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Another successful night was heading towards its end when Wilford walked - or rather stumbled - into his small flat. Throwing his key aside, followed by his pink wig. The crowd had loved him, his feet hurt from dancing and his stomach was upset from drinking.
“Wilford! Wilford!”, he chanted quietly to himself.
On his way to the bathroom he passed by a small shelf filled with old photos. The frames were just carelessly strewn about but like almost every evening, when he was sober enough that is, his eyes were drawn to one particular photo. It showed a man in a tuxedo, proudly standing in front of a statue somewhere in… He couldn’t actually remember. It also didn’t matter. Damien was gone. Wilford let his fingers lovingly trace the frame before shaking his head and continuing to the bathroom. He splashed cold water into his face, very refreshing after such an exhausting night. Tired, dark eyes stared back at him when he looked into the mirror. The same as every night. What was he even doing there? He caught himself sobering up and thinking too hard about his life. The longer he looked into the mirror the more he felt like it wasn’t him in there anymore; it was the face of someone else, of someone he missed so very dearly.
“Had too much booze, eh, Wilford”, he chuckled to himself. He turned around, hit the light switch and went straight for his bed. After repeating it over and over again, Wilford had become an expert at navigating his place in the dark. “Or maybe I didn’t have enough”, he added quietly as he let himself fall into his pillows. A bed never felt softer than after a long night of partying to drown one’s sorrow. He pulled up the blanket to his chin and rolled over to one side. All he now wanted was to fall asleep. And he did.
Well, almost.
His limbs grew heavy, his thoughts were quiet and he was slowly drifting off to sleep… but then it was like there was a voice at the back of his head. Barely audible at all. Wilford assumed it was one of his own thoughts trying to make its way into his consciousness and possibly wake him again. But he tried to disregard it as nothing. Just on the verge of fully falling asleep, the voice returned. Louder this time. It called out to him until Wilford finally opened his eyes. Had he missed the window of 'comfortably being knocked out by the alcohol in his body'? His thoughts returned, the sleepiness left him. “Just shut the fuck up”, he muttered, totally pissed at himself. Wilford rolled over to the other side, giving it another shot.
“That’s not very polite, William.”
Wilford’s eyes immediately opened. Was he hearing voices? Again? “I thought we were over that”, he sighed, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Mh, I see. You think I’m not real.”
Who could that voice belong to? It was so familiar and yet… “You’re not and I want to sleep. Goodbye”, Wilford replied, staring into the darkness of his room. It was dead silent for a moment and he hoped that it would stay that way. Then the voice chuckled. Alright, now he actually felt a little unnerved.
“Turn on the light. Come and greet your… old friend.”
Wilford was unsure what to do. What old friend? Was it best to ignore that voice? Or should he… He sat up and reached for the light on his nightstand. It turned on with a click . It was small but bright enough to illuminate the whole room. And there was actually someone standing close to the foot of his bed. Wilford let out a panicked screech, crawled out of bed and looked for shelter in the nearest corner of his bedroom. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?”
The figure didn’t answer. There was only a smirk on his lips. Wilford looked him up and down. The intruder wore a nice suit with tie and expensive looking shoes. He was pale, almost white, and there was a visible aura of blue and red around him. That was crazy and no way that it could have been real. But his face. Oh, God. No, no, that couldn’t be. “I’m hallucinating, right?” Wilford’s voice was trembling. “Damien?”
“I don’t go by that name anymore. You may call me Dark.” Dark walked slowly through the room, running his fingers over the few pieces of furniture in it.
“Of course it’s you”, Wilford exclaimed. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “How is this possible? I thought you were-”
“Dead?” Dark looked down at the dust on his fingers. He rubbed them together before crossing his arms behind his back. “Oh, yes. I thought so too. For a while. But I am more alive than ever before.” He took a deep breath and turned his head towards Wilford.
"Is this a dream?"
"Certainly not."
