#riac

I'm gonna be at Rhode Island Anime Con this weekend!

Summary: In which Dark... recruits William as his partner.

Prompt: Goretober, Demonic

Warnings: strangle mention, mass shooting, blood mention, dark having power to control fear, lack of sanity, manipulation, dark is referred to as a demon.

Note: Day two is a success! I actually really like this one, so I hope you guys do too!! (Also apologies again for the lack of read more)

———

Dark strides into the club, the bouncer coughing and clutching his reddened, bruising throat, eyes wide and white in terror, crotch dampened. The receiving end of his version of a ticket that allows him to step inside and skip the line. Very effective.

His aura had played a crucial role, sneaking in the man’s fears to play in his mind on a loop, startling him stiff. He’d recover from that before the night’s end. Probably.

Music throbs in the air, twisting around flailing bodies and thrumming in their chests besides their beating hearts. Unconsciously, they all veer away from Dark’s path, providing him a narrow pathway to the foot of the stage.

Dancers atop it pay him no heed, continuing to twist their bodies in time with the heavy beat. The central dancer, a brightly colored man with dyed hair, is by far the most enthusiastic of them. The others simply follow the tune of the music, mimicking the man while he dances with it, a partner to the song and a showman of its grace.

Dark clears his throat, the sound cutting through the music, disrupting the steady, flowing pace and the dancers trip, stumbling over themselves to stagger away from the creature who emits horror. Except one. The man continues, lithely avoiding the stumbling figures of the lost dancers. The man is blind to the intrusion, deaf to anything besides the music as he now commands it.

Three small steps lead up to the stage and Dark walks up them, aura wide and thrumming, dimming the lights, muting the music, sending a chill of warning throughout the club.

The man continues to dance.

“William,” the demon calls, voice low and rumbling yet somehow louder then the music still ringing in the air.

The man, the dancer, William, ignores the call. Dark steps closer, his arm brushing against a backup dancer who gasps and falls off the stage. No one notices, continuing to dance and enjoy the vibrant vibe, accounting the chill grasping their spine and whispering ‘danger’ as a side effect of the alcohol.

Taps of heel against wood echo. A slight sound that dwarfs the deafening music. Reaching out a gray, chilled hand, Dark grasps William’s shoulder.

Finally, he gains the man’s attention. His head still bobs and his hips sway, arms swinging around himself as he performs complicated footwork that keeps him in the same relative area, but he stays near Dark, eyes fixed on him. Practically giving him a lap dance, a private show. Grin still plastered to his face.

Dark sighs through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment in annoyance. “Colonel,” he says, his tone a strange mix of soft and commanding and regretful.

The man stops.

Confusion laces across his features, pinching his brows and weighing down the upward slope of his smile. “Colonel?” He repeats, mutters to himself because the word sounds... familiar. The meaning escapes him, but it rings in his head, a familiar sound.

“William.” Dark takes a half step forwards, grasping at the man’s wrist, pulling it between them to flip it palm up. His hand lays limp in his grasp, mind still whirring for the connection he can feel, the words clinging to his tongue, words burning in his throat, memories lurking in the shadows.

“Do you remember me?” His face is flat, expression artfully neutral even as the final word tremors.

William bounces his gaze over Dark’s face, over the hand holding his, between his eyes. His search stops there. Those eyes. Why do they look familiar?

“I think,” he clears his throat, eyes still pinned to the demon’s, “we’ve met before.”

Dark scoffs a laugh, expression lightening for a moment before he cools it again. “Yes,” he says, voice notably softer then it has been previously, “we have. A very long time ago.”

“Ah!” William pulls his hand free, snapping in Dark’s face. “Are you looking to work here?” He appraises Dark, scanning him with his gaze. “A singer? Musician?”

“No.” Dark scrubs a hand on his forehead wearily. “I’m not a musician or singer.” Not anymore. He could have been, once. He had the talent for it.

William blinks, tilts his head in confusion. “Then who are you?”

