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Mr. Hugeface was gone. You weren’t really sure how you defeated him. You were overwhelmed by the thirst of blood, fuming with rage at his constant pestering and the blood that pumped in your veins was on fire. The only thought in your head was to finally get rid of him. You reached him with your hand and in the blink of an eye he was gone; the only thing left of him was his blood spilled on the floor.
How could you have, with your size, killed someone that big?
Mr. Machete rejoiced at the scene and laughed manically. He turned to look at you and just stood there for a second, as if taking you into account. Then, he walked closer to you; his grin widening with every step. “Me like you.” He confessed.
You fortunately already knew most of his language, because he made every word sound like a threat. It almost made you doubt you knew the true meaning behind his words. Yet, this time, his rough voice was mixed with excitement.
You both headed to the door with satisfaction, when your stomach rumbled loudly. The deathly hunger was like a void in your stomach that threatened to digest you instead. The world around began spinning and your vision became blurry, then your got sucked out of your body and you collapsed to the ground.
Loud footsteps shook the ground. They grew louder, closer to you, and then lower. You forced your eyes to open and caught sight of Mr. Machete leaving the rooftop. Desperation grew within you as your body died with you in it. It wasn’t the first time you were close to death, and this place kept you alive every single time. But the hunger in your stomach was abnormal, much different than the human hunger, and you knew you were in danger.
“Stop!” You called out to him, half expecting him to ignore you.
But he stopped death in his tracks and turned around to face you. “What?” He asked with his sharp tone back.
You searched desperately for the right words. “Wish help me!” You plead. Of course, he was reluctant at first because he didn’t even understand why you needed help. But after you explained it to him, he complied.
He sliced his own hand open and gave you his blood as substance. You were scared at first, but he forced you to swallow. Following his usual demeanor, he even offered his help in the rudest way possible… but he still stayed back and helped you.
You took a moment to recover yourself. When you finally felt good again and the dizziness was long gone, you stood back up and were surprised to find Mr. Machete standing near you, waiting for you to come to your senses.
As soon as you looked at his face, he turned around and walked away. You followed him, and you both waited in the elevator to get back to the old abandoned building. Mr. Machete looked cute, and almost peaceful, crouching next to you.
You both stayed silent all the time. He wasn’t a talkative guy, he had no consideration for anyone who wasn’t him, he was a brute and he clearly didn’t care about you. So when the elevator stopped, you were the first to step out. You were back at the haunted building, but you had no clue where you were now. You looked around, wondering where the exit back to the normal world could be.
Mr. Machete walked out after you, heading forwards without regarding you, as usual.
But then he stopped. He noticed you weren’t walking with him and he turned around to face you. “Why you not move?” He asked. You turned to look at him surprised but made no attempt to follow him. “Go.” He insisted. He lingered just a moment longer, but let with a growl right after.
He waited for you. He asked you to follow. That was more than what this man has ever done to acknowledge you. You had nowhere else to go, still unaware of where the exit of this place was, so you decided to stick with Mr. Machete until you found it.
That’s how you ended up with a huge and muscular prick, with a capacity of feeling empathy inversely proportional to his height, as your companion. It was a massive change from the cheery and thoughtful Mr. Crawling, but you grew to enjoy it. It was certainly never boring with him around.
You were walking side by side with him through the dusty corridors. The dimly lit hallways all looked the same as you wandered aimlessly; you weren’t sure for how long you’ve been exploring around, since the days and nights weren’t clear in this place, but you have been feeling tired lately. Neither of you talked much during that time, safe for the occasional questions you directed at him.
“What your home appearance?” You asked. He mentioned once he was looking for his home, but he didn’t remember where it was, and you couldn’t help but be curious about what kind of place could be his home.
Mr. Machete didn’t bother to look at you as he answered. “Not know.” It seemed like he didn’t remember what it was like. This world must be messing with the memories of its inhabitants. Even you couldn’t remember what your life was like before you got here, so you knew you had to find that exit soon, before you forget you were human in the first place.
You couldn’t help but look at your arms; your skin was stained with dried blood, but it had also changed color, slightly; more resembling of a corpse. After you killed Mr. Hugeface, you felt something change within you; maybe you stopped being a human back then.
