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Bendy looked bad, each day that ‘bad’ meant worse. For weeks, no, months, Bendy could have perhaps hidden the turmoil his body was in, the toll the curse had on him. His organs realigned, stretched and shrank, but his outer shell remained ‘on model’. Now? That was a different story.
It was always disturbing to see the decline of a toon's health, never for the expected reasons one would find the sickly state of a loved one disturbing, but for the way it contorted their drawing. Toons can bounce back from injury better than any other creature, Bendy’s demon blood only helped to further his unshakable visage. He did not warp or bruise. Not for a very long time that is.
It didn’t happen immediately, but once the changes were noticed, they wouldn’t become hidden again. Like a broken illusion, that charming face gave way to another, the old woman visible beneath the illusion of the beautiful young woman. His round circular face shrunk, skin tightening, stretched taut over brittle bones. Eyes lost their cartoon illusion, sinking into sockets now exposed. His warmth was lost to a pale filter washing out his colour, pale veins pulsing under translucent flesh.
His friends found Bendy to become a sore sight. And for Bendy? Mirrors twisted his winding stomach into tight knots. He used to be beautiful.
Shelly deduced they’d only need to find one more passage of the ritual, then trek their way to that forsaken church. Finally then will this nightmare be over. What hope that idea birthed slowly died with each drop of paint that slid off of Bendy’s crumbling canvas. The guts continued to spill, the only difference was nowadays they no longer fell from his mouth, splashing weakly into the bowl of a toilet. Instead, they seeped out jagged slashes drawn into innocent abdomens. A wretchedly filling meal, a banquet for rotten eyes. “This nightmare will be over,” a fleeting hope, he would never truly leave this nightmare. You wouldn’t forget the smell either, nor the taste, nor the sounds. Not for the rest of your life.
Sluggish days these were, the blistering summer gave way to autumn, rain left the ground muddy and soft, only to harden through the cold of the night. Long stretches of uneven ground threatened to trip each foot which traversed. Forget letting his mind wander, the only energy he could store was used to keep his hooves moving and his body upright. Occasionally, his brother or friends would check up, ask how he was doing, and he’d answer the same way. He’s fine. Bendy knew better than the rest that time could not be wasted on his discomfort. He was the only one who could feel the sand trickling down the hourglass.
The sun would set before Bendy was aware they traveled enough for one day. He felt like a robot, running a looping command indefinitely, until someone paused his program by calling his name a few times.
“Where ya goin’?” Mugman asked, “We’re settin’ up camp for the night, y’know?”
“Oh.” The hours had flown by, again. Maybe that was for the best.
Boris slung his bag off his shoulders, untying the tent bag from the back and began staking in the poles. Bendy weakly watched.
“I can help,” Bendy suggested, seeing Boris struggle to keep the tent stable as he hammered.
“No need, Bends. Hey, Shelly? Can ya help me out?” Shelly came running over and the two got the tent up in no time. It stung, but Bendy could understand.
He sat on the ground, cold stiff grass curling and poking under him. The weather seemed to match his health, a haunting omen as the temperature continued to drop. It would be his last winter. What a grim thought. The wind slithered its way under Bendy’s clothes, seeping into sore muscles, causing him to shiver. The rattling only exacerbated his condition, no amount of curling up could shield his bones from the chill.
“Psst,” Bendy raised his head to see Cuphead sat next to him. “You need anythin’?”
It was a kind gesture, but there wasn’t much that would take away this cold. Not when every living toon wore those wards across their necks, not when animals began to hide for winter, not when his body refused to produce enough heat to warm a bed.
“Not much ya can do,” Bendy answered, turning his head away.
“Are ya sure? Mugs and I were gonna try hunting for somethin’ in a bit so if you want us to get somethin’ live for ya, we can. I dunno if that is better than dead or anythin’,” Cuphead rambled, cluing in to how Bendy shook. It couldn’t have been too low under room temperature and yet he was shaking like a frail freezing kid. “Ya cold?”
“Yeah, been cold.”
“Want my jacket?” Bendy nodded into his arms. He heard the dish open the clasp that held it over his shoulders, then he felt the lingering warmth as it was carefully dropped onto his shoulders. Cuphead was cautious not to accidentally brush Bendy.
The jacket was more of a long trench coat, Bendy slid his arms into oversized sleeves, embracing the heat that lingered in its thick sherpa lining. He took a deep breath in, noting an earthy scent mixed with cigarette smoke and dried blood, and sighed. He imagined the coat was his friend, embracing him closely, holding his weak bones together. He imagined the coat could kiss each sore muscle, the brush of fabric as the wind blew against it the soft caress of lips. He pretended, for a moment, that his shivers were that of pleasure. His friend breathed next to him, heart beating steady, warmth so far yet so close. If only the jacket could breathe too.
