Spending time at Marshall's house didn't seem like the best idea.

But still, Bonnie was dragged along. She didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, and since her friends didn't always deign to invite her to things, she felt like she had to. Lady had texted her, merely saying hanging out at Marshall's pick you up in 20, and Bonnie had gotten dressed and was ready for them showing up.

She was quiet in the car, too busy thinking about Marceline to hold a conversation. She hadn't spoken to Marceline since her birthday last week; part of it was trying to pluck up the nerve to text her. Her text conversation with Marceline had remained stagnant since she'd guessed who she was. Since Bonnie had stupidly told her about her birthday.

She sighed, only half listening to Lady and Jake's conversation as the car pulled up at Marshall's. Marceline's car was in the driveway, and Bonnie wondered if she'd get to see her. It wasn't likely; if Marshall had people over, Bonnie bet that Marceline would stay in her bedroom.

Robotically, like the recent revelations had placed her on autopilot, Bonnie followed her friends inside, smiled half-heartedly at Marshall, and flopped down onto the sofa. Finn was playing some fighting game and he grinned at her, always enthusiastic. She wished she had his energy. "Bonnie! Come play, Marshall's been kicking my ass and I want at least one win."

"Huh?" His words took a minute to sink in, and distractedly, Bonnie shook her head and accepted the cup of juice that Elle held out to her. At least she hoped it was juice. "No thanks, Finn. I'm a little tired."

He deflated, but his earnest smile was still in place. As always. "Alright then. Maybe later."

Phoebe swiped the second controller from his hand and sat down next to him. "I'll show you how it's done. You're going down, Mertens."

She half watched them play, half listened to Elle's usual gossip. She felt out of place, like she always did, but when she was zoned out anyway, she was even quieter than usual. She didn't notice that Marshall had spoken to her until he nudged her, she jumped, and spilled the juice she forgot she was holding down her shirt.

"Oh, shit," Bonnie rarely cursed, but it felt like an appropriate moment, "ugh."

"Sorry, Bonnie," Marshall flashed an apologetic grin and helped her up, walking her towards the kitchen, "do you think you can get it out? I don't really know how to like… do laundry. I always get my sister to do it with hers."

"I don't know," Bonnie turned the tap on, grabbing the sponge he passed her and scrubbing rather aggressively at the stain. She cringed, holding it away from herself, because it was sticky and uncomfortable. Why hadn't she just been paying attention? "I'll probably be fine. You can go back to everyone else, it wasn't your fault."

"Are you sure?" He asked, and when Bonnie nodded tersely, he grinned. "Okay. Hope it comes out okay."

"Oh, for God's sake," Bonnie rubbed at the red juice stains down her favourite pink top, "just come out. Please."

She tried running it under the kitchen tap again; really, she needed to get home and wash her shirt. She wondered if Jake would drive her back, but he seemed like he was having a good time and she didn't want to inconvenience him. But she also didn't want to sit in a t-shirt covered in juice.

She scrubbed rather furiously at her shirt, cursing under her breath. She wished she hadn't been so spaced out. She wanted to blame Marceline; stupid Marceline dropping that stupid bomb on her and then quite obviously avoiding her. Stupid Marceline and her stupid pretty smile and soft hair and green eyes and—

Stop, Bonnie thought to herself, god, I'm an idiot. How could I be crushing on her? A month of friendship after multiple months of insults and death glares and I can't even find it in me to be mad at her. It used to be that she could look at me the wrong way and I'd want to throttle her. Stupid pretty green eyes. She's hypnotised me. That's got to be it.

Though it wasn't just a month of friendship, not really. She'd been friends with Marceline the whole time, she just didn't know it. Marceline had been there for her in so many ways and Bonnie hadn't even known it. She'd been her rock.

And now she's avoiding you after dropping a massive revelation on you like it was nothing, Bonnie reminded herself as she angrily scrubbed her sopping wet shirt, I bet she's sat in her bedroom playing her dumb guitar and looking annoyingly gorgeous while doing it. Well, I don't care. I'm mad at her for being such a child and avoiding me. She could walk in here right now and I wouldn't care.

"Bonnie?"

Of course, Bonnie thought, rolling her eyes. It was like her internal monologue had summoned her. She turned and met Marceline's gaze; the older girl was frozen in the kitchen doorway looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hello," Bonnie finally said, "you're… here."

"I live here," Marceline said quietly, looking at her like she wasn't sure where they stood anymore. "What are you doing here?"

