The first night was… strange to say the least.

Bubblegum woke every few hours, tossing and turning in an attempt to find any sort of comfortable position whatsoever on the floor. She supposed it could have been worse; it was carpeted, and the room was warm. But the carpet was too thin to provide any sort of cushion, and Bubblegum would have sworn she felt a chilled breeze dart through the room every so often, despite the fact that all the windows were closed.

Then there was the fact that everything smelled like Marceline.

It made sense, what with it being her house and all. But there was something about the silence and the darkness and the stillness of the night that made everything feel sharper. More intense. That made goosebumps sprout on her arms and heat crawl up her neck as Marcy's scent wrapped around her.

It shouldn't have been a big deal, it wasn't a big deal. Bubblegum had spent too many nights here to count—nights of laughter and excitement and friendship. Nights spent laying outside under the dome of the enormous cavern, listening for the flutter and the rustle of the bats that made this place their home, shivering in the damp air but content to stay because Marceline's arm was touching hers. Nights that could be summed up by the words the two of them used to whisper, giddy and enraptured, huddled under sloppy blanket forts in the living room while Bubblegum could still pretend it would last.

But that was a long time ago.

Now this place felt empty, and Marceline felt so very far away even though Bubblegum knew she was just upstairs. Bubblegum turned and squeezed the pillow over her ears, trying to ignore the echoes of memory bouncing around the room and focus on breathing. She was no good to Marcy without sleep. She needed to be as clearheaded as possible if she was going to figure this out. Go to sleep, she told herself. Go to sleep. She repeated it over and over like a mantra until eventually she could detect the faintest bit of light peeking through the window: the sun rising beyond the cave.

Bubblegum sighed and rubbed at her bloodshot eyes. This was fine. She was no stranger to sleepless nights.

She got up and helped herself to whatever she could find in Marceline's fridge—which, unfortunately for her growling stomach, wasn't much. Some of it wasn't even food. Bubblegum sorted through red bouncy balls, lipstick, even a sharp-heeled shoe, before finally finding a bag of strawberries shoved into the farthest reaches of the fridge.

She looked them over carefully, making sure they were still good before popping one into her mouth. Her stomach settled and Bubblegum let out a small sigh. She never quite knew why, but Marceline was incredibly talented at picking out the best fruit, as long as it was red. She always had the ripest raspberries, the crispest apples. Perhaps it had something to do with the quality of the red, or Marceline's vampire vision. Bubblegum didn't care either way. These strawberries were divine.

Bubblegum bit into the last strawberry before tossing the box in the trash and cracking her knuckles. It was time to get busy.

She went to unload her backpack, which was full of her Travel Science Kit, but she hesitated. She didn't want to take up the entire living room, not when Marceline might want to spend time in there. Bubblegum was going to need privacy, not to mention more space to conduct her trials and experiments. Fortunately, she knew the best place for it. Unfortunately, it was Marceline's favorite place in the entire house.

Bubblegum told herself that Marceline would understand, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading upstairs. Of course Marceline would understand, she probably wouldn't even remember her music room. The thought of Marceline not remembering her own music was heartbreaking, but Bubblegum pushed through the pang of sadness and continued to the third door on the left.

It really was the best place for her equipment, or it would be once she cleaned it up a bit. Sheet music littered the floor, along with stray guitar picks and strings. Instruments were in disarray, scattered throughout the room like land mines, so obstruent that it almost seemed intentional, though Bubblegum knew that Marceline was the only one who ever came in here. A deep black curtain hung over the window, odd considering what little light came from outside anyway. Bubblegum ran her hand along the wall, which was crowded with unfinished lyrics written in black marker with Marceline's chaotic handwriting. And despite the circumstances, Bubblegum was excited to see this room. She had only been inside a couple of times, with Marceline's hesitant permission and strict supervision. It was kind of thrilling to be able to glimpse a piece of Marceline's heart like this, so explicit and wide open.

