He sits at the base of Finn and Jake's tree. His name is Simon. It is Saturday. They are not home. He is bored.
On the other side of the trunk floats a girl. Her name is Marceline. It is Saturday. Finn is not home. She is bored.
He sighs and stands up after deciding it has been too long, and walks around the tree with his fingertips just brushing the bark.
She decides that it has been too long and makes a face, floating round the tree with her fingernails just barely brushing the bark.
They sit where the other has sat and wish that they never had to be lonely.
Two minutes later the sun becomes far too annoying, and with a hiss she flies towards the back of the tree again, tugging her hat down over her eyes.
He almost screams when he sees her but comes to the conclusion that it is not worth the effort.
Instead, he lets her sit down beside him and they are silent, for a while.
Her hat hides her face. Her hands are folded in her lap.
Then she says through sharp, sharp pearly whites,
"Hey, Ice King."
"What?" he replies, after a moment. It is the first word he has spoken all day. His voice is raspy.
"'Sup?" she asks.
There is a pause.
"Nothing, really. Nothing is up. I don't know. The sky."
More silence.
"You waiting for Finn?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Same."
This time the quiet is comfortable.
"He's off with PB again, you know."
"Yeah. I know."
"So why are you here?"
"Why are you?" he shoots back.
She turns her head to face him though she can't see a thing through the hat, which she doesn't even bother lifting. She doesn't want him to see the sadness in her eyes.
"I dunno. I was hoping he might have ended staying home. Even though I know that he wouldn't. I'm lonely, I guess."
He glances up at her and glances back down. "Well, I know a lot about that."
"I know you do," she says. The sincerity in her voice makes him wonder, how much she knows about what he knows.
Ghosts from other planes flit in and out of the corner of his eye.
"You don't remember, do you?" she says.
"No," he says. Perhaps he does, but he can't fathom what it is he's supposed to be remembering.
She's lifted up her hat, now, looking straight at him with her black, black eyes searching for something he's not sure she'll find.
A heavy breath escapes her, deep and old and tired and sad. She seats herself beside him and puts her head on his shoulder; his skin prickles but he lets her stay.
"I miss you," she says, very softly. "Every day."
"So why don't you come visit me?" he asks, and shoots snowflakes towards the sky. She watches the little flurry fall; the ice lands on her fingers, doesn't feel cold. "I'm so lonely. You should visit. Could be fun, you know. Hanging out."
"I know, I know. It's just... it hurts, y'know? A lot. That's kinda why I just hang out with Finn now. It hurts too much to be with anyone else."
"You mean your princess?" he says.
"Yeah," she says. So quiet. You never would have believed this girl could play the bass guitar – she looks so very young in the tree-dappled sunlight. "My princess."
He laughs. It sounds just like his old laugh. Familiar, kind. "A princess loves you, Marcy. You've done so much more than I could ever do."
He sees it. He sees the old times, the golden years – she and Bonni. He called her Marcy.
She laughs. It sounds just like her old laugh. Innocent, believing. He kisses the brim of her hat.
"You don't remember, do you?" she asks, a second time. Hoping and hopeful.
He tries to say yes.
"No."
She closes her eyes.
"Of course you don't."
"What am I supposed to be remembering?"
"Nothing, Ice King. Nothing."
"You've grown up so beautiful."
"I know."