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Sometimes, Mugman doesn't think he's grown from the little kid following his older brother in cleaning up a mess far too big and daunting for either of them.
He's thinking this when he's chasing Boris. The words of his promise spinning in his head, adding more and more trouble to their mission, the annoyance in his older brother's eyes. The crushing feeling from when they stepped inside that library, that little lady's wary eyes.
Mugman never was too good at lying to himself.
Black Hat pulling him aside after one of their evaluations, his brother is dragged off by Flug, leaving the demon and him alone, "you're weak, and that will kill your brother," the high-class demon coldly says, and Mugman had cowered, but didn't bother trying to refute the statement. Already knowing the truth within it. The walk to his shared room is numb, Black Hat's words running circles in his head. Cuphead was already there, and had glared at him upon entrance. Expectance for Mugman to share what Hat had pulled him aside for, and yet, Mugman slips underneath the sheets without telling his brother a single thing.
The sound of a blast, and Mugman is already halfway towards the kid with a prickly older brother (that reminds him so much of the brother that he killed, it hurts).
He still remembers dying, back when they were kids. Doesn't tell Cuphead about the nights he spent looking over the cliff's edge, out into the sea. Something about the ocean and the sky enchanting him.
A small part of him, desperately stubbornly naive, hopes wonders if the sea would be big enough to hide him away.
The blood spilling out of his chest, Mugman stumbles.
He's hit himself with his own blasts before, both of them had. When they were younger, and the weapons were more toys than they were promises of death.
Granted it had never been a very severe hit.
'Is this what they felt?' Mugman thinks, coughing, and he feels warm, sticky liquid dribble down his chin.
He doesn't know when his body made it to the floor.
He tries to breath, but his lungs don't seem to be working, and he isn't sure if he's hearing the blood inside of him gurgling or if the blood is outside of him and that the wheezing is just his lungs failing to take in oxygen.
"M-M-Mugs?” he thinks he hears Cuphead say.
"M-M-Mugs?" Cuphead whispers, blood splattered across his face, some his, but most of others. Those others laying scattered about the floor, in vary stages of dismemberment.
Mugman's cheek throbs, and he can't clearly see from his left eye. The smell of blood makes him want to puke. His brother's wide eyes, glowing red, shadows danced around him, anxiously - keep his stomach at bay. He tries to smile, mimicking the older brother of before, "wow Cuphead! That's a useful power!"
Everything is so blurry, but the younger dish thinks he can make out the bent straw of his older brother.
'Am I going to die?' a small part of him wonders, and he can't quite describe the feeling that fills him - something between childish fear and sympathetic reasoning.
On one hand if he dies, his soul is permanently the devil's and his brother will be left alone. On the other hand, his brother would be free of him (because Mug knows that jobs would be a lot easier around if he wasn't there to screw everything up), and Mug would be dead.
He'd never meet his parents, or give the dad he never met (that Cuphead hates, and for three days, when he was 14, Mug hated too) his scarf. He'd be breaking his promise to Elder Kettle.
But, Mugman's done worse. A promise won't make him lose any sleep.
(Surely, Elder Kettle would understand)
"The dead don't need sleep kid," the Blind Spector had said, voice almost tired, and then he crushes Mugs with his palm.
“H-h-hang in there, let me ju-just take you to—” nervousness doesn't fit Cuphead, but he finds that it doesn't bother him as much as it should. However the tears unsettle him.
It's been years since the last time he's seen his brother cry.
So the only plausible explanation is Mugman must be dreaming.
Mugman has never been good at lying to himself.
It's a hassle to fight his eyelids to stay open, and they fall over his eyes - trapping him in darkness.
Aren't the dying supposed to see their life flash before their eyes?
Mugman shivers, and the arms holding him bring him closer.
For the first time in a long time, Mugman feels safe.
How long has it been since he's last hugged his brother?
Mugman attempts to take another breath, but it hurts, and Black Hat would be absolutely livid if he ever found out the younger dish stopped doing something because of a little pain. He pushes through.
"Is this all you can take?" Black Hat sneers, twisting his arm behind his back. Mugman sobs, and the demon lets go just before it breaks.
"Pathetic," he sneers, and he can feel Cuphead's eyes on him. He can't bring himself to meet his brother's eyes.
“Hey! HEY!” Cuphead's snaps. The memory falls apart, bringing Mugman back to reality.
Mugman knows he's dying. It isn't the first time he has died, but it would be the last.
The fact doesn't bother him as much as he thinks it should.
Mugs can't tell if it's the truth or not.
Mugman feels cold, but the arms around him are warm. He's tired, and much too old to be coddled. Mugman forgot how nice it was to receive a hug from someone. If he doesn't think about the way his chest hurts each time he takes a breath, or the way he's losing feeling of his limbs, he can pretend that it's just his big brother giving him a hug.
He can ignore reality. That he's bleeding out in his brother's arms, far away from home, their debt still unpaid, so much things he has left to do.
Black Hat would flip if he caught Mugman being weak, but the demon isn't here, so it'll be alright.
Cuphead isn't worried.
Why would he be worried about him?
If anything he's mad. Idiot Mugman got in Cuphead's way, making their plan go to stardust. Elongating their contracts more and more.
Cuphead should really cut his losses and leave him.
"Leave him alone!" Cuphead snarls, and the man laughs, applying more pressure onto Mugman's throat. The younger dish looks over at his brother, tears brimming in his eyes, a pathetic sight.
"No," the man sneers, cackling, as the world starts to blur around the edges, "I don't think I will."
The man's head lays a few feet away from his body, and the sight isn't as horrifying to Mugman as it should be.
"Mugs?" Cuphead rasps, and Mugman coughs, and turns to his brother. The night air bites Mugman's face.
His eyes are glowing red, and his hands are shaking. He tackles him, and Mugman never doubted his brother.
“No! Open your eyes! Open them now!” Cuphead snarls, and his eyes should be glowing red, but Mugman's body doesn't seem to want to cooperate with him.
Demands? Orders?
Mugman is good at taking those, apart from lying, it's the only thing he's good at doing.
The pain is faint, yet he's still so very, very tired, and there's something so very comforting about allowing his body to sleep.
His chest hurts, but it's a mild discomfort to the pain he's experienced before. The nurses grunt as they attempt to restrain him, but Mugman won't let them. Mugs needs to see his brother, needs to be able to keep up with him, tell him he won't be a burden. (to please not leave him) He won't allow himself to be the death of Cuphead.
"Please!" and he's begging for something, again - Black Hat would laugh, "I need to go to my brother! He's going to leave me!"
A nurse grimaces, a bunny, "Kid, your brother didn't leave you."
Mugman pauses, the nurses still keeping their hold on him, "he didn't?"
Mug's voice is small, and he feels small.
"He didn't," the bunny nurse repeats, her dark eyes stare into his, and something about her tone makes him believe her. He lets his arms fall to his side. The fight leaving his body.
His chest hurts.
Mugman can't tell if it's his ribs or if it's something else.