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Boots clanked against the concrete as Banhammer made his way around the corner. “Medkit?! Doc?!” He called through the seemingly empty building. All of the clues to Medkit’s whereabouts led him here. But there was nothing. The only life in the decrepit, abandoned warehouse were the spiders that spun the webs that he now had to swat as he walked past.
He couldn’t help but glance down at that golden ring, shimmering up at him from his finger. Maybe if he stared at it long enough, it would show him the way to find him. Medkit insisted they got gold rings. Honestly, Banhammer would have preferred silver, but he cut a deal to be able to pick the cake. SFOTH, that cake was heavenly.
Rich, spongy chocolate interior, surrounded in sleek white fondant with intricate flower designs swirled in frost around the outside. Four tiers tall, Figurines of him and Medkit in their suits standing at the very top, despite Medkit’s protests about how stupid it looked.
When they’d first cut into it, their hands cupping the other’s around the knife, Banhammer remembers how his heart thumped in his chest. It was pathetic really. All these emotions simply because their hands were touching as newlyweds.
But during the ceremony? That was a separate story. Banhammer was perfectly calm until he had to take Medkit’s hands and recite his vows when, suddenly, his hands were sweating oceans and he was on the verge of having a heart attack.
For what might have been the first time in years, he tripped over his words. His confidence tripped for just a brief moment because it dawned on him. Holy fucking shit, he was marrying Medkit.
It was more humiliating, however, when Medkit decided to one-up him and seemed to remain as calm as ever. Banhammer wished he could use the word ‘stoic’, but the truth was that Medkit’s cheeks were slightly flushed and his mouth was stuck in a subtle smile. He looked so stunning that Banhammer remembered every detail perfectly. He swore to never let himself forget that day.
How dare Medkit’s suit so beautifully shape his figure. How dare his eye glimmer softly under the warm sunlight that surrounded him. How dare his hands be as soft as silk pillows. How dare his husband be so lovely and handsome.
The weather that day was so warm and comforting. Not too cold for Banhammer. Not too hot for Medkit. It was just right. Just perfect.
Planning that day, however, didn’t always go as perfect. Medkit had one too many photos on his phone of Banhammer being driven insane by pointless decisions like what shade of beige should the napkins be? Or, What font size should be used on this specific part of the invites?
He’d have his head in his hands while on the phone with the flowershop, trying to explain that they didn’t order red roses, all while Medkit contained snickers on the sidelines and snapped a picture to immortalise his stress.
Medkit doesn’t like to be in photos, but he does like taking them, especially, of Banhammer. Banhammer only has maybe one or two photos of Medkit in his entire camera roll, Medkit probably has hundreds of Banhammer. Somehow, despite having no photos of himself, Medkit always seemed a way to keep his camera roll full. Mostly pictures of Banhammer, or the sunset, or birds. Always of simple things.
He’d have a variety too. Photos of Banhammer cooking breakfast, Banhammer scrolling on his phone, Banhammer walking through the door after work, Banhammer taking the trash out to the curb. He would’ve told him to stop if he minded, but really… It was sort of endearing. Besides, knowing he constantly looked good enough for his husband to take such amazing photos of him gave Banhammer’s already giant ego a boost.
He thought Medkit probably just found it amusing. He hardly ever laughs at the photos he takes, but sometimes he lets out that amused huff he does whenever something manages to entertain him a little. Or maybe Medkit just wants to hold on tight to the good things in his life, collect all the happy memories that he can. It makes sense, given his past.
Banhammer once told himself that he’d be a tyrant. That the only person he’d ever let himself love was his mother. That he’d rule with a thorn-tight grip over Banlands, and maybe even Crossroads someday too. But as he grew older, that dream only faded further and further.
Because mortals were amusing and interesting and for some reason, he cared. Even though he’d age for a million more passing years, when their names have all been ripped from the pages of history, he cared for them. And oddly enough, his favourite part of his job became looking after the mortal people, even if the people hated him back. He came to feel more satisfied when a murderer was behind bars than when he was just doing whatever he wanted.