She began moving Marceline's things out of the way, careful to be as quiet as possible. She shoved the instruments into a pile in the corner—something the old Marceline probably would have had a heart attack over—then got busy picking up the scattered papers. Bubblegum had half a mind to march back to the Candy Kingdom and grab a few dozen file cabinets for all this music, reorganize the room to her own standards. She would never do that, of course. This was Marceline's headspace. Bubblegum felt bad enough disrupting it like she was, but she needed to get started on a cure, and fast. There was no telling if Marceline's amnesia was even actually curable, but the longer she waited the harder it would be to find out.

Something clattered to the ground from the pile of music and trash Bubblegum had cradled in her arms. Curious, she dropped the armful in a heap in the other corner then bent to see what had fallen. It was a cassette tape, the kind Marceline best liked to record her music on. Bubblegum sucked in a quick breath of air when she saw the title, scrawled in black marker on the front of the tape: 'to the girl with the candy eyes.'

She shouldn't listen to it. She should throw it in the corner with the rest of Marceline's stuff and ignore it and pretend she had never seen it and she should let it go. She told herself all of this even while she was pulling a worn stereo from the pile she had made, sliding the tape into the deck, and pushing play.

The tape didn't start for a long, long moment. Bubblegum slumped to a seated position and balled her hands into fists, anxiously anticipating the first strum of the guitar or worse, finding out that there wasn't actually anything on the tape and being left to ache and wonder what that title meant for the rest of her long life. But then it began, a slow, somber melody plucked with the expert ease of someone who played sad music often, and Bubblegum leaned forward to listen.

'To the girl with the pink candy eyes

Candied heart and candied mind

I want to hold her hand so bad

But I'm not made of sugar so I just stand back

Won't even look me in the eyes anymore

When that's all I'm asking her for

I don't want the moon I'm just asking for you

To hold my hand

To drop the mask

Lose your disguise

But your heart has crystalized

The girl with the pink candy eyes'

Bubblegum pushed pause, not wanting to hear anymore, one hand covering her mouth as if to better hold in the cry of grief she was barely keeping at bay.

Did Marceline really think…

Bubblegum suddenly felt claustrophobic. She leaped off the floor and ran for the door, pulling it open and shutting it behind her as quickly as she could, leaning against the frame with shuddering breaths in the darkened hallway.

Marceline really thought Bubblegum was that bad? It was enough to feel like Marceline blamed her for the breakup, but it was so much worse to have to hear it out loud like that, cut with the raw and brutal emotion of Marceline's voice. It didn't help that she was such a brilliant musician, either.

But Marceline really thought Bubblegum didn't care? Sure, she initiated the breakup. But that was for the good of her people, not for lack of feelings. It was a sacrifice on her part, too. And Sure, Bubblegum could barely make time for her these days, but that was only because she was so busy doing what she loved, caring for and ruling over the Candy Kingdom… and sure, all they really did anymore was fight…

"Hey Bonnie," Marceline appeared suddenly from the bend in the hall, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I am so ready for some breakfast. There's a strawberry smoothie that's calling my na—oof."

Marceline was knocked back by the force of Bubblegum's hug. Surprised and confused, she didn't miss a beat before hugging her back and laughing. "Woah, Bons! Did you have nightmares or something?" Marceline's voice turned softer when she felt the shudder of Bubblegum's tears. "Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Came Bubblegum's voice, muffled by Marceline's nightgown. "I'm just sorry."

"For what?"

"For not being a better friend."

Marceline held her fractionally tighter, and it was all Bubblegum could do to stop from melting at that familiar scent and that simple, naïve embrace. It wouldn't be fair to either of them if Bubblegum lost her composure now. So they stood there a few minutes too long, lingering in the dim light of the hall, and Bubblegum held Marceline hard, desperately, as if she could make up for years and years of lost time.

"Your fridge is full of weird stuff, Marcy," she said against her shoulder.