**A/N: You know how I said last week's chapter was the longest in the story? ... Yeaaah... This one is a very close second. Whoops. Hope you enjoy!**
CHAPTER 6: PARALLELS
I couldn't understand what was wrong with me; why I was there yet again. Outside her window one more night.
After the akuma attack, I was able to meet up with Nino and the girls. When I found them, Marinette had her head hung as she talked with Alya and Nino. They were probably discussing how none of them found me, and I felt guilty that I had made them fret. I wasn't sure what other option I had, though, without abandoning Ladybug, and it was clear she urgently needed my help during this attack.
"Adrien!" Nino spotted me, cutting off Marinette as he ran up and pulled me into a bear hug. While I hugged him back, I looked past his shoulder at Marinette and Alya. Marinette jogged a couple of steps, but abruptly stopped, her hands folded against her chest as Alya placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. I had done that. I had made them all worry. I needed to find a way to make it up.
"I'm so glad you guys are all safe." I said to all three of them.
"Where were you?" Alya asked as she escorted Marinette over to us. "Marinette said you were helping people evacuate the theater. We ran around the whole crowd and we couldn't find either of you."
"Either of us?" I looked over at Marinette. She tensed up and started blushing, her folded hands now tucked straight down by her hips. She scrunched herself together to be as small and invisible as possible.
We all started exchanging tales of what happened after the Akuma Alert went off. Nino was able to catch up with Alya fairly quickly when she stopped to get some footage of Mimicker transforming mall patrons into Chloé. Alya was pretty determined to not become a Chloé Clone herself, despite her desire to get footage for her Ladyblog, so she allowed Nino to direct her outside. Marinette had a similar tale: she looked for Alya, saw the herd of Chloés, and jetted without further inspection; certain Ladybug would be able to make things better.
I understood that. Marinette is brave, and as protective of her friends as a mother bear, but it was no secret that she and Chloé hated each other. My first day of school, and my introduction to Marinette, started with Chloé trying to pull a cruel prank on her. While I wasn't sure what about Marinette bothered Chloé to the point of singling her out, I got why Marinette was slow to believe Chloé had a sweetness to her. If it were me, I don't know if I would have been able to handle an entire mall filled with my bully, no matter how much I stood up to them to defend myself or my friends. I probably would have shot out of there too.
When it was my turn to explain where I was, I briefly entertained the idea of stating that I got out late and was transformed. I didn't want to add to my friends' guilt, though, so I simply said that I was running around the outskirts of the mall trying to find them, and we must have just kept missing each other. It seemed a satisfactory enough reason as Alya pulled all of us into a group hug. My left arm wrapped around Nino again, and my right scooped Marinette close to me. Her hair still smelled a little of movie popcorn from when she spilled it on us. The scent now reminded me of Ladybug, and I wondered where my partner had disappeared to in the vastness of Paris.
The group hug was brief as Alya broke away to head home. Marinette begged her to stay with us and continue our hang-out, but Alya was determined to load the limited footage she did have onto her computer, and update the Ladyblog.
Alya placed both hands on Marinette's shoulders. "Girl, just stay here with the guys and watch the rest of the movie. You can tell me how great it was later." Her voice changed to emphasize each word of her last sentence.
"I-uh." Marinette glanced over her shoulder, shifted uncomfortably, and then turned back to Alya. "I'd rather you were there. It was your idea."
My heart sank a little that Marinette was still so uncomfortable around me, or Nino, or both, that she couldn't hang out with us without Alya there as a buffer. Would it really be so weird for her to just hang out with us guys? My hopes were all but snuffed out that I could get her to warm up to me enough to openly show me the carefree side of her she kept hidden in her bedroom.
With his girlfriend leaving anyway, Nino chimed in that we should all just call it a day. The magic of the movie was gone. He wouldn't really be as invested in it if he jumped back in after the long intermission. I offered to buy everyone tickets to a second showing, but it was agreed that it would be too late to start the movie over again, and still have time to get our homework done. I begrudgingly relented to us all just heading home.
