A/N: Hello, I'm back!


Chapter 2: Alone

"Can't you just call it a finished product? I don't see anything wrong with it," Alya turned her head to look at the almost finished clothing again. Her hands were lodged on the chair that Marinette was sitting in.

The blue-haired girl shook her head. Her right hand was now on the sketchbook. "Something is missing if I just leave it like this, Alya. But if I only add the lace on the neckline, the top part would look heavy compared to the bottom."

Marinette sighed in frustration, raising her hands up in defeat. "I don't know what to do with it, Alya!" She had gotten no inspiration throughout the six days she had been relieved of creating the bowler hat, and now she was desperate for something - anything.

Which was strange when Marinette thought about it. Her visions usually happened three or four times a week, and if Paris wasn't flooding inspiration into her brain, her visions were the ones doing the job for her. As a result, she rarely had to face slumps or artist's block; she got everything she needed inside her brain. And sometimes more.

As much as inner turmoil the visions caused her, Marinette had to admit that her visions did do wonders for her creativity. She was constantly exposed to different elements of inspirations she could use in her fashion design through them, and she always jumped at the opportunity of making something beautiful from her suffering. As a result, her clothing choices had elements of anything from the fifth century to modern day. If one combined them to look at her works as a cohesive whole, they were sure to be disappointed.

Her works never coalesced together in themes nor a specific style; on the contrary, she created both creations of dark and light, earth and sky, fire and ice.

But something about her creations, when all seen together, had an… effect of some kind that many did not know what to call it. There was something profound and truthful that came as a result of all these haphazard themes thrown together randomly, they had all said, and made her works seem as if the themes were not random at all, but was rather chosen with the most absolutely painstaking care. Not because of how similar they were to each other, but because of how different they were to each other. And by throwing them all together in a gigantic fashion melting pot, it seemed, these seemingly contradictory, completely opposite and incompatible themes suddenly seemed… like they were on the same playing field. As if they all belonged on the same soccer team or something, having different roles to achieve a single goal.

When asked what goal it was, Marinette herself replied that she did not know. She only blindly followed what her brain told her to do, trusting that her creations would be right when it was finished. She never put too much thought into what exactly she was creating, either, and what idea she was portraying. She found that not thinking about the ideas, paradoxically, made them come more alive in an intricate complex web of ideas.

Thinking only led to overthinking, she had learned the hard way, which led to doubts and simple errors that could have been avoided easily.

It was a lot easier to breathe sewing rather than just sew, and she supposed that what she was experiencing was part of the wonders of creating.

Because while the finished product was, without a shadow of a doubt, distinctly her , there was also something that was more than just her.

Contrary to what others may believe from this statement, however, her creations didn't transcend her consciousness and break through the mass's subconscious; rather, it was the individual and the masses. A part of a whole, of which Marinette's story was a landmark that one could choose to start at, but was not the only - nor the most important - beginning nor the only story in the web.

When others asked about her designs with the same reverent tone that she had grown up with as a gymnast, Marinette only was able to shrug and say that she didn't know what actually possessed her when she created. She was sure that it was not only her who had a part in her designs.

Her honest response to those who questioned the origins of her talent, thus, became of two categories.

The first were the people who gushed that she had an obvious gift from God, and that she was incredibly lucky to have found it at such a young age. They wished her luck on her endeavors and promised her that she'd go far in life.

The other were the people who attributed her creations to pure luck, and ominously threatened that one day, her luck will run out and she will not know what to do with it.

She had scoffed at their accusations; if luck was on her side, then why did she get visions in the first place?

Granted, she crafted beautiful creations from the help of those visions, but they had no idea what levels of pain she went through to get this far. If they did, then they might have watched their mouths.

Which made her start to think: was the thing that possessed her related to her visions?

Her visions had only lasted a second or two, tops, before the recent developments. Marinette was thus only one of the few who knew how literally fleeting inspiration could be and be of the few (or the only) who could call it that.

And since her inspirations were literally her visions, she couldn't have been blamed for wanting to make a connection between the two strange and seemingly supernatural forces in her life.

However, now she was stuck at one of the most stressful and hardest obstacles in her designing history.

No visions had flooded Marinette's mind at all this week, and so she was literally starving for inspiration, for that vision to strike her at any moment, pick her hand up to guide it seamlessly through the papers, and possess them with an uncanny grace that filled out the gaps that Marinette hadn't even been aware of.

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Any moment now…

Any…

Moment…

Now...

It didn't come.

She groaned, banging her head on the desk. Just when she needed inspiration, she didn't get them. Instead, whenever she didn't need them and sometimes was in situations where she was better off without them, because her sketchbook no longer had empty pages or her pencil broke inside the purse, she overflowed with them.

There just wasn't any balance .

Overflowing inspiration, huh…

She began flipping pages to where her creations - each at unique stages in development, ranging from conception to finalized and refined product - were, a source of untapped inspiration that she had forgotten to use due to her mild artistic slump.

Yes… maybe the lace on the sleeves would be good? Maybe she should cut the back out altogether and replace it with a sheer material with flower prints, and...

Things were looking better, she thought excitedly.

Suddenly, her sketchbook was slammed shut.

She blinked in confusion. It was also partly from the too plentiful air assaulting her naked eyes; she had to protect them.

"Maybe you should take a break from designing?" the owner of the chocolate-colored hand said.

Marinette narrowed her eyes and pouted. "But I was just getting started …"

"Nuh uh uh," Alya wiggled her fingers back and forth with the syllables, "You have been cooped up all day today here, missy. You are getting some fresh air."

Marinette pouted in annoyance but did not object.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the point of view) for Marinette, the place Alya chose to help the designer relax only made her mind go insane in a completely different way.

