Shop Til You Drop
The excitement on her son’s face reminded Emilie so much of his youth. The carefree exuberance that only seemed to accompany experiencing something for the first time. Like the first-time trying ice cream, the first time standing in line to meet Père Noël, or the first time managing to ride your bike alone. Watching those first Emilie had shared a similar smile, a product of being able to be included in those moments, feeling a part of them even if she wasn’t directly involved. But for this she had a hard time smiling. This shouldn’t have been a first. It should not have been the first time Adrien was picking out his own clothing, it should not have been the first time he got to experience picking out new outfits for the school year.
Emilie lamented missing so many of her son’s first, things not often included in the baby books but almost if not more important, leaving bigger footprints in his memories. Experiences she didn’t get to witness because of the coma. So, while she was happy to once again be included in experience a first, she wasn’t happy with the fact Gabriel had denied Adrien for so long this particular one, nor where they were going to experience it.
Due to the level of theft in the city, most higher end stores chose not to conduct business within Gotham, driving those who wished for higher end merchandise to a weekend trip in New York City. Not that Emilie was stuck up in a belief that her son could only wear name brands, but it was unsettling to walk into a building that looked a year away from being condemned expecting to find clothing Adrien would like to wear.
In contrast her son skipped from where they dared to leave their car all the way to the front of the building. Or rather moved with an excitement that was ‘cool enough’ to be done by a 16-year-old.
A closer inspection of the building did nothing to alleviate her anxiety. The walls were covered with graffiti and from the reputation of the city it was safe to assume it was not the beautiful artwork street artists were welcomed to paint in designated parks in cities such as Paris and Barcelona, but stamps of gangs from their habitual turf wars.
Adrien stopped at the sliding doors waiting for his mother, holding his hand out to take her own. Emilie wasn’t sure if it was offered as he felt her hesitation or if it was a desire for the experience he missed out on for so many years. Either way she was grateful and grabbed a hold with a renewed smile firmly in place.
The automatic doors slid open and a whoosh of cold air assaulted them, welcomed after the extreme August heat. The inside was a complete contrast to the outside, with freshly waxed floors, clean white walls, and lighting which spotlighted each of the stores which lined the wide corridors between the anchors.
Right next to the entrance was a plaque which explained it all, embossed in golden letters was the name Wayne Foundation. The fund, which ensured the upkeep and security of the interior, a safe haven for those to shop and businesses to be protected from the city’s petty crimes.
Pulling her arm, Adrien dragged them to the window of the first store filled with heavily scented lotions and soaps. Both turned their noses as they passed, their senses affronted by the conflicting smells, forcing Adrien to pull them away without haste, setting a pace that even with her height her feet skipping to keep. Emilie’s smile took a childish pleasure at the antics.
Entering into the first clothing store, Emilie slowed her pace to let go of Adrien’s hand, beckoning him forward with her head. The smile on his face grew and he immediately began checking the racks, pulling items before placing them across his arm to try on later.
Following at a more tempered pace, Emilie pulled random articles. Staring at them on the rack before moving onto another. A white button-up caught her eye and she pulled it off the rack to hold it in the light, tilting it back and forth to take the craftsmanship in.
A frown developed as she realized why she’d chosen it. Narrowing her eyes she stuck her tongue out at the offending piece before returning it to the rack. Ensuring it was hidden in hopes no one would wear a similar piece ever again. At a different rack a similar colored item caught her eye, a hoodie, something Gabriel would have never allowed Adrien to wear due to its shapeless nature. Making it perfect.
Rack upon rack she pulled items she believed would look good on Adrien, staying away from similar designs she noted Gabriel had favored while she was away. While Adrien might not have associated them with such, Emilie saw such outfits akin to a prison uniform, due to the neglect and abuse her son had endured during her absence.
To think she’d ever found something she’d once called love with the man. If only she’d had Adrien prior to marrying Gabriel she would have known better. The sheltered upbringing her parents had provided prevented her from seeing what Gabriel had felt for her wasn’t love at all but fixation. Gabriel wasn’t capable of love, he was ruled instead by obsession, ones he stopped at nothing to possess and own, no matter the impact on those around him. Hence the war he was single handedly responsible for in Paris.
Emilie had believed at one point, naïvely, that was what love looked like, how it was expressed. It wasn’t until the day she created Adrien; the day she held her son and his cousin in her arms for the first time, reality finally hit, and she knew what love was.
Unfortunately, she was still blinded by Gabriel’s obsession to immediately recognize the lack of his love, nor the fact his obsession didn’t extend to her son. She didn’t recognize where it looked like he was spoiling Adrien, it was in fact a show for her. Of course, with her absence, the façade crumbled and Adrien suffered while he looked for love from a father who could never feel or give it.
A fact he had difficulty accepting, which was why Adrien chose to forget. Or at least one of the reasons he did.
Those months when Adrien was without the memories of his father and as a consequence Chat Noir and Marinette, were difficult for her. Of course she was happy to have her son, to have him free from the binds of his amok due to Marinette’s magic, as well as her own complete health and freedom from her own toxic relationship. But she could sense the void, though she shouldn’t have known differently having been separated for so long. It had felt like a physical manifestation that could not be ignored.
Adrien appeared to be everything she remembered, growing into a young man any mother would be proud of, even if he didn’t believe it to be his own choices but Gabriel’s will. But magic has a way of leaving an imprint, she knew better than most, and perhaps soul mates were a form of magic, and she was sure as she watched her son struggle, it was as if his soul knew it was missing its other half.