The entire train ride back Alya talked about the footage she had, her theories on who the supervillain was, and how much she wished she could have video taped Ladybug in action. Marinette remained quiet, but softly smiled at her friend's excitement. I ended up doing the same. Alya and Nino went on and on about what they went through during the akuma attack, but I stayed silent. I simply smiled and nodded to show that I was paying attention. I wanted to add to the conversation, but I couldn't say anything without either lying to them or giving myself away as Chat Noir.
When we got to the station, Nino offered to escort Alya home. With the akuma purified there shouldn't have been any danger, but Alya gladly accepted the offer. We said our goodbyes and were about to part ways when I decided to take Nino's lead, and I offered to escort Marinette home. I hoped that it would allow us one last chance to talk. One last opportunity to get her to open up and become more comfortable with me.
She originally rejected the offer since she only lived a block away, but once I pointed out that her house was on the way to mine anyway, she agreed. We walked in time with each other, but Marinette kept some distance between us. She had her arms tucked behind her and only stole quick glances my way as we talked. She mostly focused straight ahead, and I wondered if she was silently praying to be home already so she could be rid of me.
"Crazy day, huh?" I felt lame asking the question, but I couldn't stand the silence.
"Uh huh," Marinette hummed.
"I had fun at the movies. It's a shame we didn't get to see the ending."
"Uh, yeah, it is." Her voice had a hint of melancholy to it.
"We'll have to figure another time to go to the movies again. When could you go?"
The question stopped Marinette cold. For the first time during our walk, she looked directly at me. Her face softened, the tension once caught in her jaw was gone. Her eyelids were heavy, as if she just woke up and was still trying to get her eyes to adjust.
"To the movies? With you?" she finally said in a soft tone. "I mean with everyone? I'm usually available whenever." She was back to being a bit frantic, flailing her arms all over, her voice louder and sharper. "Unless my parents get a big order or something and need me to help with the shop. Or if Mrs. Chamack needs me to babysit Manon. But I don't have to agree to babysit if we already had plans, and my parents wouldn't make me help out at the shop if I told them I'm going somewhere already. They're usually pretty good at letting me hang out with my friends. I- I'm rambling. Sorry." She shook her head and looked to the side.
"Um, okay, so I'll check in with Nino to see how his and Alya's schedules look. We'll probably have to wait for me, though. My father keeps me a bit overbooked sometimes."
"I'm sorry your father isn't more lenient with your socializing." She reached her hand out towards my shoulder, but abruptly pulled it back, instead resting it against her chest. "I wouldn't worry about it, though. We saw most of the movie, which was fun. If we can't all find a good time to watch the rest in theaters I'm sure we can figure something out once it's on DVD."
"Yeah. I guess that would work." I took a few more steps, but realized that we had already reached the bakery. I looked at the blue side door that lead to the Dupain-Cheng residence. I fought to keep my voice a bit chipper despite my disappointment that we didn't get to talk more before getting to her home.
"It seems that this is where I leave you." I don't know why, but I dramatically bowed as part of my farewell. Stupid, Adrien, I chided myself, Way to make things even weirder.
We both lingered for a moment, and I rocked on my heels. I wanted to ask her to walk with me into the park, and just sit and chat on a bench. If she felt weird about sitting quietly in a movie theater with me and Nino, though, she probably wouldn't be up to a friendly chat alone in the Place. I mentally waved the white flag. "It was nice hanging out, even for a little bit."
"Y-yeah! It was. Nice. With you. I mean everyone. Hanging out. It's a shame an akuma had to ruin it." Her mouth twitched to the side as she fought a frown.
"Yeah, but it's always cool to see Ladybug and Chat Noir save the day, right?"
"Right." There was no enthusiasm in Marinette's voice. She stared at the sidewalk as she opened the door to her apartment. She slid inside, but faced me once more. "I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow." Before I could reply, she clicked the door closed.
I wanted to shout back through the door, "We can still hang out without the love birds. I want to get to know you more. I want you to know me better. I want you to be comfortable with me finally. I'm tired of things being awkward."
