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Medkit was used to toxicity. That is obvious, as he grew up in Blackrock of all factions. Toxicity (both literal and figurative) was the norm there. Everyone experienced it at some level. It corrupted and influenced the minds of so many. People either joined in with it, ran away from it, or died because of it. That was simply how it was.
So, when Medkit finally fled from that life, seeking refuge after the incident that breached his boiling point, when he was met with kindness? He wasn’t sure how to cope. Cope with the fact that there wasn’t any competition, any risk that you’ll be thrown out or hurt. It was foreign. And as rude and distant as the demon seemed, he did appreciate it.
He thought he would only risk getting close to Sword at the time. The demon that took him in and accepted Medkit as his own. His best friend. (Sword was also someone he thought of as a younger brother, though he’d never voice that out loud.)
However that changed once a certain green annoyance barged into his life.
It started shortly after he started being a part of phights. It was the 5th phight Medkit had joined, and he was almost done packing up and was about to meet up with Sword when he approached him.
“Hey! You’re the new guy, right?” The voice startled Medkit out of his own head and he spun around to face whoever it was that had spoken to him-
Only to realize he had to adjust his line of sight slightly downward.
When he was able to take in the demon in front of himself, he briefly recognized him. The demon had green horns and was wearing a backward black baseball cap with a bright green stripe down the middle, as well as a digital visor that seemed to follow his eye movements. As for clothes he was wearing a green button-up that was half tucked into black cargo pants that had a chain attached to the belt loops with a lazily tied dark green tie. The sleeves on the shirt were rolled up and he was also wearing dark green fingerless gloves and seemed to be wearing dark green sneakers.
Medkit thought his sense of style was… questionable.
In the other phights he had been in the green demon had been on the opposing team, so he never got the chance to speak to them. Not that he wanted to. He didn’t have any intentions of doing so.
But Medkit figured he should at least say something back to them. It’d be polite.
“Yes,” He replied. It was simple, straightforward, and to the point. It also left room for him to leave the conversation whenever he needed.
However, for some reason, the demon just. Kept. On. Talking.
“Sick! I’m Boombox, He/Him,” The demon, Boombox, stated, “I’ve kinda been meaning to talk to ya’ for a while but we were on opposing teams every time! Then, I figured I’d just try to talk to ya’ after a match but by the time I was all packed up and ready to go, you were gone! But annnywayyyy- hey where are you going?”
By the time Boombox finished his long and incoherent speech, Medkit had finished packing up and began leaving. He wasn’t in the mood, nor had the patience to deal with the hyperactive phighter.
He speed walked out of the blue team’s locker room. Once Medkit got outside the building he scanned the area for Sword. He spotted him and walked toward him as fast as possible. Unfortunately for Medkit, however, he was in the middle of a conversation with Rocket, and you’d have to physically drag Sword away to get him to stop talking to Rocket once a conversation started.
That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try, at least.
“Hello Sword, are you ready to go?” Medkit asked, attempting to lace his tone and give the other demon a look that practically screamed, “Can we go NOW.”
That didn’t register for Sword, “Yeah, I just wanted to talk to Rocket,” was all he said before going back to the conversation he was having.
Medkit was about to speak up again when he suddenly heard that voice again.
“Hey, Doc! Wait up!”
Illumina, give this demon patience.
Boombox jogged up to where the three were standing, turning to talk to Medkit, “Dang you’re faster than you look!”
“Don’t call me that,” Medkit stated.
“Huh?”
“Doc. Or doctor. Don’t call me that,” The word tasted like poison on his tongue. A taste he knew quite intimately.
“Oh! Rough spot, huh? That’s alright!” Boombox carried on, oblivious to Medkit’s obvious lack of interest in conversing with the other. “But-- you never gave me ya’ name! Can I have that at least?”
Medkit blinked at him. Surely he wasn’t this stupid.
“Did you not hear my name when they were announcing the teams?”
Boombox laughed, “I did! But I like to hear it from the demon themself!!”
