31 Days

18 - December 5 / December 6 - Day 5 / Day 6

Once the vehicle pulled to proper stop, I jumped out, rushing to change from the clothes I'd been modeling. "Adrien! Slow down, for God's sake!" Natalie yelled after me.

I pushed on, ignoring Natalie's "concerns". I was halfway up the stairs when I heard the soft mewling. Plagg, freed from my room, once more. "Plageånd, is that you?" I asked.

Of course, there was my father, crouched over, petting the cat. Without a second thought, I intercepted, picking the cat from the floor. Ignoring father's protests, I continued. "Adrien. Adrien, we need to speak." He commanded.

I continued on wards. "Adrien Agreste, stop right there." My shoulders tensed as I complied.

No matter my anger, I could never ignore a direct order from my father. "Put your cat somewhere suitable and come to my office, right away." He demanded.

In sheer fear of what my father could do when angry, I nodded once, heading off to put Plagg in his bed. "Stay." I said, placing the kitten in his rightful spot.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I needed to hurry. I only had a half hour before I needed to meet Ladybug. I stress "needed". Reluctantly, I changed my clothes, dumping the modeled brands into a hamper. I double checked that Plagg was safely asleep before sliding out of my room and shutting the door tightly.

The hallway was empty, devoid of Natalie or the Gorilla. There was my father's office door, dark and looming, seemingly casting a shadow over the entire hallway. I hesitated at the door, unsure whether to knock or to push right through. Father seemed to be in quite a mood, so I knocked gently. To no avail. I pushed the door gently, revealing my father, staring at the artful portrait of mother. "Take a seat."

I fiddled with my fingers nervously as I scooted over to the chairs by the desk, impeccably organized and perfectly lined up. I couldn't bring myself to sit, knowing that father would probably scold me for ruining the placement.

I felt like a little boy again, disciplined for knocking over a vase. Sitting in the large seats, afraid of the trouble I was in. Then bursting into tears at my mother's disappointed face. And clutching her skirt tightly as father tried to calm me down, insisting that it was okay. That the vase didn't matter. All that mattered was that I was alright. That I didn't get hit or cut by the heavy pottery. And then falling asleep in the biggest chair, father's chair.

My musing was cut off by a sigh. "Adrien." Father began, pausing as though calculating his next words very carefully.

He finally turned to face me, and I was struck by his age. How old my father had become. His whitening hair, usually slicked perfectly in place, wispy and ruffled, as though he was pushing it back again and again. Purple bruises weighting down his eyes, wrinkled with smile lines, long since used. As though sensing my speculation, father straightened his glasses, pushing back his hair with a finality, getting it properly in place, as though he'd had the power to all along. But not the willpower to.

"Fa-" I was cut off by my seemingly feeble father as he hugged me.

Shocked, I stood completely still, afraid to move, as though the slightest of movements might shatter this mirage, this illusion. The embrace was cold, calculated, measured. As though my father, the great Gabriel Agreste, was unable to recall how to execute such a task. But then it changed. The entire feeling of the hug changed, the icy-ness melting to a warmth, the calculated to a freeform, the measurements irrelevant. It didn't feel weird. It wasn't strange. The hug was familiar, missed, perfect, and most of all, loving. I couldn't help it then. My hands slowly found their way to father's back, wrapping around his torso and squeezing him tightly.

It felt like an eternity. A perfect moment, frozen, suspended by a memory. Gently, father pulled back. "You're... you're getting strong there, aren't you?" He joked, trying to wash the awkwardness away.