Chapter Text
William straightened with a sharp gasp, hands flying to his throat and grasping at nothing. He felt others at the party give him odd looks but he was more concerned with assuring himself that his hands were no longer wet with his own warm blood, that the skin of his throat was still unbroken and intact, no gaping cut across the width of his neck and no large gash that leaked blood all down his button up.
His hands trembled and he dimly considered if this was what it had been like for Mark every time he'd died and been brought back by the manor.
Mark.
He turned quickly and nearly collided with an awfully concerned looking Damien, who batted Will's hands away and gently brushed his own knuckles along his windpipe as if to prove to himself that William was indeed alive and well.
Ah, okay, maybe not well.
But alive.
Will swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.
"...I'll get Mark." He said finally, mouth uncomfortably dry and his voice painfully uncertain. "You go to the study. Private it for us?"
"But you…" Damien hesitated, shifting his hand so he could gently press his thumb into William's throat, massaging lightly. It helped soothe the phantom pain there and Will fought the desire to close his eyes and lean into it.
"I'll be fine. I promise, okay? This time will be different." He placed both hands on Damien's shoulders and squeezed a bit, earning an exhale of breath and the withdrawing of his hand from Will's neck. He watched the mayor step away from him, wavering, then he nodded, fixed his suit jacket, and turned away on his path towards the study.
William adjusted his glasses, more to stall than anything else.
Mark wouldn't remember. He knew this. It was going to hurt.
Sure, in the last loop Mark had reminded them both of when they were 9 and thought a time loop would be a bigger concern for them than homework, almost as big as quicksand, and how they'd come up with a code for that specific situation.
(Will wondered what it meant that Mark recalled that. How much time had he spent alone in this godforsaken house, reminiscing and longing for his friends, his past?)
Sure, that made things easier for them. But it didn't make things… easier. Mark was fragile after being told the truth and clung to them like one of those spiky-ball-plant things ("Burs," a voice that sounded an awful lot like Damien's corrected in the back of his mind, "they're called burs .") that they'd always have to pick off their pants after a day out in the woods, finding slugs and getting covered in dirt and mud and guck. Even when it became detrimental to things.
Last time was supposed to be the one.
They'd gotten Mark firmly out of the house and he was supposed to constantly remain with Damien, walking around the grounds. And it went great, for a few hours. William accompanied them, naturally, but Mark was starving, apparently the man hadn't eaten that day, or the past few days. The number was uncertain; apparently he hadn't been keeping track.
He had been planning to die, after all.
And when William ducked inside to get food for them so Mark didn't die of fucking starvation , god forbid, Mark freaked out and raced after him, grabbing onto his sleeve. And then someone's, the District Attorney's, he thought, their glass exploded.
Will, having the reflexes of a trained soldier, pulled Mark roughly behind him as glass flew out wildly, unnaturally , and the Colonel barely had time to think "oh, fuck this house" before a large piece of glass lodged itself in his neck, slicing through his skin and veins like butter.
Last time was supposed to be the one. But it wasn't.
They'd have to be careful.
More careful.
Will sighed and took off his helmet, running a hand through his hair although he only got about halfway through if before it snagged on a knot or three.
He was tired.
He missed when his biggest issue was that he could no longer give Marki and Dames, his best friends in the whole wide world, endless piggyback rides anymore because they were now too heavy to carry around for hours on end.
He slid his hand from his hair, unconcerned with the tangles, and replaced his helmet. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and walked up the steps to where he knew Mark would be. He'd be catching him before his speech, but honestly, that speech made Will's stomach turn at this point anyway.
The sooner they got on with it, the better.
"...romise I'll take care of it." Mark was saying to seemingly no one, his head tipped back in an uncomfortable position as if his hair was being pulled. He paused, stiffened, and whirled around towards Will suddenly, eyes wide. He fixed a smile, and swiftly ran a hand through his hair to slick it back into position. "William! Why, I-"
"I am sent with broom before, to sweep the dust behind the door." William interrupted.
Shakespeare.
It felt silly to say it, but it was what Mark had insisted would be a good code when they were young, and if it worked, then Will definitely wasn't going to complain.
…much.
"I-" Mark stopped, blinked, and shut his mouth abruptly. His carefully crafted expression wavered and dropped, a strange look crossing his face. "You…not a mouse shall disturb this hallowed house?"
"Yeah." Will confirmed, sighing in exasperation and tilting his head up to glare at the ceiling. "God, I'm tired. I don't know how many times we have to do this to fucking win. "
"Holy shit." Mark whispered. "You're serious. We're really-?"
"Yep." Will repeated. He looked forward again and grabbed Mark's wrist, turning and dragging him towards the stairs. "C'mon, let's go see Damien."
"Damien…?"
"That's what I said." Will nodded, and Mark dazedly allowed himself to be pulled all the way into the study, where he eagerly shut the door once Mark seated himself in the chair he himself used to sit in at the beginning. "Hey, Dames! It worked!"
Damien smiled, tired but pleased.
"Thank goodness for that, old friend, I am far too tired to have to convince him every time." He turned to Mark and grasped both of his hands. "I'm so glad you're here. How much has Will told you?"
"T…uh…time loop? He used the code for uh, 'we're in a time loop and I remember but you don't' but I'm…" He glanced between Will and Damien. "I'm assuming you also remember? Is it just me then?"
"Nah, no one else at the party remembers either. Including the house, thankfully." Will snorted.
Mark went very still and Damien shot William a look that made the Colonel wilt slightly.
"You know about…"
"We know about everything, Mark." Damien sighed, letting go of Mark's hands to pinch the bridge of his nose instead. "We've talked to you during multiple loops by now."
"Yeah." William agreed. "We know about the manor, the plan, the- uh,"
"The what?" Mark asked, eyes wide. Damien sighed again, heavier, and turned away from both of them.
"The…suicides…" William winced.
"Oh," Mark said faintly, "oh, I see."
Will rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the floor as if it'd help him find better words, "yeah…and you kinda have died in two of the past loops? Like uh, not by me. By the entity."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Although, this most recent one, I actually died instead." Will said, then frowned when Damien flinched. Perhaps that wasn't…the best thing to say. God, he was really floundering here.
"Oh. Is that all?" Mark said, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. His voice dripped with sarcasm and shook with unsteadiness. "How lovely. "