Summary: A bit of a character study revolving around Adrien's simplest of coping mechanisms in a world full of expectations.

Today, Madame Bustier had handed them out sheets of paper with questions on them, stating that they were personal stress tests devised for Parisian students by the state. According to the record, Francoise-Dupont had the highest rate of akumatised students in all of Paris, and so, Madame Bustier found it necessary to not only acknowledge their stress levels immediately, but also set up counselling sessions for people who scored high on the test. She'd made a show of reassuring the students that they need not share their results with her if they did not desire to, but, in the chance of having a very high score, she'd encouraged them to seek some sort of help or advice that could alleviate that stress.

As a part of stress-relief programme, one class a week was devoted to personal care. Students were allowed to choose between sports, extracurricular activities, reading time, arts, etc. This was a pleasant surprise, especially for the exam years, even though the circumstances surrounding the decision were akuma-related. Adrien didn't look this rare gift horse in the mouth: he chose running.

As Chat Noir, running was one of his favourite and most freeing pasttimes. He could clear his head and think of nothing, nothing but of the wind through his hair, the speed watering his eyes, the adrenaline, the thrill, the joy of pushing, pushing, pushing his body until it burned warmly, legs pumping alongside his heart as blood and oxygen surged through his veins.

It was an incredible feeling.

He changed into his gym clothes and practically skipped over to the outdoor running track. It was a moderate day, cloudy but not chilly, perfect for running. The track was 400 meters in full, Olympic standard, winding in a loop around a field of green grass where other students were warming up and doing stretches, or kicking a ball around. He ran through his stretches quickly, his lean body already twitching with pent up energy and anticipation. Then a whistle blew from somewhere in the distance and Adrien was off like a shot before any of the other students had even raised their heads.

He started lightly, but that only lasted a few paces before he broke easily into a sprint. There, he was starting to feel the wind. It wasn't as strong as when he was Chat Noir, but it was there. Adrien was free. His heart jumped in glee and a bubble of breathless laughter escaped him. His legs pumped like a steam engine, his arms sliced the whistling air beside his ears, his lungs puffed in and out, his feet flew rapidly over the track, barely touching it for more than an instant at a time. Adrien soared down the length and turned the bend with little hesitation and perfect precision. To anyone watching, he was a bullet. He was a rocket. He was a man madly in love. He was followed by demons. He was chasing dreams.

And people were watching.

Adrien didn't notice, too caught up in the delight of his freedom; however, with only a quarter of the track left to cover now, he was getting stares from his other athletic classmates. Kim was gaping, Alix was gawking, Ivan had paused in his weight-lifting to stare, wide-eyed. Adrien didn't see them. He finished his first lap with an ease that was almost graceful and didn't stop for a moment to catch his breath, running right into his second, headfirst. The coach stared. He was smooth, he was gliding, he was passionate. The boy was the picture of a track athlete.

Adrien continued to fly, finishing his second lap, and that was when he was joined by company. Kim had sidled in from his right, and Alix had slipped past on his left. They both wore the expressions of a challenge, and Alix even winked at him before she sped off into the lead. Kim grinned and pounded after her. Adrien, stunned, let himself lag behind until his distracted brain caught up to what had just happened. His eyes glittered dangerously.

Oh no they didn't.

Invigorated suddenly by the provocation, he enthusiastically poured on the speed, his body only slightly fatigued after his two kilometers spent. Kim and Alix were fresh and competitive, but they weren't superheroes. Adrien's face split apart as a wild grin overtook his concentrated focus. If there was one thing Adrien knew like the back of his hand, it was how to utterly crush competition. His muscles burned delightfully as he took back the ground he'd lost in a matter of seconds. His long, powerful legs ate up the track and propelled him forwards, forwards, until he'd bypassed Kim; forwards, forwards, until he'd overtaken Alix. He made a show of leaving them in his dust as he took the corner like a storm and blew over the track on a hurricane wind. Sweat worked its way from his skin to the track like little salty raindrops blowing in the breeze; it cooled him, and Adrien shivered in satisfaction.

