Borderline

graveyards & daisies

"Peaches, do you ever feel the need to just... do something without rationally thinking?" Adrien asks. "I know that you have judging by where you live," Marinette smartly replies.

Both had taken to liking quiet afternoons, lazily picnicking upon a massive hill that overlooked a cemetery. Marinette found it near sadistic to have a graveyard next to the hospital, practically taunting the inhabitants.

Fisting handfuls from a patch of baby daisies, Adrien began to nestle a few in Marinette's hair, exercising extreme focus. "Raspberry?" she asked, holding up a plastic baggie to him. Without verbal refusal, he placed his hand on top of hers, and nudged her hand down to the blanket that sat underneath them.

Adrien would go through spells of obnoxious conversation ranging vastly in topic. Other times, he kept rather silent, letting his actions communicate his thoughts.

"Look," he whispered into the breeze. His fingers gestured over to a burial service beginning to start. "Wanna crash it?" he softly suggested.

"Wedding receptions, parties, cars; all are crashable things. But a funeral? That is too far, Mister, even for you," Marinette responded quickly. She crossed her arms in sheer disbelief that he would even propose such an idea. Then again, he was a mental patient, so she questioned why she would expect anything different or sane to escape from his mouth. In fact, she should know better than to snap at him, as anything like that would prompt an outfit of an episode.

"You're right, Peach."

Marinette thought her ears heard wrong, and peeked at Adrien's dejected face. He began to pick at the daisies and sprinkle them strategically in her hair again. Reaching out, Marinette grabbed his hand and urged him to stop moving. Adrien's head snapped up at the contact, and looked at the intensity that lied in her furrowed brows.

"I'm fine. Geez, stop worrying," he says with a roll of his green eyes.

That phrase alone was enough to take her back to a time she'd rather forget about. Bright flashes of memory spun her brain into airy wisps of cotton candy. She was silent, as she mentally remembered the last time anyone ever called her out on her maternal like instincts.

As soon as Adrien caught her sudden stiffness, he asked if she was okay. Is "okay" considered a true feeling? Marinette always thought of "being okay" as a state of mind more than fervor of the heart. 

Which is where emotion originates?

Adrien delicately placed his hand on her achingly warm shoulder, urging her to share her thoughts with him. Heavily sighing, she craned her neck to observe him.

"At the time, I had no clue as to why the world could be so cruel. I was going to start a new job with a boss that found joy in verbally, sometimes physically, torturing the people surrounding him," Marinette paused, swallowing audibly and shutting her eyes.

"The abuse got to be too much. He hospitalized my work friend after one of his infamous drinking binges. Everyday, she would tell me that I was a worrywart, and that everything was just fine. The whole time I felt like I couldn't do anything to fix it, despite my best wishes. She died the next day, my friend.

"At one point, I concluded that I had had enough so I picked up my plate, still holding the remains of my lunch from my break, and frisbeed it at his head. To this day, he's still in a coma because he never left instruction to what he wanted, should he end up a vegetable. As for me, unemployment benefits could have been a valid option, but I never wished to fall victim to that system. So, I stayed in hideout with friends and once I became an adult, I ended up here," she finished.

Adrien didn't speak. He knew no way of response to her life story. Marinette wished he would accept that she may need some form of assurance, albeit spoken or material.

"I've never told that to anyone before," she whimpered.

Finally taking a hint, Adrien opened his mouth to acknowledge their newfound intimacy. Drawing the idea that he may read the situation inaccurately, as he was infinitely notorious for doing, Marinette placed her finger on his lip, hushing his words. 

Nursing his confusion, Marinette spoke up once again.

"If what you are about to say to me includes an unwanted amount of pity, don't bother. Feeling sorry for me does not change my history, nor does it make me feel better. In fact, it would just upset me further. I am fine, I had months of counseling on my anger management issues provided by the state. Besides, I'm the one getting paid to take care of you, not the other way around," Marinette said.

Adrien visibly inhaled, and shook his head uncontrollably before saying, "I was just going to point out the piece of paper that flew into your bag, Peach."

As stupid as she made herself look, she fostered a burning curiosity as to what he was talking about. Slowly, Marinette pawed through her purse and sure enough, there lied a yellow journal page. Mentally, Marinette's brain was playing tug of war, deciding to open it up or leave it be.

"It looks like that funeral service is over. Now can we go see?" Adrien asked with a pleading expression.

Sure enough, the miniscule crowd was in the midst of heading back to their vehicles, abandoning the occupied casket. The working crew began cleaning up by stacking chairs, and replacing disposable tissue packets.

Shortly after, Marinette agreed to visit the tombstone; the pair folded their checkered blanket, and placed it atop the wicker basket, carrying it with them. Creasing the note smaller, Marinette tucked it in the waistband of her skirt. Crossing over to the site was no short stroll and required full attention to be wary of unorganized patterns of headstones. 

Nick the edge of one just right and down she would go.

The duo orally shared no conversation, but could discreetly feel the atmosphere shift in the most discomforting of ways. The closer they got, the stronger the sensation. Upon finally reaching their destination, Marinette could have sworn she witnessed the ground disintegrate, the wind pushing her to her knees.

Double, triple checking the engraved name, unshed tears caressed her retinas. She quickly whipped out the yellow paper, unfolding the contents and reading the handwriting. Her lungs seemed to have been involved in her scene, as they began to hyperventilate to the point of heavy gasping. She, quite literally, was a fish out of water.

Adrien, taking notice, kneeled right beside her, and wrapped his arms around her, allowing salty drops of pain to find way to his t-shirt. He once again played with her hair, a movement she found complete solace in.

Glancing at the headstone which read the name of who he assumed to be an older man, purely based off of birth date, he could only guess that Marinette knew who this person was. Although confused, Adrien let her bawling draw to a close before asking her what the matter was. Her only response was to lift up the page which housed a certain word; "Forgiven."

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July 4, 2017
A double update? Whaaat? I know. There's only one more chapter until the end, my friends! I will also be working on my other published novels, and even have a few under wraps as well. 😉