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𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 knuckles loudly against the timber wood, fiddling with her fingers nervously. Bonnibel stands beside her, a hand comfortingly resting on Marceline’s shoulder.
A few seconds later, the door creaks open, and Simon lets out a gasp when his eyes flit over to Marceline, then Bonnibel, and he squeals loudly, garnering an annoyed meow from Gunther.
“Oh!” He smiles so widely that his eyes seemed to disappear under his happiness, and Marceline’s touched that the old man cared for her so much — more than she had contemplated when she sucked the red out of his apples. “Is this the girl you sang about, Marcy?”
The vampire nods shyly, turning a fraction to stare down at the graceful, beautiful, image of Bonnibel looking back confusedly at her. Man, she loved Bonnibel. She just wanted to squeeze her to death. Not that that would be possible, ironically.
“Bonnie, Simon.”
She gestures to Simon, who waves enthusiastically, bending down to pick up an irritated Gunther. Bonnibel waves back slowly, an embarrassed look creeping onto her face, as she lets her hand fall from Marceline’s shoulders.
“Simon, Bonnibel.”
Simon laughs and claps Bonnibel on the shoulder, leading her into the house, proclaiming about how they should get a cup of tea and drink the time away. Marceline strays behind, looking back on the ancient halls of Simon’s house, remembering the time she had spent singing for the old man, how she had wept for someone she had lost but hadn’t been brave enough to find. At least, till Simon gave her that last push.
And boy, was she glad that she took the fall. She had sorted everything out, got both her best friends and her girlfriend back, and they were going to live happily in New York. Hopefully. But first, she knew, she had to go back to the outskirts and thank Simon for being the father figure she badly needed.
“Marcy!” Simon hollers from the kitchen. “You comin’ or what?!”
Bonnibel’s head peeps from around the entrance of the kitchen, her blue eyes holding Marceline’s green ones tenderly. She offers Marceline a crooked smile.
“You had better apologise for those colourless apples.”
“You help me.” Marceline says, sticking her tongue out, in a more playful mood now. Bonnibel scowls, and she strides the length of the hall to hold Marceline by the collar threateningly.
“Why should I?”
Marceline cracks a smirk, and wraps her hands around Bonnibel’s neck, her touch coaxing Bonnibel to lose her grip on Marceline’s collar. Marceline leans down teasingly, and pulls her girlfriend into a loving kiss.
She leans away after a while, and rests her forehead against Bonnibel’s, whispering onto the tender skin of Bonnibel’s soft lips.
“I’m your problem, duh.”
♔
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thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed marceline’s and bonnibel’s short story as much as i enjoyed writing about these two hopeless gays. have a great day, people!
