A/N: Rest assured, I haven't forgotten about this story. Whether I've said this before or not, it bears mentioning that I have been going through an incredibly rough time in my life. I know that it has become commonplace for me to go long periods between uploads, but it is not for lack of trying. Around when I first began re-uploading this story, I had become the full-time caretaker for someone I love tremendously. Posting this story and completing it was a goal that I had set in my off time. For me, the burnout I've struggled with from those many years ago when I first wrote Be Nice to Me has always felt like the one obstacle preventing me from moving forward with my creative endeavours. And I wanted to move past them—write a book or develop a video game or something—while that person I love so much was here to see what I could do with this one life of mine. She was the first person to ever believe in me and my writing, and I wanted to show her that that faith had not been misplaced.

However, she has recently passed away. I've been struggling to cope with that in the last few months, as well as moving quite far away with a very small and frankly inadequate support network. I'm not one to talk so openly, as I've learned to keep my personal affairs close to the heart. Though, like I said, it bears mentioning. There are enough of you who message me directly or leave reviews wondering if and when the story will continue that I feel bad not mentioning anything at all. So, please be patient. I'm doing my best with the limited time and motivation that I have.

Chapter 40 - Phoebe (Originally Published: 27 May 2016)

Phoebe lifted her hand to knock on the door to her room, hesitating for only a moment while she tried to hide her own pain. "Marceline? Do you mind if I come in?"

No answer.

The silence was deafening; it crushed her under the weight of her own nerves. She shut her eyes, allowing the darkness to swallow her whole in its calming grasp. I should have known better than to let them be alone together. I should have known. I should have… No. Stop doing this to yourself, Phoebe. She needs you.

Phoebe gripped the doorknob. The cold metal sent shots through her fingers, anaesthetising her neurons and separating her from herself. She could do this, she'd done it a million times before—set her own emotions to the side, numb her exterior, stand up straight. She was an Edan: an emotionless personification of de rigueur. If she couldn't keep her composure through this unforgiving ordeal, then she was a disgrace to her family.

When she pushed the door open, she found Marceline curled up in her bed. Her girlfriend's face was buried in one of her decorative pillows, but the muffled sobs that came from the foetal-posed figure rang like bells in Phoebe's ears. The sounds reverberated against her spine, sinking into every part of her body and causing her to feel every bit of anguish that Marceline did.

I should have known better. I should have just gone outside with her instead of complaining about the cold. Or I could have found a reason to keep her indoors with me. She would have been safe then. Phoebe shut her eyes. It was too painful to see Marceline going through this. It's entirely my fault that Marceline is upset. If I had just been better for her…

She sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of how to offer the love and compassion her girlfriend needed right now. There wasn't anything that Phoebe could say to take away the guilt and hurt that Marceline no doubt felt. Even worse, talking about what had happened—or even merely acknowledging the lie Marceline had told to get away from the party—would probably make the dark-haired girl feel more at fault for the transgressions that she believed to be all her own.

Phoebe placed a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently, hoping to provide even the smallest bit of comfort. "Would you like a glass of water?" Marceline sat, unmoving, possibly thinking. The quiet stretched on, and just as Phoebe was beginning to think she hadn't been heard, Marceline gave a small, weak nod. "Okay. I'll be right back." She didn't want to leave her girlfriend alone, but Phoebe was of no real use to her right now. Besides, she still had guests to entertain.

As Phoebe walked down the lonely hallway to the staircase, she tried to apply some of the mental coping mechanisms she'd learned in cognitive behavioural therapy to the situation at hand. However, facing her reality only made things hurt worse. It seemed that nothing could untangle the intricately woven vines that curled around her neck, tightening their hold on her throat.

When Bonnie and Marceline had first come in from the snow, she had felt an instantaneous surge of worry. Something had clearly happened, evident in the way that both girls averted their gaze from one another, as if the mere shame of what they'd done was enough to expose their infidelities. None of the other guests had seemed to sense that something was amiss, and even when Marceline had excused herself from the party, they'd continued to enjoy themselves—blissfully unaware of the insufferable ills she'd been struggling to get through.

