Work Text:
I.
He feels her before he sees her. Of course, that’s not surprising at all to Adrien — there’s just something about Marinette that makes her impossible to miss, whether you want to or not.
Not that Adrien ever wants to miss her — no, if anything, Marinette often misses him, at least, his civilian form. And oh, did that grate at him for a while.
It’s strange, really, that a mask makes her see what he’s wanted to show her for a long time, the easy camaraderie and uncontrollable giggles that come with their quick-witted exchanges, and though the thought of it bothers Adrien sometimes; the way she shutters and stutters and stumbles away when he so much as approaches her as the model, but has no problem holding her own against what to most seems like a larger-than-life superhero — makes him wonder whether or not there is something so fundamentally mistrustful in Adrien for her to react the way she does — but in the scarcity of comfort and genuine affection in his life, he learns to take what he can get, especially with someone as intriguing as her.
It’s a chilly night, and there’s no good reason for him to be out and about, but Adrien rarely has the luxury to do things just because he wants to, but Chat Noir — he’s free to have fun and do thing for the hell of it — he didn’t need to be upset or unwell to go for a run or ask for a break. He’s sure Ladybug will chide him should she catch him tonight, with no other alibi than wanting to see the city lights and feel the cool air in his face after a tiring day of photoshoots and interviews, but he finds that he doesn’t quite care.
When he makes one, two, three rounds across Paris, Adrien feels her presence on her balcony as he lands on the roof of a nearby building, and he can’t help the grin that spreads on his face, his chest flying with exhilaration, from the evening run or the prospect of seeing Marinette, he isn’t sure.
What he is sure of, is that Ladybug would skin him for visiting a civilian like he does.
But it’s not like he can help himself.
Adrien takes his baton and vaults over to her, standing on the metal railings as he gives her a sweeping bow.
Two months ago, she would’ve most likely screeched and flailed to the ground in surprise, but tonight she only has a small, amused smile for him, patting the space next to her on her lounge chair with two steaming mugs in her hands. He takes her silent invitation, their sides pressing against each other as he sits and takes the hot chocolate from her.
“Rough night?” she asks, her hand drifting to his hair and raking it through his scalp as he slumps his head onto her shoulder, making him purr contentedly.
“No, I just felt like going for a run… Is it okay that I’m here?”
“You know what they say about strays, kitty.” Adrien makes a noise of protest, feigning offense before his lips curve into a smile at her laughter.
“You like this stray, though, don’t deny it.”
“Yeah, I do,” she says softly, and Adrien finds himself pausing at the fondness in her voice. He shifts to look up at her.
“You’re quiet tonight. Is everything okay?”
She hums, taking a sip from her mug.
“I am. I just don’t really feel like talking. Is that alright?”
Adrien nods, drinking from his own cup. He knows what she means, when he prefers a quiet night with a person he cares for, feeling their warmth and safety until he drifts asleep and it’s enough.
It’s been a while since he had that.
They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, just relaxed in the other’s presence, until her hand stills in his hair.
He whines at the loss of the touch, nudging her with his cheek with a pout.
“You really are a cat, huh?” Marinette says, grinning, and Adrien turns to look at her to and—
Wow.
He’s always known that Marinette is pretty; it’s just something you can’t help but notice as a teenage boy, all your pretty and handsome classmates, even in passing, but right now, in the moonlight, he’s close enough to see the tiny flecks of gold and white in her bright blue eyes, with a small ring of green that fades into the cerulean that reminds him of a calm ocean — one that lures you in with the promise of bliss until you’re going down, down under, and Adrien finds that if he does, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Freckles map her cheeks, gathering on the bridge of her nose that makes Adrien want to reach out and trace patterns on her skin. The silver glow of the moon shines down on Marinette’s loose hair, cascading down her pale shoulders makes her look ethereal, and he can’t possibly make himself look away.
