Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

20.10.XX ,  Monday 03:03 [Dupain-Cheng Residence-Marinette’s Bedroom]

As was becoming a frequency at a rapid rate, Marinette’s day began at an hour no one should have been awake. Perks of being a superheroine with an antagonist who had neither a concept of time nor human decency.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had reached that depressing point where all it took to jolt her out of her slumber was a specific sequence of beeps, courtesy of the Parisian akuma alert app (and if the akuma was nearby, maybe a blood curdling scream or two)

“Tikki,” she called to her sleeping kwami, “Spots on,” she grumbled, blinking lazily as she stretched her arms. Her back was sore from her hunched sleeping position and her neck, stiff.

With a flash of pink light, Ladybug was out the window and flying off the balcony within seconds.

06:00

As a pink light engulfed the ravenette for the second time that day, the heroine dropped her transformation and swan dived into her bed, Her soft, plush mattress, where the now-cold pillows cushioned her face, hot and flushed from battle, against her face, was a feeling sung of by muses.

Marinette sighed contentedly at her reunion with her beloved bed as she pulled the cover back over her, awaiting sleep’s return.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Putain.

06:22

Marinette stood in front of her mirror, scrutinising her uniform. She’d spent the better part of last week tailoring them to her specifications and was quite satisfied with the fruit of her labour. The skirts her maman had bought were rather short so she’d had to let go of the hem and re-iron them. Thankfully, the white shirts had fit her right but the navy blue vest coats that topped the shirts were a tad too big, so she’d taken them in some centimeters. 

The designer had never learnt to tie a tie before then, but there was a first time for everything.

While she’d enjoyed the freedom of showing off her wardrobe in Francois Dupont, she expected that having a pre-set outfit for everyday would save her a considerable amount of time when the morning came. It helped that the ensemble was rather cute for a school uniform.

Atop her shirt and vest jacket was a third layer, the knit sweater embroidered with the school coat of arms insignia. Her increasing inability to stay warm would hopefully be compensated by the number  of layers she now donned.

7:45 [Renoir Arts Entrance]

Renoir Arts is gorgeous, listed among the most beautiful buildings in all of France. She knew this, of course. Marinette passed the building often while running her errands. Like Francois Dupont, Renoir Arts predated her grandmother, and her grandmother before him. 

The impressive three stories dwarfed her as she stood at the entrance, between the gate posts. The brick romanesque walls were beautifully complimented by the white banners and accents embellishing window arches and corners.

“Marinette?” a little head pops out of her purse, “Are you alright? Why have you stopped?” the kwami questions.

“No reason Tiiks, it’s just…a pretty site. That’s all,” she smiled.

The kwami, satisfied with the answer, retreated to the confines of her fabric carrier. 

Historical buildings had always held Marinette in a chokehold, The intricacies of architecture from early periods forever served as a source of inspiration for the ravenette. She could easily foresee herself spending many break times in the courtyard simply sketching her new school.

She smoothens her blazer and takes a step into the next chapter of her life.

8:15 [Principal’s Office]

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, it’s lovely to finally meet you” the lady seated at the centre of the office smiled politely.

 She was dressed fashionably, in a  bishop sleeved (chiffon?) blouse with an opaque underlayer. The high neck line negated the need for a necklace but she did have an elegant pair of hanging earrings in sterling silver, complimenting her silky pepper salted hair.

‘Mme. Alard’, the plaque on her desk read,  ‘Principal’  below her name.

She had kind eyes.

“Bonjour Madame Alard, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Marinette returned.

“Your reputation precedes you my dear. Welcome to Renoir Arts Academie,” she slid a manilla folder to the centre of the table and opened it.

“Now, I do have some notes to go over before I let you go. Firstly, I find it most important to mention to you that we have a councillor whose doors are open through school hours, five days a week. Analise is a lovely girl. We have made accommodations for your fear of akumas, I know those things are dreadful and it seems you've had a copious amount of unfortunate encounters.

 All your teachers have been addressed and notified that should you find the need to leave class during an attack, you are permitted, your tour guide will show you to some safe spots where I hope you can find some solace,”

Marinette soaked all the information in. She'd been worried about being able to get away for akuma attacks as she was sure Renoir wouldn’t be as laxxed about her truancy as Francois Dupont, but this worked perfectly in her favour. She’d initially felt a-how about lying but Paris’ safety took priority over her academic attendance.

“Merci, madame, it’s- it’s more than I could have asked for,”

And this is true, Marinette had not had the highest hopes for any requested accommodations. Renoir Arts might have been a prestigious academy with an esteemed reputation, but so was Francois Dupont. The bar was not set very high.

“This is simply what you deserve Ms. Dupain-Cheng. No one should have to go through such things without support,” a soft expression crosses the older woman’s face “I must say, I was thoroughly impressed by your transcript, discrepancies aside. I look forward to seeing how you thrive here,”

 She shuffles through the stack of files at the corner of her table, retrieving a slip of paper, “This is your schedule and your new class representative will be arriving shortly to give you a tour. I sincerely hope that your time here is fruitful and I dare to hope, pleasurable,”

Marinette likes it here already.

