Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marinette walked through an unfamiliar city in an unknown direction, but she walked confidently, as if she knew where to go and felt that this was exactly where she needed to be.

Probably this is what is called intuition, when you just know something, without any rational confirmation, and the need to check it or prove the truth of it. You know that this is where you need to turn, and these are the steps that you need to climb, and this is the alley that you need to go through and come out to this square.

So Marinette did, although she still had no idea of where she was and why she was here.

She came out onto a wide street and stopped, because she felt so, and also because a few meters away from her stood a tall blond man, his back turned to her. His arms were spread out, as if he were conducting an orchestra somewhere ahead of him, but Marinette couldn’t see any orchestra.

Instead, he was facing a tall building, the likes of which Marinette had never seen in the central part of Paris. And in general, there are only few such tall buildings in European capitals, unless of course they are something special and outstanding, like the Eiffel Tower. And this fact made her think again about where exactly she was, because it not only didn’t look like her hometown, but also like her country, and probably like nowhere she had been before.

She would probably have just stood there, wondering what kind of city it was, if the blond, whose figure seemed vaguely familiar, hadn’t turned half-way around to face her. He smiled when he saw her, such a soft, sincere smile, and Marinette immediately understood where exactly she was.

She was in a dream.

And not only because she didn’t remember how she got to where she was, and didn’t know the name of the city she was walking through, and not even because this intuition of hers, which Marinette usually suppressed in her real life, seemed so strong, but because in real life, Felix Fathom would never smile at her. Especially not so easily and sincerely. Rather, he would frown at the sight of her, and she was sure that he would do it even if he had smiled before, although Marinette had never seen him really smiling.

Meanwhile, Felix beckoned her with his hand, as if her appearance was part of the plan, or at least didn’t contradict it in any way, and turned away to where his imaginary orchestra was, and again stretched out his arms to the sides, as if to continue conducting.

Marinette involuntarily approached him and stopped a little behind his left shoulder—both because her intuition insisted on it, and because she was extremely curious to see what exactly he was conducting there.

She got her first good look at the tall building he was facing—it had been a little blurry before—and saw that the pattern of its windows was changing. In real time, right before her eyes, the window frames seemed to expand and the glass became larger, so that almost the entire front part of the building gradually became made of glass, and the building changed from being ordinary and unattractive to being beautiful and modern, sparkling in the sun with its huge glass windows.

The grey color of the glass gradually changed to half green half blue, and at the top of the building a huge terrace with vertical gardens appeared, like a picture from some movie about a luxurious life.

“It’s in honor of the color of our eyes,” Felix explained, glancing back at her again, and Marinette realized that she had completely forgotten that he was orchestrating all these changes, transforming the building in front of her.

Marinette shook her head, trying to understand what he meant, because even in a dream such a soft voice from Felix and such a friendly behavior seemed something completely incredible and puzzled her. “Excuse me?” She muttered in confusion.

“The color of the windows,” the man explained, nodding towards the building. “I changed it so that it reflected the color of both your eyes and mine at once. It’s symbolic, don’t you think?”

Marinette didn't think it was symbolic. She thought it was all very atypical, and confusing, and a little weird. That's what she thought.

“How do you do that?” She asked, for now more curious about this than in what color the windows were and why. “You change everything so easily. It’s impossible!”

Felix smiled. But it wasn’t as if he wanted to show that he knew a secret that she didn’t, but as if he was inviting her to enter this secret with him. “We're in a dream,” he explained, “Haven't you noticed?”

He waved his hand towards the street, as if to show her the surroundings, and immediately a multitude of flowers with small blue petals, like forget-me-nots, sprouted along the buildings and sidewalks.

“While we sleep, the critical part of our minds sleeps too, and there's no one to tell us that something is impossible,” Felix continued, turning toward his building to cover the railing on the terrace with forget-me-nots as well. “That's why in dreams we can create our reality without delay, in a moment. Literally.”

Marinette felt something warm flutter in her chest, and she really, really wanted to spread her arms in front of the invisible orchestra, too, and add something of her own to this beautiful building to which Felix for some reason gave the color of his and her eyes, but something stopped her. Something wasn’t giving her peace—some thought that his words had evoked, and it seemed even more important than the amazing secret he had just revealed to her.

