Bonnie realizes the truth of her situation.
v
"BONNIE, open your eyes, PLEA-HEASE!"
She'd lost so much more than a friend today... Or rather, a month ago. Worse still, Bonnie had no one to blame but herself: fate had given her another chance to improve after the mess involving Marceline, and she squandered it like she squandered her friendships.
And now there was nothing, nothing she could feasibly do, to amend her wrongs—she could only cry, cry bitterly for the absolute mess that was herself.
Patience didn't do this. I'm the one who pushed him away.
Everything and anything in her brain now, she just wanted to say it - a delirious stream of apologies and excuses, for that was all she had to offer now. But her brain was a mess and her nonexistent heart in bubblegum tatters, and she could only muster a quick and quiet, "I'm sorry," between a sob, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry Finn…"
And she couldn't gather herself to muster anything greater.
I'm the one who did this.
Her shoulders trembled, vision a blurry mess—rendering the world a melted, colorful blur.
I made you feel like total crud and now you hate me for it.
"This's is all, my-hy, f-fau-haul-ault…" Bonnie crumbled to her knees, embracing her screaming insides, as if constricting herself in a futile effort to smother the feeling and bring comfort.
"My hero ha-ates me," she murmured in a whimper, quick and quiet and breathless and stroking her arms, up and down, down and up. "He hates me and I made him hate me…"
She had to control herself; Bonnie's breath held within an imaginary fist of iron, to cease further sobbing. But then she would remember - like the time Finn went through all that extra trouble for her toting those tarts - and she just couldn't hold it in, and an ugly, snotty sob blubbered out, and Bonnie spiraled downward again.
Bonnie wept into her hands, wholly aware of how infantile she looked: wailing aloud, before muffling herself in her hands, before switching back to wailing, and then collapsing into her hands once more.
It's just, no one should see her cry. She was a princess and she had a duty to her people, which was apparently so Glob-darned important that she forgot how to be there for other people and now one, two, of the few people she'd ever cared about hated her for it.
And rightfully so: this is exactly what happened to Marceline. Five centuries later, and Bonnibel still hadn't changed a bit.
At some point she'd fallen back upon her rear, a wreck of sobs and snot and sniffles, feet poised on either side of her hips, knees together, hands clawing at her shirt, twisting at the fabric wherever they ended up as she never broke her self-embrace.
She heard Phoebe's voice echo amidst the hurricane encircling her mind:
"Something inside you is messed up, girl…"
"I've tried…" she attempted, swallowing a gasp.
"And it isn't because you're a scientist or a leader…"
"T-T-To be, a better, p-her-son," she took a long, shaky inhale, "but, I kee-heep, messing, it, uh-hup…"
And then she felt a hand gently clasp her shoulder.
The princess, too short of breath, too exhausted to manage a gasp, gulped in-part surprise but primarily in shock.
For, unless Marceline was invisible and had been watching this whole time, there was only one other person it could possibly be, and Bonnie had no idea why he even approached her, let alone be so gentle.
For Bonnibel would punch the monster who did to her what she'd done to Finn. She'd stomp them like an ant.
She was almost afraid to say his name, if only because doing so might spur him to leave, and she lacked both the strength and the heart to stop him this time, alongside the psychological capacity to realize that it would be for the best.
She could only murmur, "F-h'inn…" then gasped upon a sob as he lifted her swiftly by the chin.
Through bleary eyes she saw a face enshrouded, dark and unreadable, as was the room around the two of them. He, at some point, had put his shirt and hat back on.
A swelling within urged Bonnibel. She fought against herself to force the words, as frail as she felt herself:
"I-h'I am so, so sorr-hee, Finn…"
She gulped.
"I—AUGH-HAGH!" Bonnie cried, raggedly just as her vision flashed. She was suddenly sprawled across the floor, seeing stars - her temple exploded into pain soon after.
Before she could so much as comprehend what happened, Finn stood above her and, half a heartbeat later, slammed her with his foot, right in the chest. Her eyes bulged out of her head—the pain, the intensity, she couldn't breathe; only gape, and scream soundlessly.
"Bubblegum!" she heard him roar, before hurting her again. Pain surged throughout her chest, seeping deep inside. It felt like something was trying to chew its way directly through her.
