Marinette could go on about why she hated Adrien Agreste -- from his unfunny pranks to his ineffable attractiveness-ever since he had the audacity that day with the umbrella.
And yet, here she was fake-dating him while in love with a superhero.
...
Adrien would like it to be known that whenever something bad happened, his intentions had nothing to do with it.
—His actions, however? Fully involved.
It had been a wild month in his defence (his entirely, self-worth-sized defence). Between pussing out on confessing to Ladybug, arguing with Marinette when trying to transform because she wouldn't leave, and, you know, the whole Chat Noir by day, Ladyblog stalker by night wasn't aiding his hopelessness either, so he'd just like mention he was stressedand— and that technically–! Technically, it was her fault.
Except, as one might assume from fifty percent of his angsty thoughts, 'her', wasn't Marinette Dupain-Cheng; his dearest foe, whom just the day before, he'd endured an argument regarding which Jagged Stone album was better that got so heated they missed fifteen minutes of lunch until Miss Bustier (we'll come back to her later) interrupted them.
No, Lila Rossi was no Marinette. In fact, she was worse.
Yet some would have the gall to argue he got himself into this mess.
"You got yourself into this mess, kid."
Plagg was one of them.
"Seriously, if Marinette ever finds out—"
"She won't find out," Adrien hissed, the basketball's rubber echoing as he dribbled in one spot, "And it doesn't matter now. She agreed to it."
Plagg, juggling a cube of camembert the size of his head, sat on the hoop as Adrien shot cleanly. "Agreed?! You practically forced her! Oh, and I can just imagine her face when she finds out it's all your fault! Ha! You're screwed, kid!"
Adrien let the ball bounce away on its own. He stared up, facing the god of bad luck as he panted – from exhaust or rage? He wouldn't have given you a truthful answer.
"Blame Lila."
"Did you forget I was there? I'm still blaming you."
He wiped sweat off his brow and marched to the shower. "Not my fault!"
"Yes it was!"
It wasn't.
Three days had wrinkled time since Marinette and Adrien first breathed as a fake couple, which according to ancient culture, legally confirmed the death of their respective joy. Like he presumed, Marinette treated him no different. Nor did he with her, as telling by his greeting the following day:
"I see you're still getting people akumatised."
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And her retort:
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