Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bendy had been searching for his elusive Creator when there was a resounding thump that echoed throughout the floor.

Normally it wouldn’t have interested the Ink demon seeing how some of the toons here were clumsy enough to trip over their own legs.

However not long ago he had been chasing after his Creator who he had spotted on the floor.

The human managed to elude Bendy this time but that just meant he was still on this floor. He must be because Bendy had been near the stairs the entire time and he had not seen a hair or skin of the human.

“Creatoooor…!” He gurgled out with a wide grin, making his way over to the source of the noise and taking the inky web with him.

Bendy had expected to see his Creator up to something, probably following the orders of the false Angel and stare at Bendy with unbridled fear, like always.

He expected himself to be cackling in delighted glee as he chased down the human again to give him the death he so rightfully deserved.

Instead, Bendy tripped over the body on the floor and landed on the floor with a wet splat.

“Wha’ the heck?!” Bendy growled, hastily getting on his legs and glared down at the body on the floor.

His forced smile dropped when he realised who exactly was it on the floor: the Creator himself. Yet he wasn’t moving. Not a single twitch or a shift of movement.

‘Is he dead?’ Bendy frowned with concern, this wasn’t part of the game. He was the one who was supposed to kill the Creator, hell he even chased him all over the floor and this was the thanks he got for that?

The ink demon leaned in closer to his Creator and inspected him closely.

His Creator still wasn’t moving… But he was breathing.

And if Bendy strained his nonexistent ears, he could very vaguely make out extremely quiet snores.

Was… Was his Creator asleep?

In the middle of a corridor?

On a floor that he was fully aware Bendy was lurking in, searching to end the Creator’s life in as many painful ways possible so he’d pay for betraying the toons and Bendy?

If it wasn’t for how flabbergasted Bendy was, he would’ve probably murdered his Creator immediately for making a fool out of Bendy.

‘But then again, it didn’t seem intentional.’ Bendy mused, staring down at the man warily, ‘… It must be a trick. Nobody just falls asleep in the middle of the hall like this.’

He shook his head and prodded one inky finger at the Creator’s side.

No movement.

Bendy experimentally grabbed the man’s shoulders and shook him back and forth.

The Creator’s eyes were still shut, blissfully dreaming away.

Bendy pried open the Creator’s eyelids and stare into the man’s eyes that looked so far away.

The moment he released them, they slid back shut automatically.

Bendy bellowed an earsplitting screech that shook the floor.

The Creator barely even stirred.

“Well now how’re we supposed to continue the game now?” The ink demon grumbled.

With an indignant huff, Bendy dropped his Creator back on the floor and scratched his deformed head. This was not going according to plan.

The Creator was breaking the rules and Bendy couldn’t get him to stop because nobody told him that the Creator slept like a rock.

The scene was almost comedic honestly. Here he was, the Ink Demon who was feared throughout the corrupted studio, impatiently waiting for his renegade prey to wake up.

Judging how the Creator barely reacted to Bendy’s prodding, it would be safe to say that the human was not going to wake up anytime soon.

Fantastic.

---

Boris wasn’t sure what to think of Henry at first.

When Boris found Henry, the human was bleeding and bruised all over, and his clothes were ruined by ink splatters. He was incredibly wary of the toon at first, but somehow he knew Boris’ name.

Boris knew there were others like him - his clones to say it simply - but most of them had been hunted down by the Angel down below. There was the chance that Henry had come from above as well, but that was impossible. Nobody ever entered the studio from the outside world.

The Ink Demon made sure of that.

It wasn’t too difficult to guide the human to the safe house, even if the human passed out halfway and Boris had to carry his small body.

The perks of being together with another sentient creature was that you got to learn things about them that didn’t quite match with the mindless entities.

For instance, Henry was fond of games. While the human’s injuries were healing, he and Boris played several games of card and even kept a tally board of who won the most.

So far, Boris was winning.

Secondly, Henry was apparently prone to fall asleep at any time whether he was sitting on a chair or standing on the floor.

Time to time, Boris would walk to the main room of the safe house to find Henry lying on the ground or snoozing on the chair.

The first few times, he tried to wake the man up but he was quick to understand that Henry was a deep sleeper.

Eventually, Boris simply resigned to carrying the human back to his bed whenever he found Henry asleep.

Boris couldn’t ask him why he kept sleeping on the floor either since he lacked a voice of his own. Henry however seemed to always pick up Boris’ silent words, something which the wolf was grateful for.

“I’m narcoleptic,” The human told him while he turned the stove on, “It’s a disorder that makes me really sleepy during the day. For some people, it can be gradual or sudden, and in my case, it’s pretty sudden. So sudden that I’ll be walking and then just splat, go asleep.”

He chuckled softly, “It scared a lot of my colleagues when they first found out, but they got over it and started putting me on the couch whenever they could.”

They stayed in the safe house for another day to ensure that Henry’s wounds had finished healing up, before deciding to venture back out into the studio. Boris kept his ears alert for any sign of the other denizens of the studio or the familiar thump of Henry’s body passing on the floor.

So far, so good.

Henry didn’t show any signs of falling asleep either, in fact he seemed a lot more awake and alert than ever. Although that could be attributed to most of their time shared was spent in the safe house so Henry had no reason to be alert.

Then Henry left Boris in the elevator ( “I’m not going to fall asleep anytime soon buddy, I promise that.” ) and Boris could hear Alice’s voice over the intercom. Henry must’ve found her.

To his relief, Henry returned to the elevator relatively unscathed from Alice’s introduction, with the exception of ink splattering his clothes - though really, that was to be expected in a place like this. Apparently Alice promised them release if Henry gathered objects for her.

“You stay in the elevator while I find the things she want.” Henry said to him while he punched in one of the buttons in the elevator, “We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Funny. Boris can vaguely remember someone telling him the exact same thing.

He stayed in the elevator just as Henry instructed him to do while the human went to fulfil Alice’s tasks. Occasionally he’d see the searchers crawl past the elevator, ignoring his presence entirely just as always.

Thump.

Boris felt his dread spike.

He recognised the sound. It was the distinct thud of a body hitting the floor, just like Henry falling asleep, except he wasn’t anywhere near Boris for the wolf to pick him up. He was far outside the elevator with the searchers and Alice, and likely where the Ink Demon was lurking too.

Boris scrambled out of the elevator in a hurry. There was no telling what would happen to Henry while the human slept through his narcolepsy induced nap, and considering the deep sleeper Henry was, he probably wouldn’t wake up even if someone shook him back and forth.

Boris would know, he tried that.

There was an angry screech that definitely belonged to the Ink Demon, and Boris was fast to find the nearest corner to hide in because he is not going to mess with the Ink Demon ever again. He cowered there for a while, letting a few seconds pass after the scream before he hesitantly looked up.

The Ink Demon wasn’t anywhere near him. Did it find Henry?

Boris sure hoped not.

He shakily wandered deeper into the hallways, slowly but surely getting closer to where he heard the Ink Demon scream and-

Boris quickly darted back behind the corner of the wall he had been passing and cautiously peeked over the edge.

Henry was there, lying on the ground but so was the Ink Demon who was walking back and forth impatiently, the inky web following him in his every step. Oddly enough, the Ink Demon hadn’t mangled Henry’s body yet. Maybe he thought Henry was dead?

Then Boris might have a chance to retrieve Henry before the Ink Demon noticed that Henry was asleep and not actually dead.

It was a blessing that Henry had passed out close to the corner that Boris was hiding behind, as the wolf dragged the human’s body with him as quietly as he could.

The Ink Demon had heard the shuffling of fabric against the wooden floorboards, and realised Henry’s disappearance.

Boris was already out of there by the time the Ink Demon looked into the spot that Boris had been hiding in not so long ago.

As soon as Boris carried Henry into the elevator, he punched one of the elevator buttons and watched the elevator descend down below, just in time for the Ink Demon to arrive in front of the leaving elevator.

Boris let out a silent sigh of relief once the Ink Demon was out of view and sat on the elevator’s floor. He glanced at Henry who was still positively asleep despite the close call with Bendy, and was even curling up on the floor.

Hopefully Alice wouldn’t mind waiting for a bit longer for whatever assignment she gave Henry to be completed.

Chapter Text

Very rarely do the Lost Ones acknowledge the environment they were in.

They mostly stuck to wallowing in their sorrow and despair of the cruel state they’ve been reduced to. There wasn’t a moment when they weren’t crying and expressing their desire to go home, until now.

A great majority of the Lost Ones were huddled around the air vent where they had watched the Creator – he had finally returned! -  crawl into and hadn’t come out for an hour now.

Some of them were murmuring that he must’ve been exploring the other side in search of a way to save them, while others wondered if perhaps the Creator had gotten stuck in the vents.

The vents weren’t small by conventional means but that hadn’t mean someone couldn’t get stuck.

After another half an hour of complete silence, one of the Lost Ones finally volunteered to wander into the vent and see where had the Creator gone to.

They hadn’t gotten far inside when they reached up to the Creator who was definitely inside the vents in front of them but not moving one bit.

The only sounds being made were the Creator’s quiet snores and the ambient noise of machinery running in the background.

The Lost One promptly shuffled back outside of the vent and told the others that the Creator had fallen asleep in the vents.

Nobody believed them and they all resigned to wallowing in their despair again.

Bendy wondered if he should probably pull the Creator out of the vent by now.

He’s been in there for an hour and surely that can’t be good for the human.

It’d be just as bad as sleeping on the floor which was definitely not comfortably with all the globs of ink ruining the texture and durability of the aged wood.

If his Creator screwed over his mortal body for sleeping in the wrong space, then the game would be ruined and Bendy would be denied a chance to make the traitor pay.

Turned out he didn’t have to do anything when his Creator eventually woke up in the vents and wormed his way out of it, as if he hadn’t been sleeping in tight spaces for the past hour.

Honestly, Henry was proving to be more troublesome than what he was worth.

It wasn’t every day that a Butcher Gang member would find a comfortable pillow, considering the state of the studio and their general mindless behavior.

But every now and then, there would be something that the Butcher Gang would treasure over, whether it’d be a plushie or a broken china plate from somewhere.

In this case, it was an oversized pillow that had suddenly appeared in front of the fireplace that they were standing at earlier before they were drawn away by a sound.

An Edgar clone was the first to touch it curiously. It lookedhuman, but no sane human would fall asleep willingly in a dangerous environment such as the studio.

A Charlie clone wandered close to it and pressed a hand against its arm. It was warm, very unlike the cold ink they were used to. Almost like the fireplace they liked.

It was a Barley clone that finally decided to take the risk and press his body against the pillow. He let out a positive purr at the warmth that the pillow practically exuded, plus with the fire radiating warmth as well.

It melted away the coldness of the Ink, replacing it with the warmth that only the fire would give them. Maybe even more warmer than the fire.

It didn’t take long for all of the Butcher Gang clones to gather around the pillow and quietly drift to sleep in content. For once, nobody dreamed of the agonizing screams that dwelled within the Ink.

Henry would later find himself drying off his ink-soaked clothes after he woke up covered with the Butcher Gang Clones all over him.

It had honestly been a complete accident caused by the dumbest luck to ever exist and gravity deciding not to be nice to Henry at the time.

He had just been about to remove one of the bolts from Bertrum’s carousel arm when he slipped on absolutely nothing and in pure dumb luck, tumbled into one of Bertrum’s carts.

This happened at the same time when his brain decided that it was time to wind down and send him to sleep at the worst timing possible, just when Bertrum regained his integrity and began spinning around his carts again.

Except Henry was in one of those carts, fast asleep and nicely tucked into the ride.

Bertrum hadn’t even noticed the sleeping human in his cart until he finally realized that Henry wasn’t scampering around him like a mouse, and a strange quiet snoring from one of his carts.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He muttered when he slowly rotated his arm to see the sleeping human. “I come back as this, and you sleep when I’m trying to murder you. Unbelievable.”

Henry snored back in response.

Bertrum tossed the human on the ground and crushed him under the cart.  

Henry would later wake up in front of a Bendy statue with a killer headache, puzzled over why his head was hurting so much.

The Projectionist stared down at the PREYhuman he had been chasing down not long ago before the man had spectacularly tripped over, and the ink creature was currently watching the man’s body float in the ink.

It had been a while since the man had tripped and he still hasn’t gotten up from the ink. If anything, the Projectionist could see a few bubbles popping up to the surface of the ink.

Something which a small part of him knew that it wasn’t good for the WANDERERhuman.

He was going to drown in the Ink.

The Projectionist grasped the back of the INTRUDERhuman’s shirt and heaved him out of the ink with relative ease. Ink dribbled down the TARGETman’s face which the Projectionist wiped away curiously to take a better look at the VICTIMman’s face.

Disheveled hair with streaks of grey, a few cuts marring his face-

Henry

The Projectionist’s light flickered at the name that was softly whispered in his head. He knew this PREy human who he had been chasing since he first set his light on him.

For the first time in forever, Norman Polk reclaimed a part of his sentience since his dip into madness.

The projectionist frowned as he realized that he was holding none other than the CREATORstudio’s former co-creator, in his hand.

Said co-creator was also fast asleep, despite having his face dunked into cold ink for a while too.

Norman’s light dimmed slightly, and the projectionist shook the FRIEND man lightly. Henry barely even stirred.

Norman stared at Henry incredulously for a while before an old memory played in his head.

