thinking about a young and closeted dean out on his own for the first time. still living in the shadow of his father. still unable to come out in any meaningful way. still unable to keep his hands to himself when he’s drunk and alone and so so so scared.
still doing things he can’t bear to name in the light.
☆ Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ★ Part 8 ★ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ☆ FINAL ☆
Summary: “You’re going to destroy me,” he breathes, and his hand is at your throat, feather-light unlike the iron grip of his long fingers around your wrist. “You’re going to like it,” you whisper back, right against his lips.
Wordcount: 3.7k
Content warning: none.
TAGS PENDING (please check your blog settings! 💕) @unrequited-lover-lady @tommyriddle24 @juul4jesus @lukesnukes @prettylittleliar422
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“Are you actually daft?” Thomas says dryly as the exact same time as Darcey deadpans, “Yes obviously.”
You blink, taken aback by their complete lack of any surprise whatsoever at your confession.
Darcey sighs and laces her arm through yours as you follow the stream of students down the corridor. “You’re seriously just noticing, huh?” she smirks.
“How did you know that I liked him before I did?” you ask desperately.
“You’re adorable,” Thomas snickers, throwing his arm around your shoulders again. “Your face, honestly… you really expected us to be surprised, didn’t you?”
“This was a significant moment for me,” you whisper.
“Yes, yes, well done,” he says loudly, rolling his eyes.
“I suppose it’s progress,” Darcey says wryly. “Come on, let’s get you to dinner – you can tell us all about what finally made you admit it to yourself…”
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“And then when I woke up he was still there,” you sigh tensely, resting your cheek on your palm. “I think that’s when I sort of knew…”
It’s the tail-end of dinner and you’re feeling glum, having fully recounted your begrudging acceptance of your feelings for Tom to your friends and being absolutely no closer to knowing what on earth you’re supposed to do about it all.
“And you’re not telling him this why?” Thomas asks.
“I’m not sure that would go well,” you say quietly, glancing at Tom. He’s in conversation with Abraxas Malfoy and doesn’t notice your lingering gaze. You grit your teeth. “I sort of annoy him a lot…”
“Does that matter?” Darcey scoffs. “We’re friends with Thomas, for Merlin’s sake, I think we know better than most that you can be annoyed by someone and still like them.”
“That’s true,” you sigh as Thomas nods very sagely. “I don’t know… sometimes when I’m around him it’s almost like he doesn’t even want us to get on.”
“Like he’s too proud?” Darcey frowns.
“No,” you shake your head immediately, “not proud. More like… reluctant.”
“Huh,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe he doesn’t want to like you.”
“That’s what it feels like,” you say tiredly. “Maybe I should just leave him alone…”
“Maybe,” she agrees as Thomas’ head snaps up .
“What?” he demands quickly. “Absolutely not.”
“Thomas, if he doesn’t want anything then it’s hardly fair to push my stupid feelings on him for no reason,” you sigh, feeling very resigned.
“He’s just an emotionally repressed idiot!” Thomas says passionately. “Anyone with eyes can see he likes you! And I do have eyes! They’re forced to watch you idiots dance around each other three rows in front of me every single time we go to Potions!”
“Stop,” you mumble, glancing around nervously. “I don’t want anyone to hear –”
“Well don’t be idiotic then,” he declares, “I’ve not spent the past two months listening to you rant about this boy non-stop for it to come to nothing.”
“I don’t rant about him non-stop,” you protest, scandalised.
“Oh of course not,” he says very sarcastically, ignoring your scowl.
“Liking someone isn’t the only important factor, Thomas,” Darcey chastises, arching a brow. “He might have a very good reason for not wanting to get into something.”
“Nah,” Thomas shrugs, grabbing another dinner roll and tearing a bite. “I just think he’s not used to it. Seems like a bit of a control-freak, doesn’t he?”
“How’s that relevant?” you frown.
“Well you can’t choose who you like,” he continues casually, “maybe he’s freaked out by the fact that he likes you despite himself. And by all the things it makes him want to do,” he finishes, smirking at you.
“You know, I almost thought you were going to say something unexpectedly insightful until that last bit,” you drawl.
“It was still insightful,” he snorts, unperturbed.
