Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The room was fairly silent. maybe too silent.
It was uncomfortable, full of tension and fear.
A demon sat comfortably, arms crossed. His tail swayed side to side and his eyes fumed.
Next to him is a lost time traveler. Confused and worried.
He has not a clue who the avian across the room is. And it scared him.

It was the night of Valentine's Day. Always known as the worst 'holiday' in existence.
"Listen," the air thickened as the demon spoke.
"We simply can't do this anymore. You need serious help if you think this relationship is even remotely healthily at this point."
The man's voice was deep and laced in thickened venom.
Hot tears streamed from the avians bloodshot eyes. His breathing was rapid but his demeanor was calm.
"Okay." Was all he could mutter.
"It's not like he remembers me..or anything for that matter."
The ravenette pointed out, gesturing to the time traveler.

"Don't go after Karl just because you're an inconsiderate fuck."
Sapnap let out a deep sigh.
"We'll be taking our leave. Get your life together and go clean yourself up. You look like shit."

Removing himself from in front of the door, Quackity left the room.
Hearing his now ex fiancés leave tore him apart even more.
Feeling pathetic in the moment, he just decided to take a nap.
Life is only taunting him at this point.
But when is it not? Will there ever be a break to this nonsense?.
→
An abrupt ring echoed through the room which woke Quackity almost immediately.
"What the fuck."
He grabbed his phone, staring groggily at the unrecognized number.
Swiping on the green button, he held it to his ear.
"Hello?."
There was a few seconds of silence before a voice could be heard on the other line.
"Quackity?"
The all too familiar tone pierced Quackity's senses. He sat up, furrowing his brows.
"How did you get my number?. How are you even alive?. What do you want?.

"Woah, calm down. Meet me in Snowchester tomorrow at 11:30 am."
Before quackity could answer, the call was ended.
He cursed under his breath, cautiously looking around his dark room.
When did he get revived?. Who in their right mind..

What the fuck..?

→

Hello :)
Start date: November 19th 2021
Re write date: 1/18/23

Chapter Text

Quackity opened his eyes, to his dismay.
His eyes flicked towards the alarm clock on his bed side table, the time was 7:13 am.
He was late to work, again.
Reluctantly getting up, he slowly made his way to his closet.
It was the same routine everyday but somehow it's always more difficult than the last.
He grabbed his clothes, now dragging himself into the bathroom only to face the mirror.

The mirror had always been his worst enemy. It's like it was only there to mock him.
Displaying every little scar and imperfection.
It disgusted him, truly.
Quackity had tried covering it but while being the one thing that tends to ruin good days, it's also an addiction.
An addiction to picking apart flaws in his face or body.
Having to look at himself every morning, afternoon, night to see if anything had changed in the slightest..

A very unhealthy addiction.

He sighed deeply, turning the showers faucet.
Sure, he was late to work but who really gives a fuck anymore? What's the point in being early.
His eyes glued themselves to the wall as he undressed.
Groaning once a sharp pain went through his sore wings.

Life couldn't get any worse in the moment, surely.
The man already felt like a walking corpse but hell.
The bags under his eyes seemed to darken everyday,
and the scars on his wrists seemed to taunt him every chance they got.
God damn it.
The avian groaned again, shoving his hand under the scorching hot water and deeming it good enough.
Stepping into the water felt like a huge wave of relief.
The warmth calmed the bird immensely.
He only stood, firm under the water for a good 30 minutes.
Arms crossed, wings drooped.

It was a terrible feeling to get out of the shower but at this point, he didn't want to be later than he already was.
Standing right back in front of that gross mirror.
He examined his sharp teeth quickly. Only to scowl at their horrid yellow tint.
It was hard to get out of bed let alone take the extra time to brush his teeth.
It annoyed him but depression is a bitch.
Yet, the one thing he hated the most was the nasty scar pierced through his left eye.
Not only that, but the memories attached to it.
The thought of it made him cringe.

Attempting to brush the thoughts off, he got dressed quickly.
Putting in his glass eye was only another bother.
Las Nevadas was within walking distance which ultimately makes things easier in the long run.