Henry falling asleep on his desk, a noisy janitor struggling to move the animator out of his office and him volunteering to carry the man-

“It’s narcolepsy. Sometimes, I just fall asleep and I can’t help it.” Henry explained to them with a sheepish smile. 

“If you see Henry asleep on his desk, just carry him to the couch and leave him there. He’ll wake up by himself.” Joey had told his employees after a number of them had expressed concerns about Henry's narcolepsy.

Norman dimmed his light slightly as he readjusted his grip on Henry, this time wrapping one arm behind Henry’s back and the other arm ducked under the animator’s knees.

It wasn’t hard to change his hold as Henry was the short man that Norman could just barely remember him to be. Maybe he had grown a few inches, but overall, he was still tiny compared to the taller projectionist.

Norman wracked his brain – whatever was left of it anyway – for resting spots that he could hide Henry in. The studio had long gone to hell, nowhere was safe anymore.

Norman couldn’t just lump the animator onto a random couch and leave him there, or else Henry wouldn’t last a second.

He’d be discovered by the other denizens of the studio quickly, and Norman wasn’t sure when would the next time he’d reclaim his sentience back ever again.

Ensuring that Henry was in his hold firmly, Norman left the flooded Maintenance room with his charge and began to seek for a safe place he could hide Henry in.

Henry would wake up eventually, and perhaps he and Norman could finally catch up with each other. It’s been far too long after all.

Henry quietly gasped awake as his mind snapped itself back to consciousness, disorienting himself in the process. He had been riding the cart when Alice was speaking to him with that taunting voice, daring to talk about Boris in front of him.

Then she had said something about a ride before something grabbed the cart Henry was in and threw him off.

It took a while for Henry to slowly register the feelings in his body though oddly enough, he couldn’t move them.

‘Sleep paralysis. Must’ve kicked in this time.’ He noted to himself mentally, letting his eyes crack open.

He suddenly wished he didn’t do that when the first thing to greet his eyes was rib bones and exposed organs.

From the corner of his eyes, Boris’ X-ed out eyes gazed down on him eerily. Henry inwardly gulped.

Why does he keep falling asleep at the wrong time?

Darn narcolepsy. 

Chapter Text

Finding someone asleep in Joey Drew Studio wasn’t an uncommon sight, considering the constant missed deadlines and the employees pulling overtime to meet the delayed deadlines.

Especially when it came to Henry who was the studio’s main animator and the most prone to staying up all night while animating his favorite dancing demon.

Employees who’d walk past Henry’s desk would sometimes find the man fast asleep on his desk and let him sleep. Then there were others who’d try to rouse him, like Wally Franks.

“Mister Ross, wake uuuup.” Wally groaned loudly after his latest attempt to wake the animator failed, “Seriously, how the hell are you still asleep? I even shoved you off the chair.”

“What’s this about?” Norman and Grant peered into the office, curiosity plastered clear on their faces.

“Henry fell asleep again and I’ve been tryin’ to wake him up for the past-“Wally quickly glanced at his watch, “Hour now. I even pushed him off his chair and he’s still snoring on the job.” The janitor gestured at Henry who was indeed lying on the floor beside his chair.

“And you’d think Sammy would tell him off for not doing his job like someone here.” Grant snickered. “Then again, Henry is one of the people here that Sammy tolerates.”

“He probably just did another all nighter.” Norman suggested, walking up to the fallen animator and picking him up easily, “I’ll take him to the break room.” He said before promptly carrying Henry out of his office.

Grant shrugged at Wally nonchalantly and followed the projectionist out.

The topic of Henry’s broken sleep schedule was brought up again when Grant walked into Joey’s office to discuss about the studio’s finances when he saw Henry lying down on the couch in Joey’s office.

Why the man had a couch in his office, Grant didn’t know why but it seemed that Henry was using it as a makeshift bed.

“I’m starting to think that Henry might be overworking himself.” Susie said with concern when Grant had shared the information, “He often puts his work before his health.”

“The man’s a workaholic.” Wally added with a grumble, “At this rate, Joey’s going to wear him out faster than I can say he’s outta there.”

“Fellas, we might be just overthinkin’ this whole thing.” Shawn interjected, “For all we know, Henry might just be havin’ a strange sleepin’ schedule.”

“Shawn’s right.” Thomas agreed, “Besides, it’s not the first time Henry slept in the studio.”

“If you can even call what he’s doing as sleeping.” The janitor muttered under his breath, “The man sleeps like the dead. There’s no waking him once he falls asleep, I swear.”

“Deep sleeper.” Norman supplied helpfully.

Grant cleared his throat, “Right so I guess we’re leaving Henry’s weird sleeping habit alone?”

There were murmurs of ‘Yes’ and ‘For now’ among the employees of Joey Drew Studio as they dispersed from the break room, returning to doing their job.

For the rest of the following week, nobody commented on finding Henry fast asleep in the studio.

Nobody would say a word when they’d find Henry lying down in the store room that was filled with 426 copies of Bendy cutouts, or when Henry was in a single bathroom stall for hours, or especially when Henry was buried under a pyramid of bacon soup cans by the courtesy of Wally.

If any interns complained about the head animator not waking up despite their attempts to rouse him, they would all shrug at the complainers and say nothing.

This stopped when Henry had suddenly collapsed on the floor while speaking to Susie.

Poor woman screamed in panic when her brain had comprehended that her other boss had fallen despite looking absolutely fine earlier.

Norman had been close by when Susie had screamed and was thus one of the first to arrive at the scene. Norman watched as Susie frantically looking Henry over while some of the concerned employees began to gather.

“What happened?” Norman frowned, looking down at Henry.

“I-I don’t know,” The voice actress stammered with distress, “One moment we were just chatting and then Henry started yawning. I was just about to tell him to take a break before he had suddenly collapsed on the floor without any warning.”

“Just like that?” Norman pressed, slinging Henry’s arms over his shoulders and lifted the animator’s body up, “Out of nowhere?”

Susie nodded in affirmation.

Among the crowd, the ‘veteran’ employees were murmuring to each other.

“That was definitely not normal.” Thomas remarked.

“What part of ‘collapsing on the floor without any warning’ sounds normal?” Grant muttered quietly, “Remind me to get Henry a raise for this.”

“Hey, is it just me or is Susie storming towards Joey’s office?” Shawn asked as he pointed at the storming voice actress.

“Well count me in too then, I got a few words to tell Mister Drew!” Wally snapped, quickly following in the direction of Susie.

“Should we stop them?” Thomas asked, glancing at Shawn.

“Probably not. You have to admit, Henry has been definitely working a lot more than usual lately.” Grant replied with a raised brow, “It might explain why he’s been falling asleep all over the studio lately.”

“Lately?” Shawn snorted, “More like forever. Can’t go a step without almost trippin’ over Henry a day.”

Grant opened his mouth to retort before thinking over Shawn’s response and nodding, “Actually, that sounds pretty accurate.”

“Guys, maybe we should really go and stop Susie and Wally.” Thomas said quietly, “Before they strangle our boss?”

“They wouldn’t go that far.” Grant said, “The guy pays their check after all.”

“Yeah but as if that’s not going to stop them from making a studio riot.” The repairman snorted, “Half of the studio employees call Henry ‘mum and he’s not even past his mid-twenties yet.”

“Wait, why mum?”

“Because Joey insists that he’s the father.”

“Then Henry needs to immediately divorce.” Shawn interjected, “He can do so much more better.”

“Guys, seriously. Wally has an axe and I’m worried about the state that the studio will be left in once he’s done.”

“So,” Joey started, staring down at his employees who had the decency to look sheepish ( except Wally ), “Can someone tell me why Mr Franks here was trying to break down my office door with an axe reserved for fire escape?” 

“Well we were calling you from outside your office for a while-“ Susie began.

“Give Henry a break already!” Wally snapped, “You’ve been runnin’ him ragged before he can get outta here!”

To Joey’s credit, he didn’t show any outward reaction towards Wally’s accusation. At least, for the first ten seconds.

“You believe that I’m overworking Henry?” Joey asked with a puzzled frown. “What makes you think that?”

“Joey, he’s been falling asleep all over the studio.” Grant spoke up, “Especially on the floor too.”

“Literally a few days ago, I tripped over him when he was sleeping near the stairs and almost fell down too.” Shawn added, “Thomas caught me before I actually fell.”

“I found him almost drowning into ink when he fell asleep in the hallway and one of the pipes busted over his head.”

“Just recently I was talking with him and he suddenly collapsed on the floor with no warning.” Susie explained with a disapproving frown.

“Just like that?” Joey repeated with incredulous eyes.

“Just like that.” Susie affirmed with a nod.

“Did someone at least take him to the couch?”

“Norman got that covered.”

Joey let out a relieved sigh, “Then I don’t know why you guys are getting so worked up about it then. Henry does this all the time. He’s narcoleptic”

Everyone blinked.

“He’s what?” Wally asked puzzledly.

“Henry has narcolepsy.” Joey replied and pointed to his head, “Sometimes and very often – he’ll fall asleep and Henry’s a very deep sleeper, as I’m sure many of our interns have figured.”

“Woah wait, why hasn’t he told us about it then?” Shawn questioned curiously.

“Funny, I thought he had already told you about his narcolepsy.” Joey remarked with a shrug, “If you see Henry asleep on his desk, just carry him to the couch and leave him there. He’ll wake up by himself. Otherwise, you’ll have to ask him about his narcolepsy.”

“Now can someone fix my door that now has an axe through it?”

When Henry had woken up, he hadn’t expected to see many of his colleagues gathering in front of him with crossed arms.

“What did Joey do?” Was the first thing he asked because there were many things that happened in the studio that were 99% Joey’s fault, both directly and indirectly.

“Henry, why didn’t you tell us you’re narcoleptic?” Shawn asked, frowning at the animator, “You gave us a scare whenever we’d find you lyin’ on the ground and suddenly passin’ out in front of Susie like that-“

“I didn’t tell you guys?” Henry interjected, confusion flashing in his eyes.

“Never.” The employees collectively answered.

“Huh, could’ve sworn I had.” Henry muttered, scratching his head, “Well I’m pretty sure you guys now know why I keep sleeping in the studio. It’s narcolepsy. Sometimes, I just fall asleep and I can’t help it.”

“Well that’d explain why we’d find you on the floor time to time then.” Grant commented.

“We thought Joey was overworkin’ you and that’s why you were always sleepin’ in the studio.” Susie confessed sheepishly.

“Joey? Overworking me?” Henry chuckled at the prospect, “Not a farfetched idea, if Joey wasn’t familiar with how my narcolepsy goes.”

“Yeah and I’m very certain that he knows how you sleep like the dead.” Norman smiled at the animator, “Wally’s words, not mine.”

“So you’re not actually being overworked, it’s just the narcolepsy?” Susie asked, her tone laced with concern.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I promise Susie.” Henry nodded, “If you guys find me sleeping on the floor, just take me to the employee break room. It’s just so others don’t trip over me. Apparently, it’s a very common thing to happen.”

Shawn coughed into his hand inconspicuously.  

“Right, so is there anything else we should know about your broken sleep schedule before we get back to work?” Grant asked.

Henry hummed in thought, rubbing his chin with his finger, “Sometimes I’ll wake up in a sleep paralysis. It’s basically when I can’t move for a while until it stops after a few minutes. There’s not much to be done about it but I’d appreciate it if you guys would let me have a few moments to get feeling back to my body if I’m having one.”

“Any way for us to tell?”

“You’ll know if you find me awake on the floor but not moving.” Henry grinned at his colleagues before noticing the group was two heads less, “Hey, where’s Wally and Thomas?”

“They’re with Mister Drew. Wally tried to break down Joey’s door with the axe and is currently cleaning up the mess, while Thomas went to fix the door.”

Henry blinked, “Should I even ask how Wally got his hand on the axe?”

“Probably not.”

Chapter Text

Sammy was having a perfectly fine day for once since the day he started working for Joey Drew Studio.

First off, he woke up on time to eat breakfast without needing to rush.

Then there was no traffic in the road, so he arrived to work on time.

When he came to work, he discovered that the ink pipe in his office didn’t burst over his hard-written works for once.

Then there were the other musicians who didn’t screw up as often during their rehearsal, and thus they didn’t waste time on silly mistakes.

His day got better when Wally didn’t lose his keys again, and go asking around if anyone had seen his key

Finally, the best of all, nobody bothered Sammy all day.

The lack of distractions gave Sammy all the beloved ( and well needed ) time to finish his work that was needed for the upcoming Bendy cartoon episode, and frankly Sammy was pleased that he wouldn’t have to stress over the deadlines again.

Needless to say, Sammy was having a very good day.

Until he tripped over the stairs on his way to Joey’s office. Bundles of sheet music in his arms and all of them flying into the air as the songwriter loudly swore in his descent down the stairs.

“You know, I’m surprised Henry hasn’t passed out on his desk today yet.” Jack remarked as he stared at Henry’s desk which was filled with stacks of drawings, “You’d think that with his narcolepsy that he’d fall asleep already.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that just yet.” Thomas replied, leaning back on the chair he was sitting on, “Knowing that sleepyhead? He’s probably sleeping somewhere else in the studio right now, waiting until someone finds him again and drags him back to the couch.”

“Right now?” Jack rose a brow at the janitor, “But he just left for his lunch break.”

“Obviously you haven’t seen how fast he can fall asleep.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “I bet you one of Joey’s biscuit that someone’s already tripped over him.”

“Deal.”

Shawn stared down at the staircase when he had heard someone swearing loudly.

