A/N: ... :(

Get ready for this one, besties.

Marinette blinked the sleepiness out of her eyes, stretching her arms as she yawned awake. Warm beams of light poured in from the bedroom window, greeting her on this sleepy Saturday morning.

Her outstretched hand brushed against something feather soft, making her pause. Turning her head, she smiled at the tousled mop of blonde hair on the pillow next to her. Adrien was still dead asleep, his bedhead making tufts of his hair stick up like cat ears. She giggled to herself, silently considering how creepy it would be if she snapped a pic.

One of his arms was lazily sprawled across her torso, temporarily trapping her in place. It didn't bother her- the opposite, in fact. She had been growing increasingly fond of her mornings with Adrien. Her instincts told her to snuggle closer to him, but she lay where she was, content to rest her soft gaze on his peaceful form.

This was the third night this week they had landed in the same bed. Despite her assurances to Adrien and Alya that she was perfectly safe, she found herself being persuaded otherwise by her own subconscious. It was little things that would set her off. A stranger would glance her way for too long, or she'd grab a latte and suddenly have a horrifying instinct that it was laced with something, or she'd get a tingling sensation on the back of her neck out of nowhere. It was slowly driving her insane, and as much as she tried to keep it together, sometimes she'd crack.

And when she did, Adrien was always there. Without fail.

Last night she had been sitting upright in her bed, her heart racing uncontrollably, unable to sleep, all because she heard a noise coming from her closet. Logically, she knew it was nothing. Illogically, she became convinced that someone was hiding out in there, waiting for her to fall asleep so they could tie her up and gag her while she was incapable of resisting. She knew it was all in her head, and yet she could scarcely breathe. Too scared to bolt out of her apartment in case someone really did burst out of her closet and grab her, she texted Adrien with shaking fingers and asked if he could come over and check.

He was in her apartment thirty seconds later, wielding a hefty-looking black umbrella like a sword. When he opened her closet and revealed the noise culprit to be nothing more than a shoebox that had become dislodged and fallen to the floor, he didn't show signs of frustration or even crack one of his typical eye-roll-inducing jokes. Instead, he carefully moved the box back to the shelf, gently closed the closet door, and asked her if she had seen the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off.

She had. They watched it again together anyway, curled up on his bed with his laptop propped in front of them.

Adrien made her feel safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. She trusted him with her fears and her anxieties. She knew he'd never mock her for her moments of insecurity or invalidate her feelings. And she loved him for it.

She winced, gazing down at him. Love. What a scary word.

While Marinette relished in the feeling of being close to him, this weird dance they had been doing across the line of "platonic" and "romantic" was making her uneasy. The unavoidable truth was that she was, to put it lightly, crazy bonkers 100% head over heels in love with her neighbor. He was warm, funny, charming, and so genuinely good in a way that made him impossible not to adore. She felt giddy at the sound of his laugh and pained in his moments of sadness. Protecting his happiness and safety had swiftly become a new priority in her life. While she acknowledged that wasn't her responsibility, she felt a surge of joy whenever she could coax a smile from him on his harder days. And now here he was, tripping over himself to make sure she felt as safe and protected as she possibly could with her stalker on the loose. While Marinette knew she'd do the exact same thing for him, she couldn't help but feel slightly guilty, as if she was taking advantage of his time and generosity.

Adrien, of course, would immediately shut her down if she ever confessed she felt that way. But she couldn't help it. After all, he didn't know that when he'd go in to comfort her with a hug she'd a. appreciate and lean into the gesture, feeling a rush of peace and security, while also b. become hyper-aware of his body pressing against hers because his arms were so strong and solid and he smelled amazing and his lashes would flutter against her cheek and-

Horrible. She was horrible.

But it would be a little less horrible if Adrien was as shamelessly besotted with her as she was with him.

As if he could hear the mental cacophony that was Marinette's thoughts, Adrien began to stir, the arm around her waist pulling her closer as he rolled over onto his side with a slow, deep inhale. Those bright green eyes cracked open slowly, adjusting to the light in the room.

