Chapter Text
Two things were certain in life; death and that waking up at 8 am was death. Being a baker's daughter meant nothing to her need for sleep. However the alarm clock next to her was too loud to ignore and Marinette groaned and slid over, repeatedly tapping her hand on her phone till it finally shut off. Five more minutes mom. Oh wait. Mari sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking around. It had been two weeks since she moved into her dorm and she still didn’t feel like she was at home. It was decorated nicely, posters and banners hung around the drab walls, plants lined her window seal and fabric sat in the corner of the room next to a small version of her sewing machine at home.
She was only a few blocks from her house so things were that bad but still, she felt home sick and it was only the second week of classes. College Dupont, also known as the most distinguished college of fine and performing arts in all of paris. It was gradios with everything from classical music to ballet and costume design. You could guess where she threw herself into. There was one problem with the school though, its strict no hip hop lessons. The principle of the school every year would go on and on about how hip hop was never offered when the school opened in the 1800’s and would never be offered. How a school of arts could deny a form of art she would never understand.
*buzz buzz*
Then again she didn’t need to. There was one other person in this world that loved hip hop as much as her at that school, her childhood friend Alya. They have always been inseparable and although Alya had plan to be a dance major, she wanted hip hop. However with a full ride to this school, Alya couldn’t say no even without her program. She settled for Stage management, which she was no surprise, good at. Alya had a knack for keeping people in line and giving orders.
Her best friend had apparently also sent her a text in the middle of the night last night.
‘You, Me tonight Lycee @ 12’
She got text like this every now and then, Alya was more than just a hip hop dancer, she ran the best hip hop battle blog in all of Paris. Whenever there was anything, she was there and that usually meant so was Marienette. Tonight would be no different.
Before tonight though she had school, which she was running late for. AGAIN. She ran around her room, grabbing her bag and throwing on simple grey joggers with pink accents and a loose fitting pink tee and ran out the door of her dorm. Only to hit a wall on the other side of her door.
“Well if it isn’t Maria” Strike that, Marinette would have preferred it to be a wall. But instead she ran into Chloe and like that all joy of the day seemed to be sucked from her body.
The blond held a wicked grin like at any second she was going to turn Marinette into a frog and fly away on her broom, but the girl just simple laughed and turned to her redhead follower Sabrina.
“Wow Maria you look terrible, I guess it’s a good thing that you never leave backstage, or else you’d scare the audience away” Her minion giggled agreeing
“That and what would she even do, twirl her little measuring tape around? She’d never have even a quarter of the talent you have.” Sabrina declared before the two felt satisfied with their verbal torture and continued down the hall. Chloe peeked over her shoulder with a dramatic flip of her hair, as if the cameras were on. “And watch it next time Klutz, I won’t be as nice next time.”
All while this happened Marinette slowly turned redder and redder. How dare that, that bitch! She had just as much talent! She just wasn’t up for public dancing. There were always going to be girls like her tearing her down, and she didn’t know if she could handle that. Mount Marinette was just about to blow when she felt an arm sling over her shoulder, instant warmth spread through the girl as the comforting voice seemed to pull her out of all her anger.
“I swear girl if you don’t end that bottle blonde one day I will for you.”
Alya, bless Alya. She was everything Marinette wished she could be, she stood up for herself, she was brave and always went after what she wanted. Alya might as well be a superhero to her.
“I know, I know” she mumbled under her breath, leaning her head on her best friend's shoulder while she habitually pet the top of her head.
“Come on we are gonna be late for class at this rate” and the two were off.
-
They were only late by 10 minutes, but it was a record for this early in the school year. Class flew by after that. Their school wasn’t the best in Paris for no reason, there was always something new for her to learn. Whether from sewing techniques, to how to make a costume change while on stage. Costumes were important to a performance as her professor said to the class.
“The perfect costume can make or break an actor's performance. If an actor feels engulfed in that persona from head to toe, they can better play that role. Our job as costume designers is to make them into how both the director and actor envision the persona. They may be the stars but we are the ones that make them look and feel like stars.”
Marinette never felt like a star, like she was powerful. She always just wanted to blend into the background, to keep to herself and not test the status quo, but she wanted to. She wanted to be like Alya, be brave, be strong. She wanted to be like her friend Nino, be sure of who he was, and be proud of his work. She wanted to be like-
“Marinette your model will be Adrien.”
