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There are moments, very few moments, where it’s very easy and very simple to admit that things aren’t exactly one-hundred percent perfect. Isn’t it usually just so easy to admit that everything’s fine?
Distractions are the best way to stop thinking about the absolute shitfire that is her lovelife, and her family makes it so easy. Her mother scolds her if she isn’t paying attention when working the cashier; her uncle Master Fu always makes this disappointed frown if she isn’t putting in all of her concentration to help him out at the therapy room. Her family with all the cousins and all the uncles and all the aunts all push and pull and drag her in any direction they can, asking favours, asking shift changes, asking for her to cover and babysit and do whatever it is they need. Running errands. She breaks a sandal on the way to the metro, and doesn’t have time to buy another pair, because she’s being whisked away by another aunt who needs her to pass by a bank or a pawnshop or a bank to find a missing check.
But then, suddenly, all at once, the noise stops.
She’s able to breathe.
Just a bit, a little tiny smidge of a bit, but it’s enough to make everything break. In these moments, she finds herself puffing for her next breath— shallow pants turn into worse gasps as her eyes unfocus, as her heartbeat thrums in her ears, as everything crashes down onto her shoulders and pushes down.
Down.
Harder.
And harder.
It’s at these moments where she can’t hold onto it anymore. It’s at these moments where she crashes into Adrien’s bathroom, squeezes her eyes shut, and tries desperately to ignore the drums that pound in her head.
She’s in there, doing her best not to grab the nearest item— oh sweet, the toilet paper rack, how conveniently placed next to the door even though it’s nowhere near the toilet— and smack herself stupid for letting her timer run out after the Akuma fight. She’d been so certain that she had more time, but with ADHD, she’s never really sure of anything anymore. One fleeting conversation with Mister Bug had her spending too much time; she’d asked him if he’d been busy, if he was free, if he was willing to stay for a little while and…
She’d gotten a curt reply, half-assed, leaving her alone on that rooftop for what felt like hours.
So here, now, she hides in Adrien’s bathroom, back against the door, gasping out a broken, panicky mess, doing her best to hold tight to the door. Adrien won’t enter. He won’t… try to enter, because he never does when this happens and even though she needs to ground herself, it’s not safe for him to come in and risk knowing her identity… but the fear is so palpable. She feels an incoming panic attack, suddenly overcome with tears. Turning off the lights, asking Plagg to grab the handtowel on the towel rack, and shoving the edge into her mouth so she can bite something as hard as she possibly can while not popping her jaw.
Tears. Freefalling. Gasping out loud and sounding like an injured animal. She is one.
The Miraculous suit usually stitches off of her skin with a flash of green light, and following it, her sensations usually immediately dim, letting the darkness creep against her back and her surroundings like a veil, cradling her in the comforting, black haze. It’s what’s happened now. Here, with Plagg, hiding in the dark, desperate to hold on. She can’t hear Adrien on the other side of the door, trying to make sense of what to do, because her hearing is normal now. Natural. Being Lady Noire comes with many advantages, it does, but the drawbacks always end up being so much worse whenever a panic attack flares up.
“Princess?” Plagg asks, murmuring, trying to console because he knows what’s wrong. He knows that Kitty— no, Marinette— is suffering from. It’s always the same. It’s always the exact same script. Those knowing eyes that peer from the darkness, knowledgeable that she’s falling apart from her exhausting, loveless life. That no matter how often he encourages her, they still end up here; Marinette scrabbling against the bathroom tile, sobbing and sounding like an injured creature as she cries. She bites. Bites harder. The towel would shred between her teeth if she had fangs, but she’s completely useless with her flat teeth.
“Lady Noire?” Adrien calls out on the other side. Muffled. Kinda far away. Not close enough, never close enough, because no matter how much she tries, she cannot be close enough to anyone she loves. At the silence, he stops, with what seems to be socked feet padding closer on the tile just outside the door for him to murmur softly against the wood: “...Kitty?”
“Hi,” she says softly. “It’s me.”
“I brought Plagg some cheese.” At some point, she’s managed to anticipate his movements, because she knows he’s shaking a plate of cold-cut deli cheese from his side of the door. “Can we talk? How do I give them to you— is everything okay in there? You’re crying so hard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Had a bad day?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. I can’t explain it without talking about my identity, and stuff.”
