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Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 8

Tonight I swear I’d sell my soul to be a hero for you.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

“Marinette?” Jon calls blindly into the apartment as he examines the note in his hands.

“What?” Marinette appears from the hallway. “What’s up?”

“Can you, like, convert this for me?”

Marinette furrows her brow. When Jon hands her the paper and she catches sight of what’s on it, she sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know American measurements. Just use what it says, you baby.” She says. Jon takes a step forward when she taps his shoulder so that she can squeeze past him and approach one of the cabinets. From which she pulls out a scale. Oh. I didn’t know we had that. Right behind the scale is some spoons from a drawer. “The butter is measured on the packaging. These measure mililiters. Everything else, use this like a normal person.”

“The butter is measured by tablespoons, not- oh, wait, no, I see it now.” Jon frowns at the stick of butter in his hands. “This is so much math.”

Marinette snorts and rolls her eyes again. “Americans. What are you making a cake for, anyway?”

“You remember Tamias?”

“From your speech class?”

“Yeah! His birthday’s coming up. David is freaking out over it, so we’re all pitching in to throw him a party.”

“David?”

“Hernandez? We worked together on a few projects. Massive crush on Tamias. Like, he’s adorable.”

“Oh, the one that got us into that debate about Harry Potter for like three hours.”

Jon snickers. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Jon can feel Marinette’s eyes on him as he gathers everything he needs to make the cake. He would think that having a baker’s daughter watching him bake would be reassuring, but to be perfectly honest? It’s not. It’s kind of terrifying. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Marinette asks.

“I’ve made cake before, Marinette.” Jon rolls his eyes. “And I cook for us half the time. Do you really have so little faith in me?”

Marinette just fixes him with a flat look and asks, “Do you want me to help?”

Jon maintains that he can do it on his own. Still, he wants the cake to be as good as it can be, and Marinette can be considered somewhat of an expert on the subject. And David wants everything to be perfect so he will get on Jon’s case if he finds out a baker’s daughter offered to help and he turned it down. So, Jon sets down the recipe and quietly says, “Yes, please.”

Marinette giggles. It’s an angelic sound Jon really should appreciate more. “Okay, move over.” She quickly grabs one of the bowls and starts throwing ingredients in without measuring a thing. “And for the record, you can do it alone. It’s just going to be better if I help.”

Jon opens his mouth to protest but ends up just groaning. “Yeah, that’s fair. Thanks, Marinette.”

“No problem. I need a distraction, anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Jon asks, picking up the bowl of sugar and butter to cream it together while Marinette flits around him to grab something he missed. They don’t have a stand mixer, mostly because they hardly have space for their coffee maker if they still want to use the countertops, but his muscles are good for something. “Studying?”

Marinette pauses. “Something like that.” She says. “So, when’s this party?”

Jon frowns at her behavior but, ultimately, if she doesn’t want to share, she doesn’t need to. She’ll tell him if it’s any of his business. “Saturday. You want to come? No one would mind.”

Marinette hums for a moment. “No, thank you. I’m just going to get a head start on studying for finals.”

He shrugs. “Probably a good idea. We’ve got real dumb shenanigans planned to set up David and Tamias and you are probably smart for not being there, honestly.”

“Oh, god.” Marinette mutters. “Alya used to pull some of the most convoluted plans to set me up with Adrien before we got together. I don’t even want to imagine what a boy’s version of that is.”

Jon can’t help laughing at the disgusted look on her face. “When David’s involved?” He says. “You really don’t.”

Predictably, David ends up setting the curtains on fire. It’s not his fault, of course, but it happens anyway. Their other friend, Mason (the most reasonable one, including Jon), gets $20 from each of them, though it’s Jon who actually puts the fire out. With a small fire extinguisher that Mason brings. Because he totally calls it.

Truth be told, Jon isn’t exactly close with anyone there. He meets most of them through projects or each other and sort of falls into this group by accident. He spends much more time with Marinette than with other NYU students. Partly because, now, anyway, he doesn’t have to hide around her. He doesn’t have to worry about small feats that normal people aren’t able to do. Too casually moving furniture, or forgetting to put on an oven mitt and not burning himself. And partly because when David does anything outside of his field of expertise, something ends up on fire or otherwise destroyed.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it’s usually because of his area of expertise.

