It was night-time and Marceline was somewhere indistinct in Ooo, near the Candy Kingdom. The insects made squeaks and creaks and chirps around her. She floated above the treetops, thoughtfully staring at the lights of Princess Bubblegum's kingdom in the near-distance. More specifically, Marceline's demon-eyes were staring at the anatomy of Bonnibel's tower, the lights of her bedroom still glimmering in the distance. Marceline had been going back and forth for hours, just trying to make a decision.

It was the day the Door Lord had stolen Finn, Jake and PB's precious keepsakes. She was so embarrassed after having been so impulsively honest and vulnerable. In front of Finn, who had such sweet feelings toward PB, in front of Jake, who was far too intelligent not to figure out what was going on. And worst of all, in front of the candy matriarch, herself. Marceline's self-doubt and insecurities were ravaging her. She had not even been able to go home after the incident, to the confines of her cave. It felt as though her anxieties would fill up her tiny house and she would drown, saying Bonnibel's name.

All this time, Marceline had thought that she was the loneliest person in the world. Old enough to have watched Simon turn into Ice King, old enough to have watched Princess Bubblegum become a fierce leader and a terrible… friend. Marceline had never really known what her and Bonnibel were- back when they would still hang out and speak to one another. They were extremely close, at times they got so close. There was constant tension between them- every touch between them had become a game, every look a flirtation- a wonderful prelude to something exciting. And then PB just… stopped talking to her. Marceline had been so hurt, she didn't understand and never asked. For her things were simple, if Bonnibel had wanted to be with her, she would have. Instead, she was discarded, without a word.

Marceline had carried this hurt and confusion with her for so many years that it had become an indistinct prickle in her brain. She became conscious of it when she was reminded it was there. It had almost become part of her cell memory. The way that you aren't aware of your tongue in your mouth, until you are.

The events of the day had, however, turned that indistinct prickling into a confusion she could not ignore. Most painful of all, maybe, was that there was a new element in the confusion-and-feelings-matrix: hope. Why would PB have kept that shirt? She had so many precious things in that castle, all her subjects, her science things, her crown, but the door lord had taken the shirt. She had seemed embarrassed, too. That was the only reason Marceline had not fled Ooo, actually. Bonnibel looked so vulnerable, perhaps Marceline wasn't the only one who felt exposed?

After infuriating herself with her own indecision, Marceline chose a course. "I'm going to go to her." Her self-doubt, for the moment, hardening into resolution. As she began heading towards her destination, she noticed that the lights in Bonnie's room had gone out sometime during the course her self-flagellating vacillation. This made her hesitate. But she had gone to PB's bedroom window in the dead of night so many times in the past, she decided it would be alright to go see if PB wanted to talk.

As Marceline flew, the cold air brushed her face, she could smell the sweetness of the Kingdom. As she approached the window of PB's bedroom, she paused and took a breath.

"I shouldn't have to be the one to make up with you."

She could still feel those words uncomfortably tingling in her throat from where they had burned her earlier, on their impulsive exit. And suddenly, she wasn't embarrassed anymore. She was angry. "What am I doing?" she whispered, disappointed in herself for coming here. "I was so honest today, she knows how I feel, she must know." And yet, here Marceline was, at her window. As she stood on the cusp on reconciliation, Marceline's anger gusted her backward, away from the precipice.

"No." she said quietly to herself. "I shouldn't have to be the one who makes up with you." She didn't sound or feel angry anymore, though- she was lost in an expansive sadness.

She turned away.

Princess Bubblegum was in her bedroom, sitting on the bed. She had been here since she had returned from the Door Lord's lair.

"I'm just your problem…"

Marceline's beautiful, haunting words cascaded over her again and again, in waves that made her withdraw physically into herself, coiling in shame.

PB groaned and collapsed face first in her bed, into the piles of paper she spread out in front of her. They were charts, analyzing the day's events. For a genius scientist, however, PB was not succeeding in analyzing the data in front of her. The variable she had not accounted for, of course, was her own emotional perspective, self-loathing and doubt. PB didn't know that she had made Marceline feel so… unimportant, like a nuisance. In retrospect, however, she realized that there was no other way for Marceline to feel. Bonnibel was always involved with everything, organizing everyone. She was so in control of everything around her, except Marceline. She sort of, just... left Marceline alone. Bonnibel had always thought that this might make Marceline realize she was special, separate from the rest. This was incredibly flawed emotional reasoning, PB now realized. "I thought you knew you were special. I thought…" Bubblegum trailed off. It had always been possible for her to love someone deeply, to want to be with them but leave them alone, nonetheless. She had to be responsible. But she thought she knew. She thought Marceline knew.

"It's like I'm not even a person..."

PB pulled her knees up to her chest, becoming impossibly small and made an unearthly sound. Peppermint Butler stuck his head through the door, concerned about the unglobly sound he had just heard. "Everything okay in here?" he asked.

"Sure, Peps. Just some charts that aren't… adding up."

Peppermint Butler narrowed his eyes suspiciously. But he knew better than to try and get the Princess to talk about her feelings. He knew what this was about, though. He'd been around long enough to know. PB hadn't even gone to her lab today after she arrived home. And he knew she probably didn't make the connection, but the fact that she only ever "scienced" about Marceline in her bedroom displayed an obvious association of intimacy and desire for closeness.

"Peps, I think I have to go out. Don't wait up."

"Sure." He replied, hoping to glob the Princess would finally do something to make herself happier (since she had never let him try dark magic on her sadness).

Princess Bubblegum walked out of the castle. "Kaaaaaa" she yelled, both her arms in the air and a moment later her bird, The Morrow, swooped down and picked her up. The scene kept playing over in Bubblegum's head. Marceline's beautiful face, looking so pained and so, so lost. She had never told Marceline how beautiful she thought she was, she realized.

As they approached, the bird descended and PB made the rest of the way on foot. As she got to the entrance of Marceline's cave, she faltered. The lights of the house were off, post-apocalyptic moonlight silhouetting her pink frame in the entrance of the dark cave. "She doesn't want to talk to me." she thought. "Why would she want to talk to me?" PB on some level knew she was lying to herself. She knew Marceline wanted to talk to her, but that she was just too proud, too angry, probably. Bubblegum's self-sabotaging tendency started to swell, looking to claim another regret.

And it did. Bonnibel turned around, tears in her eyes- so angry with herself, but feeling so unable to choose a different course in this moment.

As Marceline arrived home, she paused under the stone entrance of the cave where Bubbelgum had stood only minutes prior. Her keen senses prickled. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling the faintest trace of a familiar but unexpected perfume. "Bubblegum..." she whispered whistfully, without understanding.