With her latest creation finished and the weather being a gloomy grey with the promise of rain, Marinette didn't feel like being up in her room. Her restlessness had drawn her down into the bakery where she had immediately taken over the cash register, giving her mother a well-deserved break.
Business was slow that day, so Marinette occupied herself with cleaning the counter and wiping the floor. A few of their regulars came in, giving her the orders she already knew by heart and asking how she was. The small talk was nice but lasted not long enough to really offer entertainment.
After a few hours she had cleaned everything in the bakery, rearranged the display cases to look as best as they could, and even counted the macarons for no other reason than giving herself something to do. Out of options, she took the notepad she and her parents used to write down orders and started doodling a simple outfit.
Emerged as she was in her thoughts of which colours might look best for the shirt, she didn't notice the familiar sound of the front door opening and the ding of the bell that announced a new customer. She did notice, however, a shadow falling over her and a smooth, melodious voice when someone started speaking to her.
"Taking a break with style, I see."
Marinette jumped, making notebook and pen drop down on the counter as she looked into the familiar green eyes of an unfortunately familiar blond model. Her startled expression quickly made way to an unamused scowl.
"Normal strangers aren't that persistent in annoying me. Especially not models. Just admit that Chloé paid you to play another prank on me and leave the bakery."
Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a nervous smile.
"Actually, I haven't talked to Chloé in a while. I didn't even know you knew her."
"She's the mayor's daughter and goes to the school that is right around the corner of this bakery. Hard not to know her," Marinette deadpanned and folded her arms. "If you're not buying something, leave."
His look of horror was almost comical but was quickly replaced by a thoughtful expression.
"It really would be rude to walk into such a fine establishment and not buy anything," he mused and let his eyes wander over the selection of sugary goods. "What do you recommend?" He asked and suddenly had a charming smile on his face. His rapidly changing moods would eventually give her whiplash.
"That you pick something, pay for it and then leave," Marinette replied with still folded arms, not willing to play whatever game he was trying to rope her into. His smile turned into a hurt frown and he managed to look like a kicked puppy.
She had planned to not give in into anything he said or did in case it was a trick, but there was something in his gaze that urged her to forgive him. It was not in the usual kind of sense when she'd see reason in a situation where she was in the wrong and was too stubborn to admit it, but in a sense of it just seeming like the right thing to do with no reason as to why given. It was downright irrational.
The sudden appearance of her mother not only snapped Marinette out of whatever trance she had been in but also managed to startle both teens.
"Now, now sweetie, don't be rude to the customers," Sabine said, making Marinette have a hard time to find her voice for a moment. Of course, her mother was right and she shouldn't scare away customers by being rude, but this guy was just…unnerving. She couldn't get a clear read on him at all. At least with Chloé, her intentions were always clear as day. Adrien Agreste, though, remained a mystery. And then there was this weird urge to forgive him and just do whatever he asked.
Creepy.
"So, what can I get you, dear?" Sabine said in her usual motherly tone, oblivious of her daughter's goose bumps and regarded Adrien curiously.
"I…uh…," he stammered, looking around the display cases frantically.
Not so smooth now that my mother is here, huh? Serves you right, Marinette thought with a little bit of malicious joy.
"C-could you maybe recommend something? I…well, I've never been to a bakery before."
Sabine gazed at him with a look of shock and kind reassurance while Marinette just looked at him like he was an idiot. Of all the excuses he could have thought of, that was probably the most ridiculous one. Her mother seemed to whole-heartedly believe him though and quickly rattled off her personal favourites, especially including those Marinette had either helped create or favoured.
Not wanting to stand this mild humiliation anymore, Marinette eventually retreated—not fled!—upstairs, leaving her mother and Adrien behind in the bakery. If she would have turned around, she would have seen the sad and almost longing look the model threw her way as she left.
