Work Text:
Zoe was unsure of many things as of lately.
She didn’t quite know what made her stutter so much around her friends.
What made her feel not uneasy, but not relaxed either at the sight of them.
She wondered what could possibly be happening.
Her first thought was anxiety.
She assumed it was her mind urging her not to become an outcast again, to make herself loved and appreciated in the group. Her mind refusing to accept the possibility of ever being lonely again.
It wouldn’t really surprise her. It wouldn’t really be anything new.
It turned confusing after a few weeks. Despite the way everyone had so kindly gone overboard trying to make her feel at home, she was still unable to shake the feeling off.
Even after they had tried even harder after she shared what she thought were minor anecdotes, concerned, she still felt the sensation bubble up in her chest every single time.
Zoe did not like feeling uncomfortable around her friends. In her mind, it was almost as if she was walking on thin ice, following a delicate line. A different one than the rest of them. Every step she took towards trying to make things feel right, made her feel even more off the path she tried to take.
She still hid behind a smile, though. She couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t let herself down. She was going to make friends in Paris, and there was nothing that would stop her from avoiding being an outcast again, a loner with no one to turn to and support in exchange.
She knew she would simply not be able to make it if that happened again.
Her second thought was disliking them.
She knew very well the sensation of desiring to avoid someone, and even if she wasn’t entirely convinced this was similar in the slightest, it was still worth analyzing.
Maybe it was the way everyone tried as hard as they could to not let her be an outcast.
She wouldn’t like them to take pity on her, the new girl with a horrible sister and an even scarier mother.
Maybe it was the way they made sure she was never alone.
Couldn’t they understand she needed time to herself, and stop trying to have even their friends in her class to be nice to her?
Who could it be after all that campaign to make her feel like someone deserving to be pitied? Who knew her well enough to have sufficient weapons to use against her?
After some thought, she arrived to the answer.
Marinette.
She was practically the self-appointed leader in the group. She knew every single person in her class who had tried to talk to her so far. Probably even convinced them she was a pure soul after the bakery incident, and told them to be nice no matter what Chloe did or say. Every single time she was there, the feeling went off.
Maybe it was her guts telling her to be careful around her.
Zoe shook the thought off. Why was she thinking so low of her friends? Why was she so quick to judge?
People could be nice just for the sake of being nice and friendly.
Thinking of Marinette as some sort of evildoer was just so utterly ridiculous-
And, there it was.
Spending so much time with Chloe was really starting to affect her.
After such a waste of time, her third thought was that the problem was somewhere deep within herself.
She had changed so much during the months she had spent in Paris, she was pretty sure that if she went back to New York barely anyone would recognize her.
Well, it wasn’t as if many people actually knew her in the first place.
Still though, everyone changed.
So many people had told her she would change. And every single time, she had hidden behind a smile. She was different, yet she couldn’t really explain where or how.
Why.
She was so deeply afraid, and she still had not a single clue why.
She couldn’t figure out what was so profoundly wrong with her that she couldn’t spend time with her friends like a regular person, and jumped to conclusions quickly enough to determine she disliked them.
Especially with Marinette. She had been the very first one out of them to try and reach out to her. Within hours of knowing each other, she had been able to determine something was wrong with her, and did her best to help.
Maybe it was that she could see through her far too well.
Zoe wasn’t used to that, and it was scary.
As she realized that, something inside of her shifted. It felt as if she had woken up from a long sleep.
She wouldn’t mind letting Marinette know more about her.
At all.
Could it be…?
Zoe was so deeply frightened to think about the implications it had, even if most of her friends were like she had just realized she probably was.
The uneasy feeling was so very similar to one she had had long ago, and buried within her memories deep enough she barely remembered it. Until now. She hadn’t even thought of them as the same type of sentiment.
She also noticed something.
Marinette hadn’t been the only girl to make her feel that way.
Only girls had made her feel that way.
At that moment, it clicked.
The sensation was so similar to that of shame, of fear, and nervousness mixed together. Along with longing.
Similar enough to get them mixed up.
She hadn’t read the signs correctly, even if they had been placed right in front of her from the very start.
Her heart fluttering the second Marinette gave her her number, rushing to find a marker.
The way she subconsciously didn’t want the ink to ever fade away, as if it carried her essence on her skin.
The kindness she displayed, giving everything she could to make her feel special, loved and cared for within hours of having met.
The effort she put into making their every second together special.The lingering warmth of Marinette’s hand on hers, and wishing she could hold it forever for a brief second, before having to rush to the hotel.
Something inside of her had changed in a split second just with that.
She was in love with Marinette.
She had dived in head first without even bothering to take a breath before.
She understood it now. It wasn’t black and white, loving or hating who she was.
Just changing the way she viewed the world.
It had changed, but didn’t everyone else too?
It took a lot that night for Zoe to even begin to calm down enough to begin thinking of sleeping.
She couldn’t be the only one who had experienced what she was.
Deep inside, yet not less passionately, she really hoped Marinette could return her affection.
Definitely not in the same way, though.
Zoe had heard many of her stories, enough to make her know there was even a slight possibility.
She wondered what it was for her. She wished for her existence to be as blissful as possible. For her to not ever feel isolated like she had felt, guilty of something or unloved.
What had it taken for her to be comfortable enough to joke around with the rest of the group about her queerness so openly? For her to even realize it?
It was even quite funny when she thought about it.
What were the odds that the first person she talked to when she arrived to Paris was queer too? The odds that the group that had taken her in mostly was too?
She wondered how everyone’s story was. How they had first brought it up to themselves. To their families? How had it first been brought up in the group?
She wondered if discovering that new part of themselves had made anyone else feel just like she felt in that moment.
Alive.
She felt so, so alive.
She let out a chuckle. How had her mind decided her friends wouldn’t like her, that she didn’t like them or that there was something wrong with her before even considering that she could be in love with a girl?
She would sleep peacefully that night. When she managed to hold her mind still enough to sleep, of course.
It was a lot for a day, but the peace of mind couldn’t be compared.
All the inner voices and their words that had troubled her, all of the bad choices she had made obeying them. She didn’t hear them anymore.
She hoped she wouldn’t anymore.
As she finally dozed off, her mind flowed with the sweetest of images, of hopes and dreams.
One day, she would maybe be able to kiss those sweet lips of Marinette. She would be able to hold her hand and caress it, letting the tender wind flow through their hair as they shared a laugh along with an ice cream and a new memory, ready for what would come next.
That would be someday.
In the meanwhile, Zoe could dream.
Thinking about how to confess her feelings, well, that was something for another day.