“That better?” The silence from Bendy left the dish concerned. He found the demon's eyes closed, snuggling into his own arms, resting on his knees. Was he falling asleep? “Bends?”
Bendy broke from his daydream, addressing the real Cuphead next to him instead. “Yeah, much better. Thanks.”
“No problem, need anythin’ else? Or are ya good?”
“Mm,” Bendy bit his lip, temptation brushed requests to the front of his mind, only for a feeling indescribable to tug them back. He hesitated, avoiding eye contact, finding a random cluster of weeds to stare at instead.
“Anything ya need, really, it doesn't hurt to ask, y’know?” Cuphead knew what that sound meant, he knew how Bendy struggled to swallow his pride, he knew how Bendy stressed every time he felt himself a burden.
Hesitation once more, he swallowed the nausea brewing. “Tonight…” Bendy began, scanning the grass for his next words, “Could you stay with me? I know Mugs doesn’t like the idea of anyone sharing a tent with me right now but I just- I don’t know. I hate being alone. You get that, right?”
“This ain’t just you tryin’ to get a bite, is it?” Cuphead joked. It didn’t land how he hoped. Bendy sighed into his arms again, turning away. “Hey, no, wait, Bends. I was kiddin’, I can stay.”
“Yeah? Like old times?”
“Like old times.”
As the moon rose, the group of toons attempted to relax for the night. It was never easy out here in the woods, that goes beyond the prospect of getting sleep. Food was hard, safety was hard, survival was hard. With Vampires lurking around as well, picking off the short supply of real sustenance this neck of the woods had, each night felt tenser. Soon they’d be on someone's menu. Everyone just hoped it wouldn't be the demon in the far tent’s dinner. Cuphead told Bendy he would join him soon, apparently he wanted a ‘smoke break’. Whether that was true and if so how Cuphead got the cigarettes anyways was a mystery to the vampire. Not that it truly mattered. He sat curled in his blanket, coat still over his shoulders, accepting he would be alone once again.
“Hey, yous awake?” The voice just outside the tent made Bendy jump. He crawled to the flap and pulled the zipper around. The dish had decided to accompany him after all. Cuphead ducked into the tent, careful to avoid contact with Bendy as he crouched into the opposite corner. It wasn’t out of fear, heavens no, Cuphead knew he was much stronger than Bendy. He had held him off before easily, and could do it again. Rather, his cautious movements were for the demon's sake. It was all because of the dagger that hung around his neck.
Bendy hated it. He understood and yet despised everything about it. The honed silver blade to the red gem nestled in its center, a weapon designed to hurt him in particular it seemed. A delicate work of art, a symbol of hate, of fear, designed to be worn proudly. It made him sick. Every day he watched his family fiddle with their crosses, toy with the blades, show affection to such a ward, and everyday he wished to do nothing but rip it from them. He understood why they wore it, he was dangerous. He was unstable and hungry. They were sitting ducks without those crosses. That never stopped the way their mere presence loved to burn Bendy.
“Sorry I took so long, had to convince the others,” Cuphead explained, settingly down.
“That’s not surprising,” Bendy decided he was best off attempting to avoid looking at Cuphead at all.
“Yeah, straight annoying though. It’s like they don’t trust me, don’t trust you! And I can get behind it to some extent, sure, it’s been rough. But like, are they forgetting back in that haunted house place? I got you out of there just fine after we had to spend a couple nights there, cause I can handle myself! Jeez.” Cuphead’s rant continued. However, it fell on distracted ears. Bendy failed his single attempt to look away, immediately getting lost staring at the dish. He watched his body language, the way he would speak with his hands, acting out each person he spoke off. He watched the facial expressions he made, the way he bounced between emotions and events. He watched his eyes, how he'd look off into space that was supposedly where others were placed as he reenacted each event. He was in his own little world while story telling, a little world bendy longed to join him in.
“Anyways, that aside, ya okay?” Cuphead sighed, Bendy snapped from his dazed state.
“I’m- Yeah, I’m fine, y’know.”
“Yeah and I’m a doctor. C’mon man, we ain’t around anyone else, ya can be honest.” Cuphead pushed. He knew he could squeeze the answer out one way or another.
There was silence for a minute, Cuphead let it linger. There was something special about that moment. Cuphead wasn't someone who quieted down, you could hardly get him to shut up when it would save his life. Yet, here they sat, with crickets and far off toads as the only noise reaching them. That comfortable silence, like a warm blanket, gently guided out the words Bendy held behind his teeth.
