Say Everything

I decided to be nice to you guys and not wait a week to upload this chapter! This chapter is flashback. I hope that you enjoy. This show is not mine, yadda yadda.

-Marinette-

I don't see him for two weeks after the incident on top of the Eiffel Tower. I sit at home, in my room, constantly hunched over my sewing machine. The fabric is smooth and soft in my hands as I weave it through the buzzing machine, the pedal beneath my foot eases up and down as I sew. The needle automatically threads the fabric together, creating the garment. It's going to look great once it's finished. Sometimes my mind would wander back to the tower, how being with Chat felt. He was my closest friend, and friends were not supposed to kiss. Yet I couldn't help but think about how his lips felt on mine, how his hair felt when I ran my fingers through it, the way he smiled at me so unbelievably lovingly. No. No. Bad Marinette. Focus on sewing, this is your future, Chat will soon be your past. Don't dwell on the past. Don't think about those deep green eyes and that sweet smile. Don't think about his hair, all messy and wild, and how those locks feel between your fingers. Don't think about how soft his lips were, how gentle his touch was, how his mouth moved in perfect harmony with yours. Don't think about how much you are going to miss those stupid puns and his constant flirting. Don't think about Chat Noir. Don't think about how you don't want to let him go.

Why can't I get my mind off of him? How was it that just a few days ago I was thinking about Adrien in such a context? Okay, I was still thinking about Adrien that way. But just the other day, I was able to have a normal conversation with him, no stuttering or anything. I know, Alya was shocked too. I can count on one hand the number of conversations I have had with the blonde model without completely butchering my words. Now suddenly it's like, I'm not tongue tied whenever he smiles. Don't get me wrong, I still think highly of Adrien. I still think about his smile, how he tries his best to make others happy, how he cares deeply for his friends. Adrien Agreste is a wonderful person, one would be a fool not to love him. But whether I like it or not, my brain is slowly pushing him aside and Chat Noir is taking his place. That might be fine if I wasn't leaving the country in September. No Marinette, you haven't been accepted yet, don't count your chickens before they hatch. There's a high chance that you won't get accepted, that you're going to stay in France. As much as I want to go to London, I know that it is completely unrealistic.

When I finally look up from the machine, the sun is slowly starting to set outside of the window. Bright golden rays of dying light flood through my window, blessing my room with the last of daylight. The sky is beginning to turn pink and orange, with tiny hints of purple mixed into it, the heavens above are colourful and magnificent. I wonder how those colours would look on a dress. A dress that sets with the sun. I pick up my sketchpad and begin an outline of my idea. Should the dress have a high neck or low? Should the skirt be tight or flowing? Sleeves? No sleeves?

"Marinette?" I hear my mother's calm voice rang through the room. The hatch leading into my room creaks and squeaks as it is opened.

My head jerks up from my sketching just a little too quickly. She stands in my room, her ever sweet smile crossing her face. She's still wearing her apron from the bakery, sprinkled with flour and oil stains. She smells like cinnamon and cake, I wonder if she has left the bakery at all since this morning. She crosses the room, her footsteps are silent on the hardwood floor, as though she were gliding across the floor like a ballerina. She always had the lightest step, no one could ever hear her coming. She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug and slowly runs her fingers through my hair. The scent from the bakery fills my senses and makes me feel safe and comforted. When she lets go of me she stares at my face for a long moment, observing the bags under my eyes and the look of my skin. I know that I look as exhausted as I feel.

"You look exhausted, sweetheart." Her voice is soft and comforting, she sounds so calm and her voice makes me smile.

