Chapter Eleven


Trigger Warnings For This Chapter: Cursing, Mental Illness Traits, Hallucinations, Time Period Accurate Homophobia, Blood, Self-Harm, Gun Violence, Murder, and Panic.


"Hmm. It looks like we'll need some aluminum." Brain mumbled to himself as he examined their leftover supplies from their last failed scheme. They were down to two more ideas before he'd have to start coming up with new ones.

Pinky perked up at hearing Brain's voice. The shorter of the two had been silent for a while, deep in thought. "You said we need something, Brain? I can go out and get it."

Brain turned his attention to his lover. "I think I'll go out this time and get it." Pinky had been in and out of the apartment enough. Brain supposed he could put in some physical labor. Plus, he had noticed that Pinky's behavior today had been slightly off, and he was worried about letting him outside. He had caught Pinky staring into the bathroom mirror as if he could see into it. Also, Pinky had been extra fidgety today. It wasn't anything too concerning, but Brain wanted to be cautious.

"Are you sure, Brain?"

Brain removed a pair of gloves and walked over to the coat rack with his gun. "Yes. It would do me some good to get some fresh air. Pinky, do you mind watching the apartment?"

Pinky walked over and kneeled down to kiss Brain. "Not at all! I promise I won't let so much as a fly get in!"

Brain smiled lovingly at Pinky after the kiss broke. "I'm sure you won't." He turned the doorknob and waved. "I'll be back before four. Do you remember the secret knock?"

"Sure do! Narf!" Pinky knocked the pattern on the wall.

"Alright, Pinky. I'll be back." Brain stepped into the hall and made his way down the stairs, purposely avoiding looking towards the mail slots. The air outside was welcomed as the apartment had grown to feel stuffy with how long he stayed in it.

He crossed the street and made his way towards the city dump. Thankfully it wasn't a long journey, being only twenty blocks away. He hummed a tune to himself as he kept his eyes forward. He was disinterested in the sight of the trash on the streets and the people walking along them.

When he eventually approached the entrance to the dump, he pulled out a cloths pin and attached it to his nose. He headed inside without a problem. There were no guards: People or dogs. No one really cared about the place.

He walked along the paths, looking left to right as he analyzed the mounds of garbage and junk. Aluminum, aluminum…. "Aha!" Brain rushed over to one of the mounds and climbed upwards until he reached his point of interest. A huge bag of soda cans! He grabbed the bag and carefully descended. It was perfect, especially with how easy to take home it would be.

He went ahead and walked around some more in case something, in particular, piqued his interest. There were a few things he briefly considered but decided against.

Brain left the dump, ignoring the stares he felt on him. A few people muttered insults, thinking he was homeless, and Brain's grip on the bag tightened. The words weren't necessarily offensive to him because he wasn't homeless. But if it was this easy for people to tear you down when they thought you were, he couldn't imagine half the things Pinky had probably put up with.

After six blocks, Brain decided to take a break on a bench. He pulled out a cigarette and frowned. He was getting pretty low.

As he sat, he heard the voices of people behind him. There was a café with outdoor seating. If Brain could have afforded to, he probably would have taken a break in there. Fresh coffee and some pastry sounded heavenly right now. I wonder what Pinky's favorite kind of pastry is?

He puffed on his cigarette, not really paying much mind to anything until he heard a familiar name. He could suddenly make out the words of the people behind him very clearly.

...

"…. I mean it! This Pinky guy was a real nut! He was always looking off in the corner, and there were a few times I caught him talking to himself! He was a freak! I'm so glad they booted him…."

Brain dropped the cigarette and stomped on it while gritting his teeth. Was this guy… talking about his Pinky?!

"... Fuckin' pink-haired weirdo…."

It was his Pinky. Brain's fists clenched tightly together as he mentally counted down from ten.

"… Once, I pretended I could hear or see something and asked him if he heard it too. The crazy bastard said he could! Can't believe the son of a bitch punched me. If I ever see him, I'm gonna…."

...

*Click*

Brain's face was stretched tight with fury. He aimed his gun directly at the head of the lunk who was talking. "You'll what?"

The chatter from the café died instantly. Some shook with fear, while others looked around for possible escape routes. The man with whom he had targeted had his hands up while he trembled pathetically.

Brain barked. "Well?!"

The burly man stuttered as he spoke. "H-hey n-now. What's with the gun?"

Brain growled. That wasn't an answer. "I said, you'll what?! Answer the damn question!"

It took a second for the man to process the request, but then he understood. "Listen, guy. Are you a friend of Pinky? I was just yapping. It was all in good fun, I promise!"

Brain marched over to him. A few people ran off, knocking over chairs and tables as they fled. He yanked the man down by his shirt and pressed the barrel to his forehead. "Answer. The. Question." Everything Brain saw was highlighted in reds.

