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English
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Part 53 of The Ego Manor
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Published:
2019-03-27
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1,073
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1/1
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22
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427
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Madness

Summary:

Life needs a bit of madness. But perhaps Wilford's life has a bit too much madness. To the point where - sometimes - he even scares Dark.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“Oh Darkipoo!”

Dark lifted his head when Wil came dancing into his office, a sing-song lilt to his voice, and he stood abruptly, eyes going wide and chair screeching across the floor when he saw the blood dripping off his fiancé in a near steady stream, leaving a trail in his wake. He raced toward him, but Wil simply danced out of his reach, eyes far too bright as he laughed. “Wil?! A-are you alright?”

Wil spun to face him, a too-wide smile on his face as blood sprayed around him. “Never better, Darky!” He spun again, arms spread wide. Dark cringed, heart crawling into his throat as Wil laughed, stumbling around from spinning too much. He stumbled right into Dark’s chest, still giggling madly. “I killed someone,” he whispered. He laughed again. “I killed lots of someones!”

He spun away again, and Dark stumbled, shaking his head. “Wil, are –”

“They bled and they bled and they bled all over the place!” Wil fell to the floor, laying spread eagle. His eyes were wide as he stared up at the ceiling, and Dark could almost smell the insanity radiating off him. Suddenly he bolted back upright again with a gasp, turning his head sharply to look up at Dark. “But it’s okay! It’s okay, because they’ll get back up! They always get back up!

Wil scrambled to his feet, staggering heavily. His slur was getting heavier the more he spoke, and when Dark looked closer he noticed he looked…close to tears, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to approach him, to willingly move closer, not when he was like this, no matter how much he loved him.

“You know, Dark,” Wil slurred, cocking his head to the side. “I-I-I’ve always believed that life needs a bit of madness. It spices things up a bit doesn’t it! Makes things a bit more interesting!” Blood was still dripping off him, less steadily now, but still painting the floors of Dark’s office a brilliant pattern as Wil continued to twirl and wander. “But I’ve recently come to realize; I think my life has a bit too much madness.”

Dark shook his head. “Wil, please just calm down and –”

He reached out for him, but Wil jerked away, expression suddenly hard but eyes still bright. “Oh don’t give me that,” he snapped. “I am perfectly self-aware, Dark, I know I’m a bit more off the deep end than most.” He giggled, grinning broadly. “I just don’t care.”

Dark instinctively stepped backwards as Wil approached him, aura curled tight around himself, refusing to let it spread. Wil continued to speak, arms spread, whether for balance or effect Dark couldn’t tell. “I don’t care! Why should I care, why not just embrace the madness, hm? There’s no running from it.” His hands came up to fist in his hair, pulling on the strands as the tears finally began to roll down his face, a broad grin still plastered in place. “I-I-I can hear it. It’s like…like mice scratching in the back of my skull, o-o-or the sound of shattering glass, or a gunshot! Sometimes its all three! Usually it’s quiet, soft enough that I can tune it out, sometimes it’s so soft I can barely hear it, but right now…” His head shot up to face Dark, and he looked anguished. “It’s so loud, Dark! I can’t even hear my own thoughts anymore! It…hurts.”

Dark swallowed, taking a small, shuffling step forward. “Maybe we should go see Dr. Iplier –”

“Oh, the doctor can’t help me!” Wil continued to dance out of his reach, pressing himself flat against the door. “He can’t fix a broken mind, Dark, especially not one left to fester and decay for decades. Maybe once, a long time ago, I had a chance. Not anymore.” His hands slipped from his hair, nails digging into his skin as he dragged them down his face, leaving angry, red lines in their wake.

At last Dark snapped out of whatever unsettled, reluctant trance he was in and he darted forward, snatching Wil’s hands from his face. Wil let out a heart wrenching sob, fighting his grip on his wrists and clawing at the air. Dark held fast, refusing to let his fiancé hurt himself, no matter how much he struggled and fought. “Wil, please, whatever’s going on inside your head, ignore it. Listen to me, Wil, listen to my voice.”

Wil bucked in his hold, arching his back off the door and shaking his head wildly, eyes squeezed shut as a mix of blood and tears flew through the air. “No no no, let go of me! Dark let go, I need…I need…”

His shouting trailed off, dissolving into harsh sobs as Dark continued to whisper soothing things into his ear. He still struggled weakly, jerking his wrists against Dark’s hold pitifully. Dark just hushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Shhh…it’s okay, Wil, just relax…”

Slowly, Wil raised his head, opening his eyes. They were still disturbingly bright, madness still thick in the air around him, but he looked far more peaceful than moments ago, despite the tears still pouring down his cheeks. “I…I just want it to be quiet, Dark.”

Dark gave him a soft smile, kissing his forehead again. “I know, Wil, I know.” He began to wrap his aura around the other, enveloping him in the black abyss his aura created. Wil visibly went boneless in his hold, sagging and letting out a soft sigh as his eyes fluttered shut. Dark leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Go to sleep, Wil. I promise you, it’ll be quite then.”

Wil cracked one eye open, physically shaking as Dark shifted his grip to drop his wrists and wrap his arms around his waist instead. “…Promise?”

Dark smiled, brushing the hair from Wil’s eyes. “I would never lie to you.”

Almost instantly Wil’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against Dark’s chest, arms dangling limply. Dark just wrapped his aura tighter around him, seamlessly melting into the Void and reappearing in his room. He set Wil down gently on the bed after stripping him of his blood-soaked clothes, dressing him in the softest pajamas they owned before climbing in next to him, curling around him protectively.

He stared at the ring on his finger, at Wil’s sleeping face, before closing his eyes and curling closer.

Notes:

Poor Wil. He really did not deserve literally ANYTHING that happened to him. This story was really fun to write. Anyway, Wil's disturbing mental state aside, Sunday's story will be a highly entertaining, mildly angsty story about the Host and Dr. Iplier. Because I cannot get over them. The Host is my son.

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