Marinette smiled bashfully, very conscious of the fact that his thumb had accidentally slipped under the hem of her shirt, scorching her bare skin. "Good morning."

She expected him to be embarrassed by the position they had found themselves in, but in his half-awake state, Adrien just grinned back lazily. "Hi. Did we end up at your place or mine?"

"Yours."

"Great. I'll make breakfast."

He pulled her into her arms for one quick squeeze, kissing the top of her forehead before rolling back and pushing himself out of bed with a yawn.

Marinette watched his retreating form with an ache in her chest. Breakfast? Forehead kisses? Could he at least attempt to be a little less irresistible so her heart could catch a break?

With a sigh, Marinette followed suit, pulling herself out from under the covers. Adrien had already grabbed a pan and a carton of eggs, so she crossed behind him to grab the bread from the pantry. "Thanks again, Adrien," she said shyly, popping two slices into the toaster. "For staying with me."

"Of course," he said back, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Sunny side-up again?"

"Yes, please." She watched as he cracked the eggs into the pan, his brow furrowed in concentration. As hard as he tried to be precise, he still dropped a piece of shell into the whites. He cursed under his breath, staring down at the sizzling pan with a look of defeat, and Marinette had to stifle a giggle behind her hand.

Would these mornings stop when they caught the man behind the letters? Marinette couldn't help but wonder.

Not if you woman up and tell him how you freaking feel! Alya's voice screamed in her head.

Marinette was not blind. While she didn't know the extent of his feelings, she knew their love for each other was mutual. It was evident in every moment, look, and touch that they shared. As self-deprecating and second-guessing as she could be, even she couldn't ignore what was so clear in front of them. Adrien loved her. Her heart raced at the thought that she had yet to voice aloud. He loved her.

But he hadn't made a move. And neither had she.

Was it because he feared she had too much going on right now? Did he also, like she had just weeks prior, fear destroying their friendship if the feelings weren't reciprocated? Was he waiting for her to take the lead?

And why wasn't she? The tension between them was palpable. There were moments where she would literally have to pinch herself to distract from the overwhelming urge to just give in and launch herself at him. She'd kiss those perfect lips of his, entangle her fingers in his silky locks to pull him as close as she wanted him. She longed to feel his hands clinging to her body, the touch a little less friendly and a little more daring, as she explored his mouth with her lips and tongue.

She loved him. He loved her. She wanted him, as much as the thought made her blush like mad. So she should just go for it, right? Stalker and drama and fears be damned?

What was stopping her?

"Hey Mari, do you smell that?"

Adrien's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Huh?" Marinette glanced down at the toaster, which was smoking profusely. "Oh shit!"

She dove to unplug the toaster while Adrien, springing into action from her exclamation, grabbed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder and started frantically fanning away the smoke.

"Shouldn't the smoke detector have gone off?" She choked out, eyes stinging from the fumes.

"I took out the batteries for my Wii remote," he confessed sheepishly, which prompted an eye roll from her. He gingerly lifted one of the charcoal pieces of bread that had popped up, inspecting its charred surface with fascination. "Wow. I didn't even know toast could be this burnt. Especially coming from someone who can bake bread so beautifully. It takes talent to burn toast this bad, Marinette."

Her face flamed. "Well, what's the point of toast, anyway? The bread is already baked. Why are we baking it again?"

"For the crunch, duh."

"Then just use a baguette!"

"I toast those, too."

"Whatever. Toast is lame."

Adrien snorted at her. "Then why did you make it? Just so you could rant about how much you hate toast to me?"

"It was for you, dummy," she said, poking him in the ribs teasingly. "Two eggs over-easy, two pieces of toast with butter and strawberry jam, and an apple or orange depending on what was cheaper at the grocery store." She tapped her forehead with a smirk. "I've got your breakfast order down pat, Agreste. I pay attention to you, you know."

