Chapter Text
If there was one thing Marinette had always known, it was that she was born unlucky. Not in the sense that her situation or life was bad, but more in that she was the problem. She had started suspecting this years ago, when words stopped coming out the way she wanted them to and Chloé’s bullying had only gotten worse and worse. But, ultimately, nothing proved Marinette more right than the first morning of the new school year, when she woke up almost an hour later than she should’ve.
It only escalated from there: Marinette spent far too long hopping down the pavement as she finished tugging on her right shoe. As soon as she was done, she tripped over a piece of raised walkway, and then landed on an old man- completely knocking him over. In an embarrassed frenzy, Marinette helped him up, handed back his cane, and shoved a handful of macarons at him as an apology, only to promptly trip over nothing again in her desperation to escape the shame. Then, just as she was about to get to class with no other incidents, Marinette’s seat was snatched by Chloè (even the kindness of the new girl wasn’t enough to balm that particular sting).
The cherry on top was, of course, the giant rock monster crashing through her classroom wall.
Really, finding the god of bad luck and destruction hidden in her purse was just confirmation of something she’d long already known.
Misterbug had seemed nice. That was what had stuck out the most about him during their disaster of a battle against Stoneheart. It was sweet, how he’d tried to calm her down on the roof, when the whole ‘magic’ thing was overwhelming her.
She felt bad for him as she watched the news- hopefully Misterbug didn’t feel too guilty about his mistake. Although Marinette kind of doubted that, since she was feeling pretty awful about the whole thing, and Plagg had told her that this was more his fault than hers.
“Um, Plagg?” She called, eyes transfixed on the images of petrified people covering her laptop screen, “Are you sure we can’t, I don’t know, fix this? Right now?”
A groan came from across the room, inside a pile of blankets. Slowly, the cat god (or kwami, as they were apparently called) poked his head out of the fabric, rubbing his eyes, “I told you already, that’s bug-boy’s job. Nothing you can do but wait for him to fix his mistake.”
“But why can’t I help?”
“Bugs purify, cats don’t,” he answered unhelpfully.
Marinette pulled her knees up to her chin, watching Plagg untangle himself from his makeshift bed, “If I can’t help, then what’s even the point of me being there? Can’t Misterbug just do this on his own? I’m useless.”
“What? You destroy stuff- how’s that useless?”
She scoffed, looking away, back at the laptop. It lingered on a closeup of a man’s carved, still face- horror and confusion etched onto it permanently. Or, well, hopefully not permanently. (misterbug would fix it. he was good luck, he had to-)
Plagg landed on the back of the screen, his weight shutting it completely. Marinette couldn’t even be annoyed about it, not when the only thing she could really feel was terrible, aching anxiety and a growing sense of helplessness.
“I really can’t-?“
“No, kid. Whatever you’re going to say, the answer’s probably no. You gotta learn to respect the process.” Plagg began to curl up on the laptop, and she let him, knowing that the news had burrowed itself into her head anyways. There was no point in watching more.
Marinette tried to figure out what he’d meant by that, but only ended up confused. (these were the three things that pervaded her head instead, like a parasite:
1) the man on the news had a tiny crack on his forehead. she wondered what would happen if it grew- if some freak accident happened, and the stone man was hit by a car. what would happen to the body? what would happen to the- So far, 20 parisians were in a similar state. his eyes had scared her, nothing behind them except an old impression of horror.
2) in the rush of battle, marinette hadn’t bothered to think too much about her cataclysm. about the implication of it. a power of pure-destruction, a cold-fire that had licked at her fingers and begged to be released. who had decided that stupid, clumsy marinette deserved that much unrestrained power. unrestrained power that she couldn’t even use to directly save people like misterbug. if it couldn’t help with the butterfly, then what even was the point in using it?
3) misterbug had seemed nice. she shouldn’t be mad at him. it was just a mistake, and he had been so patient with her-)
What’s even the point of me? Marinette wanted to ask again. But she didn’t, because she knew exactly what Plagg would say. Because he’d already answered her, back when they had first met- after she had thrown a textbook at him.
“You’re the new embodiment of destruction and bad luck.”
Destruction and bad luck.
Marinette was bad luck.
Because of course she was (stupid, clumsy marinette. what else was she meant to be?). She destroyed everything she touched already, didn’t she? No cataclysm needed.