Because as she looked down at the Seine from the ivory bridge, she was almost certain that she could spot the place where Adrien and she had been in her dream. It had been… there. Yes, close enough to the shore that it they weren't too far away from safety but far enough that it gave a fresh feeling of excitement of the (relatively safe) unknown. It felt so real, so surreal, as if it had really happened to her.

How fitting, she thought, that that had been the place her brain had selected to signify the beginning of a new relationship.

"Come on!" Alya said, grabbing the designer's wrists and dragging her to the ice cream stand. "We got to get rid of that build up of heat on your face, girl! You've been cooped up inside that room too much!"

Oh, she had no idea.

They were greeted by a man whose smiles were as big as him.

"Ah! Alya! It's good to see you again!"

"Hi, André," Alya smiled. Marinette's eyes widened. Was he really the André?

"You are not with Nino today?" the burly ice cream man asked, looking left and right for the young man.

Alya grinned. "No, he's trying to catch up on schoolwork today. Finals are coming up!"

The man chuckled. "Of course it's that time of the year. I'm glad that he's doing well, though." His face fell into a temporary confusion as he pointed towards the blue-haired girl. "Who's the mademoiselle?"

"This is Marinette," Alya bumped into her shoulders.

Marinette gave a shy grin and wave. "She's my best friend."

The man broke into a huge grin at that. "Welcome, Marinette! To André's!"

Marinette broke into a full blown smile. "Thank you, André."

He craned his neck from the opposite direction if where Marinette was. "I see that no one else besides Alya is with you. Tell me," he broke into a somewhat mischievous grin. "Are you involved with someone?"

Marinette's cheeks reddened. "You mean, romantically?"

"Of course!" André beamed. "I don't sell the Ice Cream of Lovers for nothing," he chuckled.

"No, I'm not. And I'm not sure if I'm ready for love yet, you know?"

At this, André's face contorted in confusion. "What could you mean?"

Marinette shrugged. "With finals and the end of terminale , everything is ending. So what's the point in trying to start something new now ?" she halfheartedly said, but she did somewhat believe it.

"Nonsense!" André frowned. "With every end comes a new beginning! And right now, if you open your heart up to love, you might just be able to start something new with someone, no?" he winked.

"Maybe," Marinette tried a smile. "But can I just get a regular ice cream?" Marinette said sheepishly.

"Of course! There is no need to punish someone for being single!" Her visions did not agree with that sentiment. "Choose anything you want!" André said as he opened his arms, inviting Marinette to look in.

After being assaulted by the coldness from the freezer, Marinette opened her eyes to see flavors of all different shades and hues. She even considered that there were too many choices; she saw chocolate, blueberry, blackberry, chocolate chip, mint chocolate chip, green tea, strawberry, mocha, vanilla, raspberry, and too many other flavors she couldn't identify.

How so many flavors fit into a tiny freezer was beyond her. She could only explain it with magic.

Or maybe as André would have liked to put it, the magic of love.

"Um… I'll take the strawberry ice cream," she pointed to the pink one, "and the-uh," chocolate sounded good. She was craving mint chocolate chip, too, but, "green tea, I guess," she said, pointing to the green ice cream.

The man beamed… proudly at her.

Proudly? She thought with confusion evident in her face.

"Of course!" André said, his right hand digging swiftly and excitedly into the tubs of ice cream. "Coming right up!"

As André dipped his scoopers in, Marinette heard a distinctly male voice from the left. "Marinette?" it said in disbelief.

She whipped her head around, and was surprised to see Adrien standing there, looking at her curiously, with a Red with chocolate chips, Dark blue, and light blue ice cream in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" he asked wide-eyed, as if he couldn't still believe if she was, indeed, standing in front of him.

She blinked at him. "What are you doing here?" she almost whispered.

"What, a guy can't have ice cream?" Adrien chuckled as he leaned his head back. The winds tousled his golden locks, making him look every bit picture perfect. It was one of those perfect shots that fashion companies would have loved to have as their front picture for an ad advertising the latest necklace or shirt or whatever. (While she did look at what was trending in the fashion industry, she separates herself from the consumer culture there and thus kept to herself.)

"I was looking at the Seine when André joined me," André waved hello yet again, but this time with his ice cream scoop that now carried green tea. It was a wonder how it did not fall. "Thought that it would be nice to have something cold in this weather," he said, pointing to the scorching hot sun.

"That's good," she chuckled. André's ice cream was ready at that moment, and after a quick thanks to the ice cream man, she turned back towards Adrien. She first popped the cherry into her mouth, relishing the sweetness of the fruit. "What are you doing near the Seine? Are you just out here to sightsee?"

"Actually, no," he chuckled. "It's for work; I have a photoshoot here."

"What? Are you like, a photographer or something?"

His eyes widened with surprise, but then he laughed. "Actually, I'm the one in the photographs; I'm a model!"

She looked at him surprised. "Really?"

He grinned. "Yeah. What are you doing here?"

"I was designing a top today but couldn't get out of a funk." Adrien nodded. "So my best friend," she pointed to the redhead. Alya waved to Adrien.

"Hi," Adrien said casually but with a hint of nervousness. "I'm Adrien," he said as he laid out a hand for her.

Alya smiled as she took it with her own. "Alya."

"Suggested that we go out for ice cream," she said as their hands now parted ways. Marinette smiled. "Just didn't know that it was this one in particular."

"Well," Adrien chuckled. "It is a good thing that you chose this one."

"You're damn right," Alya grinned deviously. Marinette ignored it, rolling her eyes at her best friend's antics.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't have seen you here today!" he beamed.

Marinette laughed as she took a lick of her ice cream. Me too.

"So," Adrien began, "What are you planning to do afterwards?"

"I have the day free to design and make some clothes. But since I can't find any inspiration," she frowned. "Maybe I'll only be looking for inspiration today. I don't really know what I'm doing; this is my first time, but-"

At this, Adrien lit up. His cheeks reddened a little bit. "Maybe I can help you? I-"

"Adrien!" A voice yelled from across the bridge, startling all three of them. "We fixed the camera set! We're ready for you now!"

