I'm so sorry this took so long to finish. I wanted it to be perfect for all of you since it's such a crucial chapter. I really hope all of you enjoy it as I have had so much fun writing it.

This chapter is still in Adrien's perspective.

Thank you for all of your lovely reviews so far, I've loved reading them!

I hope you enjoy!

The sheer intensity of the memory is enough to make me shiver back to reality. Marinette is eyeing me with a worried look on her face. I didn't even realise that I had shed a tear until I feel it land on my leg. I sniffle, embarrassed that Marinette had to witness me being such an emotional mess.

But I don't think she seems to mind.

I feel her put a hand on my leg and I look at her, giving a weak smile as I try to reassure her.

"What if everything was different?"

Immediately I feel crestfallen. Back to this again. I'd love to imagine she was right. That things could indeed change and be different. But they will never change. And at this point in my life, hope is a dangerous thing. It is like a silent assassin that is ready to kill you whenever you come out of hiding, thinking it's safe. So I cannot be lured into the light.

"Things will never be different for me Marinette. And I guess I've just got to deal with the loneliness. I've done it my whole life after all," I say.

"No."

She is looking at me, a stern expression on her face. I've never seen her look this defiant before, so powerful and wise.

"No, I'm here now, and you don't have to be alone anymore. I really like you Adrien, and I mean that," she elaborates, shooting me a small, nervous smile.

I like to think that I am far from stupid.

Before I got put away in here, I used to have private lessons from the various tutors my father had grudgingly hired. Because he was trying to keep up the façade that he cared. Because it's what my mother would have wanted. And he would've done anything to avenge her. It also meant I read a lot of poetry whilst cooped up in my room. A lot of R.M Drake. It was the only thing that made me feel real, like I was actually a person. Whilst I was locked away in my own bedroom, the only thing I could turn to were books, and the voices of others merged with the paper through ink. The words of poets became my own, and I often read the same poems so many times I could easily recite the verses word for word. Line for line and stanza for stanza. So many of them remind me of Marinette. Although she has been through so much, and has had so many people judge her, yet she still manages to go out of her own way to make others happy, just so they don't have to go through the same pain as her. She has an amazing gift for making others happy, but she's cruelly locked away here.

There was a flower in her heart, it just needed more room to bloom. And when she let it free, she showed the world that sometimes the most beautiful things can grow in the darkest of places without the need of light.

Marinette has managed to light up my whole world, there's golden light brimming from every inch of it, my whole world is blinding. She likes me. She likes me!

But of course there's a problem.

A small problem. A catastrophic problem.

My curse, or illness, or problem, or whatever you'd call it.

"Marinette, I think you're amazing, but I need to stay away from you. I could hurt you, or worse. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, not because of me," I try to explain, wanting to take her hand and soften the blow. However...

She seems rather undeterred, despite my protest. Eyes wide, she presses on.

"But what if there was an exception? If you just hope-"

"I tried hope, Marinette. But I killed my own mother because of it. So I've got to crush the hope before it crushes me and everything I care about," I interrupt, not wanting to put myself through any more explanations or ideas of what could happen.

"But Adrien, what if I'm right?" she continues.

"And what if you're wrong?" I snap, a bit more forcefully than I had intended, "no one has ever touched my skin and survived."

"Because no one has ever tried," she says finally.

I stop and lift my head up to meet her eye, and I see that she's smiling, nodding in an attempt to persuade me.

"There's no way that anything can stay bad forever. Everything will be just fine in the end," she continues reassuringly.

Wow. She really doesn't like to give up.

"And if it isn't?"

"Then I guess it isn't the end, is it? If you don't try, you'll never know. Look, you don't understand right now, but you will," she gives me a mysterious smile.

I falter, cursing myself for being so pessimistic all of the time.

"Do you trust me?" she asks.

"Of course."

She puts out her hand, her dainty palm facing me. I frown, trying to understand what she is doing.

"Then try."

With those two words, everything finally clicks, and I understand what she wants me to do. Maybe she is crazy. Is she crazy? Of course she's crazy! Why would a sane person-

Then I look into her eyes. Properly. She has bluebell eyes, full of honesty and sincerity, not craziness.