Remarkably this is true, and you look over at Tom again feeling somewhat conflicted. Thomas’ explanation makes a strange sort of sense, after all, and you find yourself wondering if you’re really going to listen to Thomas’ assessment of Tom’s character over Darcey’s when suddenly you catch sight of something very unnerving.
Avery, sitting next to Tom, is staring straight at you. His eyes are tense and strangely apprehensive, his mouth a thin line, and when your eyes meet his, he quickly looks away and hastily digs his fork into his food.
Your stomach drops. “Doesn’t matter,” you mutter, looking down at your own food. “Darcey’s right, even if he does happen to like me, he clearly doesn’t want anything to happen and it doesn’t really matter why. I’ll just have to ignore it.”
Thomas groans and tries to protest, but you’re unrelenting. There’s no mistaking the way Avery’s eyes nervously follow you as you leave the Hall ten minutes later.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
You’re up early the next morning, intending to grab a quick breakfast before heading to the library, still playing catch up on your work thanks to your latest stint in the Hospital Wing – but the plans buzzing around your head all grind to a halt when you step into the nearly empty Great Hall and immediately lock eyes with none other than Tom alone at the Slytherin table.
You freeze, watching his expression flicker in surprise at the sight of you, a book open on the table before him and a cup of tea in his hand.
You wrench your eyes off him and hurry off again, trying in vain to ignore the warmth under your skin as you sit down and hastily grab some toast. The faster you eat, the quicker you can leave, and you’ve just gained a new reason to leave as quickly as possible –
“Good morning.”
Your head snaps up to see Tom standing opposite you, one hand very casually in the pocket of his trousers and the other still holding his tea, his expression perfectly wrought pleasantness. He looks – as usual – incredibly, annoyingly, distractingly beautiful. “Rather unusual to see you here at this hour,” he says evenly.
“Yeah I – I have a lot of work to do,” you say quickly, frowning at your toast.
Tom sits down opposite you and you blink in surprise. “I received your message,” he says lightly, not meeting your eyes as he sips his tea.
Nerves swell in your chest. “Oh?” you say quietly.
“Avery was rather taken aback by your comment,” he continues softly, looking around the Hall nonchalantly. “As was I, when he recounted it.”
“Are you going to leave him alone?” you say coolly.
Tom’s eyes flash to yours. “Quite the serious accusation to place at my feet,” he says delicately, “and without any evidence whatsoever, too.”
“Are you?” you press through gritted teeth.
Something tense flickers beneath the surface of his composure. “Were I really guilty of what you’re implying, I think it reasonable to say that it was warranted. Avery caused you great harm,” he says very smoothly, setting down his drink. “Not to mention nearly depriving you of the chance to complete Slughorn’s challenge.”
You snort a laugh despite yourself. “Oh yes, what sort of monster would dare try to come between me and my Potions aspirations?”
Tom’s eyes narrow, but when he opens his mouth to retaliate you interrupt him before he can speak a word.
“I don’t care about what Avery did anymore, Tom, I care about what you’re doing,” you say firmly, returning to your breakfast. “It’s pointless to continue to punish him. I’m fine, after all.”
“Fine,” Tom repeats with such venom that you look up at him in surprise. “You call collapsing in a pool of your own blood fine?”
“Wasn’t technically my blood,” you shrug.
“Oh that makes it all better then,” he hisses leaning forward.
“Leave him alone, Tom,” you say sharply, fixing him with a steely look. “I’m serious. If you don’t stop, I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”
Tom blinks, the hostility wiped from his face and leaving only blank surprise.
You hold his gaze for a moment longer and then pick up the coffee pot in front of you, pouring yourself a cup. “Your choice.”
Tom visibly tenses, and then he abruptly stands. “See you in class,” he says colourlessly, and he strides away.
‘Hot and cold, Thomas says,’ you think cynically as you watch him disappear out the door. ‘More like scorching and glacial.’
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“Hey,” you say as you fall into your seat on Friday.
Tom glances up at you. “Hello,” he says slowly. Cautiously.
“What are we brewing today?” you continue casually, pulling out your things.
“We’re not,” he says quietly, “it’s a lecture.”
