A friend requested some BATIM angst so here's a little drabble attempt.


Everything is so wrong now.

It didn't used to be like this. Somehow Boris knows this. Somewhere tucked away deep, where he can still believe in good things.

It didn't used to be like this and that's all that matters.

The rooms are empty now, dust covering every surface and it hurts, not like physical pain, but like something different that he can't describe.

Like something that used to be full of fun and life and is now abandoned and cold.

Like the studio died and they were left behind in its corpse.

But if it were just that, maybe Boris wouldn't mind. Maybe he would take loneliness and emptiness and the creator's lies over this any day.

Anything would probably be better than the wailing Boris can hear coming from the floors below, screams that resound against the old wooden walls. The sound of something crawling across the ceiling, the footsteps of a beast once human that roams the hallways.

And Bendy.

Or whatever is left of him.

'The Ink Demon' is what the man in the mask calls him now. Boris doesn't like the man, he is loud and scary, so he makes sure he stays out of sight when he's around.

But about this he might be right.

Bendy can find him no matter where he hides, and Boris whines low in his throat, trying not to shiver when his friend comes to him.

He's oozing, leaking. Black ink that spills across the floor, inside the walls, drips from above them. It stains everything these days.

Boris doesn't want to be scared of his friend but he is.

He's warm to the touch, and when Boris holds him it's like before again, even for a second. He wants to believe they can go back too.

Bendy doesn't talk, Boris isn't sure if he can anymore, throat clogged with teeth and ink, but they can comfort each other in silence.

They don't need words to understand each other.

Then the door opens, the one that never should open again, and Bendy hisses. He's gone in a second, and Boris isn't sure whether he should be relieved or sad.

It doesn't matter either way. He knows what this means.

There's fresh meat in the studio.

And the show must go on.