Bendy mumbled something into his arms, something Cuphead couldn't make out well enough to be certain he heard him right. "What was that?"
"I miss you." No louder than a whisper and yet heavier than anything Cuphead had felt in a while. Goddamnit.
“Oh, jeez. Bub, I’m- well I’m right here, y’know?” Cuphead rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit.
“That’s not what I mean,” Bendy shook his head, “I miss being close. Like before, like back when this all went to shit. Then, at least, I got to…feel something.”
“Ah.” The feeling settled in the air, a yearning heavy enough to make breathing feel slightly harder. “Y’know I’d love to but… you know how its been since-”
“You don’t trust me, I get it.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Well that’s what it means. You don’t trust me not to hurt you without that stupid knife. It’s whatever.” The vampire turned away from him, Cuphead hesitated.
Bendy stared at the ground with a bitter spite, another strange feeling festering within his stomach. He’d never been very good with feelings, his own or others. He knew how to be likeable, how to present and how to charm, but these foreign and complex emotions tangled themselves tighter than he’d ever be able to unravel. Another knotted feeling to shove into a corner perhaps, to collect dust and weigh him down until someone has the energy to pull it apart, remove the knots. Perhaps he’d be buried with them still in there. Perhaps they’d cut him open for science and find each and every knot. Perhaps then, and only then, when he's long gone from this world, would those emotions be given names. And he’d finally get it.
The faint clicks of a thin chain came from behind him and with a glance over his shoulder he saw the cause of it. Cuphead had removed the dagger from around his neck, holding it up for Bendy to see. He paused, then gently placed it on the ground, sliding it into the corner furthest from Bendy. Bendy stared.
“What are you doing?” Confusion replaced the knot in Bendy.
“Proving I trust you.” The dish held out his hand, holding it a few inches from Bendy. “I meant what I’ve said, gamblers ain’t got nothin’- ”
“But their word, yeah,” Bendy finished Cuphead's words with a faint smile, “You…sure?”
“Completely sure.”
Bendy spun around to face the dish once more, gaze locked onto his outstretched hand. Bendy hovered over his palm, hesitating before making contact. He’d be lying to himself if he claimed to not be scared. What if it was a trick? What if somehow, some way, Cuphead could never touch him again? Bendy scanned for signs, good or bad, that would guide him to what he wanted so carnally. Instead of finding malice or fear, Cuphead’s eyes held a warmth that washed away Bendy’s anxiety. He let his claws brush Cuphead’s palm, gently dragging to the fingertips. The dish held still, allowing Bendy to move at his own pace. The last thing he wanted was to make Bendy jump.
The demon held his friend's hand, noting the cotton grain line worked into the gloves, the natural wear and tear from all the time past. He poked and prodded, noting the soft and hard places of rubber like porcelain, noting the faint heat that snuck through. He brought the hand up absentmindedly, bringing it to his sunken cheek. Bendy guided each finger to rest, perfectly cupping his face. He took a deep breath in, allowing sore eyelids to fall as he released tension with the air.
Cuphead began to overthink. He was never all that great at these moments, those where he knew he had to be careful and quiet. Those were the last words you’d expect to be his. He thought about how his fingers rested against Bendy’s cheek bone and jaw. He worried about his tendency to get clammy hands, practically feeling the sweat willing into existence. He hoped this was nice, he hoped Bendy was comfortable. He decided to gently caress Bendy’s cheek, his thumb rubbing under his eye. He took a deep breath in, allowing his gaze to rest upon Bendy’s figure, watching his friend relax.
Their breaths aligned, falling into a deep and slow rhythm. Soon, their hearts would beat as one, connecting those who could never truly be separated again. No matter how hard they pulled away, whether it was deal or love that bound them, they always found themselves here. Bendy leaned deeper into Cuphead’s touch, a solemn look painted his exhausted face. Cuphead wouldn’t pry, Bendy would tell him when he was ready. Instead, he would carefully observe how Bendy’s shoulders relaxed, the way he slouched as he got comfortable, the way his tail wagged behind him slowly. A sight for sore eyes.
Bendy peaked an eye slightly open, finding Cuphead's free hand resting on his leg. The vampire brought it up to his face as well and Cuphead understood what he wanted. Holding Bendy’s face in his hands, Cuphead smiled at him, a soft and genuine smile. Bendy couldn’t hold in his tears, they dropped from his eyes and smeared ink down his face. He bit back sobs knocked loose by the small moment as Cuphead wiped away each tear that fell. It only made them fall faster. Cuphead gently caressed the back of Bendy’s head, fingers brushing from horns to the nape of his neck. That was enough. He began to sob.