Marinette was expecting another quippy retort. Instead, she felt her heart stutter in her chest as his lighthearted expression slowly retreated, replaced by something that felt more… intentional? Earnest? She couldn't quite tell, but either way, she knew the energy between them had shifted.

"I've noticed," he said softly.

She blinked up at him. What do I say to that? "Well… good. I'm glad."

"I pay attention, too." He took a step closer to her.

Feeling the intensity of his magnetic pull, she closed the distance with another step, using the fact that he had a piece of lint on his shirt as an excuse to touch him. She felt goosebumps rise on his skin as she placed one hand on his arm, using the other to gently pick up the small piece of fuzz that had been resting on his chest. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "I know."

"One cup of coffee with vanilla creamer. Tea if it's the weekend. Two eggs sunny-side-up. A bowl of Greek yogurt with raspberries, blueberries, and granola."

She glanced up. He was smirking down at her, proud as a prized cat. "And no toast."

"No toast," she repeated quietly, caught in his gaze.

They were just talking about breakfast food, for heaven's sake, but she felt the weight of his implication. He knew her. He saw her.

Adrien's look slid down from her eyes to her lips. His smirk lost some of its confidence. She watched, riveted, as he swallowed once, Adam's apple bobbing.

I should kiss him.

Not half a second after that thought popped into her head, he took a step back, clearing his throat. She instantly felt the loss of him, the slight chill that washed over her as her hands slipped from the warmth of his body.

"Well, I appreciate the toast, Marinette," he said brightly. The only hint that she had not imagined the sudden intensity of their previous exchange was the tension in his jaw and the rigidity of his posture. If she hadn't known him as well, she would have thought him perfectly at ease. "Burnt or not."

"Y-yeah, no problem," she stuttered back, hastily shoving her hands into her pockets.

She didn't have the chance to feel the fullness of her disappointment, though. Adrien, still holding the charcoal lump that used to be a slice of bread, impulsively brought it to his mouth and took an enormous bite.

Marinette gaped at him. He winced, wrinkling his nose.

"...Yummy," he said unconvincingly, giving her a halfhearted thumbs up.

After a moment's hesitation, Marinette burst out into laughter, arms crossed over her stomach as she doubled over.

The rest of their breakfast went as it usually did when they spent the night together. Marinette remade the toast, Adrien finished up the eggs, and they chatted about their plans for the day while eating at his dining room table.

Marinette had tried to just file away the moment they had shared. It wasn't like they hadn't had moments like this before, and she'd always have another opportunity to finally declare how she felt. But the urge she had felt earlier wasn't dying off. She wanted to sit closer to him, brush her arm against his. She wanted to thread her hands in his hair as if she was just smoothing out his adorable bedhead, when really she would be angling his head lower so he was at the perfect height for her to lean up and press her lips against his, climbing onto his lap, and then-

WOAH THERE GIRL.

She promptly stood up, cutting Adrien off mid-rant about one of his coworkers. "Are you okay, Marinette?"

She nodded a bit too intensely. "Yeah. Great. I just remembered, though, I meant to call Alya and update her. About a thing. An important thing. So I'm just going to head over to my place real quick to call her because it's a private thing. Cool?"

"Uh-"

Not waiting for a response, she bolted out of his apartment.

Once she had her own door closed and locked behind her (better if Adrien didn't walk in on this particular conversation), she hastily dialed her best friend.

Alya answered almost instantly. "Alya Césaire, best friend extraordinaire. What's up?"

"Tell me to do it."

There was a pause on the other line. "Girl, I know Nino's joked about it a million times, but we don't actually share the same brain. What are you talking about?"

"Just tell me to do it!"

"Wha- Marinette, what am I condoning?"

"Alya-"

"Okay, okay! Do it! Are you happy?"

Marinette let out a laugh, breathless and flustered. "Thanks, Al! You're the best!"

"What are you about to-"

"Thanksloveyoubye-!"

Marinette hung up, smiling radiantly.

