Adrien leaned forward, imagining that it was only him and his lady in the room, as he spoke reverently into the mic, "Ladybug, if you're out there, this one's for you."

Marinette willed herself to turn, to move, to do something, but she couldn't; she was rooted to the floorboards, a victim under a hypnotist's spell.

Shocked, completely and utterly shocked. Actually, no that would be the understatement of the year—maybe even her entire sixteen years of life.

What was that thing she should be doing with her lungs again? Breathing? Was she doing that? No, definitely not. In fact, breathing wasn't an option anymore; it was a concept, a philosophy.

Frozen in place, Marinette was reeling, caught in a whirlpool of emotions and swept under water, drowning with no way out, as this new revelation settled into her core. One in which Adrien Agreste was in fact the very same Adrien she had been writing to for weeks now.

And now she wondered if someone was pulling a prank on her. Because how in the world did she—

—recognize him immediately?

Did his lady know it was him before he said his name?

Adrien took a couple steadying breaths as he shuffled the rug beneath his shoes. Something to ground him. Something to focus on instead of the hundreds of monarchs fluttering erratically within him.

He smiled softly as he confidently lifted his chin, hoping with every fiber of his being that his lady could hear him as he opened his mouth to say—

"Marinette?"

Oh, it seemed as though her inner voice had changed. Weird.

Has she finally gone bonkers? Experiencing some psychotic state of madness where she was hearing other voices.

"Marinette?" The voice chimed again.

Oh, now she recognized it. It was simply the faint, soft whispers in the back of her mind that sounded an awful lot like Luka coaxing her off the cliff of doom.

She could barely hear herself think over the muted, static noise droning within her mind as she rebooted herself like some ancient, twentieth-century dial-up.

"Adrien Agreste is my… my… Gah!" She couldn't even finish her own thought purely from the absurdity of it.

She shook her head, holding back the scream clawing its way out of her. This wasn't what she was expecting. Actually, she had no idea what she was expecting, but she was absolutely not expecting this!

She opened her mouth to say something, but her words became a strange mix of gagging sounds, emitting something between the sound a dying animal would make and a whale as she moaned, "Guhhah."

Luka's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

The simple question should have been easy to answer.

Fine!

Great.

Never better, actually.

Totally not freaked out that her new crush and old crush made a weird, gangly mesh of two people, molding together in her mind like some kind of grotesque, hybrid science fiction experiment. Spider-like legs crawled up her backside as she thought back to when she watched The Fly. Seriously, how did Alya and Nino actually like those movies?

And now she wished that a scary movie was her only worry.

So… Was she okay?

It seemed like a loaded question. This was absurd! It was ludicrous! It was—

"—a little bit funny

This feeling inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide"

Adrien brushed the paper under his thumb as a hush settled over the room with muffled shuffling in the back. He read slowly, allowing every syllable and stanza to have its place in the spotlight.

He channeled all those hours of acting classes his father put him through, making sure to enunciate clearly while pouring his emotions into his words—although that seemed to be the easy part. He was performing, not for the room nor for the world, but for the special girl in bright red who captured his heart long before this moment.

Was he dreaming? It felt surreal as he stood on the stage declaring himself to the world. As his heart poured over the red rug with the soft echoes of his own voice carrying through the speakers. It felt a lot like—

—she was having a mental breakdown!

Was she delirious?

Had she fallen asleep on her desk while ignoring her friends' texts?

Was this the rapture, and she accidentally stepped inside of Hell's personalized torture chamber? Kudos to the demons; no better way to mentally flog her for all eternity than using the melodic, silky voice of her teenage heartthrob, never-going-to-happen crush, Adrien Agreste.

Her eyes twitched as she could sense the rising steam of a whistle blowing out her ears. Whatever it was, she was definitely not okay.

Life just became—

—simple.

