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Falling was ecstasy.
Bonnibel wished she could just fall indefinitely, the wind blowing through her fingers as she reached down into the oblivion of the canyon. But a part of her knew that the falling wasn’t what made her feel so alive, it was Marceline’s hand around her waist. It made sense, though she’d rather not admit it, that they would die in each others embrace. It just felt right that they would be the ones to end each other. No, it felt like destiny; it felt as if every choice she and The Star made was written in the stars and there was nothing either of them could do about it but tangle themselves tighter into webs of red string.
Maybe that also meant, that in another world, their embrace didn’t mean death, it meant life and beauty.
But then again was there not beauty in pain? And what was more painful than seeing The Star burning up, boils welling on her cheeks, and yet not revealing Marceline shining between the layers. What was more painful than watching the death of the tyrant who destroyed civilisation as it is and yet only being able to remember the love you felt for her?
“Bonnibel” The Star whispered, singsongy voice now raspy and pained. What had that Fionna girl said? Something about how in her world, Marceline was Marshel, a singer with the power to entrance all with his voice. Could Marceline have also been a singer if life hadn’t dealt her this? If her father hadn’t been who he is, could Marceline have sung Bonnibel sweet lullabies rather than force her to sing mourning hymns?
“You know the sun doesn’t kill me right? You know Bonnie the sun only pains me?”
She knew. Bonnibel knew everything about Marceline and she wished she didn’t. She knew that Marceline’s mum died when she was a baby, and she was forced to fend for herself. She knew the world was not easy on sweet Marceline. She knew Marceline snuck out of the castle to small pubs to drink her worries away. She knew that there was a mole on her back just beside her left breast. She knew that Marceline was scared of dying.
She knew that The Star had killed 15 gummies in one blow. She knew that the Star ate the heart of the first person she killed, ravenous rage licking at her heels. She knew that The Star had pulled out her eye, and she remembered that icky feeling as she watched her eyeball being licked clean of its blood. She remembered the soft, almost mumble “you’re mine Bonnie.” She knew that The Star could only die when she sunk the stake into her heart or on her neck, piercing her the way she pierced so many others.
She knew it all and yet all she could think of was how Marceline held her waist, almost as if she was delicate and Marceline was afraid to crush it. It made her want to tear her to shreds
She held the stake, positioning it above The Stars heart. A perfect mark. Yet it did not hit. She just held it high above the sickly girl with one hand, while her other hand softly felt the squish between Marceline’s stomach and thighs.
Small freckles ran down Marceline’s thigh: dark periwinkle on the soft gray, luminescent in the moonlight. If purple was indeed the colour of nobility, she knew that periwinkle was the colour of the most beautiful queen, for she had held these freckles once. She had kissed them maybe a hundred times, each a promise she must break. ***Her hands had pulled at these freckles once, clawing and grabbing as Marceline buckled from the slightest touch.
Bonnibel had remembered the sweet diamonds hitting her tongue, dew drops on grass falling into the begging soil. And the look on Marceline’s face, oh the look on her face. The soft pleasure and mouth hanging open asking for, no begging for more as Bonnie drew her tongue around, in and out. Even thinking of Marceline’s dewy skin, shimmering in the heat of the moment, or the stickiness of the entire scene, brought joyful remembrance that for a split second, Bonnie was Marceline’s and Marceline was Bonnie’s.***
And yet, that joy wouldn’t last. She thought she could fall forever, the wind nipping at her skin, but the blue sky stretched thin, surrounded by the upcoming ground. Maybe in another life, Bonnibel would do nothing more than just kiss Marceline, tossing her hair, playing with her crown. Maybe in another universe, The Star bubbles away revealing the beautiful girl she loved.
But not in this life.
No in this life, Bonnibel screamed, drawing the stake closer. In this life, Marceline took one hand free so both held onto each other and the stake, holding onto their lives and their deaths. In this life, Bonnibel could see that the stake pointed to her heart as well.
She screamed a guttural cry of defeat as she plunged the stake into The Star, and for a second, just a split second, she swore she could see starlight.