A/N: Hello, I'm back!

Chapter 3: Invader

Knowing that her visions were actually fact was a surreal realization for Marinette.

Because then that meant that she was somehow… accessing someone's body and/or memories from the past and/or future? With thoughts, sensations and everything else?

How was that possible?

She knew that there was no law in physics that could describe her visions. Physics was one of her worst subjects, yes, but even she knew that much. Weird vision/dream-like phenomena only happened to her, as far as she knew.

However, it was something deeply important and personal to her.

And ever since she had had that vision at the burger joint, she could no longer ignore or set them to the back of her mind.

Now, they weren't just pesky annoyances in her life. Rather, her visions were some mysterious thing that told her of some things. She didn't know what that thing was, or what they wanted to tell her, rather than maybe that her fate was chosen for her.

But then, why bother telling her about it? If her fate was chosen and she had no say in what happened regardless of whether or not she had the knowledge, why would they try to make her suffer with the understanding?

It seemed like all a big waste of an effort to Marinette, and although she probably could not fathom what the universe was thinking as it cranked its gears everyday, she definitely did not understand this.

Was it wrong of her to want to understand what was happening to her?

Maybe she shouldn't be accepting it as fact that she had these weird visions in her life that she didn't even know where she got them from. Maybe she shouldn't be regarding it as the quality of herself that was separating her out from the crowd and making herself different, but rather as a foreign invader. Something that wasn't part of her, but one day came into her body and her being and made itself at home.

Yeah, that sounded a lot better.

But if that was true, then could she get rid of the foreign invader?

Should she want to?

Her visions always caused her a great heap of trouble in her life, and Marinette had been in - and still was - in great pain because of them. But when you have lived your entire life blind, you don't know what sight is. And so, when the opportunity comes and you can finally see the world... well, it was strange. And now that she was imagining what life she would have without the visions, well, life without her visions seemed… odd.

Would she want it?

What about the other sharpened senses that she would lose? Would she think that the gained sight would be worth it, the gained normality?

Did she want it?

(No, she decided. She didn't. But she didn't want to admit it out loud.)

That didn't even begin to cover why she had these visions in the first place.

(Yes, she did want to get back at whatever force of nature her visions, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to know what in the world they wanted to do with her in the first place.)

What was its purpose in her life? To just make her different?

Marinette doubted that. There were many ways one could be different. She would probably have felt equally as different under different circumstances.

So why this specific flavor of differentness?

What could the universe possibly want with her?

She was a simple girl with a simple life. She lived simply by modest means, and while she may have had big dreams, she was going to get there the simplest way she knew how.

If the universe had planned her, out of all the people, to do something extraordinary, she had no idea why they had picked her.

Take out the supernatural visions, and she was one of the simplest girls you could see walking down the streets.

She thought about what she might have been like had she not had visions in her life, but then she stopped. The idea itself was so far-fetched and big to her that she couldn't fathom a life without her visions.

Maybe she could fathom a future without her visions, yes. She would easily blend into the crowd, into the background, without anything impeding her from doing so. She might feel like she belonged somewhere for the first time in her life.

But a past where there were no visions?

She came up blank every single time.

Because would she still be a fashion designer, then? Would she be competing as a gymnast professionally now?

What about her inner world? How many puzzle pieces would look different or be missing?

What kind of a person would no-vision Marinette be like?

It also didn't help that her visions had come back with a vengeance this week. In fact, Marinette couldn't remember a day when she didn't have visions anymore. A day when there wasn't anything supernatural happening, that wasn't controlled by her own desires and doing.

But she had never expected it to go on and have a rampage.

She was having three to four visions per day, and these times were not at all predictable to her chagrin.

It was a wild animal, her visions, one that drove her insane and wouldn't leave her alone unless it was tame. But she couldn't have it tamed, and so she had given up trying to, letting it be just like a wasp; if she didn't touch it, then it didn't sting her. (Of course, the simile didn't completely apply here; it was stinging her regardless of what she did. But she found that it stung less painfully the less she tried to force control onto her visions.)

And with the way that they were happening, Marinette couldn't help but think that the visions were having fun messing with her head. Maybe even betting on the day that she was finally going to go insane, if there was some force (she was somewhat sure that there was, because what kind of a coincidence was that thing at the burger joint? That had been done to spite her.) that was controlling the visions.

Ha! The joke was on them. She already had.

But whether or not they knew, the universe didn't seem to give up on trying to make her suffer.

In fact, it was as if they loved kicking her when she was down.

As much as Adrien's calls and Alya's excursions with Marinette healed her, the fact was that Marinette's visions wouldn't go away or go in the way she favored.

Maybe the universe had heard her declaration of war on the visions, she thought on a Thursday, and it was now fighting back.

Whatever it was, she didn't appreciate it.

"Okay, class," Mrs. Mendeleiev began, "I have graded your pop quizzes-"

Groans permeated across the room.

"And I have to say that I am not impressed," she said with a frown. It looked more like a scowl from where Marinette was sitting, but she preferred a frown better than a scowl. Therefore, Marinette regarded it as a frown. "If you all want to pass my class, I suggest that you start studying for the finals now."

"But we have five more weeks!" Marinette turned her head to see a pink-haired Alix groaning into her lab table. Her head hit with a hard thunk.

"Those five weeks can pass by quickly, Alix. I suggest that you especially start touching upon what we've learned this year."

Alix's eyes widened with disbelief and then hardened into anger.

Had she just…?

Marinette bit her lip at the insinuation. Weren't teachers supposed to be on the students' side? Wasn't that why they dedicated their lives to being in school?

(Marinette didn't think that she could ever do that. She would probably drown from the raging hormones of her unenthusiastic students. Not to mention that teachers couldn't wear very fashionable outfits for school; it was all quite bland. Not to mention grading papers. Bleh.

But that didn't mean that she didn't appreciate what they did for her and her fellow students.

However, this was out of line.)

"I don't know if I can actually pass this class, Juleka," a high-pitched voice behind her said with dread. When Marinette turned her head around, she saw that it was her short-haired blonde classmate, Rose.

