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He was dead.
He lay peacefully. Not uttering a word. Not fighting. Resting peacefully.
He had accepted his fate and let himself get dragged into the eternal abyss.
Medkit looked down at the stranger below him.
This was your handiwork. You did all this. You did this. This is all your fault.
Medkit peered at the dead man's face. Peaceful. Calm. Accepting.
He did not care. He did not care that he had just had his life taken by his own kin. His own brother.
The brother who he tried his hardest to make smile everyday, he tried to make Medkit's life worth living, he tried to give him a purpose in life. He tried so hard.
He tried so hard that it almost worked.
But look where it got him - dead. Dead on the floor owned by a 'holy' organisation that hated him. Despised him. Loathed him and what he stood for so much that they would lure him in like he was prey just to murder him. They would never know how important he was to Medkit. They would never know how important Medkit was to him.
This was just a game to the Church.
A small, easy side hustle.
Insignificant.
They did not care for his soul. They did not care for the people he helped, the ones he loved or the future ahead of him.
He was dead now.
The life sucked out of his mortal being.
You killed SWORD.
Medkit's heart was beating so fast.
He had killed him. He had killed him without mercy or second thoughts.
He loved you and you killed him.
Deep down, he knew, that Sword would forgive him in a heartbeat. Medkit found that thought absolutely disgusting. Vile. Repulsive. Sword was always kind like that. He probably understood Medkit better than anyone else ever could. He always listened. He always cared, he always helped.
It made him want to scold his brother for exhibiting such behaviour, such forgiveness to a tainted soul like his.
He did not deserve him.
Ever since meeting him, he thought Sword was an angel. A light in the dark. When it felt as if the world had dropped him to the floor and left him to die, someone picked him up. Someone was there for him. At first, Medkit assumed he had malicious alterior motives, but Sword never revealed anything of the sort.
He was kind-hearted to the core.
Sword would've hated it if he called him an angel, but Med always thought it was true.
He always thought, maybe if he had found Sword earlier in life, maybe Medkit wouldn't be the way he is nowadays. Though, he would not want to find out what would happen if Sword was tied in Blackrock's mess.
He wanted to die alongside him.
Medkit wanted to die first. He thought he would die first. He danced with death everyday that he spent in the Church and running away from imprisonment and Blackrock.
You're useless... less than useless.
There was something else he also hated.
His brother was clearly at odds with the fact Medkit saved his life - he wanted to do it in return, he claimed he needed to pay him back, and that he would someday. Though he never understood one thing, something Medkit always meant to say to him.
You already have saved me.
I'm the one who owes you.
I owe you my life. I owe you my entire existence, my soul. You have kept me alive for so long.
You always underestimate how much you mean to me.
If you weren't here, I would have died ages ago.
Thank you for everything.
Sword was his sun, his world.
No.
He was dying alongside him.
The dagger was unlodged from Sword's heart.
Medkit leaned down slowly and sat down, pulling his brother up and into an embrace, welcoming and letting the blood soak into his clothing.
It was warm.
This was how he was going to go out.
He was not going to allow anyone else force him into a life that he did want to live anymore. It was all going to be over soon.
He glared at the dagger coated in the crimson blood of a perfect angel. Soon. He pulled away from the hug.
People like you don't deserve to live.
It was positioned above his chest.
I love you, Sword.
I'm sorry, Venom and Rocket, and everyone. That I did this.
I'm sorry, Sword.
The knife punctured his skin leaking deep red. It was pulled out quickly and plunged right back in, flicking the liquid everywhere and spreading it onto Sword's clothes and face.
It was out again and then in.
In and out. In and out.
The pain would be gone soon.
In and out.
Once he decided the wound was fatal enough, he discarded the blade weakly and hugged his brother again.
Medkit fell frailly, leaving them lying on their sides, facing one another. It was nice.
Medkit smiled.
Despite being dead, he was so warm. His wings were still as pretty and majestic as ever.
He knew wherever Sword was going after death, Medkit would not go there - he was tainted. He was not good. He had done many bad things. He just wanted one last look at him before he departed; because if Sword was dead, then he no longer had a reason to live.
He did not fight death at all.
He let it overtake him.
It would all be over soon.
He would not have suffer in this world anymore. No more Church. No more Blackrock.
He was going to cherish this embrace and his brother even after death.
Sword deserved so much better than Medkit.
He stared right at Sword's eyes as his own began to close. Sword looked so happy.
He got in even closer, hugging tighter for one last time.
Warmth. Comfort. Death.
They had both died.
But, their love for each other refused to succumb.
For the rest eternity, they lie warmly and unstoppably in eachother's arms.
They may no longer talk, but their love and affection spoke a thousand words already.
Happiness.
True happiness.
Nothing could get in the way now.
Peace.
It's what Medkit desired all along, after spending all those years trapped in Blackrock's suffocating facilities and being dragged across the holy grounds of The Church of the True Eye.
And it's what Sword wanted Medkit to feel.
At peace with his existence and love.
Like statues, frozen in time.
They lie happily.
Thank you for everything you've done for me.