Work Text:
An alone Marinette watched as Lila strode into the art room, grabbed a canvas the size of her torso, and then threw it at the ground before the girl walked to the acrylic paints cabinet.
It was confusing, that was for sure.
After Lila had admitted the truth about her lies, everything the girl did confused Marinette.
She had never met a girl like Lila before, but she had the notion that she would continue piling on already set lies and never come out and say that everything was fake.
The class was less trusting of her afterwards, but they grew warm knowing there must have been a reason for why Lila acted the way she did, even if she never actually explained her feelings.
There was a series of satisfying pops as Lila opened a brand new rather cheap set of paint tubes. The girl unceremoniously plopped onto the floor as she started pouring small amounts of primary colors onto a plastic palette.
Other than Lila of all people (who would have thought that Lila was into art?) deciding to paint on the ground, everything was normal. Wait - Marinette didn’t see any brushes?
Oh.
The girl was painting with her hands - knuckles to be precise.
Marinette had completely lost sight of the piece she was working on, in turn staring at whatever the heck Lila was painting.
At some point, Lila shifted and blocked Marinette’s view of the painting, so the girl took it upon herself to abandon her work and walk up to her. “Hey Lila? What are you painting?”
The blue haired girl swore she saw Lila jump in her spot before turning to look at her. “Ah, Marinette, I’m just working on something for myself.”
“Oh, like for practice?” Marinette brought her hand up to her chin as she contemplated why Lila would be painting. “Nah, more like a vent.”
That certainly took her aback. Marinette was definitely familiar with vent art, whether it had been drawing, painting, writing - whatever really. It was a way to let out your emotions in ways other than speaking.
She had quite a lot of said art stowed deep in her drawers, she never had the heart to throw them away.
“Art is a great way to express your feelings,” Marinette spoke before gesturing to the floor next to Lila. “Mind if I watch?”
Lila looked like she was having a battle in her head before she finally agreed and patted the floor, signaling for Marinette that she should come down to sit.
After a solid ten minutes, Marinette figured that the painting was of a messy face - feminine - with average features except for its enticing green eyes, that honestly reminded Marinette of Lila’s.
When the face looked just about finished (as good as anything could be painted with only bare hands) Lila looked at it with an expression that Marinette couldn’t decipher. Confusion?
Marinette was about to ask if she was finished when Lila rapidly grabbed the paint palette and beamed happily at the art, an expression completely opposite than the one just a few seconds ago.
“I- is everything okay?” Marinette asked, before Lila’s index finger shot up to her mouth in a way of saying “shush”.
“I felt like it was missing something - I found what it was missing!”
Marinette had truly never seen Lila this passionate or excited. Like. Ever.
Lila got up from the ground, then waved for Marinette to get up as well. “What are you planning?”
“Watch.”
Marinette got up and was then immediately (lightly) shoved back by a now hyper Lila, who was for some reason pouring massive amounts of paint onto the canvas, covering her work.
The gasp that came out of her mouth was so loud that if the class they were in wasn’t empty, everyone would have turned to look at her. Was Lila ruining her art? No. This must have been part of it.
The colors mixed over the painting forming swirls and patterns while slowly dripping off the sides in excess. “It’s pretty, Lila, but what about the painting underneath?”
“Eh.”
Huh!?
They stayed in silence as Lila brought out a heat gun (or maybe a hair dryer? Marinette could never tell the difference) and pointed it at the canvas. The paint was cheap so it solidified quickly, earning a satisfied hum from Lila who touch tested it.
“I always tried writing out my problems. Maybe writing them and putting them in front of my face would help.”
She had a point.
“It didn’t.”
Marinette knew this was serious but had to suppress a giggle.
“So you turned to painting?”
“Yes, but I’m not very good at that either.”
Marinette was about to go on a tangent about how art wasn’t based off of talent, it was based off effort and creation, when Lila cut her off. “I don’t like the work I create, so when I’m done with it, I ruin it.”
Marinette had thought that this was a vent for searching on self identity, or really anything like she made art for. She was wrong.
This was a vent on anger.
“There’s one final thing we need to do, Marinette.” Lila said ominously, gaining a shiver from her acquaintance. She grabbed the painting and set it on an easel. “I need you to punch through the middle of this canvas.”
What? “I- I’ll get messy!”
“You have a point. Come with me.” Lila led her to the back of the classroom, where she gave Marinette an apron to put on and started covering her arms in paper towels, securing them with extra heavy duty duct tape (why the hell would their art classroom have industrial grade duct tape?!) “I look like an alien!”
Perfect, Lila thought. “Now you’re protected from any paint that didn’t dry! Go!”
Marinette wondered why Lila wouldn’t punch the painting herself, but it didn’t matter. She had some extra steam to let out, especially from her alter ego. Today marked Mr. Pigeon’s fifty-fourth akumatization. It was safe to say that Marinette was beyond pissed off about it. Fifty-four times? What?
And so Marinette comically pumped her arm before energetically running towards the canvas and punching a hole straight through it. “YES!” Lila threw her arms up and cheered, gaining a giggle from Marinette who was slowly easing the canvas off of her arm.
“You’re the best, Marinette.” Lila took the canvas from the other girl and admired it in its messy, broken glory. “Thank you, really, this is my best one yet.”
Her cheeks went rose red. Wait. Did that imply that Lila had more of these punched through paintings at home? Was there a collection? Wh-
Her thoughts were cut off by Lila pressing a kiss to her cheek before saying goodbye and leaving the art room with the painting.
Marinette finished that day more confused than she had been originally.
Wait a minute - WHO WAS GOING TO GET THESE TAPE AND TOWELS OFF OF HER?!