Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For most, moving into a new house or living arrangement is usually exciting; a new adventure waiting just for them. Even if it’s just a dingy apartment, it’d be their own to do as they pleased. Independence or just a change of scenery was normally exciting. 

Not for Quackity. It was more of an escape, a nervous change and an escape from a failing relationship — in short, it was simply sad. Sad in the best way possible, or as best as it can be when you’re moving in completely alone at eleven at night. 

Well, if being on a phone call the entire time counted, then he wasn’t actually alone. Physically he was, and that was the unsettling part. 

“You there?” a voice rang out uncertainly from the other end of the line; Karl had promised Quackity that he’d stay on the call for as long as he needed. He knew how important it was to him. He was honestly worried — had been for months.

If Karl had it his way, Quackity would be sitting next to him and staying with Sapnap and himself, but Quackity was stubborn; he always had been. His need to be independent outweighed his want for peace. Karl could see why too.

“Yeah, I am,” Quackity answered, he spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want to be heard. Karl tutted on the other end. 

Quackity pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder, carrying one of the boxes and lifting it onto the kitchen bench. He was sure this box had his crockery and glasses this time, he’d gotten distracted before and put some boxes in the wrong places when he’d unpacked them off the truck. 

He ripped the top of the box open, listening to Karl breathe through the phone. 

“Oh fuck,” Quackity mumbled, pulling out a whiskey decanter he’d never use, it was technically his, he had bought it. Taking it back was more a weak attempt at a ‘fuck you’ to Schlatt; a pitiful attempt at proving his worth to the other man, in truth he had only proved how much of a nuisance he was. The fucker probably wouldn’t care either way, not yet anyway.

“You should unpack tomorrow, just bring the last boxes in and go to sleep, Q.” Karl yawned, Quackity could vaguely hear Sapnap in the background, faintly yelling something, likely at a game or perhaps he was on a call too. 

Sapnap was always rowdy, and visited Quackity regularly when they had lived closer together, normally to steal food, or borrow other items. If Quackity couldn’t find something, it was very likely Sapnap had it.

His eyes flicked around the room, fidgeting with the keys he’d had in a tight grip for the past five minutes. The whole place was unfamiliar, and it felt like the walls were watching him, judging his every move. 

It was cold, unforgiving. Invisible eyes following every minuscule movement, thought, and expression. And it was dark, light only coming from the interior of his apartment. He felt trapped.

It was almost unbearable, leaving him standing in visible discomfort, anxiety seeping into his veins once again. 

“You went quiet again,” Karl’s voice ripped Quackity from his thoughts, forcing himself to look at the box in front of him again. 

“I’m okay, just… need some sleep.” Quackity winced as he heard Karl shift in his seat, obviously unconvinced. Karl was always difficult to appease, and still was now.

Quackity hummed to himself, shutting the external and internal blinds as he walked around quietly, sticking to the kitchen and adjacent lounge room. 

He didn’t like this apartment yet. Karl could feel his unease seeping into the phone, consuming and enveloping Quackity’s entire mind. He wasn’t usually like this, he normally wouldn’t care less about something as significant as moving — but Quackity hadn’t been normal for a while.

Karl cleared his throat into the receiver, before leaning away from the speaker and yelling something at Sapnap, who’d gotten really loud suddenly. Sapnap screeched something incomprehensible back, before quieting down again.

Quackity couldn’t help but smile at their bickering. They were never very compatible roommates, Karl was far more responsible than Sapnap ever had been. Taking a deep breath, Quackity walked back into the kitchen, toeing one of the boxes with his foot — as if it might bite his ankle as he walked past.

He leaned down into the same box, spotting a smaller box inside it. It was decently heavy in his hands. He'd forgotten about taking that out of spite too; Opening the box to glance at the smooth and shiny weapon's barrel, A small handgun. He placed the box on the kitchen counter to put away later.

The room felt warm, a little humid even, Quackity constantly wiping his damp palms on his pants and shirt.

“Are you sure you don’t want me over for a couple of days?” Karl brought the phone back up to his ear, interrupting Quackity’s thoughts again.

“Sapnap wouldn’t survive and you know that,” Quackiy smiled more genuinely, trying to convince Karl that he was fine, while still avoiding the question.

“He can starve then,” Karl suppressed a chuckle. Quackity almost relaxed, opening his mouth to insult Karl snarkily for being a bad roommate before he froze; hearing a low and heavy creak. He might've missed it if either he or Karl had been talking. 

His cat was still waiting to be picked up tomorrow.

The walls had eyes again.

“Hang on for a second,” Quackity bit his lip, pulling the phone away from his ear before he could hear Karl protest into the speaker. He stepped forward quietly, listening for confirmation — anything to tell him he hadn’t made the sound up.

But nothing came. Quackity slowly lifted his phone back up to his ear, only to be met with a distressed-sounding Karl.

“It’s fine, I just thought I heard something,” Quackity assured the other, who went on to berate him again, then assuring him that everything was fine, and he was just nervous about moving in. Karl was always good a distracting Quackity, and he really needed it right now. He could hardly breathe through his paranoia — it’d fade over time, but it still felt like the apartment was judging his every move and word.

Karl was well aware that Quackity was being paranoid, even if he would never outwardly admit it.

“So when’s the cat getting picked up?” Karl asked, moving the conversation away from anything worrisome. 

“Tomorrow, he won’t like me for leaving him so long,” Quackit hummed absentmindedly, finally deciding to walk to his bedroom, knowing he should rest before unpacking tomorrow. He hated the idea of sleeping in an unfamiliar house and room, locking the window as Karl rattled on about Sapnap’s latest nasty habit. It was something along the lines of burning food and failing to do his own laundry. 

At least Sapnap didn’t drink.

He was simply just averagely unsanitary, and Karl was a bit of a clean freak compared to him. They both balanced each other out well though, despite Karl’s annoyance at his lack of cleanliness. He’d seen Karl grill him over dirty plates before, it was a sight to witness — Sapnap standing awkwardly with a week's worth of dishes in his hands, making the walk of shame to the dishwasher as Karl chewed him out about it again.

Quackity looked out the window, he could see the apartment building next door through it; an unfortunate view. He didn’t truly care for the prettiness of the view from his window though. There was a fire escape ladder on the window next door to his, nice to know when you lived on the eleventh floor. 

He assumed the fire escape was linked to the bathroom window, since that was next to the bedroom.

The window didn't have blinds installed on the inside for some reason, but had an automatic one on the outside. He’d have to find the remote for that tomorrow. 

“Do you want me to stay on the line until you fall asleep?” Karl asked rather loudly, grabbing Quackity’s attention again. 

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll text you in the morning.” Quackity licked his dry lips, eyes flicking to the window again. 

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” Karl said in a sing-songy tone, making Quackity smile just a little bit.

“Yeah, yeah, night, you dumbass.” Quackity let Karl say his goodbyes, before hanging up, shoving the charger cord into his phone before changing into sweats and a singlet, climbing into the cold sheets. 

He hated how quiet it was now Karl was gone.

Quackity didn’t realise it now; but it was peaceful here, light from the other buildings filtering through his window and faintly lighting up his surroundings, it was pretty, despite the emptiness of the room — the only thing in it other than the bed being cardboard boxes full of clothes.

Sleep wasn’t going to come easy, a fact Quackity had to accept as he lay in his bed, staring at the wall. He wanted to silence his mind more than anything, waiting for the sweet release of sleep.

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“Show me the kitchen. Right now!” Karl giggled, ordering Quackity to turn the phone around and tour his apartment to him. He was still in his pyjamas, constantly blowing black hair out of his face as he ran around the apartment, showing Karl every nook and cranny he could reach.

Quackity stifled a laugh as he turned around, phone outstretched in his arms. Karl inspected everything as if he was a judge in some sort of apartment competition. It was frankly ridiculous; but was efficient in warming Quackity up to his new home. 

He seemed far more comfortable than he had been last night, and he was. He had spent the morning unpacking belongings and sorting his plates and kitchenware out while Karl rambled at him happily the entire time. 

The place almost looked presentable, and definitely far more homely now. 

Sapnap had ducked into the call a couple of times to insult Quackity’s decorating choices, only to be met with snarky insults from Karl and Quackity. He’d shrugged it off and watched for a bit until he felt he had others things to do.

Quackity laughed while Karl absolutely chewed out his kitchen, insulting every single imperfection. He felt at ease, the apartment feeling much more welcoming in daylight. 

He stood on an empty and flattened box, showing Karl the cabinets as they both giggled furiously. They’d been goofing around for almost half an hour. Karl knew exactly what he was doing, and was glad it was working the way he had intended it to. Quackity needed the break, whether he’d say it or not.

Light filtered in through the windows, lighting up the apartment softly, and leaving warm spots where it sat on the wood flooring and carpet. Quackity ran a hand through his hair, smiling at Karl's over-dramatic expressions and genuine smile, it felt normal and easy again. 

He considered Karl and Sapnap’s offer again, maybe he shouldve just moved in with them. It wouldn’t be boring, and he could screw around with them in person. That sounded wonderful; but he was here now, and in the daylight, the apartment revealed its perks and niceties he’d missed in the anxiousness of last night.

“Quit insulting my cupboards,” Quackity chuckled, unable to suppress his smile as Karl made an overdramatic attempt at looking offended. 

Maybe things would get better from now on, he hadn’t been able to laugh like this for months, and it was refreshing to finally enjoy himself again. 

He watched his phone screen for a minute, Karl had a window open, light filtering into his hair and face as he continued to goof around. He went to push his hair out of his face and back into his beanie, before realising he didn’t have it on, patting his bare head.

“I forgot my beanie,” He laughed, flipping the camera around for Karl again. 

“I was wondering when you’d notice that.” Karl snickered deviously; as if he’d just lied to a teacher and gotten away with it. 

Quackity rolled his eyes at his equally childish friend, walking to his bedroom to go get the beanie. He made his bed while he was at it, and then pulled the blue LAFD beanie on. 

There had been no other choice but to wake up when the sun rose this morning —  the lack of blinds let the sunlight burn his eyes out as soon as it was bright enough outside. Karl had called him twice soon after, leaving increasingly uncomfortable and gross voicemails when Quackity didn’t pick up. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing Karl called, just another reason to be forced out of bed and start his day by trying to locate the exterior blind’s remote. He didn’t find it, and decided to simply ask the front desk later in the day. 

He had complained to Karl about his shitty view from his window, pointing to the other apartment. Karl had agreed, and laughed his ass off about it. Imagine being on the eleventh floor just to have another apartment building block any decent view. At least his balcony area was on the corner, and he could see the park from there.

It didn’t help that the other apartment complex was obviously old and rather dirty, and kind of ugly. It had been the cheaper option, and Quackity would’ve moved into it if it had any vacancies in the nicer apartments. 

Fortunately for him, the only one he liked had a bathroom from the floor above collapse into its kitchen. 

This apartment was far nicer anyway. 

“When do you have to pick up the cat anyway?” Karl asked, picking at his fingernails. Quackity stared at him for a second, before snatching a shirt off the bed and tugging it on hurriedly. Karl laughed hysterically as he watched Quackity rush around the room, jumping into a presentable pair of pants and digging through a box to find a jumper.

“You’re an ass, Karl.” Quackity hissed, Karl giggling furiously as he grabbed his phone and keys, shoving on the first pair of shoes he saw and running to the door. 

He still had the right mind to properly lock his apartment before running down the stairs. He had a bus to catch, and was going to be late at this rate. 

Buses were dirty, ugly, and crowded. No matter what the time was or how long the distance, they always provided discomfort for Quackity. So many people, standing, sitting, chatting, and crowding the vehicle. It was uncomfortable in every aspect.

Not that he had much of a choice but to take the bus though. He didn’t have a car, and couldn’t afford one just yet anyway. That reminded him; he needed to find a new job as soon as he could.

He sat rigidly, pet carrier on his lap. The cat in question was even less happy to be on a public bus than Quackity was. He was going to require a lot of food to please the bastard and earn his forgiveness when they got home. 

The cat was unceremoniously named Candlestick — as it was the first thing he knocked over when he was adopted. Since then he had taken it upon himself to be the most dastardly cat to ever exist. Or at least it felt like that to Quackity. 

No matter how annoying Candlestick was, Quackity loved him anyway — but not to the point where the cat had him wrapped around his paw.

Currently, Candlestick was sitting resentfully in the pet carrier, beyond mad that he’d been left at the kennel for almost a week while Quackity moved. Quackity was well aware that Candlestick hated him for it, but it was either that or leaving him at Schlatt’s. And Quackity just couldn’t do that to him.

“I know, but you would’ve hated me more if I left you behind,” He muttered to the cat, who was attempting to stick his paw through the wire door, likely to try to show Quackity how he really felt about all this.

Quackity’s leg bounced erratically as he waited for his stop. It had to only be five minutes away at most. But it felt so much longer. He just wanted to get off the vehicle and leave. He’d already wasted more unpacking time than he’d have liked — Candlestick didn’t exactly make it easy for the poor girl working at the kennel to go fetch him. 

Quackity had tipped her generously, despite taking fifteen minutes to return with his cat. He knew it wasn’t her fault though. The fact the cat was even still alive today was a miracle. Schlatt had hated him, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual. 

Candlestick had never liked Schlatt, when Quackity thought about it; the cat had hated him from the second he met the man.

How ironic. 

Quackity looked back out the window, there was a post office and a florist next to each other across the road from where the bus next stopped. The florist looked like it was a small business, with too many plants and not enough room for them. The building was practically overflowing with colour and foliage. 

He recognised a few different flowers, but it seemed like the place had everything ranging from the usual lilies and roses to more exotic flowers such as banksias, as well as garden flowers like violets and pansies tied up in dainty little bouquets. I was very appealing, he had to admit — despite not being a garden person himself.

Maybe he’d have a look a the place at some point. Maybe when Karl got around to visiting one day. 

Quackity soon forgot about the floristry when the bus started moving again, continuing its bumpy and jerky track down the road. Candlestick was trying to have at Quackity again, flexing his paws and shoving them through the gaps in the wire.

He ignored the cat for the rest of the trip, relieved when he finally stepped off at his stop. It was only a short walk back to his apartment now, and the sidewalk didn’t look overly busy right now. Quackity was relieved. Starting to walk back, carrying the pet carrier very carefully — he didn’t need to give Candlestick another reason to hate him.

His phone rang numerous times on the walk home, presumably Karl. He expected there to be some creative voicemails left for him when he got back. He couldn’t imagine who else would be calling him at this time.

