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Marinette never intended for things to turn out the way they did.
It was as if everything went against her request at any will. Over the week, she’s been in charge of multiple group projects (mostly because the people she was with chose not to help her or can barely make any time to help), handling the class, doing part-time jobs to save up for her small design business, and things had to turn one way or another.
Needless to say- things are piling up, and as they are, the pile she makes are getting knocked over. Marinette’s doing her best keeping her pile steady, using as much resources as she can to get it done little by little.
After her performance went down (for the time she spent skipping class to appear at her strict job at a coffee shop), unfortunately she needed a tutor. Preferably until the end of the week, since their first semester finals will happen within two weeks, or three.
And she’s made multiple sacrifices, which involved her stopping her job, closing down her commissions, and actually focusing on the things she needed to do.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough to bump up her grade. Paying attention to math made her brain pass out most of the time, which then lead to her getting a tutor.
And naturally, Alya was good at recommending tutors.
Well, most of the time, at least.
“Here’s your tutor!” Alya beamed, showing a startled Adrien, then sheepishly waving his hand at Marinette. The girl, however, hesitates and waves her hand back, not realizing that it would come to this. “Adrien was the only one willing to help you, sorry.”
“It’s alright, no problem with that!” Her friend responds, curious gaze never leaving his eyes. “O-kay! If you’re both all set, then I should get going.” The brunette one spoke up, hastily making her way out.
As soon as Alya left, Marinette realized how oddly familiar it was.
Something similar happened around a year ago, which makes her giggle a little bit.
There was something about the way it's always the both of them ending up together. “Guess it’s us two again, huh?”
“Likewise. You know, you could’ve asked.” Adrien pouts his lips, relaxing on the desk. She sits herself beside him, feeling her heart race. “I know, but wouldn’t that be a burden to you?”
He scoffs softly, getting up from the desk, flipping her pages over to where she’s annotated. “That’s sweet.” He added, focusing on the page. A vein pops on her forehead comically, trying to control her steam.
“Well then, let’s get started on it, shall we?”
One thing was for sure - Marinette has developed her crush for him ages ago.
It all happened pretty quickly. She remembers the look on his face, the way he handed her that umbrella that she remembers is still with her.
It’s funny how she never found the time to give it back to him.
His gaze, hoping that she didn’t hate him, but she couldn’t possibly. That alone let her know that his intentions were pure, nowhere from ill, and she wished that she knew sooner. Although knowing it sooner wouldn’t have made them closer.
Or it would’ve. Chance and fate, although very similar, have very different definitions.
It would’ve been fate, that he handed her that umbrella that day. But chance made them closer, prior to accepting the umbrella from him. She remembers the way she was afraid her heartbeat was heard through the rain, that, maybe he’d realize. That maybe, it was too loud that he'd notice.
No matter how long she held her breath, and it scared her.
She thought wrong, unfortunately.
There are multiple instances where she did try to tell him. Not once, and definitely not twice.
Marinette stands in the middle of the deserted hallway, holding a letter. She had just called out Adrien’s name, and he’s told Nino to go ahead without him.
They were alone. It was the end of classes, and their eye contact was steady.
Her mouth opens, only for the words to clog up in her throat again, and she sets the letter aside, mustering up a smile.
“I…"
"Thanks again, for today.”
After realizing, accepting and letting her feelings through, it felt like she’s build a wall of translucent glass, in the color of red. They could see each other, but it wasn’t as clear as it should be.
She’d be afraid to knock, that maybe it would shatter her together with it. She’s tried to tap multiple times, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention. And it wasn’t that she didn’t try to make herself be seen, she’s let it shine through multiple times through tiny cracks that have developed, finding herself patch those up altogether in fear of letting it fall.
The wall felt more like their relationship with each other, just a wall of translucent glass. He could see through, but that didn’t mean he could see everything. He could only recognize someone through it, but not enough to say her name.
That’s how it’s been so far, one that recognizes, and the other that remained clueless.
And it’s not like she kept it all to herself, she’s told him. Or tried to tell him.
After the 10th attempt, Alya joked around saying that she should start counting and keeping track of how many times she’s tried to do so.
Marinette didn’t take that as a joke, and started from the 10th. She’d make a poem, it would fail, and that would turn 11. She’d try to talk to him, and they’d get interrupted, then that turns into 15.
