Quarantine In Prague

Chapter 13: The Sweet Incident

Alya: So let me repeat this. You nearly slept in bed together. Then you saw him shirtless, exercising, you talked with him without stuttering and then you touched his muscles and comforted him, still half-naked, and yet you tell me you are still just friends?

Marinette: Yeah...

Alya: Girl.

Alya: ...

Alya: facepalm.gif

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Nino: Bro. So you could have slept with her in one bed but you chose not to. Frankly speaking, you are one blond dummy.

Adrien: Dude.

Nino: Just stating the obvious. And she saw you exercising? And what, nothing?

Adrien: Not only did I scare her with that, but then I had a little mental... leak. Anyways, we are baking today. 

Nino: Don't tell me you are still 'just friends' after all you told me. 

Adrien: She doesn't see me as anything other than a friend... Sry man, I have to unpack the keyboard so I can practice. Later.

Nino: facepalm.gif

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Marinette didn't want get off the couch. Partly because she still wanted to get at least some rest, but also because the couch smelled like him. It smelled like a stormy night near the sea shore with a cup of red wine. Exactly like that. No, even better.

She sighed dreamily, rolling from side to side before observing Adrien setting up his keyboard. Seeing him doing something finally inspired her to get up herself. There was still a lot of time before Adrien would be done with his day and they'd have time to do the baking so Marinette had to fill her time somehow and watching Netflix felt oddly inappropriate. Well, she just didn't want to seem boring to him - so that he wouldn't think that 'I like food, music and netflix :3' was her whole personality. 

She walked up to the large table with her bag and sat down. Glancing at the clock, time was seemingly crawling through the arctic, since it seemed frozen. Barely half past noon. Adrien finished all his math and Chinese exercises that were too advanced for Marinette already and now he was supposed to practice the piano for three hours. 

Oh well, here I go. She opened her fashion design book, browsing through all her creations. Hats, scarfs, dresses, shoes, shirts... and then came a section called Neirda. Adrien in backwards. It was a simple precaution for, if by any chance, the book would fall to the wrong hands. There were twelve designs and Marinette wasn't sure which of the sketches she should pursue more thoroughly. She tapped her mouth with the end of a pencil, thinking, when Adrien spoke.

"It's raining outside, Marinette." He said as he brought himself a chair to sit at the piano, looking out of the large window overlooking Prague with raindrops sliding down slowly. "And it's beautiful."

He sat down and ran some scales up and down, warming  up his fingers. Marinette looked back at her designs, no wiser than before, not quite satisfied with either of them. This one is too edgy, that one too noble,  and there, too overdone... 

Then she heard the first notes of the Reluctant Heroes, sad piano version and she froze in place. Her eyes stared at the boy, fully immersed in his play. His hands moved effortlessly, as if they were carried by the outside winds, controlled by the storms themselves. The rain was beating on the windows relentlessly, but Adrien's piano fought against it bravely with it's beautiful, heart wrenching melody...