She was going to do it.

She was going to go over there and tell Adrien she was in love with him.

It was about damn time. She didn't want to waste another moment pretending she wasn't enamored with him when she knew he felt the same, knew they were both killing themselves by repressing their feelings for each other. There would never be a perfect time- she had accepted that. There would always be life's dramas and difficulties, and she wanted him at her side, holding her hand through it all.

Marinette took a deep, steadying breath. Her eyes caught her own reflection in her hall mirror.

Her hair was a tousled mess, her face bare of makeup, and she was wearing one of Adrien's T-shirts with her baggiest pair of sweatpants. At the same time, her face was positively glowing, flushed with the feeling of falling in love with the safest person she had ever known.

She had never felt more beautiful.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, diverting her attention. Marinette hesitated, looking longingly at the door.

Well, eternal happiness (and months of stifling sexual tension FINALLY being relieved) with the love of her life could wait a few seconds while she quickly caught up her best friend, couldn't it?

Marinette answered her phone, still looking at her reflection. "Okay, Al, I'll explain myself, but I'm only giving you, like, thirty seconds!"

She watched the bright smile slip from her face, the warmth in her expression chilling into frozen terror.

"Marinette. You're hard to reach these days, darling."

That wasn't Alya.

The voice was a man's, pitched low in an attempt to come off as sultry and inviting. Instead, Marinette felt nauseated at the sound. She didn't have to ask who it was. She just knew.

"Don't hang up, please," he said quickly, his voice sickly sweet. "Trust me- you'll want to hear me out."

She didn't. Couldn't. She was a statue. Any words she could have spoken stuck in her throat.

"You normally avoid unknown numbers, but today must be my lucky day. And Adrien's too, it seems. If you didn't answer, things wouldn't have gone so well for him."

Marinette's eyes widened, the terror that struck her at the sound of Adrien's name loosening her frozen jaw. Her instincts screamed at her to hang up, but that was no longer an option. "What? What are you talking about?" Her voice was hoarse, no more than a whisper. She swallowed, trying again. "What do you mean?"

He laughed on the other end, the sound hollow and humorless. "You know I've been watching you, love. Yes?"

She was shaking. When had she started shaking?

"And he…" The man let out a low noise that could have been a growl. "He's always there, by your side. As if you haven't already been claimed."

Something in her snapped.

"I'm not claimed by anyone," Marinette bit out, finding her voice. Her heart rate was racing, fear mingling with her rage. "I am my own person. Leave Adrien out of this!"

His laugh was now drenched in bitterness. "Protective, are we? I knew getting you to love me wouldn't be seamless, Marinette, but I wasn't anticipating this… obstacle. He's confusing you."

Marinette shook her head, even though he couldn't see her.

Or could he? Was he watching now? The thought froze her blood. She looked sharply out the window, heart in her throat. "Stop this. Stop this now. Whatever you think you feel for me, it isn't real. You don't know me."

He sighed. "It's worse than I thought. He's turning your head, isn't he? I didn't think you were so vain as to be seduced by some model-"

"Adrien and I aren't together!" She said it loud as she dared, now glancing at her front door. She ached to run to him, to fall into his arms and soak up his comfort, to ignore ignore ignore. But her deep longing for him was far surpassed by her fear for his life. If this deranged man knew how she truly felt about him, saw him as a threat…

"He's just a friend," she continued, voice wavering. "So you can forget about him. But you and I aren't happening. We never will. Please, please stop this."

"You know, true art isn't boring and predictable," he crooned, ignoring her. "I've always found models simple. Lacking. He's just some copy-and-paste catalog rich boy. But you, Marinette, you are art. And I am an artist. A perfect duet. I will do your exquisite physical form justice, touching you where you most want to be touched, lavishing you with paintings of your perfect body. I will worship you. What can he give you? What does he offer?"

Everything. He is everything to me.