She kisses my forehead lightly, her touch is so light and soft, as if I'm a precious porcelain doll that she is afraid to break. It's too late for that mom, I've already been completely shattered. I'm not exactly sure how I am supposed to put myself back together. Everything has been so confusing and stressful lately, my final year of school, applications for university, keeping up good grades, working on my portfolio. My confusion over these new feelings for Chat Noir. And Adrien. I still feel a fire burning in the pit of my stomach whenever Adrien looks my way, or when I accidentally bump into him in the hallway. But I fear that fire might be dying, even if I don't want it to, slowly becoming nothing but ash and smoke. I know that, because the fire that I feel when I think of Chat Noir is different. It's hot, and burning, and blazing, it doesn't stop. This fire isn't controlled, it's destructive. Tearing down every wall that I've tried so desperately to keep up around my heart. Thinking about him, and our kiss, and everything that he meant to me, it was overpowering all of my other senses to the point where I can't think of anything else.

My mom takes my hand and forces me out of my seat, away from my sketchbook and my sewing machine. My legs feel numb, as I haven't gotten up in hours. My legs feel wobbly once I stand, like I'm still learning how to take my first steps. My mother holds me until I regain my balance. And then she lets go. Her smile is warm and genuine, yet I notice a tiny twinge of worry behind her eyes.

"How long have you been working?" She asks.

"All day." I mumble.

"Why didn't you come down to eat?" She inquires, letting out a small and exasperated sigh.

Because every time I stop working I start thinking about Chat Noir and his stupid, adorable, grin that makes my heart flutter. And his musky, invigorating scent that is completely impossible to resist. And I don't know what to do because I might leave the country in a few months and not return for at least four years. Oh, and those soft, kissable lips. Gah! No, bad Marinette. As much as I hated to admit it, the more I thought about that kiss with Chat Noir, the more I craved his touch, his kisses. I wanted more, and that was a very dangerous thing to want. Okay, so maybe I liked that kiss. Maybe I wanted to kiss Chat Noir again. No, I really wanted to kiss Chat Noir again. Fucking hell, Mari.

"I don't feel hungry." I lie, packing up my sewing supplies in order to avoid looking her in the eyes. I'm pretty good at lying, so long as I avoid direct eye contact while I do it. "Plus if I don't finish this sample garment then I won't be able to make the deadline. Lazy people don't go to London."

Of course I was applying to fashion universities here in France too, including Paris's prestigious Ecole de la Chambre Syndicale. But I always knew that school wasn't for me. Even if it is rather inexpensive, and I just happen to be friends with the son of one of their esteemed alumni. My heart wasn't here anymore. Being Ladybug hasn't exactly been the same since Hawkmoth was defeated. I still love being Ladybug. I enjoy the freedom, the magic, the adventure, and Tikki knows that I still love it too. It was Tikki that encouraged me to send the application to Central Saint Martins, even after I told her how long and rigorous the application process was and that there wasn't much of a chance that I'd get in. But Tikki told me that if I can defeat Hawkmoth, than I can do anything. One could imagine my surprise when my application was accepted and I was told to send in a mini-portfolio so that they could further consider me as a potential student. Which is exactly what I was currently working on. I loved Paris to death, and being Ladybug, and jumping from rooftop to rooftop with Chat Noir by my side. But my heart yearned for a new adventure, something bigger than Ladybug. Hopefully, be my good luck on my side, London will be that adventure.

Despite my better judgement, his face appears in my mind again. A face that I would never find again if I left. If I leave Paris, if I go to London, how am I going to say goodbye to him? How am I supposed to tell Chat Noir that our time together is almost up, that I'll have to leave him and Paris behind. I wonder if he even cares at all. After what I did two weeks ago, I wouldn't blame him if he didn't care.

My mom enveloping me in another tight hug pulls me back to reality.

"I understand what you're going through." She explains, I don't tell her that she couldn't possibly know what I'm going through because she was never a teenage superhero, but I sadly can not tell her about being Ladybug. "I remember being seventeen, being so confused about what was going to happen next, what I was going to study in university, where I would work. I definitely didn't think that I would be where I am now."

She brushes her fingers through my hair, which is probably oily and messy. When was the last time I washed it? Probably a few days. I'm still in the sleep shirt and yoga pants that I slept in last night. Did I wear them all day yesterday? How long have I been wearing this outfit? Oh no, do I smell? I should probably shower, or at least put on some deodorant.