Then she smiles softly and so full of fondness, her eyes twinkling, and it knocks the breath straight out of his lungs.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and her soft lips part in surprise, pale cheeks giving way to pink, and oh, Adrien’s cheeks burn, but he can’t find himself to regret it.
Because she is. He’s always known she is, but it hit him just how much at this moment.
“Flirt,” she mutters, looking away, but the blush stays prominent, so Adrien smiles, pushing away the strange warmth in his gut to give her a goofy grin that has her scoffing.
“With you? Always.”
~*~
II.
Adrien shifts uncomfortably in his seat, watching the confrontation go down with resignation.
Chloe is red-faced with fury, and Lila looks genuinely upset for once, with barely tempered anger simmering beneath the surface.
He slumps lower in his seat when they both begin to look around for someone to back them up, when both Alya and Marinette appear at the doorway, their excited chatter fading with the tension in the room.
They both stop, eyeing the two people suspiciously. Marinette breaks the silence.
“What’s going on here…?” she asks warily, giving both a once-over.
“This lying bitch was throwing a pity party and I wanted to put her in her place!” Chloe says, nearly stomping her foot in anger, and Marinette’s brows furrow.
“I wasn’t even talking to you; I was talking to Rose and Mylene! And it wasn’t a pity party, I lost my pet! You just stuck your nose into my business like you always do!” Lila defends, her lower lip trembling with fury.
“Why the hell should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth, you pathological liar?”
Adrien flinches as Marinette looks at them both, cautious. He isn’t sure what she’s going to do, but he silently wills that she sit this one out, if only to spare her from the headache of the ire of the two people she dislikes most in class.
It’s been a while since Lila was outed as a liar; there was no big blow up, no confrontation or betrayed tears shed, Lila wasn’t ostracized, not really, only lost her sheen of perfection among their class that made them skeptical of what she says. Sure, she’s still at odds with Marinette (and Alya, for tainting her blog), the class was a bit disappointed in her, and makes the occasional snide remarks only few can hear, but over-all, they reached a strange plateau for it, Lila making tentative friends with some of their nicer classmates.
That, of course, meant that no one really stood up for her when Chloe came to blows with her.
“Is that what really happened?”
She looks around, no doubt gauging the truthfulness of the two with witnesses, when she meets Adrien’s eye. There’s a silent question there, and Adrien forces himself to nod that yes, that’s what actually happened.
She huffs, before crossing her arms.
“You should leave Lila alone, Chloe. That was uncalled for.”
Both girls whip their heads toward her, and Adrien mirrors the shock they so clearly feel. He didn’t think she’d actually step in, but then again, should he be surprised? It’s Marinette, for crying out loud.
Chloe recovers first, scoffing at Marinette. “What, you’re defending her now? When you were the one who first called her out on her bullshit, Dupain-Cheng?”
“Yeah, I am. Calling out her lies before has nothing to do with what’s happening right now.”
A myriad of emotions flit through Lila’s face—confusion and anger being the most prominent of them, which Adrien expects.
Chloe seems taken aback, crossing her arms. “Need I remind you that you were the most affected by her lies in the first place? Changing seats? Almost getting you expelled? I’m doing you a favor by putting her in her place.”
The tension thickens and Lila looks away, still clearly struggling with the innate irritation she has with Marinette’s existence and bewilderment of why she’s even bothering to stand up for her.
“No, you’re not. What you’re doing is antagonizing someone who wasn’t talking to you and making an unnecessary scene for something that you could’ve ignored.” Marinette puts a hand on her hip, her eyes shining with determination that he’s only ever seen as Chat Noir, and it makes Adrien’s stomach squeeze pleasantly.
“Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. She’s a liar. And you hate her.”
“I don’t have to like someone to be willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Especially, if she really was minding her own business, which seemed to be the case. And stop trying to use me as a way to justify your behavior—you just wanted to humiliate someone, plain and simple. You’re not doing this as a favor to me, you’re doing it for yourself.” Marinette’s words are loud and clear and full of confidence, her chin jutted out, her hands on her hips, and her head held high, and Adrien couldn’t look away from her if he tried.
