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“Ah, there’s the man of the hour, Damien himself!” A familiar voice sang as he entered the office with his usual dramatic flair. 

“It’s ‘Mayor Brooks’ while you are here, Mark. But it is good to see you.” Damien countered, playfully rolling his eyes. Even if Mark was a big internet celebrity, he made it his mission to check in regularly on Damien. It was a nice relief, even if the pair were trying to regain grounds on their friendship. Mark had dated his twin sister in university, but the manner in which the pair broke up was so dramatic, it caused a rift between the two young men. At least a friendship from childhood was not one that could be broken forever. He saved the document he was typing and closed the laptop. “If you are here, can I assume there is some great problem going on in your world?”

“Oh, no no. All good on my end!” Mark slumped onto the sofa to the side of the office with a laugh. “I recorded one huge game over the weekend and scored myself some free time. What better way to spend it than with my favourite politician?”

“As much as I appreciate the compliment, I would gather that your other friends are busy and you don’t have anyone else to turn to.” However blunt the statement might be, there was a smile on Damien’s face as he fell back onto the free half of the couch. Mark responded with a loud gasp and a hand on his chest, which only prompted Damien to lightly push him.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know I came here to see if you wanted to grab a coffee with me. I found ten bucks in my pants pocket this morning and I wanna splash out. Come on, Dames! Doesn’t your favourite coffee place have the best pumpkin spiced latte on this side of the city?”

“Mark, it’s May. They aren’t going to make that for you.” Now it was Damien’s turn to be pushed as Mark waved the ten dollar bill in his face.

“I think you’ll find myself and mister Alexander Hamilton will disagree with tha- HEY!” Letting his guard down was a mistake, as Damien took the chance to snatch the money out of his hand and jump onto his feet. “You crooked politician! Stealing the money of an innocent, hard-working man like me!”

Damien fetched his coat with a chuckle. “For someone who wants coffee, you don’t seem very keen in moving for it.” It worked, and a childishly offended Mark pulled himself off the couch. The money was returned to Mark as the pair exited the office. Damien did need a break, he decided as he locked the door after him.

-

Mark was an interesting man. He could act loud and brash, but it was only a mask that hid a soul that seemed older than thirty. Damien used to joke that Mark might be an old man stuck in a young body. The walk to the coffee shop took the usual diversion through a nearby park so they could swap stories and chat without the rush of the world shoving them forward. Mark and his content creator friends were busy working on a variety of projects, and he himself admitted he was feeling happier in himself than he had been in recent years. Likewise, Damien had been working on completing some important jobs around the city and trying to get some new schemes underway.  It was busy, but rewarding. In times like this, neither had to play the part cast for them by society. They could be themselves, just like old times. It meant that Damien was more relaxed and jovial by the time they reached their destination.

The coffee shop had the familiar busy hum to it as the pair entered. Since Damien was a regular, there was never any fanfare of the mayor visiting their business. Mark’s ‘perfect’ disguise of a worn baseball cap and his glasses seemed to do the job of keeping a low profile. Surprisingly, the barista did indeed agree to make a pumpkin spiced latte for Mark, as well as Damien’s regular order. Both drinks and two large muffins were covered by the ten dollar bill, much to Mark’s delight. For now, they simply had to wait for their drinks.

“- And still no sign of a special someone?” It was a question Mark frequently asked. Damien seemed content to be ‘married’ to his work, but Mark would argue that the companionship would make the heavy workload more bearable. They both knew it was true, but Damien was a stubborn man. He was too proud to deal with blind dates, and seemed insistent on waiting for ‘the right person’. Instead, Damien countered with a question about Amy and how she and the two dogs were doing. A simple diversion, but a wholesome one, as Mark could share silly moments and photos on his phone, and Damien could enjoy the tales. How could he not be happy for his friend? It seemed like things were finally looking up for him.

At that, Mark’s drink and the muffins were ready, but there was no sign of Damien’s drink. He insisted Mark go fetch a table while Damien continued waiting. Several long minutes passed as people who ordered similar drinks received theirs, and Damien was tempted to ask one of the staff about his drink. Just as he was about to, the door slammed open as a man stumbled in.

