Chapter Text
Adrien donned his hood as he tiptoed down the stairs of his house. Nathalie was absorbed in her tablet, probably changing his father’s schedule for the dozenth time that morning. He kept his face forward, forcing his thoughts to be quiet as he slowly opened the front door, cringing as it gave a small creak.
He slipped through and closed it, a smile almost making it to his face before he turned around and bumped into his body guard.
So much for his plan.
“Hey.” He did finger guns, as if something so awkward was going to help him get out of this. “My father told me I could walk to school today. Something about giving the paparazzi more time to photograph me wearing this new outfit he designed?”
Before he could get an answer, Adrien raced down the last few steps and jogged towards the gates. “Thanks! I’ll see you after school.”
His shoulders sagged in relief after he rounded the corner from his house. Finally, a minute to himself. Outside, in the real world.
Adrien took a deep breath. He could do this school thing, as many compromises as he had to make to get it. It was worth it.
He hoped.
He looked up at the trees, the buildings, at the people drinking coffees at the plentiful cafes with platefuls of pastries and fruit lavishing their tiny tables. The streets were busy with pedestrians and cars alike, tourists taking pictures, Parisians strolling to work, the store, or walking their dogs. For once, no one was looking at him. For once, he was just a person in a crowd, no one special.
Unless being lost counted as special.
Adrien locked his jaw as he realized that his sense of direction was probably as good as a toddler’s. He didn’t even know the name of the school he was attending to be able to ask his phone for directions. He hadn’t cared at the time which school he’d be attending, so long as he was able to go to an actual school. The closest he’d gotten was vaguely listening to Nathalie telling his bodyguard the intersection it was located near and he only remembered one of the streets, which wasn’t exactly helpful.
He looked at the time. Class started in twenty minutes and it was most likely another ten minute walk—and that was if he knew where he was going. He really didn’t want to be late on his first day.
He studied his GPS, rushing to the corner of the street he knew the school was on. The only thing was he didn’t know what direction to go after that and there were two schools about the same distance away in opposite directions.
Adrien closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why hadn’t he paid more attention?
“Are you a tourist?”
Adrien opened his eyes to find a girl his age who had just crossed the street, a backpack on her back and a duffel at her side. She pointed somewhere behind her offhandedly. “The Eiffel Tower is that way.”
“I know where the Eiffel Tower is,” Adrien replied, offended. He may be lost now, but it’s not like you couldn’t see the Eiffel Tower from practically everywhere in Paris. That was like not knowing where the sun was.
She shrugged. “You look like a lost tourist.”
“I’m not a tourist.” He adjusted his hood anyway, just in case.
“Your outfit looks like it was put together by one.” She eyed him up and down. “A bit obsessed with the Agreste brand, aren’t you?”
Most everything his father had picked out for him ended up having the logo on it today, even if they were small and less obnoxious than most brand-named clothes. It was a bit of a power move, really, because his father hated clothes with logos and felt they were beneath his own business—and yet he would brand his own child like he was cattle.
He blinked at the sight of her bag. “Hey, isn’t that the logo of some school?”
“Francoise Dupont High? Yeah.”
Adrien fell into step next to her. “Is that where you go?”
Her eyes flitted to him again, judging. “I’m not telling you anything, Mr. Stalker. And FYI, there’s a cop right over there, I can turn you in right now.”
“No!” He held his hands up. “It’s actually my first day. I’m…new to this.”
“First day of pretending to be human as you infiltrate our society and eventually cause its downfall?”
“Uh…”
“Clearly you’re not doing a very good job.”
He ignored her. “It’s my first day of school. I don’t know how to get there, so do you mind me walking with you?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want my popularity to be at stake by helping the new kid who doesn’t know how to dress himself.”
Adrien came to a defeated halt.
She didn’t look back for a few steps, but stopped. “Don’t take me seriously. I’m kidding. You know, except about the alien invasion.”
“Do you really believe in that?”
“Not at all. Come on, let’s go.”
He caught up, keeping quiet. He wasn’t going to make a single friend today at the rate this was going. He’d been hoping he’d be good with people, but why should he be when he’d been locked in his house all those years?
“For the record, I don’t care about popularity,” she said, stopping his inner spiral. “I think the whole thing is pretty stupid, trying to get into the in-crowd and please everyone else.”
He slumped. “Tell me about it.”
“You’re the one wearing Agreste.”
“They were…gifts.” He fiddled with the jacket. “I really would rather be wearing something else.”
“Like?”
“A t-shirt and jeans.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe one with something that’s actually fun on it, like Mr. Banana.”
“Like this one?” She opened up her jacket, revealing Mr. Banana with a quote bubble that said ‘Stay Peachy!’
