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The wood paneling shook as Henry slammed the door shut behind him, panting as his back hit the wood. Outside, the sounds of the searchers had vanished far behind, but he kept a firm grip on his axe and a keen ear open for any noise at all for some time until he was certain that the drip drip drip of ink was only coming from the leaking ceiling.
Then, and only then, did he allow himself to slide down to the floor and heave a breath of relief.
That had been a lot of monsters that time, more than he’d ever recalled seeing before, and with his still healing injuries, there was no way he could fight them off alone. Even Bendy had had trouble at times, the searchers nearly overwhelming him through sheer numbers before he’d been able to buck them off. With how long that fight had gone, Henry had been half-afraid that the little devil would lose control again, and perhaps Bendy had felt the same, because when it became clear that the searchers would not let up, the former cartoon character had suddenly picked him up and bolted.
Which is why they were here now, in this dinky, ink-splattered, run down room.
Once he’d caught his breath, Henry carefully lifted up the paper clenched firmly in his other hand, smoothing it out to check on the demon resting within, “Hey, Bendy, you holdin’ up alright?”
Bendy was currently sitting on the ink line Henry had drawn for him, shoulders hunched and looking decidedly exhausted, but he gave Henry a shaky thumbs up, “N-never better! Just, uh . . . gotta catch my breath real quick!”
Well, that was good enough for now. With a groan, Henry braced his hand against the door and, using his axe as a crutch, hoisted himself to his feet. His legs were wobblier than he’d like thanks to his injury, and his breath was becoming harder to catch the longer he remained trapped in this studio-turned-hell-hole. If (no, when, no good thinking negatively) they got out of this place, he was finding the nearest hotel, buying a room, and passing out on the bed for the entire week.
Once he was on his feet, Henry took a quick look at the room they were in now. To his surprise, it looked very similar to the animating rooms on the upper levels. The desk, the drawing board, pens, ample supplies of paper . . . If not for the pervasive smell of ink everywhere, the clear signs of abuse and black splatter on the walls, and the monsters outside, he would say it was invitingly nostalgic.
There was a surprisingly undamaged chair, though, and when Henry saw it, he limped over and took a grateful seat. The wood creaked under his weight, not having seen an occupant in quite some time, but held steady. Henry rested his arm against the desk and gently set Bendy down beside him, even as the little demon made a curious hum at the view before him, “Hey, I saw all this stuff up top! This is where you drew everything, right?”
Henry nodded as he flexed and unflexed his fingers to work them out, feeling the bones pop pleasantly as he replied, “Yep, places like this is where the magic happened. Surprised to see most of its intact down here, with all those things outside.”
“Yeah . . . hey, Henry,” Bendy was looking up at him now, an expression of inquisitiveness on his face, “What did you draw?”
Henry blinked at the little devil, bemused, “Whaddya mean ‘what did I draw’? I drew you, bud!”
He lightly tapped Bendy on the chest to emphasis his point, making the demon totter on the page before he got his balance back. Grinning now, Bendy thumbed at himself and said, “Well, duh, obviously! But I meant what else did ya draw, ya big dummy!”
Hm, well, he guessed that was a reasonable question. God, what else did he work on, actually? It had been such a long time . . .
“I think . . .” Henry scratched the back of his head, face screwed up in thought, “Uh . . .”
“No way,” Bendy stared at him, an impish smile crossing the demon’s face as he pointed accusingly, “You can’t remember, can you!”
“I can if ya give me a minute!” Henry shot back, but there was a slight smile on his face anyway, and no real heat in his words. He glanced at the board in front of him, to the papers laying in a surprisingly neat stack beside it, gears turning. Animating had always been his department, Bendy in particular . . . but faintly, a memory began to stir. One from a long time ago, when they were all just getting started and didn’t have as big of a budget or a staff, a time when everyone had to share the workload.
Quietly, as if he were talking to himself, Henry whispered, “Sets.”
Bendy’s finger drooped, “Huh?”
“I helped work on the sets. It was kinda a group effort,” Henry explained. He waved his hand in front of him, “Like the backgrounds and such. Yeah, I remember I used to be really good at drawing inside pieces, like furniture and stuff.”
“Really?” Bendy seemed to be listening attentively now, having sat down on his line to watch him.
