Ever since that strange dream with all the flowers, Bendy’s had somethin’ on his mind...
The outside world is a lot different than the Studio. Few things are set in stone, and there are lots of grey areas. It can be pretty confusing for someone who’s only ever lived in black and white.
Needed somethin to get me back in the swing of HEA, so I went WAY back to when Henry and Bendy went shoppin for Henry’s cane! It wasn’t too long after they left the Studio (and bendy wouldve been disguised i just didnt feel like drawin the clothes aldhgads) and the bean was bein’ extra goofy that day
Let’s also take a moment and appreciate that I accidentally gave them the same face! Like father like son aldkhslsdka
sketched this out quick cause SOMEBODY (IE: @rose-bombs) decided to do something really SAD this morning and I will not go about the rest of my day sad for these two >:C
so the bean and his dad are playin cards, maybe card tricks? maybe bendy just won a game? idc just so long as theyre HAPPY GDI
It was his first party. Maybe his last. Some other students in class had invited him, and he only agreed because James would be there. Other than his childhood friend, he wouldn't know anyone all that well.
It started easy enough. He found James and secured his spot by the Cohen quickly, not planning on leaving his side if he could get away with it. They chatted and mingled minimally. Turns out, James knew way more people than he let on before. No wonder he was invited. Bendy's own invitation must have been his doing.
He wasn't sure how it started exactly. The others had been drinking and trying to get Bendy drunk (which would be nearly impossible) and somehow ended up with him downing far more dangerous drinks.
Well, dangerous to humans. Ink and black magic don't mind mixing with some laundry detergent or dish soap all that much. Once word got around, half the party was kids bringing various drinks up to Bendy and requesting he eat. They wanted to see what he wouldn't swallow.
So far, booze, soap, rotten milk, ink (he almost laughed at that one) and detergent were not the answer. Normally, he would have held back. But most everyone was drunk - they wouldn't remember in the morning anyway. So why not have some fun and let them think it was a strange dream.
The fun came to an end when someone offered him acetone. It was a good thing he was naturally pale, because he was sure his face had run white just at the mention of the ink remover. Having it thrust upon him was far too much all at once and, as casually as possible, he declined the poison and ended the party tricks for the night. No matter what else was offered, he would turn them all down. Just water, thank you.
An hour had passed maybe, the night was getting late and Bendy and James had settled on the living room sofa listening to some music. It was one of the few things they could enjoy together. Just sound and vibrations. Bendy's water cup sat on the table before them as the two tapped their feet and bounced their heads to the beat. They were alone... for a moment.
Most kids had settled down by this point, but some still refused to let the party die. One such group came barging through the peaceful scene, hanging all over each other and climbing over the coffee table to sloppily ask the two friends if they wanted to dance.
After being declined by Cohen and Stein alike, the group moved on to find their next victim of their drunken stupor. All, except one. One young man had hung back to take a seat across from Bendy and James, seemingly too far gone to keep going. Poor guy must have had too much. He was an absolute mess and just kept staring at Bendy like he was a puzzle you solved with your eyes.
The devil let it slide, taking his water from the table and settling back into the groove of the music. Luckily, none of the horde had spilled his drink, and he drank while James hummed along to the tune. It was lovely to hear, even the drunk was smiling.
At first, he hadn't noticed. Nothing seemed out of place until he was ready to swallow. The water went from cool to crisp to hot to boiling in a matter of seconds. Bendy spat it out immediately, along with a large chunk of his mouth, gagging on the ink in his throat collapsing in on itself. The burning didn't stop. As he collapsed onto the table, trembling and shaking from the pain, it finally clicked what had happened: acetone.
Someone had dumped it in his water. Not much, thank GOD, but any acetone was already too much.
Putting one hand to his mouth to assess the damage, Bendy was horrified to find most of his jaw and mouth was just gone. Or, it wasn't gone exactly. It had just melted onto his shirt and the floor, leaving him horribly disfigured and monstrous. Mouth hanging on like its hinges had broken and continuously pumping out black ink. Bendy glanced up from his heaving for a brief moment, and based on the horror written all across the drunk student's face across from him, he knew it was time to leave. If he was lucky, no one would see, and he'd get home and... and his dad could...
Was it getting harder to think? Why did pain make him so slow? It made it so difficult to move, to plan, to... do anything. Anything besides shake and vomit up more ink while holding on desperately to the coffee table for support. He needed help. Help. Help! Anyone please!
How long had James been there? Did he just start talking or had he been speaking the whole time? When did the ringing start? Bendy had no idea. Nothing was real except for the pain. His face, so weak, so horribly poisonous as the remnants of the damn acetone clung to the inside of his mouth, eating away at him like acid. There are hands on his back. A... coat? When did he put on a coat? Where were they going? They were moving, but Bendy couldn't be sure. Everything felt so wrong. Maybe he was dreaming. The ringing was back as a new wave of pain ripped through his throat. He gagged and lost all strength in his legs. Someone caught him. Maybe it was James. Maybe it was a dream.
