tw for homophobia
She procrastinated it for two weeks.
Bonnibel wasn't usually the procrastination type. Ordinarily, if she intended to do something, she would get it done pronto. But this… it's almost like her brain knew just how much it would mess her up and she couldn't physically psyche herself up to doing it. The landline phone rang exactly seventeen times in those two weeks. Bonnie never answered it, and she begged Peter not to, either. If she was going to speak to her parents, it had to be on her terms.
She threw herself into her work instead, and admittedly became more than a little bit brutal when it came to helping Marceline. She watched over her like a studious dictator, practically jailing her in the library every breaktime, until finally, in their shared Wednesday free period, it hit a breaking point.
"Okay," Marceline slammed the chemistry textbook shut, and when Bonnie went to immediately open it again, she put her hand over the cover. "You're getting all aggressive with this, so that means you're losing it. I've tried to give you the space to think about things, but you're freaking me out. Talk to me."
Bonnie opened her mouth, the natural defences coming into play. Her walls went up, but then something rather unusual happened. It was like little, inside Bonnie peeked over the walls, and saw only her concerned girlfriend. She could keep her defences up. She could snap like she usually would when things got a little bit too personal. Or she could open up to her.
The traditional none of your business died before it was spoken, and Bonnie just sighed. "I just- I keep thinking about that phone call. The one I have to make. She keeps ringing the house."
"I figured," Marceline's hand went from the cover of the textbook to on top of Bonnie's, resting there gently. Bonnie twisted hers palm-up and locked their fingers together. "I know you can be brave and face up to it when you're ready. Maybe you should do it tonight. I'll be there if you need me to be. Just stop trying to kill me with studying."
Bonnie's laugh came out in a half a sigh. "I'm sorry for being so tough on you lately. I just- working helps me forget about it, you know?"
"I know," Marceline said, and then swiped the textbook and notebooks from the table. She crammed everything in her backpack and to top it all off, stole Bonnie's pencil case. "We're done for the day."
"No," Bonnie shook her head and folded her arms over her chest. Regardless of distractions, they still had a strict schedule to keep. "You don't say when we're done. I say when we're done. Give me back my pencil case and notebook."
"Nope," Marceline stood up and tucked her chair into the table, pulling her backpack onto her shoulders. "We're going to go outside and play in the snow."
Bonnie glanced out of the window at the snow-covered football field. She barked out a laugh. "Play in the snow? Do you want to graduate? You have a month and a half of material you'll miss that we have to self-teach. We don't have time to play in the snow."
Marceline just laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. "We've got plenty of time. Come on. Get your coat on."
Bonnie glowered at her as Marceline draped her coat around her shoulders and picked up her bag. "Fine, but if you fail chemistry, it's on your head."
"Relax, Bon, I'm not going to give you a bad teaching review if I fail anything," Marceline rolled her eyes, dragging a reluctant Bonnie out of the library and down the hall. "Besides, you've been so aggressive with the studying lately that I'm just making up for lost break time."
They stopped by Marceline's locker, and Bonnie watched as her girlfriend put her backpack in there and grabbed her 'coat', which wasn't really a real coat at all, just that red letterman jacket with the white sleeves.
"I don't get how you're not always cold when you don't have a proper coat," Bonnie muttered, making sure her pink scarf was tightened at the front. "I get cold just looking at you, and I'm from England, which is basically land of the cold."
Marceline laughed. "I'm just tough, Bon-Bon."
She pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket, though, and pulled them on once they were outside. Bonnie rolled her eyes again. "What are we going to play, then?"
Marceline smirked, and Bonnie realised what she was about to do the moment she did it. She dropped down, scooped up a handful of snow, and tossed it in Bonnie's direction.
"Oh, you bastard," Bonnie swore at her, brushing the snow from her coat, and glared even more when Marceline just cackled with laughter and scooped up more snow. Bonnie dodged her next attack and made her own snowball aiming it right at Marceline, who it caught in the shoulder. "Yeah, how do you like that?"
"You just declared war, Bon," Marceline flashed her a broad grin, and punctuated the remark by launching another snowball in her direction. Bonnie dodged it easily, but what she didn't expect was Marceline letting out a loud war cry and charging at her, snow in hand.
Bonnie bolted, laughing out loud, all of her worries melting away like the snow stuck in her hair. She'd needed this. She didn't know how much she'd needed this. Marceline grounded her, balanced her out. She was a voice of reason amongst all of Bonnie's anxieties. Her playfulness and mischief countered Bonnie's logic and seriousness.