And then the dreams of being tyrannical faded further when Medkit was brought into the equation. A cold, snappy, stoic and sarcastic inphernal who kept himself closed off from anyone who dared even try to get close to him. Banhammer didn’t care for him much when they first met. Medkit seemed so stuck-up. So self-centered.
But on those rare occasions where he’d talk with Medkit? He became… fond of their conversations. His witty responses kept Banhammer on his toes, and the way Medkit just rolled his eyes and moved on whenever Banhammer was his egotistical, asshole self made something akin to intrigue spread throughout his chest.
And the sickness that Medkit put on him only got worse. It spread through his entire body like the plague until Banhammer would wake up in the morning and immediately think about how fun it would be when he sees Medkit’s face. His thoughts were plagued by a mortal inphernal who hardly ever smiled. It was impossible to tell whether or not he liked him back.
But somehow, despite the odds, he managed to weed his way into Medkit’s life. Somehow, despite the odds, Medkit decided that Banhammer wasn’t quite as horrible as he once thought.
And Banhammer started spending more and more nights sleeping over at Medkit’s apartment. He might have only had a mattress on the floor, but somehow it felt like more than enough room for both of them when they shared it. Maybe their rest would’ve been more comfortable if Medkit moved into Banlands rather than Banhammer moving to Crossroads. But Medkit would never agree to live somewhere so dangerous, swelteringly hot and ugly.
Medkit’s face pressed against his chest made Banhammer feel like he shrunk. Shrunk down to something a little less rugged and worn around the edges. To something so much softer, softer than Banhammer ever thought he would let himself be. Because Medkit loved him. Because Medkit treated him the same as he would treat anyone else. Because Medkit made him laugh. Because he loved Medkit.
He loved Medkit so much.
Even in the nights where Medkit would wake up in a cold sweat, trembling while staring at himself in the mirror. Banhammer comforted him as much as he could. Because he loved Medkit.
Even on the days when Medkit tried to push everyone away, memories of darker times swirling in his head. Banhammer stayed. Maybe at a little bit of distance, but he stayed as close as Medkit would let him. Because he loved Medkit.
Even on the day that Medkit went missing. The day Banhammer came home to an empty house. A silent house. No Medkit complaining about his work day. No Medkit chuckling at something Sword sent him. No Medkit quietly flicking through the pages of a book. No text message explaining where he was. No replies to anything Banhammer sent. No Medkit.
Banhammer sent as many search parties as he could. He would’ve deployed his entire police force solely to look for him if that wasn’t a terrible idea for the other inphernals of the city. Banhammer searched high and low and never gave up. Because he loved Medkit. Because he wanted him back. He needed him back.
But every overturned rock just had dirt underneath, and every river of clues just dried abruptly. He just… vanished. No trace. No clues. No breadcrumbs. Just Banhammer, sitting alone in Medkit’s silent apartment, begging his thoughts to come up with new ideas.
He had the thought that maybe Medkit ran away? But no. No, Medkit wouldn’t do that. Not after they swore to be at each other’s side for life. Not after he fell asleep on Banhammer’s chest during cold nights. Not after Medkit managed to whisper the words “I love you,” quietly against Banhammer’s ear when the world slowed down enough for him to drop his guard.
He was kidnapped, or worse. But there was no letter asking for ransom, which meant that it was probably one of Medkit’s many past enemies. Banhammer had sent one or two vaguely-threatening letters to the korblox corporation in Blackrock, but the letter he got back was assuring him that Blackrock didn’t have him. That could easily be a lie, but Banhammer couldn’t really barge into the faction without proof.
Then, he thought that it must be the church of the true eye. But those cultists had seemingly long forgotten about Medkit. After Medkit left the church, they used their usual scare-tactics to make him return, but soon backed off due to Banhammer’s authority to shut them down if they overstepped too far.
And maybe, he supposed it could have been one of Banhammer’s enemies taking out their hatred of him on his husband. But most of his enemies were in prison, and the ones that weren’t were actively on the run and being constantly tracked.
So. Where was Medkit? What happened to Banhammer’s love?