.
.
The office is cold, dark.
The sound of a clock ticked in the far corner of the room.
Nothing was happening, at least nothing interesting.
Until a firm knock echoed through the walls.
"Come in" Quackity sighed, thinking it was Charlie or fundy coming to ask a question.
The door creaked open slowly, Quackity never looked up from his paper work.
"What's up? Is there another bar fight."

he asked flatly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

"Not that I'm aware of?"
Upon hearing the persons voice, the avian lifted his head quickly.
Now making unwanted eye contact with the visitor.

"Who let you in." His tone turned stern and cold. Quackity gritted his teeth, clutching the pen in his hand.
"I let myself in? Your guard isn't too good at his job."
Smoke blew from the mans mouth as he displayed a sinful smile that should've stayed in hell.
"I thought I told you to stay away from me and my country."

quackitys stared at the man, is body tensing in his sudden anger. the man looked just as disgusting as he remembered. messy hair, nasty scars and discolored patches on his skin. yellow teeth, dirty clothes..tattered wings.

"Oh, you did! But I don't..really care." His amber eyes averted around the dim-lit room, he hummed at the decently decorated walls and shelves.
"This is your issue, soot. You don’t know anything when it comes to boundaries and it's getting on my last nerve.
Now get out of my office and see yourself out of my country, thank you." 

"No, I think I'll stay" the brunette huffed out more smoke, sitting in the chair across from quackity's.
"I won't ask you again." The avian stood, wrapping one hand firmly around the axe holstered on his belt.
"Woah, you gonna kill me or something? Won't happen, princess! I'm immortal. Besides, I just want to talk!." wilbur joked, holding his hands up in some sort of defensive gesture.

"Do not start calling petnames, soot. We aren't even on a first name basis. Now say whatever it is you want to say. And make it quick."

Chapter Text

The dim moonlight shone through silk curtains that draped over quackity's bedroom window, crickets chirped loudly, and the occasional owl was heard.

Quackity laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He was deep in thought.

It had been a few months since Wilbur had called him over to snowchester for a quick conversation.
That was when the man was first revived.
Now all Wilbur does it snoop around Las Nevadas, trying to get a citizenship.
Earlier that morning, the two had an argument about the whole situation, and eager to get Wilbur out of his office; quackity had said "I'll consider it."
And he'll admit that he completely regretted everything.

He had given Wilbur false hope and if he finds out Quackity had just said that to get him out of Las Nevadas;
The country might meet the same fate l'manburg had.
Quackity knew the man was sick in the head—down right deranged. and he wouldn’t hesitate the blow las nevadas sky high.

quackity laid the the overwhelming silence. and for a moment, he wondered if life was even real.
It sure as hell didn't feel real.
The way the air felt, the ringing in the so called silence, the shapes and colors that fluttered around the darkness when he closed his eyes too tight.
It all felt like an illusion.

Turning over, quackity grabbed his phone.
Unlocking it and finding his way to his contact list.
A few seconds of scrolling led him to a contact saved under the callers number.
No special name.
He clicked on it, slowly bringing the phone to his ear as it rang.

Soon enough, a raspy voice answered on the other end.
"...it's 3:57 in the morning..?" The voice moaned.

"I know. But I need you to listen to me." quackity sat up, throwing the blankets off his lap and getting up out of bed.

"M'kay..what's up, princess.." 

"Don't- you know what I don't care. Just. Listen."

-

Day rolled around as slowly as it could muster.
Quackity laid awake all night, now sitting in his hot office with a bitter cup of caffeine.
An excitable brit is sitting in front of him, blowing smoke in the hybrids direction only annoy the other
"Promise me you won't take this and run. This isn't the opportunity to destroy my country or conquer it. It's an opportunity for you to become a better person and perhaps get back on your feet. Okay?"

"M'kay! Thank you, princess. I-" wilbur was cut off. m
"You don't get free rein either. I want you being productive. So right now, I want you in the strip club, at the bar. And don't be a douche." quackity leaned forward, pointing a finger in wilbur’s direction. 