"Of course you will," Juleka's low-pitched voice said, patting Rose gently on the back with a look of concern. "You'll do great in the final."

"But... " Rose began, "I've been only getting barely passing grades for all of her quizzes and tests." She sighed. "And Mrs. Mendeleiev says that the final is the hardest test of the year!" The blonde bit her lip. "I don't know if I can do it."

Marinette smiled sympathetically - no, empathetically, since she was also sharing the suffering. She was also dreading the day of finals. "Me too, Rose. Me too."

Marinette knew how nice it was to know that someone else shared your suffering, and so tried her best to be there for people.

Because other people can't be there for her.

Rose looked up from her watery palms to the bluenette. She gave a little smile to Marinette. "We're buddies, no?" she chuckled.

Marinette grinned. "Absolutely, Rose. Maybe we can be study buddies together?" She frowned when the details of the idea hit her. "Oh wait. But we're barely floating. It's probably better to find someone that we can both benefit from, someone who is good at physics. Maybe someone like-"

"How about Max?" Rose asked. "He's into math, and he's good at physics too. He might be willing to help out."

Marinette beamed. "That's a great idea! Maybe we can study at my place?"

Rose grinned. "That sounds wonderful! Is there anything that you-"

After the brief conversation with Rose about the details of the meeting, the rest of the period was spent by Mrs. Mendeleiev explaining the contents of the finals.

Halfway through class, Marinette lost consciousness.

She sighed in exhaustion. Her hands trembled even after she had pillared them, her shivering legs being the base. Her face was warm from not only the heat from her hands, but the nervousness that threatened to consume her whole.

The brown-haired man next to her, clad in a black and form-fitting tuxedo that did not hide his muscles, frowned. "What's wrong?" he said with a concerned voice. His hands touched her shoulders to comfort her, but it didn't work.

Just about every other time did, but this time, it didn't.

Wonderful.

"It's… it's just too surreal, you know? I know we've been practicing for months for this, Charlie, but-"

His expressions got serious. "Luce-"

"And I know that my makeup's on just right and these heels feel absolutely perfect, but what if I'm not-"

"Luce-"

"Perfect? What if I'm not good enough, mon minou? What if I step on the wrong foot, or-" She gasped. "What if I step on yours?!"

His brows furrowed. "Bug, you are not going to-"

"But what if I do? Oh my gosh, that would hurt so much! And then we wouldn't be able to do the rest of the competition because we would be disqualified for my mistakes, and-"

"Luce-"

"And then we wouldn't be able to tango together ever again!" she cried. "And then we would never be able to spend time with each other because my stupid mother is forcing me to look into a different partner if we don't win this competition, and-"

"Luce-"

"And then we would be separated just like all those other times, and-"

"Lucy!"

Her head immediately whipped at her name.

He sighed. "You aren't going to be disqualified. You will do great, just like all the other times that I've practiced with you. And we aren't going to be separated, because we will win," he grinned.

She raised a brow at that. "How do you know that?"

He grinned as he invaded her personal space. "I just know it."

She hummed with satisfaction. Somehow, that soothed her.

A smile ghosted along her lips. Her nose touched his. "Thanks, Charlie."

"-nette! MARINETTE!"

Marinette flinched at the sound, which caused her chair to fall out of balance. Arms wailing everywhere as she tried to balance on her lab chair again, Marinette bit her lip as she tried to regain her sight of what was happening at the moment. At the pressure from her hands, her chair rattled less nervously and finally came to a stop.

Marinette sighed with relief, looking up to the direction of the voice.

She was face to face - or nose to nose - with the Wicked Witch of the West herself. (She meant Mrs. Mendeleiev.)

(Also, she was married? Marinette didn't know how she was. Okay, that was offensive, and Marinette knew that she shouldn't have these thoughts, but could she really help it, with the way Mrs. Mendeleiev looked at her?)

She blinked. "Yes, Mrs. Mendeleiev?" she smiled sweetly.

Mrs. Mendeleiev pinched her nose bridge in frustration. "That's the fifth time that you've spaced out in my classroom for the past week, mademoiselle. Are my lessons not important enough for you that you would rather space out and daydream?"

"I-uh-" How was one supposed to explain that she didn't daydream - her mind literally flooded her with images and sensations and feelings so that it became impossible to be in the present when she was busy traversing to the past or future - and she couldn't control it?

Mrs. Mendeleiev sighed. "Please."

That made Marinette's eyes widen. Please?

Was her hearing going wrong?

Did she need a hearing aid?

Oh god, what if her visions were affecting her hearing, too? Would she become an old haggard woman by the time she turned twenty?! What if-

"Just pay attention," her voice wobbled for what Marinette knew was the first time. Okay, maybe Grandma 20-year-old Marinette was a little ridiculous, after all. "I want to help you succeed, but it's hard to do that when you're not letting yourself be helped."

After realization struck her on just what Mrs. Mendeleiev had said, Marinette couldn't help but smile. "Of course, Madame. I'm sorry for spacing out today," she said with the most regretful voice she could muster.

Mrs. Mendeleiev sighed her stresses as she languidly walked back to the blackboard, muttering about how ungrateful students were.

Meanwhile, Marinette grinned all the way through the class at the realization that Mrs. Mendeleiev did care about her students. (She just was terrible at showing it.)

However, the new realization that Mrs. Mendeleiev cared about her students wasn't going to help her physics grade get any better. After all, the woman was infamous for hating everybody.

So Marinette and Rose, in their pink pants (for Marinette) and their pink sundress (for Rose), stole Max from lunch to ask him if he could help them with physics.

Max shook his head. "Sorry," he said with remorse, "But the Ultimate Mecha Strike III tournament is coming up."

Marinette was instantly piqued. "That's coming up?!"

Rose only smiled sweetly, but Marinette could also see worry from her peripheral vision. However, Max's answer pulled her back to attention.

"Yeah. And I have to practice for it. I've been waiting for it for a year now, and I need to increase my chances of winning to one hundred percent," Max said. "Based on my calculations currently, my chances of winning are only eighty-seven percent, and that is not enough for my satisfaction."

