Chapter 6 - Marceline (Originally Published: 11 September 2015)

Why can't I just stay away? Marceline asked herself as she leaned against the gray import vehicle she'd come to recognize. Next to her, the owner of the car prattled on about her day - there was a quiz in science class she was certain she'd passed, during gym she helped get the game winning score in a round of volleyball, history was fine except that she shared it with the two people she despised. Any mundane story could be made interesting with the animated way that Bonnibel talked. She was so lively behind those pretty green eyes, and Marceline found herself smiling.

The light dusting of freckles across Bonnibel's nose and cheeks were as familiar to her now as they were six years ago, like a constellation in the night sky - quickly identifiable after seeing it so many times - and just as charming. The way she laughed when she found something incredibly funny - like something Bea and Finn had done at lunch after Marceline left - was loud and unrestricted, full of joy, ignorant of the way it resounded in the car park. That laugh had been Marceline's favourite sound when she was little, and it had proven testament to the way Bonnie lived: uncaring, lighthearted, and free.

Marceline wanted to be free.

There was a line from a song that really resonated with Marceline, and in her head - she chanted that lyric, a bittersweet mantra that reminded her she was making a big mistake. She knew what she was doing, and she knew that it would destroy her, but that was her nature. Marceline was stubborn; she did things that she knew would get her into trouble because somewhere in the back of her mind, she had this fantasy that things would turn out differently - knowing full well that they, realistically, would not. When they were closer, Bonnibel was her voice of reason - but she couldn't even talk to her best friend anymore, the one person she was supposed to be able to talk to about anything.

"There they are," Bonnibel said.

Bea and Finn trotted towards the two of them, looking as happy and innocent as ever.

"Marcy! I brought you something," Bea said, fumbling around in her backpack to produce a Tupperware container.

Taking the box from her, Marceline shook it. "What is it?"

"Bangers and mash. I made it for you at home and forgot to give it to you before you left lunch today. I figured, you know… Since you never eat at school." Bea wrung her hands together, staring at her feet.

Marceline mussed up her hair. "How did you get to be so sweet? Thank you."

"It's been sitting out all day. Is it still good to eat?" Finn asked.

Bonnie took the container from Marceline, opened it, gave it a sniff, and closed the box, handing it back. "It smells fine to me. I'm sure it's okay to eat. I mean, what's the wurst that could happen?"

Marceline glared at her. "I hate you."

"Wait, why?" Finn asked, alarmed. Without warning, he burst into laughter. "Oh, I get it! Wurst! Like a sausage!"

Marceline had to admit it was pretty funny, but she wasn't going to outright tell Bonnibel that. She set the Tupperware on top of the car, not wanting to hold it for the rest of the time they stood talking. Across the car park, she could see that Keila was keeping an eye on her.

"Do you need a ride again today, Finn?" Bonnie asked.

"I'm actually going to drive him home. It just makes more sense since we live closer to each other," Marceline said. Finn had told her earlier that no one knew they were going to a party, and asked that she cover for him if the need arose.

Bonnie smiled. "It's good to see you two are getting along."

"Yeah. Finn's an alright kid."

"I'll be sixteen soon!"

Bonnie booped him on the nose. "You're still young, don't kid yourself."

Bea's laughing made Finn's face turn red. Marceline just shook her head. "For fuck's sake, Bonnibel."

"Oh hush. You love me," she said.

Marceline gritted her teeth. She knew what Bonnibel meant, but that didn't stop the bile from rising up in the back of her throat. "I need to get Finn home. I'm supposed to meet Keila somewhere." In reality, she just needed to get out of there before she said anything she'd regret.

In an innocuous gesture, Bonnie reached over and fixed the collar of Marceline's flannel shirt. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she caught Marceline's gaze and smiled, her hand lingering on Marceline's shoulder for just a moment too long. "Drive safe," Bonnie said, and hugged her tight.

Marceline patted her on the back, awkwardly. Glancing over to where Keila had been standing earlier, she caught the look on her friend's face that said, "We're going to have a talk when I get you alone."

Marceline said goodbye to Bea and grabbed the container she'd left on top of Bonnie's car. She walked briskly to her own vehicle with Finn having to jog to keep up with her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She didn't deign to answer that. Climbing into her truck, she tossed the container into the space between their seats, grinding her teeth together to keep from biting Finn's head off. Thankfully, the engine started without any problems. She shifted into gear and left the car park as quickly as she could, pretending not to notice how uncomfortable her passenger was.

