In honour of Valentine's Day, here is a premature chapter :)

Take on Me by a-ha

"I'll be stumbling away, slowly learning that life is okay"

OMG They Were Roommates

Going grocery shopping with Adrien is like taking a little kid to a theme park.

Except instead of, 'oh can we go on this?' It's, 'oh my god, Mari, I've never had these before, please can we buy it.'

And I'm the one who has to deal with his moping when I pluck whatever it is out of his hands to put it back on the shelf.

"We're broke college students."

"We're not broke," he grumbles, frowning deeply beside me as his eyes dart left and right across the aisles.

"Maybe not exactly, but we have to be in control of our spending and buy what we need." This is the third time we've gone grocery shopping together, and this week is our first week of university.

Each Sunday we've gotten together to create a combined meal plan and grocery list for the coming week and then gone grocery shopping soon after.

This afternoon however, we're going to be meal prepping, which is a whole other ballpark with Adrien: cooking. He's a cheeky one, reminding me of my younger self who used to swipe her fingers through the bowl of cupcake frosting, and ran away giggling as Papa chased me down for my crimes against the bakery. I was a bit of a fiend around the bakery before I started growing an appreciation for cooking.

Somehow in the midst of my thinking, I've lost Adrien, looking around frantically for him like a mother who's lost her child. It's probably not too far off from the truth—except for the fact that Adrien is an adult. A full grown, wealthy, famous adult.

Who knows what could've happened to him.

Of course, I finally manage to find him in the bakery section, staring longingly at some cinnamon scrolls.

I lean on the trolly and lightly ram his hip with it.

He looks at me quizzically, his eyes wide and soft.

"Put them in."

They widen further.

"Really!?" He grins.

I nod, smiling.

"Yay," he hums softly, putting them in the trolley. "I highly doubt they'll be as good as yours though." He bumps my hip as he walks in stride with me. "Why don't you let me take over wheeling?"

"Okay." I smile at him, instead focusing on navigating the aisles with him and accumulating everything we need.

"What are we making this afternoon?"

"Minestrone. It's my grandma's recipe. I thought because it's our first week of uni that having something we can heat up during the week will be good." I toss some macaroni into the trolley.

When I look back at him, he's smiling fondly at me. "What?" I ask, unsure why he's looking at me like that.

"You always think of everything." He continues walking. I stay stunned for a moment before shaking it off and following after him.

"What days do you have uni again?"

"Tuesday and Thursday. You're in Tuesday's as well right, and Wednesday?"

I nod.

Adrien puffs. "I wish my days were one after the other like that. It's awkward having a day off in between, I don't feel like I can rest."

It's hard to know what to say in this situation, we don't know yet what his modelling schedule with Gabriel will look like either, how busy his weeks will end up being.

So far since moving in together, he's had about seven in the last two weeks. I'm not sure if that's a good amount or not. Adrien always seems to come back from them exhausted, especially since most of them last a full day, and at other times I've heard him leave early in the morning for a sunrise shoot.

We pay and then carry the groceries back home. Thankfully, the supermarket is only two blocks away and we don't have to strangle the bags up flights and flights of stairs. It's still a relief to put them down though.

I pack away what we won't need for the soup as Adrien reads over the recipe beforehand. I've made this soup with Maman and Papa so many times I know it mostly by heart.

Adrien smiles up at me as he finishes reading and is ready to begin.

I make a start cutting up the carrots and zucchini's while tasking Adrien with cutting up the onion—bad idea. He makes an odd noise and stumbles away fanning his eyes as he cries.

I can't help but laugh at him.

"Alright, you cut up the potatoes, I'll do the onion."

"Oh god, I don't know if I can even stand beside that." He shuffles his knife and cutting board to the other side of the kitchen and starts there, taking the potatoes with him.

He watches me curiously as I breathe through my mouth, leaving it hanging open—I look strange I know, but for me this is the best way to tackle the onion-induced crying. He follows my guide for cutting the potatoes into small cubes and tosses them in the pot once he's done. He gives it a stir.

"I know this is old news, but modelling seems to take a lot out of you." I watch him side-long curiously as I wait for him to answer.

