Chapter Text
Damien read the first line.
Then he read it again.
Then a third time.
The fourth time, it finally seemed to sink in.
'You are formally invited to a party at Markiplier Mansion.'
On the surface, it was simple.
For Damien, it was not.
Damien hadn't been to that mansion in years. His friendship with Mark was in tatters. He wasn't sure who else was invited.
...he wasn't sure William was invited.
It wouldn't make much sense for him to be, considering...well…
Regardless, Damien wasn't certain he could go if he wasn't.
William was a wild card, annoying, obnoxious, loud, careless, reckless, stupid, and a poor decision maker. William was also often the only thing keeping Damien from breaking down at social events, at least in their younger years. As mayor, Damien could certainly handle it better now, but something like this? A party at a house he had long since stayed away from, hosted by a man he had long since considered a lost cause, surrounded by people he potentially didn't know?
No, Damien wouldn't last five seconds in that hell without William.
He lifted the end of his pen to his mouth, nibbling on the plastic.
If he didn't go, would it ruin whatever chance at repairing their friendship there was? If he called William and asked if he got an invitation, would he be upset if he didn't? Would he do something reckless? And if he had been invited...what did that mean?
Damien swept his eyes over the invitation again.
It didn't say what they were celebrating.
That was...odd. Maybe it was a surprise.
He ran a hand through his hair, pen still between his teeth.
Mark had been one of his best friends at one point. Damien figured a few hours in hell was worth gaining that friendship back.
'RSVP by Friday!'
He picked up his phone and dialed the number written down.
-
William, the bastard he was, was one of the last ones to show up.
It was just like him to be late, but Damien decided to cut him some slack given the fact he was showing up to the house of his ex-friend, whose wife he'd slept with.
But he was here, William was here, his voice filling up the room and grinning so wide it hurt Damien's cheeks to look at, like always.
Damien didn't want to seem too dependent on him, he didn't need William's presence at social events anymore, so he resisted going over to greet him in favor of pretending he hadn't seen him enter. He couldn't help but notice the way William's eyes lit up when they landed on him, his grin both widening and softening.
His eyes crinkled at the corners and his mustache danced, he was laughing, delighted, as he made a beeline for him, and Damien sucked in a breath.
"Damien! It's been far too long!" The colonel offered Damien his hand and eagerly used it to pull him into a hug when he took it. He was warm and firm and suffocating in a good way, just like Damien remembered. He smelled like smoke and gunpowder and that cologne he adored.
"It's good to see you, Will." Damien greeted evenly, patting William on the back. William pulled away, his hands on Damien's shoulders. "Did Mark invite you…?"
William blinked at him, then snorted in realization.
"Worry not, old friend, my party crashing days are over. For now, at least." He let go of him and Damien missed the warmth of his touch before his attention was captured by the colonel digging through his pocket.
"They better be, I'm not always around to talk the police out of arresting you." He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly when William pulled out a small piece of paper.
"Ta-da! 'You are formally invited to a party at Markiplier Mansion,' right there in times new roman." He grinned proudly. He seemed to see the shock on Damien's face and pocketed the invitation once more. "I know, I was surprised, too."
"It... is rather odd." He said. William shrugged.
"Mark's an odd guy. I was hoping you'd be here." He hesitated, visibly so. "And I was hoping this would be a chance for Mark and I to be friends again, though I know I screwed up big time. Can't seem to find him, though…"
Damien opened his mouth to speak.
He was standing outside the study, fist raised to knock.
What?
"What…?" He murmured, stepping back from the door.
Why was he here? How did he get here?
Hadn't he just been talking to the colonel?
Damien frowned, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead.
No, he'd just been on his way to talk to the colonel. About...ah. Mark's death. Right, Mark was dead. Murdered, actually.
He took a deep breath, deciding against knocking and instead just quietly opening the door. His eyes swept across the room, quickly landing on William.