“Geez, man! Could you not break that door, please?” The manager shouted at the stranger, who hurried over and apologised profusely while ordering his ‘usual’ summer iced drink and telling a story about a kid outside throwing ice-cream at him. Damien pulled out his phone to try and look busy, but his eyes strayed from the screen and darted to the man.

The stranger was a head taller than Damien and had a broad build that was emphasised by the fitted white t-shirt and jogging pants he was wearing. His black, curly hair looked somewhat erratic, while the large, bushy moustache reminded Damien of the chief of police from a TV show he loved. Facial hair of that style wasn’t in season anymore - not to mention this wasn’t as eloquently groomed as other moustaches would have been - so it was likely something important to the man. His face was framed by a sturdy jawline, which gave a somewhat intimidating air. But his eyes… Were looking in Damien’s direction. Oops.

The Mayor gulped and returned his attention to his phone.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Damien jumped at the sudden voice and presence beside him. The stranger had stepped closer without him realising it. “Is something wrong? Did that kid get ice-cream on my shirt?”

“No, your shirt is fine.” Damien responded quickly, intending to leave it at that. But the stranger stayed firm, bringing a sigh out of the politician. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rude to stare. I thought I recognised you, that’s all.” 

“And do you?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious. That was enough to prompt Damien to lock and pocket his phone.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I do, and I wouldn’t forget a moustache like that, but I can’t place anything… Even if it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue.” Realising how odd that sounded, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’m sorry, this all sounds rather bizarre from a complete stranger -”

“No!” Both men were taken aback at the stranger’s interruption. “Er, no. Sorry. It doesn’t sound weird. I feel the same. I feel like I know you -”

“I’m the Mayor. That’s hardly a surprise.”

“- yeah, but like I know know you, you know?” The stranger shook his head, curls bouncing with a nervous chuckle. “I think this is a sign. Maybe we ought to get to know each other properly, just in case we met in a dream.” A large hand was offered to Damien. “The name’s William Barnum, but friends can call me -”

“The Colonel.” Damien finished. Confusion was mirrored on both faces.

“How did you -”

“I don’t know?” No matter how he tried to place a specific memory with the phrase, nothing came to mind. Instead, he pushed it aside. “My name is Damien Brooks. Despite the rather odd circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The large hand was taken, and they gave a firm shake.

Immediately, a memory crossed Damien’s mind. This man had pink in his hair. His own hands were gray. Mark had a shadowed, wicked grin on his face. But as soon as it came, it vanished, like trying to recall a fading dream. 

“Hey, Damien?” William’s dark eyes had drifted aside as he tried to encourage the words to come to him. “Do you want to go out for lunch this week?” A simple question made Damien’s heart skip a beat as an all-too familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach manifested.

“Are - are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah… Is that too forward? I feel like it’s the right thing to do. You’re very handsome.” 

Strange. Why did Damien feel like William had complimented him like that a hundred times before? Stranger still, why did it make him feel so happy to hear the nervous rambling? He reluctantly pulled his hand away so he could snatch a napkin from the counter and the pen in his pocket. A phone number was hastily scribbled on it, before it was scratched out and written neater. Just in case, his name was noted underneath.

“Here. Text me later. If you’re free, we could always… Go for dinner?” It also felt like the right thing to do, like it was a regular event. William seemed to agree, as his face lit up. Upon receiving the napkin, it was treated like something sacred by William, who carefully folded and placed in his wallet.

“Yeah! That’d be - I’d really like that - Bully.” That exclamation of relief shouldn’t bring a familiar tugging of heartstrings to Damien, but it did. Only that he was with Mark (and that he has a job to return to), Damien would have gladly gone wherever William was going. 