“Are you saying that our real reality can also be created like this, just by our own will?!” She blurted out, finally catching the elusive meaning his words implied. “We only need to move our hands and the world around us will transform?”

The thought seemed completely unbelievable, even now, when her logical part was asleep and couldn’t name a thousand extremely objective reasons why it wasn’t possible. Because that would mean Marinette could live in any world she wanted, build any future, and change the color of the windows in a building that was probably something from that very future.

“Of course,” Felix confirmed calmly, “We already do it every day, even when we don’t realize it. After all, what happens to us is not what we think we want, but what we unconsciously expect most. And if we don't control what we think about, more often than not, it's not pleasant things, but the embodiment of our fears. These are objective laws of physics, for them it doesn’t matter whether something is pleasant for us or not, it only matters how much energy we put into it.”

Marinette looked at him, dumbfounded.

She felt as if Felix simultaneously opened all the doors of life for her and dropped a heavy piano on her head. “So if I’m afraid of twisting my ankle, I’ll twist it, right?” She asked carefully, remembering the huge number of fears that constantly buzzed in her head.

Fear of being late, fear that someone wouldn’t like her work, fear that clients would leave her, fear that her friends would turn away from her, fear that her dreams would never come true… And as long as Marinette hated being late the most, that was exactly what was happening to her all the time.

On the one hand, her experience confirmed his words about how she was shaping her reality while being awake, on the other—what about her dreams? Could she have done something to make what she wanted come true, and not what she was afraid of?!

Felix turned completely to face her and looked at Marinette attentively.

“The reality of waking life is much more inert than the reality of sleep,” he said finally, his face serious, as if what he was saying demanded precisely this attitude, and had to be understood properly. “The embodiment of our fears and desires there is slowed down precisely so that we don’t twist our ankles immediately after thinking about it. It protects us from our unconscious fears.”

He turned to his building, as if thinking about something, then spoke again, still admiring his creation. “What we consciously want also comes true much more slowly than in our sleep, although there is another reason for it.”

He turned to Marinette again, suddenly took her hand and led her to the blue-green building.

“When we are awake, the critical part of our mind constantly tells us that in order to achieve something, we need to work hard, that without effort, none of our goals can be reached, that it’s impossible to conquer the market with our first collection of designs,” he turned and winked at her, as if sharing some secret, and Marinette realized that he was talking about her, and that he was also right, because all of these were indeed her deep beliefs.

They entered the building and Felix waved his hand around the spacious foyer, painting the walls and creating furniture, and then led her further, to the elevators.

“That's not entirely true, though,” he said as the elevator door closed behind them. “All our beliefs that prevent us from creating reality as we want to see it, I mean. A person lives precisely in the world in which he believes, so if our conscious mind desires something, and the subconscious agrees that it’s possible, so it becomes.”

Marinette was listening to him so intently that she didn't even notice how they had reached the top floor, and how Felix led her by the hand from the elevator to a door.

“I haven't decided on the decor yet,” he admitted, letting her inside what seemed to be a spacious office. “But my desk will definitely be by the window.”

There was indeed a large white desk with a comfortable office chair by the wide window that covered the entire wall. On the desk there were only a few journals that looked like something for personal notes, and a small stack of books, the most popular title on the covers being something about quantum physics.

Marinette turned sharply to the man, who had already let go of her hand and was standing behind her, his hands in his pockets, watching her reaction.

“And you came up with all this for… your future?” Marinette gasped, finally realizing what he had shared with her in this weird, amazing dream.

Felix smiled again and shook his head. “No. I came up with this for our future,” he corrected her. “Your studio is next door.”

Marinette's eyes widened and, without thinking, she rushed past him towards the door.

As she stepped out into the hallway, she somehow knew exactly which door he was talking about, even though there were several on this floor. But in dreams, it often happens that you just know something for sure, without needing confirmation.

In real life it happens, too, she realized while opening the door, and it happens quite often. Marinette was just so used to ignoring this quiet voice from the depths of herself that she almost stopped noticing it…

But she didn’t need any confirmation to know for sure that she wanted to be a designer. And despite the modesty that was somehow instilled in her since childhood, deep inside Marinette was sure that her work really deserved all the praise that it received. And she somehow even knew that her crush on another blond was never a real feeling...