It was on that day, that she got his first message. It was simple enough and was given to her by her mother as they set up the dinner table. A little piece of paper, the kind they wrote orders on, still with the faint lines from her doodle shining through, was all it really was. All it really should be. But it was the words on said paper that confused her. She had expected maybe another try to apologize or maybe even a mocking joke. Instead, it said the following:
Leaves tend to turn to gold, you know? And isn't gold a beautiful thing? But golden leaves are short-lived and rare in summer, so what if one, once gold and now dead and brown, turned back to its former glory? Imagine something plain and even ugly to some, become beautiful once again.
~Adrien
What kind of message was that even supposed to be? If he tried to explain himself for the dead leaf from the other day, then this was quite the poetic approach and she wasn't sure if she was buying it. After all, this could just be a ploy to lure her into a false sense of security to get her with yet another prank. She couldn't be sure, so she stayed suspicious.
As soon as she got back to her room though, the little piece of paper landed on her pin board.
When she went down to eat breakfast the next day, her father handed her a note. At first, she thought it might be a shopping list or an address and that she should run errands—which wasn't uncommon—but she was wrong.
"A boy came by early this morning when we had barely opened. Gave me all kinds of compliments for a chocolate croissant he bought yesterday and asked for you. I told him you were still asleep so he left you a note," Tom said with a chuckle.
Marinette took it and quickly read it over, confused as to why Adrien—because who else could it be—would come to the bakery at six in the morning.
This bakery and your family's kindness are a blessing. I can see where you got it from. Have a nice day!
~Adrien
It sounded friendly, but not awfully chummy. He was aware that he was still walking on thin ice but she could not ignore the suspicion she still strongly harboured about the whole situation. Her father did not seem to have such worries and instead had interpreted—because of course he had read it—the message as the flirt that it really was not.
"An admirer?" he asked in a tone that would have been embarrassing if anyone outside of her family would be present. Marinette just huffed.
"Hardly."
She then went about her day—after adding the latest note to her pin board, she needed to collect evidence after all—starting on a new project for which she tried to use the fabric scraps she had left. In her determination to keep herself busy as to not having to go down into the bakery, she ended up finishing her work at the end of the day.
Marinette had expected this to be the end of it. Adrien had come to the bakery, tried to apologize, failed and complimented her via a small note. What more business could the model have in her parents' bakery?
It turned out that she underestimated him, for when she came downstairs the next morning, there was a folded note lying on the otherwise empty kitchen counter which had "To Marinette" written on it. She immediately recognized the handwriting and proceeded to stare at the unassuming piece of paper for about half a minute before picking it up and reading what he had to tell her this time.
Do you ever sit outside in the sunshine while a warm wind is blowing and think about how nice it feels? It's such a simple thing, but it always makes me happy. You know what is best? It doesn't matter whether you're rich or poor or whether it's a person or an animal, you still feel the same gentle warmth. Isn't that nice?
~Adrien
While the last note could still be counted as a form of teasing compliment, if one was stubborn enough to interpret it that way, this note was anything but. It was unrelated to her but yet connected in a simple, generally understood way. Just why would he leave such a note for her? It sounded a little like a letter she might get from an Animal Crossing character. A thought that made her chuckle.
The days continued like that. Marinette would wake up to find a new note from Adrien waiting for her and then she would continue with her daily activities. For some reason she still did not know, he was visiting the bakery every morning at ungodly hours just to leave her these messages—and to buy various pastries for himself, as her mother told her. He did not visit in the afternoons at all, which Marinette knew from the few times she had gone downstairs to work for a few hours.
With not much else to do than to continue this frankly monotonous way to spend her days, Adrien's notes ended up becoming a highlight.
It must be nice to have a balcony. I like to watch the city from high up places too. It's kind of freeing and I like to see how everything looks from another perspective. Do you like it too?
~Adrien
Every morning she woke up, curious and even a little excited to see what he wrote her this time. The messages did not change in their general tone and simply told her a few things he liked while he inquired if she liked those things too.
