Félix & Marinette︲Intensity

𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽

After a completely painful night of trying to sleep without using my back as the support, I could not lie straight. Including the nonstop crying that I kept so quiet no one could hear, not even Tikki. Why did I have to remember everything? Why can't I just erase that horrifying fact about Adrien's real self? Why won't life just let me live? I don't deserve this, or maybe I do. I just can't remember anything I did to hurt someone else. I've always placed people before I placed myself. I cared about others before I even took a glance at my own state. I loved Adrien more than I ever loved myself, and he just chose to break my entire life right behind my back! I literally gave him everything I had.

Thinking about all of this is only making me more sick each time the memories replay in my head. It is early morning, around 7 a.m., and I throw up in the wastebasket beside my bed for the third time. "Ugh..." I exhale in disgust and rinse my mouth with water in the washroom. Holding my back with one hand, I press the button for the elevator in the hall to open, to allow me to go downstairs. Once I manage to make it to the kitchen, I find some Pepto Bismol and chew two chewable tablets of it. Then, I simmer down a bit and sit at the dining table with no food, because I still feel nauseous and edgy.

Right there, I have another breakdown where I cry and cry until I can't even breathe. To the point where I can hear Adrien's voice consuming my mind and the only way to escape it is to open my eyes. And when I do, Félix is standing there in his grey thermal pyjamas with messy hair, staring at me in tension.

"Are you alright? I have a feeling you've been crying since last night. What's going on?"

I wipe my tears frantically and say a clear "No".

He asks again,

"Is something bothering you? You shouldn't be up this early."

I act like he isn't there and take out my phone from my pyjama pocket. He stands there and waits, while I can't even look into his eyes anymore. Yes, they've been intimidating since before and now they still are, but worse.

"Marinette?"

I get up from the dining table and turn away, trying my best to not cry in front of him.

He bangs the table with his fist, "Can you please fucking listen to me?"

Flinching from his sudden outburst, I leave the kitchen and go back to my room using the elevator. Thankfully my door self locks itself, because in all seriousness, I just want to be left alone. Even though I feel extremely lonely at the same time. I want to hate myself, but I feel nothing. I can't even express hate towards anyone else, even after all this pain. And not to mention, how I've fallen for Félix unintentionally, realizing it was too late when he has already found another woman. Nothing I want will stay. Everything just continues to slip out of my fingers like liquid water without a limit. I can't control anything now. I can't control who stays and who leaves. I can't control what I feel either. Once again, I am weak against myself.

I hear him speak from the other side of the door, in a soft tone, "I don't know what's going on, but I know you're struggling to tell anyone about your thoughts and problems. Similarly to how I struggle. Can you at least tell me if I can do something to help you?"

I don't answer and continue to ignore him, telling myself I was not going to stay here too long. I have to find my own way and live my own life by myself. No matter how much I struggle to get money or how much it hurts to be unwanted.

He pauses for a minute, then says, "...Okay, I guess that you won't speak. I'm heading to work..."

I sigh a bit in relief that he finally got the hint, because I know distancing myself from him is better for me. He doesn't deserve to be silenced on, but he does at the same time for making me feel this type of way...

...

Around evening, I get hungry since my stomach is empty from all the vomiting. The maid has already left because her shift ends at 4 p.m., so this leaves me a chance to actually cook something I want. I choose to make some spinach alfredo with chicken and a three-cheese sauce. Gathering all the ingredients, I first boil the Rocchetti pasta for 10 minutes, then drain its water and combine it with the white sauce and other seasonings. I stir it every two minutes, making sure it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pot.

So caught up in the process, I hear someone walk into the kitchen, almost as silent as a snake, and I turn around just to glance for a second. But he is looking right at me.

"Didn't Susanne make dinner already?" He asks, eyeing me.

I instantly look away and start taking the pasta out in a dish, then place it in the center of the dining table. Biting my lip, I sit down at a chair and so does he once he puts his briefcase aside.

He puts some on his plate using a pasta ladle and we begin to eat. The silence is so awkward that I literally wish that he didn't come at this time. I almost want to eat upstairs alone in my room to avoid him as much as I can.

He takes his first bite and actually compliments me, "If I must admit, this tastes just like my mother's... You did well."

A small blush crosses my face for only a few seconds, allowing me to regain myself since he is sitting literally across from me.

"Thanks for having dinner with me. And um, making it. I haven't had company in such a long time."

Again, I do not reply and he keeps his eyes on his meal, trying to break the ice, but it isn't working.

He says, "Is something on your mind? You didn't even tell me what happened yesterday."

I shrug annoyingly and continue eating. Until I feel a wave of nausea wash over me.

"Giving me the cold shoulder, huh?" He sighs.

I push back my chair and sprint to the kitchen sink just in time as I throw up violently, my body shaking. I hold the counter for support and throw up some more when I taste the chicken in my mouth.

"Are you okay??" He gets up and pats my back with his hand, but I swat it away. His gentle touch sent shivers down my spine, and I don't know why I even did that. I rinse my mouth and look at him, who is looking at me helplessly with actual worry and some kind of hurt that I could not read.