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His father was gone.
Not gone in the sense of his mother's absence, but his father still left for some business trip with Nathalie, neither of them informing Adrien themselves. Instead, Adrien found a note taped to the table in front of his dinner.
An urgent business matter, it read.
Adrien stormed inside his room, throwing his stuff carelessly in the corner. Had he not been alone, Adrien would have gone back to his possessions and put them neatly away as he was supposed to. Instead, he made his way across the room and towards the piano.
“You aren’t okay, are you?” said Plagg.
It wasn’t a question. Adrien made a valiant attempt to reveal nothing about what he was feeling on his face; he suspected something might have shone through his eyes because Plagg followed him to the Piano quietly. He could lie as he would have with anyone else, even Nino, but it felt wrong. Lying to Plagg always felt wrong.
The moonlight barely lit the instrument. Adrien's room had never been fully consumed by the darkness of the world; the moon or the sun always lit the room as best as it could. He preferred it, often refusing curtains when he was younger because it always reminded him that there was a whole world out there for him to explore.
And one day he would.
Adrien sat on the edge of the bench, hands hovering over the keys. He was meant to be on patrol, roaring through the night sky while looking for trouble lurking in the shadows. It would be easy to escape. It was late enough where he didn’t have to play music on his phone, lie about taking a nap, or even pretend to take a long shower. That and that there was no one to check on him.
Adrien had a knack for doing things he wasn’t supposed to do.
His hands glided over the keys, memorization clear in every note. The melodic sounds drowned the quiet room in sweet, bitter sorrow. It bounced through the room, attempting to reach the outside world, even if there was no one there to hear it all. But, the piece would not leave the room, too quiet to be heard from beyond the walls, locked in the confined space Adrien called his home.
Adrien was eight when he first picked the key of his cage.
A party his parents threw, a gala they had called it, left the house open for visitors to wander in and out of. Most importantly, it left the house open for Adrien to wander out of.
The descent of sunlight, a mix of soft gold and pinks, barely lit the beautiful streets of Paris. It splashed the sides of buildings, on the pigeons perched on the trees, cars, and houses. It was nothing short of magical to Adrien, who was rarely able to bask in the warmth of the sun.
He ended up in a library, which had fewer people than he had originally hoped for.
An old lady stood at the desk to the left of the door. She had to be as old, if not older than his mom. With a frizzy mop of gray-brown hair, a crooked nose, and kind brown eyes, the lady reminded Adrien of a character from one of his favorite shows.
Looking back, she wasn’t as old as Adrien remembered.
“What are you looking for, kid?” She said.
“Magic,” he replied.
The old lady took a good, long look at him before nodding and leaving her desk. The lady wore a lanyard with the word Librarian stitched on both sides of the yarn. The name tag at the end of the lanyard says, Ramona.
Ramona leads him down the library, away from the tall shelves filled with books of all different shapes and sizes. He had half the mind not to follow her, remembering what his mother had told him about the dangers of strangers. But, he figured, this was her job, and if the old woman did decide to kidnap him, he could outrun her.
His mother always told him he was as fast as a cat.
Adrien was still deciding if that was a good thing or not. Maybe he could get a book on cats.
They ended up in the back of the library, where a small stand of books laid. Although, they didn't look much like the traditional books Adrien read at home.
Ramona handed him a tan folder filled with symbols and lines he couldn’t read.
“Notes,” the old lady said, pointing to the page, “they create beautiful magic for the ears. Take a look.”
The top of the first page read: A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes for Piano.
Adrien was there for hours, reading different books about Piano to try and figure out the singular piece the old lady had picked out for him. It was hard and he wished he had a piano with him to practice on.
It was only when, after the library closed, did Ramona sit next to him, asking him where his parents were. If Adrien knew any better, he would not have told her. He would have kept it a secret.
Ten minutes later, he was swept up into a hug by his parents and was sent on his way home.
Grounded for a month, they had told him. Which had meant his birthday party, a cake with his parents and Chloe Bourgeois, was canceled.
It was worth it, even if he never did see that old lady again or a book on cats.
He hit a key he wasn’t meant to, unbalancing the swirl of music around him. He shook his head, an attempt to escape his wandering mind. Thinking of the past wouldn’t fix anything.
The sour note contrasted the sweetness of the other notes rather unpleasantly. It was unlike the intentionally sour notes he played. The ones that, once combined, created a perfect balance of light and dark.
Yin and yang.
He pushed through it as if he had meant to hit it all along. The swirl, louder this time around, surrounded him once more. No, surrounded them, Adrien realized numbly. Plagg, uncharacteristically quiet, sat across from him, on the top of the piano with a platter of untouched cheese.
Adrien chose to ignore his questioning eyes.
Half a year after the accident, Adrien learned to put on a mask around everyone, even himself.
