Warped Reality

Chapter Two

Warning. Alcoholism mentioned? Again, if you can't stomach certain topics I suggest not reading this one. There's a lot to unpack in this.

Adrien

He groaned softly, rolling over. The room he was in was bathed in a soft blue light, the source being a strip of light around the one of the walls. He sat up, his heart suddenly racing. He had just been in the middle of the street with his lady, fighting an acuma. How did he get here? Where even was here? He got up, shaking sleep out of his mind as he pulled open the door, peeking into the hall. It was dark, aside from a Christmas tree he could see farther down the hall. He closed the door, turning on his light.

"Plagg?" He whispered, glancing around the room.

It looked like a normal boy's room. Posters, pictures, a gaming system sitting on a desk. Wait... pictures? He stepped closer, his heartrate slowing to practically nothing. He was in these photos. It was him, but he didn't remember any of these being taken. He didn't remember going camping with anyone. He didn't remember posing for any of them. How was this possible? Photoshop? He reached up, grabbing one of the photos off of the pin up board. He paled, immediately dropping the photograph. His ring... it was gone. Had hawkmoth won? Had he gotten his miraculous?

"Plagg?"

His tone was panicked, and he began yanking open drawers, searching for any sign of his kwami. Nothing. No tiny black cat, no cheese stuffed away anywhere it could fit, there weren't even any empty containers. The door opened, and he tensed, grabbing a book that was on top of the desk. It wasn't much, but at least he would get a hit in.

"Adrien? What are you doing awake?"

He turned, getting ready to swing with all the might he could muster, but the face staring at him made him freeze.

"A... aunt Amélie? I-i dont... what are you doing here?"

Had she kidnapped him? Why would she have taken his ring? This wasn't her house. She tilted her head, giggling softly.

"Are you sleepwalking? Are you awake?" She cooed, and he gripped the book harder.

If she really didn't know that he was Chat Noir, he wasn't about to blow his cover.

"I'm fine. Are we in london?"

She stopped giggling, her smile dropping from her face almost immediately.

"Honey... you should get back to sleep. I think you're dreaming."

She reached forward, and he took a step back, out of her grasp.

"Why are you acting like this? Can't you just answer me?!"

She took a small step back as well, her hand falling to her side.

"Of course we aren't in London. We're at home. In Paris."

We? He didn't live with her. He opened his mouth to say as much, when his father stepped into the doorway, looking half asleep.

"What's going on?"

"I think something is wrong with Adrien. He called me Amélie. He asked if we were in London."

His father stepped past her, walking up to him and placing a hand on his forehead.

"He doesn't have a fever."

"If you're not my aunt..." He trailed off, and they both watched him with worry in their eyes.

"...mom?"