[Chlonette Week]: If I Could Tell Her
yo if you’ve ever successfully completed all days of a fandom week on time, hit me up i need to pick your brain
(for @chlonetteweek )
Link to Archive Of Our Own: [AO3]
Title: If I Could Tell Her
Prompt: a day dedicated to some pining! What are some things they wish they could say to each other but don’t have the courage to?
Summary: A day in the life of a lovesick Chloé Bourgeois
Day 3: If I Could Tell Her
Chloé was sitting in the living room waiting for her driver to bring the car around when she finally checked all of Marinette’s 4am snapchats.
At a certain point, she had to appreciate the artistic appeal of watching Marinette’s sanity slowly slip away the further Chloé tapped through her story. By three in the morning, Marinette had her history textbook draped over her face while she blasted a Stromae album, rapped along horribly to the lyrics, and added the caption ‘ I’m dropping out of school and becoming an overnight musical sensation.’ It was amazing how something could be tragic, beautiful, and hilarious all at the same time but she supposed if anyone was capable of pulling it off, it was a sleep deprived Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
Honestly, Chloé still hadn’t figured out what on Earth kept Marinette so busy that she was consistently staying up until sunrise to finish her assignments. Procrastination and Marinette didn’t go well together which meant she had to have been living some kind of double life as a model. Or an actress. Or something. Whatever. Chloé would look into it. Must be pretty important to be worth showing up to school late so many days in a row.
Speaking of which…
Chloé made a quick phone call while she waved her butler over and quietly asked, “Could you put some coffee in a thermos for me? I don’t want to feel sluggish during class.”
She was sent to voicemail three times before a confused, groggy voice finally answered the phone. “ I didn’t fall asleep! I was just resting…”
Chloé let herself smile now that no one was looking. “You do realize it’s eight o’clock, right?”
“ Chloé?” Marinette mumbled. “ What the fu — how did you get my number…wait, what time is it?”