Quackity sighed, picking up his pace, annoyed by the constant buzz of his phone from his pocket. Couldn’t Karl get the memo already? He huffed out a breath of air, annoyed. Tucking the pet carrier under his arm, he picked up the pace, much to Candlestick’s protest. 

His apartment complex was just down the road when it happened, it was very quick, Quackity only seeing a flash of red fabric and the vague sound of pedals and cogs before he felt the blow. 

Time didn’t slow like it did in movies, he wasn’t given the time needed to think and act, instead he was simply hit. 

The kid had held a ten-dollar note in his fist, and was riding faster than was likely legal on a sidewalk.

Quackity hit the ground hard. Metal beams and a tire digging into his middle roughly, the bike and kid stopping in their tracks when they collided. He looked around frantically, only vaguely aware of what had happened. 

He didn’t have the pet carrier in his hands anymore, and now the kid was getting up off the ground and saying something. No, he was yelling at something down the street, not even making eye contact with Quackity. The kid picked something off the ground, which Quackity would later realize was a ten-dollar note he was clutching earlier.

His head hurt.

But he needed to get up and find Candlestick’s carrier. Quackity stayed still for a few seconds and found himself unable to take a deep breath — hyperventilating as adrenaline pumped through his veins. So he pushed the bike off of him frantically, Ignoring the shouting he could hear, scanning his surroundings before spotting the carrier. 

He was almost relieved for a second until the realised the door had snapped. Quackity scrambled in panic, like a wild animal caught in a trap. Moving to get up despite not having checked himself for injuries. 

“You shouldn’t get up, you’re hurt.” Someone said gently, followed by a force applied to his shoulder as soon as he moved, stopping Quackity in his tracks. 

“Get off, I have to get my cat!” He hissed, still met with resistance when he tried to get up again.

“I can assure you, he’s quite alright, just calm down and sit,” It was a guy talking, oddly calm compared to Quackity’s red hot panic. 

How could he be so calm right now? Was he insane? Did he not understand? Was he stupid or blind? Did he seriously not see what the hell had just happened? Quackity’s temper flared, a multitude of questions and insults sitting on his tongue.

“No, I dropped the carrier and—” Quackity started to explain, almost hysteric. Candlestick was an indoor cat, but would without question bolt if his carrier was left open, or fucking dropped.

“Sir, you took quite a fall, and your cat is just fine.” The guy cut him off, Quackity finally turning to face him, intending on chewing him out. He instead froze. His cat, who should’ve been frantically trying to get away from this stranger,  was simply letting this man hold him with one hand while he used the other to make sure Quackity didn’t get up. 

“See? He’s alright.” The man smiled warmly, fluffy brown hair falling into his face as he kneeled down in front of Quackity. 

Chapter Text

He’d thrown things before, including his own hands. Only ever in self-defence, of course. He’d have to be mentally deficient to lose his temper to get to that point. No, Quackity was not the kind of guy to get into a fight of his own accord.

He guessed that was the difference between him and many of the people he knew. Sapnap had always been willing to sock someone in the jaw to fix things, but Quackity was just not prone to violence. Unless he had no other choice. 

He just didn’t feel violence was an answer he was willing to give to most situations. 

However, some situations did call for a good punch or a bullet in a foot. He just wasn’t incredibly good at judging when it was required. 

No matter how much he disliked a good fight, his cat always succeeded in making him want to throw something. The crusty bitch hadn’t calmed down once since he brought him back from the kennel.

It was annoying Quackity to no end. 

He did have the patience to wait it out though, fortunately for Candlestick. 

He walked around the cat, nudging him with his foot — he was laying in the bathroom doorway again. Quackity screwed his face up at the disgruntled cat, first shedding everywhere as if it was a matter of life or death, and now knocking objects off of things and constantly rifling through his belongings and furniture while he slept.

Quackity had woken up more than once to the sound of Candlestick digging through gear in the lounge room, or his bedroom on the nights he let the cat sleep with him. 

Not to mention, Candlestick had been on high alert for no reason for days now. There was no one in the house but Quackity, yet the cat was convinced there was something to be afraid of. It was to the point that Quackity had to move the litterbox into the laundry because Candlestick refused to step foot into the bathroom.

Stupid cat. 

He’d only been calm once in the last week, it’d been when the nice guy stopped Candlestick from running down the street, despite him being a complete stranger — albeit a rather attractive stranger at that. 

He hadn’t seen the man walk over to him either, but Quackity pinned that on the shock and adrenaline from getting his shit rocked by a child’s bicycle though. 

Karl had been more than worried about him after that, even going as far as to almost book flights. Quackity had — fortunately — convinced him that he was fine. 

The last thing he needed was for Karl to get worried because of him. 

Either way, Candlestick had been bouncing off the walls ever since, and unfortunately developed an intense hatred for this apartment’s bathroom. He’d also attacked the exterior blind’s remote control, chewing it up. 

Well, Quackity assumed Candlestick had chewed on it, what else could have damaged it? Nevertheless, it still worked so he didn’t bother asking for a new one.

Rain pounded on the windows, creating a white noise that made it hard to think without getting annoyed. It had been raining for two days straight, with no sign of letting up. It was also windy too, which was annoying and worrying. Quackity looked out the window, watching beams of light creep along the road below. 

He hadn't been outside since it began storming and had no intention of leaving until it cleared up. Not that there was much reason to go outside yet, other than trying to find somewhere to work. 

Something cluttered to the ground, almost inaudible compared to the heavy rain. Quackity pinched the bridge of his nose, before standing up, and placing his laptop on the couch. 

“Stop touching my shit, Candle.” He groaned halfheartedly, not in the mood to chew the cat out. It was just a cat, after all, he didn’t care if Quackity was mad or not. 

Quackity looked around the apartment, nothing looked like it could've made that noise, and he found Candlestick sleeping in a corner of the lounge room. He frowned.

He shook his head, opened his bedroom door, and scanned the room before accidentally stepping on damp carpet.

Quackity’s throat constricted, lips pursing together. He leaned down and sniffed the carpet, which had patches of water in it — mainly trekked between the doorway, bed and window. 

It wasn’t cat piss, Quackity concluded. 

He sighed, walking up to check the window, which he thought he had locked the other night. It swung open with ease, obviously unlocked. He frowned again, shutting the window and latching it. 

He must have forgotten to lock it after all. 

Quackity promptly grabbed his keys and locked the window, before leaving the room; there was nothing he could do about the wet carpet, it was just a bit strange. 

“Must’ve been the wind.” He murmured to himself, walking back to the lounge room. 

The apartment held warmth rather well, considering its price, he’d expected to have to crank the heater on days like this, but instead, it was rather toasty on a low setting. It was a nice surprise. 

He found he quite liked this apartment, after all, it was peaceful, warm, and roomy enough. He could get used to living alone again. Quackity revelled in the quiet. Leaning back on the couch, listening to the rain spit angrily on the side of the building. 

After a few minutes, he tried calling Karl again, reception had been choppy, and the calls had kept cutting out before. 

The phone rang a couple of times before Karl picked up, the speakers crackling to life as he greeted the other man. 

“Hello?” Karl spoke uncertainly, expecting the phone to cut out. 

“Well, it’s working again.” Quackity smiled, putting the phone on speaker. 

“Oh good, now you can continue telling me about the hot guy that helped you the other day.” Karl snickered, teasing Quackity again.

Quackity’s lips pressed into a line.

He had called Karl back immediately when he got home, ranting about what the hell had happened as soon as he was alone again. He may have said a few things he shouldn’t have, especially since the stranger, whose name he never caught was likely walking just down the hall. After walking him to his apartment.

Either way, Karl received an absolute earful about the accident, and then the tall man. 

“He was so fucking tall, you wouldn’t believe it. He’s good-looking and tall, felt like he could pick me up like a sack of potatoes.” Quackity had said, thoroughly believing the guy could've been scary as hell if he wasn’t so warm and charming.  

Karl had listened without comment back then, and now Quackity was paying the consequences of telling him that the guy was attractive. 

“So? Go on,” Karl prompted Quackity, he could hear the smug grin in Karl’s voice, and just imagine him wiggling his eyebrows at the phone.

“I already told you about him earlier,” Quackity rolled his eyes, unimpressed. 

“Have you seen him since? Did you give him your number?” Karl asked, suppressing a chuckle. 

“You’re an asshole.” Quackity spat back, his voice lacking aggression or heat; receiving a high pitched laugh in response

He knew Karl knew he hadn’t seen the guy since, there was a good chance he lived in another city and was simply here on a day trip. 

He knew next to nothing about the man who’d picked him and his cat off of the sidewalk.

Karl laughed, moving the conversation on while the rain continued to pound down outside. Candlestick eventually left the room, the noise from the two laughing and talking disturbing his sleep. 

The cat walked around stiffly, poking his head around corners before walking into sight. He’d never been skittish, and hadn’t ever had any reason to fear anyone before. Even when his life was actually in danger, the cat was never frightened.

Quackity kept an eye on Candlestick as he walked around, the behaviour was more than strange. He’d assumed it was just the bike crash initially, but the cat still hadn’t returned to normal; constantly disturbed by noises Quackity didn’t hear. 

Karl caught Quackity’s attention again, leaving Candlestick to wander without supervision. The cat wandered around to find a different place to sleep.

Hours passed and the rain did not give, Quackity felt surprisingly uneasy after Karl had hung up although the apartment was still cosy, lovely, even. 

Yet the paranoia didn’t fade, coming back after Candlestick continued to act oddly. 

“Candlestick? What’s up?” He walked over to the cat, who had scurried back into the lounge as if something had startled him. “What happened to your ego, big guy?” Quackity joked, petting the cat comfortingly — who surprisingly leaned into the touch instead of just putting up with the affection. 

Quackity raised a brow, a little worried, but not questioning it too much. He picked up the cat without protest, holding him to his chest; Candlestick holding onto him and meowing. Quackity hummed, paranoia spiking as he pet the cat. 

Neither human nor cat stayed apart for the rest of the afternoon, Candlestick cuddling close to Quackity at every given chance. It made him sick to his stomach. There had to be a reason why Candlestick was acting so strangely. 

Quackity was tempted to sleep in the lounge, but decided against it eventually, hoping Candlestick wouldn’t mind if they slept in the smaller room. He figured it wouldn’t be a problem as long as he didn’t leave the cat out of his room; he was oddly affectionate tonight and it scared Quackity to no end. 

Candlestick’s tail swished from side to side, Quackity watching it twitch. The cat was still on high alert. 

He was so focused on the animal that he almost jumped out of his skin when the floor creaked, despite it being something he’d just accepted as the norm in this apartment. 

No one was walking on them, but the floorboards just seemed to creak on their own accord every now and again. It had taken a while to get used to, but now it was almost normal. It still took him off guard occasionally, but it was normally just another background noise.

It would be nice if they didn’t creak, but it seemed to be the way of his new life now. So Quackity accepted it. It was hardly the worst thing he’d accepted.

The floors simply were a just little bit creepy.

“Come on, let’s go to bed buddy.” Quackity cooed at the cat, holding onto him as he stood up. Candlestick meowed, obviously expecting to be left outside the bedroom like he usually was.

“As long as you don’t make any 2 am zoomies, you’re not getting left out tonight,” Quackity reassured him, still worried from the sheer amount of affection he was suddenly receiving from his normally abrasive cat.  

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he closed the door to his bedroom with his foot, cat in his arms. He moved around uneasily, feeling as if he was being watched as he closed the automatic blinds — looking out the window first. 

As if anything could get to him on the eleventh floor.

Both slept calmly through the night, Candlestick occasionally waking, surveying the room and watching the shadows dance before relaxing again. 

“You’re joking, right? No, How the fuck is it broken!! That shit is metal, there is no way a storm could’ve done that. NO. I did not leave it up last night!” Quackity all but yelled into the receiver, pacing the room with Candlestick in his arm; the cat was still being rather affectionate — but that was the least of his worries right now. 

Quackity was fighting a losing battle against the lady at the front desk, knowing damn well he was going to be marked off as an over-dramatic Karen. 

In truth, he just really really wanted his privacy, and valued being able to block out his windows when he needed. Yet here he was, arguing incessantly while staring in horror at the mangled broken mess of his automatic blind. 

Candlestick meowed at him, Quackity pet his back as best he could with one hand. He’d been rather talkative this morning, almost as if to match Quackity’s current shock and tell him what had happened. 

Quackity put down the phone eventually, finally accepting the fact he was not going to have the ability to block that window with ease — the automatic blind seemingly wrenched in a way to force it to stay open no matter what.

He sighed, tucking the phone into his pocket and holding onto his clingy cat. 

Today was supposed to be nice, the weather had slowed down to a drizzle and he could go outside without getting soaked to his underwear. Nevertheless, he walked out of his room to feed his cat, who would likely only leave him for food right now. 

He was annoyed, and mostly paranoid again, despite there being nothing to get paranoid about. 

The floor felt different, a little rubbery on the wood — Quackity perceived before noticing the rubber skid marks on the floor. The visible ones were tiny; but it had left a gritty feel to the normally smooth flooring. Quackity frowned, brushing it off as something he hadn’t noticed until now. 

He’d probably made them himself one morning while rushing around. 

Quackity shifted Candlestick in his arms, the cat’s head and front paws resting on his shoulder — kind of like a toddler. He was still mad about the blind, he’d have to find a solution later today. 

He tipped the wet canned food into Candlestick’s ceramic bowl, then had to lean down and sit next to the damn cat so he’d eat. The stupid animal’s clinginess was getting on Quackity’s nerves more than it worried him, starting to believe it was a new method to annoy him. 

Candlestick wolfed down his food before jumping onto Quackity again. He let the cat do as he pleased, taking a deep breath. He was just getting worked up over nothing. 

He couldn’t be bothered to anger his cat right now. 

Instead, he busied himself with tidying the small messes that had accumulated over the past week, Candlestick on his shoulder and chest. He frowned when he found his spare set of keys to be missing. 

“What did you do with my spare keys, asshat.” Quackty joked, poking the cat, who meowed as if he was denying the accusation. Quackity chuckled, not paying much attention to the missing set, assuming Candlestick had used them to play at some point — they’d show up eventually. 

“You’re the worst cat ever,” Quackity smiled, the cat flicking his tail in response. 

“What a way to start the morning.” The receptionist complained, putting the phone down a bit more aggressively than she should’ve.