~

Let it be known that Marinette’s kryptonite had always been pretty people (and pretty fabric but that was hardly relevant at the moment). Despite having the grace to dance through Stormweather’s hail and the level headedness (and self-control) to go toe to toe with Gabriel Ass-greste, the moment you put her in front of someone whose visage belonged in a museum, her words melted together and her motor functions became her motor disfunctions.

“And here’s the nurse's office, Mme. Archambeau is really sweet, you can come by anytime you feel ill…”

The girl who had introduced herself as Allegra Bruchard was gorgeous, to say the least. Her hair was straw blonde, much like Adrien’s and done in a Dutch braid, her eyes, a rich brown, like the damp bark of the Linden tree she often sat beneath. Her fair skin contrasted the royal blue of their shared uniform nicely.

“That’s study hall, it isn’t usually crowded because most people tend to spend study periods and free periods out and about, I’ll show you some cool spots to hang during break if you’d like-”

Marinette had been dumbly nodding along during the tour, unwilling to have tongue-dead as her first impression. Allegra was more than happy to talk so there were no awkward pauses in-between.

“The cafeteria is murder to get into for the first five minutes because everybody wants to get to the dessert bar first. I’d recommend giving it a few minutes before you try to get in. There’s usually a surplus in seating so you shouldn’t have to worry about that. On the other hand, you won’t get to try M. Corbin’s pudding if you’re late…Hm. You’ll figure it out,”

The tour did not disappoint.

“This is the art room, it’s usually open to everyone at all hours outside of when they actually have classes, so if you need a creative space…”

She already knew Renoir was gorgeous from the exterior. The hard wood floors were arranged in herringbone styled parquet, a deep varnished cherry wood beautifully parallel the high rise ceilings and though no chandeliers hung, the warmly lit halls and wall lamps still held an elegant air to them.

“By the way!” she turned around suddenly, causing the ravenette to stumble, “Have I told you that I love your hair? Like, it’s gorgeous. You are gorgeous,”

Marinette blushed fervently at the compliments.

“I- yank thou- Thanks tou! Thanks,” she finally succeeded. 

The blond laughed softly and continued the tour.

The arched windows she’d seen outside were draped with velvet curtains, tied back by bronze ornate holdbacks. Marinette found the scarcely controllable desire to retrieve her sketchbook. The ornaments on marble plinths in every other wall panel alone could inspire a whole line.

This place was as rich in history as the Louvre, she could tell. Marinette easily foresaw herself spending many break times simply wandering the corridors.

“You should join me for lunch. I’ll be meeting my friends- I can ask Claude to save you a pudding, if he doesn’t devour it. You haven’t lived until you’ve had it. Think of it as initiation into Renoir,”

“I’d love to do that, Allegra,”  Marinette smiled, silently reveled in stringing out some coherent words (she’d been getting better since she stopped malfunctioning (for the most part) around Adrien )

The two turned a final corner.

“And to finish off the tour, we have finally arrived at your new homeroom,” she paused and corrected herself, “our new homeroom. Welcome to M. Tremblay’s class,” she opened the door with a grin.

Things were looking up for Marinette Dupain-Cheng

11:25 [Renoir Arts- Cafeteria]

Update: Things were not looking too great for Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“Lover-girl?” a disgustingly familiar voice spat with palpable disgust and perhaps appall, even.

Marinette didn’t bother hiding her scowl.

“What are you doing here?” she spat back.

Félix Graham de Vanily.

Ugh. 

Pale green  eyes bored holes into her as she stood in front of the lunch table, beside Allegra. His sour face and scornful gaze would probably give her indigestion if she stuck around too long. Of course he was here, things could never go completely smoothly with her, could they?

“I go here,” he mouths ‘duh’, rather aggravatingly, “I should be the one asking you that,”

She pointed at the insignia on her blazer, rather than stating the obvious,

“I think the uniform speaks for itself, Genius,”

“Ugh,” his nose scrunched, “Renoir Arts is just letting anyone in these days aren’t they? A shame, they used to have some standards. Keep yourself at a distance before your peasantry infects me,” he shooed her, like a giant fly.

“Apologies milord!” she mock-curtsied, “I forgot your ego was so towering you’d mistaken it for a throne,”

A boy  sitting opposite to her verbal adversary bit his lip in a poor attempt to contain the escaping laughs. 

“I take it you two know each other,” Allegra interjected their verbal battle, a smile barely concealed.

“If you mean I’ve had the displeasure of being cursed with the vision of her visage, then yes, we’ve met,” he replied drlyly.

The ravenette smiled sarcastically at the blond before turning to the blonde beside her with an apologetic expression.

“I’m so sorry I’m going to have to decline your invitation to lunch. I fear any further exposure to high levels of egomania might have lasting effects. It’s been lovely meeting you all,” she glowered at him before amending her statement, “most of you all, anyway,”

The brunette sitting beside the abject of her disgust snorted, which earned him a glare from his seat mate.

“Good riddance,” he remarked.

She raised a single digit in return before leaving to find another table.