When Finn slammed his foot upon Bonnie once more, she was soundless in her agony until, suddenly, a strangled sound tore from her throat—a horrid cry that was simultaneously a groan. Her eyes screwed shut, herself whimpering from what, she didn't specifically know anymore; she didn't even know what was happening, except that it was—
"GAH-HA!" She jolted, trying to curl into herself, but it hurt too much to move. Finn once more gave a cry of her name, or a name: "PRINCESS!" echoed around, as if mocking her title.
Bonnie knew she should be fighting back, she probably could—"AGH!" she cried, followed with another exclamation of "PB!"—but she found herself lying prone, awaiting the next one like a child ready for their dessert, too exhausted and pained to try and protect herself.
It got easier anyhow, dealing with this familiar, horrible ache in her chest—the pain will fade with time, as with all things; Bonnie would move on with her life, and Finn with his.
She didn't even feel it anymore. Especially when Finn resorted to just stomping her, over and over and over and over again, in rapid succession, without even bothering to speak her name again. Bonnie eventually just started grunting, just before all physical reactions ceased entirely.
Then she stopped making noise altogether. And that is when Finn's voice broke the cycle with a cry of, "Bubblegum!" and not another bout of agony followed.
A heartbeat of silence passed. "BONNIE open your eyes, PLEA-HEASE!"
They obeyed on the spot, popping open to where Bonnie found the dimness of her bedroom returned, banishing the darkness from before—and golden tresses hung suspended just above her face. Her pooled eyes widened, focusing, comprehending that Finn was not only in his shirt, but his face was clearly visible, and above her, and it was soaked, and ruddy, and runny, and—
Terrified.
"F-Finn?" she cooed - amidst the horrible ache within, she also felt... puzzled, to say the least.
It hurt still, the pain in her bosom lingering from where Finn assaulted her, except not so raw prior to growing numb to her aching chest. A persistent, dull ache, and Bonnie hated it; hated how it made her feel, how it grew worse with every second, the more she thought about it and why it hurt…
And yet, Bonnie felt it only inside of her, rolling around beyond her fingers' reach—as if Finn never hit her at all. Although she looked weary, and awful to boot, Bonnie was afraid, shamefully, that he would do it again.
Shamefully, because how could she be afraid of such a boy, whose tears plopped so gently upon her brow?
Whose voice shook so uncontrollably, she could barely make him out saying, "Yo-You, w-wer-were, ha-aving a, a s-s-seizure, or some-some-so-homething, and I thought, tha-hat, you were f-faking, a-a-h'and—"
"I'm sorry," she gasped.
It was such a short, simple phrase, it stopped whatever Finn was blubbering out of his mouth, though achieved little in tiding the constant flow from either of their eyes. Bonnie couldn't help herself: watching him fidget above her, her head begun to shake at the sight she'd been the engineer of.
Bonnie whimpered—realizing that Finn cradled her head in his lap—and did so several more times just feeling how delicate his fingers were on her bubblegum skin, her chest jolting painfully with every shallow sob: he would never hurt her like that. Ever.
Even if he hated her now.
A sudden cry tore from her, remembering. "I'm sorry, Finn..." murmured the princess, gazing upwards. A few errant sobs wracked her breast violently, and she felt the beginnings of another bout build behind her eyes.
"I've spe-hent, a-all, this, tie-ti-hime, thinking, I was good…" the last word ascended into a squealing little sob; Bonnie brought a fist to her lips, sniveling as she sensed somebody go to hush her, pleadingly, with hesitant hands combing through her hair. It was soothing enough to help her finish, "But I'm not, Finn… 'm really really no-hot!"
Bonnie's face crumpled: the ache inside writhed, turned on itself, over and over. Was this what heartache felt like? Bonnie wouldn't know - for she didn't posses one of her own, and only had past experiences where she felt equally as terrible inside for reference.
She let out a single sob - it was all she could muster now before opening her eyes.
And then it stopped—for just a moment, when Bonnie looked to Finn, it froze on the spot. He was perched still overhead, his golden hair reaching past his shoulders, almost kissing her on the forehead, her cheeks. His eyes were wide, and blue, and puffy and wet and worried - silent in shock, or perhaps appall, she truly did not know.
You're the reason why, Bonnibel, whispered a voice in her ear. You're why he's hurting. You, alone, are the sole reason why anyone around you is ever hurt.
