Basically this book is just a compilation of Miraculous Ladybug one-shots originated from a bunch of little ideas that I couldn't make into full books... so I turned them into one-shots...
or two-shots...
or maybe even three-shots...
Depending on th...
I am so so sorry that it has taken me so long to write this one-shot. The wait has been long enough. I hope you enjoy!
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Adrien and Marinette are what one would label as inseparable best friends. But when Adrien's mother is tragically killed in car accident, his father pulls him away from society— including his best friend, Marinette. When Gabriel Agreste suddenly decides to leave the city that reminds him all too well of his beloved and heads off for the states, Marinette and Adrien are forced to bid each other farewell and pray they will see each other again someday.
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"Y-You're leaving?"
It was something he had been dreading on telling her, but seven-year-old Adrien Agreste didn't know how else to break the terrible news to his best friend. Her parents had scheduled a playdate that afternoon... because it would be the last time he would get to see her. His father had been reluctant to let his son go, but Nathalie had persuaded him, saying that it was only fair for the young children to properly say goodbye. Adrien, however, didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't want to lose Marinette too—not after his mother had been taken from him at such a young age. Back then when his mother had been so sick, he pleaded for her to stay and she didn't. Now, he pleaded for his father to stay in Paris, France, and he wouldn't.
He and Marinette were currently seated on the floor in a crisscross position. He had taken a seat across from her when he told her that there was something important he needed to tell her. There was a plate of croissants seated in between them that her mother had brought up for them, and he eyed the plate wearily. He felt guilty for wanting to take one—even as a child—and then have to break such terrible news to her. Even as a young child, he understood the severity of losing someone—of what it could do to your heart, soul and mind. Marinette deserved so much more than this heartache.
Adrien could feel her eyes on him as he finally decided to reach for a croissant. When she didn't try to stop him, he concluded that it must have been okay for him to still eat her food and took a small bite. As he ate, Adrien took the courage to look up at her again, only to find the tears that threatened to spill down her soft, rosy cheeks. He tried to swallow down the guilt he felt along with his croissant.
They had promised to never leave each other.
And he was breaking that promise.
"Yes." He broke the silence hesitantly and chewed on his bottom lip nervously. "Father says that we're leaving in the morning."
It was hard to fathom it all. Adrien had cried beforehand when his father had first given him the news, traumatized by the fact that he would never get to see Marinette again. He wasn't just moving from one house to another, oh no.