“Hm? Was it Janice again?” The second lady asked absentmindedly, scribbling something down in her notepad, not yet making eye contact.

“I wish it was Janice, Y’know the kid who moved in about a week and a half ago?” The second lady turned to her, lifting a brow.  “Yeah, that one. He was freaking out over storm damage to his exterior bedroom blind, proper freaking out too.” She rolled her eyes, looking at the figure outside the apartment complex — whoever it was had been loitering for a good hour now — the tall man unphased by her previous attempts to shoo him away. 

“Really? The new one? He was so sweet when he moved in, albeit a bit timid. I’m sure it just took him off guard.” The second lady dismissed it, waving her hand and complimenting him instead

The man outside shifted his stance.

“I’m telling you, he snapped at me, like Janice does every fortnight. As if I could do anything about the blinds, do I look like a handyman?” She snorted, trying to express her annoyance again. She watched the man outside, narrowing her eyes again — he made her uneasy and was hanging around for seemingly no reason.

“The kid probably got frightened, it takes a bit of force to properly break those blinds.” The second lady dismissed her anger once again, more focused on her computer screen.

“You’re too nice, y’know. And that guy outside is getting on my nerves!” She groaned, slumping a bit in her chair.

“He is a bit strange, you have a point.” The second lady ignored the first comment, looking up at the man outside — who’d seemed to have perked up a bit. She would never admit his loitering creeped her out too. 

Both sat in silence for the next couple of minutes, either typing into maintenance logs, or watching the TV, bored. The man outside did not leave though, and both ladies decided to ignore him. He wasn’t actively doing anything, so he was easy to ignore and forget.

The first lady’s head snapped up.

“OI! No running in the lobby!” She shouted at a frazzled Quackity, who blurted out a chain of apologies as he ran past, tucking his collar in. He had a job interview he’d almost forgotten about, and could hardly afford to be unemployed for much longer.

Ever since he’d been forced to quit his last job, it hadn’t been easy to find a new one. Surely Burger King wasn’t incredibly picky though. It likely wouldn’t pay enough alone, but it’d do for now. 

He shot the aggravated receptionist a sheepish smile, pushing through the doors, only to force himself to skid to a halt as a solid figure stepped in front of him.

“Jesus-!” He shouted, barely managing to not run into the other person. “Oi, get out of my way dumbass, can’t you see I’m in a rush!” Quackity grit his teeth. Despite his anger, the other man didn't move for half a second, keeping a wary eye on the receptionist, who had her full attention on him again; no longer annoyed at Quackity. Instead, she was eyeing the other man as if to give a warning.

He shot her a lopsided grin in return, gaze not lingering on her for more than a fraction of a second; returning to the man in front of him. 

“Can’t you fucking hear? I said get out of my way-” Quackity glared up at the other man before his face flashed with recognition. “Oh shit, it’s you,” Quackity faltered, realising he didn’t know the other’s name. 

“Wilbur. Wilbur Soot. Sorry to hold you up, I was just passing through. How’s your head?” He smiled warmly, brushing off Quackity’s previous arrogance. He stepped back a fraction, looking down at the other man. 

Despite the warmth, Quackity found himself thinking that this was far too casual a conversation to be having with a stranger; Wilbur was speaking as if they were close friends who hadn’t seen each other in ages — albeit charming, it was also slightly disarming. 

Nonetheless, he played along.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Thanks.” He managed to remember to tack a ‘thank you’ onto the end, it was basic manners, and Wilbur seemed so pleased to talk to him — how could he not reciprocate his kindness? Quackity shifted, looking at Wilbur properly now, without a hazy, adrenaline-filled brain.  

“Oh, that’s good to hear, Quackity.” Wilbur continued to smile, eyes sparkling. Quackity paused.

“Wait, how do you know my name? I don’t think I told you.” He asked, not showing his discomfort, nor his urgency to leave for the bus right now.

Wilbur laughed.

“You told me when that kid’s bike hit you, sorry.” The taller stopped, genuinely apologetic for making him uncomfortable; backtracking and reinstating their previous interaction. Quackity softened again, blaming the adrenaline. Wilbur had only meant to come off friendly, he concluded.  Quackity smiled sheepishly, tapping his foot ever so slightly against the pavement — he could feel the receptionist’s glare, turning to find it wasn’t directed at him. Did she know Wilbur?

“Yeah, I must’ve forgotten,” Quackity half smiled. Wilbur beamed again, not unlike a kid who’d just won the top prize at a carnival game. Surely he had better things to do than talk to Quackity.

The shorter slowly found himself groning impatient, fidgeting throughout the interaction.

“You’re interesting,” Wilbur hummed, looking down at Quackity with lidded eyes, still grinning. Quackity’s eyes widened minutely. “You’re off to a job interview, aren’t you?” He proceeded to ask, stopping Quackiy’s previous train of thoughts instantly. 

“How’d you know?” Quackity frowned slightly, bored and really needing to leave for said job interview. 

“Just a guess,” Wilbur shrugged, his figure relaxed in every sense; yet still standing in a way that made Quackity feel rude for wanting to leave. “Where are you trying out for? There's a nice Cafe down the road that has an opening.”

“Burger King, but I’ll keep that in mind, what’s the cafe’s name?” His interest was piqued, if he could work at both places it would be great. 

“I think it’s called A Cup of Joy, You should try out there, it’s very nice,” Wilbur replied, shifting his weight onto his left foot. 

“Thanks, I’ll take a look at it after, but I really have to go now. Bye.” Quackity walked off, leaving a startled Wilbur in his wake, the man no longer relaxed, his smile dropping for a second — replaced by wide eyes and emotionless lips. He quickly fixed his falter, smiling and waving a farewell. 

He did not try to stop Quackity right now — he had things to do, of course. Wilbur then smiled at the receptionists as he walked into the apartment’s lobby. 

“Would it be possible to see which residences are for sale?” He smiled politely, leaning against the counter.

Chapter Text

Keeping busy may have been the only thing keeping Quackity sane — purposely distracting his mind to prevent his thoughts from festering longer than was physically comfortable. It worked too, busying himself in the filth that was a fast food restaurant really took his mind off of the bubbling paranoia in his gut.

Surprisingly enough, it was a slow day today. Lidded eyes scanned the register bench, then the seats closest to the register. Grease and salt coated most visible surfaces, no matter how many vile cleaning products that simply had to be illegal were used, the sheen of sticky filth remained. 

Quackity hadn’t bothered to get too friendly with his coworkers yet, most of them consisting of equally tired adults and teenagers. He could live with being ignored for a couple more weeks while on his lunch break. 

Two families sat and ate quietly up back, their children running around and squealing incessantly. Some of the other workers complained about the children, but Quackity found he had no qualms with those sorts of customers; they were allowed to be carefree, so why should they be quiet?

That didn’t mean he enjoyed hearing the noise emitted from them. 

He turned around when he heard the door to the kitchen swing open; his manager walking towards him. 

The manager of this branch of Burger King was easily one of the more terrifying people Quackity had met, purely appearance-wise. He looked like he belonged in a gym as a personal trainer, not as a manager in a grimy fast food restaurant. Despite this, he most certainly did not sound or act like a personal trainer, often ruthlessly sending rowdy customers from the building. 

He could easily be doing anything but this job; intelligent and doing well enough money-wise. Yet the man seemed to enjoy working here, completely in his element out back cooking or taking joy in informing certain customers he was in fact the manager they sought. 

Quackity stared at the register dumbly. Perhaps if he ignored his manager, he’d simply evaporate.

“-did you?” Quackity snapped his head up, blinking stupidly at the man next to him, having not heard a word he’d said.

Technoblade stared incredulously at him for a few seconds, before repeating himself.

“You didn’t take your lunch break, did you?” The taller pushed long pink hair off of his shoulder, pushing his rectangular glasses up, still staring at a dumbfounded Quackity; who quickly reassembled his bearings. 

“Nope,” he shrugged nonchalantly, despite his best efforts, the tensing of his shoulders was obvious to the other, who snorted in response.

“I’d say you’re eager to work, but you’re not.” Techno relented, seemingly uncaring. Quackity stood uncomfortably, still staring at the taller. Techno positively hulked over most customers and workers here, surely over six feet. 

“This job’s a distraction, right? Come on, I haven’t had my break either.” Techno concluded, nodding to the door as Quackity stilled for a few seconds. He was, surprisingly, right. Even if he wasn’t, Quackity was hardly going to talk to his manager of all people about that.

“You just gonna stand there or am I gonna have to drag you out the back?” Techno grunted, lifting an eyebrow marginally. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” Quackity frowned, shooting the other a halfhearted glare. Techno shrugged. 

“Great, I’d rather not have to do that either.” Techno snorted, almost amused. Anyone who’d spent any amount of time near him would find that he didn’t actually sound so monotone, it was mostly his pitch that made it seem that way. Quackity stayed quiet as he walked through the kitchen and out to the back, into a makeshift break space and almost gave himself a heart attack when he realised Techno was right behind him.

“What the fuck man! Ever heard of personal space?!” Quackity jumped, spouting a string of profanities and exclamations. 

Techno lifted a judgemental brow again, shutting Quackity up instantly. Both stood in silence, but Techno seemed to enjoy the quiet, Quackity not so much, fidgeting and glancing at his manager warily. 

To distract himself, he found himself thinking about Techno’s hair, long and tied up in a large ponytail that excluded long pieces of hair at the front, framing his face. Surely it was dyed — no one has naturally pink hair. The roots were nonexistent, despite having worked with him for over a week now, there was no sign of regrowth, not even a hint of shadow. Maybe his natural hair was blond then? He’d have to dye his eyebrows too if that was the case. He refrained from frowning.

Quackity continued to contemplate the stupid thought, running away with it into his head entirely; completely oblivious to the questioning stare he was receiving in turn. 

It took Quackity several seconds to realise he was being stared at too, snapping his head away and looking elsewhere — fumbling for his bag.

“Yeah, you’re going home after this,” Techno commented, watching the shorter organise himself. “I’ll cover the rest of your shift-” He continued before Quackity cut him off with a strangled yell.

“No! I mean I’m fine to stay.” He glared at the other, shoving his water bottle to the bottom of his bag aggressively.

“Look, if you’re worried about pay, I said I’d cover so you won’t lose any money,” Techno reasoned, crossing his arms. Quackity was an odd one, most employees would jump a the opportunity to get off early.

“I’m always worried about pay, I work two jobs. That’s not why I‘m staying.” Quackity insisted, refusing to make eye contact with the burly man next to him. 

“Right, and working in this dump is a dream come true,” Techno grunted, sounding suspiciously like a suppressed laugh. Quackity shot him a hard glare, feeling hot all over — but not in the good way, more so in the; holy shit this guy is pissing me off right now, way.

“Just shut up and let me work, asshole.” Quackity snapped, shoving dark hair back into his beanie and out of his face. 

“Do you want someone to take you home or something? This isn’t exactly a bad neighbourhood, but we can organise it.” Techno grinned, purposefully pushing buttons now; more than aware of the shorter’s rising anger. He’d back off once he had a solid answer, an uncaring asshole he was not. 

You kind of have to take care of your employees, especially when some of them are tired enough to trip over a doorway. 

“I do not need a fucking escort you dickwad! I said fuck off.” it was taking everything in himself to not lose his temper completely.

“Mouth of a sailor, this one.” Techno chuckled, looking at Quackity as he glared, trying to set Techno and his stupid hair on fire with his mind. “Look, I’m aware I'm not supposed to poke around your personal life, but normally workers are scrambling to get out of this place when given the chance. Do you even know how many lunch breaks I've had to track because kids keep trying to take extra time off? This is just really strange, and no one’s here, no one else can hear the conversation; hell, the security camera was disabled months ago when some kid wanted to vape back here and it was never fixed.” Techno sighed, speaking seriously for a moment.

Quackity’s features softened, standing in stunned silence. Thoughts washed over him, taking his time to decide whether or not Techno was trustworthy, and if he should just go home. He was right, this place sucked; the bathrooms smelled like ass, everything was dirty despite their best efforts, it was noisy, bright, obnoxiously painted in the most cornea-burning colours any designer could pick, and the building probably had at least one health violation.

“I should go home, I guess.” Quackity relented, secretively resentful he’d been beaten at verbal ping pong; a psychological game he prided himself in dominating. It was the one scarce thing he could actually win before moving. 

Techno turned his arm over, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch — he wore two, Quackity noted, puzzled as to why. 

“You should. But I know you don't want to, is there something happening at home or?” Techno asked, preoccupied with the second watch on his wrist. Eyes meeting Quackity’s only when he finished his question, watching as Quackity’s expression screwed up defensively, decisively offended at the question.

“I live alone, ass-for-brains.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at Techno again, who did not waver at the outburst, consistently keeping the same calmness throughout the conversation. 

“So? That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Are you mentally deficient? Or do you lack social skills, because what the fuck man.” Quackity frowned, fighting the security he found in this conversation. He wanted to walk off, but found himself standing his ground instead.

“No, I’m just not beating around the bush on this. I’m worried, Quackity.” He sighed, crossing his arms again. Quackity stopped, frowning again. He studied the taller’s face, looking for any sign of this all being a dumb work joke. 

“No you’re not.” his voice was snarky and hinted at sarcastic laughter, sneering in disbelief. Glaring up at Techno through his hair, “I’ve only known you for say, three four weeks tops?” He mimicked the taller’s stance and crossed his arms. Techno blinked twice before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s long enough to know something’s not right. Not to mention ever since you started working here, some dude has been hanging around most days, only when you’re on though.” Techno sighed, knowing this was going nowhere fast. Quackity was stubborn, very stubborn. 

He’d seen someone loitering pretty regularly recently, it wasn’t abnormal to have loiterers but none of them were regular. They usually consisted of teenagers taking a day trip, or someone stopping to check their phone for directions. Occasionally there’d be a few people that'd reappear a couple of times a week, but never consistently. As manager, Techno did try to keep track of this sort of thing, it’d be his ass on the line if something happened.

Naturally, he hadn’t cared until about a week in, deciding to check security footage just to be safe — he really didn’t like the idea of some guy breaking in, it’d be so much paperwork. Too much of a hassle. 

What finally caught his attention was when he noticed the patterning of his appearances slowly started to match up with some of the shifts. Unless he was a friend of one of the employees — which he didn’t look to be — he’d have to be paying attention to workers leaving and arriving at work to gauge the shifts. 

