Alya had been with Marinette on the couch when Adrien had entered the game. They'd had to wait about an hour, but he had shown up. Alya sat by, silently watching her friend as the two bantered online. She had been prepared to hype up her friend, provide suggestions on what to say, and even take over the controller if Marinette went catatonic. But none of that happened. Her friend wrote with determination. She was confident and witty without any input from her friend. She was a whole new person. The person she really was but had never been able to call upon around Adrien before.
That Marinette crumbled away as soon as Adrien mentioned her unmasking herself. Alya scooted closer and settled an open palm against her roommate's thigh, gently squeezing as she asked "Marinette?" The girl's eyes were pools of sorrow staring dejectedly at the words on the screen. She swallowed convulsively.
"I'm not ready to tell him," Marinette whispered, "but I need to tell him how I feel. I can't…I can't keep this bottled up." The girl glanced over to meet her friend's eyes, searching for reassurance that it wouldn't be a mistake to speak her mind. That she wouldn't regret setting this boundary.
"I'm so proud of you, girl."
No. Not right now. It kinda feels disappointing that you didn't recognize me. I actually need to go. It's getting late. Let's talk again later.
The words repeated over and over in Marinette's mind as she lay in bed. She had told him how she really felt in a way that felt more intimate than telling him she loved him. She had revealed her soul, allowing herself to be honest with herself and him. It kinda feels disappointing that you didn't recognize me. It was a simple truth and yet she wasn't sure if those words would have been able to pass her lips if their conversation had been face-to-face. He hurt me. That night meant so much more to me than it meant to him. Tears coursed down her cheeks, her face contorting with a whimper as she tried to remain quiet. She didn't want Alya to hear and come check on her. She wanted to be alone. She needed time to weep and think and feel.
She sat up in bed, dragging the heels of her palms across both cheeks to make space for new tears. He certainly likes Mystery Lady just fine. I don't know about love, but he sees her in a way that he never sees Marinette. Why doesn't he love me? Why does he love this other version of me but not the real me? Or is that the real me? Am I unworthy of his love as I am now?
She grabbed a handful of tissues and blew her nose before swiping away the river of tears. She sat for another minute, breathing shakily to center herself after the flood of emotions which had accompanied her thoughts.
He doesn't have a tether. It all came down to that. It left her feeling disconnected and self-conscious. She clearly cared more for him than he cared for her. She had proof. Magical proof. It was exhausting. He wasn't Tethered to her, and he wasn't in love with her.
I wasn't tethered to him for years after loving him.
I loved him for almost five years before Fate tied me to him. What if that's a prerequisite? What if he won't be Tethered to me until I make him fall in love with me?
A small ember lit in Marinette's belly, the Tether burning brighter as if congratulating her realization. The girl leapt from bed and stepped in front of her vanity. Her cheeks were red and rugged, her eyes watery and swollen yet somehow clearer than they'd been in a long time. "It's not over yet" she whispered hoarsely to her reflection. "If I can make him fall in love with me…then there's still hope." The woman staring back at Marinette was unfamiliar. The hope in her eyes was accompanied by determination, and the pain on her features battled for control with the smile beginning to force its way out. She was herself undeniably, but someone more self-confident was bleeding into her everyday persona. The Mystery Lady isn't some other person. She is me and I am her. I don't need to forsake who I am as Marinette in order to embrace confidence and poise in my everyday life.
Stepping carefully on the old wooden floorboards of their Parisian apartment, Marinette hit the power button on the living room console and began booting up mecha strike.
MrNoir3: My discord handle is MrNoir3478. Reach out when you're ready.
She was ready.