Mr. Machete grunted to catch your attention when he noticed you were looking down.
Before you were three paths, each of them led to different hallways. Normally, Mr. Machete made the choice by himself and expected you to follow. But for some reason, now he just stood there looking at you.
You observed carefully the three choices, this place normally punishes badly for making mistakes. One of the hallways was particularly lit in a blueish light, so you chose that one.
Mr. Machete caught up fairly quickly and you walked into a room full of old TVs that covered every millimeter of the walls. The moment you stepped in, a TV at the other side of the room turned on. The sound of static filled the room, and the glitched screen was the only source of light; its presence was strangely eerie.
Both you exchanged wary looks and Mr. Machete adjusted his grip on his weapon.
Then, the silhouette of eyes formed among the waves of static in the screen. The silhouette slowly grew clearer, it was the face of a man with his mouth wide open and eyes that seemed to pop out. The face was slowly pushed outside of the screen, and it began to materialize.
Then a loud crash erupted in the air and room turned dark.
The TV laid in the floor completely destroyed, with a giant machete nailed right in the middle of the screen. A few rays of light ran out of the screen and through the machete before it completely died down.
The room was deathly silent again, only your breath and your companion’s disturbed the peace after the fight. But the tingling feeling of danger still lingered in the air.
Right after, the sound of a TV turning on, and then static, again filled the room. You looked to your side; the face began to materialize out of the screen right next to your head.
You raised your weapon, but Mr. Machete yanked you back and broke the TV with his bare hand.
You fixed the collar of your coat and rubbed your neck to release some pain. He was never the gentleman when it came to care for others, but at least he helped.
The room was silent again, and you stood alert for any other TV that might turn on. Then Mr. Machete interrupted the calm and quiet with a muffled laugh. You turned to look at him, puzzled, and his smile only grew wider. He imitated the gag you made when he pulled you back from the collar (nearly choking you) and broke in laughter.
At that exact moment, a TV nearby turned on, and you didn’t waste a second before you smashed it to pieces, taking your anger on that cursed junk.
TV after TV kept turning on, showing that sick face that tried to kill you. And it took a while, but after Mr. Machete retrieved his weapon, you two destroyed every single TV in the room.
Both of you were tired and still catching your breath as you left the room, but Mr. Machete had a big smile in his face to show that he had fun, because of course he would.
Your feet had started to hurt from all the walking, and now your arms too. You were growing too tired and needed the rest, but you weren’t sure if Mr. Machete would be happy to stay still for a few hours while you slept.
Right at the next corner, you were faced with two different paths. Mr. Machete looked at you, waiting for your choice. He wanted to see if you would lead to another fun room, but you were tired, and really didn’t want to encounter another threat.
He noticed your indecision and leaned to look at you closer. “What?” He asked. “Why not move?”
“I need rest.” You answered, hoping he would understand.
He didn’t. He looked at you with utmost confusion. He hadn’t need rest for so long that he no longer understood its importance. He thought you just wanted to play it safe and be boring, and he grunted at the idea. But then noticed the dark circles below your eyes. He sighed, still reluctant, and chose the path to the right.
You followed behind him, praying that you’ll find a quiet room you can rest in, at least for an hour.
Mr. Machete noticed you hunching over and dragging your feet as you walked, and slowed his pace to match yours.
“Why you search outside?” He asked out of the blue.
You looked up at him, surprised he even cared about that… about you.
“My home another world.” You tried to explain the best you could.
Mr. Machete grunted at your response and the conversation ended there. He wasn’t chatty, responded right to the point and didn’t enjoy long talks, so your time together had been mostly silent so far. It was a big surprise that he was the one to initiate a conversation. Maybe he was warming up to you.
After days of walking together, you’re finally getting used to each other's company and the silence between you is not as uncomfortable. You have gathered up the courage to make regular commentaries, to which he responds with a grunt or two; if he’s feeling particularly compliant, he’d answer more than two words. He doesn't just straight up ignore you anymore.
One time, when you thought of something funny and opened your mouth to say it, but decided against it in the end; he abruptly stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you, waiting.
You tilted your head in confusion and he growled, annoyed.
