Part 1: Run, I'm a Natural Disaster
"What a match: I am half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet."
-Disloyal Order of Water Buffalos.
Diane Nguyen and Mr. Peanutbutter are absolutely, maddeningly in love- most of the time. Their passion is a crackling, burning fire, desperate for kindling less it burn out too quickly. They throw all of themselves into everything they do despite the consequences; because they both believe in giving everything they do their all. After all, what's the point of trying if you're not persistent? But having two fires burning so hot can be dangerous. Eventually, the individual fires will spread so much that they'll run out of room to grow and crash into each other in a powerful explosion of sparks. And if nothing is done to control the warring flames, then they will both inevitably be snuffed out.
On this particular summer night, however, it seems like a volcano has erupted as the couple in question scream hotly at each other.
"God damn it, Diane! You can't keep doing this to me!" Mr. Peanutbutter yelled, following Diane into the front hallway.
"Doing what, Peanutbutter? I was gone a few hours longer than I thought I would be. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo! Are you going to ground me, mom?" Diane snapped back, sarcastically.
"All I want is a simple, 5-second text letting me know you're okay! I'm not telling you that you can't be out late, but when it's been 4 hours since I've heard from you and it's getting late, I get worried! Is it really so much to ask that you reassure me?"
"Yes! I shouldn't have to let my husband, who should trust me, know where I am at all times! Do you want to hold my hand when I cross the street so I won't be hit by a car when you're not looking? Do you want to follow me to the bathroom in case I fall in? I'm a big girl, Peanutbutter; I don't need you breathing down my neck. Why can't you just let me live my life?"
"You know it's not like that, Diane! I worry about you! You go to all these parties, with all kinds of drugs and alcohol, all by yourself. Anything could happen to you, and I wouldn't know because you never tell me anything!"
"Oh my god, you're so controlling! I took care of myself just fine for years before you came along. I don't need your help. Why can't you just accept that I'm not some helpless damsel in distress that needs saving every 5 minutes?"
"In case you forgot, we are married! That means I'm committed to you for the rest of my life! I'm not asking much. Why don't you just take responsibility and accept that you are wrong for once in your life!"
Diane narrowed her eyes, voice growing harsh. "A commitment, Peanutbutter? I spent my entire childhood living in a cage! Now that I'm finally free, why would I ever want to be caged again?"
Peanutbutter, whose face had been scrunched with anger, suddenly flinched as if he had been slapped. He looked at the ground, no longer finding the strength to make eye contact. In a quiet, dejected voice, he laid himself barren.
"Answer me this, Diane. If you were in trouble and you needed help, would I be the first person you would call? Or would you call Bojack before you even thought of me? Do you even care about how I feel?"
Her resounding silence was all the answer he needed.
"Diane," He says, and the words come out jagged and ruined and absolutely heartbroken, "I love you so, so much. I would do anything for you. If you were hurt, I would come running to your rescue at a moment's notice. If you were scared, I would walk with you every step of the way. If you were, god forbid, kidnapped, either by some person or organization, I would unleash every beast I have and come after you. I would burn every acre in this city if it meant saving you. I would rip anyone to shreds if they so much as made you cry. But if I'm the one tormenting you, then what am I supposed to do?"
Unable to answer him or his bleeding heart, she turned around and bolted out the door. She turned around once, clearly upset, and mumbled, "I'm sorry you fell in love with the wrong person."
And then she was gone.
She'd been driving aimlessly for a while now, just drifting around the residential sector of Hollywoo Hills. She didn't allow herself to think, not ready to deal with the emotional turmoil raging inside her mind. She turned on random streets, not paying attention to where she was. All she wanted to do was find a party. She didn't even care who the celebrity was or the occasion, she just wanted to drink and listen to pounding music until she forgot about all of her misery.
Turning on to yet another random street, she finally found what she was looking for: the tell-tale signs of a party. A long driveway piled with poorly parked cars surrounded a big house with flashing lights and music so loud she could hear it from the inside of her car. She parked her car away from the others and quickly wove her way in.
Half an hour later, she found herself sitting alone in a secluded corner, simply people watching the drunken party goers. Despite her current occupation, she could never find herself enjoying being in the middle of the chaotic energy. She'd much rather be a wallflower and observe from afar.
She was already on her third drink, so distracted that she didn't care who was pressing the glass into her waiting hand, just that the flow of alcohol didn't stop. The familiar warmth of the alcoholic buzz enveloped her, drowning out her anger and frustrations. Her tension began to evaporate, content with her new found oblivious apathy.
She hadn't really been listening to whatever top 40 music was playing at ear-rupturing volume until a realization suddenly shattered the eased mindset she'd settled on. She knew this song. It wasn't the type of music that she would listen to on her own, but one that she could recognize nonetheless. As the familiar chords enveloped her, she found herself washed away in the fond nostalgia of the first time she'd ever really heard the song.
