116Chapter 5: Realizing
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A week before the county competition, Marinette deftly wipes her brow, chest heaving up and down.
"Maybe you could jump higher?" Dominique suggests, tossing her a water bottle as he pats his face down with a towel.
Catching the bottle with one hand, Marinette hums in consideration.
"I could," she acknowledges, and drains the bottle in one take.
Dominique crinkles his nose in disgust at the display.
There is a quiet pause, broken only by the heater humming on the other side of the room.
Marinette rolls her shoulders, ready to count the seconds Evanson takes to use the restroom, until Dominique clears his throat.
"So, uh," Dominique begins haltingly. He clears his throat again when Marinette turns to look at him. "Just in case you didn't know. No matter what happens next week… we're still good."
It takes longer than it should for Marinette to understand his words.
He means the competition, she realizes, her heart suddenly clenching.
It's a little ridiculous, she'll have to admit. Marinette doesn't really need the approval of a thirteen-year-old, but still, almost without a thought, her lips quirk upwards at the words.
"I know that now," she tells him quietly, nearly afraid to break the fragility in the air, but far too late to stop the warmth in chest. "Thanks."
Dominique coughs once, shortly, and vigorously rubs his face with his towel.
"Good," he says, clearing his throat one last time, the tips of his ears darkening. "And don't ever forget it."
You're ridiculous, she says to herself, smile widening even as Evanson announces his return by flinging the door wide open. But that's not a bad thing.
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Dear Marinette,
The weather here is mild, as usual. My mother has been grumbling about it for a few weeks now - I think she misses winter in Paris!
"I can't believe you still think you belong here looking like that."
School is pretty boring, but luckily, there are a ton of dance schools in the area. Speaking of which, I heard you're doing another competition!
"What?" Marinette exclaims, nearly choking on her lunch. "How does she know?!"
"Hey! I'm still talking to you!"
If you have the chance, make sure to record it and send it to me! I'd love to see what new, ridiculous tricks you've managed to slip into the routine under Evanson's nose.
"Can't you afford to wear something better than those dirty old rags? You're literally polluting the air with your hideous outfits."
Tell everyone in the studio I said hi! And good luck on the competition! Don't forget about your favorite partner here in Italy, haha.
Love,
Emma
"Are you even listening to me? Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"
"Recording, huh?" Marinette swallows another bite and gently folds the letter. "I could do that."
In her very next blink, the letter is quickly swiped from her hands.
"What is this," Chloe says disdainfully, holding the crinkled paper between two pinched fingers. "Ugh, a letter? What are we, preschoolers?"
Marinette takes a slow bite of her sandwich and remains silent, curious to see what may happen next.
"I bet you wrote it yourself," Chloe says with a sneer. She lets out a short, sharp laugh, leaning forward with a mocking voice. "Poor, poor Marinette! So desperate for friends you're starting to make them up!"
Slowly swallowing, Marinette then smiles.
"Does that mean you're offering?" Marinette asks, too slow to hide the sly edge to her words.
Chloe blinks. "What?"
"What did you say before?" Marinette squints her eyes. "Something about my clothes?"
"Well, duh," Chloe says, recovering quickly to roll her eyes. She waves a hand at Marinette's plain, navy blue skirt and white shirt. "I've never seen an outfit as hideous as yours."
"So," Marinette says. "You're offering then?"
Chloe stomps her feet, temper flaring through. "What are you talking about? Offering what?"
"To take me shopping, of course!" Marinette says cheerfully, crumpling up the plastic wrap in her hands. "That's what friends do, right?"
If looks could kill, Marinette would surely be dead by now.
"We're not friends!" Chloe shrieks, catching the attention of nearly half the courtyard. "You have no friends! You're just dumb and crazy!"
Marinette shrugs and plucks Emma's letter out of Chloe's hands. "That's too bad then. I guess I"ll just wear these plain clothes forever."
She gives her loveliest smile, the one that sends her father gushing for a good while. "Thanks for caring, though!"
"What? I don't care! Don't go saying whatever you want, you freak! Hey! Where are you going? I'm not done with you!"
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"What t-time was it again?" Nino whispers to her, teeth chattering as they waited on line.
Huddled next to Nino and the rest of their classmates, Marinette shivers involuntarily. "Uh, it's in the a-afternoon. At three."