"Speak." He demanded.
And you complied. He didn't laugh, just huffed and turned around. That counted as a win.
From then on, you ventured to share your thoughts more often, and Mr. Machete always made sure to answer… it was mostly guttural sounds and monosyllables, but you liked to think he was actually listening.
It was a special delight when he reacted expressively to your comments; whenever you said something that truly caught him off guard and he looked at you with concern or laughed really loud.
You were walking around the building, the hallways had just changed and you wandered around like your usual routine. But this time you felt renovated, for you had a long and restful sleep; Mr. Machete was right there when you woke up, and you were surprised to see him silently guarding the room you slept in. He made no loud noise during your rest or an attempt to wake you up, but he did look desperate, and as soon as you woke up he was already dragging you out.
The hallways all looked different, and the few places you had gotten used to were completely different, you had no idea where you were, but Mr. Machete seemed to have an idea, since he actively avoided certain paths. As usual, you just followed him around while you kept an eye for any sign of an exit.
Mr. Machete took a turn and froze before the small room before him. You took a peek at the room from behind him; he’s never reacted like that before and that scared you a little. It was a small room in between two hallways, which you had to cross to go forward; but it was completely black, there no light to illuminate and the few that creeped in from the hallway reflected in a funny way, as if the walls and the floor were made of pitch black water.
Mr. Machete raised his weapon and nailed it in the ground. It sank. He kept pushing it down until it hit solid floor, and when he took it out, his machete was covered in that black viscous liquid; ink.
You silently compared the height at which the ink covered the machete to your own height, and if you were to cross that place, you’d be covered all the way to your waist. You looked up at Mr. Machete to plead him not to cross that room; you could always find another path, after all.
But he couldn’t care less, and entered the room either way. He kept his weapon at reach and constantly stabbed the ink around him.
You took a deep breath and sank your legs in the liquid, it leaked into your boots, its viscous nature made every step feel like walking in honey. The ink all around you suffocated your every move, slowing them down to dangerous levels. You kept your hands raised above your waist and tried to keep your weapon ready.
The ink to your left moved oddly when you took your next step and you froze. The liquid moved in very constant waves around your leg and when you raised it to get away from whatever was moving below the surface, your leg was pulled down and the boot fell off.
You screamed terrified and desperately stabbed the ink around your leg.
A series of waves trailed a path in the black liquid to the other end of the room. Something was moving in the ink, trying to catch you.
Before you could get any more frightened, Mr. Machete extended a hand towards and pulled you out of the ink by the collar of your coat. The ink flowed through your legs and dipped back to its pond, leaving a sticky sensation in your skin.
Mr. Machete eyed the two exits of the room and then looked back at you. He was going to throw you… again.
“Wait!” You screamed in his language; but he already made up his mind, took impulse, and threw you all the way to the exit.
You hit the floor harshly and it took you a moment to stand up again. Your legs and back hurt from the impact, and your arm ached from the awkward position you had to put to not accidentally stab yourself with your weapon.
Then, you turned around to help Mr. Machete, only to find him furiously stabbing the puddle of ink as he walked to the exit.
From his back, the ink gathered closer and rose in a pillar almost as tall as Mr. Machete. He hadn’t noticed, been too concentrated on whatever tried to grab his leg, and the mound of black liquid just kept inching closer.
In the heat of the moment you picked your weapon, took impulse, and threw it directly at it. The creature’s high pitched creek resonated in the room so loud it almost blew up your eardrums.
Mr. Machete, unmoved by the loud cry, swung his massive sword and cut the creature right in the middle. Of course, it wouldn’t be enough to kill a monster made of ink, but it stopped it enough for Mr. Machete to cross the room safely.
Now on stable floor, Mr. Machete shook the ink off his legs with sharp movements, almost covering you in ink.
You stepped away, glaring at him, and he looked back at you with his annoying grin. His expression faltered for the split of a second, but that was enough to let you know something was wrong.
The ink of the room reached all the way out towards you and wrapped around your leg, again, pulling you back.
You stumbled back, screaming of fear; when Mr. Machete stabbed the creature once again, and it exploded. A big chunk of ink flew out and splashed directly in your face.
