Ego Drabbles and short fics

Wilford with hints of Darkstache

(to heads up, each part will be titled with the main ego it features)

Wilford stared at the ceiling with aching eyes. He couldn't sleep. Not right now. He felt a pain in his chest, a deep, gut-wrenching pain that clawed into his heart and settled there to use the organ as a stress ball when it saw fit. It wasn't physical, he knew that.

He... was remembering. Like he always did so late at night, when he alone was awake and the rest of the world was sound asleep.

"Damien..." the name left his lips, soft, a curious whisper. Did he know a Damien? Yes... he felt like he had, a long time ago.

He closed his eyes, chasing the memory that came along with that name.

-*-

"Come on Damien!" a young Wilford called out, poking his head out of their makeshift fort. "You're soooo slow!" he ducked back in as a neatly dressed child, no older than thirteen, approached.

"Well we can't all be as spritely as you, Wil." he huffed, "You ran too fast." he laid the lantern down on the floor of their fort, kneeling down on the blanket that made up said floor.

Wil responded by simply sticking out his tongue, where Damien did the same.

"How's that fancy boy school?" ah, he remembered this. Damien's parents had enrolled him in some prestigious school for gifted children, and Wil was stuck in public school. It sucked, but Wil would wake up early to walk Damien to his bus stop, and Damien would wait for Wil at the end of the day. They made it work, as best friends often did.

"I hate it. The other kids are so boring, or uptight....am I uptight?"

Wil snorted, "No, course not!"

Damien was relieved, "Well, how about you? Anything new?"

"Just a new student named Mark, he's kinda cool. He was getting picked on so I stepped in and kicked the bullies in the kneecaps. Got in trouble for it."

"Next time at least try to talk your way out of it. You keep doing stuff without thinking and you'll end up doing something you really regret!"

-*-

They seemed to have been good friends... so why did he feel like there was something...

More?

-*-

Summer, he was... in his late teens? He, Damien, and a few others were all gathered around in an abandoned warehouse. Playing games, laughing. Good times... but why did things feel tense?

Oh, Damien had been dating this girl. She was there. Wil remembered her. Boy, she was so controlling. Damien had been polite, too polite, if you ask Wil. She wanted to move too fast, Damien declined, she cut things off and tried to mess around with Wil. It didn't work and she made a scene, it had been a mess.

She seemed to be trying to get cozy with Damien, who sat rigid beside him. He was far too polite to do anything. Wil opened his mouth to say something but one pleading look from his best friend and he ceased. It was too bad too, he had a whole string of choice slang he was going to use to describe this girl.

Wil had heard stories, she had the worst intentions. He wasn't going to let her do what she wanted to his friend. So throughout the night, whenever she attempted to make any conversation with Damien Wil would interject.

However, he did have to pee. Badly.

After excusing himself, doing the deed, and returning he discovered that in the time that he was gone that one) his spot had been taken, and two) they were now playing a round of Spin the Bottle.

Wil had to sit straight across from his pal, who looked more and more uncomfortable. Clearly the game hadn't been his idea. Wil bet his savings it was the girl's idea.

Why did that girl's mere presence infuriate him so much? Was... had Wil been... jealous?

The game progressed, and soon it landed on Wil himself. He shared a brief kiss with the gal next to him, it was no big deal for him, he had kissed plenty of times. He was just glad Damien hadn't-why was he glad about that?

Nevermind that.

He spun the bottle as hard as he could, watching it almost boredly. Until it landed on his good friend. He swallowed, cheeks a bright pink. Damien couldn't get any redder. There were many snickers around them as Wilford made his way over.

He knelt down and Damien leaned forward, his hand was on his cheek, their lips were only mere inches apart. He could taste the cola on Damien's breath. Why did he want this so badly?

A loud slam jumped them both out of their stupor, the party scrambling for the exit. Their little get together had been discovered, and as they had been out past curfew anyone caught would be in deep trouble.

Wil held Damien's hand as they ran off into the woods surrounding the neighborhood, fast on their feet. Damien wasn't as slow now as he had been as a child. He had the bright idea of going to their old fort, tugging Wil in the direction he knew by heart. It was overgrown with vines and covered in leaves, and it provided a safe hiding spot.

The two lay on the old blanket, a hand over each other's mouths to keep from breathing too heavily. It was cramped. The fort was not built for two individuals of their size.

When they were sure the coast was clear they each sighed, dropping their hands. Wilford was giggly, Damien was grinning. The adrenalin was still coursing through them.

After a few seconds of calming their breaths, Damien spoke up. "Wil?"

"Hm?" He turned onto his side, looking at Damien in the pale moonlight that peeked through the leaves of their fort.

Before he knew it a pair of soft lips found his, clumsy and sweet. Damien was kissing him. And he was kissing back.

Wil's hands held Damien's cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the smooth skin that he could feel was growing warm.

When they pulled away Wil could see the faintest smirk on Damien's lips. "It was still your turn."

-*-

Oh... that... would explain some things.

But now there was something else.

That smirk, he knew it from somewhere else. Someone else. He stared at the ceiling, focusing in the pattern engrained in it until his eyes lit up.

"Dark."