The numbers continue to count themselves, and the pile of discarded letters and love poems lay idle inside her trash bin, in a form of crumpled pieces of scrap. She’d try to be alone with him to tell him how she felt, only for it to, yet again, turn another way. And that makes 28.
It’s been a while, she remarks. It’s been a while of confessing, but there’s always something about chance and fate, that somehow prevents her from saying anything.
Marinette would refrain slowly, thinking that maybe it wasn’t the right time. And she’d miss exactly the right time, and have to wait for another one. For an opportunity to show itself, somehow. For something to happen, somehow.
And she chose to start counting, because?
That’s one thing the girl can’t answer right away. Being stuck on wanting to have her feelings resolved, and altogether being afraid of the outcome coexisted whenever she’d find herself standing in front of him.
They grew closer, that's a step closer.
Adrien tilted his head, watching Marinette doze off, barely paying attention to him anymore.
He wanted her to look at him.
“Buginette…” He whispered, leaning towards her, hearing her hum softly. The boy realizes she’s been tired, and it probably should be the end of this session.
But he hesitates, watching how carefully her eyes open up. They look at each other for what seemed to be a moment, and she still wasn’t in her conscious state of mind.
“Let’s stop the session here, I’ll walk you home.”
But as friends? It felt extremely far to get what she wanted to say. Yes, he’s grown comfortable around her to actually be able to rant about personal things to her, but sometimes it has to bring her to remind herself that she was doing this only because she’s a friend.
Did she want anything between them to change?
..maybe she did.
But she mostly didn’t. For the worse, she didn’t want their friendship to shatter the way she visualized the glass between them to break. She was afraid either of them would crumble with it, being nothing but a speck of dust, drifting apart, disappearing apart, being gone.
“Have you fallen before?” The girl asks, gazing almost subconsciously at the piece of paper he was holding up.
It takes a moment before Adrien gets to say “What?”, turning to face her. She looks back at him dreamily, and snaps almost immediately after seconds have passed by.
“O-oh! I meant failed!” She quickly corrects herself, letting the fluster in her cheeks be seen. “your classes…”
Fading away, like the wind. And if it had anything to do with her feelings, she’d be afraid of opening up, even more now that there’s a chance it would distance them and have all of what they built abandoned.
Her crush on him was fairly unexpected, oftentimes she’d shrug and be able to admit it to anyone, and the other consists her of running around in circles, yelling out her feelings in a field, only so he could hear her, which he never does, and Alya had to sit down and watch her tire herself out because there’s nothing that could possibly hold Marinette Dupain-Cheng back from anything.
She likes him, in a way she knows he won’t see her in. She likes him enough to want to be noticed by him, she likes him in the way that she desperately has to tell him somehow, or to tell him. She wanted to express it in every way she possibly could, which only leaves her to freeze up, to stop, to grin and to shrug it off, and cancelling the plan, crossing out the number, trying to get on with doing something else.
“G-good afternoon!” Marinette came running through the door, the library empty, trying her best to keep her voice low. “So you came, after all.” Her tutor would tease her, and she’d whine, proceeding onto their lesson anyway.
Multiple times, she’s tried. On a peaceful evening, by the Eiffel Tower where they’re both conveniently alone, the voice inside her head tells her that it isn’t the time yet. So 42 becomes 57.
Numerous pages, she’s written down her attempts. In different ways, often times consistently, only for it not to work out in the way she wanted it too, yet he doesn’t have a clue. She always finds herself stuck, wondering what to say, her words caught up in her throat in some way she’s unable to express.
And it becomes intoxicating. She loses her voice, she forgets how to say anything, how to act around him, and at some point it did get Adrien concerned, but he’s unaware of what she’s been trying to tell him this whole time.
Marinette tries so hard to let him know in the best way possible.
Why is that?
Because she wants to let go of how she feels, once and for all. It doesn’t matter how the outcome goes, for as long as it doesn’t turn out to be the worse for both of them, she’s willing to let go all that she’s built to move on.
The feeling has her stuck on a chokehold, and she's struggling to let that go, forming an unknown type of attachment for it.
But loving is letting go, isn’t it?
Although she decides that love may be too big of a word to tell him, too big to say to him. So something simple, something nice, an ‘I like you’ does it perfectly.
She never finds herself being able to say it to him.
She’d remember the unreadable gaze in his eyes, and hers would be begging him to speak up, or to say anything, only for his expression to turn smug.
