𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑, miraculous au

Ⅲ. 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦

for her ,, revamped "

It felt like I was back in high school. I was in bed alone, and Marinette had gotten her feelings hurt by the simple cold hard truth. Who knew a little interrogation about our past would make her so clammy.

She was still upset about my behavior at the anniversary celebration, and even then, she was mad about the night before the celebration when I confronted her about that little story of the past Wren thoughtfully shared with me.

The bedroom door creaked open, Marinette swept in, clutching tightly on the towel wrapped around her body as she was now just out of what I assumed was one of her one hour stress relieving showers.

She cleared her throat, one handing her search through the closet. She picked a simple shirt and sweats combo, and left the room. I rolled my eyes at the behavior, throwing the comforter off of me, climbing out of bed.

A light knuckled knock on the bathroom door, and I was whispering. "Marinette?"

She had music playing on her phone, and I guessed she pretended like she didn't hear me, because every other day, she could. "Great," I mumbled underneath my breath.

Midnight showers, loud music, and it all lasting for an hour, wasn't something that I digged, but if it made her happy, I let her do her thing. But her thing only ever pissed me off when she was ignoring me like I didn't live in this house with her too.

"Hey," I nodded stupidly at the lonely fish in its bowl we kept on the kitchen counter as I approached the refrigerator. Realistically, it seemed it were the only thing that knew how to listen to me anymore.

I rummaged around for one of those girly coffees Marinette drank unhealthily every morning, and with luck, I found the second to last one. I was never one to take the last of something. I popped open the top, took a huge sip. Surprisingly, it wasn't awful.

"Oh, come on, Adrien." Marinette groaned as she approached the kitchen. Her damp bangs fell into her eyes and she looked awfully disappointed in me. "That was my last one."

"No," I told her, sliding it back inside of the fridge, stood from my kneeling position. "I checked."

"Yes," She argued, shoving me out of the way to grab the unopened duplicate from the refrigerator. "this one isn't mocha."

"What?"

Two knocks resounded through the quietness of our kitchen. Marinette raised an eyebrow, nudged me to answer the door. "Go," She whispered as it was unusual for someone to be knocking at our door this late at night.

I rolled my eyes, moving some of the loose hairs from my face, twisting the doorknob and pulling the wood open.

Nobody was outside, probably just a thud from the neighbors. I shrugged it off. "False alarm,"

Marinette was biting at her fingernails when I looked back at her. He eyebrows were drawn together in worry, I frowned. "What's wrong?"

Marinette shook her head, wiping her fingers across the cloth covering her torso. She made her way to the door herself, unlocking and opening it. She checked her right, left, looked down, and she seemed to recoil.

"What?" I asked, hurrying to her side. It wasn't anything scary, but it was strange.

An envelope on the straw welcome mat. Her name was etched across the top of the white paper— no address, no sender name.

Something that did seem to send goosebumps across my skin in the warmth of this apartment, was that when she opened the envelope, the paper inside read:

Funny joke wasn't it?