Work Text:
The doctor held his breath. Today was a normal day. The sun was setting. He had just finished up a meeting at his job - it went relatively well and was rather uneventful, which was an appreciated surprise. Now, he had the rest of the day to himself. It was winter, so he was hoping he could get home quickly.
Crossroads was a nice place, he thought. He wished he lived here, but the Church would not let him under any circumstances. It breached the deal that he had made with them. It was too early - he could not show a single sign of disloyalty yet, or they'd let him go instantly. It made his skin crawl. They wouldn't dispose of him that easily, would they?
He was not sure.
But something he was sure about was that no one in this world could be trusted.
He had learned that lesson the hard way. Don't trust anyone. Don't listen to what they have to say. Don't believe the words that spill callously from their mouths. Don't take what they offer. Don't let them look at you in the eye. Don't let them pick you apart. Don't let them see you at your worst.
It's the only way to survive.
The streets of Crossroads weren't busy when it was freezing cold, which was good - Medkit did not like too many people being around. Medkit did not like too many eyes on him. It stung. He hated when he thought people were watching him. It made him want to bury a hole in the ground and lay in it forever. It made him want to blow his brains out and show he had the strength to do it himself. He pushed that suicidal remark out of his mind quickly, not wanting to get lost in a depressive episode like he does a lot of the time when he is alone.
His shoes clacked against the floor quietly, as if he was purposefully walking in a way to silence his footsteps and not alert others of his presence. Unfortunately, he had already picked up what he had needed from the streets so he was going to head back to his home in Lost Temple. He didn't want to see them anymore - the Church members.
They were suffocating him. He did not hate them, he just wished he did not have to see Broker, Scythe and the Father every bloody second he spent alive.
He breathed out. He examined his clothing briefly, then peered at the moon peeking above the horizon. Almost all of the sun had disappeared, illuminating the world in a dim pearly glow. It was not calm. All was not at peace. He began walking, noting that if he did not go now the Church would chew him out for arriving late.
Everything was fine. He was going to be home soon.
A noise.
A cry. A wail. A scream.
Pain.
Pain was common in this world. Everyone experienced pain in their life, whether they liked it or not.
Laughing. Chattering. Clashing.
Normally, Medkit would've left. Normally, he would have left without a second thought and forgotten about it within a heartbeat. It was just how the world worked, and that was not something he was willing or particularly interested in changing. But, he did not leave.
He turned his head around. His feet moved. His heart kept beating. His mind kept screaming. His nerves were still singed by an ever-present numbness in the air. He was not one to just randomly stumble into a creepy alleyway just because he heard crying and sounds of conflict. He did not know why. He did not know why.
He hoped one day he would figure out why.
Whoever had been causing a ruckus had left, leaving with distant giggles and mumbles in their wake. There was...
Blood. It was everywhere. It coloured the walls like graffiti. His grip tightened around his first aid kit. He breathed in and out. He was desensitised to the sight of blood, but seeing it so freely spilled like this was something else. It made his body feel weird. It made him feel weird.
His gaze fell to the demon that all this bloodshed originated from. A young one. No more than 17 years old. His horns the same colour crimson as the liquid coating the walls. A scratched knight helmet lay by the inphernal's legs. A tattered cape wrapped around his shoulders. Clothing torn to shreds.
When the young one had realised someone had noticed him in his condition, he stared up at them with a look. Like a disobedient dog. A look of absolute fear and regret and suffering and longing and escape and for this to just all be over. The demon tried to scoot away, but his weakened state did not allow it. It stung. It made the doctor's heart throb and thump in his chest violently.
Medkit looked at his hands. He was not one to help strangers. He would never help someone he did not know (did he really know anybody though?). This was stupid. This was so stupid. Medkit ambled over at a slow pace, as to not scare the boy.
"Please show me your injuries." He did not mean for it to come out so demanding, but this medical care was urgent. The boy jumped. He knelt down, his trousers being stained with splotches of a deep red hue. He brandished and opened his gear, revealing all his crystals and supplies.
The young one's breathing was quick. His head was filled with many things. Statements. He is not safe. He is going to die. Don't trust anyone in this world.
"Don't... worry. I am not going to hurt you." The doctor spoke in a soft tone, so he could calm him down because right now, his brain and heart were running at ten million miles a minute. The boy looked at the demon beside him, noting his caring expression and how tender and authentic his glare was. "I... promise."
His throat hurt. His chest hurt. His legs hurt. His arms hurt.
"My... chest.. and arms.. and my face.." The red demon choked out, bitterness overtaking him, making his throat tighten. Medkit could feel a punch in his gut. Maybe it was good he found this person in a random alley - he predicts they would have died from hypothermia if he did not find them.
"Can I.. treat your injuries?" Medkit asked. He did not want to mess around and prod at this random boy without permission, after all.
