Work Text:
Nathanael cleanly glued a square-shaped piece of black construction paper onto the center of a larger violet-colored one. Upon its precise placement, he wiped the edges and sharp corners clean of any remnants of squished-out and leaking droplets of sticky glue. He rubbed the excess glue in-between his thumb and index fingers, clumping the dried-up glue stains into balls. Scraping away its remains, the redhead grabbed another piece of paper, a white one at that, and dug through his plastic pencil case for his mechanical pencil.
He scrunched his eyebrows together in knitted concentration and fidgeted with the tip of the pencil, tapping it lightly on the wooden desk like an active metronome. Seconds past, and the white paper was as empty of lead markings as it was earlier. Nathanael sighed at his massive art block. Truly, deadlines were the murderers of inspiration and creativity. Uninspired, Nathanael took out his phone and stuck an earbud in one ear, intending to listen to some music to get his creative juices flowing. Before long, he was humming a silly old French about Les Champs-Elysees. Eyes closed, he rapped his pencil to a soft and steady beat as if to mimic the instrumental. Enthralled by the singer’s voice, he sang acapella along to it in a rhythmic fashion. He was no singer, but the catchy love song was a motivator for him to finish his secret art project.
A few hours have passed since Nathanael started his latest work, and time was quickly running out. His date with his girlfriend was that night, and there was much work to be done. The tomato-haired teen flipped backwards through the drying pages of the scrapbook and traced his fingers over a sketch of the enigmatically gorgeous muse he was drawing. Nathanael smiled in reverence. He had spilled his heart and soul on these pages, pouring all of his love and admiration for his Mona Lisa, the nickname he gave her. Mysterious and beautiful, he had described her in reference to the famous painting.
Her presence would not leave his head. Her ultraviolet hair. Her amber eyes. Her soft smiles, the ones reserved for him and him only. She would consume his thoughts, his daydreams, and leave him wide awake at night, but he was greedy for more.
He had never been good with his words. Writing or speaking aloud was and never will be his number one forte. Art solved that internal conflict of his. It was his escape from awkward conversations or moments. Throughout their relationship together, he hadn’t had the chance to say those special three words to the masterpiece beside him. In her consideration, she never asked him for much, knowing he was terribly timid. And her compassion was another reason Nathanael adored his sweet girlfriend.
He was never good with words. Writing and speaking aloud will never be a skill he’ll excel in. But, Nathanael was grateful to solve his lack of communication skills with art. Art was an escape for him. An escape from awkward conversations and mindless chatter. But throughout the entirety of his relationship with Juleka, he never possessed the confidence nor the chance to tell her the special three words, the special eight letters. He’d mouthed them to himself, but his courage always faltered in front of his Mona Lisa. But Nathanael was blessed as the luckiest man in Paris. Because she was a considerate person, Juleka never pushed him. And her compassion was another reason for Nathanel to adore his sweet girlfriend.
Their romance wasn’t fast-paced or ground-shaking, but rather the opposite. Like most, Nathanael walked into love. The pair were the class introverts, each preferring to keep to themselves than subject themselves to their class’ sociable tendencies. But after being partnered together more than once during art class, it was only a matter of time before their friendship shifted from platonic to romantic.
While their high school lives have transitioned and made room for college, the tomato-head wasn’t one to show his affections toward her in public openly. He was usually quite expressive about how he felt about her, preferring to express his love in gift-giving and acts of service. But Nathanael wondered if it was enough. He was sure Juleka wouldn’t be a fan of him professing his love to her atop the Eiffel Tower for all to see, but the redhead was unsure. Juleka said he was easy to read, but Nathanael didn’t have a clue if Juleka wanted more.
It was no secret, but Nathanael and Juleka were inexperienced in the dating world. Juleka was always understanding of that, and the same applied to him. To this day, it was surreal to him. His first and long-term relationship was with Juleka. Surreal, he thought. His girlfriend was always gently asking his permission regarding public affections and seeing his boundaries. She loved holding hands, slightly adjusting his shaggy hair, and pecking his cheeks. She’d always make an excuse to see his cheeks redden. Nathanael was worried that their shyness would lead to miscommunication and make their relationship strictly business and cold, a nightmare he loathed. As such, he wanted to tell her how he felt before it reached that point. The redhead was always procrastinating, always later instead of sooner, but he planned to change that today,
The solution was obvious. If words were too hard, he would have to illustrate it to her, his ocean-deep feelings. She meant the world to him. She meant the sun and stars to him. She meant everything to him. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment he fell for her, but he intended to work to keep her. To be the man she deserved and make her happy.
His eyelids closed from exhaustion, and her stunning silhouette appeared. He filled dozens of sketchbooks of her, but he couldn’t understand why it was difficult for him to do it now. Nathanael opened his eyes, and decided to shut off his brain if only briefly. Her hair came easy to him, raven black with violet streaks. But her eyes and closed-mouth smiles always left him gnawing on his pencil’s eraser top. The finishing touches to his present were throwing him in a loop, and he didn’t have much time.