She bit her lip, kept her knees tucked under her chin, and tried desperately not to scream.
In the morning, nothing had changed.
Marinette sat in bed, watching news clips obsessively, watching the number of victims go up- it was 36 now. She couldn’t do anything about it, and Marinette was going to be late to school, but she felt some kind of compulsion to look again. How much damage had they caused?
It was when a reporter began to interview a family of one of the victims, that she snapped the screen shut and said, “I should just quit.”
“Eh? Why?” Plagg asked from the rafters, where he was licking out the insides of a cheese danish.
“Because we failed, and I can’t do anything about it anyways. Misterbug can do it all on his own.” She bit her lip, remembering how easily distracted he’d gotten halfway through the battle- too caught up in his excitement to catch the little butterfly flying away. “Probably.”
“Well, guess I can’t force you to keep me around. But, you know, it’s kinda insulting to have you throwing around the whole ‘useless’ thing all the time.”
Marinette winced, “Sorry… but, well, how is bad luck even meant to help?”
“Bad luck doesn’t help anyone.” Plagg said, seeming a bit offended at the idea. He floated down, and she raised the palms of her hands higher to catch him. He sat on them, his dark fur pressing between her fingers, and continued, “That’s not what it’s meant to do. Here’s the thing, you’re running around with a bug- and those guys, well, they’re the worst. Cocky, responsible, ugh! They think everything’s gonna work out for them, but the cycle of nature and life and all that jazz dictates that it won’t. Which is, y’know, what the black cat’s for. You bring it back to earth.”
“So- so I drag him down? That’s even worse!”
Plagg rolled his eyes, “Good luck wouldn’t even exist with bad luck to counteract it- it’d just be regular old luck, and there’s nothing hopeful or inspiring about that, is there? You’re not dragging down the team, you’re evening it out.”
“By dragging my half down,” she repeated.
Look, kid,” Plagg growled, “You don’t want to know what an overabundance of luck will do to someone. It’s your job to humble.”
“And Misterbug’s job is to be good. Got it.”
Plagg groaned, rubbing his little paws against the fur of his face, “I never get you humans. You’ve literally got the easier job, and you’re complaining about it.” He put down his arms, looking up at her again, “Look, kid, here’s some incredible advice, which I really think you should consider taking: the universe is a cycle of ebbs and flows, and sometimes you just gotta take the flows.”
And, with that, he went back to his nap. Marinette just stared at him for a moment, puzzled, and wondered if she’d just been comforted. (he was kind of bad at it, if she was being honest)
Then, her parents shouted from somewhere beneath her, and she startled into action- ignoring Plagg’s groaning. She was definitely going to be late again!
The walk to school was not a particularly kind one. She lived only a block or two away, but Marinette kept slowing down to look over her shoulder for butterflies.
There weren’t any, of course, but there were loads of people moving up and down the pavement doing the exact same thing. Only one day in and Paris had formed into a single unit of paranoid hysteria- including her. (but was it really hysteria if the monsters were real? really paranoia if someone was actually out to get you? marinette, even after a lifetime of living with anxiety, probably wasn’t qualified to answer these questions) Plagg batted at her leg from inside her purse, and Marinette hurried along- head down, trying her best not to look anyone else in the eye. She was pretty sure if she did, she’d just end up thinking about the stone people again.
(the stone people and their frozen, trapped faces that screamed-)
Marinette almost didn’t notice that she’d accidentally walked past the school gate. She backtracked, then paused at the entryway. Other students were scattered around the courtyard, some proof that she somehow wasn’t late.
In the distance she could hear Chloè yelling. Or whining. Or screeching. One of those. She and a bunch of Marinette’s other classmates were circled around a distraught, tired Ivan (it was surprising he was even at school. or that any of them were, really. why hadn’t school been cancelled again?). They were all saying things she couldn’t really hear- it didn’t really look like most of them were trying to be mean, but his large shoulders only shrunk into himself more and more as time went on.
Marinette only ended up hearing one thing, and it was Chloè, some sharp almost-smile etched across her face, shouting, “Once a monster, always a monster!”
