Work Text:
"Tikki.."
"Yes, Marinette?"
"What do you do when it feels like.. your world stopped, but it's still going without you," Marinette stares at her phone, sat on the floor wrapped in the soft blankets her father gifted her after seeing her dim mood. A simple test on her screen, a few anonymous social sites on another page with questions she was slowly getting answers to at a time like this.
"You stay in the moment, until you're ready to get back up, you have the time for that," Tikki responds, floating just a smidge away from her phone for privacy but already knowing . She knows Tikki is worried and she doesn't mean to, but with the everlasting pit in her stomach and her eyes wilted in exhaustion she can't find it in her to care when her world's been tipped upside down. She's always been open minded of course, that came naturally growing up, her parents even said it themselves they'd only ever wanted a child, didn't matter how she looked, who she liked, just that she was happy. The scene flashes behind her eyes, years ago when she was younger than she is now, trying to make a successful loaf of bread but slipping over nothing and flour coating her skin. She remembers her parent's concern, rushing to their 7 year old daughter in fear only to see her white as a ghost, staring up in surprise before they'd both burst into laughter.
She remembers her dad taking her upstairs and cleaning her, all the while passing tiny jokes to lighten Marinette's guilt at her clumsiness. 'You could make any mistakes and I'd forgive you no matter what,' he'd said. 'Me and your mother only want you to be happy, doesn't matter who you love, or who you'll grow up to be,' he'd also added. She remembers her younger self pretending to throw up at the thought of falling for a boy, saying 'I'm gonna be with you forever daddy!' a pure hearted response that made him pick her up and embrace her, delivering multiple tiny pecks as she'd giggled. Little Marinette never understood the message underlining that tiny gesture. She could never have predicted how much she'd need that reassurance right now, curling in on herself as tears pricked her eyes, her mouth quivering in threat of a sob.
She's Trans.
"What do I do Tikki?" She gasped, harshly wiping the tears from her eyes as the kwami rushed to replace her hands. "I know they always say they love me but.. what if it's not true, what if they're lying? What if they just want a normal clutzy daughter that's in love with a boy–"
"You'll never know until you tell them Marinette, you can't predict what you don't know," Marinette felt a lurch in her heart at the name, something that she's never liked the more she reflects on it, a beautiful name yet so wrong, not right for her.
"But you don't know if they'll accept me, if they'll kick me out, or hurt me any other way, if they'll tell everyone–"
"Marinette!"
"Don't call me that! Please, Tikki.." She cried, overwhelmed by the tears that they've both stopped trying to wipe away, Tikki only hugging her cheek, antennas wilting.
"I'm sorry Ma–" She stopped in her tracks, taking a deep breath before speaking again, "I know you're scared of what people may think of you after they find out, but you've always had a caring family, and friends. I may have only been with you a few years, but I can see how much everyone cares about you, and how much they respect you, so many of your friends already support or share your identity, even in different experiences," Tikki hugged her tighter, her own tears streaming down. "I just know I love you so much, and I've seen you becoming one of the most phenomenal Ladybugs to date, It would be crazy to think anyone could hate you for being transgender," She sniffled at Tikki's words, barely able to talk with how much emotions she feels.
"Thank you, Tikki" She whispers, trying not to cry more than she already has, feeling the relieved smile against her cheek.
"What should I call you?" Tikki mumbles, backing up to see her face.
"I.. I don't know yet,"
".. Are your pronouns still the same?" She was quiet for a moment. "You can be honest Ma– or if you don't know either that's okay too," She nuzzled her again.
She broke into a small smile, laying on her back and dropping her phone. "I think I like 'He/Him', I'm not entirely sure though, I might just hate it and be going through some random 1 a.m. panic," He lied, Tikki immediately catching on.
"Here let's try it!" She said enthusiastically, the boy unable to let out a word until she's talking again, "This is my miraculous holder, He's a boy and he loves fashion designing, and baking, and helping his friends! He's the best friend anyone could ask for, and he's very brave and strong!" She goes on, making him smile with fondness, enjoying Tikki's clear support. She keeps reassuring him until he's starting to fall asleep finally after hours of anxiousness.
"I missed patrol," He acknowledged briefly staring at the clock on his desk.
"I'm sure Chat Noir will understand," Tikki mumbles, bringing another factor into his list of people he needs to come out to. He thinks in his head 'at least he'll stop flirting with me' before his breathing slows, consciousness floating.
"I'll tell my parents tomorrow," He yawned, Tikki blinking an eye open on top of him.
"Only if you're ready, they'll love you regardless," She hummed.
Tikki always knows what to say. "Thank you Tikki," He mumbled before sleep found him.
