Chapter 35 - Bonnie (Originally Published: 1 April 2016)
"Do you ever think about having a family with me? Not now, but in the future."
Bonnie lowered her hand, her ears straining to hear the conversation happening on the other side of the door. She'd never meant to eavesdrop, but interrupting now seemed to be a bad idea. She and Keila had a busy schedule today, and if they were going to be on time they'd have to start getting ready now. It wouldn't be wrong of me to wait until they were done talking to knock, would it?
"What? Like kids and all that?"
Bonnie had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to expose her. She could never imagine Guy as a father. As far as she knew, Keila was the only thing keeping him together.
"Yeah, like kids. You already do so well with my siblings. I've always wanted a little boy, but if we have a girl we could name her after your mum." Keila sounded excited about the idea. Bonnie could not imagine the same exhilaration coming from Guy.
The distinct squeak of bedsprings shifting under weight distribution brought a flush to her cheeks. Were they going to make a baby now?! Bonnie considered knocking right away, before things got weird, but she heard Guy speak again and her illusion of what was going on behind the door was shattered.
"I don't think that's a good idea. You know how Dad is… and Mum. I wouldn't want any more kids to be cursed with my bloodline. 'Sides, I don't think I'd make a great dad."
Bonnie felt guilty for the mental remark she'd made earlier… but what was that about Professor Carson? He was a strange person, to be sure, and only seemed to get stranger by the day, but that wasn't anything to be ashamed of. This 'cursed Carson bloodline' seemed like a ridiculous excuse to her, but it was not her place to judge. Tired of waiting, she knocked on Guy's bedroom door with the back of her knuckles. "Bongo's made breakfast. We should probably get going soon as well if we want to see Marceline before it gets late."
The door swung inwards soon after, finding Bonnie face to face with Guy. Judging by the look on his face, she thought that he knew she'd been listening in on their conversation. Even if he hadn't realised she was there, his contemptuous scowl wasn't a big surprise - she didn't think he liked her with Bongo, or really at all, for that matter. As she'd come to know Guy, she found him to be the type of person whose emotions flopped between content and grumpy at an alarming rate, without a middle ground between the two. Lately he'd become more and more frustrating to be around, and even when he was happy it was difficult to tell.
"Good morning, Guy." She offered a sweet smile, hoping to get on his good side for once.
"Yeah, hi," he grumbled, walking past her to the kitchen.
Well, that went according to plan. Bonnie exhaled deeply and stepped into his room. It reeked of typical boy smell, mixed in with the somewhat pleasant undertones of a leathery cologne. The combination made for a rough sort of atmosphere, she thought. Bongo gave off a much more welcoming aroma, and she had to wonder - bias aside - if Keila found comfort in the way her boyfriend smelled.
"Sorry about him," Keila said. "He woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." She didn't seem to care that the blankets covering her bare form had slipped below presentable levels.
"It's quite all right. I'm used to it by now." Bonnie shifted from foot to foot, trying not to give in to the sudden urge to flee the scene. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for somewhere else - anywhere else - to focus on. Thankfully, just above the bed was a football poster. Guy had the same favourite team as Marceline, though that was hardly a surprise with the fanbase's rowdy reputation. "We should really head out as soon as we've finished eating," she said, staring intently at the wall just above her friend's head. She had to admire the confidence it took for Keila to expose herself so openly, but she worried nonetheless about making the other girl feel as uncomfortable as she did.
Keila hummed in agreement before throwing the covers off of her. In the corner of her eye, Bonnie could see the other girl gathering her fallen articles of clothing and slipping them back on. She tried to ignore the dryness in her throat, thankful for the brief flashes of skin in the corner of her eye growing less frequent. "Mind if we stop by my house on the way back so I can shower, and change, and whatnot?" Keila asked. Now that she was more fully clothed, it felt safe to look at her again. "You're blushing, Bon."
She cleared her throat. "I don't mind stopping by." Was she really blushing? "Breakfast is ready," she said again and, now certain her face was on fire, left Keila to find her seat in the kitchen. It took a bit of effort not to be too hasty on her trek back. She just hoped that her cheeks would become less pink by the time she sat down with the boys.
Bongo and Guy had already begun eating before she arrived. There were plates piled with breakfast foods of all kinds, and if it had not been for the two boys ravenously devouring everything in sight, she would have been concerned that much of it would go to waste.
Bonnie kissed her boyfriend on the forehead and thanked him for cooking such a pleasant-looking meal for them. She picked up a piece of fried bread and took a small, sheepish bite out of it. Her thoughts were far too scrambled to allow for an appetite today; with the emotional burden of everything happening around her—Phoebe's collapse and hospitalisation, her feelings for Marceline coming to light, juggling school and her relationship with Bongo—she'd found it hard to enjoy the little things, like the butter perfectly glistening on the browned slice of bread in her hand.