Wilbur sat there for a moment, giving Quackity a fuzzy look.
"The strip club? You want me working in the strip club?" *wilbur sounded puzzled. he was expecting to get a job at one of the casinos or hotels. not the strip club. he grew annoyed at the information. "Go, soot. I'm your boss now, and you will treat me as such." *quackity leaned back in his chair, playing with a pen as he stared at wilbur’s puzzled expression.

The brunettes excitement was drained as he stood up, slowly leaving the office.

"What have I gotten myself into.." *quackity groaned, shoving his face in his hands.

→
The day was inconsistent, time went by at different paces every hour.
Some hours felt slower than others.
Wilbur was sat in quackity's office once again, watching him count money absentmindedly.
"That sucked. Can I work in a casino? I'm good at manipulation” 
Wilbur fiddled with his coat pockets, looking for his lighter.
"That's not a good thing, soot. And I can't trust you in a casino."
Quackity briefly looked up, his face looked drained of all energy and his eyes were red.

"Oh come on! At least give me a chance."
Wilbur whined, holding his lighter to the cigarette between his chapped lips. it took a few flicks but the lighter eventually lit up in a full flame.
"Can't you go two minutes without a cigarette? I have a migraine."
The hybrid groaned, burning a holes into Wilbur's eyes as he stared.

The brit hummed at this, shaking his head 'no'
"You're pretty, y'know that?" It was sudden, nonchalant; yet expected coming from wilbur. quackity didnt entertain the comment. 
"Don't try to guilt me into anything with your stupid praises."
Quackity paused, setting the money on his desk.
"I want you in something presentable tomorrow. Now take your pay and go home."

"Awe. I enjoy your company though..can't I stay?"
Wilbur leaned onto the desk, puffing a heap of smoke into quackity's face.
The hybrid coughed a bit, pointing to the door of his office.
"Out. I would like to go home."

The revived man got up sluggishly, exiting the room as slow as possible.
Once he was out, quackitys face fell into his hands. he sighed heavily. 
He made a horrible mistake and he knew it.

Chapter Text

‘mistake. doing this was nothing but a mistake.’

Flashing lights, thoughts running faster than the speed of light. Bloody knuckles, bloody fingers. The burning sensation of whiskey.

Wilburs head spun in a wicked manner, he just wanted a break. He needed to clean the blood from his hands, it burned worse than his throat. "Excuse me for a minute-" he breathed, rushing past his co-worker and discarding their worries.

Wilbur stepped outside the loud building but his body only grew hotter upon the dry breeze hitting his face. "Wilbur from l'manburg?" The voice rang through his ears like a broken record. "Wheres- wheres Quackity?" wilbur breathed out, trying to loosen his tie.

"Quackity from las nevadas? Oh, he's at the casino over there!” *charlie pointed in the direction of a main casino. it felt so far. “Why?" he asked, turning back towards wilbur.

Wilbur didn't even bother answering, he just pushed past Charlie and made his way to the casino, careful not to go off balance and fall over.

Once he reached the building, the noise was back and his headache pounded harder in his ears. It felt as if his eardrums were close to bursting. He looked around frantically, eyes blurring from the quick motions. "Wilbur? Aren't you supposed to be working?--what happened to your hands? Are you okay?" Quackity furrowed his brows, grabbing the tallers hands to calm their shaking. he don’t know what to do in this situation quite yet. he needed more context.

"Calm down. Do you want to talk outside?" Wilbur nodded, now at the verge of tears. It was weird seeing Wilbur like this, Quackity was confused, weirdly upset and worried all at the same time.

The two stepped outside, the sun was setting, something wilbur hadn’t noticed before but the air had cooled a tad. "Whats wrong? Did something happen or is this just a pity party so you can work with me?" quackity stared at wilbur’s bleeding hands, wondering how he managed to hurt himself.

"No, Quackity. I don't know what's happening..e-everything is spinning..I.." wilbur gagged, quickly bring his hand to his mouth as tears began spilling from his irritated eyes. "Hey, hey. Uhm. Let's go to my office" Quackity felt bad. He has never seen Wilbur cry nor show such weakness. but he’s also never felt so much pity for someone.