I wanted to say it all, but my voice wouldn't work. My mouth wouldn't form the words. I knew it would just make her uncomfortable again, and she looked uneasy as it was.
Something about Ladybug and Chat Noir saving the day drained her. Why? Was it the reference to Chat Noir? Did she know I watched her every night? Was she disturbed by the thought of Chat Noir being praised a hero of Paris instead of the sick creeper she knew me to be? I suddenly had an urge to rip the door open, chase after her, grab her wrist and say, "If you just hung out with me without being nervous all the time, if you were just the carefree girl I saw in your room, then I could stop."
I couldn't though. It wouldn't be the "Adrien" thing to do. Besides, how could I blame her for my deviance? It wasn't her fault she was bashful outside the comfort of her room. It wasn't her fault that I discovered the secret version of her she hid up there. This was on me, not her.
I shoved my hands deep in my pockets as I walked home. Plagg tried to check up on me as I walked, but it's Plagg. He wasn't the most comforting as he pointed out how close I was to hanging out with "real Marinette" and encouraged me to just spy on her again that night.
Advice I easily followed despite myself.
Six. Six days now that I had betrayed Marinette's trust, and yet I couldn't find the power within myself to stop. She was an addiction now. That first night may have been an accidental taste, but after watching her draw the miraculous-themed sundress I couldn't resist my nightly call to her room.
I had learned so much about her. Prying on her comforted me, and she was amusing to watch. I was sick to my stomach that I was still doing this, but my heart raced with the thrill of doing something I shouldn't. I felt like a sleazeball, and I never felt more alive. It was exciting. It was relaxing. I needed to quit, yet I never wanted to go a night without checking in on her. The only distraction from my sin was working with Ladybug to defeat that day's akuma. Each day I was torn between wanting to spy on my friend and wanting some innocent citizen to be akumatized so my focus would instead be on helping my lady save Paris.
I was a mess. And I was back there on Marinette's roof again.
Nearly a week before, I had watched Marinette pour her soul into a design. Seeing her determination and passion pulled something inside me. Pulled it to her. As much as I had that mental itch drive me crazy that night, it did so all the faster the next day. I was sinking into a black hole, but I knew I couldn't fight it.
I climbed onto her roof that third night, and peeked in the western window facing the Place des Vosges. She was across the room, on her computer. The sound of loud metal clanging coupled with eerie music filled her room. I snuck to the small, circular, southern window that faced the Seine and slowly peeked in. Marinette was hooting, hollering, and yelling at her computer screen. A joypad was in her hand. I shifted my gaze to her monitor, and saw that she was pretty far into Shields of Justice, probably around the mid-boss of the seventh level.
Even though she had showed me up in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, I still couldn't picture Marinette as such a hardcore gamer. She really got into it, too. During the more precision-based parts of the game she hunched close to her screen. Then, while her character was casually walking through the dungeons or stopping in towns, she relaxed into her seat, and lounged with her legs straight out in front of her; crossed at the ankles. Whenever she had to button-mash, or she had to concentrate on a challenging task, her tongue slid out of the corner of her mouth, and the rest of her body tilted slightly in the same direction.
Watching her during the intense boss battles was my favorite part. She started off hunched close to the screen. Then her tongue peeked out of her mouth, and she started her subtle tilt. As the battle intensified, she jumped to her feet, kicking her chair out behind her. She yelled at the screen, hit the buttons as hard and fast as she could, and began waving her joypad around in the air, as if a different angle from the computer would make her attacks more effective. Her elbows would poke out to her side, and she'd tilt her head and upper body towards me, while her bent arms shifted to her left to help balance her out. She kept twisting and bending and tilting as she fought. Soon the controller was above her head, and she was wrapped around herself like a human pretzel. The sounds from the game were nearly drowned out by the rapid tap-tap-tap of Marinette's fingers against her joypad buttons.
Then, once the battle was over, she would sigh, call out a "Boo-yah!" as she pointed at the monitor, and kick her foot out behind her to find her chair. She'd hook one of the legs with her toe and roll it back into place. Finally, she'd sit back in her chair without ever taking her eyes off the monitor. How was this the same girl who trips over her own feet?