Earlier that morning, he got a cryptic text message, telling him to go to this abandoned warehouse at the edge of Crossroads if he wanted to see his husband again. To go alone, and not to tell anyone or risk Medkit’s life. But Banhammer had been warden of Banlands too long to not know how these situations work by now. They won’t kill Medkit, not if his life is their only bargaining chip.
Still, not wanting to risk it, he only told exactly one person, his mother. That way, if anything went wrong and she didn’t hear from him, she would know where to look. Because Banhammer wasn’t intending to leave this building until he knew Medkit was safe, and preferably, with him.
“...Is anyone here!?” He called one more time through the building, one foot after the other, until he had nearly made an entire loop. Was it just a sick prank? Did somebody see the missing posters and decide to mess with him? Banhammer felt his lip quivering so he bit down on it. He wasn’t going to cry. This wasn’t going to make him cry. He doesn’t cry.
Shattered glass fragments crunched under his boots as he passed a broken window. Grumbling to himself, he swept the sharp objects to the side. That’s when he noticed the door. Painted the exact same colour as the walls, it was hard to see in all this darkness but there was a small supplies closet.
If Banhammer was being honest, he didn’t have much hope. There wasn’t even the slightest sound from behind it. But it was the one place he hadn’t checked yet. So, he might as well try.
His large hand gripped the door handle as steadily as he could. The metal was freezing cold as he slowly began to turn it, the door creaking open like a shrieking animal. The inside was so extremely dark, and the little amount of light from the windows did very little to illuminate the space.
Finally swinging it all the way open, Banhammer is met with shelves stacked with items untouched in probable decades. And a wall, with a message inscribed with dripping, red blood.
I told you not to tell anyone. I told you the consequences.
- Sincerely, The Church.
And there, slumped sadly against the wall, was a body. A body Banhammer recognised too well, with his hands tied together behind his back. One he had every inch memorised and cherished. One he had cuddled close against his chest when the nights were cold. The body that owned the fingers he held as he spoke his vows. The body that still had that golden ring glimmering on his ring finger.
The body of Medkit. His Medkit.
Banhammer’s breath hitched as he struggled to trudge forward towards him. That couldn’t be him. This wasn’t Medkit. That lifeless body, it couldn’t be his husband. It couldn’t be.
And still, he was so quick to be on his knees, reaching a hand forward to cup his face. His cheek was cold. He lifted his head, meeting that one eye that was ever so slightly open. It was so dull. It lacked the sarcastic soul that Banhammer was used to seeing whenever Medkit shot him a sharp glare.
All four of Banhammer’s eyes trembled as his gaze fell downward towards the gapping wound in Medkit’s chest. He was still wearing the clothes he was wearing the day he went missing. His favourite shirt was somehow just a boring, plain-white one. Not that it mattered, because now the middle of it was entirely ripped and stained in a deep, dark red.
“Medkit…?” He mumbled, like there was even some faint chance that Medkit was somehow still alive. His body was already cold and stiffened with rigor mortis. “Medkit.” He repeated himself, more firmly, like the issue was that Medkit was just ignoring him, or that he just couldn’t understand his mumbling.
But those eternally slightly parted lips gave no reply. They couldn’t. Banhammer knew that, of course he did. But he didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. After all these months, his husband was right there. But he wasn’t back. And he wasn’t coming home. He was never coming back home.
Biting his lip even harder, Banhammer told himself he wouldn’t cry. He knew that dating a mortal meant he’d outlive him. But still, the faucet in his eyes was being ever so cruelly teased, and he couldn’t help how he started to sniffle like a little kid.
His arms wrapped around Medkit’s waist and pulled him into his arms, settling him safely in his lap. That golden ring, still on Medkit’s finger, taunted him with the fact that this really was Medkit. And this was the last moment he’d ever be with him. Even if Medkit wasn’t really there. Just a husk of him, a husk that lost it’s soul.
Cradling him like he did while comforting Medkit from a nightmare, Banhammer pressed his face against Medkit’s greasy and untidy hair. He wouldn’t cry. He promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t let himself cry when Medkit died. Because he was supposed to always be expecting, always be aware of the fact that Medkit had a ticking timer over his head. So, instead, he whispered something that made his voice crack.
