Chapter 10 – Croissants and Chaos
Adrien's POV:
I've had enough.
I gave her space. I played it cool. I didn't text her twelve times at 3am asking 'Are you mad at me??' like a psycho.
I sat through her fake smiles, nods, polite 'oh wow cool' responses like some goddamn side character in her life.
But I'm done.
It's Saturday. The sun is out. The sky is blue. And I am officially fed up.
So, armed with the bold stupidity of a man dangerously close to going crazy, I walked straight to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, practically bouncing with fake optimism.
"Good morning Mr.Dupain and Mrs.Cheng" I chirped to her parents as I entered.
Her Dad's eyes lit up, genuinely happy.
"Adrien, my boy! What a surprise!"
Her Mother smiled too, though with a slight edge of awkwardness. You know the one. The 'uh oh, you're about to be publicly rejected, sweetie' type.
"Marinette!" Her Dad called upstairs. "Adrien's here!"
A beat of silence. Then—
"I'M BUSY RIGHT NOW, TELL HIM TO COME TOMORROW!"
Oof.
Fucking ouch.
"She's….reorganizing her fabrics. You know how she gets." Her mother gave me a sympathetic smile.
Yeah. I do know how she gets. Obsessive. Loud. Tangled up in ribbon and talking to herself like a sleep-deprived squirrel.
That's what I wanted to see. Not this distant, toned-down, Stepford-Wife version of her.
"Here, take some croissants. On the house." Her Dad handed me a paper bag.
Rejection and pastries. Classic combo.
"Thanks, Mr.Dupain" I muttered, trying to smile.
"I'll… head out then."
But I didn't.
I took the croissants and sat on the bench across from the bakery, unwrapping one as I sulked like a sad, underfed pigeon.
"At least you scored snacks." Plagg popped out of my jacket pocket, sniffing the air.
"Yeah. Pity pastries. Love that for me."
"Still warm, buttery and delicious" Plagg said, stealing one.
"I don't get it," I muttered through a mouthful of buttery sadness.
"She said she wanted to be more 'mature.' But now she's just…not her. Like she's been possessed by a boring podcast host or something."
"Maybe she just doesn't wanna see you?" Plagg offered.
"Wow. Thanks for the emotional support Plagg" I rolled my eyes
"I'm just saying, If a girl says she's busy and gives you baked goods to leave, maybe take the hint."
But no. Screw hints. Screw fake smiles and croissant bribes.
I'm not leaving until I know what the hell is going on.
"You know what would've made this easier?" I muttered, licking butter off my thumb.
"Don't say it." Plagg groaned.
"If I were Chat Noir." I smirked.
"There it is."
"I could've just vaulted up to her balcony, tail swinging, hair blowing in the wind—"
"Hair blowing in the wind? Seriously Adrien"
"I'm painting a vibe, Plagg."
"More like painting a permanent house arrest if you break your legs trying to climb." Plagg rolled his eyes.
That is true, My Father will ground me for life.
But I was already getting up. Determined. Stupid. Probably both.
I started scaling the side of the bakery like a desperate theif.
"This is so dumb," I muttered as I grabbed the railing.
"This would be so much easier if I had my baton. Or my cat powers."
"Should've stretched first. You're gonna cramp and fall." Plagg, hovering nearby, was not helping.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
But I am pretty flexible as Adrien, Thanks to the rock climbing I did in my room out of boredom.
I made it to the balcony. Huffing. Sweaty.
And then—
Marinette.
Standing there in tiny gray sleep shorts and a tank top, a mug in her hand, very much not expecting a trespassing Adrien to appear mid-breakfast.
She froze. I froze.
Oh no. Oh hell no.
She opened her mouth probably to scream, or ask what the hell I was doing but I was faster.
"Shhh!" I hissed, raising a hand like some idiot spy.
She blinked. Hard.
"What. Are. You. Doing."
"I brought croissants." I held up the bag like it was a peace offering. Which… technically it wasn't.
Her parents gave them to me as a please-leave token.
She was flabbergasted. That's the only word for it. Hair messy, eyes wide. The raw, sleepy chaos of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
And she still looked like the hottest, most unfairly attractive person on the planet.
Which was a problem.
Because I am a hormonal guy with a crush the size of Saturn, and there she was standing in front of me, sleepy, soft, completely unaware of how spicy this was for my very fragile, very active imagination.
And she wasn't even doing anything. Just standing there.
Sleepy. Soft. Legs out. Shoulders bare.
My entire nervous system short-circuited.
"Adrien." She frowned, eyes narrowing.
"I need you to stay. Right. There."
Then she turned and disappeared down the trapdoor, slamming it shut behind her.
…Leaving me alone. With my thoughts.
Very dangerous thoughts.
"Cool," I muttered, sinking onto her lounge chair and burying my face in my hands.
"This is fine. This is totally fine. Just me, on my girlfriend's balcony, semi-hard"
"You're a disaster." Plagg floated by, snorting.
"I'm aware."
She said 'stay right there' but she didn't say for how long.
And honestly?
I'm not moving.
Not until I get the real Marinette back.
Even if I have to climb another wall for it.