Their dates were a tradition of sorts. Every month, on the same exact day, in remembrance of their first date, the pair would exchange gifts and then each would take a turn to plan out their anniversary date. Of course, the couple planned more than one date together each month, but their anniversary dates were the most important. Unfortunately for Nathanael, it was the tomato head’s turn this month, and he was blanking. For the past eleven months, the couple did nearly everything together. The one today would signify their one year anniversary, and he wanted it to exceed perfect.The art gallery, a Jagged Stone concert, skateboarding (that one he absolutely hated), the Louvre, selfies at the Eiffel Tower, the Notre Dame, etcetera.
The stress was worse than taking a chemistry test worth 80% of his grade, having not studied. There was no correct answer. True or false. Multiple choice. The ink and numerical digits on the paper would’ve blurred his field of vision. Nathanael’s trembling fingers lost their grip on the pencil, and he nearly squashed the leftover lead from tension, crumpling the sketch paper.
Aggravated and near his limit, the redhead released the pencil, to which it plummeted from his hand and rolled over the table. The artist slowly dragged his hands down his face in mild irritation. Why couldn't he figure it out? What is the one thing he and the love of his life haven’t done yet? He blushed at his internal monologue.
Closing his eyes, he brainstormed. What to do, what to do, what to do . . .
At a sudden realization, he jolted in his seat. There were no words to describe his stupidity for not thinking of it earlier. Although, there was one small problem.
He paused his playlist and gently took out the earbuds connected to his phone. Logging into his device, Nathanael anxiously tapped on his contacts, scrolling down the list until his thumb slid to a stop at one particular name. To soothe his nerves, he sucked in a deep breath of air. As soon as the redhead clicked on the name and pressed the call button, the ringing noise quietly echoed across his bedroom.
Anxious, he spun his pencil in his free hand. There was no reason for him to be nervous. Oh wait, he knew. It was because the person on the other line used to be his childhood crush. The only other person who had once caused butterflies to flutter in his stomach. The one who broke his heart after her rejection.
The other line picked up, and static noises bursted from the other side. The artist’s breath hitched as the feminine voice spoke first.
She answered, “Hello?”
”M-Marinette. Hi,” Nathanael stammered as he fiddled with the pink eraser tip of his wooden pencil out of nervous habit, trying for a failed greeting.
“Nathanael,” she gasped in surprise, feeling chipper, “how’ve you been? We haven’t spoken in a while.”
“I-I’ve been . . . uh . . . g-great, Marinette,” he winced, “Listen, I need a favor,” he explained, hoping she’ll look past his stuttering.
”Sure!” Marinette chirped, “anything for an old friend!”
“Really? Thanks, Marinette! So, y-you know it’s my one-year anniversary with Jules today, right? I could use your help.”
“Uh, obviously! You two are like the Romeo and Juliet of the 21st century! No way would I miss any deets on one of my best friends and her boyfriend! Especially since Alya knows EVERYTHING! It’s actually pretty creepy, but I think that’s beside the point,” she giggled into the phone.
Nathanael awkwardly laughed back, sweat-dripping at the thought of that old ombré-haired classmate of his stalking his and Juleka’s every single move on their dates. It freaked him out just by imagining it.
“So, what part do I play in all this?” Marinette asked.
“W-Well, you see . . . ” Nathanael faltered, “I haven’t actually thought of a place where the both of us can visit yet, and I was wondering if you had any ideas?”
She probably thinks I’m a terrible boyfriend , Nathaneal lamented.
“Hm . . .” Marinette hummed so thoughtfully that the redhead could easily imagine her posture on the other line, chin jutted out and lips pursed.
A snap of the fingers is heard from the other side of the screen. “I’ve got it! Why not take her to the Champs-Elysees? It just sounds so romantic if you think about it! Hand in hand, walking down those streets together, blissfully covertly alone ,” she emphasized that last word suggestively.
The coincidence of her answer and the song by Joe Dassin he was singing earlier distracted him from Marinette’s teasing. It wasn’t until he took a second to process her implications that his face became as red as coral. Nathanael was suddenly thankful his former crush was unable to see his face. She’d never let him live it down.
“J-Just who do you think I am, Marinette! As if I would ever take advantage of Juleka like that!” He yelled in protest, his indignant voice betraying his embarrassed physical state.
He heard an uncontrollable guffaw from the fashion designer. “I’m just kidding, Nath! I know you’re a gentleman. I trust you’d never do anything to hurt Jules. You’re just that nice of a guy,” she teased. “Anyways, do you think that place will work some miraculous magic for you both?”
Nathanael sighed at her Ladybug pun and his predicament, placing the phone on his desk and putting it on speaker. “Can’t hurt to try, I’ve got nothing to lose other than the love of my life,” he deadpanned.
“Trust me, Nath. She’s going to love it, I just have this hunch. And my hunches are always on point.”
“Whatever you say. By the way, terrible pun earlier,” his mouth quirked with a small smile. There was a comfortable air between the two former classmates now. Truly, he did miss her.