"C-Cool."
Across the stadium, a piercing whistle blows through the early spring air.
"Lahiffe!" D'Argencourt calls, crossing his arms. "You're up next!"
Nino waves a reluctant hand. "Later."
"B-Bye," Marinette says, leaning into Juleka for some sort of warmth. Juleka gives a sympathetic pat, somehow unmoved by the chill.
All too soon, Marinette is called out to the front and, on hobbling legs, she walks up to the field.
In the center of the field, kickball in hand, Kim hollers, "You ready to lose, Marinette?"
"Over my dead body!" Marinette spits back, shuffling once before getting into position.
Covering his arms on the next base over, Nino flashes her a quick thumbs up.
Kim rears his arm back and, proving that he takes every sport too seriously, sends the kickball hurtling towards Marinette at rapid speeds.
With barely enough time to widen her eyes, Marinette swings her leg back and forward as hard as she can, only for her heel to slip on the dirt below.
The world suddenly spinning, there is a fleeting moment of confusion before something slams right into her chest, knocking the breath out of her.
What, she thinks dizzily, the cold ground seeping through her clothes, what the fuck -
" - nette! Marinette!" several voices call out to her, but one particular voice stands out above the rest.
"RUN, YOU FOOL!" Alix's voice roars through the air and, like on auto-pilot, Marinette stumbles to her feet, dashing towards what she thinks is her right.
Her vision slowly clears, and passing by Nino's stunned body, Marinette sprints past the bases, only feeling the wind across her cheeks.
The opposing team scrambles for the ball, but it's too late, in record time, Marinette slides onto home base, much to her team's cheers.
"YES!" Marinette sinks to her knees, hands upraised to accept the cheers.
Standing upright next to her, D'Argencourt clears his throat. When all the noise finally dies, he says shortly, "Out."
"What?" A sudden uproar fills the benches.
D'Argencourt rolls his eyes and pointedly says. "You didn't even use your leg."
With a groan, Marinette falls to the floor, arms outstretched like a starfish.
"What is this body even good for?" she grumbles, flopping her arms as Nino gives her sympathetic pat.
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Tightening her tie a bit too tight, Marinette announces to the mostly empty dressing room, "I'm going to throw up."
"Do it, and I'll kill you," Dominique says flatly, completely unmoved. He leans back on an armchair, hair slicked back and tie neatly tucked in.
"You wouldn't," Marinette hisses back. Pacing back and forth, she desperately wipes her palms on the fabric of her skirt.
"Watch me," Dominique tilts his chin forward, eyes flashing dangerously.
All too soon, an announcer calls their names, and Marinette's stomach suddenly lurches.
A warm, steady hand takes her own and, startled, she looks up, Dominique's hazel eyes bright under the bright lights.
"We're still good," he tells her firmly.
She pauses, thoughtful, and then smiles.
"Yeah. We're still good."
They step out onto the stage, hand in hand, a familiar white table off to the side, the stage not as grand as before, but still quite large.
Inhaling deeply, Marinette turns to face Dominique.
In the exact moment when the sound of trumpets blast through the air, Marinette grabs hold of Dominique's hands, jumps, and slides through his legs.
Off in the faint distance, several gasps escape from the audience, but Marinette isn't done with her flashy steps.
We're still good, she reminds herself, leaping forward into a twirl. At that sudden thought, she lets out a laugh, the sound nearly startling Dominique before he gives his own quiet smile.
In a near instant, as if time had suddenly tripped forward, their routine finishes minutes later. Hand in hand, Marinette gives a grandiose bow, Dominique following shortly after in a more subdued gesture.
They walk off the stage to thunderous applause and smugly, Marinette bumps her shoulder none-too-gently into Dominique.
Yeah, she thinks, nearly falling when Dominique shoves her back. We're still good.
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Marinette loosens her tie, brushing past other competitors and dragging Dominique along as well.
"Nino!" she calls, waving her free arm frantically back and forth. Her eyes search the crowd. "Nino! NINO - "
"I'm right here," Nino hisses, smacking her arm as he glances warily around him.
"Nino!" Marinette exclaims, graciously lowering her voice. Her knees vibrate with energy. "Did you see it? Did you? So? So? What did you think?"