He sighs. "If I had more choice in what shoots I do, the clothes I model, the people I model with, and who for, I think I'd be a lot happier." He stares blankly into the pot. "Gabriel ruined my childhood," he says quietly. "I go out and mind my own business, I don't get hounded anymore now that I've stopped doing those perfume ads, but people still know me. People still watch me, they still wonder, take photos from afar—as if they can't see me when they wanted to on the internet anyway."

I look away, knowing I too, used to be fascinated. But things are different now. "I'm sorry, Adrien." We can have these conversations so easily, but at the end of the day, I'm not in his position, I'm not in a position really to even help him… but at least I can be here to let him vent.

"You don't have to be sorry, Marinette." He gives me a warm smile. "Just you being here makes me feel better."

I return his smile.

He shrugs. "And who knows," he looks sidelong at me, "maybe one day I'll be happy modelling your clothes."

"But would you want to? Do you want to model at all?"

"That question has a complicated answer. I think I'd want to be a freelance model." He sets the spoon down. "At the same time, I enjoy runway modelling. I find it a lot less awkward and much more impersonal. But outside of this, I don't know what I want to do with my life. Everything has either always been chosen or handed to me." He smiles absently. "I'd kind of like to just be at home for a bit, be in someone else's shadow who I'm proud of."

"You mean like eye candy."

He barks a laugh. "I wouldn't mind being on someone's arm."

"That's a dangerous thing to be saying," I tease.

"How so?"

"A lot of people would kill to have you on that arm."

He gasps. "Maybe that's what I can do! I can be a 'rent a model' or a 'rent a man'!"

"I think your father would kill you." I laugh. "At least you're not an underwear model—"

"Don't even start."

Alya runs up to me, encasing me in an air-tight hug I struggle to breathe through.

She squeals. "Oh girl, I'm so excited and full of energy, you have no idea!"

"I think I have some," I wheeze.

"Sorry, sorry." She rubs my arms after letting me go. "Come on, let's find a table."

In this friendship group, we love our coffee dates.

"So, tell me everything." She sighs after we order.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I haven't seen you in two weeks! How's it been living with Adrien!?"

"Good." I smile. "He's a great flatmate."

"Leaves the toilet seat down?"

"Always."

"Doesn't blast music twenty-four-seven?"

"Never."

"Doesn't eat all the food in the house?"

"Most of the time, no."

"Doesn't snore like he's warding off demons?"

"Alya," I squint at her inquisitively, "are you just listing off everything Nino does?"

She grumbles and sits back in her chair.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." She scratches her neck. "Mostly."

She's silent for a moment. "I can hardly sleep, can hardly think, I'm always hungry—"

"Alya," I reach across the table to squeeze her hand, "have you spoken to him?"

She looks away from me. "It's only been two weeks."

"And already it's clear you're losing your mind." I kick her foot under the table in an effort to stump her out of sulking. "Talk to him."

Our coffees are placed in front of us along with the croissant I ordered. She doesn't say anything more until she's skulled her coffee and is resting her chin in her hand.

I offer her a piece of my croissant, and she takes it with a sad frown.

"I don't want to make him feel guilty," she says around her mouthful.

"He'll feel worse if you say something later rather than sooner."

"I suppose."

"He'd do it for you."

"Mm."

"Well, eventually he would." I roll my eyes. "But, Als, you're you, you have no problem standing up for yourself and speaking your mind. You never have before."

"I know, M. But the problem is now we live together. That changes everything! What if he doesn't talk to me for days, what if he sleeps on the couch, what if—"

"Okay." I hold up a hand. "This is definitely festering in your head. This is not the Alya I know."

She glares at me, even though she knows I'm right.

I give her a stern look. "Talk. To. Him," I annunciate every word.

She groans, throwing her head back. "I can barely stand to be around him right now. He's always so full of energy, somehow even when he first wakes up, and then he wakes me up and is like 'Ready, Als! Ready for another awesome day!'." She mimicks, then groans again. "I just need him to tone it down."

"Exactly."

"But I'm worried it won't be enough and I'll still hate living with him."

"Do you already hate it?"

She pouts. "Not entirely."

"That's good then." I wince. I sigh. "We both knew there would be some adjusting involved. Living with friends—and boyfriends, can be hard. There's always going to be clashes and sides you've never seen to each other because you've never been around each other so much."

She hums. "I need to talk to him."

