So, guess who's still alive. That's right, me!
There are no words for how sorry I am I disappeared for, like, four months. Life was a little hectic. But, wedding's over (so I'm Mrs Flare to you now), we've moved into a flat, and I've got a full time job like the real adult I'm pretending to be. But I'm determined to finish this soo… yeah.

Short one to get back into things, methinks. Apologies, dear readers. Next one should be more interesting.

Day 26: Soulmates

Christmas had come and passed, and it took with it an armful of stress Marinette was glad to be rid of. In between designing and creating projects for her classes, finishing Christmas presents for everyone, and saving Paris from Hawkmoth, she barely had time to just sit and breathe.

And yet, it was far less stressful than the previous Christmas. At least this year she could pool most of her effort into design instead of chemistry and English and history. At least this year she had access to her lycée's craft room with its state-of-the-art sewing machines and books upon books upon books of techniques and patterns and ideas, so making presents from scratch was easier. At least this year she had Viperion's help with defeating akumas, and with his time-reversal powers the battles seemed to go by much quicker and left her less exhausted. (Although poor Viperion always looked completely tuckered out—he had, after all, been in the battle for hours instead of five minutes.)

And, most importantly, this year she had Luka reminding her to take an afternoon to herself every now and again.

But with Christmas gone, and the awkward, festering period between Boxing Day until New Year upon them, Marinette finally felt she had time to do her own things again. To make clothes that she wanted to make for her own enjoyment; to hang out with her friends properly; catch up with her previous classmates who had gone on to other lycées; and plan dates with her patient boyfriend.

And so, one cold, crisp day, she was waiting for said patient boyfriend in their favourite cafe near the Pont des arts. She had nabbed a little table by the window, flanked by two, squashy sofas, and bought two mugs of hot chocolate—mint flavoured, of course—which now sat in front of her with small plates on top to stop the heat escaping. As she waited, she entertained herself with her phone, scrolling through a design blog in between texts from Alya.

A: ugghhhhh this essay is such a draaag

A: like im doing journalism not lit

A: why is it due in january? i cant even enjoy christmas break becase of it

M: Whats it about?

A: journalism

A: well the effects of
A: like how rumours become widespread or whatever
A: its interesting i guess
A: like did u know that if u kiss under that tree in the troc the one with the weird roots then ull be soulmates
A: or something like that

M: Sounds romantic. Have you and Nino kissed under it yet? ;)

A: maaaaaaaybe :P

M: Maybe play a bit of super penguino? ;)

A: ssshhhhh :P ;)

Super Penguino aside, Marinette hadn't heard this story. She thought she knew most of Paris' secrets and rumours through swinging around as Ladybug, but this one had passed her by. Soulmates if you kiss under a specific tree?

It was ridiculous really. But she had always been a romantic at heart, and the idea of soulmates and true love, even if it was a silly superstition, appealed. She was still thinking about it when Luka appeared at the cafe doors, his arrival heralded by the little bell that rang as he entered.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greeted, falling onto the sofa and inclining his head to peck the top of her head.

Marinette grinned and quickly flung her phone into her bag then shuffled closer to hug him. "Hey! Oh, I got you a hot chocolate. How was your Christmas?"

"Alright," he replied, sliding one of the mugs closer to him and removing the plate. A ball of steam erupted from the mouth and hung for a moment like a cloud before dissipating. "Ma had a bit too much port and Juleka and I had to wrestle her into bed. But it was good. We got to facetime my grandparents in Scotland… How was yours?"

"Same as ever." Marinette removed the second plate from her own drink with another puff of steam. "Shop was open late on Christmas Eve as usual. Grandpa Roland and Grandma Gina came round. Gina's still here, actually. She goes back to Italy later in January… Oh! And you have to come around while she's here. She wants to meet you. Properly, anyway."

"Sounds good," he said. Then, after a long sip from his mug, "This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had in my life."

"I told you you'd like it."

He grinned and pressed a sticky, chocolatey kiss to her cheek, which she rubbed away grimacing. "So, what were you thinking about earlier? I saw you in the window before I came in, looking very thoughtful."

"Oh." Marinette flushed, and quickly picked up her own hot chocolate to hide her pink face. "Just something silly Alya told me…"

"Oh yeah?" he prompted.

"I...it's silly."

"You know I love silly. I'm dating you, after all."

"Hey!" she whined, giving him a playful whack on the arm.

Luka was, however, still holding his drink and nearly dropped it. He quickly put his hand over the mug lest any of it fly out then slowly turned his head to glare at her. "This is the best drink of my life," he said quietly. "If I spill a single drop of it I'll cry."