"You know," She continues, picking up my sketchbook and flipping through the newer designs that I've spent days working on. "You're much better off than I was at your age. You've always known that this is what you wanted, ever since you were little."

My mom was right. For a long time, I knew that fashion and design was truly what I wanted to do. My mom could tell long stories about how she would always find me in my bedroom drawing dresses, or flipping through her fashion magazines. Cutting out pictures from magazines and making collages dedicated to fashion and my own unique sense of style. I will never forget the Christmas when she and Papa surprised me with a sewing machine. I was twelve years old when I got it. I still remember the box perfectly wrapped in red paper with jolly old St. Nick's bearded face printed on it, sitting under the evergreen tree in our living room. I remember how heavy the box was, and the excitement that I felt when my parents handed me the box. Twelve year old Marinette, clad in red flannel pajamas and surrounded by colourful boxes, opening what would become her favourite present. I was so happy when I unwrapped the present that I immediately threw my arms around my parents and nearly forgot about every other present under that tree. I got Papa to help me set up the machine almost immediately after we were finished unwrapping presents. I spent the rest of the day experimenting with my new machine, figuring out how everything worked, and how I would create so many amazing things with it. They have always been so incredibly supportive of me and what I've wanted to do. I don't think that I'll ever be able to show them just how thankful I am for everything that they have done for me. The memory fades quickly, and I'm back in my bedroom, my mom still flipping through my new designs. She has a sweet smile on her face, I know that she's proud of me, of what I've accomplished.

"Now I want you to get some sleep." She whispered, kissing me on the forehead one last time before placing my sketchbook back on my desk and exiting through the hatch.

I hear her going down the stairs. I can recognize the sound of her slippers on the steps anywhere. My father is downstairs too, I can hear the television on in the living room, turned on to some sporting game. I relax in my seat, letting out a breath I hadn't realized that I was holding.

"You know your mom is right." I hear Tikki's high pitched voice from the makeshift bed that I made for her. "You should get some sleep."

"I know." I rub my eyes and let out a small yawn. My bed seems so tempting, but I know that I won't be able to sleep. So I decide that the best thing to do is let off some steam before bed, something to get rid of all the unnecessary stress. "Can we go out first? Just for a little while? I need to relax."

"If that's what you need." Her usually cheerful voice is tinged with worry, but she doesn't resist when I transform.

The familiar warmth that comes with transformation travels throughout my body. The light overtakes my senses and fills me with euphoria, it is undeniably the greatest feeling in the world. I feel the costume materialize on my body, it feels soft and comfortable on my skin. The costume is so natural that I hardly feel it on my person anymore. It's like another skin to me. I open up the hatch above my bed and step out onto the balcony, the sky slowly turning indigo above my head. There were a few stars out, littered across the sky like little diamonds, and the white crescent moon hung in the sky. The heavens floated above the world like an intangible world of light, and I was stuck on the ground. I held my yo-yo in my hand, the weight of the toy was nearly nothing in my palm. I throw the toy, allowing the string to fly out and catch onto a nearby building. I allow my body to become completely weightless as I fly through the air, twirling and flipping from rooftop to rooftop. The cool night wind whips around my body, through every strand of my hair. A ladybug without wings, yet I still have the ability to fly, to be free of the restraints that tether me to the ground. I sit on one of the taller buildings, watching as the sun's final rays bid Paris farewell until the next day. Everything was warm and calm, I could hear the chatter of people walking down the streets, the roaring engine of cars, the city is alive and energetic. It fills me with adrenaline, but also a sense of peace. I wonder if London is like this at night, all lit up, and loud, and crazy, and wonderful.

It was serene and tranquil. Until, of course, I heard a scream.

Not tonight. Not when I'm so completely stressed out. I silently groan to myself before zipping off towards the source of the screaming. The noise leads me to a slightly dark alley near the park. I see a woman in high heels running from someone, her purse discarded on the ground. Might be a mugging. I see two shady looking men fist fighting with a third. It takes me a second to realize who they're fighting with. A boy in a black cat suit. Chat Noir.

