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     𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 about a month since Marceline had crashed into her house, and Finn and Jake weren’t helping one bit

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     𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 about a month since Marceline had crashed into her house, and Finn and Jake weren’t helping one bit. At any opportunity they had, the two would make some excuse just to leave the house so that Marceline and Bonnibel were alone.

     During those times, Marceline just floated while playing her bass guitar, eyes closed and ears atuned to something other than the sound of white noise filling the air between them.

     Bonnibel, herself, had been jumpy. Everytime that Marceline was nearby, she would go anywhere else: her study, usually. She’d immerse herself in her experiments and draw up new hypotheses for ideas she had stored at the back of her brain.

     Anything to distract her from thoughts of sweet kisses, cuddles that keep her warm in the night–she’s thinking about it again.

     Bonnibel groans and ruffles her pink tresses, shifting dissectories haphazardly together, collecting her thoughts and attempting to keep them mute.

     But of course, she fails.

     Marceline hears the sound of shuffling papers, and peeps through the cracked open door. She sees Bonnibel, acting like a crazed woman, rummaging through a messed-up desk, completely in an unreasonable state.

     “Bonnie?” She asks, floating into the study. Bonnibel looks up at the sound of the vampire’s voice, and frowns.

     “Bonnibel, to you.” She mutters softly. It just had to be the core of her problems. She should really be focusing on her dissectories. Her students were supposed to receive it tomorrow.

     Marceline scoffs, hands in her pockets, and she sets her bass guitar down by the desk, drifting closer towards Bonnibel. The professor scoots away quickly, making sure that she kept Marceline at least five feet apart from her.

     “Personal space,” she reasons, recalling with a quick skip of her heart, Marceline’s forehead against hers. She can’t risk it happening again.

     “What are you doing here, Marceline?”

     Bonnibel feels her heartfelt question leave her lips. Why had Marceline come back? Did she want to haunt her with her mistakes? The one that had destroyed their relationship, the worst mistake she had ever made, ever.

     “It takes a long time to realise that you’ve been miserable.”

     Marceline says, shrugging her shoulders, then resting her hands on her lap, floating nearer to the ground, floating nearer to Bonnibel.

     Bonnibel follows her movements, and she realises that she’s backing up, further and further away, until her back is pressed neatly against the wall. Marceline’s towering a head taller over her, and for a split second, Bonnibel sees a shimmer of hurt behind green eyes she had missed.

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