Mr. Machete burst into laughter at your misery, his howls echoed in the hallways. You would’ve smiled if your face wasn’t completely covered in viscous ink.
No matter how much you cleaned nor how many times you wiped your face, the ink didn’t seem to get off and you couldn’t even open your eyes. Your hands and a big portion of your arms were too stained with ink to be of much help, and you were growing desperate; the sound of Mr. Machete’s laugh made it all more unbearable.
Then, out of nowhere, Mr. Machete stopped.
His steps shook the ground as he got closer to you, his clothes rustled as he crouched down. He pushed away your hands from your face and, before you could complain, he wiped the stain away with his own hand.
You froze in place.
The rough skin of his hand was more noticeable the more ink he cleaned off.
The memory of his hand pressed harshly against your mouth, your lips rubbing the skin as you forcefully drank his blood, came back in an instant.
He was cold as a corpse and callused as a hard worker, as he cleaned you, his hand rubbed every single spot in your face, and it felt like a caress… almost.
With a last wipe, you slowly opened your eyes. The blurry silhouette of Mr. Machete greeted you instantly and you blinked to focus better. His face was very close, closer than ever, he leaned even closer to you and, for the first time, his pout wasn’t unwelcoming. If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he was worried.
As your sight focused better, Mr. Machete’s grin returned and he laughed at you once again. “You weak! You scared!” He made fun of you.
You huffed and stood up immediately, which only made him laugh more.
You tried to put your mind on something else. Unfortunately, that something was the ink flowing down your dress and legs. Your clothes were messed up; stained, dirty and ragged from all the times Mr. Machete pulled them. You needed new clothes and knew exactly where to get it.
Mr. Machete had already walked away, still chuckling to himself; but much slower than normal, as he was only a few meters away from you.
"Stop! Stop!" You yelled.
He, by some miracle, listened to you and stopped. He turned around and growled annoyed. "Why?" He spit back.
"I need other clothes."
He wasn't convinced. He stood still, glancing at you without saying a word, turned around and continued walking.
"Me fast!" You yelled again.
He groaned loudly and walked back to you, making every step louder than necessary to show his disdain. He didn't understand why you needed new clothes, but he himself wasn't a fashion guru.
You decided to ignore his tantrum and said, loud and clear, "clothes".
The Bride appeared instantly before you with her hands intertwined before her chest and you could tell she was happy that you called her again. "Hello!" She said cheerily.
Mr. Machete flinched back the second she appeared and tried to yank you back, away from the ghost lady; but when you pulled your arm away and tried to tell him that it was okay, he huffed annoyed and ran away before you could muster a word.
You slapped your forehead, tired of his antics. For a big, buff and scary guy he sure ran away constantly.
"Hello!" You greeted The Bride.
She shifted happily and asked if you needed clothes with a tone even brighter than the last time. It seemed she enjoyed giving out clothes a lot.
You nodded eagerly and she pulled, out of thin air, another white wedding dress of your exact size.
You took the dress and changed into it, evening the folds. “Thanks!"
The Bride clapped softly, admiring how the dress looked on you, and disappeared after saying goodbye.
You sighed and walked in the direction Mr. Machete ran off before, hoping you'd be able to catch him. You enjoyed the smell of the new clothes, a refreshing change in the moisty building. When you walked around the corner, you found Mr. Machete leaning against the wall; it seemed like he had been listening to your conversation.
You burst into laughter at the sight of him failing resoundingly at hiding his huge body.
But he didn't like it.
"Not funny." He complained, pouting; which only made you laugh louder.
Mr. Machete hit the floor with his weapon as an attempt to shut you up, but when it didn't work, he walked away at speed, trying to leave you behind.
You caught up to him, trying to muffle your laughter. And he walked away even faster.
The blood flowed like a river from the wound, with every small movement your skin burned like it was being teared apart. Still, you forced yourself to stand up, but just one step felt like a dagger stabbed your leg and you fell down again, grunting in pain. You tried to stand up again, to endure; the slash would heal in a few hours, after all.
When you fell again, and your bandages were practically soaked in blood, Mr. Machete stopped you from getting up; with a hand on your shoulder, he pushed back down on the floor.
“You hurt.” He made an outstanding statement.