Marinette chuckled, putting her hands in front of her mouth to hide her smile. "Okay."

"Sorry that I can't help you," he said with emotion, which surprised Marinette.

"Oh no, it's okay! Maybe we can meet each other in the tournament?" She grinned.

Max raised a brow. He looked at her up and down, as if he could size up how good she was just by looking at her appearance. "You?"

Marinette shoved the indignant anger that threatened to take over her and tried on a smile. "Of course!" Okay, so that word might have squeaked a little bit more than was natural. "I've been doing it for quite a while now," she grinned, leaning closer into Max's space, "and I don't mean to brag, but," she let out a chuckle but it came out forced. "I'm quite good."

"Really." He was unimpressed.

"Of course!" Okay, she sounded mad now. This was a dead end. She should have just walked away from the entire situation when Max had sized her up. "My dad's pretty good at the game, and I end up beating him every time," she chuckled.

She did not like the disbelieving gaze that Max was giving. She clenched her fist behind her back.

Stay calm, stay calm. You don't want to cause a ruckus, Marinette. Just smile and wave. Okay, maybe not wave, but just smile.

"Okay," he said still with that disbelieving tone in his voice. "Well," he began as he turned his back towards her, "I hope to see you there, I guess."

And he left.

"UGH!" Marinette stomped the ground and kicked her chaise, ear barely touching the phone. "UGHHHHHH!" she said louder and longer as if that further explained the situation she was in.

"What happened?" the voice from across the phone asked with worry and seriousness in his tone.

It was not one that Marinette was familiar with and instantly caught her off guard; Adrien was jokester type of person, after all.

After she regained some semblance of serenity (but others would still have said that she was angry), she sighed heavily. "I'm going to start off by saying that I am so sorry to be dumping this onto you, chaton. But Alya would just create more problems by actually confronting the issue, and-"

"Are you saying that I can't be confrontational?"

"NO!" she exclaimed. "I just mean that you don't know this person that I'm going to vent to you about, and…"

"O...kay…" he said, his tone still disbelieving. Somehow, that tone irked her.

But she didn't want to lash out on Adrien because of something that he didn't do, and so she sighed.

"And…"

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" he said gently but with a firm grip on the conversation.

"Okay," she sighed. "So, I'm having trouble in my physics class," she began.

"You do? Physics is my favorite subject!" he said happily. "Maybe I can help?"

"Really?" Marinette beamed. "That's great! I think I could really use some help." But her smile instantly turned into a frown. "But aren't you busy this whole month? I wouldn't want to make you burdened just so that you can help me-"

"Ehh," he said. "I'll find a way."

She frowned. "Adrien, if you're going to ditch just because I'm having trouble with my physics class, I'm going to-"

He chuckled. "Relax. I'm not going to ditch. I'm just going to ask Nathalie to move around my schedule a little bit so I can help you."

She raised a brow. "Nathalie? Who's Nathalie?"

"She's my father's assistant." She gasped. Gabriel's assistant! "She's also kind of like my personal nanny, in a way," he chuckled.

She giggled at that. "She creates your schedules and all?"

"Yeah. She's great at what she does, but-"

Silence.

"But?" Marinette asked, gently prodding.

"You know what, that doesn't matter right now. What matters is you."

She felt flattered, but she couldn't help but frown. "O...kay…" He knew that she would be willing to listen if he confessed, right?

"You know, minou," she began, "I'm not going to ask about your father's company. Friends don't use each other for their own gains, remember?"

"Hmm?" he said questioningly. Okay, so her guess was wrong. "Oh yeah. About that." His tone became serious once again.

She was seeing a different side to him today.

"Yes?"

"I just want to say that I've done a lot of thinking about that day...you know. When you found out my last name?"

"... Yes?"

"... I think that you were right about Chloe, and I might have been rude to you about it all. I just… I just wanted to apologize-"

Marinette furrowed her brows at that. "Why would you want to do that?"

"... excuse me?"

"Apologize because you think that you did something wrong?" she asked. "You were just defending your friend. I mean, it's Chloe, but she's still your friend, right? And friends defend each other when someone else is insulting them." A pause. Marinette sighed. "I was being insensitive to you, Adrien," she began. "I should be the one who's apologizing."

"I-I... but you were right, Marinette. She's not exactly the best... friend-material," he chuckled nervously.

She frowned. "She might be, yes, but just because I was correct doesn't mean that I was right."

Silence.

She hoped he understood.

"But-" he began in a tone that clearly told her that he didn't understand what she was trying to say.

Marinette let out a sigh of frustration.

Why was this conversation flowing this way in the first place?

Why did he want to shoulder all the blame for this?

"I…" Adrien began. "I'm sorry."

"For what." Now she was mad. Who or what, she was not entirely sure about.

"For…" she could hear the wince in his tone. "For…"

He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for.

Marinette laughed.

"You know what," Marinette began, her voice still monotone, "Let's just get back to the topic."

He let out a deep sigh at that. He was getting uncomfortable too, she knew. "Okay."

"Anyways," she said, voice still a little too cold. She cleared her voice and tried on a smile. "I was having trouble with my physics, and we have this guy in our class who's really good at it."

Silence.

"A-Adrien? Are you still there?"

Panic filled her face. What if she had scared him away or made him mad or something? What if she had-

"Oh yeah! Sorry!" the answer was immediate. "Guess my phone connection is a little spotty right now."

She raised a brow. "Was that a pun?"

He chuckled. "Yes."

She giggled with relief. If he was in the mood to joke, then obviously he was okay. "Well, focus, minou. I have a story to tell."

"Of course, my Lady."

She groaned, but midway it became a chuckle.

He must have known that her reaction was in good spirits because he chuckled.

"Anyways, so this guy is really good at anything related to math and science in general. So we went to ask-"

"We?"

"Yeah. Rose and I. She's this short blond-haired girl with a pink sundress. She was having trouble in physics, too."

"I see. Go on."

"And so we went to this guy, his name is Max. And he said that he couldn't help us because there was a gaming tournament that was going to be coming up soon."

He hummed in the affirmative.

