You stand all alone, on your own
Please come inside from that storm
Stand where it's warm
I can see, you're in need, baby, please talk to me now
-Anita Baker, "Talk To Me"
Marinette bit her lip, struggling against the pressure rising behind her eyes. She clutched her backpack to her chest, the losing design slowly crushed under the pressure. Weeks of her life spent hunched over her worktable, with the needle marks on her fingertips to prove it, had all been for nothing; she hadn't even placed. Why did she think she had the skill to even come close to that winning design? Why did she even try?
The bus screeched to a halt, the doors breathing open to allow a passenger on board.
"Don't cry, Marinette," she told herself firmly, gulping down the lump in her throat. "Don't cry. It's not worth it, don't cry…"
She dug her phone out from her purse, scrolling through her contacts. Chat knew about the design competition she had entered. Gabriel Agreste, her idol, hadn't sponsored it; she wasn't qualified for that huge competition just yet. The competition was held by a smaller company whose prize would have surely gotten her at least noticed by the much larger corporation. If Marinette couldn't even place in an amateur competition, then how was she supposed to make it to the big leagues?
Chat didn't answer the phone, the dial tone going straight to voicemail. In the year or so they had been talking, Marinette had deduced that he was someone of, for lack of better terms, higher class than she, and as such had a demanding schedule. She supposed it was for the best he wasn't available at the moment. If he had picked up, Marinette was certain she would have broken down right then, and crying on a public bus was sure to disturb the other passengers.
"Don't cry…"
Despite her mantra, a tear escaped the corner of her eye and carved a shining path down her cheek. She wiped it away before anyone could see.
Adrien wondered if the girl knew that he could see her crying.
A successful escape attempt – cinema bound – had resulted in him hopping the closest bus. He had to turn his phone off lest Natalie be able to track his whereabouts; technically he was skipping a Chinese lesson. Adrien wasn't familiar with the Parisian public transit system, having a chauffeur and all, and was reviewing his pamphlet to locate the correct bus stop when a quiet sniffle drew his attention to the girl seated a couple seats in front of him.
She was crying…
Thoughts of the cinema gone, Adrien closed the pamphlet and watched the girl. She couldn't be any older than he was, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Dark hair, almost black, pulled into twin pigtails that sat low against the nape of her neck. Her backpack she clutched close to her chest, and he detected the telltale shake of her shoulders as she struggled not to make a sound.
Something had happened to this girl, something awful. Cinema be damned, this girl needed a day off more than he did.
She got off the bus at the next stop. He hopped off a beat before the doors closed, leaving him and the girl standing under the awning of the stop, somewhere near Notre Dame. She didn't move from where she had stopped, finally allowing visible tears to push past her clenched eyelids.
Adrien swallowed his nerves and approached cautiously. "Hey, um. Wanna get some coffee?"
"Hey, um. Wanna get some coffee?"
Marinette looked to her left, where a tall blonde had moved closer, his green eyes slanted in worry as he regarded her. Marinette's initial thought was simply, wow, he's hot. He looked vaguely familiar, probably about her age. She couldn't place him exactly, but she felt as if she had seen him somewhere before.
"Me?"
The boy scratched the back of his neck shyly. "Uh, yeah. I actually saw you looking upset on the bus and I thought, it's too pretty of a day to be sad, and… um…"
Marinette blinked, a flush rising up on the back of her neck. "You saw that?"
"I- I mean I didn't mean to stare or anything, I just thought that, I dunno, you would need a distraction? Maybe? I was actually heading to the movies if you wanna come, or maybe coffee? Or something? Take your mind off of it?"
Marinette only blinked at him as the boy talked, rubbing the back of his head as he looked everywhere except her. It was cute, actually, and Marinette was tempted to take him up on his offer. She did keep pepper spray in her purse, and he didn't immediately display ill intent, unless lightly blushing was a red flag. She supposed as long as she remained in public, it wouldn't be too bad…
"C-coffee sounds… nice," she finally said, rubbing a final tear from her eye and regaining composure.
"Really? Great! There's a really good place not far from here, I think… I don't actually know, I've never taken the bus before…"
"Never taken the bus?"
The boy explained as they walked, her still clutching her backpack to her chest and him keeping a respectful distance between them. He explained that he had a kind of strict father who insisted his son be driven everywhere. The boy had tapped into his rebellious teenage hormones to ditch his activity-of-the-day to take some time to himself, which is when he had run into Marinette.
Marinette found the story amusing. This boy was probably well off financially (she could spot designer-brand outfits a mile away) and maybe even from an influential family. He found something so mundane as taking the bus exciting enough to practically vibrate from happiness. She smiled a bit behind her hand.
