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Marinette finds the first one in her locker, wedged between her history test corrections and the packet of maths review sheets she still hasn’t gotten around to completing.
It’s hard to miss the card’s braided border made out of pink and golden glitter that’s meticulously glued on by hand and leaves dust trails of color on her books and pencil cases. There are roses and tulips inked on the corners and in the center is Marinette’s name written in a beautiful script that curls the edges of the ‘M’ and dots the ‘i’ with a heart. It’s too late for secret santa exchanges, too early for Valentine’s Day gifts, and her birthday is months away. She doesn’t get a chance to prepare herself for the enormity of what it must be before she opens the card and feels the pleasant shock warm her down to her toes.
.
I’ve thought about how to say this in person for a very long time. But no matter how gorgeous your eyes are, I can’t stand the thought of staring into them while I say something so personal. Better to write it down where it won’t be lost in translation.
I saw you walking to school yesterday as you passed the flower shop across the street from the bus stop. You looked so lovely in that blue dress you were wearing that I thought I’d give you something to help match it with. I hope I get to see you in it again.
Stay smiling. You’re so pretty when you smile.
.
There’s a coral pink lipstick mark kissed into the bottom corner in lieu of a signature, and the blush on Marinette’s face gets stronger when she realizes that this must have been written by a girl.
She frowns at the message and wonders what the person could’ve possibly meant when they said they had something to give her until she notices something taped on the back of the card. Marinette flips it over and gasps when she finds that there are seven hairpins attached, each one adorned with little blue snowflakes that sparkle when she holds them up to the light. She already knows that they perfectly match the blue New Years’ dress she’d worn yesterday, and despite how inexpensive the gift seems, the thought put into it leaves Marinette sticking her head in her locker to prevent anyone else from seeing how far her smile is stretching. She takes a moment to squint at the additional writing left in the corner and giggles into her sleeve: I love you in braids. Put these in next time you wear one. <3
Marinette practically shoves the card in Alya’s face when she sees her during first period, and no amount of shushing from her friend can keep her from bouncing in her seat and chewing excitedly on the ends of her hair.
“I didn’t know secret admirer messages were still a thing,” Alya laughs, reading the inside of the card. “Sort of sweet that they’d put in all this effort. Do you know who it is?”
“Nope,” Marinette answers. “But I already like them so it doesn’t matter.”
Alya snorts. “You have no idea who wrote this and you already like them?”
“Of course! I mean, it must be someone in school. Maybe from another class or something. But if they can manage to write something so perfect and give me a gift then they must be a wonderful person.”
“Leave it to you to fall for someone on personality and penmanship alone.”
Marinette rolls her eyes and takes the card back. “I’ve hardly fallen for them. I just don’t see the point in being confused or embarrassed when they’re being this cute and nice. And it’s probably a girl! That’s even cuter.”
“Well, you have been wishing for a girlfriend, haven’t you?” Alya winks.
She smacks her shoulder gently and frowns at her friends laughter. “I’m not talking that extreme! I just….wanna figure out who they are so I can repay the favor. And then whatever happens happens.”
“You’re a chronic romantic, my dear. Don’t think I don’t see you hoping for more than just a chance to say thank you.”
Marinette gently ignores her in favor of tracing her fingers over the decorations on the front, and Chloe chooses that exact moment to enter the classroom and pass by Marinette’s desk. She sees the card in Marinette’s hands and snickers over her shoulder without slowing her walk up the classroom stairs. “Still writing simpering little love notes to Adrien, Marinette?”
Marinette smirks at her back. “Still forgetting to blend your contour, Chloe? ”
Chloe laughs and gives Marinette a quick bras d’honneur before sliding into her seat and pulling out her books. “Good one, darling. But the day is still young.”
Marinette dramatically lays her hand over her chest. “The anticipation is killing me!”
They stick their tongues out at each other and return their attentions to their desks while Alya watches and snickers behind her hand. “What?” Marinette asks.
“Oh, nothing at all,” Alya says. “Just glad that the two of you can manage to still have fun with each other after all these years.”
Marinette’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Please, don’t pretend like you don’t notice that you’re the only one she still messes with anymore. How age matures people….”
Marinette frowns. “Stop reading into things. We’re civil with each other. There’s not much else to it.”
Alya lifts her hands. “Hey, whatever you say. It’s not like I want to get involved in your weird little insult games. Honestly, only you two would ever find that kind of thing enjoyable.”