Adrien sighed, looking at the phone to check the time. It was five fifty five. "Sorry. I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you later?" he smiled nervously. I hope you find that inspiration you're looking for."

She smiled. "Thanks. See you, Adrien," she waved back as he waved goodbye to her. His figure became smaller and smaller as time passed by, indicating that he was further away from her, but not once did she see him turn away from her.

It was only when Adrien reached the crew that was waiting for him that he finally turned around.

Meanwhile, Marinette was immediately pulled back into reality when Alya looked expectantly at her, with mischief shining in her eyes.

Here we go again…

"What was that?" Alya asked.

"What was what?" Marinette asked, trying to stall as much as she could.

" That !" Alya said, as if the word alone explained entirely what she meant. "When have you been picking up models ? And apparently it was without knowing, which is a shame on you, but he's still quite the looker nevertheless." At this, Marinette blushed. "You've always gotten quite the catches, but this one must be your best game yet, Marinette," Alya grinned as she looked at the bluenette suspiciously. "Are you sure you're innocent?"

"What?!" Marinette shrieked. "Alya!" she exclaimed in horrification as Alya chuckled. "It's not like that. We're just friends."

"Well," Alya began, "It's obviously not on his end."

Marinette raised a brow at that. "What do you mean?"

Alya looked at her in disbelief. "How oblivious can you be? Even I can see that that boy is totally smitten with you, and this is only like, what, my first actual meeting with him! Didn't you see the way he looked at you?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, I did, Alya,"

"But did you really see?"

"Yes, Alya, I have eyes. And he looked at me as if I was a good friend."

Alya groaned at that. "No, you dummy, he looked at you as if you were his world ! As if you had the keys to the universe or something!"

Marinette looked confusedly at Alya. "No, Alya. We've only met each other twice."

Alya looked at Marinette curiously. "Really?"

Marinette nodded.

"Well, whatever you did, you must have hooked him in really badly. Because he's totally smitten!" she squealed.

Marinette groaned. Leave it to Alya to make something out of nothing.

Although, now looking back, Marinette was also a master at that too, although she did use her skills for different ends than Alya.

No wonder they were best friends.

Marinette and Alya swiftly exchanged goodbyes not long after Adrien's departure, the redhead wishing Marinette some more luck than usual and some rest.

Marinette chuckled at the luck part as she reminisced about all those times people claimed that she was "lucky." Her visions were definitely not luck, but nor were they misfortune. It was… something, she guessed. She didn't know if she would be able to describe it.

She didn't know if she could describe it to anyone. Would anyone listen? Would they think of her as insane? Or would they accept it as a quirk of hers and get over it easily?

She hoped that it would be the latter but the inner devil in her said that it would always be the former. She cursed that devil; she wished that it didn't always have to ruin her day.

But she was fighting with herself again, and that might have seemed a tad bit insane for most people to handle.

So she stopped.

Until that day, she decided, when she could gather enough courage to admit about the most freakiest supernatural force in her life.

However, the designer did not heed the journalist's advice, as Marinette walked to the Eiffel Tower with her sketchbook in hand.

It was almost sunset when she realized the increasingly dimming and orange-fying light, but her house was close to the Eiffel Tower and so she made it back home before sundown.

The next day, Marinette woke up with a massive headache and a greenlit phone. Groaning, the blue-haired girl pressed her unfeeling right hand to her forehead to cool the throbbing pain as her left pressed the home screen button.

It was a text from Alya.

Hey girl! Nino and I are going to get lunch at the burger shop I told you about a while ago. You wanna come with? Sent: 8:30 AM

Sure! When should we meet up? Sent: 9:30 AM

It's actually not that far so meet us there, will you? And let's meet at one in the afternoon. Sent: 9:31 AM

Alright. Meet you there at one. Sent: 9:32 AM

Marinette looked at the top of the screen to see the time but noticed that her phone was forty four percent.

That's strange, she thought. Had she not plugged it into the charger before she went to bed?

She didn't know what happened, but since she had some time before she had to head out for lunch, she absorbed her head back into the warm blankets after she had connected her handheld device into the wooden walls for its daily electrical nourishment.

As Marinette walked the streets of Paris with her trusty Google Maps in hand, she cursed her decision to skip breakfast in favor of sleeping in. Her stomach was growling with displeasure, protesting loudly for the void in her insides to be filled, and the way people stared at her did not help at all in trying to help herself feel better.

Granted, her headache was gone now, which she was grateful for. After all, no one wanted to be a zombie when meeting with one's friends for lunch. But she was still groggy, stuck in a strange transitory state where one was not necessarily undead but not yet alive, either. Where they were merely functioning because they had to (and also with the magical power of caffeine, she reminded herself.). It was as if she was not yet ready to face the sunlight and start another day, but had nevertheless been thrust into one by an authority figure who did not care at all about her well-being.

Another loud growl came through her stomach as she lengthened her strides.

She almost regretted sleeping in.

Almost.

But when she fell yet again, the least of her worries became her public embarrassments.

The wooden walls of the shop, combined with the warm lights of the interior, made the shop inviting as she looked around the room in shock. The shop hummed with pleasure as she looked around.

The humming was not in the way that machines usually did, she noticed. Instead, it was as if they were imitating humans, and not the sad and delusional kind that hummed with faux joy to relieve pressure from themselves and forget their woes. No, the shop rather hummed with a lightness that revealed its genuine pleasure and contented acceptance of the world.

The entire shop, even though she had never been in it before, enveloped her heart in a nostalgic and heartwarming sensation that were usually thought to have been left behind in the past. Now was not the time for emotions, many now said. Practicality was the newest fad.

As she scanned the tables, she crossed off the faces from who she was looking for.

