Work Text:
December 31, 7:00 PM
Alya texts her best friend, “Starting to get ready!”
She wipes a droplet from her wet hair off the phone’s screen.
Marinette replies, “Same.”
It’s important to send Marinette reminders of the time. There’s a chance the text was honest and she’s really getting ready for tonight. There’s also a chance she’s across town from her house, just now remembering that it’s New Year’s Eve. A lot is left up to chance with Marinette.
Alya turns her speakers up and takes an hour getting ready. It’s twice as long as she normally takes, but tonight’s not a normal occasion.
8:00 PM
Alya texts her date, “Ready. Are you?”
She finishes up her hair while she waits. Sprays in it in place. Winks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Barefoot in nude stockings, she twirls back into her room, pacing around it to the beat of her playlist. She dusts glitter over her bare shoulders. She checks her gold cocktail dress again in the mirror, feeling confident and nervous. She knows she looks great for sure. She worries over whether she will look this great to Marinette.
She looks at her phone. Still no answer.
9:00 PM
“It’s getting late. We’re going to miss dinner.” Alya hits send.
She’s slumped on the bed. Still barefoot and squeezed tight into her dress. There’s no checkmarks by the last few messages Alya sent. Either Marinette is ignoring her or she isn’t receiving them.
She types again, only a minute after the last one. “I don’t think my texts are going through, but I’m on my way.”
Maybe Marinette is already there, with no phone signal, waiting for Alya. She slides her feet into the booties she’d been putting off until the last minute. They look so good, but they’re so tall. She wraps a coat around herself and heads out to catch a cab.
9:35 PM
She gets dropped off outside of a luxurious hotel. White-gloved doormen greet her warmly as she comes in from the cold. She writes a text in the lobby. “I’m already here. Where you at?”
She takes the elevator up to the restaurant on the 33rd floor. She tells a poised hostess her name, and while the woman looks it up, Alya hopes she’ll be told there is already someone waiting at the table for her.
“Is your plus one with you?” the hostess asks.
Something sinks in Alya’s chest. “No, she’s on the way.”
10:00 PM
Alya texts her plus one, “The kitchen’s closing soon. Hurry up!”
Alya watches the Eiffel tower glow through the restaurant’s windowed walls. Black polished nails fidget against the white table cloth. Around her, couples and families talk loudly, laugh obnoxiously. She’s the only one sitting alone.
A waiter comes by to let her know it’s the last minute before the kitchen cleans up. Alya sends Marinette a text letting her know she ordered for her.
11:00 PM
Alya waits with two plates of cold food at her table. It’s so like Marinette to do this. To wait until the very last minute to arrive, then brush everything off with her sunny attitude. The people at tables around her keep looking at Alya with sad, sympathetic expressions. It’s humiliating.
“???????” is all Alya has the patience to send.
11:30 PM
Alya clutches her phone, waiting. None of her texts have been read. She’s worried, bordering on afraid. What if something happened to Marinette?
To push away the dread consuming her over the possibility that Marinette is hurt or dead somewhere, Alya remembers that Marinette never came to her 15th birthday and never said why. When the new Mad Max came out, Alya sat on a bench at the mall waiting for Marinette for an hour. She missed the first fifteen minutes while waiting, then ended up watching it alone. Marinette said she’d fallen asleep. She remembers the day her soul was twisted into Lady Wifi. How many times she tried to reach out to Marinette when she was distressed, and never got an answer. There were so many times that Marinette left Alya alone or ignored her for entire days.
Marinette doesn’t know how much it stings to love your best friend more than she loves you.
11:59 PM
Each person in the restaurant has risen from their table to stand against the back window, staring at the Eiffel Tower as they count down out loud. Alya lingers at the back of the crowd. It hits her that Marinette isn’t coming.
January 1, 12:00 AM
Everyone around her embraces at the stroke of midnight, kissing their loved ones as fireworks explode behind the Eiffel. The most romantic beginning to the New Year imaginable. Alya stands still, except for a tremble in her hands as they grip her elbows. She tries to focus on the fireworks, but her vision is going foggy.
Outside, Ladybug is running faster than she ever has in her life. She sees bursts of color blazing overhead, and panic seizes her. It’s too late. She swings across the rooftop and lands roughly at the cobblestone entrance to the hotel Marinette is supposed to be in. Her earrings chime in panic, screaming at her to find somewhere to hide, but the front gate is deserted. She figures it’s safe to transform right here while everyone’s attention is turned toward the Tower at midnight.
Except for one. Someone storms out into the cold night, clutching her coat to her chest with one hand. The clack of her stilettos halts when she realizes she’s not alone.
Ladybug forgets herself for a moment, and her lips part to apologize, but words fail her when she really looks at Alya. She’s wearing heels, which she never does, and the effect they have on her already strong posture is nothing short of regal. Her coat hasn’t been properly put on and falls mostly open, revealing the glow of her décolletage in the wintry moonlight. Her hair is curled so elegantly, falling in sienna ribbons around her face, the dyed tips just barely resting over her collar bones. Her lips are heartbreaking; full and dark red, releasing shaky exhales that are too quiet to be considered sobs, but dangerously close. Ladybug follows the black streaks trickling over her cheeks up to meet her brown eyes, open wide and still shimmering.
“Ladybug?”
Self-consciously, Alya slides her fingertips beneath the rim of her glasses to wipe the tears, and it only spreads the smudge of black more. Marinette strides forward and wraps her arms around Alya, pulling her into a tight hug. Something in Alya snaps and she sobs, pressing her face into Ladybug’s shoulder. The sound tears through Ladybug like a knife, ripping her open. Marinette did this and she’ll never forgive herself, even though she knows Alya will. Ladybug’s hand rises to caress Alya’s hair while she struggles to pull herself together. The miraculous is ringing frantically, and they both know what it means.
Alya pulls back to look her in the eye and whispers, “Don’t you need to go?”
She knows Alya forgives her every time. She knows she doesn’t need to do anything to make up for it. But Ladybug stays where she is, hoping that it will. “I’m where I need to be.”
Her hand is still cradling the back of Alya’s head. Gently, she uses it to pull Alya in. Their mouths meet, and Ladybug presses a tender kiss to her closed lips. Alya makes a quiet noise that Ladybug barely hears, but feels the hum against her skin. Alya dreamt about this happening for so long that she expects the chiming of Ladybug’s earrings to turn into the sound of her alarm clock, and wake up in bed to find this was all a terrible dream.
The flash of Ladybug’s transformation breaking burns bright through their closed eyelids. Alya’s eyes snap open and she’s half-disappointed, half-pleased to find that tonight was very real. She needs to pull back for her vision to focus on… Marinette. Her best friend, Marinette. The love of her life, Marinette. Is in Ladybug’s place, with her arms wrapped warmly around Alya.
“I’m so, so sorry I’m late.” Marinette smiles tentatively, doing that thing she always does where she thinks she’s so precious she can get away with anything.
Well. She’s right. Alya’s hands come to rest on Marinette’s waist and pull her into the only kiss she’d thought about more than Ladybug’s.