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Medkit wasn’t entirely enthusiastic to be sitting in Zuka’s truck and driving to a phight again. He hadn’t participated in one for a while, but he needed some extra cash for the month, and he had no other way to get it. Sure, he could probably just ask Scythe for a raise or something, but he needed money quickly . Besides, Scythe could be pretty unpredictable at times. If he asked for a bonus, loan, or whatever, there was no guarantee he’d get one, much less one in time for what he was planning.
As he was lamenting about his current situation, he felt Zuka’s truck come to a complete stop. Looking up, he saw the map where they were supposed to be today. A slight bit of pre-phight worry settled in as they approached it, but he shrugged it off. Thanking Zuka for the ride, he wandered into the arena, using a designated door and heading towards the locker room. Putting his stuff down once he arrived, he scoped out the area, trying to see who he would be phighting with (or against). He only saw one phighter that he knew well and groaned as he realized who it was.
The familiar pink-horned demon lit up with a sinister spirit as he spotted Medkit. Abandoning the task of bandaging his rotting arm in preparation for combat, he sauntered towards the healer, showing a few phighters out of the way haughtily as he did so. Medkit sighed, cursing himself for not just borrowing money from someone like a normal person and immediately jumping to the most inconvenient option possible.
“Meddy!~ What a coincidence seeing you here!”
Medkit rolled his eyes, both at the nickname and the other man’s presence. He hadn’t met him since the incident, avoiding him on the rare occasions they were near each other. Subspace had grown more muscular since, the rot Medkit inflicted on him spreading in a disturbingly beautiful way across his body like the roots of a tree spread in the ground. His attire was similar, but not identical, to how he dressed back when they were…friends.
“Leave me alone , Subspace.”
“Don’t be rude to me! You know-”
The healer stared at Subspace with hatred, aiming his gun at the other support. A few people backed up at the sight of the weapon, even if Medkit’s glock couldn’t do much damage. “Did you hear what I said? You never get the right to talk to me again. Now go before I shoot you in the face.”
Shock momentarily filled Subspace’s face before he plastered on the same aloof expression he always carried with him, shit-eating grin and all. “Got it! See you at the match!” He laughed as he walked back to where he was sitting, acting as if nothing had happened. Stares and whispers lingered as Medkit prepared for battle, and he mentally scorned himself for making such a scene. He disliked drawing too much attention to himself, and with the hundreds of thousands of eyes that would watch today’s phight, his nerves were already shot.
As everybody finished preparing the last of their equipment and training the last of their muscles, a pair of voices rang out: one energetic and one more toned-down.
“Helll ooo , phighters! I’m your co-host, Valk-”
“-And I’m your other co-host, Dom.”
“That’s right! The phight will start soon. Please exit the locker and training rooms and head to the waiting room that corresponds with your team. Try to keep out of view, as audience members are starting to file in. Good luck, and we’ll see you-”
“-On the Flipside.”
And with that, the speakers cut off. People began to slowly exit the locker room, and Medkit did too. He had to will himself not to look at Subspace, knowing he could very well send the wrong signal.
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The match was getting heated. Medkit was surprisingly able to somewhat keep up with its fast pace, considering that he was only a support. He healed as rapidly as he could, shooting bullets at his teammates and any enemies that got too close for comfort. His crystal spun and vibrated with energy as his gear worked overtime to cure his teammates.
A stray shot from above interrupted his concentration. Checking to see the source, he saw Scythe perching from above and acting as a sniper. Bullets rained from above like hail as gunfire rapidly flew from the southern woman’s automatic. She cackled as Medkit scattered, trying his best not to get hit.
“Sorry, Kit, but I gotta get money somehow!”
The man flew into an abandoned building, trying to get out of Scythe’s line of sight. He sank to the ground and made himself as small as possible, trying his best to avoid getting metal sent flying through his skull. A few shots hit the concrete wall, then they stopped. Medkit peeked out of the doorframe, seeing that Scythe had left him alone and targeted what seemed like Boombox, another support phighter who liked to blast rather loud electronic music during rounds. Out of all the people on his team to lose, Medkit wouldn’t mind if Boombox was targeted. He retreated into the building, taking a moment to get his bearings and trying to ensure Scythe didn’t reconcentrate on him. He took a few deep breaths, grounding himself and ensuring he was prepared to go back outside. As he dusted himself off and sighed, he failed to notice somebody walking through the door frame and creeping up behind him. Hands wrapping firmly around his waist shocked him out of his brief state of content.
“Got you, Meddy!”
“Let me go, Subspace.” He began thrashing as Subspace’s clutch became firmer, crushing Medkit’s torso and almost certainly damaging some of his internal organs in the process.
“No can do! I’ve got you right where I want you.”
Subspace began an attempt to pull Medkit out of the building. He harshly retaliated, kicking and bruising the Blackrockian’s legs in an attempt to get him off balance. The two danced around the room as they clashed, bumping into walls as each tried to get the upper hand. Medkit, spotting his gun and gear on the floor, suddenly jammed his elbow into Subspace’s stomach with as much force as he could muster. The scientist’s grasp released, and he let Medkit go as he clutched his stomach. The teal-horned demon scurried towards his equipment speedily, grabbing his weapon and brandishing it in Subspace’s general direction as the inventor recovered. He laughed as he approached Medkit, a malevolent smile wide on display.
“Oh, please.” Subspace grabbed Medkit’s wrists, pinning them to the wall with one hand. The sudden force caused him to drop his equipment, and they fell on his knees before clattering to the concrete floor. The sadist leaned into the other man, and Medkit could slightly feel his breath on his lips. “I know enough about your gear to know that gun doesn’t do any damage. Your empty threats won’t work on me.” The clinician could see Subspace’s crystal vibrating and glowing bright, signaling that his phinisher was almost ready. He gulped. “You could wipe out an entire team with that. Are you seriously going to waste it on me?”