It hurts, that he’s asking. They used to be close, used to be brothers, used to be lovers.

No. Dark shakes his head, warding off the old forbidden memories. He wasn’t them anymore.

“I’d like to make you an offer.”

The dancer snorts, shaking his head. “Of what?” he asks. “I’m having all the fun I need right here.” He sweeps his arms out, gesturing to the mob of sweaty people still dancing to music that’s no longer playing on the stage. He frowns. “What happened to the music?”

The demon tilts his chin up, bristling. “The music does not matter.” It’s muffled, nearly gone in the bubble of Dark’s aura engulfing the stage. Irritation prickles across his skin. “I’d like to make a deal with you.”

“Not interested. Put the music back on.”

Anger flashes in his eyes. Leaning forward, he locks William in his gaze, in the dark pools of his eyes. It’s instinctive, to pull him in when he’s not cooperating.

He worms his way to the brain, where he dredges up the manor and tugs it to the forefront of his mind. Warped, aged memories filter back in flashes. Giant booms, fallen bodies, a fantastical prank.

He takes the bones of that night and fleshes it out with horror, with a mix of brutal reality and anxious fiction, showing William shooting Abe, shooting Mark, shooting Damien, shooting Celine, shooting Y/N. Showing William the fear he’s been denying and fleeing from.

Muzzle flashes spark across his eyes as Dark leans away, straightening his posture and smoothing out his suit.

William falls to the floor, shaking and terrified. “What was that?”

Dark crouches, seeking eye contact that William flinches away from. Dead friends hang in his eyes and they’re not dead, they can’t be. He would never kill them.

Sighing, he lowers his gaze to the floor. A reprieve that allows William to breathe. “I can make it stop,” Dark says, “the memories, the horror, the guilt.”

“I— I didn’t do that.” William scrambles away, shaking his head. “I didn’t shoot them.”

Dark lifts his head, finds his gaze. More shots, more bodies, more blood.

“No, stop.” William cries, terror locked around his heart.

Dark pulls the gun out of pocket, shining silver and far too heavy in his hand. He holds it out to the man. “Do you remember this?”

“That didn’t happen,” he whispers. “It’s not real.” Shakily, he grabs the gun, cold metal biting into his skin and aiding in the return of old feelings, aiding in the twist of Dark’s power in his mind. “Damien’s not dead.”

Something flinches in Dark, twisting his organs. He remembers a bright light, a soft chant gone too far. Snowy woods, cracking ice and a small cabin. Pain filters across his face. “No,” he finally says, “Damien is dead.”

Strangled laughter. “No. No, no, no, he’s not dead, he’s just playing a prank!” The old manic look, familiar and new all at once, lights his eyes. Decades of parties and dancing melt away to leave William’s core, barren and open to the outside world. Returning him to the man who killed and thought it to be a joke. Washing away the years he’s spent toeing the line of sanity and now forcing him to choose.

“Join me,” Dark says, reaching out a hand, promising something the other man doesn’t understand.

William eyes Dark’s hand, hesitant. He was enjoying all the clubs and the dancing. Twisting the gun his hands feels right. Natural.

Dark expands upon himself. “If you agree to become my partner, I’ll let you keep the gun. Deal?”

Their hands shake before William puts in any thought. It’s second nature, habit, what Dark is offering him. With the shake, the deal is sealed, unbreakable, irreversible, and easily struck to the man with a mind of putty.

William agrees out of a desperate need to keep the gun. It feels like an expansion of himself and he remembers now, all the fun he used to have with it. He’d like to have that fun again.

Dark tucks his hands back into his pockets, nodding at his new partner. Spinning on his heel, he retracts his aura, allowing the music to swell throughout the entirety of the room again.

“I’ll be in touch,” he states, as William hefts his new toy upwards and pulls the trigger, staining the floor red and painting the air with screams.

His grin is estastatic and his laughter follows the demon out the club.

———

Masterlist