Here's chapter 3, thanks for your support!

Tumbr: the-noble-idiot

"You're afraid of falling, I'm afraid too.
It's murder in the morning, I don't want to be alone
so just pick up the phone and say hello."

- Hedley, "Hello"

Marinette was having boy troubles.

Nathanael had pulled her aside after school let out that day… and… well…

"He said he likes me, like, like-likes me," Marinette wailed into the phone, one arm thrown across her eyes to shield herself from the world. She felt so compressed against the walls of her bedroom, the weight of her newfound knowledge weighing heavily on her thoughts. "I don't know how to deal with this!"

"Well, how do you feel?"

"I mean, he's a friend, and he's nice, quiet, creative, I guess. And he's not exactly bad-looking, it's just…"

"You don't like him that way?"

"Exactly! But I can't just say no, because that's mean and it'll hurt him and I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want to say yes! What do I do!?"

Chat Noir was silent as he mulled over her situation. He had been all too eager to find a distraction from whatever part-time job he partook in; apparently his co-workers were not very accommodating to his schedule, and he was on his first break since lunch, and it was nearing five o'clock. He hadn't picked up the phone the first couple times she had called.

Which had led her to calling Alya for advice. Alya, in all her Alya-ness, suggested that she get her feet wet in the dating pool and date Nathanael for a while and see how it went. The journalist's advice ("You should probably have a boyfriend by now, like, live a little! Make out, break some hearts, move on!") was not exactly Marinette's area of expertise.

When Chat had finally picked up, she'd immediately launched into a long tirade about the event with barely even a "Hello", describing Nathanael's confession in detail (though she changed Nathanael's name to Danny. Could never be too careful). Chat knew every word passed between them, even how Nathanael had stood with his back to the brick wall, hands crossed over his sketchpad as he clutched it to his chest. The redheaded boy hadn't been able to look her in the eye, preferring comfort in his shoelaces as his face turned as red as his hair.

"I don't expect an answer right away," he had said to break her aghast silence before practically sprinting away, leaving Marinette standing shell-shocked and staring at the place he had just been standing.

"Well," Chat finally came to a decision. "You should just turn him down."

"You should just turn him down."

Adrien adjusted his position in his chair, relishing the short time he had to spend in Ladybug's electronic company. It had been a particularly rigorous couple hours in front of the camera, with strange poses that made his neck ache and jeans that stretched a little too tight for his taste. It was a beautiful day for a photo shoot, and the park was beautiful at this time of day, but Adrien was slowing being sucked dry. There were only so many times he could imagine his mother's spaghetti before he wanted to collapse. So it had been a shot of adrenaline in his tired body to see not one, but two missed calls from Ladybug once he had finally wheedled in a break, and a secondary shot of energy when his phone began to vibrate with her icon again.

"Turn him down?"

"Yeah. I'm a love expert, so therefore my advice is infallible."

"Oh yeah? Okay then, Mr. Love Expert, how exactly do I do that?"

Adrien couldn't suppress his smile. Ladybug had quickly grown comfortable with him; she was no longer the stammering and nervous girl she had been once she discovered she had the wrong number. Though she was still cautious of her identity; he didn't doubt that "Danny" was a pseudonym for the courageous boy that had confessed. Still, Adrien thought as he mulled over the best way to turn someone down (god knows how many times he's done it), he was glad she had warmed up to him. They talked as if they had known each other forever; they shared a kind of relationship that he and Chloe could never hope to have.

"Honestly, the best way is to be firm but gentle," Adrien advised. "Acknowledge his feelings, thank him, and just tell him straight that you don't return the affection. It's going to be awkward, but honesty is the best policy here. With any luck, he'll accept your rejection and move on."

Ladybug weighed his answer. Something on her end creaked; Adrien assumed it was her bed. "Be honest, huh. I dunno, I just feel so guilty…"

"Maybe," Adrien consoled. He drew on his experience turning down fangirls. It was at least a bi-weekly occurrence, whenever he made a public appearance. There were tears, there were shoulder pats, and there was moving on. He did his best to let them down easily, and results varied, but in Adrien's experience it was best to just do it. "Maybe you do feel guilty. And he'll be embarrassed, you'll be embarrassed, but it's a conversation you need to have. Otherwise you're just leading him on, and that's never good."