Funnily enough, it sounded like Sammy Lawrence.

Then he glanced back at the body on the floor.

“You couldn’t have picked a better place to fall asleep?” He muttered mostly to himself as the person in front of him was far beyond the point of unconsciousness to hear him.

“Alright Henry, let’s get you to the couch,” Shawn said as he wrapped his arms under the sleeping animator, “Before someone trips over you and falls down the stairs.”

If people called Joey creepy, then Henry was twice creepier than Joey whenever he was lying still on the couch.

People would pass by the employee break room and see Henry watching them without blinking until they left. Even Wally didn’t remain for long as he moped the floor as fast he could, and left once he was done, muttering about Henry’s blank stares being terrifying.

Henry was still on the couch when Norman walked inside and noticed Henry being wide awake.

“You’re up?” Norman asked.

Henry said nothing, instead opting to watch Norman.

Norman frowned at the animator’s silence and approached the couch.

Neither of the two said a word, instead they stared at each other dead in the eye.

Eventually there was a flash of recognition in Norman’s eye as his mind came to a conclusion.

“Is this the sleep paralysis you were telling us about before?” Norman asked, “Look up if it’s a yes.”

Henry’s eyes moved up.

“I’ll stay with you until it wears off then.” The projectionist said, sitting down in front of the couch.

Henry did his best to convey his appreciation through his eyes.

Henry concluded that sleep paralysis sucked.

Falling asleep at any time without so much of a warning?

That’s okay, he can deal with that. He just has to work harder while he’s awake to compensate for the time lost, and Joey doesn’t mind that.

Wake up on the studio floor with a few developing bruises that comes from collapsing?

Yeah, no problem. They have an infirmary for a reason and Henry is well acquainted with the first aids there by now.

Waking up and not being able to move anything at all except your eyes though?

It was forcing him through boredom that seemed to stretch on forever. There was nothing that Henry could do to distract him, except maybe imagine ideas for a bit but that would get boring very quickly.  

He couldn’t really talk either, so it wasn’t like he could hold a conversation with someone to pass the time, much less start one.

So, all he does is watch people in the end.

Which is really boring too.

It was a good thing that Norman found him.

He had set up a projector in the break room and moved the couch Henry was on so the animator could see the screen. Now they were watching some of the Bendy cartoon episodes until the sleep paralysis wore off.

Norman had always been a bright man and Henry found himself appreciating the projectionist all the more.

Wally looked up at the stair case before moving his gaze down to the body of Sammy Lawrence.

There was a sizable bump swelling on the musician’s head and if Wally hadn’t known any better, he’d think that Sammy was dead from falling down the stairs.

Which was starting to sound pretty morbid now that he thought about it.

The janitor curiously brushed a hand against Sammy’s head and inspected his fingers. His fingertips were slick with blood.

Good thing Wally remembered where the first aid kit was stashed on this floor.

Hopefully Sammy wasn’t dead by the time he got back.

The time of the sacrifice for his Lord was nigh.

The wandering sheep had arrived in the halls where he, his Lord’s Prophet, roamed.

Sammy watched from atop his balcony as the man wandered into his sanctuary, presumably to use the valve that was hiding within.

He observed in glee as the man successfully held off the horde of searchers that had come to test his sacrifice, gaining only a few wounds that weren’t too serious.  

This man would be the perfect sacrifice to appease for his Lord Bendy.

Perhaps even enough that the Lord would grant his prophet his desired freedom from the inky abyss.

The sheep had wandered into the infirmary which the prophet found no issues with.

He could not have the sacrifice being damaged too badly from his scuffle with the searchers – he wouldn’t dare to offer a broken object to his Lord.

It was outrageous, scandalous, and outright blasphemous.

What kind of prophet would he be if he dared to serve that to his Lord?

‘However,’ Sammy thought with growing irritation, ‘The sheep has been inside for too long.’

Time had long lost its meaning to the Prophet, with the timeless state that the studio was trapped in and his admittedly spotty memory.

The only way one could tell the time was to check the clocks scattered throughout the studio but there were too many that Sammy didn’t know where they were.

Even if he did know, he didn’t recall where he’d seen them.

“Sheep, sheep, where are you?” He hummed to himself quietly as he made his way to the infirmary, hopefully to run into the wandering sheep.

He had not expected it to happen literally when his feet caught onto something, and his face was quick to meet the floorboard.

He had also not expected his head to hit the wall with a solid thud.

Henry woke up with the feeling of something heavy over him.

His suspicion was confirmed when he registered a body covered in ink lying atop of his back and boy, did Henry did his best not to shriek in panic.

Because it wasn’t every day that you woke up on the floor of the hellish studio that you used to work in and also had someone’s body over you.

The stranger was heavy too and that did not help Henry at all, especially with how small he was in comparison to the stranger.

Henry grunted as he pushed and wiggled his way out from under the inky body and let out a relieved sigh once he was free.

The former animator stared down at the person who had somehow collapsed over him and experimentally poked him with the toe of his shoe.

There was a small groan from the body which made Henry back out of the infirmary in a heartbeat.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

Henry was not going to stick around and wait for this ambiguously human male to wake up.

Absolutely not.

Chapter Text

Did Henry expect to wake up to a blinding light?

Not really.

Did he expect that the blinding light belonged to a certain ink creature that had been chasing him since the first time they met?

Absolutely not, but as if that changed anything.

If there was one thing that Henry was thankful about sleep paralysis, it was that he could still move his eyelids. Which is pretty great if you have light burning into your eyes at a close range.

The idea that the Projectionist of all monsters had Henry cradled in its arm would’ve been a comedic scene to the animator, if it weren’t for the fact that he knew that the Projectionist was a dangerous monster that would definitely rip Henry apart.

Henry kept his eyes shut, hoping to play off as being asleep to the Projectionist.

He had no idea how intelligent the Projectionist was ( probably very if the amount of hearts in Level 14 was any indication ) but here’s to hoping that the Projectionist wouldn’t tear him apart.

An inquisitive noise was what brought Henry out of his fear.

It sounded old and broken, and it didn’t take long for the animator to realize that it was coming from the speaker in the Projectionist’s chest.

The light from the Projectionist’s ‘eye’ ( Lens? Window? ) dimmed somewhat, allowing Henry to finally opening his eyes without the risk of going blind and properly look at the creature who’s arms he was cradled in.

“…HHheennnryy...” The speaker droned quietly, making the animator stare at the Projectionist blankly.

Did… Did he just hear what he thought heard?

Or was he hallucinating?

Please for the love of everything, he better be hallucinating that-

“RRRReeeeaal.” The Projectionist flicked Henry on the forehead.

Okay. Not a hallucination then.

Well, Henry didn’t know how to feel about that.

He did have a feeling that the ink creatures down below the studio knew him – enough that they wanted to kill him for whatever reason he couldn’t comprehend – but none of them had spoken his name before.

The animator let his eyes wander around, taking in the area that the Projectionist had taken him to. It was a small area with two corridors and a Miracle station nearby. Overall, it was unfamiliar to Henry as he didn’t recall coming across a location such as this.

The Projectionist’s speaker crackled to life once more, startling Henry out of his throughts.

“… MMMooovee?”

Move?

Did it mean if he should move or-

Henry experimentally twitched his fingers.

He couldn’t help but let the smile bleed into his face when he realized that he was able to move again ( thank goodness ) and nodded to the Projectioinist.

“Now I can,” He said and rose a brow to the ink creature, “You said my name.”

The Projectionist nodded and pointed a finger at the human, “HHHeeennnryy.”

“That’s me.” Henry nodded and frowned, “But who are you?”

The light flickered as the Projectionist pointed towards his chest where the speaker was. “… NNNooor..man.”

Norman?

Oh no.

“What happened to you?” Henry whispered in shock.

“IIInnnk…” Norman answered glumly, tilting his projector head down and lifting his blackened arms up.

“I doubt that ink could’ve done all of this, Norman.” Henry retorted with a pointed look.

Norman shook his head at Henry, the animator didn’t know anything – he didn’t know the Truth behind it all. The former projectionist pulled Henry closer to a hug and rested his head atop the animator’s head.

He had forgotten how warm human bodies were – how long had it been since he felt something other than ink?

 For all of Henry’s confusion with Norman’s actions, he didn’t pose a question to the projectionist when Norman had suddenly decided to hug him. At first, he chalked it up to the lack of human interactions and the flooded Inky Abyss where Norman had roamed.

“There there.” Henry mumbled to the projectionist, reaching out a hand to pat his friend on the back while being mindful of the cables and wires, “It’s good to see you again, Norman.”

Norman hummed back in agreement and simply held Henry closer to him.

Minutes past and Henry was starting to feel his body lock up on him.

“Um Norman? I need to move, paralysis feels like it’s kicking in.”

Either the former projectionist hadn’t heard him or was ignoring him, because Norman made no movements in releasing the human.

“Norman? Norman. Norman!”

Norman was simply content with bathing in the warmth of the human body. It had been far too long since he had felt anything but the cold Ink.

It had taken far too long than Bendy would’ve liked but finally, his traitorous Creator was in his hand.

The traitor had gotten too reckless – careless– that he had the gall to lie on the ground unmoving until Bendy found him.

Even then, his Creator hadn’t bothered to move away when Bendy reached out and lifted him by the collar of his shirt, bringing him close to see the corrupted toon’s sneer.

It was not the first time that Bendy had caught his Creator within the studio and it would not be the last either.

Bendy would hunt the man over and over again to make him repent for his sins and to prepare him for the final act.

His Creator at least, had the courage to stare back at Bendy without a twitch in his neutral expression.

That, Bendy could at least praise the traitor for, considering how cowardly he was to leave them all and pretend that his sins did not exist.

The Ink Demon couldn’t resist chuckling when he squeezed his Creator’s throat lightly and saw how it was enough to make the human gasp for air already.

He had many ideas of how to rid of his Creator for every time he would catch the traitor, each of them more gruesome than the first. 

After evading Bendy for so long now, the traitor deserved nothing more than a violent death.

His Creator didn’t even scream when Bendy tore him apart into pieces and smothered him into the Ink until it took him, just like it did with the other liars.

Normally, the act of killing the traitor would’ve brought some sort of relief to Bendy but Bendy wasn’t stupid – the traitor hadn’t moved one bit since Bendy had grabbed him off the floor.

Every time when Bendy had caught the man, he would struggle to the end. Always trying to break away from the Ink Demon in a futile attempt to escape to a Miracle station and hide from Bendy.

Even when Bendy was squeezing his throat or driving his claws into the human’s chest, there was always the bit of rebellion left in the traitor. That defiance was what Bendy found himself drawn towards to, like a moth to light.

 It made snuffing it out each time all the more better.

This time though?

There wasn’t a shred of that. The traitor had simply accepted that he was going to die by Bendy’s hands and didn’t even bother trying to fight against it.

It infuriated the Ink Demon.

Why was he so angry about killing the traitor for the umpteenth time?

He should be happy about it, pleased that the Creator couldn’t avoid him forever and was always bound to be found by Bendy, one way or another.

And yet, the more Bendy stared at the red blood splattered on the wall, the emptier the kill felt to Bendy.

Henry awoke with a sharp gasp, his body jolting sharply but didn’t raise from the ground.

His frazzled mind took a while to register the aged yellowed ceiling of the studio, and even longer to make him realize that he couldn’t move his body again.

Henry sighed inwardly as he realized that he was in for another sleep paralysis in a row.

The animator started to count sheep in an attempt to pass time when there was the familiar droning in his ear, the sound that Henry would hear whenever Bendy was near.

The moment his eyes caught sight of the inky web crawling into the walls and floors, his mind picked up the threat and flooded with panic.

How did Bendy find him already?

He shouldn’t be that close to where he had died before, and Henry doesn’t want to remember the feeling of dismemberment ever again.

It hurt more than anything that Henry could ever dream of, and the animator’s breathing became heavy with fear as he remembered more of feeling his arm being ripped away-

No no no, don’t think about it Henry!

His eyes flicked through his surrounding, desperately searching for a distraction when he settled onto the Bendy statue before him.

Except it wasn’t quite a statue anymore.

It was like he was looked up to a bigger version of Bendy, the perfect Bendy without all of his deformities and the ink dripping down his face. Except even this one wasn’t perfect.

Its eyes weren’t pie cut anymore, instead it was more detailed with circular iris, small pupils and thick outlines for its sockets – 

Bendy stared down at Henry with its constant wide grin.

“Wandering is a terrible sin, Henry.” It whispered in his head. “You best remember that.”

Henry squeezed his eyes shut, counted up to ten and held his breath for thirty seconds.

When he opened his eyes again, the web was gone and so was the twisted Bendy. Henry could move his body again, albeit shakily.

He stared at the Bendy’s statue eyes that had returned to being pie cuts – just how he drew Bendy as always – and looked away. Had that been a hallucination?

It had to be.

Too bad Henry was never good at lying.

Chapter Text

Alice doesn’t know how many times she had seen Henry fade into the cursed Ink, only to resurface near one of the Ink Demon’s statue without a single scratch.

Most of the time, the Ink Demon was the one to send him back.

It was obvious that the Ink Demon was displeased with Henry’s presence, just like the rest of them who had been trapped in the studio.

Enough that it warranted the human being murdered in a multitude of ways, all of them resulting in mangling the human’s body beyond recognition.

Alice would be lying if she said that she wasn’t enjoying watching her little errand boy being eviscerated time to time – it wasn’t often that she sees red instead of black nowadays – but she was growing impatient with how long her errand boy was taking.