It had taken every ounce of energy Phoebe had to keep herself composed in front of the others. She didn't want to raise any alarms until she knew what was going on, although she wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear the truth. Her mind refused to fathom what had transpired between the two girls, but in her heart she knew. Phoebe's greatest accomplishment in life was possibly that she had sat in the same room with Bonnie for so long after they'd come in without strangling her, waiting impatiently for enough time to pass that her leaving to check on Marceline wouldn't raise any suspicions that might damage her ego more than it had already been wounded.

As she came down the stairs, she could hear that her guests were still distracted in the lounge. They didn't even notice when she re-entered the room, their attentions set on the board game that someone had brought to the party to play. That was preferable; she didn't want anyone prying. It was none of their business, really.

Her eyes drifted over to Bonnie—curious, and oh so full of shame—and for a moment, she was relieved. The other girl's withdrawn body language and avoidance of eye contact with anyone assured her that whatever had happened outside was because of Bonnie. Marceline had certainly rejected her. She'd chosen Phoebe. A small flutter of pride tickled her skin, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay if she could just manage to get through tonight.

"Finn? May I speak with you for a moment?" Phoebe said, earning a confused look from the younger Mertens boy. She waited for him to come around the table where the board game had been set up, and led him to the other room where they could have a bit of privacy.

Finn stood with his hands lost in the comfortable fabric of his hoodie pockets, fidgeting nervously. She wondered if he knew what had happened, but it was more likely that he was just feeling overwhelmed by tonight. "Is Marceline okay? How's her stomach-ache?" he asked.

"She's still feeling ill. I'm going to be upstairs taking care of her." Phoebe watched his expression shift from concern to sadness; she was still certain that his emotions were separated from the other two girls, but her anxious predisposition wouldn't let it go until she understood what he was really upset about. "You were looking forward to tonight, weren't you?" She scanned his face, searching for some answer, trying to read between the creased lines of his expression.

He nodded. "For a really long time I was kind of sad about not having any friends. With Jake and the others leaving for university at the end of this year, I was going to have to finish high school all by myself… but then everyone started getting along." He tugged at his ear, his eyes downcast. "I really desperately look forward to these times that we all get to hang out as a big group. It just feels good to know that I'm going to be fine. So, I guess I'm just a little sad that you and Marceline aren't going to be hanging out with us. And Bonnie's been acting kind of weird tonight." Finn shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. You probably wanted to talk to me about something else."

Phoebe's heart went out to him. She'd never felt the same way, to be sure. Her life had been centred around being independent and self-sufficient, but he was her friend—one of the few real ones—and she truly wanted him to be happy. She placed a hand on his upper arm. "There are going to be other times for us to get together like this. I'm sure your brother and his friends will visit once they're out of school, and you and I will be in the same graduating class. This isn't the last time we're going to spend time together, Finn."

He shrugged. "I get that. I'm mostly over it, but sometimes I still think about how much it's going to suck. I mean, Jake and Aeryn are probably going to try to move in together if they're still dating once we graduate, and Bonnie's dream school is in America, so it's not like she'll ever get to visit us if she gets in... which, let's face it, she's like a genius so she's definitely going to get in."

"Really?" Phoebe almost couldn't mask the smile that threatened to expose her honest feelings about the older girl. "Well, we'll talk about this later. I need to get back upstairs to Marceline. Do you remember where the spare blankets are?"

His face scrunched up, his thoughts drifting off to the memories of a distant, inebriated past. "Yeah, I think so. I was mostly sober when I helped you wash and put them away. They're in the linens closet that's closest to the garage, right?"

"That's correct. If you could just distribute them when everyone is ready to go to sleep, I would greatly appreciate it. There are enough guest bedrooms for everyone." Phoebe had never really wanted this party to begin with; it had all been for her girlfriend. Now that neither of them were enjoying it, she felt the slightest twinge of guilt for agreeing to host it. "If Marceline is feeling better by the morning, we'll probably go out for breakfast. You and your brother are welcome to accompany us, but I'd really rather not have anyone else come along."