“Me fine.” You insisted, but the hand on your shoulder didn’t move, keeping you still. You looked up at him annoyed. He was angry again.
He moved his hand behind you and gripped your clothes. Your heart skipped a beat at the realization of his intentions; did he intend to throw you around mercilessly?
You were about to complain when he lifted you off the ground; the movement stretched your injured leg and you winced from the pain.
Then, Mr. Machete moved you closer to him and carried you with one arm, close to his chest; you could feel his muscles pressed against you. His entire body was freezing cold, it was stained with dried blood stains and it was rough to the touch. He gently cupped your injure leg so it wouldn’t move, and began to walk without saying a word.
You stared at him, surprised by the sudden act of care, as if trying to read his mind. But, of course, he was undecipherable.
He carried you around, and actively avoided every room that seemed threatening, all while he procured your injure. Every once in a while he glanced down to check on you, grunted to himself and kept walking.
After a few hours, your leg was good as new; your skin was smooth without a trace of the cut. Then, you asked Mr. Machete to put you down.
He grunted at you, and eyed your leg one more time. He let down his weapon and squeezed your leg with more strength than he needed to. Even if you weren’t injured at all, it would’ve hurt the same.
You did your best to hide your reaction, and forced a smile to show him you were fine to walk.
Mr. Machete hesitated to let you down; but, reluctantly, he did.
You patted his arm as a way to thank him; however, for someone like Mr. Machete, who has likely never had any physical touch with anyone, it weirded him out. He flinched and backed away from you like a scared animal.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.
He did not find it funny.
He huffed and headed to walk away from you like he does whenever he’s annoyed. But this time, he stopped dead in his tracks, remembering you were injured, and he grabbed you by the arm so you would be close to him.
He kept a firm grip as you walked side by side; his big hand covered your arm, pressing his palm against your skin. It was unusually warm to the touch and you could feel him squeeze you tighter every time you slowed down even the smallest bit.
As you passed the endless series of closed doors and dark hallways, Mr. Machete relaxed a little. He slid his hand down your arm, gently rubbing your skin, to hold your wrist with little force… for him, at least.
The moment of unexpected kindness was abruptly cut by the ominous echo of slow steps tangled with a quiet, barely noticeable, sound of static. Each tap of boots hitting the floor grew louder, threatening. The creature that’s been chasing you since you got here has found you again and approached slowly, as if it knew you wouldn’t run away, or that you couldn’t.
The little hairs on your arms and neck rose, you got goosebumps that nearly made you jump like a scared cat. You instinctively looked down for Mr. Crawling, but he wasn’t with you anymore.
The realization hit you like a truck. The loyal companion who’s protected and taken care of you from the beginning was nowhere close. You looked around for any place to hide; anywhere the man with the scarlet umbrella couldn’t reach you.
You took a few steps back and bumped into Mr. Machete. For a moment, you had forgotten he was still there. You looked at him and he stared back, visibly confused.
“Danger coming! Danger here! We hide!” You yelled, tugging his arm so he would follow you, but he wouldn’t move.
“We fight. We strong. You strong.” He said with a grin. He was too confident, but you knew you didn’t stand a chance.
You shook your head, even though he didn’t know the meaning of such expression, pulling him harder back. As the steps grew louder, closer; and the red light that always surrounded Mr. Scarletella began to reflect in the walls behind you, warning you; you grew more desperate. Your strength wasn’t enough to drag Mr. Machete if he didn’t want to move, and you seriously considered leaving him behind. After all, the one in danger was you.
Just when you turned around, the steps quieted down, and the halls were in a complete silence, broken just by your panting and the grunt of disappointment from the brute next to you.
Then, in just a blink, the lights on the ceiling turned red, the buzzing of static came back, louder and wilder than ever before, and at the other side of the hall, right below a door frame, stood the tall man with his red coat and the umbrella covering his face.
Your heart threatened to break a hole in your chest, your blood rushed through your veins, urging you to run, and your feet twitched, begging you to move.
In a second, the man appeared closer, much too close, and he leaned over so he could see you better. His eyes peeked through his long bangs; they were devoid of life, a deep black that lacked any light, and it sent shills down your spine.
