A/N: Hey, all. Just a short oneshot, focusing on Marinette and Alya's friendship. Not really set in a specific episode, but late first season, or early second. I'd love any reviews you guys have time to give.

Be the reason someone smiles today! :)

"Alya?" Marinette questions softly. Her usually bright eyes are heavy, and dim.

"Yeah?" Alya answers easily, turning to her best friend. She frowns, taking in Mari's worried face. "What's up, girl?" Her best friend has been acting odd for a while, now. The dark look in Marinette's eyes is slightly terrifying, but even as her heart picks up speed, Alya feels a rush of relief. They are coming to the root of the issue, she's sure of it.

"Do you ever wonder, about where I go? When I disappear, and then randomly pop back?"

Alya lets her notebook slide off her lap, and her breath hitches. She's wondered. Of course she's wondered, she a journalist. But she's never seriously asked, never pressed Marinette for an answer, no matter how much she wants to. She's a friend first, journalist second.

"Of course I have," Alya responds after a beat, as brightly as she can manage. She watches her friend for a reaction. All she sees is a flicker of something in Mari's eyes. A flicker of something like... guilt.

"You haven't... said anything." Her posture was tense, ill at ease. There was no question in her words, not even in her tone, but it was clear all the same. She wouldn't look Alya in the eye, directing her attention to the wall, or a stray sock in a corner. Anything but her best friend.

Alya shrugs. "I trust you. I've always known that there were some things you've never told me. But I'm sure you have a good reason for all the secrets you keep."

"I do," Marinette responds strongly and immediately. "The best."

But her surety swiftly drains out of her, and that dark gloom surrounds her again, even thicker than before.

Words come to Alya's lips without her quite knowing where they come from. "But it doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

Marinette turns abruptly in surprise. Shock and strange excitement play across her bright blue eyes.

"No, it doesn't," she says, after a long moment. "Sometimes-" the word sounds like it's being ripped out of her without her consent, and she stops short, like she has to think about whether to go on. But after a moment, the rest fights its way out anyway. "Sometimes I wish you would ask." Trepidation sends a shiver through her, and she looks at Alya and waits. Her fingers are clenched, buried in one of her fluffier pillows.

Alya can only stare. Then she smiles, gently. "Marinette?" She asks quietly, in an odd, restrained voice.

"Yes?" Marinette's voice is very, very small.

"Where do you go when you disappear?"

"...I can't tell you," Marinette says, eyes back on the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't tell you. I would if I could, but... I can't."

"Well, that's too bad," Alya says lightly, "I'd like to know sometime."

Relief crashes over Marinette's face, and she closes her eyes for a moment. Her fingers relax, and when she meets Alya's gaze again, her eyes are shining. "Thanks, Alya," she breathes sincerely. "For everything."

Alya scoots over to sit beside her, and puts an arm around her friend. "You're very welcome, Marinette. For everything."