The day had finally come. You didn’t know anymore whether to be excited or extremely anxious. The path of your future was now held in between your hands. You didn’t know whether to wait and open the envelope when your parents got home or to do it right now. Should you call Peter? The two of you had been talking about ‘the future’ for what seems like a lifetime. Did you want him to be here for when you opened and read the letter? You did. But, this was your moment, this was your future. You had to do this alone.
Okay, you were going to do this. You were going to do this right now. The sooner you read the letter the sooner you could start actually having to deal with your future. Whether that be better or for worse.
Your hands were a shaking mess. There wasn’t anyway they were strong enough right now to tear open the seal so you beelined towards where you knew the envelope opener was. Ripping the drawer open you searched frantically for the utensil. Spotting it you froze for a small moment, this small utensil would be the thing that opened you to your future. This was it. You took hold of the cold metal and placed it to one end of the envelope. Slicing through the paper, okay that was done. Now it was time to take out the piece of paper. Your fragile fingers finding the edge of paper, slowly guiding it out. Your eyes scanning through the words to find just the one, ‘accepted’.
“Hey everyone! I just wanted to send you this quick video message to tell you how excited I am to be attending Clexa Con, the very first Clexa Con. I’ll be there next weekend in Las Vegas of course on Saturday March 4th and Sunday March 5th. Make sure you follow them on Twitter and Instagram @clexacon and check out their website so you know when and where exactly to find me. And I will see you in Sin City. So many queer ladies under one roof. That’s going to be a wild trip. Byeeee!”
You remember this? My dad and I used to build model airplanes. And this, this was my absolute favorite. Tenth birthday. This is a Nieuport 28. It’s the same plane Quentin Roosevelt flew in World War I. When you were about two years old, you got your hands on this, and you broke off one of the wings. I spent about an hour with a hot glue gun trying to fix it. It ended up in about 20 pieces instead of 2. Quentin, sometimes trying to fix something only makes it worse.
Another wave on sickness rushed through Bendy as the last bit of his last meal was again rejected by his body now laying in the bucket before him which he was gripping for dear life. Tears where starting to collect them self’s at the edges on his eyes and the bitter sting left behind by the thick black liquid dripping down his chin made him want to throw up again but there was nothing to throw out anymore.
“come on Bendy big breaths” his brother said in a soft voice, gently petting his back to help him through the pulsing pain wreaking his body.
Bendy gripped the bucket a bit tighter feeling something all too familiar slowly crawl its way into his senses sticking his nerves with a fear of what’s about to come next
Boris pulled his hand back a little so it was hovering above Bendy’s back but not touching him.
A scream ripped itself from Bendy’s throat, a hot shot of crippling pain wreaking through his abandon as if his body was rejecting its own stomach. His arms shot out to his lower body gripping into his own skin so tight that if he wasn’t crippling under the pressure of his disease slowly destroying his body, he would have feared he tear open his skin.
Bendy was vaguely aware of the bucket tipping over and falling out of his lap, spilling the black stuff everywhere and leaving behind an gut wrenching sour smell.
“I’M GONNA DIE, I WANT TO DIE”
Boris quickly placed his hand back on Bendy’s lower back and let the other find its way to the others knee, little tear welled up in his eyes, not being able to bear looking at his brother in so much pain.
“n-no Bendy don’t say that be strong oke, you’ll be oke.. j-just hold on”
Another scream was forced out Bendy, still gripping into his stomach, the red hot pain ripping both his mind and will apart like it was a piece of paper.
“BROTHER I CAN’T IT’S TO MUCH I CAN’T PLEASE JUST LET IT END”
Bendy sobbed, it was too much to handle. The heat it was too much he was losing his damn mind, He couldn’t he just couldn’t.
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Bendy’s shoulders, pulling him quickly but gently against Boris chest that was shacking from the sobs and hiccups going through him.
“please it’ll be oke brother just don’t lose hope please”
Boris held Bendy closer to himself like his was trying to squeeze away the illness that was wreaking his brother.
Bendy breathing picked up some more, swallowing big gulps of air like he never had taken a breath in his life. trying to shut it out the feeling of his nerves burning and screaming out in bloody murder. Trying to push through and passed the crippling hot pain and the feeling his lungs where getting skinned alive.
If not for himself he was trying for somebody who still needed him, the person he cared about most in the world, “for Boris” he told himself .
Slowly ever so slowly relaxed even if it was just a tiny bit, the pain died down enough for him to regular his breathing and lean against Boris, too exhausted to move.
Boris squeezed Bendy a little closer to him, tears now freely going down his face.
“it’ll always be oke, I know you’re strong enough Bendy”
A little smile showed itself on Bendy’s lips when Boris started wiggling his tail happily, glad that his brother was more or less oke now.
“I’m not strong” Bendy said with a weak voice that was still tuckered out from all that screaming. “you’re the only reason I keep fighting Boris” he said with a soft sigh, now relaxing fulling against the other, leaning his head against Boris chest.
you probaly get a fuck ton of these already but meh i thought you might like this one
(sorry i’m a shitty writer)
anyhow this is based on that little comic when bendy was pretty much dying but not quite