You sigh with disappointment and slide your Potions kit back into your bag. “Damn, I was looking forward to making something… oh well. How are you?”
“What are you doing?” Tom asks sharply, eyes still fixed on your face.
You shoot him an amused look. “Putting my kit away.”
“Not the kit, what is this?” Tom demands acidly, waving a hand at you.
You arch a brow. “Sorry?”
“The chattiness,” he says vitriolically, “acting like we’re –”
He cuts off, gritting his teeth.
“Friends?” you finish delicately, leaning forward and unscrewing your inkwell. “Aren’t we?”
Tom’s eyes are still on you, and you know he sees the double-meaning in your question. Have you stopped? Have you stopped tormenting Avery? Can we be friends? Did you choose?
“Yes,” he says very quietly. “I suppose we are.”
And he wheels back to his parchment and begins to write without another word.
You bite your lip against your smile as you glance at him, taking in the frown on his face and the absolute focus of his note-taking. As Slughorn bursts into the room to start the class, you can’t help but think that even if you never admit your feelings to him, the lingering glance Tom sends your way, the cautiousness on his face when you hold his gaze, the fact that he’s not tense or hostile when he looks away again is enough.
Just being friends is enough.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“Just friends?” Thomas echoes derisively. “Are you serious?”
“Do you not realise how insane of an achievement it is to have gotten to this point?” you ask dryly.
“Well aim higher!” he says with convincing outrage. “Friends don’t tend to make out in the Potions backroom!”
“He said he wanted to forget about that,” you mutter, looking away.
The two of you are sitting on the grassy hill overlooking the lake, enjoying the dwindling winter sun in your free period before lunch the following Tuesday, and you’re finally getting around to telling Thomas about your latest progress with Tom.
“So you’re saying he’d totally push you away if you went and kissed him again?” Thomas asks with heavy scepticism.
You rip a handful of grass up and moodily throw it into the wind. “Piss off,” you mumble. “I don’t want to talk about Tom anymore.”
“Well there’s a first for everything,” he deadpans.
You shove his shoulder hard enough to send him to the ground.
When you hear the distant chime of the bell for lunch you head back up to the castle, and Thomas snickers as you cross the entrance hall. “You’re covered in grass,” he smirks, reaching out and brushing down your back. “Merlin, how did you get this much on you?”
“I was ripping it up every time you annoyed me,” you drawl as you enter the Great Hall. “It’s a wonder the hill’s not totally barren, to be honest.”
“Smartass,” he deadpans, putting his hands on your shoulders as he checks the back of your robes. “It’s a wonder we’re even friends, given how much you –”
But you don’t hear whatever he says after that because you’ve made the mistake of glancing at the end of the Slytherin table where Tom usually sits. Found his eyes fixed empty and blank on you and Thomas. Seen the mechanical way he turns back to Black and Lestrange and resumes whatever conversation they’re having.
“Oh yeah, I’m totally convinced,” Thomas mutters, “nothing more between you two at all. Definitely just friends.”
“Shut up,” you mutter as you speed towards Darcey already at your regular seats.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“You and Penn are very friendly,” Tom says offhandedly in Potions that afternoon whilst you’re making a rather simple paralyzing potion.
“We’re friends,” you smirk, “that tends to involve friendliness. Well, normally,” you add, shooting him a cheeky look.
He ignores your quip, his expression turning strangely pensive. “Is it normal to…”
You look at him, bemused. “What?”
Tom frowns, looking down at the Scarlet Lichen he’s dicing. “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters.
“No, what is it?” you press, nudging him with your shoulder.
Tom’s eyes flick back to yours and there’s a brief pause before he speaks like he’s deciding if it’s worth elaborating. “In the past,” he begins slowly, “my friendships have been…” he frowns again. “I wouldn’t call them affectionate,” he finishes delicately.
“What a huge surprise,” you deadpan.
He gives you a dry look. “You’re insufferable.”
“I know, I know, now what were you going to ask?” you say casually, crushing Fwooper bones with the side of your knife.
“Is it normal to touch your friends so much?” Tom asks quietly.
You’re so surprised that you nearly drop your knife, head whipping around to him. Tom is watching you closely, eye reserved as he waits for your reply. “Thomas and I are pretty casual, I suppose,” you say carefully, “but I wouldn’t say it’s normal or abnormal. That sort of thing tends to depend on the friendship.”