“Grow up, Chloe. And leave her alone.” Then she grabs Alya’s wrist and settles in her seat behind him, eyes still steely as Chloe huffs to her seat and Lila sends her a scowl.
Adrien feels the surprise sweep through the room as they try to process what happened. He couldn’t quite fathom it, her defending Lila with the way she’s attacked her so underhandedly in the past, but she didn’t even hesitate. Adrien turns in his seat, raising a questioning eyebrow, and Marinette flushes but shrugs shyly before turning to her work. Like nothing ever happened.
There’s courage in righting a wrong, even when it’s someone that you don’t agree with, someone who actively tried to hurt you in the past, he realizes in that moment.
It’s something Adrien wishes he had, and it’s something Marinette possesses that makes his pulse race and his cheeks color.
There’s beauty in courage, and Marinette has it by the boatload, overflowing from every pore of her being, and my God, Adrien thinks, does it suit her.
~*~
III.
He visits when it was clear that something was bothering her.
She spends the day quiet, hunched in on herself, only speaking when spoken to. She never quite meets his eye and the way her shoulders slump when she thinks no one was looking only made him grow more concerned. Adrien can’t pinpoint why, but seeing her so downcast and defeated made his chest tight with worry, and so he transformed and raced to her balcony as soon as he was able to.
The sight he’s met with makes his stomach sink.
Marinette’s blood-shot eyes and red nose greet him on her balcony, full of unshed tears and anguish that all he wants to do is reach out and squeeze the pain right out of her. He almost does exactly that, until she sighs and plasters on a watery smile that does the opposite of reassure him.
“Princess, you don’t have to act like you’re okay when you’re not. Not around me.” Adrien says, wrapping an arm around her. She sinks into his embrace, and he lets himself run his hands through her hair in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.
(He’d be lying if there wasn’t any selfish intent in that action, though. Her hair is smooth and silky and Adrien would be damned to say that he didn’t admire the way it frames her face when it’s down.)
“I’m not acting like I’m okay, Chat. I smiled because I’m glad to see you.”
Adrien closes his eyes and buries his face in her hair, taking a deep breath as his heart skips at her words.
(There’s something new in her scent, now; she still smells of vanilla and cookie dough, but now there’s a hint of cinnamon and even jasmine from her shampoo, and Adrien decides that he likes it very much, because it’s so distinctly Marinette .)
“Then can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”
Marinette pulls away, looking up at him, and Adrien cups her cheek, brushing away the tear tracks that stain her face, mindful of his claws. Her lips part, caught off-guard, but then she leans into his touch, sighing contentedly.
( The night is just warmer than usual, he tries to convince himself, and fails miserably.)
“It’s… about a boy.”
Adrien blinks, taken by surprise.
“A boy?”
She hums, nodding. “Yeah. A boy. A boy that I’m in love with.”
Adrien feels as if someone had just pulled out the ground from beneath his feet, and he feels a strange burning crawling from his stomach to his chest, to his throat, as he chokes out, “You’re in love with someone?”
Marinette nods, and the burning triples, and Adrien doesn’t understand it at all, of course Marinette is free to love whoever she wants and anyone would be lucky to have someone as wonderful as her—
“Yeah,” she says, defeatedly, “and he’s in love with someone else. I heard him talking about it with his best friend earlier, and it kind of just… weighed on me for a while.”
Adrien’s frown deepens as she gives him a little helpless smile, and gives her a tight squeeze.
“How can anyone not love you, Princess?”
Marinette lets out a disbelieving chuckle, not picking up on the fact that Adrien has never been more serious.
“We can’t exactly choose who we love, kitty. Besides, I’m not sure I even had a chance to begin with.”
Adrien has half a mind to shake her and demand names, faces and addresses to hopefully knock some sense into the bastard who had the kindest, sweetest, most amazing person’s love and just threw it away , but he has a feeling Marinette wouldn’t appreciate that. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows and bops her nose, making her scrunch it cutely.
