or am gonna be surprised by something

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful As far as I can tell its just a normal dinner No surprises just Nino being Nino And the answer is to take a nap when you get home from work Did you not sleep much last night?

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess nah i was working on a project until like 3 cause i hate myself nino had to drag me to bed

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Thank god for Nino

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess yeah he haaated me last night speaking of cute boys tho

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Alya oh my god

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess im sorry uve been friends w adrien for how long now?? 3 weeks??? more than a month?? literal years!?!!?!??!?! u talk about him all the time when r we gonna meet him

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Eventually!!!!! I promise I just dont want you scaring him away

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess nino and i r great we dont scare ppl

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful uh huh

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess shut up also get me his last name

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette puts down her sketch book. “Let’s go to the store.”

Adrien looks up from his laptop in surprise. “What?”

She’s gotten used to weekends with Adrien. He doesn’t expect her to look nice or even all that presentable, and she doesn’t expect him to, they just sit on the couch or in the kitchen and do their own thing. Adrien usually works, because he literally never stops working, and Marinette designs. She forces him to watch her favorite shows with her, even if it means that she has to explain to him who every single character is and the entire plot. In return, he’s managed to get her to watch some of his favorite movies. He randomly shows up throughout the week if he needs something from her kitchen because he always seems to be short something. Marinette is genuinely considering giving him a key to her apartment. Even if it’s just so he can steal from her fridge and cabinets.

“The store.” She pulls her hair up into a messy bun and grabs her purse off the back of her chair.

Adrien stares at her like she’s grown another head.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want, but if you need anything, you should.” She gestures toward the door.

“What do you need?” he asks, apparently having found his voice.

“Fabric,” she says, ticking things off on her fingers, “some thread, ribbon, watercolor paper, brush markers if they have any, and pizza.”

He laughs and runs his hands through his hair. “I do like pizza.”

Marinette picks up her keys. “So are you coming? Because if you aren’t I should probably kick you out.”

“What?” Adrien asks as he stands. “You don’t trust me?”

“You might steal my Jagged Stone poster,” she says with a shrug of her shoulder.

“Fair enough.” He pulls on his coat. “Show me the way.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette opts to walk to most of the stores. She asks Adrien if he minds and he just shakes his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket, sending a few quick texts as they make their way down the stairs and out of the apartment building.

“Where are we going exactly?” Adrien asks, pulling the door open.

“Fabric store first,” Marinette says, stuffing her phone into her purse.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you have fabric at work?”

“Yes, but you’re missing the point— turn here. I don’t have fabric at home. At work, I do stuff for the head designer and my boss. I have much more creative freedom when I’m at home.”

“Huh.” Adrien flips his phone over in his hand. “Interesting. I know nothing about fashion so…”

Marinette smiles. “I sort of figured.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know much about how any sort of normal jobs work. I’ve got it relatively easy.”

“Working from your apartment and living off of take out?” she asks innocently.

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Yes exactly.”

Marinette elbows him lightly. “You’re very lucky you have me to teach you how to bake.”

It’s a nice day, not too hot and not too cold, without too many people walking around the streets. She finds herself wishing that she had more free time to spend outside, that she still had a balcony like she did when she was growing up. She misses having time to herself, where she could garden and sit outside and sew. It’s too nice to be stuck inside all the time.

Adrien accuses her of taking the long way and she doesn’t defend herself.

She holds the door open for Adrien when they get to the store, letting the far too cold airconditioning billow out onto the sidewalk.

Adrien wanders around in a sort of daze as Marinette pulls out her sketchbook and meticulously looks for the exact shade of blue that she needs.

“You needed ribbon?” Adrien asks, suddenly popping out of nowhere.

Marinette squeaks and jumps back with a start, dropping her sketchbook in surprise.

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly before bending over to pick up her sketchbook. He hands it back to her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She takes a few deep breaths before taking the sketchbook from him. “It’s fine, you just surprised me. Easy to do when I’m concentrating.”

“What are you looking for?” Adrien asks, leaning closer, tilting his head to look at the page she has her sketchbook flipped open to.

“A blue,” Marinette murmurs, pointing to a swatch of fabric she stole from work and taped onto the page. “I mean obviously I have a type of fabric in my mind, I’m just really desperate for this shade of blue because—” Well…she doesn’t actually have a reason. She’s just attached. And that’s silly.