Everything was spiralling out of control, and even the better things seemed to come with their own set of problems; her relationship, for example.
When Bonnie and Bongo were together, she was happy. Or at least, what she thought happy was. The feeling wasn't as intense as when they'd first started seeing each other, and whether that was due to their honeymoon period ending or her feelings for another person surfacing, she couldn't be sure. Except, her inner voice chided her, that wasn't entirely true. She nibbled at the piece of bread, her body automatically feigning normality while her mind was lost at sea.
The truth was that her feelings for Marceline were growing far beyond what she felt for her boyfriend, and her hasty decision to be friends again was only making things worse. Bonnie was just thankful that they'd only seen each other at school so far. Seeing Marceline and Phoebe together between classes already made her sick to her stomach, and Bonnie could only imagine how terribly guilty or hurt she would feel if she were to spend time alone with her friend.
Phoebe knew, as well. No words had been exchanged on the matter, but she had to suspect something. Whenever she managed to catch Bonnie looking in their direction, she would kiss or touch or caress Marceline, and then glare back at Bonnie as if to say 'Marceline is mine. Stay away from her.' The bitter acknowledgement was just another reminder of how wrong her feelings were.
Bonnie hadn't helped the situation much either. She chewed the inside of her cheek, scolding herself as she reflected on how terrible and illogical her decision making processes had become. At first, she'd planned to wait it out over holiday break. Two whole weeks away from the tempestuous siren that was Marceline. If her feelings hadn't managed to diminish in any way by the time they reconnected after the break, she would have had to tell the other girl that their friendship could no longer continue. Instead, she'd acted rashly and made a series of unfortunate decisions. The first of these was rushing her relationship with Bongo. As much as she cared for him, and even enjoyed being with him, the harder she flung herself into his strong embrace the more she found herself wishing that it was Marceline's slender arms instead. No matter what she tried, it seemed that desperately trying to snuff out her forbidden emotions only made them stronger.
Her second grave mistake was offering to drive Keila around today while Bongo kept Guy distracted. In truth, she didn't care about the surprise birthday party they were throwing tonight, she'd only wanted to see Marceline. From the silence that settled over them when Bongo showed her any amount of affection, she could tell that Keila had seen right through her illusion of charity. She felt as though she was watching herself from behind her own eyes, making choices that she would later regret, but lacking the willpower to stop herself.
Bonnie's thoughts were interrupted when her boyfriend tapped her arm to offer a forkful of food for her to try. She smiled weakly and ate whatever it was. At the moment, her taste buds were numb to anything other than the bile rising in the back of her throat, and his small, caring action made her feel truly abhorrent.
Tears pricked her eyes like sharp needles. How could she do this to Bongo? He was the sweetest boy she'd ever met. No one else had ever brought her lunch at school, or written silly songs to cheer her up (despite being a terrible singer). No one had ever tried to asses her own feelings and thoughts before reacting with their own when they disagreed, and more importantly - no one else had ever treated her with the same kind of love and respect that he did. If only she could turn off this valve that spouted fantasies of her childhood friend, if she could just find it in her to make responsible sacrifices. She and Marceline could never be. If only she could stop this.
A chair clattered to the floor, scaring her out of her own thoughts. "Are you okay?!" Bongo asked, proving once again that he was too perfect for her. His big, delicate hands touched her face, wiping away tears that she hadn't realised she'd let go of.
"I'm okay." She smiled weakly. "Just tired."
Pale blue eyes darted back and forth over every detail in her face, frenzied and worried. She could only imagine the kinds of fearful thoughts going through his head right now. Had someone hurt her? Did she suddenly feel very ill? Were there problems at home? None of them would be about the painful guilt that took hold of her insides and twisted them into monstrous shapes that reflected how ugly she felt.
"I love you," she whispered. The concession came unbidden, slithering out of her mouth and leaving nothing but empty feelings in its wake. Bonnie could sense the warmth leaving her body. Her last-ditch effort at saving herself from a self-imposed hell had fallen short. Everything went numb.
Bongo's bright smile could not even thaw her frozen veins. "I love you too, Bonnie. I'm going to miss you a lot today, for sure."
"I'll miss you too, sweetheart." She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. This will pass, she told herself. No matter what happens, I'm going to be better. I'm going to be the girl he deserves. No more feeling sorry for myself. No more letting Marceline consume my thoughts. Bongo loves me. She doesn't.
He deepened the embrace in the same clumsy, awkward way he'd done when she'd first kissed him in November.