Rolling his eyes, Nino gives a warm smile. "That was totally awesome, dude! I didn't know you'd have it in you! And I mean that literally!"
Marinette pauses.
"I," She finally says. "I am going to take that as a compliment."
To her side, Dominique coughs loudly to cover a laugh.
Oh, where are her manners?
"Nino, this is Dominique, my dancing partner," Marinette introduces, passing over Dominique's hand to Nino. Carefully, Nino accepts it. "Dom, this is Nino! We're school friends! Best friends!"
Peering at Nino's cap and sweatpants, Dominique cordially shakes Nino's hand. "It's nice to meet you."
A little unsurely, Nino nods back. "Uh, same here, dude."
There is a prolonged moment of silence until Dominique narrows his eyes. Slowly, he says, "You know, Marinette once tripped and slammed her head into our mirrors so hard, the entire frame shattered."
"Um," Marinette says.
Something in Nino's posture relaxes.
"Last month, she tried to catch a pigeon with her pencil," Nino begins hesitantly. Bolstered by Dominique's vague noise of interest, he continues, "She missed and the pencil flew into the water fountain instead. The whole thing clogged up and a pipe burst open."
There is another long moment of silence.
"Uh," Marinette says. "What?"
"Well, I hope you'll keep in contact," Dominique finally says, his voice lighter than before.
Nino grins back, the expression sending alarm bells ringing in Marinette's head.
"Here's my number," Dominique continues pleasantly.
"Guys?" Marinette asks hesitantly as Nino primly accepts the written note.
"I'll keep you updated," Nino says, and it sounds strangely like a promise.
Dominique sends a smile, the smile that more than one old lady has fallen prey for. "Please do."
"Guys?" Marinette asks a little more desperately. "Hello?"
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Squinting darkly at the dough in her hands, Marinette carefully folds the ends, in and out, in and out.
"Good," her mother says approvingly, her own hands moving twice as fast. "Now dab a little water between your fingers to close it in."
Moments later, Marinette proudly displays a single dumpling, unevenly folded on the sides.
"Not bad," her mother says wryly, a smile on her lips as she continues to speak in Mandarin. "WIth enough practice, you'll be an expert in no time."
Marinette groans, snatching another piece of dough and placing a spoonful of filling in the middle. "I don't want to practice, I want to be an expert now!"
Her mother laughs and shakes her head. "You should know more than others how important practice can be."
With a sheepish smile, Marinette gives a sound of agreement and continues on with her task.
Later that night, stomach full of perhaps a thousand dumplings, Marinette surveys her room, the pale blue walls painfully bare.
"Do I need more hobbies?" she asks herself out loud, collapsing onto the white couch her mother had found on sale a year ago. Her bookcase is filled to the brim with CDs, and there are few posters of her favorite jazz bands.
She doesn't really feel the need, she's pretty happy with this life.
Or, as happy as she can be.
Passing by her fairly new television and exiting through the skylight door, Marinette walks to the very edge of her balcony, relishing the cold winds dancing past her cheeks.
It could be worse, a voice reminds her, sounding a lot like her from before. It could be much, much worse.
Marinette smiles, arms outreached to better feel the wind brushing through her shirt, through her hair.
"Don't I know it," she mutters to herself, eyes closed and listening to the traffic below, cars honking and people chattering through the streets. "Don't I know it too well."
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All too soon, summer reaches out and grabs Marinette into an inescapable hold.
After placing first in the county competition, much to Emma's delayed delight, the dance studio has reached a peak in popularity with new entrees.
"Take this group," Evanson orders, gesturing vaguely to the group of girls behind him.
"You're not even paying me," Marinette protests, but stands up anyways.
"You should be paying me for having to deal with you," Evanson snarks back. Off to the side, Sofia sends an apologetic smile.
Marinette sighs and tightens her ponytail. "What about Dominique?"
"What about him? He's useless," Evanson waves his hand, which is difficult to believe. Marinette blinks at the thought. Polite, well-mannered Dominique? Useless?
Without another word, Evanson throws a thumb to another corner where Dominique silently stretches.
Not even moments later, the group of girls behind Evanson suddenly bursts into a round of giggles, the sounds flooding the quiet studio. Their eyes are trained on Dominique.
Was that, Marinette scrunches her nose in confusion. Was that supposed to explain anything?
