martinplier:

wholesome-pasta:

The cane. The goddamn cane. Why didn’t I throw it away?  

Because Dark couldn’t, and neither could he hid it well enough from Wil’s eyes. Eyes, that were so joyous, but deep inside they were burdened with past trauma that the ego had suppressed. He had pushed away his real identity, his real name, his everything he once was, but so easily were the walls of silenced memories broken down when Wil found the old casket, and opened it. 

It was the cane.

Of who? Wil thought for a second until it hit him. The overwhelming memories of losing his friends flooded his mind, and there was no going back. He remembered it all. The manor, the murders, the shootings, and… and Damien and Celene. His friends, now lost forever. 

Dark never cried. He thought he was incapable of such emotions. 

Until Wil mustered the names through his sobs.

And Dark felt a tear drop roll down his cold, grey skin. 

Y’all I had to contribute to the angst fest too 

This is beautifully painful