Something in Ivan’s broken expression broke even more when no one said anything to defend him. He ran off, and Chloé watched him go, arms crossed and haughty-looking. Everyone else just looked at the floor. (that, really, was just the power of chloé bourgeois. even in the face of injustice, everyone’s a coward, especially when that face was made up of excess euros and glued together with an endlessly childish cruelty) (marinette was not, in fact, excluded from ‘everyone’)
Marinette didn’t. She stood back, still semi-hiding behind the bars of the gate, wondering why she couldn’t do the heroic thing and tell her off. Tell everyone that Ivan wasn’t a monster, that he was a victim, that-
She stared at Chloé for a moment, the bully still chatting away even though no one really looked like they were listening. Marinette opened her mouth, took a step forward, and almost said something.
Except Alya did it first. She yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you? It clearly wasn’t his fault! And why are you all just letting her walk over you?”
Marinette hadn’t even seen her- Alya had been separated from the rest of their classmates, apparently closer to the hallways, only to come running closer just to yell at Chloé. It made sense; Alya was new, a fresh face- she didn’t know how to be afraid of someone like Chloé.
Or, well, maybe she was just a naturally brave person. Braver than Marinette, at least. That was always an option. (who exactly was the superhero again?)
Plagg thumped against her leg again, probably tired of her just standing around. So, she snuck away, following the line of shadows given by the trees, selfishly glad that Chloé was too distracted to notice her.
Passing one of the rooms, Marinette heard a sniffling sound. She paused, shifted on her feet, wondering if looking counted as a breach of privacy. It probably did, but she checked anyway (even though curiosity tended to kill cats the most). It was Ivan, of course. She hadn’t really assumed it was anyone else. He was sitting on a bench near the lockers, head down and fists clenched. He didn’t particularly look like a monster- just sad.
She looked away, careful to not be seen. Should she say something?
Plagg kicked her again, more impatient for her to go than before. Marinette ignored him.
Hesitating near the doorway, she thought about all the times Ivan had been nearby when Chloé had bullied her. Sometimes she’d been tripped, only to land at his feet- Marinette would look up and he would look away. No one had ever stood up for her, so why should she even try? It would be so easy to walk away, maybe even get to class on time for once.
But, that bitter part of her withered and died as quickly as it came. Because she could understand the pain of humiliation, and no one deserved that. And could she really judge anyone else for standing around and doing nothing, when that was all Marinette did? She understood fear better than anyone- how it leaked from her brain to her feet and cemented her on the spot.
(maybe she couldn’t be brave. maybe she couldn’t be useful. but maybe, some small part of her hoped, she could still be kind)
“…Ivan, are you okay?”
He jumped at the sound of her voice, turned to face her, only to look down again. Tentatively, Marinette took a step forward.
(in her bag, plagg just rolled his eyes, knowing that, in the end, trying was futile. something always went wrong, as was the inevitable fate of a black cat)
“I don’t think we can trust them,” Marinette told Alya as they walked to their desks, “I mean, Lady Noire is pretty useless, and it doesn’t seem like Misterbug can even use his powers correctly. People are still being turned into stone!”
Alya shrugged, wrapping her arm around Marinette and said, hushed and clearly trying to be comforting, “Not all heroes are going to beat the bad guy in one battle though. I think that we should believe in them- heroes make mistakes all the time. But what’s for sure is this: they never abandon their citizens.”
“Yeah. M-maybe…”
Ayla’s words buzzed throughout her body- engraved themselves into her bones, into her brain, burying themselves beneath all the dry cement in her blood.
(what did it say about her, that she’d spent the past 24 hours watching her city’s pain being broadcast live on air, complaining to plagg about something he couldn’t fix? why wasn’t she at least trying ?
was there just something wrong with her- that she’d rather give up early than fight and face failure? she just didn’t know.
it felt impossible to know)
Lately, Marinette was noticing that she was a pretty complacent person.
She looked away, unable to meet Alya’s eyes anymore, deciding to instead stare at her hands as they fiddled with the silver ring wrapped innocently around her left index finger. (marinette also tried desperately to ignore the whispers of ‘she never said you weren’t useless’ that were starting to infect her thoughts)
“So what were you saying about a blog?”
“Oh, right! What do you think of ‘The Misterblog’? It has a nice ring to it, right?”
(what about her?)
Marinette smiled, still not properly looking at Alya, “Yeah, it sounds really cool. I’m sure the superheroes would appreciate it a lot.”
