Chapter Text
Once in a while, I’ll wake up to find myself crying, the dream I’d just had resting on the tip of my tongue although it was already long forgotten.
Every so often I’ll see myself somewhere where the scenery is greener than the concrete of Paris, and although I’m certain I’ve never been there, my heart yearns for it.
I feel so lost.
Why does it feel so familiar?
I’ve lost something, something precious to me.
This feeling… it lingers, and I know I’ve lost something precious.
This feeling has haunted me since…
I’m searching: for something, someone. I’ve always been searching, since…
Since the sky fell.
Since the stars fell.
Marinette awoke to the sound of her alarm ringing, the rhythmic buzzing of her phone a slow wakeup call for the day ahead. With a drawn out stretch, she eased herself out of bed, the soles of her feet welcoming the warm touch of the floorboards beneath. She stifled a yawn before finally padding over to where she had thrown her phone the night before.
4:30am, it read before she dismissed the alarm and she dragged a hand down her face. In the 16 years of her life she’d been used to waking up early, but it had only been in the past five where she’d been expected to start waking earlier than most in order to help her parents run the bakery. Her younger self had rejoiced at the responsibility to help out.
Her current self could only wish for the same enthusiasm.
She let out a groan as she made herself prepare for the morning ahead, throwing on her ‘messy’ clothes before heading downstairs, where she could already hear her parents clattering about in the kitchens.
Being the only bakery in Èze meant that the Dupain-Cheng’s had to prepare enough bread daily to meet the demands of the town, as well as the varying baked treats that suited the other residents’ fancies. Her father was always more than pleased to be able to cater to the demands and her mother matched in his passion: they were truly a great team, and Marinette consistently took the time to watch their teamwork before she got stuck in. Watching them inspired her, but it also left her feeling a little less than before; a certain sense of nothing creeping in where their tender smiles and content hums buried their way into Marinette’s memory. She wasn’t jealous – she treasured her father and mother’s affections – but there was always something nagging at her, making her wish for more. But whether it was for the bond she saw her parents share or for the life she lived, she couldn’t quite tell.
She’d gotten used to the feeling of wanting, and it had gotten easier to hide as time went on. This morning, it didn’t even register for Marinette to school her expression before she entered the kitchen. She knew it would already be done. She immediately started washing her hands, intent on working on the bread dough to lessen the load on her parents.
“Morning maman.” She yawned, smiling weakly as she stepped up alongside her mother at the counter top.
“So you’re awake this morning?” Sabine chuckled, kneading into her batch.
“What do you mean?” Confusion set in on Marinette, eyes flitting up to her mother. “Of course I’m awake.”
“You overslept yesterday. Your father couldn’t wake you up – you were even late to school. I take it you had a better night’s sleep last night?”
She stared blankly at her mother then, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She wasn’t late to school yesterday – she hadn’t been late for as long as she could remember. Of course, she was consistently close to being late nearly every day, but she’d never not woken up for the bakery at the very least. Brows furrowed, she cocked her head to the side.
“Are you alright maman? I’m sure I wasn’t late yesterday.”
“Yes you were Marinette. Me and your father had never seen you like it – we had half a mind to call you in sick when you did wake up and start asking where you were. You were on edge the whole day too. You had us quite worried.”
“That can’t be right…” Her speech trailed off into silence. She could’ve sworn yesterday was like every other, but she couldn’t see her mother playing a joke on her for no reason. She chewed on the thought as she continued making dough, unsure of what to make of it all. Was it common to forget an entire day of your own life? Or had her life become so monotonous that the days had begun to blur together?
It was second nature for Marinette to mask her wanting of more, but there was a longing that she could never hide completely. It was forever creeping into the edges of her consciousness, a deep wish to escape the small town she’d been born in to. Èze was pretty, beautiful even, but that was all it had to offer: there was nothing for a young girl like herself to engage in, and she knew she’d been resigned to inherit the family bakery the day she’d been born. It was a bleak future to look forward to, and so she didn’t. She didn’t want to disappoint her family, but there was no way for her to be happy where she was; kneading dough simply didn’t fit into her grand scheme, not like it did for her parents. Happiness, to Marinette, meant the city of lights; making it big as a fashion designer and following her dreams in a way that she could never, ever do in Èze. Oh how she longed to live in Paris… but she knew it was an impossible dream, for as much as she desired the big city she adored her mother and father in equal parts. And wasn’t as if she loathed the bakery either – she just hated the fate she’d unknowingly agreed to inherit.