Adrien hums to himself. “Okay,” he says after a moment. And then he vanishes into another aisle.

Marinette stares at the space he was occupying for a long moment before shrugging and moving on. She decides she’ll find the blue later and starts looking for white lining. She pulls a bolt from the shelf, feeling the fabric between her fingers. It’s a little heavier than she would like, but if she can’t find anything else, she can make it work.

Adrien steps out from around the corner. “Would this work?” he asks, holding out a bolt of blue fabric.

Marinette blinks and takes it from him, running her fingers over the satin-like fabric. “This is…this is perfect, actually.”

He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “I have a lot of experience with lots of types of fabrics.” He ignores the confused look Marinette gives him. She has questions, but mostly she’s just glad she doesn’t have to rethink the entire color scheme of this outfit.

Adrien watches over her shoulder as she chooses ribbon and nods as she rambles on about what she’s making. He doesn’t look like he understands what she’s saying to him, but he’s listening and that’s enough.

Marinette estimates how much fabric she needs and Adrien hums to himself as they get the fabric cut and check out.

“What did you think?” Marinette asks as he pushes the door open for her.

Adrien blinks in the bright sunlight and glances down the street before looking back to Marinette. “It was nice,” he says. “Overwhelming, but strangely calming.”

Marinette laughs. “That sounds about right.”

“Where to next?” Adrien asks with a tilt of his head.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Know anything about art?” Marinette asks as she pulls open the door to the art store.

“Hardly,” Adrien says with a crooked smile. “I don’t know anything about most creative things. I know music and that’s kind of where my creative talents end.”

“Music?” Marinette asks. He’s never mentioned anything about music before, though he hasn’t mentioned many hobbies or talents in general.

“Piano,” he specifies. “Took lessons for years, my parents insisted.”

Marinette leads him toward the markers and paints. “So you must be pretty good, huh?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Nowhere as good as my father would like me to be, but I’m passable.”

She rolls her eyes. “So that means you’re fantastic.”

“It really doesn’t,” Adrien says with a laugh. “But thanks for your faith in me.”

Marinette studies the brush markers, trying to decide what brand to get and how much money she’s willing to shell out today. Adrien amuses himself by uncapping some of the markers and trying out the testing markers while she Googles reviews on the internet. He’s flipping through an anatomy book when she decides on a set of markers and moves on to paper. She’s running low.

Marinette wanders further down the aisle where the sketchbooks and papers are. She feels someone’s eyes on her, but when she looks up, she sees a worker at the entrance. Marinette picks up a pack of watercolor paper and hums to herself. She still isn’t sure if she likes this paper, but she has very few options she can afford.

Adrien holds up a copic marker. “Why is this seven euros?”

She blinks at him. “Because it is?”

He squints at it. “It’s just a marker?”

“It’s a copic marker,” she says, like that will explain everything. Judging by the expression on his face, it doesn’t help at all. Marinette takes the marker from him and puts it back with the others. “It’s alcohol based and fancy, that’s why it’s expensive.”

Adrien looks at the case of copics in wonder. “Why would you spend so much on a marker?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette says. Adrien raises his eyebrows and she just shrugs. “I don’t usually use them. I don’t need nice markers and I don’t exactly have a lot of money to be spending on things I don’t need.”

“Fair enough,” he murmurs. He narrows his eyes at the copic. “That better be one magical marker if I’m paying seven euros for it.”

Marinette snorts. “Lucky for you, you’re not.”

Adrien gives her a lopsided smile. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m no Picasso. I think the best I can do is a stick figure.”

She elbows him lightly. “I’m sure you draw beautiful stick figures.”

Adrien laughs and for that moment, Marinette’s world gets a little brighter and her heart starts to sing.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Have you ever had pizza here?” Marinette asks as her and Adrien wait in line to order.

“Mostly I just get whatever will deliver,” he admits.

“You don’t leave the apartment much, do you?” she teases.

Adrien rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t usually need to.”

“Do you know what you want or do you just want the same as me?”

“Let’s go with the latter.”

Marinette orders her usual and pays before Adrien can offer, rejecting it when it does come. “My treat,” she says with a smile.

They sit in a booth by the window with their pizza and bags.

“Careful, it’s hot—” Marinette warns, just as Adrien burns his tongue.

