(Eeeyyyy this is pure angst like @alliedoesstuff@cheers-love-tracer-is-bae and @i-am-a-fan was wanting! I hope y’all enjoy and cry over this because while I enjoyed writing it, it was kind of hard to capture their emotions fully. Tell me if I did well and if this is what y’all were wanting):
He can already feel them resurfacing, the emotions that he’s tried so hard to ignore, to bury. He can feel them rising, climbing into his throats and making it hard for him to breathe or think. The fact that the Colonel- no… why does he still make that mistake?- Wilford is currently speaking, rambling about one of his other crazy, ridiculous ideas, further showing that he is completely gone.
That they lost him forever.
He clears his throat, gaining the eyes of all currently in the room. Colone- Wilford pauses, cutting himself off abruptly to stare curiously at him. He knows that Colon- Wilford has not trusted him to the furthest extent, that he doesn’t all remember what happened… that night. He can just tell that Wilford doesn’t know what to fully think of him, glaring or giving him longing side glances.
It hurts him to remember how the four of them used to be.
He pushes those thoughts aside for now, pulling at the sides of his suit to straighten it out. He can already feel his shell cracking, hear how it creaks. He won’t be able to stand or sit much longer. He needs to get out of here.
“As much as I love to listen to you speak, Will,” he began, placing a placating hand on the table before him. He knows how the eccentric man can get sometimes. He needs a calming hand, a soothing voice. So of course he keeps his voice low, trying to help keep Wilford as calm as possible as he informs everyone he needs to leave.
Wilford has always seemed to be most clingy to him. No one else understands why. No one else knows of their past. Their bloody and heart tearing pst that he hates to remember.
He can normally forget everything, only remembering information that is sometimes important in the moment. But sometimes, like now, the memories are crowding his mind. His vessel and shell are weakening, making it harder for him to do this. He clenches the hand still hanging beneath the table, grinding his teeth together. He swallows heavily to keep down a sob from Damien and his shell shaking worsens. It’s on the verge of cracking.
“I must excuse myself,” he informed, nodding his head respectfully. But he can already see the panic, the desperation growing in Wilford’s eyes and his heart cracks. Damien is crying harder, finding it hard to handle this spur of emotion. Selene is seething, pacing. His eye twitches. “But do not worry, Will. We can speak again at a later time.”
That seems to please Wilford because he gives a thumbs up and nods, looking to the Host to speak to next.
He takes his leave quickly, stumbling into his room and barely closing the door before he crashes to his knees.
He claws at his face, both Damien and Selene screaming in frustration and pain now. His vessel, his shell, is cracking, shaking, and he too is trembling. He lets out the scream that had been building up and the world around him turns to static before fully blackening.
“It was all my fault!” He screamed, hands moving down to his neck, clawing and squeezing and trying to remove the pressure from his brain and chest. Damien and Selene had appeared before him, their blue and red colors glowing brightly in the dark void. The two had switched roles; Damien is growling, hands clenching and his hair very much disorderly, messed up and sticking up terribly. Selene is sobbing quietly, once more softly calling out to Mark like she had done so before.
“Of course it wasn’t our fault!” Damien yelled, his voice amplifying as he seethes in his anger, his fiery emotion hitting Dark in a wave. He can feel his vessel aching, burning and he bows his head, letting out a sob of his own. “It was Mark’s! He planned everything, fooled us all and stole my body!”
“But it wasn’t Mark!” Selene cried. They normally agree, go with one another’s words, keep Dark balanced. But on rare days such as this one they argue, yell and scream at one another and throw him into chaos. Dark curls further inwards, the clouds of burning hatred and freezing pain makes his vessel grow weaker. The poor human’s body is hardly strong enough to hold all of them still. It grows weaker every day and he fears if they continue to argue and fight such as this then it will break, wilt away and become nothing.
That he will become nothing.
“Mark was the one that was killed!” Selene continued, turning to face Damien with all of her might, all of the fury she currently holds towards him. Dark looks up to her, his vision fuzzy. “He couldn’t have done what you accuse him of!”
Damien turns to face her in return, a dark look of anger and hatred mixing in his shaded eyes. He’s not mad at Selene, though. No no, he would never be angry with Selene.
