Black Butterflies & Blurred Lines

Chapter 22

Adrien

They pulled up by the road, and Alya walked up to the car as they got out.

"What was with the urgent text?"

Nino asked, and Alya looked straight at Adrien.

"Before either of you assume this is my fault, I had nothing to do with it. All I wanted was for her to take a shot with me, that's it."

Adrien frowned, what the hell was she talking about?

"I didn't want her to get drunk, I just wanted her to have fun."
"Marinette?"

She nodded, and he locked his car, motioning for her to come on.

"Where is she?"
"She's playing beer pong. I was hoping you could talk to her. She won't listen to me."

He felt his anxiety climb as they walked in the door, the music was way too loud, and the room was way too crowded. He followed her through the crowd to the kitchen, his gaze immediately landing on Marinette. She was giggling, and swaying. He had never seen her drink, he didn't even know she did. She threw a ping pong ball, and rung a cup. She grinned, and it was the other players turn.

"I didn't even know she drank."
"That's because she doesn't. This is her first time and she's already trashed. Try to get her to stop."

He glanced at Alya, before stepping up to the side of the table. She glanced at him, before focusing back on the game. That felt cold.

"Hey Marinette, having fun?"
"Hey loverboy. Are you?"

Oh the attitude. She had never called him that before, and from her tone it didn't sound endearing. The other player rang one of the cups, and she quickly chugged it. They missed the next shot, so it was once again her turn. There was only one cup left on their side, and she missed her first shot. He watched her movements, how sluggish they seemed, how uncoordinated she was. He turned to Alya, gesturing to Marinette.

"How much has she had to drink?"

She shrugged, and he clenched his jaw. How could she not know?

"Hey, Marinette, after this why don't we go dance some?"

He wasn't fond of the idea of being in the giant crowd in the livingroom, but if it got her out of the kitchen and away from the alcohol it would be worth it.

"Oh? Lila wasn't available?"

The crowd around them gasped, and he stared at her. What the fuck did she mean by that? She scored the next shot, and whoops and hollers replaced the 'Ohhh' sound. She took a bow, before grabbing a wine cooler from the table and heading for the living room. He followed along behind her, his anxiety climbing higher with each stagger.

"Marinette, can we talk somewhere quieter?"

She shook her head, and he grabbed her hand to keep from losing her.

"Mari, please? I just want to talk to you. Alone."

She looked back at him, and he smiled softly. She pulled her hand out of his, her smile anything but genuine.

"What do you want to talk about honey?"

He cringed at the slurring, and she turned away from him, walking farther into the crowd, as if she knew it would be uncomfortable for him. He didn't care. He'd follow her through the entire population of Paris if he had to. He caught up with her, instead of trying to talk to her this time, he just watched her. She was leaning, and she would stagger in whichever direction she leaned. She bumped against someone, and the guy turned, grinning at her.