He'd gotten up much earlier than he wanted, having only 4 hours of sleep due to his anxiousness. Tikki was still on his face, only slightly shifted across his cheek, using the nose as a pillow. He silently huffed, gently picking his Kwami up and resting her on the bean bag. He staggered his way towards the sink, filling it with water before drowning his face in it, gurgling under it just for a moment of peace. He leaned into the sink, letting his arms sag on the side. Once he felt the clutching need to breath he threw his head back, breathing in through the nose before exhaling through his mouth. I'll be okay, he told himself, bracing his hands on the sink after clearing his eyes. He always thought something felt so... disfigured, sullen, wrong about this image. His hair was a mess, pointing out in every which-way. He curled a hand through his hair, tangling in small knots and unkempt parts, taking out his hair ties along the way. Somehow the void in his chest got enlarged, his long hair more triggering than it was in pigtails, not to mention the way some lay against his chest, bringing more attention there. There was so much to hate about himself now that he knew.. Something that's always reared its head in prime moments, in every moment a friend spoke his deadname, with every mention of him complimented as a beautiful girl, a young lady, the best daughter anyone could wish for. Those all seemed like backhanded compliments now, like they knew long before he did, like it was all intentional to drive him to madness and make sure he stayed pretending to be the girl he was supposed to be, that he was born into. He stared back into the girl's eyes, teary eyed, bags underneath, and looking as empty as he feels. He struggled to look away from the reflection. Quickly grabbing a spare towel and draping it over the mirror.
God, he hates this.
When he turns around, he sees Tikki stirring in her sleep, light streaming from his window as he listens to his parents moving around downstairs. With everything going on he's barely got going to school on his list of objectives for the day. Looking around his room it's almost as if it was a crime scene. Clothes were discarded on the floor, along with snacks he'd stress ate. There was so much he had to do, but everything just felt so miniscule compared to the idea in his mind, the one that's already working in tandem with his heart. He knows what he wants but what if this time he ends up hurting people, even himself. He'd never wanted to be this way but the more he imagines a nice typical day in a body just slightly different from the one he owns now, and everything feels better in that world, it feels right just like Tikki understanding and simply listening to his doubts only to bring reason. He has to do this because if he doesn't, he'll stay in the closet for the rest of his life, he'll keep pretending to be that same girl only to come home at the end of the day and sob into his pillow, feeling as if he's been shot when any indicator towards his gender and name come up. His friends won't feel like friends, and his family will only be a constant reminder. He can't live in fear, he's Ladybug- well, working title at the moment, but he represents hope. He sees the best in people before anything else and doesn't judge. He's brave, based on what he's heard, so he can't just quit without trying. He's always seen a project through, though this is his entire being, his life. He has to change, for his own wellbeing, and for his parents.
His eyes dart to a pair of scissors he'd been eyeing the whole weekend, the urge to do something... very stupid. He marched towards the scissors, turning it over like there was any difference. There was no way of talking himself out of this was he?
When he'd found himself staring at his reflection again with renewed purpose he found something he could fix, that might just relieve a brief side of dysphoria he has. Lifting the blades to a large chunk of hair, he was reminded of any girl he was told would kill for hair like this, that hair is a woman's life, one of the most important parts of them, and that any girl would be grateful and happy to have this, all girls going through a stage of regret when just an ounce of hair was cut off. He only scoffs at the stereotype, opening the scissors wider and glaring at the hair like It's caused him ruin. It's a good thing he's not a girl.
His eyes went wide at himself, surprised he actually did it, the blue hair falling into the sink. With a deep breath, he went slower, going small bit by bit. This was.. cathartic in a way, something to busy his hands and clear his head. A small smile fell to his lips, despite the haircut likely coming out bad, it was much better than the long hair he'd had. He'd enjoyed himself so much he didn't even know it was already around the time his mother or father would be knocking on the trapdoor. Over the voice in his head speaking loudly that he was happy with this and thinking of different patterns of clothes he could make to match his new self, a faint creaking came through and he froze.
"–rinette it's time to get up for scho–" Sabine froze on the ladder, looking at her child's hair from behind. He didn't say a word, shoulders hunched with the scissors mid cut. His mother looked surprised but not angered, she always smiled at the remarks from friends and family that her child looked just like his mother, almost a spitting image from when she was younger. He took after both his father and mother, but when it came to appearances he was happy with hers. Will she still love him when she barely even recognizes him this way? What was he thinking? Sabine brushed her hands on his shoulders. Just from the touch his shoulders relax, sighing as he looks at his mother in the reflection.
"You're not mad?" He mumbled, Sabine simply combing through his hair in that gentle way she used to. She smiled fondly at him, making sure to brush off the bits of hair on him.
"Of course not sweetheart.. I would've helped," She remarked, making a grabbing motion towards the scissors, the boy reluctantly giving them to her. "May I?" Sabine asked, always more than ready to comfort him. He'd nodded, looking at himself in the mirror. Seeing himself without the haze of complete euphoria he could admit even though he likes the short hair, it is very wonky, one side still longer than the other. He couldn't help but huff in amusement as his mother worked to shape it up into something better, heart feeling impossibly full. "Is this why you were feeling down the last few weeks?"
"N-No It's.. a lot more than just my hair..." He mumbled, feeling more open like he always has to his mother. She always knew just how to speak to him in that soft spoken tone he'd taken after. "I don't wanna go to school today," He admitted, his mother frowning in the mirror.
