The fourth time Adrien returns, he doesn't. Not exactly.

From behind glass windows, assortments of bright and colourful macarons and petit fours sparkle enticingly at him. Adrien allows himself only a fleeting glance at them from across the park before he looks straight ahead at the camera and relaxes into a practiced smile.

He is so close, yet so far.

The camera clicks without abandon, buzzing around the air with Piero's cries of "Magnifico!" "The spaghetti, Adrien, the spaghetti!" and "Like gli Americani: say cheese!" The sounds circle around him like flies: harmless yet persistent.

Adrien does not feel magnificent (actually he feels rather roasted from standing under the sun all morning long); is still unsure why Piero has such an inclination towards spaghetti (he suspects it's his strong Italian background); and wonders if Plagg knew just how deeply cheese permeated in every aspect of his life.

"Have some poise, Adrien! I want to feel the sun setting in your eyes!"

Keeping his smile firmly affixed, Adrien shifts his posture into something hopefully more graceful, hopefully more purposeful, hopefully more confident.

Have poise? The only thing he has right now is a headache.

Piero clucks as he peers over the camera, scrutinizing Adrien. His fingers start picking at the black straps of his suspenders, a telltale sign of his dissatisfaction. After a moment, he sighs and straightens up, flapping his hands in dismissal.

"Go take a break, get powdered, go change, we'll start again in fifteen," he huffs, but softens when Adrien gives him a small, tired smile in thanks before ducking in one of the tents set up nearby to change.

He is tired. He is always tired, but today exhaustion lines every tendon and muscle and fills his head with wool. He is tired in a way that he knows he will have to cope with later in private, lest his father should find out and conclude that his schedule has been too taxing, too demanding. Even amidst the marathon of photoshoots and lessons that cram his day tight to bursting, he knows the first thing to go will likely be school or anything related to his classmates- his friends.

So Adrien only exhales, long and slow, and rolls his shoulders back until the movement ripples down his spine, loosening his limbs and stretching him out like a cat.

Plagg zips out of a nearby bag and does a few lazy barrel rolls as Adrien wearily changes into the next outfit. A patch of sunlight warms the canvas ground of the tent and Plagg dips down into the heat, purring with contentment and twitching his long whiskers.

"You should take a nap. Eat some cheese. Find me some cheese." The kwami stretches lazily out in the sun and blinks sleepy green eyes at him, narrowed and glowing in the light.

A heavy sigh billows out, and instead of ungracefully flopping down in the sun to join Plagg like he wants to, Adrien settles carefully on a nearby chair, conscious of keeping his clothes neat and clean.

"I brought you enough Camembert to last the day, and extra Brie for backup," he retorts, but there's no bite to his words. He knows Plagg is helping in his own way by trying to distract him. "If you've finished it all by now, then I'm surprised you're not in a food coma."

Although the way Plagg rolls so he's belly up in the sun, languid and relaxed, suggests otherwise. Not ready to face the makeup artist and hairstylist awaiting to tackle him with their armoury of brushes and combs, Adrien slides his phone out of his bag and checks for any messages.

None, unfortunately. Even more unfortunate is the sight of Nino's last few texts to him, and his subsequent replies.

[ hey dude u free to hang out later? ]

[ Today? I really wish, but I got a photoshoot that'll last me all morning, maybe afternoon, then piano after. ]

[ aw but its so nice out ]

[ I know… trust me, I know. ]

[ man that blows for u but dont sweat it. we'll hang another time ]

He tosses his phone carelessly towards the vicinity of his bag and slumps carefully down. Modeling is a job that he doesn't mind; he even enjoys it to an extent, though most of his compliance comes from the fact that it makes his father happy. Most days, that's enough to keep Adrien smiling, keep him buoyant.

Petulance isn't an emotion he wears often, but it's one that settles on his shoulders every once in a while like a devil come calling. It doesn't seem like much, to want a day with nothing to do, nowhere to go, in the company of friends under the spring sun.

