As Marinette grew older, every day she spent at the park, waiting, hoping he would come back. At first, she thought maybe he was just a little late. Or maybe he just couldn't come for a week or two. And then a month passed. And a year. And then multiple years, until she was about fourteen. Entering the school building, the bluenette had basically lost all hope of seeing anyone she'd remember, other than Chloe. And Alya, who she'd managed to stay in contact with. But she'd never forget the little boy who taught her how to make a sandcastle. She took a seat at her usual desk, getting her things out.
And so head to school, Felix did. It felt bleak, though, unwanting to meet new people, make new friends. Having his friendship suddenly torn with the girl at the sandpit, he knew he didn't want a repeat of that. After finding his way to his new classroom - the homeroom teacher guiding him there and introducing a new student first - he stepped in the room and turned to everyone else. "Hello. I'm Felix Graham de Vanily. I hope to make acquaintances with all of you here," he said with a curt smile.
Marinette didn't look up from the sketchbook she held, working on a plan for how she was going to escape her wretched household. When she looked up, though, her eyes met the new boy's, and she could've sworn she'd seen him before. He looked so familiar, in such a different way. She didn't even notice she was staring.
He noticed the bluenette who was staring at him, and he would recognize her from anywhere. His curt smile grew wider, and he pressed his lips together, turning to the teacher. "Um. I've introduced myself. Can- Can I take my seat?" He asked, eager to take the empty space next to her.
The teacher nodded, allowing Felix to take his seat, and Marinette saw that he was eager and smiling at her and suddenly something clicked and the name made sort of sense- Phoenix. Felix. Oh. It was Felix. His name wasn't Phoenix after all. A smile spread across her own and she felt her heart rate rise as he came to sit by her.
He stopped just as he approached the seat, hesitating for a second before finally sitting down. He put his bag down and was reluctant to actually turn to her and acknowledge her at first, but he finally did and smiled a little bit. "Hi."
She gulped, turning to look at him and her cheeks flushed pink, the tiniest smile budding on her lips. "Um..." she started, wondering how to word this. She cleared her throat and then looked back at him. "...Do you like Spider-man?"
He blinked, a little taken aback at first, before he laughed softly, covering his mouth as a few glanced at them. "Mm, no. I think I like Captain America better. Cool shield and all," he said.
She paused, her smile growing wider as reassurance built inside of her. "I didn't even know you still existed," she said, and then without caring that everyone was looking, hugged him tightly, tears welling in her eyes.
He softly gasped, eyes wide, but he returned her hug and smiled all the same, blinking back the tears. He chuckled softly and hugged her tight. "Yeah, no. I'll be honest, I just came back from the dead," he said and when he pulled away, he looked at her with a sad smile. "I'm sorry."
She bit her lip as she looked at him and shook her head. "No, don't- don't apologize, I'm sure there was- was a reason," she said, looking down. She looked back up at him. "But can... I ask why you left?" she whispered.
"I didn't leave," he said softly and shrugged. "I was just... grounded. Told you my father didn't like getting dirty." He laughed dryly.
She frowned and then looked from her book to him again. "Grounded for almost seven years?" she laughed dryly herself, shaking her head. "I... missed you. A lot, actually," she said. "Taken any trips to the beach house lately?" she asked, giving him a weak smile.
"Oh, no. Nope, I refused to. If he wasn't going to let me out of the house when I want to, I'm not going out when he wants to." He profusely exclaimed, shaking his head. He turned to her. "Besides, I didn't wanna go there and remember the girl in the sandpit getting all disgusted with wet sand. I maybe probably would've cried. A little. "
She looked at him, memories flooding her mind, ones that made those seven years of waiting for him all worth it. "You should've... you could've told me how much you practiced," she smiled weakly, and then shook her head. "But that would make me a hypocrite. Once I realized you weren't coming back, I wouldn't go anywhere near the sandpit."
He pressed his lips together, saw how hurt she was, how something fleeting they had as kids really affected them. Her. Him. He sighed and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Well, I'm back now. Still not allowed parks but maybe we can go to the beach together sometime," he said, looking up to her.
She looked down at him and smiled softly, wrapping an arm around him and leaning her head on his. Some might have called it a romantic type gesture, but the two both knew they deserved to hug after this long apart. "I'd love that," she said, and then looked down at him again, smiling softly, "Phoenix."
He smiled at the nickname, and he looked up at her. "You know, I didn't know what you've been calling me until that one time I watched Harry Potter. I just thought it sounded cool," he said with a soft chuckle, and then hummed. "But now I have a nickname for you too."
She giggled a little and arched her brows. "You've been thinking of me all this time too?" she teased, poking his arm. "Go ahead, what's my nickname?" she asked curiously.
"Yeah, right, go ahead and feed your fantasies all you want, Mariposa," he said, rolling his eyes and pulling away a little, so he could see her reaction. He leaned his cheek on his fist. "It means butterfly, by the way."
She stopped as soon as he said the nickname. The way it rolled off his tongue, the way it suited her so nicely. A dark shade of red covered her face and she looked at him. "It's beautiful," she smiled. "I love it."
He caught on the color her cheeks took as he said the nickname, and the corner of his lips curled up into a smirk. Whoever the cute pigtailed kid he'd grown to like seven years ago wouldn't hold a candle to the beauty she looked now. He poked her cheek teasingly. "I know. Your face says it all," he said, scrunching up his nose.
She blinked a few times, laughing sheepishly as she pushed his hand away. "Does not," she muttered, looking the other way. She glanced back at him though and just giggled. "You still look the same."
He narrowed his eyes at her, sitting back on his seat with crossed arms. "I take back thinking you looked beautifuler. More beautiful. And for your information," he crossed a leg over the other, "I did grow taller. So. Not the same."
The comment shocked her, arching her brows. "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, snorting and shaking her head. "Thanks, but maybe you should get glasses," she said, and then looked him up and down. "I suppose you did get taller. But your face looks the same," she smiled.
He gasped softly and glared at her. "First, you insult my opinions and now my growth spurt?" He cupped his cheeks, looking at her, feigning offense. "Give it three years time and I'll definitely look like one of those models."
A smile crossed her lips and she hummed. "Three years and counting," she said, and then Ms. Bustier went to begin the lesson.