"I'll take care of everything. You just worry about Marceline for now." Finn chewed his lip, hesitant to reveal his internal ideas. Finally, he said, "Do you care if Bea comes to breakfast as well? If not, that's fine. I know I'd like to, and I'm sure Jake will want to go… but if you're not opposed…"

She waved a hand, swiping away the notion of preference with an air of nonchalance. "That's fine. I don't mind Bea… Thank you for helping me, Finn. You're one of the few people that I can count on. It's good to know that my trust isn't misplaced."

"Of course, Phoebe. What are friends for?" He patted her shoulder awkwardly, rather than going for a hug like he usually did. Perhaps he'd finally realised how uncomfortable she was with physical contact. "I've got everything covered down here. Go on, get out of here." He smiled, a genuine Finn smile that made her appreciate his presence so much more.

"Thank you." She turned to leave, forming a grin of her own. Bonnie would be out of the picture soon, that much was certain. Suddenly, the idea of moving in with her mother was less appealing. At least here, she could have Marceline all to herself.

Phoebe's fingers walked along the grain of the marble countertops, leading her to the cabinet where they kept all their drinking glasses. From the cabinet, she fetched a heavy, pint-sized glass, and carried it over to the tap.

"How is Marceline feeling?"

Phoebe tightened her grip around the glass, trying to push down the urge to chuck it at that stupid auburn head of hair. "Why are you still here, Bonnibel?" Her good mood had been ruined.

"Excuse me?" The other voice was hurt, although she didn't understand why. Phoebe wasn't as thick-headed as the other girl seemed to think she was. She knew that Bonnie had made advances on Marceline, and she… she hoped they hadn't been returned at all.

Phoebe set the glass down, a little too aggressively, and spun around on her heel. "Why are you still taunting me with your pathetic presence?" She lifted her arms, splaying her fingers out to show Bonnie the unfortunate hand she'd been dealt. "Or do you think I don't realise what's going on here? That I don't see the way you eye fuck the only person who's ever meant a damn thing to me? Why is it that you and I are constantly at odds with each other? Is it jealousy? Are you upset that I've lived an apparently perfect life?" She crossed her arms over her chest. Bonnie hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, but she'd finally given up on interrupting Phoebe's monologue. "Was throwing yourself at my girlfriend not enough, Bonnibel?"

The other girl's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry. I was-"

"Don't you dare apologise. You were not too drunk to know what you were doing." A darkness lined her words, a hidden knife that cut at Bonnie's guilty conscience. "When I come downstairs tomorrow, you better not be here."

Bonnie stared at her feet. "I understand. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so- … I'll leave right away."

"Good," Phoebe said with a pseudo-friendly smile. She then picked up the glass and stormed past the other girl, the smile fading from her face. As much as she loved Marceline, the positivity of her presence in Phoebe's life couldn't seem to stop the hurt from devouring her outlook on the world. Life was cruel. She'd known that all along. But it was always when things felt too perfect that the monster called 'reality' would awaken.

No. Stop. Don't spiral. You still have her. Marceline rejected Bonnibel. She chose you. Phoebe clenched her fist, quickening her ascent to her room. Don't start spiralling again. You were doing so well. Your girlfriend needs to see your strength right now.

Rage kept her shaking, and breathing unevenly. With each step, her hand would throttle the glass, spilling some of the water over onto her hand and the sleeve of her cardigan.

With her dry hand, she pushed open the door to her room. Marceline was sitting up now, taking deep breaths to keep herself from slipping back into the stream of tears and despaired gasps she'd previously been victim to.

When she saw Phoebe, she wiped her eyes on her sleeves. "I'm sorry. I just really don't feel okay right now." She took the proffered glass and drank half of the liquid, gulping it down audibly, before looking back up at Phoebe.

Seeing Marceline calmed her down a bit. Even though her girlfriend was in a poor mood, Phoebe felt that her presence was a godsend.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked, taking the glass from her to set it on the chest of drawers. Then, she shed her cardigan and tossed it into the floor, unconcerned with putting it in its proper place in the laundry room at the moment. Even though it was rather chilly in her room, she was ready to be done with the garment; her sleeve had been thoroughly soaked by the water and her own shaky hand.

