Wednesday was a catastrophe.

As she had feared she would when she went to bed the night before, Marinette woke up almost an hour late. To top it off, she was feeling a bit under the weather but still managed to pull her sorry ass out of bed. Racing through her flat to dress and get ready for work, she passed on eating anything and quickly tied her hair in a simple ponytail. Her kitten heels were nowhere in sight, so she had to fall back on wearing ballerinas. Her skinny washed jeans weren't something she would normally wear to work, but it was one of the only clean clothes she had on hand. Throwing a loose knitted light blue sweater over a black cami, she bolted through the door, her stomach loudly protesting as she locked the door behind her.

As the designer hurried down the streets, she realized she was already really late on the schedule she and Adrien had agreed on, and had absolutely no means to warn her partner about her current whereabouts. They didn't have an office phone in their office yet, and she knew for a fact that the young man never checked his business email. He had confessed he didn't even remember the password to it and had to get the I.T. guy to reset it once in a while, only to forget it again a week later. Torn between her reluctance to bother Nino on his honeymoon and her need to let Adrien know she was on her way, she toyed with her dilemma a bit as she waited for her turn to cross the street.

She finally made up her mind, figuring her friends wouldn't mind a single text asking for Adrien's cell phone number. She pulled out her phone from her purse at the exact moment a passerby unwittingly knocked her elbow, sending the little device flying on the pavement, where it was quickly shattered to pieces by a few passing cars. Groaning in defeat, Marinette didn't stop to listen to the string of apologies aimed at her. A lump in her throat, she resumed her mad race to Agreste's office, finally reaching her office forty-five minutes late, disheveled, hungry, caffeine-deprived, feverish and way beyond annoyed.

Surprisingly, she found herself alone in their workspace. Setting her purse on the hook, she went straight to the drawing table, fully intending to make up for the time she had missed. Checking the preliminary sketches Adrien and she had agreed on for reference, she began drawing furiously, ignoring the hunger stabbing her stomach and the beads of cold sweat running on the back of her neck.

She only snapped out of her trance when a steaming coffee mug and a turkey sandwich were deposited beside her elbow. Looking up, Marinette found herself staring into Adrien's worried gaze:
"What's that for?"
"You've been so absorbed in your drawing that you never even noticed when I showed up, two hours ago. I don't know how much time you've been hunched over that design, but a break is long overdue," he answered softly, smiling. The blackette stretched her sore fingers, grabbing the offered lunch as she got up:
"Thanks. I definitely need the caffeine boost."
"I thought so. Not to be rude, but you look terrible Mari. Are you okay?"

She let out a long sigh before taking a sip of her latte:
"Overslept, came in almost an hour late and I have a bad case of migraine threatening to break out at any given time. I'll manage, though."
Her partner smiled softly:
"Mari, I know we agreed on a specific schedule, but we don't have to stick to it no matter what. You don't have to stress yourself about that, you can play with working hours as you want. As long as you meet the minimum requirement at the end of the week we're good."
She groaned:
"We still agreed to meet here at nine o'clock, and I failed."
He answered by a sheepish smile of his own:
"Sorry about coming in late myself, by the way, I got stuck in a boring meeting with administration. They spent two hours trying to agree on whether or not we should switch the brand of the paper towels in the cafeteria."
"Poor you. Stuck deciding on so much more important matters, how do you even sleep at night?"

Chuckling, Adrien went back at his own cluttered desk, making it obvious he had been working for some time already. Bemused by her own obliviousness, Marinette took a bite of her sandwich very welcomed by her upset stomach. Smiling to herself, she suddenly thought that Chat Noir would get a good laugh at her expense once she'd tell him about her disastrous day.

Chat.

Almost choking on her sandwich and earning herself a curious glance from her coworker, Marinette gasped. She was left with absolutely no way of contacting her kitty. She hadn't even bothered picking up the shattered pieces of her phone, knowing fairly well it was broken way beyond repair. Sure, she had gotten a replacement insurance on the little thing since her legendary clumsiness shortened extensively the lifespan of fragile things like that in her possession. It would take the company a few days to ship her a replacement phone, but it wouldn't cost her anything.

But she didn't have Chat Noir's contact information anymore. They died at the same time her phone did, crushed under a car's tire. Horrified, Marinette tried in vain to remember what digit she had misplaced in Alya's number, but she had since learned to use the contact function of her phone correctly and wasn't even sure anymore of what it was to begin with.

Letting her head fall hard on her drawing table, she let out a long desperate sigh, not even bothering answering Adrien's worried inquiries about her obviously now full blown migraine.

There was no way things could get worse from there.

Thursday proved her to be wrong.

Sitting at her drawing table, her back ostensibly turned on Adrien, Marinette couldn't help but painfully feel the thick and uncomfortable atmosphere in the room as she worked on her ongoing designs. Her partner was remaining desperately silent, sighing heavily from time to time without any real cause, answering to her questions and her prompts by monosyllables or even mere grunts on an occasion or two.

The young lady escaped their office as soon as the clock ticked on noon, not even bothering to offer her partner to come along or bring him back something. He was clearly brooding about something and didn't have any intention of sharing it with her. Marinette took her time eating a light lunch at a nearby coffee, reluctantly heading back to their office when she was done. Thankfully though, Adrien was nowhere in sight and the young designer actually managed to finish the designs she had been working on. When she saw the sun was about to set, she packed her things and headed home, hoping the next day would bring her the Adrien she had been happy to work with.

Friday morning, Adrien showed up almost two hours late. He looked terrible, with purple bags under his eyes, obviously sporting a bad case of bed head. His tie knot was all wrong, and the tie itself was a sorry mismatch with his shirt. The blond kept checking his phone almost compulsively and still failed to greet her in an appropriate way or even acknowledge her presence unless he was obligated to.

As the day went by, Marinette grew increasingly annoyed at his poor and unprofessional attitude. Whatever it was that was bothering him, he was clearly letting it take the best of him, and it pissed her off. She had her own worries to manage and she wasn't making him suffer because of it. She had yet to hear from her mobile phone company, and each passing day made her sincerely worry she wouldn't be able to get in touch with her dear kitty ever again. She missed him dearly, and she really felt her days were empty without his reliable presence. And yet, she wasn't lashing out at anyone, let alone letting it affect her work.

She really tried to keep her cool for the sake of their partnership. To ignore his cold facade and obvious pain. However, Adrien crossed a line when the blackette asked him about his opinion on a fabric choice and the blond only shrugged and answered dryly:
"Bite me."
At that, Marinette snapped. Hands slamming on the glass table, she stood up:
"Fuck that, I'm out. If you can't act like a fucking grown up and leave your goddamn problems at home, this won't work."
Apparently suddenly connecting with reality, Adrien stuttered:
"Ma-mari, d-don't-"
Snarling in anger by that point, Marinette grabbed her purse and opened the door:
"You know what? You can shove your fucking internship up your stuck up bratty ass, Adrien. I did nothing to deserve being treated that way."

Without any more words exchanged between them, she slammed the door behind her and headed straight back home without ever looking back at him.

Marinette spent her whole weekend regretting Alya's absence. Had she been there, her best friend would've knock some sense into her blurry mind. Alya would've help her figure out why she was so angry toward Adrien, would've help her get over the fact they inexplicably went from best friends to strangers in not even twenty-four hours.

But her best friend was on her honeymoon, and there was no way Marinette was going to disturb her with her little shenanigans.

On Monday, she would try to get another internship. On Monday, she would hopefully receive her new phone, and hopefully be able to talk to Chat Noir again, if he hadn't given up on her already.

But for the time being, she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity and regret every single decision she had ever made.