The courtyard was nearly empty, the soft rustle of trees breaking the silence.

You had gone to grab something from your locker, leaving behind your bag—and Marc’s heart, apparently.

He stood a few steps away from the bench where you’d been sitting, clutching a folded piece of paper like it might burn him.

—“Just do it,” Marinette whispered, nudging his arm.

—“They literally smiled at you like five times today,” Adrien added. “I think you’ll survive giving them a letter.”

Marc exhaled. Shaky. His fingers trembled slightly as he looked down at the envelope. Your name was written on the front in careful cursive.

—“It’s not even a love letter,” he mumbled, “not really. Just… thoughts. Sketches. Stuff I never say out loud.”

Marinette smiled, soft and knowing.

—“Sometimes that’s exactly what people need.”

He turned, footsteps unsure, just as you appeared around the corner, unaware of what was waiting for you.

He nearly froze.

But then you looked up and saw him—and smiled.

Something in his chest settled. Or maybe it stirred more.

—“Hey,” he said, voice quiet but clear, handing you the envelope before his nerves could take it back. “I… I made this for you. It’s okay if you don’t read it now.”

You took it gently, eyes curious.

—“Thanks, Marc.”

And then—just before turning away—you gave him that smile again. The one that made his fingers want to draw, his chest want to speak.

The one that made him hope.