Fuck.
Adrien Agreste. Son of Gabriel Agreste, king of Paris fashion world. The only triple threat at this school. Adrien was a triple major, a relatively unheard of term. Modeling (no surprise since before Marinette could talk he had been in magazines all over Paris), Ballet and Classical Music. It was no surprise he was perfect at all of those, he was overall perfect, or at least that's what everyone thought. As he walked over to her he shot her a small smile and Marinette decided right then and there she would rather be shot.
That was the longest SHIRTLESS hour of her life.
As she met Alya for lunch it was no surprise that she quizzed her all over it. “Did you manage to say anything? Did he say anything? Did you touch his abs? Marinette why aren’t you breathing?” The girl took two deep breaths before looking at her friend.
“Not without stuttering all over myself, not much just being polite, I wanna cry when I think about his abs.” She manager to answer all in one breath before face platting her head onto the table in front of her.
“Girl you have it so bad” her best friend retorted but she had no idea. Marinette had a crush on this kid since he joined their class in secondary school and when she found out he was in her college as well she wanted to burst she was so happy. He had always been nice to her but she had never been able to actually talk to him. He didn’t mind her klutz moments, he never commented about how she couldn’t form full sentences around her. He was polite and a gentleman and it she couldn’t get enough of it.
“Are we still on for tonight?” It may have sounded like a question but it was more of a plea. Alya loved it when she came with her to the dance events and as she called it once ‘loosened up’. Dancing made her feel like a new person, like she could do anything and be anything.
“Of course! So any leads on who will be there?”
“Rumor is a few people who are returning champions, along with get this, Chat Noir.” she said excitedly before rolling her eyes. Chat Noir was apparently some stage name of a dancer that had been sweeping the floor with every battle in the last few months, he came out of nowhere and Alya was fixated on figuring out who he was.
“Also” her fiery haired best friend said, stuffing a carrot in her mouth as she spoke “It turns out there is going to be scouts there for Catacombs.”
Catacombs were infamous. Every few years a huge crew dance battle happened and it was completely hushed. All that was known was that they took place some place in the catacombs that spanned under the entire city. The winner of that competition were pretty much named the Masters of the Paris dance scene and it was rumored the last winners ended up with some serious winning cash.
“Seriously? Where do you even get all this intel at anyways?” She said before smirking “Still getting news from Dj Mole?” She asked before taking a bite of her own lunch
“You know I can neither confirm nor deny if a certain DJ in a red hat gives me information for my blog.” She said before the two girls started giggling. “I’ve gotta run to go met up with him actually but I’ll meet your dorm at 10 and we can head out.” She said with a wave, parting with her friend till that evening when she showed up at her dorm and the two got ready together.
Keeping it simple Mari opted for her friends simpler choice in clothing, a simple black crop top matched with a pair of deep pink shorts. A simple pair of black sneakers and her hair pulled back it her signature pigtails made her feel comfortable and still sexy enough for her best friend to approve. Alya went for something more her, a pair of form fitting but still loose joggers, with a flowy purple crop top over a slightly darker sports bra, paired with a killer set of high tops. With that the two girls were off.
What was suppose to be a normal night of dancing ended up being hell. And by she meant there were two simple facts of this evening:
A: Alya’s left her ass to get a front spot seat to the battle area, so she was now alone
B: This random guy knocked her into the room with all the people battling. And now she was stuck.
Stuck didn’t mean oh she didn’t know what to do, stuck meant, she literally couldn't leave the room. Before she could leave someone with bright red hair grabbed her arm and pulled her in.
“OH!” The bright haired girl said excitedly, “you must be the new competitor was hearing about! Come Come, We will get you all ready to go out!” She could say no, she could walk away, but he own thoughts pulled her back in. She had the chance to compete, to dance like no one knew, but everyone would know it was here. Alya was here recording it for crying out loud, she would never feel comfortable enough to dance knowing that.
Over the girl's shoulder she saw something that sparked her eye, left over clothing in a box poorly labeled lost and found. Then just like that the spark left her eye and traveled to her brain. The perfect persona, the perfect costume.
“There something I have to do first.”
She said to the girl, receiving only a bright simile and a thumbs up from her. No one had to know it was her, if they didn’t know then she didn’t have to worry about being scared or insecure. She could be free. She could be anything, do anything. She made her way to the box and hoped to be lucky for once in her life.