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Marinette stalked upstairs, disregarding her parents’ confused hellos as she reached her room and flung herself across her bed. She curled up into herself, burying her face into her hands as she willed herself to calm down.
Calm down. Calm down. No negative thoughts, no negative emotions--
“Marinette?” Tikki’s timid voice broke through her inner chants. “Please, what’s got you all riled up? Maybe if you talked about it--”
Marinette let out a choked laugh and flung a pillow angrily across the room. It hit the opposite wall and slid to the floor. “Talk about it. Work through it. Power through everything. Pretend it doesn’t bother you. Don’t release your negative emotions. I’ve heard it all a thousand times, Tikki!” She didn’t mean to yell, but her frustration was bubbling out.
Tikki looked alarmed. Marinette had never yelled at her before. “Marinette, be careful, Hawkmoth--”
“I know, I know! Suppress it! Don’t cry, don’t yell, don’t get upset! Be sweet, timid Marinette! You aren’t allowed to be upset! You aren’t allowed to be angry!” The heroine duly realized tears were forming, and furiously wiped them away. The simmering anger was better than the dull ache of sadness that threatened to wash over her.
Her kwami was just watching her sadly, and the tiny, rational part of Marinette’s brain that managed to wrestle through the sadness and anger whispered: You can’t afford to be akumatized. You’re overreacting. Calm down.
Sometimes she hated that voice. It sounded too much like Ladybug’s and not enough like her own. A teenage girl’s voice.
Suddenly, she hated that voice. She hated that part of herself. She hated Ladybug.
Marinette got to her feet. “I’m going out.”
Tikki hovered, but she shook her head. “I’m going alone.”
“Marinette,” Tikki started gently, “you know I can’t--”
“I haven’t been properly by myself in ages, Tikki! Just...just leave me alone!” And with that, the distraught heroine stalked back out through the bakery, out the door, and disappeared through the streets with no particular destination in mind.
Tikki didn’t follow.
~
It was a quiet night.
Chat had been patrolling, lazily looking around for any activity, but his thoughts drifted. He’d been considering stopping by to check on Marinette. Halfway through school today, she’d come out of the bathroom drenched from head to toe. She’d refused to explain herself, and avoided his eyes.
Alya had rushed to get her clothes from her locker, but the pigtailed girl had remained stubbornly silent through the rest of the day.
Chat wasn’t supposed to know about that, though.
Chewing his lower lip, he was about to head in for the night when he heard a small cry of pain. His ears immediately perked up, and he swiveled, trying to narrow down the source’s location.
There it was again. He took off, zeroing in on an alleyway. Dropping down silently, he assessed the dark area when he spied the very girl he’d been worried about.
Marinette was clutching her hands, breathing heavily as she stood in front of the side of a dumpster. Her shoulders were heaving, but tight. He was about to speak when she reared her fist back and hit the side of the dumpster hard enough to dent it.
Another soft hiss of pain escaped her as she clutched her fist, and Chat could see blood on her knuckles. Caution went out the window, and he grabbed her wrist as she pulled back to do it again.
She struggled, flailing, even after seeing it was him. “Let me go!”
“Marinette, stop! You’re hurting yourself!” He held fast, surprised at the small girl’s strength.
Her voice was a growl. “That’s the point! Let me go! God--why can’t everyone just leave me alone!” She shifted her frustration towards him, hitting his chest with her free hand. His magic suit protected him, and he hardly felt it, but it still surprised him.
“I can’t let you do that to yourself, Marinette.”
“What do you care?! What does anyone care? I’m not even allowed to be upset, am I?!” Her voice was harsh, her breathing irregular, and Chat’s heart ached as he recognized her tone--the tone of someone trying desperately not to cry.
He released her, and she reeled back, not expecting it. “Go on.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
Chat opened his arms, gesturing to himself. “Hit me. Let it out. Go on.”
She regarded him suspiciously, and he saw so much pain and anger in her eyes, but also a hesitance. Even in her upset state, she didn’t want to hurt him.
“It’s okay.” His voice was soft. “You won’t hurt me.”