~

MDC: your evil twin is killing my vibe

AG: Fé?

MDC: do you have more than one

MDC: that must be a nightmare

MDC: he goes here apparently

AG: news to me?

AG: I knew he was in France

AG: he comes over for dinner some days

AG: tante drags him actually

AG: i know he was doing lycee in france 

AG: But…

MDC: fun times

AG: should i talk to him

MDC: dw

MDC: I can deal with him if i need to

AG: pls dont kill my cousin

AG: i acc liek him

AG: *leki

AG: *LIKE

AG: even if hes a gremlin

MDC: for you?

MDC: anything

MDC: but I will gut him if he tries anything

AG:OMD

AG: pls no

MDC: ly<3

AG: lyt

Chapter Text

23.10.XX , Friday 7:43 [Francois Dupont- Caline Bustier’s homeroom]

Adrien arrived on the grounds of Francois Dupont with a heavy heart and an empty hand. Where he’d usually be completely occupied by a steaming cup of black coffee in one hand and his sugary nectar in the other, today was depressingly different. A heartbreaking deviance in the routine he’d fondly grown accustomed to. 

One cup of caramel macchiato with an extra pump of caramel and whipped cream was nestled in his right hand, the other hand empty of its bitter companion.

Much like himself. 

This was his second official day without Marinette Dupain-Cheng in his company at Francois Dupont. Kwami help him. This was his new everyday? Of course, he was happy for Marinette, how could he not be? She was attending an art school where she would blossom, she’d escaped Lila Rossi’s watchful eye and she no longer had to deal with the plethora of characters enrolled at Dupont. 

He was elated for her.

He was not, however, elated for himself. 

With the recent uptick in akuma attacks, he’d leave his house feeling downright miserable because lack of sleep had been chipping away at his sanity for the past few weeks already. He’d become more irritable and his tolerance for people like Lila and Vincent, who seemed eternally displeased with his performance in photoshoots was rapidly diminishing.

 It was not his fault he found it hard to plaster a smile on his face when he’d much rather be in bed. Although he couldn’t fully blame the man because Adrien had been fighting to keep his eyes open the entirety of his time on set.

On the upside, at least his father was being less of a concept and more of a figure in his life as of recent. 

He couldn’t wait to see Marinette later. It was quite literally his biggest source of motivation for not dropping out of school right then and there. He had seriously contemplated asking Father to transfer to Renoir Arts, but he’d already fought so hard to retain his placement in Dupont. Father probably wouldn’t even take him seriously, or even worse- he’d decide that Adrien didn’t actually even care about school and try to pull him out (again.).

Although the man seemed to be mellowing out recently, Adrien still wouldn’t take the chance (just yet). Maybe for their next academic year, Terminale.

He’d just have to make it through today… and everyday after that.

Adrien sighed heavily.

He still had friends here to keep him company, even if they weren’t Marinette. He still had Nino, his best friend. They hadn’t been hanging out as often since he and Alya got together at the end of seconde, but that was to be expected. They still had lunch together most days and even hung out together when their schedules lined up! 

 There was also Alya, sometimes. Alya used to come with Marinette and Nino, which is why they hung out but now Alya seemed to be attached to Lila’s hip, so he’d been reluctant to seek her company.

Somehow their company always found him anyway.

In any case, he was seeing Marinette later, and that was all that matters. They’d planned a cute little brunch date at their most frequented cafe and it’d be lovely. She’d tell him about her new school and all the gossip that hid behind its walls and he’d lament his woes to her and steal some sweets off her plate and maybe some kisses from her lips.

It was enough to put a smile on his face as he entered Caline Bustier’s homeroom. 

.

..

…

Any joy Adrien had been clutching onto thirty seconds ago was promptly washed down the drain as he stared at his new and unwelcomed seat mate. His lips thinned into a grimace.

The brunette sat cross legged at the edge of the bench, nodding intently at whatever Alya was ranting to her about. Her bag had been shoved onto the other end of the bench, his side.

Lila Rossi was sitting in Marinette’s seat and the blond was fighting back demons (Plagg’s voice in his head) to resist just dumping his breakfast beverage all over her. All it took was one movement and the girl would be running for the hills. 

Maybe she’d stay away if he instilled a healthy dose of fear into her.

“Oh! Hi Adrien!” The brunette turned from her conversation with Alya to himself, a saccharine smile plastered across her face as she waved with energy. How she even knew he was there with her back turned, Adrien would never know.  

Adrien heard Plagg’s snickers and lightly pressed his elbow into his rib eliciting an “ow!” of protest from the kwami. Someone was losing couch eating privileges this evening.

“Lila, you’re here, in my bench,” 

“Oh well I figured since you needed a new seat mate I might as well! It’s funny how I keep finding my way back to this spot,” she laughed.

Adrien did not share her amusement and found great difficulty in feigning any sort of pleasantries. 

This was fine though, it was only homeroom. What was a few minutes of tolerance training in his day?

9:53 [Geography]

This was not fine, in fact, just take him out back and throw him off a ledge and put him out of his misery.

Three classes.