She closed her eyes, her stomach twisting painfully. She felt bile sting the back of her throat, her hasty breakfast threatening to make a second appearance. Her mind, always sprinting to the next idea, was chillingly empty. She didn't know what to do.

"Forget him," she repeated weakly. The familiar sting of tears pricked at her eyes. She felt so small. "Forget me. Forget all of this. Find someone else, someone who wants this."

"There is no one else. There is only you."

"Please." Tears made tracks down her cheeks, but she kept her voice steady. "If you love me, truly love me like you say you do, you will leave me alone."

He paused. She held her breath.

"...Five minutes. All we need is five minutes in the same room together, and you'll see we're made for each other."

She let out a sob. "No-"

"He's in your head, Marinette!" His voice took on a dangerous edge, manic and menacing. She flinched at the sound. "He's poisoning your mind! He's the one who changed the lock on your door, isn't he? He's keeping us apart!"

She was on the floor, crouched down on her knees. She didn't know how she got there.

He did take my key on the subway. He tried to break into my apartment.

If he had made it in-

"I don't want to see him around you anymore," he snarled. "And if I do, I'll make him pay."

Even with her head swimming, violent images of what could have been attacking her mind, she forced herself to ask, "What do you plan to do to him?" It was hardly a whisper, the air having been walloped out of her lungs.

His voice was ice cold. "My old roommate had a firearm license. Let's just say I may have borrowed something of his without permission."

The surge of panic was like a strike of lightning.

There was a moment of pause where she caught her breath, the horror of his words washing over her.

No. No.

"He'll stay away from me," Marinette said desperately, her mind suddenly clear. "I'll make sure of it. You won't have to worry about him, I promise.

She wanted to scream in horror, to beg for his life, to rush over to Adrien and warn him.

But she couldn't afford to give in to fear. She had to think rationally.

She would protect him. Even if it meant putting herself more at risk.

The man let out a breath, the coolness returning to his tone. "Good girl."

She wanted to vomit.

"I'll have to talk with him in person, first," she continued, willing her voice not to tremble, "to get him to stay away. But after that he won't be around me anymore. Okay?"

She held her breath as she waited for him to respond. Her free hand had clenched into a fist so hard that her fingernails had drawn blood on her palms.

He let out a measured hum, considering. "While I despise the idea of you spending another moment with him, I guess that'll do. And the more time you spend away from him, the more time you'll spend thinking of me, dearest."

True, she thought. Adrien helped her forget. Without him, she would be more scared than ever. This man's voice would haunt her every waking moment.

But her own fear wasn't the top priority right now.

"Do you promise not to hurt him? If I stay away?" Her voice was small. She regretted it as soon as she asked, terrified her question would bring back his anger at their closeness.

Thankfully, it didn't seem to. "I won't. I'm a man of my word, Marinette," he said, his voice tender.
"I promise not to hurt him, and I promise to love you forever. I promise that we will see each other very, very soon, and that you will fall for me the moment you do. You will see how you're my other half."

She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating.

"Goodbye, my love. I look forward to our fated meeting."

The knocking started almost as soon as he hung up. Her hand shot up to her mouth as she swallowed a scream, her heart thundering in her chest as she stared at her door in a blind panic.

After a few seconds of silence, the knocking started again. "Mari? Did you want the rest of your breakfast?"

Her hand slowly lowered, still trembling. Adrien.

Just moments ago she was ready to tell him she loved him. And now…

She pressed her hands to her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She had no time. He could be watching them now for all she knew, and she had no time to figure out how she was supposed to make him stay away-

She could say she's staying with her parents for a while, but then they'd be in danger-

She could say she was sick, but he'd just bring her food and stay with her anyway-

If she told him the truth he'd insist on staying by her side to keep her safe because that stupid boy cared more about her safety than his own-

She could just lie and say she needed space, but she didn't want to risk him coming over after a couple of days before that man was caught, and then he'd find out, and then Adrien would get-

He would be-

She clenched her jaw. She wouldn't let it happen.

Another knock. "Seriously, your eggs are ice cold!"