"I never thought I'd get to see the inside of a teacher's house," Finn said, looking around at the small living room area. "It's so... normal."

Keila lay on the armchair with her legs hanging off the side, her head on Guy's chest as he flipped through channel after channel on the television. "What a surprise. It's almost like they're people," he said sarcastically.

Kicking off her shoes, Marceline flopped onto the couch by the door. It'd be a few more hours until they left for the party, she might as well relax while she had the chance. A decadent aroma wafted into the room, filling the air with the savoury scent of gravy and roast beef, as well as hints of apples and spices from Bongo's infamous scones. Marceline's stomach growled in response to the pleasing smells. Guy made fun of Bongo when he said he wanted to learn to cook, but no one complained now that they had their own personal chef.

Finn sat on the floor next to Marceline. "Has Phoebe mentioned the party at all?"

"No," Marceline grumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow she'd face planted into.

"What's she like? I don't know her all that well."

Marceline turned her head to speak to him. The puppy dog gleam in his eyes made her queasy. "I don't know, Finn. She's not really talkative."

"I guess I'm just a little nervous. I've never had alcohol before."

"Hey kid," Guy leaned over the head of the armchair to glare at Finn. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up?"

Finn stared at his feet. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Food will be ready in about ten minutes," Bongo said, coming from the kitchen. He picked up Marceline's feet and sat down on the couch next to her, letting her legs rest in his lap.

"Hey Finn. I forgot to get that Tupperware out of the truck. Could you put it in the refrigerator for me?" Marceline asked. When he was out of earshot she flipped onto her back to address Guy. "We wouldn't be going to this party if it weren't for him. Can you just chill for one night?"

"If he's going to play with the big boys, I'm going to treat him like one," Guy said, grinning.

Bongo shook his head. "I know that look. Leave him alone, Guy. He's just a kid."

"It's his first party, yeah? He should get the full experience."

Keila chuckled. "Better leave him alone, babes. Big brother will have a shit."

Finn returned with the container and dropped it off in the other room. Standing uncomfortably, he examined the photographs on the wall. "Is this your mum? She's really pretty."

A cold chill shot down Marceline's spine as soon as the words left his mouth; she could tell that Bongo felt it too. The fog of silence that engulfed the room was suffocating. Practically pushing his girlfriend off of him, Guy got out of his chair and walked to his room - a terrifying sort of calmness to his gait. The silence was only broken when the door slammed shut behind him with such strength that the entire house shook. Looking over at Finn, Marceline could tell that he was petrified.

Keila went after him, understandably not wanting to leave Guy alone at a time like this.

"Did I say something wrong?" Finn asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bongo fidgeted in his seat. "She's not around anymore. Guy hasn't been the same since he lost her."

"I didn't know," Finn looked like he might break into tears at any moment. "Should I go apologize?"

"It was traumatic for him. He doesn't like talking about it." Bongo ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. "It's probably better if you just drop it and never, ever mention it again."

When Guy and Keila came back, they were both in a better mood. For some people it was easier to just pretend like something hadn't happened, which is how the rest of their evening played out. Keila had probably talked to him about being nicer to Finn too, because Guy gave him a chance to be cool. There wasn't much they had in common, but they both really liked video games. It cheered Marceline up a little that her old friends were warming up to her new one.

"Dude, this place is almost as big as Bongo's," Guy said. "Are you sure you got the address right, Marce?"

Gaping at the monstrosity before them, she nodded. If the plethora of cars parked outside wasn't a clear indicator that this was the place, then the booming music from within certainly was.

Keila scoffed. "It would definitely explain why she's such a snob."

Taking the initiative, Finn reached out and pushed the doorbell.

"I'm not stuck-up, am I?" Bongo asked.

"No, poppet. You're a sweetheart," Keila said, patting his arm.

A surge of music emanated from the interior as the heavy oak door swung inwards. Marceline wondered how anyone could have even heard the bell. At least the house was in its own section of the surrounding wood. She had learned from experience that the easiest way to get a party shutdown was to be too loud.

