The girl leered forward, jittering over the edge of the porcelain sink lathered with crimson droplets in her grasp, eyes sealed tight in hopes of abandoning the violent flare and ache of the light above. Fuck was this feeling unpleasant. Marceline couldn't help but wish she didn't overdo it at this very moment. One horrific muse about Ash in the alley was all it took for her moral compass to disintegrate and the familiar itch of her needs to succumb to the drug beneath her and god had she wish she hadn't. Though her tolerance had been built through recreational use, on an empty stomach she was no match for the powder. "Fuck," Marceline rasped, her free hand clutching at the leak that dared to traverse down her face and soak into the hem of her sweater. Of course her body had to act against her one of the few days she was in public. Even under the circumstances in which she was out, Marceline found it pleasant to be somewhere that wasn't Darrens or her bandmates home, even if it was just some shitty bar bathroom, which at the moment was odd considering Darren limited their work to his house or the corner. She brushed it off. It's not like his behavior had been anything but weird the past few days. Countless missed phone calls, no responses to her text, and no scheduling meetings between the two. If anything, Darren texting her out of the blue after ghosting her for a week was the least of her worries at the moment. Marceline cradled as much tissue paper as she could to her nose and cleaned it free of any remaining dried blood before pushing out of the dirty bathroom, easing into the dim lit bar just as her phone buzzed eagerly. "Outside," read the singular message from Darren. Marceline didn't bother typing a reply as she sauntered through the fogs of smoke, the off putting glint of red that doused the bar momentarily blinding her. Easing through the exit she was greeted by the pitch black of night and the boy she'd grown to call her friend, his weight slumped against his 2004 Camry. "Hey," she mustered, sniffling into the sleeve of her jacket. She expected a reply, a sign that her mumble had been acknowledged, literally anything but a fist flying past her reflexes and right hooking her smack dab onto the edge of her cheekbone. Before she could even process the pain she was on the concrete, her knees betraying her and buckling under impact. Marceline held her cheek in awe, mouth agape and eyebrows lowered. "Darren what the fuck!?" She yelled, the pain in her cheek beginning to swelter. The boy above her only looked down without a slither of empathy laminating his eyes. "Don't 'what the fuck Darren' me Marceline, don't you dare," he snarled fist clenched at his side. He shakes off the ache in his hand, pacing the empty parking lot with rush. Marceline staggered to her feet, cheek in grasp, her hair disheveled and jacket hanging off a single shoulder. "You can't just ghost me for a week, text me out of the blue to meet you at some discrete shitty bar and punch me in the fucking face! What's your problem!?" The second the words left her mouth did the boy let loose any anger he was concealing. His face growing an intense shade of red and a prominent vein bulging from his neck, Darren entered her space. "What's my problem? Seriously Marceline? You got some serious balls asking me that. I got a gun tucked in my waist band, my mom sleeping at a motel six, oh yeah and I'm missing a fourth of drugs with no money to show for it!" The tension in the air thickened. Conjoined with the remnants of spittle erupted from Darrens tantrum , the beads of sweat that traversed her forehead and cheeks, merging within one another, gluing down any rouge hairs that dare cross the barriers of her face. Marceline wilted quietly. "I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffled, watching the boy ahead of her stop his pace to meet her eye. Darren chuckled. Low and hearty, enough to send a shiver through her that wasn't drug induced. "For you to stand in front of me, look me in my eye and tell me you don't know what I'm talking about, tells me enough about you than you could ever tell me yourself. You know exactly what I'm talking about." Marceline simmered back at the boy who approached, her heart in her stomach. Before she had time to mutter out an excuse, even breathe the same air as the boy she had so wronged, a cool metal tip was pressed to her forehead. The alarm in her head rang wildly but she had nothing to show for it on the outside besides the tears that dared to whelm her eyes. "Tell me the truth or so help me god Marceline I won't hesitate to pull the trigger," he murmured, voice heavy with angst. At that she broke. "I did