What started out as a fun and easy way to pay off your college debts eventually meant living with a man who’s name you did not speak. To others, he was Kim Namjoon — the owner of several multi-billion dollar companies with a cold personality and a yearn for perfection. To you, he was that very same man, cold and distant, except you were strictly instructed to call him one thing and one thing only.
“Uncle Wilford! Uncle Wilfo~ord!” A little dyed red head and a pretend crown bobbed around a table corner to meet a lounging pink mustachioed fellow of considerable silliness looking at a very sharp knife. The two children looked quite excited and the man’s interest was piqued. He smiled, mustache lifting slightly, and waggled his eyebrows.
“Well then, Yan and King, whatcha need, hm?” Wilford put away his knife, sitting himself up and over to get down to the pair’s level. Yandere presented an old Polaroid picture, looking quite excited. Wilford recognized it immediately furrowing his brows and lightly taking it from the child’s grasp. “Where’d you two find this?” His dark brown eyes never left the photo.
“Yan and I found it in the attic when we were looking for Rufus!” King answered with enthusiasm. The peanut butter on his face dripped down onto the carpet, and normally Wilford would ‘punish’ him by giving him the tickle fight of his life. But the man was currently lost in memory with a small half smile on his lips. He suddenly looked up, eyebrow raised.
“Who’s Rufus?” Wilford looked between the two, a little bewildered.
“He’s a squirrel,” Yan answered. Wilford nodded, looking around the room like something was watching him. He lifted the picture, smiling at them both.
“Well this certainly was a find. I thought it had been lost,” Wilford clicked his tongue, lifting the photo for further examination. “I wonder if Dark still remembers this…” King suddenly snorted. Wilford looked down at him. “Got somethin’ up your nose, your majesty?”
“No!” King giggled into his hand, getting peanut butter all over it. “Why did uncle Dark look like that?” Wilford looked at the photo.
“You mean his sense of style has changed?” This remark got an outburst of laughter from the two. Wilford chuckled, himself. “Well, I would think it was because he wanted to keep up with the ‘aesthetic’ of being,” Wilford rolled his eyes and lifted his hands to form quotation marks, “'Darkness’. Really it was just him brooding,” Wilford shook his head. “He was certainly odd, still is. You know he still wears those band tee-shirts?” The kids looked shocked. Wilford was practically bubbling with laughter.
“How come we’ve never seen them!!” Yan shouted, King nodding in vigorous agreement.
“It’s because he thinks he can keep it a secret. But ol’ Wilford Warfstache has known him much longer than anyone else here! And no secret of his is safe with me. Here, I’ll prove it. Follow me.” The pink mustachioed man stood up, beckoning the children to follow him out of the room and into the large halls of the building they all shared. Wilford brought his knife back out, smiling like Yan and King after being slipped some candy.
“Wilford how many times–”
“Yeah, yeah! Just come over here! I think I’ve finally figured out a solution to taking over the channel,”
“Oh really? Why do I not believe you?”
“Just come here!”
A flash of metal and a small pop of buttons had the entire hall in pause and silence. A soft ringing began to sound itself off, but it was long forgotten when the sounds of laughter filled the halls. Dark’s teeth were grit and he looked very angry. His hands were gripping his dress shirt to try and hide what was underneath, but it was too late.
“I told you he still wore em!” Wilford grinned, laughing along with the two children. They were practically rolling on the floor. Dark’s eyes flashed to Wilford.
“Is this the game we’re going to play?” Dark suddenly smiled, folding his hands behind his back to reveal even more of the shirt. His eyes were narrowed. “Then I suppose the children would like to know that your mustache has literally taken years to grow?” Wilford’s eyes widened and suddenly the two were grasping the other’s clothing, glaring daggers at each other.
“That’s not true!”
“Oh really? Then what would happen, say by some accident, it was suddenly shaved off tomorrow? You could easily grow it back, right Wilford?”
“You better not, emo boy!”
“I am not an emo!”
“THEN EXPLAIN THE SHIRTS UNDER YOUR SUIT!”
“I DON’T NEED TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING TO YOU! I THINK AFTER ALL THESE YEARS EVERYONE DESERVES TO KNOW WHY YOU DYE YOUR MUSTACHE!”
“HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF SUCH SLANDER, BLACK PARADE!”
“UNCLE WILL AND DARK!!!”
“You two are dorks” Yan said. He and King both grinned.
“But you’re our dorks!” They both ran forwards, hugging the two men that were still grappling each other.
“Don’t touch me”
“Maybe a little love is what Brood needs, kids” Wilford grinned. Dark snarled.
Inspired by a post I saw about Dark still wearing band tees