April 9th - Marinette

"Once we've done all the fittings there will be a rehearsal to check the outfits move right. I'm only modelling a couple of outfits so there might be quite a lot of waiting around. In reality, one run through usually takes about 6 hours from start to finish, and this show is all professionals, so hopefully we'll get it right on the first try. Then we'll be free for the rest of the day."

Adrien shoved a coffee cup into Marinette's hand, the designer looking at him before eyeing the coffee like he'd presented her with the Crown Jewels. Bringing it to her nose, she gave it a quick sniff. Damn, no added extras. A drop of whisky would have been great for calming her nerves right now. The more Adrien spoke about the show the more she realised she was ridiculously under qualified for this position. What the hell were they thinking?

Along with dressing Adrien, she had been asked to create an inspiration portfolio based on her time in New York; time it seemed she didn't have. How the hell was she going to get through two days of rehearsals before the main event and design a portfolio to the standard Gabriel Agreste would expect?

"Agreste, it's 5:30 in the morning! How the hell can you be so chipper? I'm not going to lie, I'm about to punch you in your perfectly veneered teeth." She took a rather large, unladylike swig of the coffee, impressed that he got her order right — six perfectly added sugars — before wincing.

Hot! Too hot!

"Are you okay?" His soft caring voice only added to the overall need to maul him.

Since the flight Adrien had been... different! She'd headed to the plane without him, the call he was on seemed important and by the look on his face the answers coming from the person on the other end of the line were not exactly what he wanted. The frown on his face was comical and she'd regretted not getting a picture.

"Yup! Randy — I mean — dandy." She took another sip, scalding her mouth again in a need to cover up her stutter. What the hell was that? Why had she just stuttered? Because Adrien had brought her the correct coffee? Please! She was better than that.

"How are you not more awake?" he laughed. "The jet lag goes in our favour, it's technically 9:30 back home."

Watching him walk around like it was midday made her want to kick him hard in the shin. Not only did he look like a frigging supermodel, he was also wearing that smile she so despised. The one which always featured on the front cover of magazines, and the one he always displayed when she fell over or yawned unceremoniously during class.

"Bite me!"

Striding off, she never heard the last remark, instead she pulled out her phone and selected her messages to Mr Unknown.

Miss Dial (5:34am): Ever wondered why people wake up before sunrise? It's insane, immoral and inhumane — they should all be sent to outer space.

She'd messaged Mr Unknown a couple of times since the kissing messages the previous day, yet she'd heard nothing. He seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth.

Marinette had spent quite a while rereading the messages as she settled into bed that evening adding Chat Noir's face and body to the unknown texter. It seemed it was quite easy to do when she looked more closely at the messages. How had she not realised the similarities beforehand?

Her stomach knotted as she continued to daydream about her partner pinning her against the wall — out of costume and only partially clothed. This was wrong on so many levels. Maybe he'd figured out who she was too? That Ladybug was on the other side of the phone and as always he was the smart one and stopped it before it went too far...

Or worse... What if he was in a coma and no one was with him? Or even worse, he was in a coma and his father or girlfriend — or wife — was in charge of his phone and reading their messages.

Had Chat Noir ever mentioned a girlfriend or a wife?

Miss Dial (5:37am): Hey Mr Unknown, as you've gone radio silent on me, I just wanted to check you're not in a coma or something?

Miss Dial (5:37am): In case you are in a coma and your father is reading this... I send my wishes of health and I hope your son is okay soon.

Miss Dial (5:38am): And to your girlfriend... I am very sorry, Mr. Unknown's girlfriend. I can promise you nothing has happened between us, just texting an unknown person. We don't know each other.

Miss Dial (5:39am): And if you're not in a coma, well...screw you.

Moving to the waiting car outside the hotel, Marinette slipped in before Adrien followed after her. She was quite sure he would have been a gentleman and let her through first; however, she didn't want to give him the opportunity.

She looked out the window, tapping a thumb against the phone and pursed her lips. If this was her Chat Noir, and something had happened, she was sure Tikki would have told her. The small kwami must know if something bad had happened, but lo and behold her tiny companion had gone almost as silent as her unknown friend.

Quickly composing a note on her phone, she placed it in her bag, screen alight so Tikki could read it.

'Can you check if something happened to Chat Noir?'

She prayed the small kwami would respond quite swiftly. Hopefully with the answer that 'yes, he was knocked down by a car and has been sent to the emergency room where he has no way of contacting you' .

Sighing, she looked out the window once more, not even bothering to take in the sights as she pictured her poor kitty all beaten and battered. His beautiful, friendly face covered in cuts, bruises and bandages.

"That's a big sigh for a little lady."

Rolling her eyes, she plastered a smile on her face and turned to look at her 'boss'.

"What's it to you, Agreste?"

"Still using last names, I see? I thought at least working together you'd have a little more respect for me."

She let out an airy laugh, one which came straight from her nose. Respect? For a pompous dingbat like him?

"That's cheap coming from you, Agreste. Respect is a two way street. Just because you're rich doesn't mean you have the right to demand such a thing, it's something you earn, you know."