Tom nods slowly, looking back at the Scarlet Lichen with a slight crease on his brow. “So it doesn’t mean…” he frowns again, looking irritated that he’s clearly having difficulty articulating whatever he’s trying to say. “I thought you might be… more than friends.”
“Oh, no,” you snort, “Merlin, no, Thomas and I are just friends. Touching someone doesn’t necessarily mean you like them. You know – romantically.”
“I see,” he says quietly, gaze level on his knife moving across the Lichen.
“Why do you ask?”
Tom adds the Scarlet Lichen and slowly begins to raise the flame under your cauldron. “I was curious,” he says evenly, “your friendship runs quite differently to what I’m used to.”
“Right,” you say slowly, not entirely convinced that’s the whole of it.
You don’t realise the consequences of your conversation until you’re packing up at the end of class. “Well,” you say with a distracted sigh, “I’ll see you on –”
Tom reaches out towards you and you stop talking. You stop thinking, too, stop breathing, stop moving – you suspect even your heart stops beating in your chest.
His fingers delicately close around something in your hair and he very gently pulls away a blade of grass. He lets it fall to the floor before his eyes flick back to yours. You blink at him. Tom’s expression is composed and blank as he looks back at you.
The silence between you is suffocating.
“Friday,” you say quickly, looking away very hastily and ignoring the way your heart has started beating much too quickly like it’s making up for lost time. “I hear we’re brewing Focus Philtres and that Slughorn usually lets you take some if you do a good enough job.”
“I’ve heard the same,” Tom says evenly, watching you knock over your inkwell and swear under your breath.
“See you then,” you mutter hastily, waving your wand at the ink to vanish it and seizing your things.
You see him nod in your peripheral vision, resolutely ignoring Thomas’ shit-eating grin as you speed past him and then you’re out the door, exhaling long and hard as you beeline for the common room.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
He doesn’t touch you again.
Each week that passes, you earn a little bit more of him; his dry smile lingers a second longer, his quiet jokes gradually become more frequent, he’ll talk to you a little more in class. It feels like progress, like he’s slowly growing accustomed to your presence, like perhaps being friends isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.
But he doesn’t touch you again.
You try not to be disappointed.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“Will you come with me to see Hickory?” Darcey groans, looking deeply annoyed as she emerges from the bathroom. “I just tried to charm-wave my hair and I think I gave myself a third-degree burn.”
“Are you kidding?” you exclaim in horror, throwing down your book and leaping from your bed. “Let’s go!”
Hickory has no problem sorting her out, and you’re milling around waiting for them to finish when the door swings open and you look up to see someone whose very presence in the Hospital Wing turns your blood to ice.
Avery is stopped dead in the entrance, staring at you in horror, and it’s not hard to guess why. He’s just accidentally revealed that Tom’s been lying to you for the past month.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
“Tom,” you say loudly, catching sight of him in the corridor between classes the following morning. Your heart is already pounding angrily, your stride tense and swift as you approach him.
Tom looks over his shoulder, brow furrowing slightly when he sees you coming towards him, and his Slytherin boys shoot you blank looks that you ignore. “What’s wrong?” he asks curiously when you come to a stop before him.
“We need to talk,” you say angrily.
Tom frowns. Behind him, you catch sight of Avery looking between you and Tom seeming utterly terrified.
“Alright,” Tom says quietly, glancing around. “There’s an empty classroom over there –”
“Perfect,” you say coldly, seizing his arm and pulling him towards the door. You kick it open and half-drag him inside, only letting him go so you can fold your arms across your chest as you round on him.
“What is going on?” he snaps, standing up straight and adjusting his robes, looking decidedly disgruntled at your rough handling.
“Why was Avery at the Hospital Wing yesterday, Tom?” you demand.
Tom goes very still, his face clearing of all emotion at once.
There’s another suffocating silence.
“What has he said to you?” Tom asks quietly.
And a breath escapes you like you’ve been winded because you’d been hoping, stupidly hoping that there had been some sort of misunderstanding, that Avery had been there for some other reason, that you hadn’t been played by Tom fucking Riddle –
“You lied to me,” you whisper furiously.
