ʜ ᴏ ʟ ʏ

28.

No longer were there two figures occupying the bed, just one. Though her mind did draw attention to the sudden shift of the mattress and the absence of her presence, her body refused to reply, molting deeper into the confinement of the bulky duvet. It was far past her time to get up, but she couldn't help renewing the time spent sleeping. She would've stayed like that longer, burrowed deep into the bed with the morning bustle of outside depriving her ears of quiet, if it weren't for a form that made itself known. "Marcy." Murmured Bonnibel, relapsing her continous shake on the sleeping girl. She groaned. "Marcelineee." She dragged, shaking the girl with more vigorous action. She refused to budge for the remaining minute, sending Bonnibel pending the action of wrestling Marceline out the bed. She didn't, instead throwing one leg over the bed bound girl and straddling her, sending tickles that ranged from her stomach to neck. Marceline squimered quickly, objecting with skittish pleas and howls of laughter. "B-Bonnie!" She could barely form her words with uttering gasp of laughter. Settling her tickling fued, Bonnie termenated the suspenseful taunts. "Good, your awake." Bonnie grinned, Marceline mustering up a smile and pushing her hair out of her face. "What is so important that you had to awaken me from my sweet beauty rest." She looked up at the girl perched on her stomach. "Don't you recall? Last night you and Keila discussed some type of gig at a bar." She could very well recall the activites of last night but not so much of their conversation, but upon the revision of last nights history, a husk thought of remberance appeared. She bobbed her head. "I was a little drunk last night, probably forgot about it as soon as we fell asleep." She had almost forgotten. "But it's nothing to much. The guy that owns the bar, Gary I think his name is, he's very cool about us playing small gigs there." Bonnie couldn't refrain the question,"Why is that?" Earning a reasonable answer from the girl below her. "This town is small, he appreciates any sort of activitys or customers he gets. Im pretty sure he would let in a two year old if they payed." It was very close to true. Maybe that and the exception that Bonnie, Marceline herself, and Bongo were age 17, just one year below the age. Both Keila and Guy were able to legally get in but that didn't stop the rest. Bonnie mused at her humor, freeing Marceline's middle from the captivity of her legs. Marcy had hardly noticed she was fully dressed and ready to go, while on the other hand, her not so much. "Im gonna help Bongo load his drums into the van, get dressed." She delivered her a look similar to a stern mother, Marceline rolling her eyes prior to the door shutting. Her mind still glued to the fact that she had neglected to remember such an important date that had been planned even before Keila and the band made it to town. Welp, just an additional thought to dwell on another time. It was better to use her time ridding herself of her sleep clothes as Bonnie suggested, and she did just that, dressing herself in a black wife beater tucked into baggy jeans. Just a light outfit, nothing to confined to clog her skin of air and suffocate her with sweat. Maybe that was a little overkill, but she laughed ethier way. A bit of preparation later, Marceline stalked down the sloped staircase in a tuneful hum. She had never been in a mood so good. She gave partial blame to Bonnibel's wake up call, but the rest fell on having all her closest friends. Company will really do that to someone. She approached the empty halls of down stairs, the interior seemingly empty. Realizing she was the last one in the house, the girl locked the front entrance and exited through the garage. The sight was most expected, all of her friends sitting in a different aspect of the car. Keila pegged her arrival, hanging her head out the side of the car. "Marceline! Hurry your ass up!" She ushered her with a hand. Marcy sighed, her slow walk turning into a sprint and back to a slow walk upon entering the passengers seat. Stowed away in the back sat. Bongo, Guy, and Bonnie. All set. "Off we go!" Belowed the enthusiastic voice of Keila, the van hurling out of the driveway.