It's only an infatuation. These feelings will pass. Everything will go back to normal soon. Bonnie kicked herself for allowing something so small to threaten her happiness with this one special boy. No one else was as caring and as kind as Bongo Roland… if her emotions were in a pitiful state now, it just meant that she had to try harder.
Besides, she thought, bitterly, it's not like Marceline and I could ever be together. She's just my friend. That's all she's ever been. That's all she'll ever be.
Simon Petrikov had hardly changed at all, and as he stared back at her, Bonnie wondered if she was still the same girl he remembered from so many years before.
"I thought you were supposed to be out of town for longer," Keila said from behind the refrigerator door. If Bonnie hadn't seen her scarf down such a hefty breakfast only hours before, she would have thought that she hadn't eaten at all.
The ageing man looked over his shoulder at the head of black hair peeking over the open door. "I couldn't very well miss Phoebe's performance, could I?" His voice softened. "It's such a shame, what happened."
Keila stopped rummaging through the contents of his kitchen and closed the door, a plate of plastic-wrapped leftovers in one hand. "How's Marce taking it?"
"Not well." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tight. After a long moment of reflection, he let out a small sigh and rubbed his fingers back and forth over his brow in a soothing manner. "I don't believe I've ever seen Marceline so distraught over anything. She seems to believe that she could have stopped it, but she won't say much else. Survivor's guilt, no doubt."
Keila grabbed a fork from the utensils drawer and sat down in the empty seat at the kitchen table. "I haven't heard from her at all. I don't think anyone really has… Have you heard anything else about Phoebe?"
Simon glanced over to where Bonnie was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Bonnibel, dear, you're welcome to treat yourself to anything. Make yourself at home," he said, then turned to Keila. "She's in a rehabilitation centre - her choice. I believe they're only keeping her for a week so that she can spend Christmas with her family, but once she gets out she's going to be under heavy surveillance. Phoebe will be seeing a therapist as well, and despite her own wishes, they're having to keep her on some medicinal supplements of some sort until the other drugs in her system wear off." He frowned. "Her father explained all of this to me, and to be frank, I can understand how she could be driven to addiction. Even during such a heart-breaking situation, he was all business. I didn't sense a warm bone in his body. Politicians," he scoffed.
Bonnie looked at her hands in her lap, hoping to hide the shame that she felt. It suddenly seemed so wrong to hate Phoebe as much as she did, but that was perhaps only due to circumstance. She had to keep telling herself that even if Phoebe went through tough times of her own, she was still Phoebe.
"Marceline… doesn't do anything like that… does she?" Simon asked, his voice laden with concern.
Keila shrugged. "I think Marce is mostly over her delinquent phase now that Ash is out of the picture." She picked up her plate, having had a change of heart on where to sit. "I'm going to go see how she's doing. Come on, Bonnie."
She followed Keila through the familiar house. Every step towards the room at the far end of the hall made her heart thump louder in her ears. This was a courtesy visit - Marceline had been through enough recently, and she just needed a friend - but Bonnie still had to keep reminding herself that it was just that. She kept having to heavily cement the thought in her mind that she and Marceline could only ever be friends, and even though she knew that their relationship could only possibly end in ruin, the affirmation fell flat. The truth was that she could really see herself getting lost in those puppy-like brown eyes - staring for a moment that transposed a lifetime.
She sighed. Things were so much more simple when they were kids. At least then, Bonnie could entertain the thought that she didn't need a man in her life. Having a boyfriend had only ever actually concerned her after her best friend moved away. Before then, it was Bonnie and Marcy on top of the world. Together, always.
The sound of Keila's fist rapping on the wood echoed in the hollow of Bonnie's mind, whisking away the misty fog of past memories. "Marce? Get your hands out of your knickers! We're coming in," Keila shouted cheerfully into the door. The look on her face fell short of the energy in her voice. She didn't really expect this to turn out well. To be fair, neither did Bonnie. "Marce?" Keila said again, before opening the door.
It took Bonnie a moment to notice that Marceline was in the room at all. The room she had once kept relatively tidied was in more chaos than she could have ever imagined. Knowing the regular amount of mess Marceline used to live in, the contrast was clear to Bonnie's mind. Everything- Everything that belonged to her had been thrown onto the floor in what appeared to be a fit of rage. Clothes, board games, and assorted other belongings were strewn about every available surface - flat or otherwise. Half-empty cups lurked all around the room, like strange punctuation marks to emphasise the silent screams written in the chaos.
Bonnie's eyes drifted further around the room. The blanket that had once covered the bed now lay mostly on the floor, partially hidden under an assortment of guitar tools. On the bed, the one relatively unscathed flat surface of the room, sat a pile of coats and long-sleeved shirts. She thought for a second that she'd caught the heap of fabric moving—ever so slightly—and after a more scrupulous examination, she felt the light leave her eyes. Hidden under the pile of questionable laundry, almost imperceptible, was Marceline.
