Septiplier One Shots

Does it? [dark wilford story]

The thought struck him swiftly. It left him dizzy for a moment as he attempted to find balance again. It hadn't occurred to him before but now that the thought showed it's ugly face he couldn't stop thinking about it. The thought stood so vividly at the forefront of his mind he could almost touch it.

Dark lowered himself down into a chair. Why this one thought bothered him, he's unsure. It's not like he hadn't been aware of it, it just never really came front and center to his mind. He never wanted to think about it.

He felt his hands begin to shake, an unnecessary and crude tick he had developed. He's not sure which of them it came from but it made him feel weak. He knew he had to do something or the intrusive thoughts would never stop plaguing him. He didn't notice until now he had screwed his eyes shut. He tightened his hand and slowed the shaken before lifting an open palm to his own chest and laid it flat.

It was more unsettling than he had thought it would be.

Still.

Unmoving.

Not a sound from within, muscle to move, or breath to take.

No heart to beat.

Silent.

The shaking returned.

He felt his entire body quaking now. He felt his nonexistent heart clench in agony and ripped his hand away. He knew when humans lost limbs sometimes they still feel them, he believes he must be experiencing something similar. A phantom ache. A phantom heart. He breathed in a sudden fake breathe.

He ignores the sound of footsteps approaching. He's waiting for the loud voice to pierce the quiet room. He knows insane and absurd words would spill from his partner's mouth. But they never came.

The room remained silent. Somehow it was worse.

Instead, the footsteps drew closer, coming to a halt in front of him. He finally pried his eyes open and stared at the yellow shirt in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to look up. Not when he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. How does he produce tears? The thought made more tears come.

Wilford.

The broken man didn't say a word, something rare and unusual. He just stands silently. Dark must really look like a mess for this to be happening. He felt a hand carefully touch the side of his face as if he were something delicate, something that could break. The hand pulled him until he rested against the man's sternum. Dark wanted to let himself sink in before remembering what he was. What he had to be.

He felt anger swell in him. Why did Wilford never leave him alone? Why did he—

Ba dum

Dark gasped.

Ba dum

Tears flowed freely down his face as his hands clawed at Wilford's sides pulling him closer and pressing face deeper into this chest.

Ba dum ba dum ba dum

He never knew a simple sound could be missed so much.

Wilford wordlessly drew a hand through his hair. Dark appreciated the silence. It let him listen more.

Ba dum ba dum ba dum ba dum ba dum ba dum

Strong and sweet. Dark thinks he could stay here forever.

Wilford finally broke the quiet. Dark knew he would eventually. He just wasn't prepared for what he had to say.

"It beats for both of us, I think."

and, god, dark can hear it

two heartbeats