It doesn't take long for Marinette to charm the group, all younger than her, and by the time the yearly studio recital comes along, she finds herself back in a suit, dancing with each and every one of them as lead.
"They voted on it," Evanson tells her with a shrug. "You've done it before. It should be fine, right?"
"You've never had that much confidence in me before," Marinette says, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.
"Well, you don't have a choice," Evanson then says, sounding much more like himself. "Now go learn those parts."
Grumbling, Marinette returns to the studio, and the only thing stopping from her outright complaining is the very real fact that she looks absolutely fantastic in a suit.
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Between the days spent hanging out with Nino and helping out the bakery, Marinette's summer fills up rather quickly.
By the time the regional competition is once again announced, Marinette is once again placed on an enormous stage, heels on her feet and a full-length dress on her back.
She takes in a deep breath, Dominique's hands in her own, and by the end of the day, they are placed as runner-up in the entire competition.
"Well, who would've thought," Evanson says, no sign of surprise evident on his face. To the side, Marinette slumps to the floor, her legs giving out from underneath. "This means you're qualified for nationals."
"Nationals?" Marinette squeaks.
"It depends," Evanson says, pointing a finger to Dominique. "He'll be too old by then. They might not allow it."
Marinette stills, the sudden realization of Dominique moving on to the next age bracket hitting her like stones.
"I'll be graduating in a few weeks from this class," Dominique explains. A little quieter, he adds, "And by then, my parents might want me to focus on other things instead."
The floor suddenly becomes a blur, the black carpet mixing with the bright ceiling lights above.
"What," Marinette whispers, her head spinning at how pressing time actually is. Too quickly, she begins to question the future and what it will bring. What will she do next year? And the year after that?
When Marinette becomes an adult once more, where will she go from there?
(A lone street lamp flickers in the dark, the deep orange glow flooding the alleyway, burning her eyes as heat escapes her side, warm liquid drenching her arm - )
A sharp pain hits her forehead and Marinette blinks rapidly, staring dumbly at Dominique's fingers.
"Hey, snap out of it," he says, a scowl on his face. Despite the harsh words, his voice is incredibly gentle. "You'll be okay."
Rubbing desperately at her eyes, Marinette sniffles, peering into Dominique's own hazel eyes. "How can you tell? And what about you?"
She sniffles again and croaks out, "Am I ever going to see you again?"
Dominique snorts. He shifts from one leg to another in his crouched position. "Are you serious? That's a dumb question."
He pauses for a moment before giving a softer smile.
"Of course you will, stupid."
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The morning of the new school year begins at a terrible place - the very moment Marinette wakes up, she finds herself stuck with a song she cannot name.
"I just, I can't explain it," she tells her mother at the dining table, pouring a generous amount of milk into her bowl because she wants to grow tall. "It was super catchy, but I just can't remember the words."
"That's the worst kind of feeling," her father agrees, grabbing his own bowl of cereal. "I hate it when that happens."
"It'll come to you eventually," her mother says reassuringly. "You don't have to force it."
Marinette groans, shovelling more cereal into her mouth. "It starts off so cool too. There's a bunch of plucked strings, like arpeggios? And then - "
"As much as I want to hear your nerd talk," her father interrupts gently, a laugh escaping him. "You're gonna be late if you keep this up."
Marinette quickly checks the time on her phone and promptly chokes. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!"
"Here, take these," her father passes a box of pastries - macarons, her favorite. "Maybe that'll make your teacher forgive you."
Laughing at the suggestion, Marinette graciously accepts the gift and gives both her parents a quick goodbye.
Marinette steps out of the bakery with a nameless tune still stuck in her head.
"Oh my god," she mutters, walking to the crosswalk. "How did it go again? Strings, strings, then what?"
It went like, like, Marinette squints, waiting patiently for the glowing signs to change. Like…
"In the daytime - "
"In the daytime, what?" she asks out loud, and huffs when her mind remains blank. Staring at the road ahead, she blinks when an elderly man hobbles onto the street.
To her left, a car approaches rapidly, moving closer and closer with no signs of stopping -
Not even bothering to think, Marinette lurches forward, snatching the old man's arm and pulling backward.
Holy fuck, she thinks, heart beating rapidly and macaroons at her feet.