Both names were called as the drinks were finally ready. Each one was lifted, and the pair gave their parting words and a promise to arrange something as soon as William returned home. But just as Damien was about to turn and walk to the table, William leaned down enough to kiss him on the cheek, hurrying off before anything else could happen. All Damien could do was watch the larger man disappear with a wistful smile before turning to find Mark at the table.

“You’re putting the local tomatoes to shame. You okay?” Mark asked, innocently sipping his latte. It was still mostly full. The drink itself looked hot. How long had that moment actually lasted?

“I’ve got a date tonight.” Damien was so embarrassed after blurting his answer, he didn’t notice how Mark’s surprise was an act. “I started talking to a guy up at the counter and - well, we’re meeting for dinner.”

“I’m so happy for you, man. Look at you, getting out there and being ambitious! I’m sure he’ll be a great guy!” Mark grinned, letting the topic drop so the Mayor could get his head around the ‘unexpected’ event. 

While they were talking after the drinks were finished, a text arrived on Damien’s phone. Mark noticed there was a number rather than a name, but it brought a smile to Damien’s face. The Youtuber waved his hand and insisted Damien needed to ‘urgently’ answer it. As the Mayor did so, Mark noticed how the shadow that was always looming over Damien finally dissipated. At last, the malicious claws from a lifetime ago were gone, and with that, Mark’s own powers.

But what did the loss of powers matter when he was able to use them to help Dark and Wilford start a new relationship together? They could live as normal, ordinary people, just like Dark had always vowed when confronting the Actor. Today: the Actor was dead, Mark was alive, and the curse holding them all down had been broken for good.

“Daaaaaark, where are we going?!”

“Patience, Wil.”

WIlford’s pout only deepened. “Aww, you’ve been saying that for ages now! Just a little hint, please? Pretty please? With sprinkles on top?”

Dark chuckled, a slight smile in the curl of his lips, but he said nothing, just continued to walk through the dark, empty city, Wilford clinging to his arm. And Wilford sighed, tightening his grip a little as he rested his head on Dark’s shoulder as they walked. He didn’t mind the walk through the city at night. Dark was always more active at night. Sure, it screwed up Wilford’s sleep schedule a bit, but...Wilford never slept much anyway. He’d do anything to spend more time with his husband, when both of their lives were so busy.

That being said...

Wilford made a grumbling sound under his breath, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “I hate when you’re all cryptic.”

Dark turned his head slightly in Wilford’s direction, prompting him to lift his own head up. Dark’s smile had shifted into a smirk, amusement glittering in his pitch-black eyes. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Wilford’s cheek, and promptly sending his face into flames. Dark couldn’t help his laugh. “Hate it all you want, my dear, but I still won’t tell you where we’re going. Just...” His smirk dropped, and he turned back to face the street ahead. “...We’ve been there before.”

Wilford immediately perked up, a bright smile appearing on his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet a little. “Oooh, are we going to the club? It’s been so long since we went back there!”

Dark made an odd choking sound, stumbling, and his face immediately flushed dark grey. “What -- no, it’s not the club!” At Wilford’s crushed expression, Dark sighed. “But...maybe we can go there after. Maybe. Maybe, Wil, don’t get your hopes up!”

Wilford laughed, pressing a kiss of his own to the side of Dark’s throat. “Too late~!”

Dark swore quietly under his breath, straightening his tie with his free hand, and Wilford counted that as a win in his score column. They lapsed into silence as they walked, Wilford once again laying his head on Dark’s shoulder. They walked for a long time, but neither felt the cold of the night -- Wilford was used to the cold. Dark was cold. Cold felt like...nothing but love to him now. 

However...eventually, Dark began to lead him down a street Wilford didn’t know, out of the city, and up the lone mountain that sat on the outskirts. Wilford lifted his head again, to shoot a confused, curious glance at Dark, but Dark didn’t acknowledge it, just continued up. It was another long, exhausting walk up the mountain, but Wilford didn’t complain; clearly whatever was at the top of this mountain was...important, and Wilford had no desire to break his husband out of his strange...determined reverie. 

And then they reached the peak.

And Wilford’s jaw dropped.