The man closed his eyes tightly as sweat and tears rolled down his face. "I-I'll…"

"Be honest, now." Brain just wanted to hear him say it. There was only one outcome for this man.

His mouth trembled as his words formed. "I'll k-knock his head so hard, he'll turn normal." He let out a sob. He knew, as well, that there was only one outcome.

*Bang!*

Brain heard screaming from people in the area, along with a ringing in his ear from the blast. He smiled and released the shirt of the man whose face was beyond all recognition.

Mongrel. Brain shut his eyes and brushed off the bits that had landed on his jacket with a dignified huff. When he opened them, the weight of what he had just done set in as he saw red and blue lights reflecting off the window of the coffee shop.

"Drop the gun!"

Brain sighed and released his gun. What did I just do?!

"Hands up and on your knees!"

Brain did as instructed and cursed under his breath as he heard the jingle of tactical belts approaching him. He felt a hard tug and then the cold metal of cuffs strapped to his wrist.

The officer who cuffed him ordered him to turn around. A second officer patted him down, removing his keys and wallet when he did.

He was shoved towards one of the five cruisers that had arrived on the scene. In the corner of his eye, he could see paramedics rushing over to waste their time.

Once he was shoved into the back of one of the cars, Brain shut his eyes in frustration and let a few tears escape. I can't believe I did something so stupid! Then an even more terrifying thought entered his mind. Pinky! He's not going to know why I'm not there! What's going to happen with him?!

"Ahem."

Brain seemed to suddenly realize that he wasn't the only person in the back of the car. When he saw who it was, he moaned defeatedly.

"Hi there, Mr. Brain." Larry crossed one of his legs. "We have a lot to talk about when we reach the station, don't we?"

Brain didn't grace him with a response. He was truly fucked and would be charged for this crime and the train station murders. He was relieved that the death penalty was out-ruled in this state.

"Could I survive in prison, though?"

"Prison? Oh, it's unfortunately much worse than that."

Brain blushed when he realized he said that out loud. "Why's that?" He looked over at the folder Larry had produced and went silent. It was his mental health file from the social worker.

No. No… I can't go back in there!

Larry lazily opened the folder and nodded his head. "Yikes."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pinky lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He sighed and checked the alarm clock. It was 4:30. Was Brain okay? His mind flooded with possibilities.

He got sidetracked.

He got lost.

He hates you.

He left forever.

He's just running late.

He got jumped….

He's dead…

He's… He's…

! Pinky heard the jiggle of the doorknob from the other room and gasped. He tip-toed over and eagerly put his ear to the door, listening for the special knock.

A woman's wobbly voice spoke up from the other side. "S-snot the r-right one. Oops. Iss the next over." A set of two pairs of feet walked away from the door.

Pinky frowned and went to sit down on the loveseat. He left you forever."No, he didn't. He's coming back. He's just late. Poit" Pinky's eyes caught movement, and he looked up to see creepy lady sitting next to him.

Pinky rubbed his arm nervously. Let's knock on the door to let them in. Pinky reached for a glass of water on the coffee table and took a sip. Brain's water isn't good if he's not here! Pinky spat out the water and clutched his chest as he tried to control his breathing. It was a second voice. Pinky huddled into himself. He felt weird. Like something wasn't right.

He began to subconsciously scratch at his arms, only stopping when it started to noticeably hurt. "Ouch!" Pinky looked down at his arms and started to shake. We have to come out. A third voice. Pinky placed his hands over his ears and tried to relax. He knew what was happening, but it didn't matter. It was hard to ignore them.

Pinky stood up and started pacing around the room. Out. Let's all go out."Brain, please come home. Please, please, please." He needed help. He knew Brain could calm him down.

Pinky wandered back into the bedroom and sat on the floor against the wall. We are too in. Out.He took a shaky breath.

Pinky shook his head in an attempt to shake the thoughts out, but it didn't work. The voices kept saying weird things as minutes passed. Pinky looked at the clock, which now read 5:05. He's gone. Do we live here now?

Suddenly, something caught Pinky's attention from under the bed. He crawled over. The beakers and sciencey things were expected, but not this.

Pinky picked up the white pill that was lying on the floor. "Brain musta' dropped one at some point." He stared at the tablet as he thought about something. "Brain said the medicine helped him…."

We can't go back. Go out. Pinky shut his eyes and swallowed the pill. Maybe it'll make him feel better?

It didn't.

An hour later, Pinky was rocking back and forth in the bathroom. He was struggling to think at all. Everything around him and inside him was overwhelming. He felt like an idiot for taking the pill now. He could just tell that it had made everything worse.

Pinky lifted his hand as it trembled. He was holding a knife, trying as hard as he could to not use it. The one voice from years ago was back, wanting him to make more cuts on his legs. He didn't want to. He didn't want to hurt himself. Pinky didn't feel worthless like he once had. Brain made him feel wanted.

