A/N: So why did the fake dating really start?
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Adrien would like it to be known that whenever something bad happened, his intentions had nothing to do with it.
—His actions, however? Fully involved.
It had been a wild month in his defence (his entirely, self-worth-sized defence). Between pussing out on confessing to Ladybug, arguing with Marinette when trying to transform because she wouldn't leave, and, you know, the whole Chat Noir by day, Ladyblog stalker by night wasn't aiding his hopelessness either, so he'd just like mention he was stressedand— and that technically–! Technically, it was her fault.
Except, as one might assume from fifty percent of his angsty thoughts, 'her', wasn't Marinette Dupain-Cheng; his dearest foe, whom just the day before, he'd endured an argument regarding which Jagged Stone album was better that got so heated they missed fifteen minutes of lunch until Miss Bustier (we'll come back to her later) interrupted them.
No, Lila Rossi was no Marinette. In fact, she was worse.
Yet some would have the gall to argue he got himself into this mess.
"You got yourself into this mess, kid."
Plagg was one of them.
"Seriously, if Marinette ever finds out—"
"She won't find out," Adrien hissed, the basketball's rubber echoing as he dribbled in one spot, "And it doesn't matter now. She agreed to it."
Plagg, juggling a cube of camembert the size of his head, sat on the hoop as Adrien shot cleanly. "Agreed?! You practically forced her! Oh, and I can just imagine her face when she finds out it's all your fault! Ha! You're screwed, kid!"
Adrien let the ball bounce away on its own. He stared up, facing the god of bad luck as he panted – from exhaust or rage? He wouldn't have given you a truthful answer.
"Blame Lila."
"Did you forget I was there? I'm still blaming you."
He wiped sweat off his brow and marched to the shower. "Not my fault!"
"Yes it was!"
It wasn't.
Three days had wrinkled time since Marinette and Adrien first breathed as a fake couple, which according to ancient culture, legally confirmed the death of their respective joy. Like he presumed, Marinette treated him no different. Nor did he with her, as telling by his greeting the following day:
"I see you're still getting people akumatised."
And her retort:
"I see your daddy still dresses you."
At least he knew how they still stood.
But back to Lila – back to the week after the new girl's lies tangled her up into akumatisation. Some of those lies being to impress him. For what reason? Well, he supposed his looks made a fair argument. Except Lila actually knew little to nothing of the enigma that was Adrien Agreste. Sure – he was a celebrity with an amusingly incorrect Wikipedia page whose public interviews about which colour was his favourite and which chocolate he liked best (dark) were a few clicks away, but he wasn't just that (*cough* Chat Noir *cough*). She seldom understood anything past his status and became obsessed there-on-out with becoming his girlfriend.
(Even after Volpina pretended to dangle an illusion of him off the Eiffel tower, but whatever; he was still irresistible.)
The first case occurred at lunchbreak the next day. Adrien and Kim loomed over the tragic chess board as Max and Nino opposed it – one nameless player adjusting his cap between moves so erratically the clip might've been causing a rash on his forehead, and the other with steepled fingers not breaking a sweat. Adrien was "paying attention to the game" with as much truth one might say he wasn't "thinking back to Ladybug in his room", but he probably had a better understanding of what was going on over Kim, who, like a puppy, would jolt upright and look around the library as if he saw something.
Which Adrien soon found out was because he did.
"Gahh!"
"Shh," Lila cooed, acting like stealing a literal person and shoving them behind a shelf was nothing. "I was just saving you."
Adrien squinted, mad, searching through the modern history textbooks to see only Kim looking around and questioning his sanity. "Saving me?"
"Yes! You looked bored out of your brain watching that lame board game. I mean, who wastes their time staring at a checker—?"
"I love chess."
Lila's running mouth slowed, forming a guileless 'o' shape as her grip on Adrien's arm loosened. "Oh. Yeah, um, actually I was trying to act cool because..." she covered her face with a hand, "—ah! This is so embarrassing, but... I really love chess and I used to be quite good at it. In fact when I was travelling in England to do missionary work they held a state competition and I won! The other competitors were so good though! I'm sure you're much better than me, Adrien. In fact, would you help me brush up on my skills? What about at your place after school?"
It took quite a lot of his power not to snort.
"I have a photoshoot," he said, lying, because she seemed to like that.
"Oh... that's too bad. I know! What about tomorrow—?"
"Adrien!" A gusto sigh of relief came as his saviour. Adrien whipped around a second before Kim jumped him. "I thought some akuma had taken you! I need you to tell me who's winning!"
"It's Max."
"Still? You gotta come look at the board now—"
"It's Max," he repeated, yanking his arm from Lila. "Let's go back."
"Can I come?"
Adrien looked down at her, producing a certain grating look especially reserved for Marinette, but it hindered not one sparkling ounce of keenness under those heavy bangs.
He should have known then that he wasn't ridding her any time soon.
-
"Adrien!" she called a day later in morning greeting across the courtyard.
He averted his gaze and stormed to the bathroom, using Nino to shield him while blocking out questions about chess and how the mythical photoshoot went.