They were greeted by the girl that sat next to Marceline in science class. Judging by the look on her face, she was bored with the party. Marceline would have thought that the lack of interest was permanently etched into her features, until the girl saw her and smiled wickedly. It was a look that suggested she knew something no one else did. "Hi. I'm Leslie," she said, waving with the fingers of a well-manicured hand.

Marceline raised an eyebrow. "Good for you?" She followed Bongo who had spotted someone from his rugby team, ignoring the appalled squeak that came from Leslie.

"Alright, bros. I'm off to find bevvies." Guy had to shout to be heard over the music. He disappeared into the crowd, Keila trailing behind him.

Marceline knew few, if any, of the people at the party. Most of them were popular kids from the theatre class or from sports, and while Bongo had friends among them, she'd never felt so out of place in her life. From across the lounge she caught sight of a familiar, distinct head of red hair.

Phoebe danced to the music, with such fluidity that it seemed the rhythm flowed through her entire body. The boy she was with was not quite as nimble as her, but he seemed to be having a good time. She caught Marceline watching her and with a devious smirk she turned her back to the boy, who took that as permission to grind against her. Phoebe reached behind her head, tangling her hand in his hair, never breaking eye contact with Marceline as she danced.

Clenching her jaw, Marceline was the first to look away. She wasn't sure what prompted it, but she suddenly had a sour taste in her mouth.

Guy returned, bearing three cans of beer. He tossed one to Bongo and one to Marceline. "Drink up, boys," he said as he cracked open his own can and took a big swig out of it.

Handing a red cup to Finn, Keila took a sip of her own beer. "It's hunch punch. It won't taste as bad as what I'm having, so you'll get to drink it and have a good time, but it's easy to get carried away with so make sure you pace yourself."

He tasted the red mixture. "That's actually really good."

Keila nodded. "Here, try some of my beer so you at least know what it tastes like," she said, handing him her can.

Finn took a hefty amount into his mouth, his face immediately transforming to one of pure disgust and regret. He shook his head and handed the can back to her, forcing himself to swallow it. "That's rancid. I think I'll just stick to the punch stuff."

"Hey. Come on. I set up a beer pong table for us," Guy said.

"There's five of us. How do you expect to divide the teams?" Keila asked.

"Easy. Me and Bongo against you and Marce."

"Honey, that isn't very fair to Finn."

Finn sat on the sofa near the table. "It's okay, Keila. I don't mind watching."

She looked at him, then at Marceline and shrugged. "I guess it's just the two of us."

The game started off badly for Marceline's team. Guy and Bongo sunk three of the girls' cups before they could even get one of theirs. It was frustrating, to say the least, because normally Marceline was quite good at the game. There was just an uneasy feeling tugging at the back of her mind. She wasn't sure what it was, but it threw off her game.

She sat on the sofa. "I'm tagging Finn in. I don't really feel like playing right now."

"Are you sure?" Bongo asked, although she knew what he really meant was "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Let the kid have some fun."

Keila explained the rules to him, and to everybody's surprise, he was a natural - sinking more than half of their cups. The competition must have slighted the other boys because Finn and Keila won by a landslide. They were already setting up for a rematch, so Marceline busied herself with finding another beer.

She made her way into the kitchen, squeezing awkwardly between groups of people talking. It was a weird interest of Marceline's to snoop through people's refrigerators. Unlike most everyday appliances, a refrigerator told you everything you needed to know about how a person lived. This one in particular was sparse in the food department; almost every shelf had been stocked full of alcohol. Marceline wondered if this had all been procured for the party or if someone in the Edan family had a serious drinking problem. Hidden among all the health foods - which Marceline gave a mental gag to - was one particular food item that caught her eye, yoghurt. A neat stack of it too, and if there was anything Marceline loved as much as pizza - it was yoghurt. After rummaging through the alcohol selection for something she liked, she secured a toffee flavoured cup.

Juggling the beer and yoghurt in one hand she opened the lid and stuck two fingers in, eating it without silverware like a child. Marceline leaned against the wall, watching her peers talk, and flirt, and laugh. Even in this room she didn't really know anybody, but the toffee flavoured goodness managed to take away the sting of being lonely. With her fingers still in her mouth, she locked eyes with Phoebe from across the room, the crowd of people around her seemingly unaware of her disinterest in them. If Marceline had ever experienced a moment more embarrassing than getting caught sneakily eating someone else's yoghurt in their own house like a fucking savage, she hoped the memory stayed repressed. Phoebe winked at her, the corner of her mouth turning up in a devilish smirk.