Turning her head back to look out the window, Marinette was almost sent flying into the front console of the car.

"Gorilla, stop the car." The guy at the wheel (Adrien's loyal bodyguard) slammed on the brakes — hard .

"What do you think you're doing?" Marinette hissed, watching as Adrien grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket and began tapping around on it. He held up one finger to her to stop her from talking.

"Nathalie, hi, it's Adrien. Just to let you know something's come up and we're going to be a couple of hours late."

"What?" Marinette gasped. What the hell was he doing?

He shook his head, continuing on with his phone call.

"Yeah, no, everything is fine. I just spotted something and thought it could be inspiring for Marinette. It's due to rain the rest of the week so it is now or never."

Adrien was lying through his ass, only to continue the charade by climbing out the car and coming around to the other side and opening the door for her.

"Sure," he continued down the phone line. "I'm certain she will. That was why you hired her after all." Adrien let out a fake laugh as he saluted the Gorilla and grabbed her arm yanking her from the vehicle.

Phone still to ear, he continued his own conversation ignoring the fact he was marching her down the street. All she'd have to do was shout 'help' and she was quite sure the police would come to save her. A small woman like her being manhandled towards the park must be some sort of cause for concern.

Making it to the crosswalk, Adrien ended the call and placed the phone back into his pocket. She half expected him to let her go, however instead she found herself being pulled across the road and into the park.

"What the hell are you doing?" she said, looking up at his strong jaw as light reflected perfectly on his face. She swore his chin could cut glass. "You're going to get me fired and it's only my first day!" she continued.

Did he not realise she needed this job? That she wasn't like him and couldn't afford to just laze around all day on her ass. She didn't have trust funds to fill a swimming pool and take laps in.

"It's lovely here isn't it," he said in way of an answer. He continued to drag her down the pathways of the park, every now and then steadying her as she stumbled over fallen twigs and ill placed rocks.

They headed deeper and deeper into the park. Was he going to kill her and throw her in the lake? She wouldn't be surprised, his eyes were glistening with something and his face was hard with emotion.

"Adrien, it's 5:50 in the morning. What the hell are we doing walking in a dark park?"

"It's not that dark," he scoffed, continuing to walk deeper down the tree lined pathway. He seemed to know exactly where he was heading — opposite to herself. He must already have a spot ready to hide her body.

Designer missing — last person to see her was incredibly innocent and not at all a suspect, super hot, super rich model, Adrien Agreste.

Marinette looked around and couldn't help but think he'd gone insane. Apart from the few street lamps lighting the pathways, the area was almost pitch black and incredibly scary. She had visions now of a supervillain appearing and taking her down; she couldn't just transform and reveal herself — at least not in front of him.

"Slow down," she hollered, attempting to keep up with Adrien.

"Why? Are you scared?"

Marinette could hear the humour in his voice and she wanted to pick up a fallen twig and launch it at the back of his head. If anything, he was the one who should be scared. She could beat the shit out of anyone who crossed their paths — including him.

"Don't worry, Dupain-Cheng, I'll protect you," he continued.

She scoffed. "What are you going to do? Pretty them into submission."

"My fencing skills are multi-use!" He finally let go of her and moved on ahead, her legs struggling to keep up with the blond model.

"Sure!"

Without warning, he stopped and she almost crashed into the back of him, her hands grabbing onto his hips to steady herself.

"You really seem to have a low opinion of me," he said, stepping out of her grasp and placing a hand around her waist to keep her up right.

"Well... it's the only opinion you've shared with me."

They continued to walk in silence, Marinette having no idea where they were going and instead following Adrien as he guided them somewhere within the park.

Around them, the sounds of the dawn chorus broke out of the trees and kept them company. Every now and then a lone jogger crunched the gravel around them on their morning run, ignoring the two foreigners in business attire stumbling down the pathway and seeing them both as just another obstacle in their way.

She couldn't help but find the thought of a morning run through the park appealing. It was calm and settled, and the way the trees hid the towering buildings of Manhattan, she could have been anywhere — if only it was a little lighter.

"You know, when everything happened with my father last year I couldn't help but feel... relieved." Adrien started to talk, Marinette silently walking beside him, listening. "Since I was 14 it seemed everything had changed... since my mother left that was. My father had not only given up on holding a secure business, but also he'd given up on me."

Marinette continued to listen.

"It was lonely. So, so lonely at home. I only had Chloé to talk to, and Nathalie I suppose; so when the company had to liquidate from my father's neglect, I was happy. It was one less thing for my father to worry about — to control. But then he fell off a cliff. He was drinking and keeping himself in solitude. But then something happened one day between him and Félix — maybe my cousin has a way with words I don't — and he came up with this idea that moving to London and restarting the business would give him a new lease in life. Give us a new lease of life."

"And has it?" Her voice was small, the words spoken out of reaction rather than consideration. Her throat was thick, the weight of what Adrien had been dealing with placed itself on her shoulders too as he absorbed her into the story.