It’s just that everyone kept saying that they would be the perfect couple, and Marinette gradually began to believe it herself, although at the very beginning, when she could still hear herself, she was ready to leave this random crush of hers in a week...

She entered a huge room that seemed even larger than the neighboring office. Although maybe this was only her impression due to the giant window and the lack of any furniture. The walls were also virgin white, and nothing but her inner conviction said that it was a studio.

It's good that in a dream this inner conviction was more than enough for her to believe!

Marinette squared her shoulders and began to move her hands, knowing exactly where she wanted to place the mannequins and where the rack of fabrics should be. And here is where the cutting is best, and the designs will be created at this table, and here she would…

She was so carried away that she didn’t notice how much time it took her to have her dream studio right in front of her eyes. It was better than looking at pictures in a magazine, better than accidentally glancing into Gabriel Agreste’s office, and definitely better than the small office she shared with several other young designers where she was currently doing her internship.

Because this was exactly what she wanted, and no magazine could have come up with it for her…

“Wow… This looks… much more finished than my office,” an impressed voice said from behind her, and Marinette turned around, somehow knowing that all this time he had been watching her work, admiring her creation, and just didn't interfere. “I'm not even sure I can convince you to come upstairs with me. You probably want to spend more time here.”

Marinette did want that. But even more than that, she wanted to share this joy with someone, and the fact that this someone in her dream was Felix Fathom somehow didn’t contradict her intuition at all, but seemed the most appropriate thing that life could offer her.

“Is there anything upstairs?” She asked, confused, although her feet were already moving toward the door where Felix was standing. “I thought we were on the top floor.”

“That’s right,” he said with that soft smile that suited him terribly, and which Marinette had come to love during this dream. “But I made a terrace on the roof, remember?”

“True,” she responded, taking his hand—for some reason in the dream this seemed like the right thing to do—and she led him to the terrace herself, without asking where the exit was.

She just knew where to go.

They walked up the narrow stairs and out into the fresh air. It was already dark outside, and although in a dream one could probably just wish for the sun to come out again and for the day to return, Marinette didn't want that.

She let go of his hand and walked across the green area to the glass railing, along the upper edge of which forget-me-nots were somehow blooming, having no logical place to grow from.

The city was waiting for her designs, Marinette thought, observing the unfamiliar surroundings. Maybe the whole world was waiting for them, because now, in the reality of this amazing dream, she was confident that she was capable of something truly outstanding. And she had no doubt that her dreams were about to come true in the same miraculous way she had just created the perfect studio literally out of thin air.

Felix came up and gently embraced her from behind, enclosing her in a ring of his arms, and Marinette willingly leaned her head back against his chest. She remembered that they were standing on top of a building the color of their eyes, which housed both his future office and her future studio, and which he had created today especially for their future.

It felt right. Both the building, and the fact that he was hugging her just like that.

Everything seemed right in this dream.

For some reason, Marinette was absolutely sure that if she turned to him now, Felix would kiss her, despite the lack of any hint of romantic interest on his part in real life, where they only occasionally ran into each other at work, and where he always behaved distantly.

Marinette decided that she didn’t want to wait. After all, in a dream there is absolutely no need to wait for wishes to come true—you can make them come true yourself, and no inner critic can stop you—so she turned around and raised her face to him.

Felix looked at her with a gentle smile, and Marinette suddenly thought that perhaps he should also want to kiss her for this wish to come true in their shared dream, because this Felix behaved completely independently and didn’t seem at all like a fragment of her imagination.

She rose up on her toes, lowering her eyelids, and saw his face leaning towards her as well…

Marinette woke up not remembering whether she had managed to kiss Felix Fathom in her sleep or not, but her heart was light and everything seemed possible.

Chapter Text

It felt like Felix from her dream remained somewhere near her, and continued to gently hug her from behind, or stand aside watching her work with approving eyes, or at the right moment remind her of something important that she only vaguely remembered from yesterday's dream.

And although Marinette knew that the strange illusion was something temporary, and was about to dissipate as quickly as this absolutely amazing dream where she literally created her future out of nothing, she wanted to stay in it at least for a little longer.