He heard her groan. “Tell me about it, I think Adrien’s rubbing off on me. I’ve been making horrible puns like that all week. It’s getting exhausting. I don’t know how he thinks of new, terrible ones all the time.”
The artist chuckled. “Should’ve figured that. Hey, thanks a load for helping me out with this. I owe you one.”
“No problem! Anytime,” he heard her squeak, “Ooh, got to go, Nath. Alya’s callin’. I’ll see ya around, kay? Ciao!” With that, she hung up, and the line went dead.
Clicking the off button, Nathanael slid the cellular device to the side and sighed heavily out of relief, dropping his head over the back of his chair and slouching.
He was glad that their conversation wasn’t that awkward in the least due to Marinette’s ecstatic small talk and jolly cheer that was so bright she could have been shouting out to him “Merry Christmas!” in spring.
”Alright, back to work,” the redhead said to no one in particular as he held his hand out in front of the pencil, willing it to fly into his fingers. When nothing happened, and the pencil continued to sit there, Nathanael sighed for the billionth time again and picked up the writing stick himself.
But, Nathanael didn’t seem to mind nor care. It was just him in the room. Him, his pencils, and his paper. And his Mona Lisa.
***
Juleka sat leisurely on a wooden park bench, legs crossed casually and arms embracing a small gift box. A breeze blew past her purple-black hair, to which she tucked one of her eyes under her bangs. She pulled her phone out of her black jacket and checked the text message her boyfriend sent her an hour ago.
artsy boi: Meet me at the park in front of the Eiffel Tower. I’m gonna show you my view of Paris.
She giggled at the cheesiness of the second line of text and the winking emoji he used since it was so unlike him. After a quick glance at the time, Juleka turned the phone off and sighed. Fifteen minutes passed, and there was no sign of her boyfriend. To say she was a bit worried was saying it lightly.
”Juleka!” A breathless voice called out, snapping Juleka out of her dreamy trance.
She broke her gaze from the ground and saw a shadow blocking the orange-pink sunset. Golden irises met turquoise ones. The pair came to a standstill. Peering closer, Juleka could make out Nathanael’s heavy breathing, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, and shaky legs. Her eyes trailed down to his arms, tightly wrapped around a messily paper packaged box.
“Nathanael,” she whispered, loud enough for only him to hear.
The scarlet-haired boy smiled tiredly. “Hey, Mona Lisa. Sorry I took so long,” he held his present up in explanation. “Finishing the last touches of this thing right here took longer than I bargained for and-“
He never finished that sentence when two milky pale arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. .
“J-Juleka? I-”
She felt his heart rate accelerating, but that only made her hug him even harder.
“Say no more,” she murmured into his stiff ear, nestling comfortably into the crook of his neck. Taken aback, Nathanael clumsily embraced her back, burying his matching flushed face into her thick hair.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s warmth in the chilly air. When they released their hold on one another, they couldn’t stop the mingling of their pink noses and swift, daring eye contact. Soon, their staring contest ended unwillingly as the night was about to overpower the sun. The streetlights blinked with an ethereal, soft blue glow, and all that could be heard was the rustle of leaves and quiet breathing.
“Happy anniversary,” Juleka said first as she pocketed the minuscule square box and handed it to the artist.
Nathanael grasped the present as the wrapping paper crinkles in his impatient fingers. Gently ripping it, he revealed the new plastic-covered sketch pad he had been talking about for the past few weeks.
“This was the sketchbook I wanted,” Nathanael said incredulously as he hugged the book to his heart’s content.
Juleka twirled a strand of plum purple hair, “Yeah . . . You looked so happy when we were looking at it at the store so I just figured-“
“Jules, thank you,” the redhead said genuinely in absolute glee. “Now, here’s your gift. I hope it measures up to your expectations.” He had never been more nervous in his entire life; nothing could prepare him for this moment now.
The suspense was killing him. Intently, he watched her tear apart the thin sheets of jet black wrapping paper and violet ribbons. As the last pieces of paper plummet to the ground, Juleka traced the edges of the beautifully handcrafted scrapbook.
When Juleka didn’t speak for several moments, the redhead began to worry that she didn’t like it. “Um . . . i-if you don’t like it, I can t-take it back and-“
“I don’t like it,” she said in a monotone. The words were like knives as they dug into Nathanael’s heart, shattering it into numerous shards.
“I-I see,” he reached his hand out to take it back and stomp on it like she had just stomped on his heart and hurled his latest masterpiece completely dedicated to her into the garbage bin. “Then I’ll just-“
“I love it,” his heart stopped, and he dared to make eye contact with her sparkling amber eyes. What was with everything interrupting him today? Not that he minded.
“There’s only one word I can use to describe this present, Nath,” she smiled softly and giggled at his astounded priceless expression. She leaned in close with an innocent and cheeky grin.
“Awe-some,” she sounded out. Yup, they both weren’t good with their words, but it never seemed to matter anyway.