This feeling inside; he had never experienced this before. Love, what a strange, simplistic word until someone came along and gave it meaning. And Paul Coehlo was right: love was simple, and Adrien had never known why it hadn't occurred to him before now. Coehlo's work never seemed to quite resonate with Adrien before; love was a mystery until Ladybug inserted her letter within a book and filled his life with wonder and joy.

He had never known what a perfect word love could be before. And falling in love with her was so easy.

That heart-throbbing anticipation which poets and authors had written about, and a feeling he had only dreamed of now within his grasp.

His lady

His love

His—

—penpal

Her old crush

Her Adrien.

All wrapped up in one cruel twist of irony sandwich that life was currently shoving down her throat.

"This isn't real, right?" Her teeth clattered. She shut her eyes, wrinkling her skirt and clutching onto the fabric for dear life, trying to drown out his words.

Maybe her blood sugar was running low because she hadn't eaten more than three nibbles of food throughout the day. Or maybe it had the opposite effect! Was she experiencing food poisoning? She knew that day-old "the bakery can't sell this anymore" dinner roll had looked questionable.

Hallucinations, wooziness, nausea, anxiety, existential dread... What kinds of illnesses would pop up on Doctor Google that would correlate with her symptoms?

Someone please give her a Zofran or possibly something stronger. Because here she was, back at square one again.

Her head slumped, eyes glued to the floorboards.

A month ago in this very spot, she hadn't been strong enough to confess her feelings to the same boy who was unknowingly confessing his feelings for her now.

It was an undeniable truth that the fates of destiny were mocking her.

She had grown strong, moved past him… only to ricochet like a rubber ball off a wall, bouncing right back into his hand. What a fool she was, thinking that she could ever escape this life, one where she wouldn't end up entangled romantically with Adrien Agreste.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. It wasn't like it mattered, anyways.

When she wrote a letter hoping that someone would respond, she did not mean the very boy who inadvertently broke her heart!

So… What the heck, universe?!

She could think of many choice words that would end up with her life's savings in a swear jar, and all of them she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. And honestly, it would all be worth it because what the actual—

"Hello?" Luka waved his hand in front of her face. "Earth to Marinette?"

She shot him a deadpanned look which made him grin smarmily.

It didn't stop the spiral as her thoughts came crashing down in a cacophony, akin to her school's freshmen band with an untuned brass section, an overeager woodwind ensemble and rhythmless percussionists, falling painfully and ungracefully with a slew of sharp notes.

Adrien Agreste, the boy who she could barely form a coherent sentence around, nevermind a thought, was the penpal who she entrusted all of her desires and fears with.

Adrien Agreste, the boy who she couldn't outright say she was smitten with, was the penpal she had confessed to about accidentally murdering Sparkles and about her Lord of The Rings rewrite. Not even Alya knew about her fanfic!

Adrien Agreste, the boy who she thought was a past crush and nothing more, was the penpal who she had joined a two-person Never-Been-Kissed Club with and had even implied that they could… that they would…

"Oh, my goodness, I told Adrien about my crush on him." She paled, limbs flailing as she threw her hands up and knocked over her beret. She grasped onto her locks with a tight grip. "I don't—"

"—have much money, but boy if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live"

A dopey smile emerged as he imagined holding her in his arms, whispering sweet nothings about what she meant to him. He wanted to do all he could to show her his affection, give her the world if he could.

But then another cringe-inducing idea crept into his head, a slithering python. He had a recognizable face—much to his ire, it was plastered all over Paris on train stations, buses and billboards. His father had even cast him in commercials.

It was exhausting, truthfully.

He had done nothing worthy to garner such attention from strangers. He didn't imagine himself as someone to be doted on or someone grand and spectacular.

He was more than his looks and his money. More than the box his father put him in. More than the world imagined him as, like a shiny toy, admired by the masses.

Yet he only wanted her in this crazy life. Together, he knew they could face the world. They would—

"—never be together." Marinette buried her hands into her eyes.