Marceline shrugged. "I don't think I need anything else, thank you." She opened her arms, reaching out for Phoebe. "Can we just cuddle for a bit? I think I would feel better if you just stayed with me."

"I can do that." Phoebe crawled into bed next to her girlfriend and wrapped her arms around her. For some reason, even though Marceline had turned away from Bonnie, there was still a creeping sense of anxiety lurking around the corners of her mind. What if this instance was all it took for her girlfriend to re-realise her feelings for her old friend? What if, because of this night, everything was on the verge of crumbling down?

Phoebe kissed Marceline on the cheek, afraid to be any more intimate than that right now, and looked longingly into her eyes, hoping to find the loving gaze that she had familiarised herself with. The soul behind those big brown windows was scared and hurt, but it was still filled with that bit of love and hope that she'd come to rely on.

Stop overthinking this, Phoebe thought. The only way you're going to lose Marceline is if you're the one to push her away. Don't be scared. She chose you.

Bonnie had friends, a caring family, high ambitions… even if Phoebe personally couldn't find them, there were reasons that people loved Bonnie—much unlike herself. She wondered if Marceline would continue to choose her, or if it was just a matter of time before she realised how unworthy Phoebe was of her love. Perhaps her biggest fear, the one that had remained dormant through all this time she'd spent with the other girl, was that one day Marceline would see her the way she saw herself.

Phoebe ran her thumb over her girlfriend's cheek, watching her for a long time. She just wanted things to go back to how they were before, when she felt safe and unconcerned with the one fear that lingered in the back of her mind. What Bonnie had done to them, what Bonnie had done to her, was unforgivable.

"10! 9! 8!" The chants from downstairs echoed through the wall and slipped under the threshold of her room, counting down to the new year.

"...5! 4! 3!" Phoebe refused to allow her depressing thoughts to carry her into the future. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of everything except for her happiest memories and the vocalised numbers bouncing off the walls.

"...2!" But it didn't work. All of her hopes morphed into terrible, ugly demons - pictures of her face scratched out and replaced with Bonnie's.

"...1!"

Marceline kissed her, reminding her of the beautiful bond that they shared. "I'm not… I'm not going anywhere, Pheebs," she said when she pulled away.

When Phoebe opened her eyes, she could see in pools of brown that at least that much was true. She only wished that Marceline's gaze could somehow negate her tenacious hold on the chagrin that came with Bonnie's trespasses. It didn't matter that no one else knew that the other girl had made a fool out of her, the point that infuriated Phoebe was that Bonnie knew.

She laid her head against the pillow, allowing her girlfriend's presence to consume her. It was a new year. Whatever Bonnie had done had happened before now. She didn't have to worry anymore.

Phoebe traced her index finger along Marceline's neck, down her chest, circling her navel. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." Marceline's eyes were still red from crying; her gaze drifted down to Phoebe's lips where she hesitated for only a second before pulling her into another kiss. This time, her lips were laced with fiery passion, a taste that danced on her tongue like sparks. It was a kiss born of lust rather than reassurance like before, and it was exactly what Phoebe needed to clear her head.

A dim lamp created a 'v' shape on the otherwise dark room. The light cast long shadows across the ceiling and walls, morphing into grotesque figures. Phoebe wanted to move, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't. Her body had sunken deep into the recliner, its hold relentless. Suddenly, that no longer mattered. The television was on, dragging her attention into its glowing grasp.

As she stared at the television, she slowly realised that the pictures were unclear; her mind was foggy, the details blurred. She blinked her eyes a few times, hoping to refresh her vision somehow.

The moving pictures became more clear, slowly slipping into focus. On the screen was a home-made film of sorts, one she never knew had been made. It depicted her and Marceline walking together alongside an old, abandoned railroad track. The Phoebe on the television tried to speak, but the voice that escaped her mouth was not her own. This left her with an overwhelming sense of dread, but she didn't understand why.