And she did, though she wasn’t entirely sure if Alya valued Lady Noire’s appreciation as much as she would Misterbug’s. It didn’t bother her.
It didn’t.
(what about me?)
If she wanted the same kind of appreciation as Misterbug got, Marinette would just have to work for it.
(what about me?)
It wasn’t Alya’s fault that she liked the better hero. And it wasn’t Misterbug’s fault that he was the better hero.
(what about me?)
She just had to try harder. Be better. Do better.
(what about-)
“Hey! What are you doing?”
Marinette flinched at Alya’s sudden shout, her knee accidentally hitting the nearest desk. She bit her lip to hold in a yelp. Finally turning to look at whoever Alya was talking about, she turned her head to see a boy kneeling at her desk, struck frozen. His hair was blond and perfect, nothing appearing out of place, and his wide eyes were a kind of dim, swampy green in the lighting of the classroom.
It was then that Marinette noticed what Alya was actually shouting about: there was a piece of chewed up gum on her seat, where he had clearly stuck it. Her eyes went from him, to his hand, to the gum. Vaguely, she wondered why he was using his bare hands. She was sure Chloé would’ve used a napkin. And he was clearly as rich as her- Marinette could tell by the Agreste brand stitched into the collar of his shirt.
“U-um, it’s not what it looks like,“ he stuttered out, rushing to his feet, “Chloé, she-“
“Yeah, Chloé.” Alya said, clearly still upset about earlier.
And Marinette was too, wasn’t she? She was mad for Ivan, she was mad for the class,- she was mad for herself! She couldn’t believe that she didn’t even know this guy’s name, and had still somehow gained another bully.
Something like righteousness grew in her chest, something like bravery. And so Marinette walked past Alya to tell the boy, “Please get away from my seat. Right now.”
She’d already shoved past him before he could put together some other kind of excuse, digging into her pockets for a napkin. The boy tried to say something else, but she ignored him.
Somewhere behind her, Marinette was pretty sure she heard Alya tell him to “get lost”. Silently, she agreed.
Class was going to start anyways.
“Can’t believe we have another Chloé in the class,” she grumbled to Alya, “I mean, who even is that guy anyways?”
“Yeah, for real…”
Marinette somehow spent the rest of the period ignoring the new kid’s puppy dog eyes, still not entirely sure what his deal was.
When Ivan turned into Stoneheart again, Misterbug was surprisingly quick to show up. Lady Noire, however, was a work in progress.
“He doesn’t need me,” Marinette said, only really half talking to Plagg. She’d taken to hiding on the small side street near the back of the school, where no one else could notice her and her cowering. There was another hole in their classroom wall, her classmates were scattered and panicking, and Marinette was pretty sure this was all her fault.
Earlier, she’d told herself she would do better- be good enough to earn Alya’s admiration and the city’s peace of mind- but that determination crumpled and died when faced with actual danger. Danger that she had likely caused. Marinette bit her lip, clutching the ring still sitting innocently on her finger, seriously considering tearing it off and throwing it straight into the sun.
Destruction, right? That was always her destiny.
Plagg flew out of her purse, and she could tell he was forcing himself to not roll his eyes at her, “He obviously does! Seriously, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t needed- so get over yourself and transform.”
“What could he possibly need me for? I’m just so- I can’t-“ she was so tired of the word ‘useless’, but it was all Marinette could think of (useless useless useless usele-), “How could Misterbug possibly need me when he has good luck on his side.”
The phrase came out sharp and cutting; Plagg just blinked- unaffected, unsurprised.
“Don’t you remember what I said this morning?”
Marinette huffed, annoyed at his apathy, at his stupid calm. She wished she didn’t care, wanted to be just like him. She also wished she was good, could be exactly like Misterbug. (really, it seemed more and more like she just wanted to be anyone but herself)
“That I drag down the team.”
“Not what I said, kid.”
Grudgingly, she corrected herself, muttering, “…I’m here to humble.”
“Exactly. So, are you going to go humble that good-for-nothing bug boy or not?”
“I…” And for the first time, Marinette let herself wonder.
What would it be like to be brave? Just yesterday she had almost embraced that feeling- there was something about the wind on her face and the rush of adrenaline that made it so easy to do. But as soon as she came back to earth, became herself again, it all seemed to vanish into a swirl of awful anxiety (as most things seemed to, when it came to her).