In short, it was weirder than a couple of kids loitering for a full day.

He wasn’t shady looking though, hardly had that sort of appearance, but from what Techno could tell, he sure as hell acted shadier than a cloudy day. Constantly standing around and glancing into the window, standing on his phone, waving at those who walked past him briefly, never moving too far from the front windows. He wasn’t doing anything, and that was the problem.

Eventually, he could only conclude that this guy was aligning his loitering with four of the employees, one of which being Quackity. He’d already pulled the other three aside to ask them about it, and none of them seemed to know or have seen him elsewhere. 

Keeping a flash drive with the footage and times from the security cameras was all the evidence he had, and was the only thing keeping him from doubting himself on this. This place was a dump, and the work sucked, but he didn’t want anyone to get hurt because he didn’t review the security footage every couple of weeks like he was supposed to.

It would’ve been easy to report this to authorities, but it was unlikely any action would be taken because of it, especially since this guy hadn’t done anything wrong yet. So Techno didn’t bother, it’d be a waste of time to try until he had anything against the dude.

That didn’t make him any less concerned though. 

After a couple more minutes of what you could call talking, but was closer to arguing with Quackity, Techno gave in and let him finish his shift. He’d tried, but wasn’t going to piss Quackity off to the point he simply quit. 

The register made a loud beep before Quackity hit the cash tray, stopping the noise angrily. The audacity of this man, forcing him to talk about his personal life during work and then pulling some bullshit excuse about being worried for his safety. 

Quackity took a second to breathe, calming down enough to not throw the register at the next customer that walked through the door. He’d rather not get fired for assaulting someone with company machinery, it’d look horrible on his resume.

He vagued out, cruising through the evening rush before he got to knock off at nine. By then he was seriously starting to regret not going home early, he would have had to admit defeat to his manager, but by now he would’ve been home with his cat, cosy and peaceful. The clock was going so slow it was almost painful, five minutes to go and there was still a decent line of people waiting. 

He spared a glance at the other person working the register, she looked equally tired and sick of this, glancing at the clock more often than he was. They both continued to work nonetheless, only ditching the counter as soon as the line of people had dissipated. 

It was cold outside, Quackity shrugging on a jacket as he walked out the back exit. The other girl having turned the other way. He looked around before checking his phone, it’d be another ten minutes before his bus arrived at the stop nearby. 

What a pain. 

The breeze breached his clothes, leaving him cold and shivering slightly as he stood and waited, standing near the building. He’d head out to the stop itself when more time had passed — the stop was in the open without a shelter, at least he had some protection from the breeze here.

“Quackity!” His head snapped up at the voice, searching for the source before spotting a waving hand belonging to Wilbur, he stood up a little straighter. 

What the hell was he doing here? It was nine a night, at a Burger King. Not exactly the prime place to spend leisure time at. He deadpanned, really not wanting to have this conversation right now, but still waving meekly to be polite. 

Wilbur was a cheery person, he’d feel horrible if he offended him. 

Speaking of which, Wilbur was walking over very quickly, not quite running but going faster than a casual walk. He was wearing another yellow sweater, a knitted one underneath a long brown coat — similar to the last time he ran into the curly-haired man. It wasn’t the same one, the knitting having texture and patterns in it compared to the one he last saw him in. 

Quackity assumed he had a thing for the colour yellow.

Quackity shifted his weight from one foot to another, readying himself for another cheerful conversation. 

He was tired, alright, and as much as he enjoyed the normalcy of talking with Wilbur, he didn’t feel like it right now. Wilbur was kind and joyful, but Quackity would rather sleep instead of having a carefree interaction. 

“I see you got the job,” Quackity jumped a little, not realising Wilbur was already standing next to him. 

“Yeah, I did.” He placated, not willingly going into detail about his pitiful employment at a fast food chain. He was 21, surely he should have a better job. Not that Techno was doing much better; which was a surprisingly reassuring thought. If his manager was still stuck here, he was doing okay. 

“Are you enjoying it? I suppose not, it’s rather unsanitary in there.” Wilbur continued, answering his own question, probably realising Quackity wasn’t in the mood. Which Quackity was grateful for. He smiled tiredly in response, it didn’t reach his eyes, but Wilbur took it happily anyway; beaming at the shorter. 

“Yeah, it is kind of gross,” Quackity replied quietly, checking the time on his phone again. Seven more minutes. 

Wilbur leaned over slightly, glancing at Quackity’s phone before he could shove it back into his pocket. Both stood in silence, Quackity waiting to be able to leave, almost eager despite internally reasoning with himself. Wilbur wasn’t a threat, he was an acquaintance. So why did he feel so uncomfortable right now?

He shrugged it off, resisting checking his phone to calm his nerves again. The silence felt like it stretched on forever, both men failing to find things to say. It was graciously awkward. 

Then Wilbur finally spoke;

“I was wondering if I could-” 

“Quackity, Our bus is here.” Another voice cut off Wilbur, effectively stopping him in his tracks, leaving him mid-sentence to recollect himself. There was a short moment where Wilbur's face went stiff; critical eyes scanning the intruder, the warmth melting from his figure in milliseconds, and returning just as quickly. 

He smiled at Quackity, who was fighting off a heart attack at Techno’s sudden appearance. Neither had seen the man approach them. Quackity glanced at the bus stop, the bus was pulling up. 

“Oh, I, uh. Okay,” He stumbled over his speech, confused as Techno grabbed his arm. He knew Techno didn’t knock off until about an hour after his own shift was over, and Techno drove to work, his car was parked just down the road. What the hell was he doing?

“Bye,” Quackity waved minutely at Wilbur, before focusing his attention back on Techno. Wilbur stared at them walking off, standing stiffly with his brows furrowed slightly. As soon as they were out of earshot from Wilbur, Quackity hissed angrily at Techno.

“What the fuck are you doing! You drive to work, your car is just down-” 

“Shut up, he’s still watching.” Techno pulled Quackity onto the bus, both of them tapping their metro cards, and taking a seat near the front. Quackity wrenched his arm from Techno’s hand, anger hot and volatile.

“The fuck do you mean?!” He snapped under his breath, demanding answers as the bus started rolling, Techno hitting the ‘stop next’ button; much to Quackity’s confusion and annoyance. 

“We’re going to get off the next stop and walk to my car. You can yell at me all you want once we’re clear of this bus’s route, and the restaurant.” Techno said quietly, his expression not betraying him to show any conceivable emotion. Stoic and calm; as if this was a normal conversation.

Quackity promptly shut up, opting to play along and then yell to his heart's content. Techno was a relatively serious guy, who didn't normally do something for nothing. He shifted uncomfortably, both sitting in mutual silence — Quackity in a more detesting silence, quietly seething underneath the cool exterior. 

The bust stuttered to a halt, Techno standing up, Quackity close to follow. Techno silently lead him to his car, unlocking it and stepping in the driver's seat, Quackity obliging and stepping into the passenger seat, neither spoke until the car had started driving, away from the bus, and away from work. 

Techno glanced at Quackity every couple of seconds, waiting for the inevitable outburst that was looming in the not-so-distance. He continued driving, tightening his ponytail when stopped at the lights.

“Where are we going?” Quackity asked, stormingly angry under the quiet pretence he’d set. 

“Right now? Roughly towards where I live. I’ll take you home, I just want to have half an hour cool-off first.” He answered nonchalantly, as if he’d just been asked about the weather. 

Quackity nodded, waiting to gather his thoughts before shooting another question at the driver. But considering he actually knew very little he decided to start with the beginning.

“Okay, why all this? What the fuck is going on?! Because, this , whatever the fuck maneuver we just did is not normal.” He snapped, turning his head to glower at Techno. 

“You seriously weren’t paying attention earlier, were you?” Techno sighed, turning to look at his passenger for a second. 

“Eyes on the fucking road!” Quackity yelled, Techno focusing back on driving. “Don’t you dare get me into a car crash you fucking idiot, it is the last thing I need. Also, it'd be fucking fantastic if you were gracious enough to answer my question, Techoblade.” 

Techno grumbled something unintelligible whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a mess, and at this rate he’d get into a smash and they’d both be getting chauffeured by an ambulance. 

“There’s no easy way to say it, but that creep who keeps loitering out front is not acting normal. He’s quite literally memorized your shifts, and hangs outside the building during them. I tried to tell you during your break.” He grunted, stemming his annoyance before this turned into a yelling match. 

“Wilbur is not a creep. You’ve got the wrong fucking person, now if you said it was a short stocky alcoholic creeping around during my shifts, then I’d believe you!” Quackity scowled, his volume rising as the conversation escalated away from staying civil. 

“Believe me, I know who i’m talking about. You need to stay away from him.” Techno gripped the steering wheel as he continued down the road, quickly pulling into a driveway to a house tucked in between two much larger houses; it still had a second floor, but felt like a cottage compared to its looming neighbours. Techno parked the car, sitting still; seemingly waiting for something while they both sat in stony silence. 

“Out.” He snapped loudly, Quackity not waiting to be asked twice and scrambling out of the car, Techno slamming his own door before locking the car with a small ‘blip’. He dutifully followed Techno inside, staying quiet. 

The house was rather homey, despite its inhabitants' personality, and Quackity found himself quite liking its interior as he followed Techno to the lounge, where he sat when Techno directed him to. The taller was cooling down, speaking in a less angry and booming tone, before walking out the room. 

He soon returned, a glass of water in hand. He handed it to Quackity, who took it and set it down on the coffee table; Techno grumbling again as he sat down, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“So..?” Quackity asked reluctantly, tapping his fingers against his hand.

“Please just listen, alright?” Techno sighed, frowning slightly. 

“Okay, I’ll listen.” Quackity answered, still unconvinced, but willing to hear Techno out on this one. It’s not like listening was going to kill him. 

Techno explained, from the beginning. Describing everything from the security footage, to asking other employees about Wilbur, and then his reasoning behind it. Admittedly, there was a good reason as to why he’d made such a fuss about it, a lot of teenagers worked at that place and the last thing anyone needed was to get assaulted. 

Quackity understood why he’d been so forceful, but didn’t regret being nasty either way. But Techno had come out of nowhere with this, without even giving him the courtesy of a decent explanation before dragging him off. 

“Honestly, I’m rather confused now, since he didn’t immediately mug you when he approached. So, I could be wrong, but his actions give me reason to believe he’s not acting with the purest intentions at heart.” Techno shrugged, waiting for a response, or any questions — he assumed Quackity would have plenty of questions, it was a bold conclusion to draw on his end.

“I don’t think he means any harm, I’ve talked to him multiple times. It has to be a coincidence.” Quackity pressed his lips into a line, watching Techno sigh once again.

“Okay, just be careful with him, I have a bad feeling. You’ve still got my phone number, right?” Techno stood up, letting the conversation go for now, if something happened, he did all he could. In truth, he felt only talking about it was the wrong line of action; but what else was there to do? 

“Yeah, why?” Quackity stood up, predicting that he’d get driven home in a few minutes, another something he was grateful for. He’d be seething for days if Techno made him walk home from here, especially since he didn’t really know exactly where here is.

“If anything happens, call. Got it?” Techno put it simply, feeling he didn’t have to say that he could drive over quickly if he needed to. He felt beyond paranoid, the feeling something wasn’t as it should bubbling under his skin.

“Aye, aye captain.” Quackity mock saluted him, then nodded. He’d call if it came to it. 

The car ride was uneventful, both sitting in a heavy awkward silent aftermath; left to their thoughts, and only interrupted whenever Google Maps read a direction out. Neither really had anything to talk about either way, so it was okay. Quackity found himself thinking that his manager wasn’t so bad, despite today — he just had an odd way of showing he cared. That is, by shoving his way into situations he wasn’t necessarily needed nor invited to, but benefitted anyway. Quackity watched the streetlights go past, face leaning near the car window. Tonight would be quiet, hopefully Karl wouldn’t call and he could sleep until mid-morning. That sounded nice, really nice. 

The car ride turned into a blur, Quackity suddenly finding himself in the lobby of his apartment building with Techno, listening to him list off some things he could do if he got worried — other than calling, naturally. 

“Do you have security cameras? Either way, check all your locks when you get inside, and spare key sets, etcetera.” Quackity was half listening, a little bored by Techno’s overly suspicious thought process. Deep down he was glad to get this little monologue, it’d soothe his paranoia for a little while.

“Actually, my spare keys have been missing for just over a few weeks now,” Quackity stated, half paying attention as he spoke his thoughts, stopping Techno in his tracks. “I have a cat, so I assume he’s played with them and they’re in a corner somewhere.” 

“Find them, alright? I expect to see you at work tomorrow too,” Techno said grimly, before rattling on about Quackity’s hours, and how he’d been too tired to make the most out of his shifts, and is lacking behind the counter. Quackity waved him off before trudging up his stairs, focused on fixing the issue that was the gaping open window in his room. The blind still hadn’t been fixed and he was finding it increasingly uncomfortable to sleep without a blind covering his window. Tonight he’d fix it. 

Toeing a disgruntled cat out of the bedroom doorway, and a spare sheet in hand, Quackity went to tie it up in a way that it wouldn’t fall down overnight, but would also cover the entire window. Once he was happy with it, he locked the window with his key, and deadlocked it. He gave a quick tug on the bottom of the sheet; it didn’t budge. 

Good.

He’d been letting Candlestick sleep in his room for quite some time now, and regrettably had enforced it as habit, and now the cat was under the assumption that he’d simply always be allowed to sleep in Quackity’s room. Otherwise, he’d scream and howl at the door until one in the morning, stop for thirty minutes, and then get right back at it for the remainder of the night.

Unfortunately, he’d rather get some sleep with the furball in his room, with the risk of being awoken once or twice instead of being prevented from sleeping the entire night.  

So the cat got its way. It wasn’t too bad letting him sleep with him too, the animal staying mostly calm on the nights he was allowed in the bedroom. But then again, anything is considered calm compared to the noise he makes when locked outside.

Candlestick sat guard on the end of Quackity’s bed, hardly moving the entire night. His large eyes watched the shadows move throughout the night, calming and eerie from the lights outside the window — most of them blocked by the sheet, some still filtering through occasionally. It was a quiet night, the cat’s tail flicking side to side occasionally, wide awake. 

He hissed quietly when the door slowly opened, and when the sheet was ripped from the window too, the only noise emitted was the straining of fabric before it came loose. The cat fluffed up, tail moving erratically as he stood his ground, staring down the stranger with a renewed vigour. 