While Bendy had proved to be a hindrance to his task, the one thing that truly stopped Henry in his path was his habit of collapsing.

Time to time, Henry would be wandering in the hallways in search of the valve only to suddenly trip over his feet and lie down on the floor.

Alice had eventually realized that the human was sleeping on the floor – the nerves of this traitor honestly – and nothing in the world could wake him up.

Not even Bendy dismembering him could rouse the human, although that was probably because he was dead by the time the Ink Demon was done with him. 

Boris – such a perfect specimen – would sometimes wander out of the safety of the elevator to retrieve the human whenever he had collapsed. However, that came with the restriction of Henry needed to be close by to the elevator. 

The Angel had suspected it had to do with Boris needing to hear whenever the man collapsed, otherwise he would never know when Henry had fallen.

Alice had lost count how many times she had seen Henry drown in the Ink after collapsing.

It was ridiculous, perhaps even beyond all comprehension because no one should be falling asleep that often.

Especially in the Inky Abyss where the Projectionist roamed, hiding away the hearts she desperately needed to perfect herself.

But Henry defied her expectation by choosing to plunge his face into the Ink whenever he waded in the flooded hallways and take a few seconds to drown each time.

This would only lead him back to reappearing in front of the Ink Demon’s statue with a wet splat and the cycle would repeat again.

Henry would wander, fall asleep, die by drowning or being found by the other monsters, appear in front of the Ink Demon’s statue and then proceed to wander again.

Rinse, repeat.

Alice did nothing to suppress the groan of frustration as she watched Henry fall into the ink for the umpteenth time and reappeared in front of the nearest Ink Demon’s statue.

“Errand boy, stop taking a swim and get me my hearts!” She screeched into the intercom.

Ten minutes later, Henry was drowning in Ink again.

The first thing Henry registered when he made it out of that strange dream of ink and light, was that he was coughing up a storm.

The former animator clutched at his chest tightly, lungs heaving to expel whatever was plaguing him.

With a final hack, Henry expelled a glob of ink from his throat and stared at the incriminating blob with scrutiny.

“Well then,” He started, shakily standing up, “This will definitely take a lot longer than I thought.”

Henry had never been more afraid than his entire life as against all of his better judgements, he decided to climb onto the trolley ride that would take him over the giant chasm.

Then the darn thing had to stop in the middle with a loud noise, leaving the former animator dangling over the chasm.

Which was probably really deep, considering how Henry could see nothing but darkness below.

The animator was considering seeing if he could grab the cable and perhaps climb his way to the other side when he felt a haze entering his mind.

One that was far too familiar to him and couldn’t have happened at a less opportune moment.

‘Wait, no no no, brain don’t you dare-!’He screamed at himself, even moving to pinch himself as his thoughts slowed down to a halt.

His eyes were already slid tight and his mind was dosing off.

The last sensation Henry could remember was one of falling, oddly enough.

If wading through the numerous flooded hallways in the studios had taught Henry anything, it was that the ink was really cold. Cold enough that Henry was shivering in his every step after a walk in the flooded sections.

The cold also made him sneeze frequently which made exploring the studio slightly more difficult than it should’ve been. It always alerted Bendy his presence and every time Henry had the urge to sneeze, he had to make sure there was a Miracle station nearby to hide in.

 He didn’t like dying to a gruesome death again, thank you very much.

Imagine his surprise when he discovered that there were other ink creatures who weren’t openly hostile, just like Boris but they were all malformed, distorted and wrong.

They didn’t resemble any of the cartoon characters that he used to love to draw. It was as if someone had grabbed somebody and dunked them in a bucket of ink, just to see what kind of mess they’d become.

Henry suspected that Joey was most likely the one to do that, if all the things he had seen so far didn’t implicate his former friend.

They were all sobbing in their garbled voice, huddling together in their own groups and staring at Henry with a mix of relief and fear. Two contradicting emotions that Henry just didn’t understand.

Henry spied a vent on the wall across where he stood, big enough for him to crawl into and proceed onwards. Hopefully towards where Alice had taken Boris to.

That had been the last thing he had remembered when he crawled into the vents.

‘So,’ He thought to himself as he looked around himself to see nothing but ink, ‘How did it come to this?’

He must’ve fallen asleep while crawling in the vents and the Ink people had pulled him out. Now they were all over him, resting their cold deformed body on him as if he was a pillow.

If one had to look from an outsider’s perspective, Henry would’ve suspected the whole room looked like one big puddle of black with bits of gold glowing in the midst, and a human who looked very out of place within the puddle.

Henry couldn’t move either of his limbs and for once it wasn’t from sleep paralysis, but rather the weight of the Ink people resting on them.

Any movement he made, even the smallest ones would cause a murmur among the crowd and their grip on his body would tighten. It was almost adorable, if Henry wasn’t in the middle of trying to rescue Boris.

He glanced at the endless swarm of heads and eyes that surrounded him. He realized that they weren’t whimpering and sobbing like the time he first met them.

Instead, they were peacefully quiet with only the minor shift of inky limbs as their movement. There was the occasional whine, but they weren’t filled with the sorrow Henry heard earlier.

After another failed attempt to free his arms from one of the humanoids, Henry resigned himself to the fate of being smothered by Ink people, without the actual smothering being a part of it.

If he was going to be a pillow, then he might as well be a peaceful pillow that’ll let them sleep.

Henry just hoped that he would still be able to move afterwards.

When Bendy had seen his Creator again, he did not expect to see the Projectionist cuddling with the traitor of all things.

The Projectionist had pulled Henry in a corner and had his arms wrapped around his Creator’s shirt, leaving behind a long line of black staining the fabric.

His Creator didn’t seem all that bothered by the act either. Even with both of his arms locked in place by the Projectionist’s arms, he was smiling fondly at the ink creature.

Though when he saw Bendy, the warm smile was quick to fade away to a terrified frown.

The Projectionist growled softly upon noticing Bendy’s presence, the light from its lens growing stronger as it beamed at Bendy.

Bendy did not miss the Projectionist’s hold on his Creator tightening and being pulled away ever so slightly.

The message was loud and clear; the Projectionist was not going to give the Creator to him.

Bendy let out an infuriated screech, ‘Give him back he’sMINE’

The Projectionist growled back, one arm pushing the traitor behind him and his light growing ever stronger.

‘Notyours, not yours, OURS.’

The Ink Demon howled and made a sharp lunge for the Projectionist in an attempt to intimidate the other.

The Projectionist remain undeterred by Bendy’s attempt however, instead shining his light even stronger in the Ink Demon’s face.

There was an unspoken challenge between them, see if Bendy could even try to wretch the Creator from the Projectionist.

The Ink Demon hissed before turning on his heels and storming back to the corridor that he had wandered through before. He tore the door off its hinges and grumpily marched out.

Henry had honestly expected to die when Bendy had found him and the Projectionist.

He had definitely not expected Bendy to throw a tantrum and leave almosts immediately afterwards.

“What the hell was that about?” Henry muttered, glancing up to Norman for answers.

“NNNnooothinnn.” Norman purred and returned to absorbing Henry’s body heat.

Henry found the statement hard to believe – he literally saw lightning cackling in the air between them. That was definitely no ‘nothing’ that Norman claimed it to be.

Still, it wasn’t like he could force an answer out of the projectionist – surely Norman wouldn’t hurt him but then again, Norman did try to hunt him back in Level 14.

“Are you going to let me go anytime soon, Norman?” Henry asked bemusedly.

“NNo.” As in to drive the point further to the former animator, Norman’s hold on him tightened.

Henry let out a heavy sigh as he realized that he was going to have to wait until Norman had had enough of being touchy feely to let him go.

That is, if his narcolepsy didn’t kick in and decide to send him to dreams while being in the arms of the Projectionist who was all too keen with the prospect of keeping Henry as a personal heater.

Allison stared down at the weeping human on the floor who was covered head to toe in ink and blood.

She hadn’t seen what the man had been hunched over for since her attention had been on the false Alice who was very close to skewering the human with her claws.

“Should we…” She trailed off, moving her gaze to Tom.

Tom shrugged, “Let him cry it off. Guy just woke up inside his dog’s guts and had to murder him afterwards.”

The crying got a little louder at that and Allison glared at her companion.

Chapter Text

It was another day in Joey Drews Studio. The constant chatter of workers interacting with each other, the sound of pencils scratching against the paper and at least one person yelling out in complete dismay and despair.

In the extremely rare case, it was Henry who swore loud enough that it could be heard throughout the studio.

“Who the bloody hell was that?” Shawn asked puzzledly, glancing at the direction of the voice.

“I think that was Henry.” Norman answered, switching off the projector near him and making his way to the animator’s office.

He hadn’t been the only one to do so, as the projectionist saw few of his fellow coworkers gathering outside of Henry’s office.

“Judging by how you guys are all here, I guess we did hear Henry screaming in what sounded like despair.” Thomas concluded once he noticed Norman’s presence.

“That was an oddly specific choice of words for a description.” Wally remarked.

The janitor’s face lit up with surprise when Henry’s office door opened only for Joey Drew to step outside.

“What are you all gathering here for?” Joey asked with a puzzled frown.

“We heard Henry yelling and came to see what the ruckus was about.” Thomas answered with a shrug, “And considering how most people yell if one of the pipes broke over their head, I was thinking the same thing happened here.”

“Oh, that didn’t happen.” Joey shook his head, “Henry fell asleep on his work and while he was sleeping, some of the inkpots on his desk spilled onto the paper. Went on a lot of frames too, so it looks like we’re missing the deadline again.”

Wally grumbled obscenities to himself as he erased the whiteboard of its contents and scribbled down a messy ‘zero’.

Atop of the whiteboard read ‘Number of staircase-accident free days’.

“We were going so well too.” He muttered, putting his mop against the wall and grabbed Grant’s slack arms off the floor. “Could’ve gone for a five-day record but no, Henry just had to sleep near the stairs again.”

“You know he can’t control when his brain decides to make him sleep.” Norman reminded, picking up the sleeping Henry by his arms, “At least, it wasn’t messy like Sammy.”

“Papers, blood and ink all over the damn place.” Wally recounted, shaking his head at the memory. He huffed as he drags Grant away from his initial spot, “If nobody watches where they’re going and falls down the stair again, I’m tellin’ you – I’m outta here!”

Henry groaned loudly to himself when he realized he had fallen asleep during work again, especially at a time he really couldn’t afford being asleep for.

The deadline was approaching fast and despite Henry’s effort at redrawing each scene as fast he could manage, there was no way he was going to get things done in time.

“About time you got up, Henry.” Joey’s voice chuckled behind him.

“What time is it?” The animator asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. “And how long this time?”

“Around 6, I suppose. Most of the interns have already left. You’ve been asleep for about two hours.” Joey answered, not blinking an eye when Henry groaned loudly again.

“Sorry Joey.” The animator apologized, turning his chair around to face the studio director.

“All good, Henry. You know I’m more than used to your sleeping habit.” Joey teased playfully, “Like that time you fell asleep while Ms Benedict was giving out her speech during class back at high school.”

Henry went red in embarrassment and buried his face in his hands, “Is this a thing now? Tease me with that after I wake up?”

“I can make it a job requirement.” Joey chuckled teasingly.

Henry stared at the studio director dead in the eye and with the flattest tone he could muster, “Joey Drew, if you do that, expect none of your belongings to survive my wrath. Not even putting me to sleep will save you.”

Joey smirked mischievously at Henry, “Who said anything about me putting you to sleep?”

Henry proceeded to throw one of his inkpots at Joey.

Bendy stared down on the floor, his usual grin growing wider the longer he gazed.

Once again, he had caught his Creator sleeping on the floor, quietly snoring away as if his life was not about to end.

The pesky Projectionist was nowhere near either to take the traitor from the Ink Demon either, leaving his Creator’s fate entirely to Bendy.

Oh, the power.

Before he meddled with his Creator, Bendy looked back and forth, scanning for any other ink creatures who may be close by and intervene with what he was about to do.

After ensuring that there would be no interrupters to disturb Bendy, the Ink Demon pressed a gloved hand against his Creator’s forehead and positively crooned at the warmth of the mere contact.

Down in the studio, there were very little objects that generated heat and whatever did exude heat was hunted down with animal like ferocity.

The Ink made everything so cold and nothing they did could alleviate it without the aid of a heater.

It was why the Butcher Gangs practically defended that burning barrel with all their little might, in an attempt to secure what heat they could have left.

That is, until another ink creature would take the barrel for themselves.

His Creator though?

So very warm, just like the burning barrel.

Perhaps even warmer than that.

It was an addicting sensation, and Bendy could see why the Projectionist was very vocal against Bendy retrieving him earlier back near the Maintenance room.

That, and probably the usual weirdness of the Projectionist.

Honestly, Bendy couldn’t understand that creature sometimes.

Despite the addicting heat that the human radiated, Bendy does his best not to pick up his Creator and press his deformed body against whatever parts of his Creator that he could touch – He’s the feared Ink Demon, someone like him couldn’t be seen cuddlingwith the traitor of all humans.

Besides, hugs weren’t his thing!

His Creator was sure making that a difficult task though, with how warm he was. He was like a portable heater, given how small he was in comparison to the other denizens of the studio.

‘I’m not cuddling him, I’m just absorbing the heat. That’s all.’ Bendy told himself as his arms not so subtly wrapped around his Creator’s chest, ‘Nothing out of character happening here, folks.’

