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Rain, rain, rain.
She was surrounded by rain.
Marinette was standing alone in a street at night as sheets upon sheets of rain gave her comfort. She didn't care if she got sick, or if she was cold and drenched to the bone. There was something refreshing about the rain surrounding her, she didn't really understand why, but she always felt like that in the rain. Maybe it was because the rain always held a special place in her heart. Maybe it was because the rain always felt like a new chance, a new beginning.
So she stood there, face up to the sky, eyes closed, clothes sticking to her uncomfortably, and hair dripping wet. The rain grounded her when she felt overwhelmed, reminding her that there were still moments that could be as simple as that one was in the rain. Moments that left her with a content sigh and a mind at ease. Moments that helped her gain control when she had no one to rely on.
It wasn't exactly that she had no one to rely on, but the things that stressed her out weren't things she could really tell anyone. And the things that she could speak to others about, she didn't because she no longer knew who she could trust. If Alya didn't believe her when she said Lila was lying, and Adrien never did anything despite knowing what he knew, then who would she go to? She couldn't even talk to Nino because, one, he wasn't good with words and emotions, and two, he was probably in Alya's side anyway.
The only person that actually seemed to believe her beside Adrien was Chloe. And, well, how would she talk to Chloe about things? How could she be trusted? So she didn't talk to her either. And then with Luka... Well, she didn't want to keep going to him to seek comfort if she didn't feel the same way.
When it came to school, she had no one to rely on, and when it came to her guardian duties, she didn't want to burden Chat Noir. Besides, if he was trying to move on, then she shouldn't bother him. If the yellow rose he'd given her, symbolising friendship was anything to go by, someone else held his heart.
She should be happy for him. She shouldn't feel anything when it came to that, but for some reason, she couldn't help but feel a pang of loss. He stopped flirting with her as much, and was much more focused and mature. That was what she wanted wasn't it? But why did that feel like such a lie now?
She thought she achieved clarity in New York, she had finally realized that she felt for one boy and that boy was Adrien. But with everything that happened there, she realized how much Chat Noir mattered to her. She wanted normalcy, and him being so much more reserved with his feelings was something she wasn't used to. She missed his features now that they were gone, no matter how silly or annoying, because he was her partner, and she loved him regardless. (Whether it was solely platontic was now up for debate in her treacherous heart.)
Marinette sighed. Her timing was terrible. Her moment of clarity resulted in her tumbling to the ground in the rain, while Adrien's car had drive away. Now, these unexplained feelings for Chat Noir when he was moving on were not helping. And it wasn't like Adrien was available anyway, he was with Kagami wasn't he? Terrible, terrible timing.
But she had no one to be upset with rather than herself. Kagami had given her fair warning that if she didn't make a move, Kagami would. And Marinette hadn't done anything, so Kagami took the opportunity. She was always taking any chance she could, she had no hesitations, unlike Marinette. And as long as Adrien was happy, did it matter who he ended up with? Why did it hurt so much to think about it, then?
She opened her eyes, lowering her head and moving to an alleyway to transform. Maybe running across rooftops would help her destress. It worked for Chat Noir, didn't it?
Adrien stared out the windows of his room, laying down on his bed, watching and listening to the soothing sounds of the rain. Rain had always held a special place in his heart, reminding him of the first akuma battle, the day he became friends with Marinette. His heart quickened it's pace in spite of him. All because of the thought of Marinette.
After coming back from New York, he'd been more confused than ever over his feelings for her. She was just a good friend wasn't she? Did good friends slow dance under the moonlight? Did good friends stare at each other in the rain, hoping one of them would say something? Did good friends look at each other with soft, loving smiles? Did good friends think and dream of dancing under the moonlight together? Did they think and dream of the warmth they felt deep inside their soul as they swayed under the stars?
Adrien just didn't know anymore.
That was why he'd told Kagami he couldn't let whatever was between them go any further a month prior. If he wasn't sure about his feelings, then he shouldn't start something new with someone. His mind and heart were filled with thoughts of Ladybug and Marinette, and barely spared Kagami much thought.
He used to think Ladybug was the only person who could hold his heart, but he'd tried to move on anyway. He thought Kagami deserved a chance, and he was willing to try. But with his unexplainable feelings relating toward Marinette, he just couldn't string Kagami along. But something she'd said when he'd told her that had left him confused.
"You still love her, don't you? I wish you and Marinette weren't so hesitant."
Marinette. Him and Marinette. Why would she think that?
He groaned as he sat up. "Plagg, I need to go clear my head."
The kwami glared at him, "In that weather? No."
"Please? I'll give you a whole round of Camembert."
"Three."
"Two."
Plagg narrowed his eyes as he spat, "Fine."
Adrien grinned. "Thank you. Plagg, claws out!"
Marinette stood on her balcony, leaning against the railing. Running around as Ladybug hadn't done much to distract her. Faintly, she thought she heard a small ring of a bell. She was about to ignore it, but when she heard the soft thump of boots landing on the floor behind her, her heart sped up on its own accord.
Chat.
"Hello, Purriness," he drawled, coming to lean against the railing beside her. She didn't look at him, telling herself that the rise of the hair at the back of her neck was simply because she was finally getting cold from the rain. "It's cold, shouldn't you be inside?"