Today’s explanation boils down to “mood lighting.” Jesse is their lookout while David insists everyone light candles to “set the mood” so he can pull Tamias into the room later and ask him out. Luckily, they don’t get very far. Unfortunately, the reason they don’t get far is because David “I can make a chandelier in five minutes” Hernandez thinks duct tape, a prayer, and a bunch of random things he finds in his bedroom can make a cute chandelier.

It’s more about if he can than if he should. Jon gives Mason the twenty bucks while David is taping his creation to the ceiling fan. In hindsight, he should not have had faith that David would pull off the night without injuring something.

Anyway, the chandelier, surprisingly, works. The problem comes when he puts candles up there and takes a look at it and says, “This was a really dumb waste of time, wasn’t it?” And, to be fair, it is hideous, all wire and tape, so it’s not exactly the mood-setter he hopes for. David reaches up to take it down again, and that’s when everything goes wrong. He slips, lit candles fly everywhere, there’s wax on the floor, a curtain is catching fire, and Jon is already pulling out the fire extinguisher.

On the bright side, Tamias comes in, sees David wincing and holding his head, and rushes to his side to fuss over him. Mason ushers everyone else out of the room, leaving David with Tamias and a wink.

While they wait for the lovebirds to come back out, they make an obstacle course for David’s cat. And David. There’s a lot of tape involved. Jon mostly watches, since he feels weird setting up all this in David’s home, but the others are a lot closer to him and they don’t hesitate a moment. Apparently, this is normal.

Note to self, Jon thinks, never let them in your apartment.

“Beer?”

Jon shakes his head. He has drunk before, but he can’t get drunk unless his powers are inhibited somehow, and alcohol tastes terrible, so he doesn’t see the point. It’s not a bad thing. He actually counts it as a blessing because if he could get drunk, he would be ardently against it. He does not want to see anyone with his kind of powers inebriated. That’s just asking for trouble.

Not to mention he’s technically still underaged. Marinette’s old enough, though, this year, as is Mason. No one thinks much about it when everyone’s in college together.

“You figure out your major yet?” Mason asks, making himself comfortable on the couch next to him.

“Nope.” Jon answers.

“Seriously? We pick classes like next week, dude. You going another semester undeclared?”

“Might have to.”

Jesse leans over the back of the sofa to say, “You were on that whole moral ideals thing a while ago. Why not study ethics or something?”

Jon has considered studying ethics, but that has always been just a joke. He can’t imagine himself having fun in ethics. “Because I know an ethics major.” Jon says with a snort.

“Ha! True. You could do, like… geology. Or archeology. I don’t know why; I see you digging.”

“That’s because I grew up on a farm.”

“Oh, right.” Jesse whispers. “Was that racist?”

Jon looks at Jesse for a moment. “…No. It’s not a bad idea, though.” He takes a moment to ponder those options. He would do well in archeology. Finding old things from past civilizations, learning about what they were for and the people that used them… it’s a good idea.

Ethics is too subjective. There are no real answers, so every argument will always end up circling around itself until everyone is infuriated. Especially Jon. Especially with him having been a hero. And maybe he really just doesn’t want to be told that he has to be a hero to be a good person. He’s starting to believe he doesn’t, just a little, thanks to the Girod, and he’s not risking diving into ethics and having that crisis again.

That said, one of Jon’s leading options has always been studying people. Politics or sociology or something in that vein. Archeology, or maybe broader, anthropology, might be exactly what he’s looking for. To study cultures and civilization, to learn about the dominant race on Earth in a way he’ll never understand Kryptonians. It’s a little exciting, when he thinks about it. And it’s funny – the alien studying humans. Jon will get a giggle out of that for a long time. “I could do anthropology.”

Mason hums. “I can see that for you. Cultural anthropology sounds like your jam, to be honest.”

Jon laughs somewhat awkwardly. It’s true, but he honestly didn’t think Mason knows him well enough to tell. Maybe he’s just that transparent. He can buy that. Despite how much he hides about his identity and abilities, he’s not exactly an enigma. He’s certainly no Damian. “You think?”

“Worth looking into.” Mason shrugs. “You’re running out of time, dude.”