He lifted a finger to his mouth, smiling smugly at the cat before dumping the sheet on the ground, turning on his heel to walk out the door — lingering in the doorway, like a mother would watch her sleeping child after checking to see if they were still awake, you could almost describe it as lovingly.  

Candlestick hissed again. 

He jumped off the bed at the sound of Quackity’s alarm clock, meowing loudly as his human groaned and rolled over, waiting before sitting up. He jumped back on the bed, rubbing up against Quackity’s side. 

Quackity ran a hand over him absently, blinking groggily. He sat in morning stupor for a moment, only then noticing the abundance of light coming through the window; whipping his head around to stare at the sheet on the ground. He scrambled out of bed, staring with wide eyes at the mess. 

He had checked it, it couldn’t have fallen down by itself! Quackity muttered nervous profanities under his breath, checking the locks on the window before looking desperately around the room, panic rising in his veins. 

Candlestick meowed, likely wishing to be fed. 

Quackity sighed, the sinking feeling in his gut not yet fading as he walked out of the room to open a can of wet food for the cat.

“You must’ve pulled it down then, no idea how, but you must have.” He spoke quietly to the cat as he watched him eat, Candlestick taking a moment to stare up at Quackity with large eyes. “There’s no other way,”

Chapter Text

With a sharp inhale of breath, Quackity jolted awake lifting his head off his pillow just enough to listen for the loud thunk that awoke him. His eyes darted around the room, breathing quickly and not bothering to try and slow it down until he was sure nothing bad had happened. Yet there was nothing. Nothing on the ground, nothing on his desk, nothing had moved that could’ve woken him up. His stomach dropped and his throat constricted as he tried to relax, still scanning the room vigorously. He took a moment to stop and think, heart beating loud and fast in his ears, like a drumroll.

Candlestick nudged his shoulder from under the bed, making him tense up and freeze where he lay. 

He waited maybe five or six minutes, before he heard a heavy tapping outside the door, sounding very similar to shoes; the floor creaking too. Quackity bit the inside of his cheek, facing the wall and staring at it dutifully, maybe if he lied very still it would all go away.

The door started to open, light from the hallway filtered into the room, that was his cue to close his eyes and attempt to breathe slowly despite the adrenaline pumping through his entire body, listening for anything at all. Nothing came until the light disappeared, the door obviously closed. It was carpeted in this room, so no surprise everything was muffled. 

His phone was in the kitchen. He couldn’t even call the police. He could die right here and now if the intruder decided to come back.

That did everything but soothe and calm Quackity’s mind, running at a million miles an hour and Candlestick wiggled up to sit next to his head. 

He lay in bed, heart thumping loudly for what felt like eons, staring at the wall not daring to move a muscle for fear he’d be caught awake. It felt too real to be a dream, but he’d be more than grateful if this was some sick and twisted nightmare. 

Quackity assumed he fell back asleep soon after that, waking in the morning and finding himself still alive and well; Candlestick begging for food, an indication he was fine too. He looked around, remembering the previous night very quickly, his heart rate fastening again. 

Yet when he got up to see what had been stolen, nothing looked to be out of place, notably; nothing valuable had been taken, and it didn’t look like someone had been there at all. Quackity walked around slowly, cautiously inspecting everything in his home. He had some things worth stealing. Albeit, they weren’t really his to begin with, more so shared items from a previous house. He only had them because of his brief spells of pettiness, something he wasn’t proud or disappointed in. 

Yet here they were, intact and in the exact same place as before. 

His phone, on the other hand, was also fine. It was in the same spot he’d placed it the night before, seemingly untouched. Quackity frowned, turning the phone on and turning it over in his hand before unlocking it, confused as to if last night was even real. He could have sworn it had all happened. 

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, blinking slowly as he looked around for the fiftieth time, whilst cold paranoia seeped through him, dripping onto the floor and holding him still where he stood. He stood quietly for many minutes until Candlestick started headbutting him, asking not-so-politely to be fed.

Maybe it hadn’t happened after all.

“Yeah, it was really fucking strange, I’m thinking that it was all a dream,” Quackity hummed, listening for the snorting noise he was going to receive from Techno in acknowledgement. When he did hear it, he waited a little longer, knowing the other would have something to say. 

Quackity handed a brown paper bag out the drive-through window; “Have a nice day,”

“Can’t say that you’re wrong, it’d be a bit strange if the objective was to steal or stab.” Techno shrugged, planting two firm hands onto Quackity’s shoulders and steering him away from the drive-through counter, motioning for another employee to step in with a flick of his wrist. Quackity let himself be corralled across the room. 

He and Techno got along a lot better than he thought they would, even after the kerfuffle that was the other night, it’d been a couple of days since then, and hadn’t quite found themselves at each other’s throats yet. 

“That’s why I think I just imagined it — wouldn’t be the first time I’d had dreams like that,” Quackity explained, stopping to turn and face the taller one when they stopped walking in the middle of the kitchen. He waved his hands around, pursing his lips at Techno.

“You could’ve, but there’s also a chance you didn’t. I still think you should set up those security cameras.” He grumbled in response, occupied with watching the new kid work the register, likely watching for tricky customers who might not appreciate the less than speedy service. Techno, despite how he seemed to be, was actually extremely good at multitasking, able to split his focus three different ways and still be efficient. Very unlike Quackity, which was something he’d figured out very quickly; the shorter could not multitask for his life. 

That was a bit of a lie, admittedly. Quackity was good at taking into account what else was happening around him, but that was the extent of it. He was observant, but put two simultaneous tasks on his plate and it all went out the window. 

Techno found it kind of amusing that such a paranoid person could suck so much at doing multiple things. 

“You know I can’t afford a home security system,” Quackity groaned. That was another thing, he was broke as hell. Which was not ideal when it came to trying to replace locks and doing other things Techno suggested. He’d offered to pay for some of them, but it had ultimately been turned down. Had he mentioned how absolutely stubborn and headstrong Quackity was yet? Because he seriously was, to the point where it made Techno want to boot him across the restaurant.

He didn’t weigh that much to him too, so it would be well within Techno’s ability to do just that. He’d rather not face a lawsuit though, so he never ended up actually doing that. 

He ran a hand through his hair, untangling some of the built-up knots as he thought, watching Quackity stare at him incredulously for looking so philosophical for nothing. He was probably out to get called stupid, or an arsehole. Although, those came off more like nicknames now he was used to it — expecting that Quackity talked to everyone like this. 

“How about we knock off at the same time and talk about this later.” Techno more so stated than asked, implying that he’d be willing to forcibly take the other with him if he tried to resist. Quackity’s eye twitched slightly, obviously detesting the idea of going out somewhere other than work to talk to his manager about his personal life. It felt all kinds of wrong, and Karl would ask him why he hadn’t called when he usually does. 

Not like he had much choice, Techno had quite frankly bulldozed his way into Quackity’s life, and showed no signs of budging now he was here. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Quackity rolled his eyes, before turning to go back to the drive-through windows, not wanting to get berated for wasting company time too — something that was thrown around as a joke regularly in this chain, despite no one taking it seriously.

Techno walked in the other direction, going to the back room again and opening his phone. He wanted to talk to Quackity more, despite the fact he simply would not listen no matter what. He booted up the security app linked to this restaurant, flicking past most of the other cameras before staying on the four outdoor ones. Wilbur hadn't shown up for a couple of days, which was comforting on a superficial level, and if one knew any better they’d realise his disappearance was more worrying than anything else. Techno furrowed his brows while he switched between the four, waiting about five minutes before he spotted the familiar yellow shirt. 

The dude didn’t exactly make it hard to miss him — something someone as seemingly calculated as he should’ve taken into account before doing this sort of thing, whatever it was he was doing; either stalking or trying to find victims for another reason. 

Quackity might not have figured it out yet, but Techno wasn’t stupid — far from it, actually. He watched Wilbur for the rest of his lunch break, he didn’t do much except go on his phone and watch, occasionally taking photos through the window of the store. Although it irked Techno that he was taking pictures, there was nothing he could do about it other than watch. It wasn’t actually illegal to film in public. 

Quackity wasn’t on the front register the whole time, drifting between the drive-through and the front. Techno stayed longer than he was supposed to, watching as Wilbur ran towards a car when Quackity left the front. The bastard obviously thought he knew what stations he’d move onto — lucky for Techno, he knew that Quackity had left to have a short lunch break. 

Yet he continued to watch, moving to the drive-through cameras and taking a screenshot of his car registration plate. 

Gotcha.

Sooner or later, he found himself dragging Quackity out towards his car after their shifts were over; still keeping an eye on Wilbur, who’d returned to standing out front and observing from underneath his curly hair — eyes glinting as he stared at Techno. It looked friendly, But Techno didn’t believe it, Wilbur lacked any sign of a smile, his features taking on an unnatural twist, staring like a wild animal would leer at prey it was toying with. It was an odd yet befitting expression on his face, it fit better than the charmingly cheesy grin he usually wore, the hot gaze boring holes into anything he looked at. 

He wasn’t threatened by Techno. 

Wilbur Soot was not cold and menacing, he spat fire and poison, hot and dangerous. Something very different to what Quackity had ever seen, despite not really seeing what his manager was. 

Techno walked towards the car faster. There was no point taking the bus maneuver like they did the first time, if Wilbur wanted it, he’d already have Techno’s registration by now. It was a small loss anyway, insignificant in the scheme of things — his car getting keyed was the least of his problems right now. 

He’d parked in the park, sitting with Quackity on a bench while they talked quietly, Quackity still holding his previous grudge in disbelief. Probably to convince himself that there wasn't any danger, Techno thought. Quackity’s phone went off twice during their conversation, both times from a No Caller ID. Quackity ignored it, likely a spam caller. 

“You have any roommates?” Techno asked, throwing a twig across the grass absentmindedly.

“No? Living alone is great, man.” Quackity snorted, smiling languidly. He seemed rather relaxed, his guard let down just for a little while. Neither would actually admit it, but these talks, although kind of annoying at times, were enjoyable, and found them to be a point of agreement between their usual arguments, whether it was at work or over the phone.

It was almost a miracle Techno hadn’t fired him out of spite yet. Quackity, the real Quackity — the one who wasn’t constantly overthinking and paranoid — was a nice guy, chill in some senses, but also the exact opposite. He was a nice change to Techno’s life, and definitely not someone he’d have considered befriending without their current circumstance.

Quackity didn’t talk much about the other people he knew in his life, Techno only finding out about a man named Karl after glancing at Quackity’s phone whilst he was texting him. They seemed close. He hadn’t asked about Karl for obvious reasons, it’d only lead to more conflict between them, friendly or vengeful. 

Either way, it was good for the both of them, it prevented Quackity from boxing himself up in his apartment all hours he could, and was something new for Techno to worry about.

But sometimes it was good to be alone, or as alone as you could get with Karl positively blowing up your phone whilst you made yourself a cup of coffee in your own kitchen. What for, Quackity could hardly guess, it could be anything from Sapnap to plans to move to Hawaii. Eventually, after about three more missed calls, Quackity picked up. It’d been a few days since they’d talked properly and he was about to pay for it. 

Karl being the sort of person to force himself into every aspect of Quackity’s life, this was normal.

“Finally, man! Thought you might have died or something.” Karl yelled, Quackity pulling the phone away from his head and putting it on speaker before sitting on the couch, careful to avoid his cat and not spill his drink. This couch did not look easy to clean.

“Yeah, yeah. You asshole,” Quackity snickered, frowning slightly at his phone, the battery percentage dropping again. It’d been doing that all day, and out of nowhere too — he’d have to go buy a portable charger at this rate. Although, he didn’t think his phone was that old, a couple of years at most. It shouldn’t be having battery issues this soon.

“Anyway, I know you won’t want to, but I’ve decided it’s time you make some friends and meet some new people.” Karl rattled on, talking in the tone he makes when he knows damn well he’s going to have to drag Quackity kicking and screaming before he willingly joined into whatever he was suggesting.

“I already have new friends.” Quackity said flatly, disliking where this was going already.

“Who, give me names.”

“Technoblade, and…” Quackity trailed off, realising he had no real leverage in this right now. 

“Just one? Looks like I win.” Karl laughed, chuffed with himself. Quackity could almost hear the smug grin on Karl’s face.

“Techno makes up for more than just one friend, you jackass.” Quackity sighed, not having the energy to fight Karl this time. Which was incredibly unfortunate, considering that meant Karl would just get his way easier.

“I’m sure he does, either way, I think you should at least try to meet someone new,” Karl said matter-of-factly, as if Quackity didn’t have a choice in the matter, which was not far from the truth right now. 

“And how should I go about that? Hang around a bar and get called names again? That worked out splendidly the first time,” Quackity quipped back sarcastically, waiting patiently while Karl inhaled through his teeth, evidently taking a second to come up with a decent comeback.

“Okay, yeah that was admittedly a total failure, especially when you insisted to stay with him after I pointed out the red flags,” Karl reasoned, somehow managing to sound like he was shrugging while he spoke. Jackass was trying to make it look like his fault it went to shit.

“Right, don’t forget none of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t suggested going out to ‘meet people’ as you like to put it,” Quackity rolled his eyes, this was going nowhere fast, which was exactly what he wanted. Avoid Karl’s overly positive ‘get back on the horse’ ideas by sidetracking him in any way possible. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, Quackity was praying to any god that would consider listening that it worked this time. He really didn’t want to throw himself back into the dating pool just yet. 

“Okay! Got it, man,” Karl gave in, chuckling a little. It wasn’t working. Shit. “So instead, I think we should sign you up for a dating app!” He announced, clapping his hands a couple of times.

“Fantastic idea, Karl.” 

“Really?!”

“No! Of course not. Why on earth would I sign up for that shit. It’s like saying ‘ah yes, please kidnap and sell my kidneys on the black market sir’. Internet safety, anyone?” Quackity deadpanned, shutting down the proposal as quickly as he could. 

“Quackity, come on. You know it’s not like that, and besides, you don’t even have to do anything. It’s just there if you want to see who’s out there.” Karl reasoned, sounding more forlorn than Quackity had expected, and it wasn’t in the guilt-tripping fashion Karl usually used. Quackity stopped to consider it for a second, glancing out his window while he thought. All he had to do was sign up, and occasionally swipe through new options, he didn’t even have to try to meet with any of them. Plus, it’d make Karl happy to see him getting back into it — he used to be rather active on a couple of sites before he met his ex. 