She probably would've dwelled on it more if Marceline hadn't caught up to her – damn her for all that running – and tackled her to the ground, sticking snow down the back of Bonnie's coat.
"You're such an arse," Bonnie gasped as the snow melted in her coat, and she glared up at her smirking girlfriend. Marceline was sat casually on top of her stomach, grinning rather victoriously. "Get off me, you big lump."
"I don't think I will," Marceline said, that annoying, cocky smirk still on her face. The snow on the ground was cold against the back of Bonnie's head. "I'm pretty comfy here, actually. I can do whatever I want."
She leaned down, like she was going to kiss her, and Bonnie took that as her opportunity for revenge. She reached off to the side, grabbed a big handful of snow, and when Marceline was just about to kiss her, threw the snow at the side of her head, then pushed her sideways, flipping them over, so the positions were reversed.
Marceline spluttered. White snow was speckled in dark hair, and she looked up at Bonnie in surprise. "Damn. That was cold. Literally."
"Now you know how I felt." Bonnie laughed, and leaned down and kissed her girlfriend. "Thank you for this. You always know what I need."
Marceline smiled. "Yeah, yeah. Get off me, though."
Mocking her words from earlier, Bonnie smirked. "I don't think I will. I'm pretty comfy here."
"Okay, okay," Marceline laughed, reaching up and poking her in the arm. "I get it, damn. Don't mess with Bonnie."
"Yo, Marce," Both Marceline and Bonnibel turned their heads at a familiar voice, and Bonnie realised that the lunch bell must have rung and neither of them noticed, because Keila was stood there, leaning against the school building, casual as ever. She smirked at Marceline and said, "Always knew you were a bottom."
Marceline's face was flushed, and it definitely wasn't from the cold. She looked up at Bonnie and said, "Let me up and we can be allies and totally destroy her in a snowball fight."
"Destroy her for speaking the truth?" Bonnie teased her, and when Marceline only scowled, her cute little grumpy face in place, she got up and pulled her girlfriend with her. "Alright then. Allies."
Marceline grinned, high-fived her, and flashed a rather evil smile over at her best friend. Keila caught on faster than Bonnie had, and scooped up a fistful of snow, launching it at the two of them, until all three of them were pelting each other with snowballs.
Their alliance of two soon became three, Keila migrating to their side when Marshall, Guy and Bongo spotted them and joined in, and soon Bonnie had no idea which side anyone was on when her own friends joined in – even Elle, who Bonnie had expected would scoff at such a childish activity as a snowball fight.
The only person Bonnie knew for sure was on her team was Marceline, who developed a rather adorable habit of jumping in front of Bonnie like she was taking a bullet for her any time a snowball came in her direction, and then flopping down onto the snow dramatically. Then Bonnie would help her up, and they'd pelt the nearest person with snowballs.
It was the best lunch break Bonnie had had maybe ever, and the best she'd felt in the last two weeks.
Bonnibel stared at the phone warily, like it was about to jump up and shock her. It sat there, right in front of her on her desk, challenging her to pick it up.
The gentle plucking of ukulele strings ceased behind her, and Marceline spoke. "You don't have to do it if you're not ready."
"No, I… I just need to get it over with," Bonnie stared at the phone as she spoke, but forced herself to look away in favour of glancing at her girlfriend. "But I think… I think this is something I need to do by myself."
Instead of rolling her eyes or questioning why Bonnie had asked her over in the first place, Marceline just nodded and pushed herself up from the bed. "I get that. I'll wait downstairs for you. And if you feel like you're going to panic, shout for me, okay? I'll be up here in a flash."
"Marcy?" Bonnie stopped her before she could leave, and when Marceline paused in the doorway, she flashed her a small smile. It was a little bit weak but at least it wasn't fake. "Thank you for being here. And I think I'm going to need a lot of hugs and kisses after this, so… be prepared."
"Always prepared for that," Marceline looked her up and down, her gaze so soft and loving. Instead of leaving, she stepped forwards and pulled Bonnie in for a quick kiss. "See? Proof. Good luck, okay? I believe in you."
With one last comforting squeeze to her shoulder, Marceline whirled out of the room, ukulele in hand. Bonnie watched after her, feeling her heart clench in her chest. Maybe it was a bad idea, to do this by herself, but she felt like she had to. It was just this feeling in her gut.
She finally picked up the phone, staring at the missed calls on the little screen. Once she called back, there'd be no going back. Something was going to happen. Perhaps it would be better for her to just forget about it, not call, and never know what her mother may have wanted.
