Chapter Text
The shattering of porcelain rang throughout the air.
Mugman’s finger was bent, squeezing the trigger firmly with the barrel of his straw gun emitting a blue, eerie trail of smoke.
A black paw held onto his wrist tight for just a moment longer before it had released him. The pressure still tinging on his skin, leaving a cold imprint on where it last was.
Mugman had twisted his body towards the sound, eyes wide as they traveled quickly up the figure that stood just a few feet away. From red shoes, to red pants, to his blood soaked turtle neck, to his-
His face.
There was hardly any of it left.
Mugman’s legs sprang forward, gun thrusted against the wolf’s cheek in his haste to break free from the other hand’s hold. He felt heat soaking into his glove as he tucked away his weapon back into head, forcing it to transform back into a straw. His brother’s body stood before him. The sight of it bringing nothing but this cold, hard realization. He held both hands outstretched towards his brother’s corpse as it staggered backwards, falling with a brilliant spray of red. That color.
That damned color.
Mugman continued forward, eyes searching for a new shade. Grasping at the colors of the browns of tree trunks, the greens of the forest, and the red. That dark, festering crimson color had decided it could greedily swallow up the white of his brother’s porcelain skin. Teeth was all that was left, teeth and a tongue laying on top of it. His head laid all around him in a scattered mess like someone had kicked apart the seeds of a puffy dandelion, speckled in red.
But there was no pink. The gentle shade was the color of his soul, and that soul is what he’s touched time and time again to encourage his older twin to return back to the living.
So, where?
Where was that damned color?
“Why…” His throat felt dry, eyes forcing themselves away from the body, searching towards the treelines then back down towards what was left of Cuphead’s face. “..Why can’t I see your soul?”
That detestable color was everywhere. It soaked into everything, absorbing every lick of white of his brother’s porcelain. It weaseled its way into every crevice, and stained the very ground his brother laid on.
It simply couldn’t stop itself from sticking to everything that didn’t belong to it.
It was just like that day.
—
There had been only two days leading up to it. Two hellish days of their childhood. They had both been so little then. Only about 11 or so. It had been a sunny day, and Elder Kettle had already passed. The two were desperate for money. The first thing Mugman could recall was when his hands slammed against the chest of his older brother’s. A frown had been firmly stuck on his face with furrowed brows.
“YOU got us into this mess, so YOU’RE the one who’s gonna go fix it!” Mugman had yelled out, voice far too little to even portray how enraged he felt.
Cuphead staggered back, falling too easily unto his rump. His big eyes meeting the other’s smaller ones as he tilted his cup upwards and glared back at Mugman. His small, chubby legs bend inwards, setting him back onto his feet after a moment. Just watching him rise then had sent the younger of the two boiling with rage.
“I WILL without YOUR crummy help!”, Cuphead angrily shouted. “I already got my first contract BY. MY. SELF!”
“Great! Fantastic! Then you’ll get the rest just FINE on your own!” Mugman huffed, arms firmly crossing as he turned away from his brother who was already bent forward in an attempt to get up in his face.
“I WILL!” Cuphead exclaimed with his small chest puffed up.
“FINE!” Mugman snapped back, finally turning to face him, only to find Cuphead far too close for comfort. “AND WHEN YOU’LL DIE, I’LL LAUGH!!”
Cuphead’s eyes widened slightly, pupils shrinking down in that moment as his chest remained puffed. Then, he pushed back against Mugman’s chest. The shove hadn’t sent the younger twin onto his small backend, instead, it only gave the two some much needed space. With that, he turned on his heel and went straight for the door with some much needed weight thrusted down hard onto the floorboards to loudly stomp out his feelings.
“IF”, He breathed in sharply, yanking open the door. “,I DIE, which I WONT, I’ll haunt ya for the rest of your days!”
Mugman followed him with his eyes, his pie-cut pupils white and his brows furrowed deeper as he pointed accusingly towards him.
“You’re haunting me just by being here!!!” The younger child chided.
“FINE!” Cuphead replied, yanking the door wide open and tucking his body outside of their home just in time to hear his sibling reply with an agreement to his statement.
And with that, he slammed the door shut.
The intensity rattled the photos on the walls of their home. One of which had fallen and broke on impact when it met the floor. The sound drew his attention, sending Mugman into a further rage as he threw up his hands in indignation. He let out an angry cry into the vacant living room as he walked to the middle of the floor and promptly sat down, slamming his fists onto his own mug. Mugman then drew up his knees, breathing uncomfortably against his own legs. His glasses bent awkwardly for a moment before he’d just bury his face away.
What was Cuphead THINKING, Mugman couldn’t help but wonder then. This whole contract business was HORRIFYING. Not every bounty called for someone’s death but the ones that didn’t were few and far in between. People wanted death, they wanted bloodshed, they wanted vengeances to be fulfilled. He didn’t even want to look at what was on the paper. The dread of seeing whatever those words clawed at his soul, shredding him apart.
