It wasn't a secret that you were very different from the people around you. Your upbringing meant French customs were unfamiliar to you, and their mannerisms were extroverted, energetic and enthusiastic, the exact opposite of what you were used to.
Back at home, you'd usually just recieve a hug from a family member, and a comment about how much you'd grown.
Your nationality just made you stick out like a sore thumb. It seemed to define you, the foreigner in the school, the one from the land of crumpets and lemon curdle.
As each day passed, you grew more and more discontent with life. You loved the friends you'd made here, you truly did, but you missed London so fucking much, and the few other people you knew in England.
Everything seemed to just drag along—school didn't interest you, your job at Starbucks left you tired and lonely at the end of the day—you couldn't find joy in anything you did.
At some point, a new villain would attack, or something, it was all getting so repetitive. It was all so dull, there was no flavour in anything.
Well, apart from one thing.
Lucinda and you had become surprisingly close, after you'd saved her mother. The girl had given you some backstory; they were both fully French, but her parents had divorced when she was barely six months old, leaving her and her mum in less than favourable circumstances. She was a lovely person, reminding you vaguely of a kid in your class called Mylene, since their problems with anxiety seemed to be similar.
(Honestly, you could kind of relate, though.)
She went to a public school in the area, one which you then begged your parents to transfer you to, but they didn’t let you, saying that your current place of education would look much better on your CV, as much as they liked the idea of not having to pay fees.
“It must be fun as hell,” you complained to her, over a cup of tea one afternoon. “While I’m stuck in the fucking damn College Francais Dupont. There are only a handful of kids that I find decent, and a certain blonde makes things seem even worse.”
Lucinda giggled, sipping her tea, whilst eyeing you teasingly over the rim of her cup, “I wouldn’t say that. The toilets stink, and everyone’s really rowdy. It makes me nervous.”
“That, I can understand,” you admitted, “problem is where I am, there's no proper spice. It’s all just petty stuff like, who looked in Chloé’s locker, or who got in trouble because Kim dared them to do something… I need some excitement, real life excitement! Like the toilet blowing up because someone shat too hard!”
“That was… oddly specific,” Lucinda remarked, blinking questioningly.
“It may have happened at my school in London,” you mumbled.
However, you backtracked, and thought back to your earlier rant. Chloé’s locker, Kim’s dares… dares… why was that important to you, somehow? Was something happening? You frowned hard, scouring your brain for some type of information; then it hit you.
“Fuck! The roller skating thingy!” you screeched like a pterodactyl, standing up abruptly.
“... Pardon?” Lucinda asked weakly, startled by your sudden outburst.
You gasped, realising how rude you’d been, and sat down instantly, apologising frantically, switching between French and English in your guilt-induced panic. Lucinda assured you that it was fine, patting your knee comfortingly, and calming you down, as thoughts rushed through your head like they were participating in a race.
Race. Alix and Kim were having a race.
And they could not do this on a school day because? What was the reason? What was the reason?!
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Lucinda scolded, bringing you out of your stupor, “is that all you British know how to say?”
"Hey! Leave off!" you retorted in English, before sighing in defeat, "I've just remembered that my classmates are holding an event today, in about ten minutes."
Ordinarily, you couldn't give less of a shit, and wouldn't bother to turn up; but this was different. Alix was cool, she was outspoken and snarky, and you'd been pining after becoming her friend for a long time, yet had never had the confidence to talk to her.
The least you could do was go and support her…
Lucinda laughed, "You should go, then."
"I can't just ditch you… I only got here half an hour ago!" you protested.
“And you have to prove to your classmates that you’re a part of their group, even though you’ve just joined,” Lucinda responded, giving you a sly wink, “besides, isn’t your friend Adrien going to be there?”
“Why… are you making that face?” you mumbled obliviously.
“Oh for goodness sake,” Lucinda pinched the bridge of her nose, before standing up, walking over to you, and pulling you to your feet, “go on! You’ve got an event to attend!”
“I’m in my pyjamas!” you spluttered, gesturing to your blue checked outfit, consisting of a button up nightshirt and some baggy trousers, as well as a black blanket around your shoulders.
“Even more reason to go!” Lucinda declared, showing you out of her flat, “Come on, (Y/n)! Be a team player!”
“Team player…?” you muttered to yourself in blank confusion, but then quickly spurred into action, saying goodbye to Lucinda and apologising to her one last time, before rushing down, and running to the bus stop.
It took you about ten minutes to get there, and you got more than a few strange looks for running around in your nightwear, but you got there on time, and that was what mattered. When you arrived, you shuffled to the back, hoping that no one would notice you, but your hopes were quickly dashed when Chloé noticed you, and cackled aloud.
“Are you in your pyjamas?!” she pointed at you, drawing everyone’s attention.
You shrunk in on yourself, and mumbled a small “yes” in French, which made a couple of people laugh. Adrien, however, just firmly planted himself next to you, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, causing you to jump, as he spoke, “Too early for you, (Y/n)?”
His somewhat… flirtatious tone sounded very familiar.
You squinted up at him, and replied, “Yes, yes it was. Thank you for noticing.”
“Nice pyjamas,” Juleka complimented shyly, Rose agreeing with an enthusiastic nod; this made you feel less self conscious, and you straightened up slightly, huffing proudly.
“Thanks, got them from Poundland,” you replied, with a smug grin, folding your arms.