Did she want him to reciprocate the feelings she had for him?
It was a complicated situation, but she definitely wouldn’t know how to react if he had liked her back.
Whether she’d be happy about it, whether she’d be disappointed, she doesn’t know. And she doesn’t know what would help her with something like that.
But after 100 turns into 120, she’s contemplated on stopping somehow.
“Hey, Adrien?” Marinette spoke up, pen over the paper as he hummed in response, looking at her.
The girl hummed, answering the problem he wrote for her. “Do you know the answer to this?”
One would think that' it’s insane, or that she should give up, or that she’s tried way too hard, but with 135 attempts and Adrien still doesn’t know her feelings, it just distances her further from ever being honest with him.
She’d find herself questioning if the universe was preventing her from ever letting him know, or if telling him about it simply would shatter not only the wall she’s built, but everything surrounding that altogether?
Would it change anything if she said how she felt?
Would he realize how much she’s trying and break the wall for her, who had no defense against the shards?
Will he be disappointed and widen the gap?
Marinette doesn’t know. Oftentimes, she’d find herself gazing at him while he helps her, and she wonders if he ever knew. If he’s been told, if he’s heard the rumors.
If, by chance, that he knew how she felt?
...
Maybe he shouldn't, no. She still has the time to make the confession more than it already is now, and she can't stop anytime soon, considering she's too far in already.
Something nice, maybe not that simple, but special enough to make it memorable.
After a night of pain, Marinette wakes up pumped with motivation, immediately getting down from her loft (trying not to fall), and opens her miserable notebook of attempts, moving over to the page near the last.
She crosses out 142, moves over to the next page and tightens the grip on her pen, tediously writing ‘143’ at the top left part of the page.
Today felt… lucky enough.
Lucky enough for her to try again.
She’s felt this same surge of motivation throughout the year, but maybe today was the day. She hoped she could at least get a word out, blurt out everything she’s done for him, and get over it the next.
Why? Because today was right before her finals start.
After nights of restlessness, unending studies, and their usual tutoring sessions, it’s all lead up to today.
After the session, and after their meeting together, at the end of the school day, she’ll tell him everything, run away as fast as she can and cry it out, waking up the next day with her only worries being the exams.
Of course, she felt that it might’ve been stupid. Because if something did happen incorrectly, she’d have to worry about that in the middle of the exams. Planning this in the first place was risky, and she didn’t know what drove her to do it.
But today, she felt great. She woke up refreshed, maybe wincing because of the headache of last night’s breakdown, but other than that today had to be the day. And Marinette will make sure of that, huffing up her chest and pressing her fists onto her hips.
. . .
Marinette has thought wrong, yet again.
Today didn't seem like the day for her, either.
She gets assigned to clean the library, and she had to make sure the library was cleaned out before the exams for the new semester. She had no idea why they were doing it early, and it seemed that everyone else was busy, too.
She had to push back her tutoring to 3:00 PM, while she diligently cleaned the library. The librarian didn’t want Adrien to clean, because seeing him do it ‘taints the image of the school’. Although she wouldn't want him to do something she's supposed to do, either. He's done enough for her.
Marinette roughly finished by 5:30.
She was two hours and half late, rushing her way to the classroom, guilty that he might've been waiting for too long, but to quietly hope that he's gone home.
It was exhausting, having to run all the way from the other side of the deserted school, hearing her own footsteps echo through the hallways, holding her bag of books.
She was out of breath.
Of course, she didn’t mind it if Adrien went home first, because of this delay. But she had something to tell him, and seeing it knocked over because of some duty made her wince.
Marinette didn’t want to keep him waiting for this long, but was only rushing in hopes that he could be there for her to apologize.
Maybe they could’ve done it another time, and she should’ve cancelled on him the moment they tell her that she needed to get the entire place cleaned, but she was too pre-occupied to ever get to tell him. And now the girl makes it to the classroom, an apology prepared, her stamina on the low, opening the classroom door to be welcomed by the afternoon sun.
“I’m-”
The student stopped herself the moment she opens the door, gripping onto the door, hoping it doesn’t slam.
Her eyes catch his figure, taken aback. She stood by the door, trying to process what was going on, feeling a little relieved that he was still there. Adrien lay down over the desk, arm over the desk with a pen loosely hanging in-between his fingers, his other arm under his head, lying down.
