Wanderlust - A Felinette Fanfic

Now

It isn't until an hour and a half later that Marinette wakes up from her nap. And it isn't for another half hour that she finds it in her to sit up. And for the next half hour, it mostly comprised of her pacing the room, from her vanity mirror to the chest where she knew the miracle box sat. It's been months since she touched the box. Her hands wandered over her earlobes, feelings over the ghost of the earrings. Her ghost of the past. Marinette sighs. She exits the room to find Camille completely unattended to, the baby awake, entertaining herself in her bassinet. Marinette furrows her brows as she approached Camille. "Hi baby," she coos, picking the baby up. "Do you know where your papà is? Hm?"

Félix is sitting on the floor in the bathroom, looking at the wedding band on his finger. He presses his lips together, tears still drying in his eyes. He hears the faint noise of her voice in the other room and wipes his tears, straightening his clothes before exiting. "How was your nap?" he asks, walking past her to the vanity, fixing his tie without looking at her.

"It was okay," she says, looking at the man's reflection from the mirror. His eyes are red, the front of his hair mussed. He just cried. Guilt washes over her, seeing how selfless he's being while she... she blamed the world for all that she feels. She sighs. "Félix, you said you'll watch Camille. If you need some time for yourself, it's okay to wake me up from my nap. She was left here trying to suck her toes."

He glances back at her and shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says somewhat blankly, his lips pressed together so tightly they hold a shade of white. "She's fine. Her toes won't kill her. I just had to use the bathroom," he says. He looks over at her finally, turning to face her, hands behind him on the dresser. He sighs heavily, before speaking again. "Marinette, I don't mean to sound like a teenage boy, but we haven't had sex in weeks. Are you sure nothings wrong?"

Her mouth drops in disbelief. Then she scoffs, shaking her head. "What?" She asks, clicking her tongue. It's true. But it's not like sex is the main defining trait of their relationship. They've gone weeks without sex before everything. She hugs Camille to herself, rocking her back and forth. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

He looks at her, pain filling his expression. "If not now, then when? I don't give a fuck about the sex. Look, we could go forever with sex if we had to. I just want to know why you're pushing me away," he says, gripping the side of the dresser tighter. "So when's gonna be a good enough time for you?" His voice breaks, tears welling in his eyes again. He can't handle this. He can't handle her. He wants to handle her, but she's different. She's far away. She's cold, and uninviting, and far, far, far away from here.

The words bubble up, tasting like bile in her throat. She wants to say them. She wants to say that she wants something more than this - that she wants to go on that plane they planned for them to take months ago. But she can't. Not when Camille, so sweet and innocent, is playing with her hair, saying gibberish. She might be saying her first words. "Not now, Félix," she says softly, averting her gaze to the baby. "I'm not pushing you away. Camille's just taking most of it. Not that- not that's s bad thing. I just want time for myself too, you know?"

He looks at her in disbelief, sighing heavily and shaking his head. The worst part was that he couldn't even make a rebuttal. His parents had had a bad relationship while he was growing up, too. "Yeah," he says gruffly, trying to hide how upset he was. If someone would have told him that having a baby would mean losing the love of his life, he would've gotten sterilized a long time ago. Though he wouldn't give up his baby girl for the world. This whole situation was shit, but he couldn't take it back now. "Take your time. I'm going out," he says, putting on his watch and fixing his hair, gelling it back in place.
Her throat dries. The bubbles she felt earlier fizzes and dies, leaving behind the bitter taste of the thought behind them. She wants to get rid of the taste. Wants to claw her throat out, to scream and shout it out until there was truly nothing there but emptiness so she could fill it with what she should be feeling. Love. Happiness. Contentment. If only he knew, she thinks, that she's doing all this for him. In a very twisted and roundabout way, sure, but it's all meant for him in the end. She just has a hard time admitting that. She doesn't know why. She takes a deep breath. "What time will you be back?"
He shrugs, checking his watch. Without sparing a glance back at her, he says, "In time to tuck our daughter into bed." He stops in the doorway, taking a deep breath. Camille gurgles. He fights the urge to turn around. He walks away.