“Ahhhh—” He sticks his tongue out and makes a pained expression.

She hides her smile behind her slice, but Adrien catches it and glares at her. She just shrugs. “I tried to warn you.” As she picks up her slice, someone catches her eye.

They’re watching her and Adrien out of the corner of their eye. They make eye contact with her and quickly go back to whatever they were doing on their phone. Adrien hisses in pain, bringing Marinette’s attention back to their table. “That was a mistake.”

Marinette opens her mouth to reply. The strange feeling of someone’s eyes on her passes through her and makes her freeze up and she looks back to the person who was watching them. They’re packing up their things and heading out the door.

“What is it?” Adrien asks.

Marinette shakes her head. “Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew. I was wrong.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Been there, done that. I’ve walked up to people thinking I knew them before. I did not.” She winces. “It was incredibly embarrassing.”

“I can imagine,” she says, taking a careful bite of her pizza.

Adrien eyes her. “Am I going to burn my face off this time?”

Marinette snorts and lowers her slice. “I think you’re okay now.”

“If I die, my blood is on your hands,” he says seriously.

She rolls her eyes. “Pizza isn’t going to kill you, I promise.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Adrien trails behind Marinette on the stairs, writing a quick email and carrying one of her bags.

“Come in for a minute?” Marinette asks as she pulls out her keys.

“Hm?” Adrien asks. He glances up from his phone. “Oh! Oh yeah, sure. I left my laptop on your table, anyway.”

She shakes her head as she unlocks her apartment. “You have to have more of your stuff at my apartment than your own.”

“It’s called minimalism,” Adrien says seriously.

Marinette frowns as the door swings open. She glances over her shoulder to Adrien. “I didn’t leave the TV on, did I?”

Adrien shakes his head. “We didn’t have it—”

“Hey!” Alya shouts from the couch.

“—on…” He trails off and hangs back by the door.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s one of my friends. Trust me, I regret letting her have a key to this place,” she stage whispers. She shuts the door once Adrien has stepped inside after a bit of hesitation. She leaves her bags on the table before joining Alya, and apparently Nino, in front of the TV.

Nino pauses whatever show they’re watching and returns to the Netflix home screen.

Marinette crosses her arms and leans over the back of the couch. “Why are you in my house?”

“Apartment,” Nino corrects lightly.

Adrien snorts from where he’s standing awkwardly in the kitchen. He puts Marinette’s bags down on the counter and closes his laptop before holding it to his chest.

“I’ve got a present,” Alya sings, holding up a box.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Is this payment for breaking and entering?”

“It’s not breaking if you have the key,” Nino points out. He continues to flip through Netflix. “Can’t argue the entering though.”

Alya smiles brightly at Adrien, but Marinette doesn’t miss the way Alya’s eyes sweep over him, taking in as many details as she can. “Hey, stranger!”

Adrien lifts a hand awkwardly, still hanging back by the door.

Nino leans back and nods at Adrien. “Yo, join the party.”

“I should—” Adrien gestures to the door.

Alya jumps up from the couch and hops of the back. She grabs Marinette’s arm as she breezes by, dragging her over to Adrien.

“Alya,” Marinette hisses, attempting to dig her heels into the ground as Alya pulls her along.

“I’m Alya!” she announces, holding out her hand to Adrien. “Marinette’s best friend.”

Adrien hesitates for a long moment before he shakes Alya’s hand. “Adrien. Marinette’s…” his gaze slides to Marinette before snapping back to Alya. “Her neighbor.”

Marinette tries to keep her blush from burning too brightly.

Alya shakes his hand eagerly. “Great to meet you!”

“Nino!” he shouts from the couch. “But I was working all day and I’m tired so sorry, dude, I’m staying put.”

“It’s fine,” Adrien promises. “I really should be getting back. Plagg needs to be fed.”

Marinette nods and pulls away from Alya. “Yeah, of course! Let me just— I’ll show you out.” Alya puts the box into Marinette’s hands winks. Marinette gives her a little shove toward the couch as Adrien pulls open the door.

“You didn’t have to show me out,” Adrien insists as Marinette quickly closes the door once they’re in the hallway. She leans against it so Alya can’t look out the peephole. “I’m sure I won’t get lost on the way home.” He gives her a small smile.

