Marinette's POV
She was glad to hear about the upcoming Christmas ball, immediately accepting the chance to perform. It's been a while since she held the familiar instrument and ran her fingers over its seemingly delicate strings.
It's five in the afternoon. The sky shows some hint of wanting to rain. The campus is peaceful as if the world has stopped turning, but it hasn't really. Instead, everything and everyone continues to tell different stories and play different melodies.
A fellow performer for the ball had just called it a day. Now, she's left alone as usual, the baroque instrument on her shoulder as it always has been.
She pauses, and the obnoxious sound of her alarm reminding her to take her medications replaces the beautiful music still echoing deep in her soul. She goes over to her knapsack on the floor, digs through it for the purse that supposedly keeps her alive.
She sits down on one of the unused desks of the music room, eying the condensation running down the water bottle she'd forgotten she had.
She lines the blister packs in front of her and mentally attacks them with hateful thoughts. She wants to get better, not kept in the mortal world to suffer.
"Marinette?" The voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and it soon sends her panicking because he, under no circumstance, can know anything about this.
She hurriedly collects the pills in a futile attempt to hide her secret, feeling her eyes water.
She stands up, covering the desk even though she knows that only proves her more suspicious.
"I'm sorry if I keep intruding," he says, the words laced with regret.
"Don't worry. Do you mind opening the lights?" she says through vain attempts of steadying her breathing.
"Nothing. I guess I just knew you'd be here."
"Hmm."
Deafening silence overtakes all other sounds in the room. Like a striptease, he walks to the piano, runs his fingers over the keys, and fills her with wonder.
"Did her death make you stop playing the piano?" She knows asking could only hurt him, but perhaps, he needs this for his clock to start moving again.
"They told me I was a genius. I could play anything whenever," he says, finally sitting on the piano bench.
"I want to stop playing completely, but I can't. I would still end up playing and crying all by myself." A sob slips through, and it's enough to make her feel his pain.
"Do you think someday we can play together?" she says, finding her hands flipping through sheets of the best of Chopin's songs.
"Why not today?" And her heart might as well stop right then and there.
He places the booklet on the music rack and starts playing. She closes her eyes, taking in the opening. It's Chopin's Nocturne no. 20 in C sharp minor; she knows it by heart.
Soon, there's a whirlwind of emotions that make her stomach dance. It's like running away with him towards uncertainty and freedom when it's supposed to be painful.
She can only wonder how he's truly feeling right now. Does his heartbeat as fast as hers? What is he thinking of right now?
She pours herself into her playing as she thinks about all of it, exposing all hidden feelings.
She can't let him go, and it's so painfully selfish. He doesn't need someone that'll vanish into thin air.
God, why does she have to go through so much? Why give her a blessing she can't keep?
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Take Me With You ✓
Fanfiction"Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings." Marinette Dupain-Cheng was diagnosed with Friedreich's Ataxia at the age of eleven-an incurable, slowly progressing, genetic disease that will e...
