Letters to Marinette [Complete]

12 ~~ Excuses

A/N: [Before you read this chapter, I would like to say that if you believe that I am offending you or anyone specific through the book, I did not intend to do so— please pm me about what the problem is so that I can come up with a solution.]

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I had to beg my driver (the Gorilla) to drive me to the clinic, lying about how I was 'not feeling so well' and needed to go ASAP.

He dropped me off at 'La Maison du Don Centre' down 55 Rue de Châteaudun Street where I put on my hoodie— I did not want Paris being suspicious as to why supermodel, Adrien Agreste, needed to urgently go to the clinic. I leaned forward towards the driver's seat before getting out of the vehicle.

"Uhm, can this be between us?" I asked Gorilla with pleading eyes, "I don't want my father to worry about my health. It would just be a distraction to him."

He gave me that usual angry, nonchalant look which didn't really answer my question at all. I imagined what would happen if he told Natalie (who'd immediately report it to my father). Not good.

"Thanks," I said anyway, "I'll phone you when I need to be picked up."

I got out of the car with my head down, making my way towards the entrance of the clinic.

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[A/N: I do not know the accurate details of what happens during testing so please bare with me]

There were two things about getting tested for an STI that really phased me: 1) extracting a blood sample from my wrist; and 2) meeting my healthcare provider.

I don't usually get sick so I never really needed my healthcare provider— all models were enforced to have one, though. I had to contact her to help me with testing because I was scared out of my mind. I felt like I just needed someone to be there for me while I was in the process of doing everything I could to protect Marinette. No way was I letting my Dad or Natalie in on it.

My healthcare provider was sitting in the waiting room from the entrance. She had red-brown hair with teal eyes and looked quite familiar, but I could not put my finger on it. When she introduced herself to me, I had gotten the shock of my life.

"My name is Lucille Bustier," she greeted, shaking my hand, "Thank you for calling me, Adrien."

Imagine the health care provider that helps you get an STI test, just happens to be your teacher's fraternal twin sister. Talk about an unlucky kitty.