"Oh my god," she says, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. "Are you okay, sir?"
"I'm quite alright," the old man says cheerfully, his accent clearly placing him as Chinese. It's no wonder. Marinette doesn't know any other kind of person who would have the balls to pull off that sort of stunt. "Thank you, young lady."
Laughing in spite of herself, Marinette waves off his apologies and swiftly places the fallen treats back into the box. With those same set of iron balls, the old man swipes a macaroon and downs it like it had been gifted to him.
"Delicious," he then says.
Almost impressed by the audacity, Marinette's lips quirk upward as she says wryly, "I'm glad you like them."
Bowing quickly, she waves goodbye and heads off to school, that one stupid song still stuck in her head.
She is completely unaware of the heavy stare that follows her back.
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Stumbling into the classroom and barely making it to roll call, Marinette makes a beeline for her usual seat, only to find Nino in the row ahead.
"Dude, what happened?" Marinette whispers, easily taking the seat next to him.
Nino shrugs. "I got moved up."
"Um, excuse me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng," a rather familiar, nasally voice interrupts. "But you're sitting in Adrien's seat."
Marinette slowly turns to face a familiar bright yellow jacket.
"Chloe," she says as warmly as possible. Her eyes widen to show off her adorable blue eyes. "I knew it was you! No one says my name like you do."
There is a brief pause before Chloe scoffs, tossing her blonde ponytail behind her shoulders. "Of course it's me. And you need to get out of that seat because Adrien is going to sit there."
"Macaron?" Marinette asks, offering one to Nino, who gladly accepts it. "My dad made them."
"Ugh, are you listening to me?" Chloe seethes, stomping her foot in the process. Next to her, Sabrina nods rapidly back and forth. "Adrien needs to sit there so I can sit behind him! Go sit next to that new girl if you want a change of pace!"
"Adrien?" Nino repeats with a mouthful of pastry.
"New girl?" Marinette repeats as well, eyes bright at the thought. Her eyes trail over to a young girl with beautiful auburn hair and a pair of glasses framing her eyes.
As if they had rehearsed it before, both Chloe and Sabrina laugh in tandem.
"You must have been living under a rock," Chloe begins to say, even as Marinette shoots up from her seat to move to the next row. "He's only a famous model - wait a second, where are you going?! I was talking to you!"
"New girl!" Marinette says delightedly. "I was the new girl too last year!"
She offers a hand and gladly shakes the one given to her.
"I'm Marinette!" she says, vigorously shaking the hand up and down. There is a momentous pause when deja vu hits her like a truck.
"Alya," the new girl says confidently, distracting Marinette far enough from the sudden surge of vertigo. "Nice to meet you."
"Alya!" Marinette repeats, incredibly pleased. The name feels nostalgic, but it's unlikely they've ever met, considering Alya's reaction. "What a great name! So nice to meet you!"
"Yeah, same here, but," Alya sends a bemused glance at their still shaking hands. "How long are we going to do this for?"
"Until the end of time," Marinette answers solemnly back before cracking a smile. She hums considerably.
"I don't want you sitting over here without a friendly face." she says, remembering her own first day of school. Where would she have been without Nino?
"Oh, but I just can't leave Nino alone," Marinette places her free hand on her cheek. "He's so lost without me."
"I heard that!" Nino's voice interjects from behind her. "Lying to someone you just met? What would your mom say?"
Alya takes a careful look between Marinette and their joint hands, to Nino, then finally to Chloe.
"I'd hate for that girl to think you're doing what she wants," Alya whispers firmly, pausing only to accept Marinette's offered macaroon.
Their hands finally break apart so that Alya can present a cartoon of a well-muscled blonde woman on her phone. "Like Majestia says, 'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.'"
"Good people, huh?" Marinette repeats, a smile on her face. In the front of the classroom, Bustier finally begins her lesson. "That sounds awfully familiar."
"Well, I'll have to agree with you," she then says to Alya. "It's never good to encourage Chloe. That's what we call negative reinforcement."
Turning to face Bustier, Alya sends her a sideways glance, her lips quirking upwards.
"That's exactly what that is."
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As the class disperses to their respective outside classes, Marinette scoops up her teal backpack and turns to Alya.
"So, what do you have now?" she asks, hoisting on the bag and dumping her pencils inside as well.