Adrien laughed. “Wow. You have good taste.”
“It’s meme quality,” she said with pride. “I dress up a good bit too, but today I was wanting to be a bit more relaxed.”
“I wish I could do that more often.”
“You can.” He decided not to argue. She continued, “But really, I wish more people would just be themselves. I’m tired of everyone trying to act a certain way to get into whoever’s good graces or trying to get popular. Just be yourself, you know?”
“Sometimes I wonder who I even am,” he confessed, something he’d never told anyone before.
“I guess we’re still pretty young and it takes a while to figure out. Don’t worry, you will.” She winked. “After all, you seem like a guy with all the answers.”
“No wonder I was lost.”
She grinned. “So, lost guy, what’s your story? New city? Transferring? Something traumatic that you shouldn’t feel obligated to tell me?”
“You already figured me out, with the alien thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost wishing that story was true compared to his actual one. “Guess we’ll have to start over on some other planet.”
She winced in mock empathy. “Yeah, you’re going to need a better game plan next time.”
“But really, I’ve been homeschooled my whole life and I finally convinced my dad to let me go. He’s…protective.”
“I think that’s pretty typical of homeschool parents, right? It makes sense that you seemed so lost.”
He looked down. “I’m kind of self-conscious about that, honestly. I feel like I really don’t know anything about the world or how to make friends or…well, anything.”
She shrugged. “You’re doing a decent job right now, even considering your world invasion plot.”
“I’ll take that back to command. I’m not chalked up for this sort of thing.”
She laughed. His step faltered, surprised that something he’d said could cause someone else that much happiness.
She took a croissant out of her bag, shoving some sort of shoe that was excavated by her digging.
“You got cleats in there?”
“Do I look like a soccer player?”
“No, but why should anyone be judged by their looks?”
Her smile was radiant. “I’m actually a dancer.”
“Really?”
Her croissant went untouched as she launched into a leap, causing him to startle as she danced her way towards him, answer enough. It was almost like how in musicals people burst into song and dance before going back to normalcy.
She touched her croissant to his nose. “Good enough for you?”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to be judging.”
“You’re not.” She took a bite. “But I will accept applause and adoration.”
He snorted. “You’re not at all full of yourself.”
She bowed.
“What kind of dance do you do?”
“Obviously, you saw the ballet slippers, but I do all kinds. Hip-hop, contemporary, modern…the works. Hence me running a bit behind today, too. I got a bit stuck in my head while dancing and didn’t realize it was time for school.”
“Well, I’m glad you were late, or else I’d still be panicking over how to get there.”
“I could be leading you astray.” Her eyebrows wiggled. “There are plenty of abandoned alleys in Paris.”
“You’re pretty dark.”
“Thank you.”
She took another bite of her croissant. Adrien touched his own stomach. He’d sacrificed eating breakfast to sneak out and get out of taking the car.
“Here.” She handed him half.
He took a bite. “Oh my God, this is heaven.” He stuffed the rest in his mouth. “Where did you get this?”
“My dad owns a bakery.”
“Please let me go live with you.”
“Wow, you’re forward.”
He blinked, realizing that was a weird thing to say to a girl. “Oh. No…I just want to visit your dad for food. I don’t need to see you.”
“You don’t?”
His eyes went wide. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…the croissant was good. And if you happen to be there…”
She looked up into his eyes, lips pouting for whatever reason, eyebrows raised as if waiting for more.
“I’m new at all this stuff,” he repeated. “Don’t mind me saying weird things.”
“I kind of like it. No filter. By the way, you’ve got a crumb.” She touched her lip, mirroring where it was.
He tried to get it, going for the wrong side. He missed again, causing her to reach up for him. Her finger brushed along his lip. His breath shook. Something inside him altered, settling into place by the time her finger had left his mouth.
“You’re a bit of a mess, aren’t you?” she asked.
“You have no idea.” Because something had just happened and he didn’t know what it was. He avoided clearing his throat, as if she’d know just how frazzled he’d gotten from her touching his lip, as quick and absentminded as the action had been. “Any tips for surviving school?”
“Avoid the popular kids, Lila and Chloe especially. I’m sure you’ll have problems with them.”
“Why?”
“You’re good looking.”
He tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, grabbing onto her shoulder for support, knocking her into a wall.
He straightened, finding her pinned. She didn’t seem as startled as he was, but maybe she was just better at hiding it.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling away.
“Geez, you’re unlucky.” She jabbed him in the side. “Or a klutz.”
“I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he muttered. “So…you said to watch out for some girl named Chloe?”
“Yeah, Chloe Bourgeois. The mayor’s spoiled rotten daughter.” She rolled her eyes. “Always gets everything she wants.”
