There's a distinct memory in my mind of you that I never seem to let go.
I don't remember if it was June or July or August, but it was summer. We laid in your room, just two teenagers attempting to stave off the heat with help of the cold ground. Your hair was spread along your head, and your hand trailed the air above you. I looked over at you, at the reflection of the sun in your eyes, and I realized, with a jolt that sent my heart running, that your eyes were blue .
It's not that I hadn't noticed them before; I had, it was impossible not to. But there was something suddenly alert in me, something that sent my heart racing and hands sweating from something other than the heat.
The skies danced in my vision, and you turned towards me with a laugh and a joke you'd remembered. There'd been a smile on my face as I watched you, and your hands fell onto your stomach. My hair stuck to the back of my neck, my shirt felt too tight, and sweat glided down my forehead, making me feel gross.
But you were with me, giggling, your fingers making contact with my nose before falling away.
And in that moment, Marinette, I fell in love with you.
You didn't make it easy on me. Nothing really changed between us. We still linked arms and skipped down the stairs. Your hands still batted at my hair out of boredom, and our fingers still tapped together in a conversation even we couldn't understand.
But suddenly you were there . It felt harder to breathe around you, like any moment you'd notice that my breathing had hitched. Your clothes would hang off you so well, giving you this air of someone ethereal, that just the thought of inhaling oxygen through my lungs felt like a crime, like I was stealing something precious that belonged to you.
There was a naivety in me when I thought distance would help. Do you remember the week I avoided you? I spent the entire week rewriting the same article for the Ladyblog over and over again. Food tasted like cardboard, homework would start waltzing in front of my eyes, sleep seemed like a far-off wish. I collapsed into you the first opportunity I got, and suddenly, everything seemed a little brighter.
That was when I knew my feelings went a lot deeper than I thought.
Of all the painful memories, the most painful would have to be the one where you went on a date with Chloe.
I remember the shock I'd felt at your admission, the jealousy that had blossomed out of my heart and caused me pain. It felt a little bit like you were choosing Chloe over me, which was ridiculous because you didn't even know how I felt. Chloe'd had the courage to do what I didn't: she'd come to you, looked you in the eye, and told you of the very feelings she'd kept guarded for so long.
But it oddly felt like a betrayal when I watched you get ready for your date. Chloe was the reason we were friends. Chloe was the girl who had years under her belt of irritating you and stealing your confidence. Chloe was the girl who had prompted me to move and interact with you.
You smiled and danced in your room, and I swallowed bile as I encouraged you to have a great night. When you parted with a hug, I stared out the window at the nervous tremble of Chloe's breath as she waited for you, her smile wavering at the sight of you.
Something in me tore, and an incurable ache followed me for two weeks after.
You've always been so supportive of my dreams. It's something about you I've always loved, how you lean in closer to listen to me ramble. It's not even because your encouragement goes a long way to me. The sensation of your every exhale against my cheek makes me trip over my words, a description jumbling together as I continue to fumble.
You used to chalk it down to my excitement.
I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't break when you told me to go to New York. Logically, I knew you were only saying it in me best interest. The internship was something I couldn't even imagine in my dreams, and passing it up would always have been my biggest regret.
But your constant insistence that I leave for New York felt like you were trying to get rid of me, as if I'd overstayed my welcome in your life and now it was time for me to reside in someone else's. My heart agonized over what I really meant to you, and even the blinding lights in the City of Dreams couldn't take away the emptiness I felt.
I will never forget the relief that coursed me at my return, when you ran up to me in the airport and hugged me, your legs around my waist and your arms connecting the pieces of my heart once again.
I spent so long convincing myself you didn't feel the same way for me as I did for you. It seemed like one of those far-off imaginations I'd conjure up in one of my desperate moments, an image of love and family and you that would never come to reality.