Marceline felt her face grow hot. She tossed the empty yoghurt cup into a nearby bin bag and hurried back to find her friends. They'd just finished their rematch when she returned to the table. Finn and Keila had proven to be an excellent team, to the point that it was unfair to the two other boys.

Upon her return, Keila regarded her with a contemplative stare. "What have you got on your face?"

Marceline wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Nothing."

Keila dragged her finger across Marceline's cheek and examined it. After giving it a sniff she licked it off. "Have you been eating yoghurt?"

"Never mind that," Guy said, grinning. "I think someone mentioned there's a heated pool. Anyone care for a swim?"

Keila and Bongo said that they were, but Finn didn't look too happy to hear about it.

"Come on," Marceline said, putting her arm around his waist. "We can find some chairs and talk about deep shit. Like trenches."

Finn laughed. "You've been hanging out around Bonnie too much."

"You have no idea."

Bongo and Guy were the first ones outside, as excited to get in the water as any fearless teenage boy who grew up in a town named for its river would be. Yanking off their shirts and trousers, they dove into the pool. Marceline and Finn sat in surprisingly comfortable wooden lounge chairs by the poolside.

Finn stared innocently at his feet, avoiding accidentally looking at Keila as she pulled off her own top and shorts.

Marceline snorted. "Finn, don't be such a prude. She's still wearing clothes."

He stared into his cup. "Yeah. Her underwear."

Marceline leaned back into the chair, propping her feet up. "There's nothing shameful about a woman wearing underwear, and unless she's coming onto you, there's nothing sexual about it either. Keila's mum taught us that." She waved her hand. "You can relax. No one really gives a shit as long as you're not being pervy about it."

He nodded, still wary of looking in the wrong direction. "Sorry. I just didn't want to be rude."

They watched Keila and Guy play fight in the pool, laughing when she tried to push her boyfriend's head underwater.

"Are you not getting in?" Finn asked.

She shook her head. "You said you don't like water. I don't wanna just leave you by yourself."

"It's okay. I'm fine here."

"Nah. If I get wet then I'm just going to be uncomfortable. Are you having fun?"

Finn finished off his drink. "Yeah. I'm having a lot of fun. I uh… I think Phoebe might be into me?"

That weird, uneasy feeling came back. "Really? Why do you think that?"

"Since we've arrived, I keep catching her looking in my direction. Like she wants to come over and talk, but she's nervous or something."

Marceline shook her head. "I don't think that girl has ever felt nervous in her life."

"Maybe. I just wish I knew how to be as cool as you guys."

"It's simple. Just stop giving a shit."

Finn set his empty cup down between them. "I don't think that's really in my nature. I care about everything. Like cats and dogs being pet enough. Or whether or not people like me. Or like, how am I supposed to get Phoebe to realize I'm into her too?"

An impish grin spread over Marceline's face. "I think I can help you there."

"Really? I'll do anything!"

"Okay," Marceline lowered her voice, "but this is top secret knowledge. And you have to do exactly as I say."

He nodded eagerly.

"First of all, girls love to rock out. Go up to her and start dancing. Just keep dancing until she starts dancing with you."

"Uh…"

Marceline waved her hand. "I mean, if you don't want my help I gu-"

"No! I'll do it." Finn jumped to his feet. "I'll do it!" he yelled, running back into the house.

Seeing that Marceline was alone now, Keila pulled herself out of the water and came to sit where Finn had just been, water dripping from her body between the gaps in the chair. Marceline expected her to bring up Bonnibel, but she didn't say anything. It was oddly comforting to just be in Keila's presence, to know that if she needed to talk then she had someone there who was willing to listen. It was supposed to be Bonnie though. It was always supposed to be Bonnie.

Red as a tomato, Finn came back over to Marceline.

"I'm guessing that didn't go over too well?"

He shook his head. "She looked at me like I was mental and then some guy she was with shoved me off."

Marceline tried to keep a straight face. "Well, you know what that means."

Finn shook his head. "No. What?"