“Yeah, good point.” Jon makes a face. “I’ll have to look into it.”

David and Tamias stumble out of Mason and Jesse’s makeshift hallway obstacle course, the former glaring and the latter giggling awkwardly. Everyone watches David expectantly, but they get a curt shake of his head and it’s all they can do to stop themselves from groaning. Maybe next time. At least Tamias is having fun.

The more Jon looks into it, the more appealing the option is. Or maybe it’s just because he needs to sign up for classes and any direction is a godsend.

He likes the idea of anthropology. It’s a grab bag of history, culture, human behavior, even biology if he wants to go in that direction, and to a lesser extent all the myriad specializations that go into the entirety of human history, which is basically all of them. Maybe he can even learn a bit about fashion history and surprise Marinette. Extant garments from history count under the sphere of anthropology, Jon thinks, so it isn’t impossible.

Actually, that’d be pretty interesting. If Marinette has taught me anything about clothes, it’s that they can tell you a lot about the people who wear them. I wonder how much we can learn about a culture just from its clothes.

And I wonder if anything I learn studying this could be applied to Krypton, too. That would be interesting.

Jon talks to Marinette about it, and then Damian, and then his parents, and every one of them is supportive of this direction for him. Granted, all of them boil down to, “If that’s what you want to do,” but still. Aunt Kara gets a big laugh at the idea, and then gets really excited about it, and Jon can’t help but wonder if she’s just supporting him in that odd, exuberant way she does (the way that he’s half-sure she’s only like with him, because she knows it’s a surefire way to make him smile – she’s done that since he was little) or if she gets the idea that he might use the techniques and methods he learns studying humans and turn his gaze back to Krypton. Maybe they can recover even a little of that lost culture that even Aunt Kara can’t hold onto.

Jon’s not against the idea, he just doesn’t want her to get her hopes up. As neat as it would be, Jon still doesn’t know how he would even start, much less whether he wants to. It’s just… an academic interest. Because he’s one of very few people with that option available to him. A path mapped by curiosity, not passion. Maybe that will change if Jon starts down it, but only God knows the future.

But once he talks to the ones he’s closest to, he talks to the boys again, mostly for reassurance, and then he talks to his advisor and all of a sudden things start happening a little too quickly

All at once he’s signing up for classes and running around to turn in forms to their proper places all without time to really think about what he’s doing. Fair enough, he supposes, once he has time to breathe again. He’s been thinking it over for a year and a half, basically. It’s about time something is actually done.

With everything over and done with, Jon sits on the sofa in his living room, leans back to stare at the ceiling, and smiles. He’s not certain he’s making the right choice, he’s not sure that this is definitely, one hundred percent the thing he wants to spend his time doing, but he’s finally taken that first step in a direction. Finally, the crossroads ahead of him has become a path, and even if it’s not the best path for him, it’s still a direction. That’s a lot less scary.

It’s not like he’s locked in place, anyway. He might be a bit locked into his major soon, if how quickly his first year (and this semester) goes by says anything about his college experience, but even then, that doesn’t dictate his career. He still has a lot of options; they’re just not swarming all around him. And it’s such a relief.

He sighs there on the couch and feels lighter than he has in a long time. He has focus, direction, something to work towards beyond some vague ideal of normalcy. He’s finding in his attempt to decipher the Girod some Frankenstein of an ethics system that doesn’t necessitate heroism for its own sake, even if deep in his heart he knows he’s crafting it himself and at least to an extent is working backwards from his conclusion, the one that he needs, that he’s not a bad person. (He’s not sure that’s a bad thing, though.) He’s actually excited about the future! For the sheer number of times he’s thought there might not be one, that’s quite an achievement.

And he can’t do this without Marinette. Through all of his floundering, his philosophical musings, his hesitation, his fear and doubt, she’s always right there. Something close enough to normal to matter. A rock that he can float back down to. She’s his tree on the farm, that sits quietly with him as he watches the stars, that holds him up when he’s scared of falling.

It’s been a long time since Jon has just sat down and felt content. When Marinette joins him and they watch a show on the television, Jon can’t help but think how lovely it would be for this to be his normal. If this feeling, this moment, could last forever, Jon would be happy.