Those eyes have seen so many places and her heart has felt so many things and yet you still smile at the darkest feelings and find expression in everything that's coloured when she's around.

She was never crazy.

She just didn't let her heart settle in a cage. She was born wild and honest, and sometimes we need people like her. For it's the horrors in her heart which cause the flames in ours. And now, it's clear how much she has always been willing to burn for everyone and everything that she's ever loved.

Gingerly, I reach out my hand and bring it slowly closer towards hers until they are merely centimetres apart. I feel sick to my stomach. She is perhaps centimetres away from death.

Or perhaps not.

What if I kill her?

What if I don't?

My mind is tearing itself into shreds. My brain is a piece of paper that has been scribbled on repeatedly, the same scrawl overlapping and crossing the same point time and time again, and it has just been thrown into a paper shredder. The paper has been chopped up and sliced into tiny strips, each one full of crazy lines that are unable to be restored.

In other words, my whole head is in turmoil.

I stare from my hand to hers and back again. Do I try?

She decides for us.

With a gentle movement, she puts her hand forward so it is touching mine, palms clasped together.

We both freeze. Wait expectantly. I close my eyes and listen for the cries of agony, the screams of death.

They never come.

All I can hear is Marinette's happy laugh as the realisation sinks into both of us. She's giggling in happiness, and she has the most amazing laugh, melodic and gentle. She laces her fingers into mine and beams at me, a look which I mirror.

I can't believe it. I actually can't believe it. For the first time in years, I have touched the skin of another human. And it feels amazing. I laugh out loud in amazement and sheer happiness. I'm holding her hand. I'm actually holding her hand!

"H-how? Why? How did you... in all my life, no one has ever done that before," I breathe, so incredibly confused and happy and a mix of other emotions I cannot yet comprehend.

Marinette smiles at me.

"Like I told you, no one has ever tried."

"I don't understand. I don't understand," is all I can say, my smile beginning to make my face ache with joy.

Our hands are still pressed together. Marinette's fingers are so warm, and mine are cold, like I've been frozen my whole life and only now am I beginning to thaw.

"Last night, I woke up and you were screaming. You must have been having a nightmare, so I sat up with you until you stopped. After you did, you started to shiver really badly and so I tried to cover you with your t-shirt to warm you up," she explains, her genuine caring actions making me smile even wider.

"When I did, I thought that my hand touched yours, but I wasn't sure, so I tried to feel your temperature, thinking you might have been ill. And I'm still here Adrien. Your curse doesn't affect me."

I stare in disbelief. So this whole time, she could touch me and I could touch her, but neither of us knew? I still don't know how it's possible, but I don't care.

"But why you?" I ask. Marinette pauses for a moment, thinking.

"I have no idea. Maybe fate, maybe luck, or maybe it's because we balance each other out. I can create and heal, and you can destroy and, well... kill. It would make sense."

I contemplate what she has said for a moment, weighing up all of the options and reasons. I grin at her.

"I like fate better."

"Me too," she laughs.

Did I mention that at this point our hands are still pressed together, our fingers still entwined? Well, they are! I think we're both just enjoying the company, and the feeling that a normal human would have. Because like it or not, we're not normal. But now we have each other, we don't need normality.

I'm so overcome with happiness, but I have millions of questions, so many things I want to know the answer to.

"I still have so many questions."

"Well, ask away. What do you want to know? We'll figure it out together," Marinette affirms, eyes sparking at me happily.

"If you thought you touched me, but weren't sure, why did you try again? Surely you were worried or at least a little concerned I might, you know... kill you," I inquire, tilting my head to one side.

Marinette pauses for a moment and then blushes, biting her lip. Opening her mouth as if to say something, I notice she takes a deep breath before speaking.

"I don't know. I guess sometimes you can never truly live until you've found someone worth dying for, you know?"

I'm taken aback. Smiling fondly to myself, I realise how much I truly like Marinette. She's... incredible.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"D-do you think it's just the palms of our hands that are immune, or is it the rest of us too?" she asks me, frowning in thought herself.

I think about it. And the strangest thing happens. There's an absence inside of me, but I don't miss the feeling that used to fill that hole. Fear. For the first time ever, I'm not scared to try any more. If there's one thing that Marinette has taught me these past few days is that everything is always worth trying, and if it doesn't work out, at least you know. Ever since she got here, she's tried to give me hope, friendship, life. Even though I denied her at first, she kept trying. She seemed just as lonely as me, and I realised something about her.

