#darkstacheweek

And he must have decided some fireworks were in order as well, because as Damien’s driver let him out of the car a streak of light shot up into the darkening sky, lingering there for a moment before it exploded with a deafening boom.

A second later there was another. And another. And another, until the sky was filled with colors and noise and the grounds outside were flooded with partygoers, whooping and cheering them on.

William didn’t seem to be among them. Damien caught no glimpses of his friend amidst the sea of drunken faces as he made his way toward the door, nor did he hear familiar booming laughter echoing out over the crowds.

    The Manor’s front door was propped wide open, allowing Damien to walk right in, his cane tapping over perfectly polished tile- that Benjamin must have spent hours on- that gleamed under multicolored party lights.

    There were still many people inside, though most had gone out to watch the fireworks. Damien weaved in between women wearing festive flapper dresses and the men who held their arms, all the while keeping an eye out for William.

    He half expected to find him by the bar, already half-seas over and wooing some choice bit of calico, but instead he found Celine, nursing a glass of red wine.

    “Damien!” She chirped, her black-painted lips pulling into a sloppy smile. Clearly, she had had too much to drink. “I thought you’d never arrive. What kept you?”

    “Just some work,” Damien replied casually. Then, “have you seen Will? I thought he was supposed to be here tonight. He is the guest of honor, after all.”

    “I think he went upstairs.” Celine flicked her fingers dismissively. “Party pooper.”

    “Alright. I’ll go check for him there.” Damien started toward the stairs, then paused. “Take it easy, Celine. Don’t overdo it.”

    She giggled. “You worry too much.”

    The Mayor shrugged, then headed upstairs.

---

    He found William in his room, perched in an armchair that had been shoved up against the wall and holding a mug half-filled with whiskey, though he made no move to drink from it. He was pale, but still he gave Damien a grin when he eased open the door.

    “Celine told me I would find you here.” Damien crossed the room. His footsteps creaked over the decades-old wooden floor. As he spoke, there was another boom. More fireworks. “Why did you leave the party?”

    “I was feeling rather tired,” William offered, “I’ve been busy, you know.”

    Damien frowned. “Before you went off to war you loved to party, no matter how ‘busy’ you were.”

    William opened his mouth to answer but there was another boom. He flinched, fingers tightening around the handle of his mug. His eyes darted toward the window, then back to Damien.

    It dawned on him all of a sudden. He’d read about men who came back from the front-lines traumatized, and some of them were completely unable to tolerate loud noises.

    “The fireworks.” Damien murmured, staring down at him. “I can go down there, have Mark stop-”

    “No!” William lurched out of his seat, nearly spilling his drink and startling Damien into taking a step back. A moment later he paused, seeming to force his composure back into place. He set the mug down onto the nightstand beside his bed. “No. No. There’s no need for that. I-”

    The window lit up and there was a noise that shook the Manor to its foundations. William jerked, hands flying toward the pistol he always kept tucked into a holster at his side, face panicked and eyes somewhere far away.

    “Will.” Damien grabbed his hands before he could pull his gun, dropping his cane to the floor with a clatter. “It’s alright! It’s alright.”

    “My apologies,” the Colonel stammered, sounding shaken. He squeezed Damien’s hands tightly, as if his touch were the only thing keeping him there, in the present. Muttered, “they sound like gunshots.”

    “There is no need to be sorry.” Damien pulled him close. Held him there. “It’s okay.”

    “Stay with me?” William’s voice sounded small and afraid. So unlike him. The William Damien knew was large and bold and afraid of nothing.

    Damien nodded, feeling a pang of sadness in his chest. “Of course I will.”

---

    Everyone was setting off fireworks outside. It was a foolish endeavor, for a foolish holiday.

    Why was he so shaken?

    Dark shuddered as another explosion shook the windowpanes, and retreated further back into the shadows of the kitchen. Every flash of light, every deafening noise, set his teeth on edge and grated on his ears and on his nerves. Memories floundered at the fringes of his mind. Memories that weren’t even his.

    Suddenly, the door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Wilford barged in, clutching a fistful of unlit sparklers and wearing a wide grin.

    “Ya gotta come out and join us, Darkie!” He said, coming over and all but shoving them in Dark’s face. “Quit bein’ cooped up in here all by your lonesome.”

    “I’d rather not, Wil.” Dark cringed away from the sparklers and started toward the living room, a look of distaste crossing his face. “Leave me alone.”

    “Aw,” Wilford whined, following him like a lost puppy. “What’s the matter, Darkie? Don’t like fireworks?”

    Dark scowled, and opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the crashing rumble of yet another firework being set off outside. He couldn’t repress a flinch, couldn’t banish the ringing of gunshots in his ears as he fell back, back, back over the balcony.

    But then Wilford’s hand was in his, dragging him back to the present. Dark glanced over to see him drop the sparklers to the floor.

    “What are you doing, Wilford?” He asked.   

