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"He was my best friend and now he's dead!"
Sobbing. Pure sobbing. Then a laugh.
"Nah! I'm just kidding, my pastor helped me through my grief"
No, he didn't.
The robot dug into his arm tube with a Philips screwdriver, the sharp metal biting into his casing. The sensation sent a jolt of discomfort through his circuits, painfully reminding him of his orange-haired boyfriend, whose presence was always a mix of chaos and warmth. The thought of Fry’s goofy grin, his unwavering loyalty, and the way he would always stand by his side, no matter what, made Bender pause for a fleeting moment. But this task, however painful, had to be done. It had to be. There was no turning back now. No matter how much it stung, he couldn’t afford to let anything—or anyone—get in the way of what needed to be fixed.
Soon, a hole opened up in Bender's metal frame, oozing thick, black oil instead of blood, a stark reminder of the mechanical nature of his being. The sharp screech of his voice box interrupted the moment, causing a stutter in his speech as a pang of pain surged through his circuits. It hurt, more than he cared to admit, but he gritted his metallic teeth and pushed through it.
With swift, precise movements, he grabbed a connector from an exposed electricity box—one of those thick, heavy-duty ones you might find in an old car engine. His fingers, shaking slightly from the strain, worked quickly as he carefully clamped the connector onto his exposed mechanical endoskeleton. His wires, some frayed and others still sparking, poked out awkwardly from the hole in his side, clumping together in a chaotic ball of tangled circuitry. He steadied himself, focusing as he made sure everything was in place, the weight of the task pressing down on him.
But Bender hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his yellow optics. His hand trembles slightly before he shakes his head, steeling himself. No, he deserves this. He deserves to feel something—anything—after all the chaos he’s caused, the mistakes, and the moments he’s pushed away those who cared for him. With a quiet, almost resigned grunt, he flips open the generator on his back, exposing the circuitry beneath. A surge of painful electricity shoots through him, searing him like fire, and he cries out in agony, his voice a harsh mix of static and raw misery. The sounds of his suffering crackle through the air, and for a moment, Bender's tough exterior cracks. He hiccups, his sobs coming in sharp, jagged bursts, as if every emotion he’d ever buried inside him is being jolted to life.
Apparently, the rest of the crew had heard his cries of agony echoing through the halls and rushed to his side in a frantic panic. They unhooked him from the generator, their hands shaking as they gently lifted him from the device that had caused him so much pain. As the cold metal of his body was freed from the harsh grip of the machine, the robot felt something unexpected—tears streaming down his metal cheeks, small rivulets of rust-colored droplets marking the emotional response he could hardly understand.
It wasn’t as long as he had hoped, not the euphoric high that stretched into eternity, but still, the moment he’d just experienced had been undeniably powerful. A profound sense of release flooded through him, a wild mix of joy, pain, and something deeper, something far beyond mere physical satisfaction. And though it hadn’t lasted as long as he wanted, he couldn't help but feel that it was absolutely worth every second.
He had done other things to himself before this incident, each act more desperate and reckless than the last. Burning his metal exterior, leaving scorch marks and dents as if trying to carve out the pain from within. Once again, he had subjected himself to jolts of electricity, feeling the crackling current surge through his circuits. Smoking spark, the toxic fumes filling his system, each drag a twisted comfort in the chaos of his mind. More. Always more. Anything that could hurt him, anything that could drown out the deeper ache he couldn’t explain.
Hell, in one of his darker moments, he had even begged the Robot Devil to torture him, seeking some twisted form of punishment, as though it could atone for his sins, as though he could earn redemption through suffering.
It was his fault this had happened. Every twisted decision, every moment of neglect, had led to this. If only he had paid more attention, if only he had noticed the signs sooner, if he’d just looked at Fry, really looked at him, then maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't have spiraled out of control the way it did...
A choked sob escaped his non-existent throat, the sound strangled and weak. His vision swam in a haze of indistinct shapes and colors, everything blurry and distorted. A faint, incessant ringing echoed in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. Was the crew speaking to him? He could barely make out their voices, muffled and distant, as if they were trapped behind a wall of sound, their words slipping through his consciousness like water through his fingers.