The Library wasn’t the first time Adrien was punished for stepping out of line, and it wasn’t the last. While Adrien didn’t try to run away again, he still got in trouble for anything out of place: slouching while walking, skipping rocks across a pond, talking when un-prompted to, and even making puns.
During his third photo shoot, the photographer needed Adrien to be the opposite of everything he was. Someone who could standstill for over an hour, waiting for the perfect shot. Someone who didn't talk back or strike up a conversation when unprompted. Someone who could smile like the color purple, whatever that meant.
They needed perfection.
Adrien was none of those things. Instead, he had managed to run them three hours behind schedule, annoying the photographer and his father in the process.
Behind them, his bodyguard, The Gorilla, looked at him, pity in his eyes.
His father had to stay behind to fix the damage Adrien had done, promising him they would try again the next day. It was nothing new for his parents to leave Adrien to head home alone. Often, they had important work to finish that had no use for Adrien. Sometimes, it hurt.
Even so, in the times where his parents were mostly absent, Adrien found solace in his bodyguard. The Gorilla rarely talked to Adrien, which never bothered him. It allowed Adrien to do the thing he loved most: talk. And he knew the Gorilla always listened.
Sometimes, Adrien felt Gorilla was the only one who ever did.
He pressed his face against the cool glass of the limo, watching the building, trees, and crowds pass away from him.
He didn't expect the car to roll to a stop.
Across the street were hundreds of kids in front of an old tall building with a small playground and beautiful green trees.
A school.
Adrien could almost hear the chatter of the kids and parents alike, or maybe it was his imagination.
A family of three, a little away from the rest of the crowds, near the trees that surrounded the playground, caught Adrien's attention.
A dark-skinned lady, the mother Adrien assumed, held a small child in her arms, dressed in blue. She gazed warmly at her son in front of her, a small smile on her face.
The young boy had to be around Adrien's age; he was almost sure of it. The boy, playing with the cap on his head, regularly glanced between the mother and the school. Nervousness, a feeling Adrien got all the time.
He turned his attention away from the seemingly loving family, his stomach-churning.
Distantly, he wondered if they would have been friends in another life. It was a thought that haunted him each time he saw another kid who looked to be around his age.
The Gorilla was looking at him, studying Adrien. For what the Gorilla lacked in talking, he made up for in staring. Adrien could almost swear that the Gorilla could take one good look at him and know everything. From what Adrien was thinking to the feelings Adrien buried in the bottom of his chest. It was as weird as it was comforting.
“Pretend,” Gorilla said, “Like your mother, like your father. Pretend. Be reserved, graceful, kind, and quiet. That is what they want.”
The Gorilla brought both hands up to his face, outlining his eyes and nose, before breaking them apart. Adrien understood immediately. A mask.
It was the day something broke in Adrien.
It was the day he learned to become two different people.
“Why do they want me to be somebody else?”
He never got an answer.
Adrien didn’t realize he was crying until his vision blurred, like acid eating an old film, and he couldn't see the keys his fingers were floating across. Maybe he had realized he was crying, attempting to ignore it instead. Still, only music filled the walls as the tears traveled down his cheek, off his face, and onto his hands.
He should’ve stopped playing, bend into himself and cry. It was what, he assumed, any sane person would do.
He closed his eyes instead, letting muscle memory take over.
Pushing the keys harder, an even larger sound erupted for the piano, letting Adrien’s frustration flow into the music that flooded his ears and every thought.
The once softness of the melodic sounds was gone. In its place roared a fire of notes, bent on the destruction of everything around it. No longer was it confined to the sorrow of the room, but rather it escaped through the burning walls as if it was nothing more than dust and shadows. Seemingly, destruction followed Adrien everywhere he went.
It was loud, he was sure of it yet no one came to check on him. Not the staff, not his bodyguard.
He pushed the keys harder.
As absent as his parents were, Adrien never felt unloved.
Sometimes work got in the way. With conferences, trips, and endless deadlines, his parents often worked harder to show Adrien that they cared for him, despite missing much in his life.
If Adrien didn’t see them at his competitions or photoshoots, then he would see them during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If Adrien didn’t see them throughout the week, they would make a day just for them to spend time together. A day where work couldn’t get in the way, or else Adrien could buy whatever he wanted.
The last time it happened, Adrien bought a book on puns.
Really, it was the effort that Adrien ever wanted. The effort was enough.
When he was six, Adrien noticed the leaves dance away from the trees as the wind gilded them to their new home. He noticed the way night crept by faster, calling out for him to join them.
As a surprise, Adrien’s father built him an indoor campsite in one of the old photoshoot buildings. The roof was filled with dangling stars and the floor lines with fake leaves, twigs, and dirt. He got to build a tent with his father, ignoring the fact he ended up underneath at one point and even learned what a S'More was. While it was nothing like the real thing, it was more than enough.
When he was nine, Adrien's mother took him to a park for the first time. It was small, the playground had one slide, and there were no swings in sight. There was a litter of kids running around and a family on the right of the entrance eating sandwiches. It was the best thirty minutes of that year.