"Marshall invited everyone over to hang out. I spilled juice on my shirt. Now I'm trying and failing to get it clean." Bonnie recounted, waiting for Marceline to act normal again. She'd even take a playful insult. But Marceline just made a quiet hum of acceptance, and Bonnie's anger flared. "I'll be getting back to that now."

She turned and shut down the conversation, scrubbing her shirt harder than before, angry that she couldn't be angry at Marceline. She hated that all she felt was affection.

Bonnie heard Marceline's footsteps receding and sighed. She didn't even get a later, princess. The indifference stung, especially knowing that Marceline and M were one in the same. She scrubbed more at her shirt, but by now she knew it was futile. Best to just accept that it was going in the bin when she got home. It was her favourite, too.

She sighed and dumped the useless sponge in the sink. She supposed she should go back to her friends and just deal with the juice-covered shirt until she could get someone to take her home. Calling Uncle Peter seemed like the smartest move. She pulled her phone from her pocket to do just that.

"Take your shirt off."

Bonnie jumped and whirled around. She hadn't noticed Marceline coming back. There was a hint of amusement shining in the other girl's green eyes, and it made a little hope come back. "What did you just say?"

"Take that off. I'll wash it for you before I go out." Marceline said, and she tossed a black t-shirt over at Bonnie. "You can wear that for now. I'll get your other shirt back to you at school or whatever."

Bonnie caught the t-shirt in mid-air and looked at it. It was advertising a rock band Bonnie had never heard of, with two marshmallows impaled on sticks and a snake weaving between them. Her friends would probably clock onto the fact that it wasn't her shirt. A stranger on the street would probably clock onto the fact that it wasn't her shirt; Bonnie didn't look like the punk rock type.

"Um, can you turn around?" Bonnie asked, "You know, so I can change."

Marceline raised her eyebrows, and Bonnie almost expected some immature remark about how they were all girls there and there was no need to be privy, but surprisingly, she did as she was asked. Bonnie quickly pulled her original shirt off and dropped it on the ground, before pulling the t-shirt over her head. It smelled overpoweringly of Marceline – vanilla and guitar strings and dusk. It made Bonnie's head spin. There was something so intimate about wearing Marceline's clothes, and it was intoxicating.

Resisting the rather overpowering urge to pull the shirt up to her nose and sniff it, she picked her old shirt up from the ground and muttered, "Um, you can turn around now."

"Thanks." Bonnie filled the silence when Marceline took her messy shirt from her. "You didn't have to let me borrow a t-shirt."

Marceline shrugged, throwing Bonnie's shirt into the washing machine. "I know."

More indifference, then, Bonnie sighed. She watched Marceline press a few buttons on the machine and heard the hum of it being brought to life. "Are you going to see Keila or something?"

"Nah," Marceline replied, "she's working."

Bonnie squinted at her. "You're not seeing Ash, are you?"

Marceline scoffed. "Please. No way."

When she didn't elaborate, Bonnie just sighed. Grasping at any chance she might have left, she asked, "Well… do you want to meet up tomorrow? And… talk things over?"

"I can't. I'm working," Marceline said, "some other time, okay?"

Bonnie opened her mouth to say she could see her after work, or maybe talk when she gets back from wherever she was going today. She missed Marceline; if she wasn't talking to her in person, she was talking to her over text, and now she'd basically lost both mediums of communication with her. All because she'd been shocked, and Marceline took it the wrong way.

But before she could say any of that, Marceline turned on her heel and left the kitchen.

"So, tell me what's been going on."

Marceline frowned as Simon placed the mug in front of her. It quickly changed to a smile when she realised it was cocoa. Simon's cocoa always made her feel better. "Nice, hot cocoa."

"Don't ignore me," Simon sat down on the couch next to her and smiled comfortingly, "I can tell something's going on, Marcy. I might be losing my marbles, but I can still tell when you're upset. Talk to me."

She bit down on her bottom lip like she was trying to trap the words on their way out. He'd always been able to tell when there was something off with her. If they'd been related, Marceline would've said she got her perception from him. She could always read people, and Simon could always read her.

Finally, Marceline relented, her words tumbling out with a sigh. "Something went down with a friend and I don't really know where I stand with her anymore."

She thought back to her encounter with Bonnibel in the kitchen. Despite what she'd said, despite how she'd asked to talk to her, Bonnie looked a little mad. Maybe she was just frustrated because she'd spilled her drink, but Marceline was fairly confident it wasn't. She didn't need that drama.