But on that morning, the yearning for a life she could never have was overwhelming, clawing up her throat and pressing down upon her chest. Her movements sluggish, her head fell, and she felt the unfortunate pricking of tears in her eyes – keep it together, Marinette – causing her to laugh dejectedly. Just how would she explain this? She wasn’t the type to burst into seemingly unprovoked crying fits after all.
“Can I be excused?”
She felt her mother’s face soften rather than see it, “Of course, cheri. If you’re still ill, go back to sleep. Your father will wake you in time for school.”
“Merci, maman.” With a grateful nod, she left the kitchen, sniffing quietly to keep her tears in check. She rushed up to her bedroom, but knew she wouldn’t be sleeping again that morning – too many emotions running rampant in her mind prevented any sort of fatigue from claiming her. The pressure in her chest was mounting, the crest of the wave about to break.
Throwing open her windows and startling the pigeons nesting on the slated rooftop underneath, she leaned dangerously out into the open with her arms pressed firmly against the slats. Half in, half out, she inhaled sharply before unexpected words tore from her mouth.
“I hate this town, I hate this life!” Inhale. “I just wanna be a cute Parisian boy in my next life! Please!”
And for once, she didn’t care who heard her.
And she she turned away, preparing to face her painfully boring life, she missed the single, red ladybug landing on her otherwise spotless windowpane.
Just like any other morning Marinette woke to her phone’s alarm, though this time it wasn’t quite where she’d left it. Paranoid over her mother’s claims the morning before, she’d kept her alarm close at hand just in case she slept through it.
Or that was the plan at least. This time when she woke, she reached out to turn off the blaring sound and found the space under her palm empty. Eyes shooting open, she sat bolted upright, whipping her head left and right to try and find where her phone had gotten to. Scanning her towering bookshelves, looking upon her plush cream carpets, she finally spotted it upon her computer desk, vibrating against the closest of the three monitors. It was only when she clambered out of bed and silenced the phone did she realise. None of those things were hers.
Panic settled on her chest and she spun herself in circles trying to grasp where in the world she was. A double bed; white leather couch; skate ramps and a climbing wall – the essentials of a bedroom and everything else. She’d never seen a room so extravagant and it only made her unease grow.
How had she gotten here?
Casting another glance at her phone, she barked out a startled gasp as she recognised it as not hers, throwing it as far as she could before turning in the opposite direction. In her haste to get away, she stumbled over her feet, falling to the ground with a loud thump before scrambling back up and rushing towards the only open door she found. Tumbling into what was obviously a shower room, her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of a mirror. Hung parallel to the white tiled wall, she slowly crept towards the reflective surface, suddenly unsure of what she would see. She couldn’t feel any pain, but what if she had been kidnapped? If she was covered in bruises, she didn’t know how she’d cope – how would she explain it to her parents?
How would she get home?
With her eyes closed, she stepped in front of the mirror. Rocking on her feet, back and forth, back and forth, she rose up onto her tiptoes, nails digging into her palms as she curled her hands into fists. Gathering her courage, she opened her eyes.
And screamed.
Instead of her usual reflection, she found blonde hair and green eyes peering back at her; a lithe, athletic body and a few extra inches added onto her height. No longer was she seeing Marinette Dupain-Cheng, short and a little bit pudgy, hands calloused from kitchen work and arms beginning to build muscle from the heavy lifting. No, she wasn’t even seeing a girl. Staring back at her was a boy – and a pretty one at that.
But that did nothing to ease her panic.
Running back out into her – his – room, her heart leaped into her throat once more when she heard footsteps nearing the closed door, controlled knocking as a concerned female voice sounded through the wood. “Adrien? Adrien, are you alright?”
“Um, uh I – I’m okay!” She stuttered loudly, assuming she was ‘Adrien’. What was she to do? “Just f-fine!”
She heard the sigh from the other side of the door and felt her shoulders sag. She’d done it. She’d bought herself some extra time to figure out just what was going on.
“Of course. Just… be ready by 8, please. Madam Ducoeur will be here earlier than last week due to prior engagements, and you don’t want to make her wait, do you?”
Marinette heard the footsteps recede before she had a chance to respond, and she let out the breath she’d been harbouring. This was dream, wasn’t it? It had to be. The thought calmed her somewhat, and she remembered to regulate her breathing.
She needed to get ready.