And then she hesitates, for what felt like the nth time in her lifetime.
It takes her a while to realize he was asleep, quietly closing the door and sighing softly, walking towards the seat, sitting beside him. And she could recognize several things, including the little things he does before they usually start their sessions, making tiny outlines of what they needed to discuss.
Organized as ever, Marinette smiled.
He waited for her?
Her eyes travel up slowly to his face, watching how the sunrays illuminate and highlight his features perfectly. He was perfect, at least. Aphrodite’s reincarnate, she likes to think.
She scoffed a little, finding it silly for him to wait for her like this.
Just what is he doing, lying around for a tutoring session that isn't even be relevant to him at all?
But the more she looked at him, the more his eyebags became apparent. She hummed, tilting her head, lifting her hand and carefully brushing his unkempt bangs off of his face, finally seeing him clearly.
He was pretty.
She can’t believe she was in love with him, of all people. It was funny to think about.
The guilt in her seeped in shortly after realizing that he may have been tired, pouting a little, eventually leaning back and sighing, pulling out the notebook from her bag, flipping page after page, elbow resting over the desk, her cheek on her palm, looking at the number in her notebook.
He was like a dream, one she’d never want to wake up from.
“You should’ve just told me you were tired and went home.” Marinette quietly said, glancing back at him, who stayed asleep. She softly giggled, pulling out her pen and resting her wrist on the page, crossing away the number 143.
She was sure, that today would be the day.
How did they end up like this?
...
Now that’s something Marinette can’t answer.
From endlessly trying to confess, it brought them closer somehow. She just finds herself trailing off whenever it had something to do with her feelings, or opening up.
She wanted to close the gap once and for all.
Somehow, somewhere.
“I thought I could tell you again, but I guess that isn’t the case.” The girl found herself saying, idly looking at the number.
But maybe now wasn’t the time, she thought.
It was her usual, she isn’t any luckier than she was before. It was ironic, because people would refer to her to a ladybug. Being someone that’s out of luck and miserable in the love department, maybe it was ironic. The thought was funny to think about, 'The Ladybug That Never Lived Up To It's Purpose'.
Then a hum escapes her lips, looking closely now that she realizes the number she’s written.
143.
“One, four three."
"A hundred and forty-three.” She repeats, and suddenly everything felt quiet, hearing the birds outside chirp more quietly than they usually do. A smile formed, without her realizing. “That stands for ‘I love you’, doesn’t it?”
Her gaze somewhat softens whenever she catches a glance from him, letting out a soft sigh whenever she’d look at him. “I wonder if…”
“I get to tell you that I like you, too.”
Who was she kidding, she’s talking to him when he’s asleep.
Does it count? Maybe, but the very thought makes her feel a little more at ease.
She can tell him, but in a sense that he most probably doesn’t hear her. “I wonder if, one day, I get to stand with you, while we look at each other, the sun setting…” Maybe it’s better that she doesn’t tell him at all, when he’s conscious.
“And I tell you how I feel.”
Somehow, it sounds nicer that way. Him being unconscious, not knowing the little things she tells him.
“I hope that, I get to say that too.” Not hearing a thing, not realizing what she’s saying.
It’s an unconscious feeling.
Maybe through the wall, where he can’t hear her. “That I like you.”
Where it’s out of either of their control, that he can’t ask about, and she needs not repeat herself. Where the glass remains steady, her breath only fogging up a small part of the glass, enough to say ‘I like you’. Enough to say how she felt. Enough only for her to hear, and for him not to realize.
Perhaps, this way, she remains worry-free.
Maybe he doesn’t have to know.
Her look at him becomes void, and was interrupted with her own breath, leaning back on the desk. “This is stupid to say. You’re asleep, and I’m here rambling.”
And then a chuckle left her lips, looking back at the setting sun from over the horizon.
“Maybe you don’t have to know, after all.”
Marinette leans back, hearing her phone ring from her pocket, picking it up to see a familiar number. She hums in response, looking from the number and back at the classroom, then onto Adrien.
She stands up from her seat, staring at her phone, and walks around the table.
Her footsteps echo, but then it halts her almost immediately when she hears a pen fall to the ground, and her sleeve tugged.
Marinette stops, slowly turning to face the direction of the tug, her eyes widening, until they meet tired green ones.
Her heart drops the moment she realizes.