"Yes."

"I need to do it sooner rather than later."

"Yes." I drain the last of my coffee.

She sighs heavily. "Sometimes I just need to say what I'm thinking out loud."

I nod. "A lot of the time you already know the answer, you just need me to tell it to you, then you ignore it, then you decide to do it on your own."

She smiles. "I don't ignore you."

"Oh, but you do." I wink.

I lean against the wall outside of the studio.

I thought I'd be nervous for my first day, for my first class. In reality, I feel liberated.

No Chloe or Lila to beat me down and tell me I'm worthless, or useless, or that I'm just pure and utter trash.

It used to get me down, they used to get be down. But I'm better than them, stronger than them. I know my worth, I know I have talent. I know I'm a good person. I'm not going to let anyone or anything beat me down again. Situations and people will try, but I promise myself I'll always be there for myself. I'll always back myself!

I take a deep breath as the teacher arrives. He smiles at me. "You're early."

I push off the wall. "Yeah, thought it was best to be."

He laughs. "Good luck keeping it up."

I smile. "Yeah, it's very out of pocket for me, but new chapter of life, new habits, new beginnings."

He smiles and pushes open the door, holding it open for me. "What's your name?"

"Marinette."

"Nice to meet you, Marinette. I'm Ollie."

"Don't we call you by your surname?"

He frowns. "Not here, no."

That's different from school.

"Take a seat anywhere, hopefully the other's will be on time."

I nod. "Sure." I take a seat adjacent to the front of the room. The centre table has been set as a square with other benches following behind it, all fitted with sewing machines. There are rolls and rolls of fabric off to the side as well, and opposite it, a wall of windows filtering in plenty of natural light.

"What are you studying?" Ollie asks me. He has a slight accent to his French, I'm trying to pick where he's from.

"Design and styling."

He nods.

"Where are you from?"

"America. I studied first in New York."

Ah. Makes sense now.

"How did you find it there?"

"Busy, bustling. New York is hectic, in good and bad ways." He smiles fondly.

"Paris can be the same." I chuckle.

Finally, more students arrive, slipping in through the door.

Ollie sighs, turning with a warm smile to his now full class. "Welcome, everyone! I'm excited to tutor you this semester…"

He goes on to introduce himself, his background and experience, what the class is about beyond the brief summary they give us, what will be expected of us, and what we should expect from him.

"Alright, that's it for today. Please don't ever hesitate to reach out to me if you have any questions, be that on the online learning platform, or via email," he finishes as we all gather our belongings. "Don't forget to bring your sketch books and some basic designs to next week's class. The studios are open for your use at any time!"

"Nice meeting you," he says to me personally, with a nod as I walk out of the classroom.

"Likewise." I step out into the hallway, fishing my phone out to see Adrien already ringing me. "Hey," I answer.

"Hey! My first class just finished, has yours?"

"Yep, I just got out. Did you want to meet for an early lunch on campus before you go home?"

"Absolutely. I walked past this nice café on campus. I'll find and send you the directions to it and meet you there?"

"Sounds good, see you soon."

It's not long before I'm crossing the busy walkway to meet the back of Adrien as he stands off to the side, waiting for me.

I poke his side. "Hey there, flatmate."

He jumps slightly. "Hey yourself."

"Want to grab a table?"

He nods, slipping his phone into his pocket.

"I'm going to go up and order. Can you mind my stuff?"

"Of course."

I leave it on my chair and go up, he does the same once I've returned and sits with a sigh once he's done.

"Well, how was your first class?"

"Really good. I think my tutor is going to be great, he's not too much older than us it seems but he already has a wealth of experience!"

"That's fantastic! Did you meet anybody in your class?"

"Not yet." I smile sheepishly. "I think I got there a bit too early to kind of stand around and chat. Or everyone else was late, or mildly on time."

"You. Early?" Adrien cackles.

"Hey! I purposely was." I pout. "Especially compared to everyone else."

"Fair enough. You were out of the house pretty early this morning. I was surprised."

I nod. I don't have much trouble waking myself up when I know I have somewhere I inevitably need to be in the morning. But it always tends to be with just enough time to make it. The trouble has been adjusting my body to need to get up a decent amount of time earlier to make my own breakfast and not commute from my old room in my parent's attic, to the ground floor of the bakery. "My class is two hours, all practical. We have a lecture later in the week for some reason." I frown. "How was your class?"