“We don’t do it for fun , it’s just….how we are,” Marinette defends. She isn’t sure if she can properly explain the almost tame antagonism she and Chloe have developed over the past year — it seems to be something that only makes sense to them — so Marinette gracefully drops the subject and returns it to the main subject of her attention this morning. “Anyway, promise me you’ll keep an eye out in study hall for handwriting that matches this and I’ll try to peek at a few notebooks during class. She’s gotta be in this school somewhere. It feels like she’s right under my nose.”
It turns out that finding her secret admirer is a lot more difficult than Marinette had thought it would be.
To be fair, she doesn’t have much to go on. Searching for matching handwriting quickly turns into a wasted endeavor when she finds out that there are dozens of girls at her school that write loopy g’s and make their r’s and v’s look the same. Even attempting to find girls with the same shade of lipstick — with a bottom lip slightly thicker than the top one — leads to awkward moments where Marinette has to explain why she’s spent half a class period staring at girls’ mouths while being no closer to finding the person she’s looking for. She supposes it isn’t meant to be that simple. There’s no sense in keeping a letter anonymous if the intention is to let Marinette find out who they are so easily. But it makes Marinette restless knowing that there’s someone out there who holds so much affection for her but is too afraid to reveal it. She wishes there was a way to encourage them — to show them that her reaction isn’t one they need to be afraid of.
She waits a couple of days before she wears her blue dress again, this time with a braid thrown over her shoulder and the pins she’d been gifted woven within it, making it look like she’d been caught in the middle of a fresh snowfall. It’s silly to think she’ll find her admirer just by wearing the pins they gave her, but at the very least it serves as the best way she can think of to thank the person for the present. Besides, Marinette gets a lot of compliments on her ensemble that day. Even Chloe stopped in the middle of the courtyard to stare at her for a few long seconds and mumble something about her looking nice before flouncing off to class. She feels more confident that someone somewhere is happy seeing how she’s dressed today. It’s the least she can do since she can’t very well thank them with a gift of her own.
Nothing happens for about a week, and the only reminder Marinette has that there is still someone pining after her from afar is the note that she still has taped to the inside of her locker. But when she returns to the bathroom to bury her head back in her books for the rest of her study block, she seems something sticking out of her binder. The moment she sees the glitter and the familiar ink roses in the corners, Marinette’s hearts leaps for joy in her chest and she can’t pull the letter out and open it quick enough. There’s nothing attached to the back this time, but the handwriting is the same and she gently brushed her fingertips over the dried lipstick mark before she reads the new message.
.
I saw you with the pins in your hair last week! Did you like them? I hope you did. You looked just as charming as I thought you would and it made me really happy that you decided to wear them. It sort of makes me want to get you something else for your hair. Maybe next time! <3
A couple of days ago I saw you sketching in the courtyard. I passed you on the steps while you were working so you didn’t see me, but I saw all of your designs and you’re incredibly talented. You’re going to be a great designer one day. I thought I’d help out and give you a little something to help add some color to your sketches. They might seem like a bit much but don’t worry about it. I want you to have them and I hope you keep them and use them.
Check your bag :) I wish I could see your face when you open them. I bet you look cute when you’re surprised.
.
Marinette folds up the card and starts rifling through her school bag until she finds something tucked near the front and wrapped with pink tissue paper. It turns out to be a brand new set of twelve sketching markers filled with basic colors, just enough to get a good collection started and perfect for cleaning up the fashion sketches she wants to put in her portfolio when she eventually applies to a fashion school. But her jaw drops when she finally checks the brand and realizes just how expensive the markers are. She’s been fantasizing for years about being able to afford them one day, but she isn’t prepared for a stranger being kind enough to simply give them to her and tell her not to worry about it. She’s torn between immediately ripping into them to test them out and being too afraid to touch them. Instead she dips her head forward and lets her hair hide her face as she hugs the markers to her chest and laughs into her notebook.
“It’s gotta be someone rich,” Nino suggests later that day during their lunch pause. “I mean, my cousin does traditional art and she’s always crying about how pricey they are.”
“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s someone rich,” Adrien says. “Could just mean they wanted to spend a lot of money on her. But they obviously pay enough attention to her to able to pick really thoughtful gifts. It’s kind of romantic if you think about it. They must really like you.”
“It might be a girl too,” Alya gushes. “You’d think that would narrow things down but I can’t think of who it could possibly. Maybe it’s someone from another class. What do you think?”