Plagg had been right, hadn’t he? She had been given this incredible, unfathomable power and could only find the faults in it- in herself.
Marinette looked down at her hands, and stared at the silver ring. There was almost something supernatural about the way it glimmered. The band was beautiful, something intricate about its delicate, barely noticeable carvings (was it meant to be rope- something binding and restrictive? or maybe they were only leaves. lovely and ornate).
For some reason, it was Alya’s words that really changed her mind. She remembered them so clearly, from when she had absorbed them into her skin. “Heroes make mistakes all the time. But what’s for sure is this: they never abandon their citizens.”
Because that was it, wasn’t it? She was a hero, and heroes always tried.
(it almost hurt how simple it all was)
“Okay. I-I’ll do it.”
Plagg smirked, “Good to know.”
So she breathed in, breathed out. Remembered to be brave (was it still bravery if she still hesitated, if cement still weighed heavy somewhere in the back of her heels? marinette wasn’t sure. she really, really wasn’t).
“Plagg, claws out!”
She left the alleyway, only to find her new partner in trouble, barely managing to dodge the dozens of boulders thrown at him.
He almost tripped when he saw her, and she had to push him out of the way before he could get squished. Misterbug only grinned and told her, “Hey, kitty! I knew you’d come!”
(it only hurt a little, knowing that she almost hadn’t)
They came up with a plan together.
For how much she’d built it up in her head, the whole thing went by surprisingly fast. It hadn’t taken more than 30 minutes to yell at this ‘Hawkmoth’ guy (aka, the rogue butterfly holder), locate the akumatised item, and break it. Lady Noire watched as Misterbug captured the butterfly in his yo-yo to purify it.
After a wave of ladybugs and healing magic washed over the city (finally freeing the frozen parisians from their stone prisons- thank god), all the news reporters wanted to know was what was going on. No one really had an answer- neither Lady Noire or Misterbug knew anything, that was for sure. And even if they did, it probably wouldn’t be very smart to say it on live television.
Misterbug was busy dealing with a curious Alya, who had somehow tracked them down during the akuma fight, and decided that he was the guy with all the answers. Lady Noire just stood next to him, arms crossed, feeling a bit ignored. (no, there was nothing wrong with alya’s favourite being misterbug. sure, she and marinette were friends, but they had only known each other for two days. and besides, if lady noire had to choose between herself or misterbug, she would decide misterbug any day. he was probably more interesting to talk to) She hadn’t even wanted to be interviewed anyways- Lady Noire didn’t really have anything to say.
Behind her, she could hear soft voices. Curious, Lady Noire turned around to see Ivan kneeling down to talk to a still-trembling Mylène. She couldn’t see his face, but something about the way her held himself seemed soft and hesitant- like he was afraid of scaring the girl away.
Choosing to ignore whatever discussion Alya and Misterbug were having, she wandered closer to where her two classmates were. Lady Noire wasn’t entirely sure if it was altruism or nosiness that made her speak.
“Are you two okay?” She asked them, careful to pretend she didn’t know their names.
Ivan just shook his head and muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He stayed silent, though his hand twitched a bit. Hidden in his fist was a ball of paper. Mylène noticed too, leaning closer to Ivan to ask, “What’s that?”
Instantly, he tensed, pulling the paper closer to his chest.
“Uh- nothing,” he lied. Pretty terribly, actually (if lady noire was even allowed to judge).
She had a feeling she knew what it was. So, she told him, “Show her. Be honest with your feelings- it’ll work out.”
“B-but I-“
“This isn’t your fault- I swear it isn’t. There are bigger powers at play here, and you just happened to get caught up in it. Take this chance now, because you’ll definitely regret it later if you don’t.”
Mylène broke into the conversation, bravely turning to look Ivan in the eyes and ask again, “Tell me, what are you holding?”
Ivan sighed deeply, then slowly unfurled his hand, letting the paper loose. He offered it to Mylène hesitantly, “It’s my song…”
Lady Noire began to walk away, satisfied to leave them be. It felt- well, it felt nice to do something kind (almost like she was a real superhero). But then she remembered to say one final thing:
“Oh, and, don’t let anyone call you a monster- including yourself! I promise, you’re not!”
