This had to be a joke. There was no way this was happening. He wasn't there. She was dreaming again.

She wished she was anywhere but there. She wished she was anyone but herself.

She hadn't seen him in six months. Why now, when she was wearing his sweatshirt? When her hair was a mess? When she wasn't wearing make up? Why now. Why ever.

But there he was, handsome as ever. The glint of mischeif in his eyes once again. She hadn't seen that look in so long...

"Marinette? Is that you?" Adrien inquired, approaching her in the nearly empty grocery mart.

"Uh, hey A-Adrien," Marinette greeted politely, swallowing the lump that had grown in her throat. He looked good.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. Not since.."

Not since you broke up with me, Mari thought bitterly to herself. Why was he speaking to her?

"Yeah, it's been a bit." Mari nodded awkwardly.

"How're you doing...?" He asked, pity in his eyes.

Pity. Pity. As is he had any right. As if he could read her thoughts. As if he had any idea what he'd done to her. How she'd lived the past six months. As if.

"I'm great!" She answered, far too enthusiastically, "Everything is really great! And you?"

There was something in her eyes. Anger. Fire. Determination. The things he once fell in love with. Adrien could see it clear as day. But something else too.

Hurt. It was a sliver of it, something only he'd detect.

"I've been good," he shrank back slightly, "It's good to see you."

"Yeah," Marinette said curtly, "I've got to get going, I'll see you around."

Hot tears prickled in her eyes a she rushed away, remembering their last encounter.

They had been fighting. They'd been doing that a lot, fighting over everything. The vibrant love that used to flow between them was now tension, anger. She didn't know why. She couldn't remember what they'd been fighing about, everything from that day was such a blur. The only thing she remembered clearly was the look on his face when he said those final words.

"I can't do this anymore!"

He'd shouted them. His face was full of fury. He was unrecognizable to her. He was a stranger. In that moment, he was his father. Uncaring.

Marinette's reply was the thing that broke his demeanor. The thing that brought him out of his anger spell. The thing that made him realize what he'd done.

"Then don't."

And, with that, everything was over. She went Alya's a cried. She stayed there for a few weeks, while Alya picked up her things from Adrien's apartment. She moved out on her own.

She sat in her little red car in the parking lot and cried. Sobbed. She hated herself. He was probably moved on. He probably had a girlfriend. He probably didn't miss her. He was probably happy.

It wasn't fair.

After pulling herself together, she drove back to her apartent and collapsed on her couch. What a day.

She laid there patheically, watching baking show after baking show, crying softly.

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. W h y.

She missed him. She missed him so much. She loved him. She was so fucking tired of loving him.

Her cries were interrupted by the sound of her phone.

**BLOCKED NUMBER**
My sweatshirt has always looked good on you, but today you looked like home.

I'm sorry. Can we talk?

Good God, what did he do. Why did he think that was a good idea. She was probably happy without him and he had to go and be... God, who let him make these decisions.

He stared impaitently at his phone, continuously rereading the message he'd typed. He sounded so... pathetic.

Wasn't he, though? Pathetic without her? A complete mess? He absoluely was. God, what he thinking? What was she thinking? Did she hate him? God this was a million regrets in one.

He paced in his living room relentlessly. His green eyes were dressed in worry like it was going out of style. His blond hair was never seen quite this disheveled. His lower lip was raw, from his nervous biting, and he could taste the slight copper in his mouth.

What if she had a boyfriend now? What if he'd royally screwed himself over? What if she responded? What if she didn't respond? Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

Why did she have to be so beautiful? If he could've taken his eyes off her, he wouldn' have felt compelled to talk to her and he wouldn't be on the edge of a panic attack.

His phone went off and his heart stopped. The air literally left his body. With numbing hands, he opened the message.

Marinette:

What would you like to talk about, Adrien?

He felt a pang in his heart at the formality of the message. He couldn't blame anyone but himself, he'd treated her horribly towards the end of everything. He'd do anything to take it back. Maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get the chance to fix all of this.

Adrien:

Everything. Can I call you..?