Marinette was so good at the game, that she quickly got past the part I had been stuck on for weeks. She displayed moves that I didn't know a character could do in the game, and she found secrets I never heard of. I just laid across her roof, hoping no one could see me perched there, and watched her play for three hours. While it started off as me snooping on Marinette herself, it quickly downgraded to me just watching her gameplay so I knew how to get further in the game myself.
Day four of my spying on Marinette, I didn't even pretend I was going to stay at home. As soon as I finished my homework and had dinner I transformed in order to creep back over to Marinette's. Being able to observe the "real" her was like a reward now, and I raced to get everything Adrien needed done so Chat Noir could get his treat.
I spotted her from the western window and instantly dove below it, afraid that she had caught me. She was lounged across her chaise, and she could have easily peered out her western window if she had just looked in that direction. She didn't move, though. Didn't call out. So I was pretty sure she hadn't spotted me.
I slinked around to her southern window again, and poked my head up. The window was about even with Marinette's head. It was the closest to her I had ever been as Chat Noir since I had started this prowling. My heart raced at the prospect that, if she ever dared to look out her window, we'd nearly be eye to eye. The only thing truly hiding me was the red paper umbrella she kept tucked by the arms of the chaise. It shielded her from the sun that would come through the window, but that night it also shielded me from her view. Even so, if she leaned forward a little in order to look out her window, there was no way she wouldn't see me. I knew I should move to a safer spot, or even head home, but I liked how close I was to her as I watched. The adrenaline rush kept me in place, and I snuggled against her circular window, just as I had the night before.
Marinette was so engrossed in her evening project that she never once looked up. She tag-teamed between a crocheting project she had draped over her lap, and scribbling things down on a notepad by her right hip. It was hard for me to see what she was writing down. The umbrella blocked much of my angle.
I studied her as she effortlessly crocheted a long, red scarf with black spots. It was the second night I caught her designing a piece of clothing that was Ladybug themed. She had also made Ladybug and Chat Noir dolls at one point, complete with a small rogue's gallery of akuma supervillain dolls to fight. Was she a Ladybug fan as well? How could she not? Everyone in Paris loved Ladybug. Everyone but Hawk Moth, that was. If she was a fan, then why didn't she gush over the superheroine like my other classmates? Why did she keep it hidden? She couldn't have been afraid of being ridiculed for her devotion, could she? Was she that shy and unsure of herself?
Marinette shifted the notepad she had been jotting things down on, and I could properly read some of it. Across the top of the page was a list of her friends with a different gift idea written next to each one. She was probably getting a jump on hand-making Christmas gifts for each of us to make sure they were all done in time. Next to Alya's name were the words Ladybug Scarf. I wondered if the Miraculous yin-yang dress was also something meant for Marinette's best friend. I had a twinge of disappointment when I realized that I might not see Marinette in that sundress. The disappointment deepened when I noticed my name on her list. Nothing was listed next to it aside from a penciled in question mark.
Trying to push out the guilt that Marinette knew so little about me that she couldn't figure out a gift, I watched her crochet instead. Every row or so she would pause her crocheting, jot down a few things on the notepad below the list of names, and then return for a few more rows. At first I thought she was marking her progress on a pattern. I stretched further into the window to get a better angle of the notepad, and prayed that wouldn't be the time Marinette decided to look to her left.
The notes she was jotting down had nothing to do with her current crocheting project. They were notes about setting up a meeting with Mr. Damocles to discuss different student issues, and updates to bring to student council meetings, and what color bench cushions she should make to have our classroom seats more comfortable.
I wasn't sure if she was working on Alya's scarf while figuring out how to keep up with her role as class representative, or if it were the other way around. Either way, it was fascinating to watch her mind work. The way she figured out the perfectly circular spots of varying sizes without a pattern, as well as knowing who to talk to in order to fix the concerns the students have, were both equally impressive.