"Otherwise you're just leading him on, and that's never good."

Marinette hadn't thought about it like that. She sat straighter on the bench in the park. She had abandoned her stuffy room for the fresh air, and the clear head allowed her to reasonably listen to Chat Noir's advice.

A father and his child played on the swing set. Across the park, a large buff man, looking almost ape-like, stood near a taller thin man in suspenders wielding a camera and adjusting different light canvases. The ape man stood protectively over a person sitting in a chair with their back facing her, talking animatedly into a phone, blonde hair rustling as a cool breeze swept through the trees. A mother walked her dog along the perimeter of the fence. It was such a tranquil scene, it made Marinette smile. I love Paris.

"That's actually really good advice," the designer commented. She couldn't fathom the notion that anyone really thought about her – clumsy, quiet, and not-as-pretty-as-some Marinette – in that kind of way, and therefore had no idea how to deal with the situation. She was grateful for Chat's input, and figured an unbiased opinion on the matter was actually an immense help.

"If only you knew," Chat Noir chortled, and Marinette could sense the smugness on his face. She had only been talking to him for a couple weeks, and she already had a grasp on his personality; timid at first, but quickly opened up to reveal his suave and quite outgoing nature. She imagined a dark haired and dark eyed late-teen, reclining in a break room chair, legs propped up on the table as he gloated.

"Oh, Chat Noir's a heartbreaker," Marinette laughed, leaning back against the bench.

"Untrue!" Chat opposed, huffing indignantly. "You know you're the only one for me!"

Oh, yeah. He'd also started flirting with her.

She had been adverse to it, at first. This strange guy, whose face, name, age, and occupation she didn't know, subtly flirting and making light passes. It freaked her out, but now it was simply a personality quirk. He probably flirted with every girl he talked to, stranger or no. Chat Noir, resident mystery playboy.

"Oh please," Marinette groaned, but was somewhat pleased to know that he was unaware of the small smile on her face. "Don't make me use your own advice against you."

"The ultimate betrayal."

Marinette giggled again, and he chuckled along as well.

"But seriously, Ladybug," Chat regained his composure. "Acknowledge his feelings, but don't do anything you don't want to do."

Marinette breathed through her nose, feeling significantly better than when she had first called. "Thanks, Chat."

"Thanks, Chat."

Adrien smiled, memorizing he way his fake name rolled off her tongue. "No problem, My Lady."

She groaned on the other line. "Seriously?"

Adrien liked the pet name. It made him feel even a little bit closer to the mysterious girl. He wanted to call her his friend. It was a much better sounding word than acquaintance, and he felt at this point they were beyond the status of stranger. He couldn't deny the light fluttering in his chest whenever they conversed, and he hesitated to call it a crush.

You've only heard her voice, his rational side reasoned. You don't know anything about her.

It didn't matter, Adrien told himself. He had finally found himself a person with whom he could connect, and he was probably growing a sort of dependent kind of affection for her. He figured it wasn't a "real" feeling. But he still couldn't help the leap in his chest whenever he thought about her, of her voice, her laugh. He wanted to know so much, but respectfully refrained from asking personal questions. It was a struggle. But Adrien Agreste was a gentleman first and foremost, and that meant not imposing on a girl's right to privacy.

"Of course," Adrien grinned, and hopped from his chair when he caught Natalie gesturing at him that break was over. "My break is over; I've got to get going."

"Oh, okay," she said. "I guess we'll talk later, then?"

"Sure," Adrien agreed readily. Natalie sliced a firm hand across her neck. Get off the phone.

"Thanks again for the advice, Chat."

"My pleasure. Let me know how it goes."

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Bye."

"Bye."

"Who was that?" Natalie questioned immediately, her piercing eyes and downturned lips making a very condescending picture.

"A friend," Adrien said nonchalantly, struggling to ignore the pleasant warmth flickering in his chest at the word, and tucked his phone into his pocket. "What's next?"