“Stay.” Adrien breathes, his grip on her having no intention of letting go. His eyes just opened, and he was breathing, presumably holding his breath.
The ringing of her phone echoed throughout the empty classroom as nothing but background ambience, but the fluster on her face made itself known prior to realizing.
He knows.
He heard it.
He knows.
Their gaze remained steady, and her heart beats faster the more she realizes.
He looked as if he were begging her for answers, while she stood there, dumbfounded, her stomach feeling tighter than it usually was and her being much drier than she remembered.
He heard everything that she needed to say, without her trying.
Marinette’s mouth is left hanging, watching him carefully look up at her.
“Stay, please.” He repeats it, and she flinches, the ringtone from her phone falling deaf.
It was silly of her. Of course he could see her through the translucent glass, but the moment she figures it out, he was looking right back at her…
The glass crumbles. The cracks gave out, but it harms neither of them.
She’s afraid of what’s next, feeling exposed all of a sudden, her heart stuck in her throat.
But she swallows it down, eyes glittering, turning to him.
“I love you.” Marinette found herself saying, ignoring the way her heart was pounding inside of her chest. She was ignoring everything that she’s feeling, all the thoughts that warned her in her head, all to take the moment to look at him straight in the eye.
It was different, because this time…
..she was finally saying it to him.
She feels a dam inside her break, not knowing what to make of his gaze that she can see clearly. It suddenly feels like a lot of pressure, knowing now that he knew this entire time.
The light beyond seeped through the cracks just enough to let him know.
But Marinette tugged her sleeve loose from his grasp, finally being able to take a much-needed breath. It made him hum in confusion, looking up to meet her gaze, watching her look at him, cheeks coated in lovesickness.
She squeaks, then takes a step back.
The next thing he knew, she was running away. “W-wait!” He called out to her quickly making his way around the table, catching her wrist.
It was a quick action; he grabs her wrist, pulls her close closing the door, then hugs her from behind.
She feels his breath of relief at the back of her head, and then the way he leaned over her shoulder, the hold around her waist tightening a bit, as if he doesn’t want to let her go.
“I told you to stay..”
Her words were lost. All the words she's once learned before faded, but she needed to collect herself quickly.
Keep it together, Marinette.
“What’s there to stay for?”
“We haven’t had the lesson yet.”
“You should’ve just gone home. You didn’t have to wait for me.”
He’s warm.
She liked his warmth, but she didn’t know why she was running away in the first place. The girl stiffened, daring not to move an inch.
“Then how am I supposed to tell you I like you, too?”
Everything stopped.
The whirring of the wind, the birds chirping, everything ambient was much more silent than she remembered.
It made her heart thud.
The girl stands in place, the boy hugging her from behind, both near the door. She was, even more so, confused than ever.
Being in love had always felt foreign to her. But being there, standing there, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, his head leaning over hers, quietly begging her to stay?
She feels her heart pound louder than it ever did before.
She didn’t know it could do that.
“What?” She speaks up, but it was quiet.
“I like you.”
Adrien lost her there. So he softly chuckles, pulling out of the hug. “Do I have to say it again?”
“Is this because I told you I liked you?”
He shook his head, watching her face him.
“I like you, just because I do. Is there supposed to be a reason for liking you?”
His hair was unusually messy this early evening too, and she figures it was because he fell asleep. “I waited for you all this time to tell you. I didn’t think you’d tell me, too.”
That’s right.
He waited.
He fell asleep in the classroom, and she had no idea.
“Liking you without a reason…” Adrien scoffed, gazing down onto her hand over his. “is it too far if I say I’m in love?”
Marinette was stupid.
Well, that was a given, but this time she really lives up to it after taking a step forward, holding his shoulders, and tiptoed.
She didn’t think this through.
She didn’t wait long enough.
But that doesn’t matter, now.
“I-”
Before Adrien could speak, Marinette’s lips were on his. And yet again, time had stopped.
None of these were planned, the scenarios in her head dissolved the moment her lips made contact with him, and maybe this one was for the better. She figured that she didn’t need a proper confession, nor did she need to tell him everything.
She just needed to tell him.
Marinette pulls away, getting back on her feet, taking a deep breath, face clearly red. He’s dumbfounded, only being able to process everything after she pulls away. She didn’t want to escape, but he holds her hand and tugs her closer anyway, locking her in his arms.
Her heart leaps.
And he kisses her back.