Chapter Text
🌃
Adrien doesn’t often feel entirely in synch with his body.
Sometimes he feels like it’s an entirely separate creature he has to learn how to negotiate with now that he’s not just ignoring it entirely in favor of whatever new, uncomfortable thing his father has demanded.
According to the internet, and his therapist, it’s pretty common for late-diagnosed, high-masking autistic people to have that struggle, to have been taught to ignore their body at best, to outright go against it in some cases.
He feels the most in synch, the most like his brain and body are on the same wave length when he’s running.
He’s pretty sure there are other ways of stimming that would feel great if he could just get past how awkward and ashamed they make him feel even all alone in his new apartment—but running is socially acceptable, both in his super suit and in sweats, and if he shakes his arms out before he starts stretching, well, that’s not technically flapping.
Part of his problem, he thinks, is that he’s so understimulated.
He stopped modeling and he quit business school, and really, therapy and learning how to be a human person is notenough to fill the hours his friends are busy with work and school and other people.
He needed a hobby and, well, he was already good at running.
After failing, repeatedly, every time he tried to cook something more complicated than boxed pasta—and having failed that the first few times—he didn’t think his ego could handle any more struggle by starting a new hobby.
So he runs.
He runs a lot.
He always runs as Adrien in the mornings, alone, when the city is only half awake.
He runs with Kagami in the afternoons when she’s here—and then they fence.
He drags Felix out when he’s in town every weekend, and Chloe will take pity on him after her classes when the other two are gone.
And he runs every evening as Chat Noir.
Sometimes Ladybug joins him.
Sometimes one of the other heroes.
He usually starts around sunset, goes at least until the natural light has faded and the artificial has taken over. He’s not sure which is more beautiful, the sunset or Paris at night, so he wants to enjoy both as often as possible.
He thinks, maybe, if he told his therapist how often he really exercises, she’d think it was unhealthy—but he’s a super hero.
There’s magic involved.
He’s pretty sure he’s fine.
But she’d still recommended that he socialize with more than his three friends—and she’d emphasized that one of those friends was, in fact, family, but Adrien and Felix don’t have the best track record with family, it’s much more important to Adrien that they’re friends, now. They weren’t always that.
His therapist recommended he take a class in something he thinks he’ll be good at—well, she’d said something he’d enjoy, at first, but Adrien has no clue what he’ll enjoy, he hasn’t done much just for fun, and he doesn’t want another thing to fail at, had maybe, kind of, panicked a little sitting in her office thinking about failing at something new publicly, so she’d suggested he pick something that sounded close to his skill set, since the goal was to get comfortable socializing anyway.
And some classes actually involve talking—or conversing, at least—with other students.
Adrien signs up for an LSF class.
He’s been wanting to learn LSF ever since that voice stealing Akuma a few years back, and he’s always found language lessons among the least boring.
His therapist gives him a flat look when he tells her.
He promises to look for a beginners’ cooking class, too.
🌃
One day, about a month into living at his new apartment, a couple days before the LSF class starts, he gets a new neighbor.
He’s met everyone on the floor already—some who’d greeted him when he’d moved in and some he’d gone to introduce himself to—but this neighbor is special for two reasons: her door is almost directly across from his so she’s his closestneighbor, and she’s close to his age. Everyone else on this floor is at least a decade in either direction—not that that stops the single mom on the end from hitting on him.
He grimaces.
He really hopes his new neighbor doesn’t hit on him, no matter how pretty she is based on the glimpse he’d caught while she was talking to the movers. He hopes they can be friends.
That’s why, the next day, after his morning run and shower, he’s in a shopping district near their building, looking for a good house warming gift for a stranger.
There were a couple of neighbors who’d gifted him desserts during his first week, so that’s what he goes with, slipping into a little bakery right as it opens.
He’s delighted to realize it’s the same bakery his neighbors had used when he’s handed a box with the gold T&S on top.
He is less delighted when he gets back to the apartment.
When he knocks on her door the pretty brunette opens the door, leans on the door jam, and glares at him. “What do youwant?”
He blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“You should be.”
“Um.”
“Um? If that’s all you’ve got to say now when you had so much to say every other time—“ and she backs up, slamming the door in his face.
It takes him a moment to process what she’d said and then he’s knocking on her door again.
“Go! Away!” she shouts through her door.
He flinches, considers doing what she asks, realizes he’d have to move if he didn’t clear this up. He’s already moved twice this year and he’d really rather not do it again. “There are two of us!”
There’s silence, long enough for him to start regretting how he’d finished unpacking last week.
His eyes don’t water in frustration, but he feels an uncomfortable pressure behind his nose.
He turns on his heel.
She opens the door. “What the hell does that mean?”
He spins back around. “I have never spoken to you before today, but I am so sorry for whatever Felix has done.”
Her face falls from the glare she was still giving him. “You’re a twin?”
“Cousins. Our mothers were twins.” He holds the pastry box out to her. He tries to smile. “Welcome to the building!”
She stares at him, and only years of forced eye contact manage to keep him from looking away as she tries to see the differences between them. “…Oh my god,” she says, and finally looks down at the box. “Oh my god!”
He rubs the back of his neck. “…I, uh, I was under the impression that pastries were an appropriate housewarming gift.”
She blinks up at him. “They are! I’m so sorry!” She snatches the pastries, flushing brightly. “Do you want some?!”
“I, uh, I bought them for you?”
“From my parents!”
“What?”
“You bought them from my parents, Tom and Sabine!”
He grimaces, imagining being given a Gabriel accessory as a gift. “I am so sorry,” he reaches for the box. “I’ll, uh, I’ll buy you flowers or something.”
She leans back, pulls the box further away, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do that! This is a great gift, I can use it to apologize for slamming the door in your face!”
He waves it off. “I’m sure Felix deserved it.”
“He might, but you’re, um, you’re…”
“Oh! I’m Adrien, uh, Graham De Vanily.” He’s still not used to introducing himself with his new name, though the paperwork went through months ago. He holds out a hand for her to shake.
She shakes his hand. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
And they do share those pastries, though they have to go to his apartment because she doesn’t own milk yet and she has to leave shortly after.
That first day, he’s just relieved to finally be making a new friend, he really doesn’t imagine that he’ll fall in love with her.
🌆
“He’s kind of weird, Alya. I mean, he seemed nice enough, but, I saw the pictures on his wall—he’s not just related to Felix. He’s friends with Chloe and the Ice Queen, too. I might need to talk to Mr. Agreste about finding a new apartment. This one is so far from the main office anyway, even if it will be right next to the new store, something in between would be more convenient.”