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"She supposes it really should have been some completely life-altering revolution, he thinks that they’d probably known all along."
Adrian is ecstatic.
When he’d first proposed the idea of celebrating their anniversary to Ladybug, a part of him wasn’t entirely sure if she would even agree. Strong-willed and determined as always, she often seamed reluctant to meet up with him outside of their routine bad guy ass-kickings or nightly patrols across the midnight Parisian skyline.
Which admittedly hurt a little, if he’s being honest. Sometimes, in the dead of night or early hours of the morning, long after she had left him amongst the city lights on grounds of being someplace or another, when doubt circled and smoked around in the corners of his conscious, he would wonder if he even had a place in her heart at all.
But then she would surprise him. It was always little things that did him in, how she smiled like a thousand suns and loved the early hours of the morning despite almost never being awake for them. How she could look at him with entire constellations in her eyes and turn his whole world sideways without even trying, and he just knew. Knew that even if he didn’t hold a place in her heart like she did his, that even if she one day came to hate him with all she had, he would still follow this girl over the edge of the universe and back again.
So, after spending the night beating up a particularly nasty trio of akuma, completely drained and utterly exhausted, Adrian is ready to throw in the towel on the whole anniversary shindig when she totally tosses him for a loop, again.
Because she actually agrees.
And exhaustion means nothing to Adrien in light of this revelation, he bounds into the classroom first thing in the next morning feeling like he’s got the entire universe in the palm of his hand.
Few people actually arrive to class this early, in fact he doesn’t even usually arrive to class this early, so when he sees Marinette with her head pillowed in her arms, dreaming away on her desk, his grin is otherworldly.
There’s something about her that tugs wildly at his head and his heart, a not so unfamiliar feeling that he wants so desperately to understand, and somewhere deep down, thinks a part of him already does.
“Marinette?” He inquires, somewhat softly, torn between wanting to wake her, to see her smile and hear her voice, and letting the poor girl sleep in peace.
But she stirs slightly at the sound of his voice, and she’s awake before he can think better of it.
Her eyes, his favorite shade of blue, meet his and he wonders when her smile started feeling like the center of the universe. Probably when she first kicked his ass in monopoly.
They banter like they’ve been doing it for years, laughter filling the empty hallways, and lighting up constellations in her eyes. She sticks her tongue out him and he grins like the devil and thinks about how the girl beside him now feels lightyears away from the girl he’d met a year ago.
She’d been different then, in a way. Or maybe she’d always been like this; determined to a fault, innovative, beautiful. Maybe he just hadn’t taken the time to notice, or maybe she hadn’t been ready to reveal herself. He remembers the flighty girl who tripped over her own feet with more grace and confidence then should be humanly possible. He thinks of the fires that burned in her eyes when she thought no one else was watching, and eventually even when everyone was. It was like she’d started as a storm and became a hurricane before he’d even had the chance to run for cover. He wasn’t entirely sure that he even wanted to.
He thinks about how this girl feels a little like home. Not like his home, dark and stuffy and perpetually abandoned by most of life’s more pleasant emotions, but how a home should feel. Exciting and warm and oh so like a place he actually wanted to return to, somewhere—someone—he actually wanted to belong to.
There’s another person who fits the same description. Only one other person, actually.
It’s a train of thought that lights up his eyes and his heart and feels oh so right, and he lets it go and go until the whole thing finally derails and goes screeching right off the tracks.
His bones have a theory, one that screams, demands to be considered. But the teacher walks in, and he decides to saves their conversations for a day when it doesn’t feel like there’s a hurricane going on inside his heart.