Jon gets an unexpected text from Damian during winter break. It’s odd partly because Damian is the kind of person who calls more often than not, partly because Damian is the kind of person who will show up outside Jon’s window in every other situation, and partly because, to Jon’s knowledge, there’s no cause for Damian to contact him at all.

They’re friends, of course, but it would be a massive lie to say they’re the kind of friends who hit each other up just to talk. Neither of them are really that kind of person. Frankly, Jon is a little surprised that they’re still friends now that he isn’t a hero. Sad as it is, he half-expects them to drift apart quickly without them working together all the time.

But however much a text from Damian throws him off, the content is what takes his legs out from under him. It’s a link to a news article, with no additional context. The article is originally in French, but apparently the batcave translated it already so what Damian sends him is helpfully readable.

And Jon feels a little like something is grabbing his heart. Too-cold hands wrapped around it, constricting it, trying their best to mute its beating.

“Mayura Strikes Again,” the headline reads, “Ladybug Returns.”

Ladybug returns. The words echo in his head easily, finding nothing else to disrupt them. His mind is empty except for that one thought. That, and the sickening feeling he has in his gut. “Marinette…”

He scrolls through the article, dread and horror looming over him, drooling on him, sliding down his spine to send shivers all through him. There are pictures. Mayura, Chat Noir, a couple heroes Jon only knows tangentially – they were around before but stopped fairly early on, Marinette tells him their identities were outed – Queen Bee and Viperion, and there in all her glory, Ladybug. Marinette.

She’s older than the last picture of her. Her hair is longer, though Jon knows she’s thinking of cutting it short. She’s wearier, more tired, strangely enough, despite being out of the fight for over a year. Jon thinks it’s what Damian says is going on with him. He’s safe, so he can process everything. It’s hard, and Jon knows Marinette struggles with it too, but that’s why he can’t… He can’t fathom why she’d do this.

No. He can. He knows better than anyone why. There is no other choice but to fight, or so she thinks. Mayura got her Miraculous back somehow, so the battle, Marinette’s old battle, the one she became Ladybug in the first place to fight, is back on. She’s obligated to fight. To finish her duty. It’s her responsibility, and Marinette is, without a doubt, a responsible person. Jon understands, he just… feels betrayed.

It’s stupid to feel this way. She can do whatever she likes. If she wants to become a hero again, or even if she just feels like there’s no other option, then she can. But Jon thought they were in this life, this choice to leave heroism behind them, together. He thought they were working on this as a team, and he can’t help but feel a little like Marinette has guided him onto the field, handed him the football, and left him to face a whole team of linemen on his own.

Not to mention, as much as he hurts for himself, he hurts for her, too. He knows – he might be the only one who knows – how hard it must be for her to decide to fight again. He wonders what pushes her to this point, if Mayura is really so extreme on her own, and he pities her. Jon has been called back to duty more than a few times since he retired, and not just by Damian. He’s always refused. He always tells them that he can’t help them. Marinette is called back, and she answers. Jon doesn’t know if that’s brave or stupid, but either way he knows how she feels, and because he does, he can’t be angry at her. He feels betrayed, confused, and alone, but not angry. All he feels for her is pity. That she is put in an impossible position. He wishes her the best.

And then he turns his attention back to himself. He wonders what might cause him to don the cape again, and he fights the urge to retch. How can she do this? How can she be strong enough to do this? Jon isn’t. He doesn’t think he is, anyway. Just watching her, watching his normal soar over rooftops and beat down the bad guy, is enough to freeze Jon completely. It’s hard to breathe, to think, impossible to move. The very idea of doing that himself is… ridiculous.

Above everything else, though? Above it all, Jon is disappointed. And scared. Is this how his own retirement will end? Will he soon enough face that one call to action that he just can’t refuse? Is he wrong to resist it? Is he truly a coward, selfish, despicable for trying so hard to avoid it? Would refusing that irrefusable call to action be those things?

Jon tries to remember the Girod. Peace, his devotion to non-violence. Imagination, cleverness in finding the non-violent path even when it isn’t obvious. Hope, maintenance in his belief that things can and will be better. Restraint, to never take things too far when they can be resolved more gently. Purity, his ideals cannot be compromised no matter the situation. Justice… Must Justice be sacrificed for the rest of the virtues? Is it simply not possible to uphold them all?