“Woah! Hey, hey, it’s okay,” the dish reassured, “I’m here, man. I’ve got you.”
Bendy wailed, falling against Cuphead’s chest and buried his face into his turtleneck. For a moment, Cuphead panicked. He wasn’t sure what this cry had come from. Was it a happy cry? A sad one? Angry? Should he hold him? Let him sit there? Scratch his back? It had been so long since they were last this close, long enough Cuphead couldn’t remember the day. It was like he was a teen again, struggling to mimic the romance he heard on the radio or saw in plays. What was he to do? He attempted to relax himself, reminding those panicking voices that relaxation and comfort was all that was expected of him. Just like he would comfort any friend. That he could do.
Muffling his cry into soft fabric, Bendy struggled to compose himself. The warmth that radiated from underneath his turtleneck was one Bendy had yearned and craved for countless nights. Heat has been a limited resource, something he struggles to produce on his own anymore. He basked in the love pumped through each artery, breathing in the scent of life from deep beneath porcelain. Comforting and grounding, that earthy yet fiery smell. Left over smoke off cigarettes, stained moonshine, natural musk, the smell of cut grass after the rain, blending together into a scent called home. Bendy took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with comfort, and sighed away his tension and worries. Forget the hunger pains pulsing deep in his gut, forget the way his bones shook with each gust of wind, forget all those out there that he hurt, those who wanted him melted. Nothing else matters.
Bendy’s cries reduced to sniffles and Cuphead relaxed into the hug, gentle hands rubbing up and down, tracing each spike on Bendy’s spine. He hoped Bendy didn’t think he thought less of him, Bendy hated being pitied, treated like glass. Cuphead watched his pressure and weight, slowly drawing circles. Soft clicks from the demon's throat and the small arcs his tail drew in the air assured him he was doing everything right. Bendy felt calmer, relaxed, the first time in weeks. Bendy shifted in the dish’s arms, freeing his arms and wrapping them around the latter's waist. Bendy found himself in and out of sleep, dozing softly, finally giving in to relaxation.
Cuphead stiffened as he felt cool hands snake under his sweater, Bendy brushing his lower back. His claws glided over smooth porcelain, catching on cracks. Cuphead felt as Bendy carved down a particularly deep crack, dragging his index from one end to the other. He shivered.
“Heh, I ain’t going no where, Bendz,” Cuphead huffed out a small laugh, rubbing the back of Bendy’s head. Bendy hummed a response, adjusting once more, this time to sit up. “Hey, you alright?”
“Shh,” Bendy hushed. He pushed himself up into the dishes lap, positioning his knees in between the others legs. The demon placed his hands upon Cuphead's chest, faces held inches from each other, breath mixing. Once again, hesitation took hold. Bendy looked between Cuphead’s curious and flustered look, down to his lips, further to his chest and the way his breath had quickened, then back to his eyes. He couldn’t get himself to ask, he wasn’t sure why.
Cuphead had forgotten how this felt. That anticipation that built in his chest, making his heart flutter and pound in the back of his head, the one that made his breathing all funny and his head begin to steam. He found himself feeling almost timid under Bendy’s careful gaze. The golden colour that swam through his irises suited him. The red that dusted his cheeks bloomed life back to his sunken face. His eyelashes remained wet from his tears. The way his brow knit together, in that awfully charming way. He couldn’t find words to say, he was far too distracted looking over his friend. It was odd how Bendy could keep his attention. No matter how still or silent he was, something about him calmed every racing thought and restless urge, calmed him down.
Bendy bit his lip, “May- Uhm. May I?”
“Yer too formal,” Cuphead laughed, tilting his head to the side with a cheeky grin. He brought his hands back to Bendy’s face.
“Oh, shut up.” Bendy regained his confidence, tugging the dish close, locking lips to prevent any further snarky comment from the latter. He immediately melted into the kiss, taking deep and heavy breaths as their lips pressed together. One kiss wasn’t enough, not after all this time. Lips collided, almost missing their mark. Kisses that were gentle just a moment ago became hungry, restless. Teeth knocked together, lips were bitten. Gentle groans were shared that were made for nothing but their ears. Bendy suddenly pulled away, a string of drool connecting the two for a moment longer. They both breathed heavy, faces flushed, the dish’s head beginning to boil over. He wiped the foam from his forehead. Bendy swallowed hard before he spoke, “Can I be a little selfish for a minute?”