"And so, since this was also a game that I like to play and am pretty good at-"

"What game is it for?"

"Excuse me?"

"What game is it for?"

"Oh, it's for Ultimate Mecha Strike III. I really like the game, and-"

"Really?" the happiness practically oozed through the phone. "I do too! Maybe we can play it some time!"

Marinette chuckled. "Maybe we can. But be prepared to have your precious model ass be wiped by yours truly," she smirked.

He hummed. "I may not mind that," he said mischievously.

At that, her cheeks stained red. "Adrien!" she shrieked.

He chuckled a chuckle that meant he knew that he had done something wrong, and was enjoying it. "Yes?" he said in that oh-so-innocent voice of his.

(It wasn't; it just was incredibly infuriating. It was even more infuriating because the tone of his voice told that he was more than aware of just what he had done.)

"Get your dirty mind out of the gutter and focus!"

He chuckled. "I'm sorry; I may have gone overboard. I will focus now, my Lady."

"You're damn right you have." She muttered. "So, anyway, if I may continue without any interruptions, I said to this guy Max that I will be looking forward to meeting him in the gaming tournaments."

"Yeah?"

"But then he literally looked at me up and down, sizing me up! And then he was like, 'sure, whatever,' in a totally disbelieving tone! I mean, can you believe the nerve?!"

"Yeah." That startled Marinette. Had he ever been this cold? She could only remember smiles and warmth from him, just like the light the color of his hair. "That was extremely disrespectful of him to do."

"Y-yeah! And I thought he was nice, you know?" she said a little bit more timidly.

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

"What?"

"Are you going to confront him? You said that you didn't call Alya because you knew that she was going to confront him about it."

Marinette chuckled. "Yeah, no. Alya would have punched him in the face if I told her. Not only because he insulted her best friend, but also because it's such a touchy subject for her too."

"What do you mean by that?" he said, clearly confused.

"Well, it's just a touchy subject for Alya because Alya is a firm advocate of women's rights. She believes that all women can do as good of a job at everything as men if they're just given the chance."

"And you don't believe that?" he sounded surprised.

"Well, I do believe that women can do as good of a job at most things as men can," Marinette said. "But there are just some things that men just can do better, you know? Like athletics, for example. There's a reason the sports are separated by gender; everything is just taking it too far."

He hummed inquisitively. "I see."

Marinette frowned in annoyance. "So, anyway, I'm probably not going to confront him about his behaviors."

"Why not?"

Marinette smirked. "Because I'll wipe his butt in the tournaments. That'll show him who he's messed with."

He chuckled. "Of course you will, my Lady. But didn't you just say that you needed help in your physics class?"

"So? I could game and study."

"Eh. Fair enough."

"Um, so, about that," Adrien began. "I'll check my schedule with Nathalie and text you when I can come."

"Okay," Marinette said. "Thanks for the help, Adrien. I really appreciate it," she smiled.

She heard a chuckle. "No problem."

It was then that she fell.

She was somewhere sunny. There was sand underneath her toes, and so she curled her toes in and out. The sand consequently moved in and out, in and out. It was strangely addictive and enticing in a way. It was as if she was the moon, pushing the waves of sand at the tip of her fingertips - err, toetips.

However, it was at this moment that her body chose to lose balance, as she collided into something warm and firm.

It was a… a…

Her face flamed.

She was touching his bare chest.

And she was in a bikini.

And he was touching her shoulders to steady her.

"You okay?" he asked in worry.

"Ahh!" she said, immediately pulling her hands away from the chest. However, in her nervousness, efficiency was lost as her hands wailed and lost their way from home for quite some time. "Sorry, I-" her face was now an oven.

He chuckled nervously, letting his hands scrape nervously at his nape. "I'm sorry, it's clear that you're uncomfortable with all this. Maybe I should have asked-"

"No!" she said. "No, it's okay! You needed someone to cover, right? I can do this." She let out a blow. She willed herself to concentrate, and not on the sensation of the firm chest that she had touched with her hands.

No, Marinette! Focus!

"Okay." He was frowning. "I-if you say so."

"You two!" A voice behind the camera said, and they both turned to see who the person was. "I need passion! I need romance! Summer love is the theme, not schoolgirl awkwardness!"

"Yes," she grumbled.

Great. Even the photographer could pick up on her awkwardness.

Just her life.

How was she supposed to fill in for a model today, then?

Maybe she was just going to make a mess out of everything, and then Adrien wouldn't have a good picture. Then he would have to go home with that picture and be reprimanded because of her.

And then, Gabriel would never accept her for his company, and maybe even blacklist her for the rest of her life! Maybe he might tell others of how terrible of a model she had been, and how terrible she must be as a designer subsequently, and she wouldn't be able to get a job in the fashion industry!

Maybe she might get a start-up, but Gabriel wouldn't let her succeed in the industry! All because she had bauched this photoshoot!

Her life was ruined! Ruined!

"Hey," he touched her chin and raised it up. She couldn't see his face; it was blank, but she somehow felt comforted. Maybe she was being comforted whatever it was behind the filter? "It's okay. Just forget about them."

"But Adrien," she said in confusion, "aren't we supposed to be taking pictures?" She thought they were supposed to look at the camera.

He chuckled as he took her hands. They burned more than her shoulders had. "It's okay; everything will be alright. Just follow my lead."

"O...okay..."

"-rinette? MARINETTE! MARINETTE ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! TALK TO ME, MY LADY!"

She groaned. It was happening again. "Yeah," she breathed. "Yeah, I'm alright."

Silence. "Are you sure? That was quite a crash. Should I call you 112?"

"Yeah! I mean, no! I'm completely fine," Marinette dusted her clothing off and bent her knees to lift herself up. "I'm used to it by now."

"... that doesn't mean that you should be."

Marinette shrugged. "Eh. What can I say? I'm clumsy," she chuckled. That wasn't the entire answer, but that was the best one she can give to anyone but herself.

"Okay… if you need any bandages or anything, just ask and I'll deliver you a whole truckload of them to your door."

Marinette giggled. "Thanks, Mr. Delivery Man."