“I’m so sorry…”
Tears started building in his eyes, but it mattered more to him that he said what he wanted to say. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find you… I promise I tried…” If Medkit could hear him, he wanted him to know how horribly sorry he was. Fucking hell, he was whimpering. He wasn’t meant to get this distraught. Mortals are fragile, he knew that. Medkit was always going to die, he knew that.
So why was he wetting Medkit’s hair with his tears as he gently rocked both of them back and forth? Why did he caress Medkit’s side like Medkit’s dead body was the one in need of comforting? Why was he still pretending that Medkit was still here? Medkit didn’t need him anymore, because Banhammer failed him.
Medkit was long gone. He died scared, cold and alone, probably believing Banhammer would never find him. Medkit died in the dark, not able to tell the difference between the shelves beside him and the door ahead of him. Medkit died helplessly, with his hands restrained behind his back.
It was for this reason that Banhammer forced himself to pull away. Wasn’t this pathetic? Trying to comfort someone that wasn’t even there? Banhammer was just trying to soothe himself and his pride didn’t want him too. He could imagine the look Medkit would be giving him if he saw Banhammer doing something like this.
It’s fine. Come pass another hundred years or so, I won’t even remember his name.
He tried to convince himself. Maybe that was true. Maybe Medkit was just one blink of Banhammer’s eyelids in the grand scheme of his possible lifetime. Maybe Medkit didn’t matter in the long run.
But even a thought like that was too distressing for him to ponder. Banhammer loved him, and he made Banhammer feel loved in return. Medkit was so patient with him, so strangely understanding that it made Banhammer question himself. Banhammer didn’t want to forget him. He really, really didn’t.
With a heavy sigh, Banhammer wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill from his cheeks. He wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of Medkit. Not when it felt like this was all his own fault. Strong hands shakily reached for his phone in his pocket. He had to call the station to report this.
And then? He’d have to call his mother. Probably take a few days off to cry somewhere that nobody would ever see him. And, he supposed he would have to start thinking about what he was going to do for the funeral, too.
Medkit deserved somewhere nice to rest.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The days had blurred together. How long had it been since Banhammer found Medkit in that warehouse? A week? A month? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t bring himself to care, really.
Banhammer felt so very pathetic and useless that it pissed him off. He hadn’t gone anywhere since the funeral. Not even back to Banlands. Instead, he’d been spending his time curled up on the bed in Medkit’s apartment. The big bed that actually had a frame that Banhammer forced Medkit to get when they moved in together.
He’d been huffing the scent off all of Medkit’s clothes. A scent that had been already fading in his absence for a very long time. Maybe he was just delusional, pretending that it still smelt like him, but it’s not like he had anything else to remember him by.
He had maybe three or four photos in his entire gallery that contained Medkit. That inphernal avoided cameras like they carried the plague. He still had Medkit’s phone, but his entire gallery was all just pictures of Banhammer and pigeons.
And his heart ached too hard for him to even stand up most of the time. He had tried to work. He tried once or twice to go into Banlands, but he couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything. His motivation had just all disintegrated, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
One half of his mind had been screaming at him to just get over it already. To power through the grief and forget Medkit ever existed as fast as he could. And the other half screamed to never let Medkit fade. It told him to miss him so hard that it would bring him back to life so everything could go back to the way it should be.
Despite knowing it was ridiculous, Banhammer supposed he was doing it passively anyways. Everything hurts too bad to leave the house. Everything aches too hard for him to be productive. And maybe crying it out was going to help him in the long run, even if he couldn’t really see how.
For someone that’s always sort of had the power to do what he wanted. To have whatever he wanted to have. It shattered him. To have just one thing, one person, that he wanted worse than anything else. And he couldn’t have them. Because Banhammer’s love didn’t exist anymore. Medkit was nothing more than a memory.
His mother texted him earlier that morning, she said she was coming over and bringing a surprise to cheer him up. He appreciated how hard she was trying, but the things she had tried before either just made him cry harder or failed to be a sustainable distraction. But, at least he had somebody looking out for him.
