Chapter Text
A door burst open, a Toon ran in, quickly emptying what little scraps of food they had consumed that day. It had been months since the museum had closed and Bassie was not coping well at all.
The last supply run... She had gotten scraped on the arm. A small, almost non existent cut... But it existed, and she knew what it meant. Every other Toon here already knew she was useless, a fake, a fraud. What would they do to her once they found out she may be infected? No. She couldn't let that come to pass.
But What if she failed, what if she was infected? Would she become one of those rage drunken monstrosities? She would continue to heave as thoughts filled with paranoia and anxiety flooded her brain. No, she wouldn't let them replace her like the show had tried to replace her before. Not fit for main status? She'd show them, she would show all of them. She is independent, healthy and safe.
Tears would begin to fall from Bassies eyes, years of self doubt, hatred towards herself and… That fucking bunny all coming to the forefronts of her mind. Ugly, hot and rapid tears would stream onto the floor. She hated her, hated, hated hated her so much. SHE replaced her. SHE was loved. SHE was independent. Why didn't her creators give her those traits? She will never know. Her fist would pound on the floor, rage and anguish consuming her as she vented out her frustration, bruising and cutting her hands up in the process.
Pitter patter. Somebody was approaching. Fuck. she couldn't let them see her in this state, not like this, not wounded, not weak, not diseased. She would quickly dash to get up but before she could, a hand would gently open her door, poking their face through, revealing it to be the worst person at this moment, the one Bassie wanted to see the least.
It was Cocoa, The Bunny. Them. The person who she pretended to be friends with to remain connected to the outside world, the one she despised internally but could not say anything to her. Why did it have to be her? Bassie would put on a forced smile onto her face before walking to meet Cocoa.
“Haha, hey Bassie! I heard banging and wanted to check if you were fine!” Cocoa would beam at her. Stupid. Always lovable, nice Cocoa, always perfect. Bassie would put on her most convincing smile as she responded, trying not to grit her teeth as she did so.
“Hello, Cocoa! Gosh, I just dropped something. Silly old Clumsy Bassie, right?” Bassie would rub her forehead of the sweat that was building up before stopping halfway as she noticed Cocoa staring at her hand, her hand covered in Ichor. The hand she had just slammed into the floor. Fuck.
“Oh my gosh, Bassie, what happened? Are you okay?!” Cocoa would surge forward, gently grabbing Bassies hand before she could move it away, Pulling Bassie towards herself to comfort her as she examined the scrapes, examined the cuts, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked at it further.
Bassies mind would instantly go haywire as Cocoa examined her. This can't be happening. Anybody but her finding out she was infected… She couldn't be allowed to find out she was diseased. She could not be allowed to get one last victory over her. Even when possibly diseased, possibly having the ichors influence claw through her insides, Cocoa could not let her have peace. Could not let her suffer in silence. No, she had to be sickeningly sweet and empathetic, pretending that she cared. No. Bassie wouldn't take it anymore, rage bubbling to the surface, an animalistic snarl coming out of her mouth.
Bassie would let out a scream, wrenching herself out of Cocoa’s grasp, Cocoa flinching slightly as she pulled her own hand away from Bassies arm, the inspection of the red, bleeding cut forgotten in the moment. Bassie would begin to speak, absolute hatred and vitriol dripping from her voice as she spoke.
“I hate you! I have always fucking hated you! Can't you see that?! You took EVERYTHING from me, Cocoa! You took my spot on the show, turned me into a fucking reject and made me into a mockery! You ruined me just by existing, just by being perfect, by being everything I could not be! I hate you, i hate you so much, hate me back, PLEASE, i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you…” Bassies voice would devolve into baseless sobbing as she threw herself back onto the floor, her fists bleeding black ichor all over the floor as she began screaming and sobbing into the tiles with Cocoa looking on at her.
Cocoa, for once, did not say anything. She simply watched as Bassie emotionally expunged years of repression, hatred, self worth issues, jealousy, envy and anxiety all flooded out of her, internally, Cocoa was in turmoil. Her friend hated her? She always knew that Bassie held some resentment over her planned replacement but… That was years ago! Had she faked being her friend this whole time? Cocoa wanted to be angry, wanted to be upset but… All she felt was an overwhelming sense of sadness and empathy.
Bassie would let her tears run free until she felt… Arms. around her. Of course. At her weakest moment Cocoa wanted to achieve some sort of moral high ground… And yet, she couldn't help but lean into Cocoa’s hold. Starved for any proper interaction or emotional release, Bassie would let herself sob into Cocoa’s shoulder. And even as Cocoa felt her arm grow soft, Bassies hot tears causing it to melt, she held on.
This moment would carry on for a few moments before Bassie suddenly pushed herself away. Gagging loudly and profusely, she would try to break out of Cocoa’s hold, who stubbornly held onto her. Black, Viscous Liquid would begin to pour out of Bassies mouth and pool onto the floor, and finally the puzzle piece clicked for Cocoa. That was ichor. Bassie was throwing up ichor. She had multiple cuts and scrapes from a run before and now this… Was she….?
Bassie sobbed loudly, pathetically as her own body betrayed her, black bile and ichor forcing its way out of her mouth. She knew what this meant. This was always the first phase, wasn't it? She did not know what she was crying for now, that she was doomed to die or that she had screamed her hatred and frustration at the very one now holding her. She hated that she was being held, she hated that she desired their touch and she hated that despite everything she found Cocoa’s touch comforting and grounding.
Cocoa meanwhile held her friend, gently rubbing their back as they threw up all over the floor, the black diseased ichor lying on the floor as Bassie threw up over and over again. Should she be mad? Angry? Leaving Bassie to deal with… this alone? Maybe, but she couldn't leave Bassie like this, Cocoa’s stubborn loyalty would not let her. And besides… She knew what the vomiting meant, what came after. She could not and would not let Bassie go into the abyss alone, to become one of those mindless creatures with no one to hold them during their transformation. And maybe, some vain and naive section of her mind still held out for some sort of cure.
Bassie would look up at Cocoa, her eyes bloodshot and unnaturally red. Cocoa would ignore this, holding Bassie against her own body as she murmured comforting nothings. After all, if she ignored the obvious signs of infection in her friend, it could not hurt her. Those red eyes were a trick of the light. Cocoa and Bassie! Friends forever! Together always!
Right…?