12. Chapter 12

Some said that true friendship was being measured by number of 'forgives' and 'forgets'.

But of course, it all started with 'fights'.

And currently, Adrien and Marinette were having that said predicament.

"I'm so not sorry." the blond muttered as he sat at the far end of the waiting shed's bench. "Not. At. All."

His back was facing the raven-haired girl who was also sitting at the opposite end of the bench.

Between them was a bag of salted pretzels - courtesy of the pub owner - which played as their mediator.

"So am I." his companion grumbled while munching. "Because it's not even my fault."

His head lashed towards her as he grabbed another handful of treats. "So it's my fault that your friendly talk went south?!"

"I didn't say that!" she spat out with another pretzel bite.

"You didn't - you implied it!"

"Look," she growled, but the person she was growling at was not even looking. "It has been established that brawls will never happen -"

"Not until I stepped out."

"- with or without you stepping out -" her hand fisted some treats. "- at all! So don't rub your ego to me like I squashed it!"

This time he growled. "Is that your roundabout way of telling me I'm a misogynist?"

"You tell me."

"Look." he turned around then miffed when she rolled her eyes away.

Do all dark-haired petite girls have these temperamental issues?

"You're outnumbered," he told her.

"Remind me why we left Paris."

"Oh, I will - as well as that armed guy."

She might be the girl behind that sassy, brilliant and tactical heroine, but damn it, why do all male blonds with green eyes she acquainted with could be a devil's advocate?

After shoving the remaining food into her mouth, Marinette reached the paper bag out for some pretzels, only to bump Adrien's knuckles with hers.

Both were too pissed off at each other that they groveled a bag of treats like famished kids, and it took them seconds to realize that they were holding the last piece.

No one bulged when the other wiggled it out.

"Adrien."

"Marinette."

"Models need to regulate their food intakes, right?"

"And I thought girls need some diet."

"I'm a growing teenager."

"Really? Because I'm not seeing any difference."

His comment took her by surprise. The slight confusion gave him an advantage, so he yanked the pretzel off from her grasp.

"Why you - " she gasped then poked his trembling side harshly. "You cheated!"

Adrien broke a fitful of laughs. It was so hearty and contagious that made Marinette reminisced the boy with a black umbrella.

Back then they were having their first fight over a piece of chewing gum.

It was one of her fondest memories in collège. She was amazed how that socially-awkward boy transitioned into a man who still bore the same sparkles and smiles as if the time never changed between them.

And just like what he did years ago, he stretched his hand to give her his peace offering - not an umbrella this time but a broken piece of pretzel.

Her eyes wavered, staring at the item and then hovered to his sombered eyes. She reached for the pretzel, touched it, then took it.

"Truce?" he asked.

Such simplified word was expounded before, and honestly, she didn't mind it. He wasn't the only one who remained unchanged throughout the years.

"Truce."

Marinette accepted it.

That moment, she knew she was doomed to live in a land called Friendzone.

"But really." the designer chuckled, trying to brush off the depressing thought. "Those were nothing but second-rate catcallers. They should try harder next time."

Her words perked something inside him. She wasn't looking at Adrien to notice his stupefied face.

Wait a minute.

"By second-rate," he spoke carefully. "Does that mean you've experienced the first-rate one?"

It was an odd tone that Marinette couldn't tell whether it was a mockery or anger.

If she'll say yes, then he might think she's a player.

If she'll say no, then he might think she has no life to get involved in a relationship.

You're treading on a very thin line here, Marinette.

"Not that - that first-rate, you mean." she sputtered as she averted her gaze. "I mean, there's social media, and then Alya, and friends who joked some pick-up lines, and he's innovative in those areas that -"

"He?!"

Where is that damn shovel when she needs it to dig a grave and bury herself?

"Is he from our school?!"

"No, I don't think so," she told him without meeting his inquisitive glares.

The truth of the matter is, she got no clue if Chat Noir was even a student.

"He's just a friend, Adrien. Like a nice and harmless kitten."

"But kittens can bite."

She almost concurred but reminded herself not to say anything about it. Discussing her partner to her crush was the least topic she wanted to tackle with.

"He didn't mean anything like that. They're all empty words, really."

"You might not know..." he mumbled, remembering how Nathaniel got akumatized and why his best friend Nino once begged for his help.

Adrien could run a list of males who were smitten by her charms, and he bet that those who were outside their circle and unknown to him were twice as many as he could imagine.

It's normal to be protective of your friends, right?

"You shouldn't let him do his biddings, Marinette." he scowled. "Unless this...kitten of yours must be cute for you to reject his advances."

Adrien immediately regretted his words when she squeaked and blushed profusely.

"No! No - not like that!" the girl stammered. "Not like that – at all!"

The model felt his cold gut churned, and with his bottled fury he crunched the other piece of pretzel by his palm.

Damn him, whoever that guy who can make Marinette bloom like that!

"Erm, Adrien?" she piqued. "Your food..."

He finally noticed the tiny crumbs on his hand, and with a silent grudge towards the mysterious first-rated flirty kitten, he shoved it into his mouth.

Marinette might be oblivious, but she's not dense.

"Don't tell me you're...you're jealous?"

He choked.

She gawked.

It'd be damned if her off-handed comment was true.

"Gosh, are you alright? I don't have any water here. Let me go back inside to get a drink -"

"No." he coughed, sputtered with a head shake then grabbed her wrist. "Don't - don't leave. I'm o - okay now. Swallowed it...in a wrong manner."

"O - okay." she sighed then cautiously rubbed some circles on his back.

Her question was left unanswered, and thankfully, none of them dared to pry afterward.

.

.

.

.

The arrival of the bus a minute later shifted their atmosphere into anticipation.

They finally got lucky. The bus wasn't loaded, and it was heading directly towards their destination.

"This is it." she grinned while her companion nodded giddily.

Once seated, Adrien pulled his phone out to send Nino some updates. He had it stayed off for hours, and now with a good cell reception, he wasn't surprised to receive numerous text messages, mainly from Chloe.

There were unknown numbers on his voicemails, surmised to be from his teachers or class deputies that he failed to phonebook, so he skipped it all then scrolled down, only to find a name he wanted to see the least.

Natalie.

He was about to open one of her voice messages when his companion made a low-pitched shriek.

"Marinette?" he asked when she flinched. "What's wrong?"

Her bluebell eyes were filled with anxiety, but before he could ask further, she showed him her phone screen.

Mr. Dupain-Cheng was calling.