“You don’t have to,” he tries. “We can just sit on the couch like always. I don’t like you hiding in the bathroom, let me give you a hug.”
With a cry, she buries her face into her hands. “I detransformed,” she sobs out, “the emotions are so bad that I didn’t want to accidentally get Akumatized while wearing the suit and I ran out of time to get home and you were closer and I didn’t want to have to walk home like this because I’m crying so much I can’t even breathe and I—”
“—It’s okay,” he whispers. Marinette inhales a breath before she realizes. “That’s okay. Are you okay? Are you safe?”
No, she wants to tell him. No, not really. Not at all.
No, she wants to scream. No one that I love seems to even care that I love them. Mister Bug doesn’t care. And no matter how much I want to, I can’t love you, either. It’s not safe. No matter how much I want to. So badly. Because I was an idiot to fall in love with you as a superhero, and now I can’t do anything about it. And if you reject me, too, I…
No, she wants to whisper. I love you. I love you. I love you. And no one ever chooses me, no one ever wants me, and no one is satisfied with me. If they’re satisfied with Marinette, they’re not satisfied with Kitty. If they’re satisfied with Kitty, which they never are, they never see Marinette the same. They always think I’m goofing around as Kitty, never seeing that I’m serious for a reason when I’m Marinette. I’m too naive, too irresponsible, too…
Too…
“Yes,” she says instead. Keeping her sniffles down.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he tells her. His voice sounds like it’s coming through the part where door meets wheels meets door frame. She’s never seen anything like it, but Adrien has a barndoor door for the bathroom, which is the absolute worst design choice in the world— focus. She leans into it, subconciously, eyes blurring again as she listens to his voice. Reaching out the only way she can. “Even if I can’t do anything at all, Kitty, please. I need to help you. Talk to me.”
“You wouldn’t really understand,” she tries. “I… it’s girl stuff. Teenage girl stuff.”
He huffs on the other side. “Well, I’m a teenager too.”
“But—”
He makes a noise. “I know what it’s like to be in a shitty love situation. To want someone but you probably can’t have. Not really. You keep making excuses on how it would work but it’s not… good.”
She looks up to the door handle. It’s totally useless with this barndoor. She’s not even sure why it’s there.
But it gives her a chance to grab it. Reaching up, higher than what she thinks given the door’s height, and cracking it to the side. Plagg goes to warn her, but she shakes her head with a sniffle. Just opening the door. Just barely. Just enough for Adrien to make a confused noise, stopping when the cheese in his hand disappears.
“Put your back against the door,” she tells him. Whispering. Not letting him hear her real voice. Maybe he’ll clock it, after all, and her secret identity will be revealed. Marinette Dupain Cheng, the girl who’s been hiding in his bathroom all this time, just a classmate that he’s known since they were thirteen. The ridicule would be too much.
He doesn’t complain when he does. Why would he? There’s a door between them, a big one, and probably thick, but she feels the phantom heat of his back against hers. If she closes her eyes and squints, maybe… maybe she can pretend that it isn’t there… but that’s not true, is it?
“Next step?” he asks, softly, scared to spook her away.
“Put your right hand through the opening.” She gasps for breath. “Please. I… I need… just for a little bit.”
He does anyway. Her eyesight is rather shit in the dark without her Miraculous on, but she sees his hand appear— in the grey and in the black, his brown hand looks so pale. She pulls off all her rings, stuffing them in her pocket, wiping the sweat off her palms before brushing her left hand against his. Fingers touching, the tips of her fingers dancing along his knuckles.
“That tickles,” he laughs.
“Sorry.”
“Keep going.”
She swallows heavily before her hand settles completely on his.
She hopes he knows that with every touch, that with every little circle she gives with her thumb on his pinky, he knows that she means she loves him. That maybe this is the most she’ll ever be able to give him, the brightest and warmest thing in her life. One she’ll keep chasing, like a child with a shooting star, wanting to keep him close.
Her sobs get louder into her towel, hiding her face to try to stop the tears from flowing. Squeezing his hand. Tight. Tighter. Wishing so badly to be able to love him completely and openly, but not knowing how.
Maybe it’s better this way. After all, Adrien is her best friend, and she’d hate for their relationship to get ruined. Even if that means she’ll have to sacrifice her happiness for a while.