Diane had just sent her first book, the biography of the infamous Secretariat, to multiple publishers hoping that just one of them would pick it up. She left her laptop screen open on her email as she anxiously paced the room. She knew it was ridiculous to expect a response so soon after sending it in, but that didn't stop her from compulsively refreshing the page every minute or so.
That was how Mr. Peanutbutter found her in their shared bedroom 15 minutes later. He watched her wearing a new groove in the carpet for a whole minute before deciding he needed to do something about it. Ignoring Diane completely, he quickly crossed the room in two long strides and gently pushed the laptop closed.
"Hey!" Diane immediately began to protest.
"Nope!" He said in a firm but cheerful manner. "The email will come when it comes. You're not going to do yourself any good by worrying about it."
"But what if-" Diane fidgeted, unable to keep still.
"Nope, no what-ifs! Those never help. What you need right now is a good distraction, and those just happen to be my specialty. I know just the perfect thing to help you get rid of all of your nervous energy. Come on!"
And without giving her any time to make an excuse, Peanutbutter grabbed Diane's arm and pulled her towards their living room. Once there, he motioned for her to stay right where she was while he plugged his iPod into the speaker system. He hit play, and the first few bars of some trashy pop song began as he made his way back over to her.
He held his paw out and offered a goofy smile. "Milady, it would honor me so if you gave me this dance."
Diane flushed and stepped away. "It's okay, really, I don't-"
"Diane," He interrupted, staring at her with pleading eyes, "It's one dance, and there's no one here but you and me. I promise it'll be fun, okay?"
Diane was determined to hold her ground, but she was useless against his puppy-dog eyes. "Fine, one song." She bargained.
Peanutbutter cheered and dove right into his own terrible dance, smiling the whole time. Diane chuckled in amusement at his enthusiasm, as she hesitantly began swaying her body to the beat. Peanutbutter noticed her jerky pace and grabbed her arms, pulling her into his own, mismatched dance pattern.
"Come on Diane! Loosen up! I know you can do it! Don't let your inhibitions hold you back! "
Encouraged by his words, Diane took his lead and began to relax into her movements. Before she knew it, she was dancing just as hard as Mr. Peanutbutter was. An exhilarated smile filled her face. They were having so much fun that she didn't even notice when one song bled into two and then three. She kept dancing and dancing until her legs felt like jelly and her throat screamed for water. She was having the time of her life.
And the best part was, she didn't think about her book once.
Diane huffed miserably as the memory ended and she found herself in the disorienting throws of the party once more. It wasn't fair, she thought childishly. No matter how hard she wanted to at times, she could never really find it in herself to hate Mr. Peanutbutter. Not when he was so, so good to her.
Somehow, Peanutbutter always managed to bring her back down to earth when she started thinking too much. It was one of her favorite things about him, actually. He was a hyper ball of constant positivity, and she appreciated that about him. Very little seemed to actually bring him down.
When it came down to it, Diane really did love Mr. Peanutbutter. But sometimes, his energetic enthusiasm became too much for her to handle. It would overwhelm her, pushing her further and further in until she felt like she was suffocating. He was unknowingly mentally trapping her, and there was nothing that Diane hated more than feeling like she was trapped. That's what terrified her most about her husband. The smothering feeling that she was stuck with her life now that she was married. She had so much with her life that she wanted to do.
It was part of the whole reason she had agreed to go to Cordovia in the first place. At first, it had been nice, getting to breathe without her husband constantly monitoring her. But, all too quickly, the illusion was shattered by the brutal reality of the ongoing war. And so she had done the only thing she knew when things become too much for her- she ran away.
When she got home, though, she wasn't ready to face Mr. Peanutbutter just yet. She didn't want to admit to him that she wasn't able to handle it when she spent so long convincing him that she could in the first place. So she hid out at Bojack's place, unable to face her shame. Even worse, however, was that some part of her knew that he wouldn't be upset or make fun of her; it wasn't part of his nature. Unfortunately, years of her brothers' torment made it hard for her to accept it. So instead of communicating with her husband, she just let herself fall apart physically and mentally as she desperately tried to avoid thinking about it.
If there was one thing that Diane was an expert at, it was avoiding thinking about things that upset her. She preferred to live in a constant state of blissful, apathetic denial than deal with the things that challenged it. Because of this, she tended to be a bit careless, to not think of the consequences against her and those around her. It was her biggest fatal flaw, and she was dodging her husband again because of it.
The thing was, Diane never intended to get married. Though it had broken her young heart, she had learned a very important lesson the night her brothers pulled the Leo prank on her. She had learned that she could never let herself get too close to someone because it would only break her heart in the end. She fell too fast and cared too much, and it was never returned. She put so much of herself into other people that when they eventually left, they took the pieces of her with them. And it hurt so much, having her optimism ripped apart by her own family and a false hope. She couldn't handle being let down anymore, so she wrapped her heart in heavy chains of cynicism and wit so that no one dared come close. She wore this mask for years, never letting anyone know the true person hiding underneath it.
