They'd all known long before that Damien fought dirty and that there was no way in God's good heaven that he'd go down quietly. Cornered and rapidly realising his lack of control, he began to lash out.

"After all I've done for you all." He growled, loud and animalistic. "After all that I've sacrificed." The room was now caught on his words, listening intently. "I put my life, my career, on the line and this is how you decide to repay me?"

It was easy now, to see the ways in which Damien attempted to manipulate them to his liking. They no longer had a thick shroud over their eyes, covering his lies.

"You have never once taken a risk for us." Clay retorted, feeling George's hand curl softly around his elbow from where they were sat close. It was a comforting and welcome weight, working to keep him calm.

"I took every risk when I chose to take you all in. You would have been nothing without me." It was honestly embarrassing to see the flare of Damien's unwarranted ego burn so wildly.

"If we were good enough to get scouted once then we would have again. Our success isn't because of you." Darryl countered calmly, clearly and civilly. Each a liberty that Damien was not taking.

Fighting a losing battle was not something that he enjoyed, so it came as no surprise that he switched his focus. "Selene, think about what you're doing here. Think about Aurelia, think about where you'd be without me."

"You think I'm ashamed to be able to say that I worked hard and honest to survive? You think it's some dirty little secret that I was a sex worker- I'm sorry, a slut?" Selene asked as though the answer was obvious. "I chose a job I'd enjoy, it was you who stopped me when you decided to marry me, as though getting me knocked up wasn't enough. Aurelia and I would be just fine without you"

It felt exhilarating to finally be able to let the truth out, to finally say the words she'd bitten back for all too long. Damien was the only one that wasn't happy with her lifestyle, all because it'd ruin his image for the world to know that he'd gotten an eighteen year old sex worker pregnant.

It came as no surprise that Damien desperately switched his focus to his last resort.

"Clark."

And Clark had never hated his own name more. Not once had he heard it sound so wholly hellish; like that of nails on a chalkboard or the incessant crying of an inconsolable baby. He'd always hated that Damien called him Ashton, but he hated him calling him Clark all that much more

"You can't do this to me, son." He stated and Clark heard the shift in his voice as he attempted a different approach. "Please, Clark, I'm your father."

"You are nothing to me."

"Son-" Damien tried but Clark was quick to cut him off.

"My father died long before my mother did and he lies with her." His voice was level and clear, eyes hard and fingers shaking. He splayed his hands against the desk before him to still them. "You were never him. You will never be him."

It was silent for a long moment, as though everyone was holding their breath in anticipation.

"You bitch!" Damien screamed, standing and knocking against the desk in the process, lunging in Clark's direction. Jethro stood on instinct and shifted himself between them as Damien was yanked back into his chair, thrashing. "I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

"You have ruined my life, ever since the day you were born." He snarled, eyes crazed and teeth bared like some predator. "You took my wife, my everything from me." Clark stared back, curling his hands into fists to disguise the way their shaking increased tenfold.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." Damien repeated, barely above a hissing whisper.

Had it been mere days earlier, Clark would have agreed.

"Mr Bèste." Both Clark and Damien turned and, just like that, Damien's last chance was over with.

The group held their breath as the jury convened. Not a word exchanged, they instead communicated silently. No matter what, they said, we'll get through this together.

Clark stayed deathly still in his place.

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@catcat
I know we're all a bit clueless as to what's going on but I think our favourite people could use a little love now regardless. DOTD, outcasts, George, Sapnap? We love you so much.
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retweets likes
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@fleepfloop
WE LOVE YOU PISSBABIES
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@luciddreamer
Seeing all that Damien has probably put you all through is disgusting. You're all so strong and we're so proud of you.
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@chiccennuggies
they've honestly each come so far since the first time we met them. WE LOVE YOU!
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@chiccentendies
WOOOOOOOOOO WE LOVE YOU ALL
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retweets likes

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"Damien Malcom Bèste,"

The group had huddled ever closer, Clay and George resting clasped hands atop Clay's thigh; Zak and Darryl curling a warm arm around each others' back; Nick and Vincent pressing softly into one another's side; Geo, Jethro, Keres and Ophelia keeping arms loosely linked at the bend, chairs dragged close; Mrs B had Selene's hands clasped comfortingly between her own and Clark sat stoically alone - for as long as it wasn't over, he had to be strong.

"The jury have found you guilty of domestic abuse," and as Damien's crimes and sentences were announced, the atmosphere shattered.

It wasn't anything like how they were expecting it to be. It wasn't fireworks, loud celebrations and tight hugs. Nor was it tears, rushed realisations and grappling hands.