Knowing exactly what pained him left her feeling guilty for having chosen a man who could treat a child as such. A man who could have her son feeling as if he had no choice for his own mental wellbeing than to make the rash and extreme decision of giving up the one he knew to be his other half.
It made her choice to give up the security she felt returning to her family to move to Gotham and give him everything he wanted, so easy. Though the city had a reputation even known across the pond in England, she prepared secretly for the day he would remember, so he could immediately find his piece again.
Still, hearing of her son’s new adventures as a vigilante of Gotham was unsettling. Knowing each night he jumped across the skyscrapers of Gotham arresting deranged individuals only found in Gotham, fought world-class ninjas a part of a secret assassins organization…it was by some grace she’d yet to turn to a vice to offer some form of comfort during the late night hours.
That grace also known as Alfred, the Wayne family butler, who came bearing gifts of bakery quality items no doubt created by Marinette. Together they enjoyed them as Alfred regaled her with stories of his family, ones which should have caused her more anxiety, yet somehow managed to put her at ease. Gave her comfort somehow in knowing unlike Paris where there was more often than not simply Chat Noir and Ladybug, here in Gotham they were supported by some of the world’s best heroes who would stop at nothing to keep her son safe.
With an arm laden with a variety of clothing Adrien returned with a bright smile. Brightening when he looked at her own arms, laughing when several items had been selected by both. Quickly without a word he sifted through the items she pulled to add to his own.
“Ready for the runway?” he joked before walking away to the row of individual dressing rooms which lined the back wall. Emilie took a seat on one of the oversized ottomans, finding it to be far from comfortable and yet she settled in with a smile on her face.
With a speed that could only belong to an international model, Adrien was out of the room posing in front of his mother in a pair of black pants and an oversized white shirt. Out of habit he was unable to stop from posing in the shirt in a way that flattered it, making it appear worth more than the price tag.
“How do I look?” he asked, his face searching for a genuine opinion.
“Top notch darling. I must say this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you look in modeling your clothing.”
Looking down, Adrien fiddled with the shirt, nodding his head in agreement. “This is the most comfortable I’ve felt in something other than what Marinette’s made for me. Do you think she’ll like it?”
If her name hadn’t been mentioned, Emilie still would have known who he was talking about. There was a level of affection present in his voice that he never had for anyone else. It was bittersweet to know Emilie had closed herself off from the possibility of ever finding something similar, not willing to risk making the same mistake of her past.
“Knowing Marinette, she will love whatever you wear, darling. Even if it’s a trash bag.”
Rolling his eyes Adrien still blushed. His first time driving a car, going to school, having friends he actually liked over, first drink, first battle, first school dance, were all memories she would never share with him. Yet, none were as missed as his first time falling in love.
From seeing the fall, the struggle of understanding it, the chase, the first date, the night after the first kiss, the first declarations of love. She’d missed them all and Gabriel had been too preoccupied with selfish desires to even notice. Instead, she’d gotten to see his first heartbreak, got to comfort him after being told he may not get a second chance, had a wee chat when he realized she was starting to care for another.
While she would have loved to see the happy moments, she was eternally grateful she could be there for him when it wasn’t. Seeing how much he’d hurt, she couldn’t imagine what may have happened if Gabriel had still been his guardian. Fortunately, he was in jail with embezzlement charges the Wayne’s had ensured would stick, with little chance of being able to see Adrien ever again, or at least not until Adrien was well into adulthood.
Adrien turned to look at the mirror, playing with the clothing though there wasn’t much to change. “I want to complement Jon’s more laid-back style, instead of being a complete contrast.”
“As long as you’re not losing who you are while trying to do so,” she said handing Adrien his orange sneakers. The one piece of the outfit his dad had designed he’d had any say in; the one contrition Gabriel had made even before her coma.
Taking the shoes from his mother he looked at her with a little bit of confusion before putting the shoes on his feet to complete the outfit. “Nah,” he said looking at himself in the mirror as if for the first time. “I’ve finally completely found myself. I just happen to find two people that complement the real me too.”
Turning with a genuine smile on his face Adrien returned to the changing room to try on his next outfit.
It was naïve to believe at sixteen he was complete, or had found what completed him. There was still so much life to live, so many experiences to still shape him into who he was going to be. Yet, she could admit that at sixteen it appeared he’d found a direction. Finally, completely making choices for himself. Perhaps she could also admit that he might have found the two people he wanted to always be with him, living the choices he makes.
While nothing had been confirmed by her son, the last few weeks he’d been happier, and her suspicions had told her it may have been due to a change in relationship status. Of course, she would wait for her son to tell her in his own time, but if she were a gambling woman she would say he was once more in a relationship with Marinette. And from the way Jon Kent’s name and presence always appeared to be a part of all the happiness, she could guess he had a role too.
As long as it made her son happy, then she was happy for it.
Movement in her bag pulled her attention from her happy thoughts. Carefully opening it she looked down to see two sets of purple eyes. Nooroo and Duusu feeling the emotions of their holder beamed up at her. Albeit temporary, Marinette had believed all three could heal better with someone they knew, someone who without a doubt cared immensely for them. Not to mention it had made Adrien feel better to know his mother had some level of protection in their new crime-ladened city.
It was something she prayed to the kwami’s she would never need them for, her protection, just as she prayed her son would only continue to know happiness.