Bendy purred when he didn’t feel so cold all over anymore, instead feeling the warmth that was so long forgotten to the Ink Demon. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt something remotely this warm, fire being the exclusion because well, fire is fire.

He could definitely get used to this feeling.

Kind of strange that it felt familiar though.

‘This ride is frustratingly slow.’ Henry thought to himself, leaning on the front bar of the cart he was seated in.

The ride was supposed to be horror themed, though nothing managed to properly terrify the former animator yet. Probably because he had already seen some of the monstrosity lurking beneath the studio and had to run from them several times.

Henry struggled to suppress a yawn rising from his throat, a small haze entering his mind. 

‘Not now, brain. Boris first.’

He pinched himself sharply though to drive the sensation away – he had to save Boris from Alice.

Who knew what that demented angel was doing to him, especially after all the time Henry wasted getting past the obstacles.

“You know,” Alice’s voice cackled through the speakers.

“If this is another one of your taunts, save it.” Henry snapped, anger underlying his words.

“Ooh, is the little errand boy angry?” Alice giggled mockingly, “I’m sure that we all want to know a little something about you, Henry.”

Henry’s grip on the cart’s edges tightened, a frown growing on his face.

“Did you know that no one here controls the studio?” She mused with a wistful tone, “Even I do not control the studio, only the elevator that now lies in ruin.”

‘No thanks to you.’ Henry thought to himself bitterly, remembering the vague memory of watching Boris being taken away by Alice.

“Ever since you’ve arrived, the Ink has been very active.” Alice continued on, “Almost as if you’ve riled it up…”

“So what about it?”

Alice laughed at Henry’s growing annoyance, “Don’t be so hasty, Henry. Since you came down here where we are all hiding, we’ve all been dying to know… Why are you here?”

Henry blinked, baffled at the question.

“Because of the letter Joey sent me.”

“Is that really what you believe?” Alice inquired, a small trace of disbelief in her voice.

Henry obliged not to answer the twisted angel. The only reason he returned to the studio was because of Joey’s letter. That was the sole reason.

It had to be.

Chapter Text

Henry wasn’t sure when did his sleeping habit start, but if he had to guess, it was probably during somewhere between his third to fourth grade.

Teachers kept complaining to his parents that Henry Ross wouldn’t stop sleeping during school hours and in return, Henry blaming it on how boring the teachers were in class.

Still didn’t stop his parents from giving him a good scolding after each complaint and a sharp slap on the wrist.

Henry tried his best to stay awake. He used to walk around the room in an attempt to clear the haze in his mind.

It worked at first, but then time to time, Henry would find himself on the floor with a disappointed teacher standing in front of him and his other classmates jeering at him.

It was clear that walking around didn’t stop Henry from falling asleep, and if nothing could wake Henry up, then he was essentially a walking zombie that ran on an irregular sleep timer.

Luckily, Henry had plenty of time to get accustomed to it.

Boris stared at Henry with the best poker face the wolf could muster. In his hands were five cards, all which ranged from two red hearts to the red queen of spades.

Similarly sitting across him on the table was Henry with his own cards. He was squinting at his cards before slowly moving his gaze up to Boris.

“Got any hearts of five?”

Boris scanned at his selections before shaking his head.

“Damn it.” Henry cursed quietly, drawing a card from the deck, “I could’ve swore you had at least one of those cards.”

Boris shot him a mischievous look, waggling one of his fingers at the man teasingly. He flashed two gestures at Henry; four fingers up and a jab at his chest. Four hearts.

Henry let out a defeated grumble as he handed Boris his requested card, “You’re too good at Go Fish, you know that Boris?”

The wolf in question grinned widely as he set down the matched pair on the table.

“Want me to get some bacon soup? We might not finish this game for a while now.” Henry suggested.

Boris eagerly nodded, earning a warm smile from the former animator as he stood up from his chair.

“I’ll go get some then. Don’t peek at my cards while I’m gone.” He added the last part with a joking tone before leaving the main room of the Safehouse.

Boris waited patiently for Henry to return while fighting off the temptation of looking under Henry’s card.

He wasn’t a cheater, no sir, he was curious.

Just curious.

Nothing wrong with that.

The curiosity disappeared almost immediately when Boris heard a loud ‘thud’. He was already out of his chair within a second, ears sharply upright as he quickly tracked down the animator.

The toon found Henry in their shared quarters, a can of bacon soup rolling away from his limp hand. One of his hand was in the open chest, most likely was grasping for the other can of bacon soup inside before his untimely rest.

‘At least Henry passed out near his cot’, Boris idly thought, worming his arms around Henry’s chest and lifting the former animator to his cot, ‘Still warm too.’

After setting Henry down, Boris made haste to grab as many blankets that were left in the Safehouse and returned to their quarters with an armful worth of blankets.

He proceeded to bury the human in the blankets and wormed a spot next to the animator, letting out a silent content sigh.

What a perfect heater.

After dying to Bendy enough, Henry had grown used to panicking at the site of the black webs that followed the Ink Demon’s every step.

He had also developed the habit of immediately disappearing whenever said Demon was nearby.

Which was a very difficult thing to do when you wake up to the Ink Demon resting his head on your chest and sleep paralysis takes the opportunity of locking down your body.

Overall, it was not a very ideal situation for Henry.

The former animator felt his breath hitched in his throat as Bendy made a noise, his head turning slightly as he rose.

Seconds seem to slowly pass as Bendy sat up and stared down at Henry, ink dripping down his face and the ominous grin stretching across his face.

‘I’m going to die.’ Was Henry’s first thought.

There was an agonizing moment of Bendy gazing down at Henry, most likely determining what other gruesome way could the animator die in.

Finally, Bendy raised a clawed hand and Henry squeezed his eyes shut tight for the inevitable end.

‘This better not be dismemberment this time or I’ll cut down more of his cutouts if I have to.’

When Henry couldn’t feel the sensation of flesh being ripped apart, he cautiously cracked one of his eyes open.

Bendy was still there with his constant grin and dripping ink. Instead of maiming the animator again though, the Ink Demon held one finger up to his smile.

“Shh.”

Bendy let the message sink in for a short while before slinking away into one of his portals, leaving the human lying on the floor confused.

By the time Henry could move his body again, the first thing he did was hastily sit up and examine his body. Ink was all over his clothes, staining the already ruined shirt even more – no doubt from Bendy.

He warily glanced at the wall that Bendy had disappeared into and ran his fingers through his ink-soaked hair.

What the hell.

“So,” Henry gazed at his coworkers with a look, “Can someone please explain to me why I’m in the infirmary, got three rolls worth of bandages covering my head, and Joey being restrained to one of the beds here?”

All of them exchanged glances with each other with varying expressions; nervousness, confusion, and concern.

“Just to be clear, what happened with Joey is on you, Henry.” Wally said quickly.

“Wally!” Susie admonished, sharply elbowing the janitor and ignoring his brief cry of pain.

“Wait, what?” Henry’s brow raised in puzzlement, “What happened? What’d I do?”

“You fell asleep.” Thomas said, “You fell asleep at a really bad time.”

“That answers literally nothing, Thomas. What was so bad that happened after I fell asleep?” The animator frowned, crossing his arms.

“You fell asleep at the stairs, Henry.” Norman answered with a frown, “Which doesn’t sound too bad in hindsight if you think about how often you keep falling asleep near the stairs. Except in this case, you fell asleep whilegoing down the stairs.”

“Luckily it wasn’t as messy when Sammy fell down.” Grant added.

“Thank you for reminding me that, Grant and Henry, I haven’t forgiven you for that yet.” Sammy glowered at the accountant and animator. “Anyway, none of us knew how long it’d been since you fell down. We were all minding our business except Wally- “

“Hey!”

“-When Mr Drew screamed bloody murder.” The musician continued on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “He came up screaming ‘who did it’ while carrying you. It looked like a murder scene with all the blood coming out of your head, honestly.”

“None of us had any idea what he was talking about, and it wasn’t like we could answer him. He just went straight to the infirmary after shouting, and I saw him emptying the infirmary of bandages.” Thomas followed promptly.

“When we tried to help, and by that, I mean stop Joey from suffocating you with bandages, he went absolutely nuts.”

“You should’ve seen him, Henry. Took both Sammy and Norman to hold Joey back from stabbing us all.” Shawn said, “It was almost as if he had gone mad.”

“You say that as if he wasn’t already mad.” Thomas snorted amusedly, “Anyway, short story version. You fell down the stairs, Joey found out and lost his nuts, everyone tried to stop him and almost got beaten for it.”

Henry blanked, “Oh.”

“That’s it?” Wally asked, looking at Henry puzzledly, “No ‘oh no’, ‘why would he do that’ or any of the stuff you say when Joey does something?”

“I don’t always say those things.” Henry protested weakly and winced when everyone stared at him knowingly, “Okay maybe I do, but to be fair, Joey’s a good man. I probably should’ve seen this coming from a mile.”

“I sure didn’t, because Mr Drew always came to me as someone with questionable ethics, not someone who’d stab us all with a pencil if we so much as lay a finger on you.” Shawn retorted.

“Is this the part where you spill another mind-blowing secret of yours to us, like that time when you finally decided to tell us about your narcolepsy?” Sammy snarked.

“Depends on how you take the next news.” Henry shrugged, resting his chin on his hand, “Honestly I was surprised you guys took the narcolepsy thing so easily. Not a lot of people I meet are that easy with it, thinkin’ I’m like a porcelain doll that’ll break at any time if they don’t watch where I sleep.”

“That’s half ridiculous and half sensible.” Susie remarked, “Since not being able to control when you sleep is… well-”

“I know Susie, no need to justify your concern, but understand that it can be annoying after a long while.” Henry sighed, “Most people don’t know how to deal with someone with narcolepsy, aside from ignoring them and lettin’ them do their own thing. Kind of how you’ve dealt with it. Others on the other hand, they deal with it differently.”

“This was mostly back in… What, third grade? Can’t remember all that well. I’ll spare you most of the details. There were a few kids who didn’t like me sleeping during class, because they weren’t allowed to. Childish reason I know, but it was enough for them to try carry me out of class and threw me down the stairs.”

“They did what?” Shawn blurted, shock and surprise on his face. He wasn’t the only one in shock at the news.

“Threw me down the stairs.” Henry repeated, a small frown reaching his face as he recalled the unpleasant memory, “I didn’t even know until I woke up at home with a doctor looking over me. That was when I figured I had narcolepsy, but that’s another story.”

“From what I got from the other students, Joey was there when I got thrown down and went ballistic. Beat the other guys black and blue, so someone else had to take me to the infirmary at the time. He got suspended for a while but that didn’t stop him from visiting me while I was recovering.”

“So… Joey thought someone in the studio did the same thing to you then? Push you down the stairs and hope to kill you from that?” Wally asked quietly.

“Probably, though I hope not the killing me part.” Henry answered, nodding, “He’s a good friend, even if he messes up frequently.”

“I’d comment on that if you hadn’t dropped a bomb like that on us.” Shawn admitted sheepishly.

“Is it really that shocking?” Henry frowned puzzledly.

“Honestly, not really. I would be surprised if no one took advantage of your narcolepsy, considering how vulnerable it makes you at times.” Sammy said bluntly, “But it’s a different experience when we hear that someone actually did that, when you were at a much younger age I should add.”

“It’s different hearing it in the ear than reading it from the papers.” Wally added with a grimace.

“I hope you lot aren’t going to treat me differently from that.” Henry frowned disappointingly.

“You know we wouldn’t do that, Henry.” Susie assured with a warm smile.

“Well I know what I’m going to do next for this mess of a studio,” Grant started, “We’re getting an elevator installed. Henry’s not allowed to go on the stairs anymore.”

“Hey wait, I can go on stairs perfectly fine!” Henry argued, “Are you really going to treat me like a porcelain doll now?”

“It’s not about that.” Grant hastily reassured the animator, “If Drew catches you falling down the stairs again, I don’t think Sammy and Norman could stop his blood hunt for the imaginary culprit again. And frankly, I’d prefer working with the hell that is this studio’s bills than deal with a murderous Joey.”

“Wouldn’t the cost of the elevator and maintenance be expensive though?” Shawn pointed out curiously.

“Yeah I thought you were having an aneurysm over the bills.” Wally added.

Grant glared at the janitor and crossed his arms.

“I’m sorry, do you want Joey on a blood hunt? Because I can just tell him that the reason Henry fell down the stairs was because you didn’t want an elevator installed in here.”

“At least, we can probably agree on the one thing that won’t kill Henry is the elevator.” Norman shrugged.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t a day at Joey Drew Studio without someone screaming in the building.

“Norman, let me down!” Henry screeched, thrashing in the projectionist’s hold.

“And what, let you fall again?” Norman shot back with a displeased frown, angling his face away from Henry’s flailing arms.

“I am a grown ass man, I can go down a bunch of stairs by myself!” Henry retorted hotly, “You guys agreed to not treat me differently but you’re sure as hell breaking that promise.”

“You were literally about to fall asleep Henry.” Norman deadpanned at the animator, “I actually had to catch you by the collar before you fell down the stairs again. I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep yet.”

Henry ceased his rampage momentarily to frown at Norman unhappily, “I was definitely not about to fall asleep.”

The projectionist sighed and began to carry Henry down the stairs, “This is why Grant bought the elevator, Henry, even if he had to sell maybe a few organs for the money.”

“He what now?” Henry balked.

