Adrien frowned at his reflection and poked his finger at the strip of cloth around his neck.
Maybe the tie was a little too much? But without it, his outfit was missing... something.
A pocket square? But... he wasn't dressing for a party. Definitely not a pocket square. He didn't want to come off as stuffy, not when his face was already on posters plastered on bus stops across the city.
What was he trying to do here, in the first place?
A good impression. He was trying to make a good impression.
But... what was a good impression anyway? What did he want the other kids to think of him? Obviously he wanted them to like him. He wanted them to like him and... to... talk to him. Yes. He wanted friends who weren't placed before him through Nathalie's - and therefore his father's - machinations.
Focus, Adrien.
So. First day of collège. He was worrying over what to wear, which, now that he thought about it, was a little ridiculous. This wasn't some gala he was being made to attend, or a fashion show, or anything that had to do with his father or his family name. He didn't have to dress up with those things in mind, which was a strange new feeling, a weightless feeling.
He studied his reflection in the full length mirror of his bathroom: the white blouse buttoned up to the collar, the sweater vest draped over a chair behind him, and the neckties he had been choosing between clutched in either hand.
He had laid out his favorite hair products by the sink, thinking that perhaps slicked-back hair would finish his entire look...
Who are you trying to impress, Adrien?
Someone knocked on his bedroom door. Nathalie's muffled voice called through, jolting him into action: "Adrien? Are you finished in there?"
He darted out of the bathroom, tossing the ties onto his bed, and very nearly dove headfirst into his closet.
"Breakfast has been out for five minutes now."
"I just need five more, Nathalie!" he shouted, digging through several stacks of clothing.
"Ms. Bourgeois will be here by then," Nathalie monotoned.
"Stall her please!"
Nathalie's heavy sigh gusted through the thick wood of his door, as it always did when he discovered that he could make ridiculous requests of her that (if somewhat reasonable) would go unquestioned.
"Be out in no later than fifteen minutes unless you wish your rooms to be invaded, Adrien."
"Thanks, Nathalie!" he called, projecting louder because he could hear her already walking away. She never stayed longer than necessary, always did her duties to the letter, no more or less, which meant that although she had been assisting him as much as she did his father, she had never shown him any favoritism. Well, she wasn't very warm but she was around. Even if it was just a job to her, Adrien thought it wouldn't hurt for him to be nice. It's what his mother would have expected of him.
His mother would have expected him to be a lot neater about digging through his closet too, but one couldn't help it when one had time constraints. Adrien found what he was searching for and pulled it out without a thought, disheveling an entire row of neatly folded shirts in the process.
The polo was a gift from a young designer he had worked with a summer ago. She had been one of his favorites to work with, and her designs were very much like her personality - straightforward, simple.
He unbuttoned the top two buttons and shoved it over his head on his way back to the bathroom.
Better, he thought to himself as he took a moment in front of the glass. A bit of product swiped through his hair fixed the rest of it. Blond bangs hung over his eyes, a little longish but... he would manage. That low rumble outside was probably Chloe's car pulling up front which meant that he was out of time anyway. He somehow manage to stuff his feet into his shoes - the sneakers instead of the loafers - and lace them up properly before racing outside.
Nathalie was in the middle of opening the front door by the time Adrien reached the top of the stairway, stopping so hard that he nearly tipped himself over the corner of the balustrade. Somehow, his timing was impeccable. He had straightened just in time to meet the searching frown of one Chloe Bourgeois.
It had been obvious to him early on that Chloe was a Character with a capital C. Adrien was raised to be a nice boy so he held his tongue whenever Chloe turned up her nose at things that didn't reach her standards, or tried to tolerate the new habit she had formed of supergluing herself to his side whenever there was an audience to see. When they were about six, after a mere four playdates, she declared that she was going to be his wife someday. Being young and inexperienced and ignorant, Adrien had shrugged. He didn't know what marriage was but if it made his tempestuous blond playmate happy then he just went along with it. The first thing young Adrien had learned about his playmate was that life was a lot quieter if Chloe got her way.
Well, "quieter" tended to be in a metaphorical sense.
"Adrien, stop dawdling!" she snapped, hands balled on her hips. "We're going to be late!"
"Yes - Sorry!" He found himself taking the steps by twos in his hurry. It was only by virtue of his fencing training, probably, that he didn't fall all over himself when he skidded to a stop in front of her.
Chloe's eyes were a light shade blue, almost like crystals, and at times they seemed just as sharp and multifaceted - like she could see right through him. Adrien tried not to twitch when she ran that piercing stare over him. Her expression was difficult to read.
"I don't think I've seen you wear that shirt before. Is it one of your father's?"
Adrien shook his head. "Got it as a gift from one of father's work friends."
Chloe hummed. She reached over without asking nor caring for his personal space and fixed his collar. "It's a good look. It matches me." She too was wearing white - white shoes, white pants, white blouse - and over it an accent piece in the form of a chic yellow jacket that was a shade or two darker than her hair.
She smiled, a triumphant grin that tugged her glossy lips to one corner, and it lasted the space it took for her to stop admiring their matching clothes and tip that inspecting gaze up to his face. Her expression tightened into something like disgust. "Ugh. Adrien, what on earth is happening to your hair? Those bangs are way too long."
And again she dove in with hands in places he was not comfortable with. "I'll have it cut over the weekend," he said, short of a plea, resisting the temptation to swat her hands aside. "Shall we - ? "
"Hold still and look down. I can't reach," she insisted, tugging and brushing, and Adrien held his breath and craned his neck down.
He had to try again though: "Chloe - "
"Adrikins, if you know what's good for you, you will let me finish," Chloe said in a hard tone edged with sweetness.
Adrien shut up and tried not to fidget as she ran polish tipped fingers through his hair over and over, and after what felt like an eternity she finally stepped back with a self-satisfied smile.
"There." She tittered to herself. "I think I might have a future as a stylist one day. Shall we?"
She turned sharply and her long blond ponytail nearly caught him square in the nose. Adrien was about to follow when something tapped his shoulder. He turned and saw Nathalie, and in her hands was -
"My bag!"
"You looked like you were missing something," Nathalie said. She helped him put it on.
"I - I didn't want to make Chloe wait." He grimaced over his carelessness.
"Indeed, Ms Bourgeois wouldn't have appreciated it... Adrien?" A pause. Adrien turned and Nathalie pointed to the bag. "There's an apple in there. Please eat it since you weren't able to have breakfast."
Adrien blinked and nodded. "Um, thanks. See you at lunch," he tried to say, but Nathalie had already turned and entered the house, the door easing to a close behind her. Adrien nearly jumped out of his skin when Chloe yelled for him to get into the car already.
It was weird that he felt like his feet - so eager to move, so eager to go just a minute ago - were now glued to the step just outside the threshold of his home.
Hesitation replaced excitement because... he was doing this. He was really doing this. Chole could stand to wait for just a minute while he caught his breath and let the weirdness settle. He hopped down the steps carefully at first, watching his feet, smile growing wide till it could have stretched from ear to ear. He skipped the last two steps and landed hard on the tiled pavement that led up to the gate, where Chloe and her car waited.
He crossed over with a calm that showed no hint of a quickly beating heart, slipped into the car and listened with half an ear as Chloe launch into a soliloquy about the things she believed that he ought to know about the new school.
He would make his own impressions. He could now - because he was going to experience it firsthand.
He couldn't have tempered his grin if he tried so he kept his face carefully turned towards the window, smile half-covered by an arm propped up by the car door.