But he thought, in the back of his mind, that despite all of that, Cuphead had to be okay.
His older twin brother was always such a strong individual. Braver than he ever was, and someone who could take on the world if he wanted. So, he had to be okay.
He just had to be.
And that thought stuck with him as new day was arrived in this lonesome little house. Memories slogged through the many hours of thoughts and sitting but he recalled that he had still sat in the living room. At some point, he had exhausted out his anger and rage through tears and had found sleep. His breathing was nice and slow, as he pushed out his aching knees from his body. His porcelain cracked beneath the skin as he sat back unto his palms.
His belly ached with hunger.
It stabbed at his insides, reminding him of the reason WHY Cuphead had been so stupid. However, he balled his fists up at recalling the memory of his brother stupidly snatching up the contract and taking it to him like an eager puppy trying to show off something they’ve fetched. It wasn’t some toy or a stick, it was a neat rolled up piece of paper that proved to him how reckless his older twin could be.
‘But, it might’ve been another contract to steal.’ His mind rationed quickly.
But he had warded off that thought. He found the concept that his brother was just a stupid, idiotic, impulsive jerk who thought that they could take on such a risk. That Cuphead had been so careless that he started up taking contracts and bounties under both of their names, leaving their very SOULS in the care of a devil. It was selfish, really.
Back then, he recalled his chest giving an unsteady flutter at the thought, reminding him of their predicament as twins. Their connection to one another. Mugman pulled his hand from the ground, pressing a palm to where his soul rested beneath the fabric and skin. Ever since birth, this wasn’t just HIS. The culmination of his being was shared with Cuphead. A cruel, snarky reminder that even when in different parts of the isle, he couldn’t truly be alone. No matter what his brother did with their souls, he, too, was dragged along for the ride.
Mugman had frowned at the thought before something much louder, much more important rang out through his mind; He had to search for something to eat here. His stomach had practically screamed at him for anything to satisfy the ache. Huffing, he had brought himself to walk into the kitchen. It was almost entirely empty, save for a few expired products. Cans that promised soup or fruit had labels that dissuaded him from giving them any sort of shot.
“This can’t be all we got.” Mugman recalled murmured to himself as he shut a few of the doors of the cupboards. “There’s gotta be something.”
When he cracked open the fridge, it revealed to his very hungry self that it was empty. Each shelf held nothing but the metal racks that were meant for food to sit on. Mugman craned his head back, staring up at the freezer door. It was far too high up, and usually Cuphead was the one who clambered overtop of him to snatch what was inside or just snatch him by the waist to lift him so he could reach.
Back then, he recalled two different emotions at that memory.
Bitter annoyance, and a cold loneliness.
And Mugman glanced over towards the doorway that was barely visible from the kitchen, almost expecting. The house had been so still, so quiet, he couldn’t help but feel his mind wondering again. Festering over the worst things that could happen to his brother. Cuphead could have gotten himself hurt, could’ve gotten himself lost, or even worse.
Cuphead usually was the one to pick him up when he came too short. To cheer him on when he was too scared. And at that moment, he had to do it himself. At least, he should have.
Mugman had walked over to their kitchen table, looking across the chairs and noticing the little step stool that was caked with a film of dust. And he found himself grimacing at the sight, he turning away the easy way out and just simply made his way towards the living room again. His little mind kept mulling over about Cuphead’s safety. He couldn’t possibly eat like this. The hunger was being fed with his nerves, and that had been the end of it.
He spent the rest of the day reading.
Trying to forget.
And it all moved itself slowly into a new day.
And on this new day, he woke up on the couch.
“Cup?” Mugman called out, waiting around for a voice to enter and reply for only a moment. “…Cuphead??”
With no sound but the one he created, he had grit his teeth. “Ugh! Fine! Be that why!”
He swung his legs over the couch and planted them right onto the floor. Slipping on his shoes, he went wondering through the house again, searching for a meal. A new day, meant a new wave of hunger that almost had him swaying on his legs with every step. Mugman had paused at the kitchen doorway, leaning against it and letting out a groan.
The boy hunched over, grabbing ahold of his stomach. It rumbled in reply, loudly calling to him. His belly felt empty, but, he also felt like spilling out whatever was even within his stomach. It hurt so badly, he couldn’t help but gag. He breathed out slow, closing his eyes.
Lingering on his thoughts, the color peaked through his memories. His brother’s face turned to look at him with anger and scorn before he’d slam the door shut. He was so strong, he was so mad, Mugman couldn’t get why he made that decision all on his own. Why Cuphead went and decided to be such a selfish person.