Alya taps a finger on her cheek. "My schedule said to go to the library."
"The library!" Marinette clicks her tongue in disappointment. They walk towards the classroom door. "I'm going to the stadium. Do you know where to go?"
"Probably. It's upstairs, right?"
Marinette laughs with a nod, stopping at the top of the metal stairs. "Yeah, but I'll just show you! That's easier!"
"Nino!" she then calls out to the courtyard, waving a hand frantically back and forth. Her eyes fail to catch him. "Nino! I'm showing Alya where the library is! I'll be late!"
At the very bottom of the stairs, a few meters away, Nino plugs his ear in. "I'm literally right here."
Had he been waiting for her? Marinette coos at the thought.
"Great! So if you haven't heard, I'LL BE SHOWING ALYA - "
"I heard you!" Nino interrupts, face flushing as more and more students glance their way. He drags a hand down his face. "Just go. Go!"
Marinette beams, waving one last farewell before tugging Alya up the next flight of stairs.
"So," Alya starts as they walk up the stairs, the metal clunking underneath their shoes. There is a very bright look in her eyes. "Are you always like this?"
Marinette sends her most widest, innocent look. It's particularly effective when paired with her lovely blue eyes. "Like what? I have no idea what you're talking about."
Alya lets out a laugh and leaves it at that.
They turn a corner and enter the library, a quiet place with polished wooden furniture and an endless number of books.
"It's a pretty nice place," Marinette says in a hushed voice, smiling at Alya's widening eyes.
"Yeah," Alya says, setting down her backpack before turning to Marinette. "Well, thanks for taking me. Sorry you'll be late, though."
Marinette waves the apology away. "Don't worry about it! D'Argencourt loves me!"
They share a smile and Marinette turns to leave, that same, annoying, incessant song ringing even louder in her head.
"In the daytime," she mumbles, exiting the library. "In the daytime?"
Just as she is about to reach the stairs, a sudden tremor hits the entire area, the floor shaking and sending Marinette tumbling to the ground.
Heart racing and palms stinging from hitting the cement too hard, Marinette stumbles to her feet, grabbing onto the nearby railing for support.
What the hell, she thinks, knees still trembling from the vibrating floor. Is this an earthquake? Does France even get earthquakes?
Screams begin to quickly fill the air and, against a warning voice that sounds a lot like Nino, Marinette dashes back into the library.
"Get to lower ground!" she hollers across the room, pushing a nearby student to the entrance.
"Marinette!" a somewhat familiar voice grabs her attention. Racing past the students rushing to the exit, Marinette joins Alya at the security monitors behind the front desk.
Following Alya's pointed finger, Marinette lets her jaw drop at the massive rock titan that marches past the school's front doors.
What the actual fuck, she thinks, eyes transfixed on the being that should not exist.
Through the open windows, a guttural roar shakes the entire building. "KIMMM!"
Marinette's head spins even as her mind remains awfully blank.
Alya whips out her phone, her entire body vibrating with energy. "He's looking for somebody! Oh, he must be a student! Holy crud, this is so cool! That means he might have transformed into a real-life supervillain!"
"Supervillain," Marinette repeats, almost incoherently.
"GPS, check! Battery, check! Alright, I'm so outta here."
"Outta here?" Marinette whips her head back in alarm, right as Alya races to the library's exit. "Outta where?"
Alya turns briefly, eyes bright and voice incredibly eager. "When there's a supervillain, a superhero's not far behind!"
That, Marientte thinks dumbly, that is a very clever use of deductive reasoning.
"And there's no way I'm missing out on that!" Alya continues, crossing her arms and slashing them forward before disappearing through the doors.
Marinette blinks, still completely floored, and turns back to the security monitors, where the colossal rock giant stomps through the streets. His feet leave behind giant cracks in the cement.
"Wait a minute," she then whispers, a buzzing noise building up in her head. Her head lurches back to the doors as she yells, through the empty library, "You're going to follow it? Are you crazy?"
She pauses, only to squawk out, "Am I the only one panicking here?! HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?"
In the daytime, in the daytime, in the daytime -
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Considering that school is no longer in session (due to a massive walking rock), Marinette hurries home, stepping through the bakery. Her stomach turns at the thought of Alya chasing after something like that.