“Your name…” He said. “Tell name. Give name.” The calmness of his voice only made you more anxious.
Your eyes widened in surprise. Now, unlike the first time you directly encountered him, you understood what he was asking for. But why would he want your name? What could he possibly need it for? None of the other entities have asked for your name, they all just called you “human”.
You considered, for a moment, just telling him your name; but the way he asked for it, his desperation, made it obvious there was an underlying danger to his demand. So you didn’t answer.
That made Mr. Scarletella mad, he glitched violently and repeated his request louder, angrier.
You flinched back. The last time he got like this you had Mr. Crawling to protect you, but now…
A huge weapon pierced the air in front of you, serving as a barrier between you and Mr. Scarletella. Your eyes followed the massive sword until you landed on Mr. Machete. He huffed loudly and gritted his teeth so hard that his jaw muscles stood out.
Mr. Scarletella glitched again; the lights turned a deeper shade of red closer to where he was. When he materialized, his head was raised; his dead eyes glared at Mr. Machete, like a hyena to a lion trying to steal its prey.
Mr. Machete, unfazed as ever, took a step between you and the scarlet man, and raised his weapon high above his head.
You dared to stray your eyes from Mr. Scarletella, and sneaked a peek at your companion. He was snarling like a furious beast and his never-ending thrill of battle was nowhere to be seen.
With a loud roar, he brought his giant weapon down, cutting Mr. Scarletella in half.
But, of course, physical attacks did nothing to Mr. Scarletella; his body simply glitched like a hologram and reformed, unaffected. Though, his body buzzed louder, like a broken TV that desperately tried to stay functioning. He was angry. His murderous intent could be felt in the air.
Mr. Machete froze in place. He realized there was nothing neither of you could do to defend yourselves. Mr. Scarletella was untouchable.
In the split of a second, Mr. Machete wrapped an arm around your waist and carried you with him as he ran away, as fast as his legs would let him. You passed the hallways at incredible speed as the red lights stayed behind until they completely disappeared, and you got away from Mr. Scarletella, safe and sound. Mr. Machete kept running a while more, until even he was tired.
He finally let you down once you were in a small closed room, after he had checked that you weren’t followed.
As soon as he put you down, you couldn’t help but laugh. The nerves of the moment calmed down and that gave way for you to process what had happened. You were so close to real danger that you could only calm yourself by laughing.
Mr. Machete stared at you completely confused, but after a moment, he laughed with you.
“You alright?” He asked without looking at you. Instead, he focused on the hallway past the doorframe.
You stopped laughing, and looked at him with surprise. Maybe, and just maybe, he actually cared about you.
“Me strong.” You said, jokingly.
And this time, he didn’t contradict you. He even raised the corner of his lips in an almost indiscernible smile.
A silver elevator stood out from the dull and decaying walls from the building. Unlike anything else in this world, it was clean enough to reflect like a mirror.
It had to be the way out; the exit you’ve been looking for.
To be honest, you had forgotten you were looking for an exit in the first place. With everything that’s happened between with Mr. Machete, you were contempt with just wandering alongside him with no clear direction in mind. But now everything came back.
You didn’t belong here. You were a human, and were trapped in this world. You needed a safe house with a calm routine and nights of peaceful sleep, not a life that consisted of running and fighting for survival.
You stood there for a moment.
You could go home, go back to your comfortable house with internet, warm water and soft beds, none of that musty scent that lingered in this forsaken world.
You walked closer to the elevator, the world around you faded and it was only you and the way out.
But as you stood before the shinning-clean doors, your reflection grew clearer, and it wasn’t a human what stared back at you. Your skin was off, not smooth and soft as it used to be; you were filled with stains of dried blood, your entire body was covered in scars, and the color looked… odd. Your hair wasn’t normal neither; you couldn’t remember what it used to look like, but you were sure the current color didn’t look natural. The bandages and clothes that covered your body made you look even scarier; inhuman.
Anyone who sees you would think you’re an entity of this world.
With a finger ready to press the button up, you froze in place.
Were you even human anymore? Had you spent too much time in this world, enough to lose yourself? …Your thoughts spiraled around and back, until you were close to losing your mind.