"Miss! I have a migraine again! It's—ah, ow! Can Adrien take me to the nurse?"
She just had to choose Physics, didn't she?
Adrien slapped his pen down, tearing his eyes off the second last step to an equation he was this close to finishing, and made a face at Marinette, who, on schedule, wore a smug smile while Lila trotted down the stairs behind her.
Honestly, the obsession had to end.
-
Adrien wasn't stupid, okay? Others' status may have meant nothing to him, but with accomplishments like Lila's, he should have at least heard of her in his world before she came to the school. Between that and literally everything else, he knew Lila lied. Compulsively.
In fact, through some twinge of irony, Marinette appeared to be the only other individual who treated her with contempt as if she knew too (but then again, Marinette did have a knack for despising people unfairly).
Yet Lila never took the hint.
So after the fourth chess invitation, second nurse drop-off, and billionth cling to his poor, but muscular, arm, Adrien was ready to snap – Ladybug-style.
"Gah! Where did you—?"
"Fancy running into you here!" Usually, the phrase wasn't literal.
Adrien squatted to gather his history worksheets as they swayed towards the greasy locker room tile. He feathered them, scowling at faux-leather boots as he rose, the ache of his chest where Lila hit him pulsing.
"You've been following me all day," he said bluntly.
"Is that how you've seen it? I can't even recall noticing you around. You must just notice me."
His jaw locked. Not today. Not after a sewage akuma. "No. You're following me."
Her fake lashes fluttered. "Maybe I just like your company."
"Well maybe you should stop liking my company."
"Why? There's no harm in a little game of cat and mouse..." A painted nail twiddled with his white overcoat's button. Lila's glossed lips curled.
He pushed past her to his locker. "I'm not playing your games."
She huffed. "Is this about the Ladybug thing?" Her patent boots echoed as she stepped up onto a steel bench behind him. "See, I get memory attacks sometimes that make me think I'm someone else. It's perfectly normal for someone with my condition. It's also why I get so many migraines."
His fingers twitched as he did his locker code. He'd had enough of focussing on the good in her. He went way too many years without calling out Chloé, then she brought up his mum the way she brought up everyone else.
He drew up his worksheets to stick in a binder in his locker.
"I don't care."
A quiet gasp.
"What?"
He turned, a metallic slam reverberating for a beat longer than normal. "I don't care about the Ladybug thing."
"Really? Why?" Lila said timidly, even though she had started her own conclusions. She walked along the bench slower. "Is there... Do you love someone else now?"
(See, this was where the story went south.)
(But Adrien did not recognise this in that moment, so he takes no responsibility for what happened next.)
Adrien didn't stop to keep talking. He advanced to the door, correctly anticipating clicks of heels behind him as she stepped off the bench and followed.
"C'mon Adrien," his forearm felt a dangerous stroke, "you can trust me."
'She wants to play by her rules? Fine.'
He'd play.
He half-opened the door and turned, expression never more resemblant to his father's. "Yes."
Her ivory eyes sparked a new degree of danger. It seemed that delighted her. As Adrien took no break, yanking his own body from her to exit to the halls, she said quickly, "Was it because of how Ladybug treated me?! And how heartless she was?! She didn't even consider my condition! Can you believe that? I'm surprised it took you this long to realise your other, more possible options—"
"It's not you, Lila," he snapped, knowing where she was getting at (but not where he was getting at). He was so taut by rage he barely heard Plagg laughing at him and his chorus of lies that would have to end up somewhere.
And oh... the place they ended up.
"Who—?!" she cried, composure flaking, "What– Who is it?!"
When he trotted down the stairs, passing students from Ms Mendeleiev's homeroom, Lila hastened beside him. "You hardly spend time with any girl but me!"
And he decided to dig himself deeper.
"We like to keep our relationship down-low."
But in that moment (and soon to be only that moment), her expression was so worth it.
She stepped in front of him when they reached the toe of the grey staircase. Her brows had knotted together, an intense fury wrought behind her eyes; one so sublime, like she'd been handed a crescendo of outrageous defeat.
It was a fleeting look, though. Lila would never convey an emotion so raw longer than a second.
So her face softened; the plastic hardening.
"Adrien! You're my closest friend here! You know all I wanna do is make friends!" A part of his heart jerked then. Just for a moment. "I can't believe you tried to keep this from me... After I poured out all my truth to you! C'mon, you have to tell me who it is now!"
He swallowed.
Lila noticed.
"Unless... you're lying," her smirk turned wicked, "in that case, I can just tell everyone what you said."
Adrien's palms went warm. He stared ahead, cataloguing every student in the courtyard who wasn't Lila. "Uh..."
She leant in, smile sickening.
"I'm... I'm dating..."
He had seconds, okay?
Less than that even. He had no words, no ideas, no time, and thus plenty of excuses for what he said next.
(Because someone looked back; someone who would hold that eye contact while he was in the presence of Lila just to convey that they knew he'd rather be anywhere else, and were pleased by that fact.)
"Who, Adrien?"
Adrien could think quickly but under such pressure and such angering field of view he practically blurted the only name invading his head.
"Marinette."
Lila froze.
Ha.
Crap.