But the scientist in her had always been far too curious. She could never let a question go unanswered, and something as big as this? Marceline had been right before. It would drive her mad.
She pressed the call button and brought the phone up to her ear. Bonnie couldn't breathe as the dial tone sounded, but she forced herself to do the breathing exercise that Marceline had shown her. Thinking about her girlfriend made it easier, knowing she was just downstairs if Bonnie needed her. Marceline was the one person who would never abandon her, and Bonnie knew that for a fact.
"Hello?"
Bonnie's mouth worked at the sound of her mother's voice. She still hadn't recovered from the shock of last time. And the time before that, when that voice was telling her to burn in hell.
"It's me," Bonnie finally managed to get out, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady. "Why do you keep calling?"
"Bonnibel?" Her mother questioned, and she had no idea what to infer from the excited tone. "Oh, I'm so glad you called."
Bonnie bit down on her bottom lip. She needed to remember what she knew would happen. They were bigots. She kept her tone flat, though it took everything in her to do it. "Answer my question. Why do you keep calling?"
"I've been trying to contact you for a while," that still didn't answer her question, and Bonnie almost snapped. But then her mother continued, and she didn't know what to do. "I found out recently that… well, I'm sick, Bonnibel."
She hadn't considered that. That thought hadn't even passed through her mind. A surprised, "oh," came out before Bonnie let it, but she quickly composed herself. Feelings of sympathy could come later, if she was worthy of them. She had to remember that. "With what?"
"Breast cancer. It's… I've been told it's terminal." Another hit, and Bonnie had to steel herself. "I don't want to die without making things right with you. With my daughter."
Anger bubbled to the surface, and Bonnie couldn't hold back what she bit out. "Thought you didn't have a daughter? I thought I was a creature of sin sent to spite you? What happened to wanting me to burn in hell?"
"Bonnibel, that's- perhaps we had a rash reaction to that. But we were wrong."
The words were such a shock to hear. No. That had to be too good to be true. There was no way that her parents were suddenly accepting of homosexuality. Though… it had been four years. Maybe…
Her train of thought came to a screeching halt when her mother spoke again. "We should have listened to you when you denied the immorality. I regret ever allowing you to stay with that abhorrent, sinful uncle."
The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. The tiny spark of hope she'd had in her chest died out. They hadn't changed at all. Four years. Four years, and now her mother calls, purely because she was sick. She wasn't calling for Bonnie. She was calling for herself.
"God, you're so selfish. You don't care about me, you just want to clear your own conscience, and I won't be a part of it. You haven't changed at all." Bonnie snapped, and she wasn't going to hold it back any longer. Not now she knew what was really going on. "I'm gay. It took me so long to come to terms with that, to accept myself, because of course I was never going to get any acceptance from you. I don't owe you anything, not when you can't even accept your own daughter just because she loves girls."
"I knew it," All warmth and false pretence had been wiped from her mother's voice now. She sounded exactly the way she had four years ago, when Bonnie was a terrified kid. "I knew that faggot uncle of yours would corrupt you. We only wanted what was best for you, and I will not have my daughter living in sin. These homosexual urges that he has passed onto you – we can fix them if you'll come home. I know some people in the church who are reformed-"
"And they're probably absolutely miserable. Like I was for nearly seventeen years because I forced myself to repress what I feel just because I wanted my family back. The family who abandoned me when they were supposed to love me no matter what." Bonnie didn't know how she wasn't panicking; all she could feel was this white-hot fire, everything she had kept pent up finally pouring out. "I don't need you bigots. I have an amazing uncle, friends who accept me for me, and a beautiful, amazing, perfect girlfriend who loves me unconditionally. I have family. Tell Neddy that if he ever wants to get away from your toxicity, his big sister is there for him. But I won't forgive you just so you can clear your conscience. I'm sorry to hear about your health and in the end, I hope you find peace in the religion you use as an excuse to hate people like me. Don't contact me again. Goodbye."
She hung up the phone before her mother could speak again. She knew she wouldn't be saying anything nice. Anger still bubbled in her veins, and she yelled out, threw the phone at her bed, watching as it bounced off the pillows and onto the floor. She scowled down at it, but despite how mad she was, she actually felt a little bit better.
Her bedroom door swung open, and Marceline was stood there, framed by the light from the hallway. She looked worried, and Bonnie realised she must've heard the shout and the loud bang. "Everything okay?"
Bonnie looked at her, then back at the phone on the floor. She was angry. Angry at her mother for being so selfish, for contacting her and messing her up just to clear her own conscience, not because she really cared for Bonnibel. But she also felt a sense of finality and found comfort in it.