Wilford dared to leave his corner and approach Dark. “Why are you here? I mean… Why didn’t you come here earlier? I missed you.” Either he had gone mad completely or - for the first time in forever - he could now see clearly. It seemed to be the latter. The presence of his old friend calmed his raging mind.
The previous smirk faded from Dark’s lips. “I'm here because I heard you. I heard your wishes to see me again…” He crossed the distance between him and Wilford. Only a few centimetres separated them now. This was the first time that Wilford noticed that his friend’s eyes were different. They were cold, distant - completely black. “And I was tired of it.”
This felt like a stab to Wilford’s heart. Tired of it? He suppressed the urge to grab Dark by his shoulders, shake him and ask what nonsense this was. “Then why are you here now?” Wilford’s throat was clogged. Fuck, he was about to cry. This was not ok. Showing up just to spit in his face?
“To tell you to move on.”
“Damien, I-”
“THAT’S NOT MY NAME!”, Dark roared, causing Wilford to take a step back. It seemed like he did feel a little sorry for scaring him. “That’s not my name anymore”, he said calmly this time.
Wilford shook his head. Tears started to burn in his eyes. After all these years, his greatest wish was finally fulfilled only to have his heart broken again. He couldn’t take this. “You can’t do this. You can not leave me again.”
“Damien is dead. You must bury him”, Dark implored him, rubbing his hands together. He lost his patience. Also, this seemed to be harder that he had previously expected. “You must do this.”
“I won’t.” Wilford hesitantly reached for Dark’s hand. It was cold. But if he would hold it, it surely would warm up quickly. “ I can’t .” He could see the struggle in Dark’s face, debating whether or not he should pull away his hand. But he didn’t. And it gave Wilford hope.
Dark raised Wilford's hand to his lips and placed a small courtly kiss to his knuckles. Wilford's cheeks started to burn. "I want to show you something", Dark chuckled. "Close your eyes."
Everything, everything for his Damien. Gladly Wilford closed his eyes. A cold breeze played with his hair for a moment. He waited for a signal to open his eyes again but Dark only let go of his hand. Wilford dared to look around, not being able to breathe. "Not this place." He distinctly remembered the layout of the manor. The way the sun would enter through the big windows, the several staircases. One could easily get lost here. It could have been so beautiful if this cursed place had not taken his loved ones from him. "Why-why are we here?"
"To help you remember."
"Oh, I remember just fine!", Wilford barked. "This is where everything went to shit! Where I lost Celine, where I lost you…" He was angry, betrayed. "What about you, huh?! Will you remember?!"
Dark raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't- What do you mean?"
"We didn't always agree on everything! And yet", Wilford snapped. "We always stuck together, Damien." He looked away. There was no way that his friend, his… love was gone. With tears in his eyes he looked upon Dark again. "Just tell me what happened."
"You want to know what happened? Mark wanted a villain for his hero complex. So, I became one to show him where he belongs. And I can finally let out my anger. This is the best solution for us all, don't you see that?"
"The best-?" Wilford’s mouth fell open. What was good about this? Nothing. They had just reunited, why did he want to throw everything away? "I never thought I'd see you again. You mean… so much to me."
"This is why you have to let me go. " Dark was trying so hard to keep his composure but he was struggling with his own emotions. He visibly clenched his jaw, looked around the bright room. Desperately searching for more things to say.
No. It was too much. Wilford threw his arms around Dark without a warning. He did not want to say goodbye to him, not yet, oh, not yet. At first, Dark was frozen in place, shoulders pulled up, completely caught off guard. But then he allowed himself to relax into Wilford's embrace. "You're no villain."
A few seconds passed until Dark returned the hug. "How can you know?", he sighed. His voice was different, softer somehow. They ended the embrace, holding each other's hands.
Wilford noticed that Dark’s face was different. The pain, the anger seemed to be gone; his eyes not so distant and black anymore. His hands were slowly warming up. It was his Damien, at least for a moment. "I know this because I love you. Always have and always will."