Donât worry, Iâm here (a ML fic): Chapter 3
A Million Feelings (prompt: young adult AU)
Read it here: FFNet / AO3
Summary: In which Adrien can't deal with the fact that he has something with Marinette while his heart burns for Ladybug and Marinette doesn't know what to do, period.
Marinette's cigarette dangles precariously from her mouth as she stands on her deck, staring into the street below. The sky is dark with the night and her eyes droop with weariness, but her soul is on fire. The air is silent as she watches the city.
After a minute, the rustle of blankets sounds from the room behind her. Marinette doesn't move at all when the sound of footsteps pads her way and a tan arm winds around her waist. Blonde hair falls into her line of vision and a head rests on her shoulder, the body at her back warm and clearly half-asleep.
"It's too cold out here," the person mumbles. Marinette gently blows a cloud of smoke to the air.
"Go back to bed, Adrien." Marinette says quietly and not unkindly. Adrien's other arm creeps around her waist in response. If it were daytime and Marinette felt more herself, maybe this would've made her grin. Tonight, she doesn't.
The pair stand in silence, Marinette's occasional tap of her cigarette the only sound of life on the deck. Just when Marinette begins to wonder if Adrien has fallen asleep again, the man stirs, snuggling his face closer to her neck, his breath warm on her skin.
"Come back inside." Adrien says thickly, his voice muffled. Marinette lets out a deep sigh. She is restless as the night is long. But tonight, she thinks she's indulged her soul long enough.
"Okay," she breathes, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her. Untangling herself from the arms that circle her, she takes Adrien's hand and leads him back to the warmth of the apartment.
After a minute, the rustle of blankets sounds from the room behind her. Marinette doesn't move at all when the sound of footsteps pads her way and a tan arm winds around her waist. Blonde hair falls into her line of vision and a head rests on her shoulder, the body at her back warm and clearly half-asleep.
"It's too cold out here," the person mumbles. Marinette gently blows a cloud of smoke to the air.
"Go back to bed, Adrien." Marinette says quietly and not unkindly. Adrien's other arm creeps around her waist in response. If it were daytime and Marinette felt more herself, maybe this would've made her grin. Tonight, she doesn't.
The pair stand in silence, Marinette's occasional tap of her cigarette the only sound of life on the deck. Just when Marinette begins to wonder if Adrien has fallen asleep again, the man stirs, snuggling his face closer to her neck, his breath warm on her skin.
"Come back inside." Adrien says thickly, his voice muffled. Marinette lets out a deep sigh. She is restless as the night is long. But tonight, she thinks she's indulged her soul long enough.
"Okay," she breathes, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her. Untangling herself from the arms that circle her, she takes Adrien's hand and leads him back to the warmth of the apartment.
Adrien wakes to warm sunlight. As his mind reboots, his senses come alive long before he opens his eyes. He can hear the raucous sounds of the street outside and the occasional voice from the apartments surrounding them. He smells laundry soap and flowers, a mix as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He feels the soft cotton of the bed below him, the warm air of the small room, and the smooth softness of someone wrapped in his arms.
Adrien needs to get up. He knows it. He doesn't want to- he dreads it, in fact, but he knows he has to. Cursing the light that blinds him as he finally cracks an eye open, he begins to stir. He is careful as he pulls his arms back from the woman in bed. Thankfully, Marinette doesn't notice; she barely moves as Adrien slides away from her. Once extracted from the bed, Adrien plods to the washroom to relieve himself and then goes to the kitchen and begins making breakfast.
The day ahead of him is a long one- he has a meeting with his father's marketing team this morning and then he's at the online news office the rest of the day. When he got out of college, he assured his father that he could manage helping with the company while having his own job, but it doesn't mean he likes it. It makes days busy and hectic and his father still treats him like the boy he was when he first started public school. Having his own apartment helps, but it can still be frustrating.
As the kettle boils on the stove, Adrien peeks into the bedroom. Marinette is still asleep, scrunched into the blankets with her black hair splayed across the pillow. The scene has become a familiar sight over the past few years as the stunted friendship they'd had as teens slowly grew into something deeper. As they matured, they grew closer; Marinette lost her nervousness around him and Adrien began making choices without his father's approval. When their walls fell, they found that they were more compatible than they thought, and they've been like this ever since. Itâs a relationship they keep to themselves, but they like it that way. It seemed strange at first, but nothing has ever come so easy.
Even so, as Adrien watches Marinette sleep, a twinge of guilt strikes his heart. It happens every now and then, even after all these years. He betrays the woman he loves by being here, regardless of the fact that she's kept distance between them. Another person would see no attachment, would say that there's no exclusivity between friends. And why shouldn't Adrien seek comfort and love with someone else if his Lady doesn't feel the same? This all makes sense to Adrien. And yet..... Yet, it feels like betrayal to the one his heart holds most dear. Its not Marinette's fault- she is everything someone could want or need. He loves her- he really does. But his heart has always belonged to someone else.
With a small sigh, Adrien turns back to the stove and sets himself back to making coffee. Caffeine doesn't do much for him energy-wise, but it makes him feel more put together on days when he needs to feel present. As he sets about the kitchen, he hears a groan from the bedroom followed by the flapping back of sheets. Slippers tapping the floor, Marinette shuffles in the room looking particularly zombie-like. She eyes the still-steaming kettle and sighs in pleasure. Adrien chuckles and moves like clockwork, reaching a teapot down from a cupboard. Marinette takes it with a sleepy smile and sets about making tea.