"You gotta…" She had to pause and breathe through her nose to keep from laughing. "You gotta sing to her. Shirtless."

Taken aback, his eyes went wide.

"You're in weightlifting, aren't you? Show off some of those muscles, lover boy. Girls love fit guys." Next to her, Keila's face was turning red, her body quaking with all the laughter she was trying to hold in.

Determined, Finn took off his shirt and dropped it at the foot of her lounge chair. "What should I sing?"

"Do you know that song, 'Paparazzi' by Lady Gaga?"

Finn looked ashamed of himself. "Every word."

"Sing that one. It's really…" Marceline forced a cough to keep herself from ruining the moment, "Sweet." Keila was practically in tears at that point.

He nodded, turning to take off again.

"Finn, sweetie?"

He paused.

Keila smiled. "It's best if you find the nearest table and stand on it to profess your love. It's a huge romantic gesture. I fell in love with Guy because he wasn't afraid to shout it from the rooftops. Quite literally."

When he disappeared into the house again the two of them exploded with laughter.

"Is he thick?" Keila asked, still cackling.

Marceline shook her head, tears streaming from her face. "He's just desperate." Keila gave her a look. "Okay, maybe he's a little touched in the head."

"I hope she appreciates how far he's willing to go just to tell her he likes her," Keila said.

Finn was back by Marceline's side much quicker than the last time, completely drenched in red liquid. She couldn't help but laugh to his face. "What happened to you?"

"Leslie threw her drink on me."

Keila snickered. "She's an awful bitch. Tell her to bugger off."

Crossing his arms, Finn sighed in defeat. "I don't think Phoebe's going to notice me like this."

"No, she definitely noticed you," Marceline said. Finn grumbled something that she couldn't quite make out.

Keila sat up in her chair. "Seriously, Finn. If you like her, just go up to her and tell her that. Be honest with her. If she doesn't like you back, then forget about her. No use getting hung up on someone who doesn't give you the time of day."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaving them by the pool for the third time.

"I just don't understand why he likes her," Keila said. "He's such a nice boy."

"I can kind of see it. He's a teenage boy and she's one of those smart, funny, super attractive girls." There was something in the way she said it that felt too real, and she knew her friend had to have heard it too.

Keila looked at her incredulously. "Please tell me you don't like Phoebe fucking Edan."

Marceline wanted to say no, but that confusing sick feeling she'd gotten earlier told her she would be lying.

"Marce."

Keila wasn't going to leave it alone, but thankfully Finn was on his way back. That would at least buy her some time to sort through how she felt. Marceline greeted him, feigning that everything was okay. She could feel Keila's eyes boring into her.

Finn pulled his shirt back on and slumped down next to her, putting his head down on his arms.

"You okay?" Marceline asked.

"She said that I'm 'not really her type,' whatever that means."

Keila winced. "Oooh. That's no good." She got out of her seat and squatted next to him, putting her arm around his shoulders. "Don't let it ruin your night, love. Come on. Let's go beat some prats at beer pong, yeah?"

That seemed to cheer him up, at least. Keila gathered her clothes and told Guy where she'd be before heading back inside with Finn.

Not wanting to be left by herself, Marceline finished off her beer and set the can on the ground next to Finn's cup. It was getting chilly outside anyways. She didn't know anyone, but that didn't mean she couldn't poke around.

Curious, Marceline wandered aimlessly through the house. Most of the party-goers kept to the kitchen and lounge, with the exception of a couple making out on top of the dining room table. Marceline left them to it, admiring the works of fine art on the walls. There weren't any family pictures, she realized. Just paintings.

She happened upon a study, or at least a room meant for it. A bay window looked out over the creek that ran behind the house, and the woods beyond that. In the darkness, it looked serene. An inviting sofa sat in front of the window, covered in more pillows than Marceline had ever even owned. In one corner sat a desk with a turntable atop it. What caught her attention were the shelves and shelves of vinyl records. There must have been thousands. She thumbed through some of them, awestruck by the impressive collection. A lot of her favourites were among them: Tigers Jaw, Lydia, Brand New, Pink Floyd, The Antlers.

"Do you like music?"

Marceline looked up. Phoebe stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a glass of wine in hand.

"I love music," Marceline said, beaming. "This collection is insane. How many of these are yours?"