I had spent four days watching Marinette, and I thought I had learned enough. However, I was proven wrong just the next day when I still couldn't sate my curiosity. For the fifth time in as many days, I went back to Marinette's home. That time, though - that time I was positive I was done spying.
I had once more returned to the scene of the crime. Before I even reached her home I could hear Jagged Stone blasting from her room. My body flushed with an almost burning heat and anticipation as I realized that I would finally get what I had been yearning for since that first accidental night. I'd see Marinette dance to Jagged Stone, and see if she looked how I had imagined that first night.
She was even goofier somehow, and it was amazing.
She acted as if her whole bedroom were the stage, and that she was the rock star. Starting in the center of her room, she sang the lyrics into an imaginary microphone. She climbed up the steps to her lofted bed, then jumped back off as she strummed an air guitar. Her fingers danced as she pretended to continue shredding on the guitar. She spun in neat circles before reaching her computer chair and kicking it out of the way, knocking it towards me.
I ducked below the window, skirted the roof, and tried the southern window. As I peeked in, she jumped onto her chaise lounge, head banged, and leapt back off. My heart pounded in my ears. I was certain she had noticed me that time, but she kept dancing like she was alone. Foregoing the air guitar, Marinette slid across the wooden floor on her knees, her back arched, and her head bent back as she belted the lyrics into an imaginary microphone again.
I continued to dart between her three windows to avoid being caught. She never once slowed down as she continued rocking to the whole album. She was full of aggressive energy. It was such a juxtaposition to how meek she normally was whenever I saw her. It was humorous to watch such an extreme opposite to her public self. Yet it seemed so fitting for her. She was just so cool that I believed this rocker could be the same Marinette I saw in class every day. I instantly understood why Jagged Stone searched for her specifically to design his latest album cover.
True, she was such an amazing artist that she probably could have won Jagged's favor on that alone, but it was more than that. Nathanael was also talented, perhaps even more so than Marinette in any art form outside of fashion design. Yet it was Marinette that the rock star had asked for by name. It wasn't just her art skills that caught Jagged Stone's eye. I was positive about that. As I watched her get so into his music it was evident that she truly understood Jagged Stone. Who he was as a performer, and what his music meant.
That was why he wanted her to design his cover: because she understood him. Just as she seemed to understand Alya, and Nino, and all the other kids in our class, which made her such a great representative.
I recalled Marinette's list of friends and intended gifts from the previous night, and I remembered that question mark by my name. I no longer felt depressed about it. I knew better now. Marinette knew me as well as everyone else. I felt it whenever we managed our small conversations together. I wasn't some celebrity pretty-boy to fawn over. I was an average kid who liked going to the movies and to concerts, hanging out at the park, playing video games and basketball, and watching anime. I trusted that she knew all of that about me. In fact, I knew she did. I just wished I knew her the same way. I shouldn't have found something new about her every night that I spied on her. I should have already known more about her than the fact that she liked fashion and played video games. How was she always such a mystery to me?
I felt the most connected to her as I watched her dance around her room that night. She had no cares in that room; listening to that music. She let herself go as wild as she wished. It was like watching her get in touch with her own Chat Noir side. Watching her reckless abandon was like seeing the personification of how I felt whenever I had Plagg transform me. It was such a magical experience I could have sworn I saw a pink streak of light flitting around her. However, whenever I tried to focus in on it the pink light would disappear.
It was probably just a trick of the mind. My focus on my Chat Noir transformation creating a fictitious kwami for Marinette to have.
I headed home that night completely satisfied. I had done it. I had hit the jackpot. Ever since that first accidental night, I had wanted desperately to watch Marinette dance to Jagged Stone, and there it was. I could forever keep that thought; that memory of Marinette being as uninhibited as I am whenever I was Chat Noir. I was done. There would be no more mental itches.
Yet, there I was, just five hours after Alya orchestrated a hang-out with Marinette: a day where I could still be Adrien around her. I had talked to her. We were able to connect, even if it was only briefly. On top of that, I knew she had homework that she was probably still working on. There was no mystery. There would be no new reward.