At work, the girls with whom she had an internship from the very morning noticed that there was something special about her today, and several times approached her asking if today was her birthday, or some other remarkable day for her. Or could it be that that cute brunette from the logistics department, whom everyone liked here so much, invited her on a date?

Marinette could only smile and shake her head.

Even if she tried, she probably wouldn't be able to convey the impressions she had from the unusual dream that she remembered less and less, but which nevertheless continued to warm her from somewhere inside.

Instead of sorting through the standardized designs, making technical adjustments to them for the project that the interns were working on today, Marinette kept getting distracted to quickly add something else to the new designs that came to her mind this morning. Of course she shouldn't have diverted her attention to something personal while working, but she just couldn't help herself!

It was like stealing time for your loved one, when your feelings are fresh and passionate and you are ready to do anything to give him at least a couple more moments together, but these couple of moments spent with him will always be worth the risk and the effort you put into finding them.

Marinette didn't remember the last time she wanted to create with such a vibrant enthusiasm. It was as if she had been told that the fashion show was coming soon, and everything had been organized, seamstresses were already waiting for her designs, and models had already been selected to wear the dresses tailored to these very designs, and even customers were already walking past the stores, glancing into the windows and waiting for when they could finally buy her works...

And her designs weren't even finished yet!

Marinette knew that no seamstresses were waiting for her designs, and that there were no models ready to show them, and that customers not only didn't know about the release of her upcoming collection, but even about its existence...

But this imaginary Felix, who was standing at the door to the office where she worked with several other aspiring designers, his arms crossed over his chest and his soft supportive smile directed at her, seemed to remind Marinette of the bright future that awaited her.

About the whole world that was waiting for her.

Every time she secretly took out a notebook with her personal designs from the drawer of her desk to quickly add at least a few more strokes to it, her imaginary Felix winked at her, as if sharing with her a secret that no one except the two of them knew about.

It was a secret about how she would finish drawing this design, and another one, and so she would put together a whole collection, and somewhere ahead, in her bright future, this collection would be sewn by dozens of hands, and hundreds of eyes would admire it, and thousands of hands would buy it in a huge city that once seemed unfamiliar.

And by that moment Marinette would already be creating a new collection in a huge studio, on the top floor of a tall building with blue-green windows…

It seemed symbolic that the dress she finished painting just now was also blue-green. “It’s in honor of the color of our eyes,” she thought, not sure what it meant, but the words came from somewhere inside, as if from the depths of her mind.

It was already evening, and Marinette had almost forgotten what she had dreamed about the night before. She only remembered a street full of blue flowers and a tall blond man standing with his back to her, his arms outstretched, as if he were conducting an orchestra. It seemed to be someone she knew, and it seemed she still remembered who it was in the morning, but now she couldn't imagine who it could be.

She knew for sure that in the dream his presence was very pleasant and natural, as if his place was next to her, and hers was next to him. She remembered that he often smiled at her, and seemed to lead her somewhere by the hand, but she couldn’t recall where and why, although in the dream she followed him easily, full of trust and anticipation of a miracle.

It must have been one of her friends, Marinette thought, because she remembered the feeling of joy from the fact that he was nearby. Maybe even someone she liked?

She hid the notebook with designs in her purse, because the working day was ending and it was time for her to go home, and although by the evening her creative explosion seemed to be melting, she still hoped that she would add something else when she got home.

She once again scolded herself for not writing down the dream somewhere on paper. It’s not for nothing that they recommend doing it—your subconscious speaking to you through your dreams and all that… And now Marinette was upset that she no longer remembered what exactly she dreamed about, and who was this person who seemed to be with her in her dream all the time.

Maybe it was Adrien? Marinette thought, wandering through evening Paris. She decided to walk home to unwind a little and breathe some fresh air. Her hands were no longer itching to draw something as soon as possible and her mood as a whole was somehow blurred.

It felt like some very important thought was gradually slipping away from her, becoming more and more distant, and Marinette couldn’t catch it. It seemed that this thought was connected with a dream that she had almost completely forgotten, and she could only say that it was about her future, but she no longer remembered much from it.