"That's dramatic."

"You clearly don't understand the bond between a man and his hot beverage."

"You're ridiculous."

"You love it." He quirked a crooked smirk and took another sip of his hot chocolate, batting away her hand when she reached forward to try and tip it over his face. He placed it back on the table. "Speaking of ridiculous, what's this silly thing Alya told you?"

Apparently, he wasn't going to let it go. Sighing, Marinette wrapped her hands around her mug, relishing in the feeling of warm ceramic against her relatively cold palms. "She told me about this tree near the Trocadéro and apparently whoever you kiss under it is your soulmate or something."

"Oh, is that all?"

"What do you mean 'is that all?" she demanded. "Soulmates are a very serious matter."

"Ah yes. The Marinette factor, where in some situations the word 'serious' is the same as the word 'silly'."

"Oh shut up."

He chuckled and lightly bumped his head against hers. "I'm teasing. But it's the sort of rumour that comes up all the time. I'm pretty sure there was a tourism campaign about kissing on the Pont des arts. And at the top of the Eiffel Tower. If it's scenic and it's in Paris then there'll be some romantic story cooked up around it."

"I know," she mumbled. "I just hadn't heard this one. It's not even the Trocadéro itself."

Luka shrugged; Marinette could tell his attention was slipping back to the hot chocolate.

When their mugs were empty, they left the cafe, arm-in-arm, and began strolling down the Parisian streets. Most shops were still closed - many of the boutiques wouldn't open again until the new year - but their windows were still brightly decorated with tinsel and baubles and paper snowflakes.

It hadn't snowed yet, to Marinette's disappointment, although Luka was pleased as when it was cold enough to snow it meant it was cold enough for ice to form on the boat were the Seine splashed onto the deck and turned the wooden planks into a death trap. But grey clouds were slowly gathering on the horizon, and brought with them a sort of dreaded anticipation.

Snow was fun. But the cold was something else altogether.

It was already too cold for her really. The wind was strong and icy, tugging at her pigtails and pulling her scarf straight behind her like a cape. She shivered and tugged the sleeves of her coat down so they covered her hands, and bunched the ends in her fists, essentially locking the warmth inside and saving her fingers.

Luka gave a whine of disappointment because prior to this he had been holding one of these hands and was now trying to hold her sleeve.

The Eiffel Tower reared before them in the distance like a ghost. Marinette stared at it, and as she stared, her eyes shifted and slighted on a patch just next to the tower, on the Trocadéro. But the trees were dead, and their bare branches too far away to see.

Luka was still trying to find a way to hold her hand through her sleeve so, bracing herself, Marinette slipped her hand free and laced her fingers through his.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" she asked.

Luka frowned thoughtfully for a while. His hand shifted and wrapped completely around her tiny one, shielding it from the cold. "Like...a perfect match?" he eventually enquired.

"I guess."

"I don't know. I don't think that can exist, you know. I mean, we're people, not puzzle pieces. We change."

"We don't change that much though," she said. They turned off the streets and onto a narrow footpath that ran towards the river. "A little, sure, but who you are in fifty years won't be completely different to who you are now. Right?"

Luka shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on life, I suppose."

"And what if you fit someone. And so when you change, you change together? So you still fit? My parents have been together for ages and they're still a perfect match."

"I suppose that's the difference between growing together and growing apart," he said. "But if you've put up with me for this long, and with everything that's happened… Well… If soulmates exist…" He faltered, one hand disappearing into his hair, the other fidgeting with her fingers.

Marinette squeezed his hand and the fidgeting stopped. "I know," she said. "I think we fit together pretty well. At least, for now."

"We'll grow together," he said.

Marinette didn't notice their slowing until they had come to a complete stop on the path, trees lining one side, the gentle rumble of the river on the other. The sun glinted on the water like crushed diamonds.

The Trocadéro was still at least a thirty minute walk away, and there were no Parisian landmarks here to capture the imagination of the hopeless romantics, no spots to mark your soulmate with a kiss. But Marinette didn't care. She tugged Luka to the shadow of the trees, where the winter sun filtered through the bare branches and gleamed on the damp grass. The stiff breeze rose colour in his cheeks, and whispered through her hair.

It didn't matter whether or not they were soulmates, or if soulmates even existed. They fit together, and she hoped, when as they grew up and changed, they would still fit.

She pulled her hand out of his grip and slid her fingers between his against, and smiled. "We'll grow together," she murmured.