I Am Not Crying, You Do.

I am not crying, you do.

A Midnight Disturbance

The sound of two loaded springs followed Eric Derekson as he hobbled his way down Iplier HQ's main boarding hallway, sniffling and muttering incoherently under his breath as he went.

In the middle of such a quiet night, his presence was tumultuous and unwanted clamor, waking nearly every light-sleeping ego in the immediate vicinity.

In spite of this, not a single one uttered a word, and left the newbie to his own devices.

When a particular door was reached, Eric stopped and listened, hushing his sniffling and passive mutters.

Though, much to his dismay, no sound could be heard within, and the pace of Eric's dainty little heart quickened.

He… he couldn't breathe.

Knock… should he knock?

No… that would be impolite this time of night. S-should he try the knob? No… that would be worse. Surely Dark was out, or maybe asleep or… busy… or… or… or…

Eric slid to the floor, crumpled in on himself, and hugged his knees to his chest, burying his face between them.

Tears began to soak into the fabric as the young ego was reduced to a mere, pathetic, sobbing mess.

But a sudden, deep rumbling drew his attention away from his knees, and all of the bad, frightening things in his head dissipated and faded into obscurity.

“Eric.” Dark’s familiar, resounding voice struck him from every direction, alongside an eerie tinnitus-like ring.

Eric sniffled and gazed up at the suited figure, face a soaked and snotty mess.

“D-D-Dark… D… Dark.” He whimpered.

The demon kneeled before him, a look of what could-be false sympathy gracing his traditionally inexpressive face.

As Eric gawked, desperate for relief, Dark opened his arms, drawing the younger, forlorn ego in for a comforting hug.

“Breathe.” Dark cooed. “You are safe… I have you.”

All Eric could do was bawl as Dark's aura converged around him, pressing his face into the older ego’s shoulder, and crushing his glasses in the process.

“C-can't find m-m-m…”

Dark silenced him, summoning something into one of his hands and releasing the embrace.

“Trapped between the wall and your mattress.

You ought to keep it some place when you sleep. Try beneath your pillow.”

Eric continued to gawk at Dark as he spoke, his soft, milky brown eyes lighting up the moment his yellow rag came into view.

“O-oh… t… thank. Thank you, Dark. I. I'm…”

“You're fine. Remember what I've told you.

Breathe.”

Eric took the rag from Dark's hand and shifted nervously in place.

That was when Dark pulled him in for another hug.

“Would you like for me to return you to your room?”

The demon's voice was soft, but a whisper in contrast to the deep echoey rumble the other egos were accustomed to.

Eric was the only one who was ever treated with such a gentle murmur in casual conversation.

“Yes, please…”

And just like that, Eric was back in his bed, prosthetics removed and the yellow rag sitting, folded, on his chest.

He took Dark's advice and shoved it beneath his pillow, where he knew it would be safe… praying no more nightmares would befall him that night.

“Thank you, Dark…”

He knew Dark was no longer present… but in Eric’s mind, the gratitude would reach him… somehow.

It always would.

[Note(s): I do not believe I ever published this piece, so here you are, my dears. Enjoy. And yes, I did ask Eric for his consent to post this.]

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one shot short story markiplier istg darkiplier markiplier egos markiplier fandom eric derekson Who Killed Markiplier / WKM my feelios

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