I watch them for a moment. The two men have at least two hundred pounds on Chat, and while the two of us had fought numerous akuma together, I didn't like his odds in this scenario. I take a deep breath, bend my knees, and jump into the action.

-Adrien-

"What the hell were you thinking?" She doesn't sound angry, simply disappointed and a little bit anxious. I can see on her face that she was worried, even though she knows that she doesn't have to be.

To say that I was shocked when she dropped down next to me was an understatement. She had practically disappeared since the incident a few weeks ago. To be perfectly honest, I was getting worried. I was terrified that she had changed her mind, that she didn't want to be Ladybug anymore, that she was leaving our partnership. Another part of my brain wondered if something bad had happened to her, that she had been skipping patrols and avoiding me because something terrible happened to her. I waited for her in our usual meeting place every night for the past two weeks, hoping, praying, that she would make an appearance. That she would return to me. Maybe she didn't want to talk about what happened, and I was okay with that, honestly. I was beginning to think that she had left, just like my mother. Leaving me without any explanation or anything. What did I do wrong to make everyone leave? I was hurt, heartbroken, miserable, and completely shattered.

But despite all of these emotions, I couldn't bring myself to be angry with her. Fighting crime by her side again felt right, it felt natural. We didn't talk or joke around like we normally did when we were taking down akuma, this was much more serious. This fight only lasted a few minutes. Neither of us used our powers, we decided long ago that we would only use our powers on akuma, unless our lives were in immediate danger. The two muggers hadn't posed much of a threat and neither of them were heavily armed, using magic would make it an unfair fight. It wasn't until they retreated that Ladybug finally spoke to me, and even when she did, she couldn't look me in the eye.

"I was thinking that I had to help that woman." I replied as though it were obvious.

I contemplated taking a step closer to the girl, but decided against it, I didn't want to scare her off before we had the chance to speak.

"No, I mean," She sounded like she was flustered, like she couldn't find the words. Neither of us really knew what to say. "Why did you do this alone? Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I can handle two guys on my own." I'm trying my best not to yell. If this is my only chance to make things okay again, I don't want to screw it up with my bad luck, again.

She takes a few steps closer to me, we're only a few inches apart. One of her hands is under my chin, she slowly leans in close, I can feel her breath on my face. I close my eyes, either to savor the moment and enjoy this rare closeness, or prepare for a kiss. I know that there is no kiss coming. More likely than not I'm going to get slapped. Still, I wait for something, but it doesn't come. She stays close, I can feel her body heat radiating off of her, making my heart thump wildly in my chest. I open my eyes again after a moment and notice her looking at my face in concern, she's observing me.

"You're bleeding." She finally tells me.

Oh. I raise my hand to my nose, and wouldn't you know? Blood. Crap, and I have a photoshoot tomorrow.

"Come on," Ladybug sighs, pulling me out of the alley and through the park. "Let's clean you up."

Her grip is tight on my wrist as she leads me through the park. The streetlights are the only light in the park, casting their glow like spotlights along the paved trails. Luckily, there isn't anybody in the park at the moment, neither of us are in the mood to sign autographs or pose for pictures. Her hand on my wrist feels comforting and warm, even if she's cutting off the blood circulation to my hand. This is the most contact that I've had with her in over two weeks. I just want to hold her close and tell her everything that I've been longing to say since the day I met her. She pulls me into one of the park's family restrooms. I'm standing by the sink as she scurries around the restroom. She dampens a paper towel and begins to clean off the blood for me, like I'm a child. If it were anyone else but her, I might have completely refused to let them touch me. But this was Ladybug. After two weeks without her, I didn't want anyone else to take care of me. There was something oddly intimate about dressing wounds, about helping someone else to heal. Her soft touch on my face is enticing, and I need more. I catch a glimpse of the two of us in the bathroom mirror. I see her in her red suit, frantically switching out the dirty paper towel for a clean one. Her face is unreadable, I don't know whether she's happy to see me, or sad, disappointed, worried. But she's still gentle, she apologizes whenever I wince at the pain. I can see myself in the mirror too, my nose is completely red and turning purple in some areas, that definitely might be broken, and I split my bottom lip a bit. I can taste the ivory blood trickling from my body, and it does not taste pleasant. She applies pressure to my nose to stop the bleeding, pain shoots up my nerves. I wince again and a small, yet loud, groan escapes my mouth.

