One month ago
"Okay, phase three hundred twenty-six of 'Tell Adrien How You Feel' didn't pan out as promised, but that's completely fine!" Marinette thought as she clutched onto the gift in her hands.
This was it—nothing could possibly go wrong.
Wearing a long pink plaid skirt which swished and flared out with every step up the stairs, a long-sleeve ruffled shirt that gave her a sweeter, softer edge, a pair of pristine white kitten heels and a thin white belt accentuating her slim waist, Marinette knew her outfit was bound to get Adrien's attention.
And if it didn't, at least she had something to fall back on. After all, today was the day: she was finally going to tell Adrien that she loved him.
She had it all laid out in a three-step plan:
Give him his present
Tell him she loves him
Become his girlfriend, get married, have three kids (named Hugo, Louis and Emma) and get a pet hamster named… Well, she hadn't really thought of a name yet—maybe he could name their pet!
Oh, yeah, it was all coming together. Her plan was completely foolproof. It seemed simple enough, right?
The gift felt heavier in her hands as she took her final step onto the second floor. Pursing her lips, she mused on all the ways this could make a turn for the worse.
Maybe he wouldn't be that excited to see her.
Maybe he'd hate her gift.
Maybe he'd reject her love confession…
She paled as the catastrophic events in her mind ceaselessly berated her. Clinging harshly onto the box, her sharp, manicured nails dug into the delicate wrapping which caused a riiiiiiipp.
Sirens began to blare in her ears.
"Oh, no!" she squeaked as she flailed, loosening her grip on the package. Almost in slow-motion, the gift slipped through her fingers, falling hastily toward the hardwood floor. With quick thinking, she threw out her arms, swooped down and caught the blue package before it hit the ground. Her loose, black hair pooled around her shoulders as she caught her breath. Her thorny, raised goosebumps from the near-disaster scraped against her cotton sleeve, exposing her skin with every inch as she corrected herself and lifted the package up to her face.
Her mouth twisted in horror as she scanned her hard work. Inspecting it with wide eyes, she prayed that it hadn't been damaged. Only one teensy, tiny tear appeared where the tape met the paper; easily concealable to the naked eye as she smoothed over the tape, covering her shame. Blinking away her frustration, she huffed—she hadn't even stepped inside and already, she was a clammy, clattering, clumsy mess.
But even if it was slightly ripped on the backside, he was going to tear it open anyways, right? That's how she would have to justify it to keep herself from combusting, anyways.
She slowly inhaled through her nose then exhaled sharply out her mouth, practicing her maman's calming technique a couple more times before wrapping her hand around the door handle and pushing it open.
She was met with a chorus of laughter as she stepped inside. The cheer and cacophony drowned out the door behind her as she shut it with a near-silent click. Her weighted shoulders lightened with every step. This was supposed to be a celebration! She needed to stop overthinking every movement she made and just enjoy the moment.
The Nook's second floor was decorated with hanging streamers, balloons and a large, homemade "Happy Birthday" banner draped on the back wall. Cookies, desserts, sandwiches and appetizers were scattered around a large, mismatched blanket pile for a picnic set-up in the middle of the floor.
All of her friends were there including the birthday boy himself, Adrien. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his cheeks dusting with a deep shade of pink that spread to the tips of his ears, smiling shyly as Alya continued on with one of her many "Sunshine" stories. He shoved another macaron into his mouth, covering his lips while he chewed as he tried not to laugh along.
"And I think we all remember the great incident of Adrien's sixteenth year when he collided into the wicked witch herself, Madame Boucher, and pushed his white chocolate tart onto her blouse," Alya recalled, "I wasn't even sure if our dear, sweet Sunshine would make it out alive. He stood there frozen! Stunned into submission as he gazed into the piercing eyes of Medusa with her crony snakes behind her, watching his every move."
"It was awful," Adrien lamented as he swallowed down his bite. He dramatically threw his arm over his face that was met with another round of laughter from the tight-knit circle. "I was sure she was about to curse me or to torture me in her secret dungeon. I was completely cornered—a doomed kitten if you will! But! Like the cat-sanova I am, I swiftly maneuvered around her claws, barely escaping with my life."
"He says 'swift,'" Nino joined in, bringing up his fingers in air quotes, "—but it was more like a yelp and a dashaway before Boucher could even react."
"I know. I know. It wasn't my finest moment," Adrien grimaced as he rubbed his neck, turning a color that rivaled strawberries. "But… My father paid for her dry cleaning and gifted her a new signature blouse, so I think all has been forgiven."
"I wouldn't have given her anything," Nino snorted, crossing his arms, "She's the absolute worst! I can't tell you how many times she's tried to return books, demanding a refund then throwing a fit until Fu steps in. And then he just—" Nino groaned, wiping his face, "—he just gives in to her drama!"