No. No. Wrong hat. Wrong shade of blue T-shirt. Wrong shade of red hair. No. No. No.

Huh?

She found a familiar looking shade of blond hair who wasn't supposed to be here.

She walked over to him, almost entranced by the glowing golden locks. They looked rather heavenly and angelic, contrasting heavily with the earthly nature of the shop.

"Adrien?" she asked warily.

It was when he turned his neck to respond to the call, it was then she was certain the familiar crystal green eyes were his.

She panicked.

"Marinette? What are you doing here?"

Luckily, she caught herself with her hands before she hit the concrete, posing in a strange plank position. If her calf had not slammed into the hard rock and gave them a blue bruise, she would have considered it to be a perfect plank position, one that her physical education teachers and ex-gymnastic teacher would have applauded.

Ignoring the stares and whispers on the streets and the subsequent blush in her cheeks, Marinette uprighted herself and dusted off her satin dress.

It was after four minutes of walking that she finally reached her destination. Turning off Google Maps, she took in a deep breath.

Purse, check.

Somewhat clean clothes, check.

Bruised calf, check.

Sighing, she opened the door and was shocked to find that the inside was extremely familiar to her, even though she had never been in this place before.

Too familiar. She looked around her surroundings for Alya and Nino.

There was the same humming sound, the same shade of lighting, the same wooden walls that she had seen in her vision not even five minutes ago. There were the same rounded tables and the same faces that she had scanned from the crowd.

This was definitely more than just a feeling of déjà vu, she thought with horror.

Then, with morbid fascination, she saw a blond hair. It, indeed, looked exactly the same as she had first seen it: glowing blond. But now, there was something more to it than that.

There was fear.

"Adrien?" she asked warily as she walked towards him like a moth to a flame. She, like the moth, knew that she shouldn't get too close. Otherwise, she would end up hurt and maybe even die.

But she had to know - she had to know if it really was him.

Please don't let it be him. Please, please don't let it be him. I'll give anything for it to not be him.

It was when he turned his neck to respond that she recognized his crystal green eyes with dread. They widened with surprise.

"Marinette?" Adrien asked her. "What are you doing here?"

He even said the exact same words, she thought with resignation.

Looks like her visions had gotten the best of her again. And this time, it had completely come out of left field.

And she hadn't expected it.

She chuckled at how not-hilarious the situation was. Then, it turned into a full blown laughter as she tried desperately to clutch her stomach to ease the pain.

It hurt like hell as she wiped the tears from her face.

"-rinette? Marinette? Are you… okay?" Adrien asked warily.

She laughed harder at that. It was only after a few more seconds that her laughter subsided.

"Okay?" she snorted with bitter discontent. "Of course not."

"Oh…" he frowned. "Um… would you like to go to a hospital, then?"

The words ripped her heart in two, suckerpunched her gut, and kicked them both again for good measure. She bit back a frown, instead letting it mutate into a bitter smile. Hospital, huh?

The thought of her in a hospital gown inside a mental institution was too much for her to handle.

" Sure ," she replied sarcastically. "I would love to know how clinically insane I am."

Adrien frowned as he looked at her wide-eyed. However, Marinette could see that underlying everything was a genuine concern for her well-being. Which made her angry , for some reason. "I-"

"Marinette!" a female voice interrupted Adrien. " What are you doing?" her tone was coiled with disbelief and scolding disappointment.

"It's…" Marinette still clutched her stomach from pain. "It's hilarious, Alya. I've finally gone insane. My… my visions. They can tell the future now!" she said with faux glee.

"I think so too, girl," Alya said with concern evident in her tone. At this, Marinette scowled.

She will not cry. She will not cry.

Alya put an arm around her currently deteriorating best friend and helped her stand straight. "I'm sorry, Adrien. I don't know what's gotten into her. Sorry for bothering you."

"It's okay," Adrien said, concern still etched in his face. "Is she going to be okay?"

" No ," Marinette frowned, "I'm not." She felt a slap on her shoulders. "Alya."

"Yes, you are," the redhead said as she led the feeble designer back to where their table was.

Since their table was table number four and Adrien's was table five, Alya didn't have to lead Marinette away from Adrien for too long. However, the proximity of how close Adrien was not doing the designer any good.

The assault upon Marinette's brain after her laughter settled down did not help her condition, either. The blue-haired girl was now constantly on guard, looking out for something that everyone else was certain did not exist.

It only exacerbated thoughts that she had now gone insane.

Alya looked at her with worry. "Marinette-"

"Alya, I need to get out of here." Marinette stood up. Her gaze was too intense for a person who was supposed to be enjoying her lunch.

"Wait, Marinette. But what about the food-"

"I can ask them to box it for me." Marinette's blue eyes only looked forward.

Alya's frown did not fade away as her eyes began watering. "What is wrong?" she said gently, kindly. "You're scaring me, Marinette?"

"What is wrong ? I'm what's wrong, Alya," Marinette said without emotion as she walked over to the counter. "Everything about me is wrong," she said, her back against the two tables where her friends sat.

"Marinette, wait!" Alya said with hands reached out, but her friend heeded no attention towards her best friend.

Marinette's food was boxed up within a minute after the food came, and the designer opened the door with urgency as soon as the plastic box were in her hands. She let the harsh rays of the sun soak her up in a cocoon of doom.

What had that been? Marinette's thoughts raced as she ran towards her house, to safety. She would not cry until she was safe, and so the only other option was thinking about just what the heck that had been.

Marinette knew that her visions could be from anywhere from the past to the future, and she had always supposed that her visions were grounded in reality. She didn't know how realistic it was, but judging by what happened, her visions were now nothing if not realistic.

They had and were going to happen.

So what did that make her?

What was the universe trying to tell her? That she had no control over her life and she was to live as a puppet, doing the deeds of whatever it was she was supposed to be doing?

So shut up and just obey?