Pinky stared straight ahead, trying to focus on a single tile. It's what has to happen. Pinky shut his eyes. "B-Brain. I need you. Please, please, please."

His eyes snapped open, and he made his first cut. He exhaled at the weird relief he felt. He made another one. Then he threw the knife and yelled. "Stop! Just stop!" He stood up quickly, fumbling over his limbs. He made a beeline for the bathroom door but slipped on a splotch of blood.

Pinky felt pressure on one spot on his head and realized he was lying on the floor. He tried to get up, but he couldn't. "B-Brain. … "Brain! Help!" He panicked as he saw black bubbles slowly engulfing his vision. "Help!" Then there was nothingness.

. . .

"Mmm. Huh?" Why am I on the floor? Pinky slowly stood up, holding his head a moment as things swayed. When everything was still, he looked around and put a hand over his mouth as it hung open. He remembered.

He burst from the bathroom and checked the alarm clock. It was 9:00. He looked at the two letters next to the numbers. A.M. Pinky's eyes went wide, and he moved quickly to the living room. Then the kitchen. He glanced over at the empty coat rack. Brain was still gone.

Pinky was at a loss of what to do, so he sat down and switched on the TV. Brain had said that The Murphy Show sometimes helped him clear his mind. Maybe it would help clear Pinky's?

The Morning Murphy Show fuzzed onto the screen. Murphy spoke to the live crowd. "I'm going to start us off light today, folks. I need to ease you into the bad news I have today. We're gonna start off with the election winner for mayor. It shouldn't surprise anyone that Snowball came through on top!"

Pinky crossed his arms and blew a raspberry at the screen as they talked about the snowman. Then he smirked. The snowman could be mayor all he wanted. It was nothing compared to when Brain would be World Leader. He was quickly sad again, though, not knowing if Brain was okay.

The next thing on Murphy's agenda was the weather. It was supposed to get pretty cold today. Pinky glanced over again at the coat rack and hoped Brain's jacket was enough.

Then there was talk of a car accident that happened uptown.

Finally, Murphy cleared his throat and looked solemnly at the camera. "You all remember the tragedy at the Endo Train Station. Three young boys were taken too soon from this world. Bright futures that'll never have a chance to come to fruition."

Pinky leaned forward. There was an anxious feeling in his gut.

"There was another man shot yesterday."

They showed the image of the man, and Pinky's whole face blew into bewilderment. "Tip?!" Pinky was mainly shocked, but a shameful part of him was happy.

Murphy continued. "Yesterday, at the Raisnbread Café, this man was shot and killed point-blank. And it was by the same man who shot those three boys."

Pinky crawled up to the TV so that his nose was nearly touching the screen.

An image of Brain popped up on the screen.

Pinky grabbed the sides of his head. "No!"

Murphy shook his head disapprovingly. "A Mr. Brain was responsible." The live audience gasped and murmured their surprise. Murphy waved a hand to settle them. "I know, I know. But don't worry. He won't be hurting anyone ever again! Right now, he's locked up tight inside of Hamington's mental asylum. That's right, folks. He's a crazy loon. According to reports, this man has something called manic depression. He's been off his meds, and this is the result! If you know someone who has this condition, be careful!"

Pinky was horrified at what was being said. It was all misleading! Brain had only been off his meds a little while! He wasn't crazy! Brain saved him, and if Brain shot Tip, there was probably a good reason!

Murphy continued, digging into Brain's character. "He's a very sick individual indeed! Sources say he was also gay!" The audience again was riled up. "A gay maniac! He's locked up good, and I'm glad, but part of me wonders why we don't just get rid of nuisances like this for good!" The crowd agreed.

Pinky backed up, knocking the coffee table back. It was mortifying to hear one of Brain's idols say such hideous things. But also... "Brain's locked up?! In the asylum?" Pinky had been there once before as a kid. The memory was fuzzy, but he knew how bad that place was. "No… no, no, no. It's all my fault! If he never met me, none of this would be happening!"

Pinky hugged himself as he rocked back and forth. What do I do? He looked around the apartment for an answer to make itself known. And it did. His eyes landed on a blueprint that had rolled onto the carpet in the living room. He crawled over and grabbed it. "I-I need to make a plan."

Pinky got up and grabbed pencils and a piece of paper. How could he realistically free his lover?

He chewed on his eraser, deep in thought. ! Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. He began writing and drawing things out. Out. We need to come out.

Pinky shook his head in agitation. "I'm working on it! Troz!" I'm gonna get Brain out. He wrote out a few more things before getting up to look for any poster boards. When he couldn't find any, he resorted to taping four pieces of paper together. On the make-shift poster, he wrote out Free Brain. Pinky smiled at his handiwork, tapping a finger on his chin. He decided it needed color. With luck, he found some colored pencils and pulled out the pink and the blue.

With the poster finished, Pinky began phase two of his plan. He located Brain's phonebook and turned towards the back. He needed to make a phone call.