Isn't it sad that we can't really see the stars here in Paris? I went out to the Camargue once for a photoshoot and we stayed overnight. It was beautiful. Sometimes I lie awake at night, listening to music, and imagine what it would look like if I could see the milky way here.
~Adrien
On the fifth day, she had to admit that it was oddly endearing.
Why is it so hard for some people to be nice? My brother says I'm too trusting and soft-hearted but I can't help it. If hatred feeds hatred, then I like to believe kindness feeds kindness. Am I naïve to think you're even reading these notes? Probably.
~Adrien
On the sixth day she had forgiven him for what happened at the Jardin du Trocadéro, now sure that it had simply been a misunderstanding. If he was a liar, then he was a very good one, but Marinette knew when to back down with her stubbornness. His notes were sweet and let her wanting to give him the benefit of a doubt. After all, he had not done anything truly malicious to her yet and he did go through the trouble of coming to the bakery every morning without fail.
Isn't it wonderful how many different kinds of songs there are? The wind whispers songs, there is birdsong and then there are the songs not made from nature that are all so different but still appealing. How can I like things that are so very different? Like listening to Jagged Stone one minute and the next I switch to Owl City? Do you think that it is some sort of organized chaos? You as an artist probably know all about that, don't you?
~Adrien
When a week had passed, Marinette was sitting behind the counter again while her parents enjoyed a break. It was then, as she was sketching things in the sketchbook she had brought downstairs with her, when the bell announced a new customer. She looked up so see a blond boy about her age. Just what was it with good-looking blondes walking into her life lately?
"Good afternoon, what can I get for you?" she asked him while he looked through the display cases with a bored expression. She had the weirdest feeling that she knew him but couldn't place where from. The feeling just got stronger when he looked at her with teal eyes.
"I'll have a slice of that coffee cake, please," he said while pointing at the cake in question.
"Will you be eating here or is this to go?"
"I'll eat it here, thank you."
Marinette just nodded and prepared the piece of cake on a plate.
"Can I also please get coffee with it?" he asked while sitting down on the table in the corner and pulling out a book from his bag.
"Sure, how would you like it?" she asked as she walked around the counter and placed the cake on the table in front of him.
"A latte macchiato please," he said in an uninterested tone and she rushed to the back where they kept a coffee machine. While she brewed the coffee, she watched him in a way that she hoped was inconspicuous. He just sat there, reading his book and looking like he didn't care about the world around him. Just where could she have met him before?
The question taunted her, as if his identity should be obvious, but there was something that was blocking her from making a connection.
He nodded his thanks when Marinette set down the cup of coffee in front of him and was about to go back to her place behind the counter. She would have done so, would there have been another customer, but with just him there, she couldn't hold her curiosity back any longer.
"Excuse me, but do I know you from somewhere?" she asked, which made him close his book and look up.
"I believe you do. We have not been formally introduced at our last encounter, which might also have been for the best. It was a painful ordeal to watch," he said, which did not help Marinette much in placing where exactly she knew him from. She could think of several things she had done that had been painful to watch, both literally and metaphorically. Hopefully it was the latter, because otherwise it meant that she might have ran him over at some point. Either way, she cringed.
"Sorry about that then," she said, even though she didn't know exactly what she was apologizing for. The boy just waved her off.
"It was more second-hand embarrassment than anything else. My brother really is more socially inept than most people believe him to be."
His…brother? He must have noticed her confusion, because he was quick to clarify.
"He honestly thought a leaf would be an adequate gift for a girl. It's terribly obvious that he doesn't get out much."
At last the penny dropped.
"You're Adrien's brother." Marinette stated and could have hit herself for how clear it should have been. They didn't look as alike as one would expect of twins and their mannerisms might be as different as day and night, but even back at the gardens Marinette had identified them as brothers at first glance. Just why hadn't she seen it earlier?
"Unfortunately, yes," he said and took a sip of his coffee.
"What are you doing here?" she could not help but ask. First Adrien was leaving her odd notes and now his brother showed up. That could not be unrelated.