"All of them." Setting her glass down on the desk, Phoebe sauntered over to where Marceline stood and flipped through the records. "Daddy doesn't listen to music. This is just the accumulation of all my tastes over the years."

"I never pegged you for much of a music fan," Marceline said.

Phoebe pulled a sleeve from the shelf, and walked over to the desk. "Don't presume to know anything about me, Marceline Abadeer."

"Sorry… It's just crazy to meet someone who listens to music as much as I do."

Gingerly handling the record, Phoebe placed the vinyl on the turntable and set the needle with practiced accuracy. A slow, rich melody played through the speaker. "Do you dance?" Phoebe asked.

"It's not really my thing."

"As in you don't like it or you don't know how?"

"I don't know how," Marceline admitted.

Taking Marceline's hands, Phoebe placed them on her hips. "So just follow my lead," she said, sliding her arms around Marceline's neck.

The music bounced off the walls, guiding their movements in an intimately slow sway. Closing her eyes, Phoebe nestled her head in the crook of Marceline's neck - her breath ghosting against Marceline's skin caused the taller girl to shudder.

Maybe it was the alcohol in her bloodstream, or the lack of space between them, but Marceline felt like this intense kind of warmth had taken over her body. This dangerous closeness was exactly the thing that she had been trying to avoid with everyone else in her life. Suddenly uncomfortable, she stopped and pulled away to tell Phoebe she was going to go check on her friends, but when their eyes met it slipped her mind. At such a close proximity, it was hard not to appreciate the blue of Phoebe's eyes. Marceline could feel the arms around her neck pulling her closer. Close enough that she thought she could taste the wine on the other girl's breath. Their noses brushed, lips parted, and then -

"Marce! Oh. Wow." Bongo averted his eyes, looking at the floor as if it were more interesting. "Sorry. Um. Finn needs you." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, still unable to face the two of them.

Marceline didn't chance a look at Phoebe as she left. She followed Bongo out of the room, part thankful for his intervention and part worried sick. Although if she was more worried about Finn or herself, she didn't want to know.

She could tell how bad it was from the retching sounds before they'd even reached the upstairs bathroom. Other party-goers had already cleared the hallway, intent on not ruining their good time. That distinct sound of splashing liquids was sure to make anyone queasy. Wincing, she opened the door.

Finn's head bobbed up and down in the toilet bowl. Kneeling behind him, Keila held him steady, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "I know, sweetie. Get it all out."

Marceline sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "Hey buddy. You alright?" She didn't know how to be comforting, having never before been on this side of any situation, but she was glad Keila was there. If anyone knew how to take care of people, it was her.

His blonde head nodded in reply.

"How much has he had to drink?" Marceline asked.

"Total? About four pints. Guy taught him to shotgun that last beer though and I think that's what did it. He told me he felt sick so I got him in here as quick as I could," Keila said. "Bongo, can you get me a washcloth and run it under some cold water? I think I saw a linen closet in the hallway."

"I think I got it all out," Finn said. Keila sat back, pulling his head into her lap. His shirt was plastered to his body with sweat. Taking the damp cloth from Bongo, she gently dabbed his face with it.

Marceline took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently, thankful he was in good care. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel a lot better than I did about ten minutes ago," Finn said, too worn out to open his eyes.

"You know, if I knew you were going to toss your cookies I wouldn't have agreed to come to this thing," Marceline said.

He mumbled something unintelligible and Keila shook his arm. "No, no. Don't sleep here. Let's get you to a bed, sweetie."

Bongo helped her stand him up. "Don't worry, Marce. I can take care of him," Keila said. She pulled most of Finn's weight, holding him up by the waist as his head lolled back and forth. Marceline watched them go, feeling bad that she'd gotten him into this.

She caught Bongo staring at her. He looked worried, but in her state of mind all Marceline could see was judgement. "What?!" She hadn't meant to yell at him.

"Nothing... I'm going to go see if they need anything," Bongo said quietly, leaving her in the loneliest place of all - with her thoughts.

