Bonnie was scrawling some notes when her bedroom door opened. She didn't turn around. Her work was more important. Much more important. She couldn't fail her exams, and she didn't know what to expect. She knew the school system back home, knew how the exams worked, but it was different here. If she went in there blind, she could mess the whole thing up, and Bonnie had never gotten anything less than an A on an exam. She wasn't about to start on the slippery slope to failure. It wasn't an option.
"Um, Bonnibel?"
Oh, yes, Bonnie remembered, there's someone here.
She looked up and smiled tiredly at Lady. "Hello. What are you doing here?"
"I called you last night to see if you wanted to come out with us today," Lady said, looking slightly concerned. Bonnie didn't see how studying could be concerning in any kind of way. "Are you okay?"
"Perfectly fine." Bonnie looked back at her notes and jotted something down on another post-it, sticking it to her wall. Oh. She seemed to be running out of space. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to get some work done. I have an exam on Tuesday and I need to be prepared."
Lady narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure you don't want to take a break?"
"Positive," Bonnie shut that conversation down. Why would she take a break? She was on an educational roll. "I'll see you at school."
"Bonnibel, I really think you should take a break," Lady said, and Bonnie didn't bother to hold back her scoff. She hadn't even slept, that was how on the ball she was. She didn't need Lady telling her what to do. "Fine. If you won't listen to me, I'll talk to someone who I know you'll listen to."
"Ooh, I'm scared," Bonnie muttered sarcastically, and a little faded thought of Marceline popped into her mind. Marceline. She's sarcastic. And pretty. But you have to study. No time to be thinking about a girl. "I have to get back to my revision. Bye."
Lady sent her one last concerned look, but she left. Bonnie knew it wouldn't take much to make her leave. She was probably going to go talk to Elle and Phoebe and Fionna about how crazy determined Bonnie was.
"Oh, let them gossip," Bonnie said to herself, "grades are more important. Bubba understood that. He would've been right here with me."
The last part of her rationality bled through the sleep deprivation. Bubba was always there to stop you getting out of control. Nobody was there to stop her now.
With her nose almost touching the paper, Bonnie continued with her work.
Marceline stared down at her phone as the unknown number flashed on the screen. Someone was calling her. At least this time, she knew it wasn't Bonnie. She gripped the neck of her guitar and stared at the phone more. Should she answer?
She hesitated, hand hovering over her lockscreen button, fully prepared to silence the call. But then she thought about Bonnie and figured that the last time she answered an unknown number, everything turned out alright. Fuck it. It was probably just a telesales person.
She grabbed her phone and answered the call, asking, "Uh, hello?"
"Marceline? Is that you?" She vaguely recognised the voice but couldn't place it. Thankfully, the unknown caller identified herself. "It's Lady."
"Oh, um… hi?" She said again, a number of questions swirling around her head. One; why was Lady calling her? Two; how did she get her number? Those were the two most important ones, anyway. "How exactly did you get my number?"
"Marshall," Lady said, and answered Marceline's next question before she could ask it, "Listen, could you go check on Bonnibel? I went over this morning and she was a little… weird."
Marceline sat up on her bed and pushed her guitar aside. She suddenly felt far more alert. "Weird how?"
"I went over because she didn't respond to the texts I sent her on Friday night, asking if she wanted to go out with us all. Went there this morning and she looked like she hadn't slept for ages, and she'd looked tired at school, so I'm kind of worried she hasn't slept for like, a few days. She was studying, but kind of… obsessively?" Lady questioned, "I tried calling her again and she hasn't answered, and she wouldn't leave when I tried to convince her to come out or take a break. Thought maybe she'd listen to you."
"Why do you think she'd listen to me?" Marceline frowned, but quickly added, "Forget I asked, actually. It's not important. I'm going over there now."
"Alright. Let me know if she's alright." Lady said, and after a few moments pause, added, "Thanks, Marceline."
"Yeah, no problem," Marceline replied, and then quietly admitted, "I care about the nerd, so… I'll let you know how she is. Bye."