Adrien is kind and smiles often, she reasoned logically, and the man in her dream was blond—Marinette no longer remembered what he looked like, but the fact itself stuck in her memory. And although as she grew older she gradually realized that perhaps all this love for him was imposed on her to a large extent by her friends, who needed a beautiful reason for drama, he was still her friend, and tall, and blond, and probably she would have been comfortable in his presence, so her dream must have been about him.

Marinette sighed and looked around, confused for a second in the streets, as if she ended up in an unfamiliar city. She had a strong feeling of déjà vu, as if this had happened to her before, and as if it also meant something important, but after a moment the feeling dissipated, and she recognized familiar buildings and streets.

Perhaps she should walk a little further and sit down for dinner somewhere outside the house—Marinette didn’t feel like spending the evening alone and with unfinished designs that she had suddenly lost all desire to work on. So she decided to go at random, because she knew this part of the city well, and there were plenty of nice cafes and small  restaurants where you could find a secluded corner for yourself.

Marinette walked a little further and ducked under an arch into an alley, and passed through it, then down a staircase to the right, and up another staircase, and…

She came out to a small restaurant with classic French cuisine, which she had been to a couple of times already, but instead of going inside, she stopped dead in her tracks, because almost at the threshold of the restaurant, a tall blond man was standing with his back to her, his arms outstretched, as if conducting an invisible orchestra somewhere in front of him.

Marinette instantly remembered that she had seen something very similar in her dream, although maybe the blond from her dream was wearing a different suit, and it wasn’t in Paris, but in some other city with much taller buildings. New York maybe?

And no, her dream blond really did move both hands, and this one held the phone to his ear with one, and he only moved the other one aside for a second, probably accompanying what he was saying with gestures…

The blond from her dream couldn't be Adrien, Marinette realized, because his hair was neatly styled, like this man’s, who seemed to have finished his phone conversation and was shaking his head irritably, clearly dissatisfied with its results.

He sighed and put his phone in his pocket and seemed to be about to enter the restaurant, the same one Marinette had been about to go to before she saw him, but then he turned around as if he felt her gaze on him and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Good evening, Felix,” Marinette greeted politely, overcoming the excitement with which, for some reason, her heart began to beat in her chest much faster than it usually did in his presence.

They both seemed a little startled, he by the unexpected meeting, she by the realization that the man from her dream was most definitely Felix Fathom.

Felix frowned, hiding his surprise, and nodded politely. “I always said this city was too small,” he grumbled, but nevertheless turned to face her completely and took a few steps in Marinette’s direction. “It’s impossible to live here without constantly bumping into…”

He fell silent, and Marinette couldn’t tell if he wanted to say something rude about her, which would have been quite typical for him, or to express his joy at seeing her, which the Felix from her dream might well have done. At least that’s what she thought.

Felix shook his head, as if to push away a thought he hadn't finished. “Don't let me ruin your evening just because I let someone else ruin mine,” he suggested, stopping at the polite distance of neutral acquaintances. “So, what made you wonder alone at this time of day, and on a Friday, no less?” He asked in a tone that sounded more like a formal question to keep the conversation going than a genuine interest.

Since their few chance encounters back in school, Felix had always seemed to her a rather stern and distant person. Several years had passed since then, and when he finally moved to Paris, they bumped into each other on work issues at least once a week—either at an exhibition or during some purchase—and gradually Marinette saw that the impudent and brash teenager in him had grown into a confident and resolute professional.

Still, he always kept his distance and spoke to her rather formally—not that they had anything in common that would give him a reason to be softer with her or anything, but Marinette had always subconsciously expected it, since Felix was the cousin of her close friend.

And of course he would never speak to her as softly and warmly as Felix from her dream spoke—the dream that had surfaced in her memory much more vividly with the appearance of the real Felix. For starters, that Felix knew how to smile, and he did it often and with ease, while this one, the actual Felix, Marinette had never seen smiling at all.

“Or are you waiting for someone?” Felix looked around, as if expecting some mysterious person whom she might be waiting outside the restaurant, and Marinette realized that she had been lost in thought, comparing the two Felixes in her head and had forgotten to answer his question, however formal.

