Miraculous Ladybug Short Stories/One-Shots

A Distant Memory

Marinette's POV
       I twirled around my room, singing along to Jagged Stone's newest release. I wasn't surprised when I heard it was topping the global charts. This song was awesome!
       Picking up a week old dirty sock from my floor, I cringed. Ugh. Marinette you're better than this!
       I held it at the ends of my fingertips and speed walked to my dirty clothes hamper, throwing the vile thing into it. I turned around and saw Tikki flipping through one of my older sketchbooks. She stopped and lingered on one of the pages. Intrigued, I walked over to her and looked over her head.
       To my surprise, I still remembered drawing that picture. She looked up at me, shocked. I shrugged confused.
       "Marinette," she squeaked. "Why do you have a drawing of Chat in your sketchbook....from twelve years ago."
"What?!" I said, snatching up the sketchbook and looked closely at the date scribbled in the corner: 1/4/2004
This doesn't make any sense. Ladybug and Chat Noir were never alive at that time. Well I mean we WERE alive, just...like we didn't have superpowers or anything. Heck. We probably didn't even know each other then.
I racked through my memory desperately. I could remember drawing it, but not why or how I'd drawn it. Something tugged at the back of my mind. A blurry image of a silhouette and a pair of cat ears flicking back and forth. Chat? But how? We look like we we're roughly the same age....Or are we?
The silhouette shifted into another one. This one a female with long hair tied up into a ponytail. The said something, but it came out sounding muffled and foreign.
I felt a tug on my cheek and noticed that I was sweating bullets.
"Are you okay?" Tikki said worriedly and looked into my eyes. I smiled and brushed her away. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just recalling a memory that my brain doesn't seem to want me to remember." I replied.
Still looking worried, she reluctantly let go of me and continued to look through my sketchbooks, looking up every few moments.
I flopped into my chair. What the heck was that all about?

. . .

The next few days I payed attention to Chat's every movement. Looking for anything. Anything at all that could prove my theory of him actually being an extremely old bald man who went through lots of plastic surgery and just wore a lot of weave.

-END-