She hung up before Lady could try to dissect that; though Lady wasn't the biggest gossip, she was friends with Elle and according to Bonnie, prone to getting caught up in her conversations. Whatever. She didn't have to think about that right now. Bonnie was more important.
She tucked her phone into her back pocket and grabbed her car keys from her dresser, pausing to check herself over in her bedroom mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair without thinking about why she was making sure she looked okay, then headed out of her bedroom and downstairs to pull her boots on.
She was just about to unlock the front door when she heard him and froze. "Marceline. Where are you going?"
"To see Bonnie," Marceline said, meeting her father's gaze for a moment before it unnerved her too much and she had to look away. He was stood in the lounge's door frame, blocking the light of the TV screen. For good measure, she added, "We're going to put the finishing touches on our project."
It was a total lie. They'd already finished their project, what with Bonnie's insistence on meeting up to study and Marceline not trying to get on her nerves this time. In fact, she worked harder than she'd ever expected to work for one of her dad's dumb classes, just because she knew how important it was to Bonnie. She tried not to think about what that meant.
He seemed satisfied with her answer. Thank god. It was stupid of her, not to check if his car was there. She would've been quieter if only to avoid this. "Okay. I trust that you won't be getting up to anything… unsatisfactory… if Miss Butler is involved. It would do you no harm to be more like her, Marceline."
Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know, she thought to herself, but saying it would bring about a whole load of trouble that she didn't need, so she bit the comment back and nodded tensely. "Bye."
She left the house before he could say anything else, opening and shutting the front door, locking it with shaky hands. "God," she mumbled, dropping her keys as she tried to pull them out of the door. She made herself walk to her car, and when she sat down in the driver's seat, she turned on her happy playlist and gave herself a few moments to compose herself before starting to drive.
She made it to Bonnie's house in good time and parked up outside. She glanced up at the window she knew was Bonnie's, and the light was on. A good sign, at least. Bonnie's uncle's car was in the driveway, so at least she hadn't been totally alone.
Marceline knocked on the front door and waited for someone to answer. She hoped for Bonnie, but the door opened to the small redheaded uncle instead. Despite having come over to Bonnie's a number of times, she'd barely spoken to him. "Uh, hey. I'm here to see Bonnie."
"She's in her bedroom," Peter opened the door wider and beckoned her inside, "is she expecting you?"
"Probably not," Marceline said, "but I'm here anyway, so…"
She headed up the stairs, making her way up to Bonnie's room. The door was closed, and Marceline paused before knocking. No sound other than the occasional paper rustling. There came a dazed, "Wha…?" from inside the room upon her knock, so Marceline pushed the door open and blinked in surprise.
It looked like a bomb made entirely of paper and Post-Its had gone off in the centre of Bonnibel's bedroom. They were everywhere; stuck to the walls, littered on the floor, and a big poster of the periodic table was spread across her neatly made bed, which didn't look like it had been touched for days. Bonnie was sat at her desk, the lamp shining on an essay she was writing, and she was squinting up at Marceline like she didn't believe she was real.
She looked terrible. She was sickly pale, which only served to emphasise the bags under her eyes. Her strawberry blonde hair was mostly tied back into a ponytail, but the parts that had come loose were unkempt and sticking up all over the place. There was pen on her cheek, and a pink Post-It stuck to the side of her head. Marceline would've laughed at that if the rest of the situation wasn't so serious.
"Jesus, Bon, are you okay?" Marceline rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her. Bonnie just blinked tiredly and picked her pen back up again, which Marceline yanked from her grip. "Nope. None of that. You need to sleep."
"Pffft, you're not really here," Bonnie scoffed, but it turned into a yawn as she moved her hand across the paper like she was still holding the pen. "I don't need sleep. I need to revise for my final exams."
Marceline wondered how the hell Bonnie's uncle could've let this happen right under his nose. Surely he should've noticed that she hadn't been sleeping?
"Nope, come on," Marceline pulled Bonnie up and half carried her over to her bed, "bedtime."
Bonnie looked up in a daze and mumbled, "Marcy?"
