Curate, connect, and discover
I'm going to listen to a lot of songs dedicated to this story... 🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾
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After Lila's lies are revealed, the class expects forgiveness from Marinette. They're forced to take a good hard look at themselves when it doesn't come
Alya practically crashed into her, enveloping her in a hug.
“I’m so sorry!” Alya cried, almost bawling. “I should have…I’m so sorry!”
“We all are.” Nino added from a few steps behind.
There were murmurs and choruses of the affirmative from the rest of the class that now formed something of a semi-circle around them.
“Can you ever forgive me?” Alya asked.
In a perfect world, Marinette would have said yes. She would have proclaimed it in an instant, hugged Alya back, and smiled brightly at the rest of the class.
This was not a perfect world.
There was a long pause. Something felt wrong.
It took Alya a moment to realize that Marinette wasn’t hugging her back—her arms remaining limply at her sides.
Unsettled, she stepped back and looked at her friend. Marinette was…hesitant. Uncertain. Anxious. She hadn’t looked this way since they had first met…and then lately as Lila was succeeding in alienating her from the class.
But it was find now, right?
“Marinette?”
Right?
Marinette bit her lip, finally meeting Alya’s eyes.
“I…I don’t think I can.”
The class froze.
“M-Marinette?”
She looked away, uncertain. “Well…I’m glad you know now. The truth, I mean.”
That class watched her twiddle her thumbs nervously before looking back at them.
“But that hasn’t really changed anything.”
“Not changed—Marinette, that changed everything!” Alya exclaimed.
“Why? Because now you know that how you treated me wasn’t okay?”
Alya flinched—actually flinched. Marinette had ever snapped at her like that.
“But…I…we didn’t know before!”
“You should have. I warned you. Several times. I pointed out how her stories had more holes than Swiss cheese and it didn’t matter.”
“But that was just—” Alya suddenly froze, realizing what she was about to say.
Unfortunately, Marinette did as well. “Just me?”
The class as a whole winced, confirming the truth for her.
Marinette nodded, understanding.
“I don’t blame you for believing her. I mean—I can’t really blame you for that. But I would have thought at the very least that after the elections, the class photo, and…everything…I thought that I at least had your trust.”
“What, are you owed our belief now?” Alix questioned, angrily and defensive.
“No, but if we were any sort of friends, I should have been given consideration. And…none of you considered me. Even before Lila started lying about me, you guys pushed me to the back corner and dismissed me out of hand. None of you tried to talk to me. None of you were willing to even listen to me.” She hesitated, taking a breath. “And I’ve noticed that…maybe that’s happening a bit more than it should.”
“Girl, we hear you!” Alya insisted.
“You blew me off when I tried to talk to you. You demanded I provide evidence that you never asked Lila for.” She met the girl’s eyes. “Alya, you’re the journalist, not me. Isn’t it your job to gather the facts before reporting something? Why did that suddenly not matter when it came to me?”
“Marinette, no offense, but you have done some pretty intense things.” Mylene pointed out.
“But did I ever lie or falsely accuse someone of something they didn’t do? Did I intentionally do things with the purpose of hurting someone? Or did I go out of my way—as I always do—to help and defend other people regardless of how they may have hurt me?” She looked around, meeting everyone’s gaze. “At what point did I show that I wasn’t worthy of basic trust? I understand if you couldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt, but didn’t any of you even consider if I might have been right? Or is it that you didn’t want to?”
One by one, each of the class members was forced to look down or away to break her gaze. Because no. They hadn’t. They never even considered it.
“Because after everything, I think I’ve long since proven I was worth it.” Marinette realized she was beginning to slouch inward and forced herself to straighten—to not show weakness. “I thought that after the class elections at least—when I only ran for you all in the first place, you guys would have had more faith in me. But a new student came and suddenly nothing I said mattered. Nothing I FELT mattered.”
She took a breath. “I…I shouldn’t have to keep going to such lengths to keep proving myself to you. That’s not friendship. And that’s not something I should have to be okay with.”
With that, Marinette pulled away.
“So…while I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t think I can let it go. I don’t think it’s something I should let go.”
Alya reached out to her. “Mari…c’mon. Can’t…can’t we talk about this?”
“Not right now.” Came the reply, and it made her want to sob. “You…haven’t really shown you can listen.”
Her face crumpled, and Marinette very nearly gave in.
But…she couldn’t. Not this time.
“What hurts the most,” She stated, “isn’t that you believed her over me. It’s that any of her lies could have easily been found out if anyone had just looked…and none of you even tried.”
No one said anything.
No one could.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t. Not yet. So please…just leave me alone.”
The classmates winced. Marinette didn’t have to speak the final words for the thought to collectively ring in their heads that leaving Marinette alone had been the only thing they were good at.
Adrien had watched the whole thing with a critical and disappointed eye. When Marinette walked away, he made to follow. He caught up to her pretty quickly, though it wasn’t like she had been trying to avoid him.
“Marinette, don’t you think you were being harsh?”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. “No, Adrien. I’m being honest. It’s all I’ve ever been.”
“But they’ve apologized.” Friendships often had fights and disagreements, but they always worked things out and got back together in the end. So Adrien felt disappointed that Marinette was being so stubborn about it.
“And that makes it better?” She asked, feeling drained and honestly wanting to just go home and sleep. “It doesn’t undo the months of being targeted and alienated. It doesn’t change the fact that I tried to help them and they hurt me.”
“They’re trying to make up for it now.” He reasoned, calmly. They were at least trying. For all that Marinette talked about not being enough, wasn’t this enough for her? Wasn’t she the one holding such extreme standards?
But Marinette wasn’t having it. “No, they’re trying to make themselves feel better. And I’m not ready yet to help them with that. Not when I still feel so hurt about everything.”
“But—”
“Enough.” For once, she felt angry—actually angry with Adrien. “I’ve let you invalidate me enough times already, Adrien. But this time, I’m not going to let this go and pretend I’m okay when I’m not.”
His eyes widened and he drew back in shock and hurt. “I haven’t—"
“You told me not to out Lila. You told me it wouldn’t help her become a better person—like SHE was the greater concern. You…” Her breath hitched. “You said that we were in this together. That as long as you and I knew the truth, did it really matter?” She met his gaze with more strength than she ever had. “It did matter. Suddenly it was just me. On my own. Against everyone, even though I wasn’t the one in the wrong. And where were you, Adrien?”
He flinched.
“Because you weren’t with me. I had to face everything alone. And now I need to figure out how to move forward alone. Because real friends don’t turn on their friends like that. And a real friend wouldn’t have left me to face it all alone.”
He tried to reach out to her in comfort. “Marinette…you know we’re still friends, right?”
That actually gave her pause.
And for once, really made her consider.
It was with a heavy heart that she pulled away from him.
“I would appreciate it, Adrien, if you wouldn’t lie to me anymore.”
She turned away before having to see the look on his face and headed home.
At least there she could mourn in peace.