She heard a smile. "Anytime."

Why did it have to sound so soft?!

Why did that single word have to confuse his loyalties?!

He hung up to let her thoughts consume her.

When Marinette woke up the next morning with a throbbing pain in her head from the overthinking she had done, she was surprised to see that Adrien had sent her a text after she had gone to bed.

Hey, so I think I can do Saturday at 2. Sent: 11:55 PM

Great!Sent: 7:44 AM

HeySent: 7:46 AM

Is it okay if I bring a friend along? I now realize that I haven't talked that I wanted to bring her along too. : 7:46 AM

Who? Sent: 7:50 AM

Rose. She's also having trouble in : 8:10 AM

Oh Sent: 8:12 AM

Okay Sent: 8:12 AM

Of course! Sent: 8:13 AM

Thanks. You're a : 8:44 AM

Anytime. Sent: 8:55 AM

Hey, soSent: 12:44 PM

Hello, my Lady. Sent: 12:46 PM

Wonderful afternoon we have today. Sent: 12:47 PM

I told Rose the good news, but she had to : 12:47 PM

Said that Kitty Section is going to perform that evening and she needs to be there all day to : 12:49 PM

Kitty Section? What's that? Sent: 12:49 PM

She's in a band and is the main : 12:50 PM

Cool! Maybe we can go see them! Sent: 12:50 PM

She smiled.

: 12:51 PM

Do you have any other days you are free?Sent: 12:51 PM

Hold on. Sent: 12:52 PM

My schedule's all booked except for that day and I don't know if I can move anything. Sent: 1:37 PM

I'm sorry. Sent: 1:38 PM

That's alright. I'm grateful that you're doing this for me in the first place. I'll just try to teach Rose what you teach : 1:44 PM

You'll be a wonderful teacher. Sent: 1:55 PM

But on Saturday Sent: 1:55 PM

Looks like it's just you and me ;) Sent: 1:55 PM

She laughed and shook her head.

She had to stop taking his gestures seriously.

He seemed like the type of person who flirted merely to get a reaction out of people.

After chilling in the art room with Alix, Rose, and Nathaniel after school, Marinette bid her goodbyes to her fellow classmates and trekked home for five brave minutes.

She was pleasantly surprised to see an envelope jutting out from her mailbox when she arrived. Curious, she took the yellow and professional-looking envelope out to see that it was addressed to her.

Her? But what could she have done?

She darted her eyes upward to the sent address. It was from…

Gabriel?!

She had completely forgotten about the competition, not with the recent developments with her visions and the knowledge that Adrien was her idol's son!

Marinette clutched the flimsy envelope in her chest tightly, not caring about the open doors and gust of dust behind her path. Her heart thump exploded out of her ribcage as she ran.

"Alya, I think I need help," Marinette trembled, turning around in her swivel chair as she faced the yet-unopen envelope once again. The envelope looked so… big.

So foreboding.

So much like the mailbox had been.

"It caaaaame," she whispered with a sense of ominous foreboding.

"What came?"

"An envelope from Gabriel!" She said, half mortified and half nervous beyond belief. "It came in the mail today! Oh god, Alya, what if-"

There was a moment of silence before shrieks assaulted her ears. "MARINETTE! OPEN IT!"

"But what if it's a rejection letter, Alya? What if they say that I'm the worst designer in the history of design-"

"JUST OPEN IT, GIRL!" Alya yelled amidst all of Marinette's ramblings. "The worst that they can say is no!"

Marinette sighed, fingering the opening of the envelope once again. "But that is the worst thing that can happen to me, Alya-"

"Girl," Alya said in a more serious and scolding tone, "If you don't open it, I will get my butt over there so that I can open it for you." Marinette grimaced at that. "You wouldn't want that, would you?" she sang.

No. No, she did not.

"Alright," Marinette said with a sigh. She gulped, biting her lips and huffing her nervousness.

She slowly and painstakingly ran her fingers across the part where the envelope was licked. She pulled, effectively destroying the folded crease and what had separated her from her inevitable rejection.

She knew that she should have worked better on the pigeon hat. She had a minor stitching problem on one of the corners and she knew that black wasn't a good color for the hat. Plus, the pigeon feather didn't go along with the rest of the hat and it could look gaudy with the wrong model-

She sighed. Overthinking wasn't going to do anything good right now.

Eyes screwed shut, the blue-haired girl pulled the envelope out; it was now or never. Her hand hovered on top of the envelope, clutching a single sheet of paper in her hand.

She slowly but surely peeked an eye to look at the big fat no on her paper.

There was none.

Of course, Marinette thought. They wrote it on a paper for a reason.

She pulled the paper fully out from the envelope, gulping at how it was at the point of no return. If she didn't read it now, then she would feel like more of a coward than she would have not opening the envelope in the first place.

So she began reading the first line.

"It is with great pleasure that we announce your entry in the Gabriel Bowler Hat competition as the winner for this year's competition," she read.

It is with great pleasure that we announce your entry in the Gabriel Bowler Hat competition as the winner for this year's competition.

It is with great pleasure that we announce your entry in the Gabriel Bowler Hat competition as the winner for this year's competition.

Her eyes widened with realization. She gasped, her mouth hanging wide open.

She read the first sentence again and the next line just in case.

Just in case this was a sick joke that her mind was playing on her.

It started with a "Congratulations!"

The paper slipped out of her hand as she reclined back in her chair in astonishment.

She couldn't believe it.

She… she had…

She had won?

She had won?

She had really won?

Bolting out of her chair to jump for joy, she screamed at the top of her lungs. The paper now glided gracefully to her desk as it fell face-down. She haggardly screamed, unable to believe that she had really won.

"OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs in her very pink bedroom. "OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!"

"What? What girl, what is it?! You can't keep me waiting like this! This is worse than murder!"

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was soon a sobbing mess on the floor.

Everything she had ever done, everything she had worked for, was validated just by the words carved on the piece of paper. All those late nights pulling her hair out in frustration, all those hours she had put into making the hat and collecting the feathers and forgetting to eat, all of them had really been worth it.