It was another thing that Marceline had been right about. She needed closure. She didn't have to wonder anymore, or entertain any tiny little hopes that one day, maybe they'd accept her. Bonnie could move on, and it made her feel peaceful.
"I think so," she finally answered Marceline's question, "yeah."
Marceline looked her over as if she was trying to detect a sense of falsehood, but her mouth curved up into a tiny smile when her little Bonnie-scan was completed. She held out her hand. "Come on. I'll make you some tea and then we can do whatever you want."
"Two things," Bonnie said, reaching out and taking her girlfriend's offered hand, letting her pull her up. "Cuddling. And I want you to sing to me. Even though I think I'm alright… I do need calming down. She said some things that made me angry."
"You don't have to talk about it," Marceline said, slowly leading her downstairs, "but you know I'm here for you, right?"
"She's sick," Bonnie talked about it anyway, because of course she was going to trust Marceline with the details. She was her other half, and she knew everything about her. "She wanted to make amends, but not because she was ready and wanting to accept me for me. She just wanted her own peace of mind. They'll never change, either of them. I know that now."
The kettle boiled quickly – Marceline must've put it on before – and as her girlfriend made tea for the both of them, she said, "And you're sure you're okay?"
Bonnie pushed out a long breath through her nose. "I think so. She said they were wrong for kicking me out, but in the sense that I shouldn't have been staying with my 'sinful' uncle. Not that they shouldn't have abandoned me. She blamed Peter for me being gay too and wanted me to come home so they could 'fix' me. Like I'm broken. But I'm not. And that's not what family is about. Family is what I have with people like you. Unconditional love and acceptance."
Marceline smiled softly and passed her the mug of tea, "Here, dork. Let's go sit down."
Bonnie followed Marceline into the living room, placing her tea on the coffee table. Marceline did the same and picked up her little black ukulele. "I want to thank you. You helped me realise that it was okay, for me to love girls. For me to love you. I mean, a year ago, I was still trying to force myself to be something I wasn't, because all of those years of living under a toxic roof really did a number on me, and I felt so alone. If I could be straight, then my family would take me back and I wouldn't be so lonely. But then I found you. I found my family. I don't even remember what lonely feels like anymore."
"Come here," Marceline put her ukulele aside and opened up her arms, and Bonnie collapsed into them, feeling overwhelmingly safe. "At the risk of sounding like you any time I try to thank you for anything… don't thank me. I'm your girlfriend, I'm always going to have your back, and that's not something you ever need to thank me for, because I know you'd do the same for me. You have done the same for me, loads of times."
Bonnie hummed, wrapping her arms around Marceline's waist, feeling her right there. "I suppose so."
A calloused finger traced up and down her arm, and after a few moments of quiet, Marceline asked, "Are you really feeling okay?"
"I'm… I'm crazy tired, Marceline. I think I have been for a long time," Bonnie sighed into her girlfriend's shoulder, "all of that wondering and wanting them back. It was psychologically gruelling. It's kind of nice to know I can really move on, you know? I feel… kind of at peace with the whole thing. Like I can finally rest, and just be."
Marceline hummed quietly, and after a few moments of comfortable silence, she asked, "Do you still want me to sing for you?"
"Yes please," Bonnie answered, but the answer to that question would basically always be a yes, "I do."
"Okay," Marceline's arm moved from around her, and she grabbed her ukulele again. Bonnie stayed snuggled into her shoulder, closing her eyes. Marceline plucked a few gentle notes, and then started to sing. "Let's go in the garden, you'll find something waiting, right there where you left it, lying upside down. When you finally find it, you'll see how it's faded, the underside is lighter when you turn it around."
"Everything stays, right where you left it, everything stays, but it still changes."
Bonnie's eyes blinked open when she realised which song this was; she'd heard part of it in passing, in that crackly home video she'd watched with Marceline in October.
"Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays."
The last chord rang out on the ukulele, and Bonnie's hand instinctively went up to trace over the lettering of tattoo on Marceline's wrist. "It's a beautiful song."
"I can take credit for the music," Marceline said quietly, "the lyrics are all mom."
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Bonnie murmured, reaching out and knotting their fingers together. "It means a lot."
"You mean a lot," Marceline shrugged, and Bonnie's stomach did a couple of backflips in response. She strummed a random chord on her ukulele and smiled. "So… any requests?"
"Just one," Bonnie said, and when Marceline looked at her expectantly, she smiled, "kiss me."
Marceline grinned, putting her ukulele aside. "That, I can do."