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Alya opened the curtains, letting the warm morning sun enter the room, filling it with brightness. Her girlfriend had refused to see the sun for weeks, and it was the only way she was getting any vitamin D nowadays.
For days, she had been scared. There could be so many things that could go wrong, so many worthy of her preoccupied tears.
The first of many visits to the doctor, Alya tried to remain strong. Unmovable, nothing could break her. At least that was what she tried to show to the world.
When the doctor gave them the results, she could do nothing but pray. Pray to the universe to heal her girlfriend. Beg for the possibility of the existence of a Kwami of healing, of recovery, anything she could use should the situation get worse.
Marinette had pushed herself too much. Protected herself, true, but trying to help others, fighting the horrors of the city, it all had slammed her to the ground.
Alya had tried to talk her out of it quite a few times, but she refused to rest until she couldn't breathe, working from the insides of their shared home for days while she couldn't go out until the late hours of the night.
Her body demanded a break, a long needed yet neglected one. One of the many that had succumbed to the illness, just another number in the statistics. Another headline to fill the news.
"Parisian heroine on sick leave."
Now, Alya could only wish she'd make it.
After her morning checkup, just like every day, Marinette asked the question, still gasping for air every few words.
"How is… How is it going?"
"You're doing amazing, babe. A little more rest and you'll be back jumping over roofs. Soon, very soon, you'll get better."
Marinette sighed with the little air she had left. From what she could overhear the doctor telling her girlfriend, it would most likely never be the same. How would it be, if she was still almost passing out from the lack of air her brain was getting every time she stood up, let alone doing her usual Ladybug gymnastics?
"The nurse will be here in about half an hour, and after that I'll go patrol."
Half delirious from the little oxygen her brain received, Marinette pouted, her tone almost childish as she protested.
"But I want you to be here!"
"I know, I know, but Honoré is coming today. You like her, don't you? From what I've seen, she's one of the nicest nurses you've had."
"We'll wait for you to play cards tonight, deal?"
"Deal."
Alya wondered how her girlfriend always managed to find a way to make things look even a little brighter. Even with the occasional grumpiness, and the days where she didn't even want to see the sun, she was still there, being as strong as always.
Marinette faced whatever was troubling her immune system and mind, unlike her. She wouldn't pretend it wasn't there, pretend nothing happened to keep herself sane like Alya did.
Whenever she couldn't keep on pretending, she tried brightness. The day she arrived home with buckets of yellow, orange and red paint so they could decorate their kitchen. Soft yellow, with ornaments in bright, almost neon orange, just like her former suit had been. Red spots gave the base of their counter a funny appearance that would make her smile.
Marinette had painted those, as it was the only area she could reach without having to leave her chair and risking falling down. She gave the counter streaks of orange, somehow making it look good, as if trails of fire traveled along the material, ending on the spots that now looked like meteors.
She brightened up the room solely by stepping in.
Alya wished she could make the sky brighter for her girlfriend, even for a second. Just to see her smile.
She would keep on trying to relieve her from everything she could, from taking over as Scarabella while she got her rest, to cooking introducing her to Creole cuisine, learning from Sabine via phone call how to make Chinese soups to make her feel even more at home than she was.
Marinette would get better soon.
For some miracle of the universe, Alya had been ill before, so she could take care of here while her built immunity lasted. And when it ran out, she would try to find a way, find some way in which she could do more, be there for her.
Nothing else mattered more than the wellbeing of her girlfriend. If the newspaper she worked for was to ever ask her to return to work in person, she would find a way to stay home. She was grateful for the home office mandate in the meanwhile, since it allowed her to take breaks for patrolling without having to dive into awkward explanations about why she took longer lunch breaks, the same ones she used to patrol.
She longed for the day when she could finally tell Chat Noir it was her last day filling in, when he no longer had to listen to her endless rambles about her worries regarding her girlfriend. He had been her rock for all that time, always kind, always understanding.
He didn't judge, offered to listen when Scarabella looked specially worried. Never judged her for speaking about how it made her feel, never told her she made it about herself like many others had done.
She wondered often what she would have done without him. It was no wonder Marinette spoke so highly of him, considered him one of her closest friends for so long.
It would never be the same, all of them knew. It would probably take longer than "soon" for Marinette to fully recover. But she would. Alya did not only hope it, but deep inside, knew it.
Whenever Marinette asked when would she be well enough to go back to her hero duties, she would always answer the same.
"Soon. Soon you'll get better."
She would go back. Soon. Someday