“I think you of all people can be a little selfish.”
“Please, I- fuck, I don’t have any good way to say this. Could you just… just touch me. I don’t care where or how.” Desperation was visible in Bendy’s face, it pooled in his eyes, the way his eyebrows scrunched, his lips parting. Cuphead felt himself heat up again, butterflies flying wild through his gut. His eyes light up, a dorky grin stretching across his face. Cuphead nodded, bringing his hands to Bendy’s shoulders. He felt much more relaxed, the direct invitation was further confirmation that he needed. He dragged his hands down Bendy’s collarbone, further to rest on his chest.
“I’ve missed this,” Cuphead whispered, “The way you felt, I mean.”
“Mhm, missed this too. More than you know,” Bendy sighed, allowing his eyes to close again, melting into the touch. Any worry or racing thought left in Cuphead’s mind was a distant memory under the light of his friend. Each soft sound of pleasure that escaped his lips, the click of his purring, music to his ears. The most beautiful he’s ever heard.
“I definitely missed that,” Cuphead chuckled, earning a small laugh from the demon in return. A particularly nice touch along his neck coaxed out a louder sound and Cuphead felt his breath hitch. Gone as quick as it came, he longed to hear such a sweet noise again. He traced along the muscles he notices flexing, finding pressure points and sensitive places. He moved to the top few buttons of Bendy’s shirt, pausing on the first for the go ahead. The words he wished to say caught in his throat, despite his outward calmness.
“Go ahead,” Bendy breathed and Cuphead wasted no time undoing each button. He left the shirt on Bendy’s arms, gazing over his frame. However, Cuphead was always a tactile learner, he would explore with his hands. Bendy leaned back onto his palms, giving the cup room to trace each rib, the deep scars along his sides, and each smaller new scar he couldn’t remember knowing before. Some of them were small, perhaps caused by a thorn or scrap, accidentally to put it simply. Others, however, were too clean, large or familiar to give benefit of the doubt to their origins. Cuphead’s brow furrowed, concentrating on each change he could note. The curse had warped his body, stolen his health. Bendy was horrifically thin, it wasn’t difficult to feel his blood passing through arteries and veins, occasionally they were almost visible. And yet, Bendy was the most beautiful toon he had ever seen.
Cuphead's hands snaked around to Bendy’s shoulder blades, leaving Cuphead awkwardly stretching to reach. It gave Bendy an idea. He sat up, causing Cuphead to pull away and watch carefully as Bendy slid the heavy coat and shirt from his shoulders. For a moment, Cuphead froze.
“You okay?” Bendy teased, tilting his head with a devilish mischief.
“Uh, uh, yeah! I’m- I’m so okay,” Cuphead sputtered, his boiling head betraying him.
“Good.” Bendy adjusted himself, holding onto Cuphead’s shoulders as he found his way into the latter’s lap. The demon wrapped his legs around the dish’s waist, hugging around his neck. Bendy leaned into him, hiding from the cool night air. Cuphead tensed, his composure broken and his mind racing again. This time, it was a mess of incoherent excitement and love, things he could never word. What he did know, however, was that he felt happy. He felt good.
They rested their heads on each other's shoulders, and for a moment, Cuphead forgot he was holding a vampire. When Bendy shifts, the thought brushes his thoughts and a strange sinking feeling pools in his gut. However, when all that hits his porcelain is Bendy's warm breath against his neck, not the cool drag of fangs, Cuphead feels a wave of relief. That warm fuzzy feeling returns to his gut and he returns to stroking Bendy’s back. For once, things felt like before, before it all got bad. Somehow, things could still be normal.
Bendy found himself dozing again, something he couldn’t remember comfortably doing. For so long he had struggled with sleep, whether that be due to pain, insomnia, or fear, it never came softly and comfortable. He would hardly remember falling asleep. Yet here, in Cuphead’s embrace, he felt sleep gently hushing him away, soothing his sore muscles, warming his skin, silencing all the nasty thoughts that played on repeating behind his eyes. For once, everything was normal. Cuddled up to his best friend, warm and soft, no urges or threats to be paid mind to. He drifted off to sleep during the night, like a normal toon. He was cared for and held, like a normal toon. Even if that would be the last night they held each other, the last night they kissed, that didn’t worry them too much. All they needed was here, at this moment, they wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.
The night dragged on, the two toons slept peacefully curled up in their tent, intertwined. No sounds stirred them, no nightmares plagued their minds. The sun rose, their friends awoke and prepped for the day, only to find the two still cuddling long into the morning. They decided to leave them be and simply let them savour this one last time.