"So," he said as he held the door to the small café open for her to enter. "What's got you so upset?"
"What's got you so upset?"
Adrien hoped he wasn't being too forward. The girl was obviously still riled up a little, if her occasional sniffle was any indication, but as they had walked she had seemed to sober up enough to smile at him a bit. She didn't respond to his inquiry until they had already slid into a booth opposite each other, her backpack pressed between her body and the wall. She sipped at her hot chocolate and regarded him carefully, sizing him up.
Adrien understood. He supposed it was just like his relationship with Ladybug; it had taken her months to really and truly open up to him, and he put this girl under pressure in a matter of seconds. Come to think of it, she did have really blue eyes… and dark hair.
"Do you ever work so hard for something," she finally began, drawing her hands into her lap and taking interest in a straw. "And when it's finally time to present it, all anyone has for it is scathing criticism?"
Adrien did work that hard. He knew the pressure to be perfect, and he definitely understood how hard it is to climb so high and fall so hard, especially when it came to his father. He nodded and nursed his caramel macchiato as she continued to speak.
She didn't say exactly what her project was. He respected that. Ladybug had inadvertently taught him patience, and he didn't push for any more information than what she was willing to provide. He never looked away from her face, giving her his utmost attention. The more she talked the more she unwound, the tension seeping from her shoulders and color returning to her face. She talked with her hands, waving them about and pointing at nonexistent things; it was actually kind of cute.
"So I was rejected, and now that's two weeks of my life I won't get back."
"Sounds rough."
"Sounds rough."
Marinette looked at him for the first time since she started talking. He was looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite place; she wanted to say empathy but she wasn't exactly sure what an empathetic expression looked like, so she left it at understanding and disregarded it.
As much as it hurt to once again face her pain and humiliation at the judges' mercy, Marinette would admit that it felt nice to get everything off her chest. It was a similar familiarity she felt with Chat Noir, like she could tell him anything and he wouldn't judge her for it. This boy expressed that same warm feeling.
His kindness tugged at her heartstrings. How many people would stop and comfort a crying stranger, treat them to coffee and listen to their woes? She met his soft gaze and felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her spine, so strong that she physically sat straighter. He looked mildly concerned at her spasm but didn't question it.
"It must be hard to get rejected," he said, and finished off his drink with an obnoxious slurp. "But you seem like an energetic girl, I bet that whatever competition you enter next, you'll blow the judges away."
"How could you be so sure?" Marinette played with her fingers. "What if this is a sign that I should just take up my family business and be done with it?"
The boy tensed, a guarded expression marring his handsome features. "Don't settle for that," he said, much more firmly than what she expected. "Unless it's your dream to take up the family business, don't just settle for it. You'll be miserable. If you really want this, reallywant it, then you'll come up with something even greater than you ever thought you could. You'll be your own person and not burdened with the weight of a legacy you can't possibly hope to live up to."
Marinette blinked. He seemed to realize his outburst and immediately shrunk back into his seat, avoiding her gaze in a submissive pose, hands fiddling with his empty cup. He spoke from experience, she realized, and maybe even grew up in an environment where speaking out was discouraged. She remembered what he said about a strict father, and she suddenly had the urge to hug him, as if he was the one in need of comfort, not herself.
"Th-thanks."
"Th-thanks."
Adrien hated himself. He couldn't just go around telling off strange girls about their life choices when he had no room to speak. She stared at him wide-eyed, mouth slightly open. He was used to being gawked at as such, but it was still a little nerve-wracking. He avoided his gaze, biting his lower lip and giving his hands something to do. It was instinctual at this point to crawl in on himself whenever he let his emotions get the better of him, and he felt bad for being rude. She was the one who needed comforting and here he was using her has a way to tell himself to stand up to his father.
So when she thanked him, he started, slowing raising his gaze to meet her kind blue eyes. "I needed that. And it seems like you could do with a little distracting, too."
So she distracted him. She told him about the girl she babysat sometimes, and how she always got into trouble. She ripped a sheet of paper from a notebook in her bag and taught him how to fold a paper crane (a Japanese art, though she admitted she was half-Chinese). It was incredibly calming, and even if Adrien's crane looked more like a duck, she praised him with a warm smile.
She got a call from her parents in the middle of a rant about an annoying girl at school and they decided to call it a day. Adrien admitted to himself, as they threw away their long-empty cups and headed out the door, that this was much more fun than going to the movies.
"Thanks for doing this," she said, and her grip tightened on her backpack strap. "I needed it."
Adrien smiled. "It was no problem. I hope to run into you again sometime."
He might have imagined it, but her face turned slightly redder. "Y-yeah. I'd like that."
It wasn't until they parted ways that Adrien realized he didn't even get her name.