We were at Adrien and Nino's wedding, their smiles radiant as they stared at each other like they finally had purpose. During the ceremony, you'd remarked that they were just like us, and I'd found myself at a loss for words, undaring to let myself have even an inkling of hope.
We'd danced with all our old classmates at the reception, but never each other. When someone suggested it, you remarked that we danced around our rooms anyway, and there was no point in doing that when there were other people to dance with. I locked the sting of hurt away and danced, my feet hurting and arms tiring.
I didn't see you again until hours later, when I found myself heading out towards a gazebo I hadn't noticed. You turned when you heard my footsteps, a soft smile I'd never seen. It stopped me in my tracks, the realization that I wasn't familiar with all your expressions as I'd thought I was.
It's my luck that the moon shone it all its glory that night. The breeze made your dress flutter, and in that moment you felt like the rippling waves. You extended your hand towards me as soft music from the reception filtered towards us, and there was a secretive tilt to your lips as you asked me to dance.
We swayed more than danced, but as my arms rested against your waist, I felt something unfamiliar to me. I'd held you in my arms many times, and your head had made me a pillow many before, but the curve of your head felt like you'd made my heartbeat your soundtrack.
The twinkle I saw in your eyes as you pulled away froze me, because I'd seen it before.
It was on Adrien's face, hours before, as he stood across from Nino at the altar.
I can't recall how the topic came up, but one Saturday, while we were hanging out, we started talking about weddings.
You described your perfect day with excruciating detail: the flower arrangements, the color scheme, the exact gait you'd use down the aisle. It sounded like you had a specific person in mind, and when I said that, the smile on your face had been so painful, I felt my heart start to crack.
The question reflected onto me so quickly. I remember staring at the ground, eyebrows furrowed in concentration before looking back at you and laughing because the wedding you'd described was so perfect, I intended to steal all your ideas if I got married first. You'd laughed along, the sound permeating my essence, and I didn't notice the slightly hysterical tinge to it until days later.
It didn't occur to me that maybe the reason your wedding plans sounded so perfect to me was because I was the person you had in mind.
This is the part that always seems to good to be true. I'd convinced myself all feelings I had for you were shoved deep down, into a crevice of my being I wouldn't touch until I was on my deathbed.
But then my sister blabbed to you, her careless babble confessing that, long ago, I'd expressed the feelings I had for you.
The glint in your eyes as you refused to stare at me, the strained smile that refused to leave you all night left me with a nervous beat in my chest, breaths quickening and fingers tapping against anything they could. You follow me to my home, which hadn't been the plan for the night at all.
Later I'd come to appreciate it all.
Your steps were quiet next to mine, our strides similar. I'd gotten so used to your presence by my side, and even our walking was in sync. We'd walked into my apartment and you'd stood in front of the door after it closed. It took me time to gather my courage before I could look at you, and it turns out you'd been gathering your courage too. Just for something different.
You'd crashed into me and kissed me, and my soul had healed, like the burden I'd carried for years had finally been lifted from me.
I'll always remember how your hands had gripped me so tight, like I'd slip away if you let go for even a second. Tears made their way down your cheek and make their way to your lips and to mine, but you refused to break away, arms trembling. I could hear you whimpering, and it felt like you'd found a treasure that had evaded you for years.
We tried talking that night, but your mouth wouldn't stay detached from mine long enough. You'd try to start a sentence and then give up, hands traveling to my hair and bringing me closer. I didn't try to pull away, too weak to even think about it.
We were like two pieces of clay that had been molded together long ago, but only then had finally dried. We were something permanent now, and couldn't be pulled away from each other without extreme difficulty.
Whenever you wear your big white coat, you laughingly tell me you look great in white. I don't disagree, but I always think of a different garment in a different setting, with your promised gait and the same soft look that I'd never even dreamed of being on the receiving end of.
literally no offense, but if you review to tell me that you don't ship this and don't want to see it then fuck off because i tagged it appropriately. you shouldn't have clicked on this.