“I wanted the chance to apologize for…them.” Marinette waves at the door behind her. “Mostly Alya, but both of them. They can be a lot.”

“They seem nice,” Adrien says, and Marinette still can’t read him well enough to know if he’s being sincere or not. “What did they get you?” He gestures to the box Marinette is awkwardly holding.

“Pastries. They’re from my parents’ bakery,” Marinette says quickly. “Tom and Sabine’s— they’re my parents. That’s me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom and Sabine.” She swallows and glances down at her feet. That was a little too much rambling.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien repeats softly. “You have a beautiful name.” He’s smiling when Marinette looks up at him.

She bites her lip. “Th-thank you. What about you, what’s your last name?”

“Kersey,” Adrien says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk. “Adrien Kersey.”

“A nice name,” Marinette says, running it over in her mind. Alya will kill her if she forgets it, but Marinette is fairly certain it’s burned into her brain forever.

“Thanks, my parents chose it,” Adrien jokes. “I’m just stuck with it.” He pushes open his door. “You’ll have to take me to your parents’ bakery sometime. I bet it’s great.”

“Sounds good,” Marinette murmurs as Adrien lifts a hand and disappears into his apartment. When the door clicks shut behind him, she sags against her own door and lets out a sigh.

She really doesn’t know how to handle this boy.

Alya and Nino are staring at her when she reenters the apartment. Marinette feels her face burn as she closes and locks the door.

“Not a word,” she says, putting the box from the bakery down on the kitchen counter.

Nino mimes zipping his lips shut.

“No words?” Alya asks. “Are you sure? Because I have so many words.”

“Yeah, he’s hot,” Nino says.

Marinette glares at him. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

“Alright, now that we are saying things,” Alya says, twisting around on the couch, “where were you? You don’t leave the house without us.”

“I leave the house!” Marinette protests.

Nino raises his eyebrows. “To have fun?”

Marinette turns away to put her keys back.

“Oooo,” Alya drawls. “Silent treatment.”

“It wasn’t fun, anyway,” Marinette says. “I had errands to run.”

“That you decided to run with a cute boy,” Alya points out.

“That sounds like fun to me,” Nino muses.

Marinette glances over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side here?”

Alya gives her an offended look. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“I’ve known him longer.”

“Touché, Dupain-Cheng,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

Marinette sighs. “Speaking of last names…”

“You got it!” Alya shouts, jumping up from the couch. Nino tries to shush her, and she grabs a pillow and covers his face with it. “Tell me tell me tell me— I want to Facebook stalk him.”

Nino pulls the pillow away. “Who uses Facebook anymore?”

Alya turns to Marinette with wide eyes. “Is he secretly a wine mom?”

Marinette stares at her for a long moment. “Why are we friends.”

Alya throws the pillow across the room.

Marinette bats it away and says, “If you want Adrien’s last name, maybe you shouldn’t be throwing things at me.”

“She has a point, babe,” Nino agrees.

Alya sticks her tongue out at him before patting the cushion next to her eagerly. “Come on, Mar! I’ve waited a literal month for this.”

“Hm…” Marinette taps a finger against her lips. “Maybe I should keep you waiting.”

“Marinette!”

“Fine!” She drops down between Alya and the arm of the couch. “His last name is Kersey.”

Alya yanks her phone out of her pocket and starts typing rapidly.

Nino leans forward to look Marinette in the eye. “How long do you think she’s going to be at this?”

“A long time,” Marinette admits.

“Wanna see what Disney movies are on Netflix?” he asks, picking the remote back up. “We put some takeout in your fridge for later tonight.”

“Sounds good to me,” Marinette says. “I need to do a lot of nothing before work tomorrow.”

Nino types in Disney and starts scrolling through the results. “Are Zoé and Dorian still arguing about that thing?”

“If you’re talking about that jacket thing from a few weeks ago, they’re over that. If you’re talking about fake leather, they spent like an hour ‘debating’ that on Friday.”

“Fake leather,” Nino says in wonder. “Why were they debating that? I thought this collection was all like…dresses and stuff. Flowy soft things. What does fake leather have to do with that?”

“Nothing.”

Nino stops clicking through movies for a second. “I don’t understand you people.”

Marinette sighs and sinks against the back of the couch, pulling a pillow to her chest. “Neither do I,” she murmurs.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #my fics #proc ml #prince of cats ml #hello

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