little by little

why it hurts to look at the sun

"Hey, what's on your mind?" Chat asked, watching Marinette's attention wander as the conversation they'd been having fell into a lull.

He was leaning against her balcony railing, talking to Marinette as he usually did at this time every other day. She'd shown amazing patience with him and even seemed to enjoy the company, but he could tell from the moment he'd touched down to her balcony that something was wrong.

Marinette's eyes drifted from her lap, where her hands had been playing with the hem of her shirt. "Huh?" she said absently. "Oh, nothing." Her eyes were glazed as she stared past him, expression thoughtful.

He wanted to prompt her to say something, but he knew it took a moment of silence to allow her to think before she spoke.

She stood suddenly and came to lean against the railing beside him, eyes trained on the horizon.

"Have you ever wanted something so badly that you didn't know what to do with yourself?"

At this, Chat blinked at her, surprised. "What?"

Marinette made eye contact with him. Her eyes were brewing like a storm; her gaze like lightning, and the hard line of her mouth like thunder. "There's this guy," she blurted, her gaze trailing away from his as if she couldn't bear to meet it. "He... I have a hard time talking to him."

Now Chat's curiosity was piqued. "Why?"

Marinette eyes glanced off of his like flint on steel, quickly darting elsewhere. "It's hard to look at the sun, Chat Noir," she murmured, seemingly more to herself than to him.

Chat frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his hip against the railing. "What do you mean?"

"He's so...," Marinette sighed, but it didn't seem exasperated in the slightest, "bright. He lights up the room with his laughter and his smile. And when he looks at me, I..." Her eyes gleamed, focused on something Chat Noir couldn't see. Her tight-lipped smile morphed into a grimace as her gaze fell to the railing.

The gears whirred in Chat's mind; he'd known that Marinette had a crush on someone (at some point, it had been him, but he was pretty sure that she had gotten over that), but he didn't know that she...

That she felt like that.

"It hurts," she admitted quietly, voice quivering. Her bangs hid her face from view when she shifted, and Chat's heart broke. "It hurts to look at him and know that he will never feel the same."

She was silent for a long while after that. Chat was afraid to invade her space, but he felt so useless standing there like an idiot. He took the risk and stepped toward her, a hand gently touching her arm.

She flinched away, momentarily revealing her tear-streaked face. Hurriedly, she wiped at her eyes and laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me."

Chat's heart ached, and he wordlessly opened his arms. Marinette spared him a small glance, sniffed, and stepped into his embrace. He squeezed her tightly, willing her pain away; she didn't deserve to feel like this.

Marinette gripped him back, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck. She shook silently, and Chat took to gently stroking her back and murmuring things like "it's okay, Mari" and "I'm right here" and, most devastating of all, "I understand."

After a few long minutes, her quaking dwindled to little jolts as she sniffled. When she finally pulled away, her eyes were ringed red, and her irises were the color of the night sky.

She sniffed again, swiping at the trails of tears tracked down her cheeks as her eyes settled on the ground. "Um," she croaked quietly. After clearing her throat, she tried again. "Th-thank you, Chat. I—I'm sorry you had to see that. That was pretty embarrassing." As if on cue, her cheeks colored a gentle pink, and she brushed her bangs out of her eyes, avoiding eye contact.

Chat settled a hand on her shoulder. "Don't apologize, Marinette. I'm sorry you that you feel this way... There's nothing wrong with letting your feelings out. You don't have to pretend to be okay around me, all right? I care about you and want to support you in your times of need." He searched her eyes in earnest when she finally dared to meet his gaze.

Marinette, to his horror, was tearing up again. Before he could do anything to amend his mistake, though, she was launching herself at him and crushing him in a hug.

"Thank you, Chat," she murmured into his shoulder, tears wetting her voice. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Chat found himself smiling as he hugged her back.

Marinette was the moon, he decided. She was bright but not blinding; beautiful but not painful; and her crescent smile was decidedly prettier than any sliver of sun Adrien could ever remember seeing.

Besides, it didn't seem like a stretch to say that Marinette could hang the stars.