"This is why you should have called me." She finally breaks the silence. "Now I have to clean you up."

"I didn't want to bother you." I lie. Well, it isn't a completely lie. I was terrified of rejection, which was why I didn't contact her, but she doesn't need to know that. "I thought that you didn't want to be Ladybug anymore."

She doesn't answer for a moment, she looks like she wants to say something, but isn't sure how to say it. She's keeping something from me, I can feel it. She removes the paper towel from my nose, the bleeding has stopped.

"Why would I stop being Ladybug?" She wonders out loud. I'm not sure if it's a question that I'm supposed to answer, if she wants some kind of reason as to why I thought such a thing. But then she continues. "I'm not going to give up being Ladybug just yet, I promise."

I can't tell if it's a promise that she intends on keeping. And I don't want to ask. But I still want to know the answer. I want to know that she is going to stay, that she is going to be by my side, that whatever we do, we'll do it together. But I can't bring myself to ask her. There's a moment of silence as she begins to wrap my nose in toilet paper, acting as gauze. Her touch is gentle and soft on my skin. Her fingers moved gracefully, her blue eyes were concentrated. She looked so serious doing the most mundane of tasks. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest again, flipping and flying, enjoying being this close to her. She was completely and utterly amazing. So kind hearted, considerate, compassionate. Maybe I should take a blow to the face more often. Sure, it's really fucking painful, but if it meant that she would bandage me up like this afterwards then it was worth it. Despite my better judgement, my eyes travel to her lips, and I can't help but remember how soft and sweet they were on mine. I can't help but remember the way she tastes, how the feeling of kissing her made me feel more alive than anything else that I had ever experienced in my life. How incredibly amazing that she was, how much I would give just to taste those lips one more time. That is, if she even wants it. Just the thought sends a stabbing feeling straight to my chest, my heart hurts and I can hardly breathe. Of course she doesn't want to kiss me again. Why would she? That's why she's been avoiding me for the last few weeks. I look at her again, our eyes meet this time, green meeting with blue in perfect harmony. Her eyes are blank, they don't give me any indication of how she is feeling. There was only one way to know for sure if she regretted the kiss, to ask her. Even if it was awkward, we had to communicate.

I took a deep breath to gather my courage.

"About what happened the last time we saw each other," I blurted out before I lost my nerve. "When you, um, kissed me, did you-"

"I-" She interrupted, but immediately stopped. She pressed her lips together in frustration, or thought. She looked away from me, she couldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung that on you."

She leans against the dirty porcelain sink, looking anywhere but directly at me. She taps her foot on the unswept tile floor, littered with candy wrappers and paper towels. I look into the mirror again, the reflective surface is stained and cloudy, but I can see myself clear as day. The makeshift bandage around my face looks humourous, like I no longer have a nose. Then I look at her again, I don't see any indication that she's going to bolt. Which is good, but that could change in a second. I had to say something else.

"It wasn't bad," I tell her, trying to meet her eyes again. She shuts her eyes tightly, and I'd give anything to know what she was thinking. "I didn't mind."

I sound stupid. Why can't I be more suave? I'm usually good at that when I'm Chat Noir. Be better, be better.

"I mean-" I try again. "I-"

I'm terrified that she's about to run. That she is about to leave and disappear from my life forever. Her arms are crossed, her eyes are screwed shut, but she stays leaning against the sink. She hasn't left. Maybe she isn't going anywhere.

"Did you like it?" The question comes out before I realize what I'm saying.