That’s how many Lila had weaseled her way into sitting next to him. That was every class of the day so far!

Adrien had never noticed how many classes he even shared with the persistent devil until now. Usually, he sat by Nino or Marinette but it seemed Lila had persuaded Nino to swap somehow and Marinette wasn’t there to retain her spot. 

And she was so close!

Adrien’s pores would raise every time she brushed his hand and he’d count the minutes until the bell rang when she opened her mouth, in an attempt to force small talk. 

“Hey Adrien, did I tell you about that time my mother took me to her hometown in Sicily? It was such-” She started her umpteenth story and that was the last straw. 

“Lila?”

She perked up at the response. He’d gone the entire period just letting her run her mouth.

“Yes Adrien?” she batted her eyes expectantly.

He leaned in closer to her ear.

“Shut up. We both know I’m not listening to your bullshit,” he whispered.

The brunette recoiled immediately with unbridled rage contorting her face. She opened her mouth, presumably to spit out a comeback, but with impeccable timing, M. Beaumont called her name. 

“Mme. Rossi?”

She snapped her attention to the board immediately. 

“Oui monsieur?” she chirped,  seemingly ignorant of the irritation on the man’s face.

“Could you answer the question please?” he kept his tone levelled. 

Her eyebrows furrowed and she frowned slightly. 

“I’m so sorry monsieur, I think my tinnitus might be acting up, would you mind repeating the question?”

“Perhaps if you spent less time prattling to your seat mate and more time keeping up with the class in session you wouldn’t require repetition,” he retorted in a clipped tone. 

“I-”

“Furthertowhich, I was unaware of any medical issues. Have you updated your student file recently?” he quirked an eyebrow, closing the textbook in his hand slightly. 

The brunette faltered.

“I’ll have to speak with my mother about it,” she muttered. 

“Please see that you do. It’s important to include such pertinent information on record,” he concluded, resuming the class as before. 

The brunette shrunk into her seat and Adrien scooted as far away as the bench’s length would allow.

Even if he was just doing his job, M. Beaumont was quickly becoming one of the blond’s favourite teachers. 

10: 27 [Cafe La Vie en Rose]

“Marinette, I need you to tell me that I’m going to survive,”  Adrien sat, his head in the crook of her neck as she sipped her espresso.

The two had stolen a cozy corner of the cafe, away from the window and any prying eyes. They’d snagged a corner seat where they sat beside each other. She was sipping her ceramic cup of mocha and he, nibbling on profiteroles. Her baby pink fleece sweater was soft against his side and the ends of her pigtail prickled his cheek.

“Troubles?” she mused. 

“She’s in my seat,” Adrien bemoaned, “And I can’t just tell her to leave without sounding like a complete ass,”

“Aw you poor thing,” the bluenette sympathised, resting her head on top of his and sighing.

“You could always move, doesn’t Nathaniel sit alone? He doesn't bite. You’d need an excuse though. Or we could just get rid of Lila,”

“I thought we didn’t condone murder,”

She shrugged weakly. 

“Kagami’s been chipping away at my resolve. She makes a very good case, you know,” 

“Hm,” he hummed, as though considering the proposition. “I don’t think it’s worth the effort,” he concluded with a sigh. 

“Well, she’s not really my problem anymore.” And boy was that a flex, “So really, it’s up to you,”

“Ugh, Mari, how could you leave meee,” he lamented, burying his face in her neck.

His girlfriend repressed a snort. 

“You could always ask Gabby to transfer,” she proposed, before quickly furthering, “Although he might think you’re not actually serious about school and try to justify pulling you out and homeschooling you again- Oh no that would be horrible. But the stick up his ass is starting to disappear. Maybe you do have a chance after all. If not you could always run away and join me but that would lead to a nationwide hunt and who knows if Renoir would even let you past the gate-”

“Nette, you’re rambling,” he pokes her side, earning a yelp. 

Although, it was effective in snapping her out of her spiral. 

“Aha, sorry I just- You know I didn’t want to leave you. I- I just-”

He raised his head off of her shoulder and cusped her cheeks gently, turning her gaze to him.

“Marinette. I know,” he smiled softly, “I’m not blaming you for leaving. I know you had to go. I just miss you, and you will forever be stuck with me and you have to listen to me lament my woes as a compromise,” he added the last part teasingly.

The bluenette flushed and quickly buried her face in her hands. 

“Noooo you can’t do that,” she whined.

Now he was confused. 

“You- you can’t just flaunt your gorgeous face like that! How am I supposed to survive!” she cried, throwing her arms up,  “And- And you just say those things and ugh,” she groaned.

Heat crept up his neck and coloured his ears.

She thought he was gorgeous? 

Logically, he was a model, of course he was at least attractive. But gorgeous? 

Marinette thought he was gorgeous?

“Uh, Adrien?” she waved at him, snapping him out of his stupor. 

“Huh hi, Sorry. I- You-” he spluttered.

Oh god, is this how Marinette felt?