"Mhm, that's me," Marceline said, unceremoniously dumping Bonnie's papers off her bed and onto the mess of other papers that was probably hiding a floor. She'd clean it up once Bonnie was sleeping. "Where are your pyjamas?"
"I have to work…" Bonnie murmured, but upon Marceline's stern gaze, she added, "they're somewhere. I don't know."
Marceline lifted up the cover of Bonnie's bed and had to bite back her smile. Bonnie's pyjamas consisted of a pair of pink shorts and the t-shirt that Marceline had given her. "I guess I'm not getting that back, huh?"
"Hmm?" Bonnie frowned, blinked, and stared at the t-shirt. Marceline waited for her to focus, and then Bonnie just said, "I'm keeping that. Don't tell Marceline."
"I won't," Marceline laughed, "but something tells me she'd be okay with that. Keep it, nerd. Now, come on, get in your PJs."
"I don't want to," Bonnie looked back at her desk almost longingly, "I have to study or I won't pass my exams and I can't get anything less than an A."
"You really think you're going to get straight A's when you haven't slept for…" Marceline frowned, "how long, exactly?"
"Sixty-ish hours," Bonnie yawned, "give or take a few. Maybe seventy. I can't remember."
Marceline blinked at her, "Are you telling me you haven't slept since Wednesday night?"
"Maybe," Bonnie yawned again, "on a roll. Doesn't matter."
"Yeah, it matters. You're going to bed right now," Marceline told her, pushing her pyjamas towards her, "I don't care if you put your pyjamas on or stay in your clothes, you're getting some sleep."
Bonnie took her pyjamas and unashamedly pulled off her sweater with zero warning. Marceline quickly turned around, aware of the searing blush on her cheeks. She heard a little stumbling, and a few minutes later, Bonnie mumbled, "Okay, I'm alright."
Marceline turned around once she had that all clear, and she took Bonnie's hand and led her over to her bed. She took Bonnie's glasses off her face and carefully placed them on her nightstand. "Come on. Get some sleep, dork."
"Only if you promise," Bonnie punctuated with a yawn as she clambered into bed, "to wake me up in fifteen minutes."
Marceline crossed her fingers behind her back. "I promise."
Bonnie hummed, and Marceline wondered if she'd believed her. She doubted it. Bonnie shifted in her little bed, pressing herself up against the wall and then reaching out, making grabby motions with her hands. "Come here."
Marceline raised her eyebrows, but when Bonnie pouted and mumbled a, "please," she caved in an instant. "Alright, alright, I'm coming."
She squeezed into Bonnie's little single bed with her, and the younger girl rolled over, snuggling her face into her neck. Marceline felt a knot in her throat when Bonnie pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Night, Marcy."
Despite how it was three in the afternoon, and how she wasn't tired in the slightest, Marceline closed her eyes. "Night, Bonnie. Sleep well, loser."
When Bonnie woke up, the first thing she realised was that she had a pounding headache. She blinked, letting a groan escape her lips, and wondered why her eyesight wasn't adjusting.
My glasses was Bonnie's first coherent thought. She squinted at her bedside table and saw the blurry outline, reaching over and grabbing them. The moment she put them on her face, she mumbled, "Much better."
She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked around the room. Bonnie didn't remember going to bed, but she definitely didn't remember tidying her bedroom. She rubbed at her temples in an attempt to ease the headache, but it didn't work. She looked down at herself, and the butterflies in her stomach decided to act up when she realised that she was wearing Marceline's shirt. When had she changed? Bonnie tried to recall the last few hours, but all she could remember were blurry visions of studying.
She grabbed her phone from her bedside table and checked the time. Seven o'clock. Night-time. Saturday. She can't have slept for too long. She remembered it being the afternoon. Or was that yesterday? Her brain hurt. Maybe she needed some tea.
She was just about to get up and make some when her bedroom door opened. Bonnie squinted at the light from the hallway, but she didn't get much relief from it, as her bedroom light flicked on. She cringed away from it, and then blushed as if it was an automatic response when she heard a certain laugh.
"And she rises from the dead," Marceline said, sitting down on the edge of Bonnie's bed and holding out a mug, "made you some tea. I was just about to wake you up. Figured if you slept any longer, you wouldn't sleep tonight."