Her knees felt like they could buckle any minute carrying one of Bongo's large drums. If she knew they would be a weight she almost wasn't capable to hauling, she would've suggested Bongos as an insturment, ( pun intended.) Though it required a little help setting it down on the small platform, Marceline had successfully lifted in the last remains of Bongos drum, the blue haired boy setting it up with the rest. The act had produced enough sweat that a drink would be needed to ease her back to a cool state, not to mention the bar was a bit jam packed for the occasion. The red dipped room was stuffy with heaps of awaiting listeners, clouds of heavy smoke, working bartenders, and a sweaty atmosphere. None of that ceased Marceline from picking out her friend, lonesome at a stool near the counter. She announced her dismal to her group as they set up, slithering through hoard of people who mingled in the crowd and to Bonnibel. She neared Bonnie, who sipped from a straw planted in a glass of liqour. She could see Gary too, filling up a stray cup with brew. He didn't seem to mind to much. "Gary forked that over to you?" Questioned Marcy, taking refugee on the stool next to hers. She smirked, straw positioned on the curve of her mouth. "Some cute lady purchased it for me." Marceline bowed her head low, pulling a false expression of sadness. "I guess this is where our 80's love story comes to an end." Bonnie laughed, scooting over the beverage to her friend. "Here, you look like you need it more than I do." Infact she did. The sweat from the inside left her appearance disheveled , her hair going damp once more. Bonnie couldn't explain her thoughts behind it but a sweaty haired Marceline made her mouth go dry. She didn't think much more of it, watching as Marceline downed the pungent liquid and flag a farewell, bidding her a final smile before disappearing back on the stage. She loomed behind the shaft of the mic, taking the microphone in hand. "Hello Ivy's!" She confronted the bar and its current residents, the attention of the crowd drawing to Marceline with a ensemble of praises and cheers from the crowd. "I'm Marceline, that's Keila, that's Bongo, that's Guy, and we are, the scream queens!" The crowd applauded accordingly. With the last remark of, "get ready to get your tits in a twist," the crowd was ready. Like they had practiced the day before, all it took was one strum of her gutair for Marceline to send each member of the band slaughtering their instruments in a heavy rock. The crowd was instantly captured by the intense collision of the band as one, the crowd thrashing along to the music. As if it couldn't get any better, Marceline joined her voice together with the sound, producing a very likeable track. She plucked the invidiaul strings of the gutair, infusing her voice with the upright music. And it was like that for a while. They played, and played, and played. The first few songs were mosh pit worthy while the last few ones had smoldered down the rock n roll them, rather taking part in the slow but not to slow category. All of this unraveled infront of the sight of Bonnie, for the most part pushing through cheers and head movement alongside the crowds near the bar. Marceline finished the last line of the song, setting aside her bass and pressing the mic near her lips to launch her thanks to the crowd, the music now settling back to the speakers. Each member of the band disregarded their instruments, maneuvering from the stage to the bar. Marcy stayed behind collecting tips the listeners rendered. The three members sat down on a stool in their own flood of sweat, the profound rocking that occured consuming them with ache. She could hear Guy and Keila bickering over choice of drink as Bongo downed whatever was handed his way. "What'd you think Bonnibel?" Asked Keila, sipping on the cool brew as Guy and Bongo drew conversation. "That was definitely a headbang worth performance, I say 10/10." She laughed, chugging more of the tart alcohol. "Maybe we should get you on a instrument, come join the mystical 4." The raunchy name brought a curve to the straight line of her mouth. "I could lay down some pretty sick beatboxing if that would be an asset." She shrugged her shoulders with a smirk, her and Keila going back and forth. She could very well see how Marceline grew such a friendship with the girl. Speaking of the devil, Marceline emerged from the crowd a sweaty mess, tip jar in hand. She took Bonnie by surprise when put the possession of the jar in Keila's hands, taking what remained in Bonnibel's glass (which was almost a half,) and downing it on spot. Keila only shrugged, Bonnie staring with astonishment and a lack of words. "Dance with me?" She held out her hand. No questions ask, Bonnibel accepted the faint grasp and merged within the dancing crowd with a smile so wide it could escape the barriers of her face. The red light smothered the inhabitants of the dance floor, not to mention the heat. Bonnibel let the smoke fill her nostrils, the husky beer envelop her, and the music flare within her ears, as did Marceline. With their bodys pressed closely within one another, and adrenalin pumping their veins, they danced. No, nothing like the dancing they did on Bonnie's birthday at Saint Annes, no where close. The dance was intoxicating to say the least. Their body's practically molded into one how close they moved in rhythm, how daintly they pressed together, how lazily their hands settled on the others body. There was no better sound to her ears than the faint noises Bonnibel made, only fueling her on. She had longed for this.

How had a smoke break turned into possibly one of the most knee buckling moments in the life of Marceline? Of course dirty dances delivered on the dance floor of the bar and maybe even the few feather kisses she left on Bonnibel in the act, but most part, her weird teenage girl feelings. There they were, down the parted corridor alley outside the bar, lips tangled into one, devouring eachother. She had fallen deep, hands roaming the area of her waist while her fingers tangled in the locks of her hair. As good as it felt, at some point both girls pulled apart to the yeilding need for air. Bonnie heaved in a wisp of air, untangling her fingers from Marceline's hair and resting them on her cheek, pressing their foreheads together. Marceline could only take in the beauty ahead of her, not only that, but the feelings that whelmed her chest. "Bonnie." "Yeah?" "Are you drunk?" She stilled. "No. Are you?" She shook her head no. Realization set on both of them, that it wasn't the liquor talking, just them and the emotions captive within. Marceline grew the courage she thought could never be found within her, almost like a new brave girl occupied her spirit and spoke. "Bon, I just want you to know that whatever this is," she removed her free hand from her waist and directed towards them both, "I want it to keep going on. I don't know how to describe it but you make me feel whole." Bonnie faced the girl with saddened eyes that unravelled a story. "I've been hurt so many times by people I loved and cared about in the past. Only now am I starting to realize that you fixed me, and continue to do so. I don't wanna donk up our friendship even if you don't feel the-" her sentence was cut short by Bonnibel filling the gap inbetween them. Marcy didn't protest a bit, melting back into the hands that supplied her with happiness so many times. Bonnie pulled back, leaving Marcy staring with longing eyes. "There's nothing to donk up if I feel the same, loser." Bonnie murmured, Marceline beaming at the girl ahead. Bonnie peaked ahead with anticipation. "The only thing donked would be if you didn't go on a date with me. Will you?" She asked in a reassuring tone. She burrowed into the hold of Marceline softly speaking the words "yes" into the crook of her neck. Marcy had never felt more alive, enticed with a feeling that doused her body in a furious ongoing flame that erupted butterflies from within her gut. All the pent up words she wished to say before were now sent free, spilled on the floor and out in the open to the listening ear. If only she would've done it sooner.