Cry Baby [ Adrien Agreste / Chat Noir X Reader ]

Third: Sippy Cup

Trust no one.

That was probably Mrs. (L/N)'s motto in life. Her baby boy was recently sent to rehab after discovering that he smoked a crap ton of cannabis, and her husband wasn't home yet- for the umpteenth time.

And it was past midnight.

Gulp.

Yesterday, as (M/N) recalled, he had promised her that he would come home early that weekend. He sealed that promise by giving her the expensive ring that she had yearned for so much. She was happy to finally wear it, of course- but that didn't stop (M/N) from being curious. "How did you afford this ring that I love, honey?" She had asked, feigning innocence.

"Just another shift from the drug company," he had coolly replied.

The memory humoured her. Some promise. 'He doesn't think I'm that fucking dumb, does he?'

Gulp.

Silicone built up her butt for the sake of beauty; for the sake of pleasing him, the love of her life. Yet, why didn't he seem to want her anymore? Did he grow tired of her?

Plucking out the cap of another bottle of alcohol, she chugged the bitter liquid down in one swoop. She figured that since (Y/N) was asleep, she had all night to drink away her problems: most particularly involving Mr. (L/N). "Stupid, fucking shithead," she drawled, her voice coming out in slur tones as the bitter taste of the liquid burned her throat.

Her vision blurred, and she subconsciously felt her legs go weak before collapsing on the tiled floor in the kitchen, clutching her bottle. The thud was so unnaturally quiet to her; so was the night.

Just then, the silence broke. Footsteps resounded throughout the halls. (M/N) assumed that it was her husband, returning from a long day's work at last. A sudden urge to run and greet him tempted her to get a hold of herself, but something about the bounding footsteps was... Disturbing.

Then, she heard it.

Giggling. Flirting.

A woman. A different woman.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was cooped up in her bedroom, gazing uncertainly at the ceiling. Her afternoon went great, as every other did whenever Adrien was present. The beatings were somewhat tolerable now compared to before.

But that wasn't the point. The atmosphere in the house scared her. It was as if a ghost was lurking around in the corner of her dim chambers, staring at her, awaiting the chance to frighten (Y/N). She knew for a fact, though, that it was no ghost.

Goosebumps formed on her arms. 'I wish Adrien were here. I'd be a lot better if he was. He'll know what to do.' she sighed. '... I'm such a scaredy cat...'

She tried to shut her eyes tight in a vain attempt to fall asleep. Miserably, she failed to, once again finding herself gazing up at the exact same ceiling she's been looking at for hours.

'Maybe if I walked around a little, I'll find it easier to sleep,' she considered, then threw off her blanket and putting on her fluffy slippers. As silent as a mouse, she slipped out of her room and into the gloom of the darkness.

The first thing (Y/N) noticed were the red stains trailing the carpets. A theory in her tired mind suggested that it was probably from the wine one of her parents bought. 'Hold on. None of them ever drank wine, and I doubt that they like it with their tastes. If anything, both mom and dad preferred beer.' purely curious of the trail, she decided to follow the path leading to the source.

(Y/N) tiptoed carefully towards the mysterious origin of the stains, and her heart stopped. She realized- in unpleasantness- that the trail was nowhere to be found beyond the surrounding space of a bloody knife resting outside the doorway of the kitchen.

Blood.

Knife.

She dared to look up, willing her sight to peer through the darkness. There was a huge cradle. (Y/N) instantly regretted her decision as her body moved on its own accord, kneeling down in front of two white sheets splotched in blood, concealing the horrors underneath.

'Don't, don't, DON'T!' Her mind was yelling; her body didn't listen. She watched, helpless, as her trembling fingers lifted the one of the two dirty fabrics.

A strained scream left her, deafening her ears. Her breaths came out in hitches, the oxygen supplied in her lungs suddenly knocked out of her.

It was her dad- her dad's corpse.

A handkerchief clamped over (Y/N)'s mouth, gagging her at the same time increasing her panic. "SSH, shut up!" An all-too familiar female warned. To (Y/N)'s horror, she recognized her mom, drenched in the metallic smell of blood.

She harshly dragged (Y/N) away from the bodies, and before the (H/C)-haired girl knew it, her back collided against the rough mattress. (M/N) hastily locked the door, and bound her daughter in restraints on her back, preventing her limbs from flailing.

Tears pricked the corner of (Y/N)'s eyes as her killer-of-a-mother gripped her chin, forcing her lips apart as she shoved a sippy cup for her to swallow. The pink syrup poured down rapidly, half-choking (Y/N). Black spots clouded her blurry vision, her consciousness fading.

"Go to sleep, my dear (Y/N)," her mom whispered, caressing her cheek. The last thing the young girl saw was her retreating figure, and the peculiar shadow of a black feline perched on the window pane. Was it possibly grinning at her? And then- lights out.

When word got out that Mr. (L/N) was dead and that his wife had vanished without a trace, (Y/N) was considered as good as an orphan. She spent the rest of the week mourning, sobbing hard like someone was turning the handle to the faucet in her eyes. She refused to go to school and remained inside their empty residence the first three days, until Adrien dropped by and provided her with what little comfort he could offer. As much as (Y/N) sorrowed about the lost of her parents, the Agreste boy's concern ignited a small amount of courage left in her.

When the seventh day of agonising solitude arrived, Mr. (F/N) (L/N) was buried in the local cemetery. Friends and family came- even Adrien's usually busy father, Mister Gabriel Agreste, who was particularly fond of the man.

After the burial, (Y/N) stood before her deceased father's tombstone. Replays from 'that' moment went over and over in her head, and she swore that her tearducts would dry up at any second. No one knew about the truth behind her dad's death- the murder her mom committed- except her. Just like when no one knew about the constant abuse.

She wanted to tell someone about it- about every single thing that happened to her while she was trapped in that state. But she couldn't. It's been drilled in her mind not to.

'Why did this happen to me? Is this my punishment for being a freak?' (Y/N) thought sourly, staring at the engraved name on the stone. 'For being abnormal?'

A slightly larger hand clasped hers, and (Y/N) instinctively responded by intertwining their fingers. Without risking a glance, she knew that it was Adrien. He didn't speak, but (Y/N) was okay with that; he didn't need to.

Sometimes silence could be very comfortable.

Together, they lingered there while the last rays of sunlight left the horizon.

[A/N: The end? Nah- cliffhangers~!]

"(Y/N), would you like to live with us until a proper guardian fetches you?" Mr. Agreste asked, smiling politely though his tone was stoic with a twinge of sadness.

Choices were, apparently, not given.

[A/N: To continue the rest of the story, you can look it up on Quotev.]