She let out a low chuckle at the thought.

Like in hell would she do that.

Bring it on, fate, she thought bitterly.

She knew she was fighting her visions again, and that it would likely lead to a failure once again.

But this - this was trespassing on her. This was trespassing and trampling down who she was. It was trying to crumble down who she was to the fundamental core .

And she wouldn't let that happen to her.

She ran faster.

A deluge of tears poured out from her soul as Marinette collapsed in her chaise in exhaustion. She had somehow managed to not shed a single tear on her walk home, instead replacing it with righteous anger, but as soon as she let herself feel weak, she somehow couldn't stop.

She felt a giant chasm in her heart where she usually felt nervous warmth-but-nevertheless-warmth. It was void even more than her stomach, and her heart felt like it was the chasm itself rather than being in a chasm. Her brain was numb from all of the shock and emotions she was now letting herself feel and that no trigger of further pain was present.

From this traumatic encounter, her brain now served her as a second heart.

Bump bump, bump bump, it vibrated.

She… she was a freak. She was different. She belonged in a hospital, so that she could somehow be sane.

Adrien, as well-intentioned he had been, had given her the final blow.

She flipped her body over on her chaise, now letting her back touch the furniture. Her eyes shone of no light, no joy, as she stared out into the distance at a specific but non-specific place on her wall. She lifted slowly her unfeeling hands and hugged them to her knees, touching her forehead with her knees as she trembled into her lap.

She was alone in her room.

Pathetic.

She lifted her stain-filled neck to look at her desk, which now housed her purse and to-go box from the burger joint.

She languidly wandered towards it, drawn like a moth to a flame, and slowly pulled out her chair. She sat down on it, the chair not creaking under her weight nor lowering when she sat.

It was as if she didn't exist.

She unfolded the box as it rustled under her guidance, her hands working on autopilot like it had always done whenever she sewed.

Her thoughts were empty; she didn't know if she could handle it if they weren't.

The aroma assaulted her nostrils, immediately making her stomach growl in both pleasure and displeasure. With a lick of her lips, she dug in and gobbled it all up too quickly.

While her stomach was no longer void because of the food, her heart and brain still was.

And, in a strange way, her stomach still was too.

After three hours of staring off into nowhere, she decided to confront the vibrations that were coming from her phone.

There were thirty eight texts and four missed calls from Alya, ten texts from Nino, and three texts from an unknown number.

From curiosity, she opened up the chat for the unknown number.

Hey Marinette, this is Adrien. I got your phone number from Alya, I hope you don't mind. I'll erase this number from my contacts if you feel uncomfortable with it, but I had to ask if you're okay. Sent: 12:35 PM

She smiled. He cared about her.

I don't know what exactly happened back there, but if I messed anything up, please tell me. I apologize in advance. Sent: 12:41 PM

What? How could he even think that any of this was his fault? None of that was his fault! It was her fault for reacting that way.

She hated it when people called out on her behaviors as overreacting; she was reacting just the amount she needed to, thank you very much. It was all very genuine, where the reactions came from.

But she knew that what had happened back there was such an ugly combination of some of the most unpleasant emotions to invade humanity in all of its history. And even if she hadn't "overreacted," it was definitely not one of her finest moments.

She wouldn't blame him if Adrien no longer wanted to be friends with her.

I hope you're doing alright. I'm worried for you. Sent: 2:55 PM

She smiled forlornly.

Bless him for being so kind towards her.

She began typing.

Hey Adrien, thank you for checking up on me. I'm fine now. I am truly sorry for what happened there. And, no, I don't mind that you have my phone number. We had to ask each other for it eventually if we are going to stay in contact as friends. That is, if you want to still stay as friends. I'm sorry that it had to end up like this, though. Sent: 4:20 PM

It immediately chimed.

What?! Why wouldn't I want to stay friends with you?! And I'm glad that you're doing better. If you need anything, any help, you can count on me. That's what friends are for, right? Sent: 4:23 PM

Marinette grinned. Curse his kind hearted soul.

Thank you, Adrien. Sent: 4:24 PM

It is not a problem. Hope you feel better. Sent: 4:25 PM

She spent the rest of the time reading and responding to Alya's and Nino's messages, saying that she was fine now and sorry for making such a scene at the burger joint today. She didn't know what had possessed her (okay, she knew perfectly what had possessed her, but that didn't mean that she still understood the full story of why she had acted like that.)

She successfully dodged questions about the whys.

When she willed her phone off and went to bed, it was four forty-four.

She was holding hands with a black haired man with red markings on his hand (and hers too) as they looked at the sunset. There was a definitely idyllic quality to the whole scene, something that screamed that they were not in the modern day. There were plenty of grass, plenty of buffalo roaming around in the far off distance that they could see but not too close that their lives were endangered. Judging from the straw huts she could see from her peripheral vision, it was of a time long gone. It was incredibly warm and heartwarming, the entire sight.

She missed it, even though she had never been to the place.

The next few days at school, Marinette noticed that Alya and Nino tried their hardest to make her feel comfortable and included, even going so far as to consider her fragile.

Which, she guessed, she was. She no longer could lie to herself about that.

The designer appreciated the lengths her friends went for her.

However, she couldn't help but feel alone in her body and oppressive thoughts. She wasn't like others, she was a freak of nature, and nature wanted her to do its bidding.

As much as Marinette was repulsed by her own thoughts, she couldn't help but think that Nino and Alya were mere distractions to her.

She chastised herself for being so ungrateful. She should have been so happy that she had such wonderful friends!

And she was. She was happy and so lucky to have Alya and Nino in her life. She appreciated everything they went through for her and felt excited with them.

But all highs had lows, and whenever she wasn't around them to distract her, her thoughts wandered to her fate.

On Wednesday afternoon at around five o'clock, Marinette was surprised to see a familiar face walk into the bakery.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien said to her. Clad in a long trench coat and a comically big fedora on a scorching hot summer day, he was the definitionof absurd.