Her eyes fly open, wide with shock. She isn't leaning on the sink anymore, she simply stands frozen in spot, her arms still crossed. Her face is still unreadable, and I'm pretty sure that I have the exact same expression on my face. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, as if she's wondering what she wants to say. Her face slowly turns as red as her suit, and she looks down at the dirt-filled floor.

"A little." She finally admits, she still doesn't look at me. She shifts her weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

I feel my heart explode in my chest. I feel all warm as a tingly feeling travels across my body, and it takes everything in me not to smile like a fool. Even if she didn't return the same feelings that I did, she basically said yes. She liked the kiss. She liked kissing me. But she still doesn't look happy. If she didn't look so miserable, I might have teased her about liking the kiss. I would have playfully flirted with her until she decided to shut me up. But she looked awful, not regretful, just sad. So I force myself down from my high, as painful as it is.

"Then what's wrong?" I ask carefully, praying that I don't accidentally offend her.

She looks down again, as if she feels utterly defeated. I want to hug her, hold her in my arms, and tell her that everything was going to be alright. But I don't want her to be uncomfortable and walk away from me. Maybe I shouldn't be bombarding her with all of these questions, maybe I should be taking this conversation slower. Maybe she's uncomfortable. Then she lifts her head. Her piercing blue eyes never fail to stun me, my heart skips a beat when she looks at me. I want her so badly, even if it's just talking to her. We could talk about absolute nonsense all night long. I just don't want her to be angry or uncomfortable.

"I- Guess I'm just-" She finally spoke, her voice cracked and she stuttered a little bit. "Going to be a disappointment."

A disappointment? How could she ever be a disappointment to me? This was Ladybug. She could never disappoint anyone, ever. She was intelligent, radiant, kind, and warmhearted. She wasn't perfect, but she could admit her mistakes, and that made her perfect to me. She was admirable and exquisite. How could she ever be a disappointment?

"Ladybug-" I whisper.

"You should go home." She interrupts. She keeps up her poker face, but her voice sounds like she is in pain. She touches the makeshift bandage wrapped around my face. The tiniest hint of a smirk finds it's way onto her face. "How are you going to explain this to your family?"

I hadn't thought about that. Well, I could just tell father that I got injured during fencing, that might be believable. Hopefully he won't question how I got a nose injury practicing a sport that requires participants to wear masks.

"Fencing accident?" I offer.

She chuckles ever so slightly, it's almost inaudible. But I can hear the cheerful noise clear as day. She doesn't sound sad anymore, but she doesn't sound happy either. Hopefully the next time I see her I can bring the most charming smile in the world back to her face. Maybe she and I can finally go back to normal.

"I have to go." She finally tells me, her monotone poker face returns. "I have homework to finish. I'll see you soon, alright?"

I'm so dazed that I hardly hear her voice. The words reach my ears, filling me with immense joy. She wants to see me soon. She turns and starts walking out of the bathroom. I'm just now noticing how much it stinks in here, so I follow her out.

"I'll see you soon, Bugaboo." I reply, giving her a flirtatious wink.

I watch as she rolls her beautiful blue eyes, the faint smile making a reappearance on her lips. I watch her as she flies off into the night, carried only by a red yo-yo. She looks like a shooting star, zipping through the night. And I wish I may, I wish I might, that everything between us will be alright.

This accidentally became nine pages. Whatever, I hope you enjoyed. Hospital scene is coming next. I just realized the complete lack of puns in this fic... Like, this is serious so I don't think that there should be too many puns, but at the same time puns are like 85% of the reason I love Chat Noir... Whatever, it's fine.

Also, I don't know if any of you have read The Selection by Kiera Cass, but I was reading it the other day and I was wondering what it would be like with Adrinette. Could you imagine Prince Adrien having a bachelor-style selection to chose the next Queen and falling for adorable little Marinette? However I'm not sure how the whole secret identity thing would fit into this... Oh well.

I hope that you enjoyed!

Keep on reading!