He blew a raspberry, shaking his finger in the air as he declared, "Man, if I ever get the keys to The Nook, she and her cronies would be the first thing to be banned."
"Ah, come on, she can be a handful, but she's not that bad," Luka chimed in with a lazy smile, continuing to strum his guitar.
"Easy for you to say, Couffaine! You're just like Fu—you always let her get away with her tyranny like she's the Queen of The Nook. Well, I for one have had enough!" Nino snapped.
"Well, unless Fu decides to give you the deed, you're stuck with her," Luka retorted slyly as Nino pulled a sour face. "But in all fairness, you have to give it to the old lady—she still has some spark left in her. And I, for one, love a woman who can challenge me."
"Luka, don't make me turn this roast on you," Alya warned, pointing at the guitarist, "I don't need to remind you that your birthday is coming up next and nice comments about Boucher are going straight to the top of fodder for the birthday roast."
"Bring it, Césaire," Luka challenged with a smirk, "If that's all you have on me, it'll be a piece of cake. Boucher is bound to fall for my charms someday." His attention turned to Marinette as he gave a playful wink.
"Luka, you're actually insane if you really think Boucher even has a heart to begin with," Marinette giggled, announcing herself to the rest of the group, "I'm pretty sure that shriveled up and died fifty years ago, along with her sense of style."
Adrien's head whipped around toward the door, his green eyes sparkling with delight when they met hers. His smile grew bigger, quickly straightening his posture and bringing his hand up to wave at her.
"Marinette! You made it!" He jumped up, rushing over to greet her.
Ladybirds fluttered wildly in her chest as she hazily brought up her hand, waving back at him shyly. As he approached her, something between a squeal and a gurgle released from her as she happily trilled, holding out her gift, "Birthday Adrien Happy!"
His bangs swept over his forehead as he cocked his head like a puppy. The corner of his lips quirked upward as he appraised her in amusement, waiting for her to correct herself.
Marinette squeaked, bringing her hand up to her burning cheeks. "I—I mean, w-well, I, um, I wanted to give you this…" she glanced down at the present, "for your birthday."
She bit down too hard on her tongue, wincing from the pain, yet it was quickly replaced by the red carnation blooming in her chest as his face lit up.
"You brought me a gift?" he asked in awe. His adorable dimples appeared as she nodded simply, carefully placing the present in his hands.
His tongue poked out as he eyed the wrapping with a curious brow, turning it over and over again in his hands.
Every second he spent examining the package, she was coming closer and closer to gnawing off her bottom lip. After twenty seconds, she couldn't take it, combusting under the pressure as she blurted out with a teasing lilt, "You know the gift is inside, right?" She giggled abrasively, coming off more like a turkey gobbling than the bell-like sound she was going for. "I mean, you don't really know what it will be until you open it! Just tear into it like an animal!" She tapped the present as the word vomit poured out of her.
"Or well, you're not actually like an animal because you're gorgeous, er, what I meant to say was you're gorgeous… like a peacock! Or like one of those majestic birds you see on National Geographic. Some of them are endangered tragically, and we can't let them die! That would be awful, right? Gotta save the planet! Reduce, reuse, recycle. Keep those gorgeous boys, er, birds safe… Uhhhh, anyways! There's nothing really to see on the outside—it's just plain old wrapping, here. You should just—just, rip it! Don't inspect it too much!"
"Yeah, this will really make him fall for me now," she thought, cringing as she moved her hand to cover her face, avoiding the bright white light conjured up from dying of embarrassment.
"But I don't want to just tear into it," he chuckled, peeking up at her from under his lashes before landing back on the gift, "You've spent so much time making it look perfect. I'm trying to find a way to open it without ruining the paper."
"Ruining the paper?" she thought absurdly as she slowly removed her hand from her face and grasped her purse strap, wringing it tightly around her hands to give her something to cling onto.
"Why are you worried about that?" she questioned.
"Because pretty things should be handled with care. And this—" he held up her gift like a trophy, "—is much too beautiful to animalistically tear into." He winked, and she fell to pieces, sighing wistfully while longing for him to talk about her like that, too.
With a cautious tug, he untied the light blue bow then ran his nail under the tape, unwrapping the paper with precise motions before gently laying the paper and ribbon onto the floor. She held her breath as he lifted the lid of the white box and peeled back the tissue paper, revealing the surprise within.
"Wow… Marinette, I—" he said breathily, his face morphing into wonderment as he gently raised one of the fleece gloves, "Did… did you make these for me?"
She smiled widely, nodding while swelling with pride as he admired her gift. Every fingerprick was worth his radiant, awestruck face. His reaction couldn't have been better! Why was she even worried that he wouldn't like them in the first place?
The handmade green gloves she poured hours and love and tears and sweat and blood into were such a pain. Who knew that fleece was so hard to work with? But she would endure every stab again, knowing that it brought a bit of light to his eyes.