“I… uh… no,” she muttered finally. “I was just walking and thinking a bit. And looking for somewhere to have dinner, too, because I really don’t want to go home,” she admitted for some reason, as if he would be interested in that in any way. “After this weird day, I just… wanted to take a little walk…”

Felix looked at her strangely. Maybe because she had suddenly started telling him about her day and answering a clearly formal question in such detail that it probably seemed inappropriate to him, considering that they had always had strictly work-related conversations and he always seemed sullen and formal.

“And you chose this one,” he clarified, nodding toward the restaurant behind his back.

“I… yes… but if that’s a prob…”

Felix stopped her with a wave of his hand. “No problem,” he said evenly, “I already have a table there anyway. I did order, but they probably haven't brought anything yet while I went out to answer the call. In any case, you’re welcome to join if that’s okay with you.” He paused and added much more quietly, as if to himself, “I’ll be leaving this city soon anyway, so it wouldn’t change anything…”

Marinette frowned.

It didn't feel like an invitation on a date at all, or anything remotely romantic, which once again highlighted the differences between this Felix and the Felix from her dream, but that made her even more confused by the whole situation.

She had always thought that Felix Fathom was determined to avoid people as much as possible, and here he was, having dinner in a public place, albeit alone, and he had even asked her to join him, albeit formally.

“I... okay,” Marinette mumbled as they both moved toward the front door, “Did you just say you were leaving?” She asked belatedly. “I thought, I mean, I didn't think anything of it, of course… I just didn't know you were leaving. For how long? Where to?”

She hoped that her questions weren’t too insistent or intrusive, but something had pricked her chest like a barely noticeable needle when Felix said he was leaving, and she had secretly hoped to hear it was a short term trip.

Of course, they had nothing in common, and again, this Felix and the one who had led her by the hand and smiled softly at her in her dream weren’t the same person, but...

There was something so achingly warm in that dream of hers, so bright and instilling hope in some incredible future, and Felix was a part of that future, even if the man who helped her sit down at the table and was now sitting opposite her remained distant and sullen.

“Forever,” he muttered, looking somewhere to the side. “This city is too inert for my plans. And London too. People in Europe are accustomed to a measured lifestyle, and it’s very difficult to get them to speed up.” He was talking, and for some reason Marinette had the feeling that it wasn’t this Felix who was talking, but the Felix from her dream, who was explaining to her about the inertia of the awakened reality.

He took the phone out of his pocket and put it on the table a little to the side, as if wanting to push the cause of his spoiled mood away. “I’m tired of explaining to people that they have been living with dysfunctional stereotypes for too long, that what they are used to believing in is simply not true…” Meeting her gaze, he fell silent again, as if coming to his senses, and Marinette realized that Felix considered her one of those people he was talking about.

“So you’re going to…” She prompted, swallowing an unpleasant lump in her throat.

“New York.” He answered decisively. For some reason, Marinette was sure that she knew the right answer even before he voiced it. “Life is faster there, it’s easier to instigate and manage change.”

Those words sounded exactly like something Felix from her dream might have said, and Marinette swallowed again.

She almost regretted agreeing to have dinner with him, because this Felix was more and more reminiscent of the one whose smile she had come to love so much during her dream, but instead of smiling, this one was looking past her, or frowning, and it was unclear why he had invited her to join him at all.

“So you…” Marinette stopped short, her gaze frozen on the book she had just noticed on the edge of the table, on the opposite side from where Felix had pushed his phone.

She didn’t even need to read its title to know that it was something about quantum physics, because the exact same book was lying on Felix’s desk in her dream—in his future office, right on top of a stack of books on the same topic.

Marinette looked up at him with wide, amazed eyes.

“After all, our convictions create reality as we most expect to see it,” she said, “And a person lives in a world in which…

“...he believes.” It seemed Felix hadn’t even noticed that he had finished the sentence for her.

He was staring at her with wide, confused, astonished eyes, as if she had just materialized in front of him out of thin air, and Marinette was somehow sure that in some way she had. Because the Marinette he had seen in front of him a minute ago, in his perception and in his reality, was as inert as everyone else.

His confused gaze fell on the book lying on the table, then Felix looked up at her again, as if to check that this Marinette who had just said something from another, different reality was still here.

“That’s right,” he said finally. “How did you…”

The waiter came over and handed Marinette a menu, so their conversation was interrupted and she began to choose what to have for dinner.