And maybe, it’d help him move on and feel better about everything, maybe it’d be a good chance if he did see someone he liked the sound of. Realistically it couldn’t hurt too much, and could actually make his life better for once. Or not, who knows at this point. 

“Okay, I’ll download Tinder again,” He decided, giving in once again. He looked out the window again, watching the street lights flicker occasionally, a couple running dim and giving off very little light. It was peaceful, yet eerie. 

He hated the night sometimes. Mostly because it wasn’t always peaceful, sometimes it was just a guise of peace, false hope dressed up nice and pretty for him. So he’d forget, and he’d fall into old habits and forgive. Even when it was happening right in the moment, he’d look back and forgive like a fool.

That had to be some sort of character flaw, there’s no way everyone was like that. He snorted slightly, half listening to Karl as he clicked on the app store. Everything was alright, it felt easy again, peaceful. Yet something felt like it was missing — almost like finishing a puzzle only to find one piece had been placed wrong, and the whole picture was now slightly distorted. Quackity chewed on his lip, eyes flicking up to the window and back again. 

He should close the blinds soon, the house would start losing heat. Quackity would’ve loved for that to be the only reason he wanted to shut the blind; shut the eyes out, the ones he could feel every time he was exposed to the world, whenever he didn’t shut himself into his little apartment. Even when shut in, they didn’t go away. He blamed that on the paranoia though, nothing more than what was left from his old living arrangement. 

Karl then insisted he FaceTimed Quackity from his laptop, to see if anyone they knew showed up, likely hoping he himself knew whoever it was, since it was far less entertaining on Karl’s end if it was only people Quackity knew. So, like the pushover he was, Quackity booted up his laptop and stuck Karl on FaceTime. 

They both sat together for ages, swiping through all the people that came up, like they used to before Quackity finally started dating someone again. Although Karl wasn’t physically there with him, it felt nice to do this again, to laugh at some of the bios, and lose it when they found someone they knew. It was to the point where Karl had pulled out his own phone, desperately trying to find some of their other friends just because he thought it would be funny.

And it was.

“Holy shit, Techno has Tinder?!” Quackity cackled, taking a screenshot of his screen; amazed at the fact he’d accidentally found his manager of all people on a dating app. He did not look like the sort of guy to try this whatsoever. Plus, everything was funny once you’ve been laughing for fifteen minutes straight.

“I dare you to swipe right.” Karl giggled furiously, looking Quackity right in the eyes.

“No way dude, if we match I’m going to have to face him at work!” He protested, still smiling nonetheless, Karl continuing to attempt to peer pressure him for a solid minute before he finally caved. It was a horrible habit, and one he was yet to kick. Karl got his way regularly on these sorts of topics. It wasn’t like he was being forced to take drugs or something, so he could hardly complain.

They used to do this on the nights neither had anything to do, simply lounging around laughing at each other and their phones, usually making their way through a couple of bags of chips before Sapnap crashed too. Then he’d bully them relentlessly, before finally settling and joining in. It never got boring for some reason, just quipping back at each other used to be followed by laughter, even if the comment was hardly funny.

He missed it. 

After a while they both calmed down a little, actually taking this seriously. 

“Isn’t that the guy you told me about?” Karl pointed out, stopping Quackity and forcing him to look at the screen properly. It was, in fact, Wilbur. Quackity hadn’t pinned him as the sort of guy to use dating apps.

“Yeah, it is,” He rolled his eyes, swiping left. 

“Why’d you do that?” Karl asked.

“Eh, not really my type,” Quackity responded, before Candlestick jumped on the laptop in a flurry of fluff and cat limbs. Both men panicked a bit, yelling again while Quackity tried to shoo the cat off of his laptop before any tabs got closed. 

He quickly scooped up the menace, placing him on his lap, the cat climbing onto Quackity’s chest. 

“You’re such a jackass, Candle,” Quackity cooed, petting the cat as Karl yelled down the hall, assumedly at Sapnap. Quackity listened to them bicker for a couple of minutes, until Karl excused himself to go physically beat his roommate’s ass. 

Quackity was hit with a pang of longing, something similar to homesickness. He wanted nothing more than to move in with them, but they were closer to his old home, and he couldn’t afford to go back anywhere near there for a while. 

He picked up his phone, frowning when the camera’s recording light seemed to be on, opening his tabs to turn off the camera. It wasn’t open. The battery was still dropping quickly, and he turned the phone off, the camera’s recording light remaining on.

Curious, he turned the phone back on, quietly. Yup, it said the camera was recording something, despite the app not even being on. He restarted his phone and stuck it on charge tentatively, maybe that would fix it. He would ask Techno tomorrow, it was likely just something gone wrong in the hardware. Maybe a google search would suit him better than his manager then.

“Hey! Q! Where’d You go?!” Karl called out, Quackity running back over to the couch. 

“Right here you doofus,” he smiled.

Chapter Text

Many stores and cafes opened early in the morning, setting up for the day as most of the city woke up or drove down to work. The post office opened far later than the florist next to it, the bright, bountiful yet small building easily outshining the post with colourful and bright displays. It was beautiful, or to some; just pretty enough to attract customers. Either way, they made business. It didn’t matter how they brought people in, but since their current displays worked, they continued to set up wonderful displays out the front and windows each morning. 

For some reason or another, the little store managed to stay open every year, everyone assuming it was a small business and that it was only temporary. You could ask around, and no one would be able to tell you; it had been there as long as they could remember, selling weird but unique bouquets and exotic flowers — everything from garden flowers to birds of paradise.

Wind rattled the still broken blind, masking other sounds as the morning grew. It was a peaceful, pretty morning. At least if you were a morning person it might be. Too bad Quackity was not a morning person, and even more unfortunate for him, his cat was a very morning person. The fluffball would race around the apartment until either Quackity got up, or he damaged something. 

He wasn’t racing around this morning though, curled up next to his owner’s head, purring lightly in his sleep. You could look at him like this and actually believe he wasn’t a bastard. He had been acting clingy the other night, wanting attention over food for the second time this month. It was strange, but not enough for Quackity to pay attention to it. He’d been more focused on trying to fix his phone, as its camera was almost constantly running, and the battery was dropping very quickly for a two-year-old phone. He couldn’t find anything, and Google had suggested he run a virus scan — which he had yet to do. 

He frowned at the device, quietly sitting as he let his antivirus run a scan, it was taking a while too, which was a little concerning, but not too out of the ordinary. 

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d had to search his phone for malware or spyware, the device having its fair share of privacy breached. Who it could be this time remained a frustrating mystery. Quackity stared at the device, ignoring the urge to lock all his doors and windows and secure the entire apartment. He’d woken up to find that the phone had deleted Tinder all by itself. He wouldn’t be searching through it to such extreme lengths if the app hadn’t suddenly disappeared. He wasn’t that stupid, and had never had issues like this before. 

His fingers tapped the table quite impatiently. After a few more minutes the scan finished, popping up with the results. Quackty glared hard at the device. He had taped over the front and back camera before doing the scan, and stayed quiet now he could see the results. 

Spyware. Not the first time he’d seen this pop up on his antivirus scan, but hopefully, it’d be the last. Sighing, he pocketed the phone, knowing the best course of action was to break and dispose of it, it wouldn’t be worth trying to delete it, even if he could find the app.

He glanced at the clock, he’d opted in to change his shift hours when Techno had suggested it, liking the idea of finally shaking the feeling of being monitored. The feeling that followed him everywhere now, instead of occasionally appearing in paranoia. 

He booted up a spare phone, inserting his Sim card into it. It was a little bit slow, but it would do perfectly fine until he could get a new phone. This was his old spare from his old house, a secret second phone if you will. His old partner didn’t know about it, so it should be untouched, it probably needed to be charged, but he could do that at work. It wasn’t too much of a hassle to switch phones. 

He hated to admit it, but Techno might be right. 

Morning traffic sucked. It was loud and noisy and made the already horrid bus ride even less enjoyable. Quackity sat disdainfully, leg bouncing as he waited for his stop, the bus jerking along the road as traffic stopped and started. It was crowded. There were too many people here, too many eyes, too many hands. All of them felt like they were staring into his soul, and grabbing at him. He wanted out. His stop had to be soon. 

After what felt like eons of discomfort, the bus halted and Quackity shot up, all but jumping off the vehicle. He took a deep breath, before regaining his composure and walking towards the fast food chain. It was such an ugly building, honestly. How anyone would go there willingly was a mystery to him. His skin felt like it was on fire, all the hairs standing up as he walked, rubbing his arms to get rid of it. 

The door’s bell was loud, too loud, and caught him off guard, jumping as he scuttled into the restaurant. Quackity dumped his bag in the back, taking a moment to cool off before scribbling down something on a piece of paper. Adrenaline pumped through his body, shifting his stance every few seconds as he signed in. 

“Morning, Quackity. You okay to handle the register today, or…?” Techno called out, not looking away from his own phone when Quackity approached. 

Quackity tapped his shoulder, holding up the piece of paper, which read; “Phone bugged.” Techno's expression dropped, nodding before they walked into the kitchen. They both stared at each other for what felt like ages, but was likely closer to seconds before Quackity dropped his phone on the ground, immediately stomping on it. He pressed the heel of his shoe into the glass and metal, before picking it up and dropping it into the mop bucket for good measure. 

“You better clean that up. It’s a health violation,” Techno commented nonchalantly. 

“Really?” Quackity deadpanned, punching Techno in the shoulder half-heartedly. 

Techno snorted, smiling just in the slightest. 

Neither mentioned it again throughout the duration of Quackity’s shift, leaving both to thoroughly overthink the whole thing. As much as he wished he could, Quackit could not forget it, even for a couple of minutes. It consumed his entire mind, to the point where Techno kicked him out a few minutes early, before driving him home on request. 

He didn’t want to go on the bus right now. 

His leg continued to bounce erratically as he looked out the window, watching stores fly past before he was out the front of his apartment complex. He hastily thanked Techno, before stepping inside and making a beeline for his door, locking it behind him. He looked around quietly, spotting his cat on the couch, sitting on one of his shirts. 

He frowned. Everything had been tidy before he’d left, and last time he checked, Candlestick was not able to open drawers.

He sighed, walking around the corner and walking into his bedroom, freezing in place.

His eyes flicked around the room, searching frantically. 

That shirt he really liked wasn’t on his chair anymore, The picture frame Karl gave him was gone, his old wallet too. And those were just things he’d moved around yesterday and knew where he’d put them.

His stomach lurched. 

He searched the room from top to bottom, only finding other things to be missing. 

He glanced out the window to check the blind, he’d have to report it if the fixture fell off completely, so management could know. It was a nice day, bright and somewhat lively. He stared for a second before looking down at the ground and the window ledge. Maybe he should move again, maybe it’d be better with Karl and Sapnap, despite not liking the location. 

He spaced out for a second, before registering the filth on his window ledge. It had black skid marks all over it, akin to how gym floors had shoe skids all over them. He didn’t pay much attention to it for a second before frowning, and checking the lock on the window — it was locked, and he sighed, partially relieved.

This couldn’t be right. Maybe he’d just misplaced some of them, and Candlestick had stolen the others. That had to be it. Yeah! Of course, he was silly to get so worked up over misplacing some things. It was just paranoia, that’s all. Just paranoia. 

He walked out of the room and collapsed onto the couch. Candlestick jumped onto his lap and meowed loudly. 

As he petted the cat absentmindedly, seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours, and onwards, time stretching to become longer by the second, unbearably so. Time could do whatever it liked, and he would still sit until he felt like he could get up without simply falling through the floor and dying. 

Candlestick didn’t move, allowing Quackity to pet him almost robotically as he stared at the wall blankly. 

He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t do the paranoia, the stress, the fear. All of it. Simply existing as he was currently was mentally and physically exhausting. He just wanted it to end, to go back to normal. If he could turn back time and make himself reject that fucking date, he would. He’d be okay if he hadn’t gone out with him, he wouldn’t have to be sitting alone in his apartment dying like this. 

If this was death, bring it on. 

But the more he thought about it, the less he fancied having an end. It didn’t feel like the right thing to wish for. He didn’t actually want the earth to swallow him whole, not truly at least. He’d regret it. Regret not trying harder, not fixing the shambles that was his life. He just couldn’t go away yet. 

Running away seemed like a good substitute though, and was looking like a rather attractive option right about now. It worked last time, well. Not really. He’d ended up just as paranoid as he had been previously, this time with no obvious or visible threat. He simply couldn't even try to control the threat that was imposed on him now. 

At least last time, the threat was easily identifiable, and with some effort, controlled just a bit. 

This time he had no hope of even finding out what the threat was. 

But was it really paranoia if there was a threat? Perhaps not. Paranoia is irrational, and this felt primal, like fight or flight. This was different, slightly so, but still different. 

The walls still had eyes, and ears. But no mouth. He was blind and deaf, running around frantically in a flurry of panic while it watched, unable to find out what it was, only able to feel its presence. 

How sad. 

Before he’d realised, he’d fallen asleep, a delightful turn of events. Quackity finally taking a nap would benefit everyone here. He looked peaceful while he slept, almost as if he had not a single trouble in the world. 

Those ugly eyebags persisted though, a cause of overwork, sleeplessness and others hurting him. It was a great pity. He was so pretty, yet life continued to hurl things his way, bashing him around until he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Surely it had to end at some point, give him a break, and a chance at a life he deserves, full of love and happiness. 

One day. One day, peace would come properly and for good. But for now, sleep would give him a decent break, a chance to reset and find the energy to fight another day. 

And he always did, fought until the end. Fought until there was no more fighting to be done. It was admirable. 

Quackity only roused when Candlestick moved, smothering his face, insisting on being fed after Quackity had been napping for a few hours, startling him awake, heart thumping in his ears before he calmed down again. It was just him and his cat. 

They were the only two in the apartment. He found he could not remember what he had been dreaming about, only knowing it had been pleasant to begin with. But maybe not so much towards the end, his own brain tormenting him more than anyone else had ever done. He shifted, standing up to go get a tin of food for Candlestick, who danced between his legs, meowing up at him. He rolled his eyes at the cat, walking into the kitchen and yawning. 

He stood by his cat as he ate, watching absently. It was a bit cold in here for some reason or another. Quackity rubbed his arms, thinking that he should turn the heater on when Candlestick was done.

The floors creaked again, but Quacity paid no attention to it, not bothered to get fussed over  sound that happened so regularly.

