Adrien couldn’t stop staring.

You shifted in your seat, glancing up from your notebook only to find his gaze locked on you again. He didn’t even flinch, didn’t look away like he’d been caught. Instead, his expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Adrien?” Marinette’s voice broke through the haze. She was standing by his desk, the slightest blush dusting her cheeks.

“Huh?” Adrien blinked, finally tearing his gaze from you.

“I was asking if you’d like to share this macaron I made,” Marinette said, holding out a small, perfectly wrapped box. Her tone was cheerful, but her nervous fidgeting gave her away.

“Oh, uh… sure,” Adrien replied absently, though his eyes flickered back to you as he spoke.

You furrowed your brows, glancing between him and Marinette. “Is something on my face?”

“What?” Adrien’s cheeks flushed faintly. “No! I mean—nothing’s wrong. You’re fine! Perfect, actually—I mean, not ‘perfect,’ just…” His words tumbled over themselves as Marinette’s smile faltered slightly.