So why was I yet again on her balcony, feeling like a cat burglar stealing what I wanted; stealing more of this Secret Marinette? There was nothing wrong with the Marinette I spent the day with, the one I always get to see day-in and day-out. I really like that Marinette. She's super cool and sweet and such a faithful friend. I would defend her until the day I die. However, knowing that she's actually so much more made me unsatisfied with just seeing Everyday Marinette.
I crept down to the eastern window and checked for her. I couldn't see her anywhere in her room. Part of me was grateful. She was probably downstairs with her parents. Maybe I could just leave this alone.
"Gaah, I can't get this!"
I dropped against the gutter (where I probably belonged) as I heard Marinette yell. There was the rattle of her computer chair spinning across her floorboards. I thought I heard the soft squeak of a second voice, but my own heart was pounding too loud for me to really focus on it. She probably had Alya on speaker. I shimmied along the roof and tried my favorite spot against her southern window.
"Okay." As I peered through the circular window Marinette gently smacked her cheeks, just rough enough to wake her up. She flexed an arm. "I can figure out this problem. I handle harder stuff all the time." She climbed out of her computer chair, pushed it back towards the part of her wraparound desk that lined the northern wall, and plopped back into it. She held her pencil out dramatically for a couple seconds, her whole body hunched over her textbook. "Ugh," she whined as she frantically scratched at her scalp with both hands, "I lied. There's nothing harder than algebra." She faceplanted into her homework.
Algebra was easy for me. I barely had to give it much thought, thanks to the advanced home schooling Father had set up for me in the past. My mind raced with ways I could slyly suggest becoming Marinette's tutor, and hoped they would have better results than my attempt to set up a meeting between her and my father.
"No." She was sitting back up again and smacked her cheeks some more. "No quitting. I can do this!" She struggled. She worked out the problem, checked the answer provided at the back of the book, grumbled about how her answer wasn't right, and tried again. I stayed put and silently cheered her on. I knew she'd figure it out eventually. She couldn't give up. She wouldn't give up. Not the Marinette I knew.
She picked up her textbook and began reading through the chapter as she walked around her room to help her concentrate. Her nose was buried in the book, but I still zipped from one window to the next to avoid her noticing my spying.
Fifteen minutes later she tried the problem again, and actually got the correct answer. She cheered and threw her scratch paper like confetti. Her tongue now sticking out like when she concentrated on her video game, she took on the next problem, and the next, and the next. She checked each answer. They were all correct. Her homework conquered, she slammed her textbook closed with a hoot.
"There you go, Marinette," I whispered from my hiding spot. I thought I heard an echo in a soft chirp, but I shook the possibility away. I couldn't have said it loud enough for an echo. I must have been hearing things. It was getting late.
Marinette grabbed a book off her desk and walked over to her chaise. She snuggled onto the pink lounge and flipped open the novel. The umbrella again blocked most of my view. The show was over. She would probably read until she was ready to go to bed.
I shifted to the western window so she wouldn't hear me push off her roof on my way home. Then she started humming.
It was a slow melody that started off with very similar notes before it raised a few tones and settled back down. Even without the plink of the guitar, the low hum of the base, the soft piano, or the subtle drum to accompany the notes, I knew exactly what she was humming. It was her favorite song. It was also the staple slow song that Nino kept on hand whenever he deejayed someone's party.
I could hear it clearly, and swayed softly to the warm notes Marinette hummed. It was a welcoming calm, and a peacefulness I don't recall having since my mom disappeared. I slid back to the southern window to better hear her, and then settled against the roof. The Paris skyline laid out before me, with the stain glass windows of Notre Dame catching the moonlight. I closed my eyes, and just listened to Marinette hum her favorite song as she read.
The calm was meditative at first, but soon it allowed my mind to wander. It brought me to the fact that I was lounged across Marinette's roof while still dressed as a supposed superhero. It was such a horrendous misuse of my powers: becoming Chat Noir in order to spy on a classmate simply because she's too bashful to show her full self to the world. We're teens, none of us show our true selves to the world. I probably am the worst case of that. I have to be so refined and reserved in order to please Father that as Adrien I could never do anything I could as Chat Noir. Case and point: my spying on my friend.