"Hey, none of that." Luka chuckled beside her, taking mercy on her as he crouched down and picked up her red beret from the ground, dusting it off. He took her hands in his and handed her her hat. "We talked about this. Give him a chance."

"Give him a chance? I've… Luka—are you serious? How can I? He's never—"

The floorboard swallowed her up as she remembered the last time she had tried to get Adrien's attention. Her own shortcomings and stuttering strings of silliness which led her to create the Ladybug letter were being thrown back in her face.

She trembled as if someone poured a bucket of ice water over her head, then stuck her out into the chilly night air. "I can't do this again. I can't..." She whispered under her breath as Adrien's lyrics began to tug on her sense of yearning, a siren calling her to her watery grave.

Every loving, heart-pounding thought of him which had been purged into the stratosphere, out of sight and out of mind, were now barreling toward her, a meteor shower raining down on her as she faced her denial and repressed feelings head-on.

He wasn't just any boy, any Adrien, he was—

—just a boy who, more than anything else in this world, wanted to love and to be loved in return. And Adrien hit the jackpot, finding an extraordinary girl who captured his heart.

"If I was a sculptor, ha

But then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show"

He was merely a decaying tree before she came along. With her illuminating glow peeking through years of ominous grey clouds, she became his warmth, his sun, washing him in light, breathing life into his scrawny branches. A renewed young man who—

—spoke with a tenderness comparable to Romeo Montague, simmering her anxious mind with his soothing lilt.

His words…

Would he really try anything to make it work between them?

Was a love as new as theirs everlasting?

Could she allow this sliver of hope to break through her chained-up heart?

"No," the doubting shoulder devil whispered in her ear, "What if he rejects you?" And every wishful thought shattered in an instant.

Her voice, small as she asked, "What if he doesn't want me?"

Luka rubbed her shoulder. "He will."

She shook her head as the sharp sting of past rejection wriggled its way up her chest, tearing through her like a marlin, as it flopped about carelessly, unyielding in its pursuit. She willed it to stop, clutching her chest.

"How do you know? How do you know what's going to happen? Because I do! I've done this countless times with the same person. I show up, I try, and I fail. That's always been the pattern."

"Mari—"

"No! What if he doesn't like me for me? What do I do then? Huh? What if I tell him I'm Ladybug and he laughs at me or worse, he lets me down gently? What if he looks at me with his ernest peridot eyes and says, 'I'm sorry, Marinette, I wasn't expecting Ladybug to be you. Well, it's been fun, thanks for being my penpal, but I don't think this will work out between us. We should stick to being friends." She bit out the last word as she slumped, releasing four years of frustration into the crowded space with a low growl.

"What if I'm not…"

Her slim chance of love prepared itself for the shredder again as she looked down at the ground and softly whispered, "What if I'm not enough for him?"

Luka's eyes hardened as he took her hand in his. "Please, look at me?"

Her heart pounded in her chest to the same beat as Adrien's cadence as she looked up at her friend's electric blue eyes, a fire raging within them, turning her thin, paper walls of self doubt to ash as he gently squeezed her hand.

"You are enough. You will always be enough. Whether or not someone is able to hear your inner melody doesn't mean your song isn't worth listening to. Your song is enchanting and powerful; it's a song that a person wants to listen to over and over again. A favorite piece they'll never tire of no matter how old they become. This is not your last chance at love. This is just the beginning." Luka's eyes flashed an emotion she couldn't place before he blinked it away. "You have always loved Adrien, and I know for a fact he is head over heels for Ladybug. For you. He's so excited to meet you—and since you two already know one another, you're not meeting for the first time. It's as if you're finding one another at last."

His words draped over her heart like a warm, weighted blanket, but there was still a tidal wave of insecurity rising within her, an unstoppable force preventing her from hoping again.

"He loves Ladybug," she emphasized, already over the night and ready to throw her beret on the ground once more. "And he has never seen me as more than a friend. Plain old Marinette has never caught his eye."

