How could Adrien stand Chloé? Marinette thought as she stomped down the hallway. He let her get away with so much even though she was just being a bitch, the most he'd ever told her to do was stop.

That was once. When she was completely out of hand.

Marinette shook her head. She gripped her arms tighter against her shaking form. Water dripped from her clothes and hair. Her makeup was running, and her face probably looked horrible, but she didn't care. Tears swelled her in face, some fell down, but she hoped people would think it was the water.

"Marinette, wait!"

Her body froze. Her name lingered in the air.

Just great, she thought. Adrien was not the person she wanted to see right now. Marinette knew that he'd come over to her, apologize for Chloé and make some kind of excuse for her that she quite frankly didn't deserve.

She didn't want to hear Adrien talk about another girl in front of her. It was hard enough just watching them be together, knowing that Adrien probably prefered a girl like Chloé, but she didn't need nor want to hear it either. On top of that all, she'd most likely make a fool of herself like every other time Adrien was involved.

So she did what she was good at and ran. Or rather, she kept walking, pretending that she never heard Adrien in the first place. After she went home and had the weekend to recuperate, prepare herself for what she knew would happen, then she'd be able to talk to Adrien. But right now… right now was not okay.

Marinette was about to breakdown. Tikki was trying to calm her down. She might have been right that it was only water, but it wasn't the water that hurt her–it was the meaning, the moment she saw the people around her she considered friends laugh at her instead of helping her. That was what hurt her the most, not anything that Chloé could do–because she was just words, sticks and stones, and horribly thought up plans.

That was easy enough to deal with. On the other hand, the pain of building relationships with people, that wasn't so easy to deal with. It came with a lot of hard to deal with feelings that often times Marinette didn't know how to handle. This was one of those times.

"Marinette, please."

Adrien gripped Marinette's shoulder, stopping her from moving forward. His grip was strong. Firm with a hidden strength behind his pretty face. It took Marinette off guard. She looked back to him and her breath was caught in her throat. He looked like he was hurt–hurt for her. He wasn't showing some kind of forced or fake sympathy, but genuinely looked like he cared about her.

"I'm sorry for what Chloé did," Adrien said. "She should have done that. There's a lot of times she can be dramatic and over the top, but sometimes she can be nice."

And there it was. He was defending her.

"I guess just then didn't help my point…"

Adrien scratched his head. He scrunched his eyebrows together, his face folding into a frown as he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say. Marinette watched him. She felt the pressure of his grip increase when he remained silent.

It was a couple seconds later that he finally looked up at her. His eyes went wide and his face dropped. He pulled his hand back, taking a step backwards to look all around him.

"Are you okay?" Adrien asked. " I mean, it's starting to get cold and you're covered in water. You'll catch a cold if you keep standing here."

His face scrunched up as he frowned, realizing that he was the one keeping Marinette there.

"At least…" Adrien scratched the back of his neck, and Marinette noticed that he didn't make much eye contact with her (something she found strange since she was usually the one to not look at him). "I have a shirt in my bag. I know your house is right next to the school and all, but I still feel like if you catch a cold it would be partially my fault."

Her eyes went wide. Adrien's shirt. Adrien's shirt. Just thinking about it was enough to get her weak at the knees.

"You don't have to," Marinette screamed. "I don't want it."

She slapped her hands against her mouth. Another wonderful job done by Marinette. Why couldn't she have just nodded her head and said yes? Then she'd be walking home with Adrien's shirt. With Adrien's smell.

"I-I-I mean… shirt… your shirt–Adrien's shirt isn't–I can't…"

Talk more, Marinette, she thought. Go ahead and screw this up more.

Adrien stared at Marinette and nodded his head when she closed her mouth. She couldn't even look at him in the eyes now. He'd think she was a jerk for sure.

"Sorry," Adrien said, pulling Marinette out of her thoughts. "That was kind of weird for me to say. It made you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry. Just, um, be careful on your way back. And I'm really sorry about what Chloé did. Honestly, Marinette, you didn't deserve to be treated like that."

Marinette blushed. Her heart throbbed. He looked dejected, like he really did regret what he said. She didn't even mean it and she felt so bad for making Adrien make a face like that. But a part of her was elated. Thrown all the way to the clouds. He wouldn't make a face like that to just anyone, so on some basic level she had to mean something to him. Classmate or friend or whatever she was to him, it was enough to get under his skin.

Though the problem still remain. Quite frankly all Marinette had to do was say that she wanted his shirt, but that was the problem. She couldn't even make a complete sentence that made sense when she really needed to around him. The one time she did, she completely screwed it up. There's one for the record books.

"So, I'll see around sometime, Marinette." Adrien lifted one corner of his lips, his cheek sticking out as he did so.

A thunderstorm was what Marinette's heart sounded like against her chest as she looked at Adrien's back. The echos of his footsteps were knives being stabbed into her. She gripped her shirt in her fist and took a deep breath. Her face was burning and she probably looked like she was constipated, but it didn't matter anymore.

Because the only thing she could see–cared about–was Adrien. The Adrien who just looked like he was slapped. The Adrien who was now looking back at her with a shocked expression painted on his face.

"I…"

Courage, she thought. That was what she needed. If Chat Noir saw her now, he'd laugh at her. He always told her how strong she was–brave and courageous, how much strength she had to do the things she did.

He'd tell her to take a breath.

And do it.

"I'm sorry I said that. I'd love it if you gave me your shirt. Thank you."

Adrien looked confused for a moment. Marinette wondered if perhaps he didn't want to give her his shirt anymore.

Of course he wouldn't, Marinette thought to herself. You just outright rejected him. Why would he want to after that? Why would he even want to look at you? He's probably going to say get away and never talk to me again. That's what he's going to say.

But his moment of hesitation was short lived as he gave her a relaxed smile. He motioned his head behind him.

"My bag's in the classroom if you want to come with me, I can give it to you."

Marinette smiled as she nodded her head, jogging to walk next to Adrien as he lead her through the hallways.

A little courage was all she needed after all. Marinette would have to remember to thank Chat later for this.