He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. Maybe the job Wilbur was given was too much for him. They made their way to quackity's office, both sitting down on the red velvet couch in the corner. "Do you want bandaids? For your hands?" 

Wilbur nodded slowly, still teary eyed and shaky, he stared at the large tiger laying next to Quackity's desk. "I'm..so-.." the hybrid sighed, he wasn't able to get the words out. It had only been a few days since Wilbur started working in Las Nevadas. Quackity found change in his behavior, which—ultimately was his goal But this? This was a whole new thing.

”..d’you wanna come home with me..?”

—

 I wasn't thinking. I was being stupid. Wilbur was being stupid. I stand in my kitchen, staring across the house..at Wilbur. Hes sat on the floor with tiger, petting him slowly. Why did I say anything. I still feel bad, but fuck. The decisions I make are so fucking stupid. "Soot?" The break in silence was like thick glass being hit with a rapid bullet.

wilbur’s dull eyes met mine, his expression seemed to drop upon eye contact.

"Do I need to leave now?" he asked, a shake still prominent in his tone.

i took a second to think, looking down with a nod. "Uh..yea..yea. It's late and I'm sure you're tired." Wilbur stood up, giving tiger one last pat before thanking me, grabbing his bag, putting his shoes on and leaving without another word.

I didn't want him to go, but I didn't want to sound..desperate..? No. That's not the word. I just didn't want to sound like I wanted him there. We've been rivals for too long. We just can't start liking each other again just because we work in the same place now. I'm still baffled on the fact that green bitch revived him. That stupid fucking revival book. That stupid fucking man. Dream doesn't deserve the power he has. He doesn't deserve Wilbur's worship. I do.

—

I'm late to work again, the clock read 7:47 am. "C'mere, tiger." I demand, grabbing his leash from a hook near the front door. The large cat stretched, strutting towards me. His collar jingled quietly as I clipped the red leather leash to the collars loop. I began taking tiger home with me after the break up. It was hard to sleep alone. And it still is. The house was too quiet without anyone—or anything else present. I'm just lucky I have such a lovely animal to keep me company. People may call me insane for keeping a bengal tiger in my house but hell. I love him and he loves me. I get tigers muzzle on him and leave the house as soon as I can. Time to deal with that dipshit Brit.

Chapter Text

Wilbur woke up, groggy and dazed.
It was around 6 am, he didn't want to get up. He hated working in that hot building, but, he loved seeing Quackity.
So. The man rolled out of bed, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.
A burn formed in Wilbur's chest once Quackity fully came up In his head.

It's apparent, Wilbur had liked the hybrid for a few years now, knowing damn well they were so called rivals.
He new it was morally wrong, but hell.
What are morals anyway?
.
.
.
"Mkay. I understand yesterday was hard. So, I'm letting you work with me today. Do not get any ideas because this most likely will not be permanent."
Wilbur nodded, visibly excited.
He sat patiently, picking at the bandaids scattered across his scarred hands. he had a bad habit of picking at his skin until it bled. 

Wilbur liked watching Quackity talk. He was so effortless.
His body language, the small movements of his hands when he emphasized certain words.
His perfectly imperfect poker face.
The scar running down his left eye only added to his beauty.
"Alright, let's go." Quackity stood, grabbing tigers leash and leaving his office.
Wilbur followed happily.

...

"God damn it, Johnatan leave me alone for gods sake! Jesus I'm literally just trying to get a drink. Who even let you in?." 

Wilbur watched from afar as quackity fought with his ex.
He couldn't help but feel jealous.
"C'mon, sugar pumpkin! Why don't we go play poker?"
Quackity groaned, Wilbur did too.
"Will you leave me alone if I do?!"
Schlatt nodded slowly, a stupidly disgusting grin oh his face.
"Fine."
...
Two hours into the long game, Quackity was finished with his second glass of whiskey, but he began feeling ill.
this wasn’t normal as quackity is the opposite of lightweight. it takes a lot to get him fully drunk.
yet, after taking his final sip, the glass slipped from his hand, Falling to the floor and shattering under the table.
"Excuse me for a moment..."
-
Q's pov:

Everything around me is spinning rapidly. My vision is blurry.
I couldn't  stand straight. Even my thoughts were cloudy.
Everything spun around me like a wicked carousel at the theme park.
God. I could feel the vomit rising in my throat the more my eyes flicked around the blurry room.
"dammit.."
My legs collapse, I fall against a wall.
The attempt I made to catch myself was futile.
My headache only grows more fierce once the back of my head collided with the hard tile.
A groan escaped my lips, I'm trying my hardest to stay conscious but it was getting harder and harder the longer I felt my heart beat out of my chest.
My wings fell limp, they rested on the floor on either side of me.
Something had to of been in that drink.

The only Thing I could make out was the bright lights flooding the casino and the sound of heavy footsteps..
Footsteps?..
Somebody was coming.
I tried sitting up a bit, to make it seem like I wasn't in a total daze with no awareness of my surroundings.

"There you are!" The figure crouched In front of me.
"I've been looking everywhere for you..why'd you run off?"
I recognized the familiar voice.

"Soot?" I hiccup.
"Yea, it’s me..are you alright?" his voice sounded oddly worried.
All I could give was a small nod.

"I'm fine..but I think I was drugged." 

it seemed like the only logical explanation. i had never felt so weak in my life.

The spinning calmed as did my breathing, but I was still somewhat dizzy. that sick feeling in my chest lingered.
"My drink did taste funny now that I think about it."
Wilbur helped me up, I let go of his hand as soon as I was stable.

We walked back to the main area of the casino, Wilbur was by my side the whole time, an arm out in front of me in case i did pass out.
people still flooded the area but the poker table was left empty
My vision is still blurred at this point, but I'm not completely oblivious anymore.

Poker chips and cards scattered across the table, the match was over.
Empty shot glasses still standing there, the whiskey glass I had previously dropped was still shattered on the floor.
"It was probably Schlatt. That dickhead." Wilbur clenched his fist, he was visibly upset; for whatever reason.

"Where's tiger?" I look around, worried. He's no where to be seen.
"Sam came and  took him, I don't know where." Wilbur shrugged.
instant relief washed over my fogged head upon hearing that.

"Okay. Well go back to the bar. I'll go get tiger and..I need some fuckin advil." i groan, moving my sweaty hair out of my face.

"Are you sure you're okay to go by yourself? I don’t want you passing out" wilbur still sounded worried. i can’t pinpoint why.

"I'm fine, soot."
I leave Wilbur in the casino, heading off towards my office.
I still feel a bit loopy but I'll get over it.
I can just imagine what that stupid ram was planning.
Fuckin douche.

Chapter Text

it’s evening, wilbur is sat, staring intently at the plate of food in front of him. he felt sick. the sight of food made him feel nauseous. 

“wil, you have to eat something.” a voice pondered from across the room. it’s phil, wilbur’s father. wilbur sighed sadly, wrapping his bandaged arms around himself and slouching further into the wood chair he was uncomfortably sat in. “i..i cant, phil..” his voice shook, messy curls falling over his droopy eyes. 

“mate..you haven’t eaten in..what? two days? you have to eat..” the worry in phil’s voice was prominent, he placed a hand on wilbur’s back in an poor attempt to comfort his son in some way. the reminder only made wilbur feel worse about himself, tears clawed at his dry throat. “phil..” it was hard to force a sentence out, wilbur felt so weak. 

“wil, seriously. i’m worried about you.” phil’s tone grew slightly annoyed yet kept its growing empathy and worry. “can you give me a..minute?” wilbur hiccuped, looking up at his father. 

“..yeah.” phil lifted his hand from wilbur’s back and watched as he got up and left towards the bathroom in a hurry. 

-

shutting and locking the bathroom door behind him, wilbur immediately fell to the floor in a fit of pent up rage..or was it sadness? who knows. his chest tightened, hot hands flew to his face. eating has always difficult to the man, and it pissed him off. he pissed himself off. why can’t he just be normal? it made him want yo curl up on the bathroom floor and die. 

forcing tears back and swallowing them hard, wilbur reached for the cabinet in front of him. it was stupid. so stupid but it was his form of relief. his shaky hand cautiously undid the old bandages on his arm, throwing them to the side and picking up the blade he had taken from the cabinet. previous, healing scars taunted him and provoked his urges further. it’s been awhile and he just wanted that sweet burn to greet him with open arms once again.

the blade met a random spot on his arm, he pushed it into and flesh and dragged it deeply across the previously scarred skin.the sting was satisfying, he craved more. 

