Chapter Thirteen
Gumball's P.O.V.
"Dude, are you okay?" I heard Marshall say from behind me.
"No…" I answered, my voice muffled from the pillow and thick from crying. "Leave me alone to die in at least semi-peace, Marshall."
"What happened, dude? You look like you're about to explode." He sat on the bed next to me, patting my shoulder.
I moaned in quiet agony. "Marceline and I had a fight, and I don't even really know what set her off, and she took off, and now I can't stop freaking crying. I've tried everything I can think of."
"Lemon juice in the corners of your eyes?" He suggested. (Do NOT try Marshall's suggestions at home, because 99% of the time, they only apply to Candy People)
"Good idea, but I already tried that." I sniffled.
He thought for a minute. "Sit up."
"Okay…" I did.
"I apologise for this now, but it's the only thing I can think of." He said quickly, before slapping me across the face with a resounding, slightly squishy, smack!
I reeled for a moment, then regained what little of my composure I had left. I sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, and Marshall floated on his back, hovering slightly above the blanket.
"Isn't this normally where you say, 'I told you so'? With a smug expression, of course." I added.
"Nah. She's not a heartbreaker. She's only had one boyfreind, which she already pointed out, and she broke up with him because he was an evil jerk, even by my standards."
"What'd he do?"
"Sold her teddy bear. The one she had since before she met us." He muttered.
"Before she met you? What on earth do you mean?" I asked incredulously.
"Bubba," He started, looking me dead in the eye, "Marceline isn't really my sister."