Take Me With You ✓

13 ; beautiful eyes

Marinette's POV

It takes two more weeks before she's steady enough on both feet that there are fewer people worried about her.

Picking on her lunch, she thinks, and might as well treasure, how nice it was to sort of cheat death - like always.

It's freezing. Still, it's not enough to postpone plans that were two weeks in the making. The show must go on.

She doesn't pay much attention to their homeroom period, albeit she loves Madame Bustier, but it's just them and a bunch of questions on how studying and perhaps life, in general, is going. She practically jumps off her seat after it's over.

Pulling her coat tighter around her body, she waits.

"Hey."

It's the voice she's been waiting to hear all day, and she turns, maybe ever so slowly like in the movies, meeting Adrien's electric green eyes before smiling like a helplessly-in-love character from a Netflix drama.

"Movies or ice skating?"

"Your choice."

"Then ice skating. You don't get to skate under the Eiffel tower every day. Plus, I heard it's free."

He looks tired, but she doesn't ask about it. It's not the worrying type, and it's a week before their midterms, so it's only reasonable. Then there's him falling in and out of sleep on the metro, so she finally says something.

"You know, we can always grab a coffee."

"I'm not that tired." She rolls her eyes at how he brushes her off.

"It's never too late to grab a coffee."

They step into a café without further argument anyway. The warmth and aroma only excite her. Before he can speak, she orders him a Caffè Americano with an extra shot while she has an iced Earl Grey Latte.

"Seriously, I don't need this much caffeine." He says as they leave the warmth and make their way out into the December cold.

"When was the last time you had a haircut?" She asks, noticing how his hair covers the entirety of his forehead whenever he lowers his head.

"Why? Don't you like it? No one's ever asked about it."

"No, I like it. It's really stylish. It's just that it hides most of your face sometimes." She likes when he looks timid. Maybe it has something to do with her being bold. After all, she prefers when the attention is on her.

He only hums, throwing both their cups in the next nearest bin.

They cross the Pont d'lena, staring at the iconic tower before them.

"Are you really sure about this?" he says, handing her the skates.

"I'm confident I won't fall. You?"

He only pulls her up and immediately races him to the edge - if he noticed her slight slip, he didn't say anything. It feels spacious, with almost everyone hanging onto the boards for dear life.

When she grows tired, she pulls him to the side, and when he sends her a worried look, she only looks around sentimentally.

She'll miss a lot about life, the pain, the excitement, most especially the speeding of her heart whenever she sees him.

She pulls something out of her pocket wrapped in light blue velvet, and as expected, he's curious. He wears the same look he wore when they first met, and to her, he'll forever be that curious cat.

She unfolds the fabric, revealing a black signet ring embedded with emeralds that forms a paw print and glints beautifully under the afternoon sun.

"I know it's early, but Merry Christmas." She slides the ring into his finger, which, in films, should be something boys should be doing.

He doesn't hesitate to hug her, and it may or may not have taken her aback. Maybe it's because she wants to cry, but she won't. There's no reason for him to worry.

They break apart and stare at the ice for a while. She doesn't notice it until a small snowflake lands on her skates, and it makes her lips part. She looks at the sky, "It's snowing."

"It's snowing," she repeats, looking him in the eye. She made it to the first snow. She got to see snow.