He tried desperately to even his breathing. He couldn't feel his fingers and his hands were shaking mercilessly.

A reply came almost immediately.

Marinette:

Whatever you have to say, you can say it to my face.

What did she mean? Did she want to meet...? She seemed so annoyed with their earlier meeting... why would she...? He sighed and began typing back furiously.

Adrien:

Meet me on the top of the eiffel tower in 20?

Marinette:

I'll be there.

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she had too much faith in him. Maybe she was too patheic for her own good. Maybe this was flat out the dumbest thing she'd ever agreed to do.

But she'd hear him out, at the very least.

She transformed for the first time since they'd defeated hawkmoth several years ago, and made her way to the tower. Now or never.

There, she waited. He was five minutes late, and she was anxious. What if he just didn't show up? She didn't know how long she should wait. Just as she was giving up, she heard the faint sound of somebody landing behind her.

She turned and seen his green eyes, and tried so hard not to fall apart. She was strong.

"Hey." Marinette greeted him, as steady voiced as she could.

"Marinette..." Adrien breathed, dropping his transformation. What could he say next? Why hadn't he thought about what he'd say? God damnit..

"You wanted to... talk?" She too dropped her transformation, keeping her distance.

She glanced down and her breath hitched in her throat. Why hadn't she taken the stupid sweatshirt off?

"I did- er, I do. I wanna talk," Adrien cleared his throat, averting his eyes from the jacket. He needed every ounce of sanity he could muster, "Marinette, I... I'm sorry. I miss you. I don't really know what to say other than that." He inched towards her.

She could cry, hearing those words from his lips. Words she'd longed for for far too long. She wanted nothing more than to run to him and mutter a simple "Okay," and let all be right with the world.

But things were more complicated than that.

She swallowed her immediate reaction. Don't do it, girl, Alya's words plagued her mind, You're too good for him.

She took a deep breath. "Why are you sorry?"

Adrien looked at her increduously. Why? Why? What did she mean "why"?

"I... took advantage of you. I never thought I'd be without you, so I stopped... cherishing you. I stopped chasing your affections. I... I became cold towards you," he answered shakily, inching closer, "and I have no reason as to why, other than the fact that I'm an asshole. I'm so sorry."

It was all true. And she wasn't going to lie and say it was okay. Regardless, his apology was sincere. It made her heart soar, as well as ache.

"W-what did you want to come out of this?" She asked, fiddling with her hands.

"Come out of what?"

"Of us talking. What do you want to happen next?" She clarified, taking a step towards him.

Adrien's eyes shot to the ground. His mouth became dry. Here goes nothing.

"I want us to try again. I want to be with you," he confessed, meeting her eyes.

"Why?" She inuired, her eyes pleading with him.

Three words. Eight letters.

"Because," he said, reaching timidly to take her hand in his. When had he gotten so close to her? "I love you."

And just like that, she was his.

She pulled Adrien into a hug and let her waterfall of tears over flow. He loves me, she sobbed to herself.

"Say it again," she practically begged, burrying her face in the crook of his neck.

"I love you, Marinette. I love you, I really do," He claimed, the sincerity in his voice was almost terrifying. He kissed her hair and rubbed her back, convincing himself this wasn't some crazy amazing dream. That this was real life.

"I love you too," She looked up, meeting his gaze, "Adrien, I love you."

Tears continued to escape her emotional eyes as he kissed her gently, tenderly, questionably, his hands cupping her face tightly, as if at any second, she might vanish.

Her fingers ran through his hair as they basked in the familiarity of the moment. Marinette pulled him closer, unable to get enough of him. This was it. This was everyhing.

He peppered her face with kisses, kissing her tear-soaked cheeks, her heavy eyelids, her temples, her lips. Kissing every part of her. Making her his again.

When they finally broke apart, Marinette stayed in his arms for as long as she possibly could.

"Princess?" Adrien asked, causing her to shudder at her much missed pet name.

"hmm?" Marinette mumbled, holding him tighter than before.

"Let's go home."

But they already were home.