"...ender!" one had said faintly, their voice trailing off into a barely audible whisper. Bender could make out only fragments of the words, his circuits straining to decipher the rest. "ook... me!" The voice faltered again, punctuated by a long pause. "Oh... go get...ssor!" The words were disjointed, as though they were struggling to form a coherent message, leaving Bender more confused than ever.
What was happening? He didn’t know. He desperately wanted to know, to make sense of the chaos swirling around him. Understanding was always within reach when Fry was by his side, helping him navigate the confusion with his usual, albeit misguided, insights. But now, Fry wasn’t here. He’d never be again. And deep down, he knew—he was the one who had caused it.
More tears flowed, accompanied by deep, sorrowful sobs. He dropped the screwdriver, its sharp clang echoing in the silence of the room, but the sound barely registered. His sobs grew louder, more desperate. What was the point anymore? What was the use of anything? He just wanted to be with his meatbag again, to feel his presence, his warmth. He knew he didn't deserve it, that he had no right to wish for such a thing, but the longing was unbearable. He wanted it so badly, more than anything.
It all went black.
When the bot regained consciousness, he found himself patched up but weak, his body heavy with the lingering effects of pain and damage. As he slowly sat up, a sharp ache ran through his joints, a result of the stress and anguish he'd endured. He instinctively rubbed at his arms, trying to ease the stiffness, but the coldness that seeped through his metal frame made it impossible to shake the chill. "Oh, thank God..." he heard a soothing female voice softly speak, filling the silence around him.
Leela?
He slowly turns around to face the purple-haired mutant, his eyes vacant and lifeless, void of any spark. They lack the usual glimmer of curiosity or humor, now dulled and distant. There's no trace of emotion in them, only an overwhelming emptiness that speaks volumes of the weight of his depression. His entire demeanor feels heavy, as if the very act of facing her requires more effort than he can muster, lost in the darkness of his mind.
"What in the world were you doing!? What—what the hell were you even thinking!?" she yelled, her voice laced with frustration, and the bending unit flinched in response. Her stern expression softened, melting into something that resembled pity and concern. She paused, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she took a deep breath. Hesitantly, she reached out and gently took his hand in her own, her fingers trembling slightly. "Bender, we're worried about you," she murmured, her voice softer now, betraying the care she rarely let show.
The rest of the crew nodded in quiet agreement, each of them sharing the same unspoken thought. They all knew the truth—Bender hadn’t been the same since Oktoberfest. It wasn’t just the drinking, but the reckless abandon, the strange shifts in behavior, and that lingering sadness in his usually defiant eyes. Bender's optics flickered briefly as he cast a glance downward, intentionally avoiding Leela’s piercing gaze.
After a long pause, as though the word itself weighed heavy on his metal chest, he finally muttered, "Punishment." The silence that followed felt thick, uncomfortable, as if the word had opened a door none of them wanted to walk through.
Her face contorts in confusion as she furrows her brow, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Punishment?" she repeats slowly, the word lingering on her lips as if she’s trying to comprehend its meaning in the context of the conversation.
"I was punishing myself..." Bender hiccups, his voice wavering as he curls up tightly into himself again. "Because of what I did, it's my fault Fry died! It's my fault! Me, Bender! Mine, mine, mine!" The robot exclaims, his tone growing petulant and childish, a mixture of guilt and self-loathing pouring out of him. He throws his hands up in the air, his mechanical features contorting in frustration, before collapsing once more, his body trembling as he sobs uncontrollably, unable to escape the crushing weight of his emotions.
The crew stands frozen in shock and concern, their eyes wide with disbelief. Amy steps forward, her voice filled with genuine worry as she gently urges, "Bender... why would you punish yourself like this?" Her words hang in the air, as if struggling to comprehend why Bender, of all people, would go to such extreme lengths to hurt himself. "What could possibly have driven you to do this?" she asks, her heart aching for the troubled robot.