"You should eat some cheese," Plagg suggests yet again, twirling up to offer a piece of Brie to him.

Adrien lets a tired smile curl across his face, one he'd never show in front of a camera.

"And deprive you of cheese? The good thing about you eating everything is that I won't smell like feet going home for once."

Plagg shrugs and swallows the wedge whole, a sight that still makes Adrien's stomach lurch. The thought of swallowing a piece of food the size of his head in one go is a daunting one, to say the least.

Unbidden, the sight of tantalizing bite-sized macarons and petit fours rises in his mind. They are so close- just right across the park- and yet...

The chair rocks back on its hind legs as Adrien stands abruptly. After a quick check at Plagg and finding him zipping back to the bag to eat and nap, he strides out of the tent, determined to let the "sun set" in his eyes and wrap the photoshoot up so the day can hurry to an end. At least the night will bring relief in the form of patrol and whistling winds and the magnetic presence of dear Ladybug.

Just being around her always soothes, if not energizes and rejuvenates him. Her own personal charm, one that is as much a part of Ladybug as it is the girl behind the mask, whoever she is; and one he counts himself lucky to be privy to.

"Adrien!" A distant cry casts out and hooks into him, drawing his attention to a waving arm at the far end of the park. Nino grins at him, teeth bright against the dark of his skin, glasses glinting and baseball cap sitting sloppily on his head.

Even from across the park, Alya's good-natured eyeroll is visible before she reaches over to twist his cap on straight. Ignoring Nino's yelp of surprise, she turns and offers a wave at her own to Adrien. Marinette sets a large, packed basket next to the both of them under the shade of a tree before beaming brightly and waving dazedly at him.

The wish to join them settles heavily on Adrien's shoulders, dragging them down into a slump; but only momentarily, because the sight of his friends and their proximity to him does wonders for his mood.

Like the boulangerie-pâtisserie, they are close enough to be real, and their enthusiastic greeting to him settles in his stomach as pleasantly as macarons. A toothy grin lifts his cheeks up and curves his eyes into crescents as he waves back.

"There!" Piero's voice jabs right into Adrien's face a moment before the photographer himself seemingly materializes in front of him. "That is the look I've been waiting for!"

He herds Adrien back towards the fountain, leaving the makeup artist, hair stylist, and the Gorilla trailing after them in disgruntlement. After a moment and a considering glance at the other side of the park, he repositions Adrien until his eyeline collides with tangled headphones, ombré curls, and vivid blue eyes.

"Fantastico!" Piero declares before stepping back and setting his camera and lights up. The hair stylist and makeup artist swoop in like birds of prey, touching up Adrien's palette and fussing with his carefully styled hair with fierce concentration. The moment Piero straightens up and claps his hands, they are already gone, leaving Adrien to wait patiently for his instructions.

It doesn't take much instruction for Adrien to recline against the lid of the fountain, a genuine smile on his lips and a sense of weightlessness threading through his limbs and burning out his exhaustion.

Where the actions had felt like a chore earlier, he arranges himself with purpose now that he knows there are those he cares about watching. He doesn't want to disappoint with a poor performance.

"The camera loves you! Stupendo!" Piero declares as he weaves himself around Adrien in constant motion, pausing only to readjust the pose or to instruct a pose change.

The careful positioning of the limbs, the familiar arcing of the spine, the tilt of the head, those are all routine. Adrien's done this long enough that his poses are second-nature to him, that angling his body precisely to camera to achieve the most flattering effect is habitual.

It's the smile, this time around, that's different. The one he wears isn't quite the practiced curve with articulated edges, nor is it the closed smirk tucked full of secrets. It's not the polite grin that hides all his nerves, and it's not the cheeky jaunt that sometimes exaggerates his bravado.

It's not a smile that he wears at all, but one that blooms up from the dark of his lungs and unfurls to the surface. Keeping it up is effortless; one look at his friends has his smile growing wider, his eyes catching the brightness of the sun and sparkling back.