The fact that his mother was visiting was not enough to will him to get up and ready, however. The apartment was completely disgusting, but he felt like his skin was rotting any time he had to clean it up. Everything here reminded him of Medkit. Medkit’s touch, Medkit’s smell, Medkit’s interests and hobbies and habits. Everything just made it feel like he still lived here. Like Banhammer was just waiting on him to get back home from work.
Suddenly an aggressive knock on the door forced him to get to his feet. He grumbled complaints as he dragged his feet to the door, dressed only in his dressing down. Opening the door only slightly, he looked up to meet his mother’s grinning face. That pissed him off. How dare she look so happy and pleased with herself when he’s so miserable.
But he didn’t say anything. He’d never say anything like that to his mother. He knew she was just trying to help.
“Come in…” He mumbled, opening the door wider, but she held it mostly closed before he could get it even halfway. Now that Banhammer thinks about it, there does seem to be something behind her…
“Now, I can’t stay long today, Banny. But I wanted to give you a gift that I think is gonna turn that frown all the way upside down!” She boasted, leaning against the doorway to make sure that Banhammer couldn’t even get a glance at what was behind her towering, divine figure.
Banhammer yawned, putting his hands in his pockets expectantly as he waited for this seemingly magical gift to be bestowed onto him. And then his mother stepped to the side. Revealing the inphernal that stood behind her.
…
…Medkit?
…
But It didn’t really look like Medkit. Sure, it had his horns and his eyes, but his skin was all green and rotting, even falling apart in some places and held in place by stitches or staples. His expression was blank, aside from the small smile that sat on his lips. Too obvious to be Medkit’s real smile. The way he stood. The way he looked at Banhammer. It was just all… wrong.
He froze. In a moment of silent shock, his hand raised to reach out. His body ached to grab Medkit and pull him into his arms, keeping him there forever. His lips quivered softly as his hands clenched at his sides. It didn’t help how Medkit was just staring at him like that. Not doing anything, not showing any emotion other than blank contentness. His hand didn’t reach out towards Medkit. Instead, it lifted to hide the trembling of his expression.
“What’s the matter, Banhammer?” It spoke, its tone painfully carefree as it tilted its head at him.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Banhammer’s heart raced in his chest, pumping like a factory pumps fumes into the air. He felt like he was going to pass out. This wasn’t Medkit. This wasn’t his Medkit. This wasn’t his husband. And yet, it was wearing his ring. It dared to walk around in his body.
It was just a puppet. A husk. A corpse.
A zombie.
His mother gave a proud grin as she pushed the Medkit-resembling creature into Banhammer’s home. “You know how hard I’ve been tryin’ to cheer you up. I just can’t stand seein’ you so miserable like this. So I convinced ‘Shank to give revivin’ him a go. And what do you know, it worked!” She seemed so proud of herself. Like this was something Banhammer would ever want. Like this was something Medkit would have ever wanted.
He didn’t have the words. Banhammer leaned back against the wall to try and steady himself. “A-and you didn’t think to ask me first? You didn’t care enough to realise that I would never want this?” He whispered, like speaking too loudly was going to bring that thing’s attention back on him and send him deeper into a spiral. He tried to ignore how the zombie was observing the contents of their apartment like it had never been there before.
Part of him wanted to ask his mother to take it back to Medkit’s grave and kill it. But what good would that do? He was bitten by venomshank, he’s completely severed from the spawn now. Forever. The Medkit that Banhammer loved doesn’t get to rest in peace anymore because his body is being puppetted by this thing.
Banhammer’s words seem to catch his mother a little off guard. “Asking you would’ve ruined the surprise, wouldn’t it? Besides, I thought you probably would have wanted your husband back.” She seemed almost offended by Banhammer’s unappreciation.
“That thing is not my husband.” He argued, taking a glance back at it and immediately regretting that decision. Every time his eyes fell on it, his heart ached harder in his chest. Each time he got that glimmer of hope from seeing Medkit’s form, it shot a bullet straight through his chest. “My spouse is dead. He’s supposed to have his energy and his gear returned to his home spawn in Blackrock. He’s supposed to be resting in nothingness until his gear is spawned again-”
Banhammer cut himself off as he noticed he was raising his voice. He can’t yell at his mother. He can’t. He understands she was just trying to help. But this has just made everything worse. And the guilt. The guilt of knowing that Banhammer failed to save him is worse when Banhammer also knows that he doesn’t even get to rest in his afterlife.
