Always, Marinette • adrienette au

3 || gone

Adrien closed the diary. The first entry breaking a part of him that he didn't even know existed. He couldn't do it.

Marinette was gone. He didn't need a constant reminder of her. Adrien set the notebook down on his bed. He thought he could carry the weight but he just couldn't. He read it in her voice. Her laugh echoed in his head and he just needed it all to stop. He needed the quiet.

His own breathing filled his ears. It was a constant reminder that he was alive and she wasn't. He decided he would visit her grave tomorrow again. He shivered at the memory of the perfect pile of dirt on top of her. Next year the grass would probably grow back and that was a sad thought.

Adrien tried to visit during the last few months. He just couldn't. Marinette wasn't herself. He hated all the machines she was hooked up to. They made her transform into this shell of a person. He couldn't stand it. Marinette was someone who outshone the sun. She couldn't be sick. She couldn't be dead.

Adrien took another glance at her diary. His hand traced the worn spine. This is what remained of her. This was all he had left.

Adrien swallowed his pride and opened the brown journal. He would do anything for her. Even if it meant reliving the past two years.