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"Are you upset things turned out like this?"
His voice is a soft murmur, each word coming after another carefully, but slowly. He tenderly plays with her fingers, holding her hand close to his face like a lifeline. He looks up at her with his lips parted expectantly, waiting with baited breath for a response, one that's probably negative. She takes in a breath.
Tentatively, she shifts closer towards him. Their gazes meet again. "I'm not." She finally answers, and he smiles softly in lieu of a reply. They've always understood each other like this; with subtle touches, mere glances, carefully timed pinpricked breaths.
"I'm sorry." He frowns and to that, she snorts. He looks up again, a question in his eyes, with his eyebrows furrowed.
Marinette giggles softly, the sound chorusing like a symphony in his head, over and over. "You don't need to apologize, silly. I know things happen for a reason." She tuts her lips in disapproval. "Couldn't you have given me some other form of comfort instead of apologizing? Wow guys, look at how comforting my partner is!"
She's theatric and teasing, and the lightheartedness of it lifts Adrien's somber mood up a little bit. He's brought down a bit again though at the last sentence, smiling sadly.
"You know you can't call me that anymore, my lady." He breathes.
Sighing simply, she offers no response to what he said. He takes her hand again— and pauses, hesitating. She trains her eyes on him, nodding imploringly. He presses a soft kiss onto her hand. Finding herself to be a little ticklish, she laughs a bit.
He speaks quietly, nearly whispering as if it were a promise. "I missed your laugh."
She didn't know what to say. He lets go of her hand, reaching for a nearby daffodil.
"You know, daffodils always reminded me of you." She says, watching him, burning the image of him into her memory.
"Is that what they're called? I really don't know anything about flowers." He tilts his head with a curiosity that Marinette hadn't seen in a long time now. She can't clearly remember it anymore.
She takes the one in his hand and puts it behind his ear. "Yeah. They're really pretty, like you." His cheeks become a soft tint of pink — she's always found that blush to be alluring.
"They represent new beginnings, or rebirth and hope." She continues, inhaling softly. "They're also sometimes given as a farewell or condolence to someone you once loved."
Clad in the robes of sunrise, Marinette can clearly see the fond smile that had formed on his face. "Never knew you were so into flower symbolism."
A lull in conversation takes place before he speaks up again. "I'm proud of you, you know? You're doing the right thing." He said, extending his hand, gifting her a dandelion. Growth, hope, healing.
Her figure tenses a bit as she gingerly holds the flower in her hands. "I can't help but feel as if it's all wrong. I don't like when the world's bright. The world doesn't deserve to be bright; not without you as the light source."
"Geez, now you're the one to wax poetic. Has me being gone been that bad?" Adrien teases. The question lingers in the air unanswered, rhetorical, because the answer was as clear as day to any observer looking in.
Sighing a bit, he makes eye contact with her. His softened eyes don't look any different. "I'm telling the truth. You're growing, and I'll kill you if you get mad about growing without me. I want you to be happy. 'Moving on' doesn't mean that you're forgetting me; that you're forgetting us. You're allowed to move on."
Tears filling up, her eyes blurred and burned. "And—" He goes on, not having finished yet. "—like I told you, you shouldn't feel like you're not deserving of help. It's okay to be weak. No one can be strong all the time, Mari."
At some point, she's full-on sobbing, but she doesn't feel self-conscious at all with his presence drifting nearby.
"I miss you."
She whispers, and it's like a desperate plea; an unheard promise, because the last thing she sees — like clockwork — is his smile before she woke up again to the sight of morning colors.