“He’s an idiot.”
“Don’t be mean.”
“Trust me, Princess. If he can’t see just how extraordinary you are, he is.”
They end up lying on the balcony floor, staring up at the clear night sky, his arms still wrapped around her. She nuzzles her face into his neck, and her breath tickles his collarbone, making Adrien flush a very deep red and shudder. She looks up, a little confused, and he clears his throat.
“So what are you going to do?”
She frowns. “About what?”
“You know… him. ”
Her face falls slightly, and Adrien curses himself for asking such a tactless question, but he just… has to know. He knows it’ll eat at him constantly if he doesn’t.
“What else can I do?” Marinette says, carding a hand through her hair. She purses her lips, considering her next words. “I’m going to support him, of course.”
“ Why? ” he asks, disbelieving.
Marinette raises an eyebrow at him, before shrugging.
“Because it makes him happy. I’ve done it before,” she murmurs, a small, bittersweet smile on her face that makes Adrien’s heart twist, “and I’ll do it again.”
She shakes her head, sitting up and looking down at him with a wry grin.
“I’m not perfect. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve done over jealousy…” her smile softens into an adoring one, and Adrien couldn’t help screaming obscenities in his head for this idiot who let Marinette slip through his fingers, “but at the end of the day, seeing him smile is worth it, you know? He gets so very few things for himself that letting him love who he wants to… he deserves it. And I’d do anything for him to get that.”
He couldn’t stop staring at her, a mixture of awe, disbelief, and fondness for Marinette swelling in his chest, making it fit to burst.
Only her , he thinks. Only her.
He sits up and their shoulders brush, making tingles travel down his arm.
“So… yes. I’m just going to suck it up, and cheer him on from the sidelines. Can’t say I’ll be welcome to giving him love advice, though, I’m not that much of a masochist,” she giggles softly. “Then maybe, one day, I’ll wake up, see him love someone else, and it won’t hurt.”
Marinette lets out a breath, scooting closer to him before resting her head on Adrien’s shoulder. His cheeks warm, and his arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her near.
Adrien thinks back to his conversation with Nino about Ladybug that day. He couldn't imagine being as gracious as she is if Ladybug had told him that; he'd respect her decision, of course, but he would be lying if he claimed that he wouldn't let it get in the way of their partnership for a bit, even unintentionally; he's been burned time and again, and he's ashamed to say it's made his walls a little higher, and his hurt a little sharper than what it needs to be.
Marinette isn't like that.
“Did you know? That's Cassiopeia right there.” She points to a cluster of stars. “The Greek queen who was so beautiful yet vain that she'd angered Poseidon enough by comparing her beauty to his sea nymphs, to create a sea monster, only to sacrifice her own daughter, Andromeda, for it to stop wreaking havoc in their kingdom, before Andromeda was rescued by the demigod Perseus.”
“That's... fucked up.”
Marinette lets out a laugh and Adrien thinks the stars shine a little brighter because of it.
“Sorry. I couldn't really think of anything to break the ice and I've been on a weird Greek mythology kick for a while now.”
Her strength makes her shine brighter than any constellation, and the way she smiles as she picks up the pieces of her heart from a boy who couldn't see what he had right in front of him is a sight that no Greek queen or sea god could rival, in Adrien’s opinion.
He can already hear Plagg’s snide remarks about just how sappy he is in his head, but right now, as she tells him the stories of each constellation with eyes sparkling with mirth, Adrien couldn’t bring himself to care.
~*~
IV.
There are days when Adrien can admit to himself that some part of him despises his father. They’re few and far in between, but he just can’t help when the bone-deep exhaustion of his father’s-imposed activities and his own brand of distant yet oh-so-suffocating nature makes resentment bubble up within him.
Today is one of those days.
He’s barely taken a breather in a week, his schedule piled high with photoshoots, fencing training, Chinese, piano and random akuma attacks—to be punctuated only by his father’s scolding for getting an A- on a paper.