Where is Justice if Mayura creates these monsters and Ladybug does not fight them? Where is justice if someone on the streets of New York cries out for help, and no one comes? Justice is the most difficult of the virtues for Jon to reconcile, and right now… he doesn’t know what to think.

He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates the look on Ladybug’s face in the video and pictures, hates how disgusted she looks, hates that he’s one of few people who will understand that the look isn’t for the monster, but for herself. He hates that she’s in Paris fighting a battle she wants no part in while he’s on a farm in Hamilton County waiting for the stars to shine. He hates that there’s nothing he can do to help her, to save her from this impossible position she’s in. He hates that that desire itself is a little too close to heroism, and he especially hates the unreasonable panic and nausea that overcomes him.

How awful this entire situation is. How unfair and terrible the fates are to them both. But above all else, Will Marinette be okay?

The situation with Mayura escalates and resolves quickly. Marinette comes back to New York later than she usually does, but still before classes start. If Jon doesn’t know any better, he’d think she’s just more lax because they’re getting used to how college works.

All through break he agonizes over whether to reach out to her. To offer to contact the Justice League for her (pointless, since it’s Damian who tells him about the situation in the first place), to offer anything he can do to help, but every time he touches his phone he feels paralyzed. He doesn’t know what to say, how to approach this, or, really, anything at all.

He ends up not speaking to her much over the break. She doesn’t call him, either, but he supposes she has bigger things to focus on.

But he refuses to let this be a repeat of last year. He will not let this turn them into strangers in their own home again. He won’t allow this to be what breaks them apart. Jon is still friends with Damian. He still has other hero friends. If Marinette has to be a hero, then fine. Jon won’t let this stop them from being friends. Maybe they can’t be everything they thought, maybe things are different and uncertain and scary, but they can be friends at least.

So, when Marinette finally arrives in New York, Jon sits at their little table and waits. It feels almost like he’s preparing for an intervention, and he’s awkward and uncomfortable in that little wooden chair despite the cushion Marinette made for it.

Marinette walks into the living room, sees him, and shrinks in the hallway. “I take it you saw the news.” She says softly.

“I did.” Jon confirms. “Sorry to spring this on you, but you know we have to talk about it.”

Marinette flinches, but nods. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… they needed me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Marinette.” Jon thinks his voice sounds tired, almost dead, but for the way she recoils he’d think he’s vicious. It sends a little pang through him and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch. “I’m not angry. I’m just… sad.”

“…That’s worse.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it.

“Look.” He says. “I’m not letting this be last year all over again. I can’t handle that, I don’t think you can handle that, and neither of our grades can handle that either. So, don’t close off from me, okay? I’m not- I’m not angry. I’m not- I’m feeling a lot of things, but nothing at you. If that makes any sense. I just- I want to know. It’s fine if you’re going to keep being a hero. I promise. I’m still friends with all my old hero partners – I don’t have a problem being friends with a hero. Just don’t lie to me, Marinette.” He hears her suck in a hissing breath. “Are you serious about giving it up or not? Because I thought we were in this together, and… And now everything’s different, and I can’t keep doing this, either. If I’m doing this alone, I need to know. It’s fine if I am. That was the original plan, anyway. So, tell me the truth.”

Marinette doesn’t say anything for a too-long moment. Jon opens his eyes to peek at her when he hears the other chair pull out from the table. Marinette sits properly, folding her hands in her lap, and stares at the table between them. “I don’t want to be a hero. I promise, I was honest. I never wanted to fight again. I honestly thought I wouldn’t have to.”

“But you did.”

“I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t see any other option.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “Marinette… the life that I want, it’s non-violent. I’m trying my best to be as pacifist as I can. You inspired that decision. You told me that violence is violence no matter what it’s for. That heroes who fight can’t truly say they stand for peace. I know you’re not me, and I know your… values and ideals are different than mine, but… in the life that you want, is peace something you value?”

“Of course, it is.”

“Then why would you sacrifice that?” Jon sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I- I’m just confused.”