He shrugs. "Not going to lie, it seems like it'll be a little boring. Not looking forward to starting my week off with this of all things."

"This was one of your business courses right?"

"Yeah, it's solely 'An Introduction to Business'. Not even the fashion industry specifically." He groans. "And the worst part is it seems I might have to skip out on a few of the classes I'm actually curious to go to." He frowns at his phone.

"How do you mean?"

"My father's asked me to do a photoshoot later this week."

"At least he's asking."

"But what will he do if I say no?"

I shrug. I truly don't know, but… "Things are different now. You're studying something that will help you improve in a way that practicing physically won't. He has to be more understanding."

Adrien scratches his neck, unconvinced.

"Doesn't hurt to try."

He shrugs.

We finish our meals and he walks me to my next class.

"I'm going to try and talk to father about the photoshoot this week. I think it's really important for me to be here for each class this week at least. Otherwise, I won't get a good grasp on what to expect later and what's coming up."

I nod. "Make sure to tell him that."

"What time will you be home?"

"Hopefully by about two thirty."

He nods. "I'll see you then. Good luck."

"Thanks. You too." I wave him off and step into the building.

A soft knock comes at about seven-fifteen that evening.

I struggle to straighten myself from the design in front of me—which is a good sign. The ache in my back from hunching over for hours over the last seven designs I was somehow inspired to sketch.

"One moment," I call absentmindedly, finalising a few outlines here and there before I draw my chair back and peg the design to the twine the stretches across part of my window. I stare at it intensely from a few feet away, before deciding I'm happy with it and moving to throw open the door.

Adrien leans patiently against the threshold and takes a moment to look up, complete innocence on his face. "Pizza?'

"For dinner?"

"No, for breakfast."

I tug my bras strap higher onto my shoulder, ignoring him watching the movement. "We could probably actually have it for breakfast if we have leftovers," I murmur.

"So, pizza?" He repeats.

I follow him into the living room. "This isn't some kind of act of rebellion against your father, right? How did the talk go?"

"Comme ci comme ça." He moves his hand in a 'so-so' action and I hum. "He understands, he can't not, but I think it's going to get difficult as the semester goes on." He plops down on the couch with a heavy sigh. "Do you ever think about how crazy it is that we're finished with school? I feel like it went by so fast. I know I was home-schooled for a lot of it, but still."

"I guess. We never stop learning and we're still in an intense educational environment, but yeah, I do. I think it's strange to think about where everyone is right now."

"I know, right. Have you seen Kitty Section's most recent post? They're in Manchester, it looks like they're having an awesome time on tour."

I look over his shoulder, smiling as they each pose with statues of The Beatles members.

"Do you speak much to Luka?" Adrien looks up at me.

I shrug. "Now and again. I speak to Juleka and Mylene more, Rose and Ivan too." I scratch my neck. "Things have never been the same."

"I'd expect they wouldn't."

I sigh. "So, are we ordering pizza or not?"

"Absolutely, I'm going to get the most decadent menu item for myself. What would you like?"

I bark a laugh. "Maybe just a pepperoni. Or a Napoli. Whatever you think between the two."

"A Napoli," he groans, "I hadn't considered that."

"You can always have a piece of mine if you order it for me, but if you do, can you request to remove the anchovies. It's too salty for me and I'm scared of the tiny bones."

He chuckles at that and rings the number of the restaurant.

"We should go there sometime," he says after he ends the call, "they're only a few hundred metres down the street. I went for a walk earlier after I got home to clear my head and saw it. It looks really nice."

"You really lead with your stomach don't you."

He bites his lip. "I can now," he emphasises. "Illegally in my father's books still."

I laugh and he smiles.

"Let's watch a movie. I've gotten used to having you around and you've been gone all day."

"Are you saying you missed me?"

"Of course, it's hard not to."

I let myself show a hint of a smile before shoving my face in the fridge. "Want something to drink?"

"Do we have any of that red left over?"

I look behind the door and fish for it on the counter. "Yep, should have enough for two small glasses." I weigh the bottle in my hands and shut the fridge door with my hip.

"Maybe save it for when dinner arrives, I feel like it'll go well."