“What’s Poundland?” Rose asked in confusion.
“Think of it as a shop where everything is worth about one euro each,” you replied, causing most of your class to gasp and mumble amongst themselves about never having heard of any store selling so cheap.
(You kind of felt a bit superior to them for being so broke, for some reason.)
Adrien gave you a small smile, seemingly happier that you were less embarrassed now. A surprising wave of heat spread across your body, as you realised he’d wanted to make things more comfortable for you; you knew he was nice, but shit this man was definitely some husband material, if he was able to stand up for you in public while you were in your damn pyjamas.
You hated how you were beginning to understand why Marinette simped for him.
Speaking of Marinette, here she came now; and with a banner, to celebrate the race. It was quite well made, even Adrien giving her a compliment. Chloé, as per usual, turned her nose up at everyone, obviously only having turned up because of Adrien, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the repetitive nature of it all.
“Don’t pick the wrong side to cheer on,” Kim scoffed, gaining everyone’s attention, “looks like Alix isn’t even showing up! Probably too chicken to race an extreme athlete like me.”
“Spoke too soon, Kim!” a familiar voice made you perk up, and look over nervously, where you saw Alix herself, in her rollerblades, in preparation to beat Kim’s ass. Although she was short, she had all the confidence and presence of a six foot tall jock who could crush just about anyone in their path, and by god it was marvelous.
Alix was the type of person you aspired to be, which was why you wanted her friendship so badly.
You shifted from foot to foot anxiously, craning your neck to get a better view of what the hell was going on, even though you were literally on the front row, like everyone else. Adrien noticed you were somewhat deeply invested in what was going on, and couldn’t help but laugh at your trying-to-be-subtle movements. The rules were briefly explained, even though you didn’t listen to most of them.
Then, both the contestants prepared to start, but Alix suddenly yelled out, “Wait!” causing everyone to stop shouting. She glanced around, before looking directly at you, and then skating over to you; you froze up, shrinking into your blanket, as if it were a shield from her blinding greatness. “Hold onto this for me, will you (Y/n)? I don’t wanna drop it during the race.” She held out a small, blue, elegantly crafted pocket watch. It looked to be something from the nineteenth century.
“Are you sure you want to trust me with that?...?” you stuttered out, after properly realising that she was talking to you, as she placed it in your hand, “It looks really expensive…”
“Guard it with your life, it’s a family heirloom!” Alix added, patting your hand assuringly.
You froze up, and watched her skate back to the line, before the race started, and cheers erupted from everyone around you. You just stood there, holding the watch, with a dazed expression on your face. “She remembered my name!...” you whispered to yourself in shock.
You must’ve looked weird as hell, with that awestruck smile on your face, because Adrien turned to you, and asked with a chuckle, “You ok there, (Y/n)?"
“She’s so amazing for no reason!” you exclaimed, “I want her to teach me rollerskating so bad!...” you were practically crying of joy at this point, and Adrien swore he could see sparkles being emitted from your being.
All he did, however, was laugh, and nudge you playfully, “(Y/n), do you like Alix?”
“Well, I just find her very… interesting, and fun, and… inspiring,” you stammered, caught off guard by the question.
“So… you want to be friends with her?” Adrien questioned, looking a tad too mischievous than what you were used to.
“No, yes, but no, but yes, no,” you gabbled, attempting to gesture with your free hand what you were thinking.
“I think that you do,” Adrien teased, leaning towards you, which caused you to hide further beneath your blanket.
“I’m not going to answer anymore of your questions, sorry,” you denied, staring straight ahead with a scowl.
Adrien just laughed, and looked back to the race, which was in full swing at this point; however, you were interrupted when a certain blonde peeked over your shoulder, and snatched Alix’s watch right out of your hand. “What’s this? Some old junk?” Chloé asked, fiddling with it.
“Give it back, that’s Alix’s,” you spoke, frowning at the sight of Chloé handling the item so carelessly.
“If it’s Alix’s then it’s probably worthless,” Chloé scoffed, rolling her eyes.
You had to hold yourself back from bitch-slapping her across the face.
Yet, just as the two contestants were approaching the finish line, Chloé pressed the front of the watch, and a sudden stream of light erupted from it, causing her to panic, and drop it—and it rolled right onto the track, and under Alix’s rollerblades.
You physically jolted, and instantly rushed over to where it lay, in two separate pieces, in the dust. Pathetically, you tried to put them back together with shaking fingers, trying to understand the mechanisms inside so that you could somehow repair it; but Alix had already skated over to you, and seen the mess at hand.
“What happened?!” she demanded, her angered tone causing you to flinch.
“Well… I was taking care of it till Chloé took it from me, and then dropped it… and then it fell on the track… I’m so sorry Alix,” you mumbled, still attempting to fix the watch.
“Are you kidding?! This was a priceless family heirloom! It can’t be repaired!” Alix snapped, before storming away, clearly very upset.
You shrunk into yourself like a snail, wanting nothing more but for the ground to swallow you up in that moment. You stood up, and slowly made your way over to the school wall, sitting down behind it, and began focusing intensely on putting the watch back together.
Honestly, you’d never been too familiar with mechanics, but your father had certainly taught you a thing or two, so maybe you could at least fit some parts into the broken clock; with a sigh, you took your swiss army knife out of your pocket, and got to work.