Second Chances

Nath-------->chp14

"By her seventh month, Chloe had apologized, claiming she wasn't thinking and that she was sorry to try to remove a father from Emma." Which only made him feel guiltier. Yet, he snorted. "And this came after both of us yelling at each other in court, me accusing Chloe of ending up like her mother, and her accusing me of becoming my father. I strive so hard to not become the distant man my father became when mother passed, and I believe Chloe would have remembered how her mother left her every time things got hard. Do I think she would have been 'mom of the year'? Not really. But do I think she would have been terrible? No. She would have been a mom to Emma."

Marinette took a long sip of her tea. "Thanks for telling me," she said. "I know how hard it is to drag memories like that up."

Adrien looked up from his mug to stare at her. She was curled in on herself, mug clutched tightly against her chest while she shifted further into the couch cushions. "On that note, can I ask you for your story? Or is it too hard right now?"

She paused, body tense before it sagged with a sigh. "I suppose it's only fair." She took a long sip of her tea before she began. "I... actually have Chloe to thank for it. I met Nathaniel back when I was fourteen. Nath had a habit of paying more attention to his sketchbook than the teachers. I think it was science that the teacher called him out for the fifth-no, sixth-time that week and sent him to the principal's office. Well, on his way to the door, Chloe tripped him, and his sketchbook went flying from his hands. Turns out, he was drawing comics of him as a superhero saving a damsel-in-distress. Me." Marinette smiled fondly.

"You do not strike me as a damsel-on-distress type."

"Hush," Marinette chastised with a grin. "It was endearing.

"Anyway, Chloe humiliated him so badly that he came up to me later that day and apologized for putting me in his comic. He said that it was insulting to me to make me the damsel-in-distress and he felt really bad because he thought I was amazingly bold and confident and didn't need to be saved by some lame superhero. He looked so defeated that I just couldn't let him walk away believing that he did anything wrong because I didn't believe he did. I asked to see his work, and he looked absolutely miserable as he handed his sketchbook to me and told me I could keep it and burn it if I wanted to."

A wistful smile spread across her face. "I'll never forget that look on his face when I told him 'why would I burn it? I want to look through it and see your work.' He was incredible. So talented. It was easy to pour on compliments and say just how flattered I was to be in his comic. Next thing I know, he's bright red, stammering out a thank you.

"For a solid year, he continued drawing me and his superhero persona. In the middle of class, he would toss me little sketches. I would always sneak a thumbs-up to him when the teacher's back was turned, and he'd always grin and blush. One day, he tossed me a sketch, and I realized that it was a birthday invitation. After class, he admitted that the one thing he wanted for his birthday was to take me out. I couldn't say no.

"Fast forward a week, and he has this houseboat-picnic-in-the-moonlight planned out. There's music in the background, and he brought his tablet to show me all the finished comics that he did of us. Afterwards, we somehow began sketching together. It... it was a lot of fun. Once the night was over and he walked me home like a perfect gentleman, we agreed to have another 'artists' date.' And a third. And a fourth. Until the word 'artists'' got dropped and we were on our first real date. We were sixteen at that time. I gave him my first kiss, and he told me he loved me. Honestly, I never thought it was too early for that sentiment. He said it at just the right time.