She slipped out of his grasp, wrapping her arms around herself. The lump in her throat bobbed as she could feel a knife poking through her chest, perhaps the same one used last month to kill her romantic dreams, now here to finish her off for good.

She wished more than anything that—

He loved her back.

He couldn't let Bernie Taupin's lyrics go to waste. These lyrics were more than just words on a paper; they were a representation, a perfect example of the way he yearned for her. He had to wield them like a lasso of truth around his own heart.

"I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do

My gift is my song, and this one's for you"

Perhaps this was why the letters felt as though they were written with liquid gold, usurping his mind with a primal need to devote himself to her, his lady.

Her letters were a gift, smelling of strawberries, the intoxicating fruit itself a beautiful nod to the Goddess Venus. And unlike Adonis, he would worship her, not merely accept her advances but bathe in her soft, ethereal glow and drink in her love. A mere mortal who—

—wanted to be swept off her feet. This is what she dreamed of! She wanted the romance, the flair and the dramatics.

So what if it was him on the other side of the letter? So what if she couldn't tell him her feelings before? She spelled it out for him as Ladybug. She told him that she liked him! Something that she had never achieved before. And now…

A hum escaped her. The tune of the song he was reciting. It was one of her parents' favorites, one they frequently danced to in the kitchen as her papa swung her maman in his arms, laughing as if they were still in their honeymoon phase. A true joy to witness as she watched them grow older with the same youthful twinkle in their eyes.

Maybe with the tiniest, slimmest of chances, she shouldn't count herself out yet.

He showed up for her! He was following through with his promise, a surprise meant solely for her: a secret shared on sheets of paper between two friends—dare she call them lovers? Could she hope for more?

Rather than crumbling under the pressure, she felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

It's for her. His words… they're meant for her!

She shouldn't allow her fears to destroy the closest chance she ever had to being with him—a happily ever after that she had been wishing for.

It was too much and yet not enough. Taking a deep breath, she relented.

She promised him that she would be here, and she would never break a promise.

A smile tugged at her red painted lips as her new epiphany sank in. Maybe this crazy, roundabout way was their love story: wonderful and unique and ironic and them.

"Okay," Marinette said. With a lift of her chin, she threw caution to the wind as she met Luka's unrelenting gaze. "I… I think I'm ready now."

"I knew you would be." Luka brought his knuckle up to her face, playfully brushing her chin. "Go get him, Red."

Marinette giggled. What did she ever do to deserve such wonderful friends? Without Luka there, she would have dashed down the stairs and, long gone, booked herself a flight to Morocco, never to be seen again by Parisian society. But hey, at least they'd always have Paris.

Untucking her hair to cover her ears, she adjusted herself and smoothed down her outfit.

She couldn't help biting her lip to conceal her smile as she broke through the back of the crowd.

Her nerves grew with every step, weaving through the tall and the small as—

—a flash of red moved along the crowd, calling him to attention. He tried to slow down the fierce pounding against his windpipe, swallowing his overexcitement back in.

"And you can tell everybody

This is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done"

It was her! It had to be her.

She was coming to see him—to greet him onstage.

He couldn't peel himself away from the color. He was a fisherman, watching the red beret glide smoothly up and down through the crowd like a red kipper on a hook, bobbing in and out of the waters.

"I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words"

He just needed her to know that what he was saying was true. His life was so much better when she came into his world. He wanted her to know that she meant everything to him.

His pulse defeaned his ears, the anticipation long awaited now a perfect moment as the front to the room parted, and—

—with a shaky breath, she took her final step toward the makeshift, ragged red rug stage.

It seemed as though time stood still when she met Adrien's warm, grassy green eyes, shining under the bright spotlight.

He lowered his voice in reverence, a whispered purr, sending shivers down her spine as his words finally filled the cavity in her heart after all this time.

"How wonderful life is while you're in the world."