The entire time she was looking at the menu, and later when she was telling the waiter what to serve her, Marinette felt the intense gaze of green eyes on her, and her cheeks burned slightly from their close attention.

It seemed that the waiter hadn’t even left yet when her hands were already taking out of her purse a notebook with fresh designs that Marinette had secretly sketched out during the day. “Here,” she said, handing Felix the design of a blue-green dress that she had put the most effort into. “What do you think?”

The man carefully took the notebook in his hands, as if it were something very precious. He studied the picture attentively, then lifted the page, “May I?” He asked before turning it over.

Marinette nodded, and for a while he just studied her designs, saying nothing, although his face lit up from time to time with some muted emotion.

She watched him, seeing more and more in this man the Felix from her dream, who hugged her from behind, and smiled at her, and seemed to have even kissed her on top of a tall building.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to tell the difference.

Finally, Felix turned the pages back to the dress design and looked up at her with an attentive gaze. “It’s a beautiful color,” he said thoughtfully, “I think it would be very well suited for the design of the…” He frowned and fell silent without finishing, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should share this thought with her, but for some reason Marinette was confident that he was talking about a tall building, on the top floor of which his office would be.

“I think you’re right,” she said, reaching out to take the notebook. Felix held it in his hands for another second, as if he didn’t want to let it go, but then he handed it back to the owner. “Not about the building, that is, although you’re probably right about it too.”

She only briefly noticed how his eyes widened in surprise for a moment, “But I was talking more about how it's very difficult to make your dreams come true in Paris… Maybe it's because our old beliefs that prevent change are literally living all around us,” she muttered thoughtfully, a little quieter, thinking about Adrien, and the small office from her internship, and about how living in the same place kept her mind from reshaping.

“Maybe for someone else, this city could become a whole world…” she wondered, almost forgetting that she was talking to Felix, and not to herself.

“But not for someone who has a whole world waiting for them.” His words seemed to awaken Marinette from the reverie she had begun to fall into.

She looked in surprise at the blond man sitting opposite her at the table. He was smiling at her with such a soft, sincere smile that she had never seen on his face before. Not in real life anyway.

“What do you think about living in America?” He asked, not really smiling anymore, but tiny remnants of his old smile seemed to still flicker in the corners of his lips.

“I…” Marinette put the notebook in her purse and clasped her hands together, resting them on the table, and sighed as if about to jump with a parachute. “I think I could easily conquer New York with my first collection,” she said cheekily, smiling at him.

Felix Fathom smiled back at her.

He sat up more comfortably and also placed his hands on the table, but not in a clasp, but with open palms facing up. “I always thought there was something special about you,” he admitted, not taking his inspired eyes off her, as if he had finally found something he wanted to keep looking at all. “What do you think about conquering it together?”

Marinette didn’t quite believe he actually said that.

It was so Felix-from-her-dream-like that it completely stunned her for a moment. It felt like reality was changing right around her, moving even faster than she could adapt to it, and it probably would have scared the Marinette of yesterday.

The Marinette who suddenly found herself in a restaurant on a dinner with the man from her dream was much more willing to accept the world that was being created by her will right here and now. She looked down at his hands, stretched out as if to take hers, and cast a questioning glance at him.

Felix just smiled at her again, and Marinette unclasped her hands and let him take them in his, as if it was the most natural gesture that could continue this moment.

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, saying nothing but just looking into each other's eyes, and perhaps dreaming of the same future, where their offices would be across the wall from each other.

She only came to her senses when the waiter brought their food.

Felix let go of her hands, but Marinette no longer felt like he could disappear the way her dream did—a figment of her imagination melting in the rays of the morning sun. She felt like they were vibrating on the same wave, thinking in the same direction and breathing in sync, and therefore their paths were inevitably going together.

They started eating dinner, occasionally looking up at each other and smiling, as if they were sharing some secret known only to the two of them, and barely spoke, although Marinette was somehow sure that they would now have a lot of time for that.

Later they left the restaurant together, her hand in his, and wandered into the Paris night as Felix walked her home. Marinette wasn't sure if he would kiss her at the end of this amazing night, but her heart was light and everything seemed possible.