—

time didn’t exist in the moment.

wilburs arms were both dripping in crimson and the burn made him happy. although he knew his dad would be disappointed, he didn’t care. he never did. wilbur doesn’t bother cleaning up, he just pulled his sweater sleeves down and prayed the blood wouldn’t seep through. 

“sorry for taking so long, i was trying to calm down..” realizing he had to sit back at that table just to stare blankly at the food he knew he wouldn’t eat was detrimental. 

“that’s okay, mate. i just need you to try and eat something.“ 

eating. right. here we go again. 

wilbur sat back down, hastily picking the fork back up. “at least a few bites. i don't want you throwing up again..”

the brunette nodded, now trying to get this over with as soon as he can. 

choking down as little of the food as possible, his teary eyes looked up at phil’s visibly distressed expression. “why don’t you try to get some sleep?..” wilbur now felt a bit better, knowing he could leave now. 

without another word, the taller got up and left to his room. sure, wilbur felt bad that his dad was constantly worried about him but he couldn’t help it. mental illnesses were a huge part of his life and it sucked but you can’t just make mental disorders disappear.

—

panic attack was an underestimation.

wilbur was in the middle of what he’d describe as burning in hell. shaky hands, arms, legs. blurred, glossed over eyes. the overwhelmingly loud silence. the feeling of air being sucked out from around him and leaving his presence completely. he doesn’t know what triggered this panic attack, but laying on the cold floor and hoping he didn’t choke on his own spit was his best bet.

in the moment, he wished he had somebody to talk in through whatever the hell was wrong with him. someone to hold onto to keep him grounded..he wanted quackity—no. he needed quackity to be there with him. 

small, pathetic moans and sobs were all wilbur could get out, trying his hardest to catch his breathe, yet..to no avail. as usual. 

his shakes were so violent, he failed to grip onto his sweater sleeves to try and relieve the sudden heat that struck his body. 

please stop..

—

Chapter Text

In an unfortunate turn of events, I had to stay home from work today. Nobody had told me being drugged had such bad side effects.

But in the end, it's on me for even trusting that man in the first place. My ignorance in believing everything he says obviously comes from trauma but fuck, man.
I wish I had gotten out of that relationship sooner.

and yes, I didn't know what his motives were when he did slip something in my drink, and probably never will. but, for now, I’ve informed everybody to never let him step foot into las nevadas again.
on another note—I don't think caffeine is helping with my violent shaking…

-

i think i’ve been awake for too long. The house is all too quiet and the silence is killing me, slowly and most definitely painfully.

I have nothing productive to do, nobody to call, no business to attend to..so i instead stared out the fogged window.
Rain tapped lightly against the glass, slowly becoming heavier as time unknowingly passed.

sitting in silence, with nothing to accompany me except my god awful thoughts..can't help but wonder, why?. Why does Wilbur of all people care all of a sudden?. Maybe he's doing it to keep his citizenship, or perhaps he's just trying to lead me into a false sense of security.
Either way, I'm still on edge about it.

maybe i’m being oblivious and he has some sick crush on me—Okay, sure. I did have an eye for him during manburg, during mine and schlatts relationship. But that was just a crush. I just wanted a better life. and now I'm more mature and I realize I don't need validation from every guy I meet.

sighing heavily, I bring my shaky hands to my face. My raging headache only grew more fierce as tears burned and clawed at the back of my throat. I always end up crying while thinking about my past and It's honestly pathetic, but with horrendous anxiety and even more prominent ptsd, I can’t blame myself. If it wasn’t for schlatt, I wouldn't have so many mental issues; but then again, he’s probably the reason I'm where i’m at today.

