Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Beau and the Beetle	By : Cat_Eyes Category: +M through R > Miraculous LadyBug Views: 3721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug. Miraculous Ladybug is the intellectual property of Thomas Astruc and released by Zag studios. No profit was made writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue: Alya
- 2-Adrien
- 3-Felix
- 4-Bridgette
- 5-Adrien
- 6-Sabine
- 7-Bridgette
- 8-Alya
- 9-Adrien
- 10-Felix
- 11-Sabine
- 12-Bridgette
- 13-Alya
- 14-Felix
- 15-Adrien
- 16-Alya
- 17-Felix
- 18-Bridgette
- 19-Adrien
- 20-Sabine
- 21-Felix
- 22-Alya
- 23-Bridgette
- 24-Adrien
- 25-Sabine
- 26-Adrien
- 27-Felix
- 28-Alya
- 29-Bridgette
- 30-Adrien
- 31-Sabine
- 32-Bridgette
- 33-Felix
- 34-Alya
- 35-Adrien
- 36-Felix
- 37-Sabine
- 38-Bridgette
- 39-Adrien
- 40-Felix
- 41-Adrien
- 42-Felix
- 43-Adrien
- 44-Adrien
- 45-Adrien
- 46-Epilogue
- 11
- 12
- 13
The days began to pass much more smoothly after Bridgette befriended Adrien. Despite the fact that he’d been attending the school for less than a year, their classmates seemed to trust his judgement, and gradually began to include Bridgette in their conversations.
Hope and relief burst like a dam in her chest, the sudden swell in emotion almost choking her. She had to blink rapidly every time another student so much as turned to her.
The only exceptions were Chloe, Sabrina, and Alya. She was assured that Chloe was mean to everyone, and as Chloe’s lackey, it was Sabrina’s job to also be mean. Many people told her not to take their spite personally, but Chloe had a way of attacking her most sensitive insecurities.
Alya, however, was a different problem entirely. Bridgette could see she was trying, but it was clearly difficult for her. Alya was abrupt to the point of rudeness, but she spoke to Bridgette, and invited her to lunch.
She couldn’t begrudge Alya the lukewarm reception; she knew how the other girl felt. They’d both lost their dearest friend, and it was taking a long time to come to terms with that.
Yet neither of them could hold on to the past for ever. As much as Bridgette loved her cousin, she couldn’t put her life on hold. She had her own dreams for the future, and had ambitions to become a fashion designer. She would always be thankful to Marinette for introducing her to fashion and dressmaking, and she would always have a special place in Bridgette's heart, but it was about time she looked to the future.
She wanted a career, love, and a family. She dreamed of naming her first daughter after her dear cousin, as a way to honour her memory, then smiled at her fantasy. She was getting ahead of herself again. She hoped her future husband would understand.
‘That’s pretty good,’ commented a voice over her shoulder.
Bridgette was sitting in her usual corner of the school courtyard, scribbling in her sketchbook. All she’d drawn was a whimsical little outfit modelled after a ladybeetle, Marinette’s favourite insect. Looking up, Bridgette watched as Alya folded to the ground beside her, still admiring the sketch.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured.
Alya’s eyes darted back and forth. ‘Marinette wanted to be a designer.’
Bridgette nodded. ‘She was the one who introduced me to fashion design. Even now, she inspires me.’
‘She did love those weird little bugs,’ Alya agreed with a rueful chuckle.
Silence fell as they both stared at the sketch.
‘She’d want us to be friends,’ Bridgette eventually ventured.
‘I know, it’s just,’ Alya left the sentence unfinished, her voice fading out.
Bridgette nodded. ‘It’s weird. This whole thing is weird, and wrong, and I wish it had never happened. But it did, and here we are,’
‘Here we are,’ echoed Alya, forlornly.
Biting her lip, Bridgette considered her next words carefully.
‘Would you like to come over?’
Alya’s head snapped up, a look of incredulity on her face. ‘What?’
‘You can caome over, if you want. I don’t know, to say goodbye, or something? All of Marinette’s stuff is still there. I’m sure she’d want you to have something to remember her by.’
Alya held up her hands. ‘Wait, wait. Are you inviting me over to give me something of hers?’
Bridgette looked away, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I just thought you’d like a momento, one you picked yourself. Maybe a gift you gave her, or something she got when you were together, something with a memory attached.’
Alya inhaled deeply. ‘I’m not sure. Can I think about it?’
‘Yes, absolutely,’ Bridgette rushed to reassure her. ‘It doesn’t have to be today. Whenever you’re ready is fine.’
Alya took another deep breath, her eyes shifting from side to side again. ‘Thank you. That’s really generous of you.’