No amount of make-up can hide the dark rings under his eyes, the dryness of his lips, or the paleness of his complexion.
Adrien is being stretched too thin and it’s starting to show.
He collapses onto a bench in the courtyard, ignoring the chilly wind and trying to rub the sleeplessness from his eyes with the heels of his hands when he feels a warm body sit next to him. He looks up, and is greeted by familiar blue eyes and soft, shy yet oh-so-understanding smile.
He inwardly flinches, not wanting Marinette to see him like this, but he tries to muster enough strength to give her a smile, even if it’s as plastic and fake as the ones in his magazine cover shoots.
It’s no surprise Marinette sees right through him.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But… you looked like you didn’t want to be alone.”
“How can you tell?” Adrien says, letting his forced smile drop. His shoulders slump involuntarily, and Marinette frowns, before placing her hand on top of his.
“It’s not that hard when you know what to look for. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, Adrien,” she mutters. She squeezes his hand in hers, and Adrien’s breath hitches at the tender gesture.
“Then how come you’re the first one to talk to me?”
“You don’t exactly seem very willing to talk to anyone about it. Nino… he means well, but he’s not very good with words. If you say you don’t wanna talk, he’ll take it at face value, and most of the time he goes off on a tangent when you start to vent, which is nice, when you need to know that you have someone in your corner, but not always what someone needs,” Marinette says.
Adrien nods in agreement—Nino has a tendency to rant about how unfair things are instead of quietly listening (the Bubbler incident comes to mind) and though it’s always nice to have someone to complain to, this isn’t one of the times where Adrien needs someone drilling just how unfair his life is at the moment and rub salt in the wound, however unintentional it may be.
“Alya is pretty aggressive with her comfort,” she continues, now looking straight at him, and a warm tingle starts at the base of Adrien’s neck at her attention, “You want to be smothered with praise and encouragement? You should definitely talk to her. Be warned, though, she will not let you walk away until you feel like you can claw your way up Mt. Everest with your bare hands, even if she has to yell in your face to do it.”
She lets out a giggle.
Of course, she’s good at reading people, Adrien thinks idly, really, is there anything this girl can’t do?
“And you?” he asks, his lips quirking ever so slightly at her thoughtfulness, but unable to hide his curiosity of what she thinks of herself. Would she see what he sees in her? Is she aware of how warm and safe she makes him feel? How wanted and accepted, both in and out of the masks?
Does she know how much he adores her?
The thought comes unbidden, but Adrien doesn’t have the heart to refute it, even to himself.
Marinette purses her lips, considering. Then she grins, giving him a playful wink that makes his heart stutter.
“I come bearing sweets, which people say is a nice pick-me-up when they’re sad.”
Marinette procures a container from her bag, and cracks the lid open. A sweet, buttery aroma invades his nose, and he perks up as she plucks out a freshly-baked croissant.
Adrien reaches out, hesitating. “Isn’t this your lunch, though?”
Her eyebrows scrunch adorably, wiggling the pastry in his face.
“I live on top of a bakery—I can stand an hour without eating something sweet.”
“But—”
With an exasperated sigh, she shoves the pastry in his hands before he could protest.
The tingles are back, now from where their fingers brushed, and Adrien has to stop himself from reaching out for her hands.
“Eat.” Marinette says, leaving no room for argument. He tentatively takes a bite, and the side of her lips lifts in amusement.
She takes out a metal flask and pours him some hot chocolate in the lid, and she watches the leaves falling from the trees as he eats quietly.
Marinette takes a deep breath, as if bracing to say something.
“You know, you deserve time for yourself. To enjoy. To be a kid, for once. You don’t owe anyone anything, okay? And I know that’s hard to believe when the person you look up to tells you you don’t, but if anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”
Adrien feels tears form a lump in his throat, and he forces out a shaky sigh.
Marinette’s cheeks are faintly pink, but the gaze trained on him is determined.
“I’m proud of you, you know that?”