But, he supposed that wasn’t fair.
Cuphead at the time only really wanted to support his family anyway he could, and Mugman was all that was left. In that time, and now.
He had snapped his eyes opened back then, trudging forward into the kitchen. He dropped down onto his knees again, pulling open the cupboards once more and finding nothing but the same old food. He plucked up a can that promised peaches, turning it over in his hand. Even now, he rd called that it expired five years from that day. Mugman twisted it over to look at that small tab that reassured him that he could open it and reap the reward of what was lying within. But, he found his stomach still flipping at the concept.
Another gag left him.
Mugman dropped the can at once and pushed himself up to sprint. His legs trembled and quivered with every step as he burst into the bathroom, gasping and heaving. He turned left, then he turned right before he looked to the toilet. Another gag escaped him and he quickly rushed to simply hold the bowl within his hands as he rested back onto his knees. He heaved at the thought of what could lay within the cans.
But nothing came out. Mugman breathed hard, eyes examining the toilet’s water before he found his throat had been dry. He had stood up at once, feeling more light than usual at that time as he scrambled to grab ahold of the sink and crank one of the handles to its side. The facet gurgled and produced only a small trickle of water from the faucet. Mugman had been quick to dip his head into the trickling water and lap at it like an animal, feeling its cooling effect wash over his tongue.
Mugman stayed like this for a long, long time.
Until the ache of his stomach dulled, and the dryness of his throat was something of the past. And after that, he promptly spent the rest of the day sitting back on the couch and mulling over Cuphead while he tried reading away these thoughts. He recalled that he spent that day only thinking about him.
About how he was now.
About his well being.
….
Where was Cuphead?
A new day had brought new pains and weakness. Aches of hunger, the barbs of loneliness, and the silence of their home. Dully, he laid on the couch, staring upwards at the ceiling as he absentmindedly rubbed his own belly. It brought the edges of desperation clear within his mind. He thought of thrusting up from the couch now and tearing into the kitchen’s soiled food but all he did was study the patterns of the ceiling.
Cuphead.
Where is Cuphead?
The image of his brother came clear as day to his mind. The altercation replayed in his mind, with his twin snapping at him over not wanting to go and Mugman being such a stubborn child. The slam of the door was all that was left behind. It was the last bit of proof he had that Cuphead was still alive, just having time to go and…do who knows what.
‘Now Mugman, you know you have to stick together!’ Elder Kettle’s voice spoke out through his roar of thoughts, ‘You’re the more responsible brother, after all!’
And Mugman recalled the heat rising to his eyes. His bottom lip trembling as he pushed himself to sit upright. Small edges of defiance came into play, denying his concern, only to sizzle out as he thought of his older twin brother yet again. Thought of the times he had been there to catch him when he fell, and vice versa.
Where was Cuphead?
…Was he ever coming back?
That last question cut into him sharp. It pressed deep into his mind.
Where was Cuphead?
Is he okay?
The stab pressed deeper and deeper.
Mugman wasn’t even sure if a new day had came or if it had been the same day back then.
But the next thing he recalled was a new sound.
“It’s been a few days now, hasn’t it?” A voice asked.
And his eyes quickly snapped open, taking in every part of the house. It was as vaguely familiar, something close to one of his teachers. Still, it was SOMEONE that could possibly take the edge off from his festering hysteria. But when he stood up to search, he found the lamp beside the couch with small lines that threatened to solidify across its patterned body.
“He’s probably found a better brother who’d actually help him out!” The voice called out, echoing within the landscape of the room.
Mugman stared at the lines, watching it twist and contort before it began to pull into something more uniformed. Two rounded circles and a long line stretched across below the shapes, moving and smiling. His belly’s pain faltered had for a moment as he stepped backwards, eyes constantly flickering across the lamp’s features.
“He- no, Cuphead doesn’t- doesn’t know anyone else.” Mugman replied weakly.
“Don’t listen to them.”, Another voice chided, immediately capturing Mugman’s attention. “You’re on your own now.”
Mugman pulled his hands close to his body, one of which grabbed a fistful of his shirt. His soul was beating so quickly, it was almost difficult to hear these new voices. But it wasn’t just HIS soul. It was also-
He turned left, then right, then up towards a fish bowl that held the pet that he long since forgot existed. Another gag left him until he heard yet another few voices.
“You have to survive!” He searched for the source, staring to spin himself off very which way.
“No one is coming back now!”
Mugman could feel his soul slamming harder in his chest.
“But- but I need-“ he began, only to stop when he heard yet another voice pipe in.
“You can do it, Mugman! You’re the responsible one, after all!” That voice, it was so familiar.
Mugman stumbled backwards, looking around at the lines that continued to form on the surfaces of the objects of his house. His breaths came out hard, his head shaking quickly. They smiled at him, imploring him to get his act together and make it work but he couldn’t. His soul-
THEIR soul, had such a thunderous beat amost the voices.
