#ml elation

When did she start to get into your heart? What does she have that I don't? What made you choose her over me? What made you realize she's the only girl for you—you who used to call me the girl of your dreams? Now she's the one who gets this title, not me.

What wouldn’t I give to get a glimpse of her, to know what she's like!

Does she have the same blue eyes and pitch black hair as I do? Is she smart and strong-willed like my superhero persona? Is she a clumsy walking disaster like my civilian self?

Does she love to wrap her arms around your neck while sitting on your lap? Does she love to drink in your scent as she caresses your fluffy golden locks? What does she call you? What pet names does she have for you? What's her love language? Does she love you the way you deserve?

I used to be your whole world. You used to mope whenever there was even the tiniest misunderstanding between us. I could see it in your eyes that your love for me was unwavering. When did you have a change of heart? Why don't you look me in the eyes anymore?

Probably because it's me, not her.

You didn't become cold and unfriendly to me. You're still the sweetest sweetheart, smiling your lovely smile at me and calling me “my lady” with such a warm kitten voice that my heart might burst. But dear God, it makes me want to fall on my knees and scream and shout in utter despair. Because it's not enough. Because I want to be the love of your life again. Now and forever.

Because you betrayed me, Chaton.

I know you're not to blame for falling for her. Nobody is. Not even she, that mysterious girl who stole your heart. The heart that belonged to me fully and completely. Now it's hers, not mine.

I know we couldn't be together. Then why this bitterness that's corroding me like an acid? Why is my heart so sore as if transpierced by a poisoned arrow?

You never got to know about the way I felt. Lucky you. By no means do I want to disturb your happiness, snap you out of your brilliant pink bubble of requited love. I don't want you to feel bad about something you can't fix.

I know I probably was confused. I know I probably mistook my strong platonic feelings and gratefulness for you for romantic attraction.

But deep down, I'm still mourning that you didn't get the chance to know how I felt for you. I'd like to know how you'd react if you knew that, at some point, I was dying to get down on my knees in front of you, like you used to do for me, and ask you to kiss me senseless till I forget my name. I'd like you to know that, at some point, you were everything I wanted and more.

You two have a date tonight; you told me that earlier. You probably will be waiting for her with open arms. She will come running and leap into your arms. You will spin her around, the whole world fading away around you, me included.

“A Valentine card I sent him? Unsigned and probably lost in an avalanche of other cards from his fangirls.”

“A hand-made scarf for his birthday? His father took credit for it. Poor Adrien, he probably still thinks that his father cares about him, while he didn't even bother to give his son a proper birthday gift.”

“The confession practice? As you might remember, it resulted in André being akumatized again.”

“Our friends tried to get us together God knows how many times. But they failed. Every. Damn. Time. I should have understood a while ago that it had to mean that we aren't meant to be. Don't know why I kept trying. What did I expect?”

“I had a chest full of gifts for his birthdays for 50 years ahead. I decorated my bedroom walls with pictures of him. That one time when these pictures were broadcast on live TV for the whole of Paris to see—I thought I'd die from embarrassment. I lied to him that I wasn't in love with him, that I was just into fashion. Thankfully, he bought it.”

“Once, I mistook him for a wax statue and nearly confessed and kissed him. It was by far the most mortifying moment of my life. I wanted to curl up and die. And he… he didn't even realize what I was trying to do. That it was basically a love confession. Good for him.”

“Why didn't I want him to know that I loved him, you may ask? I'm not sure if I have a clear answer to this question. I think I've been waiting for the perfect moment to confess. But it never came. I was scared by the possible rejection and heartbreak. I was just a coward. I kept chickening out until it was too late. He met another girl. A girl brave enough to confess and ask him out.”

She dipped her hand in the sand and let it slip through her fingers as she spoke in an attempt to soothe her nerves with the barely audible rustling sound.

“The day he asked me for advice on how to woo that girl… I felt like I was stabbed right in my heart. God knows how much effort it took me to recollect myself. I told myself that as long as it's what he wants, I will help him to get together with that girl.”

“I was just like Little Mermaid, suffering from excruciating pain, but still forcing myself to smile and be glad for him because he seemed to have found the girl who could make him happy. It wasn't by any means his fault that that girl ended up not being me. I would never be so cruel and ruin their happiness.”

“I suggested a double date, gave him love advice, all while dying inside.”

“I tried to move on. I repeated over and over again that we're just friends and that I'm happy to be just this. His friend and nothing more.”

“I kept lying to myself for months that I had moved on, that I was finally over him. I even dated another guy when they started dating. Luka knew he was my second choice and was okay with it, and it was painful to hear him say “I know you're still in love with Adrien, but you know, it's okay, I'm not jealous.” Although I could see he definitely was jealous. He was just too nice to admit it. I'm sure you'd be jealous, too, if you were talking to your girlfriend, and she accidentally called you Adrien.”

She went quiet for a moment, absentmindedly drawing lines on the sand with her finger.

“Hence, I even tried to bring them together when they eventually broke up. I failed. Again. I guess I bring bad luck to sweethearts.”

“But now, when I'm finally over him, he has started taking special interest in me. I'm not brave enough to tell him it's too late, that my feelings are gone, and he'd better not try to resurrect them. My love for him is dead, and it's better this way. For nothing in the world would I go through this hell again. Being a mumbling, stuttering, blushing, awkward, tongue-tied mess? Nope. Never again.”

Why was she telling Chat Noir about how she used to be in love with another boy? Why now, when she was on a date with him? Marinette didn't know. But once she started, she couldn't hold back the deluge of words anymore.

She didn't know if Chat Noir was still there, if he still listened. He might've walked away a long time ago.

Her monologue was followed by a deafening silence. Then she suddenly felt two strong but tender arms wrap around her and gasped.