bimiplier:

“Wilford, sit and calm down.” Dark says, voice ever-so-calm but his shell cracking in worry.

“That’s not my name!” Wilford snaps back, left hand balled in a tight fist as his other gentle cradles a round pair of glasses.

“William…please,” Dark tries again, voice softer than before. There’s no echo to it, no layering. Just a small, accented voice that radiated peace. Wilford flinches.

“Damian….I…” He can’t form the words. He just looks down at the glasses.

“William…it wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. You never killed anybody, remember? I’m still here…It was all a joke.” Dark says in Damian’s voice, a charming smile on his lips. But Wilford knows it’s not true. He can still see Dark’s shell, hear the ringing of his aura.

“I did it…I killed you…or-or whoever’s body you’re in…I killed them…” His voice breaks as his body is wracked by sobs. “I missed all the signs…all the flags trying to tell me that I was in denial…”

Dark is silent for once.

“I suppose that’s the problem of looking through rose tinted glasses…” Wilford crushes the glasses in his hand, pin glass poking into his skin, but he hardly seems to notice. “…all the red flags just look like flags.”

*gross sobbing*