24.10.XX, Friday 12:23 [Francois Dupont Student Council Meeting Room/ The Old Physics Lab]

Mireille didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Lila-fucking-Rossi poked her head into the meeting room before deciding that ‘yes this is where she needed to be’’. It was a quick succession, a head poked through the door with a pair of eyes scanning the room before the head disappeared again. Following the scouting, an entire body this time, made its way past the doorway.

Her eyes were eager and her stance was confident as she waved to the rest of the room.  Her silky brown hair had been fashioned neatly into a high ponytail, her bangs just skirting above her eyebrows and her burnt orange pleather jacket hung off her shoulders stylishly. 

“Hello! My name is Lila Rossi, I’m the class representative for Caline Bustier’s class. It is such a pleasure to meet you all,” she smiled brightly after delivering her saccharine introduction.

Mireille took a moment to look at the girl, really look at her. The cotton pad taped to her cranium jumped out to her, a white stark against the brown of her hair. Her olive green eyes flicked left and right as she observed her surroundings, a smile plastered on her face.

If Mireille didn’t know better, maybe Lila would have seemed sweet.

She knew better than that. 

There’s a chorus of returned greetings from everyone before individuals turned towards each other and began whispering their confusions and questions to one another.

“What happened to Marinette? If she’s sick, isn’t her deputy supposed to attend in her palace?” Gabrielle, the treasurer, voiced the room's most burning question, her eyebrow quirked.

Mireille watched Rossi’s reaction closely.

The girl’s smile faltered before melting into a feigned and shallow frown. An impressive school of expression.

“Marinette was expelled last week Thursday for breaching Francois Dupont’s school code of conduct and unfortunately, can no longer carry out her former duties,” she quickly responded  as-a-matter-of-a-factedly.

Whispers increase in volume.

“Actually,” Marc Anciel, Mme. Baachus’ class representative said, “Marinette was withdrawn from the school,” he smiled politely as the girl’s expression soured at the correction, “No disciplinary action was taken as all evidence was circumstantial and Madame Cheng found the environment of her classroom unfit for her daughter’s well being due to some individuals continual harassment,”

His eyes screamed what his mouth withheld as he kept his gaze pointedly on the new-comer.

Mireille couldn’t help being surprised. Marc was typically non-confrontational and quiet but she supposed she could understand if someone was painting his cousin in such a bad light, especially as she wasn’t here to defend herself or negate the rumours. They were cousins right? The resemblance had been there and she was sure Marinette had mentioned it in passing.

“Really?” Lila grits out annoyance evident in her tone at the sudden attack. Still, she manages to retain composure. Mireille happened to notice the way her fingers dug into the bag slung across her body.

“Really,” he smiled back.

The hostility exuded by both participants of the staring contest that ensued was palpable.

“I see,” she hummed. Point for Marc Anciel!, “My mistake then. Regardless, I’ve been elected her successor so from now on I will be here and Marinette will not. Could someone please catch me up to date? I’d hate to keep us even more behind that I already have,”

Several whispers circulated and no one was really being quiet enough to avoid the newcomers' earshot, still, she quietly took the seat usually reserved for Marinette and quietly turned to the nearest person, Catherine, and asked for a run down of the meeting.

At least it was now clear to Lila Rossi that she wouldn’t exert the power she did in her home room class here. She seemed subdued enough now after her initial entrance but there was no telling how long that would last. 

This was going to be a long term.

“Anyway,” Mireille stole away the attention, “Seeing as this is our last meeting for the October month, starting with M. Bruchard’ class, are there any issues you’d like to bring forth?”

The meeting commenced as such with minor complaints from one or two classrooms, nothing extravagant or out of the ordinary. 

“These matters will be brought to Administration. Thank you guys for bringing these things to our attention, now, moving on. The main reason for this meeting, The Christmas Event- By the way  Maeёl, marketing needs to work shop the name. How are everyone’s pats coming along?”

“Um, excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupted. 

Mireille looked to Lila Rossi who timidly raised her hand. 

“Yes?”

“Well, seeing as Marinette’s no longer here, does that mean I’m filling her role?” which was a great question. 

Mireille had certainly deliberated what she’d do seeing as he was one man down, or rather, the replacement, she highly doubted, possessed the capabilities of her predecessor. Marinette was insane about keeping schedules. 

“Well, when Marinette left, she handed over her work to me and I’ve already redistributed her workload,” which was true, “...You can just join whichever team best suits your skills. There’s management, marketing, designing and…” she wracked her brain trying to remember the other groups, “Just mingle and figure out what you’d like to be a part of,”

“What was Marinette’s old job? Can I take that?”

Several pairs of eyes watched her funny, though she seemed to take no notice.

“...She was co-ordinator and in charge of all of our scheduling and deadlines which has already been reassigned,” to me, she neglected to add. No way in hell she was trusting the new girl with something so important, questionable character or not, she never trusted anyone who’ capabilities she hadn’t seen first hand, “ so…no, you can’t have her job?”

“Oh,” she  deflated, slumping back into her seat. 

Usually, this was the point where others would offer up open positions, of which Mireille knew there were several, however the room remained quiet. Students shared silent conversations with each other but no one wanted to bite the bullet. 