Maybe not his tortuous words or actions, his constant verbal altercations that would turn physical if I didn't listen. But his advice. Schlatts a successful man, he knows how to work with money and manage a nation, and sure, he's never been a good work partner but at least he did his job and he did it well. I learned a thing or two when he would calmly explain certain things to me. But I still regret saying yes to that engagement.
It was like signing my life away.

i need to clear my head.

——

unfortunately, i seem to be hyper fixated on a certain british guy. Maybe i’m just used to his seemingly unwanted presence—and he’s on my mind because i’m paranoid about him being in las nevadas alone and under zero supervision. 

speak of the devil..i feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and lazily taking it out i notice the small notification on my lock screen. it’s from wilbur, of course.

’is this quackity?’

the message was unusual.

maybe it’s not wilbur?

i open the text, slowly typing back.

’yes? who’s this?’

’phil. wilbur can’t come to work today, he’s not doing well. i’m not going to get into it but i can’t let him go to work while in this state.’

reading the message multiple times, i feel my heart skip a beat. what’s wrong with him? has he gotten hurt? is he just sick? has he hurt himself? i don't bother answering the message, but instead i get up from my bed to grab my coat and boots. 

i’m going to snowchester. 

Chapter Text

snow fell heavily, the sight ahead was only fog. 

rushes of cold wind bit at quackitys exposed face, numbing his nose. dusts of white scattered his dark hair and soaked his clothes.

the glow of lanterns finally came into view, leading quackity to wilbur’s house and up the creaky porch steps. 

landing three firm knocks on deep colored wood, quackity then stood in the eerily quiet, yet harsh wind. 

when the door finally opened, there stood wilburs father. his eyes widened “quackity? what are you doing here- jesus! come inside, it’s freezing out there!.” phil stepped out of the way, letting quackity in the house and out of the blinding white.

”sorry about showing up uninvited, i..” quackity stammered, taking off his soaked boots. “i guess i got..worried? for lack of a better word.”

“no, i get it! it’s okay. uh, would you want tea? or something? you must be frozen.” phil queried, taking the hybrids coat and hanging with the others. 

“i’m alright, thanks.” quackity pulled on his sweater sleeves, attempting to warm his hands. “where’s wilbur?”

“ah, he’s upstairs. first room on the left. but make sure you be quiet..he’s been really sensitive to everything at the moment, and i don’t want to risk anything happening.” phil looked worried, he fumbled with his own hands.

—

quietly making my way up the stairs, i stand at wilbur’s bedroom door. hesitant to enter. my heart is in my throat, filling me with unprompted worry.

the door is decorated, presumably by wilbur’s younger brother, tommy. poorly drawn doodles, various flags, scratched up records and a small ‘do not disturb’ sign. i take a deep breath before slowly turning the door knob, stepping into the dark room cautiously. 

wilbur is laying in a mess of blankets, facing the wall. the room smelled of citrus and subtle lavender. every wall was decorated, yet hard to see. neon stars scattered the ceiling. 

it’s like a kids room, quite frankly. 

black out curtains that draped over the windows blocked out any and all light. “dad, i told you i don’t need anything..please just leave me alone..” wilbur mumbled, covering his face with a blanket. his voice sounded scratchy, like he had just finished crying. my face turned sour at the thought.

”soot..?” my voice cracked, i was nervous for seemingly no reason. yet, wilbur sat up slowly, turning towards me. he looked exhausted, the circles under his dulled eyes were prominent. even in the dark. he wore a loose t-shirt and his hair was a mess. but none of that matters. 

“hey..you okay?” i shut the door completely. staying put as to not seem too weird. 

“quackity?..what are you doing here..why are you here?” his wobbly voice became clear now and it was definitely one of somebody who had been crying all day, my heart sunk to my feet now. “i was worried, soot..seriously.” i could barley find the words to say. him looking so pitiful made me want to cry myself. “why? i’m..i’m fine..” 

he’s not okay in the slightest and anybody with a functioning brain could tell that. he was obviously trying to hide his arms, making my heart pound in my ears in what seemed like anger but felt like empathy. 