Then she pulls him in and wraps her arms around him tightly.
He refuses to cry, not here, not in front of her, but his eyes don’t get the memo, and soon tears are spilling from his cheeks, but Marinette doesn’t falter, her fingers cradling his head and laces them through his hair, and it just feels so right, being in her arms, that he lets himself melt into her embrace, burying his nose in the crook of her neck until he’s all cried out. Adrien didn’t know how much he needed to hear those words until she’d whispered them so certainly, as if she’d just stated an indisputable fact, an unshakeable belief.
How long has Adrien craved for that, from his mother, his father, anyone? How does she manage to give it away so freely?
“You underestimate yourself too much,” he says, his voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt.
“Hm?” Marinette hums.
“You made it sound like the only comforting gesture you have up your sleeve is sweets. That’s not true at all.”
Marinette snorts, disbelieving.
“It’s not—you have a gift, Marinette, of knowing what exactly someone needs to hear. You’ve made me feel better than I have in days…” Adrien pauses, noticing how still she’s gone in his arms, but he needs to say this, he needs for her to know how much she means to him after everything she’s done for him, both in and out the mask. “You’re kind, Marinette. Purely, fundamentally, wholly kind — and I don’t think you realize how rare that is. It’s one of the most beautiful things about you.”
Marinette sucks in a sharp breath, but Adrien only squeezes her tighter, snuggling closer, not quite ready to let go.
“And you give really, really good hugs.”
She lets out a laugh, melodic and alive, “I try.”
Marinette doesn’t pull away until the bell rings, and Adrien doesn’t mind one bit.
~*~
V.
Adrien stares at the photographs plastered on her walls.
Marinette’s sitting on her chaise, quietly hand sewing details on Alya’s dress for the party, as Adrien’s gaze drifts from one unique picture to the other. He pauses by her desktop, his eyes zeroing in on the photo on the top corner of her monitor.
“What’re you staring at over there, kitty?” she asks, not looking up.
“Who’re these?” he plucks the photo off its place, and she glances at the object he’s holding.
Her eyes immediately soften at the sight, a fond smile playing on her lips.
It’s a picture of the four of them in the park, an impromptu picnic that they’d manage to arrange when Adrien’s photoshoot got cancelled—taken without warning, Marinette is pouting as Nino steals her macaron, Adrien is trying and failing to stifle his laughter at their antics, and Alya pulling a ridiculous face at the camera as she snapped the photo. Once they’d eaten, they’d spent the day goofing off in the children’s playground, with Marinette and Alya ending up pushing him and Nino on the swing set and almost getting knocked out by the seesaw.
It’s one of Adrien’s happiest memories to date.
“Those are my best friends,” Marinette replies tenderly, and her soft, adoring tone warms Adrien to his very core.
“Really?” he pouts exaggeratedly, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I thought I was your best friend.”
“Jealousy’s not a good look, Chat,” she retorts playfully. Adrien sticks his tongue out at her, and she flicks his nose, making him yowl in protest.
“I’m not jealous! I just… want to see who I’m competing with for the title. Tell me about them.”
Marinette rolls her eyes and gingerly takes the photo from his hands, before pointing to Nino.
“That’s Nino—we’ve known each other since we were little kids. He’s a DJ, and he’s incredibly talented. I love listening to his mixes, you can really tell he pours his everything into them and I can’t wait to see him be recognized for them.” Marinette says, sitting cross-legged down on the floor. Adrien takes the spot next to her, scooting a little closer as she props her arm up on her knee to rest her chin, eyes dancing with affection.
“He’s a great friend, and an even better boyfriend. He’s so supportive of Alya, but keeps her grounded when he needs to. Nino’s really good for her, y’know? Sometimes I think they’re meant for each other.” Marinette says, a little longing seeping in her voice, before moving to point at Alya.