Dear Gumbald's, she realized - a dark corner of her memory best left unremembered, her beloved uncle said not these precise words, but it was the heart, the meaning, of them.
Bubblegum never dared entertain what he said that day: when she'd made the fateful decision to make her family into a kingdom.
The pain returned twofold. Bonnie crumpled in on herself, the sight of Finn unbearable with Gumbald's last words haunting her memory. And despite it all, Bonnie still felt her mouth contorting, trying to form words - anything to express her regret.
"Princess stop."
And she did, if not for the command, then how Finn cried out, gently squishing her gooey hair between his fingers, begging to be heeded.
She did just so - her thoughts, voice, words, everything caught in Bonnie's throat while gazing up at the boy she loved so dearly, who's chest she felt convulse in a pitiful stand to suppress his emotion.
The intensity of it burst past his lips and trickled down his eyes anyway. "Ah-ah-I…" he began, shallow and broken.
Bonnie felt a tiny splat upon her brow. Half a heartbeat later her grooming abruptly ceased, the tender contact followed as she watched Finn hug his hands close to his chest and pull away from her, as if trying to get as far from Bonnie as physically possible.
Immediately she wished for its return.
Finn slowly shook his head, however, now hugging himself. "I can't," he whispered, his shaking intensifying. "I can't do this anymore, Princess..."
Bonnie quickly scrambled so she was on all fours, and looking directly at Finn, her face struck. What did I say? wondered the lurch in her chest. What did I do…?
"Just stop it," he told her. "Stop talking, stop doing stuff! Stop crying and, and just stop! I can't do this anymore, PB, I can't!" Bonnie clutched both hands to her breast, kneeling on pink and purple legs. Her breathing was quiet yet audible, but also broken, catching upon its own rapidity. At the same time Finn subdued himself into a fast, sob-hitched pace himself, jittery hands roving up and down his skinny upper arms. "…I-I-I w'hanna," a shaky gulp, "believe you," whispered Finn, sniveling. Bonnie would have thought he were confessing to some terrible crime, he was so quiet.
Slightly louder, clearer, he murmured in a single breath, "I wanna believe you so bad…"
Her entire being, except for her heart, locked in place; a feeling inside her chest rose, hesitantly. She submitted herself to the feeling rather than fight it, lacking the sense to instinctively resist it, to tell herself that it wouldn't last.
Finn continued, thick with emotion. "I knew this would happen," he muttered - as if to himself, and Bonnie's jubilance turned to puzzlement until he reiterated, slightly louder, "I knew… that I'd believe you, because… I wanna believe you!"
Their eyes met for half an instant, before Finn's crumbling composure deteriorated completely. "Glob..." he wept. "I just want everything to go back to normal..."He swallowed a sob attempting to surface. Finn growled to himself, knuckling his forehead.
"And now?" he croaked, eyes screwing shut. "Now, there's nothing, NOTHING that I ever, ever wanted more, than to know if you're bein' real or not!"
Bonnie felt her heart plummet the following instant, herself trembling, and it wasn't because Finn refused to believe her still.
He wants to believe me... He-he probably does believe me, but… but he's so, so afraid, that I'm l-lying to him, so afraid he's just gonna get burned again, that I…
…That I don't blame him… Oh Finn, I'm so sorry I put you through this torment!
Especially knowing how he felt about her—a love that clearly transcended the superficial, hormone-driven infatuation she always thought it to be.
And it was beautiful, she realized with a start, as well as flattering.
And I singlehandedly destroyed it.
Bonnie could have spoken up at any time, and yet something drove her to only cup her lips—anything more than that, and she knew the fine, cracked surface of her glassy composure would surely shatter once again. Yet she wished so badly to hug Finn, to squeeze all the hurt and pain out of him and assure him 'I'm real, I'm sincere, oh Finn, I love you, you're one of the closest people in my life and I'm so, SO sorry I didn't treat you that way!'
Tears rolled down Bonnie's cheeks, around her hands, quietly—her hands muffling the mild sobs that tried escaping.
All the while, Finn never stopped talking:
"I wish I didn't know what I do now! I wish I could believe you! But, then, what if you're lying? If there's just the smallest, tiniest chance of that being true, that you're doing exactly what you need to do to get me to believe you… then I can't believe you! I can't go through all this again, Princess, I just can't!"