"How long have you been up?" She asks. Adrien pours his own brew into a mug and shrugs gently.
"Not long." He replies, doctoring his coffee and leaning on the counter as he sips. His gaze falls on the darkness swimming below her eyes. "Couldn't sleep last night?" Marinette shakes her head slightly, her attention on her lethargic hands.
"Didn't feel like it." Marinette replies blankly, her diverted eyes seeming almost purposeful. Adrien isn't sure how to reply. Marinette is rarely closed off. She's a careful sharer of personal information, but not a secretive one. Adrien trusts her discretion. And yet, he can't help but notice things. He catches glimpses of the extra cigarettes stocked in her cupboards, sees how quickly she goes through her tea stock, and pretends to be asleep as she loiters on her balcony at night. But nothing seems to be causing it. She comes and goes from her job as usual. Her parents are doing well, as far as Adrien knows, and they call Marinette frequently. Aside from the insomnia, Marinette seems in good health. When it comes down to it, Adrien knows nothing. Adrien takes a deep breath; there seems to be so much uncertainty buffeting life these days.
"Off to work soon?" Marinette asks, now clutching a hot mug of her own. Adrien nods.
"I've got a meeting with marketing this morning and then I'll be at the office the rest of the day." He says. "You're at the studio?" At this, Marinette hums in response.
"We've got a fundraising campaign to finish. You're still coming to the gala this week, right?" She asks.
"Of course." Adrien says with a smile. Whenever one of their jobs hold functions, they usually bring each other if Alya or Nino can't go. It's not weird.....At least, Adrien doesn't think so.
Adrien's eyes glance to the clock hanging high on the kitchen wall. He needs to stop by his place to grab some paperwork and a clean shirt, so he'd better head out. As Marinette putters around the kitchen in search of food, Adrien pads to the bedroom and shrugs on his clothes from yesterday. When he walks back to the kitchen, Marinette is sitting at her little table in the corner, sketching away. A smile flits across Adrien's face. Some things never change. Marinette looks up as Adrien grabs his car keys.
"Coming back around tonight?" She asks innocently. Adrien shakes his head- it's patrol night.
"I'll text," he replies. Marinette nods pleasantly.
"Have a good day," she says, before turning her attention back to her book. Slipping into his shoes, Adrien unlocks the front door and steps outside, turning to glance back at Marinette. The scene is an idyllic one-Marinette, slight and clad in pink, eyes peaceful, the morning light framing her face like a Madonna. The pain strikes Adrien's heart again and he closes the door behind him.
Marinette's fingers sift through the pile of designs on her desk. She points to one near the top.
"This one is good." She digs a bit deeper into the stack, pausing on another draft. "This one, too. And....let's do this last." She nods to the designer who stands beside her, who steps forward and collects the rest of the drafts. As the designer leaves, Marinette leans back in her chair to review the choices she just made. All three designs are modern, innovative, and- as with the rest of the bunch- done by new designers. A wan smile rises to Marinette's lips. She can remember when she was a new designer with the company, how she submitted her designs for campaigns with excitement and noted dispassionately how they never made it to print. Now, having worked her way up a bit, she makes the very decisions that she used to submit for. It's bittersweet.
As she stares down at her desk, Marinette feels her eyelids droop. Her sleepless nights have been getting to her, though she'll never admit it. If she's not smoking on her balcony or working late into the night, she's out on a patrol or fighting akumas with Chat Noir. Even after weeks of dealing with this, she hasnât figured out how to keep the restlessness at bay. Donning her suit and mask keep her mind occupied, but little else works as well. She's too used to being proactive. When she doesn't know how to fix something, she doesn't know how to handle it, either.
Itâs not like Marinette lives a broken life. She is successful, she is able to provide for herself, and she is still playing the part of Ladybug. No, she has much to be thankful for. Rather, it is behind the scenes where life is fragmented. Marinette has drifted away from her parents, who have stopped calling her with concerns about her long hours and the dark circles below her eyes. Alya is busy with her reporting job and trying to meet with her for even a coffee has become a struggle. Marinetteâs other friends are equally occupied in their own ways.
As for what Marinette has going on with Adrien- a relationship that wouldâve made a younger Mari squeal but which present-day Mari canât seem to label- it seems too delicate to burden with loneliness. She loves her nights and mornings with Adrien and the thought of bringing their relationship into the light sends butterflies into her stomach. However, Adrien seems content to keep things as they are and, thus, Mari wonât risk it. With this link useless, too, Marinette canât help but feel like an island.
Like clockwork, Marinette's eyes jump to her cellphone on the desk before her. Her fingers itch to reach out and send a text, an email, just something. She longs to talk, to discuss, to open up. But it won't change anything. It won't change her.
With a shake of her head, Marinette breaks from her trance. This isn't working. Leaning back in her chair, she glances out the window into the sunny courtyard below. The world outside looks so peaceful and happy, the city golden and warm. She feels cold inside. With a sigh, she turns to her computer and begin working again. Her companyâs upcoming gala isn't going to organize itself.
Tumblr wonât let me post much more than this, so, for the rest of the story, head to one of the links! Enjoy, darlings!
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
kaledo-art
2087
turnnoffyourmind