“He bought the elevator, so you wouldn’t send yourself an early death by stairs.” Norman elaborated slowly, reaching the bottom of the staircase and setting the shorter man down.

“I wasn’t talking about- You know what, forget it.” Henry shook his head and stretched his freed arms, “Why is it that you can pick me up so easily? I’m not that light, am I?”

“In comparison to the bulky projectors here? You’re as light as a feather.” Norman snorted amusedly, “Next time use the elevators before the stairs kill you before Joey does.”

“You know that Joey can’t kill me even if he tried.” The animator chuckled jokingly, “He’s like a plank whenever we tried fighting.”

Bendy stared down at the befuddled animator who had recently woken up, disturbing Bendy from his rest.

Before Henry could say anything about the situation, Bendy grabbed both sides of Henry’s head and swiftly snapped the animator’s neck.

Henry didn’t even blink as the Ink took his body away, leaving behind nothing in the spot where he had died and presumably resurrect him at one of Bendy’s statue.

Bendy let out a satisfied huff before disappearing into one of his portals.

No witnesses allowed.

“Norman, I know you’re now an ink monster who’s been living down in this dump for the past thirty year and deprived of a well needed heater,” Henry started, staring up at Norman’s lenses with a displeased frown, “but can you please let go before my arm locks up again and I can’t move for another ten minutes?”

“Nnno.” Norma responded without hesitation, tightening his hold on Henry and ignoring the noise of distress from the animator.

“Seriously! This is going to be the fifth paralysis in the row, Norman!”

“Nnnot mmyy probbbllemm.”

“Hey Mister Ross,” Wally began, staring at the animator in question, “How come Joey’s the one who drives you to work and home? You guys living together or something?”

“As much as Joey would probably like that, no. I live with Linda.” Henry corrected the janitor, not taking his eyes off the paper on the desk, “Why are you asking anyway?”

“Because every time I see you ‘n Mister Drew come in, you’re always in the same car as him.” Wally pointed out, “And it’s confusin’ because I can’t see Mister Drew doin’ responsible driving.”

“He does have that maniacal driver image, doesn’t he?” Henry remarked lightheartedly.

“That’s what I’m thinkin’.” Wally agreed, nodding his head, “Anyway you haven’t answered my question.”

“Will you let me draw if I tell you?”

“Maybe.”

Henry let out a resigned sigh, taking his attention off his drawing, “Joey drives me to work and home because if I drove the car, it’d be gone within a day, give or take.”

“Uh, I don’t get it.” The janitor blanked.

“If someone made me drive, I’d fall asleep at some point on the road and probably cause three or four traffic accidents.” Henry explained to Wally with an exasperated sigh, “So that’s why Joey drives the car and not me.”

“Huh.” Wally stared at the animator in thought, “It’s kind of funny, because you look like someone who’d be the least likely to cause a road accident.”

Henry laughed, “Ironic, isn’t it?”  

When Allison heard that the Lost Ones had seen the Creator recently, she scrambled to action and dragged Tom along with her.

The floor they were gathered on was one of the least dangerous originally due to the presence of the Lost Ones, and Allison and Tom wiping out most of the threat in their path.

However, it recently became dangerous when a thunderous crash of wood and metal shook the floor of the studio.

As if heralded by the collapse, the Ink Demon had begun to roam the halls, staining the walls with his corrupted veins.

It had gotten to the point that even the demented angel Alice had come down to the level earlier, though what for, Allison didn’t know.

All she knew that the Creator was involved and that he was quickly walking into a death trap set up by Alice Angel, and she couldn’t allow that.

Now here she stood in a decrepit room that was meant to be part of a haunted amusement ride, Tom standing beside her with a pipe and Alice’s corpse on the floor.

Before them was the Creator, eyes wide from the shock of what had just transpired in front of him.

“Creator.”

The shock and fear bled away from the Creator’s eyes, blinking curiously at Allison’s greeting.

“Alice? But,” His eyes darted down to the corpse of Alice Angel on the floor.

“Allison. I’m not Alice.” Allison shook her head, holding out her free hand to the Creator, “I’m glad we arrived in time. She was very close in reaching you.”

 The Creator glanced at her offered hand before taking it, heaving himself up to stand and nodding slowly, “Yeah. She was.” His eyes flicked to Tom, “Boris?”

Tom shook his head in response.

“He’s Tom.” Allison supplied helpfully, “You must’ve met one of the Boris’ clones then.”

“I… only met one,” The Creator shook his head sadly, gazing down on the spot behind him, “I had to put him down just now.”

He glared at Alice’s corpse.

Allison sent the Creator an apologetic look, “I’m sorry to hear. At the very least, he won’t be suffering Alice’s experimentation. Most Boris’ are thankful for that.”

“I hope he is.” The Creator let out a quiet hum of agreement, dropping the battered Gent pipe on the floor and watched it dissolve to an inky mess, “That took so long.”

“We came as fast as we could.” Allison added hastily.

“Nobody’s blaming you, Allison,” The Creator assured, shaking his head and held a hand to his temple, “It’s just been a while since I’ve last crashed now.”

Allison and Tom exchanged confused glances, “Last what now?”  

“Don’t worry, nothing all that important.” The Creator mumbled, stifling a yawn with his hand, “Just… Oh man, this is a bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” Allison repeated with a concerned frown, “Creator, what’s- Creator!”

Tom narrowly caught the Creator who collapsed on his feet, slowly lifting him up to eye level.

“What’s wrong with him? Do you think it’s blood loss?” Allison spouted worriedly, leaning closer to the human to inspect the numerous bruises littering the Creator’s skin.

Tom stared at the Creator for a moment, looking around intently as if to find whatever was amiss with the Creator.

He let out a snort when he realized the cause of the Creator’s collapse and mouthed a word to Allison.

The angel stared at Tom in disbelief, “What does narcolepsy have to do with this?”

Chapter Text

“I cannot believe you did that.” Joey deadpanned at his old friend.

“Well, did you want to bleed out and die in your own studio?” Henry retorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I wouldn’t! I’ve so much to live for after all.” Joey huffed pridefully, crossing his arms, “But we have an infirmary, Henry.”

“We ran out of medical supplies a while back.” The animator pointed out.

“Don’t we have spare first aid kits around though?” Joey asked puzzledly.

Henry shook his head, “All used up when Thomas fell down the elevator shaft.”

“When did that happen?”

“About a week ago, give or take. He doesn’t go near the elevators anymore.” Henry shrugged, “I can’t believe you approved Grant’s bill for an elevator though.”

“You’re terrible with stairs, Henry. Face the fact.” The studio director rebuked, crossing his arms, “And you’re also terrible with cars. Couldn’t anyone else have driven me to the hospital without causing five traffic accidents?”

“My driving is perfectly fine, Joey! You’re not the only one who’s got a driver license here.” Henry argued, “Besides, both Sammy and Norman were with me.”

“Couldn’t they drive?” Joey asked defeatedly.

“Joey Drew, are you really complaining about your best friend driving you to the hospital to get you treated with two other grown men in the car?” Henry asked slowly with an accusing tone, “Do you really have little faith that I wouldn’t crash your car in the nearest river and let it sink in there? Do you trust me that little with my narcolepsy?”

Joey paled, “Wait wait, Henry I didn’t mean-!”

Let it be known that Joey Drew couldn’t withstand the might of Henry’s disappointment.

“So,” Norman stared at the river where a piece of metal protruded from its surface, “When are we going to tell Joey that Henry fell asleep and crashed his car in the river?”

“We could tell him when he comes back.” Sammy suggested nonchalantly, “Or, we could say that Wally got in.”

“Why do you refer to Wally like he’s a stray cat?” Norman asked puzzledly, raising a brow at the music director.

“Why do you treat Henry like a cat?” Sammy shot back.

Norman blinked, “Touché.”

“Okay seriously though, what are we going to do about Joey’s car?”

Henry woke up to find himself in the center of a pentagram. Candles that were still burning surrounded him, aligning themselves with the lines of the circle and casting an eerie glow on the wooden walls.

His axe was propped up against one of the coffins that were in front of him, for whatever reason he couldn’t comprehend.

“Where the hell did I fall asleep this time?” He groaned, flattening his face on the floor.

“FREEDOM!” Henry cackled maniacally, running up the stairs, and all but throwing himself into the elevator.

His hand smacked the door button with the force of a bull, causing the cage of the lift to bar the way into the elevator.

Just in time when Norman’s inky form came thundering to the area, letting out a horrendous screech through his speakers and grasping at the bar while the elevator made its slow ascent, taking away Henry and Boris from the floor.

Henry let himself lie on the floor during the elevator’s journey while Boris stared down incredulously at the former animator.

The man was covered in ink from head to toe, not a single speck of his clothes spared from the black substance. Even a few globs of ink had stuck itself into Henry’s hair, congealing some of the strands together and ruining the perpetual bed hair that Henry had.

“God, I thought he’d never let me go.” Henry groaned, sitting up, “It’s great that someone aside from you doesn’t actually want to kill me but it was like he’d never let me go! I had gone into paralysis about ten times in a row already before he finally loosened enough for me to run.”

Boris waited while Henry rambled on and on about his time in Level 14 where they had left the Projectionist behind.

It wasn’t until Alice’s voice cackled through the speaker that Henry stopped.

“Errand boy, did you get me my ink hearts yet?” She inquired impatiently, “Do you want to be stuck down here, or be a good boy and get your angel her hearts?”

Henry paused and cursed loudly.

Of course, he had forgotten the damn hearts.

Whilst Henry despaired over the prospect of meeting the Projectionist again, Boris patted Henry’s back in sympathy.

Jack experimentally prodded the body with the curiosity of a newborn Searcher. He had been running away from the intruder for a while now who came into his sewers for whatever reason the Searcher didn’t know.

The intruder had chased him down to the end where he had attempted to corner Jack so many times, but Jack kept running away.

He would duck into the ink that encompassed them all and reappear somewhere else that wasn’t too far from the intruder. Enough to stay away and enough to observe the curious intruder.

Then all of the sudden, the intruder collapsed into the inky water and didn’t get back up.

Jack didn’t dare to approach the body.

After all, what if it was just an act to get his treasure?

But the intruder still didn’t move, and Jack’s curiosity exceeded his cautiousness. He poked and prodded at the intruder, expecting a response in return but there was no such movement.

The intruder had been so still that Jack hadn’t anticipated that the ink would consume the intruder and take him away. Sunk him into the sewer’s ink and away from Jack and his growing curiosity.

Somewhere in the broken shambles of his mind, Jack could’ve sworn that the intruder had a familiar presence.

Maybe he should’ve stuck around a little longer.

Henry let out a pained whine when he managed to crack his eyes open, feeling a dull sensation of his body being shaken. Boris’ blurry shape came into view, hands on Henry’s sides and jostling the man awake.

God, everything hurt so much.

There was a haze in his mind that Henry was uncomfortably familiar with and it took everything in him to stay awake for a little longer.

He can’t go to sleep now.

Boris needed him.

His visions became a little clearer and for a moment, Henry felt hopeful of remaining conscious even though his whole body was protesting against the prospect.

Just a little more-!

Alice was behind Boris, claws outstretched and her deformed lips forming a malicious smile.

In a swift instant, Boris’ hands were ripped away from Henry and his best friend in the studio was forcibly torn away from Henry’s side. The angel laughed at the face of the animator’s despair, Boris fruitlessly struggling against her claws.

And nothing Henry would say could stop another monster he trusted to tear away what was his.

“He’s mine now.”

Alice jeered down at the fallen animator and thrusted five sharp claws into his heart.

Ink splattered all over Henry’s vision, sending him plunging to the black and the sound of Alice’s laughter fading rapidly in his ears.

No no no he couldn’t sleep now-

Boris where was Boris best friend come back please

So quiet too quiet where were the voices too empty

Fight back fight back Creator turn back make her pay

Make her pay

End her

E̴̥̱͌̑͒Ņ̵̢͓̱̞̼̗̪̗̠̠͉͈̝͈̀̏͗̀͘Ḋ̵̢̨͖̠͈̥͎̆̀̅̊̽͜ ̴̡̺̼̟̞̗͈̲͐̀̎̏̐͒̚͝T̴̛̖͍̣̰̻̟̞̈́̐̅̆̊͆́̂̚͝͝Ḧ̵̗̰̦̱̰̱̰͉̓̏̀E̵̟̻̲̮̹̼͎̼͔̗̳̬͗̍̍̋̈́̋̈́͐͊̓̑̿̈ͅ ̶̝͉̦̻̰̤͇͙̮̘͉̖͔̇͋͒̕̕A̴̪̞͈̮͚̩̭̻̥̠̙͓̦̼͐̓̆̍̆̃͑̈́̈͝N̸͚̯̄̎̒̅͌͆̚ͅG̸̨̫̯̖̤͚̼̪͓͇̜̩̳̾̔̅́̏̚ͅE̴̜̦͓̜͙̙̳̩̻̟̓̐̽̾̓͜ͅͅL̵̢̢̢̲̼͕̫̣̞̥̟̂͑̽̈̀͌̎̋̀̓̚͝

“So that’s what happened to Joey’s car…” Allison murmured, pressing a finger against her lips, “I never would’ve thought that that old rumor was actually real.”

Beside her was Tom, amusement on his face after Henry had regaled them the story behind Joey’s lost car.

“Honestly, I’m surprised Joey bought it. Even if the excuse was coming from me, it was really outlandish. It was even out of one of Bendy’s cartoons actually.” Henry admitted sheepishly, “Did he end up getting another one by the way?”