"And then!? And that's, not even the worst of it!" Finn shot up to his feet. "That's not even what sucks about this whole stupid thing! Because, what if, this whole freaking time, what if I was wrong!?" he cried, hands shooting up to grip the sides of his head.
Finn started pacing a short back-and-forth, his golden hair swirling about whenever he turned.
"What if this past month, everything, was for nothing!?" he spat. "What if this whole time, I've just been a big, fat idiot, FOR NO REASON AT ALL!?"
Bonnie's eyes widened as she felt her heart do a swan dive. It's just so like him to think he's at fault here.
Her voice was broken from the errant cries prior. Meekly, she started, "Finn, no—"
"What if you were telling the truth!? Huh!?" He snapped his bewildered gaze to her. Did he even see that she was shaking her head in denial, mouthing "No" over and over, desperately begging him to calm?
Finn raved on, pacing again, "If you were telling the truth this whole time, then that means I've just been ignoring you, and, and P-Patience! She freaking TRICKED ME! Oh Glob, she tricked me into doubting you and I let that happen!" Finn's grieving cracked—his vocal chords were beginning to go. His hands shook in front of him, his gaze held to the floor, as he realized, hauntingly, "Tha-That means, this whole time, I-I've been hurting you, a-and… Oh Glob, I've been hurting you…"
Three crushingly quiet heartbeats passed as Bonnie watched Finn's face contort into horror, to sorrow, denial, and then back to fear - each flavored with the ceaseless flow from his puffy, pink eyes.
But Finn didn't make a sound - he didn't wail nor cry further. It was somehow more unsettling to watching his face soundlessly crumple, conflict clear as day upon it, as he brought his arms to hug himself.
In a low, meek voice, Finn told her, "I'm scared, Princess… I'm so, so sca-ared, and… I dunno, what to do anymore, or what to think…"
Finn dragged his robotic hand across his nose. Facial residue gleamed from its stainless surface.
"Just please let me go, please…" he begged her. "I don't, w'hanna do this, anymore… I'll forget about all this, I'll move on with my life, but I don't want to know the truth anymore, I don't care…"
"…I feel like I'm gonna die if I know now…"
Finn's pink little fingers clenched at the fabric of his shirt, in a very specific spot.
Bonnie's hands never left her lips, hanging onto Finn's every word—the rainbow of inflections he placed into his delivery, colored in every shade of blue. She heard his frustration, empathized with his turmoil, and felt the same phantom lacerations upon her heart as he. Never in her life had Bonnie been so invested with what another person was saying - and she regretted that immensely. Between his every pause to snuffle, to gasp shakily for air, her heart clenched as if to say to herself, I did this.
With every word he uttered: This is my work.
With every tear that clung desperately to his chin, only to snap free, twinkle in the din, and fall upon her carpet: I did this to Finn.
Amidst a lifetime of throwing herself into her problems, doing anything and everything in her power to fix them, Bonnibel had never felt so completely, utterly useless before in her eight centuries of walking this Earth.
Now, she had only her words, and thus she might as well be speaking in another dialect, given how legendarily poor her own was utilized. And yet Bonnie tried, she had to, hoping Finn would hear the sincerity in her tone, the way it trembled softly with emotion as she told him, "Don't blame yourself for this, Finn…"
He gave a sad, slow shake of the head, his shoulders quietly trembling.
Bonnie ignored the fact that she was numb to the sight, felt nothing new from it, as she took a small step forward, closing half the distance between them.
Softly, she begged of him, "Please don't think that I'm mad at you, not about this." Her head angled, trying to look up at Finn and catch his gaze, "Finn?" but he avoided doing so, as if they were opposite ends of a magnet.
How fitting, Bonnie realized. Was that really what their friendship had been reduced to?
Literal polar opposites?
She refused to believe that. "And even if I was, even if I could find it within myself to be a little bit angry with what happened here, and at you no less, then I'd have to be a heartless shrew to hold it for a second."
The boy looked off to the side, biting down on his fist, shuddering. His eyes welled anew, and Bonnie knew something she said must have been absorbed.
Concerned, watching them soundlessly well over in an instant, she cooed, "Finn?" advancing a respectfully small step forward.