"You put me to bed?" Bonnie asked, sitting up and rubbing the side of her head again, "I can't really… everything is just a little bit blurry."
"Not surprising, when you didn't sleep for two days." Marceline looked at her a little oddly, and Bonnie sipped her tea to avoid questioning. "Are you going to tell me why you went all study-crazy?"
"How did you even find out?" Bonnie asked, not giving her an answer. "It's not like I called you. Or did I?"
"Lady called me. She said you wouldn't listen to her when she tried to get you to take a break, so…" Marceline trailed off, "are you okay, Bonnie? Nobody goes all… crazy like that for no reason."
"I'm okay," Bonnie breathed out, "I tend to study a lot, and usually my best friend is there to make me take breaks. Without Bubba there to stop me, I spiralled. I just… failure isn't an option. Especially not now."
Marceline raised her eyebrows, "Bonnie, if you fail one exam, it's not the end of the world. I've purposely failed an exam before just to be a bitch to my dad, so..."
She knew that Marceline was trying to comfort her, but it wouldn't work. Not with this. Nothing could work with this.
"It is the end of the world," Bonnie muttered, "I have to be perfect."
"Nobody's perfect," said the most perfect person Bonnie had ever met. She sent her that perfect smile and sipped on her tea, shrugging easily. "You don't have to live up to anybody else's stupid expectations. I know that. Or at least I try to."
"But I feel like I do," Bonnie said quietly, knocking back the rest of her tea despite the heat. She put her empty mug to the side and shuffled over again, patting the left side of her bed. "Come on, sit with me."
Marceline put her half-full mug on the bedside table next to Bonnie's and shuffled to sit next to her before picking it up again. Bonnie rested her head on Marceline's shoulder, and almost like she could sense what was coming, Marceline assured her, "You don't have to tell me."
"Aside from Bubba, you're the best friend I've ever had," Bonnie admitted to her by way of saying yes, I do. The reminder of that little truth made her feel extra guilty when the butterflies fluttered around in her stomach at the feel of Marceline's hand taking hers and giving it a comforting squeeze. "I was always kind of an outcast as a kid. Never had too many friends, always focused on school and grades and science. Part of it was because it was what I liked to do, but my parents put a lot of pressure on me to do well and to be perfect, upon realising how smart I was. Not a lot of kids out there who are similarly minded or have parents with those same pressures, so not really many options for friends."
"I was always okay with that, of course. Friends were distractions, and if I wanted to go to a good school, I had to work at it. My parents didn't have a lot of money and couldn't afford it otherwise, and they drilled it into me that anything less than an A was unacceptable. I worked my socks off to get into the local private secondary school on a scholarship and I thought it would all be worth it," Bonnie said, "it was, at first. I didn't make any friends, but my teachers liked me, and the work was sufficiently challenging. It was a lonely experience, but it was worthwhile for the education I was getting. In year eight, however, a new girl moved to the school. We hit it off instantly. She was like me; she'd had to work to get in on a scholarship rather than just getting in because parents were alumni or rich or both. I didn't know it at the time, obviously, but I definitely harboured some romantic feelings towards her."
"Despite being like me, this one group of popular girls took an interest in her, and the ringleader certainly had something against me. Maybe I was just obvious with the feelings I didn't know I had, or something. But she almost instantly started spreading around that I was gay, that I had a crush on my friend, and that freaked her out. She stopped talking to me." Bonnie felt Marceline squeeze her hand again and felt a calloused thumb trace over her skin. "I don't blame her for that. We were twelve, and never exactly educated on gay rights. Religious families and a catholic school, so… it was taboo. Needless to say, I just assumed the popular girls won once they'd taken my friend. I was alone again, and I thought that was that."
Bonnie sighed. This was the painful part. She already felt that familiar longing ache in her chest, the wish that everything had happened differently. "The ringleader, she really had it out for me, for some reason. I still don't know why. Maybe she was just really against gay people, because that was always the thing she used, despite my insistence that it wasn't true. I didn't think it was. She always bullied me, to the point where I wanted to switch schools and just go to the local public school to get away from her. My parents wouldn't allow it. They were strict and set in their ways and like hell was their daughter going to run away just because of a bully. I could handle it, they said."
