BFDI AND II ONESHOT BOOK!

Fubble: I hate myself... so why don't you hate me too?

TW: Self-Hatred.  / Angst

Fanny is completely angry with the world, but Bubble is her bright spot in the gloom. Every moment with her is pure joy; Bubble comforts Fanny when she is feeling down.

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TPOT had ended a few months ago, and in that time, Bubble and Fanny had reunited—eventually finding themselves living together. Sure, Bubble could have gone back to living with Freesmart like in the IDFB days, but she chose not to. They had all made amends, and while she forgave Match for how she had treated her and still cherished her girls, some time apart had done her good. And Fanny... Fanny had been good to her.

For Fanny, a break from Death P.A.C.T had been a relief. She loved them dearly—would do anything for most of them—but stepping away for a while had been refreshing. And, more than anything, reconnecting with Bubble had been the best part.

They were close—closer than best friends, even. Bubble adored Fanny, and the feeling was mutual. Fanny wasn't great at putting her gratitude into words, but Bubble could tell. Fanny didn't like most people and wasn't exactly known for being kind. But to Bubble? She was different. She was always kind. Around Bubble, the sharp edges softened, the bitterness dulled. She had so much less hate when she was with her sweet Bubble. And though Fanny struggled to admit it, it was obvious to anyone who saw them together.

That night, Bubble had been out with friends, catching up and hanging out. Fanny, on the other hand, had refused to leave the apartment. She hated parties. She had wanted to stay home alone. Bubble had assumed she was fine—just in one of her stubborn moods. She didn't want to push her or make her upset, so she left her be, thinking Fanny just needed space.

But maybe she had been wrong.

When Bubble returned home, she stepped inside with a bright smile, skipping into their cozy apartment. It was small—a living room connected to a little kitchen, a shared bedroom, and a tiny laundry/bathroom space. It wasn't much, but it was home.

The place was eerily quiet. All the lights were off.

Maybe Fanny had gone to bed early? She did love her sleep.

Bubble carefully placed her keys on the kitchen counter, making sure not to make too much noise. She tiptoed toward their shared bedroom, moving effortlessly—light as air, as always. But as she reached for the door handle, she froze.

Sobbing.

Her stomach dropped.

She had never heard Fanny cry before.

Without hesitation, she gently pushed the door open.

"Fanny?" she called, worry creeping into her voice. Something was terribly wrong.

There was a sharp sniffle, and then the quiet whir of Fanny's fan as she turned it on—maybe to dry her tears, maybe just as a distraction. She shifted in bed, straightening her legs and turning toward the door.

Bubble stepped inside and switched on the light, her heart sinking when she got a proper look at her friend. Fanny looked awful—eyes red and puffy, like she had been crying for hours. She tried to force a smile, to assure Bubble that everything was fine, but Bubble knew better.

She closed the door gently and approached with care, unsure if Fanny needed comfort or space.

"Is everything okoy?" Bubble asked softly. She already knew the answer, but she asked anyway—hoping Fanny would let her in.

Fanny's breath hitched as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "Everything's fine," she lied through her teeth. She had to lie. She couldn't let herself be a burden to Bubble, couldn't let her sweet, caring Bubble worry about her problems—especially when she didn't have to.