But all he could think of was the fact that he was too young to get a job. Too young to get himself and Cuphead something to eat. His belly had forced pain through his body again at recalling the food situation.
His brother wasn’t here. He couldn’t make it on his own, Mugman knew it as fact.
He was going to starve here all alone. He couldn’t depend on himself.
“He can’t- he can’t be-“ he whispered out to the voices that only increased in their mocking tones.
“Come on, now that you’re alone, you have to do something!” He didn’t move from his spot, didn’t turn his head to face it, he instead ducked his face into his hands.
“He’s probably got a new brother now!” The lamp once more mocked. “Someone who’ll take REAL responsibility!”
Mugman had stumbled back until his handle hit a wall and knocked his head forward. His fingers slipped underneath his glasses, eyes wide as he tried to find himself again within his mind. He rationalized that Cuphead may be reckless, but he couldn’t be-
His mouth moved without his say so.
“He’s…dead..” His voice joined the orchestra of others, some jeering at him, some encouraging him, some agreeing with him. “I know it…”
Mugman’s knees drew up to his chest, his whole form trembling as he peered through the gaps of his fingers to look at the many faces that sprung up on within his house. Then, he stared at the front door.
The slam.
Where was Cuphead?
“I can’t…I can’t SEE him!” Mugman suddenly screamed, turning away from the view. “I’m-! I’m all that’s left here.”
His voice dropped down into a hushed whisper. “What- what am I going to do? I can’t do this. I can’t save myself. I’m going to starve.”
His words fell endlessly at his lips as the voices tried to speak over his hysterical mind. “I’m alone. They’re dead. What am I going to do? I’m too little. I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T-!”
The door creaked.
Silence befell the home.
And Mugman’s eyes had quickly turned to look, watching as the front door was pushed open, light pouring into his view. It called to him, promising him companionship and care. Mugman recalled sliding his hands off of his face as the door opened further. He pressed his knees against the ground as his palms set themselves beside his legs. He pushed forward on all fours, eyes searching across the crack of light that expanded. And Mugman found a sudden burst of energy that had him pulling himself from his knees and onto his feet. He nearly stumbled, head still too light from starving these last few days, but he made it. He made it to the door and yanked it wide open to embrace what he had been yearning for.
But what stood there was not the safety he wanted.
But it was…
It was Cuphead.
But his whole body was drenched in that wretched crimson color. The pupils of his older twin were shrunken down into tiny little crosshairs that glinted a brilliant red. Cuphead was squeezing a messenger bag’s strap tightly, his body still but the lines of instability traced across his features.
“Do you..” Cuphead’s voice cut through past and present, one a memory and one far too clear echoing in his mind. “..still love me?”
The lines stretched, yanking the familiar features of his older brother and contorting him. Their soul shuddered at the sight, slamming louder in his chest. But Mugman reached out, drumming his fingers cautiously across Cuphead’s cheek and allowing the blood that stained his porcelain soak into his glove.
“Of course.” He had replied hastily, crashing their bodies together just to embrace him.
To hold him.
Here was Cuphead.
—
He held him now.
Broken, and head blown cleanly into a million little pieces that would be impossible to gather up. All that was left of his brother’s face was a row of teeth and a tongue. The calix was still lined with fractures from where the pieces snapped off initially. And if it weren’t for the fact that he had SEEN Cuphead’s head get blown off, he wouldn’t even had recognized his brother.
“Where-“ Mugman swallowed nothing, licking at his dry lips. “Where are you?”
He curled his body overtop of Cuphead’s, breaths slow and soul slamming within his chest so quickly just as it did years ago. On THAT day.
Mugman used an arm to support Cuphead’s back, lifting him up against his own chest. Blood soaked into his blue jumpsuit as his free hand carefully dragged across Cuphead’s sternum, searching for a pulse, a beat, anything. Ribs laid still beneath his fingertips, and no matter where his gloved digits pressed into, everything found the body entirely at a stop.
Why, Mugman couldn’t help but wonder, why wasn’t he here?
“Aw nuts, looks like you let them get away again!” Cuphead’s abruptly voice rang out, the sound so startling to him that he dropped the body almost immediately.
Mugman rose to his feet quickly, eyes snapping over to look at what spoke with his fingertips glittering a brilliant pink color. But what he saw hadn’t been the soul he had been hoping to see, but an image. His brother stood there, hand lifted above his eyes and flat as he searched their surroundings with a hum.
“Cup..?” Mugman began, the question quickly dying in his throat as the etches of lines overtook his brother’s features.
“I KNOW you’ll finish the mission.” Replied the image.
It bathed itself in that same, awful color.
Red.