Bridgette shrugged. ‘She was your friend, too.’
‘But you were family.’
‘That’s the funny thing about Marinette. She made everyone feel like family.’
‘Yeah, she was special like that.’
Bridgette pretended not to notice when Alya turned away to wipe her eyes.

After school was let out for the day, Alya meekly followed Bridgette back to the bakery. The bell rang merrily above the door as they pushed inside, and Sabine looked up from behind the register.
Her greeting died on her lips as she saw Alya trail in behind her.
An awkward silence ensued, Sabine and Alya both looking away, too overcome with emotion to face each other.
Bridgette was confused. She’d thought they’d be happy to see each other again, or at least be able to empathise over shared sorrow. Eventually, Bridgette concluded that Alya had not come to visit since Marinette vanished, and now neither of them knew how to behave in the other’s presence.
She silently berated herself for spending her lunch break with her new friends, rather than come back to give Sabine advance warning. She cleared her throat.
‘I invited Alya over so she could see Marinette’s room one last time. You know, for closure, and to see if she’d like to keep something of hers as a memento. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
Sabine coughed delicately into her fist and nodded. ‘Yes, that’s fine. Very generous of you, Dear. How have you been, Alya?’
Alya cleared her throat, still looking to Sabine’s right. ‘Ok, I guess.’
‘How are your parents? The twins must be getting big.’
Nodding Alya struggled to maintain eye contact. ‘Yeah, they’re well. Etta and Ella are almost as tall as my shoulders now.’
Bridgette exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. Their conversation was halting and stilted, but there was no animosity. The awkwardness seemed to stem from the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in over six months, rather than from some past conflict.
An irrational, worried, and paranoid part of her mind had feared they’d had a falling out. Over what, she couldn’t guess, but she was relieved to see that wasn't the case.
Their conversation was cut short when a customer entered.
‘We’ll let you get back to work,’ Bridgette said, as she moved across the floor. Alya obediently followed, murmuring a quiet farewell as she passed.
They went upstairs in oppressive silence. Bridgette didn’t want to intrude on Alya’s thoughts, or pull her from her memories of happier times. Eventually, they stood at the base of the steps to Marinette’s room.
‘You ready?’ asked Bridgette, softly.
Alya drew a steadying breath and nodded.
They ascended slowly, and she let Alya push through first. Bridgette heard her inhale unsteadily, before she came to stand just behind her.
‘It looks like she never left,’ Alya whispered.
Bridgette rubbed her arm. ‘I’ve left everything just as it was. All her stuff is exactly how she left it.’
‘Even that?’ Alya pointed to a pile of carefully folded blankets and a pillow on the chaise.
‘Except for that,’ she admitted. ‘That’s where I’ve been sleeping.’
Alya spun around, her eyes wide. ‘You sleep there?’
Swallowing an uncomfortable lump in her throat, she nodded. ‘It didn’t feel right, sleeping in her bed. I feel like I’ve invaded enough of her life already, you know? I’ve climbed the ladder countless times, only to end up just sitting at the foot of the bed. I couldn’t bring myself to go any further.’
‘So, you’ve never gone up to the balcony?’
‘No, I didn’t want to mess up the quilt. Isn’t that silly?’
She bit her lip and turned away, begging herself not to tear up. Her eyes burned and her vision blurred, anyway, her whole face feeling tight and feverish.
Suddenly, Alya was in front of her, pulling her into a tight hug. Bridgette gasped in a much-needed breath, and clung to her, hot tears trailing down her cheeks.
Alya’s own tears dripped onto her shoulder, her body trembling with suppressed emotion.
Unable to contain it any longer, Bridgette gulped another breath to let it out in a heart-wrenching wail. She sobbed into Alya’s shoulder, dimly aware Alya was keening high, pitiful notes as well.
They dropped to their knees, still holding on to each other, crying loud and long.
Bridgette wasn't an attractive crier. Her face turned a mottled red, and she was forced to sniffle constantly. Her sobs were loud and wretched, sounding more like a barking seal than a human crying. Alya was more dignified, her face only going mildly ruddy, and sniffed delicately on every other breath. But she cried loudly too, and with copious tears, her grief unmistakable.
Bridgette pulled back eventually to retrieve the tissue box. She offered it to Alya first, before grabbing a handful for herself. She then sat heavily on her rump to blow her nose, and wipe her face, Alya sitting beside her. Between them, they filled the small waste basket under the desk.
‘Do you feel any better?’ Bridgette finally asked, her throat sore and her voice hoarse.
‘No,’ Alya replied flatly.
Bridgette huffed. ‘Here I thought crying was supposed to be cathartic.’
‘Whoever said that was full of crap.’
‘I just feel hollowed out.’
