chapter four: let us read the score
It's past two in the morning when Marinette wakes up, red spewing out of her as she doubles over into a trashcan.
Tikki whines as she strokes the back of her charge's head. "Marinette, maybe–"
Her mouth tastes like iron and poison and determination. "No, Tikki. I will not stop being Ladybug."
"But–"
"No, Tikki."
The kwami sighs, tired herself and nestles in the crook of Marinette's neck as the girl lays back down. The room is filled with Marinette's shallow breathing, her pain blistering the air as she holds her stomach tighter.
Tikki sings them both to sleep, a melody woven by silver moonbeams and a touch of healing green, praying that her magic is enough.
(It just isn't enough though).
Purple and yellow cast themselves in Marinette's skin the next morning, bags under her eyes and her skin colored sickly. She ignores it as she gets dressed, ignores it as she brushes her hair, ignores it as she goes downstairs and sees her parent's worried expressions.
"I'm fine," she tells them and it's not a lie, not per say as she sits at their breakfast nook.
"Marinette–," her mother starts, love and worry pouring in pinks and purples from her lips.
And though she is tired, her stomach unsettled, Marinette finds it in her to smile. She grabs her mother's hand and presses it to her lips. "Don't worry, mama. I'm fine."
It's hard to feel sick, to feel like her world is ending when she's surrounded by love and if anything, this teaches Marinette that she can't give up.
That she needs to love more, be bolder, be everything she was not before and stand taller, straighter, and demand–
–the world to kneel before her, press it's forehead to the ground in submission because she will not stop. She won't be stop.
There is time and I will find a way.
School has become less stressful in the wake of everything that's going on. It isn't that Marinette doesn't care, she just can't–sweat the small stuff.
Her mind is going a million miles per hour every second, racing to the truth, hoping that if she works hard enough, she can save everything in the end.
Because this is who she is, at her core: Ladybug is her core, Tikki is her core, and no sickness will take that away.
But sometimes–sometimes, she needs to hide away in the music room, people too much, Alya too much because seconds are limited and she just wants to spend them with the person who understands her most.
Tikki floats and strums the harp, giggling wildly as beautiful harmony rings out.
Tikki's happiness is the only light in her life right now, the only thing that makes the pain worth it when the small god smiles and dances in the air she flies in.
And Marinette is able to breathe, to feel like she can fly to as her eyes soften as Tikki bounces from drum to drum, making ruckus in her wake.
(She tries not to focus on the black lump that's gotten larger on Tikki's back, tucking those fears and worries away for another day).
At Mme. Bustier's request, Marinette does head back to the music room after school, Adrien's outburst from yesterday still stings, but–but–that was yesterday and today's today and she has to keep her eyes focused on that.
Tikki has settled herself atop a high bookcase, munching on snacks and enjoying as Marinette tunes her violin. She's just going through the scales, but music is music and it makes everyone happy.
It's only when she finishes the last note, dragging it out to hum in the classroom, does the knob twist and door opens, revealing Adrien shuffling from foot to foot. He looks nervous, his outline yellow and purple spots floating in the air and a part of Marinette feels pleased.
Because–well, I just didn't deserve that.
A part of her laughs at herself because yesterday she was the one yellow and purple, been the one nervous and scared, but Marinette's tired. She's tired and life is precious and–
"So, is there something you want to play? For the duet," she offers, willing to ignore yesterday.
"Marinette–" he starts, stepping forward.
She turns around, pretending she doesn't hear the smallness of his voice, "Because I was thinking we could play–"
He's getting louder, almost annoyed. "Marinette–"
"–Kreisler's–" But she's tired, she's willing to move on, she's–
"Marinette, would you just let me apologize!"
But Adrien–Adrien doesn't want to move on, she realizes as she turns around and he looks–just as tired, like a taunt string ready to snap, his usual calmness thrown away the closer he edges towards the piano.
He takes a deep breath, sucks in all the yellow, all the purple and breathes. Shyly, he puts a hand on the piano and green eyes burn hers. "I'm sorry," he starts. "For snapping at you yesterday and kinda losing my cool right now." His hand balls atop the wood. "That wasn't right and you're always so–so–kind to everyone and sometimes weird around me?"
She sucks in a breath and automatically feels her face getting hot.
She wills red to be her outline. "Look, as I told you yesterday, I really like you and–" she starts to trail, her eyes looking down at her violin.
No more Marinette, seconds are going by and no more.
"–and I think you're cool and I just want you to think I'm cool too, okay?"
When she glances up, it looks like Adrien has stopped breathing, his face pink and his mouth open because–she somehow boldly told him the truth and–and he's not running away.
He covers his face with hands. "Oh."
It's positively adorable the way he opens his fingers to peek at her. "You like like me?"
Marinette giggles, nervous and relieved and so many things at once because, well she doesn't know, but because. "Yeah, a bit."
A lot, but who's measuring.
He sits down, his face still covered. "I didn't get that yesterday," he admits. "Or ever."
And her heart is thumping in her chest, her ears. Her pulse going haywire as she moves to sit next to him on the piano bench. "Yeah…I'm kinda really bad at showing it to you…" She lets out a laugh she's been holding, "Everyone else knew though."
"Oh," he says softly, his hands no longer on his face, his cheeks still flushed. He bites his lips and says, "I, um, I don't–"
And that stings, what he is about to say, but Marinette just nods and swallows her heart that wants to break. "I know. That's okay."
The room tilts a bit, awkward even as both teenagers sit at the piano bench, her confession, his rejection hanging between them. But then Adrien stands tall and his back reminds her of someone she can't just place. He spins quickly on his heel and grabs her by the hand, pulling her up until both are equal where they stand.
He looks happy, cheeks still bright. "I don't, you know," he begins, but his gaze never loses that intensity. "But I do think you're cool. Impressive, really."
Her eyes go wide as she blushes, her cheeks burning. "Oh."
Her world is ending, her life in danger, her feelings exposed, but Marinette–Marinette has never felt happier.
(And she will cling to this, cherish it because for now, this will have to be enough).
However, her happiness gets put on pause when Adrien sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.
"I also…um, I also can't hear piano notes anymore…"
"What?"