Always, Marinette • adrienette au

30 || last

Marinette's diary laid in his hands as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him. Adrien didn't know what to think, what to do.

It was ending. There were less and less pages to look at. Soon he would be finished and he would really have to let Mari go.

It terrified him.

Brought on a nervous sort of worry that couldn't work it's way out of his system. Planted itself in his bones, made friends with his capillaries, and filled his lungs.

He had reached another letter. The pages that followed the letter were brief and clinical like she had detached herself from reality.

There was no escaping the feeling as it festered and grew and he was forced to stare at the ink her pen left.

Dear Adrien,

We have come to the end of our small journey together. I really can't thank you enough for all that you have done for me. I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. I'm sorry. I'm not sure if you'll forgive me for asking you such a favor but I had no other choice. Or felt like I had no other choice. Dying really puts things in perspective. These were important and I needed to give them to someone who could give them to their respected owners. I needed someone who would be able to deliver the letters.

You're the strongest person I know. You're the only one I can imagine reading this diary. You're the only one I can think of. You tend to drift into my thoughts late at night. It's not necessarily a bad thing, just sometimes sad.

This is the last letter you have to deliver, if that's any sort of consolation. You no longer have to play mailman for me (haha)! I could have wrote more but what's the point? Everything that I want to say has been said (or written). The more I write the more complete I feel and I feel complete enough. So I want to stop torturing myself with writing my goodbyes when I can still say hello.

This letter is for you.