By the time Marceline made it back downstairs, the party had died down. Nearly everyone had already left, with the exception of a few people in the lounge talking quietly. She had some choice words for Guy, but when she found him he was passed out shirtless on the floor with his trousers half pulled off. In one hand, he still clutched a half-empty beer bottle. In his other arm he tenderly held an eggplant, nestled close to him like a lover. Any other time, Marceline would have laughed at that, but she wasn't in the mood. "Finn didn't deserve that. He's a great kid," she told the sleeping body, still determined to get it off her chest. It wasn't as satisfying as she'd hoped, so she locked away the rest of her words for when Guy could face her.

A quick search turned up the first floor guest room that Keila had taken Finn to. Bongo lay curled up on the floor next to the bed with a pillow and a thin blanket, already asleep. Wrapped tight in a soft duvet, Finn slept on the bed, his head resting on Keila's arm. She played with his hair as he slept.

"At least he got to sleep with one girl tonight," Marceline said, coming to sit down next to Keila.

"That's not funny, Marce. He looks twelve."

"And your boyfriend acts twelve."

Keila turned to look at her. "I think it's a new kind of low when you call someone immature."

"Probably." Marceline shrugged. "How is he?"

"I gave him some ginger ale earlier, so he should be good. He just needs to sleep it off."

"Thanks for taking care of him."

"I don't mind. He's actually a cool dude." Keila yawned. "I'm about to fall asleep though. Goodnight, Mar-mar."

"Goodnight, Kiki." She waited until Keila was lightly snoring to get up.

Closing the door quietly, Marceline went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She discovered Phoebe sipping at a mug of tea, leaning against the counter. At some point she'd changed out of her day clothes and into a baggy cashmere sweater and boyshorts. It seemed so out of character for her that it felt more like a dirty secret than pyjamas. The awkward feeling of Bongo walking in on… whatever they were about to do… resurfaced. Not knowing what to say, Marceline walked over to the sink and grabbed a plastic cup, filling it with water from the tap.

"Is Finn okay?" Phoebe asked, apparently immune to uncomfortable moments.

"Yeah, he fell asleep. It is okay if we crash here tonight, right? I don't really want to wake him."

"It is." Her now empty mug clinked as she set it down on the marble counter. "Are you tired?"

"I'm wide awake," Marceline said, drinking her water.

"I was thinking of watching a film before bed. Care to join me?"

"That sounds great," Marceline said, despite her better judgement.

Taking her hand, Phoebe lead her through the maze of passed out teenagers and up the stairs to the room at the far end of the hall. Marceline kept telling herself she was going to regret this, kept telling herself to turn back now, but she found that no matter how hard she tried she could not stop her feet from moving forward.

"You're welcome to lay down," Phoebe said, closing the door behind her. She left Marceline alone in her room, disappearing into the ensuite shower room.

Marceline could have ran then. In fact, she probably should have. Instead, she kicked her shoes off and crawled into the small bed. She'd never felt more physically relaxed in her life; Phoebe's bed felt like collapsing into a firm cloud. For a moment, she forgot about everything else and just enjoyed the comfort. Looking around, she realized that until now she'd never known anyone her age to decorate their room. It had that Phoebe kind of sophistication to it that made you feel inferior somehow, almost intimidated. Marceline wondered if there was anything at all about the girl that wasn't posh in some way.

The light from under the door to the shower room turned off, reminding Marceline that she was essentially laying in a stranger's bed. Phoebe returned, lighting the candles in the wall sconces on either side of the bedroom door. She picked her laptop up off the bureau, and handed it to Marceline, crawling over her into the bed. Marceline wasn't sure if the small confinement was just a clever ruse to force them closer together or not, but there was no denying that it had worked. Marceline balanced the computer on her lap so they both could see, unsure of where else to set it. Phoebe logged in and opened her browser to scan for a film they could watch.

"Do you have a preference?" Phoebe asked.

Marceline wasn't even sure she could concentrate on a film right now. "Just pick your favourite."

Phoebe typed in the name of a film that Marceline had seen before, and it was actually one she really liked. The acting was phenomenal, which was probably what had attracted Phoebe, and Marceline loved the whimsical soundtrack. After hitting the play button, Phoebe dropped her hand, letting it fall onto Marceline's stomach. The unexpected physical contact made her breathing hitch.

Phoebe scooted even closer in her tiny bed, resting her head on Marceline's chest. "Can you see?"

"Mmhmm." Marceline didn't trust her voice not to betray her right now, although she knew that Phoebe could feel how hard her heart was pounding. There was no way to hide the effect she had on Marceline.