“You don’t know how much I’d do to see you die, Medkit.”
Medkit’s breaths were short and stilted, and he could feel his face heating up. He knew that Subspace was taunting him, toying with him in a way he knew would get him going. The two were extremely close during his time at Blackrock, and his feelings never got a chance to disappear after the incident. Hell, they never got a chance to break up, if you’d call what they had a relationship. Subspace seemed aware of how vulnerable Medkit was right now. His smile widened, and his eyes narrowed with a strange lust . He leaned in even further so that the two could practically feel the heat radiating off of each other. Any twitch, any sudden movement from either of them would make them collide.
“I know you’re still in love with me, Meddy.” The nickname shot straight through Medkit’s heart like an arrow through the chest. “I’ll kiss you if you let me kill you.”
Medkit couldn’t help but nod, his mind clouded with confusion, romantic feelings, and lust ; he assumed that he would kill him either way and that the kiss would at least delay things. With the other man’s confirmation, Subspace closed the gap, roughly pressing their lips together. He released Medkit’s wrists, and the doctor began running his fingers through his matted hair like he used to do back at Blackrock. The chemist tasted like rotting flesh and disease, yet Medkit enjoyed every second of their moment, no matter how disgusting. They stayed tangled in each other, and the cultist let his mind forget about everything: his promise, the game, the incident.
Everything.
Subspace smirked as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the two before quickly snapping. He made eye contact with Medkit, and the teal-horned demon felt as if his gaze was piercing through him, cutting a hole through him and letting all his secrets spill out like blood.
“It’s funny, Medkit!” Subspace said, letting out a malicious giggle. “You just can’t resist me, even when you have a boyfriend! I can’t tell whether that’s romantic or pathetic!”
Medkit’s eyes widened, and he stopped, his mind clearing and the world shattering around him. He became hyperaware of his surroundings: the gunshots flying through the air, the weapons clashing on the battlefield, the concrete beneath him, and the man in front of him whom he had just shared a kiss with.
Emotions flooded Medkit, so many that he couldn’t name all of them. He felt rage towards Subspace, but what right did he have to hate him? He was the one in a relationship while having feelings for another. He was the one who let Subspace manipulate him so easily. And yet, his hatred still flowed. His non-existent eye throbbed behind his eyepatch with placebo pain, reminding him of what the other man had taken from him.
“It’s true, and you know it. Why else do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Medkit’s shock turned into rage as he furiously pushed Subspace off of him. “Get away from me. Now.” He slid harshly on the concrete below him, still smiling as he sat up. Remembering that he was in a phight and he could kill without repercussions, Medkit scampered towards the Blackrockian, tears flooding his eyes as hands wrapped around Subspace’s throat and thumbs were jammed into his throat. The other man didn’t resist, the same smile staying on his face without so much as a falter.
“I-I hate you, Subspace. We will never be so much as acquaintances again. I will hate you until that rot finally kills you and buries you six feet under.” Medkit sobbed, rambling on as Subspace began to lose consciousness and his smile began faltering. Internally, he knew that he was just lashing out, but he didn’t care. He felt Subspace’s body go cold and limp, and the Lost Temple resident released the other man, standing up as his lifeless eyes stared up towards the ceiling. Somewhere that felt a thousand miles away, an announcement was made, like it always was when a phighter was killed.
“...Annnddd Medkit has killed Subspace, suprisingly!” Valk’s energetic voice carried through the stadium, and the healer could’ve sworn that Valk could easily sound like that, even without the help of a microphone and sound system. Hearing the celebrity announce the kill made Medkit feel uneasy, as if the yellow-horned demon somehow knew what had gone down between them.
“I mean, we did see Subspace follow Medkit into that building not long after he hid from Scythe in there.”
“Too bad no cameras are capturing the inside of the building! Illumina knows how that fight went down!”
“I’d pay to see two supports duking it out.”
“Same here!”
Medkit swallowed, his throat dry and sore, as the announcement concluded. Staring at his hands as if he expected them to be stained with blood, he continued weeping as if to wash the invisible gore off.
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Medkit sat patiently on the couch, hiding the small gift box behind his back. Guilt and fear filled his gut with each passing moment as flashbacks to the phight flooded his brain, yet he told himself to calm down. He told himself to forget about all that, that this is what he worked so hard for, and to just enjoy the moment for once.
He knew he didn’t deserve that luxury.
Banhammer came into the living room, and Medkit couldn’t help but smile despite his anxiety. Seeing the purple-horned demon always made him feel at home , weirdly, like they were meant to be. As he approached the other man on the couch, butterflies flew in his stomach.
“You said you had a surprise for me, right, Kit?” Banhammer questioned, scratching the back of his head.
Medkit nodded, grabbing the box and walking up to him. Kissing him on the cheek, the teal-horned demon presented the box, opening it and showing what was inside.
Two small, golden solitaire rings.
Banhammer’s look of shock flustered Medkit, causing him to turn away and blush as he sputtered out an explanation. “Promise rings. I-I don’t want to do anything too drastic yet, but I just…wanted a symbol of how important our relationship is to me.”
A wide smile spread across the melee phighter’s face as he carefully picked up the larger ring, sliding it onto his finger. Medkit did the same before setting the now-empty box on the coffee table. Banhammer wrapped the other man in an embrace, peppering his face with kisses.
And as much as Medkit was enjoying this small period of peace, one thought stayed persistent in his mind.
I don’t deserve him.