As he placed the box on the ground, he ran his thumb over the glove's palm before slipping it onto his hand. "This is… these are…" His eyes met hers, a tenderness in them she hadn't seen before.
She bit her lip, concealing the excitement wanting to burst free as she glanced over his shoulder at her friends, silently cheering her on behind him. Caught up in their praise, she was taken by surprise when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer and hugging her tightly.
She gasped, hesitantly bringing her hands up, slipping them through his arms and around his back. Her heart was banging against her chest. He must have heard it, but she didn't dare ruin the moment with another stumbling apology. She allowed herself this moment—their moment together in one another's embrace.
She laid her head on his shoulder and soaked up every ounce of warmth he emitted. A wax candle blazing too brightly, her insides and outsides melted under his fierce hold as he praised, "They're wonderful, thank you so much."
His gentle voice soothed any horrid thought she had imagined earlier, turning them to ash as he gave her one last, big squeeze, leaning back and holding onto her shoulders. "I love them, really."
She was in heaven, nothing could get her off cloud nine. Losing herself in the sincerity of his bright emerald eyes, she airily breathed, "You're welcome."
He removed himself from her, and she was already missing his touch. Placing the glove back in the packaging, he then delicately set the lid back on the box.
But… she was forgetting something. Her mind screamed at her, "Wait!"
She remembered that she had something very important to say to him! She laid her hand on his arm, halting him mid-turn. Eyes fiercely locked on his, she opened her mouth. She needed to do it. This was her moment! Say it. Say it! Sayitsayitsayitsayit.
"I love you, Adrien!"
At least, that's what she wanted to say.
What she actually said, fighting against her own bitten tongue, was "I—I—I—"
She growled under her breath, trying once again, huffing, "I— luuhh… I luuuuuhhhhh… I luhhhh…" She hoarsely trailed off, her eyes twitching in irritation as they darted across the room, looking for a sign, a charm, a help from above. Shoving down her bad luck against the forces of confessing her feelings, she could feel the well of tears building as the lump in her throat grew three sizes bigger as she was crashing and burning in front of all of her friends.
"It's okay, Marinette," Adrien assured, gently taking hold of her hand. She jumped, blinking owlishly as she turned her attention back on him.
He slid his thumb over her knuckles, a sweet gesture raising her sails once again as a new, welcoming breeze bellowed in. She picked her chin up, anticipating him to follow through with adoring words, and—
"Don't worry, I love your gift," he said, reverently, "You're an amazing friend, one of my best."
"Friend…?" she inwardly cowed as gray clouds of self doubt loomed over her as he put her misery to an end, cutting her last shred of hope into pieces using a knife laced with the bitter truth of the friendzone. She untangled her hand from his as one agonizing fact kept replaying in her mind, "He only sees me as a friend. One of his best… friends."
"This is such a thoughtful gift. You're incredible…" He trailed off, searching her face as she felt all of her blood drain out of her.
"Marinette? Are—are you okay?" He asked cautiously, his eyebrows knitting together as he rubbed her shoulder.
His eyes were weary as they met hers. She mustered a wobbly smile, trying to keep herself strong for a little while longer.
She swallowed thickly and shuffled her feet, rubbing her arm. Glancing away, she sadly met Alya's hopeful eyes. Marinette shook her head in defeat while her best friend's shoulders slumped, sporting a sympathetic face as she mouthed, "I'm sorry, girl."
With that, Alya swiftly broke the tension. "Hey, Adrien!" she called out, taking them both out of their dreary bubble. "We're still not done with your official birthday roast! I have more stories!"
Adrien didn't take his eyes off of her, ignoring Alya's plea as his mouth twisted in doubt, letting his hand linger in the air between them. Marinette peered up at him through her lashes as she nudged her head toward the crowd, clearing her sore throat.
"Seems like the birthday boy is missing out on all the fun."
"Marinette, I—are you sure everything is okay?"
"I'm fine," she lied, waving him off with a shaky smile, "You should rejoin them."
He hesitated, his eyes searching the floorboards before he lowered his hand, looking back at the festivities and plastering on a thin, model smile. "Alright, I'm coming," he relented while laughing a short, whimsical chime that made Marinette's heart sink further into the abyss.
Shaking his head as he bent down to pick up the discarded wrapping and the white box, he folded it up neatly as he walked back to his spot. He took the glove off his hand, placing it back into the box on the floor next to the green couch.
Marinette stood there, unable to move as she agonized over the past five minutes, tossing and turning over every action and reaction, conjuring up a reason as to why she just couldn't say those three little words: I and love and you—in that specific order!
She failed… again. Her—no, their perfect moment ruined by her bumbling yet again.
She couldn't tell him.
And maybe… Maybe she never would. If she would never tell him then maybe their love wasn't meant to be.