“Don’t worry, there’s always extra space in…” she searched the room, watching the leader of each group who didn’t even hide the violent shaking of their heads when she landed on them.

Only Sophie from the clean-up crew conceded as the last head on the table. 

“Clean up,” Mireille decided. 

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

Lila remained quiet for the remainder of the meeting and Mireille was sure the girl was fuming but couldn’t care less. She wouldn’t have the event they’d been planning since the start of September be ruined because one girl wanted a fancy position but didn’t meet the standard.

Chapter Text

27.10.XX , Monday 12:42 [Francois Dupont]

It bothered Alya, the empty seat. Perhaps it wasn’t the seat itself, but the absence of its usual occupant. No waft of coffee and sugary pastry as the ravenette would drag her feet in; no excited chatter about an insane situation she’d stumbled (literally) into; no compliments to her hair or outfits.

The bright pink spot was empty.

Or at least, it had been.

Last week, Lila had taken up the spot to keep Adrien company but today, Adrien had moved to the back, right beside Nathaniel and now Lila sat alone, as she shifted to where Adrien sat previously.

The empty space was there again and Alya hated  it.

`Any hope the girl had clung to of her former-best friend bursting through the doors, with a week’s worth of absence excuses and a “sike!” had been slowly slipping through her grasp as the days progressed. She’d tried texting, calling and even spamming her email for good measure, but to no avail as any attempt at contact went unaddressed.

Ignored.

Blocked too by the looks of it.

Marinette was ignoring her. Not just her, the girl was ignoring everyone in class-  Alya had asked.

Rose,  Mylène- all the girls  she’d asked had parrotted the same response, “No they hadn’t heard from Marinette since she left,” but it seemed to Alya, they hadn’t made an effort to reach out either. 

This, the girl somewhat understood, considering the context under which she’d left. Crying, she heard, head bowed as she walked out beside her mother after being expelled for attacking Lila.  Attacking Lila, the idea of it still didn’t sit right with her- but the evidence was so compelling.

Alix and Nathaniel had shrugged at her inconclusively, but Alya hadn’t lingered too much. Kim, Max and Ivan were much the same as the other girls in their responses.

 She hadn’t bothered asking Nino, he’d have told her if he did hear from her. She recalled that Nino and Marinette had been friends since childhood and concluded that her departure must have had him feeling out of sorts just as it had her; she didn’t feel like interrogating him. Any mention of Marinette seemed to bring the table to a sombre mood as of late.

She hadn’t bothered with kids outside of their class either.  She already didn’t know that many that well and felt as though Marinette was starting to become a sore subject within the school grounds.

 Alya didn't even know Marinette had friend outside of class and the art room until she’d tried to ask someone from the other homeroom about her - a student council member if the badge on her bag was anything to go by- and fell on the receiving end of a glare that was sure to have her tummy upset by the end of the day.

She knew Marinette hung out in the art room a lot so she’d attempted asking some of the other art-sy kids but they’d given her some funny looks which dissuaded her from pursuing that path. She was all for following leads but that path didn’t seem like a worthwhile endeavour. Besides, why would someone so adjacent to their lives hear from her or know where Marinette was, when Alya, who was practically joined to the designer’s hip, knew nothing?

It was Adrien who had surprised her.

After their blooming romance for the past few weeks, she’d expected him to be going through the five stages of grief by now, or at least the depressive stage. Contrary to her predictions, he seemed completely unaffected by the ravenette’s absence, if only a little quieter. He was a little more distant.

Sure, outside of mutual friends, her boyfriend being his best friend and his would-be girlfriend being her best friend, they didn’t talk much. However, it felt like a careful line was drawn between them after Marinette’s disappearance.

He chatted with them. He performed and participated in classes. His expression never really dulled, per se. He was much the same, even in the glaring absence of their Everyday Ladybug. Not a single mention of the Dupain-Cheng to be heard, though.

Weird, concerningly so.

The only new behaviour was his attachment to his phone. Sure, it was normal for anyone to be on their phone, especially during boring classes and their recesses but the blond was glued to the thing, texting by the looks of it. She couldn’t help but speculate- Was it Marinette he was texting? Were they still talking and that  was why he wasn’t as heartbroken by her leave as she was?

Adrien would tell them if he was still on speaking terms with Marinette right? He knew how desperately Alya wanted to talk to her best friend. He would surely help her out…right?

The girl frowned at her boyfriend’s best friend, biting into her accra. (God she loved when her mother made home dishes for her) Currently, he sat beside Nino, conversing excitedly about something. Not an iota of unhappiness to be seen. It baffled the reporter to no end.

If he wasn’t secretly talking to Marinette then it irked Alya as well, to see this level of indifference from the blond, especially when Alya herself was hurting so badly. She’d questioned if Adrien even held the ravenette as close to his heart as he’d acted, but it would be ridiculous to think that Adrien didn’t care about Marinette the way he would go off about her being their ‘Everyday Ladybug’ and waxing poetry about her obliviously. 

Not to mention the heart eyes he’d been making at her all term.

And yet.

Best believe she’d be interrogating him soon enough.