    “Well,” Wilford said, puffing out his chest. “I’m not about t’letcha stay here all by yourself. You’ll get lonely.”

    “I assure you-”

    “Nonsense!” Wilford insisted, raising Dark’s hand to his lips. “I won’t letcha be alone.”

--

“Reality”

--

They say the truest form of loneliness is when you are in company. Damien would hasten to agree. Ever since he became Mayor, he felt isolated from everyone, and yet he was surrounded by more people than ever before. It was a bizarre reality he found himself in.

If he were to be honest with himself, it only became more apparent once he began attending formal functions as the City Mayor. The invitations always read “Mayor Brooks plus one”, yet he nearly always went alone. He was a very busy man, Damien would tell himself. He didn’t have time for love. While he would engage in polite conversation and socialise, Damien would find himself watching couples mingle or dancing on the floor. Ultimately, it would remind him of the cold reality that he refused to acknowledge - no woman really took his attention.

When he watched couples dance on the floor, it was the male partner that drew his eye. That neat, well-fitted look of a man in a suit was something a part of him longed to draw close to. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could never trick his foolish brain to do what a normal man ought to and view the woman in the same light. Of course he could see their beauty, of course he would compliment how fair and pretty they looked with utter sincerity; but it was impossible to imagine himself in a happy relationship with any lady he met.

Damien would never be able to love someone as he wanted to. That was his reality. The parties reminded him of this time and time again. They were far more sophisticated than the soirees Mark would host - Damien would often compare the formal events to games of chess. One wrong move and it would all be over in a flash. When conversing with other guests in groups, he would learn of rumours and stories of others in this ring of society that he was still adjusting to. A man was caught cheating on his wife, but instead of a mistress, it was another man. Two men living together for years were considered “a bit funny”, but no one could say for sure if it was true or not. Constant little reminders that if Damien was caught with another man, he would be publicly disgraced (without bearing to think of how it would affect his personal life). He had fought hard to get to his position and stay there by 27. As much as he wanted to be in a loving relationship, it just wasn’t worth the risk of losing absolutely everything.

He would insist he was too busy for love, that he “wasn’t looking”, or any excuse for someone not to try and find him a partner. He had so much love in his heart, but he loathed that part of himself. Why couldn’t he be like a normal man? Why couldn’t he have had his heart stolen by a charming young lady? Why did he have to be broken?

Even now, he was broken.

Physically broken. Emotionally broken. Not quite mentally broken, but certainly cracked.

It was the reality Dark lived in.

And yet… There was Wilford.

Wilford. That mysterious, wonderful man that was nothing like the soldier he used to be and simultaneously the exact same The man who could find the strangest ways to bring a smile to his face. It was so long ago now, Dark couldn’t remember if he had romantic feelings for William when he was Damien; but it was a fact he couldn’t ignore every time he looked at Wilford.

Speaking of, the reporter was staring at him rather intently.

“Somethin’s troublin’ ya.” Three simple words, and Wilford hit the nail on the head. Dark’s gaze shifted to the side, before he let out a slow sigh.

“Will… Do you this is all… Strange?” It was difficult to explain it. Frustration was clear on the entity’s scarred face.

“Everythin’s strange, sugar. That’s th’ beauty of life! A bitta madness goes a-”

“No, no. I mean us.”

“Us?” Wilford sounded hurt at that, and Dark internally scolded himself for being so inarticulate. He would only make matters worse if he kept dancing around the topic that had been troubling him all day.

“No, that’s not - Let me start over. I… Will, do you not find it a little strange that we - two beings who identify as male - are in a romantic relationship?” He lifted his hand to interrupt Wilford’s likely counter. His nerves began to fail, and he had to drop his eyes to the ground so he could attempt to continue. “It goes beyond what is considered the norm, and has so many… Risks.”  It was strange. No matter how many times he had made this argument to himself, Dark couldn’t find the words to express his internal conflict. However, Wilford’s worry shifted to calm understanding as he pieced together what was going on in the other’s mind.

“You question why our relationship goes beyond the norms others have set?” Wilford asked for clarification. His voice lacked the normal drawl. Dark nodded. “Despite not raising an objection to this when I asked you out on our first date, you feel a little uncomfortable?” He waited for a response, and a long moment passed before Dark nodded. Shame radiated through the gentle glow of red and blue. The reporter reached out and put his hand on Dark’s shoulder. When there was no attempt to brush it off, he knew he was safe to continue.

“Dark… Do you love me?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“And I love you too. That’s all that matters.”

Dark finally braved looking up at Wilford, and at last he could see what was going on. Black was peppering that pink moustache. Those eyes held more resolve than ever before. His posture was slightly straighter than usual. It was as if the Colonel sensed the Mayor’s distress and was trying to reach out in his own way. As though acknowledging this, Wilford smiled.