"Stop lying to me," he stammered - foot and thrumming chest both halted in place. "Y-You, ha-hate me, now… You would hate me for this. You're, just tryin', to keep me with y'hou…" His scrawny little figure convulsed with his terrible sobs—looking like he could shatter at the touch. "I, I, I kn-ow, that y'hou, neh-never, cared, about me..."
Gently, pleadingly, Bonnie cried out, "Finn, of course I care about you; I've always cared about you—and you know it! You've seen it for yourself, right? Of how much it hurts me that I did this to you? It's killing me inside, Finn! Honestly!"
"And like I said! Even if I were angry, even against all logic and reason, if I could find it in myself to feel justified to hate you over this?" She shook her head, it was so ridiculous. "Glob, I've told you before, Finn, I can never stay mad at you! Remember? With the Duke of Nu—?"
"Would you stop already!? Glob, what a load!" Finn rolled his reddened eyes to the ceiling. "We've known each other for six years, PB! And you never, ever shown that you cared about me as much as you do now! What the heck am I supposed to say to that, huh!?"
I-I know, I'm sorry, Bonnie thought behind a scowl. She could have—should have—said that; doing so might have diffused some of Finn's frustration toward her.
The "should have" did not occur to her after the fact, but for whatever reason, despite sensing on a base level that voicing her thoughts would be wise, Bonnibel opted to excuse herself instead, like always:
"You could forgive me for assuming our friendship was stronger than that, Finn!" she cried, gesturing wide and wildly. "What? Did you want constant reassurances from me, all the time?"
Finn was aghast. "NO! I can't believe you're still missing the point! Unless you're being serious, or, or trying to twist my words on me, I don't know!"
Silence fell—so tense between them, that Bonnie couldn't even move, nor could Finn, until it snapped suddenly when he broke their gaze, rubbing two metal fingers into his eyes.
"And let's say I was right," he said, scowling suddenly at her. "Even if I was h-hurting you, this whole time, the real PB would dungeon me for screwing up this bad! And you expect me to think you aren't mad at all? Really?"
Now that shocked Bonnie into silence. D-Dungeon?
Finn saw her face, read a victory. He smirked knowingly, although Bonnie missed its vacancy - the distant, hollowed look in his eye which revealed the truth of his conviction.
He can't be serious... He just can't...
"You… honestly think, that I would do that to you?" she asked, in a low, quiet voice. "Am I really so horrible, that you truly believe I'd… I'd incarcerate you for hating me?"
For half a heartbeat, Finn looked as though he'd been gutted. So sudden it was that Bonnie felt her own drop like a leaden weight—what was with that look, she wondered, and why did Finn appear as though she confessed to having an affair with Jake?
"Y-Yes!" he stammered. "No!? I… I dunno! You don't make sense anymore, Princess! You're just so confusing!"
Finn waved his hands, gesturing wildly. "I mean, w-what the heck was that—at Tree Trunks's wedding?!" he cried, hopelessly confused. "You just threw everyone in jail for, like, no flippin' reason! And when I asked you about it later you just said, 'Don't worry about it Finn, it doesn't matter!' So, what, Princess?! Even before I realized the truth, I always thought that was weird of you!"
The reality of that ordeal was so embarrassing, Bonnie denied herself from ever thinking about it. She inhaled before replying steadily, "I released everyone not long af—"
"You say one thing and then mean another, I can't keep it all straight!" he ranted over her—no longer face her direction as he entangled his fingers in his hair. "You tell me everything was for real, but when I look back all I remember is you doing the bare minimum to keep me stupid and happy! How the heck am I supposed to tell that you aren't playing me now!? You know I wanna believe you, you could just be making crud up right now!"
Bonnie heard all of this, heard it play back within a single heartbeat, watching Finn with stunned, unblinking eyes.
She stormed toward him until she towered above him, roaring, "No, Finn! NO!" the rate at which her volume climbed coinciding with her rapid deterioration. "You don't get to do that to me, you understand?! You have no right, NO RIGHT to say that I'd do something so horrible! I never did such a thing to you, ever!" She jabbed him in the chest all the while, enunciating every sentence.
Finn batted it aside with a space-yielding step backward. "Oh, now I KNOW you're playing dumb! You don't think I remember that messed-up stuff you said to me back then?!"