.

..

…

Marinette.

She missed the girl so much.

She’d tried to reason that she shouldn’t miss Marinette because Marinette had proven to be cruel without (valid) reason. That this was a long time coming and she shouldn’t miss a bully. One of the things she detested (Marinette hated bullies too).

Marinette was her best friend, and Alya had never been so wrong about a person before. (But was she really? Had she really been that bad a judge of character? She usually wasn't.)

She had tried to pretend she was fine. That this was for the best. But that hadn’t lasted long because it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t.

Marinette was her best friend for a very long time and her number one supporter in all her endeavours. She was there at the inception of Alya’s pride and joy, the Layblog, and every other accomplishment succeeding it.   Marinette was kind to her and everyone around her and her presence alone lifted the atmosphere even during the heaviest times. 

It was Marinette that Alya would ring in the middle of the night if she’d been startled awake by an akuma or ripped from her sleep by a nightmare. It was Marinette with whom she’d share everything- every hope and every fear.

They might have been drifting apart, but Alya had thought their relationship was salvageable. Sure, their calls had dwindled from six days a week to once every other week,  and their texts had diminished from thousand message rants to the occasional check in, but it was fixable…right?

She’d thought that Marinette could change, learn not to hate Lila, try to get along (for her sake at the least).  It hadn’t happened and it devastated Alya that she wouldn’t get the chance to try again. Marinette had cut contact, left her high and dry.

However, Marinette had underestimated the lengths Alya would go to achieve her goals, and now there was a shiny brand new one.

 To reconcile with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

To bring her back to Francois Dupont.

It was decided, this evening, she was paying the Dupain-Cheng’s a visit.

Same time [Chemistry Laboratory (Renoir Arts) ]

“Claude, can you set up the bunsen burner and the ethanol in the boiling tube while I get us a leaf and some of the iodine?” Marinette asked her current lab partner while she recorded the measurements that Mme. Bellum said they’d be using. 

“Sure thing Nette, do you know where the matches are?”

“Euh… There’s a box on Ange’s table,” she pointed two tables ahead before walking off to fetch the material. 

Marinette had been decently surprised by her partner’s demeanour during Chemistry today. After receiving three separate warnings from the rest of the group about Claude’s penchant for mischief and tendency to chaos, she’d been apprehensive about working with him.

As she stooped down to pour 200cm3 of the water  into her beaker, she felt the thick fabric of her lab coat strain at the seams of her outstretched hand. She’d have to alter it later. With the meniscus of the liquid reaching the 200 marker, she reached for one of the droppers and the pre-measured beaker of iodine and returned to the table hastily. 

Claude greeted her with a thumbs up and a job thoroughly done as the bunsen burner emitted a small blue flame, permeating the wire gauze atop the tripod stand. He held the boiling tube of alcohol enthusiastically by a test tube holder and dipped for a dramatic bow.

His  hand- the hand holding the boiling tube- swung back with terrifying speed, causing all the contents  to escape their glass containment and briefly take flight. With horrifying speed, the alcohol splashed into the open flame, blue licking up the fuel as it spread furiously. 

“Putain!”

“The gas! Take off the gas Claude!” Marinette barked, nearly dropping the beaker in her hand to do it herself.

Tizzic, the boy rushed forward, keeping his face at a careful distance from the low rising flames and shut off the valve.

“Mme Bellum!” Marinette called for their supervisor. 

The woman at the other end of the laboratory snapped in their direction, eyes widening. Instantaneously, a fire extinguisher found its way into her hands and in an impressive blink of an eye, she was over to their station. Foamy white flooded the station, killing off the flames and drastically improving their chances of not exploding the whole lab.

A relieved sigh preceded the indignant fury the woman exuded in a targeted, teenage shaped direction. 

“That is three times this term Claude,” are the words that carefully leave her lips and Marinette has spent enough time around Caline-I dealt-with-Chloe-Bourgeious-every-day-Bustier to know the patience being expended here. 

He opened his mouth to retort, but the murderous gaze Marinette sent his way was apt enough to shut his mouth.

‘Don’t make it worse,’ she mouthed to him from behind the teacher. 

“Desole Mme. Bellum,” he locked his gaze firmly on the ground, “It was an accident, I swear,” as if to emphasise his sincerity, he placed a hand over his heart- though this seemed to have opposite the desired effect as it evokes an unimpressed hum from the teacher. 

“Clean this up,” she sighed, “And I expect an incident report on my desk by the end of the day,” she turned to Marinette who braced herself, “Dupain-Cheng…I don’t even know what to say, you’ve thrown your lot in with Montgomery but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. While I don’t foresee a lower expense in the lab equipment budget, I’m hoping these little accidents are resolved this swiftly with you present,”

The girl nodded quietly, brushing the strands that had escaped her headband out of her face. 

“I’ll get a mop?” 

Marinette sighed. Maybe she should have listened to the others after all. 

15:18 [Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie]

The brunette took a deep breath as she pushed the frosted glass doors of the patisserie open, the bells chimed at the action but no one paid mind. The bakery was busy, as usual, a healthy line of customers just barely contained by the establishment’s walls. Alya moved right past the line and up to the counter, which seemed to leave some waiting customers a little miffed. 