She giggled. "What are you wearing ?"

"It's the latest fashion trend," he grinned mischievously.

She raised a brow at that. "Really? That's in style right now?" she said incredulously.

"Of course!" He beamed, unable to restrain his laughter. "Who wouldn't want to be this hot in this weather?" he waggled his brows, leaning closer to her face.

She pushed him away with her index finger, smiling. She somehow loved this.

He… he wasn't repulsed by her.

He was still grinning.

"So," she began, "How did you find this place?"

"I asked Alya where your house was."

Her eyes widened in half-grimace and half-alarm. "And she just gave it to you?"

"She-uh," Adrien blushed, rubbing his nape. "She wiggled her eyebrows at me and asked when she can expect a wedding-"

"Oh," she blushed.

"But I told her that I was just coming in to check in on how you were doing, and she gave me the address to your bakery," he grinned. The intensity of that grin made her heart fill up a little bit.

A little.

"Speaking of, I didn't know that you lived in a bakery."

"It's only the best bakery in Paris," Marinette grinned, putting her hands on her sides proudly. "I guarantee it."

He chuckled. "Then I must break my diet to get some. What do you recommend?"

"Well, the eclairs are my favorites. The croissants are a classic, and…" she began listing her recommendations as he listened with a grin on his face.

She began to notice that he paid no attention to anyone else when she was talking, and almost tripped from the intensify of those green eyes.

She only hoped that her bangs would cover up her blush.

After he chose to take the eclairs, Adrien opened the inside of his jacket to find his wallet when he was interrupted with a hand on his.

"Don't," Marinette said. "It's on me."

"Really?"

"Of course. It's as a thanks."

He frowned. "But I didn't do anything," he said.

"Yes you did!"

"I did?"

"Yes. You did me a huge favor. I owe you one."

"You don't have to-"

"Adrien. Friends give free food to each other," she finally said, trying to get the blond to accept her treat.

At this, he beamed. Marinette fought back a chuckle.

"Thanks, Marinette!" Adrien said. "Then I have to treat you back some time, right?" he said hopefully.

Marinette blinked, wide-eyed. "You don't have to. I was paying you-"

"Great!" he grinned. "When are you free?"

"Uh… I'm always free on the weekends, and I have Wednesdays usually open," she tried a smile.

"Okay! I'll check my schedule and text you the details," he beamed, but then it immediately faltered. He bit his lip. "Unless… you don't want to..? Which is totally fine, by the way!"

"No! No, it's not that!" she grinned. "I'd love to hang out with you," she chuckled. "As friends," she added.

"Right. As friends."

"As friends," she chuckled nervously.

Somehow, she only felt like she was deceiving herself.

When Marinette told Alya about their hangout, Alya screamed with excitement that it was a date. Marinette blushed as she stammered out that it wasn't; it was just a gathering for friends. Alya only gave her a look and started choosing Marinette's outfit for the occasion that was yet to be even set up.

Marinette was surprised to hear from Adrien that he was only going to be free around a month later. The autumn collection for the company, as well as something else on the side that the company was doing, was coming up soon. Since he was the lead model, he had to be in a majority of the photoshoots and he would be ridiculously busy for the month.

Marinette said that she understood amidst all of his apologizes and constant notifications of the word "Sorry," but he didn't cease his apologies and promises to make it up to her.

In fact, she had to actually demand that he stop apologizing so her phone would stay relatively quiet when she was working on the top she had been designing.

However, that didn't work; he immediately texted her, "Sorry. I'll shut up now."

Then not a minute after, he texted her

Sorry, I didn't mean to say sorry before. Sent: 10:30 PM

I mean I did, but I didn't want you to… I mean… Sent: 10:30 PM

Sorry. Sent: 10:30 PM

It was a hopeless cause, she sighed with an amused smile on her face.

The very next day, Adrien sent her a picture of his black cat.

He's a pain in the ass. Sent: 6:05 AM

She smiled.

He's cute. Sent: 7:45 AM

You say that because you don't know what he's capable of. Sent: 7:46 AM

I wish I had a pet. Sent: 7:46 AM

You wouldn't wish to have this one, my Lady. Sent: 7:47 AM

She giggled.

I'm sure he's not that bad. Sent: 7:48 AM

You say that because you don't know what he's capable of. Sent: 7:49 AM

What is he capable of? Sent: 7:50 AM

Ruining all of my furniture, scratching at the windows when I bought him a scratching post for that reason, peeing on me when I sleep, and being a general nuisance. Sent: 7:52 AM

She laughed at the idea of the black cat urinating on the model's face.

Aww. he's marked you. Sent: 7:52 AM

Princess. Sent: 7:53 AM

That somehow sent her stomach doing backflips.

If this is his form of affection, I'd rather not have it. Sent: 7:54 AM

Although I'd take any form of affection from you ;) Sent: 7:57 AM

She giggled at the cheesy pick-up line, but her heart was pounding heavily.

You're just saying that. Sent: 7:58 AM

I'm not. Sent: 8:02 AM

My father kills me whenever my room is not in pristine condition. Plus, his pee stinks. Sent: 8:03 AM

Do you have any other pets? Sent: 8:04 AM

No. Just him. Sent: 8:04 AM

Have you ever had any other pets? Sent: 8:04 AM

No. How about you? Sent: 8:04 AM

I haven't. Sent: 8:05 AM

I don't think the bakery would function with animal fur around. Although I've always wanted a hamster. Sent: 8:06 AM

A hamster? Why a hamster? Sent: 8:06 AM

They're so tiny and fluffy and cute. Sent: 8:06 AM

You're such a princess. Sent: 8:07 AM

But I'm no damsel in distress ;) Sent: 8:07 AM

Of course not. Sent: 8:07 AM

The rest of the day, Adrien flooded her phone with cat memes (and occasionally hamster ones although they were far and few in between). She eventually started calling him Chat Noir, and the name stuck.