the drugs ok?! I knew it was bad, I knew what I was doing was wrong, I knew it was fucked up but I did it anyway! I just wanted to stop seeing him," she sobbed openly into the brisk air, her warm crys presenting in front of her in wisp of cool night air. "There's not money to show for it cause I didn't sell them, I didn't pay for them I just took them. I'm an addict... I need help I know.... Darren I'm so sorry," she whimpered, warm tears skidding down her cheeks and joining the blood that gathered at the hem of her shirt. "Sorry isn't gonna cut it Marceline. You knew the guy I was working for doesn't play around with this typa' shit, we're talking about a guy who cuts off fingers, is responsible for most of the plots at the cemetery, yet you did it anyway!" As if the consequences of her actions weren't weighing her down enough, the sheer amount of emotion, raw and empty trembling through Darrens voice tipped the barrel. Marceline buckled to her knees, eyes glued to the tear and spittle that gathered in a layer on the dusty concrete of the parking lot, the gun not leaving her temple. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't just hand you over to him myself, make you take the punishment that's rightfully yours. They'd pimp you out like the snow bunny you are, drugged out of your mind, pass you around between themselves until a word couldn't leave your mouth, until you were empty and so used up that no one on the street would even take you. Tell me Marceline why shouldn't I?" The gun was pressed harder into her temple. Not daring to meet his eye she spoke. "Bonnibel," she rasped lowly, "I may be the saddest excuse of a person to walk this earth but she's so much better than me... better than this place, and she deserves the world. I need her more than she needs me." For a long minute there was silence. Nothing but the subtle drawl of detached leaves scraping soundly against the ground, wind bustling through the desolate parking lot, the low bristle of music trickling from the inside of the bar intertwined with birds chirping. And then the sound of retreat, shoes slowly skidding the surface of the pavement until nothing dared join the chorus apart from the creak of a car door and the rev of an engine. "Don't ever let me see you again." And like that, Darren was gone, the brown coat of his Camry growing farther in the distance as Marceline gathered herself, still positioned on her knees. Fishing her hand into the pocket of her jeans, Marceline yanked up her phone dialing a number she was weary to indulge but memorized by heart. The first ring, second, third and fourth. "Hello? How'd you get this number?" "Dad," she sobbed, "I need help."
Bonnibel had turned in for the night, or at least she'd like to think so. If turning in meant cradling yourself on your side, tucked into the sweltering warmth of a duvet with an ache in both your heart and your head then she was sure in for the night. Bonnibel had yet to face her wrongs from the past, at least verbally, as if the constant ache in her head wasn't a reminder enough. To be so dumb as to disregard her pregnancy and drink a beer out of genuine distaste for her personal life was dangerous for not only her mental health, but the personal health of the child that sprouted within her. Bonnibel grasped the small swelt of her stomach, grazing her thumb along the swollen abdomen. "I'm sorry," she whispered, letting it fall silent in the dead of night. Only when an array of soft pitters hit the wood of her door did she halt the sweet whispers she spoke to her stomach. Throwing her legs over the bed Bonnibel stood to her feet, unlocking the door and being greeted by Keila, as awake as ever, arms positioned in the frame of the door. "God Keila do you know what time it is?" She asked, rubbing her drowsy eyes. It's not like she could sleep anyway. "My bad it's just there's someone here to see you," she tilted her head towards the living room. At this late of our? Maybe it was Shoko? As acquainted as they'd gotten over the course of time Bonnibel had worked the diner, it still seemed odd to be showing up in the ams of morning. Gently brushing past Keila, Bonnibel entered the living room, dismay filling her senses at who sat in the living room. "Bonnie," Marcy muttered softly, no time to react as the girl surged forward and into her arms. Bonnibel could've reacted at the way she flinched when she moved towards her but she was far to indulged in the feel of her lover. Bonnibel was quick to wrap herself around her girlfriend, arms finding their way around her waist and head being tucked into the crook of her neck. There she breathed in her unique smell of cigarettes and pine