It was a disbelieving silence as they each took their first breath of freedom. It was watching numbly as Damien was escorted from the room, thrashing and hurling insult after insult that fell on deaf ears. It was looking between one another as the realisation dawned upon them.

It was over. Permanently.

As they came to themselves, they each stood and exchanged slow thanks with the lawyers before falling against one another, dazed. They made their way to regroup outside the courthouse as soon as they could.

The world felt different. The air more crisp, the sound of passing cars and rumbling chatter more clear.

"What do we do now?" Vincent was the first to ask.

"You live." Mrs Bosko answered.

"Ya get in touch with whoever ya picked to be your manager and ya start living rather than just surviving." She continued warmly.

"About that," Darryl smiled "we've been talking and we decided that, if you want, we'd like you to be our manager." She looked, rather pleasantly surprised, around at the band before deciding on her answer.

"It'd be an honour."

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@(Dream)ingOfTheDisco
Thank you all for your continuous, unconditional support, we'll be making a video soon to explain everything. For now, a preview of the upcoming album to show our gratitude.
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retweets      likes
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@dreamdreamdreamdreamdreamdream
#weloveyouDOTD
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@fleepfloop
focus on yourselves, idiots, you don't need to explain it to us
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@chiccennuggies
I can't be the only one who can HEAR how different and how much happier these songs are gonna be? like, yeah, DOTD only knows how to write bops but these are so much more them, y'know?
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     @luciddreamer
     i never thought they could put any more
     emotion into their music but I stand
     corrected
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     retweets      likes

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The house was oddly quiet and empty with everyone out celebrating.

After ensuring the front door was closed and locked, Jethro turned only to be met by an empty hallway. Clark's haphazardly strewn shoes were all the reassurance he needed to remove his own and begin his search.

Thinking with Clark's mind was a rehearsed act that lead him to wandering into the spare bedroom first. He kept his movements slow but allowed their sound to ring out, hoping to assure Clark that he was safe - that Jethro wasn't hunting him or anything similar in his pursuit.

He was about to turn and move to the next room, figuring that the lights would be on if Clark was there, before two scrawny arms reached their way up and around his shoulders tentatively. They were loose enough that Jethro could step away should he wish to.

Instead, he turned to gather Clark close, one hand splaying across his shoulder blades and the other cradling the small of his back. He tucked his nose into the juncture of Clark's neck, hazily feeling the way the arms around his shoulders tightened until Clark had to stand on his toes.

Jethro leant back against the wall as Clark lifted a leg and hopped, attempting to press himself into his best friend - boyfriend? Lover, he settled on - until he simply disappeared. Ro slid an arm down to the back of Clark's thighs and lifted gently to let him wrap his legs around Jethro's waist, shaking pitifully.

"I'm so proud of you. You were so strong, bee." He murmured, lifting to press his nose to Clark's temple the way Clark had done him countless times before. He continued to murmur miscellaneous praise as he manoeuvred them both to the bed, slumping against the headboard and pulling the sheets up over Clark's back.

"You think you can eat something for me?" He asked gently, idly smoothing back Clark's hair. He was acutely aware of the fact that they'd both skipped out on going for dinner and he recalled Clark barely touching anything they'd ordered at lunch.

Clark shook his head guiltily into Jethro's shoulder but Jethro was quick to assure him. "That's fine, you did so well today. Are you comfortable?" He wasn't. His ankle was twisted oddly against the bed and his arms pressed roughly against the headboard. He nodded regardless, not wanting to move from Jethro's arms for even a moment. "Get some rest."

"Aurelia." Jethro more felt the word shape against his skin than heard it. He hushed Clark warmly, carefully unhooking the boy's ankles from behind him in order to lay them both down more comfortably. He made sure that Clark's arms around his neck sat comfortably in the gap between his shoulders and the pillow.

"I'll wake you up when she gets here." He assured, rubbing his hands up and down Clark's opposing sides. "Sleep."

Gathered safely in his lover's arms, Clark finally let himself fall apart and, in the same breath, to sleep.

Jethro remained awake for a little longer, whispering gentle affirmations to fill the empty air the way he'd done for Clark a hundred times before. When he ran out of words to say, he focussed instead on the warm drag of his hands up and down rhythmically.

And when Clay and George returned, poorly smothering their elated giggling against each other's tongues and teeth and pressing their hushes against each other's lips, the other two were much too thoroughly asleep to know or to care.

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It's not unaliving but a pretty-boy like Damien would never survive in jail :]

Feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

Yours, Dandelion