“No. You’re right.” Marinette sniffs a little, and she’s all tension as she glares at the table. “I was… I felt trapped. Like I had no other option. But I did, and there’s no excuse for fighting. If I’d just looked closer, I could have found a way. I should have.”

“You said before that part of the reason you quit being a hero is because you felt trapped.” Jon says. “I think this might be why. At least partly.”

Marinette ducks her head, grimacing. “You’re probably right. But… I have to be honest with you. I am the guardian of the Miraculous. I don’t want to be, but I am. I left the Miracle Box with Chat Noir when I came here, and because I abandoned my responsibilities, nearly all of the Miraculous were stolen, and Paris had to deal with Mayura again.”

“Do you really blame yourself for that?”

“I do.” Marinette says firmly. “It’s my responsibility to look after the Miraculous, and they got stolen because I abandoned them.”

Jon can see how she comes to that conclusion. He doesn’t exactly agree, but her logic isn’t faulty. “So?”

“So, I can’t neglect my duties anymore. If I’m the guardian, I have to act like it. Otherwise, we’ll end up with another tragedy.”

Jon nods slowly. “So, you’re going to keep being Ladybug.” Marinette curls her lip and nods. “And you’re okay with that?”

“…No.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “Marinette… I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t. But I want to see you happy. I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for ‘duty’ or whatever you’re obligated to do. That’s what heroes do, and being heroes has…” He chuckles helplessly. “Well, we left that behind for a reason.”

Marinette furrows her brow, worries her lip, and then sighs slowly. “You’re right. You asked me if I’m serious about giving up Ladybug. Adrien made me promise to be happy.” She takes another deep breath, preparing herself. A single tear escapes her, alarming Jon as it rolls quickly down her cheek. “This is my answer, then. I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng…”

Tikki appears out of nowhere, screeching her protest. “Marinette, don’t!”

“…hereby relinquish the Miracle Box and nam-”

The moment she starts glowing, and Tikki turns a deadly glare to him, it clicks in Jon’s brain what exactly Marinette is doing. He throws the table aside, accidentally tossing it quite a bit further than he intends, and dives to slap his hand over Marinette’s mouth. “Don’t you dare!” Jon growls.

Marinette, stunned speechless and no longer glowing now that her… ceremony, or whatever, is interrupted, levels a glare at him. She pushes him off of her and snaps, “Why not? I’ll never be happy so long as this stupid guardianship has me trapped in this life. No matter what I do, it’ll always be my job to clean up Miraculous messes, whether I want to or not. The only way to live the life that I want is to pass it on and forget it all.”

“But you’re the best Ladybug ever, Marinette!” Tikki protests. “You can’t just give it all up!”

“I already did!” Marinette says. “I already told you I don’t want to be a hero! I love you, Tikki, but you haven’t been paying attention. I’m sorry, but I’m not Ladybug anymore. I haven’t been since I made the decision to come to New York.”

“But-”

“Don’t ask me to keep doing something I hate, Tikki. Please.”

“But I-” Tikki flinches when she catches herself, and then finally whispers. “Okay. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.” Marinette turns her gaze to Jon. “I expected Tikki to try, but why did you stop me? Don’t you see? This is the other way. This is how I can live peacefully.”

Jon watches her talk to Tikki with an understated anger simmering just beneath his skin, agitated like the surface of the ocean, rippling across his body like liquid. And when she talks to him, he can’t help how his voice raises just a little. “What did I just say?” He asks. “Don’t sacrifice yourself! Like it or not, your memories make you who you are. I’m not letting you throw away so much of your life just because you can’t see a better option! You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng! You’ll figure out another option. I’ll make another option for you if that’s what it takes! But don’t you dare sacrifice yourself, again, for your stupid ‘duty’ you hear?!”

Marinette and Tikki both are staring wide-eyed at him. Then, all at once, both of them look ashamed of themselves. “You’re right.” Marinette says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Jon winces. He hates that temper of his. He hates that he gets angry sometimes when he shouldn’t. But Marinette just… giving up. After so much effort put into creating what they’ve found, and so much potential in the future, to just give up now is… “Sorry I yelled.” He says. “But don’t give up on this. Don’t give up hope. We’ll figure it out.”

Marinette nods. It’s uncertain and hesitant, but she does. “I hope so.”

——-=——-

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