The cat ate quickly, pressing himself against Quackity’s ankles to let him know he was finished, wanting to be picked up. Quackity did not oblige, simply letting the cat follow him into the lounge again. He leaned down to grab the remote control for the aircon, stopping in his tracks when he was met with flowers instead. 

He blinked, cautious as he tried to process it. 

It was a bouquet, a small one made of pansies. Not exactly a conventional bouquet of, say, roses. Normally when you think of a bouquet, you think of extravagant flowers wrapped in colourful paper, arranged to complement each flower. Not these small and humble ones wrapped in white tissue and a small rope, tied into a simple single knot bow. They were purple and yellow, some looking more red than purple. Admittedly, they were pretty, very pretty. He could say that much. 

But, they also most certainly weren’t there beforehand. He would have noticed the addition when he woke up, they were on the coffee table, in the middle of the room. He would have had to be blind to miss it. 

How they got there, he didn’t know, but the longer he looked at them, the more disturbed he felt, heart rate slowly rising as he stared at them. 

He honestly didn’t know what to do, should he put them in a vase and pretend everything was alright, or should he burn them to make himself feel better, instead of letting them and their sudden appearance taunt and mock him for the next few days. 

He left them be, opening his laptop to email the management of this complex, he was going to change all his locks, or as many as he could in the next few hours. He would do anything to feel an ounce of safety right now. 

The flowers sat on the table sadly, mocking and jeering Quackity as he sat, taking deep breaths and trying to get his life back into order.

He didn’t even like pansies that much.

Chapter Text

“Quackity get your ass back out here right now!” Techno hollered, far too busy to actually go fetch the other from the break area. He was met with an irritated garble of a response, before Quackity reappeared, looking disgruntled and ready to pick a fight. Techno ignored this entirely, grabbing Quackity by his shoulders and shoving him towards the door to the register. Quackity didn’t resist, walking through the doors and out to the front after he was out of arm's reach. 

As much as he lived to spite Techno, he had to work to get paid, and unfortunately, Techno could boot him in mere seconds. Another thing to add to the list of ‘ things Technoblade could beat my ass with ’. 

Friendship, or a version of it, apparently did not fully apply to the workplace. 

Nevertheless, Quackity didn’t cause too much trouble, he honestly couldn’t be bothered. Not to mention that he could just be annoying outside of work hours and not risk his job; which was a much more attractive option. 

He’d said it once and he’d say it again, this place sucked. It was gross and just a bit too unsanitary, and felt like it was festering right before his eyes. 

Quackity had asked Techno to stop rostering him onto the register for a couple of weeks, but today was slow. Multiple employees were off sick, and Techno simply could not do everything himself. Of course, he hadn’t been put on the front again out of spite, the other was more considerate than he looked, but today was just too busy. 

He felt like he was at home again, like the walls had eyes here too. It was borderline uncomfortable, and left more than a few customers dissatisfied with their service. Not that he could care any less, even if forgetting an order was embarrassing, this was worse, the feeling of being stared at when no one was looking.

It was worse because he knew it was just paranoia. 

Pitiful. It made him angry at himself. 

He wasn't sure when things like this made him angry at himself. Maybe it was because of Schlatt. Maybe he should’ve seen a therapist when Sapnap told him to. Either way, this feeling of being out of control, being monitored and watched, it was all overwhelmingly uncomfortable. 

The day dragged on, Quackity waited, begging for his shift to end. Although home was uncomfortable, he would rather be there, finishing putting the last of his new locks on, than here. 

Plus, he only had the bathroom window left to reinstall locks onto. The sooner that was done, the better he would feel. He’d even been so lucky to replace his front door’s lock. Now it was just the bathroom left. He’d feel less paranoid afterwards.

Or that’s what he told himself.

Either way, he was obliged to stand here and feed people until Techno said he could leave. Especially since Techno had the ability to drive to his home and harass him at any hour. Which he believed was not something his manager wouldn’t consider if it came to it. 

What a pain. Quackity rolled his eyes, fidgeting with the register as he waited for customers. 

Once again, time dragged on in a funny fashion, going quickly yet not fast enough. Maybe that was just his brain though. He decided it was as he sifted through customers absentmindedly, no longer paying more attention to his surroundings than he absolutely had to. 

Techno could see he was out of it, to the point where he wanted to just send him home. He couldn’t though, even if his mental stability was on the line, he was doing a good job. Plus, Techno had taken it upon himself to drive him home instead of letting him catch the bus. It was safer that way.

Quackity yawned. He took a glance at Techno, who had since turned away and left into the kitchen again. No guilt-tripping was to be done today, unfortunately. Quackity understood well enough that he was needed right now. Despite that, he was almost nodding off just now. 

“Ahem,” 

Quackity jerked up to face the customer who was bound to be mad at his lack of attention right now. He’d missed them completely, now reassembling his bearings to respond. 

“Sorry sir, what would you-” He started the regular spiel-like greeting he found himself repeating twenty times a day, before stopping when he recognised the face in front of him. 

A warm smile greeted him, but it felt off, like it wasn’t as genuine as it usually was. Wilbur's face was wearing an element of strain on it. He still gave off that friendly, appealing feeling that followed him everywhere, but this time it felt suffocating, as if the man expected more of him than he could give. 

Wilbur’s sweater had dust on the front of it, like some of the schoolboys did when they’d come to get something to eat after getting kicked off school grounds for attempting to scale the exterior walls, covering themselves in thick gritty dust in the process.

Quackity smiled meekly in return, encouraging Wilbur to widen his almost smug-looking grin. He looked proud of himself, like a kid who’d just accomplished something against the odds of it, except with far less innocence… rather like a crook businessman instead of a child who’d finally made it across the monkey bars. 

He decided not to comment on it. 

“Hello,” He said instead, unsure of how to go about this conversation — admittedly, he had very little to give right now.

“Sorry to stop by, you look rather exhausted, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around!” Wilbur chuckled, taking the conversation’s momentum into his own hands. 

“I’ve just been here, working,” Quackity smiled, laughing half-heartedly. There was no one else in the line yet, so he had no excuse to ask Wilbur to move along just yet. 

“That’d make sense. So how’s the cat?” Wilbur continued to push the conversation, the hair on the back of Quackity’s neck prickling. 

“He’s fine, nothing out of the ordinary.” Quackity shrugged, glancing at one of the tiled walls, trying to catch a glance at Techno’s reflection inconspicuously. He couldn't see him.

“Mmm, that’s good,” Wilbur was acting as if this was the most captivating conversation he’d ever had, giving his full attention to Quackity. “This might sound weird since we haven’t talked too much, but would you like to go and get something to eat… say, this weekend?” 

Quackity froze, unsure of what to say. Luckily enough for him, Techno shouted out for him not even seconds after Wilbur had shot him with the unexpected question. 

“Sorry, I’ll be back out in a second, we’re a little low on staff today.” Quackity excused himself, not watching as Wilbur smiled, sickly sweet and laced with adoration.

“No worries, Quackity,” 

He darted through the doors and into the kitchen. Techno was positively storming, looking properly angry for the first time since Quackity had met him. Techno grunted, before speaking in short and firm sentences, walking through the doors and out to the register.

“I’ll handle the front for now.” 

Quackity might’ve wet himself right then and there if he hadn’t met Techno before. He took over Techno’s previous station, watching as Techno handled Wilbur. Wilbur looked agitated, arguing with Techno as he stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the other. 

It was a little weird. Wilbur had been in what Quackity thought to be a good mood just seconds ago, but now his face was twisted and angry in a very different way to Techno. The latter was firm and dark, whilst Wilbur spat poison and smoke. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but it looked like it was getting more and more heated by the second, until Techno stopped answering, throwing Wilbur off entirely. The man spluttered, searching desperately for any leverage, anything to use. 

Techno gave him no fuel, holding it above his head and out of reach with a cold expression that gave nothing away. 

Maybe they knew each other from somewhere.

He soon forgot about it, busying himself with work instead.

Avoidance is never the solution to anything, though. Quackity should’ve known that by now. 

But deep down he wanted to ignore it, because pretending it wasn’t happening felt better than acknowledging it. 

He wasn’t sure when Wilbur left. Techno continued to take orders even after Quackity offered to take over again. He seemed adamant to keep him away from the front. Quackity brushed it off, just letting Techno do as he pleased, it was easier than arguing at him and getting nowhere.

He didn’t see Wilbur after that, and it didn’t look like he ended up ordering anything either.

He didn’t pay much attention to it, he could see why people might change their mind and eat elsewhere. It wasn’t like the food here was fantastic. 

Hell, the whole place was a health hazard no matter how much cleaning was done.

His shift came and went, yet he stayed overtime, much to Techno’s annoyance; leaving him grumbling about overworking himself and needing to take breaks. In response to that, Quackity kicked his shin and refused to leave. Techno could’ve easily just picked him up and taken him home — but Quackity knew he wouldn’t. The man had some sort of aversion to touching people more than necessary. Quackity was an exception though, apparently. So maybe it was just out of respect for the shorter’s dignity that he didn’t throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and drag him out. 

Either way, he was worrying too much. He was just fine working a few more hours. 

He felt like things were finally picking up, his fresh start paying off well. It’d been long enough to reset some of his habits, some a little harder to shake as they were more ingrained than others, but it was refreshing. Hell, he even had a new friend! This place was nice, and relatively quiet most of the time. Even if everything felt a little bit off. 

In Quackity’s mind, that was still a win. 

Techno was still overly superstitious, despite Quackity’s best efforts to tell him nothing was going on. Or nothing worth getting worked up over. Yet he didn’t budge. 

Brownie points to Quackity for befriending the only person who could possibly be more stubborn than himself. That was hardly the smartest move he’d ever made.

Quackity worked until the end of Techno’s shift, listening to him grumble when he told him that he’d stay until the end of the taller’s shift. It was convenient for the both of them, admittedly. Neither fought much this time, occasionally engaging over trivial topics before conversation fizzled out as they both got distracted.

The car ride was quiet, both exhausted. Quackity didn’t bother asking about Wilbur. If it was important, Techno would bring it up. Which he hadn’t, so he assumed it wasn’t very important. His head rested against the window, watching as they passed street signs and pedestrians, following them lazily with his eyes. It was rather pretty around here, most gardens flourishing and clean. 

Techno attempted to initiate conversation multiple times, before shutting himself down and focusing back onto the road. Quackity didn’t bother bugging him about it. He figured they could both do without another useless argument. Plus, the silence was nice, and both were capable of enjoying each other's company in silence. They didn’t do that very often, but on the occasions where they both found themselves lacking things to talk about, sitting in silence wasn't all too bad, or uncomfortable. 

That was the good thing about Techno, he never forced conversation. 

Quackity found himself standing out the front of the apartment complex sooner than he’d anticipated, zoning out during the car ride, almost nodding off a couple of times. 

Techno waved from the car, before driving off, leaving Quackity standing there, waving back. He dropped his arm, sighing. He just wanted to go to sleep, but he knew he had to finish installing the last lock, and vacuum before he could do that. There was no chance he’d find himself wanting to do it tomorrow, and it’d be better if he got it over and done with now. Oh, and he had to feed Candlestick, who was probably seething at him for being late right now. You miss your cat's dinner by an hour and it acts like you stabbed it twice. 

He rolled his eyes, walking up the lobby stairs with a yawn before stepping into the elevator, punching the button for the eleventh floor more times than necessary. 

He pulled out his new key, blinking drowsily before trying to slot it into the lock, failing a couple of times before he realised there was no lock on the door, just a hole where it used to be. Maybe he’d forgotten? He thought he’d done that one first. He sighed, brushing it off and pushing the door open. That was rather irresponsible of him. Not like this place was prone to thievery though. 

Feeding his cat, Quackity looked to the kitchen table, aiming to grab the last locks and the screwdrivers he’d left out earlier this morning, finish the bathroom window, and the front door, apparently. 

There was nothing on the bench, no screwdrivers and no locks. 

Quackity sighed, walking into the bathroom. He must’ve left them there instead. He stared dumbly into the room for a second. No locks, and no screwdrivers. And the window was wide open, looking out to the fire exit with large gritty dust along the sill.

He was sure he hadn’t opened it. Quackity considered it for a second anyway, there was a decent chance he had and simply forgotten. He moved on, searching for the locks. 

Candlestick meowed loudly at him from another room.

“Quiet, buddy I already fed you.” he answered, rolling his eyes again as he walked into his bedroom. His bedsheets had been stripped. His stomach dropped as he scanned the room, the window was rattling slightly as the breeze hit it. Quackity inhaled sharply, dashing up to the window and touching the now lockless slot. The old lock wasn’t on it, and the new one wasn’t either. He’d done this one first too, right after the door. 

In a flurry of limbs and hyperventilated breathing, Quackity ran around the entire apartment, ducking his head into each room and looking at the windows, desperation painted on his face.

No locks.

No fucking locks. 

He stood still in the middle of the hall, frozen. His mind racing faster than his heart rate. Candlestick wandered up to him, meowing loudly before rubbing his head against his leg. 

Now that he stood still, he could see that the hall had dust trekked through it, more than he’d left before, the stuff thick and gritty. 

Glancing at all the windows, Quackity dashed for the laundry, grabbing at the pet carrier and holding it to his chest before he stopped again. Could he be seen right now? Yes. He glanced at the window again, it was glazed. So, no. He sighed. How the fuck was he meant to get himself and Candlestick out without being obnoxiously obvious? Taking a phone call was risky too, if he could remove his locks, recording him wasn’t impossible either. How he got inside was alarming enough in itself, the front door was locked, and unless you want to scale the building and smash a window, it was impossible. 

Quackity chewed on his lip. He’d have to come back, so maybe it was best to leave Candlestick here. He stopped, wasting time on this. He put the carrier down, before running out and scooping up Candlestick, and wrapping him up in a blanket left on the couch. He held the cat under his arm and walked quietly into the kitchen, pulling drawers apart until he found what he was looking for — a small box, a bit bigger than his hand. 

He shoved it into his back pocket and held Candlestick properly, the cat not making a big fuss — he didn’t mind being a burrito. Quackity darted out the door, closing it quietly and walking as quickly as he could into the lobby. There, he stood around for a couple of minutes, fidgeting with his phone. He really should call Techno, but that still felt risky. 

His phone could be bugged again, and he wouldn't even know. He hardly had the time to run an antivirus. Plus, the thing was old enough that it’d take one to three business days for the scan to finish. 

He knew the address anyway. 

It was cold outside. Quackity wished he’d grabbed a jacket, but there was no chance he was going back inside for it. Not when anyone could access his apartment at any time they pleased. 