She couldn't feel the ground anymore. So is this what people feel when they say they're on Cloud Nine?

"MARINETTE!" The voice liberated her from her thoughts. Marinette immediately whipped her head to the direction of where her phone now lay on the ground. "Marinette, what happened? You won, didn't you?! Please tell me you won!"

"I-I-I-" Marinette sobbed. "I-I-"

She sighed, her voice trembling with happiness along the way.

"I did."

Pause.

Screams were heard from the other side of the phone.

"MARINETTE, GIRL! GIRL!" Alya said, her voice becoming increasingly shaky. "Girl, I-" was that sobbing Marinette heard? "I'm just so happy for you, girl."

Marinette smiled, tears still running down her cheeks. "I couldn't have done it without you, Alya."

"No girl, that was all you," Alya chuckled. "All you just needed was a little push."

"I mean, it was a lot of push coming from you," Marinette chuckled but the sound came out more as a sigh of relief. It was a terrible attempt at a joke, but Alya nevertheless laughed.

"Hey!" she said playfully.

Marinette laughed. "But they were all very much needed. Thank you so much for all your help, Alya. I couldn't have done it without you."

She heard a smile. "It's not me that did the sewing or the designing, you know."

"I know," Marinette grinned. "But still. Thank you." She said it in the sincerest way she knew how.

She heard a smile. "Of course."

After screaming into her pillow some more to release the tension, Marinette decided to call Adrien.

He picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

She screamed her joy into the phone.

Well… she didn't say that she released all of her tension.

She spent about ten seconds permanently damaging Adrien's hearing until she could speak words.

"I-I-competition-congratulations-hat-" Well… she didn't say that it was coherent.

"My Lady?" a worried voice came over the phone. "Are you alright?"

"I-I-I won-"

"Won what?" How he was being so calm over this, she didn't know. "Won what, Marinette?"

"Competition-Gabriel"

She heard a gasp from the phone. "You did?! You won the bowler hat competition?!"

Marinette couldn't help but scream out an affirmative.

"Oh wow! Congratulations! I knew you could do it!"

Marinette smiled. "Thanks, minou." Okay, now she could speak properly.

"That's so great! Do you think you'll stick around for the photo shoot? It's your hat, after all."

"Of course!" Marinette beamed. "It's a dream come true."

She heard a smile. "I'll definitely see you then!"

Marinette's brows furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know?" Adrien began. "I'm wearing the winner's design!"

Realization struck her like a lightning. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth opened to let out a shriek.

"That's so perfect!" she gushed. "This is so unbelievable. Everything is going exactly the way I wanted it to," her vision got watery again. "I-" her voice was hoarse. "This-this is like all of my fantasies come to real life."

Adrien chuckled. "Of course it is," he said mischievously.

She pouted.

"My Lady? Are you still there?"

"Stop flirting for one second, will you? I'm trying to celebrate here."

She heard a soft smile. "Of course. You deserve the world, my Lady."

At that, her cheeks were not only stained with tears but also blushes.

She really had to stop taking him so seriously; he probably said this to all the girls.

But that didn't stop her from grinning so widely her cheeks started to hurt. "Thank you so much, minou."

As a celebration, Alya insisted that they go out for shopping.

It was an enjoyable experience overall. Alya practically dragged Marinette into every shop that was in the vicinity and scrutinized all of the products on display. She occasionally handed Marinette some clothes and shoes to try on, dragging her to the dressing room so that they could play dress up together.

It was fun, Marinette decided. It was fun being somebody else. She became a policewoman, then a model from the fifties, then a forest ranger. She even got to dress up as a princess (a princess!), which Alya gushed about endlessly and took pictures on her phone.

(After the photo was taken, the redhead sported a devious grin as she texted furiously to someone, which made Marinette wonder just who she was texting it to.)

Not long after the big fashion show for two, Alya and Marinette were starved and needed a snack.

Fortunately, a hot dog stand passed by just as their stomachs growled, and after paying the man their dues, the two friends decided to slather on enough mustard for the entire sausage to be drowned in yellow.

The mustard bottle was now empty.

Evidently, it did not taste good; Marinette and Alya spent the next thirty minutes of their shopping in getting the nasty taste off their tongues.

"I am never eating mustard again," Alya muttered as she sputtered out noises.

"Agreed," Marinette said as she pointed to an ice cream stand.

"Hey, Alya," Marinette smirked at her best friend. "I know what will get rid of their horrible taste of mustard in our mouths."

And so the two best friends spent an entire three scoops of ice cream trying to get rid of the taste of mustard.

It was no André's, Marinette thought, but the ice cream was nevertheless very good.

Marinette soon found out that Alya never intended to release her from the festivities anytime soon; the redhead insisted that Marinette come sleep over at her house for a further celebration. They marathoned their favorite shows together, gossiped about where their friends were going after high school, and Nino and Alya's love life.

It was at the journalist's love life that conversation took a different route.

"So," Marinette began, "Where are you going after high school?"

"I'm deciding between two universities," Alya chuckled. "Both have really great journalism majors, but one of them specializes in forensic journalism while the other is really just great all-around."

Marinette raised a brow. "Forensic journalism? What's that?"

"It's journalism but you also collect information for courts and the people," Alya grinned. "It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen! It's like, searching for truth and putting the bad guys in prison!" she raised out a fist. "It's like as if I'm an actual superhero!"

The designer giggled. "It fits you really well."

Alya beamed at that. "Thanks, Mari!"

"But what's stopping you?" Marinette said, looking at Alya's nervous body language up and down.

Alya frowned. "It's just that… it's a new field. And I don't think I should be narrowing my path just yet because it's not certain whether or not I can get a job there, yeah?"

The practicality somehow surprised Marinette.

She knew that it shouldn't have; this was Alya they were talking about. But it somehow did. "But isn't it the same with every other job?"

Alya sighed. "I guess you're right. But… there's more uncertainty in what I want to do and I don't like that."

Marinette smiled as she placed a hand on her best friend's lap. "It'll all work out in the end, Alya. I promise." She hugged her best friend.

After their impromptu hug, Alya looked at her and smiled. "Like it did for you, right?"

