Beau and the Beetle

During the week, Adrien was able to gather a collection of things he could take to Marinette. He had a bucket of extra-large street chalk, two large bottles of water, candles, matches, a torch, and batteries. He had also packed his favourite novel, a sketch book, as well as pens and pencils. He didn’t know if she would be able to hold something as slender as a pen, but he’d never know unless he tried.

Stuffing the goods into a duffel bag, he crept from his room late one afternoon, when he knew everyone would be busy. He was down the stairs and out the door before anyone was the wiser.

As he travelled, he thought Marinette would also appreciate some music, adding his old mp3 player and speakers to his mental list. He would have to ask who her favourite musicians were so he could download any new material for her, and add some things of his own he thought she would like. She seemed to like singing, so he was confident she would be receptive to the idea.

He slunk into the Metro tunnel, then skulked along the wall until he found the open grate, and dropped inside. Once there, he pulled out his phone to illuminate the path with the torch.

Like both times before, he heard her before he saw her. She was humming again, but it was flat and tuneless, as if she were tired.

‘Hello?’ he called, announcing his arrival.

He didn’t want to startle her again, or let her feel embarrassed that he’d heard her singing. At this distance, he could pretend he hadn’t heard a thing.

He rounded a bend in the tunnel, the faint glow from her chamber lighting the area enough for him to see without his torch. He put his phone to sleep and shoved it back in his pocket, following the source of the light.

‘Hey,’ he said, when he reached her doorway.

Marinette was sitting on the floor beside her makeshift table, her torso retracted into her shell.

‘Hey,’ she returned, with a feeble wave.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Concerned, he entered the chamber to sit down opposite her, noticing she had only a single candle for illumination.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Where’s your lantern?’

Marinette pointed listlessly over her shoulder. ‘Shelf,’ she mumbled.

Confused, Adrien peered through the gloom, until he saw the glint of light reflected off of metal and glass. ‘What’s it doing over there?’

‘Ran out of kerosene.’

Adrien blinked. ‘Your parents haven’t sent you more?’

Averting her gaze, Marinette drew in an unsteady breath. ‘I think they’ve forgotten about me.’

Everything felt like it had stopped moving. ‘No, that’s not true. They can’t have.’

‘But it is,’ she moaned. ‘They’ve been sending me fewer and fewer supplies, and I’m,’ she paused to swallow. ‘I’m getting hungry.’

‘What?’

She bit her lip and shook her head. ‘I still have some food, and I’m trying to ration what’s left, but it won’t last long. I have to hold out until the next drop, but their deliveries have dwindled to almost nothing. I don’t know what else to do, though.’

A surge of hatred flared up Adrien’s chest, hot and intense. He swallowed his anger, then rounded the old crate to embrace Marinette loosely around the shoulders. Her shell made the gesture all but impossible, but she leaned against him, seeming to appreciate the sentiment.

‘I’ll bring you food,’ he told her. ‘I’ve brought you some other things, like chalk and water today. But if you want, I can duck out now to get you something to eat.’

She was shaking her head before he’d finished speaking. ‘No, thank you. I’ll be ok for a few more days, I think. Surely they’ll remember to send me something soon.’

Rage still simmered under his calm façade as he sat by her side. It was obvious that Tom and Sabine were neglecting her on purpose, as there was no way they had forgotten about her, especially in light of Alya’s memorial service. But he couldn’t tell her that. It would only break her heart, which also meant he couldn’t tell her about the memorial either, since Tom and Sabine were involved.

He drew in a deep breath, attempting to focus on Marinette and her needs. Under the unnatural exterior was a scared and lonely girl no older than him.

When she cleared her throat and sat up, he let go. Returning to his bag, he pulled out one of the bottles of water to hand over to her. She took a few careful sips before placing it on her shelf, conscious of how precious a commodity water was in the dusty old tunnels.

It was painful to watch; she desperately needed more, but prevented herself from downing the whole thing, just in case. He handed over the rest of the items he’d brought, hoping to distract her, smiling when she chuckled at his inclusion of the novel.

‘Thank you, this must’ve been heavy. Are you ok?’

Touched by her concern, he nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

He stayed with her for a while, talking about inconsequential things, hoping to break the monotony of her day. He hoped he eased her loneliness, even if he could only stay for a short time. Marinette had nothing to do, so she happily listened to him prattle on about whatever subject came to mind, until it was time for him to leave.

Marinette watched forlornly from the tunnel entrance as he departed, waving him off. She still looked tired and weak, so he’d told her he could make his way out of the tunnels unaided. He had noted on his last trip that the stonework beneath the grate was rough, offering plenty of hand and footholds.

While he was scrambling up the wall, the empty duffel hanging limply on his back, Adrien resolved to hit the gym more often. He would need to be physically strong if he wanted to bring her all of the supplies she needed, like water, kerosene, and food.

He began to compile a list of foodstuffs he could bring next time. Bread, fresh fruit, preserves, and canned foods would travel well enough. He could also find her a garbage bin and a can opener. He then considered stopping by an outdoor living store to buy her a portable camping stove.

One thing at a time, he told himself.

There was only so much he could carry, and he needed to consider Marinette's most pressing needs first. But he could still begin his collection, starting with non-perishable foods, and water.