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Marinette had followed Gabriel Agreste’s career for as long as she could remember wanting to be a fashion designer.
When she saw the blonde boy prodding a piece of gum on her seat, she thought that he looked familiar, but she hadn’t realised until after the incident that he was, in fact, Adrien Agreste, the rising model of his father's prestigious clothing line. And once she knew who he was, she couldn’t un-know... and it was hopeless anyway to try because somewhere her heart had been stolen by a rumble of thunder and a kind smile.
Whenever it rained, she remembered brushing her finger against Adrien's own, slightly larger hand. A spark settled in her chest and bloomed warm, ignited by some foreign fuel. Such a small touch, but she'd felt it to her very core.
When clouds drew in, Marinette recalled the way Adrien had glowed, backlit and golden against the bleak, moody sky, and Marinette had never noticed just how gorgeous he was. Not as glossy, airbrushed perfection, but as a real, solid boy with such earnest green eyes, offering her his only umbrella as an apology for a misunderstanding. She'd been so quick to judge his character.
He smiled at her, and Marinette couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so unable to speak. Had the umbrella not immediately snapped closed around her, she might never have taken another breath, having quite forgotten how. What else was there to do but giggle helplessly, watching Adrien’s eyes, his mouth. She felt her stomach swoop with something stronger than butterflies and knew she was doomed.
Standing on her balcony, breathing in the sweet, clean air after a thunderstorm, Marinette remembers the moment that she fell in love with a boy who’s only flaw was that he sometimes smelled faintly of mold.