"So," Nino asked Marinette on a Monday at lunch, "How're things going with Adrien?"

If she had liquid in her mouth, she would have spit it out from surprise.

"We're good friends," Marinette said warily, darting her eyes quickly to Alya and then back to Nino. "He's... nice," she finally said.

Nino raised a brow. "Nice?"

"I mean, he's a dork," she smiled. "And," she frowned at Alya's glare. "He's very nice. Kind. Caring. Maybe a little too much though," she chuckled at how many times he'd apologized for such a simple thing as apologizing.

Nino snickered. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

"You're friends with him, too?"

"Yeah," Nino chuckled. "Ever since that day you walked out of the burger joint, he approached us and we became good friends."

Marinette beamed. "That's great! Maybe we should all have lunch together or something!"

Nino frowned. "I don't know, Marinette. The guy's really busy."

"Really?" Marinette asked.

"I mean, I would assume. He's the lead model for Gabriel , and,"

At this, Marinette's eyes widened. "He is ?"

Nino looked at her funny. "What, you didn't know?"

She shook her head furiously. She would have known if her friend was in her idol's company, right?

"How can you not know? He's Adrien Agreste ."

Realization hit her like a bucket of cold water.

"WHAT?!" She screamed.

"Marinette, shh-"

"I'VE BEEN SOCIALIZING WITH MY IDOL'S SON AND I HAVEN'T KNOWN THIS ENTIRE TIME?!"

"It's even more remarkable that you didn't know. How can you not know he is your idol's son?"

"I thought he looked familiar! Plus, I look at the clothes, not the models," she said sheepishly.

"His face is practically plastered everywhere on Paris!"

Oh, right.

Oh, right!

That was why he had a driver!

That was why he wore that ridiculous fedora and trench coat to her bakery! (She needed to give him a lesson on how to be inconspicuous, and also thank him for all the efforts he made in trying to cheer her up.)
That was why he didn't have many friends!

… Wow.

Too many things started making sense.

She immediately pulled out her phone and began typing.

Agreste? Sent: 12: 03 PM

Yes? Sent: 12:03 PM

Adrien Agreste? Sent: 12:04 PM

That's my name? Sent: 12: 08 PM

I didn't know that! Why didn't you tell me? Sent: 12: 09 PM

Because you would find out anyways? Sent: 12:09 PM

At this, she froze.

Did you not want me to find out? Sent: 12:10 PM

? Sent: 12:10 PM

I mean Sent: 12:10 PM

It was inevitable that you would. Sent: 12:10 PM

But Sent: 12:10 PM

Yeah. Sent: 12:10 PM

I kind of hoped that I could prolong it for as long as I could." Sent: 12:12 PM

Before she was about to ask why, ellipses showed up and made her fingers cease temporarily.

Do you want me to introduce you to my dad or something? I know that you are a fan of his work. Sent: 12:13 PM

And since you are a designer, I just figured that you would want to meet him. Sent: 12:14 PM

She frowned. Why would he…?

Realization hit her like a bucket of ice water.

No. Sent: 12:15 PM

? Sent: 12:15 PM

No? Why not :( ? Sent: 12:15 PM

No. I will meet him because of my own work. Not because I have his son as one of my friends. Sent: 12:16 PM

I don't want to take shortcuts. And friends don't use each other for their own gains. Sent: 12:17 PM

She saw ellipses. They appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

They don't? Sent: 12:21 PM

Her heart shattered at the two words.

No! Sent: 12:21 PM

Of course not! Sent: 12:21 PM

Why in the world would you ever think that?! Sent: 12:21 PM

Is it because of Chloé? Because Sent: 12:21 PM

If that is it, then she is a terrible friend!" Sent: 12:22 PM

She saw ellipses. They appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

She's okay. Sent: 12:25 PM

If she ever made you think that she is a good friend for using you, then she doesn't know what a friend is! She's not 'okay,' minou ! Sent: 12:26 PM

Not like she knows what a real friend is. Sent: 12:27 PM

It was left on Read.

Ellipses appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Please stop, Marinette. Sent: 12:30 PM

Chloé… isn't that bad. Sent: 12:32 PM

She's just… Sent: 12:32 PM

Ellipses appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Disappeared, appeared. Disappeared, appeared.

She's just lost. Sent: 12: 36 PM

Something told Marinette that this was more than about Chloé.

Her heart broke for him.

Chaton , I Sent: 12:37 PM

I'm Sent: 12: 37 PM

I'm sorry. Sent: 12: 37 PM

It's okay. Sent: 12:41 PM

I know you didn't really mean them. Sent: 12:42 PM

But she did.

And that was what was most frustrating about this situation.

She turned her screen off and slammed her palm into her face.

It was funny. It had been barely a week since they had started talking on the phone and texting each other. But she already missed being able to talk and text with him after one evening of being deprived of it.

She missed his stupid puns and 'my Lady' and 'princess.'

She missed his stupid cat memes. And maybe even his flirting.

When had she become so addicted to him?

She tried to move, but she was tied by something. Something tight, and it was taking away the breath from her lungs…

She looked down and saw a rope tied intricately around her body. She felt something hard, like wood, on her back, and…

She saw that her white dress was on a wooden floor. Her hands were tied with a… was that a cross ?

She felt and smelled flames. They engulfed the floor and now was threatening to devour her whole… She tried desperately to get out, to fight the ropes and get out of her alive.

But she felt a gaze.

His.

Facing her was a sinister, prideful, and regretful, yet familiar looking, man.

That… that was her partner , and he was…

She tried to croak out his name, but her voice didn't come.

So she screamed when the fire finally devoured her whole.

