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Rain tapped on the dark umbrella that shaded both girls from the heavy rain. The black-haired girl hummed softly, walking slowly so that the redhead could keep up. Thunder bellowed from the heavens as they stopped abruptly, the taller of the two standing and turning to the other one.
“Hey, Marceline?” Bonnibel pulled her hoodie strings, looking down at both of their shoes, which were matching Converse. Something strained itself in her neck, swallowing hard.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Marceline looked up at Bonnibel. She was only an inch or two shorter, but Bonnibel felt too tall for the moment.
“I just- I wanted to ask if you’d- God, this sounds so stupid but- Would you go to prom with me?” Bonnibel’s eyes flicked up, meeting a taken aback Marceline. Her face was painted pink, and she could see Marceline’s doing the same.
However, suddenly, Bonnibel could feel the rain.
“Bonnie, we’re good friends but I’m just… not looking for someone right now. Even if you just wanted to go to prom together, not date, I just don’t think I’m ready for it yet.” Marceline scratched her arm awkwardly, backing up a bit, watching Bonnibel’s hair get heavier as water seeped in between the follicles. The rain started to taste a lot more… salty, too.
“Oh, that’s… that’s fine, Marceline. I was just wondering- I just- I-” Bonnibel tried to choke out a response, a frog getting caught in her throat. Everything felt smaller. “It’s fine, y’know.”
Marceline nodded, somewhat uncomfortable with the current situation. A soft sigh left her as she put a hand on Bonnibel’s shoulder. “Bonnie, I’m sure you can find someone else to go with you. You’re sweet, you know? It’s just that, I’m not that person. I think- I think I'm gonna head out. I'll... see you around, Bon.” Marceline removed her hand, Bonnibel’s heart weaker than before. The black haired girl slowly walked away, umbrella in tow. The rain came down heavier than before. Her red hair, like her heart, seemed to go out. Rain slammed down on Bonnibel’s cheeks, still mixing in with what Bonnibel had figured out were her own tears. Sniffling, she used her sleeve, heavy with water, to wipe her face, her eyelashes shielding her eyes from a few droplets. Now turning, the wall of fog between the two thickened, Bonnibel forced to walk back home in the storm. Thunder broke through the silence once more, as her soft sobbing joined forces with it to create a symphony of sadness that rivalled Bach.
Her feet seemed heavier before as she carried herself down the sidewalk, nearly stumbling whilst she continued walking back home.