She knew she would not be ready for this, but seeing her friend - the strongest person she knew - in such a sorry state tore Bonnie's heart to pieces. When Marceline's father died, she had at least retained the energy to get out of bed each day. However, the undisturbed state of the mess on her floor spoke volumes. There was no path cleared out for a walkway, and likely, it hadn't been needed.
Bonnie felt hopeless in terms of cheering her friend up. She knew that Keila felt it as well - the heavy weight settling on her shoulders as she too was burdened with the sadness that Marceline felt, and the nauseating knowledge that it was only a small portion of what was crushing the girl their friend loved. Although, there was another, more selfish emotion, that Bonnie carried all her own. It manifested itself in the sickening twist of her gut, her guilty conscious burdened with an angry self-perception. In Bonnie's eyes, Marceline was more hurt by her girlfriend's drug addiction than by her own father's death. It made her angry. The whole idea was unfair and nonsensical, but most of all… it made her jealous. She knew, of course, that it was absurd to feel resentful towards Phoebe in this situation. Bonnie just wanted Marceline to feel that way about her.
"Oh, Mar-mar." Keila set her plate of food on top of Marceline's guitar amp, abandoning it in lieu of more pressing matters. Her awkward unbalanced dance across the room, in the small footholds where the floor was still visible, really put into perspective how unkempt the room really was. Bonnie was certain that she would have been able to expertly navigate the crowded floors of yore, but even this wreck put up a hassle. "You're a proper mess, sweetheart," Keila said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. She kicked her shoes off and curled up behind the other girl, wrapping her arm around Marceline's midsection.
"Kiki," the girl under the poor excuse for a cover mumbled. Her voice was weak, and so full of pain. Bonnie could practically hear the hours of tears shed. It only made her feel more guilty for the envious thoughts she kept locked in the back of her mind.
"Have you been eating?" Keila asked, receiving a negative grunt in return. She reached her hand out, grasping as if to pull Bonnie closer by some kind of invisible string. It was clear to her what Keila wanted of her; she just didn't want to do it. Helping her friend was her top priority, of course, but being so close to her would only encourage the emotional taboo she was trying so hard to overcome. In the end, the only thing that convinced her to step out of her shoes and crawl across the two other girls was the feeble whine that escaped Marceline. If responsibility ever demanded sacrifice, it was now.
Seeing the shell of a person hidden under the camouflage of dirty clothes made Bonnie's stomach drop out of her body. Her oldest friend was physically there, just as she remembered her despite the messy hair and her sunken, sleep-deprived eyes, but the person behind those familiar features simply wasn't Marceline. It was someone else, someone who looked and smelled the same. This couldn't be the girl she'd grown up with. The imposter broke into tears upon seeing the walls of support on either side of her. It was so unlike Marceline to weep like this, and Bonnie even stubbornly refused to believe that it was her. For a moment, she was comforting a total stranger, an unknown entity who still desperately needed her help, but as her hand lifted up to brush away tears, Bonnie spotted something. Those eyes. Brown and full of pain, they glanced straight through her disbelieving façade and brushed against something more internal. The gaze they held on her was brief, barely a blink, but it held a small glimmer of a young Marceline within it. Little Marcy with her scraped knees and wet eyes, looking to Bonnie for comfort.
Bonnie's hand shakily continued its journey to brush the tears away, desperately hoping to uncover the person underneath them. Marceline was in there somewhere. Behind the fragile exterior, Bonnie knew that it couldn't have been anyone else.
Bonnie felt tears of her own coming to the surface. She cursed them with violent, unintelligible swears in the back of her mind. This year was her last in high school; several months earlier, she'd been buzzing with excitement to put in her applications for university and finally get out of the little town she'd long ago lost interest in. This was supposed to be her best year yet, but it'd been spent wallowing in thick tears and crushed by fretful friendships. It was never meant to be this way.
She scooted closer, gingerly pulling Marceline's head into her chest so that she could bury her face in the half-shaven head of hair she'd thought so fondly of lately. Marceline's arms wrapped around her, reflexively, and though it was a comfort she had known so well in the past, that innocent sense of security had changed somehow. In the embrace she'd longed so dearly for, she felt like a caged animal - trapped in a world that was not meant for her.
It all started coming down around her - the stress of seeing her oldest friend in pain, the begrudging envy of wanting something she could never have, the fear of the unimaginable doom that awaited her once she was released from Marceline's arms, even the selfish desire for a pleasant final school year - and Bonnie finally broke.