Marinette braced her hands on the floor, slowly rising onto shaky legs. One last glance in the mirror. She looked awful.

When she swung open the door, doing her best to maintain a neutral expression, Adrien's face fell instantly. "Hey, are you okay?"

She wanted to cry. She didn't let herself.

Instead, she nodded silently, gesturing for him to enter.

He did, his steps hesitant. "Uh… did your call with Alya go okay?"

"Yes." Her voice was cold, empty. She hated the sound of it. Hated the way he frowned at her, forehead knotted in worry.

"Marinette," he tried again, his voice warm and inviting as always, "You can be honest with me. Are you alright?"

He moved to touch her arm and she flinched away. He froze, eyeing her with unmasked concern.

And suddenly, she knew. She knew how to make him steer clear from her indefinitely until she figured out what to do next.

And she would hate herself for it.

Hopefully, she'd be able to explain herself one day. Maybe he'd understand. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd never get to hear her explanation because he'd vow never to see her again.

But he'd be alive. He'd be safe. That's all that mattered.

"Please don't touch me," she said evenly.

His eyes widened. He lowered his hand, looking flustered and shamefaced. "Sorry. I don't- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

A rare, uncomfortable silence lapsed between them. She bit the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood danced along her tongue. The sharp pain was a comfort, a minor punishment for the way she knew she was about to make him feel. "I just don't think it's fair to you. What I've been doing."

Adrien, seeming unsure of what to do with his hands since she had made it clear she didn't want to be touched, crossed his arms instead. "What do you mean?" His tone was cautious, and he was eyeing her like she was a startled deer that would bolt at the next sudden move. "Marinette you don't… you don't seem like yourself right now."

"I am myself right now," she said, this time sounding more sure of herself, even if she wasn't at all. "I just want to be honest, for once. I've been feeling a little guilty about it all."

He shook his head, quirking his lips in a nervous half-smile. "Guilty about what?"

She swallowed, but her mouth was dry. "Leading you on."

The smile dropped. His eyes widened a hair, but his face had become a mask of neutrality, mirroring her own. She wanted to scream.

"I know you're in love with me." She said it in a casual deadpan, half-hoping now that it wasn't true, that she wasn't about to crush his heart into a million pieces.

His lips parted, but no words came out. He looked shell-shocked.

He loved her.

She hated herself.

He recovered blinking quickly. "I… I wasn't going to tell you until we caught the guy who wrote the letter…" He trailed off, green eyes searching her own. "I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?" He chuckled halfheartedly.

As much as it devastated her to do so, she kept her neutral expression. His laughter died in his throat.

She was now digging her nails into the skin on her thighs to hold herself together. She didn't trust her voice not to crack with her next words.

After a decent pause, Adrien broke the silence. "I don't expect anything from you, Marinette," he said softly, his tone sincere. "Honestly. I love being your friend and that will never change. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can just forget about it. Seriously. I care about you way too much to let my feelings get in the way of our friendship." He smiled gently at her, but she saw right through him. His eyes, which were normally so bright and expressive, were dull.

Being friends with the ever-meddlesome Nino and Alya, there's no way he hadn't thought she shared his feelings. They took every chance they got to tell her how smitten Adrien clearly was with her, and she had always known they were saying similar things to him about her own feelings. But now she had dashed his hopes with a few cold words, and he had accepted it as easily as if she had told him the weather looked like rain.

That's what was so infuriating about Adrien, and what made her awful plan to keep him away from her so easy to accomplish. As wonderful, hardworking, kind, and good as he was, he was the last one to believe it. So used to criticism over compliments from his father's strict upbringing, he swallowed down sharp words far easier than praise.

Tears threatened to well up in her eyes as she thought about how hard it must have been to convince him she was in love with him in the first place. Would he ever believe it when he finally heard the truth?

Marinette swallowed down the lump in her throat before continuing. "Adrien… what we have isn't real. It never was."