Alya nodded. ‘I know, right?’
They lapsed into silence once more.
‘Do you feel like you’ve gotten closure, at least?’ asked Bridgette quietly.
Alya shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I mean, what does closure even feel like, and how do you know when you’ve achieved it?’
Bridgette gave an inelegant snort. ‘I don’t even know what it means.’
‘I guess neither of us are there, yet,’ Alya concluded. ‘Hey, if you’ve been no further than the ladder, what’s happened to all of Marinette’s plants?’
Bridgette looked up. ‘What plants?’
Alya surged to her feet to race up the ladder.
‘Hey, wait,’ Bridgette called futilely from the floor.
Alya kept going. Heedless of the blankets, she trampled over the carefully preserved bed, and pushed up the rooftop access hatch to scramble out.
Left with no other recourse, Bridgette followed, wincing at the rumpled bedding as she went.
Alya was standing in the middle of the balcony, turning around in lost circles. Worried something was wrong, Bridgette climbed out gracelessly to stand behind her.
‘What’s wrong, are the plants dead?’
Alya sat down heavily, rubbing her eyes. Shaking her head, she said, ‘no, but they aren’t healthy either. They’re full of weeds, they’re not as lush as they used to be, and there are no flowers.’
Feeling terrible, Bridgette sat to rub Alya’s back as she sobbed into her hands. She never knew Marinette kept plants, and now felt guilty for leaving these ones to die of neglect. She looked at the small collection of growing things, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.
‘I don’t know how to care for plants,’ she wailed.
She slumped down to lean against Alya’s back. They rested against each other as they fought to regain control.
‘I think I know what I’d like for a keepsake,’ Alya mumbled, after a while.
‘The plants?’ guessed Bridgette.
‘Yeah. Marinette was always pottering about up here. I reckon I learned a thing or two just by watching her.’
Bridgette’s eyes drifted to a dry, and overgrown potted plant. ‘I wonder why she never mentioned it to me.’
She felt Alya shrug. ‘She was probably too excited to see you again to think of it.’
‘That sounds about right.’
She and Marinette would often go months without seeing each other, and were always ecstatic to see each other face to face. Bridgette herself would often forget to mention things for the same reason.
But, they kept in contact even when they couldn’t see each other. They talked on social media, texted, or sent emails. If Bridgette forgot to mention something one time, she’d make sure to speak of it the next time they wrote each other.
‘I wonder what other little secrets she was keeping from me?’ she mused, with a fond smile.
Alya’s body shook with a laugh. ‘Actually, she was a secret vigilante heroine. She wore a spandex costume, styled like a ladybeetle, she made by hand, and called herself Ladybug. She was the scourge of the Paris underworld.’
‘That’s preposterous,’ Bridgette scoffed. ‘Marinette wouldn’t be caught dead wearing spandex.’
They shared a quiet laugh, before falling into a comfortable silence.
‘We’re always going to miss her, aren’t we?’ Alya asked.
‘Probably, but she was such an important part of our lives. I wouldn’t want to forget about her.’
‘I can’t remember what her voice sounds like,’ Alya confessed. ‘I have to re-watch old recordings of her to remind myself.’
‘At least you have that. I have videos from when we were kids, but nothing recent.’
Alya pulled out her phone, and brought up a small library of videos. She swivelled around so they were side by side, and pressed play on the first recording. Immediately, Marinette’s face filled the screen. She was frowning with mock severity, telling Alya to get the camera out of her face.
Tears stung Bridgette’s eyes. ‘Can you send me these?’
‘Sure.’
They sat there for an hour, watching the last year of Marinette’s life play out in fragments. Bridgette had to carefully control her breathing, determined to keep her composure.
Then, it was time for Alya to go home. They put one of Marinette’s plants into a crate so she could carry it easily, and Tom promised he would deliver the rest the following day.
Alya nodded, thanking them for their thoughtfulness, then gave Tom and Sabine a brief hug before she left.
Bridgette headed back upstairs alone. In the too-quiet apartment, she retrieved the plants she could lift from the balcony, and placed them on the stairs to the bedroom, where Tom could collect them easily. She didn’t know what he was going to do about the bonsai tree. Its pot was too big to fit through the hatch, and was too heavy to lower over the side of the building. She supposed he would think of something.
Then, she tugged the blankets on the bed straight, until no evidence of their desecration remained. She stared at the smooth cotton for a long moment, her mind blank, before throwing herself across the mattress to bury her face in the pillow. All her hard work undone beneath her, she was surprised to note that all she could smell was cotton and dust. No trace of Marinette’s scent remained. Overwrought, she let the tears fall, finally daring to say goodbye for ever.
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Beau and the Beetle