Marinette shrugs and keeps drumming her nails on the plastic markers. “I can’t think of a single girl who’s ever shown an interest in me. I’m just as stumped as you all are. The only clues I’ve got are these notes and the presents.”
“I think they’re fine making sure that you don’t know who they are,” Alya says.
“But why? They’re being so sweet and they obviously care a lot, but I feel so guilty that I can’t thank them or even return their feelings.”
“Maybe they’re afraid you won’t return them,” Adrien offers. “It’s scary to confess to your crush.”
Marinette sighs. “I know that. I just wish I could find a way to tell them that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I mean, how could I possibly be awful to someone who’s willing to go through all of this trouble?”
Nino winces in sympathy and wraps an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “I’m sure they have their reasons. And hey, maybe they’ll tell you who they are soon. When they’re ready.”
Alya nods. “And don’t feel guilty. They want to do this for you and they want to tell you how they feel. Just enjoy it. God knows you deserve it with how much time you spend taking care of other people. Maybe they see that too.”
“It just makes me restless is all. Like I wish they’d give me just a small hint. Literally the tiniest thing to latch onto so I feel like they’re not so distant. Right now they don’t feel like anything more than a ghost.”
“Be patient,” Adrien smiles. “You never know what they might be thinking. Maybe this is their way of building up their courage and they’ll start showing you parts of themselves really soon. I mean it’s only been two letters so far.”
“You say that like you know they’re going to send more.”
“Oh, hon,” Alya laughs. “Whoever this is, they have it bad for you. They’re definitely going to send more notes.”
After three more weeks and four more presents, Marinette starts saving up parts of her allowance and her babysitting money in preparation for the day when she’ll finally be able to buy a gift for her mysterious admirer. After receiving a leatherbound sketchbook, a nail art set, rings to match her monogrammed purse, and a bottle of perfume, Marinette feels like she needs to be prepared to really deliver her game when the time calls for it. She almost feels a bit of pressure having to go up against someone who knows her tastes so well and also happens to have the money to spend on her. It doesn’t help that she’s also at a very distinct disadvantage. Still, Marinette tries her best and starts to make lists of things they might like — maybe some lipstick or some jewelry since they seem to have an eye for it.
Marinette agonizes over the list during study hall while she fiddles with her newest present: a hair comb with dozens of little jeweled hearts as the adornment. She isn’t used to wearing hair combs but she wants to try and put it in so that her admirer can see it and feel a little happier today for it. Her tongue sticks out from the corner of her mouth as she tries to get the comb to stay in her hair, but no matter how hard she tries it keeps slipping out from the bun she’s trying to pin up. She must have looked like she was having a really hard time with it because right around when her arms start getting tired, she hears someone clearing their throat next to her.
Chloe’s leaning her hip into Marinette’s study table and holding out her hand. “Hand it over before you hurt yourself.”
Marinette pouts and shoves her chair a couple of inches away from her. “Go away. I’ve almost got it.”
“No, you don’t,” Chloe smirks. She pulls out the chair from the adjacent table and drags it next to Marinette. “Come on, I’m really trying to distract myself from doing maths drills and I can’t keep watching you screw up your hair like this. It’s bothering me.”
Marinette lifts a brow. “Are you sure you’re not going to cut all my hair off while I’m not looking?”
“Oh grow up,” Chloe scowls. “I’m not that petty. Ruining another girl’s hair is just cruel. I can’t think of anything more tragic.”
“Wasn’t it you who said that not having a backup makeup kit is the most tragic thing you’ve ever heard in your life?”
Chloe sucks in a breath. “Oooo. You’re right. That is more tragic.”
Marinette snorts at the joke and doesn’t flinch away when Chloe sits down. Even though Marinette can’t really call them friends just yet — at least not quite — she can’t deny that Chloe’s amusing to have around sometimes. Besides, it isn’t as if Marinette has any intentions to keep up her studying anyway. So she regards Chloe’s smug expression before sighing dramatically and placing the hair comb in Chloe’s hand. “Don’t make me look like an idiot.”
“I’m offended,” she says as she turns Marinette’s body around so that her back is facing hers. “I’ll have you know these are my favorite hair accessories. Making you look like an idiot isn’t possible with me here.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that,” Marinette says as she digs through her bag and hands Chloe her hairbrush. “I’ve never see you wear them.”
Chloe makes sure to keep her strokes gentle as she combs out the tangles Marinette accidentally made in her hair. “I mean I can’t really wear them anymore since I chopped it all off last year. But when I was little my hair used to be like past my butt. Combs were the only way Maman could keep all that hair up and out of the way.”