He was so very still, as if he was scared to move. Pain flickered in his expression. "What… do you mean?" The words came out like they hurt to say.

She took a deep breath. Steeled herself. "When I first met you, I recognized you right away. I knew you, knew your father, knew you could be the ticket to me launching my career. I just didn't mean for things to get this far." Her voice sounded like it was coming from someone else, even as she felt herself mouth the words. "I didn't realize how serious your feelings were until I heard from Alya."

He was shaking his head, his eyes glassy. He opened his mouth to say something, and then quickly closed it. His eyes slid away from hers, looking past her shoulder in what almost looked like a trance.

She forged ahead, her false confession coming out in a rush. Each word felt like a slap. "It's not like I hated spending time with you. But I knew the entire time that it was all motivated. I didn't like the person I was turning into around you. It got so bad, to the point where I wanted to find a way to get into your apartment when you weren't around so I could snoop around for any scraps of information about the Agreste brand, or get into your laptop so I could write down all the emails of your fashion connections from your modeling days. I just wanted more."

Adrien's expression had morphed from shattered to horrified to angry to devastated in the span of thirty seconds. Her heart ached painfully for him. "You didn't…" The words cracked in his throat. "Marinette, you wouldn't have…"

Silently, she reached over to her kitchen drawer, pulled out the key that she had given him, and handed it over. "I faked the letter, the photos, all of it. I knew you were a nice guy and that you'd offer up your space as a refuge if you felt I was in danger. I never did use it, in the end, but I think you should take your key back. It's just too tempting.

Wordlessly, his hand shaking, he took it from her, careful not to touch her as he retrieved it.

She saw it in his eyes. He was disgusted by her. Marinette wanted to curl up inside a hole and bury herself alive.

But then something like resolve flickered in his expression. "No. This doesn't make any sense." He put the key back into her palm, closing his hand around hers. Her skin tingled at his touch, and for the hundredth time, she marveled at how right his hand felt in hers.

"Marinette, I don't know what's going on, but this isn't you," he said desperately, eyes searching hers. "You don't use people, and even if you don't love me the same way I love you, I know you care. I understand wanting to push people away when you're scared or going through a hard time, but it isn't the answer, trust me." His eyes were shining with unshed tears, his voice shaky while remaining fierce and insistent.

She held onto him like a lifeline, unable to tear her eyes away from him. She was dangerously close to breaking down, so moved by his insistence of her goodness. She didn't deserve it, deserve any of it. "I…" She searched for words to dissuade him, but they stuck in her throat.

He smiled at her, encouraged. "Talk to me, Marinette. I'm here. I won't leave you."

Her blood froze.

I won't leave you.

Adrien, bloody, a bullet hole in his side. A single hand, stained red, reaching out to her. The light fading from his green eyes. A cold, sinister voice. I warned you, love. Now look at the consequences.

She dropped his hand like it was scalding, taking a hasty step away from him. "No. No, you're wrong." Her voice was iron. She couldn't afford to not be convincing.

He looked like he wanted to step towards her again, but he stopped himself. His voice was pleading. "Mari-"

"You are so naive." She practically spat the words at him. "All that talk about 'stealing the Eiffel Tower for you,' 'this special connection between us,' it's just ludicrous. I made it up, Adrien. You're lucky that at least I was nice enough to tell you the truth. The least you could do is believe me, if not for your own sake." She shook her head coldly at him. "Just move on, already. And don't talk to me anymore. You're far too easy to take advantage of, and it honestly sickens me."

He stiffened, the warmth in his gaze fading more and more with each word. By the end of her speech, his jaw had set, and his back was ramrod straight. There was one last flicker of longing in his eyes before he nodded once, quietly apologized and thanked her for returning the key, and walked out the door. He closed it gently behind him.

She stared at the door. Waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore. She held herself together as long as she possibly could.

When she finally heard the faint sound of his own door closing across the hall, she allowed herself to collapse, face in her hands, palms stifling her guilty, heaving sobs.