CW: mention of depression/death/unhealthy obsession/sexual desires/angst/cursing

Summary: A Meeting of the Alternative Versions of Marinette and Adrien

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Adrien was obsessed. Utterly and hopelessly obsessed.

He brushed his fingers along the perfect Silhouette of the Girl’s Photo used as his Desktop Home Screen. 

With a person, who didn’t even acknowledge him. Christ, whenever he saw that face, he couldn’t tell up from down and lost all sense of reality. He was secretly grateful for that, even if every encounter with her was extremely embarrassing for him, due to all of his blood rushing to the middle of his body from just a look at her dark-blue eyes, filled to the brim with mystery.

Before being able to continue his train of thought, a soft but fierce voice ripped him out of it and he involuntarily flinched.

“Adrien, it is time for school.”, Nathalie was really getting on his nerves, how was he supposed to go to school without even having finished his eyeliner?!

“Fuck off, Nat! No one cares about my Grades anyways, I’m just gonna show up to the second period.”, he rolled his eyes, continuing to apply more and more eyeshadow.

A heavy sigh was heard from behind his locked door (which was covered in My Chemical Romance Posters), followed by Nathalie’s answer in a feeble sounding tone: “As you wish, Adrien. Just ask Gorilla when you want to be driven there…”

“Yeah, yeah whatever, go suck off Dad or something, not that mom could care.”, he let out moodily, traumatic memories of his mothers lifeless body reappearing, listening as the sound of footsteps became fainter and fainter…

Just before his Depression took him over, he started pumping foundation out of the tube onto his face, then blending it in. Makeup really had some calming properties to it. 

That type of Therapy definitely was worth being called a faggot in school, so he didn’t really mind, he’d heard worse, especially from the girl he liked: What’dya want, you stuck-up manwhore? Go fuck Chloé or whatever. 

Damn she really was fierce, which made her even more perfect. If only fucking Chloé didn’t exsist…

He chuckled to himself somberly, proceeding with his hairdo. 

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Marinette pressed her eyes shut and groaned - as if in misery - to the awfully bright light of the sun peeking over the Eiffel Tower, ripping her from her peaceful world of nothingness (aka. sleep). Her head was throbbing, as she stood up to get ready for school, swallowing her Ibuprofen and Serotonin.

Yay, another day having to fucking bear with that piece of Chanel-No.6-smelling trash, Chloé.

Oh, how she hated this reality.

“Marinette, we need your help down here, just skip the first period of school.”, she heard her mother’s voice echoing from the first floor. She really hated this reality. 

“You know that first Period already started, right?”, she sighed, before giving up and swiftly applying a thick layer of eyeliner, wrapping her apron around her waist, climbing down the ladder and meeting her mom.

Her mother rolled her eyes at her freshly applied makeup, before walking towards the bakery counter.

As Marinette followed, her focus drifted towards the white limousine parked in front of the window.

Jesus, what did that stuck up daddy’s boy model want here? Why the fuck did he always have to show up at the worst times possible? 

Just as these questions appeared inside her mind, she noticed the passengers door open.

Why, that was interesting. Usually, the blonde would’ve just commanded Gorilla to get some Macarons, but now he apparently developed the balls to do it himself. What a big boy, she sneered silently.

She looked down, pretending to sort a few of the sickly sweet baked goods, as the front door swung open.

She ‘worked’ for a few minutes more, then hearing a slight cough or chuckle - she wasn't really sure - “What great  customer service you have.” Adrien let out mockingly, raising one of his eyebrows synchronized with the left corner of his mouth, grinning a bit.

“Do I have to repeat what I told ya yesterday?”,she murmured coldly, her eyes clashing with his. That shade of green was making her feel sick.

“What? Why? Am I not allowed to buy my favorite Macarons like I always do?”

“I’d prefer Gorilla get them, at least he doesn’t need to be entertained.”

“Well, his standards were always low, when it comes to communication at least.”

“Smartass. Here you go. At least he doesn’t try to fucking bully me at my workplace.”, she handed him the freshly made sweets in a pinkish carton, waving him off.

He left after paying and leaving a 10 Euro tip, his head down, like some little stray kitten. The fuck?