“Why do I feel like you with long hair at such a young age was a complete nightmare?” Marinette teases.
Chloe starts collecting Marinette’s hair in her hands and holds the comb in between her teeth. “Because it was . Used to get caught in everything. Like doors and bushes and desks and stuff. Maman used to call me Raiponce because it was that bad.”
“That’s like the most endearing thing I’ve ever heard about you,” Marinette chuckles. “Is that why you eventually cut it?”
“Papa wasn’t really all that good at doing my hair so it was easier to cut it after he and Maman got divorced,” Chloe shrugs. “Ponytails were a lot easier than twists and braids, I guess.”
“And the current pixie cut?”
“ That is because short haircuts are trending right now. And it’s low maintenance. Leaves me with more money to spend on my nails.”
“Oh of course .”
“Prioritization is the key to beauty, Marinette. You can quote me on that.”
“I’ll go write it in my diary.”
“That sounded like sarcasm.”
“Oh it was. Should I have made it more obvious?”
Chloe pinches Marinette’s ear as she takes out her cellphone and snaps a picture of the back of Marinette’s head. She hands the phone to Marinette over her shoulder and starts tucking her baby hairs back into the twist she made. “That good? I can do something else if you want.”
“No no that looks great! You’re good at this. Thanks.”
Chloe turns her around so that she can rearrange her bangs. “Don’t mention it. It’s relaxing so I don’t mind doing it.” She sits back in her chair and sighs, looking proud of her work. “A little birdie told me someone’s pretty in love with you. Did they give you that?”
“How did you know?”
“Sabrina won’t shut up about it,” Chloe says. “Apparently she and Alya saw you open up the last one they left in your locker.”
Marinette curls a lock of hair around her finger while she stares into her lap. “Ah, yeah. It’s a little frustrating. I wish I knew who they were. I hate being out of the loop.”
Chloe hums and looks out the window. “Well. Telling people things to their face is mortifying when those things happen to be important. Don’t blame them.”
“Still,” Marinette says. “When someone cares about you this much, you sorta wanna know who they are.”
“They must be pretty scared of you,” Chloe jokes. She taps the back of her head.“They’ve got good taste though. That comb looks really nice in your hair.”
Marinette preens a little at the compliment. “Thanks. Might have to play around with combs more often.”
“You should. And you should wear your hair up more often, too. Makes you all soft and pretty.”
Chloe says it so casually that it takes Marinette a couple of seconds for her brain to process the compliment and let it melt into a rush of blood that goes straight to the tips of her ears and the apples of her cheeks. She isn’t used to people praising her quite so directly, and the fact that it’s Chloe rattling it off like it’s weightless catches her off guard and leaves her too flustered to even respond to her. The only thing that leaves her mouth is a bundle of choked words stuck in the back of her throat, and it’s at that point that Chloe realizes what she’s said because her eyes widen as she covers her mouth and ducks her head so that Marinette can’t see her face.
“Sorry,” Chloe says shortly. “I just meant that the twist suits you. Makes your hair looks less awful than it usually does.”
It’s such a weak comeback that Marinette doesn’t bother to take the bait and pick their familiar banter up again. Chloe knows it too because she’s wincing and standing up from her chair to tuck it back underneath the table, mumbling something about needing to go back and finish her work before the period ends. But before she leaves, Marinette swallows back her nerves and says, “Thanks. For doing my hair I mean. I’ll try to do more buns..”
Chloe gives her an odd look as if she’s expecting her to call her out on the slip up, but when Marinette doesn’t say anything she drops her shoulders a little and allows herself a kind smile in return. “No problem, Dupain-Cheng..”
Marinette watches Chloe go back to her seat three study tables down and stick her earbuds in as she starts up her maths drills again. Chloe’s words still leave her feeling thoughtful, so she finds herself absently watching Chloe’s fingers card through her short hair that barely brushes the tips of her ears and Chloe’s bottom lip being sucked in between her teeth as she concentrates on her work. It isn’t until her head is tilting in fascination that Marinette realizes she’s being rude staring at someone so openly, so she turns back to her own books, hyper aware of the prickles on her skin that tell her when Chloe is risking her own glances.
She tries to distract herself by running her fingers over the comb in her hair and deciding if giving her admirer a batch of pastries is too much of a cop out.
Marinette isn’t sure how she manages it, but her alarm wakes her up an hour earlier than is ever appropriate to wake up on a Monday, and she’s forced to drag herself out of bed and into her closet after it becomes apparent that she can’t fall back asleep.