He must not have seen Bonnie's bafflement—herself unable to so much as give voice to it: WHAT messed-up stuff!? What did I EVER say to you?!
Finn continued, pointedly, "And even if that was 'true,' even if you were being totally honest always," he mocked her, sloppily, "then how come you told me that you wanted to be with me, and then act like none of that ever mattered in the first place?! Was that you always being honest with me, Bubblegum?! Was that how much I mattered to you?! HUH?!"
Bonnie let out all the air in her lungs, though it hitched, and she had to put a hand to her throat. "What are you talking about?" she gasped, sharp and shocked.
Finn looked just as well for a full second.
"When you turned thirteen—!" He caught his bewildered cry suddenly, but realized he was too late when he saw Bonnie gawking. His already flushed face turned a tad darker, humiliated, his grimace conveyed, as did the shame with which he now stared with at Bonnibel's bare feet.
She herself hadn't even blinked yet - she couldn't believe they were going there, here, now of all times.
Finn's gaze was intense as it was petrifying when it met hers—she would have flinched from the combined suddenness of it, had "THIRTEEN" not echoed cyclically in her ears still.
No, she thought, too stunned to even shake her head, though her stiffening neck wanted to. No… no, not here. Not this, not now! He just had to pick the worst possible time to talk about this.
Even on a normal day, this would be an embarrassing, awkward topic to broach. To the point where Bonnie, at times, truly believed Finn would resent her if she ever disclosed her side of the whole affair.
Finn maintained his look, even while speaking as slow and purposefully as Bonnie ever heard him before: "When you turned thirteen, you said to me that you would like to stay with me," he explained.
Bonnie's heart plummeted quicker than a meteorite, but before she could stop Finn, he continued, forcefully, as though anticipating her objection, "That you wanted to be with me, if 'responsibilities' weren't in the way. And then…?" the words trembled. "And then? You just went and acted like none of that ever happened, that it didn't matter to you."
Bubblegum flinched—this wasn't what she was expecting, and a part of her sighed in relief realizing this. "Finn, no, you've got the wrong idea-"
"Bubblegum-!" He choked, but his tone alone finished, I don't wanna hear it.
His chin crumpled for just a second before steeling his expression.
"Just what was that, Princess?" he asked low, quick, and sharp, like a dagger to the gut. "Tell me. Please. That's all I want to know, I'll leave your life forever… o-or I'll even be your champion again, I'll make it a royal promise if I have to! Just please, please, please please plea-hease tell me that was a part of your master plan. R-Right? To keep me on your side? Or were you just messing with my head 'cause it was funny?"
In this moment, Bonnie realized that even after three years, even after all this time, this was still a sore spot for him.
His accusations made her gape. She would have gasped had their weight not sucked her breath away. "N-No, Finn! Of course not!" the princess admonished. "I, I mean that whole situation, it was such a mess for everyone involved…" She took in his unchanged expression—wrought with grief that'd stewed for three years—for a full second. "I mean, ages, you see… are…" Bonnie trailed off into pitiful silence, honestly expecting him to object, to cut her off, but what he did instead was far worse.
Finn simply eyed her, waiting to hear out whatever excuse he knew she'd make.
And in truth, there was none, not a single justification for what happened. It was all just bad, rotten luck, and even that felt like an excuse for someone who should have known better.
Bonnie stammered, fist clutched against her breast. "I… I have no excuse for what happened. But Finn, thi-this topic, I've wanted to broach it with you—I have! O-Over the phone! But, i-it's such a complicated and sensitive matter, it requires—I mean I didn't—"
Finn immediately rolled his eyes, groaning aloud, "Oh, for the love of—! Cut the nonsense and just say it, Princess! I already know the answer!"
His words broke like waves upon a stony jetty, and told of the answer he believed Bonnie had.
The ache inside of her twisted, twisted, until snapping in half—she didn't blame him for feeling this way, not even a little. Bonnibel was responsible for allowing it to fester so long, naturally.
I had this whole thing planned, she remembered saying, in her last phone message to Finn. Oh, how Bonnie wished she wasn't such a coward and just talked to him about it back then.
Or even explain herself in that last phone call, as planned. It'd have been so much easier than in person.
"Finn…" she mustered the courage to say these next words, "…please, Finn, can't we just forget about it like we've always done?"