I guess that was part of my mask; part of the reason why no one had figured me out yet. No one could wrap their mind around the fact that this flirty, playful, pun-loving, bold, cat-themed superhero saving Paris was the same kid as the surprisingly humble, soft spoken, Adrien Agreste.
If I could have a secret life – more so than most teens – then why couldn't I leave Marinette hers? Why couldn't Bedroom Marinette just stay private?
It was because I now knew that the Marinette I kept spying on was the real version of her. I wanted to know more about my friend, and this was the real friend I needed to learn about. Marinette wasn't meek, unsure, reserved, indecisive, or completely clumsy the way I had always seen her. The way she always presented herself. Sure, those were parts of her, for whatever reason, but she was more than them. She was bold, determined, concise, energetic, and surprisingly graceful when she thought no one was paying attention. I mean, yes, she was still a bit clumsy, but she tended to recover in some of the most amazingly athletic ways I could witness. Her reflexes were near superhuman.
In every aspect, she was a different person when she felt she could just be her; without an audience. At least, an audience that she knew of. It was so enchanting to discover that. So reassuring.
Marinette was like me. She might not have known what she was doing. She might not have even been doing so intentionally. She might have thought that the Marinette she showed the world was truly her, but it wasn't. She was hiding her true self within the fortress of her bedroom.
The girl who danced around with reckless abandon to a true rock legend; the girl who stayed up past midnight in order to get a design out of her head before she lost it; the girl who hunkered down until she mastered a tough homework problem or solved a classmate's concern; the girl who tripped over her own discarded shoe, but recovered by hopping on one foot until she could plop onto her chaise; that girl was Marinette.
I was the same – hiding who I really was from my friends – but I at least knew what I was doing and why. I wanted to help Marinette so bad. I wanted her to feel confident enough to always dance like no one was watching, even in public. I wanted her to be nimble because she no longer believed herself to be a klutz. I wanted her to command attention and respect. I wanted everyone to see her the way I now did.
I wanted to let her know that I saw who she really was. I wanted to gently shake her, and tell her that she is so much more than what she thought.
I had no clue how to bring that up, though. The only way to let her know that I saw the real her was to confess to spying on her. The only way to explain that – if she would still listen to me after finding out that I'm a stalker – would be to confess that I was Chat Noir. Could I really do that? How would that conversation even go? If I couldn't even let Ladybug know who I was, how could I tell Marinette?
Still, even though I knew I couldn't say anything without having to tell her everything, I yearned to shake her from her shell. I finally understood why Nathanael once had a crush on her, and maybe still did. Nino's sudden fascination with her made sense, even if he did just as abruptly discover he actually liked Alya. In fact, I had faith that Marinette had even more admirers that no one knew about.
From our very first interaction, I had known that Marinette was sturdy and brave when push came to shove. When it came to protecting her family, friends, or her designs – all things she took great pride in – she oozed conviction that the timid girl normally wouldn't showcase. I saw the full brunt of it whenever she butted heads with Chloé.
I also knew that Marinette was witty and creative. It was easy to see whenever she tried to handle Chloé's bullying entitlement or Kim's masculine bravado. It was there when she crafted her derby hat, complete with a masterfully hidden designer's signature. I then saw it on a higher level when I witnessed her designing in her room, and figuring out how to best handle problems as the class representative.
It was obvious that she was caring, and happy to be a cheerleader for her friends. All of these qualities were the reasons I considered her such a close friend, even when we barely interacted. Those qualities were why I called out her name whenever I saw her; happy to steal even a couple moments with the brightness she always seemed to spread. They were all qualities that could easily make someone fall for her the way Nathanael and Nino did.
That was Normal Marinette, though. This new version of Marinette that I discovered, the one she believed was hidden away from prying eyes, that girl could win over virtually anyone who interacted with her. Chloé would no longer have any pull over our classmates if this secret Marinette ever showed up at school.
