Miraculous : The tales of MrBug and Lucky Cat.

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[ 12 October 20XX ]

.̷̛̤̈́͐̍̎̾͂͆̓̔̚.̴̨̢̖̺̘̗̝̪̤̠̤̘̹͇̳̉́̓̎.̸̗̝͚̻̆̇͗͑͌̈́̈́͐̃̿́Ţ̵̧̢̜̗̼̳͕͈̘̠̮́̆̂̕.̴̛̲̲̗̗͇̼̲̺̣̟͙̖͔͒̈͜.̴̪͉̞̯̺͍̞͉̰̪̋͗̓́̔̔̓̔̇̿̌̿̚̕ͅ.̸̘̫͚̐͛̾̽̅̉̇̈́̆͋́͠͝Ȉ̸̡̡̡̛͍̺͈̟̻̼͔́͒͂͑ͅ.̷̢̝̪͕̥̣͎͙̯̺̬̞̜̟̾̆̃̂͋̑̌̊̒̋͋̿.̵̢̖̠̘̥̣̻̯̙̤̐́̌̉̄́̌́̅̈́͆͂.̶̝̎N̵̤̽̽̈́̽̈͒̒̄̆̿́͛.̸̡̨̹͎͓͙̮͍̹̲̳̮͆͜.̴̡̥̲͍̰͎̤̩̭͂̾͒̇̈́͐͌̈́ͅ.̵̛̗̫̥͍̱͍̝̲̜̖͖̰̒̊͗̾̓̂̓̃̂̈́͌́̚͠Ė̶̥̃̄̿̓̎͛̈.̵̢̧̡̧̹̲͚͍̹͉̬͖̗̘͕̔̂̇͐.̷̢̡͈̖͓̬̹̬̓̇̀̏͆́̈́̋͒͌̕͠.̸̘̠̬͇̞͚͍͉̗̗͙͙̊͛͐͗̽̓͒̂̏͛̈́̓ͅĀ̵̧̢͍̬̞̂̈́̔͆͂͝.̷͇̦̻̪̜̜͉̣̼̃͌͑̆̏͛̌͒͗͘.̶̜͎̅̀̀̄̾.̷̘̃̇͠

His eyes opened, breathing dry, he exhaled sharply.

His ears were ringing, but among the constant noise he could hear the thunder growling.

Every second, he recovered his senses. On his skin he could feel the cool drops of rain.

" Do you blame yourself ? "

He straightened up, the cool grass he was on pricking his fingers. In front of him, on the freshly wet tar, lit by a dancing orange light. There was a black shape, which he couldn't quite make out.

... What? ...

The thing tilted what seemed to be its head at the question.

" What's quite common in these situations for a patient to feel a kind of... guilt. "

He could hear the sound of the flames intensifying, crackling to the back of his head.

... What situation? ...

As if guided by an unsuspected terror his gaze turned behind him, following the traces of blood that stained the fresh grass.

" The accident. "

***

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fell on the cup of coffee in front of him.

" So... How do you feel, today ? "

His gaze froze on that mug, watching the vapor evaporate from the black liquid.

He opened his mouth a few seconds, considering his words.

Tinea: ... I don't like coffee.

His therapist was silent for a few moments before speaking again.

" We both know that today's date matters..."

He took a sip of his own drink.

" ... Did you speak to anyone today ? "

Tinea: Of course, why wouldn't I.

It was a lie. He could see the small light of regular flashing notifications, at the top of his phone, on the table.

" You know this is the day you need support the most, you are not alone. "

The doctor's words sounded hollow, repetitive. Tinea found it hard to value people's words in this kind of situation. Everything sounded like sentences already prepared, a real social parade.

He felt he needed nothing, except a little bit of peace. But these appointments were obligatory and fortunately reimbursed by social security.

At least he was entitled to a day off.

Tinea: Hey, doc.

The therapist looked at him questioningly.

Tinea's gaze shifted to the window that overlooked the building opposite to them.

Tinea: Do you believe in ghosts ?

The doctor was not sure what to answer, wondering about the meaning of this question.

The young man let out an amused little chuckle.

Tinea: I'm bothering you, do you ever laugh in your job ? I suspect you don't see happy stories happening every day. Even surely never.

He looked back at the doctor.

Tinea: Surely I can't be the worst, there's nothing foolish about killing your mother because you can't drive.