It became a game, then. Whenever Adrien would get lost in the feeling of the wind, Kim or Alix would dart past and catch him out of his daze, forcing him to push his head back into the race-unofficial as it was. It was a somewhat odd sensation, running with people who were not Ladybug; but even then, Ladybug did not run the way he ran for long. She didn't like to get lost for hours on end like he did. So Adrien ran like Chat Noir, but as Adrien, and with others of equal tenacity and like-mindedness, and he thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.

He had lost count of how many laps he had sprinted when the coach's whistle screamed through the crisp air. Adrien jolted at the sharp noise, losing his footing and stumbling a few paces before catching himself miliseconds from the ground. His head spun as he reverted into a cautious jog, eyes darting to and fro, trying to make sense of where he was and what was happening.

Running. The race. Kim and Alix. Oh yeah.

He swallowed thickly and blinked over at the coach, who was waving at him. Upon a quick glance around, Adrien realised that Kim and Alix were on a nearby bench, taking five as they gulped down litres of water and rested their exhausted limbs. He cocked his head at them, unaware that they had veered off from the track at some point in their game. He coach called out to him. Chest heaving for breath and muscles rubbery and quivering from the workout, Adrien silently made his way over.

"Yes, sir," he panted as he appraoched the coach.

The coach eyed him with an equal level of wariness and astonishment. He shook his head and held up a stopwatch that Adrien had not noticed clutched in his beefy hand, showing him the numbers on it. Adrien wiped his forehead and blinked stupidly at the face of the device, distantly impressed with the result and with whoever had earned it, before it finally clicked in his mind that it was his.

"This is the best time I've ever recorded in all my years teaching at this school," the coach told him blatantly, "So tell me, Monsieur Agreste, where the heck did a skinny little kid like you learn to run like the freaking wind? And, why haven't you joined the freaking track team yet?"

Adrien stared up at him with wide eyes. His lungs were still recovering the air they needed, and his adrenaline was dropping at an alarming rate, causing a deep weariness to settle into his bones. His sweat was drying rapidly in the cool air too, blanketing his body in a cold sheen. He was suddenly weak.

"Uhm..." he tried to think fast, but his brain was tiring as quickly as his body, "I need to stay in shape for my job, so there's that, but I run for enjoyment too. It probably just accumulated a high stamina and endurance after a couple of years..."

"Merde," the coach shook his head. He glanced at the stopwatch again in what could have been wonder, peering up at Adrien next over the tops of his glasses. Slowly, he dragged his gaze downwards and upwards, scrutinising every muscle on Adrien's body, apparently, taking note of each tiny detail and measurement. Adrien stood still for him, well used to being oogled at by this point in his career. The coach finally met his eyes again, and studied them.

"You like running?"

Adrien nodded like a fool. The coach sniffed and swallowed, turning away at last.

"Training starts after school on Wednesdays. Two hours." The teacher gave Adrien one last glance, "I hope to see you there, Monsieur Agreste." Then he turned and walked away. Adrien stared after him, still catching his breath, but now for other reasons. The coach wanted him to run for Francoise-Dupont? Him?

Adrien blinked himself out of his stupor and looked down at his hands. Wednesdays for two hours. He could probably barter that time into his schedule. It wouldn't be that hard since it was about exercise and staying fit; he could work with Wednesdays for two hours. His hands clenched as excitement zipped through him and a smile crept onto his face. Running for two whole hours without anyone to tell him no, it was almost a dream. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes. He wanted to do it. Adrien wanted to run. He wanted to.

Adrien snapped his head up as students began to file back into the school changing rooms. He was buzzing. He had to tell Nino-he was going to flip! Adrien beamed and hopped into a bouncy jog to follow the other sporty students inside. It was turning out to be a good day! Maybe this stress relief thing really wasn't such a crazy idea after all.

Currently in an exam year. Currently hating it. Needed to get rid of some stress. And there you go.