She snips another piece, her teen blowing the hair away from his nose, "You haven't wanted to for awhile.. you've already missed 5 days this month, Marinette," His heart twists at the name, and the obvious disapproving yet the want to understand his dilemma. "Has that Chloe girl been messing with you again? Do me and Tom need to talk to the principal agai–"
"No! No, she– Chloe doesn't bully anymore, it's all me.." He sighed. She put the scissors down, instead reaching for a brush and doing his hair more.
".. You know you can always talk to me about anything, right? Any little gossip or projects you have, dreams or silly thoughts you have late at night," Sabine said, his breath slowing at her concern.
"Yeah, It just feels like.. sometimes I'm alone and whenever I think of the future I know what I want to be, but who knows if I'll actually get there?"
"There's always a way to get to what you dream, Marinette, It takes dedication and the love for what you do. You're father knows that more than anything," She explains, kissing his cheek and continuously smiling at him, always unchanging. "And if you ever feel alone again, just remember you still have me and your father to lift you up when you need us, we'll always be with you," She brushed her cheek with her thumb, the boy finding himself sniffling, tears coming to the edges yet again. Sabine guided his face to the mirror, facing himself once more.
He almost broke into a sob. "Did I do alright?" She asked, a small self conscious worry in her tone and he attempted a grin, tears coming out his eyes.
"I like it a lot, mom," He sniffled, Sabine getting the scissors again after finding a part needing more shaping. He feels as if he's cried more the past week than his whole life, all her words are yet another reminder that his parents should and will be there for him at the end of the day. He just needs to let them in if he wants to change, if he wants their help in this and shouldering the weight it carries, something more tame yet feeling bigger than his hero counterpart.
"Marinette, what's wrong?" Sabine hugged her, putting her hand through his hair which only made him panic more.
"I love you so much mom," He cried, Sabine holding him tighter.
"I love you too, Marinette.."
This was the moment where he tells her, it's the perfect moment, his emotions are everywhere and he's gotten a single ounce of euphoria from a haircut by his own mother. She'd support him, he knows this it's so blatantly obvious. But the lodge in her throat just won't clear, he has to say it. "Mom, I'm.." Just five little letters he's fought tougher battles, "I'm.." Just a deep breath, in and out, fight through the tears, tell her. "I'm trans," He gasped out, his mother's hand stopping. Everything suddenly fell silent, he held his breath, heart pounding against his ribcage. He looked up to find her staring with a trembling smile, tears welling like his. And all in an instance he's wrapped in a tight hug, his mother bearing down as she cleared his forehead for a kiss.
"I'm happy you felt safe telling me this, and I'll help you in anyway to feel more comfortable in your body,"
He couldn't say a word. He honestly felt a bit stupid crying even harder than before, sinking to the floor with his mother and holding each other for support. It was when they both wiped the other's tears that he knew he'd be okay. Going downstairs and telling his father afterwards was one of the easier parts of the day with his mother by his side. She'd introduced him as their son, Tom instantly smiling bright and picking him up to whirl him around like it was some Disney movie.
"What name should we use for you?" His mouth knit shut at the question, laughing awkwardly before scratching the back of his neck.
"I actually haven't gotten that far.." He mumbled, his mother gaining a sudden twinkle in her eye meanwhile her father looked deep in thought.
"Min!" They collectively said, their son only tilting his head in confusion.
"Before you were born, me and your father had a hard time finding a name we both agreed with for either gender, so we decided he'd pick a name for a girl, while I'd pick a boy name," Sabine explains, Tom coming close to hold her by the hip.
"We wanted to wait until you were born to learn the gender, but of course we didn't want you to be a specific gender, just that you were–"
"'Happy and healthy," He'd finished off for his father, the man smiling brightly and bringing him into another bear hug.
"Do you.. accept the name, sweetheart?" His mom asked, sounding anxious, her son only nodding.
"I like it.. I don't think I'd be able to find a good name for awhile anywa–" Min's father put a heavy hand against his shoulder.
"Now that we've been surprised again, and with a handsome son, I'll help you all about how to find a good girlfriend, like that girl Alya now that–"
"Well he could be bi, Tom. Or gay," Sabine said, their son flushing as the new topic.
"I-I still like boys.." Min whispered, his parents continuing without him.
"You're right! You still like that blonde boy from your class, right? What was his name–"
"Dad!" Min groaned, his parents only able to laugh at their son that was seemingly just the same, no difference, just a name and a developing new look. He wouldn't get tired of the multiple affirming words from his parents that day, the impromptu macarons and fruit tarts they made for him in celebration. It was as if it was Min's birthday, no candles but sweets, tiny kisses, an tight hugs. And even when he retreated to his room, going on to design new clothes that would suit his person, they still (annoyingly yet affectionately) checked in on him, reminding him to take a break, come downstairs to spend time with them, the slow day at the bakery allowing them all to be a little distracted.
Min didn't even worry about the day that would come after. He just knew he'd be okay.