Archive of Our Own ^beta

A dark room in the middle of the night only being dimly lit by the pale moonlight. There were half empty coffee cups and papers scattered on the table and floor. Everything was a mess, Medkit knew it was. He didn't have the energy to care.

Medkit sat in front of his desk on a small wooden chair, his head rested in his hands. He stared dully at the bills on his desk, they piled up like a mountain. He was too deep in his depression to do anything. Heck, he'd barely eaten in days. Neither had he gotten up to brush his teeth or have a shower. He kept himself locked up in solitude. Even after being asked by Sword to get out, he didn't listen. It seemed like Sword finally gave up on him as Medkit hadn't heard from him in a while. Good.

The last thing Medkit wanted was to have everyone and their ancestors on their knees begging for him to be safe. He couldn't care less what they want.

What do they know anyway. Nobody ever cared for him, why would they now? Not even Subspace cared, they were partners for gods sake! He brought a hand to his eye scar, it was a horrific reminder that nobody cares. Nobody ever will.

Suddenly, a sharp, intense pain hits Medkit on the temples. Seems as though the pain medication had worn off.

He massaged his forehead in an attempt to calm down his migraine. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist, it hurt so bad. His lungs felt like they were burning even though the pain was in his head. He winces as the pain gets worse, shutting his eyes firmly in response.

He frantically looks around the mess of a desk to find the pain medication, just making the place more dirty and cluttered. He finds the bottle, it's empty. Medkit lets out a drawn groan as he slams the pill bottle onto the floor out of anger. Tears welled up in his eye from the pain hitting his head.

It hurt so fucking bad. Yet, there was no way he could go outside now. He was sure everyone in the entirety of crossroads would give him the most disgusting pity looks ever. He couldn't face them after being gone for how many days? He'd lost count. Not that anyone else was counting anyways.

He continued looking around his desk for something, ANYTHING to help with his migraine. He was knocking over papers and other cups of half-drank coffee. He genuinely looked like a drug addict looking for their heroin shot. He swung open drawers like a mad man, shuffling through old photos of him and other people he used to care about.

Alas, he couldn't find anything.

Medkit choked on his tears, the pain just getting worse by every passing second.

He groaned, knowing he'd have to get up in order to find more medication. He sighed loudly, collecting himself for what felt like forever. He put both his hands on the edge of the table and pushed himself and the chair further from the desk. Getting up when he felt like he was far enough away to stand up.

He stretched his joints, making a pained noise after. He hadn't gotten up from his desk in however many days he'd been locked up in his room so his bones were pretty stiff. Either that or it was the old age. Mid life crisis before fifty how flattering.

Despite his inner argument, he started walking towards the bathroom. He needed the medical cabinet. If not to find pain killers, at least some melatonin. That'll knock him out for sure. Walking, almost sprinting, towards the bathroom, he finally reaches the tiled floors.

He sucks air through his teeth after realising how cold the bathroom tiles were, cringing at the feeling of the cold. He was always quite sensitive to it anyway.

He darted towards the medicine cabinet, scrambling around to find the painkillers. None. How much better could this day get? Or is it how much better can this night get? Whatever.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by another bang of pain straight through the temples. This time he let out a pained yelp, almost falling to the floor from the sheer intensity of the migraine.

His eye darted frantically across the bathroom, surely there was something to distract him? He felt like his eye was about to pop out of its socket before it finally lay on an answer.

A razor blade.

Unused, still in the packet.

Medkit shook his head 'no'. He'd been clean for around 4 months now, his old scars were finally starting to fade. He looked down at his left wrist, bringing up his other arm to pull down the sleeve. Shallow divots still in his flesh from the previous times he'd cut himself. Along with a bullet wound.

The day he ran away from Blackrock was the day he'd do the worst thing in his life. He wasn't thinking straight, or seeing quite straight either. Something he could see though, his syringe gun. He had picked up the gun that day. He had replaced the healing bullets with real ones. He had shot himself in the arm.

Medkit tried to shake away the thought. He couldn't stand thinking about it any longer.

He slowly started walking over to the razor blade, picking it up gently. He quietly unwrapped it from its plastic confines, letting it glimmer in the pale moonlight that crept through the window.

He took a big, deep, breath.

Slowly taking the blade in his hand, he gently placed it atop an old scar. It had almost faded, but not anymore.

He roughly pushed the blade against his skin, sucking in air through his teeth. He then swiftly dragged it vertically on his skin. The blade cut directly through his flesh.

Medkit winced from the pain. But oh, how he loved it. He had forgotten about the migraine in his head as he kept slashing against his wrist, making multiple scars that were likely not to go away. Tears trickled down his cheeks, choked sobs and whimpers coming from his mouth as he kept going.

Slash after slash after slash after slash, it never felt like enough.

Soon, Medkits entire arm was engulfed in a deep crimson red liquid. His other hand held the blade, original colours of the razor also unrecognisable at this point.

Suddenly, a wave of guilt hit Medkit like a bullet. He was upset, angry, frustrated, disgusted, disappointed, furious, all at himself. He couldn't even keep 4 months without getting hurt, he felt annoyed in himself for that. He hated himself.

He grit his teeth as he tightened his grip on the blade, leaving slight dents in the palm of his hand. He angrily threw the blade across the bathroom, not caring where it landed.

He then broke down on the floor, falling to his knees. Choked sobs and cries came out of his mouth as tears ran down his messy face and down his neck, staining his shirt even further than what it was before.

How pitiful.

Out of the blue, a knock was heard on the door. Who could want to see Medkit at this hour?

He internally panicked, there was no way he would be able to clean up his mess, or stop the bleeding in time.

