Chapter Text
My name’s Adrien Agreste, and well... I’m just an average boy with a not-so-average life.
But if I’m being honest? My life is anything but perfect.
Cue flashing lights, cameras, and dozens of photographers shouting my name at a photoshoot.
The camera flashes blindingly as I stand under the hot studio lights, wearing some fancy suit that probably costs more than my classmates’ rent for the next six months.
“Turn your head just a little more, Adrien! Perfect—hold it right there!” a photographer calls out, his voice cutting through the bustle of assistants scurrying around.
I smile—or at least, I try to. Is it even a smile? I think it is, but it feels stiff, just like every photo they take of me. Awkward, forced… almost like I’m constipated.
Dad’s watching the entire thing unfold through a video call on Natalie’s tablet. Arms crossed, his usual stern expression firmly in place, he nods occasionally but says little. He rarely does. And when he does speak, it’s usually some form of critique. His approval, when I get it, feels fleeting—here for a moment and then gone, as if it was never really there. Still, I appreciate it when it happens.
When your dad’s a world-famous fashion designer and you’re the face of the Agreste brand, ‘normal’ doesn’t really exist. Between magazine shoots, fittings for the latest collections, and trying to live up to the impossible expectations of being Gabriel Agreste’s son ... yeah, my schedule’s a little packed.
Can’t say I was forced into doing any of this. Natalie says it’s for my own good, and honestly, I get where she’s coming from. I just play along, mostly because they still let me go out and do my own thing—within safety measures, of course. Y’know, because I’m famous and all. Not that I let it go to my head or anything. It just comes with the territory, I guess.
The shoot drags on for hours. By the time we wrap, my legs feel like jelly, and my head’s pounding from the bright lights and constant noise. I slump into a nearby chair, still dressed in another designer suit that probably costs more than a car.
“Shoulders were slouching in the last set,” Dad says. There’s a pause, like he’s considering saying something else, but he doesn’t. His eyes stay fixed on his sketches. “Tighten your posture next time.” He continued.
“Yes, Dad,” I reply automatically, the words leaving my mouth before I can even think about it.
That’s about as much interaction as we’ve had all day. I guess I can’t really blame him. He’s busy—busier than ever lately. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in his work that he forgets to eat. Natalie’s always the one reminding him. At least he listens to her.
Natalie’s been part of our lives for as long as I can remember. She’s my dad’s secretary, the one who somehow manages his schedule, my schedule, and probably the rest of the universe while she’s at it. She’s kind in a quiet, no-nonsense sort of way, always making sure everything runs smoothly. She’s been around since after Mom… well, since she passed. Natalie’s kind, even when she doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, it feels like she’s trying to fill the space Mom left behind, but it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.
I nod goodbye to the crew as Natalie gently ushers me out of the studio. Lunch ends up being takeout from some high-end restaurant—the kind of place where the portions are tiny, but the prices are astronomical. The food’s fine, sure, but all I can think about is how much I’d rather grab a greasy burger and fries from a fast-food joint. Maybe next cheat day.
The next stop on my schedule is a fitting for my dad’s new spring collection. I find myself standing perfectly still while a seamstress adjusts the outfit he designed. Surprisingly, Dad is here in person this time, watching over every detail like a hawk.
I guess it’s because this is his work, after all. Perfection isn’t just something he aims for—it’s all he knows. Words like “best” or “good enough” don’t exist in his vocabulary.
Being the founder of the Agreste brand comes with certain… responsibilities. I get it. Dad’s worked so hard to build this empire, and I don’t want to be the one to mess it all up. Besides, he doesn’t really ask for much, does he? It’s all for my future, after all, as his only son.
He stands nearby, arms crossed, calmly but firmly giving instructions to the seamstress about adjustments she needs to make.
“Adrien, could you keep your fidgeting to a minimum? I need to check if she did her job on the seams,” he mutters, his tone sharp but quiet.
“Sorry,” I mumble, standing a little straighter.
Dad’s obsession with perfection can be overwhelming at times. It’s not just his goal—it’s his entire mindset. Flawless, or nothing. He struggles a lot when it comes to new ideas, and I try to help out where I can. My suggestions don’t always seem to make much of a difference, but I think he still appreciates the effort. At least, I hope he does. Honestly, I can’t really figure him out.
By the time the fitting ends, I’m exhausted all over again, but there’s no time to rest. Natalie whisks me into the car, and before I know it, we’re on our way to my fencing practice. My body protests every step of the way, aching from the long day, but fencing… fencing is different.
When I first signed up for it, it was because swords seemed cool. I mean, what kid doesn’t think swords are cool? But now, fencing is one of the few things I can call my own. It’s my escape—a way to blow off steam, to forget about modeling, fittings, and the weight of other people’s expectations, even if it’s just for a little while.
“You’re late, Mr. Agreste,” my instructor, Mr. D’Argencourt, says, tapping his watch in disapproval as I walk into the training room.
“Sorry, sir,” I mumble, already pulling my gear out of my bag.
“Late again, Adrien?” Kagami’s voice cuts through the room. She’s already suited up, tossing me my sword with a smirk. Her tone is blunt, as always, but there’s a challenge in her eyes that’s impossible to miss.
“Try being on time for once.”
“Hello to you too, Kagami,” I reply, a tired but genuine smile tugging at my lips.
“Maybe today’s the day I finally beat you,” she teases, her competitive edge shining through.
“Maybe,” I reply with a shrug, lifting my sword. “But I’m not going to make it easy.”
Fencing practice flies by in a blur of strikes and parries. It’s tiring, sure, but it clears my head. For a little while, I’m just Adrien —not a model, not the Agreste heir. Just me.
By the time I get home, I barely have the energy to change clothes before collapsing onto my bed. I sink into the comfort of my pillows, staring at the ceiling.
Don’t get me wrong—I know how lucky I am. People tell me all the time that I have everything anyone could ever want: money, fame, fans. And maybe they’re right. But sometimes, I’d trade it all for just a little more time to myself. Time to just… breathe. Maybe even loosen up a little.
Outside of all that, I try to be like any other kid. I go to school, I fence, and I have a couple of friends who help keep me grounded. But sometimes…
I feel trapped in the same old routine every day.
It’s not a bad routine. I wouldn’t call it miserable. But it’s still a routine. And lately, I’ve been feeling like I need something more.
Something… exciting.
At least, that’s what I thought.
Until one day, I found something—well, someone—that changed everything.