They watched as the cheerful protagonist discovered hidden treasures and made friends with her intriguing neighbours.

Phoebe traced circles with the tip of her finger up and down Marceline's stomach, drawing imaginary images that made her thoughts turn into static. Marceline couldn't help how badly she was twitching under the touch; her breathing became unsteady.

Phoebe's hand stopped moving and she sat up on her elbow, her face mere inches away from Marceline's. "Am I tickling you?"

"No," Marceline said, her voice coming out hoarse.

"Are you sure?" Phoebe's eyes focused on her lips.

The split second that ensued felt like a lifetime, and yet even with an eternity to think, Marceline wasn't sure she could have stopped herself.

Her hands tangled in silky red hair, pulling the other girl closer. As soon as their lips met, it was like this rush of hunger had consumed them whole. They bumped noses, and teeth, and heads with energetic fervour. Both of them desperate to be close - to feel something, or just each other. Marceline wasn't sure where the laptop had gone - probably pushed into the floor - but suddenly Phoebe was straddling her hips, her hands holding Marceline's down above her head.

Had they been watching the film still, they'd be at the part where the protagonist plays cupid for everyone but herself - unaware that she would soon meet her eccentric love interest.

Bare skin slid against bare skin and quiet, muffled sounds turned into choked gasps for air.

At this point in the film, the now vengeful protagonist sneaks into the mean shopkeeper's house to play less than innocent pranks on his daily life.

Phoebe's nails raked fervidly against Marceline's shoulder blades, her lips locked onto the pulse point in her neck in an attempt to cloak her ecstatic cries.

The quirky love interest and the adventurous female lead embark on a quest to discover the mystery behind a strange man that seems to pop up everywhere.

With their limbs tangled together, the two of them lay panting quietly. Phoebe traced Marceline's features with her fingertip, watching the older girl in the dim candlelight. She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of Marceline's mouth.

The two main characters get together to live happily ever after, the screen fades to black, and the credits roll.

Marceline waited for the gentle rise and fall of Phoebe's chest before untangling herself from the girl and getting dressed. She tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs to the guest room she'd last seen her friends in. Aware that she probably looked a right mess, she left the light off.

"Keila," she whispered, shaking her friend's shoulder until she received an agitated groan in return.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Keila looked at Marceline, then at the dimly glowing clock by the bedside. "It's four in the fucking morning. What the hell is wrong with you, Marceline?"

"I'm leaving."

Anything harsh in Keila's voice vanished. She sat up, alarmed. "What? Why?"

"I have to leave. Right now."

"Okay. Okay. Do you need to talk?"

Marceline shook her head. "No. Just make sure you get Finn home in the morning."

"Of course."

Marceline glanced at the boy. "Promise me you won't let Guy push him around."

"Oka-"

"Promise me, Keila."

"I promise."

Keila opened her arms for a hug and she obliged. Keila always gave the best hugs. They were safe and warm. Almost motherly.

"See you later, yeah? Love you."

"Bye," Marceline said as she headed for the door.

In the cold darkness she felt numb and alone, devoid of anything resembling a person. Her truck gunned across the dead streets, following the familiar twists and turns to the only place she knew she could go.

Marceline wasn't sure when she'd started crying, but the tears streaming down her cheeks felt like searing hot coals in contrast to her frozen skin. She was sobbing, and she couldn't fathom an explanation for why. She lived in this shell of a body that did things she knew she would hate herself for. Slowing down outside the neighbourhood, she parked her truck in front of the familiar house on the outskirts of town and sat for a moment. The house hadn't changed since she saw it last, aside from the yellow paint beginning to peel and the various shingles missing from the roof. She closed the door to her truck as quietly as she could, considerate of the few neighbours that lived in this area.

Walking up the stone pathway to the front door, every step felt like a milestone that she was reluctant to reach. Everything in her head was fighting for her to stop, screaming that she was making a big mistake, but she pushed on, ignoring her voice of reason. She always did.

There were still lights on in the house, which meant that someone was awake. Marceline rapped the door with a cold, trembling hand. She didn't have to wait long before she could hear the footsteps coming down from upstairs. The door swung open, flooding the outside with light.

"Hey Ash. Can I stay here tonight?"