He’s pissed at Mark.
“You yourself that anything involving the dead could happen!” Damien yells, taking a warning step towards her. She takes a step back and Damien realizes that she is afraid of him. He clears his throat and steps back, smoothing out the front of his shirt and brushing his hair back down. He speaks much more smoothly now, meeting her eyes with a calmer expression. A wave of relief hits Dark and he sighs in relief. “You know it was his fault, Selene.”
Selene looks down at what would be the ground if they were not in the void, sighing heavily. She looks over to Dark and Damien’s gaze follows, landing at the manifestation that they had created together. He looks up in return, shell and vessel finding great relief as they once more agree. He relaxes in the slightest, wetting his lips precariously.
“How is our friend-” Damien cuts off and his eyes dart away. Just like Dark had been slipping up with Wilford’s new name, Damien must be forgetting the state of who he currently speaks of. A look of guilt flashes across both Damien’s and Selene’s faces. Both still feel terrible what they did to their old friend years ago… “How is the vessel?”
Dark clears his throat and swallows bile which had been rising while they had been fighting and slowly pushes to his feet, knees nearly giving out beneath him. He looks from Selene to Damien and then looks to the floor. “I had been meaning to speak of this… problem-” Damien coughs and Selene glares- “for sometime now. The vessel is growing weak. It will break beneath the amounts of stress you are exerting if you do not cease your fruitless bickering.”
Damien’s eye twitches and he steps forward, grabbing the collar of Dark’s suit. Dark chokes for a moment before drawing in a deep breath.
Selene and Damien have never seemed to enjoy him despite the fact that he is them.
“What do you mean?” Damien demands and his eyes looks Dark’s body up and down, a layer of concern shaded over by his anger and annoyance. “Why did you not warn us of this problem before?”
“Because, I did not have the time. Wilford-”
“The Colonel,” Selene hisses in the background.
“He does not go by-”
“I don’t care what the fuck he calls himself now!” Selene yells, suddenly losing her temper as well now. Dark’s eyes widen and he gasps, their anger tearing at his chest. “He will always be the Colonel! That’s who he is and always will be!”
Damien slowly releases Dark, taking a step back towards her. “I cannot believe this,” he said and his voice is soft once more, more lost and confused. Selene looks over at him in concern, hearing his chance in voice immediately. “I knew that becoming or vessel would have repercussions on them… but Selene…” he looks to her, gets in his eyes, “we’re killing them.”
Selene gasps and her hands fly to her mouth as it drops open. Dark watches as they both try to handle their own grief. “But we were supposed to save them by helping them,” Selene pointed out and Dark can hear the tightness in her voice. Tears are gathering in his own eyes and his vessel aches so terribly. “We were supposed to help them stay alive- not only kill them more slowly and painfully!”
“Maybe…” Damien begins. “Maybe we should-”
But then a hand is rested on Dark’s shoulder. He jolts, void snapping and disappearing from around him and he glances over his shoulder, finds the Host to be knelt behind him, lips drawn down into a frown. “You were slipping again…” the short informed softly and Dark’s eye twitches. How dare he enter his room without his permission! And then he assumes what is happening?! Sure the Host has a good understanding of what happened, but he doesn’t know fully. “You knows it’s not-”
Dark turns and slaps the Host’s hand away, leaping to his feet all in one smooth movement. The Host doesn’t move, only angles his chin upwards. “How dare you presume!” Dark tells and he knows that he’s letting his anger and other negative emotions out on the Host. But he was the first person here and Dark needs to let off some steam. “You have no idea what you speak of!” He can hear both Damien and Selene screaming, his vessel and shell having a hard time containing them once more with another bout of anger. At least they all agree on this in one shape or another. He wipes at his leaking eyes. “Leave me,” he orders despite losing volume and strength in his voice, slowly bending back to his knees. “Just leave. I need to be alone.”
The Host hesitates for a moment but thankfully leaves. Dark is just glad it hadn’t been Wilford to stumble into his room, searching for him-
The Host shuts the door and before anyone else could enter, Dark bends over, forehead pressing against the floor as he weaves his fingers tightly into his hair, finally letting out the sob he’d been holding onto.
A Glitch Named Anti 