She paused, and when she did, Marceline murmured, "Maybe she was closeted. The girl, I mean. So far repressed that it presented like homophobia."
"Maybe. It's very possible, but I guess I'll never know for sure," Bonnie said, "Anyway, I mentioned that my family were churchgoers. Very traditionalist and conservative too, aside from myself and my little brother, Ned. I was always terrified that the rumours at school would get back to them, which was why I never tried getting them involved aside from asking to switch schools. I knew that they would freak out, even back then."
"I was thirteen when it happened. We went to the usual Sunday service at the main church in our town. Lots of the girls from school went there with their parents, including the one who hated me and all of her friends." Bonnie felt the tears welling in her eyes, unbidden, and felt Marceline hug her close. "My old friend texted me and asked me to meet her outside to talk. She said she felt bad about ditching me and wanted to be friends again. Obviously, I was too trusting. I jumped at the opportunity, so when service ended, and my parents were talking to their friends, I went."
"You probably already guessed, but it wasn't her. It was the bully instead." Bonnie's throat closed over, but she pushed through. "She was saying how disgusting I was, and I thought it was just going to be the usual abuse that I would cry about in my bedroom when I got home. Turns out it was just the preliminary speech to clear her name when the video proof of my supposed homosexuality got the wide release. One of her little lemmings was hiding and filming us the whole time. She stole my first kiss at the exact moment my mum walked out of the church. I've never told anyone about it. Not even Bubba."
"With the description I've already given you of my parents' belief systems, you can imagine what happened next. Why I don't live with them anymore. They dragged me home and gave me fifteen minutes to pack my bags before kicking me out. I haven't seen them, or my little brother, since." Bonnie reached up and wiped away a few stray tears that had fallen without her permission. "I always maintained that it was a trick, and they didn't believe me. I thought maybe the bullies would show them the video and prove that I wasn't lying when they heard they'd kicked me out, but I don't think they ever grasped the seriousness of the situation. They probably giggled over the video a few times before deleting it from existence."
"My parents kicked me out on the mere assumption that I might be gay. And now it turns out I actually was. Has to be some kind of irony, right?" Bonnie barked out a bitter laugh. "I contacted Uncle Peter once I was no longer in hysterics. My parents stopped talking to him when he came out. I was nine at that time. He paid for my train tickets from my town into London and from London to York and I've been with him ever since."
"Bonnie," Marceline pulled her in for a tight hug, and Bonnie snuggled her face into her shoulder in an attempt to stem the flow of tears, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Thank you for trusting me with all of that."
"It's okay," Bonnie said, but she didn't let go of her friend. She'd probably deny it if Bonnie told anybody, but Marceline was an amazing hugger. "I spent the last… nearly four years trying to prove to myself that I wasn't gay and… almost hoping to prove it to them, too. Like I could go back on my eighteenth birthday and show them they were wrong, in the hopes they'd take me back. I went a little crazy on the studying because they always pushed me on that aspect, too. Maybe my sleep-deprived brain thought that I could be perfect in that way, so they'd overlook the gay thing. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid," Marceline squeezed her comfortingly, "you want your family. How could that be stupid? But you don't need those homophobic jerks, okay? You can make your own family. People that accept you for you and don't expect you to be anything else, because that's what family should be about. Unconditional love and acceptance."
"You know," Bonnie finally came out of her hiding place in Marceline's shoulder, "you're actually quite wise, Marcy."
Marceline laughed, and Bonnie felt a little warmth in her chest again, "Thanks for sounding so surprised."
"You know I didn't mean it like that," Bonnie rolled her eyes, surprised that she could feel so relaxed after reliving the worst time of her life, "just… thanks. For listening. And being a really great friend."
"No problem, brainlord," Marceline flashed her a smile and pushed herself up from the bed, holding out her hand for Bonnie, "now, come on. When was the last time you ate? I'll make some pancakes."
Bonnie took her hand with a smile.
