5. School Play

Marinette met Adrien's eyes over the piano, hollow stomach churning and knuckles white where they were clasped in front of her chest like a shield. She saw uncertainty and even fear reflected in the green of his stare, the very same things she knew he saw in her own blue. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she licked at her chapped lips, only to find her tongue just as dry. She doubted if she could even speak, let alone sing.

But the roles for the play had been cast three months ago. Adrien and her had acted out this scene at least thirty times over by now. This was it, the audience was watching live from their seats in the packed theatre. The class had practiced months for this. There should be no reason for either of them to be getting the first time jitters again. But where she once saw a golden-haired boy with a kind smile and loving nature, his image in her mind's eye had been overtaken by a rambunctious superhero donning scandalous smirks and a black mask. Masks that kept their identities, both his and hers, safe.

Until last night.

Adrien began to play, perfectly on cue, while she remained rooted to the spot, voice frozen. The princess costume gown suddenly weighed a ton on her shoulders, and she wanted nothing more than to rip it from her body and run.

"Sing, darling, sing!" sang Rose from her 'throne' as per the script, jolting Marinette from her thoughts. But her eyes never left Adrien's.

He swallowed, and she watched the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he started up the tune again. Marinette closed her eyes, willing herself to forget about those haunting green ones as she squared her shoulders. No matter what their personal issues were, she couldn't let her entire class down now just because she'd gotten cold feet. If Adrien could keep a pretence of normalcy, so could she.

She wasn't sure how she managed to unstick her throat through sheer willpower, but she forced a smile, deliberately relaxing the set of her shoulders even as they felt tenser than livewire. Lifting her voice in the words drilled into her memory, she began, "Once a lass met a lad, 'You're a gentle one said she.'"

Opening her eyes, she locked gazes with Adrien again, his fingers moving expertly along the piano's keys without needing his sight to guide them. She blinked, unsure if she was seeing a golden bell and leather belt tail in place of a cravat and coattails, but continued, voice waxing stronger as she fell into the familiar routine. "You said your love is true, and I hope that it will be."

Adrien stood. His fingers had stopped dancing along the piano keys, but Nino had already begun the pre-recorded music track backstage. 'It doesn't make sense how the music keeps going even when the prince has stopped playing, this is a dumb scene,' she thought. Never mind that she'd never complained about it before, or that this was hardly the time to be voicing that complaint now. She forgot her train of thought as Adrien stepped toward her, taking her hand, his voice joining hers.

"I'd be sure if I knew, that you love me for me."

Following his step as he led her away from the piano and towards the centre of the stage, she wobbled on jellified legs, teetering dangerously. Without so much as a breath, Adrien steadied her by seizing her other hand, his execution making it appear as if he were merely playfully pulling her along. Gripping onto his wrist, she moved into position, the gown's obnoxiously large skirt concealing her misstep. His hand felt odd holding hers despite the countless time they'd repeated this very scene; only one person in the whole world could match her movements and cover for her mistakes so flawlessly, and she'd half-expected the feel of leather instead of bare skin.

Her voice continued the song, her feet shifting as Adrien led her into the dance, but she hardly paid either any attention. Leaving everything up to muscle memory, she focused instead on his touch on her waist, his hold on her hand. The fact that his eyes were still on hers.

Breaking the routined ingrained in her head, he drew closer, bringing them merely inches apart. A move imperceptible to the audience, viewed as a brilliant adlib by the rest of the cast—except Chloé—but enough to make Marinette start, eyes widening. His grip on her hand tightened, as if he'd read her mind and was afraid of her fleeing from him. Something in his eyes became pleading, as if begging her to listen.

To stay.

Breath caught in her throat, adjusted to continue the dance with the increased proximity, too stunned to even think about reestablishing the distance. And finding that a part of her didn't want to anyway.

After all, it was her who had ran off that night. Both masks disintegrating into light far too soon, shockingly familiar faces taking the place of comfortable anonymity. Marinette had stood frozen on the spot, refusing to believe her eyes. At the call of her name, she'd turned and ran. Ran like a coward.

"What you see may be deceiving," Adrien sang, "truth lies underneath the skin." Slowing the dance to a stop, he took both her hands in his. Marinette paused for the barest of a second. This wasn't how it went. This wasn't part of the script. But she didn't feel like she was floundering at all. She could predict his every move, his every thought, and synchronise with him. How could she not, when she'd been doing it for as long as she had been Ladybug and he had been Chat Noir?

He held her hands in a tender grasp now, loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Much like how Chat would, planting a kiss on the black spot at the back of her hand. Marinette watched with bated breath, looking back into the green green eyes of the boy she loved, the eyes of her partner. Ladybug and Chat Noir were known to hold entire conversations with a single glance, and Marinette discovered that was no less true without their masks.

Is it so impossible?

Two boys, ones she once thought were very different. Faced with reality, Marinette thought her whole world changed. But now that she was back on her feet, she found that nothing had truly changed at all. She returned his smile, feeling the weight begin to lift for the first time. No, nothing had really changed. Not for either of them. Not if—

"If you love me for me."