Everything after standing up was so hard to keep track of. One minute, he was in the front yard. The air was cold and it felt nice on his burning ink. There were bright lights. Two of them? Three? More? His vision was going again. He could vaguely make out a figure in the lights.
Next, he was shaking. No, rocking? He was bouncing, the world was bouncing and roaring. He looked up and saw trees and stars flying by faster than he ever seen before. Was he flying? A hand came into view, slower and closer than the trees. It brushed his hair back. This time, there were voices. One was talking, the other just grunted in return. Or maybe he couldn't make out the words. The hand reached forward again, this time it caught his cheek and pulled part of it away. The voices grew more frantic as it all faded away again.
The next moment was more chaotic than the last, and much shorter. He was upright, maybe. There were voices and hands everywhere. It was so loud, so confusing. Was he back? Were these the puddles? Had he returned? It sure felt like it. The pain never stopped, and the world just kept swirling around him. Confusing. Loud. Painful. He wished it would stop.
It did when he passed out again.
The final time he woke up, he was weak and sore but... no pain. The sharp bite of the acetone was gone, replaced with a dull throbbing in his neck and jaw that would likely haunt him for a while.
As Bendy rolled out of sleep, he became aware of more things. Like the numerous empty ink bottles strewn about his bedroom... oh, he was in his bedroom. And based on how stretched he felt in that moment, no bout he was also in his taller form. The far more devilish form. Turning his head confirmed it as much - his horns brushed against his headboard.
Too tired to sit up, he resigned to simply turning his head to learn more of what happened. The ink bottles are mostly on the floor, but some had still fallen on the bed. The door was shut and it was quiet as far as the devil could tell. It almost seemed like nothing had happened. Like it was just a bad dream.
But no. A closer look at the floor told him it was all very real. There was a hastily cleaned trail of ink that lead from the door straight to him. His best guess: Bendy was looking at the remains of his face from last night. It was uneven, splattered and poorly mopped up. It would take days to get it all out.
The quiet lasted a moment longer, then, as Bendy was considering sleep again, there came a knock at the door. Two short and two long: Henry.
Weakly, the devil reached out to the shelf beside him and knocked back his yes to allow his dad entrance. His arm remained there, outstretched and limp as his father entered the room. He had more ink, and looked like he hadn't slept at all. No cane either.
"Hey buddy," he spoke quietly too. Like he was afraid being too loud would cause the devil to fall apart again, "Glad you're up. C-... how do you feel?"
It took some effort, but Bendy managed to give a so-so motion with his hand and weakly point at his still sore face. The throbbing would never end.
Henry took this in stride and let out a sigh, "Still hurts... well, it probably will for a while. We'll keep you in bed 'til you... feel stronger." His eyes looked glassy, and the bags were even worse up close. God, what had he looked like last night to make his dad this upset?
His hand found its way to Henry's, weakly grasping at the fingers. The old man choked back a sob and squeezed the gloved hand in return. He had to put down the bottles of ink to wipe away some stray tears. But... he was smiling.
"I'm... I was scared but... you're okay. I'm okay. You're home and we... we're gonna take care of you."
His own smile was stuck as it was in this form, but for a moment, it spread a little wider. More reassuring, and he squeezed the hand back with as much strength as he had.
Slowly, Bendy drank the ink his father had brought in. He found it easier to sip than suck it all down at once. Damn face still hurt too much. So he was forced to recover slowly. But... he would recover. Thanks to his family. Henry, for being there every day. Allison, who he heard had bought the extra ink short notice. Tom, who he learned had driven to the party to pick him up. And James.
James had saved his life. He had called Tom, had carried Bendy out to the car, carried him into the house, up to his room, had moved so quickly the instant something was wrong. The others had, of course, asked him to leave after Bendy was secure in his room. Allison had driven him home on her way to pick up more ink and he hadn't been heard from since.
Bendy was... conflicted. He so badly wanted to see James again. To thank him for saving him and for everything. But... James must know. He must know Bendy isn't human now. His eyes might not work but that just means everything else worked ten times better.
He probably heard how much ink the devil had lost, far more than any human could survive vomiting up. He likely smelled the ink and acetone mix, all the ink, only ink. No coppery blood or stomach acids like vomit. Just ink. And... he felt it.
Bendy remembered it vaguely, and wished he didn't, but James had felt his face fall apart. The ink hadn't just stuck to his hand, it had caved in the minute he touched it. It was soft, weak. No bones, no flesh. Just ink losing its hold and reduced to a puddle in his hands.
James was blind, but he wasn't dumb. He must know "Ben" was a lie.
mornin' bendy boy, betcha got a long day ahead of ya. i wanted to ask, how often do you draw, and do you ever use any color in your drawings? another question i have is, who's your inspiration? some artist get inspiration from others, or even nature. i'd be interested in asking a few more artsy-fartsy questions, but i think that about covers it for now! i hope ya have a good rest of your day, and that no ask is too overwhelming for you to answer!
[I ALSO WATCH DAD DRAW A LOT! HE’S REALLY GOOD! I HOPE I’M AS GOOD AS HE IS SOMEDAY!]