“is there something you want to talk about?” my weight shifted uncontrollably, i felt like i was intruding on his privacy now. maybe it was a bad idea to come. “no..but..” he paused, turning his gaze. “but?” i pondered. “no, never mind.” 

he sounded embarrassed, which rose suspicion in my already racing thoughts. “what, is it something you need?” 

there was a long, uncomfortable silence that fell over us. my wings ruffled and goosebumps covered my arms. 

”no, it’s nothing..” it was nearly inaudible, but i still managed to hear him. “you’re so difficult” i hummed, my face went blank. 

his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out except a small frustrated noise. his clenched his fists loosely. 

i stepped over to his bed cautiously, i wanted him to look at me but his eyes never left his lap. 

“wilbur look at me.” my voice was demanding. i didn’t mean it to come out that way but it was like second nature at this point. 

he hesitated at first before slowly looking up, he bit his lip subtly in what looked  an attempt to keep himself together. seeing wilbur like this was something i could of never imagined. not in a million years.

but as our eyes locked, i found myself lost in his. they’re like deep oceans of blood, yet glossed over with undeniable sadness. i didn’t even want to think about what was going through his head. 

“wilbur please talk to me. what’s wrong. you can’t just shut yourself up in a dark room and expect people to leave you alone. you don’t have to go into detail but fuck i just want to know what’s wrong.”

he stayed quiet. his stubbornness made me feel ill. despite being so distanced from wilbur i cant not be worried about him. 

 “is there anything you need?” i finally ask, feeling as the silence had gotten a little too loud. 

“just you being here is enough for me” wilbur finally spoke up. his sentence took a moment for me to process. he wanted me there? 

“what?”

“you heard me..” looked back down briefly. “i like your company.” 

something in me sparked. like a wet match trying to light. and when a small smile appeared on his face, the spark felt stronger.

god..it was like his smile was contagious. and his beauty, even if disheveled and tired, his beauty..it pained me. in the most blissful way possible, it pained me.

”but you have work, hm? you should go” his voice grew sad, which made my chest tighten. “no, unfortunately drugging has side effects and they aren’t pleasant. i stayed home.” 

wilbur nodded, he looked as though he was nodding off.

“you need to go to sleep, Wilbur” it was supposed to come off as a demand this time, but instead sounded like a suggestion. and he took it as one. “no thanks, i don’t want to leave you with my dad..” he turned to the covered window next to his bed, pulling back the side of the curtain to reveal the worsening snow storm outside. “and you probably can’t go back out in that either.” 

“i don’t care, soot. you look exhausted” 

“i feel exhausted” he shrugged. 

i brush the curls out of wilbur’s face, his doughy eyes burned a sugary hole through my brain. 

“lay down. i’ll go grab you some tea” 

-

getting back to wilbur’s bedroom with a burning cup of unsweetened tea, i find him sat on the floor. “what are you doing?” 

“trying to stay awake” he stood up, stretching his arms and taking the hot cup of tea from me. “thank you” 

“it’s weird,” i stare down at the floor “seeing you like this. i would’ve never thought you could be so soft. or..so…sad.” i tried to make it sound like a joke, but i was genuinely shocked. 

“i could say the same..y’know the soft part. you never let your guard down so easily.”

his calm demeanor, that stupid smile..made me feel at ease, peaceful. it genuinely pained me to think about the fact Wilbur is hurting himself but it’s nothing i can help. i might be able to do things like visit to distract him, but i can’t just magically make him sober. although, i wish i could. 

“hey uhm. if you ever need to talk im always.. available.” it’s something i would never say to Wilbur, but i feel like im genuinely starting to care about him. “thank you” 

i stand there, shifting my weight side to side. butterflies then begin to swarm my stomach. but aren’t butterflies a bad thing?

Chapter Text

hi
regarding this fanfic, i know i’ve been away for awhile and after everything that happened, this will not be discontinued. my brain has completely separated bursonas from the cc. i do not support or endorse wilburs actions, but c!wilbur isn’t the same as cc!wilbur, c!wilbur is completely fictional and i will continue to use him as a fictional character.
i hope my message is clear,
thank you for reading this fanfic thus far. i will try my best to get some chapters out.

-Alex