Ghjsk so it turns out the stars were aligned. Hope you enjoy this, lightasthesun!


the roses still bloom

Adrien sat next to Marinette on the chaise in her bedroom. Maybe too close. He felt like a lost shadow trying to latch onto her, his knee brushing hers, his hand itching to twine their fingers. It wasn't a possessive desire. He just wanted to feel the warmth of life that pulsed in her veins, that made her chest rise and fall.

He wanted reassurance.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked.

She ducked her head, pink blooming on her face. "It was just a bit of dizziness."

Cold seized his heart and squeezed it tight. Just a bit of dizziness. How many times had he heard those words? How many times had he been brushed aside, told to ignore what was right in front of his eyes? The colour that had faded on cheeks like withering roses. Smiles that were just flimsy veils, barely concealing what was beneath. Records left to collect dust. An empty space where a woman should have stood. The little sways. The little tumbles. His father's grim expression and the doors that had shut him out over and over.

Adrien couldn't do it again. Not with Marinette.

His hand gripped hers. "But it's not serious, right? You'll really be okay?"

Her eyes widened and the rosy hue on her face darkened. "Y-yeah. I just need to rest and I'll be fine."

More of the same. Both his mum and Nathalie had told him that so many times. It brought hot stings to his eyes.

"Adrien?" she said in alarm, returning his grip. "Hey, what's wrong?"

There was a lump stuck in his throat. Tears gathered around his eyelashes, clinging and clinging. Somehow, it felt like if he let one fall then it would all spill out—every shaking, rib-splintering fear that he was keeping locked up inside of him. Every clawing, scrap of emotion.

"I'm sorry," Adrien managed to say, his voice low and trembling. "I-I came here to check up on you, yet here I am—"

"No, it's okay." She rubbed his arm in a soothing way, and he couldn't help but lean into her touch like a starved plant aching for the sun. "I'm more worried about you right now."

He bit his lip. Right, because here he was falling apart in front of her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

His free hand balled into a fist, knuckles flashing white. "It just … it feels like this keeps happening."

"What do you mean?"

"The dizzy spells." His voice came out in the barest whisper. "People getting sick. That's how it started with Mum, you know. Little dizzy spells that got worse and worse. Then I wasn't allowed to see her."

Marinette squeezed his shoulder, offering comfort and encouraging him to go on.

The lump in his throat got bigger. Choking. "Nathalie's sick. Same dizzy spells. Same excuses." He swallowed, struggling to get the words out. "I don't even see her these days, but Father still says it's not serious." His voice wobbled. "And now you're having dizzy spells …"

Marinette wordlessly pulled him into her arms. He closed his eyes, pressing close. Now he could feel her warmth. Now he could feel every breath she took and how it fanned his neck. It still wasn't enough.

"I'm sorry, Adrien," she said softly. "I know it must have been so hard for you to lose your mum. I know you must be really worried about Nathalie as well." She held him extra tight. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm just a little anaemic at the moment. It'll pass, I swear."

The words barely penetrated his mind, muddled up by anxious thoughts and a scream that reverberated in every beat of his heart.

Not Marinette. Not her, too.

So irrational. So uncontrollable. Maybe it didn't matter what she said; he had already become that boy sitting in a room too big for him, crying over old photos and bringing roses to a statue in the garden.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, scalding trails that trembled on his lips. He couldn't stop them. He couldn't seem to stop any of this: the struggle for air, the little shudders, the way he just wanted to shatter apart like porcelain cracked one too many times.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, because he didn't know what else to say. He felt so stupid, so emotional. But he couldn't stop. Marinette was a treasured friend, and he had lost people before.

She rubbed her hand along his back. "You don't have to apologise," she said, her voice just as hushed. "It's okay to cry."

Fresh tears prickled his eyes. He buried his face into her shoulder and his fingers curled into her jacket. All the pent-up grief and anxiety tumbled out of him, raw and with none of the pretty finish his father would have expected. She held him without hesitation.

It was a long time before they broke apart. When they did, his eyes were red and he sniffed, conscious that he probably looked a snotty mess.

"Feeling better?" she asked, handing him a tissue.

He blew his nose and wiped some of the stray tears from his cheeks. "Y-yeah," he said hoarsely. "I, um, I think I really needed that."

She smiled.

His heart stuttered. That smile. Soft, warm, like spring chasing away winter's chill, promising that whatever had withered would bloom again. A smile that was just so Marinette.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "Thank you."

"O-oh, um, y-you're melmlome. I-I mean welcome."

His lips curved at the little slip-up and his hand found hers, half interlacing their fingers in a loose hold. "I mean it. Marinette, you are one of the most amazing girls I have ever met. I'm so grateful to have you as a friend. I'm so grateful you're you."

Heat spread across her face, tickling his skin.

"And I'm sorry for getting snot on you," he added. "I can wash your jacket for you if you like."

A hushed laugh escaped her lips. "You don't have to do that. I don't mind." She tentatively interlaced their fingers fully, palm against palm. "But, Adrien, I hope you know that I'll always be here for you if you need me. Always."

Warmth filled his chest. It was a touch of something so dear and familiar, slipping like a whisper into the beat of his heart. It seemed only natural to caress her thumb with his and kiss her on the cheek. His lips lingered against her heated skin. "I know," he murmured, pulling back to meet her gaze. "And I'll always be here for you."

Her eyes were wide and her face practically glowed with her blush. Smiling, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and hugged her once more. She was his treasured friend. He wanted her to know that. Feel that. Or maybe he just wanted to be close to her. He supposed it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that she did not pull away, and she wasn't going anywhere.


The prompt lighasthesun requested:

ML writing prompt inspired by this scene— "My mum used to have dizzy spells just like Natalie. My father said those weren't serious either."

When his 'friend' Marinette starts getting continously worsening dizzy spells Adrien is reminded of his mother and worries about her more than others. (He doesn't want to lose her too.) angst, hurt/comfort