The psychiatrist took a breath, as if the hours of work he thought had been gained had just gone by the wayside.

" You are not responsible for the death of your mother. "

Tinea: But you know, I ended up accepting it.

" You should not- "

A shrill sound came out of the therapist's watch, signifying the end of their hour.

A satisfied smile spread over Tinea's face.

Tinea: I never lose.

" Not all interactions you have in life are fights to be won ! "

Tinea: See ya next time, doc.

The young man put on his jacket, grabbing the handle, getting out of this hell of social interaction as quickly as possible.

He walked into the waiting room, giving the other patients disdainful looks, walking towards the exit without saying goodbye to the secretary.

He tumbled down the steps, the look more and more annoyed on his face. Before getting behind the wheel of his car.

There, sitting in that seat.

" Do you blame yourself ? "

He grabbed the steering wheel, desperately digging his fingernails into it.

... Rain, thunder, flames and blood ...

He screamed, gripping his face with his hands, emptying the air from his lungs.

He couldn't hold it back, no matter what passers-by might think.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel, gripping his hair firmly between his fingers, tears streaming down his face to land on the carpet beneath his feet.

Breathing sharply, he couldn't help but cry.

Ḓ̴̢̨̗̥̣̹̗̲͓͎̳͗̒̍͌̔̈́͊͑͘͜ͅõ̸̘̥͈̠̭̱̞͇͇̦͙͙̖̳̑̈́͐ͅ.̶̢͎͇̮̬̦̻̘͂̋̉̽͆̆͘͝Ȕ̴̡͎̹̙̞͎̯̼͚̥̞̮̻̀͋̆̽̀̂̽̏̽̈̾̚ ̵̨͔͈̣͇͕͖͈͖͕̭̲̐̆͋̿͆̉̓͜ͅy̸̡̨͇͍͉͉͕̼̜͕̜̙̻̜͇̿̑̒̇̏͊̊̽̈́̒͐͗̍ǫ̴̞̝̼̝̳͕͇̗̽̈́̃͑́͊.̷̨̹̠̔͒͋͛͗͐̚.̶̛̙͚̰̠͍̼͇̱̯̠̇̈̓̀͜͝ų̵̗͔̀̓͝ ̶̨̲͉̦̜͖̄̿̓̈b̵̹̘͖̤̦͙͔͋͌̎͛͘͜l̵̢̞͉̣̼̜͖̖̠̖̝̉͜͜.̴̨̙̻͕̺͉̳͓͈̭͉͓̻̘̞̒̒̔̎̆̎̐̃̓̕͝ą̴͍̯̑̐̅ͅM̷̺̖̩͎͍̒̌̎͘e̴̢̩̲̎ ̵̡̛̥͔̱̩̣̱̰̘͊̍͂͊̀͊̊́́̎̅͝͝y̷̡̰̻̩̩͇̜͎̱̬̘̪̐̔̅̏̀͑̎́͠ǒ̷̯̬̤̱͙̞̰͍̦̣̍͗̇̽̈́̕͠.̸̧͕̫̥͖͕͇͎̪̎͐̅̿͋.̶̛͓̤̝̻͍̰͙̘̼̗͌͊̃̏͛͆̅̆̃́̉͝ṵ̷̧͚̥̩͓͇̋̊͋͆͐̋ȑ̷̡̲̖̗͚̙̀́ͅS̸̜̔͌̾̃̀̄͋̑̏͂̉͠͠͝ẻ̴̱̗̯̃̈̚l̵͖̘̮̼̙͓̙͑̏̀͗͆̌̃͒̕͝f̷̧̗̜̞̮̺̯͚̦̫̺̤̥͈̫̐̏̈͘ ̴̢̺̩̪̝̦̥̦͋̅͛̏̀̄̀̑̽̀͠?̸̻̝̜͎͉̽̒͒̍̃̕

Plagg came out of his bag, his movements calculated not to surprise him. Not daring to say anything, he just floated over to his phone, carrying it to Tinea's lap.

Surprised by his intervention, he calmed his sobs, understanding the message he was trying to convey.

He grabbed the device, tapping on the number he knew so well.

The person on the phone immediately picked up.

Kvéta: Hey, Marc. I was worried you didn't text us all day-

Tinea:... I am not okay, can you come with the others? ...

It was in his rare moments that they could hear the touch of vulnerability in his voice. His friend answered him as affectionately as possible.

Kvéta: Of course... Where are you?