#darkstacheweek2019

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.”

--

When November rolled in, Dark would take a week off and travel out of town. No one knew where he went, until the year he asked Wilford to accompany him. While Wilford had expected a trip to Florida (don’t cold creatures migrate south for the winter?), a cabin near the Rockies was on the bottom of his list of his predictions.

The cabin was part of a campsite, but far enough away to give a sense of isolation from the families and college students in the other cabins. It was postcard perfect, including the snow lazily drifting down. Wilford hesitated by the door, using the moment to take the sight in. It was beautiful, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“Will?” A voice stirred him from his thoughts, but the touch made Wilford yelp in surprise. Dark, equally startled, immediately pulled his hand back with a look of regret. A quick apology was given, and Wilford was left alone.

Dark was cold to the touch. That wasn't new. However, Dark's hand was ice. As long as the pair had been together (admittedly, not that long), Dark was never that cold. Was it the result of being somewhere colder than usual? Wilford was used to having that cold hand in his, and had become fond of cuddling his favourite ice cube. The cold wasn’t an issue, yet why did the surprise upset Dark? He didn’t have a chance to ask when the entity made a comment about Wilford losing his nose if he closed the door.

As the pair unpacked and a tour was given, Wilford noticed that Dark kept his hands behind his back, much like how they were before they became a couple. Professional, curt, polite… hiding the truth. Wilford tried to reach out, an attempt to show that it was okay, but Dark moved aside. Guilt began prodding at Wilford like someone was trying to put as many cocktail sticks into his arms as physically possible. He wanted to apologise, but he could tell talking about it was the last Dark wanted to do.

Trust him to accidentally spike Dark's paradoxical view on touch - being both touch-starved and aversive of it. He'd need to remedy this before the week was ruined, and fast.

-

After spending the night on the couch - no point making matters worse - Wilford had a brainwave as he looked out the window. It was snowing! They could go outside! If he needed to remind Dark about how the cold touches didn’t bother him, they needed to be outside. It took half the morning to pester Dark into going for a walk, but it was absolutely worth it the moment the front door closed.

First step of the plan - Wilford forgot his coat and winter accessories. As an entity so used to the cold, it wouldn't cross Dark's mind that this was a mistake.

Second step of the plan - make a snowman. This was a two-pronged tactic. Not only would it let the pair reconcile after their blunder the previous day, but it let Wilford dig his bare hands into the cold snow over and over again without drawing suspicion.

Throwing an odd glance Dark's way, Wilford could see the small smile threatening to spread. Those violet eyes had a slight glimmer to them. Even if he wouldn't break into a giddy mood, Wilford was confident the other was having a good time.

“I'm so used to staring out at the snow that I forgot what it was like to be out in it for a while,” mused the entity as Wilford put the final touches to Twigface the Snowman. “There's a sense of tranquility I find here, like I can slip back into a simpler routine.” Even last night, Dark had chopped some firewood. He wouldn't have the ability to chop a tree without being riddled in pain - nor would the campsite owners allow that - so it was a suitable alternative. “Mayhaps it's that familiarity with death that draws me. Everything is dead, barren, bleak…”

“Refreshin’, white…” finished Wilford with a grin. “Y’know, I'm pretty sure it was Host that told me that things aren't dead in winter. They're asleep. Th’ trees can lose their leaves so they can get new ones fer th’ spring. Animals go ta sleep an’ keep cozy. As fer you?” Wilford climbed onto his feet with a chuckle. “Yer not death. Yer Dark. Sure, yer not as bubbly as someone like Mark, but wouldn't life be borin’ if we were all th’ same? Ya keep me from floatin’ away, an’ I make ya smile. Then my hands always…”

“Warm - WILL!” Wilford, taking the distraction as opportunity, put both his ice-cold hands on Dark's cheeks. Then, to the reporter’s surprise, Dark began to laugh, and covered the hands with his own. “You're like ice.”

“As are you. I'll stay out here all day if I get ta show ya how much I've missed holding yer hand since we got here.” That made Dark wise up to Wilford’s plan. While guilt lingered, he was disappointed in himself for not realising it sooner. He had let old worries get the better of him. That wasn’t fair on Wilford.

“Alright... If I bring you back inside so you can have a shower and warm up, I'll let you hold my hand. Deal?”

“An’ cuddle ya in th’ fluffy blanket I brought?”

“And cuddle in the blanket, yes. It wouldn't be a break if I didn't take time to relax, would it? But, dear… Your cheeks are turning purple.”

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.