Windforce is also silent, now staring at Banhammer with a hint of her own guilt as she notices how close he looks to completely breaking down. Shivering, sniffling, hiding his face in his hands so he doesn’t have to face this situation. “In that case… Do you want me to… get rid of it?” She motioned cutting off horns with her fingers.
“No!” Banhammer is quick to reply, ripping his face out of where it was hidden in his hands. Even killing it wouldn’t put Medkit back to rest, his soul would still belong to Venomshank. “No, no, don’t kill it. It’s…. He’s stuck like this now.” And even if it would send him back to rest, Banhammer isn’t sure he would be able to stomach knowing that his Mother disfigured his husband’s undead body.
Even if that wasn’t his husband, and this definitely was not going to be good for Banhammer’s grief, he couldn't help but feel responsible for it. It’s his husband’s body, and that body needed to be looked after while Medkit was… absent… from doing it himself. This thing was haunting Medkit’s flesh, wearing his partner like a costume. And Banhammer couldn’t let it hurt him. Medkit needed somebody to speak for him and the use of his body in his absence.
“Just… Just leave it here. At least for now.” Maybe Banhammer was just trying to justify a reason for wanting it to stay. For wanting to wake up every morning and see Medkit’s face again, even if it’s rotting and stitched together. “I’ll deal with it. I just… I need to be alone.” He rubbed at his eyes as he sniffled hard to try and clear his sinuses.
The zombie didn’t seem bothered in the slightest that they were talking about what to do with it like it was a sickly animal that needed to be put down. It held that soft smile, so clearly not Medkit’s smile, standing behind Banhammer and staring forward at him. Like a doll.
And so Windforce gave a guilty glare and left. Vanishing off to do her deity duties in Splintered Skies. Leaving Banhammer with the empty ghost of his husband. He turned to stare down at it, unnerved by how it stared back at him. Its gaze was silent, obedient and content. Even though it was Medkit’s eye that looked back at him, one that Banhammer would recognise anywhere, it didn’t feel like Medkit was looking at him at all.
“Don’t cry.” It suddenly spoke up, bringing it to Banhammer’s attention that his lower set of eyes was spilling out tears like a waterfall. “I’m right here, aren’t I?” It sounded like it was mocking him, mocking Banhammer for the fact that it was using his husband as a host.
“You’re not him.” He snarled in reply, turning to the side so he wouldn’t have to look at it. Holding back as many tears as he could, Banhammer tried to dry his eyes. It was futile, really. Anytime he wiped his tears away, more just spilled to replace them.
The zombie raised its hands, cupping his cheeks like it had any right to even touch him so tenderly. “But I’m the best you’ll get.” It smiled. Banhammer couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the touch, despite how badly he knew he should. His heart ached, because, somehow, his hands still felt exactly the same, still as soft as silk pillows. Medkit’s hands were always so goddamn cold. “Didn’t you miss me?”
Banhammer didn’t even look at it. He knew the tears would only get worse if he did. So, he said nothing, did nothing. He stared off at the wall like it could come and save him, make everything the way it should be again. If only he could rewind the last couple months of his life. If only he could have clinged to Medkit just a little while longer.
Eventually, he pushed away. He had to. He couldn’t let himself start thinking that this was Medkit revived, because it wasn’t. It was a puppet with a script to try and make Banhammer happy. A doll that made Banhammer hate himself even more for always not being there in the moments that Medkit needs him most.
When he was kidnapped. When he died. When his mother made the choice to tell his uncle to raise his dead body from the grave. Banhammer was never there. Never there to protect him in the moments he should have been.
He stomped away into the kitchen, switching on the kettle that Medkit insisted he learned to use when they moved in together. He needed a cup of coffee. His mind was dragging too far behind him. But he also needed the distraction, to try and pretend that it wasn’t still standing in his house. He only had instant coffee left, so he supposed that would have to do.
