Anonymous

29

Spending time at Marshall's house didn't seem like the best idea.

But still, Bonnie was dragged along. She didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, and since her friends didn't always deign to invite her to things, she felt like she had to. Lady had texted her, merely saying hanging out at Marshall's pick you up in 20, and Bonnie had gotten dressed and was ready for them showing up.

She was quiet in the car, too busy thinking about Marceline to hold a conversation. She hadn't spoken to Marceline since her birthday last week; part of it was trying to pluck up the nerve to text her. Her text conversation with Marceline had remained stagnant since she'd guessed who she was. Since Bonnie had stupidly told her about her birthday.

She sighed, only half listening to Lady and Jake's conversation as the car pulled up at Marshall's. Marceline's car was in the driveway, and Bonnie wondered if she'd get to see her. It wasn't likely; if Marshall had people over, Bonnie bet that Marceline would stay in her bedroom.

Robotically, like the recent revelations had placed her on autopilot, Bonnie followed her friends inside, smiled half-heartedly at Marshall, and flopped down onto the sofa. Finn was playing some fighting game and he grinned at her, always enthusiastic. She wished she had his energy. "Bonnie! Come play, Marshall's been kicking my ass and I want at least one win."

"Huh?" His words took a minute to sink in, and distractedly, Bonnie shook her head and accepted the cup of juice that Elle held out to her. At least she hoped it was juice. "No thanks, Finn. I'm a little tired."

He deflated, but his earnest smile was still in place. As always. "Alright then. Maybe later."

Phoebe swiped the second controller from his hand and sat down next to him. "I'll show you how it's done. You're going down, Mertens."

She half watched them play, half listened to Elle's usual gossip. She felt out of place, like she always did, but when she was zoned out anyway, she was even quieter than usual. She didn't notice that Marshall had spoken to her until he nudged her, she jumped, and spilled the juice she forgot she was holding down her shirt.

"Oh, shit," Bonnie rarely cursed, but it felt like an appropriate moment, "ugh."

"Sorry, Bonnie," Marshall flashed an apologetic grin and helped her up, walking her towards the kitchen, "do you think you can get it out? I don't really know how to like... do laundry. I always get my sister to do it with hers."

"I don't know," Bonnie turned the tap on, grabbing the sponge he passed her and scrubbing rather aggressively at the stain. She cringed, holding it away from herself, because it was sticky and uncomfortable. Why hadn't she just been paying attention? "I'll probably be fine. You can go back to everyone else, it wasn't your fault."

"Are you sure?" He asked, and when Bonnie nodded tersely, he grinned. "Okay. Hope it comes out okay."

"Oh, for God's sake," Bonnie rubbed at the red juice stains down her favourite pink top, "just come out. Please."

She tried running it under the kitchen tap again; really, she needed to get home and wash her shirt. She wondered if Jake would drive her back, but he seemed like he was having a good time and she didn't want to inconvenience him. But she also didn't want to sit in a t-shirt covered in juice.

She scrubbed rather furiously at her shirt, cursing under her breath. She wished she hadn't been so spaced out. She wanted to blame Marceline; stupid Marceline dropping that stupid bomb on her and then quite obviously avoiding her. Stupid Marceline and her stupid pretty smile and soft hair and green eyes and—

Stop, Bonnie thought to herself, god, I'm an idiot. How could I be crushing on her? A month of friendship after multiple months of insults and death glares and I can't even find it in me to be mad at her. It used to be that she could look at me the wrong way and I'd want to throttle her. Stupid pretty green eyes. She's hypnotised me. That's got to be it.