"Oh, Marinette?" Adrien said. "She's a really good friend!"
"Marinette's one of my good friends."
"Marinette is so cool, I'm so happy she's my friend!"
"Oh, no. Marinette is just a friend."
"You're such a good friend, Marinette." The smile on his face was bright and so, so beautiful that it sent butterflies rampaging in her stomach. But the words that came from those lips were less sweet. In fact, they murdered the butterflies in her stomach, turning them into a dead weight not appreciated. She forced a smile back, hoping he couldn't notice the pain in her eyes. If only he knew how badly she wanted to be more than "Just friends." She wanted to grab him and shake him silly until he saw how perfect they could be. Tell him that she was in love with him, and knew everything about him, that she wanted nothing more than to be his everything.
But she only said, "Thanks, Adrien," and swallowed the bitter tasting words down until they couldn't betray her.
Over and over she was referred to as 'my great friend, Marinette.'
But when Adrien cornered her after that stupid, stupid tv show disaster to ask her about her pictures, she still wasn't able to tell him, to correct him, that she didn't want to be 'just friends.'
"I-I… I'm ju-just a f-f-fan." She stuttered out, cursing her inability to make her feelings known.
Did she imagine it? The flicker of disappointment in his eyes at her answer? When he pressed further, did he really want her to change her answer?
She knows she should have, but also knows there was no way she could have.
All these months, he had been calling her 'just his friend, Marinette.'
So why did it hurt so badly when she said she was just his fan?
Surely it couldn't be that bad to have someone as amazing and talented as Marinette as his fan. She was a fan of his work, and wanted to go into that profession. Shouldn't he be excited that his friend thought so highly of him to have pictures plastered all over her room for inspiration?
Maybe it was because she was obviously a fan of his father's designs than his posing in front of a camera. Anyone could sit still and look pretty with the right makeup artist and lighting. Maybe it was because, just for once, he wanted someone to look at him, not his father.
Yeah, sue him, he had been hoping his wonderful friend had been looking at him. He doesn't know why he even let his hopes emerge. He was the black cat of bad luck. Nothing ever went his way.
He knew now, though; that he didn't want Marinette to be just his friend. He didn't want her to be just his fan. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted from her, but he wanted more than her friendship, and he was gonna get it.