"Mom?" she calls out, checking the back before walking up to her home. "Dad?"
The lack of response could be a good or bad thing. Crossing her fingers, Marinette climbs up to her own room, pulling up the local news channel on her computer.
"As incredible as it may seem, Paris is now under attack by a supervillain," the newscaster's voice rings throughout her empty room. "The police have been struggling to keep the situation under control."
"How," Marinette protests, violently waving an arm at the screen. She grabs her phone to call her parents, just in case. "How the actual fuck."
The noise in her head builds up monumentally, even as she plugs in her mother's phone number, like an orchestra rapidly reaching its climax, like a buzzing sensation that seems to never end.
In the daytime, in the daytime, in the daytime -
"This isn't really the right time," she complains, swiveling her chair around back to her computer, fingers raised above the call button. "I've got more things to worry about than a stupid song. In the daytime, blahblah, in the daytime - "
Her voice dies in her throat.
Numbly, she feels her phone slipping from her fingers, a sudden clatter of noise as it hits the ground.
The sound seems incredibly far away. In fact, everything seems so far away in comparison to the single, decorative box lying patiently on her desk.
(like church bells tolling, like a gong resounding, like broken glass finally shattering)
In the daytime, I'm Marinette! Just a normal girl, with a normal life.
"Oh my god," she whispers.
But there's something about me that no one knows yet.
"Oh my god."
Because I have a secret.
"OH MY GOD - "
MIRACULOUS, SIMPLY THE BEST, UP TO THE TEST WHEN THINGS GO WROOONG -
"That's me," Marinette says dumbly, the world spinning around her. "I, holy shit, I'm Marinette."
And Marinette (who has now finally realized it), picks up the box with trembling fingers, stares at the intricate designs carved into the wood, and finds herself with the great urge to hurl it out of the window.
Instead, her eyes remain glued to her hands, that same ridiculous, life-ruining song still playing in her head.
(Holding the ornate box in her hands, she begins to consider the very likely possibility that she is, in fact, the dumbest person alive).
Like a failing record player, time restarts again, the news on her computer catching her dizzy attention - there are flashing images of the rock giant, of a victim, roaring through the streets, hurling cars into buildings, people screaming, wailing, crying -
And Marinette, realizing for once who she really is, cradles the cold, polished box with a sense of growing dread.
This is ridiculous, she thinks, clutching onto the box in near desperation. I can't - there's no way - I don't even -
Her shoulders heave, something tight clenching in her throat, her stomach twisting back and forth.
Marinette looks blankly at the intricate designs on the wood, the patterns swirling dangerously in her eyes, almost accusingly.
This is on you, a voice whispers, curling around her neck like a noose waiting to fall. Are you going to hide, like a coward? Who's to say people won't get hurt? Who's to say someone will help? - an image of Alya, crushed, unrecognizable, her beautiful hair drenched in blood - are you going to leave them alone, helpless, only looking after yourself, like always? -
Marinette drily swallows.
Then, without thinking, without considering the consequences, without understanding the full weight behind her name, she slowly, tentatively, opens the wooden box.
(she isn't too sure what to expect, isn't too sure what she should be expecting, but consistency is key and - )
And, as if it had known her thoughts all along - a single ring, dark as night with pearls of green, sits on black fabric: resting, waiting patiently... for her.
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-o-o-o-o-o-
notes!
- More dance scenes, some classmate scenes, and the introduction of Alya! Hopefully it went as you would expect.
- and aise your hand if you expected this! From the very beginning, Marinette was destined for the Cat Miraculous - hopefully you were able to pick up on those slight hints! The reasons as to why are still unknown, but I''m sure some of you have picked on a few of them already. With this huge change in "canon," there's a lot that can be done to create similar parallels between here and there, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you think that might be!
- A lot of people seem to like Dominique and Evanson, and I'm super glad to hear that! I'm very fond of them, especially Dominique, so this won't be the last of them! (Dominique and Nino may or may not have secret meetings in hopes of coming up with a plan to decrease the amount of damage Marinette does on a regular basis. Nino, at least, is sincere in his plans. Dominique, unfortunately, is only in it to see some more stuff destroyed).
- Hopefully, this chapter delivered well - I'm excited to show you all the next steps, where finally, our two main heroes will meet!
Thank you again for reading!
- SE