“You know her, of course. That’s Alya, the Ladyblogger—she’s a spitfire. Before this year, I didn’t really have many friends. And then she came along. And she was… something else. Crazy, for one thing, running headfirst into the first ever akuma attack,” she shakes her head with an exasperated sigh, but a smile still dances on her lips, “but she’s so thoughtful and stubborn and headstrong, and she always puts my happiness first, you know? She’s really amazing… Without her, I probably wouldn’t be who I am today and I know that even if I lose everyone else in my life, I’ll always have her.”
Then her eyes shift to Adrien, and his stomach erupts with butterflies when her gaze softens.
“And that’s Adrien,” Marinette murmurs, and he’s never heard his name said so reverently before, and Adrien fights the urge to take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair.
“The perfume boy?” he tries to joke, and Marinette rolls her eyes, chuckling.
“Yeah. I think you’ve rescued him a couple of times, right? He’s… wonderful,” she breathes, not seeing the way his eyes widen or his breath hitches. “He’s got a rough life, but he still finds it in himself to be kind. His father’s really strict and he’s overloaded most of the time, so he doesn’t get to hang out as much, but that only makes him cherish his friends more. He’s sweet, and thoughtful, and just… he’s one of a kind, you know?”
Adrien gapes at her as she traces the photo with her finger, eyes roving over them with such care.
She sighs softly, content, and Adrien can’t help but watch her… she’s almost enchanting.
“You really care about them, huh?” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.
“Of course I do. I love them. A lot.”
She stops, before looking up at him, a breathtaking smile on her face.
“And I love you, you know.”
Adrien’s world stops and starts at those words, the admission sending his heart pounding in his ears. She says it so… easily. Like the phrase carries such little weight on her but crushes Adrien’s chest with such overwhelming, indecipherable emotion that he’s not sure he’ll ever recover from. She didn’t even hesitate, or pause to question herself, like a tautology set in stone: The sun is the center of the solar system, one plus one equals two, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng loves Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir.
He couldn’t possibly fathom what he’s done to deserve her love, can’t imagine a time where he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for any ounce of affection anyone has to offer, only for someone as extraordinary as her to give it to him so freely, expecting so little in return.
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Marinette has so much love to give — and heaven help him, if she doesn’t give it. Marinette loves as easily as Adrien breathes. Just as sure as the sky is blue, Marinette Dupain-Cheng will love.
She wouldn’t be Marinette if she didn’t live to love. And her love is addicting, intoxicating, and devastatingly beautiful.
Adrien’s entire being is thrown off-kilter as his chest constricts, desperately trying to find the right words for how she makes him feel, because he’s never felt this way for anyone, not Chloe, not Nino, not Alya, not even Ladybug… Being with Marinette — it’s coming home after wandering aimlessly, lost, for what seemed to be forever. It’s a paradox, soft and strong, subtle and potent, a bright red and a soft pink and all shades in between, and Adrien’s never been more confused because he’s sure that friendships don’t feel this way—
And then it clicks.
Like slotting pieces that fit together… only to find that they’re in the wrong puzzle altogether.
She’s not a friend.
Well, she is, of course.
But she’s so much more than that, too. It’s been a while since she’s been just a friend to Adrien.
Alarm bells screech in his head — a panicked screaming of how, when, where, why, echoing, because what does he even do with this information? What if he does something that ruins everything between them? Should he pursue her? What if she doesn’t mean it the way he does? He can’t lose her, not now, not ever, he wouldn’t be able to handle it—
“Chat?” she asks, worry seeping into her voice.
He takes a breath, and turns to her.
Adrien has all the time in the world to worry about his mess of feelings for the girl in front of him, to overthink, plan, worry, and everything in between.
But for now, he gives Marinette an adoring smile, and brushes a strand of hair back from her face, and he revels in the contented happiness that radiates from her.
She’d snuck up on him, making a home in his heart until he’s hopelessly taken by her and Adrien finds that he’ll gladly surrender.
Adrien cups her cheek and brushes his lips on her forehead, whispering the words he long should’ve told her, as a friend, as so much more, maybe both—
“I love you, too.”