Rage filled her eyes, and before he knew it she was on him, punching his chest, abdomen, anywhere she could reach. She yelled out her anger, but he stayed perfectly rooted to the spot. After several minutes, her punches abated slowly until they were gentle hits, barely fueled anymore.
“Are you going to talk about it, Marinette?” Smack.
Her face twisted. “No. I’m fine.”
“You’re obviously not fine.” Smack. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I’m fine,” she said with more force, but Chat saw her lower lip tremble. “I have to be fine. I’m always fine.”
“Mari.” His voice was impossibly soft. “It’s okay to be upset.”
This phrase seemed to upset her even more. “No. It isn’t. I’m not allowed to be upset.” Smack.
Chat couldn’t bear the pain in her eyes anymore. He grabbed her wrists, stilling her. “Why? Why can’t you let yourself be upset?”
All the fight was knocked out of her. All that was left was hurt, pain, and a deep, deep sadness he felt he could never truly understand. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
“...Mari?”
Her knees buckled, and he caught her as she slid to the ground. Her head lowered, and he realized she was trembling. “...can’t. I can’t let myself be akumatized.”
Chat’s heart shattered into a million pieces.
He’d often wondered, deep into the night, how Hawkmoth affected the average Parisian. Not that Marinette was average, of course. She was anything but. She was a bright, happy spot in his life and he wouldn’t trade her for the world. No, but he’d been afraid people may start to think like this--like their negative emotions weren’t allowed. That they had to suppress them. That only led to more misery, and a subsequent explosion. He should know better than anyone.
Before he could think about it, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, tight enough he hoped he could calm her shaking. “Marinette, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry and be angry and yell and express your negative emotions. They’re a part of you just like any other emotion.”
“But…” he shook his head before she could get the words out.
“Go on and be sad. Cry, yell, do whatever you like. And if an akuma shows up, I’ll Cataclysm the shit out of it before it gets anywhere near you.” He tightened his hold. “You should be allowed to express yourself freely without worrying about a stupid butterfly.”
This elicited a shaky chuckle from her, and he pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, and he could see telltale signs of exhaustion creeping up on her lovely features. His chest ached for his friend.
“It’s okay to cry,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I swear.”
And with that, she flung herself into his chest and cried. Cried like he’d never heard anyone cry before. Earthshaking, gut-wrenching sobs that brought tears to his own eyes. The sobs of someone who hadn’t cried in a long, long time. The sobs of someone carrying the weight of the whole world on their shoulders. The sobs of a broken girl.
And yet, there was healing in those tears.
He rubbed her back, not pulling away in the slightest as she cried. He could hear bits and pieces of her words as she tried to expel them. “...relying on me, and...disappoint everyone...not allowed to let myself...think of me? Plus...just so tired of being perfect, all the time…”
Chat kept a wary eye out, but no butterflies interrupted them. He wondered, idly, if Hawkmoth had already gone to bed.
Once her sobs had abated to quiet hiccups, he pulled back to gently wipe her face with a thumb. “Marinette, I know akumas are scary, and you don’t want that to happen to you. But ignoring feelings like anger, sadness, regret, jealousy--any negative emotion--won’t help. You’re allowed to feel those things because it’s healthy. It’s healthy to express them in healthy ways. But bottling all this up to the point you’re running off and injuring yourself by hitting a dumpster…? Ladybug would never forgive me if I didn’t stop you.”
Marinette stiffened at the name of his partner, but her eyes remained downcast. “I...I know.”
“And hey, if you still feel unsafe, you can always vent to me. I’ll take the brunt of it until you’ve expressed yourself thoroughly, and then you can be rest assured I’ll protect you while you do.” He smiled encouragingly at her, squeezing her shoulder. “Okay?”
Finally, he received a small smile. “Okay. ...thank you, Chat.”
“Of course.” He looked down as he took her hand, mindful of her injured knuckles. “Now let’s get you back home, it’s late and you need to tend to these hands. They’re such talented, hard-working hands, it’d be a shame to let them keep bleeding.”
She rolled her eyes, but he was happy to see her eyes clearing up. There was the Marinette he knew. He regarded her fondly, helping her to her feet.
And if he stayed a few hours longer, delicately wrapping her hands in bandages and letting her fall asleep in his lap safely, he would never tell.