Marinette grinned shyly. "Like it did for me."

Alya looked at her with wide, curious eyes until she tilted her head back laughing. "Look at me. I've been your official cheerleader for the last five years, encouraging you to chase after your dreams." She shook her head. "But when it comes to me and chasing after my own, I chicken out." She tried a smile, but it came out bittersweet. "I'm such a hypocrite."

Marinette was surprised; she hadn't seen Alya this… lost on anything. In fact, one of the reasons why Marinette admired the redhead was because Alya seemed to always have the right answer and the right direction in which to go.

As for her, Marinette was always lost.

"There's nothing wrong with being scared, Alya. I'm always scared I'll fail or do the wrong thing," she said from experience. Tons and tons of them. "But I've learned that there is something after failure, that there is something that I can look forward to and learn from." Marinette beamed. "I learned it from you."

Alya looked at her in surprise. She laughed. Her body language was still stiff, but it was far more relaxed than before. Good enough. "I guess I give out great advice, yeah?"

Marinette giggled. "You give out wonderful advice."

Alya was still laughing. "I guess I should take my own advice, then. Follow my dreams, do forensic journalism!" her hands wailed at the words. Then, she looked at the designer.

Marinette grinned widely. "That's the spirit."

Suddenly, the redhead's body was thrown around Marinette's arms. Marinette's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden weight upon her arms.

If she hadn't been lifting flour ever since she was young, she might have accidentally given Alya a concussion.

Now that would have been terrible.

"We're going to stay in touch, right?" the voice wobbled a little bit.

Don't cry, don't cry. Marinette sniffled. Oh, fuck. "Of course, Alya. We're best friends forever. Till death do us part," she said with a mischievous grin.

Alya chuckled. "Of course," she beamed. "But who's going to take care of my precious Mari now?"

Marinette giggled. "I can get by fine with myself, Alya."

Alya gasped. "Nonsense! I've seen you walk straight through red lights, missy! Don't think that I have forgotten about that."

Marinette smiled sheepishly, red tinting her cheeks. "You still remember that?"

"Of course! I almost had a heart attack when that happened!" Well… that did not help her feel better. "What had you been thinking at that time?" she began. "And that time at the burger joint. What happened to you? Was that related to the traffic light incident? I've seen you get a little more down since that thing, and it worries me, Mari," she frowned.

Well, if she was being honest, she had been unable to physically see what was right in front of her because she had been living inside another moment in time.

This problem was also the reason why Marinette had broken down at the burger joint.

But that would sound preposterous to most people, no?

If she told Alya, would she understand? Would she understand and believe her when Marinette said that she had visions from the past and future? That had happened and would happen, and Marinette had no idea how it worked?

Marinette knew that Alya was a practical girl. She was all about facts, she thought seeing was believing. When she couldn't see something, she uncovered everything she could using her investigative skills to see it for herself and share the view in the process. She was one of those trailblazers who went outside the walls because she wanted to see everything. Alya was the girl who always disregarded conspiracy theories as silly and paranoid, who willingly walked into dark alleyways because she was sure there "wasn't anything there." Alya had once confessed that she had thought of Santa Clauses and monsters under the bed as an insult to her intellect when she was young and had been pissed at her parents that they would spew such lies to her. The entire idea that a fat white dude would climb up onto her chimney to bring her presents sounded offensive and an invasion of private property to her, she had said to Marinette one day.

Meanwhile, it had taken Marinette quite a while to accept the fact that Santa Claus was actually her parents. And that acceptance had not been a pretty one.

It was one of the main reasons that Marinette admired Alya. Alya was everything she lacked and everything she needed more in her life.

Not that Marinette wanted it. But she needed more of that practicality and spontaneity within Alya that she herself lacked in order to survive in the world. And so, the two covered each other's weaknesses while they were free to use their strengths. Alya was Marinette's anchor while Marinette expanded Alya's horizons. They trusted each other with their lives, their future, and their fears. Hell, Alya was being incredibly vulnerable with Marinette right now.

But could Marinette trust that Alya would not disregard the only thing that she had never told anyone else other than her mother? (Who, herself, had not taken it so well as Marinette had hoped?)

Could she trust her with the past, the future, and the present?

She wanted to say yes, she really did. And it sounded like an Alya thing to do. But...

Could she trust that Alya wouldn't say that her visions aren't actually real and that Marinette was deluding herself?

That also sounded like an Alya thing to do, if Marinette was to be honest.

Marinette wanted to tell her; she did.

She wanted to tell her everything so bad.

But the prospect that her best friend would only deny a big part of Marinette flippantly, was too painful for her to bear.

This had nothing to do with her mother. This was about her best friend.

So Marinette forced herself to smile and said some words to fill the aching in her heart. "I was thinking too hard about a design competition that had been coming up."

Alya chuckled and shook her head fondly. "What are we supposed to do with that tunnel vision of yours, Marinette?"

Marinette chuckled nervously. "I don't know, really."

When Alya thought Marinette wasn't looking, the designer swore that she saw a frown on her best friend's face.

Every time Marinette had been over at Alya's, she had slept in Alya's bed with her best friend because Alya's bed was big enough to fit three giants.

That was how the two girls were found facing away from each other, the bluenette staring at the wall with her back against the rest of the room while the redhead was facing the room but with her back against the wall.

"Marinette?" Alya called. The bed nor the blankets did not stir, indicating a lack of movements.

"Yeah?" Marinette said groggily. She did not turn around; she had been almost ready to go to sleep, but Alya's voice woke her from her half induced state of slumber.

"Were you going to sleep?"

"Yeah," Marinette yawned. "But it's okay. What's up?"

"I just…" the journalist began.

"Yeah?" the designer gently prodded.

"I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. Cause we're best friends, right?" Alya said.

Marinette's heart had never beaten so harshly before.

"O-of course, Alya." Her face morphed into one of guilt.

A loud silence ringed throughout the room.

She only heard a sigh from her best friend.

"Just wanted to let you know. I'm here for you, girl," her best friend's voice sounded uncharacteristically weak.