She was broken. I think it was because she loved too much. And she was always blind to the fact that sometimes love too was blind.

But now I'm not blind, and I can see again. So, with my new vision I shuffle closer to her, our hands touching the floor, but still clasped together. Grinning at her, I lean slowly closer. Our eyes are locked together in a beautiful moment, like we're in a vacuum of nothing but us.

"Let's find out," I whisper.

Cupping her face in my hands, I search her face with my eyes. We both seem to realise that we are in fact completely immune to each other, and as we smile I'm sure I'm about to burst with happiness.

Faces centimetres apart, I gather every ounce of my courage.

And I kiss her.

As our lips meet, I think I've taken her by surprise, as she stiffens. Instantly I panic, wondering if I read her wrong. But I shouldn't have worried. After a moment she relaxes and kisses me back, gentle at first but then with more urgency. With more magic. It's as if all my life there has been a universal blackout, and all of a sudden every light in the world is shining so brightly. Marinette melts into my embrace, resting her arms on my bare shoulders. It's like every ounce of the company I've been missing for so long is being poured back into me, igniting my heart and waking up my soul.

We are magic.

We are moments.

We are dreams and

we are memories.

And in the depths of life we swim deeper and deeper

to discover that we are not born whole,

so we can't be broken.

We are born in twos,

two halves of the same heart that have been separated,

and we are searching, searching for the other piece,

that other person to guide us home.

And I've found my other piece.

Marinette.

As we break apart, we remain with our heads resting against each other. I can't help but wonder how I've gone from not knowing Marinette to suddenly really really liking her. Maybe it's the lack of human contact. Maybe it's something else. It scares me how many feelings I must've been ignoring.

Marinette is giggling to herself, eyes twinkling in amusement. I frown, pulling away slightly from her so I can properly see her.

"What are you laughing at?" I ask, bemused.

Marinette shakes her head, still chuckling.

"Well, for starters, that was a pretty smooth line for someone like you," she jokes.

I exhale sharply in mock outrage.

"What do you mean 'someone like me'?" I ask, pretending to be offended.

"I'm just saying, for someone who's been locked away from humanity for years, that was very well put. I had no idea how much of a flirt you were."

I put on my best serious face and stare off into the distance, trying to imitate a smoulder that I've seen so many times in movies. I think it's more comical than alluring.

"You have no idea," I say.

I meet her eyes and it's enough to send us both into fits of laughter, doubling over as we clutch our sides. We're both out of breath by the time our laughter has died down. I sigh happily, almost forgetting where I am, why I'm here. It's liberating.

"Marinette," I say, the syllables of her name dancing over my tongue. Ok, maybe that's a bit too excessive.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad it's you," I say, voicing my thoughts out loud.

"Yeah, me too. Although, you have to admit we were doing pretty well at the whole 'don't touch me I'm deadly' thing," she replies with a laugh.

That night...

Eventually we decide to try and go to sleep. So, we both lie on the mattress, side by side since neither one of us is concerned about an accidental death in the middle of the night anymore. We're lying quite separately, very awkwardly, extremely quietly. Neither of us speak until Marinette shivers from next to me, folding her arms in an attempt to try and warm herself up.

"Are you cold?" I ask from my position facing away from her. I don't know why I don't turn around. However, it's only after I realise it's a stupid move.

Her reply comes shortly after.

"No, I just have this fetish where I really like to shiver," she replies.

Now I roll over and stare at her. She has a...

"Really?" I ask, genuinely serious. I've never heard of that before.

At first, her expression is serious, but then she gives in and starts to laugh at me, reaching forward to push me in the shoulder playfully.

"Of course not! It's freezing in here."

She was joking.

Of course she was.

Well, I don't think I have ever been more embarrassed in my whole life. Hopefully if I look at the floor I can pass it off as... anything else other than a furious blush.

"You'd think they would at least give us a blanket. You can have my t-shirt if you want," I offer, trying to ignore my own stupidity.

Way to impress a girl, I think to myself, showing her that you think shivering fetishes are real is sure to get her to fall in love with you.

Marinette is still looking at me with an amused sparkle in her eyes.

"No, it's ok, you keep it."

It's silent again. Quiet but deafening, soundless but roaring. There's this unspoken conversation between us that's dominating the room, both of us so used to being lost in our own thoughts we forget to communicate. The silence is swallowed by the creak of the springs as Marinette shivers again. I sit up abruptly.

"Ok, if you shiver one more time I think you're probably going to die, fetish or not."

I see her laugh quietly under her breath.

I'm suddenly given an idea.

I don't know what it is that possesses me to do the thing I do next. I guess I am a lot more flirtatious than I thought.

As inconspicuously as possible, I shuffle closer to Marinette, hoping my body heat is enough to warm her up. Much to my surprise she doesn't flinch. It's the first time in years that someone hasn't. Instead she moves closer to the frame of my body, curling up so that we can both feel the warmth of the other person.

"Better?" I ask.

"Better," she replies.

Marinette's eyes drift slowly to the window, where we can both see the stars that have spattered the sky. I imagine how far away from them we are, a mere nothing to them from their places way up in the sky. Since her eyes are locked on the window, I gaze at her, looking fondly at the top of her head.

I'm not sure how long I lie there for. I lie until the cell has gone completely dark, and the moon is the only one awake. It's now that I begin to think. I can never make sense of anything in the day, I can never think clearly enough to understand all of the things that have occurred. I think best at night, when the whispers of the world have all subsided and extinguished. When there's no one but me and the moon. And now, Marinette. At night, I often feel like the moon itself: terrified of the sky but completely enamoured with the way it embraces the stars.

I still can't believe that I'm here with Marinette snuggled in my arms, and I'm even more in disbelief that our skin can touch.

No more fear.

No more wondering.

I suddenly notice Marinette's eyelids flicker, and I try to see if she's awake.

"Hey, you awake?" I whisper gently, careful not to be too loud in case she is asleep.

There's a short pause.

"No, why?" she whispers in reply.

"Oh."

I contemplate going to sleep, and then I realise she is kidding and is now watching me, highly amused. I shoot her a sarcastic look.

"You're hilarious."

"Oh, I know. Are you ok?" she asks, meeting my eyes sleepily.

"Yeah. I've been thinking," I answer.

"Oh?"

I nod wisely.

"Oh indeed. Have you ever..." I begin, but I don't really know how to say what it is I've been pondering for the last few minutes. I decide to try again.

"Imagine if our younger selves could see us now. Back when we were first locked up and friendless. What do you think they'd have thought if they knew we'd be here now?"

Marinette ponders the question for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. Finally she looks up at me and gives me a small tentative smile.

"If I had known I was going to meet someone like you, it would have given me something I didn't have any of some time ago?"

"Company?" I suggest.

She chuckles, sighing at me.

"No silly. Hope," she finishes.

We smile at each other, our thoughts becoming too private to voice.

A yawn escapes my lips, and I finally realise how late it must be.

"It's late. We should probably try to get some sleep," I start, shifting on the bed to make myself comfortable. Marinette doesn't move, staying in the same position curled up next to me.

"Adrien?" she calls out. Her voice falters in a way that makes me uneasy. She sounds almost anxious.

"Yeah?"

"It's us against everyone out there now, right? All those people who are trying to hurt you. From here on out, I'm always going to be here, and you're not going to face them alone, ok?" she says, some of the confidence returning to her voice.

I smile at her earnest face, looking up at me with beautiful blue eyes. From this moment, I know what she wants. She just wants someone to be there for, and someone who understands her. And I realise that I can be that person.

I wasn't all there.

and she wasn't all there either,

but we both pretended to be.

And in a strange way that was good enough for me.

People are like that.

They quickly become attached to anything that makes them feel good

at any time.

Music. Art. Love. Money.

Whatever it is,

people always need something.

Something to distract them

from the bitter truth, from the memories that hurt.

Something to distract them

from them being themselves.

I cup her face with my hands, rubbing my thumb gently on her cheek. She closes her eyes.

"I know you will be M'lady. Us against the world."

"Always."

And there we are! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it has definitely been my favourite one so far.

Let me know what you think!