Chapter Text
She couldn't breathe. The sound of pained gasps were the only sound in the room, yet the relentless sound of her heart increasing in volume with every attempt to breathe was what pushed her to the brink of panic. She clutched the bedsheets for leverage, desperate gasps still leaving her lips; she was still underwater, yet clutching her sheets as if reality would shatter if her fingers were to slip from the seams.
Air was given entrance into her lungs, eyes snapping open abruptly; a small voice reminded of her routine: Five things she could see... Tikki, her sewing machine, a glass of water, a vase of flowers from—, bunting. Four things she could feel... the bedsheets, the cold sweat, the pillows, the glass of water Tikki is handing to her. Three things she can hear... Tikki, her own breathing, his voice— Two things she can smell... her own sweat, incense. One thing she can taste... bile. Marinette felt sick to her stomach.
The pounding gets quieter, its absence clearing her mind, to be replaced with something worse, the words echoing inside her head, his words. Tormenting.
Sometimes, Marinette wished she'd never found out her boyfriend was Chat Noir. Maybe then she'd be losing sleep over akuma attacks more than nightmares of her Cat wearing white. His voice fills her ears: he pleads her to save her... he tells her their love did this to the world. She's trembling; she knows he's not here, but he is. She's panicking. She's rejecting her own logic. Her breath still escapes in laboured gasps once again.
Hands rake around, lifting the bedsheets and throwing pillows onto the floor, before they grasp her phone, the sweat from her hands condensing the screen. Marinette jabs at the screen, typing her password incorrectly four different time before gaining access. She's opened her messages app in an instant, her sticky fingers making it impossible to type a coherent word on her keyboard.
Desperate. She is desperate for him to respond. She needs to know he's okay. She doesn't believe he's okay. All Tikki's reasoning beside her while her trembling hands hold her phone go one ear and out the other; she needs him to respond, to know he's okay.
One minute passes. Two.. three... four....
4:17.
Her phone doesn't buzz. No signs of life.
Marinette's falling into hysterics.
No, Tikki. He's not just sleeping. There's something wrong.
She's a mess. The taste of salt explodes onto her tongue as she reaches her peak of panic.
4:18.
He's akumatized. Actually akumatized. Or dead. She knows it.
Marinette pokes her finger at the call button. A last resort.
She listens to it ring, unable to stop the soft sobs that leave her lips as every pained second goes by with the endless ring of the phone...
"M'lady?"
Those three syllables spoken in his voice, laced with a huskiness from sleep, that passed through her ears almost causes a sob of relief to erupt from Marinette's throat; she swallows it, not opening her mouth.
"Is there an akuma?"
The relief that washed over her again at his voice was overwhelming, almost forgetting to respond.
"Hey." Marinette prayed Adrien couldn't hear the post-panic tone in her voice.
"Are you okay, Marinette?"
He heard it. He never calls her Marinette.
She waits too long before opening her mouth again—
"I'm coming over."
"I'm fine, Kitty." she responds abruptly.
"No you're not." His voice is stern.
"I swear. I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me, Marinette."
"I just couldn't sleep."
Adrien is silent for a moment, before he sighs, his breath cracking the audio.
"I'll be there in five."
And his voice dies.
Shit.
She wants him. She needs him. To touch his skin, feel the warmth under her fingertips and the sound of his heartbeat, to calm her own. But she wasn't ready, wasn't ready to see the see the look on his face when the truth leaves her lips.
Marinette tries to calm herself. Deep breath, hold, release. Deep breath, hold, release. Over and over and over and over. Hypnosis. Losing track of time...
Creek.
"M'lady?"
She's pulled out of her hypnosis as her trapdoor opens abruptly, smashing the palms of her hands into her eyes wiping her eyes in a quick movement. A figure drops down onto her bed, gloved fingertips brushing the bare skin of her shoulders; Marinette flinches.
"Are you okay?"
The hero gently spins her around while she tries to keep her composure. Green meet blue, his laced with concern. She wants to collapse in his arms. The fingertips transition and settle on the skin of her cheek.
"I... I'm fine." Marinette almost gasps out.
"Don't lie to me." Determinedly, he eyes her.
She resists the urge to reach out and brush her fingertips against his cheek, like she craved.
A shaky breath leaves his lips, his grip on her tightening.
"Claws in." Chat Noir keeps eye contact with Marinette as his mask dissolved and his frown deepens.
"Please, Marinette. I need you to be honest. I hate it when you bottle things up."
Adrien's rising concern makes her want to sob,
but she couldn't tell him.
"Nothi—"
"Don't bullshit me, Marinette."
She's silent.
"Please, My lady. I'm here."
Marinette drowns in him, chest tightening with every breath. Adrien clutches her like he's never going to let go while his heart beats in a turmoil; the sight of his girlfriend trembling in his arms, her fingers grasping at his skin as she broke down wasn't foreign. In fact, it seemed to be an increasingly frequent situation. Marinette is usally very open with him. He thought he knew everything about her. His lady was good at speaking her mind. Yet, her late-night breakdowns was something she'd never explained to him. Adrien never wanted to push her on the matter, but it seems to be getting worse as time goes on, and it almost feels like she's... hiding something from him.
The feeling of bitterness at the idea that his girlfriend could still be hiding things from him even after she'd lied about his Father was hard to push down; yet, he holds her.
He holds her until she falls asleep in his arms. They lay in a tangle of limbs. Marinette's head against his bare chest, right against the beat of his occasionally shuddering heart; Adrien watches over his girlfriend as she sleeps, his fingertips subconsciously running through her hair. He wishes. He begs to make sense of the storm inside his lady's mind, to be the remedy. He watches her face in her slumber and the feeling of her steady breaths... peaceful. Adrien swims through a mindset of anxiety and a sense of peace in the moment...