She’s stuffing her literature homework into her bag as she crosses the street to school and sees almost no cars on the street and only a few straggling students on the sidewalk. She sort of wants to pass out under her desk and nap until class starts but she supposes she’s better off camping out somewhere quiet to finish the maths homework that was due at the end of the day. Marinette bumps into walls and trips up the stairs as she stretches and yawns, making her way to the locker room for some peace and quiet since the library is probably closed at this hour. She’s about to fling her bag towards the corner of the room where all the benches are when she sees someone standing by the lockers closest to the windows.
Marinette opens her mouth to say good morning until the person turns around to pull something out of their bag and she realizes that it’s Chloe. The girl never comes to school early — she prides herself on being able to perfectly time her rides to school so that she walks into the classroom right when the teacher does. Something about not wanting to sit around doing nothing in the mornings when she could be home catching up on sleep. It’s more than a little strange to see her here when the school’s practically empty, especially because Marinette sort of remembers Chloe’s locker being at the opposite end of the room.
But then Marinette has to bring a hand up to her mouth to muffle her gasp when she sees Chloe pull out a very familiar looking card with pink and gold borders and flowers tucked in the corners. For half a second she thinks that maybe Marinette’s secret admirer has caught an eye for Chloe as well, but it’s a theory that quickly gets shot down when she sees Chloe open Marinette’s locker and place a small, black jewelry box right in the middle of the topmost shelf. Chloe opens the card, carefully kisses the bottom corner, and leaves it propped against the present so that Marinette’s elegantly written name will be the first thing she sees when she opens her locker.
The moment Chloe closes her bag and starts heading for the exit, Marinette leaps behind the door to hide until she’s sure that Chloe is well out of sight. She races to her locker and yanks open the door and has to stare at the card and gift for a moment to make sure that she didn’t just imagine what she saw. The jewelry box has a white gold charm bracelet inside and the card is filled with the same handwriting, the same heart-fluttering words, and the same shade of lipstick still sitting damp and fresh against the paper. Marinette presses the card to her heart and backs up into one of the benches, not trusting her legs to keep her standing.
“Oh my God, it’s Chloe,” she whispers to the empty room, feeling like if she doesn’t say it out loud at least once, it won’t feel real.
Marinette feels a little stupid for not noticing it before. It had taken such a long time for the two of them to get to this weird tolerance for each other that it didn’t seem like they’d ever progress past that. Sometimes you put a lot of hard work into people and your efforts prematurely plateau without turning into the shimmering ideal relationship you hoped it would be. Marinette has always been alright with that. She’s happy enough just to be on good terms with Chloe and doesn’t dare demand more if it isn’t meant to be. But now she reworks every interaction they’ve had and wonders if all the awkwardness and small attempts at civility were actually subtle nudges in a direction that Marinette has never considered until now.
In all the years she’s known Chloe, romantic, lovely, generous, and kind are never adjectives Marinette attaches to her, but here they are condensed into small flashes of affection towards Marinette which makes the discovery all the more charming. Marinette can’t help but hold small bits of adoration for all of the people in her life who put a smile on her face, and she knows it’s the one trait that makes it so easy for her to fall for people and find beauty in the most unlikely of places. So Marinette sits there with Chloe’s gifts in her hands and searches her heart to see if it has the potential to return Chloe’s feelings.
Peals of laughter bubble up in her chest until Marinette is hysterical with delight and warmth because it’s almost too easy to return them. It isn’t just because Chloe is such a beautiful girl. Marinette thinks back fondly to how far the two of them have come since collège, but now there’s a whole world of potential still left in front of them for the two of them to explore together. And Marinette wants to see where it takes them, wants to see what it would look like, wants Chloe to surprise her even more. It feels so good knowing it’s Chloe. Marinette likes that it’s Chloe. She isn’t disappointed or horrified or upset. She feels light and excited, and she can’t sit still for a moment longer.
Marinette picks up her bag and runs from the room, trying to think of all the places Chloe could possibly be hiding considering it’s this early in the morning. She checks the steps outside the school, the courtyard, the music room, and the gymnasium before she makes her way to their homeroom classroom and sees Chloe sitting by the windows and annotating her literature book. Her brow wrinkles when she sees Marinette panting in the doorway. “Uh….morning? You okay over there?”
Marinette lifts a finger. “I….have to….tell you something.”
“O...kay,” Chloe says slowly. “Didn’t think you came to school this early but I guess I’ve got time to kill. This better be good.”