“He did after a few months when I was employed.” Allison answered with a nod and stared at the animator, “So… Tom told me you had narcolepsy.”

“It’s nothing serious. I just fall asleep every now and then.” Henry said nonchalantly, “Everyone used to make a huge fuss over it. Even Grant did. He even bought the elevator just so I wouldn’t have to go down the stairs after Joey threw a fit over me falling down.”

He paused and smiled nervously, “Now that the elevator’s out of service, I wonder if Grant would have a mental breakdown over it.”

“I can see why they’d make a fuss over it.” Allison remarked, “A lot of the Lost Ones here said that they’ve seen you fall asleep on the ground in the studio many times. It’s hard to believe that at least one of the monsters here haven’t found you-“

“Oh, they have.” Henry interjected.

“What?“ Allison balked, Tom sharing the same expression as her, “How are you still alive then?”

“I’m honestly not sure.” Henry confessed, his eyes trailing off space, “I know that I’ve died before though.”

Countless of Searchers climbing up to Henry and into his throat, all while he couldn’t move.

Ink flooding his lungs when his body couldn’t keep up anymore.

The Projectionist catching him after he got too slow in his escape and plunging him to the ink that flooded Level 14.

Bendy discovering him during his sleep paralysis and dismembering him viciously until the ink took him away from the pain.

Several debris from the elevator piercing through his body and Alice tearing her claws into his chest.

Falling down the giant chasm with a haze in his mind and his neck snapping in the end.

The Butcher Gang – Charley, Barley and Edgar -  holding him down and tearing him apart bit by bit.

Boris’ lifeless eyes staring down at Henry while crushing every single bone under his massive fists.

“Henry?”

Henry blinked and both Alice and Boris were staring at him.

No.

Allison and Tom.

 “I’m fine.” Henry said quietly.

“You’re shaking,” Allison pointed out with concern, “Do you-“

“I’m fine, really.” Henry calmly smiled at Allison for reassurance, “See?”

Both Allison and Tom shot knowing looks at each other.

“We won’t ask,” Allison assured, glancing back at Henry, “Just know that if you need to talk, we’ll both be around. I’d imagine death to be a heavy subject.”

“I won’t let it weigh down on me.” Henry said, “So is there anything else you guys want to ask me?”

“Well…” Allison toyed with her fingers nervously, “There was a question we’ve had since we heard about your return. A lot of us have, actually.”

At Henry’s confusion, Allison continued, “Down here below the studio, everyone’s connected in a way. The Ink connects us all so we’re all aware of what’s happening to each other at the same time. Not a lot of people can handle that much information however, so that’s why there’s very little creatures here who’re sentient like us.”

“So the Ink… It’s like a hivemind?” Henry asked curiously, rubbing his thumb against his chin in thought.

“That’s one way of describing the Ink.” Allison nodded, “So through one creature noticing your presence, we became aware and we all wondered…”

Both Allison and Tom stopped in their step, staring at Henry with a mixture of curiosity and concern in their eyes.

“Henry, why are you here?”

Alice had asked him that too, except he didn’t know the answer that time. Henry was lost in confusion and anger in his pursuit for the Angel, and when all had faded away from his side, Henry remembered.  

“The Ink Demon has something that we need,” Henry looked determinedly at Allison and Tom, “And I’m going after him.”

Chapter Text

“Hey Sammy, I need your help on-“ Jack began as he stepped into the employee break room, music sheets bundled in his hands.

To Jack’s surprise, several employees shushed at him loudly, effectively cutting him off.

“Wha’s going on here?” The lyricist asked much more quietly, shooting a confused look to Sammy.

“They’re Henry-sitting.” The musician explained, jabbing a thumb over to the couch that was occupied by a very unconscious Henry, “Frank’s word for whenever Henry’s knocked out.”

“Knocked ou- Oh.” Jack snorted, “And they call Henry the mom.”

“I cannot believe you did this over the short span of…” Henry glanced at the clock, “… One hour that I was asleep in.”

“To be fair, it’s Mister Drew’s fault.” Wally interjected and let out a squeak when Joey shot him a dirty glare, “It’s true though! You smacked the pipe that blew up!”

 “Regardless of who’s fault it is, you still haven’t told me how you lot achieved all of this.” Henry stressed out, gesturing his arms to the currently flooded studio floor. Ink dripped from the pipes, staining the wall with black and coated the floor in a good 2-foot depth of ink.

“Well, it all began-“

“After you fell asleep, Sammy started screeching when a pipe broke over his head and splattered his work in ink.” Shawn cut in, ignoring Wally’s irritated look at being interrupted. “Which then led to a few words being exchanged and Joey smacking a pipe out of frustration. Unfortunately, the same pipe was loose and immediately exploded afterwards.”

“So then everyone started trying to plug up the broken pipe but it got worse when Wally broke the ceiling while trying to break a hole for the ink to go down in.” Jack added.

“Aren’t those two completely different spots?” Henry asked, eyeing the janitor.

“What can I say, I swing really hard.” Wally shrugged. “By the way, did you know our chairs are indestructible?”

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily, “You know Grant’s going to throw a fit over the damage cost, right?”

“Yeah we know.” Norman shrugged, “Which is why we’re planning to blame it on Joey-”

“You what?!”

“- considering that the mess was started by him, we figured it was pretty accurate to the truth.” The projectionist continued without missing a beat.

Joey glanced at his friend and smiled nervously.

“Henry, old friend, pal, buddy of mine-“

“I’m not involved in this. I was asleep.” Henry immediately said, turning on his back and walking to the direction of his desk.

“Henry no wait-!”

“Sorry Mister Drew, you’re on your own for this.”

“Traitors.” Joey whined. “All of you.”

“Despite everything, it’s still you.”

When he had lost Boris, he had immediately assumed the worst. His optimism changed that assumption to a more hopeful outcome.

Perhaps Boris was still alive, definitely not in good condition because of the elevator’s crash (LYINGCHEATINGFALLENANGEL) but nevertheless, still alive. Out of everything and everyone that lingered in the studio’s depth, only Boris proved himself to be a friend to Henry.

He had done his best to hurry (really, he did), but narcolepsy and inky demonic creatures made it so much harder than it should’ve been to reach his friend. And what did he get?

“Meet the new and improved Boris!”

Boris didn’t deserve this. He was only helping Henry. The Angel doesn’t care for that though, and from the sadistic delight Henry had heard in her voice, she had her ‘fun’ with his friend.

Boris let out a silent whine that somehow managed to reach Henry, and the Creator scratched the back of the wolf’s ear.

“You’re still Boris.” He smiled, legs slack in the hold of the massive wolf’s arms.

Alice must’ve not expected Boris to still retain his sanity or something similar to such.

Despite dragging him away from Henry’s broken body; despite holding him down and isolating him from everything; despite tearing open his chest and taking his parts; despite experimenting on him like a mad scientist; despite deforming his once perfect body; despite taking away his eyes; despite everything she had done to him-

It was still Boris, his best friend.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, Boris.” Henry apologized, staring at the X-ed out eyes with sorrow, “But thank you for still caring for me even after everything and me sleeping on you.” He laughed a little at the last comment.

Boris’ mouth curved upwards slightly. A smile. That was good because not long before Henry had woken up cradled in the arms of the now massive toon, Boris had been staring down at him with a mix of guilt, anger, loss and relief. Henry would take a small smile over that bundle of emotion any other day.

“Now look how big you are. Big enough to carry me completely.” Henry chuckled, patting the wolf’s shoulder, “You’re making me feel so small.”

Boris’ chest heaved with a small burst of pride. He wasn’t the most prideful toon but any praise from the Creator was a pleasant enjoyment. The smile was quick to disappear when Henry winced at the exposed rib bones poking his bruises.

“Ow ow- This hurts worse than the time I fell down the stairs.” The former animator hissed painfully, cradling his bruised stomach and leaned against Boris’ arms. He silenced himself when Boris nudged his head at the animator worriedly. “Not entirely your fault. You weren’t all there before, right?”

Before was referring to the time when Boris had thrown the cart Henry was in across the room. A slip of anger when Boris had thought Henry was the Angel, despite the lack of horns, halo and height.

Henry glanced upwards, eyeing the speakers dangling on the walls. “She’s been rather quiet lately.”

Boris nodded in agreement, lifting Henry’s body closer to his chest with concern.

“Think she’s up to something?” Henry asked, briefly glancing at the wolf’s eyes. There was a flicker of amusement and the animator laughed, “Yeah. I thought so.”

The Prophet was so sure that this sacrifice would finally prove him to his Lord, the Ink Demon.

On the outside, his sacrifice looked like all the other sacrifices he had done in the name of his Lord (WHYSOFAMILIAR) but deep down, in the inky abyss he called a body, the Prophet knewthe one chosen here was the One.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the little sheep enjoyed sleeping a little too much.

The Prophet wondered if he had struck the man’s head too hard with the dust pan. His sacrifice needed to be awake for when his Lord would come around to accept the Prophet’s offering!

Yet nothing the Prophet did could rouse his little sheep. Not even the slightest of stir.

The Prophet heaved out a watery sigh. He had long finished tying up his little sheep to ensure that the sheep would not run upon awakening – that was definitely not happening for a long while.

A hand lingered over the sheep’s face and for the briefest of moment, the Prophet felt the faintest of heat radiating from the human.

It’s been so long since he’s felt anything in this cold prison of a body. The ink carried only pain and suffering, there was no such thing as the warmth of life.  

And here was a source of such warmth, tied up to the pole with a neatly drawn pentagram beneath his limp feet.

Something stirred within the Prophet.

The Prophet hummed in thought. He doubted that his Lord liked his things being meddled with. If the Prophet screwed up this offering, then he would be forever trapped in his prison.

Was it really worth it to throw away all of his work just to satisfy the growing urge for the warmth of life?

‘Warm. Heat. Get.’

He’s been a loyal prophet to his Lord. He’s made sacrifices in the name of his Lord. He’s prayed and prayed, over and over again to his shrines made for his Lord.

Surely, he deserved something out of all of his effort.

The Prophet settled for leaning against his sheep’s legs. They were already splattered with ink so his Lord wouldn’t notice his Prophet meddling with the sacrifice. The moment he rested against his sheep, the heat seeped through the cold murky ink and gave the Prophet a long lost sensation once again. 

For the first time in thirty years, the Prophet was content with the little source of heat warming his back and felt just a little bit more human.

Chapter Text

“I smell perfume on you.”

Henry paused in his drawing and stared at Joey. “Joey, what the hell.”

“I’m serious!” Joey exclaimed, sniffing the air and making a face, “I know for a fact you don’t like colognes because they smell weird.”

“They do smell weird.” Henry nodded in agreement.

“So why the perfume? Have you been hanging around with Miss Campbell too much? Or,” A teasing glint entered the studio director’s eyes, “Have you been having an affair behind my back?”

The reaction was instantaneous.

“I-Wh-Wh- Joey!” Henry sputtered, dropping his pencil in favor of hiding his face while his cheeks went red in embarrassment, “You’re saying that as if I’m cheating on you! … Which I’m not!” He quickly added the last note.

“Relax, you know I’m joking.” Joey barked with amused laughter, “So who’s the lucky girl huh? Did you fall asleep during your date-”

“There was no lucky girl, you ass. And for the record, I know better than to sleep through a friend meeting.” Henry huffed, tossing his dropped pencil at Joey and sniffed his sleeve experimentally, “Do I actually smell like perfume?”

“You smell so much like it that it’s like you replaced the smell of ink with your presence.” Joey replied, ducking his head to avoid the pencil, “Still haven’t answered why, old friend.”

“If I had to guess, it’s probably because I let Linda test out her perfumes on me yesterday.” Henry suggested with a hum, “I think I got used to the smell over time in my sleep so that’s why I haven’t been able to notice.”

“What kind of perfume lasts that long?” Joey furrowed his brows in curiosity.

“The ones that people dunk on you in gallons. I don’t know, I’ll ask Linda next time.” Henry shrugged, “Anyway, episode idea?”

Henry sometimes hated the part of him that wanted to sleep. The drowsiness was ever present in his head, clouding over his thoughts and slowly but surely, lulling him to sleep.

And considering where he was, the studio wasn’t the best place to fall asleep in, especially when Bendy was still out there.

But damn, if the temptation to sleep wasn’t already irresistible enough, then maybe the temptation of being part of the Ink would be the winning factor in making him want to sleep.

It was just as Alice said, the Ink being a ‘fishbowl of voices’. So many voices crying out to him the moment he fell, hands that weren’t quite tangible pulling him down.

It was a headache, trying to process it all while also keeping just a fragment of himself intact. It’s so easy to forget when you’re in a puddle that’s equivalent to a studio’s worth of chatty employees, and even harder to remember a piece of yourself.

No wonder why Alice had gone hysterical when he asked her about it. The sensation of not knowing yourself was indeed a terrifying prospect, yet at the same time a tempting one.

He wouldn’t have to deal with this mess that the studio had devolved into, or Bendy’s murderous rampage in search of the traitor.

But then he would be leaving Boris alone and not to mention, live with the sin of abandoning everyone to their gruesome fates, especially his own creations.

What a difficult situation.

Henry stumbled when his consciousness slipped for the briefest moment. That wasn’t a good sign.

He glanced around for a Miracle Station, hoping that luck would not kick him into the bucket this time but alas, luck really hated him for today.

