CHOOSE (Adrienette AU) [Completed]

Now

A.N. I hope you'll enjoy this pleasant surprise :)

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ADRIEN

The door creaks open slowly, the ray of light slowly enters my room and its glare hurts my eyes. Nothing of any kind of light source entered my room for days, weeks...I don't know... months? I have not cared in a long time...

There is nothing to care for anymore.

The revolution may have succeeded, but at what cost? For the people to gain what they lost, I had to sacrifice a big part of my life. And I do not mean my leg. No, it’s much more. 

I think months ago, I woke up in a room similar to the one in the old garrison’s infirmary. I remember hearing voices before gaining the strength to open my eyes again. They were voices of authority, shouting to get this, carry that, run there, and revive whoever was on the brink of death. I...I wanted to hear her voice amongst them. I wanted to hear her even if she was screaming my name or even crying. It sounds sadistic to me, but I was desperate because I just wanted a small reminder of her before we lost each other. 

Instead, all I received was the constant clamoring of the crowd - wailing, sobbing, shouting, entreating - it was awful. Those voices will never be erased from my mind as much as I wanted them to. I do not hear Marinette anymore, only the agonizing cries of those who suffered.

I’ve been kept in this room the whole time. Only doctors would enter because whenever a nurse would, I get agitated, and the memories of Marinette fill my mind - replaying what I lost and could never seek again. In the early period, they would have to hold me down as my suppressed emotions would come bubbling up, ready to get the best of me. It’s painful physically and emotionally.

Now I wish to never see the sun. I wish to never know what is happening outside the shut doors and the covered windows in my room. They can’t force me to go out because I would fight them, I always do. I do not wish to know who survived and who didn’t. It’s just going to inflict more pain to me, like a knife driven straight to the heart. 

Yet as the door creaks open, in the lethargic state that I am in, my blood runs cold when two men enter the room, one pushing the wheelchair of where the other is on. There is not that much sunlight flooding the room, but I could still see their faces. 

"Oh, my God,” The one standing behind the wheelchair gasps quietly, stopping his hold on the handles of the wheelchair to bring a hand up to his mouth. “A-Agreste.”

I grit my teeth, pushing myself up on the hospital bed to sit. My throat feels dry and I can't even force myself to swallow the saliva in my mouth. Despite it, I force myself to say, "What...what are you doing here?" My voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. It hurts to talk. I haven’t given this much effort to say a few words in months. Still, I can’t believe that they’re here. Perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me. The doctor must have given me too much medicine that my body could handle. 

“Adrien,” the man in the wheelchair utters, his voice above a whisper. He uses his own hands to wheel himself to the side of my bed and I could silently watch him back. “Do you remember us?” he asks warily. “Do our faces seem familiar to you?”

I emit soft pants, my eyes wavering between the two men in front of me. My hands go clammy and mercilessly squeeze the blanket covering my legs. Dread fills me because I do not know if this is real. Is this another nightmare wherein suddenly a bomb comes crashing down the ceiling and blows up the entire area, taking our bodies with it, or is this where they betray me and feed me to those people who wish for nothing but my death?