"Keila?" Simon guessed, and when she shook her head, he looked rather impressed. "You managed to make a new friend and mess it up since the last time I saw you?"

She tried not to let the hurt get to her. She hated it when he forgot, because she knew there'd be one day when Simon wouldn't know who she was. He was forgetting more and more lately, mostly her past visits and the things they'd talked about. And last time she came over, he'd called her Elise, mistaking her for her mother, when she didn't even look that much like her.

At least he didn't call me Hunson, Marceline thought to herself, melancholic. That would've been so much worse. "Why do you assume I'm the one who messed it up?"

"I was only joking, Marcy," Simon laughed, "what happened?"

"I found out something that I think she was uncomfortable with me knowing. I owned up to it, because you know, honesty…" Marceline tried to keep it vague but in a way he would understand, "and we haven't really talked since. I guess it's partially on me, since I'm trying to give her space, but… I don't know, I've never really had to do that before. Any time Keila and I fought, we always made it up on the same day because we couldn't stay mad at each other."

Simon frowned, "Well, did she ask you for space?"

"No, but… it was the kind of thing she needed time to process. Whether she realised that or not." Marceline said, and remembering the flash of anger on Bonnie's face, she added, "and I do think I should keep away for a while. It's kinda complicated."

"I think you should talk to your friend. Whatever happened, I'm sure you can resolve it." Simon said, and Marceline wished she had his positive outlook on things. "It's good that you're branching out, making new friends. I hope Keila doesn't think you're replacing her, though."

"She knows I never could," Marceline shrugged, "besides, Bonnie is different. Like, Keila and I are close because we're basically the same person, she's just the crazy extroverted version of me. Bonnie and I couldn't be more different from each other, you know? She's all sciency and logical. And Dad likes her."

"Scientific, Marcy," Simon corrected her, "you know how Hunson is. He likes people he shares interests with."

"I know that," Marceline said it a little too harshly, but her dad and who he liked was always a very sore subject. She sighed. "Sorry, Simon. I guess I'm just sick of dad and his stupid opinions on how I should live my life, you know? Like, why should he care if I want to play music? He says stuff like don't you want to make me proud? And I do, but I want him to be proud of me, you know? Not some… expectation he has in his head. No matter how hard he tries, I'm never gonna be that."

"He's a very stubborn man, and losing your mother was hard for him. You being so interested in music probably reminds him of her, and he's never been one to confront his feelings head on." Simon patted her knee comfortingly. "But he loves you, Marcy. Having those expectations shows that he believes in you, in his own way. I know you're serious about your music, and if you go out there and become the rockstar you're going to be, he'll see that."

She supposed she should listen to Simon; he'd known her dad for years, since before she was born, and it still baffled her that they were friends. She couldn't see how someone as cool as Simon actually chose to hang out with her dad. She was always grateful for it, though; if he hadn't, she never would've met him, and he'd been more of a father to her than her real father. Marceline figured that Simon's bad choice in friends was a blessing in disguise.

There was one thing for sure, though. If she did make a name for herself in music, her dad would be the last person invited to her concerts. Marceline had known for years now that the moment she graduated, she would move out, and she'd never have to see Hunson Abadeer ever again.

"I don't know. Sometimes I feel like running away and never looking back." Marceline sighed, but looked over at Simon with a small smile. "But I couldn't leave you. Or Keila. And I guess my dumbass brother." And maybe Bonnie too. If I haven't messed the whole thing up.

"Don't forget Hambo," Simon reminded her, "he'd miss you the most."

Marceline laughed, "Simon, I'd never leave Hambo. The rest of you suckers, maybe. But not him. He's coming with."

She couldn't imagine what Bonnie would've done with that information; that she still slept with her childhood teddy bear. Marceline was grateful she'd never opened her big mouth about that over text. In fact, she was relieved she'd never revealed much. Aside from a few existential why do I exist texts when she was feeling particularly low, she hadn't shared too much information with Bonnie.

"Good to know I'm ranked second under a teddy bear," Simon laughed, and when he noted that her mug was empty, he took it from her, "I'll make you another cocoa. Its magic powers of happiness are obviously having an effect so far."

Marceline smiled as he left the room, thinking back to the day she'd scraped her knee up and Simon had made her cocoa. He'd promised it had magic healing powers, and any time she was hurt or sad, the cocoa would make it better.

He'd never been wrong.