Meat and Fluids (JTHM Fanfiction) (Nny x Me)

Chapter 8

Comic chunk is from the original comics, beginning of issue four. 

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(Nny's POV)

Calm, calm, he was so calm, it was annoying... But it was helping. I wasn't good at staying calm, I didn't like being touched, none of this was right. But I normally didn't have anyone helping me wrap and bandage my wounds either. All of this was new. And I kinda hated it.

"You didn't hit your ulnar artery, so you shouldn't bleed out," he stated, sewing up the gash. Nice wasn't quite the right word for me to use, but I can't think of a word to describe it besides that, so: Having someone sew up my arm was 'nice'. Especially because it was my left arm, and being left handed and not that good at sewing, I don't want the cut to heal wrong in any way. Or get infected.

"Do you have Bactine?"

"Antiseptic? Yeah. I don't have Bactine, but I do have ninety percent alcohol. It's gonna burn like hell," he warned me, finally snipping off the thread. The skin was mostly numbed by Lidocaine Cream (mostly for his protection, so I wouldn't get angry with every stab of the needle) to make sewing up the wound easier without me flinching. Wish I could stop that reflex.

I REALLY wish I could stop it, jerking back at the sudden splash of burning demise... I mean alcohol.

"Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! BURNING!"

"Bactine hurts too-"

"Not this bad!" Yeah this bad, but the cut's weren't this deep.

"Just be glad you didn't hit a tendon..." Ooh, he knows anatomy! "God, I shouldn't ask this, but can you still move your fingers?" He leaned back as I flexed my hand.

I could kill him. I could do it right now too. He was close enough, leaning back or not. I definitely had the arm reach, the speed, strength. I could just wrap my hands around his neck, or reach into that sewing kit and grab the scissors, but... I didn't. I didn't want to.

Few people are able to put me in such a non-homicidal mood. He reminded me of Edgar in a way. Devi too, she was calm, and soft, and I didn't mind her touching me. I was so intent on death that I had ignored any other signs that might have kept them alive, or close to me...

"Have you ever seen a human brain?" He gave me a strange look at the question. "I'm going with no." I almost felt giddy at the fact that I've seen things that he hasn't.

"No," he stated, wrapping my wrist in gause to slow any bleeding that was still coming through the stitches. "I tend to stay away from blood and death when I can. I don't like the sight of it." He broke off the gauze and tucked it onto itself, making sure it wouldn't unravel once he took his hand away. "What about you, do you enjoy seeing blood?"

I had to think for a minute, "Not really." This surprised both of us in a way. "I don't remember how any of this part of my life started... There are bits and fragments, and broken chunks of childhood and shit, but I know it's not right. I don't LIKE the sight of the blood and gore and visera, the filth of other people, but I don't think I'm in control anymore... I've killed people like i enjoy it, I've even put a smile on my face when I do it, but..."

"... But?" Roy pressed, genuinely curious on what I was saying, suckend into the speech I had given, more to myself than to him.

I couldn't think for a moment. I normally wasn't able to think at home, too much noise, too many voices, the DoughBoys did nothing but confuse me. I didn't like being away from the wall, not knowing if it was close to breaking or not. What was even really behind it, what would really happen it I left it alone? Was the thing behind it even that dangerous? Being away from it helped get my thoughts straight...

"... I don't think I have control of my sanity... Like I've relinquished control of my mind to some unknown entity that's taking over because I don't know it's even there..." He remained silent, packing up the first aid kit, and all its sharpy sharp things inside it.

"Are you... in control now?"

"I think so?" I wasn't sure. But I was sure enough in the moment to try and answer the question. He gave me a soft smile, thinking hopefully at my answer. "You remind me of Bunny," I told him without thinking, going off topic.

"Bunny? Which one's Bunny?

"NailBunny's the one that helps talk me through these things. When the other voices are distracted, or silent, we'd get into conversations like this. About why was in control, or which one of the DoughBoy's was manipulating me... What do you think?"

He seemed taken aback by the question, "Well, you said that one wants you to kill others, and the other wants you to kill yourself," He thought for a moment before continuing, "I think both of them might be."

"... That's what Bunny says." Bunny was probably the closest thing I had to a conscience. He was still a part of me, he was still in my head, but I had to talk to him like the others. The others weren't a part of me anymore.

"I'll be right back," he spoke slowly. Gathering his things and turning to walk out, but he turned and spoke again, "Can I trust you not to move while I'm gone?"

I hadn't expected a question like that. I didn't answer, causing Roy to shift everything he was holding into one of his arms, and take a step back towards me. My legs and stomach were the only things still tied down at this point, but he stepped closer still.

And he said again, softer this time, "Can I trust you not to leave?" he asked.

And I just nodded. He closed the door a moment later, leaving me to my thoughts.

He didn't lock it.

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Nny is such a complex character, but I want to at least TRY and write him right. If anyone has better ways that Johnny would phrase things or how he might act in situations like this, I might be inclined to fit it. All the advice helps others to be better writers, criticism is welcome! Constructive or not!