The film then flashed to a different scene, one of her and Marceline sitting in a café together, sharing a milkshake. Something about Phoebe's physical appearance was different now, she just couldn't seem to figure out what it was. Her hair was slowly darkening in colour, from her usual fiery red to an almost auburn shade, but nothing about that felt out of the ordinary in her dream world.

The pictures morphed, and now she and Marceline were laying down on a blanket, looking up at the stars. By now, Phoebe's entire image had changed, replaced with a totally different person. She was still in there though, somewhere. She tried to reach out to Marceline, to tell her that she was stuck in this nightmare, but her words were strained - no longer even resembling her voice at all. Phoebe was losing herself.

But then Marceline smiled, and it seemed as though everything would be all right… until she spoke. "I love you, Bonnibel."

The image displayed on the television was no longer Phoebe at all. Now she was being made to watch footage of Bonnie and Marceline together, each scene growing more intimate than the last.

She tried to close her eyes, to hide away until this hellish dream was over with, but her eyelids were transparent now, and she could see through them even when they were shut tight.

That's when she noticed that, sitting next to her on a glass table, was a remote. She tried to move her hand to grab it, but every part of her body was frozen in place. As she stared at her hand, trying to will it to reach out, she noticed that she was becoming less and less visible. Phoebe could feel herself fading away.

She tried to break free from this debilitating curse, because somehow she just knew that if she could turn off the television, everything would be right again. However, if she didn't she would disappear completely.

There was very little time left now. Her body was crumbling, turning to dust. What little hope she had to save herself was fading out along with the life in her eyes. No! I can do this. I can't let Marceline down. I have to get her back.

Phoebe's arm shot out, powered by a powerful surge of adrenaline. She grabbed the remote and aimed it at the screen, but by the time she pressed the 'off' button it was too late. The remote clattered to the ground—plastic on hardwood.

She was gone.

Phoebe sat up quickly, panting heavily. It was just a dream. With a shaky hand, she wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead and looked around. She was in her room. Everything was just as it had been before.

Not trusting her own judgement, and fearful that this was just another trick of the mind, she felt around the bed to make sure that Marceline was still there with her. Her hands went out to seek her girlfriend's own, only to brush up against something hard. In Marceline's hand was her cellphone.

That's odd. I distinctly remember going to bed after her. I think I would have noticed if she had her phone on her.

Phoebe carefully slid the device out of her girlfriend's grip and put in the passcode to unlock the screen; she'd seen Marceline put in the code many times before: 1803, a birthday, possibly, and a Pisces if one believed in such things.

The bright screen blinded her for a few seconds, shielding Marceline's privacy from her prying eyes. She knew she shouldn't be looking, and she felt terrible about it, but she'd been alarmed by both her dream and the phone's seemingly innocuous presence. Of course, she thought, making a face as she scanned the screen. There were several text messages sent to Marceline while she'd been sleeping. All of them from Bonnibel.

Bonnibel Bauers - 1:15 AM: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.

Bonnibel Bauers - 1:24 AM: I know you probably hate me right now, but I really want to forget that tonight ever happened. What you and Phoebe have together is really special, and I'm so, so sorry that I came between that.

Bonnibel Bauers - 1:45 AM: It's obvious you're not going to reply to me. I just want you to know how truly sorry I am. I don't want to stop being friends again over something as stupid as this. So, can we please put everything behind us? I'm so sick of always messing everything up between us. Every single time something goes wrong it's always my fault.

Phoebe exhaled heavily and looked at the current time. She'd only slept for about an hour, yet she couldn't see herself slipping back beyond Morpheus' gates any time soon. Frustrated, she set the phone down on the bed between them and nudged Marceline. Normally, she would have let her girlfriend sleep in for as long as possible, content to just watch how peaceful she was and patiently wait for her to get up on her own. Unfortunately, tonight was a different story.

Phoebe shook her by the shoulder again, which earned a grumble in return. "Marceline? Please wake up. I had a bad dream."

The sleeping beauty groaned again, but forced herself to sit up anyway. "Hm?" Her eyes were barely open at all, and the tangled mess that was her hair stuck up in every direction.

