Félix & Marinette︲Intensity

𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓾𝓶 𝓓𝓮𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

✧･ﾟ│Picture is by me

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I can't speak or even breathe in this moment. It's like my world had stopped. My heart had stopped without a doubt and I didn't know how to bring my pulse back. I wish I was hallucinating but I definitely know I'm not since the rum is now wearing off. My senses have sharpened like never before after hearing that sentence pass through my ears.

The physician waits for a few moments, carefully watching me then chooses to distinctly speak, "The mother is safe. We were able to provide her with enough blood due to her immense stillbirth which caused a vast amount of blood loss."

With tears forming in my eyes, I turn away and begin to walk down the long hallway of the maternity ward. She. Was. Alive. I take that in as I begin to recklessly search for her room. The female physician calls out to me from afar, "Make sure you sanitize your hands before and after entering the room, young man."

I don't say anything because I know I can't get the words out of my mouth. It feels like a dream. Clouded and surreal. Within a few minutes, I finally find Room #64 as I sense Alya following along behind me in a worried manner as well. I quickly dispense some anti-bacterial sanitizer from the automatic dispenser into my hand and rub both of my hands together in a rush. Not having the patience to wait any longer, I burst through the door and pull back the curtain that was surrounding the inner part of the room while only a single light illuminated the space. I stare at her where she was sitting in the hospital bed, completely slumping against the pillow and looking down blankly with her hair open. Several cannulas were injected into different parts of her body and I can even see that they had left bruises on her arms since she was wearing a light blue hospital gown. Frozen in my own shock, I feel my jaw contract every now and then as the silent seconds go by. I don't think she knows I'm standing right here across from her.

"Babe?" I finally call out, cautiously and slowly begin to walk towards her.

She looks up at me with pink puffy eyes and a face I almost can't recognize anymore. It was awfully swollen and glossy for some reason. And her eyes had tremendous bags under them. The amount of pain she had in her soul could be seen through her as she trembled. I eagerly reach out to grab her hand but Alya enters the room throwing a warning at me, "The doctor said she's prone to serious depression right now so she might not want to be touched."

I frown and back away a little and stay about three meters away from the bed even though my heart is aching to hold her close to me. Soberly, I stare at the electrocardiography monitor that displayed drastic peaks of Marinette's cardiac rate passing through the electrodes sticking to her clavicle.

Alya stands near her and says in sadness, "Do you know the reason why this happened?"

Marinette twitches and stays silent for a moment. She doesn't drop a single tear because I know she had already cried way too much that she no longer had the moisture to release again.

She finally speaks with her voice cracking, "...I don't know..."

Her best friend states out loud as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, "The doctor told me it was caused by excessive alcohol consumption and stress."

My jaw falls open and I wanted to scream, both at myself and at her. I now realize that it was primarily my fault why she had the stillbirth. If I had been there for her when she found out that Adrien was alive then this wouldn't have happened. If I had taken her home myself that evening then I could've calmed her down. I could've kept an eye on her. And most of all, I wish I hadn't laid out my personal problem about my mom to her because that only caused her to worry more about me than herself.