‘Looks like Alice will have to wait on those valves a little longer.’ Henry thought before his legs collapsed beneath him.

Had he been awake just a little longer, he would’ve noticed a trio of ink creatures approaching his body.

Bendy had only been passing the hallway when he had seen it. The Butcher Gangs, horrifically disfigured and malformed as a result of the Angel’s meddling, resting on the floor against an odd pile.

It took a moment longer for Bendy to realize that the odd pile was the Creatorand he wasn’t moving.

The Ink Demon let out a feral scream, startling the Butcher Gang awake. They scrambled to get away from Bendy, but he was too close.

His aura suffocated them, applying pressure to their mangled body until finally, their ink couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed under it.

Bendy watched as the Butcher Gang melted back into the Ink, unable to bear his aura anymore and leaving behind the Creator’s body to the Ink Demon. Bendy harrumphed, sending a dirty glare at the spots where the Butcher Gang melted into before leaning closer to the Creator.

A soft snore.

Bendy failed to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands – of course the Creator would be asleep! That damn traitor was always asleep somewhere in the studio.

At least, that meant that Bendy could still kill the man. The thought alone made Bendy pleased. Only Bendy got to decide when and how would the human die. He didn’t mind sharing kills but he didn’t like sharing killing his Creator.

Bendy curiously pressed a gloved hand on the human and predictably received no response. Still deep in sleep, and positively thrumming with life. The Ink Demon took a quick glance around him before looking down at the Creator and rubbed his hands together.  

Well, Bendy had plenty of time to spend with his dear Creator until it was time for his reckoning.

Bendy had very little time to hide his prize into the nearest Little Miracle Station before the Projectionist screamed and tackled the Ink Demon.

For whatever reason, the Projectionist had decided to leave the flooded floor he usually lurked around and just so happened to see the Ink Demon hauling the Creator away.

“GGGGiiivvve- KZZRT- HHHEeennnrrr- KZZRT – BBBBAAACCKK!” The Projectionist’s speaker crackled, hands balled into fists and slamming into Bendy’s frame, “OOOOuurrss!”

Bendy snarled back ferally and clawed back at the Projectioninst, the inky veins staining their surroundings darker.

As if he would hand over the Creator to anything else. He had spent too much effort in getting the elusive man into his grasp in the first place!

Bendy was feared beneath the studio for what he was, ink and claws, and he lived up to his fearsome reputation. The Projectionist was weaker than him, being made from the measly flesh of a human but it was still marginally powerful.

But ultimately, the flesh of a human couldn’t best a demon.  

It had been so easy, grasping at the cables and yanking them out. The Projectionist screamed in pain, flailing to stop Bendy from removing any more but in doing so, it had given Bendy the perfect opportunity to grab its head and pull.

A single distorted scream broke out from the speaker before cutting abruptly soon just as Bendy severed the Projectionist’ head from its limp body. Bendy tossed the projector away with a huff.

Good riddance.  

Henry stirred awake at the feeling of his body being moved and something pressing against his chest. Odd, was something moving him?

As tempting as it was to keep his eyes closed and stay content to the swaying movement, Henry forced his eyes open.

“Boris?” The wolf glanced back at Henry with a pleased expression, “Did I fall asleep again?”

Boris nodded in response.

“At this point, I’m not surprised anymore.” Henry sighed, leaning his weight on Boris’ back and idly scratched the wolf’s head, “Thanks for finding me again, Boris.”

Boris preened at the contact.

Moments before they entered the elevator, an unholy roar rang throughout the studio’s floor, startling the two.

“What was that?” Henry frowned, his grip on Boris tightened slightly in apprehension.

Boris stared at the direction he had come from before giving Henry a nonchalant shrug.

“Are you sure we don’t have to worry about it?” Henry questioned warily.

There was a moment’s pause before Boris nodded in confirmation. Henry wouldn’t need to worry about Bendy for a while.

The Ink Demon was probably too busy investigating the Miracle Station for the missing Henry anyway.

“So,” Tom started, eyeing the new members of the group in a non-subtly manner, “Are we going to not going to address the elephant in the group or-“

“Even if you did, you’d probably end up with more questions than answers.” Allison cut in quickly, gesturing to the massively disproportionate Boris that hulked behind them, “It’s not like he’s going to talk anytime soon.”

“Yeah but can we at least acknowledge the fact that this Boris is holding what is equivalent to the Creator of this studio in his arms?” Tom said, staring at the significantly smaller human being coddled by Boris.

Said human was snoring, thankfully quietly, but evidently unconscious. Tom didn’t think that someone could actually sleep that well in a hazardous environment like the studio, especially considering how unusually active the Ink Demon was being lately.  

It was a wonder how the man was alive in the first place.

Chapter Text

Allison didn’t know what to think of their new prisoner in their temporary abode. She and Tom had found him in the haunted ride, just a second from death when the Angel ran to slay him. For what reasons, Allison didn’t know but she had a feeling it had to do with the man’s unnatural presence in the studio.

There were two types of otherworldly in the Studio as Allison later learned once Tom shoved their new prisoner in his cell. One was the one that didn’t feel right, the unnerving sensation that they were dangerous and needed to be kept away from. The only one who felt that way was the Ink Demon that lurked in-between the floors, constantly on the prowl on who know what.

The other type was… indescribable so to speak. It was the feeling of something not belonging, the one that is out of place and couldn’t possibly be fathom by the inky residents. Your instincts were to either leave it alone or drive it out of your home.

That was the feeling that Allison felt from their prisoner.

He did not belong in the Studio.

Tom didn’t trust him one bit but Allison could understand why. Strangers were dangerous down below the studio and more often than not, they were just as hostile as the ones that lacked sentience.

The stranger often slept on the cot they provided in his cell. Sometimes he slept on the floor too, but it wasn’t like Allison could go inside and drag him onto the cot, despite how uncomfortable the floor looked.

He was an unknown, potentially dangerous even, and the cell was the only thing that made sure that Allison and Tom were safe from whatever threat he may possess. It wasn’t like she could just casually interact with the mysterious intruder.

Could she?

You draw beautifully.

Henry smiled when he read the message, whispering back a “Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since his new wardens had made him their prisoner. Time was a very difficult thing to tell, especially when there were no Bendy clocks for the former animator to tell the time with.

Combined with his narcolepsy that already made it difficult to tell the time, Henry may as well draw a clock on the wall and believe it to be the time.

At least one of his wardens was polite. Kind even.

Allison, he called her in his mind but never out loud. She had already said that she was no Angel and the only reason he came up with Allison was because of her resemblance with Alice Angel. Calling her Allison would probably upset her and make Boris- Not his Boris more hostile towards him.

Allison had given him a strange device, the ‘Lens of truth’ as she had described it once as. A dramatic name, fitting for a cartoon in Henry’s opinion. So far, it hadn’t really done much ‘truth showing’ as Henry thought it would.

On the plus side though, whoever was leaving behind the messages on the Lens were sure encouraging and positive. Every day (or at least every time he woke up), there was always a new message scrawled somewhere in the cell with each response changed according to what he had done or said to it before.

‘Keep going. It won’t’ be long.’

‘You can do this.’

‘Have you slept well?’

‘Hope you had a good dream.’

‘The floor isn’t a good place to pass out on.’

‘You have a bed. Use it.’

‘Please drag your sorry behind to the bed for the love of bacon.’

‘Note: Tom really doesn’t like you.’

‘CAN YOU PLEASE STOP’

‘Can we all just collectively agree that the lack of toilets here is concerning?’

‘Narcolepsy is a @&%$!’

It was almost like having a pen pal that knew what was happening to you without you even needing to say anything.

A little creepy yes, but Henry preferred that over being isolated alone in his cell. He’s not sure if he can handle the loneliness anymore, not after living with Boris (however brief those times were).

Henry flashed the Lens on the opposite wall in front of him.

‘You will make it out of here alive.’

That he will.

But first, he needed a way to break out of his cell. Henry wonders if he can take the Boris’ metal arm off without the wolf noticing.

Nothing was more sleep inducing than a rocking boat loudly chugging along a river of ink.

To be more accurate, it was more to do with the sensation of the boat rocking back and forth that lulled Henry into a state of daydream, and the dim lantern on the boat just barely illuminating the darkness in the tunnel.

The man failed to suppress the yawn creeping out of his throat, exhaustion catching up with Henry from scrambling out of his cell earlier with the control to the boat being the only object supporting Henry’s weight from collapsing on his knees.

Henry was vaguely reminded of the one time he went fishing with Joey at the pier and accidentally fell asleep into the ocean. Only woke up when Joey fished him back up. The pier never let them back in after that.

So far gone was Henry’s consciousness that he didn’t even notice a deep groan echoing in the tunnel as a massive gloved claw rose from the river. Nor did he notice the boat stopping in its path as his grip slipped from the handle, the lever unable to direct the boat in its path anymore while his body slumped dangerously over the edge of the barge.

The claw dipped back underneath the river before appearing next to the barge and raised its palm over the occupied barge, almost intent on crushing it just like it had with the empty barge earlier. The moment would’ve been suspenseful and a thriller, if not for Henry’s quiet snores filling the silence.

The hand lowered itself over to where Henry’s body was and as gently as possible, tugged his body back onto the boat so he was no longer at risk of being thrown into the river in his sleep. It waited a few minutes but when it was clear that Henry wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, there was a low groan.

For anyone listening very closely at the time, quiet indistinguishable murmurings of disbelief could be heard, all which were directed at the sleeping Creator.

The claw resigned itself to pushing the barge forward with a forceful shove and constantly went back and forth in the ink river to continuously make the boat move. It may not know how to make the barge move by itself, but it could give the barge a hand in that.

So, with a neither slow or quick pace, the barge sailed onward with a giant claw to push it forward while the only occupant of the barge slept away.

“Does this happen often?” Allison rose a brow at Henry. “Because this is the first time I’ve ever seen the Lost Ones and Searchers act like this.”

“I can only count one time that I’ve had this many Lost Ones on me, excluding Searchers. They usually try kill me.” Henry answered from under the growing number of inky bodies piling atop of him.

Tom had long given up trying to free the human from the residents, instead resigning himself to watch the (admittedly) amusing scene of Henry being smothered by the Lost Ones and Searchers.

“You know,” Allison started, walking next to Tom with a thoughtful look in her eyes, “He would make a great bait for dealing with the others, wouldn’t he?”

“I can hear you, you know!” Came Henry’s muffled shout.

“Go back to sleep and enjoy the second non-hostile physical contact there.” Allison retorted back with an amused smile. She glanced at a doubtful Tom. “You know I was joking right? We aren’t actually going to use him as bait.”

Tom remained silent at Allison’s statement, seemingly compliant with her ideas, though his smile said otherwise.

When Henry had walked inside the Ink Machine with empty hands, he had expected to be involved in some sort of difficult puzzle that would no doubt hurt his head.

When he discovered Bendy’s little lair with several reels replaying moments of some of his episodes, he had a feeling that they were going to be involved in said puzzle.

When Bendy revealed himself from behind the chair and re-emerged as a grotesque, large monster, Henry had the suspicion that he was also going to be kicked around by Bendy a lot while trying to survive the Ink Demon.

None of these happened.

As soon as Bendy transformed, he had swiped Henry into his much-larger claws easily as if the animator was as light as a feather, but he never so much as harmed Henry. It was a blur of ink and movement, but Henry found himself being surrounded by Bendy’s encompassing form, his head resting atop of his hair. There was a low rumble coming from Bendy’s throat, a warning for Henry to not move away. He complied, there wasn’t any way he could escape from the Ink Demon’s clutches.

“… Are you going to let me go anytime soon?” Henry asked when he finally mustered the courage to ask his newfound captor. There was a growl of disapproval from Bendy as his response. “Why don’t we watch that reel you found-“Bendy hovered his open jaws threateningly over Henry’s head. “Okay you know what? You can pick the episode.”

Bendy shut his jaws into a pleased grin. There was a shuffle of movement as Bendy presumably leaned over to one of the projectors and positioned it in front of them. With an inky flick, the projector sputtered to life and flashed the title of the episode onto the wall.

Go to Hell in a Hand Basket.

With no way to move out of Bendy’s grasp and the demon literally one swift movement away from biting his head off, Henry resigned himself to lean against the Ink Demon and contented himself with revisiting the episode. And the next episode. And the one after that.

“In the end, we followed two different roads of our own ending. You, a loving family. And me, a crooked empire. And my road burned.” Joey said dejectedly, heaving out a sigh. “I let our creations become my life.”

“The truth is, you were always so good at pushing, old friend…” Joey turned around slowly, approaching the table. “Pushing me to do the right thing. But you know what else you were also good at?”

He frowned.

“Staying awake when you needed to.” Joey sighed, shaking his head and resting his palm against his forehead. “At least try to stay awake while I’m monologuing, Henry. You’re killing the mood here.”

Henry snored.

“So are we going to help him out or…” Allison stared at the unmoving mass of ink that had accumulated in the center of the village. “He hasn’t said anything for a while now.”

Tom shrugged. Henry will be fine.

“Seriously though Tom, shouldn’t we maybe just move some of them off him? He might be suffocating under there.” Allison pointed out with concern, sheathing her knife.

Tom shrugged again, sending Allison a flat stare. What did she want him to do about it?

Shovel some of the ink off like dirt?

Beneath the inky pile, out of the duo’s sight, Henry had quietly drowned underneath the ink and was rapidly disappearing to the next nearby Bendy statue for resurrection.