“What you looking at?” A raspy voice sounded behind you.
You turned around.
Mr. Machete stared at you more confused than ever before, he eyed the wall you were watching and then back at you. He didn’t see any elevator, and thought you were going crazy. He leaned to the side to try and find whatever you’ve been attentively looking at.
You glanced back one more time. Now, Mr. Machete’s reflection was there too, right behind you. Though, he was so tall you could only see half of his body.
Next to him, you didn’t look as strange; you made sense, like you belonged there.
“Nothing.” You answered; the words of the otherworldly language rolled off your tongue like second nature. And you gripped your weapon tighter. “Let’s continue.”
You were out of breath; cold sweat slid down your face and made your body sticky; you sat on the cold floor to regain your strength. Yet, you were smiling. You had just bested Mr. Machete in a fight for the first time. He had gone with all he got and you defeated him.
Safe to say, he was ecstatic. He laughed wildly while laid back on the floor. His joy reached every centimeter of the room and he made you smile too, despite how tired you were.
You let go of your crowbar and stared at the red marks left on your palm from how tight you gripped it.
The ground shook harshly as Mr. Machete dropped next to you, still chuckling. He sat beside you and grinned widely at you.
“You’re strong. You’re funny.” He said, and nudged you with an elbow; you pocked him back, earning an even louder laugh. “I like you.”
Tingles ran through your stomach like every time he was nice to you. You couldn’t remember when you started to enjoy, and seek, his company; but it was hard to imagine a life without him right next to you to make everything more exciting. You lowered your gaze to fidget with your fingers.
But Mr. Machete leaned over to follow your field of vision, to take a look at your face. “You like me?” He asked.
The question nearly made you choke on thin air, and you looked back at him surprised. You opened your mouth to answer, but, out of nowhere, your body decided to remind just how much you weren’t a human anymore.
The infinite black hole of hunger came back at full strength. You were utterly empty inside, and your stomach threatened to eat you instead. Your head spun around hard enough to make you want to vomit your insides out, despite having nothing in. Your brain was too big for your head and it pressured against your skull; you brought your hands up to your head in a futile attempt to release some pain.
“You hurt?” Mr. Machete asked, his voice was like a drill in your ears and you winced from the pain.
That was confirmation enough for him. He’s seen you like this a couple of times before, so he knew what he had to do; what you needed.
But this time, Mr. Machete bit his own tongue. A single drop of blood ran from the corner of his mouth down his cheek. He placed his hands over yours and tilted your head up. He leaned closer until you were inches away from each other. From that proximity, you could feel his uneven hot breath against your mouth. His heart pumped harder against his chest, enough to be audible, as he leaned forward and pressed your lips together. He forced your mouth open with his bloody tongue, and in your dizziness, you welcomed the metallic taste like it was your lifeline.
Mr. Machete parted his lips, allowing his blood flow into you, directly feeding you mouth to mouth.
You swallowed eagerly. This wasn't the first time he fed you his blood, unaware of what humans eat, but this time it felt different. More intimate. And it warmed you up like it hadn't ever before.
Mr. Machete took your increasing heat as a sign that it was working, and retracted for a moment to nail his sharp teeth in his cheek until it bled and went back to you.
When his wounds healed and his blood stopped flowing, you unconsciously sucked his lips, making him freeze in place. He pulled apart and just looked at you with confusion; his chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took. And he didn’t move a muscle to put distance between you.
You stayed millimeters apart from each other, where his breath reached your mouth and made tingles run down your spine. You could feel the tension between you, something that pulled you closer.
Mr. Machete flashed his sharp teeth once he, too, understood what was happening; before he decided to finally close the distance between you. He leaned in, took your lower lip in between his teeth, and bit.
The sudden pain took you by surprise, but it was pleasant, exciting. His kisses were a battle as much as anything he did. He fought for control just as hard as you fought against yielding.
If you ever had any doubt if staying in this cursed world was the right choice, Mr. Machete erased all of that in a single smooth move.
He pulled apart for a moment to catch his breath, and in the middle of his panting, he spoke again.
“I like you. You like me?”
You smiled really wide, and chuckled right against his mouth. “I like you.” You confirmed, earning a big grin from him.