Henry nodded absently. It was strange. Like, the very moment one memory returned, others began to pour in behind it. Working at his desk with Joey hovering over his shoulder, pointing out mistakes or adding in ideas. Passing by Sammy’s office every once in a while, sharing a word or two, usually a complaint about Wally. Hearing the band perform below his feet, sometimes idly tapping his pencil in tune to their songs. And quiet evenings alone, working late but diligently, until he passed out at his desk with his pen on the floor and cheek pressed against the pages.
God, he hadn’t thought about this stuff in years. And maybe there had been a reason why, because the more he thought about it, the more a dull, sad ache would grow inside his heart. Because, for as much time as he had wasted in that seat, he had truly enjoyed what he’d done here. What he’d help bring to life. And now it had all gone to hell in a handbasket . . .
“Henry? You okay?”
He blinked back to reality, not realizing how far he had dazed out until he heard Bendy call him. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, lil’ bud, I dozed out there pretty bad.”
Bendy tilted his head, the ink above his eye lifting the way an eyebrow would on a human, “Yeah, you sure did. Thought I’d have to come out there and bop you on the head or somethin’.”
Henry chuckled, “Right, well, remind me not to do that again then.”
Bendy gave him a thumbs up and a wink, even as Henry turned back to the drawing board. Hm . . . how long had it been exactly since he’d left? At least thirty, but the exact date, the exact year? He couldn’t remember.
“Soooo . . . did you do anything else?” Bendy asked, noting the way his friend’s eyes had traveled back to the desk.
“Mostly animating and the inside backgrounds. But I enjoyed it a lot,” Henry reached out and carefully thumbed a piece of paper from the stack, dragging it back to rest in from of him, “You know, we had our own version of hot potato in the studio?”
“Ooh, now this I gotta hear!”
“Well, we had this little doll of you inside the studio. It used to just sit out near the front as decoration, but someone started passing it around in our offices when no one was looking. I’m pretty sure it was Joey, but he never fessed up to anything. Anyway, the idea was that if you were the one who had it by the end of the week, you had to go do our supply runs, and the only way you could pass it on was when no one saw you do it. They could get . . . pretty heated.” Henry grinned suddenly, “There was one time where Wally was our run guy for four straight weeks, and he got so mad about it he forwarded a complaint. But not before he got the Bendy doll again by the week’s end.”
Bendy laughed, slapping his knee, “That’s great! Do you know who did it to him so much? Was it one guy? Was it everyone?”
Henry smiled again, and pointed at himself.
Bendy’s eyes got huge, just like his smile, “Weeeeell, color me impressed! To think that big old serious Henry could have some fun! I didn’t know you had it in you!”
“Well, I was one of the head animators for a devil who loved causing mischief,” Henry defended, “And sometimes, Wally really asked for it.”
Bendy laughed again, looking more tickled than Henry had seen him in a while. Given all that had happened, it was so surprise, but it was good to see him in brighter spirits.
There was slight, bubbly pop to his left, and Henry looked to see that an ink stain had made its home in the corner of the ceiling, fresh ink running in rivulets down the old, faded wallpaper. He pulled a face at it, frowning in distaste.
“It’s . . . messed up, you know?” he commented, not taking his eyes off the disgusting stain, “This place was used for making things that made people happy. That made them laugh. And now it’s-,” he gestured at the spot, tone bitter, “this.”
He heard Bendy shift a little, but he didn’t miss the slight change in the demon’s voice, the way he sounded a little more muted than before, “Yeah. Must be a pretty . . . awful change.”
Henry looked down again, frowning for a different reason when he saw the way Bendy not-so-subtly averted his eyes, “Hey, you aren’t part of this mess. If anything, you’re the only damn thing about it that hasn’t changed.”
“You sure?” Bendy hesitantly looked up at the human, “I mean, I’ve-,”
“Stop right there,” Henry wasn’t loud, but there was an authoritative firmness in his tone that made Bendy quiet, “Bendy, we’ve been over this already. And I am absolutely sure that despite everything, you’re still the little dancing devil I helped create so long ago. Sure, you can talk and walk on your own now and . . . do other things, but you still try to cheer me up when I’m down, you try and take care of me when things are bad, and you try your best to keep your own head up through everything. And, well, that’s what Bendy was all about.”
Bendy smiled a little now, and Henry didn’t miss the sable hue on the demon’s cheeks darken into a blush. Then, then demon dropped his head down and ran his hands through his hair, “Aaaah, we were talkin’ about fun things here! What are we doin’ with this heart-to-heart stuff?”
“In my defense, you started it,” Henry replied, folding his arms on the desk and leaning his weight on them.