He had two options:

1. Open the door and hide his arm.
Or
2. Pretend like he wasn't home.

He decided with the latter.

He stayed as quiet as possible, trying to hold back sobs the best he could. The thick blood from his arm trickled down and onto the tiling. He couldn't care at the moment though. His arm stung so badly, it felt like a thousand bee stings, like an uncontrollable fire, like a burning acid...

The knocking came again, this time louder. Medkit tried shuffling away from below the basin, as the bottom was starting to nudge against his horns. He quickly stopped when he realised how bad the wounds stung. He cursed under his breath, some of the blood that was on the tiled floors got smudged.

The knocking came back and was a bit more frantic now, startling Medkit slightly. He held his breath, hoping nothing happened and nobody found out he was just cutting himself like 5 or so minutes ago. It would destroy his image.

Suddenly the knocking came to a stop, Medkit letting out a sigh.

Then he heard a crashing sound, as the door just got knocked down.

Medkit scrambled to get to his feet, almost slipping on the fresh blood that lay on the tiles. He held onto the basin for dear life, his arm stinging like hell. He let out a pained yelp, which clearly alerted the person that was in his apartment as he heard the pitter-patter of steps hurriedly toward him.

At the doorframe stood a recognisable figure, Banhammer.

God, he was not in the mood for a nuisance right now.

"Doc! Illumina... are you okay?!" Banhammers voice was slightly blurry. Oh no, was he losing too much blood?

Medkit didn't answer as Banhammer rushed over to him, holding him by the back in order to keep him up. He could hear Bamhammers muffled yelling as his ears filled with a ringing noise. He gripped onto Banhammers sleeves for what felt like dear life as his breathing got heavy. He called out, trying to communicate.

"B-ban-ham-er," his words came out in figure 8's. Everything was getting blurry, his heart raced as his mind spun. His eyes were forcefully closing themselves. He didn't want to go, not like this.

Banhammer, on the other hand, was yelling like a maniac. He saw all the blood, on Medkits wrist, his clothes, the tiles, the basin, and the blade that was thrown half across the room. He cursed Medkit for doing this to himself. His eyes stung as tears welled up. He didn't want to see Medkit go, not like this.

The last thing Medkit remembered was being carried bridal style, that's when everything faded to black.

It was the next day, the sun peeking through the blinds of Medkits room. Thankfully, Banhammer didn't send him to the hospital. He couldn't stand being there.

Medkit stirred awake, opening his eyes before rubbing them to adjust to the light. He had a bandage wrapped around his arm, quite well in fact. He felt really drowsy, sighing. He turned his head to see Banhammer, who was sitting next to him on the bed.

"Have a good nap, kit?" He asked, to which Medkit nodded softly in response. Banhammer softly took Medkits hand in his own, sighing and down at him with a worried look. Medkit knew what was coming, he felt a pit in his stomach as Banhammer opened his mouth to speak.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Banhammer asks pitifully, looking at Medkit with concern. The doctor looked away, unable to deal with the way Banhammer cared so much.

He didn't know why, but tears started welling up in his eyes, making his vision blurry. He let out a choked sob as a tear fell down his cheek. The warden brought a hand up to Medkits cheek, wiping away the tear, leaving a slight smudge of water on his face.

"Would you like to have something to eat?" Banhammer said, changing the topic. He didn't want to push the medic too far. He just wanted to do whatever he was comfortable with. No one who loves you should make you feel unsafe. He didn't want to be that person to make him unsafe.

Medkit nodded, he was slightly hungry anyways. Banhammer leaned in to kiss Medkit on the forehead, making the doctor flush in response. He got out of the bed to go make Medkit a sandwich, peanut butter and jam!

Medkit sighed, bringing his arm up above the covers. He turned it around so he was facing the wrist, cringing a little bit at the slight blood leakage. He brought his other hand up to slightly caress his wrist, immediately wincing from the sting. It still hurt even after...however long he was asleep. He grimaced at the thought. Surely it wasn't worse than last time, right?

Banhammer had re entered the room, catching Medkit, who was fondling with the bandage that was on his arm. "Medkit, don't." He said sternly, grabbing Medkits attention immediately. He dropped his arms back down to his sides, seeing the sandwich in Banhammers hands.

Now that he thought about it, the doctor was starving. He hadn't eaten in a while, so his hunger was really getting the better of him. Banhammer took a seat next to him on the bed, passing over the sandwich. Medkit took it in his hands, leaving the plate in his lap. He brought the sandwich close to his face before taking a bite, ripping off the corner hungrily. He swallowed it rather quickly.

"Peanut butter and jam?" He questioned, taking another bite.

"Peanut butter and jam!" Banhammer excited, happy Medkit liked his sandwich.

Soon, he finished the sandwich, placing the plate on the bedside table. He sighed, mustering up courage. He took Banhammers hand in his own gently, as his wrist still hurt like hell.

"I'm sorry, for what I did to myself." Medkit's breathing sped up in panic, just thinking about it was horrible. "I don't know what I was thinking- I was acting without consultation I was being stupid...I'm sorry!" Medkit said hurriedly, averting his gaze away from Banhammers. He could look him in the eye...

All the pain, just to feel guilt, frustration, shame, perfect hatred.

"It's okay."

What?

"It's not your fault, you would have been in a bad place. I don't blame you, kit. We all make mistakes here and there. I'm just glad you're still alive, hun." Banhammer reassured, he understood Medkits problem, or atleast tried to. He felt like he was doing the right thing.

Medkits eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill. This time, he felt safe to do so. Letting the tears fall down his face, he let out quiet sobs of sorrow. He embraced Banhammer, who wrapped his arms around the crying man infront of him. He caressed his hair gently, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay, I'm here now."