She woke up, her voice sore and panting in panic. Tears ran down her face, and her breaths trembled in fear as she shivered from the cold. Trying to gain any body heat possible, she covered her feeble arms with her hands in a protective yet defenseless stance.

Her phone vibrated.

Good morning, my Lady! Sent: 5:55 AM

I know you're not up right now, but I'm starting my autumn photoshoot today. Sent: 5:55 AM

Wish me luck! Sent: 5:55 AM

With trembling fingers, she began typing.

I know you'll do well, chaton . Sent: 5:58 AM

Her fingers trembled and hovered over the keyboard after she sent it.

The phone immediately chimed.

You're awake? Quite unusual of you. What's up? Sent: 6:00 AM

Can I call you? Sent: 6:03 AM

Of course. Sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I was just thinking about some things. Sent: 6:05 AM

At that, she exited the chat window and pressed call.

Ring…

"Hello?"

" Adrien …" she trembled.

"What? Are you crying? Are you okay, Marinette? What happened ?" he said in a succession of worries.

At his voice, she couldn't take it anymore. She broke down into sobs.

"I… I was roped on a log, and I… there was fire all around me. And there was this man-"

"Shh," he cooed gently. "It's okay, princess. It's…" He hesitated. "It's just a dream. It… it isn't real ." There was a gentleness attached to the word, but Marinette also couldn't help but hear disbelief in his tone.

"It isn't real ." Something told her that he was also convincing himself that while he was trying to soothe her. There was now a hint of sadness attached to it.

" It isn't real ," he said again in disbelief. His breath started hitching. She heard fast and hot breaths of panic.

It didn't help her feel better, but she sniffed her tears away for Adrien. He had been there for her; now it was her turn to be there for him.

"It's...it's okay, minou ," she tried a smile. Even though he couldn't see it, he could hear it. "It is real."

At this, he sighed heavily with what she hoped was relief.

"Thank you, Marinette."

The call ended.

She sighed.

What was that about?!

It was obviously something deeply personal to Adrien, she knew, and it had something to do with dreams.

She had never seen anything like it. Did normal people have problems with their dreams, aside from the typical nightmares?

Did normal rich people have dream problems?

Did normal rich people born from gigantic fashion moguls have dream problems?

Did normal rich people born from gigantic fashion moguls who possesses a black cat with a hyperactive urinary system at the worst times have dream problems?

Could… (and she thought this with the risk of becoming truly insane)

Could he be like her ?

The idea sounded far fetched enough, but it didn't sound ridiculous, for some reason. She blamed it on how weak she was.

Her phone vibrated.

Oh shit I was supposed to be making you feel better but I failed you. I'm so sorry. I made this all about me, didn't I T.T? Sent: 6:25 AM

She chuckled and shook her head.

It's fine. You were having a rough morning. Sent: 6:26 AM

But you were also having a rough morning :( Sent: 6:27 AM

I'm okay now. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I think you needed it more than I did. Sent: 6:29 AM

Good luck at the shoot today. Sent: 6:29 AM

Thanks. Sent: 6:30 AM

I'm so sorry. Sent: 6:31 AM

I'll make it up to you. Sent: 6:31 AM

Somehow. Sent: 6:31 AM

You don't have to, minou. Sent: 6:31 AM

I sure do, and I will make sure that I do. Sent: 6:31 AM

Thank you, Marinette. Sent: 6:32 AM

? Sent: 6:32 AM

Ellipses appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared.

For helping me. Sent: 6:36 AM

She smiled.

Anytime. Sent: 6:38 AM

After two minutes of contemplation accompanied by back-and-forth pacing, Marinette decided that no, it wasn't likely that Adrien had visions like she did.

For one, he didn't seem to know what she had been talking about when she said that she had random visions throughout the day. He actually seemed confused by the whole prospect, although he didn't go so far as to consider her insane like some people did. (And she hated to admit it to herself, but they might have been right all along.)

Secondly, her problems weren't with dreams, but with visions. Her problems were from the day, while his were from the night. She doubted that the two were related when there was such obvious difference.

Thirdly, it just didn't seem likely. Because if Adrien really did have similar problems as she did, then wouldn't he be clumsy as well? Wouldn't he be falling too, instead of being the one to catch her? His behavior seemed completely different from what she did, who she was.

(In fact, excluding the part where he was the son of a fashion mogul, he seemed as ordinary as they came. She meant this in the highest of praise.)

No. It probably was something that most people had problems with, like a nightmare or something. This one had just led to a reaction that was just… more intense than normal.

As much as she liked him (as a friend! She liked to remind herself) and wouldn't mind if he was like her in some way, she had to face the truth that she was different from everyone else.

But maybe not tonight.


Author's Note: And on the next episode of Angst Extraordinaire, the plot will further unravel as we switch gears and scoop up a Fluff Ice Cream, sprinkled with a bit of Angst!

Whoops…

So…

That happened. *looks innocently to the left*

Who knew that these dorks could be such trainwrecks? (I actually didn't, by the way. It just somehow… ended up like this. Don't ask me how I got here; I don't know.)

I'm afraid that I've made Marinette unlikable for some people with this chapter. She is getting over the ugly parts of her and she will be helping Adrien big-time with his problems. But for now, she needs to face her inner demons. And as she wants to rather run away from them and pretend they don't exist rather than face them head-on, she needed a giant wake up call.

Also, forget what I said about this story likely being a two or three shot. I think this can even become a ten-chapter story (considering that each chapter houses ten thousand words) depending on how good of a job I do. Maybe even more if I end up Introverted Intuition-ing (Ni-ing) too much. (For those of you who don't know what that is and are willing to learn, please look up cognitive functions of MBTI. Actually, go to Michael Pierce's YouTube video on INFJs please; you'll get a much better perspective on Ni that way.)

Why do I make myself do more work?

It's not on purpose. But I somehow end up doing it.

I hate (and love! But hate in this particular circumstance) myself.