Bendy waved at him, looking just a touch embarrassed, “Yeah, yeah . . . but thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome,” In the silence that followed, Henry looked at the fresh sheet of clean paper in front of him, feeling a little melancholic, “You know, until now, I . . . didn’t actually think about how much I missed it. Drawing, and all that.”
“Well . . . we’re killin’ time here right?” Bendy said, standing up, “Why don’t ya draw somethin’ right now!”
Henry looked at the little devil, wondering . . . would it really be safe to do that? But then, they needed the break, and nothing had come crashing through their door to get at them as of yet, so maybe . . .
Glancing around, Henry took note of the numerous pens and pencils laying scattered on the desk and on the floor, before reaching out and picking a sleek black pencil with a well sharpened tip. Looking at the paper in front of him, Henry tapped the eraser tip against the desk in thought. Drawing Bendy might be a little weird now given his new friend, and honestly, he thinks that’s the only one he really needs . . . so what else?
It came to him in a flash of eureka, and with a smile, he began to draw.
Bendy stood on his tiptoes, trying in vain to see what he was working on, “Henry, what are you doing? The paper’s too low, I can’t see!”
“Just a minute.”
Bendy crossed his arms and grumbled, but obliged and sat down to wait. Roughly ten minutes later, and satisfied with the conclusion, Henry carefully picked Bendy’s page up and laid it next to the new one. Bendy stared at him, puzzled, “Um . . .?”
“Well, go on. Cross over to it,” Henry urged, knocking his head to the left.
“Uh, okay?” Bendy walked over as he was told, only to bump noses into something hard and decidedly not a slip of paper, “Ouch! Henry, what’s the big idea?”
“Oh, oops. I should probably draw the other side too . . .” Henry fixed his mistake quickly, adding the second portion to Bendy’s current page with a few easy strokes of his pencil.
The ink demon stared, “A . . . door?”
Henry didn’t say anything, being frustratingly quiet about what was on the other side. But curiosity now thoroughly aroused, Bendy bounced on over and turned the knob on his new door, and the one drawn on the other page opened in tandem.
And when Bendy stepped through, the devil’s face dropped in wonder.
On the other side, a little drawn room had been made. An oval carpet lay on the floor, quickly crosshatched into being but looking surprisingly neat for such a quick sketch. A desk lay propped against the right most side, wooden judging from the way the side had been drawn, with a lamp resting on top. Curious, Bendy grabbed the dangling cord and tugged, and even Henry was surprised when the lamp responded accordingly, that side of the page suddenly growing just a touch brighter than before. And on the other side, a bed had been made, looking appropriately plush given its cartoony origins, a pillow and a blanket tucked neatly into place.
As Bendy wandered in slow circles, still looking unbelieving and for once rendered speechless, Henry spoke in a tone that was completely smug, “I told you I was good at furniture.”
“Henry, this . . . you didn’t have to-,” Bendy trailed off, one hand wrapped around his elbow and digging the toe of his foot into the ground.
“No, I didn’t. But I wanted to, and as any artist will tell you, that’s how you get them to do anything,” Henry pointed with his pencil at the desk, “Also, look a little closer. You missed something.”
“Huh?” Bendy looked again, peering at the desk closely. A little smudge of black lay beside the lamp, and he picked it up and examined it, spinning it around slowly, “Is this a . . . pencil?”
“Mhm. Figured you’d want a little say in how your new room should look.”
Bendy looked startled, “My . . . my room?”
Henry shrugged, “Well, yeah. I figured we could just take this page with us once we leave, and we can break it out again when we stop. Sort of like a camping set, only a hell of a lot easier to set up.”
Bendy didn’t immediately respond, looking down at his feet instead with his hands clasped tight around the pencil. But when he did look up, its with a grin that’s bigger than any Henry has ever seen before and filled with so much happiness it’s infectious, even despite the tears that were welling up in the little demon’s eyes, “Th-thanks, Henry! Thank you so much! This really . . . really means a lot to me!”
Henry’s returning smile was soft and fond, and no less earnest, “You’re welcome. Now, how about we put some work into designing this place, huh?”
Bendy, after quickly running a hand over his eyes, nodded exuberantly, “Y-yeah! By the time we’re done, this place’ll be the ritz, just watch!”
“That’s the spirit,” Henry said.
And for a while, as the two worked, they could both forget about the danger they were in and the uncertainty of their future. And, for now, the tiny little room they were in became a little less like hell, and a little more like home.