Medkit stared at him for a long moment. That. That doesn’t make any sense. He heard his name on the speaker, as well as pronouns. Why go through all this effort just to learn a name he already heard? Was Boombox just doing this to annoy him? Why wou-
He was cut off from his frustrated spiral by Sword putting a hand on his shoulder and snapping his head toward him.
“Hey, don’t worry Med, he did this with everyone when he first came along,” Sword reassured him. The swordsman could practically hear his thoughts from the look on his face.
Medkit sighed and looked down at Boombox, “Medkit. He/Him. I don't care what pronouns you use, though.”
The smile on Boombox’s face grew even wider, “That’s great!” He started bouncing on his heels, “Oh yeah do you wanna-”
“Boombox! C’mon, we’re leaving for dinner!” The group of phighters turned to look at who was shouting for the musician. It was a demon with red horns, a helmet, and some knee and shoulder pads. They wore a simple outfit of a red shirt with the sleeves seemingly cut off and hemmed, dark grey cargo pants, and red sneakers.
Medkit briefly recalls this one being on the opposing team. Skateboard, he thinks.
“Aw- I gotta go now, Skate’s waiting for me,” Boombox says deflating slightly, and the eyes on his visor turn into T’s. His posture then goes back to how it was before and the eyes turn to their normal O’s. “Well cya some other time, ‘Kit!” He then runs off to catch up with his friend.
“Don’t call me- that…” The demon was already gone before he could finish his sentence. Medkit regrets kinda regret telling the musician his name, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he leaves him alone.
Medkit turned back toward Rocket and Sword, “Can we leave now?”
Sword and Rocket, who had watched the whole ordeal, let out noises of approval. They start heading toward Zuka’s truck. Medkit thinks he hears Rocket say something about calling shotgun, but he doesn’t really care. His mind was on that Phighter, Boombox.
While yes, he seems like he’d be absolutely annoying to deal with, there’s something about him that intrigues the Medic. Boombox is persistent. Which is odd. Usually, when a demon is met with Medkit’s usual attitude they're deterred, the conversation gets awkward, and they leave him alone.
However, Boombox didn’t.
Medkit couldn’t figure out if it was from not caring or just being plain oblivious. Either way, he knew it wasn’t something targeted, meant to annoy him on purpose. It wasn’t malicious, he could tell.
(He thought back to pink horns and sly comments, meant to work him up and anger him. He thought of cold rooms and angry yelling. He thought of pain and blood and FEAR.)
(Stop. That’s enough.)
Sword suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts, “Medkit c’mon we’re ready to go, old man!”
“I’m not old, Sword. I’m only 30,” Medkit says, speeding up his walk to catch up with them. He quickly takes his seat next to the sword in the back and shuts the door behind him.
“Yeah, that’s old,” Sword replied with a teasing smile. The car starts up and Zuka starts driving.
Rocket, from the front, chimes in, “Hey at least you're not as old as Pops-”
“Rocket.” Medkit could practically feel the side eye Zuka gave him.
“I’m just saying!” Rocket says, putting his hands up.
“Maybe, but it’s best not to poke fun at the person in charge of controlling a vehicle.”
Rocket gasped dramatically, “You would crash the car!? With your dear son in it!?”
Zuka snorts.
“Wow... Okay. I see how it is.” Medkit’s pretty sure he wiped a fake tear.
The conversation went on and Medkit spaced out again. He tried to take his mind off Boombox, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking about the musician's stupid face, his voice, his horns, and his chain-like tail. It was frustrating. It was stupid. He was stupid.
He also couldn’t stop thinking about how the demon carried himself. Boombox carried himself with confidence. Almost as if he was aware of how he acted but didn’t care. He spoke loudly and continued to even if he got looks from people. He couldn’t keep thinking about that demon.
Medkit would just have to ignore him, then. Then these stupid thoughts about Boombox- someone he’s barely even met, mind you- would go away.
It can’t be that hard, right?