A/N: With the tumblr purge and what not, I've been persuaded that it's okay to transfer my 'not worthy' stories to archiving sites. This hurts me, but it's also a good exercise on not being a perfectionist and letting others see that.

This was posted around May 2018, un-betaed.

Adrien's going to do it.

He does a swift rap three times.

He quickly realizes he wishes he didn't do it. It's awkward and intrusive, and really none of his business, but, dammit, if her sniffled cries haven't haunted his mind for weeks, and he has to see her once to console her, or—

The door swings opens and, not to be overly dramatic, it's like viewing a full moon for the first time. One moment he's in darkness with only assumptions to her appearance then—wow, there she is. His neighbor is significantly more beautiful than he imagined—not that he fantasized about her, that would be odd considering the tears— and definitely more kind and inviting in the face than expected.

She has long dark hair worn in loose pigtails and has one of those "small but fierce" figures to her. Too much his type to be fair. He came to check she wasn't suffering from chronic illness not chronic attractiveness.

"Ah, right, hello?" He stumbles.

"Yes?" She says pleasantly. He has definitely made an egregious error.

"I'm sorry, you seem to have taken my breath away."

She gives a bemused grin. "How many doors have you been knocking on to use that?"

"Which would impress you more?"

She gives a halted laugh. "Wow, I haven't met one of you in a while. What department? Hospitality? Economics? Oh wait, here's the best one, Women's Studies?"

"I'll have you know, I'm so charming women didn't believe I was real and put me under the Bechdel Test," he voiced. "I passed, if you're curious."

She places a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh and, though he's heard it before, her body language and bright expression just heightens his love of it. He can't help but want to pull more from her. "You're certainly more entertaining than the usual hit-and-run flirts on campus."

"And more handsome?"

"Well now you're just boosting your ego," her eyes sparkle at him and an invincible swell of pleasure rises to his chest. "Ok, if you're done, I have a project to finish tonight."

Now he panics. Why was he here in the first place? "Ah, wait! Let me be straight with you."

She keeps her hand on the edge of the door but doesn't look in a rush to move. She stares at him with what he hopes is excited interest. He should have rehearsed this because now he just wants to continue their light banter and bask under her quick humor and maybe talk to her for hours… So he chickens out and takes the roundabout approach. "I'm a Barbie girl in a Barbie world."

Her eyes change completely, lighting up in recognition, and she's gawking at him in a way he can't completely read. "Y-you're the—" A bright flush hits her cheeks then she's slamming the door in his face.

"Um, hey?" He taps on the door a few times. There's no way she was mad at him? He sang that terrible song to cheer her up and she laughed and even clapped for him. He had done it a few times— different songs, of course; no one enjoys repeats— and she always seemed much happier. His entire body deflates amid the idea that he brought up bad memories for her to run away from him.

Then the door swings open, the girl's cheeks still pouting red with a few fly aways in her face. A plate with an individual sized cake wrapped in plastic is held in her hand and said 'You're my Barbie World' in pink on top. She gestures the cake forward for him to clasp.

"T-thanks. For cheering me up."

He looks on in awe. The cake is well-done, clearly made ahead of time, and he wondered when she intended to give it to him. For something so simple, she went this far for him. He's beaming, half laughing at the joke and stupidly flattered, and brushes against her fingers under the plate which rises the red to her entire face. Adorable.

"I didn't realize I left such an impression," he teases.

She sends a deadpan expression. "You're definitely ruining it right now."

He chuckles. "Oh come on, I'm adorable. What did you say? I was 'entertaining'?" He winks at her.

She pulls her hands away and crosses them in front of her, obviously trying not to smile. "You're not—awful."

She does not give in easy, he smiles to himself. He can't imagine anything making her cry without a fight. "Now you're killing my impression of you."

She rolls her eyes. "Sobbing pathetically over Japanese animation doesn't leave any good impressions."

He blinks a few times, his smile becoming more crooked. "Wait, what?"

"Oh," she voiced. Eyes locking forward in a manner close to panic. "You didn't know that. Of course, you didn't know that. Oh, this is worse. You can leave now."

She tries to walk backwards and close the door but Adrien inches his foot to stop the momentum. "No, no, my princess, you better invite me inside and tell me more because I'm very very interested." He always imagined it was a bad boyfriend, tough classes, troubles at home, but instead he's been wanting to console her from Grave of the Fireflies?

He inclines his body forward, leaving himself open and no room for question on his interests towards her. He wants to know more, needs to, like an itch under his skin. To get her name, to know why she feels a need to watch sad anime, what's her major, what else can she bake.

She hesitates, possibly, hopefully, catching on to his thoughts. She sighs, "I have a project, remember?"

"Oh, I thought—" He was kind of hoping it was an excuse for getting the random creep away from her door, and maybe it still was. He can't help be more than disappointed and he shoulders sag. "You're right, sorry. I'll see you around?"

Before he steps away from the door to go back to his dorm, to honestly bang his head against the wall for probably saying something wrong or even considering to be in her league, the girl reaches forward and clasps his forearm. A sharp elation runs through his chest.

"But I… couldn't help but notice you come home at weird hours, and I'm free tomorrow, and I tend to cook pretty big meals if you wanted to—well, if I happen to watch a sad movie again, I don't mind your terrible songs, and they really are terrible, but they make me laugh and I think you're pretty great…" She drifts off staring directly at him, eyes shining like undersea pearls, and she's tugging a section of her long hair in a nervous gesture.

That pleasure filled swell hits his chest tenfold, all doubt flying out of his mind as his grin half breaks his face. She smiles back, bright and beautiful, and he can't help but think if tears lead him to such a wonderful sight, he wouldn't mind conjuring up a few of his own.