Banhammer really tried to ignore how the zombie followed behind him. It was still smiling, still observing. Still not Medkit.
Once the kettle boiled, he carefully poured the water into a mug with a scoop of instant coffee in it. He was going to drink it black, firstly because he needed the bitterness to force his mind to work, and secondly because he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to add anything. He was too tired, too stressed and most importantly, too goddamn sad to care about most things.
Waiting for it to cool a little, he turned around and immediately got jumpscared by the zombie behind him. The way it lurked and stared made his skin crawl. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He grumbled, turning around once more. “Go do somethin’, don’t just stand there.”
Banhammer’s elbows rested against the counter as he ran his hands down his face. Every time he looked at that thing, it nearly brought him to tears. Because some twisted part of him did want to pretend it was Medkit, just so that he could imagine that he had really come back.
It didn’t leave. Instead, it walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are sad.” It observed, moving closer to the counter so it could get a better look of his face. Banhammer turned away the second it came into his peripheral vision.
“Yeah? I wonder why I would be fuckin’ sad. It’s almost like my husband’s dead. Replaced by a zombie reading off of my uncle’s and mother’s instructions to try and force me to be happy.” Banhammer spat back at it, not that it could even probably understand the fact he was being intentionally cruel.
It’s hand on his shoulder moved slowly to drag down his back, rubbing it comfortingly. “I’m right here, Banhammer. Don’t be sad.” It repeated that line it said before, and Banhammer was unable to stop how tears prickled from the corners of his eyes.
He finally brought himself to look at it, staring at Medkit’s rotting appearance, how his skin was haphazardly sewn back together. “You’re not him.” He repeated himself, eyes narrowing at the zombie like he hated it. He did hate it, but hating was hard when it looked so much like his husband and when it offered comfort where there was previously none.
Its grin grew wider as it slowly shrugged its shoulders. “It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m here for you, Banhammer.” Extending its arm, its free hand landed gently against Banhammer’s chest, directly over his pounding heart. “See? I’m real.” Its voice murmured as soft as a blanket.
Banhammer felt like he was glued in place, unable to move any of his limbs. The zombie’s hand was so cold against his chest, and he could feel how his heart was pounding against it. He bit his lip to try and stop it from quivering, hurting himself to hide the tears that were starting to gather in his waterline. “Fuck you.” The words were meant to have more bite than they did, but a pathetically emotional whine slipped between his words.
It didn’t say anything in response to how close he was to a breakdown. Just stared and waited for any improvement in his expression. When it didn’t see any, it pulled its hand away from his chest and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him down into an embrace.
Banhammer froze again, his arms stuck somewhere between shoving it off of him and scooping it into his arms so he could sob into its chest. Slowly, he leaned down and returned the hug. The worst part was, it did feel like he was holding Medkit again. Just colder, and without a heartbeat or any of the sass.
“Isn’t this nice?” It smiled, not tightening or fidgeting in his grasp even slightly. It didn’t squirm and complain despite clearly enjoying it like Medkit did. It didn’t grumble about how odd hugs are while actively pulling Banhammer closer. It didn’t try to be quiet this time, because Medkit always knew to leave the sass at the door when Banhammer needed comfort seriously. It just stood still like a statue with its arms around him.
“Shut up.” His voice quivered as he squeezed the zombie tighter against his chest. It was easier to pretend it was Medkit comforting him when it wasn’t speaking in that robotic tone. “Please… don’t talk.” He buried his face against its shoulder, running his finger across its back almost apologetically.
How could something feel both so wrong and so right? Banhammer knew that there was a careful balance in this new situation. What was just taking care of him, and what was stepping over the line and setting him back in his grief? He wouldn’t know. But he wanted that hug. And it felt infuriatingly nice. It felt like Medkit was still there.
He didn’t make any moves to pull away yet, despite knowing that he probably should. He shouldn’t get attached to it. It’s not him. It’s not even a person. But his heart seemed to think it was close enough, aching like it was being crushed by the pressure of being at the bottom of the ocean.
Banhammer decided that he was going to stay like this, just for a few moments longer…
Surely, just a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone?