From Sabrina: It's so pretty! Maybe I should get some for my room too! It'll be nice to have some more color here!
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To Sabrina: You could get hanging plants too, and have the pots hang from the ceiling
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From Sabrina: That'd look super cool!
From Sabrina: Any suggestions? Any plants wikk do!
From Sabrina: **will lol
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To Sabrina: w i k k
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From Sabrina: It's an easy mistake to make!
From Sabrina: Miss "FROG PAM FROG SPACUA"
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To Sabrina: I can't believe youre bringing that back. I'm never gonna get you that frog pan or spatula
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From Sabrina: Nooooooo! Leave the forgs alone they did nothing wrong :(
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To Sabrina: S
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From Sabrina: I trusted you to have my back and you stabbed it with your caps ・゜・(ノД`)
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To Sabrina: Maybe you should get some forg pots to hold all those plants huh :)))))
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From Sabrina: The worst! That's what you are!
From Sabrina: I do want FROG flower pots now tho so thank you for the suggestion ;)
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Chloe bites the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling so widely as she makes her way to her desk. As private as she tends to be, there's a special pride that comes from showing off her plants. She'd compare it to how a parent shows off how great their kid is, but that's something she doesn't have much experience with, so she doesn't bother. She's more a prop than a pride and she doesn't expect that to change any time soon.
Maybe it's not pride. Maybe it's something else.
Like how Takahogi cares for each plant with a special kind of tenderness. Like how Kardija bought flowers every week to give to her family. Like how Adrien keeps coming back to buy more flowers for the people he loves. Like how Chloe shares the brightest joy she's found in her life, selfless for the first time, something bright and vibrant growing in the hollows of her heart.
Maybe it's not pride.
Maybe it's something she's not ready to name yet. But it's there, and it's bright, and it brings joy to the people she cherishes the most and that's really all that matters.
Why wouldn't she share that with Sabrina? Just a few small pictures, sent in the morning, showing her plants freshly watered and catching the dawn's sunlight through the window.
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From Sabrina: [img]
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Chloe glances at the time. She still has a few minutes until class starts and everyone around her is chatting to their friends, ignoring her. Marinette has yet to arrive, but that's really no surprise. Chloe opens the text and immediately bites her tongue to rein back her laughter.
Sabrina has never been an artist. It's something she prides herself on. Everything she draws is lopsided and ridiculous; it's easy to laugh about them, especially when she draws people.
Her new masterpiece is a misshapen frog, sitting on what Chloe guesses is a lily pad, tongue flying out across the paper and a wide grin.
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To Sabrina: ASDFHAKS WHY DOES IT HAVE TEETH
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From Sabrina: DO THEY NOT HAVE TEETH?
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To Sabrina: NO! THEY DONT!
To Sabrina: this is so cursed im actually in tears rn
To Sabrina: class is about to start i was going to cry anyways, i didn't need any help
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From Sabrina: :}
From Sabrina: Have fun! class is gonna start for me too
From Sabrina: I'll text you after school!
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The class door slams open, making everyone jump as Marinette barrels in and collapses in her seat. The teacher follows a second after, a thoroughly amused smile on her face.
"Well," she says, "Looks like everyone's here on time."
The class snickers as everyone makes their way to their own seats. Marinette flushes as she tries to catch her breath, slumped over the desk. Chloe slips her phone into her bag and pulls out a notebook and pen, shifting herself away from Marinette a little. A week in and Chloe still feels tense and uncomfortable around Marinette, prepared to run away at any moment. She doesn't know why though; Marinette hasn't done anything to her. They just ignore each other and focus on their own work.
Marinette leans back, settles into her seat, and pulls out a few papers, diligently copying down what the teacher has begun writing on the board. Not for the first time, Chloe wishes Sabrina was besides her again, wishes she wasn't so scared of everyone, wishes she could be stronger and better and worth something.
It's hard to focus on anything when all Chloe can think about is how much she wants to leave. She zones out for most of her classes, writing things down without really reading them, unable to remember anything that's said, working on autopilot to get through the first half of the day.
And when they're finally released for lunch, Chloe bolts from her seat to get away from everyone. There's a nonstop buzzing in her ears that drowns everything else out. Her eyes feel too heavy, tired and dry to the point where Chloe wants to claw them out.
She presses the base of her hands against her eyes and whispers, "Goddammit." She's supposed to be doing better. She was doing better up until class started and now all Chloe wants to do is get hit by a truck. She takes another moment to try to pull herself together, then makes her way off campus to the hotel.
If she skips lunch, she should get a decent amount of time to nap. It's not like she hasn't gone hungry before.
But she doesn't sleep. Chloe twists and turns, kicking off the covers then pulling them back on again, restless and exhausted, unable to sink into quiet unconsciousness. It feels like there's sand coating her bones, coarse and stinging; every movement makes it worse until she wants to crawl out of her own body and let her soul drift away.
"What is wrong with me," Chloe groans, pressing her palms against her eyes. "Why am I always such a mess."
She was doing well, and now she was falling apart. It's an accurate summary of her life so far, really.
It's clear that she's not going to fall asleep anytime soon, so Chloe forces herself up and out of bed, body feeling to heavy to carry. The permanent knot in her throat is especially suffocating today, going tighter and tighter until she can't breathe. In the solitude of her room, Chloe doesn't worry about keeping up a mask, the ice queen facade that keeps her safely isolated from everyone else in the world. Here, in her room, Chloe is free to pull her hair and scream, trying desperately to loosen that knot and feel more human again.
"I hate this," she whimpers, kneeling down to rest her head on the window seat, right besides her flaming katy. "I just want to be okay. Why does it hurt to much to exist?"
Her phone lets out a loud ringing noise. The alarm's gone off. It's time to go back to school.
Just the thought of going back out, of waiting for Marinette to ruin her, of having to endure another day full of noise and movement when all she wants is a moment of calm, it makes nausea roll in her stomach. Chloe forces herself to take deep breaths, slow to avoid working herself into a panic attack; it's so hard to breathe.
Her ribs are too tight, too constricting. Her body is too small for everything she's feeling. Chloe wonders, distantly, if hell is being trapped in a body that's all the wrong shapes and sizes, that she can't fit into, but is forced in anyways.
Her heart is heavy but the that words ring around her head make her feel free.
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If hell is being in human body…
That's what she needs.
More than flowers and friendship, validation and love, Chloe needs to spill herself out onto the paper and free herself from everything that weighs her down.
Her desk is already a mess of papers, half filled and scattered. She doesn't bother looking over what she's already written; it's nothing good, and barely legible. Instead, Chloe grabs a new piece of paper from her draw and grabs the fist pen she finds buried under the mess on her desk.
The day is already lost to her. Chloe puts pen the paper and lets the world fade away.
if hell is a human body, my mind reigns as devil and demon
setting myself on fire every night just to ward off the dark.
i wish i could say the warmth makes up for the pain,
but it doesn't,
it never will.
humans are warm blooded creatures, bleeding red to paint the world brighter;
my heart is stone cold and ice water flows in my veins.
if hell is a human body, what does that make me when i stop feeling human?
am i just hell? or is that pain heaven?
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for so long i've wanted to die,
what i really wanted was to go home.
it's hard to remember the difference
when home is the heart
you've given to someone else.
I woke up this morning and didn't know my own name.
That's alright though; I knew yours.
In the empty space surrounding me I lost the memory of laughter
for the cold stole into my lungs and withered it away.
Love speaks of flowers;
from my veins, I grow thorns
and bleed myself hollow.
Dreams of still life paintings take over my nights,
a study in your lips, you hands, your eyes,
until the sight of myself in a mirror is unfamiliar and haunting;
there's a void in my chest chipping me empty, pulling bits and pieces of who I am
and crumbling them to dust that clings to the inside of my throat.
I don't know who I am; if no one cares for me, did I ever really exist?
The answer is lost. The answer doesn't matter.
I keep your names on my tongue and walk to the guillotine.
Come morning, I will stitch my head back on with a single thread
and wait for dawn.
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Chloe's gotten so used to bottling up everything she felt that having them spill out onto the paper was beyond cathartic. She couldn't put a name to the emotions she felt, not with how mixed up and tangled they became, but writing them out in a way that could be understood does more for her than a name ever could.
The heaviness in her chest isn't so crushing now. Her mind's gone quiet and she breathes with ease.
Despite how most of the papers she's used is full of half written sentences crossed out in a mess of ink, or how most of the words are smudged, Chloe can't help but be proud of what she's written.
Her heart is spilled on these pages. Even if no one else ever reads them, Chloe knows she wrote them. Chloe knows she pushed herself into doing something when all she wanted to do was wither away into nothing.
Nothing says, Take that, depression! like living when every breath feels like a boulder on her chest, doing what her mind is convinced is impossible.
And when Chloe finally emerges from her writing, hours later, she finally feels that something in her has settled, no longer out of place and burdening. She finally feels like she can face the world again.
To her surprise, among the messages Sabrina and Adrien sent, there's a few texts from Marinette as well. That familiar fear wells up in her; Chloe opens the message regardless.
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From Marinette: Here's the homework for our last two classes.
From Marinette: [img]
From Marinette: [img]
From Marinette: Let me know if you need a copy of the notes.
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Chloe stares at the messages. She can't comprehend them. She's done nothing to deserve Marinette's help. Done nothing to make Marinette reach out to her. Chloe knows she wouldn't have done the same for Marinette. The bitterness that comes with that thought is surprising; Chloe thought she was over that.
Marinette will always be better than Chloe. It shouldn't still be hurting when it's a simple fact of life. Marinette wields kindness like a weapon. Chloe avoids it like the plague.
But Marinette also holds grudges and is too stubborn in her opinions. She's never really helped Chloe before.
Maybe, Chloe's not the only one who's changed.
Maybe, lycee is a second chance and Chloe can try to fix things.
Maybe, it's worth the risk.
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To Marinette: Thanks.
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For once, getting help doesn't feel like a weakness. It feels like she's not alone in this. It feels like courage.