“I did not,” he says sharply.
“Don’t bullshit me, Tom!”
“I didn’t lie to you,” Tom says loudly. “I stopped when you asked me to. I don’t know what Avery has said –”
“He didn’t say anything, I saw him in the Hospital Wing!”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“You seriously expect me to believe that?” you ask incredulously, narrowing your eyes.
“I can do very little about whether you believe it or not,” Tom snaps, “but it’s the truth. Avery said he was feeling was sick yesterday. You’re very welcome to ask him yourself.”
You scoff coldly. “Right, because he’d totally rat you out and risk more punishment.”
Tom’s eyes flash. “What exactly do you want from me?” he whispers, stepping closer. You blink, trying to ignore your racing pulse because now is not the time – “If you’re so sure I’m lying to you, what would you have me say?
“Say you stopped,” you whisper.
“I already did!” he says angrily.
And you don’t think, don’t give yourself the chance to. You take another step towards him, close enough that you can hear his breath, feel warmth radiating from him, see the way his burning anger melts into a surprised frown when you draw so close.
There’s a long, brittle silence.
“Say you stopped, Tom,” you say again, very quietly.
Tom swallows, his eyes flicking between yours. “I stopped,” he says, muted and reserved.
“Avery was at the Hospital Wing because he was sick?”
He nods silently.
“If I go and ask Hickory, she’ll say the same?”
He nods again, eyes unmoving from yours.
“Then why was he so worried when he saw me?” you ask a little suspiciously.
To your surprise, Tom breathes a laugh. “I’m sure he was,” he says a little wryly, “He probably suspected that you’d come to this exact conclusion.”
“Why would that worry him?” you frown.
Tom’s slight smile fades before your eyes. “Avery is aware that I… value your friendship,” he says carefully. Your stomach twists with nerves but you force yourself not to look away. “I suspect that he feared what would happen if he were involved in... jeopardising it.”
You blink, feeling like the wind has been taken from your sails. “So I yelled at you for no reason again?” you ask sheepishly.
He laughs again, barely more than a breath. “Is it normal to be so suspicious of your friends?”
“You’ve given me good reason to be suspicious, to be fair,” you say dryly.
Tom blinks and looks away. “I should go,” he says quietly, “I’m going to be late to class.”
“Alright. Hey –” you add quickly, grabbing his arm as he turns to leave.
Tom’s eyes flash back to yours and your heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how breathy your voice has gone. “For yelling at you. I should have just asked you.”
He nods slowly and then his gaze drops to your hand, which you realise with horror is still on his arm. You pull it away very quickly, and Tom’s eyes flick back up to yours. He’s still very close.
Kiss him.
You blink, horrified at the sudden impulse and looking away quickly before you do something stupid like indulging it. “I value your friendship too,” you say a little too loudly, frowning at the floor.
Tom is still for a moment, and then he reaches back and pushes the door open, holding it there. “After you,” he says quietly.
You step past him without meeting his eyes, ignoring the brush of warmth you feel from him as you pass, the wave of his smell, bergamot and musk and something lemony –
“See you Friday,” you tell him with an attempt at a smile before you turn and flee.
You seriously need to get your feelings in check before you do something really, really stupid.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
☆ Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ★ Part 8 ★ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ☆ FINAL ☆
Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.
First - Last - Next
Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?”
“Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.”
“Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.
“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap.
“You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?”
“She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed.
“Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned.
“Was it your commission book?”
“No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object.
“Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement.
“Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group.
“Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug.
“I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”
It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her.
“It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.”
“There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard.
“I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.”
“Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled.
“I’ll hold it to you.”
“Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed.
“Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.
“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over.
“We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help.
“Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused.
“You’re here to see Marinette?”
“Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’
“Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.”
“Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open.
“Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her.
“Are these-” Marinette began.
“Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.”
“I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.”
“Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.”
“Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails.
“Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.”
“But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her.
“She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?”
“When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.”
“Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-”
“Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up.
“The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”
And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?”
“Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?”
“Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped.
“What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly.
“When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down.
“I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.”
“How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all”
“Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied.
“Three.”
“Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel.
“Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.”
“You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?”
“Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.