It's not like he saw her as anything more, anyways. It was pointless, all for naught.
Later that evening, after the party ended and she had said her goodbyes to Adrien and her friends, with an extra tight hug from Alya with the promise to talk later, she was cozied up in a blanket on her balcony with a warm cup of hot chocolate. The stars above twinkled and danced like little fireflies as the nightly autumn breeze kissed her face. A serene feeling of peace after the soul-crushing day she had experienced.
"Tikki, I don't think I want to do this anymore." She sighed heavily, exhaling all of her worries and doubts from her mind out into the night. "Chasing after Adrien hasn't gotten me anywhere. I… I want to be in love with someone who will love me in return. I need someone to chase after me for once. I want to be wooed and waited on and have mushy poems written about me."
She glanced over at her lucky childhood ladybug doll lying next to her.
"I don't think that's too much to ask for, is it?"
Tikki laid limply, unperturbed, yet staring at the spotted red doll sparked an idea within Marinette.
And that's when it hit her: maybe her love life wasn't dead after all! She just needed to find a new target.
Jumping up, she slammed her mug down on her side table. Abandoning the delicious drink and running toward her skylight, she threw it open, tumbling down the stairs then went fumbling around for materials.
"Yes! Yes, yes! This is brilliant!" She cheered.
Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper, she wrote messily as she couldn't bear to keep the words contained any longer, coming up with a game that was sure to bring along someone new.
After writing her thoughts down, she picked up her phone and texted:
Marinette 19:50 : need your help. sleepover?
Alya 19:58 : say no more. I'll be there in thirty.
Alya arrived, knocking on Marinette's hatch and lifting the lid to find her best friend hunched over her desk. A litter of crumpled papers were sprawled around, spilling from her desk and into her trash bin and the floor.
"Hey, girl, your mom let me up," Alya said as she closed the hatch behind her, dropping her bag onto the floor.
"Hey," Marinette called out with a pen between her teeth, eyes never leaving the forty-fourth attempt to write the letter as she waved over her best friend.
Alya sauntered across the room, hovering behind Marinette as she examined the project. "So, oh, cryptic one, what do you need my help with?"
"I'm trying to write a love letter," Marinette grunted.
Alya's eyes sparkled, as she cooed, "Oh, a love letter for a certain Mr. Tall, Blonde and Oblivious?" She rubbed her hands together mischievously. "Perfect. How can I help?"
"No." Marinette scribbled out a word and added a different one. "For someone else."
Alya did a double take, rubbing her inner ear as she adjusted herself, mulling over what her I-only-have-eyes-for-Adrien-Agreste best friend just said. "I'm sorry, I think I had something in my ears. Repeat that again for me?"
"I'm writing an anonymous love letter." Marinette slammed her pen down on the desk, swiveling her chair, nearly knocking into her best friend as she squarely looked into Alya's eyes and declared, "I'm moving on from Adrien."
Alya blinked in disbelief. "Wow. Uh, okay. That's…"
"Overdue," Marinette sighed, wiping at her freshly cleaned, tired eyes, "Long overdue, actually."
"Why the sudden change of heart?" Alya leaned against the desk, arms folding as she compassionately looked down at her. "It was only a couple hours ago that you were trying to admit your feelings for him."
"Yeah, I know, but that's the problem. I couldn't. Yet again, I completely butchered the moment because I couldn't come out and say 'Adrien Agreste, I have been head over heels in love with you for years! Do you want to be my boyfriend?'"
She ground the heel of her hands into her sockets. "And I realized after that maybe this was what I needed. My breaking point. I can't keep putting my hopes into someone who doesn't want me."
"He didn't say—"
"He didn't have to, Alya," Marinette growled, her throat tightening further with every word as the tears she had been holding back began to spill, "If he wanted to be more than friends, he would have said something by now, but he didn't. He called me an amazing friend. I'll never be anything more than that. And I've been kidding myself all this time that he would ever see me that way." She sniffled, grabbing a tissue and wiping at her nose.
"I'm tired of chasing him," she bitterly laughed. "As if it was even a chase. I only stuttered and made a complete fool of myself. No wonder he never wanted me."
"Marinette, I don't think he—"
"It's true, isn't it? You saw me today. It's so embarrassing!" She threw up her arms, jumping out of her seat as she paced the room. "So, I need your help with making sure I don't fall back into my old crush. I need to be strong! Stay vigilant in pursuit of a new love—a better love!" She pointed her finger up toward her skylight, posing like a hero.
Alya nodded, eyeing her friend curiously. "Uh-huh. Well, if you could pull this off, I am completely on board. You know I'm team Marinette, always. If you want to taste a new flavor of love and move on from Sunshine, I'll help you."
"Really?" Marinette brightly asked, tackling Alya and throwing her arms around her. "You're the best."
Alya grunted with a smile as she patted her friend's head and strained, "You could mention it more."