trees, clawed at the jean jacket grasped in her palm, rejoiced in the mutual return of the hug, anything to prove to her that she was here, That Marceline was really in her arms. She couldn't help but pull back at the soft sound of whimpers, her hands quickly finding purchase on the cheeks of her partner. "Hey hey hey, I'm right here," she stared deeply into those eyes clouded with conflict as Marceline cried, holding the wrist and hands that held her face. "Marcy honey what happened to your cheek?" Marceline sniffled, what ever she found funny not finding leverage within Bonnibel. "It doesn't matter. I came here to see you one last time before I go." At that Bonnibel froze, whatever frantic energy present quickly being absorbed by fear. "Marceline what are you talking about?" Marcy gave her one hard look, long enough to leave her dazed before she pulled her hands back, settling them on her hips. "This is the address I gave my dad... the officers are on their way to come get me. I came to say goodbye." With that declaration, from the back near the rooms Keila finally perked up, confusion drawn all over her face. "Marceline what are you talking about? Bonnibel what does she mean?" Marceline could only look back sorrowfully. She was going to tell her, she really was, but any words ready to leave her mouth got caught in her throat as the sound of sirens erupted outside the trailer. Marcy could only shake her head. "Thank you for keeping her safe when I couldn't Keila. I owe you one." Beyond Keila, Marcy directed herself back to Bonnibel. "Fugitive Marceline Abadeer! Come out with your hands where we can see them!" "I love you," she whispered softly, daring to ignore the commands given and tuck her head low, dipping down to meet Bonnibels lips in what could only be described as a passionate kiss, her tears staining her cheeks. "Marceline please don't do this. We can run again. Who knows how long you'll get for this," she cried, her eyes begging to find any sort of compliancy inside her girlfriend. "I've fucked up big time Bonnibel, there's no taking back what I've done. I've fucked over the people that meant the most to me, including you. I've dragged you all the way out here to the middle of bum fuck no where and abandoned you. You need to go home where you can get help with the baby and I need help that I can't get on my own. I can't keep doing this. I'm sorry." Marceline stepped backward, removing herself from the overwhelming presence of home that Bonnibel carried and exiting the door of the trailer, greeted by the flashing array of red and blue cop cars and a single black mustang and another unknown truck tucked behind them. In the crowd of officers was her father, who waited patiently as ordered by the police until the cuffs were secured around her wrist to approach her, walking along side her as she was escorted to into the back seat of the cruiser by the cop. "Don't worry Marcliene, I'm gonna handle this alright? You just stay out and do as they say and I'll take care of it once we get back to town." For the first time since her mother died Marceline saw something on her fathers face that wasn't blank. Remorse, clear as day in his eyes and trembling in his voice. Marceline shook her head, the onslaught of tears dribbling down her cheek, unable to wipe. "Just make sure Bonnibel gets back to town. She had nothing to do with this." The man could only batter his attention to the police officer. "That won't be necessary sir, we already have a blood relative of the minor on the scene as of now. She'll be taken back to the station where she'll be called in for questioning." Marceline could only sulk in shame. In no way did Marceline wish for Bonnibel to go back to town with her uncle and under no right did she have the ability to make that call for her. But in the end it was for the best. The officer closed the door in the face of Hudson as he murmured reassuring words to his daughter about how he'll be close behind. Marceline eased back into the cushion of the cruiser, eyes skittering beyond the barbed metal of the guarded window and to Bonnibel as the car drifted out of the trailer park. Home was a long ways back.
(Ahhhhh! Finally after two long years I've returned! I've spent my time away from here struggling during the pandemic but I'm finally glad to be back. Sorry to keep you guys hanging for so long but I just had to wrap up the last chapter of this series so I can announce the exiting news of a sequel!! I'm far from done with Marceline and Bonnibel and I will be continuing their story in my upcoming sequel so stay tuned for that! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story and what I plan to do next :))