“I’m sure she does,” he muttered.
The girl glanced at him suspiciously. “Know her?”
He hesitated. “I’ve heard of her.”
“Maybe you should stick with me.” She fiddled with the strap of her bag. “We seem to understand each other.”
She felt understood by him? Adrien wasn’t sure. Yes, there was something there, but he’d just met her. Was it that simple, making friends? Real friends that weren’t bought or contracted to him?
Her eyes met his, vulnerable and full of what looked like hope. “I haven’t scared you off by being an alien stalker that’s thrown himself at you?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
His lips pursed. “Seems like you should be.”
“You can always prove my first impression wrong.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Marinette.” She gave a very graceful curtsey. “And yours?”
“I’m…”
“Adrien! Adrien Agreste!”
Adrien looked up, realizing they’d made it to the school. He immediately wanted to shrivel into nonexistence and shield his face. He’d hoped to make it inside before the paparazzi could spot him.
“Adrien Agreste?” Marinette questioned, clearly recognizing the name, her tone slanting downward in judgment.
He shied away from her critical gaze. “Yeah. That’s me.”
He didn’t have time to say anything else as a hoard of people practically barreled into him.
“Adrien! How are you feeling about your first day of school?”
“How many girls have given you their numbers?”
“Is this going to affect your modeling schedule?”
“Is it true you’re going to appear on the new dance show?”
Adrien tried to find Marinette in the crowd, but couldn’t. He started politely extricating himself, but half of the people seemed to be students screaming his name, trying to touch him or shove scraps of paper with their phone numbers on it.
“OUT OF MY WAY!”
The noise stopped as Chloe Bourgeois strode through the crowd, parting it like Moses and the Red Sea.
Before he could escape, Chloe’s lips had smashed into his. He shut down his instinct to gag and let the kiss happen, trying not to think about the flashes from the cameras, the obnoxious babble of questions, the squeals and chatter of the other students.
After probably too short of a time, he pulled away, hoping his smirk was a normal masculine bravado of “getting some” instead of a little smug at the flicker of annoyance on Chloe’s face as he kept a hand on her shoulder, pushing her away so that she couldn’t get that close again.
Seemed like a better expression to have than utter horror. “Nice to see you again, Chloe.”
She brushed her ponytail back. “Isn’t it always, babe?”
Never.
“It’s official, everyone. Adrien and I are dating,” Chloe gushed, clinging to him like a baby koala.
“Is that true, Adrien?” the paparazzi asked.
He choked out a very forced yes before saying, “Sorry everyone, but I have to get to class.” He waved, trying not to scowl as Chloe gripped his hand tightly in her pincer-like manicure, pulling him like a dog on a leash.
“Don’t worry, Adrikens.” Chloe squeezed his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be taking good care of you.”
“I’m sure you’ll try.”
They started towards the stairs.
Marinette stared at them from the front step, her eyes narrowed.
“That’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe stated. “She’s forever a loser and you’ll do well to never breathe the same pathetic air that she does.”
Adrien stared at Marinette, impassive. He’d really, really liked breathing the same air as her. And now she looked ready to excavate all the air out of his lungs.
Maybe the dark alley thing was back on the table.
“You don’t care about popularity,” Marinette deadpanned.
“I—”
“Of course Adrien cares about popularity,” Chloe said. “He’s the most popular boy in Paris. You wish he’d give you the time of day.”
“Who knows.” Marinette shrugged. “Maybe he’d want to live with me.”
Adrien hid his laugh behind a cough. It was the first time that hope lit her eyes again, as if maybe he wasn’t Chloe’s lapdog.
But then Chloe took a nasty black banana of all things out of her purse, peeled it, and shoved it into Marinette’s chest.
Everyone was staring. Watching. Waiting for everyone to react. Marinette’s eyes flickered up to his, clearly expecting him to say something.
“Stay peachy, Marinette.” Chloe snapped her fingers. “Come along, Adrikens. It’s time to show these peasants their queen’s new king.”
Adrien stared at the mess on Marinette’s shirt, her astonished horror that was quickly turning to rage.
The cameras were still right there. If he did anything wrong, he wouldn’t be able to come back to school. If he messed up this thing with Chloe…
He swallowed, automatically following Chloe, but his mind stayed on those steps, on how he wanted to take off his jacket and cover her up, the way her arms would have fit in the too-big sleeves. How maybe he would have blown off school for a day and walked her back to her house, where they’d eat more baked goods and he’d explain his whole situation and maybe she wouldn’t hate him. How maybe he’d discover what else she could make him feel, how maybe he wouldn’t have school, but he’d have something so much better.
It was the worst mistake of his life and, that day, Adrien found out that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the master of holding grudges.