"...because I deserve to be punished!" Bender screams, his voice raw with anguish as he collapses to the ground, his metallic body shaking with the weight of his inner torment. His chest heaves, although it seemed impossible, as he struggles for air that he doesn't actually need, the once proud bending unit now a broken shell of himself. "I was—was gonna punish myself until I died... then maybe, just maybe, I'll be with Fry again..." His words trail off, barely a whisper, as if even speaking them is too much for him to bear.
The thought of being reunited with his best friend, even in death, is the only thing that keeps him tethered to the cruel reality he now faces.
"Maybe I would be with my will to live again."
What Bender wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to, was lost in a wave of bitter sobs, his voice choked with guilt and frustration.
Everything was always his damn fault. It was always Bender.
Who burned down the grocery store? Bender.
Who robbed that place? Bender.
Who hurt that poor innocent duck? Bender.
Who insulted that child? Bender.
Who was at fault for every little misstep, every disaster, every pain that spread like wildfire through the lives of those around him? It was always Bender.
He couldn't escape the crushing weight of it, no matter how hard he tried to shrug it off, no matter how many times he cracked a joke or made an empty boast. Bender. Bender was always the tough one, the one who never let anything get to him. That’s how it had always been, how it was supposed to be. But this time? This time, Bender couldn't take the pressure. He couldn't pretend anymore, couldn't laugh it off, couldn't bend it into something manageable. The weight was too much, too suffocating, and for once, Bender didn’t have the answers.
He feels the comforting embrace of the hug, the warmth of her presence offering him a brief respite from the pain. "I get it. I know, I miss him too," she says softly, her voice filled with empathy, "but you can't keep torturing yourself like this. Please, you're only hurting yourself more. Let’s just take a step back. How about we get some alcohol in you, maybe loosen you up a bit, and then we can go get some ice cream? It might help take your mind off of it, even if just for a little while..." Leela suggests, gently guiding him towards a sense of peace.
Bender lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he nods weakly, sniffling in an attempt to hold back the emotions swirling within him. It wouldn't completely erase the weight on his mind, but he knew it would at least offer a fleeting sense of relief, a small moment of comfort amid the storm of his thoughts. With a shaky hand, he wipes away the tears that had begun to stain his metal cheek, then reaches out to take Leela's hand, grasping it the way a child might reach for the warmth and safety of their mother's touch. Leela smiles softly, her expression filled with understanding and a quiet tenderness, offering him silent reassurance.
It didn't make it better.
Bender sobbed into his boyfriends arms. Nuzzling into that white t shirt and that red jacket. Feeling Fry's orange spiky but fluff filled hair. Touching the humans cheeks. Just making sure he was real. He was. The horizontal lines in Benders mouthplate moved in happy overwhelmed synth waves.
He nuzzles his faceplate against the humans nose and chuckles. The crew giving them their own personal space and observing from afar.
"I won't...I'll never look away from you again" Bender hiccups. Fry frowns slightly, "Bender, it was an accident, you didn't know", he says gently. "It's still my fault.", Bender states.
The orange haired man holds his metal boyfriend close. Cuddling up to him. "Oh baby...you thought it was your fault?..."
No response. Fry continues, "waffle, it wasn't...you couldn't have known..it's okay, I'm here now honey...", he kisses Benders forehead. The robot just choking on his cries. Fry can see the patched up injuries and his eyebrows raises in confusion. "Baby...what are these?"
Bender tenses and looks away. He decided to be truthful, for once in his life, "I was...hurting myself as a way of punishment...", he says guilt-ridden and trembling.
Fry connects his lips to Benders yellow grill and sparks of love fly between the two. He pulls back, "oh baby...". He says with worried eyes, they weren't angry, only sad. No disappointment. Just fright. "..it wasn't your fault...shh...I'm here...I'm right here, ill never leave my baby again...", the human says gently and kisses his little robots head again.
The rest of the day, the two rested on the couch of their apartment, cuddling and watching their signature show. Fry would have to keep a closer eye on his metal lover but that's okay. He's okay. Benders okay. It's all that mattered in the moment.
And in the moment, the two were completely content with life.