My chest grew tight as I realized I wanted that. I wanted so badly for this Marinette to come out of hiding. She had all the best parts of the Marinette we knew, but she was also so much more. There was an extra factor about her.
Something that was very much like Ladybug. This secret Marinette had confidence, strategy, charisma, and determination that could have rivaled my lady's. She had the makings of a true superhero, and I would have been proud to work alongside her.
I got a flash memory of Marinette interacting with my Chat Noir persona when we were trying to take down the Evillustrator. She seemed star-struck enough when I first greeted her, but she had no problem quickly turning the tables and being the calm, focused one during the actual attack. She did what needed to be done, as if she had done it hundreds of times before. She wasn't afraid to be around an akumatized villain. She kept her head, and found a crafty way of getting the pen Evillustrator's akuma was hiding in. When Evillustrator took the pen back, and locked us in a box on a quickly sinking boat, she was the one who figured out how to escape.
She didn't panic. She was firm and vigilant. Not many citizens would be so level headed, let alone a teenager. She even pushed me away as I tried a bit too hard to be a heroic knight carrying her to safety; keeping me focused on the task at hand instead of the idea of saving a damsel in distress. She was amazing. It was such a Ladybug-type move, too. Why didn't I notice that before? Why did it take me so long to see the similarity between the two? Was I really that fixated on my attempts to be impressive in the eyes of a civilian? The eyes of one of my classmates? The eyes of Marinette?
I saw it clearly now, though. The new half of Marinette's personality that I was able to see over the past five days - the confidence, the brilliance, the determination, the strategy, and the drive - they were all just like Ladybug. The thought made me smile, and filled me with pride for some reason; realizing how similar Marinette was to my partner. I couldn't lock down where the sense of pride bubbled from, but it was there. It let me know that, even with all of Chloé's bullying, Marinette would be fine and could hold her own. It added to my faith that Marinette would become the famous fashion designer she hoped she'd become; that I knew she'd become. Perhaps the pride was simply in knowing that I had chosen such an awe-inspiring person to be friends with. That one of the best decisions in my life was to listen to Nino when he told me to explain to Marinette that the gum on her chair was simply a misunderstanding: that I wanted no part in Chloé's prank, and that I was trying to take the gum off, not put it on. Perhaps it was pride in knowing that I had made the right choice in trying to make her my friend, instead of resigning to the fact that she hated me.
Wherever that pride came from, it warmed me out on that roof, but a small part of me still dripped with melancholy. While I couldn't be as free around Marinette as I could be with Ladybug, mostly because I couldn't allow myself to be Chat outside the mask, I did feel like I could be more relaxed around my classmate. I was comfortable to be more "me" around her. However, upon remembering the awkwardness from our hang-out earlier that day, and how bumbling she always seemed to be around me, it became painfully obvious that she wasn't as comfortable.
There was a wall that I couldn't get through, and being outside her window, having a literal wall keeping us apart, was agonizing. If only I could get Marinette comfortable around me. If only I could make her feel as at ease with me as I felt with her. If only this Hidden Marinette was allowed to see the light of day. If only I could give her a mask so she felt as safe to be her true self as I did whenever I was Chat Noir.
If only, then maybe I could stop my sick hobby of creeping on her. And more people could see what I did: Marinette was one of the most amazing girls I had ever met; second only to my Ladybug.
**A/N: Sorry, I know there wasn't a lot of dialog in this chapter. It's hard to figure out lengthy "flashbacks" and "montage scenes" in prose. I hope I did it fairly well.
Also, if only our little cinnamon roll knew what was really going on with Marinette, right? He'd know that he has to add at least Theo and Luka to the list of Mari admirers.
Speaking of, while this story will always remain vaguely "after season one" but never officially placed anywhere within season 2, I have to say that I was inspired by the Adrienette dance in Despair Bear for Mari's humming scene. I'll leave it up to you guys to decide if this story takes place after that episode, and therefore Adrien has his own connection to that song. ;) **