Finally, she looked at him. She hadn't really noticed the shift in his demeanor. How he'd gone from his usual bravado to concerned, the furrow of his brow so completely out of place on his face. His hair was drenched, dirty blond instead of its usual golden color, plastered to his face, water droplets rolling down his cheeks, down his sharp jawline, down the strong lines of his neck... Focus, Marinette.
"I can ask you the same thing," she said, quirking an eyebrow, "Don't cats hate water?"
He shrugged, "It's a myth. They just get cold easily from the water soaking through their fur, so warm water is better." He sniffled, running a hand through his hair to move it away from his face. Marinette stared, heat rising to her cheeks.
Focus.
"Erm, wanna come inside? I can get us some hot chocolate." When he nodded she turned away quickly, slipping inside and hoping she was quick enough that he didn't see her flush.
When she came back, a towel drying her hair, another draped over her arm, and a tray in her hands, she hadn't expected to find him staring at the pictures on her walls. She no longer had a bazillion pictures of Adrien from his magazine, but instead pictures of her friends, which of course included him. She thought she saw a fond smile playing at his lips, but she thought nothing of it.
Soon Marinette was changed into dry clothes (she changed in the bathroom), and Chat Noir's suit was completely dry, the two of them sitting in silence as they sipped hot chocolate and nibbled at pastries. She was surprised at how little Chat was eating, and how slowly he was too. He had a far away, contemplative look in his eyes, like something was bothering him. Before she could say anything though, he spoke.
"You never told me why you were just standing in the rain," he mused. "You don't have to tell me, I was just worried."
"It keeps me grounded, helps me not get too overwhelmed."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I like the rain too," he smiled at his cup, as though remembering a happy memory, then met her eyes, "It holds a special place in my heart."
Her breath hitched, her heart beat stuttering then kicking back full force. There was no way he was talking to her, saying the she held a special place in his heart, but it sure felt like it. (And she sure wished he was talking to her.)
She cleared her throat quietly, "S-so, why were you out in the rain?" She mentally cursed herself for stuttering. This is Chat, you don't stutter around him, she mentally chided.
"Basically the same thing," he sighed, "I just needed to clear my head."
Exactly the same thing, then.
It was his turn to clear his throat, looking at her with an unreadable expression, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. The movement was so familiar it startled her, but she waved aside the feelings of familiarity. He set down his cup on her desk, looking up at her through his messy, blond locks, "Um, dancing is something that might help clear your mind, it's helped me before. Of, course only if you want to--"
"I would love to dance with you," she said hurriedly. It probably wasn't the best idea, since dancing could possibly mean slow dancing, and then they'd be close to one another, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, his hot breath fanning across the side of her neck, just below her ear, making her shiver--
Oh no.
Chat Noir wasn't sure he heard her correctly. She was fine with dancing with him? With being close to one another, being able to feel each other's warmth, with her so close, her lips right there-- Maybe dancing was a bad idea. But when he looked at her, looking at him expectantly, he decided that it couldn't possibly be that bad.
...It was that bad.
She was so close to him as they swayed to love ballads by Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. He couldn't help but hum along, which earned him some giggles, and made it so much harder for him to be so close to her. Did she know how amazing it was to hear her laugh? Did she know how adorable she looked when she was happy? Did she realized how cute the blush that spread across her cheeks was?
The same adorable blush that was on her cheeks right then as she stared at him. Ah, when had he stopped humming? He cleared his throat, looking away before he could get too lost in her forever blue gaze. Before he could really think about it, he was burying his face in the crook of her neck and pulling her closer to him. It had only been to stop himself from staring too much, but he belatedly realized that being this close she could probably feel his erratic heartbeat.
"So, Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, huh?" she asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
"Are you surprised, Princess?" he asked, trying to remember how to flirt again, "They sing romantic love songs, and I'm a hopeless romantic."
She hummed, the vibration of it traveling through him and almost making him shiver, "That's true, I shouldn't be so surprised."
He smiled as they swayed, but soon got distracted by something else. Her heartbeat. It was beating fast, almost as though she had tachycardia, but as far as he knew, she was perfectly healthy. Could she possibly...? But why would she...?
He pulled away slightly, just enough distance to look her in the eye, "Can I say something?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, as thought saying, 'WHen did you ever need to ask?' So he continued, "Marinette, I," --bad idea, bad idea, bad idea--, "I think I've fallen in love with you."
He took a step back from her, letting go of her waist so she wouldn't be uncomfortable. Why did he think that would be a good idea again? Oh, wait, he never did. Why did say that? He ruined everything, now. She wouldn't want to talk to him anymore, she would tell him to get out and never come back, she was--
She was kissing him.
She was kissing him and he was in heaven.
Her fingers were in his hair, and her soft lips pressed against his firmly, like she didn't plan on ever removing them from there. The initial shock was gone and he heard her, Felt her, gasp when his own lips captured hers. His arms were wrapped around her waist again, pulling her closer, closer, closer, letting him lose himself in her smell, her taste, and her warmth.
He didn't know how he'd ended up pushed against the small strip of wall by her desk, but he didn't care. Marinette was kissing him, she loved him, and he didn't care about anything else in that moment. It seemed like the Dean Martin agreed with him as he sang,
"How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me."
In that moment, he knew, he was the luckiest cat alive.