“Bonjour Tante Sabine, It’s been a  while. I was wondering if Marinette was in,” Alya asked confidently. She hadn’t seen the woman in quite some time, and did miss her, but now wasn’t time for small talk, she was here on a mission.

.

..

…

When was the last time she’d come over to the Dupain-Cheng residence? It felt like ages had passed since the last sleep over.

A pang of guilt hit Alya. She really hadn’t been talking to Marinette much as of late.

The petite baker seemed quite focused on filling a long box with what seemed to be a dozen red and brown macarons, leaving Alya’s greeting unanswered. Her hands were swift in placing the desserts in neat rows, then carefully but quickly closing the glass display and covering the box.

For after work hours, the bakery did tend to be much busier, especially as one of Paris’ best. Everyone wanted a piece of the Dupain-Cheng cuisine. 

“Tante?” she called again, unsure if the woman had heard her. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when the woman’s head popped up from behind the display case with curiosity, presumably as to who was calling her. When her gaze finally settled on the girl, the customer service smile dropped instantaneously. Discomfort pooled in the girl’s gut at the expression. 

“Alya, we’re a bit busy right now, if you aren’t ordering I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” Sabine tore her gaze away from Alya, not meeting her eyes as she spoke and still arranging boxes of pastry. 

She was colder than Alya had ever heard the woman. The usual warmth in her tone and welcome in her stormy grey eyes were absent, leaving Alya out of sorts.

Alya frowned, unable to refute or push back as the woman truly was preoccupied. The bakery line was beginning to wrap around the building as the seconds passed and the poor couple was left flying left, right and centre, packing orders and popping fresh pastry out of the oven. 

In fact, she hadn’t even seen Oncle Tom, which meant he was probably in the kitchen whipping up a new batch of whatever trays had been emptied.

Sabine Cheng had always been kind to her. The young Cesaire had found it a Dupain-Cheng trait, the bubbly-sweet kindness. The woman dismissing her now was not the same one who’d always smiled and welcomed her into her abode. Alya knew this surely if only by the way the baker looked at her (or didn’t look at her).

“I just wanted to know if Marinette was in, I wanted to visit,” she tried again. 

“No, she’s not right now. I’m not sure where she is Alya, even then…” she trailed off but Alya could take a hint. The ‘I don’t think she’d want to see you’ was left unsaid, but heard loud and clear. 

The strange and unpleasant feeling that had been pooling  in the pit of her stomach grew. She didn’t like this one bit. First, she couldn’t reach her bestie by electronic means, and now even this attempt was failing. Was there another way? What more could she do?

“I understand,” she said, defeated, “Could you tell Marinette I’ve been trying to reach her?” she tried one more time, a little desperate, “Please?”

An unreadable expression crossed Sabine Dupain-Cheng’s face. She left to the sound of an oven beeping, without response.

The brunette’s shoulder slumped as she trudged out of the patisserie in defeat. 

Was it even worth it to try again tomorrow?

18:36 [Dupain Cheng’s Residence - Marinette’s Room]

Marinette’s back was killing her, she knew she had resigned herself to permanent shrimp posture when she’d decided that fashion designing was what she’d spend the rest of her life doing but seven year old Marinette didn’t grasp how uncomfortable being hunched over for hours could be the way sixteen year old Marinette did. 

With her hair clipped back using her favourite enamel plum blossom claw clip, she sat at her work table, loosening the stitches of the seam. Occasionally, she’d stopped to take a bite of one of the cookies from the batch she’d made some hours ago to restock Tikki’s jar. 

  If she finished by tonight, she’d have it available for their next experiment on Thursday- If not,  the coat would probably end up on the floor and forgotten for the next few weeks, just another line on the to-do list.

Speaking of to-do list, she ought to put a battery in her alarm clock. Recently, she’d opted for an analog clock- it was louder and took more effort to turn off, successfully keeping her awake long enough that she couldn’t hit ‘Snooze’ and dive back onto her bed. It did wonders for her attendance record. 

In fact, she’d consistently been reaching an hour before school sans any dreadful days where a morning akuma interrupted her commute. At the hour she’d reach Renoir, she could count the population of the school on her fingers and toes. Every morning she’d fallen into a little routine where she’d sit for breakfast with her parents and then hop on the bike her Nonna had gotten her for her birthday and make it to school early enough that the sun barely peaked the horizon from where she sat on the school grounds, either safely catching some extra snooze time or sketching. 

Speaking of her bike, when was the last time she refueled? She’d have to check the gauge in the morning.  

A yawn escaped, kwami she was sleepy.

She really wanted to finish this tonight though. She’d rest tomorrow night, after her date with Adrien. The plan was to pick him up from Dupont and they’d go for ice cream. She hadn’t seen him since last week so she was really looking forward to it. Sometimes she missed the conveniences of Dupont- It was right across the street and she’d see Adrien everyday.

She was done opening the seam allowance! Time to pin and restitch.