Marinette swallows, pulls Chloe’s card out of her pocket, and starts reading the message. “ One day I promise you I’m going to be able to tell you these things to your face. I’m going to look into your eyes, take your hands, press them to my lips, and tell you everything. You deserve honesty and sincerity with how much of yourself you give to other people. So I’m giving this to you as a promise. Soon. You’ll know everything. There won’t be a single secret between us.”
Chloe’s pen falls from her fingers before Marinette can get through the second sentence. She looks positively mortified and is staring at Marinette as if she’s not sure whether or not Marinette’s going to scream at her or make fun of her. It breaks Marinette’s heart to think that she was so scared of telling Marinette all of these things because she was afraid that the reaction would be something awful, and she doesn’t want to leave Chloe in such sickening suspense longer than she has to.
“I’ve been getting all of your notes,” Marinette says. “Every single one. I tape them to the door of my locker and I keep all of your presents lined up on my desk at home because I love looking at them. No one’s ever done anything this sweet for me ever in my life. And I mean that.”
Chloe stands from her seat and slowly walks down the stairs, her steps soft and careful. “H-How did you…?”
“I just saw you put this one in my locker,” Marinette admits. “I got to school earlier than I meant to.”
Chloe’s nervousness leaves her chest in a forced laugh. “And here I thought I was being careful….”
“You’re not angry, are you? I wasn’t trying to spy.”
“I’m not angry, I’m just….” She rubs the back of her neck and her gaze drops to her toes. “I didn’t expect you to find out before I got the chance to tell you.”
Marinette bites her lip and shortens the distance between the two of them. “So you meant it then? Everything you said? That was real?”
Chloe frowns. “Of course it was. Why would you think it wasn’t?”
“It’s not that I think it isn’t real,” Marinette says. “I know we like to poke fun at each other and play games. But I don’t think you’d ever play those kinds of games. I just want to hear you say it. Just for myself. I wanna hear you say it’s real.”
Chloe starts to clam up on herself and it doesn’t seem like the words are coming easily to her, so Marinette reaches a hand out to link Chloe’s pinky with her own and squeeze to offer some comfort. It makes Chloe blush, but she squeezes Marinette’s finger back and collects all of her courage in one big breath that fills her chest and makes her look taller and more confident. “Well,” she begins. “It’s funny. When you stop playing little girl games a lot of things start to make sense to you. They get clearer and you can start putting names to things. I didn’t have anyone to tell this stuff to so I thought….why not just tell them to you?”
“Without signing your name?”
“It was more for myself than anything,” Chloe explains. “I was holding onto it for so long I just needed to get it out and make sure that you knew, even if you didn’t know it was me. To be honest, I was psyching myself up for the possibility that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. And I wouldn’t have blamed you for that.”
“You thought I wouldn’t like you back?”
“Of course not,” she says sadly. “I was awful to you for so long.”
“You apologized for that,” Marinette reminds. “We both did.”
“I know, but still. Old wounds run deep.”
Marinette’s heart clenches looking at the vulnerable expression on Chloe’s face, so she takes the note, presses it to her chest, and laces their fingers together. “Tell me.”
Chloe lifts her chin. “What?”
“Just trust me and tell me what you want you want to tell me.”
Marinette is asking so much of her — is asking her to be impossibly brave — and she only hopes that the conviction in her voice is enough to make Chloe feel safe enough to share her secrets with her. It’s a large step for them to take together. They’ve never known intimacy like this, and it’s similar to working a foreign muscle and feeling it ache for the first time. But Chloe’s always been stubborn and strong, and Marinette doesn’t have to question the amount of faith she has in her. She patiently waits until Chloe’s eyes set in determination and the words she’s been rolling around in her mouth finally come out, clear and practiced. “I like you,” she says. “So so much. And I hope you like me back.”
It isn’t even a question. Marinette flips open the card, keeps her eyes on Chloe, and presses her lips right over the lipstick mark Chloe left for her — a ghost of a kiss that serves as a promise. Chloe inhales and sweetness of her laugh makes the Marinette’s next words feel effortless. “I like you too.”
Chloe grins and leans forward until their foreheads knock together and they’re breathing the same air. “Say it again. So I know for sure.”
“I like you,” Marinette repeats. “And I want to keep liking you more if you’ll let me.”
“You don’t even have to ask,” Chloe replies, and Marinette swears she can’t remember a single time where Chloe has ever looked quite so pretty.