Bubbles POV

The sky was thick with clouds, heavy and dark like a warning. It smelled like rain, but nothing came—just that unsettling pressure in the air.

Perfect weather for saying goodbye.

I stood next to Blossom, my knees locked to keep me upright. People shuffled around us, some sobbing, others whispering their condolences like they could fix any of this with words.

Buttercup would have hated this. The neat rows of chairs. The sad, slow music. The whispering. The formal black dresses. All of it. She would've called it bullshit. And I agreed.

But what else were we supposed to do?

Ace was somewhere off to the side, stumbling around with his stupid bandmates trying to prop him up. Drunk as hell. His pale green hair fell over his face in greasy strands, and he looked worse than I'd ever seen him. Buttercup always loved broken things. Guess that's why she stayed with him so long.

Professor Utonium was sobbing openly, clinging to Miss Keane like she was the only thing holding him together. I had never seen him cry like this. His shoulders shook under the weight of it. I wanted to go over and say something, but what could I even say? My throat felt too tight to get anything out.

Blossom stood beside me, holding hands with Princess Morebucks. The two of them looked like something out of a movie—composed, elegant, both a little too beautiful for the sadness around them. Princess kept whispering into Blossom's ear and rubbing her arm, small reassurances meant to comfort both of them. I caught glimpses of tears on my sister's cheeks, though she kept her face mostly composed.

The officiant cleared his throat, signaling for the speeches to begin.

Professor was up first. I watched him shuffle to the podium, wiping his face with trembling hands. He clutched the edge of the stand like he needed it to stay upright.

"My Buttercup," he began, his voice breaking. "I loved her from the beginning; and she was so much more than I ever imagined - hoped for - in a daughter. She was fierce. Unstoppable. She… She wasn't afraid of anything." His voice cracked again, and he stopped, pressing his fist to his mouth. Miss Keane gave him an encouraging nod.

"She lived on her own terms," he continued after a deep breath. "She wasn't perfect, but she was… herself. And I was so proud of her for that." He smiled through the tears, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was the kind that knows the weight of loss. "We'll carry her with us always. She's a part of me. Forever."

He left the podium, face buried in his hands. The sobs came harder now. I wanted to cry too, but nothing came.

It just sat in my chest like a rock.

Blossom was next. She let go of Princess's hand and smoothed her black dress before walking to the front, her steps steady and deliberate, like this was just another mission.

"Everyone knew Buttercup was a fighter," she began, her voice even but sharp. "She fought bad guys. She fought her demons. Hell, she fought me more times than I can count. But no matter how tough things got… she kept going." Blossom's hands trembled slightly. "That's what hurts the most. Knowing that this time, she decided she couldn't fight anymore." She paused, gathering herself. "But I know she'd hate if we gave up because of this. So we won't. We'll keep fighting, just like she taught us."

Her words were cold, precise—like she was trying to hold herself together by sheer force of will. She nodded once to the crowd and stepped away, back into Princess's arms.

Then it was my turn. I wasn't ready. I never would be. But I made my way to the front anyway.

"I don't really have a speech," I whispered, my voice barely audible through the lump in my throat. "I just… I miss her." My eyes burned, but no tears came. "Buttercup wasn't just my sister. She was my best friend. And now she's gone, and… I don't know what to do without her."

I looked out at the crowd, at all these people who claimed to care, and suddenly I felt so angry. None of them knew her. Not the real her. They only saw the parts she let them see.

"She was complicated," I continued, my voice rough. "She was angry and stubborn and… so, so brave. She made me want to be brave too... I just hope she knew how much I loved her; I wish I could have one more chance to twll her I love her."

I stepped away before the sobs could take over. Blossom gave my shoulder a quick squeeze as I returned to my seat. I could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on me, but I didn't care. The rest of the service flew by, but I couldnt listen.

Afterwards as people shuffled out the chapel, the Mayor, Miss Bellum, and the chief of police appeared out of nowhere, huddling close to Blossom, the Professor and I like they had some kind of secret.

"We've found something," the Mayor whispered, after expressing his sympthies to us. "Chemical XX… it's only being imported from Africa; a very remote village on the coast controlled by militia. Whoever supplied it went to great lengths to get it."

My heart skipped. African militia? Why the hell would Buttercup have gotten mixed up with something like that?!

"There are leads," Miss Bellum added softly. "But nothing concrete yet. We just wanted you to know we're on it."

Blossom nodded curtly. "Let us know as soon as you find anything else."

They nodded and slipped away into the crowd, leaving me with more questions than answers.

I stood off to the side, watching the mourners scatter like lost leaves. I was tired of people telling me how sorry they were. It was so emotionally exhausting.

That's when I saw him disembarking from a Yamaha YZF-R3 — Dil, with his awkward stance, distant look and messy red hair flowing from a helmet. He spotted me too, giving me a small, nervous wave.

Without thinking, I crossed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. It was instinctual. He stiffened in surprise, but then he relaxed, his arms circling me gently. His scent—something faintly metallic, like an old radio—felt oddly comforting.

"Thanks for being here," I whispered into his shoulder.

Dil smiled, soft and genuine. "I wouldn't miss it."

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. There was something about him—something strange and offbeat that drew me in. I knew I shouldn't feel this way, not today of all days, but I couldn't help it.

Perhaps it was the hope that he represented - another chance to encounter my sister Buttercup in the after life. Maybe that was why I felt joy when I saw him.

Before I could say anything else, Boomer (my ex) showed up, his arms crossed and jaw tight. "What the hell is this?" he snapped, glaring at Dil.

"Go away, Boomer," I said flatly, stepping away from Dil but staying close enough to make my point clear. "I dont want to do this with you, not today. We're done!"

Boomer scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We always break up, Bubs. This is nothing new. We'll get back together like we always do."

I shook my head, anger bubbling under my skin. "Not this time."

His gaze flicked to Dil, and his lip curled. "Really?This guy!?"

Dil didn't react, just stood there with his hands in his pockets, calm as ever.

"Yeah, this guy," I shot back, my voice sharp. "And you know what? You're an asshole for pulling this shit at my sister's funeral."

Boomer opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "Leave me alone!"

I grabbed Dil's hand, pulling him toward his motorcycle. Boomer called after me, but I didn't look back.

"Just drive," I whispered to Dil as I climbed onto the back of his motorbike. "Anywhere."

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression soft but curious. "Anywhere?"

"Yeah," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Just… away from here."

With a nod, he started the engine, and we sped off into the night. The wind whipped through my hair, and for the first time after a very difficult few days, I felt like I could finally breathe.