"Enjoying a slice of cake and a cup of coffee while I'm on a break. Adrien spoke highly of this place, so I thought I could check it out."
The connection was not nearly as mysterious as Marinette had hoped it to be. She sat down on the other chair on the table and fixed Adrien's brother with a smile.
"He talks about my parents' bakery?"
The blond rolled his eyes.
"Just ever since he first ordered something here," he said and took a fork full of his coffee cake piece. His previously bored expression suddenly lit up in surprised appreciation. A moment of silence passed in which he seemed to think about his words.
"He might have had a point about the food being exceptional," he eventually admitted, making Marinette beam—especially since it had been her who had baked the coffee cake.
"Thank you. I'm glad you like it. What's your name by the way? I don't think you've told me."
He lay his fork down on the plate and managed to somehow look regal while doing so.
"As I said previously, we have not been formally introduced yet. You may call me Félix and you must be Marinette."
"Oh, you remembered," Marinette said surprised, to which Félix snorted.
"Kind of hard to forget when Adrien can't stop talking about you. That coffee was really overdue." To underline his point, he took another sip of said coffee, leaving Marinette to sit dumbfounded on the chair in front of him.
Adrien could not stop talking about her? That was unexpected. She had thought that he had simply found a liking in the bakery after his first visit and then just left messages on a whim, writing down whatever came to mind for him at that moment. That he actually was thinking and even talking about her outside of that situation seemed surreal. It must be the guilt about the misunderstanding since she was pretty sure that she could not have left that big of an impression.
"Frankly, it's hilarious," Félix suddenly said with a barely-there smile—the first smile Marinette had seen on his face at all. She blinked at him.
"What is?"
"You. I have never met anyone who could hold a grudge against Adrien or tell him off the way you did." He chuckled, cutting off another piece of his cake and eating it. Marinette, meanwhile, visibly cringed when she was reminded of it.
"Yeah, I probably shouldn't have been so harsh," she admitted and suddenly developed an immense interest for the table's surface.
"Don't beat yourself up about it. You make mistakes, you learn from them, you do better next time."
"I doubt there'll be a next time," Marinette said with a sigh. Félix commented that with a raised eyebrow, silently prompting her to elaborate.
"I mean, when we first met, he didn't know that I was just a bakers' daughter who drew in her free time due to a lack of other things to do. He's just so persistent because he wants me to accept his apology and make a clean cut and—"
"Marinette," Félix cut in and Marinette felt herself transfixed with his teal eyes which made an uncanny shiver run down her spine. "It is quite bold of you to assume such things after only exchanging a few sentences with my brother. Maybe you should leave his intentions up to him instead of jumping to assumptions, which, might I add, quite stray from the truth."
In the time he took another sip from his coffee, Marinette tried to recollect herself. He was right, after all. Hadn't 'jumping to conclusions' brought that whole mess upon her in the first place?
"What should I do now then? He's your brother, so you know him better than I do."
Félix looked at her as if she had just declared the earth was flat. "What to do?", he asked, incredulity strong in his voice. With a sigh, he covered half his face with a hand and mumbled something about 'oblivious idiots'.
"The next step should be obvious and I will not insult the intelligence I am sure you possess by telling you every little thing." Before Marinette could decide if that had been a compliment or an insult, Félix had put a twenty-euro bill on the table and stood up.
"You can keep the change," he said and turned to leave before Marinette could protest. At the door he stopped and turned around to her again.
"And for the record: Adrien is just socially awkward, not some stuck-up rich kid. It is for my own wellbeing too when I say that you should give him a chance. Listening to his endless rambles of how you apparently hate him and how he can make it up to you, robs me of more sleep than I like to admit."
"Wait!" Marinette called when he was about to go out the door. Félix stopped and turned around to her again with a raised eyebrow.
"If I'd write a message for Adrien in return, would you then please give it to him?"
A very faint smile appeared on his face. "I think that can be arranged."
Do you like cats? I purrsonally love them! Especially the black ones! ;3
~Adrien