Heroes and Legends (pt. 4)
Wilford wakes to the sound of Dark breaking things… again. It’s been a week since either of them have had a full night’s sleep, and certainly it wears on Dark more so than Wilford. Will rolls out of bed and shuffles through the hall to Dark’s room where the Ego is taking a bat to his bed again. At least he hasn’t hurt himself this time, Wilford thinks and presses farther into the room. There have been times when Dark will turn on Warfstache in his blind rages, and Wilford has had to defend himself in whatever way possible. But this time, when Dark sees Wilford poke into the corner of his vision, his shoulders sag forward, and he drops the bat.
“Hey, Darky. Want to talk about why you’re beating on the bed? I mean, we can get you another one…” Wilford edges closer bit by bit until Dark raises his arm like he’s going to hit him. “Ok, ok!” He raises both hands, a sign that he means no harm… for once.
Dark shakes his head. “Get out.”
“But Dark, if you need to talk…”
“This isn’t one of your interviews, Warfstache!” Dark grits his teeth, shell cracking and bending into different colors.
Will shakes his head. “You think I don’t know that? We’re friends, I just want to help.”
Dark laughs and tilts his head to the side. “Oh, really? You think we’re friends? Is that what you think?” Dark’s aura surges forward, trying to surround Wilford, but Will waves it away like someone has blown smoke in his face. “I put up with you because I have to! That’s it!”
Wilford feels the words hit him in the chest, and it knocks the air out of him. “Fine,” he growls and heads out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t like to think that whatever is changing Dark, making him colder, harder, crueler is slowly stealing his only friend from him. But it’s the truth, and Wilford has to face it.
Mark wakes up suddenly one night, Chica asleep at his feet on the couch. Mark nudges her off of him gently, petting her head softly when she looks up at him and talking to her until the golden retriever goes back to sleep. “Good girl, such a good girl,” Mark whispers as he slips out of the room.
He heads for his bedroom at the back of the house, but the closer he gets to his room, the more unnerved he feels. Something about how cold the air in the house has become, something about the way the darkness seems to reach for him lets Mark know he’s in trouble, but just like someone in a horror movie, he keeps moving towards the source. He should know better.
But something else is drawing him in.
When he looks inside his room, Mark is shocked to find someone else standing there beside his recording desk, a hand on his computer and humming quietly to himself. “Who?” Mark manages before the other man turns around to face him. It’s himself, or at least, a much darker version of himself. Mark jumps back. “Darkiplier…”
“Well, well, give the boy a prize.” Dark steps closer to Mark, hands folded behind his back in perfect posture. “It’s good to see you again, Mark. How long has it been? A year already?”
Mark runs a hand through his hair and nods a bit, mouth wide in shock. “Um, yeah. I think so.”
Dark smiles, somewhat pleasant and somewhat threatening. “How have you been? I see that the channel is doing quite well. You must be so proud.”
“Yeah, the channel has really taken off since the last time we talked.” Mark continues to fidget as Dark walks around the room, taking note of the piles of unwashed clothes and the tangle of chargers plugged into the room’s outlets. “What—uh, what brings you by this time?”
“You act as though I need a reason to drop by to see my old friend,” Dark says, putting a hand to his chest as if he’s been wounded by Mark’s words, but Mark is pretty sure this whole thing is a ruse, he’s just not sure how to deal with him. He can’t very well swing the door open and demand that Dark leave. Frankly, Mark is too short for that gesture.
Dark steps closer and places a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I’m here to check on you. Make sure you’re doing alright. It must be hard living here by yourself, ever since your friends moved out.”
Mark stutters out a shaky, “Well, I-I mean it’s not s-so bad. I’ve got Chi-chica.” He grips his hair and avoids Dark’s gaze.
“I know that it’s hard when you have disagreements with close friends. I’ve had a few myself recently. Maybe you and I can… talk it out together, huh?” Dark tilts his head to the side, so sympathetic and understanding. It’s been a while since Mark has had someone to talk to about what happened with the Cyndago guys, and he’s so, so tired.
“Mark, you know that I exist because of you. I have you to thank that I can be here right now. Won’t you let me in, trust me enough to let me help you?” Dark’s aura wraps around Mark like a hug, like the embrace of cold, black water, and Mark is too late to gasp for air as he goes under.
Mark’s vision goes black for a bit as he whispers, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“Good, good,” Dark says happily, gripping both of Mark’s shoulders and smiling, baring his teeth. “It’s about time you and I had a little… heart to heart…”