Both of Marinette’s classmates were smiling as she left. And she began to as well, until she caught another glance at Alya and Misterbug. After that, it suddenly felt a bit harder.
(later, right before she went back to class, plagg told her that she should follow her own advice)
Marinette hadn’t expected rain.
This made sense, since she’d spent the majority of her morning watching the news about the new supervillain, and not the weather report. Maybe she should’ve paid more attention, she thought, watching water and tiny flecks hail beat down on the street like some unrelenting waterfall- at least then she’d have an umbrella.
She sighed, reaching her hand out beyond the roof’s overhang, only to be immediately hit with freezing water and thrashing wind. Marinette shivered and yanked her hand back as fast as possible, yelping at the way the cold burnt her skin. Marinette took a cautious step forward, but there was really no point. As soon as she got on the stairs, she was soaked to the bone. Marinette groaned, already imagining Plagg’s complaints when they got back to the bakery.
It was going to be a painful walk home, after all.
(that was just her luck, wasn’t it?)
“U-um, excuse me? It’s Marinette, right?”
Marinette flinched at the soft voice, spinning on her heel to see that boy from before- the one with the murky eyes. Her jaw clenched, and she refused to properly meet his eyes, staring at an awkward crease on the shoulder of his jacket instead.
“What do you want?”
Now it was his turn to flinch, “I, uh, wanted to apologise? And explain? I guess…” He looked down, shuffling his feet. Some distant, mean part of her wanted to roll her eyes (she wondered if that was plagg’s influence).
“And what exactly are you apologising for?” Marinette probed, though she wasn’t really sure why she was humouring him.
“About the gum. I, ah, well, I really was just taking it off your seat, I swear! I didn’t know Chloè was going to do that, and I panicked, and um- well, I’m new to this whole ‘public school’ thing. I don’t know how to deal with this, I guess. No one seems to like me, and, um, I don’t want you to either.”
She just stared at him, kind of amused that Chloè’s rich kid friend seemed more like a nervous dork than anything else. He stumbled over his words more than she did.
Marinette probably shouldn’t have judged him so harshly- had kind of known deep down that she’d shoved him in a box too quickly. Did she really have an excuse for essentially ruining this poor boy’s first day of school?
“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, “we could’ve heard you out, but we didn’t. Really, uh, starting your new school hanging out with Chloè is kind of bad for your reputation. But, um, I shouldn’t have snapped at you- really, I was more upset about something else. I’m used to being picked on.”
“Oh…” He scratched at the palm of his right hand, and asked, a bit timidly, “is she really that bad.”
Marinette couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, Chloè’s pretty awful.”
“Sorry.”
She really had no clue what he was apologising for.
A sudden gust of wind blew her hair right in her face, and she blushed, realising she’d been standing in the rain the entire time. She couldn’t even feel her fingers anymore. (of course, the boy was safe and dry under the overhang. looking perfect)
The new kid also seemed to realise this, “Oh shoot! I’m sorry for keeping you in the rain-“ a car horn suddenly honked from somewhere behind them, and he flinched, “um, actually, I have to leave, but I can give you this.”
Doing a bit of an awkward turn, he did his hands into his school bag, before pulling out a black, compact umbrella. Marinette couldn’t help but smile a bit at the way he waved it above his head victoriously.
“You don’t have to-“
He tossed it at her, and, well. She attempted to catch it, but both her hands and the umbrella itself were very wet, so the plastic of the handle ended up slipping from between her fingers and falling to the ground. It landed far beyond where she stood on the stairs- right into a muddy puddle.
“Oops,” he winced, “um sorry- that was probably stupid. I, uh, I gotta go though.”
Another honk came from somewhere behind her. She turned around, narrowing her eyes to see past the rising fog. In the distance, Marinette could see a slick, black car impatiently waiting. It didn’t seem like it was the boy’s dad waiting for him, but who could even tell with those tinted, opaque windows. A hand suddenly touched her shoulder and she jumped.
It was the new kid (of course it was- there was no one else around), whose smile was still awkward. Marinette would almost describe it as not belonging on his face- but that wasn’t it. Not exactly. It belonged, but it seemed like he wasn’t really used to it.
“Do you think we could be friends?” Was the earnest question she was met with.
He was still touching her arm. Marinette tried not to blush.
