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.
Celine used to love doing her nails. When she was younger, she liked doing each nail in a different colored pastel, and as she grew older she gravitated towards blacks, grays, and metallics. It helped calm her down when she was feeling stressed, to sit by a window and transform her fingers into works of art.
Damien had never understood it. But she had dragged him into many a shop in their younger days, comparing colors and asking him what he thought. If she was having a particularly bad day, he would sit across the table from her and let her do his nails. There was no talking. Celine would bend over his hands in concentration, making sure each stroke was perfect, and he would sit with a report or book, keeping as still as possible.
“Perfect,” she would say when she was finished, and Damien would always look up at his hands, smile, and say
“They look great, Celine.”
Years later, too many years to count, Celine was having a particularly bad day. Too be fair, there were few good days anymore, but some days were especially rough. And this day was one of the worst.
It took some fighting, but Damien got Dark to let him take the driver’s seat for the afternoon. Celine didn’t pay attention to what he was doing…until he marched right into the cosmetics store at the mall. She slowly looked up at the dozens of colors, and her eyes went wide, her red aura growing a little brighter. Damien stepped back and gestured to her. “Go ahead,” he said quietly. She smiled at him, and started perusing the colors. Dark squirmed uncomfortably under the questioning gaze of the other customers, but Damien kept him at bay with a single glare. She eventually picked out a handful bottles, and they left the store, ignoring the fearful glances shot their way.
Once home, Celine began to painstakingly paint their nails. It wasn’t as neat as she was used to, even with total control, Darkiplier’s body was bulky and shaky. But she kept at it, diligently covering each nail. Finally, she finished and held up Darkiplier’s hands out in front of him. “Perfect,” Celine said, a hint of sadness in her voice. Damien looked at the colors she chose, and felt a swell of emotion in his chest. All of the nails were black, except for the pointer finger on each hand, which had been painstakingly painted into three horizontal stripes. Red on top, blue on bottom, with pink in the middle. Damien smiled sadly, and Darkiplier’s face twisted into a small smile to match. “They look great, Celine,” He said softly.
*BONUS*
For the next several weeks, the other egos stole sideways glances at Darkiplier’s nails, but after seeing the look on his face, no one commented on them. Except for one person. One day, Wilford noticed them, and pointed excitedly at the index fingers. “PINK! That’s my favorite color, Dark!” They couldn’t be sure, but the others thought a smile played at the corner of Darkiplier’s lips as he replied, “I know, Wilford. I know.”
What if after that Dark trapped us in the mirror we are not just stuck in this mirror in particular. What if ,at this moment, we litteraly just became Dark’s reflection and that every time he walks pass a mirror his refeltion for the others is the same but to Dark it’s us. I can’t help but imagine Dark trying his best to avoid mirrors because every time he walks pass one he sees us and he feels guilty about what he has done to us. I can’t help but imagine him ,one day, not paying attention to his surronding while he is walking and suddently he is in front of a big mirror and he sees us looking back at him and he just froze. For a second he would just look absolutly terrified, guilty and heartbroken until he would just look at us with a resign look and leave the room.
Wilford of Bim taking Dark to a carnival and pushing him inside a mirror maze tho
Dark hadn’t even wanted to be here in the first place. Why would he? It’s loud, distracting, and just gets in the way of doing anything actually important. He was only dragged along because Wilford and Bim wanted to see him with cotton candy for some bizarre reason… and… well… Dark couldn’t say no to Wilford.
Now he wishes he had.
They are currently standing outside of a “tent of mirrors”, or, whatever they call it, and Dark is not wanting to go inside! He already knows what will happen, what he will see if he were to step one foot inside and he does not want to see Y/N’s face, or their eyes. It would be too much pain, too much reminding of what he had done, what had happened.
Yet Wilford and Bim somehow force him inside straight into the middle of a circle of mirrors and he is unable to not look.
Y/N’s face is everywhere.
He gasps, tries to look away but no matter where his eyes land, they are standing there, blood dripping from their stomach, tears pouring from their betrayed eyes. He takes a step back and ends up in the center of the circle, unable to find the exit. His head is beginning to spin and he’s trying to stay calm, to not let the sight of Y/N’s face get to him again but by god they are everywhere and Damien is screaming, Celine is crying and it’s too much.
He falls to his knees, head lowering and he can still feel their eyes following him. He draws in a deep breath, tries to look back up, but he flinches away once more because they’re fully crying now, crouched down as well and pressing their hands against their side of the glass, as though they’re trying to reach out for him.
He ends up staying crouched on the floor of the tent for hours. He doesn’t know when Wilford and Bim come in and find him still crouched on the ground, head bent with tears dripping from his eyes. He doesn’t know how long it takes them to convince him to leave, head bowed still with his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to see Y/N again.
He doesn’t answer any of their questions as to what happened.