A manor sat on the mountain top, enclosed with an old, wrought-iron fence, with a grand gate to grant entrance to the property. The grounds itself was overgrown, the grass too tall, bushes wild, and young trees scattered about where ancient ones loomed. The manor had been firmly reclaimed by nature, vines and creepers growing up the walls, growing through the walls in some places, patches and holes in the structure, some of which had other young trees growing through. The place was obviously once grand and beautiful.

...Not anymore.

And yet the sigh that escaped Dark, the tension that seemed to bleed out of him as he pulled open the old gate that’s hinges grated on Wilford’s ears was...new. Dark looked...so uncharacteristically at ease here. His smile was...wistful, and sad, but happy as he glanced around the grounds, approaching the manor’s front door. It was...an expression Wilford had never seen on him before. Though...as he himself looked around the place, taking in the decay...

He couldn’t deny that this place felt familiar.

Dark pushed open the front door -- or rather, what was left of it, the wood rotted and hanging off its hinges -- and the two of them stepped inside. The interior looked no better than the exterior -- cobwebs and dust were everywhere, vines creeping across the floor to wrap around the staircase’s railings. There was a dilapidated white grand piano in an alcove next to the stairs, a spot seemingly made for the instrument, and...Wilford didn’t know why he felt -- sad, when he looked at it.

Dark ventured no further than the foyer they stood in, surveying the damage time had done. Only then, did Wilford notice the tears rolling down his husband’s face. Only then, did he notice that he was crying, too. He swallowed thickly, memories that -- that he swore weren’t his own filling his head -- “Dark.” His voice echoed in the manor’s empty halls, despite how softly he’d spoke. “What -- what is this place?”

“Figured you’d be out here,” he drawled, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Since it’s finally not miserable out and everything.”

Dark hummed. He couldn’t really feel much of a difference but it was evident enough.    A red hot spike of pain traveled from his back and down to his toes. Dark took a careful breath, closing his eyes briefly.

“What you want, Wilford?” He managed.

“Here.”

Something was being pressed into his hands. Dark blinked his eyes open to find a steaming hot mug of coffee. Wilford had his own, though by the looks of it the majority was not, in fact, coffee.

“Figured you could use a pick me up,” Wilford offered between sips.

Dark figured he wasn’t wrong and took the gift for what it was. The warmth helped somewhat at least. He had been sitting out here for a couple hours at this point and the worst of the pain had faded by now. They sat in companionable silence, the only noise breaking it was Wilford plucking blades and flowers. Dark couldn’t sit here all day though, loathe as he was to try and stand now.

Just as he was getting ready to, careful fingers were brushing back his hair.

“Wilford what-“

“There we go, perfect!” Wilford beamed, apparently proud of his work. “I’m always sayin’ you need a bit of color.”

The flower tucked behind his ear wasn’t one he was familiar with. Delicate yellow petals were only just visible though Dark could already see the edges going dull. The disappointment coming off the other man was palpable. From the few flowers in Wilford’s lap he apparently took his time selecting a perfect candidate too.

“Ah,” Wilford pouted, looking back to the ones he’d already picked, “guess I’ll have to stick the rest of these in your office or something then.”

A few stems still had dirt clinging to them so wasn’t hard to guess where they came from. “Bim is likely to have an aneurysm when he finds out.”

Wilford waved a hand. “Psh, he can part with a few without getting his panties in a twist. I can handle him just fine.”

Wilford hopped up, flowers clutched in one hand while he helped Dark to his feet with the other. Luckily the only result was a faint twinge in his back. Dark paused for a moment, considering. If Wilford snuck them into his office they’d likely be grayscale within a few hours. It’d a shame if they all went to waste like that.

Plucking a flower from Wilford’s hand, Dark threaded the stem behind the other mans ear. He brushed some of his errant fly aways back for good measure before stepping back to study his work. The color of the petals had barely been touched.

“Might as well make it worth it then, hmm?” Dark offered with a thin smile.

Wilfords grin in comparison could’ve lit a small room. “Aw, Darkie! Now we match!”