"Please. Yes, please, it hurts..-"
"Don't worry. I will try my best to ease the pain, close and clean up your wounds." The doctor declared. He looked down at him. The boy held his chest as if he was protecting and preventing the last drops of blood from seeping out of him. He looked utterly tired. He looked like he was about to die. But at that moment, a spark.
His eyes lit up at the prospect that now was not his time to go yet. His eyes lit up at the miracle that had just occurred - like an angel had just descended on him, like he was being gifted a second chance at life; he believed he did not deserve it, really. The world was a cruel place. No one was kind. No one was truthful. No one was happy.
"You're going to be okay, don't worry." He repeated. The boy smiled. A sweet smile. A weak one.
Yet, it was a kind smile. It was truthful. It displayed his happiness and relief on a silver platter. It was a nice smile. For some reason, at that moment, it was no longer undyingly frigid and bitter. The doctor felt an internal brief and unnatural warmth rush over him. This was not something he had felt before. This was not something he knew.
It had to be a lie. It was a lie. Every other time someone looked at him, it was a lie, a façade built to trick and lull him in. But, he was smarter than that. He knew when people weren't being genuine and he knew when people were lying to him.
"Thank you.." The smaller demon murmured. He really had been spared, hadn't he? "Your name... Med..kit..? Right..?" He tried to keep his eyes open but it was agonising. The slash inflicted on his cheek mocked him, a phantom pain lingering, biting and gnawing viciously, laughing at his every move and breath that he took.
"Yes.. it is," Medkit noticed the small weapon discarded deep into the alley. "Is yours Sword?"
"Yes, that would be correct," The bleeding boy whispered, slightly shocked. Medkit grasped onto his arms, analysing all the lacerations and cuts that lay all over them, some significantly worse than others. He brought out a few alcohol wipes and scraped off the dried liquid softly - then, he pulled out a fresh roll of gauze, stretching it and swirling it around his patient's arms with great speed and expertise.
Sword's soul beamed. It was nice. It was calming. He did not know this demon, and he already trusted them wholly. He didn't know why. It just felt right. Did they trust him?
He did not care.
The doctor secured the wrappings. The young one's breathing now was a lot more steady than before, connoting an increase in how much trust he had in the one who was treating his injuries. The world was a weird place. The boy looked up at the doctor often as if each little stare was an apology, a condolence and another display of gratitude all in one.
He had to ignore it. Had he forgotten? Lies. All lies. Nothing but lies.
Now, onto the face. Honestly, there wasn't much for Medkit to heal or clean up, just a tiny little cut on his right cheek. He wiped it and moved swiftly onto his chest. Sword could feel the care and control emanating from the doctor's movements - he indulged in that feeling and held it close, as if it was an ember within a never-ending snow storm, being the only thing keeping him warm and well. Medkit lifted up his shirt.
A wound that had clearly been an attempted stabbing. Other various bruises and slashes. Who had done this? There was no way this was just some random inphernals picking a fight. Was this planned? Was this an assassination? Were they purposefully prolonging the suffering? How long had they been beating him like this?
Medkit gulped, bringing out even more bandages, but this needed more than just something wrapped around it. Reluctantly and worriedly, the doctor pulled out one of his healing crystals.
"This will help with healing the stab wound and quell the internal bleeding," He held it next to the wound and looped the cloth around quickly, not wanting to look at it any longer, it just made him feel more ill. "Do you... have any other injuries? On your back? On your legs?" Medkit asked, wanting to help as best as he could, while slipping out a painkiller from his gear.
"No, I don't think I do.." Sword responded, still very disconnected and dazed.
"Are you fine swallowing pills?" He queried. The red demon replied with a small nod of assurance and certainty. There was a looming chance that this wasn't anything helpful, there was a chance that this was a sedative, there was a chance that this was going to hurt him. There was a chance he was going to die. But, there was also a chance that this demon, called Medkit, was being genuine.
Sword was willing to take that chance, even if it meant he was a naïve fool.
Sword opened his mouth and let the doctor carefully place them in. Medkit eyed him watchfully, making sure he swallowed them properly and without any unwanted pain. At first, it was a little struggle to get them down, but he succeeded.
"Thank.. you.." was all the younger inphernal could get out. His hand weakly drifted to Medkit's, in an effort to express more than just the words he had spoken.
"No problem," He was a doctor. That was his job, his profession. He was supposed to do this everyday of his life, so why did this feel so different? Why did it feel like something inside of him and some part of his life was changing? Why did his heart sting? This dissimilar feeling brought a sickness to him that he could not shake, no matter how hard he tried to forget about it.
Sword gazed at all of the cloth that had been rolled around his body and promptly thought about the peculiar teal crystal. He thought back to how carefully and tenderly the doctor held him, how he made sure not to hurt him or make him uncomfortable or push any boundaries.
Medkit looked down on him. Why did this demon actually trust him? Why did he actually let him treat him? Why did he peer at him as if he wanted to thank him for eternity?
He was sure that no one in this world could be trusted.
He thought that he had learned that lesson the hard way.
But, maybe it wasn't the only way to survive.