Iplier House

Bubbles and Broken Memories

Darkiplier was hunched over his desk, working out a plan on paper when he heard the door open behind him.

"Do you know what life's all about?" Came Wilford's familiar drawl.

Without looking up or batting an eye, Dark sighed, agitated by the disruption. "Bullets? Candy? Madness?"

"Choices."

Dark paused, staring at his paper before finally lifting his head and turned to face Wilford. The man was standing in the doorway, a wild look in his eyes and his clothes splattered with blood. Nodding slightly, Dark swiveled the chair around and stood, adjusting his tie. "Choices?"

"Yes." Wilford leaned in the doorway, playing with the knife in his hands. "I could choose to sleep with someone's wife... or to not sleep with their wife."

"You could." Dark eyed him carefully, wondering who's blood the man was covered in. "But you always choose to sleep with her."

"Of course I do. Is that so bad? I'm doing these men a service really." Wilford rambled, shaking the blood off the knife he was holding. "I mean... they have a choice too! The wives I mean. It's not like I have mezmors or your power of manipulation." He looked up at Dark, making eye contact, a sort of sadness washing over him, a strange sight for the man. "These women want to sleep with me." Then in an instant, a wild smirk took over Wilford's expression, seeming to snap into his old self. "I know I'm devilishly handsome!" He grinned, then sighed softly. "But, they're still making the choice. Is it so wrong of me to want to be loved?"

Darkiplier cracked his neck, placing his hands behind his back. "Loved?" He questioned, wondering if the world was so very twisted in Wilford's mind that one night stands with married women equated to love.

"She loved me you know! He could never see it... but she did. She... she had a choice too." Wilford rambled as his gaze fell back to the knife.

"Who?" Darkiplier questioned, still wondering where the blood had come from.

"Hm?" Wilford glanced at him and chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, nothing." He laughed, wiggling his mustache as he wiped the blood from his knife on his pants and placed the blade back in it's holder. Dark eyed him carefully, starting to turn back to his desk before he heard, "Celine did love me though."

Tensing, Dark turned his head back to look at Wilford. Some tiny thread of decency from somewhere deep within one of the voices that filled his head, kept him from reminding Wilford that Celine had left him too, and that she had always been a master of manipulation herself. Instead, Dark cleared his throat. "Who did you stab Will?"

"Oh!" Wilford chuckled, looking down at his blood soaked clothes. "A man came home while I was in bed with his wife. Made quite the scene!" He shook his head. "Then she started screaming... you know how women can be. 'You stabbed him! You stabbed him!' hysterics. So I had to quiet her down too. Too bad really, we'd been having a wonderful time."

Darkiplier nodded slightly. "I suppose I have a scene to clean up now."

"The cops... they always get so fussed. I don't understand why they won't just leave me to my business."

"Yes. People do tend to get upset about murder." Dark explained.

"So sensitive." Wilford shook his head. "I only stabbed them a little!"

"While I take care of it, why don't you make some candy apples? I have a craving." Dark sighed.

Wilford grinned, nodding slightly. "Yeah, sure. Thanks for helping out, old boy!" He turned, wandering off to the kitchen as Dark watched.