So courageous. SO selfless, both halves of her psyche mocked in tandem.
She forgot to even ignore them upon hearing Finn instantaneous reply—"I never forgot about it,"—in a low, deadly voice.
The invisible hand already clutching her heart clenched into a fist.
"And we're talking about this now."
Bonnie scrambled for something to say—whatever sounded right, she said it. "F-Finn, I was thirteen! The stuff we did, the things that I'd said, I didn't know any better! My mind was stuck on a lower maturity level than normal! I couldn't have acted with such hindsight in mind—no one does!" And that was the truth, or what she was willing to disclose, at least. "And I know that's no excuse, but-"
"So you're saying that everything was pointless?" Finn snapped, palms out. "That I should just accept all the stuff we did together was just that? Some immature stuff?"
"What?! No! Finn, of course that time we shared was special!"
Bonnibel was shocked—did he not remember how much she utterly adored spending time with him? Just being a kid, not having to worry over every little thing!?
"If it really mattered, then you would have at least given the courtesy of freaking telling me that! Like once, at least!? Instead of leaving me to wonder for almost four freaking years!?"
"Finn? I'm—!" she choked, hand upon her aching chest. "I'm—"
Her fingers tightened into a fist.
"...I'm sorry…" she murmured, gaze dropping.
Bonnibel took a deep, shuddering breath.
"I never should have pretended that what happened didn't," she explained, light and gently. "I…"
I was afraid, the incessant tug in her chest would not allow her to say. Afraid of acknowledging what I did, how I behaved. Especially towards you, my hero.
Merely thinking this much scared her, as if simple musings are suddenly validated as fact.
After much hesitation, Bonnibel had to anticlimactically leave him with just a forceful, "I'm sorry."
He reacted as well as anyone in his position would be expected to.
"That's it?" he cried, genuinely expecting something more. "You know how many hours I've spent thinking about this, Bubblegum!? In moments of doubt, wondering if you cared about that time as much as I did? You're way too late to apologize for this now!"
She didn't dare pick her gaze up off the ground. "You're right. I'm sorry," she whispered, trembling inside.
In her peripherals he shook his head, bewilderment rigid upon his face.
"And now, you're telling me it mattered to you just as I'm ready to leave your service, where you've done literally nothing but everything you could to keep me on your leash? If it honestly mattered so much to you, then why act like it never happened AT ALL!?"
This demand, already on edge about the topic before his callous treatment of the matter, frightened Bonnibel into lashing out with a painfully transparent resolve.
It was enough to muster a confident firmness like always. "There's nothing more to say, Finn! I loved that time we spent together, okay!? And I'm sorry that you were hurt! I didn't know any better—but that's it! I mean, how many smart decisions did you make when you were thirteen, huh?" A beat passed, where it struck Bonnie that she lied to Finn, at least partially. Now, of all times, no less.
"I-I don't have to tell you anything else!" she reaffirmed.
For an instant, Finn looked utterly horrified. And then he screamed, "Yes! Yes you do!"
"You can't force me to tell you squat!" I'm not telling you this. Not here, not now. "Just accept that I loved the time we spent together, but I have my reasons for never wanting to talk about it! Private reasons! Reasons that concern me and not you! So just butt out already, Finn!"
"You really expect me to buy that!? Really!? After everything, you expect me to just swallow this without question!?" Bonnie, one upon a time, would have hoped the strength of their friendship would convince Finn to believe her when she said this was better off forgotten.
But instead he accused, "I thought we were being honest!"
Bonnie's defense was akin to a wounded, cornered animal. "I am! I've always been honest, FINN!"
"Then why did you lie to me?!" He stomped forward, eyes flashing wetly.
Her eyes stung. The answer almost belted out of her, but mental walls forced them down. "Th-That's none of your business!"
"Yes it is!" Finn roared, tears spurting from his eyes. "WHEN IT INVOLVES ME AND MY FEELINGS, IT IS MY BUSINESS! WHY DID YOU TELL ME YOU WANTED TO BE WITH ME!? WHY DID YOU LEAD ME ON LIKE THAT?!"
"F'hinn—!"
"WHY DID YOU KISS ME, BUBBLEGUM!?"
"IT'S BECAUSE I'M A SCREW-UP, OKAY FINN!?"