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Marinette had always been a dreamer. It was a trait she inherited from her father, a trait her mother fondly shook her head at, a trait her friends never hesitated to tease her for. She had a big imagination, and it painted everything in vivid color, for good or for ill. When she was upset, her worries seemed insurmountable—dark and heavy storm clouds gathering across her sky, allowing no sunlight to pass through. When she created, she sketched design after design, each more elaborate than the last, oblivious to the hours ticking by or the unfinished homework on her desk. When she was in love, she pictured their life together down to the finest detail, from the names of their children to what gift she'd give him on his 30th birthday.
But she had never imagined that love could be like this.
Her and Adrien wrapped up in each other's embrace, savoring each other's presence, the movie forgotten along with the rest of the outside world. Adrien's body was warm against hers. His chest vibrated against her ear as he hummed. His arms were wrapped around her waist, steady and strong. And in that moment, she didn't want for anything else.
Once, she had had extravagant expectations of what being with him would be like. She spent hours upon hours, days upon days, searching for the perfect confession, the perfect gift, the perfect action, the perfect something that would make the stars align and finally win Adrien's heart. Over and over again, she had failed—of course she had. Every time she got close, every time she wanted to show him how she felt, she would freeze and trip over her words, afraid of being judged and found wanting. Afraid that it wasn't the perfection someone like Adrien deserved. No matter what she did, the fairy tale would always come crashing down. Adrien would never notice her, and she would be left with a thousand plans, a mountain of gifts, and a broken heart.
It was just her luck that for all that time, what she wanted had been right in front of her, if only she'd reach out and take it. Adrien had been offering her his heart on a silver platter, and she'd refused because she didn't understand. Surely he had to be messing with her, right? Cat Noir was gorgeous, funny, and flirtatious. He'd probably been with tons of girls way more awesome than she was; why get stuck on her of all people? What was so special about this one girl? And yet, there he was. Cat Noir had seen her at her worst—covered in goo, thrown around by akuma, saying things she didn't mean, being petty, acting on impulse, failing over and over, and he loved her anyway. It was something it had taken her a very long time to wrap her head around.
Teenage Marinette had been wrong. There's no such thing as perfection.
Gabriel had once believed that too. He had tried to shape Adrien into the image of perfection, not realizing that it was just that, an image. And it doing so, he had drove him to hide parts of himself, to believe that if he was anything less than that impossible ideal, he wasn't worth loving. Adrien didn't need someone to give him the perfect thing, he needed someone to love him when he wasn't.
Searching for perfection was a losing battle, and it had taken her too many years, too many missed chances, and far too many anxiety attacks to understand that. She couldn't do that to herself, and it would be pointless and cruel to expect it out of anyone else.
The search was over. The hiding was over. They were free.
"Adrien?"
"Yeah?"
She took his hand in hers, and pressed a soft kiss to his wrist. "I love you. I know I tell you this all the time, but I'm really happy that you're here."
"I love you too, Princess. Don't ever forget that."
"I never will."