Piero crows his delight at the success of his pictures, but all Adrien focuses on is the thumbs up Nino sends, the fist pump Alya gives, and the cute little wave Marinette never stops doing. The unpacked basket rests at their feet but they seem more intent on cheering him on than keeping to themselves, and he's entirely touched by their support.

The sudden absence of the camera's clicks draws Adrien's attention back to Piero, who reviews the photos on the camera's screen with enthused satisfaction. Piero's knuckles slide along the edge of his jaw, a positive gesture that Adrien always imagined as the flamboyant photographer's equivalent of a purr.

"Perfetto!" he announces.

Like a signal, the Gorilla moves forward, ready to collect Adrien and whisk him off back home. His movements halt at Piero's splayed hand across his broad chest, but his flat stare does little to deter Piero's tsking.

"The lights! You must help me with them," Piero insists, not giving an inch when the Gorilla doesn't budge. After a moment, the burly bodyguard gives in and moves away to dismantle one of the softboxes set up around the fountain.

Piero only shoots Adrien a wink before striding towards the Gorilla. "Gently, slowly, or I will be lighting Adrien with a crêpe next time!"

The continuous stream of instruction bogs the Gorilla down as much as it nudges Adrien into motion. He tosses a bright grin at Piero who glances fleetingly back at him before slipping away to join Nino, Alya, and Marinette.

"Dude, that looked great!" Nino is the first to greet him as he walks up. "It didn't look like it took long at all."

"Thanks to you guys, really," Adrien chuckles, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. "I didn't know you were planning on coming here."

"Nino's idea," Alya chimes in. Adrien beams and completes the fist bump Nino offers. "Then we decided to make it a thing so…" Her sentence dangles as she turns to Marinette, clearly expecting her to pick up the end.

"The basket!" Marinette blurts out, and flushes red when Alya smacks her forehead. "We, um, packed some food for you! Us? To... share?"

"C'mon, sit down already, there are éclairs in there that I know are calling my name," Nino laughs while patting the empty spot in the loose circle they had formed.

Needing no further invitation, Adrien seats himself carefully on the grass, mindful of gaining any stains.

Words never make their way out as Nino and Marinette open the basket up and the enticing scent of sugar and chocolate curls through the air; lungs become much busier with deep inhalations and appreciative sighs.

The smell, now familiar and woven through with fond experiences, shoots through Adrien like a lightning bolt. One inhale unearths the memory of chocolate chip dots and smudged icing sugar, of melted chocolate and the weight of flour, of cinnamon and air kisses. They wash up in the shore of his mind, all a jumble and yet uniquely distinct, as vivid and tactile as the originals.

A second inhale has him sifting, has him compulsively listing each moment in his mind-

- and the chatter from Nino and Alya rises up and reclaims his focus, halting his counting.

He stops, because the fear of this ending- of visiting the boulangerie-pâtisserie, of laughing with Marinette and her family, with Alya and Nino, of tentatively warming himself in the sunlight of the places he's still learning feels like home- dissipates.

They will always be there with open doors, enticing smells, gentle air kisses, outstretched fist bumps, and silly dances.

It's not the place, he realizes, but the people. The smells, the warmth, the laughter. The fact that they pat at the empty spot as if he'd always been there. As if they'd always been waiting for him.

Marinette beams at him, freckles scattered like stars across the pink of her cheeks. She offers him a macaron.

"Hungry?"

His fingers slide against hers as he accepts.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

AN: That's the end! This was all originally written as a long one-shot composed of four drabbles but each section grew big enough to sit as their own chapter, so what the story bade, I acquiesced. Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and tags and messages; my cheeks hurt from how much I've been smiling at your kind words!

I'm working on a few new fics, one that's quite a long departure from this sort of fluffiness. Hope to see some of you around again then :)

Thanks again for reading! Feel free to poke at me on tumblr (matchaball) if you'd like!