Just Fine

Chronic

Also: I realize that parts of this story don't seem consistent or they are confusing. There's reasoning for that don't worry 😉

Thank you for those who have stuck around through my struggles ❤️

She held onto her own arm as a sort of comfort.

She had seen things like this happen before, plenty of times. It wasn't that it hadn't bothered her before, but now it was overwhelming.

People are crazy. Everyone knows that. But the things people will do, for strange, sometimes unexplainable reasons, are insane.

She wondered what the excuse would be for the crime.

Who decides what's valid and what's not?

She watched Chat below, comforting the mother of the young child, who was held tightly in her arms. The cops were quick to restrain the criminals, since they had been in the area. But what if Chat hadn't been there?

Hadn't seen anything.

What would've happened then?

So many questions. Less answered than not. It's unfair isn't it? Or is it?

She felt her head begin to throb.

She closed her eyes tightly, before opening them and watching as the couple was shoved into the police car.

They looked upset. She couldn't understand why.

They knew they were in the wrong, there was no framing done. So why did they seem like they had been wrongly accused? She had seen it with her own two eyes.

Then again... did they really know they were wrong? What if that's what they believed was right?

She thought about it more and more in those few minutes that she was alone. Of course, she wasn't truly alone, there was a whole city in front of her.

But the city looked small in comparison to what she was feeling. If she could describe it, it was muddy. A beautiful swirl of colors that you mixed together into a dark, murky brown.

That's what over thinking felt like. Making something perfectly fine into something that wasn't.

Everything was so easy to explain but so hard to understand. You can make comparisons to millions of things but it's not very helpful when you can't understand either of the things being compared.

Like trying to describe color to a blind person.

If he had said something before he landed on her balcony again, she hadn't heard it. Or maybe she just didn't comprehend it. Whatever it was that he said, she didn't know.

His gloved hand waved in front of her face.

"Marinette?" His face came into focus as she blinked away the fuzziness in her vision.

"Oh sorry." She shook her head in a quick, short motion.

She could play off her zoning out as shock. She was Marinette to him, a civilian. It was expected for her to be so shocked.

But she didn't know what he knew about her. So when he looked at her in worried confusion, she didn't understand. And he wasn't ready to explain it to her.

"They're okay." He finally said, turning to look at the small family in the street, shaking against one another and collecting themselves.

Physically.

She thought, and if it had a taste it would be sour.

What about emotionally? That could've been a traumatic moment for that child...