And then Mr. Peanutbutter came along, with his brilliant smile, unmatched enthusiasm, and shiny golden fur that reminded her of the sun. He shattered the illusion that she had so diligently maintained like it was nothing. Somehow, he had been able to see right through her impenetrable mask like it had never been there in the first place. He had known the real her the whole time, and he never said a word. It had taken a while to become aware of this compromise, and when she did she was terrified.
But when he had called her in the restaurant after Cordovia and acted like she hadn't been lying to him the whole time, she'd known that he would never try to hurt her. For the first time in her life, she had someone that really and truly cared for her, someone who loved her and wanted to be with her. And though she knew this with her heart, little doubt demons kept her from fully accepting it. So she waited for the other shoe to drop. She steeled herself with grim rationalizing so that when the eventual fallout happened, the demons scream "I was right!" wouldn't hurt so much.
In the end though, she was the one letting Mr. Peanutbutter down. She was the one hurting him, not the other way around. He didn't deserve someone like her.
Diane would not allow this to continue anymore. No longer would she push Mr. Peanutbutter, her husband, away because of her weakness or her ego. She would try, harder than she had for anything else in her life, to make this work out. She'd even cave to Peanutbutter's suggestion of marriage counseling. She would do whatever it took to keep what they had together. Both of them deserved to be happy.
Filled with fiery determination, Diane decided that she was done sulking at a random party trying to pity herself. She glanced at the mostly full cup of something- she'd long since lost track of whatever she was drinking- in her hand and downed it in a last-ditch effort to obtain some liquid courage. She barely grimaced as the harsh sting of alcohol burned on the way down.
She ungracefully slammed the empty cup on the table and mentally prepared herself to walk through the mob of drunken dancers. She took one hesitant step, and then another, and soon she found herself cautiously dodging in and out of the thin parts of the constantly shifting crowds. Somehow she made it to the front door once more and was instantly relieved as the cool night air greeted her fondly.
She realized forlornly that she was too drunk to drive, so she would have to call an Uber. She quickly located her car at the end of the driveway, surrounded by a cluster of poorly parked cars, and began the drunken journey in that direction. She'd much rather just sit in her car, with its heater and ability to lock doors, while she waited for the Uber to arrive.
She was successfully weaving herself through the maze of abandoned cars in the front yard- a side effect of any house party- when the world suddenly began to dangerously tilt sideways. Her arms reflexively shot out in front of her and protected her head from smashing into the random car she abruptly found herself clinging to. A sudden dizzy spell washed over her, causing gravity to feel as if it had just dramatically increased. Realizing she didn't have the strength to push herself back up, she gradually slid herself down the car until she was sitting on the ground.
Using slow, careful movements, she pushed herself around so that her back was resting against the passenger door to the car. She felt very paranoid suddenly, so she wanted to be able to watch her surroundings. She analyzed her situation, trying to think through the heavy haze that was suddenly clouding her brain. Diane had had a lot of alcohol in her life, but she'd never had anything that messed with this much before. She didn't even know what she had been drinking, so lost in thought that she didn't pay attention. With a sinking gut, she realized that her last drink might have had something other than alcohol in it.
Diane needed help, that much was obvious. She was in a very vulnerable position, and this time she wouldn't be able to get out of it by herself. She didn't have the energy or the coordination to even stand up anymore, let alone make it home on her own. She knew it was a matter of time before she lost consciousness altogether. There was only one person who could help her now. Accepting her fate, Diane fished her phone out of her pocket and hit the speed dial for the only person she knew would always pick up, no matter what. She only hoped that she hadn't burned that bridge completely down with her careless actions.
She held her breath as the line rang, the sound fighting for dominance over the noise pollution from emanating from the still-going party and the dull buzzing noise that was slowly taking over her mind. Her vision was beginning to blur at this point, and time seemed like it was warping in strange ways. She knew that she didn't have much lucid left.
It vaguely occurred to her that she didn't even know if Mr. Peanutbutter was awake anymore. It was definitely after midnight now, and she knew he didn't usually stay up past 11 most nights. All she could do now was just hope.
The phone was in its final ring before it would take her to voicemail. Diane was about to give up and accept the consequences of her decisions when the line suddenly crackled alive. There were a few seconds of awkward silence, but it was quickly broken by the voice she so desperately needed to hear in that moment.
"Hello? Diane?" Mr. Peanutbutter voice answered, completely awake. Diane grimaced at the false cheeriness coating his voice.
"Miser Peanubuher," She slurred, unable to fully form the words she wanted in her state. "I nee… I need help."
End of Part 1.