“Yes! I mean. Yeah. Friends seem nice.”
(she really, really didn’t know how this worked. marinette didn’t think the new kid even realised that she only actually had one friend, and she’d made that friend literally yesterday.
they really were in the same boat. birds of a feather. something like that)
But, no matter how awkwardly Marinette had agreed to it, the boy still beamed at her. And she didn’t know if it was a trick of her mind or a changing of the light, but behind the wet hair sticking to his face, she could see something in his dark eyes clear. Something bright was there instead, the colour like a newly polished emerald.
(she hadn’t noticed he wore earrings before)
(marinette felt her face grow hot, and she pretended it was just of effect of the weather)
“Thank you,” he said, then rushed off to go further down the stairs, their distance slowly increasing.
Marinette watched him silently, feeling almost unaffected by the cold.
Then, suddenly, the boy turned around one last time, almost slipping on the wet pavement, and yelled, “Oh! I’m Adrien, by the way!”
“Marinette!” She shouted back, before remembering he already knew her name. She blushed even harder.
But all Adrien did was smile and nod, before ducking into the car.
“Well, that was dumb,” Plagg drawled, his head sticking out of her bag, eyes narrowed at Adrien’s ride, seemingly unimpressed.
“Don’t be mean- he’s, um, he seems nice. Really nice.”
“Eh, I dunno. He smells weird- too sweet, kinda like sugar. It’s gross.”
“You know I live in a bakery, right?”
He looked at her, frowning, “Why’re you agreeing?”
“W-what? Agree? To what?” Her cheeks grew hot, “I-I didn’t even say anything!”
Marinette clamped her mouth shut, looking around to make sure nobody- especially Adrien (not that there was any reason she cared about him in particular- not at all…)- was around to hear her shout at, essentially, nobody. The school was empty though, and Adrien had already been driven away.
“You have to stop talking to me in public,” she hissed at him.
“Eh, whatever.” Then, he shook his head, apparently trying to get the water off. Which didn’t really work, considering they were still actively being rained on. Plagg scowled, “Can you use the stupid umbrella now?”
And then he ducked his head back into her purse.
Really, Marinette could admit he was right. Staying out so long in the rain could not have been good for her. So, she wiped a wet strand of hair out of her face, picked up Adrien’s umbrella from its puddle, and opened it up.
(there was something intimate about being under an umbrella. it made her feel safe. almost like one of those lucky charms marinette had used to make, until she quit a few years ago because the just weren’t working)
(adrien’s was a good luck charm of some sorts, wasn’t it. a sign that something good was coming her way.
and she couldn’t help but wonder, a bit selfishly: what else could he give her?)
She didn’t walk long before Marinette paused, seeing something bright red in the corner of her vision. She knelt down to see- careful to keep off her knees and balance her new umbrella on her shoulder- Plagg whining at yet another stop. Still, something compelled her to look: it was a ladybug, struggling to stay afloat in its tiny puddle. The bug had likely been too slow to find its way to safety before the storm had hit- unlucky little guy.
“Oh. I almost stepped on you, didn’t I?” Marinette reached out with her index finger, watched how the ladybug clung to the safety of her skin. Once it looked settled, she rose again, careful to make sure Adrien’s umbrella was protecting it.
She spent the rest of the walk home looking for a place to put it, until finally compromising on the large evergreen tree near the bakery’s entrance. The leaves were large and waxy, beautiful and natural. Marinette could not think of a better place to take shelter in a storm.
“Can we go now?” Plagg grumbled from inside her purse, “It’s starting to get soaked in here! Besides, don’t you own me, like, a bazillion ounces of cheese?”
“Um! Sorry!” She ducked into the side entrance of the Dupain-Cheng bakery, “Although I don’t remember saying anything about cheese.”
“Ugh, don’t be like that! Just a little? Don’t you owe me?”
“Owe you for what, exactly? You didn’t do anything.”
“Advice! Advice!” Plagg shouted, batting around in her purse, “I gave excellent advice!”
Marinette sighed, realising she was probably going to be dealing with this for who-knew-how-long. Oh well, her mom had always taught her to compromise, “Okay, fine. But not a bazillion ounces. Let’s start with… uh… some cheddar? We probably have that…”
“Ugh. I guess that’s edible. For now.”
Yeah, she really did need to start getting used to this.