He was lounged in a chair, though lounged felt like the wrong word. His posture was relaxed, sure, but he looked more like some discarded stuffed animal than someone actually relaxed. His expression was one Damien had only ever seen when William had returned from the war. His face was blank, jaw slack, eyes dull. He lacked an actual expression, appearing to be in a dazed sort of numbness.
It was...concerning.
"William?" Damien watched as the other started, blinking a few times and fixing a bored expression on his face.
"I thought I was the one who didn't knock." He teased. Damien didn't smile. Their friend was dead.
"There you are, I've been looking all over for you." He sighed, stepping further into the room.
He had been?
Right, he had been.
William gestured vaguely, lazily giving the room a look around from his seat in the chair.
"Been here since last night."
Damien furrowed his brow.
"What?"
William's lip twitched.
"Nevermind. What's so urgent?"
Damien stared at him a moment longer, worry making his brow crease.
"Mark's dead." He finally answered, a lot more blunt than he meant it to be.
William's breath hitched, eyes glancing to the side, but he merely shrugged.
"Probably got too drunk." He dismissed.
Silence filled the room for a tense couple of moments.
"What the hell is your problem, William?" Damien hissed, anger filling him to the brim and spilling out. "Christ, Will, I know you two had your issues, but he was our-"
"-friend." Damien finished saying, frowning as he glanced around. The District Attorney, a lovely person who he was happy to work with, gave a sympathetic nod.
Right.
He'd been telling them about Mark, and the colonel, and apologizing for losing his cool in front of them. He'd just told them William was his friend.
Right. That was right, wasn't it?
He didn't question it.
He closed his eyes for a moment, wincing as a headache started to hammer a nail into his skull.
He inhaled through his nose, and opened his eyes to blackness.
Anger thrummed in his veins again. Why?
He glanced to his right, baffled to find Celine there, glowing red and hard to look at. When had she gotten there? Where were they? He looked forward.
The District Attorney was in front of them both. They were bleeding. They had a bullet hole in them.
Damien's heart sank, his hands balling into fists.
Yes. Mark had stolen his body, shoved him and his sister out of the way. That was right.
He needed a new body, and they couldn't use theirs anymore, now that-
His breath caught a bit. William. William had shot them. William had shot Mark.
The District Attorney agreed.
Damien thought, for a moment, that maybe they shouldn't have, but it was too late.
Much too late, Dark agreed, cracking his neck. Rigor mortis was a bitch to deal with. The mirror cracked. Three's a crowd, he mused. Damien wouldn't have found that funny.
Damien was dead, so it didn't matter.
"Damien?" Fingers snapped in front of his face, bringing Damien back from his zoning out. "There you are! I was almost afraid I'd miss our reunion because you were lost in space." William smiled at him. Damien smiled back.
Something...wasn't right here.
"My apologies, old friend." Damien said, accepting a hug from the other. He smelled like smoke and gunpowder and that cologne he'd always liked. He was warm and hugged him tight. It felt like Damien was suffocating, and it was exactly what Damien remembered and adored. "It's good to see you, Will."
"I'm sure it is!" William laughed as he pulled back, his hands on Damien's shoulders, the warmth of the touch seeping in through his suit. "You know, I was hoping you'd be here."
Damien raised his eyebrows, though for some reason, William's words didn't surprise him.
"Is that the only reason you decided to crash this party?" He joked. The colonel scrunched up his nose and let go. The warmth lingered in Damien.
"It's not crashing it if I was invited, first of all," he said, reaching into his pocket and presenting an invite, "which is related to my answer; as lovely as you are, no. I was hoping to mend my friendship with Mark."
Damien spoke without thinking.
"You know you screwed up big time, right?"
William made an odd face before sighing.
"Yes, I'm well aware, Damien. I'm a fool, not an idiot." He grumbled.
Damien frowned, and then he was in front of the study door. William was inside.
Was that right?
Yes.
Yes, he needed to talk to him, about Mark's death.
Damien knocked this time, a moment passing before he heard William's 'come in!'
This time-?
He shook his head, and opened the door to the study.