Wilford doesn't remember his childhood in full, he remembers being alone, maybe an orpahnage. He remembers going into the army at eighteen and coming back at twenty-four, he remembers blood and war and death.
He remembers being alone and feeling the emptiness crawling inside.
He remembers guns and knives and blood, the shouting.
At one point he wanted to be a tv host.
A few years and he was sent here, nobody knew what was wrong with him. Tests and medicine, being labeled clincally insane.
He wasn't crazy, he wasn't!
Then Dark showed up, he didn't look at Wilford like he was crazy, he didn't care that he was a little...quirky."You don't care, do you?" Wilford flipped the checker piece up before catching it.
"Care about what?" Dark hummed, head tilting slightly.
"That I'm crazy," Wilford laughed, "You don't care,"
"You're not crazy." Dark frowned, "I don't think so at least..."
Wilfords heart fluttered, a dopey grin on his face, he didn't feel alone with Dark.
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For Him ; Dantistache ; Iplier/Septic ; AU
FanfictionIn a mental hospital , Dark is sent to do reports and interviews , but two of the patients...may have captured his heart.