Adrien's laugh was mellow and lacking humour. "Not in the slightest. I even continued modelling just to spend time with him, and now, even though I have a deeper role in the company, I still don't see him. Having money isn't everything, Marinette. I like buying nice things, so sue me, but everything comes from money I've earned, that I've worked for. Yes, I've been given a helping hand, but this isn't something I ever wanted to do. I do it to spend time with him."

They had made their way to a fountain. One she'd seen numerous times in movies and on tv shows; her brain telling her to look out for practical jokes and the tell tale signs of a hidden camera.

Leading her forward, Adrien settled down on the edge of the fountain, tapping beside him for Marinette to join — the slight mist of water circling around them. She seated herself comfortably next to him and studied his face. His jaw was clenched and eyes missing the teasing gleem she was so used to seeing. Instead, she saw his usual sharp edges look softer, aged. Almost worn down through emotion and heartache.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, twisting her fingers together to stop from reaching out to touch him.

"Yeah."

His response was dry and a funny twist spiralled in her chest. What the hell was that?

They continued to sit in silence, the sun rising over the trees and welcoming them into a new day in the Big Apple. As though the world had once more switched on, more and more people began to venture through the park and, what she guessed, into their packed out days in the city that never sleeps. She could never live here.

"A flower for the love lady?" A new voice broke the silence. A lady standing in front of them with a selection of roses in a basket. Marinette squinted against the sun as she looked up towards the lady, someone who reminded her of the witch from Beauty and the Beast. Uncanny considering what was in the basket. Maybe this whole thing was a weird dream.

"Oh, no. It's —"

"Sure," Adrien cut in, leaning to the side and grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. He stood and looked into the lady's basket, rummaging around and finally selecting a white rose, before handing over a $50 bill. Marinette was quite certain he'd just drastically over paid.

"For you." He presented the rose to her. A white beautifully formed rose, cut to perfection. "For new beginnings," he continued.

"How do you know that?" she questioned, her hands still joined together and neither reaching out.

"I have this friend. She's majorly into flowers and asked me one day to learn the meaning. I now know exactly which flower suits a situation. You could say I rose to the occasion."

Marinette giggled, before placing a hand over her mouth and turning it into a cough. "You actually did it then?"

"Of course. She means a lot to me."

"I'm sure Kagami would be happy to hear that." Marinette wasn't sure Kagami had this sort of knowledge, but if it wasn't Kagami and it certainly wasn't her... she wasn't entirely sure who it would be. Maybe Rose?

"I'm sure she would be — if it was Kagami that had told me."

The conversation began to ignite something in the back of her mind, something that told her to listen and pay attention. That this detail was very important. Instead, her stubbornness had her facing away and staring out into the distance.

"A-are you not going to accept it?" His voice wavered, making himself sound like a kicked puppy.

Pursing her lips, she turned back to look straight into the dancing, soft green eyes of Adrien Agreste and, once again, he looked different.

"Are you trying to buy me out?"

Sighing, Adrien lowered his head and twisted the rose between his fingers before placing it softly down next to her.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a restart. I'm going to go and get us a drink, then we can head back to the car."

Swivelling on his heels, Adrien made his way under the bridge and up the stairs. He obviously knew where he was going and she was just glad the day had dawned and she was no longer sitting — alone — in the dark.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she was once again sorely disappointed from lack of messages.

Where are you, Mr Unknown?

Miss Dial (6:06am): So, I'm guessing you're not going to reply? That's fine. I'll just keep talking to myself. Feel free to jump in whenever you want.

Miss Dial (6:07am): You know, it's rude to just leave people on 'read', which I'm quite sure is what you're doing!

Placing her phone in her lap, she wondered what she should message next, maybe something random? Pouting her lips, she looked around from something to ask that would get a response.

Miss Dial (6:10am): If you had to lose an arm or a leg? Which would you choose and why?

Random crap like that usually stirred a response and she prayed that would be the case this time. As she waited for a response she thought about what he might say. Maybe that he'd need his legs to hold her against the wall? Dammit! Images of Chat Noir pinning her to a chimney once again assaulted her thoughts. It was starting to get a little unnerving how much she was willing to participate in such a thing.

Trying to keep her mind away from being manhandled by her partner in the form of kisses, Marinette looked around the area as workers moved swiftly, left and right, on the bridge. That was until one stopped and looked down at her. Her breath catching as she looked away, her hand absentmindedly reached for her ear and the other for her phone.

Miss Dial (6:12am): There's this guy looking at me.

Miss Dial (6:13am): Question: If it looks like someone is making their way towards you should you run straight away or wait to see if they are just going to ask you for directions?

Miss Dial (6:15am): Okay, so he didn't ask for directions and is instead questioning me about my clothes? Kind of wishing I had my pepper spray.

Miss Dial (6:18am): I've left the area where I was sitting and now he's following me.

Marinette was hoping that if this was her partner, he'd have the decency to do something... maybe not Astrocat to her but at least send a message with some sort of helpful advice — to be honest she'd go for anything right now.

Miss Dial (6:22am): Once again I have information I would like you to deliver for me on my untimely death. Can you please tell Chloé Bourgeois yellow has never been her colour. She should wear more turquoise, it would bring out her eyes.