Marinette stared at the two concert tickets like they were radioactive.

She had won them in a fan art contest—the band was one of your all-time favorites. She remembered the way your eyes lit up every time you mentioned them, how you’d played their songs on loop while cleaning the bakery shelves, how you’d dragged her into a music store once just to show her their rare vinyl in the back.

But Adrien liked them too. And lately, things with Adrien had felt… maybe a little more than friendly.

She flopped back onto her bed and groaned into a pillow.

Alya was already laughing.

—“I don’t see the problem,” she said from the beanbag near the window, chewing on the corner of a pen. “Two tickets. You and your best friend. Easy.”

—“Exactly!” Marinette shot up. “But which best friend?”

Alya raised an eyebrow.

—“Girl.”

Marinette squirmed.

—“Adrien’s been so sweet lately, and it’d be fun, right? But he might think it’s a date. And then—ugh—I don’t want to make it weird with… with him.”

—“With him?” Alya teased. “Or with the other one? The one who used to make you turn into a mess just by blinking?”

Marinette’s cheeks went crimson.

—“That was years ago!”

—“Was it, though?” Alya grinned. “You don’t just forget your first crush.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands.

—“I didn’t even tell them! I got over it!”

—“Did you?” Alya said, sing-song.

Before Marinette could defend herself, the door creaked open.

—“Hey,” you said, balancing a small tray of still-warm cookies in one hand. Your apron was flour-dusted, your smile casual. “I brought reinforcements.”

Marinette nearly jumped.

You crossed the room with that familiar, easy energy—the kind that had always made her feel safe and seen, even when everything else was spiraling. You set the tray down on her desk, oblivious to the emotional battlefield you'd just stepped into.