“Love is love. It doesn’t matter what gender the other sees themselves as. It doesn’t matter what the world says. If you’re in a position where you can love, then love. You might have been taught that love can only be in a certain way, but things are different now. You and I… We’re just as valid as Mark and Amy, and no one can change that. You deserve love. Our friends supported both of us through this. I spent weeks trying to woo you. I’m not letting you slip away because of the fear of what others might think of you. Sometimes… A little risk reaps all the rewards you’ve ever wanted.”

Dark didn’t object when the larger man pulled him close for a tight hug. After all the thoughts of uncertainty and the memories associated with them, he felt grounded. He felt safe. And if a tear or two slipped down grey skin, neither would comment on it.

“I love you, Will,” he murmured against the other’s shirt.

“I love ya too, Dark.”

It was several minutes before either pulled back, though Dark didn’t leave the other’s hold. Wilford was back to normal. Black strands had faded into pink. Chocolate eyes gazed down with pure affection. The past had quietly slipped away to let the present shine bright, as was the right thing.

“You always know the wisest thing to say.”

“Ya think? ‘Cause Bim insists I’m a ‘feather-brained oaf’ after th’ time I cut all power ta th’ buildin’ when I tried ta connect my phone ta YouTube.”

Dark kept close to Wilford, listening to him ramble on about some scenario that belonged in a cartoon. In a romantic sense, his life in the 1920s was bleak. But that didn’t mean his life in the modern day had to be. If ever Dark was invited to an event, he always had Wilford as his ‘plus one’. Dark’s name was already tarnished by a shell of a man who stole his body. What more could he lose if people thought ill of him for loving a man? But even if only a handful of people knew of this relationship, they all supported him. Had he really been so worried that he never considered that?

Purple eyes lifted to meet chocolate ones. A smile was returned with just as much love. No matter what, he would have Wilford by his side.

This was his reality.

If you asked Dark, they did not have a birthday. The Doom twins had a birthday, June 19, 1896, and Dark came into existence on October 13, 1922. But they did not consider either of those dates their birthday. That isn’t to say no one else did.

Which is why Wilford was busily hanging decorations in his studio while Dark was working. Birthday or not, Will loved Dark more than anything and he wanted to celebrate his steady. For this reason, Wilford was filling his studio with streamers, balloons and black lights. Dark loves black lights. Chef Iplier was in the kitchen making a chocolate cake, Google was making sure Dark stayed in their office until it was time, Bing was putting together music Dark would like and Bim and the Jims were helping everyone pick out presents for the Darkness. Will, of course, already had his present, ready and waiting. He was so excited to give it to Dark. But first, decorations.

-

A few hours later, everything was ready. Everyone was waiting. Will texted Google that it was time to bring Dark over then signalled he everyone to get down as he turned off the lights. They soon heard the door open and Dark call “Will? Google said you needed to show me something?” Suddenly the blacklights turned on and everyone jumped up.

“Suprise!!”

Dark laughed softly. “Wilford. What is all this?” Wilford just smiled, slinging his arm around Dark’s waist and holding a small box in front of him. His moustache glowed brightly in the lighting.

“Well, I know you don’t consider any day your birthday, but I wanted to celebrate your life and the years we’ve spent together. So, happy life, Dominique. Open this in your office.” Dark took the box and nodded.

-

The party was fun. They danced, they laughed, Will shoved cake into Dark’s face with a giggle. It was a nice time. Dark also got some nice presents. A new watch, some expensive ties, a fun whiskey decanter and some whiskey, a hand-made throw blanket and cologne. Now, Dark was sat at their desk with Will’s gift. What had their boyfriend gotten them, Dark wondered. They opened the box to find a simple wooden box and what appeared to be a hundred puzzle pieces. The wooden box was heavy and mad of some kind of light coloured wood, with the words Do not open until you finish the puzzle. engraved on the top in Will’s handwriting. Dark sighed out a chuckle and got to work on the puzzle. Dark soon discovered the puzzle appeared to be pale pink words on a black background, with red, blue and hot pink hearts scattered around.

After about an hour, Dark had completed the puzzle. In Wilford’s handwriting, it said

I have loved you for almost 50 years, if not longer. I want the spend the rest of my years with you.

Dominique Gabriel Liy, will you marry me?

Dark was so overcome with emotion, they could barely text Wilford “Come”, but Will still showed up in the office seconds later. He hugged Dark tightly and rubbed their back.

“I didn’t expect you to cry, love,” Will said softly. Dark just nodded.

“Yes. Yes. I will marry you, Wilford. I love you so much and I want to be your spouse.” Will smiles and kisses Dark's head. His eyes drifted over to the wooden box.

“Oh! You finished the puzzle, but you didn’t open the box yet.”

“I’ve been a bit overcome to do so, Will.”

“Well, let’s open it together!” And so, with one arm around Dark, Will undid the latch and the two betrothed pushed open the lid. Inside was an expensive looking champagne bottle, two personalized champagne flutes and a diamond ring. Will gingerly picked up the ring. "I love you so much, Dark." He said as he gently took Dark's left hand and slid the ring onto their finger.

"I love you too, Will." And they proved it by kissing Wilford.