It all changed when his mother went away.
Most importantly, his father changed, sinking further into himself. It reminded him of turtles who hid in their shells as a sign of protection.
Ghosts littered the mansion in memory of what used to be. Where once the living room held a spirit of bright joy and laughter, remained empty. The chairs in the dining room were absent in each of his meals. And the halls, where Adrien used to run through laughing with his mother, remained silent.
Adrien had lost both of his parents that day.
The sea isn't one to be contained. It is loud, wild, and fierce, following its own directions. When the sea touches the sand, it can become soft and calming, that it often travels around a sea of people sticking their feet in its waters. But, when the sea touches the rocks, it crashes, loudly and wildly, until it comes back into itself to crash again.
For the entire past year, maybe even longer, Adrien hoped he wouldn't crash as the sea does onto the rocks. Desperately, he tried to keep himself ashore, to direct himself onto the sand. He misses. Everything within him crashed against the rocks.
His mother's absence.
His father's neglect.
Him losing his first friend ever.
Him feeling completely and utterly useless.
And everything in between.
It crashed back into him, one after another, and he had no control to stop it.
His sobs mixed with the melody, becoming almost equal in volume. Together, the two create a wrenchingly beautiful sound that was everything of Adrien's feelings and nothing of whom he tried to be. Looking back, he couldn't remember when the screams started. Distantly he wondered if it was his raw screams or a fragment his imagination created. It rang in his ears either way.
Before he knows it, he feels Plagg tucking himself into the crook of Adrien's neck, a futile attempt of comfort. Plagg starts to purr, a low rumble that Adrien could feel more than he could hear.
And then he crashes completely.
At once, his hands, wet with tears, drop from the piano and curl around his chest.
Adrien shouldn't be crying, not really. His year was long and hard sure, but his day wasn't. His day had gone like every other day; nothing had changed. He shouldn't be crying.
A wave of rage, frustration and overwhelming exhaustion nearly consumes him. Dark shadowy fingers press deep in his heart, gripping it in an attempt to take a terrifying amount of control. It hurts so much that he almost lets it.
A new wave of fear torments him. Here he was, hero of Paris, crying over nothing, letting himself, his emotions, vulnerable to be taken advantage of by Hawkmoth. Adrien was pathetic.
It only makes him cry, scream harder than before.
When he was younger, his mother would lay in bed with him, singing softly, to hug the darkness away when no one else was looking. In those nights, hidden from the public eye, Adrien saw his mother for who she really was. He didn't see the perfect mother and wife with a gentle smile and the kindest of eyes. He saw his mother as a human, a human filled with flaws and insecurities.
Adrien screams and screams louder, his throat tightening.
Maybe he wanted someone to hear him; he certainly hoped they did, prove it was not all in his head. He wanted them to prove they cared enough to check on him. He almost wished his mother, however impossible it seemed, would walk through the doors of his room and scoop him in her arms. He almost wished she would hold him tight with the promise that everything would get better, not now but soon.
No one ever comes.
Plagg purrs louder, snuggling hard enough into his neck that it hurts. It doesn't disturb him when everything in him hurts.
“It’s okay, kid. It’s okay not to be okay.”
Plagg doesn't stop purring. He doesn't flinch away from Adrien's cries, despite how ear-piercing it must be. He doesn't complain when Adrien knows that some of his tears land on Plagg. He stays there, comforting Adrien in the only way Plagg knew how. It was a comfort Adrien didn't realize he so desperately needed.
The black cat Miraculous was supposed to be a symbol of bad luck. But, Adrien was nothing short of lucky to get Plagg as a best friend, even if the Kwami ate nothing but smelly cheese.
“Talk to me kid,” Plagg’s voice still drawls, despite being softer than Adrien had ever heard him before, “Talk to me kid.”
Adrien shakes his head, not having the words to respond verbally. What could he say that Plagg didn’t already know? What could he say that wouldn’t cause another wave to come crashing down?
So he screams and screams, tears running down his face until he can’t anymore. Adrien doesn’t know how long he goes until his throat is raw and burning. Until his eyes are dry and his face is wet.
In the end, Adrien's breath was coming in searing gasps.
He’s trying to grasp for something to say to Plagg, an explanation for his actions. It was the least that Plagg deserved, but Adrien isn't sure he had an explanation. He wasn’t sure of anything.
He opened his eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room.
It was darker than it had been earlier when Adrien first began to play. The clouds hugged the moon tighter than before, holding the light of the moon prisoner before it could escape. The clouds were selfish.
Adrien wanted to stay there forever, Plagg in the crook of his neck, basking in the escaped drops of moonlight. He couldn’t. He knew he would have to catch up with time before it left on its adventure without Adrien.
He wanted a lot of things he couldn’t have.
“I’m so tired, Plagg.” his voice was cracking, tumbling over itself like an ocean stuck in a storm. “I’m so, so tired.”