Marinette went to bed frowning and eyes clenched shut a little too tight.

"Okay, I gotta go, Alya," Marinette said happily the next morning. She was about to grab the doorknobs of the front door when she said, "Adrien's helping me with physics and I need all the time I have to pass this test."

Alya wiggled her eyebrows.

Marinette frowned. Her hands rested on the doorknob. "What?"

"You and Adrien are becoming awfully close," she grinned. "You said, what, you've been calling each other every night?"

"Not close in that way, Alya," Marinette rolled her eyes. "We're just friends."

"Who's going to be even closer since your hat won the competition, right?" Alya said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Marinette sighed. It was pointless. She turned the doorknob and angled her body towards the door. "We might get closer as friends, yeah, but don't expect anything else, Alya."

Alya frowned. "Why?"

Marinette was confused. "Why what?"

"Why won't you give him a shot? He seems interested in you and you seem to like him enough."

"Alya," Marinette chuckled, "It's not weird for a guy and a girl to be friends, you know."

"It's also not weird for them to be boyfriend and girlfriend, you know."

Marinette frowned. "Now that is weird."

"Why? What's wrong with Adrien?"

"Nothing!" Marinette said a little louder than she intended. Her eyes widened at how she reacted. "I'm sorry, Alya. I-"

Alya frowned. She crossed her arms and tilted her neck towards Marinette, a silent gesture to go on.

Marinette sighed. "It's… it's just that… I don't think I can do a relationship right now. I… I have some things that haunt me and - and I just… don't want someone else to have to deal with it with me."

Alya frowned. "Is this the something that you're not telling me?"

"I-" Marinette sighed. "Yes."

"Why aren't you telling me?" Alya's voice became increasingly louder. Marinette flinched. "Am I not your best friend?"

Marinette bit her lip, feeling terrible. "You are, Alya. But that's exactly the reason I can't tell you… I don't want you to burden you with it," she ducked her head. "Sometimes," she chuckled but it came out strained, "I don't even know if I'm even having these problems. Sometimes I just wonder if I am crazy. That's what you saw at the burger joint the other day," she said. "And so, would people want to deal with me if I am so crazy? Maybe I'd be doing a service to people if I just don't...bother them at all."

Marinette opened the doorknob and ran out the door, not wanting to hear anything Alya might say.

Because she couldn't understand.

Plus, the guilt that she couldn't tell Alya was number when she ran.

The moment she saw him, she felt an instant connection with him.

She didn't know why. After all, she was born as a lady and he as a peasant. Her skin was pale and his was tan. Her hands were pure and his were calloused.

She had never been one to disobey her elders; in fact, she respected them heavily. She knew that her role in the family was to be wed off to the fellow wealthy members of her class. She was expected to be and was groomed in her life for that moment.

That moment would be the one that gave her the most purpose. She daydreamed about herself in a wedding gown, being finally a woman and creating a family of her own. Her partner was a blurry blob in her imaginations, of course, because she didn't know what he would be like. But she hoped that he would be handsome, and that he would be kind and gentle to her and strong.

But when she saw him, she wasn't sure whether or not her entire life had been set up for a lie.

He wasn't a nobleman.

She had no idea if he was kind and gentle or not; after all, weren't peasant known to be more brutish and unintelligent?

Okay, well he was handsome. But that was beside the point.

Because she was sure that this was one of the greatest moments she could ever have in her life.

She didn't know why, but she didn't care about the why.

What mattered was what she felt right now.

And her getting lost in that ocean of amber brown from afar, and him getting lost in her pitch black ones.

Sunlight and darkness.

It felt incredibly right.

Marinette's sight got more blurry as she ran, but luckily she had been to Alya's place too many times to count. Thus, Marinette's body knew exactly where to turn and where to go to distract herself from the inevitable, even if there was a vision that blocked her sight. She only hoped that people would move out of the way for her, and they all did, luckily for her.

Until she bumped into a body shorter than hers. Both crashed with a thump on the ground.

"Oh my gosh I am so sorry!" Marinette began. "I wasn't looking where I was going, and I bumped into you." She wiped her arms to chase away the tears. No need to let a stranger know that she had been crying.

She found an elderly Asian man dressed in a red Hawaiian floral shirt and khakis.

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! Are you okay, sir?" Marinette said, immediately getting up to her feet to pull the elderly man up. She bent her back to grab the cane for him.

The man coughed. "I am fine, young lady." She handed him his cane. "Thank you." He frowned when he studied her red face. "But it seems that you are not. Is there something wrong?"

She tried on a smile. "It's nothing, sir. I am feeling quite happy now."

It was convincing, even for her who had impeccably high standards for herself.

Unfortunately, the old man did not buy the act.

"Hmm…" the man studied her with an intensity that she squirmed from. It was as if she was a dead frog, and he was dissecting her bit by bit, slowly and meticulously, as he recorded all of his observations down on a notebook.

Marinette found that to be a little bit more than intruding.

And as she was a very personal person, she didn't like how she was being looked at so impersonally.

But those eyes, if she had to say so, seemed like they had depth. Like they held so many secrets that one only couldn't help but no longer attach personally because of the lessons they had learned.

Marinette didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Well," the man finally said. He gave her a grin. " Contrary to what you might believe, mademoiselle, there are people who are facing the same problems as you." She flinched at that. How did he…? "And there are other people who are willing to help you with your problems," he said with a knowing smile.

Those words stung Marinette. She frowned.

But then she remembered that she was talking to the old man and tried on a smile. Respect the elderly, of course.

However, her smile felt more like a grimace. "Thank you for the kind words, kind sir," she bowed, "but I must go," and ran away as fast as possible.

She didn't want to be dissected even further.

Author's Note: I swear that this was the chapter that I had been struggling to fill up with words, but whoopsies!
It ended up being the longest chapter so far.
I don't regret it, of course. But LOL at how things work.

So we got Marinette being more angsty and Adrien being inappropriately flirty at the wrong times.
Alyanette and secrets, and Master Fu, oh my!
(It was obvious that the old man was Master Fu, right?)

The plot thickens!

All feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for all of your love :)