Phoebe was sorry to have to wake her from such a deep slumber. "I can't get back to sleep."

Marceline rubbed the sleep from her eyes before stretching her arms high above her head, eliciting a relieving 'pop' from her back. "I'm sorry. Do you want to do something to get your mind-" She yawned. "-off of it?"

"I'd really just love your company right now." That much was true. Her feelings were a tornado, a vicious cyclone of positive and negative thoughts colliding at incredible speeds. Phoebe had always managed to feel better with her girlfriend's presence. Marceline calmed her, helped her get through the combative feelings that were usually storming within her.

"Would you maybe like some ice cream and a movie?" Marceline suggested. "I saw some of that coconut milk ice cream you eat in the refrigerator earlier. I can go get it if you'd like."

Phoebe smiled weakly, still too mentally exhausted to put much effort into a full expression. "That's okay, I'm not really in the mood for ice cream at the moment. But watching a film sounds great."

"That's fine." Marceline scooted over to the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Phoebe's knee. "I'll grab your laptop and everything, just sit tight. Are you sure you don't want me to get you anything? Snacks? A drink? Some clothes?" She shook her head. "Okay, but don't hesitate to ask if you need me to get you something."

Phoebe watched Marceline walk over to her chest of drawers to grab the laptop, afraid that if she took her eyes off of her for one second, she would fade away, leaving her trapped in a perpetual loop of nightmares. It was strangely humorous that after everything that had happened earlier that day, it was Marceline who was taking care of her.

"Okay, so what's on the agenda for tonight?" Marceline asked, plopping down on the bed. She opened the laptop, powered it on, and then handed it off to Phoebe to put in her password. "I've had a think about it, and if I'm to stay awake at all, we should watch something with lots of action." Her face scrunched up in thought. Phoebe could see the gears working in her head, trying to come up with an alternative for her, since action films were not at all interesting to her. "Or maybe a comedy. That might cheer us both up."

She leaned over to kiss Marceline on the temple, forever thankful for her thoughtfulness. "We can watch whatever you want. I don't really care, so long as I'm with you."

Marceline opened the internet browser and typed in the address of the video streaming site they used. Then, she scrolled through the list of films it had to offer, many of which were titles that Phoebe had seen before, distractions for her sleepless nights.

She spotted one in the list that she'd never watched before, something that looked interesting. "What about that one?" she asked, pointing to it.

"It's in French. Is that okay with you?" Marceline wasn't asking for herself, of course. She had explained once that Bongo's mother was French, so the four of them (Keila, Bongo, Guy, and Marceline) each understood the language to some degree. Marceline, however, had spent a lot more time with the boy than the others in their youth, so she and Bongo understood it perfectly—although, apparently neither of them could read or write it.

Phoebe nodded. "I speak it fluently," she reminded her girlfriend.

Marceline selected the foreign film and then set the laptop down in the space between them, rather than on her bare skin. Then, she laid down next to Phoebe, her head resting on one of the firm pillows that had been procured especially for Marceline's visits.

The film was interesting enough—two different stories, both about soulmates—but Phoebe couldn't seem to pay attention. Perhaps it was the subject of the film that enticed her to focus on other things, but she found herself more interested in the big brown eyes looking back at her.

At some point, the film came to a close, but neither girl moved to turn off the laptop. Nor did they speak or rise from their respective spots. It wasn't until the warmth of sunlight hit Phoebe's bare back that she realised they'd stared into each other's eyes for the better half of a night.

"I love you," Phoebe finally said.

Marceline didn't say it back. That was fine. After all the thinking she'd done that night, she knew that her girlfriend would never love her—not really. She still had feelings for the Bauers girl. It was only a matter of time before they resurfaced once more.

Phoebe had always known that this would go down in flames, but that was… okay. It stung with all the weight of emotional hellfire, being the second choice, but she would bear that weight with an unshaken valour.

Phoebe would accept any punishment that let her stare into those beautiful eyes. She would do anything for these nights with Marceline… anything.

If only she had caught the words Marceline mouthed in the blink of an eye. Perhaps then, things could have turned out differently.