I nod but take out two wine glasses, then fill up two cups with water for the interim.

"What are we watching?" I set one down in front of him and curl up on the other end of the couch.

"What are you feeling like?"

"Hm… a comedy actually, or a chick flick. Have you seen Ten Things I Hate About You? Or what about She's the Man?"

"I've seen the first, but not the second."

"Okay it's a good one. It's a modern retelling of Twelfth Night, I think?"

He cringes. "I don't know if I can handle Shakespeare right now."

"No, it's not. It's like inspired by it."

"If you say so."

Adrien gasps as we flick through the movies. "What about Step Up!? I'm kind of feeling like something raunchy and intense right now."

I bark a laugh. "Go to your room." I point.

He frowns, then flushes. "Not like that…"

"Mmhm. Just remember I have to deal with all your masculine wiles. Oh my god, Sleepover! I forgot about that movie, it's one of Alya and my favourites."

"Okay, okay. No. Hear me out. Mamma Mia, I think that has a bit of what we're both looking for."

"Okay, sold. It'd doesn't matter that I've seen it a million times."

"I have too, you're not alone. I watched it with my mum the first time." He smiles fondly. "It's always had a special place in my heart since… but I didn't understand some of it until I got older. Fairly recently actually…" he trails off.

I don't know what prompts me to ask, but I do. "Have you ever kissed anybody?"

He chokes on his water. "Um, yeah. A few times. I kissed Kagami a couple of times, and you that one time."

"Oh yeah I forgot about that." I laugh. "Sorry."

He rolls his eyes. "We've been over this, it was an accident."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"Wasn't your fault you were such a klutz when you were younger."

I glare at him. Okay, I did somehow manage to miss a step and fall into Adrien down the stairs—with my lips ending up on his—when we were fourteen. But the past is behind us, and it stays there! "You're mean," I humph. But he's right, in every sense of the word. I was the klutz. I've gotten a lot better, a lot steadier, a lot more balanced and coordinated. And oh, the wonders of being so…

"There was this one other girl like three years ago who I kissed secretly at a photoshoot."

I cackle at that.

"Hey!" He crosses his arms. "Granted it was stupid and clumsy but…"

"Oh, you're so funny. So, what I'm hearing is, you haven't really kissed anybody you really like, and haven't kissed them… like… hard, if you're catching my drift."

"I'm catching your drift, and yeah, I guess. Maybe not in the way you're imagining."

"I'm not imagining anything, just to be clear." Absolutely not going there, with that picture, anywhere.

"Sure." A raised brow. "But no, not anyone I've truly liked. You were my first kiss actually."

I gasp. "No!"

He nods.

"I'm so sorry!" I profess.

"Oh, would you shut up." He whacks my face with a pillow. "It's not that big of a deal."

"It is when it was non-consensual."

"It was an accident!"

The doorbell rings, saving us from further argument over what is and isn't that big of a deal for a first kiss.

"Who was your first kiss?" He asks me as he sets the pizza boxes down on the coffee table before the TV.

"God, I don't know." I slide onto the floor.

"Kissed that many people, hey?"

"No." I elbow him in the side. "Just none of them were notable, except, well, Luka."

"Nice to know I'm not notable."

"Oh, shut up and play the movie."

Halfway through our pizzas and partially through the movie, Adrien and I are already on our feet.

"~Honey, Honey, how he thrills me! Uh-huh. Honey, honey~"

And then once we're nearly done, thrusting our last slices of pizza in the air…

"~I was cheated by you, and I think you know when~"

"Dancing Queen is one of my favourites," I puff, settling down after another number. "And Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie!, and Voulez-Vous."

"I love Does Your Mother Know, Honey, Honey, and Slipping Through My Fingers has a special place in my heart too, separate to the whole film," Adrien looks distant as he says the last part, and I know he's thinking about his mum.

"What about Lay All Your Love On Me? And Take A Chance On Me?"

He nods. "And Our Last Summer. Just all of them to be honest."

"Have you seen the second one?"

He nods. "I love that they brought Meryl Streep back for the finale, especially since she doesn't usually do sequels. But it still doesn't beat the first."

"Certainly not." I bump my shoulder into his. "Should we clean-up before we continue?"

He smiles at me. "Definitely."