This was wrong. So wrong. He shivered as he walked down the street, heart in his throat. God he hoped this was the right way, he really didn’t want to use Google Maps. Not to mention, Candlestick had begun wiggling, expressing his discomfort through meows.

“I know,” Quackity attempted to console the cat — who could frankly care less — as he walked, watching his surroundings carefully. It’d started to get dark, bringing more paranoia that worked to consume his brain entirely, to the point where he wanted to run at every flickering shadow. 

Two more left turns. That’s all there was between him and a little bit of safety. He took a deep, but albeit shaky breath, forcing his legs to continue to walk a little longer.

Eventually, after what felt like an agonizing amount of time, he found himself standing at the foot of Techno’s driveway. He didn’t waste a second, running full sprint and knocking at his door, not stopping until it opened. 

He could’ve cried when he saw Techno. Fortunately, for both of them, Techno dragged him inside before he could have a stress-induced meltdown on his doormat. He sat Quackity down on the couch, gently taking his cat from him and setting him free from the blanket. 

He then pulled up a chair and sat in front of Quackity, lifting a brow. 

“You were right.” Quackity blurted out, picking at a loose thread in his sleeve.

Chapter Text

Techno’s house was nice. It was cozy and homely. Even if it wasn’t home, it felt like home in a strange way. The walls were painted a cream white, and were adorned with pictures of various animals and people, none of which Quackity had ever seen before. One included a polar bear, another a man with blonde hair and a hat. 

Strange. Techno was truly weird. At least that was what Quackity had decided. Nevertheless, he had better sense in decorating than he had himself, nothing in his house matched colour or style-wise, but it all fit together in a way that made it feel welcoming and lived in. Both of his couches were different colours entirely, but they still somehow managed to slot together instead of clash. 

Techno had pulled out the couch, revealing it was a pull-out bed, and had set that up for him with an almost borderline excessive amount of pillows and blankets. Surprisingly enough, Techno didn’t leave that night, taking the hint and sleeping on the other side of the pull out, careful to leave enough space between the two. Quckity had tried to thank him when the morning came, but he refused it, getting up and incoherently waving the other off. 

Quackity guessed he wasn’t a morning person either. He didn’t mind though, fighting the urge to apologise when Techno very obviously cut his sleep-in short to get up and make breakfast for them both. Candlestick slunk out from wherever he’d been exploring, jumping onto Quackity’s chest; demanding attention. He obliged, petting the cat as he purred. 

Candlestick had woken Techno multiple times during the night, clambering all over him, rubbing his head against his shoulder and neck. Quackity had watched in amusement, a little bit surprised at how quickly the cat had warmed up to Techno. The other man never complained though, simply picking up and placing the cat elsewhere on the bed when he got too annoying. 

Quackity sighed. He hadn’t brought cat food, or anything really. Now his mind was no longer foggy with adrenaline, he realised how stupid he’d been. He should’ve packed a backpack at the least. It was hardly fair to let Techno lend him his clothes and buy him cat food. 

Gently moving Candlestick, Quackity got up, tying the string cord on Techno’s sweatpants tight. They were far too large, but Techno simply would not let him sleep in jeans. Quackity pulled his feet through the pants before walking over to the kitchen, sitting on top of the table and staring at Techno.

“What?” He grumbled, standing over the stovetop with a spatula in hand. 

“I was thinking, I could go back to-” Quackity started slowly, presenting his thoughts before Techno cut him off curtly.

“Absolutely not.” He snorted, almost sounding amused. Techno didn’t even look at him, Quackity frowning, insults sitting on his tongue. He swallowed them down, deciding to try and persuade the taller before running away and doing it anyway. 

“You didn’t let me finish.” 

“Didn’t have to, you wanna go back to get your stuff, and I think that is the most stupid thing that has come out your mouth by far,” Techno finally glanced at him, an eyebrow raised, silently daring Quackity to argue back on this. 

“It’s not stupid, I’ll just grab some cat food and clothes. It’ll take less than a minute,” Quackity quipped back, taking up Techno’s dare in full. The other snorted air through his nose, turning around fully and crossing his arms. 

“It is stupid. Your apartment has no locks; anyone can get in. And I said no, we can just go shopping sometime. It’s not going to kill you to only have one set of clothes for a couple of weeks.” 

“I will trip and die wearing these. Let me go get a few things or I’m just going to walk there and do it anyway,” Quackity spat, anger bubbling and rising as Techno stood calmly. 

“You’ll survive. We can go shopping this afternoon if my clothes are that intolerable,” Techno shrugged, ignoring the rest of Quackity’s sentence. Quackity scowled at him, earning nothing more than a raised eyebrow in return. 

“I have to go get my shit eventually. There’s stuff that means alot to me back there! And who says they’re actually there right now? I could get in and out unnoticed easily!” He groaned, growing frustrated with Techno. “Plus, I can’t stay here forever, it’s your fucking house.”

Techno sighed, his expression softening ever so slightly. He still spoke firmly and authoritatively. “I never said we wouldn’t go back, or that you weren’t welcome here for as long as you’d like to stay. We’ll wait a little bit, maybe a couple of weeks, long enough to call authorities.” 

Quackity seethed, anger bubbling up his throat as he gripped the edge of the table almost painfully. “Fuck. You.” 

And before Techno could frown, he’d darted out the room and into somewhere else in the house. Telltale footsteps told Techno he’d gone upstairs. With a sigh, he turned the stove off, moving to follow. The only issue with this was that Quackity had a significant head start, and was a fair bit smaller than Techno, so hiding — if he really was that childish — was easy to do, staying hidden even easier. 

But since Quacity was essentially under house arrest, even if it wasn't officially stated as such, it wasn’t like there was any risk of him leaving. Upstairs was the entirely wrong direction too, unless Quackity fancied breaking his legs. 

After a solid minute, Techno stood in front of the wardrobe after pulling apart various other areas where someone could feasibly hide. The door was locked, the key still inside the lock with a small piece of rope tied to it, used to lock the door from the inside. Techno shuffled his feet.

“Quackity this is my house, get out,” The words felt wrong as soon as they left his mouth, he cringed a tiny bit at the scorching silence he received in turn. Right, softer it is. 

“Look, I know things feel…” God, he hated this sort of thing. The softness of comfort did not suit him very well, preferring to act on things rather than wallow. Even Quackity knew that he was trying to articulate the fact he understood. If he didn’t, he would’ve unlocked the wardrobe and dragged him out, it would’ve been that easy. Yet he picked to stand outside the door, and stumble through words that had more meaning than they usually would. 

“They feel... wrong. Out of control.” He paused, watching the string tied to the key go slack, Quackity having let go of it. Techno unlocked the door, opening it a bit to see Quackity’s eyes, glinting with malice — malice at Techno, malice at himself, malice at everything. Techno couldn’t blame him for that. 

“Look, I’m not great at this, but I can’t just let you go do foolish things...” He decided to continue, the words still foreign on his tongue. Quackity shifted while he spoke, scooting forward and dropping back onto the floor quietly. 

“I’m going to go buy cat food, you can pay me back if you want,” Techno sighed, walking past Quackity, deciding to just give him some space for the time being. His words meant very little to him right now, as anger boiled underneath Quackity’s skin. He understood, to an extent. He, however, had always had control over his life, and had never been threatened like this. Not to mention Quackity’s existing troubles — the things he shoved deep down to the back of his mind, all the while still clawing at the wound, refusing to let it heal. 

Quackity waited quietly for a few minutes, listening to Techno start his car, and drive down the driveway. He stood, listening intently for a while longer, before checking the windows. He was trapped in this godforsaken house. Trapped and told to stay here while Techno got to go do as he pleased. His heart thumped in his throat, gagging when he tried to breathe — tasting bile burning in his mouth. It was quiet, too quiet. 

Techno must’ve locked the door too, he wasn’t stupid. Quackity gripped the door handle with shaky fingers, holding the cool metal handle still before twisting it slowly, as if making a single noise would get him in trouble. It stuttered against the lock, no longer turning. He was locked in, trapped. Just like before. Holed up in a deceivingly beautiful house, left to rot, and at the other’s mercy. He choked on his own breath, gripping the doorknob with white knuckles. Fingers walked up his spine, wrapping around his neck and arms, stilling him for mere moments before he let go of the doorknob. 

Trust. Trust. He had to trust Techno, had to… had to wait for him. Yeah, wait for him. Quackity stared at the floor, the clean wood floor. He stepped slightly to the side, breathing unevenly. He blinked slowly, before looking up again. Last time he waited. He’d waited everyday, he’d trusted, he’d been a good little housewife. He’d let one pair of hands roam his body whenever they pleased, eyes seeing through to lies that didn’t even exist. He grabbed the small box he’d brought with him off the couch, pocketing it.

He couldn’t do it. He smiled, swallowing down bile again as he walked towards the window, feeling the latch. It hadn’t been properly locked, only latched. Quackity stood, drowning in a sense of euphoria and deja vu, almost floating. He couldn’t feel his body, only smiling as he watched himself unlatch and force the window open, before hooking a leg over and dropping onto the paved garden path outside. He shut the window most of the way, intending on being back before Techno could even notice he’d been gone.

He came back to reality as his feet hit the pavement, walking a few streets away from the house he’d been confined in. Quackity almost collapsed, adrenaline passing through his body far too quickly. He wanted to run, and he wanted to run fast. Running would bring attention to himself, and he didn’t want that. Attention was the last thing he wanted. So he walked, slowly and quietly, as if he knew where he needed to be and go — which he did, just not to the point where he’d thought it out too thoroughly.

Nevertheless, he kept walking, retracing the steps he’d taken the night before, watching traffic carefully as his stomach twisted. No one cared, no one watched him, no one said a word to him. No one cared what he was doing right now. Quackity felt a smile tug at his lips, picking up his pace as he continued to observe his surroundings. No one even glanced at him. He wanted to cry, knowing that for the first time in what felt like his entire life, he was free from leering eyes, eyes that pulled apart your very being. 

Quackity twisted his hands together before crossing a street. It was taking longer than he’d anticipated, Techno was surely home by now. This was stupid. He was being stupid. Quackity inhaled sharply, trying to shake the disappointment creeping through his flesh; what must Techno think of him? He’d acted on impulse and out of spite. 

But in the end, he didn’t really regret it. He was almost at home too, it was just a few streets down. 

He stood outside the building for far longer than necessary, he was here now and just needed some clothes and cat stuff, he wouldn’t take much longer than a few minutes. Then he could call Techno, apologise and leave. Quackity pushed through the doors, smiling at the reception and walking towards the elevator as his heart thumped through his chest, he almost gagged on his heartbeat, swallowing nervously. 

Nothing was going to happen, he was just being paranoid from leftover adrenaline.

The elevator shuddered to a halt, making a pleasing bing sound before the doors opened. Quackity didn’t need a key, the door would open with ease.

He stood in front of the door, forcing himself to breathe normally before he put his hand on the doorknob, twisting it slowly. 

He froze, body forcing him to stay still as he glanced into his apartment. It was just as he’d left it, maybe a little messier than he remembered, but otherwise it was okay. He took a couple of seconds, readying himself to step into the crawling paranoia again, the unsafety of being in an apartment where everything was unlocked, and windows could be looked into. 

It was okay though, he’d say for a minute at longest. Quackity stepped through the hall, glancing around before stepping into the kitchen, rummaging around for cat food before remembering he’d left most of the dry kibble in the laundry. Quackity sighed, louder than he’d liked. 

He turned the corner, psyching himself up again. He was fine, he was alone, he could grab his stuff and leave. 

Well, he could’ve done the last thing if his body hadn’t frozen up again, joints locking and breathing shuddering. 

“Hello, Quackity.” 

Quackity laughed, a stuttering and blindingly nervous laugh, staring at the lanky body sprawled on his couch, flicking lazily through one of his books. Wilbur looked up at him through fluffy hair, eyes looking at him; into him. He gently closed the book, revealing a soft and genuine smile, far more intimate than his usual grin. He put it down on the coffee table quietly. 

“... Uh, what are you doing in my house…?” Quackity laughed nervously again, eyes looking to elsewhere in the room as Wilbur stood up, blocking the hall.

“Waiting for you, of course,” He responded calmly, still wearing that warm, soft smile. Quackity’s skin prickled, backing up a step. 

“It’s… uh, a bit rude to just hang out in someone’s house uninvited.” Quackity reasoned, voice cracking slightly as Wilbur walked towards him, slowly, casually. Quackity had no more room to back into, his back finding the hall’s wall behind him with a soft thud. He opened the box in his pocket slowly, trying to be as inconspicuous as he could. Wilbur didn’t care, far too focused on Quackity’s face, his pretty, pretty face. 

“You know I love you, right?” He murmured softly, standing inches away from Quackity, looking down at him. Quackity froze for what felt like the millionth time today, this time for a good reason. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. Wilbur didn’t love him; he didn’t even know him. 

Click. And then it fell into place. All of it, all at once. The phone, the dust, the locks, the blind, the sheets, the missing keys, the bathroom window. All the times he’d coincidentally ran into the taller man, every single interaction, the kid on the bike. He stared back up at Wilbur, wide eyed. 

Wilbur gently leaned down and pressed his face into the juncture of Quackity’s neck, reveling in the softness, and warmth, the smell — Quackity. He smiled, breathing in Quackity. This was what he’d been waiting ever so patiently for, what he’d been longing for. 

Quackity stood still, stiff as Wilbur’s hands skirted lovingly around his waist and hips. Featherlight touches, something meant to be so sweet, so intimate, so enjoyable. Yet it wasn’t, and could never be.

He wasn’t stupid. Not anymore.

Quackity focused his gaze far away, staring blankly into nothing. 

Wilbur slipped a hand into the shorter’s, still enamoured by him, he’d been so patient, so very, very patient. Quackity’s hand was soft, warm. Wilbur loved it, so pleased that it was so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. It was a dream — except better, oh so, so, so much better. He wanted to touch every inch of Quackity, breathe him, taste him, live him. 

He muttered sweet nothings to Quackity, his Quackity. Promising the world to him softly despite the silence he received in turn. They had the rest of their lives to figure this out, Wilbur would give Quackity all the time and love he needed to love him back.

“Quackity,” Wilbur cooed lovingly; lips grazing the skin of Quackity’s neck. 

He heard it before he felt it, the jerk of Quackity’s free arm, moving back and pressing something hard into Wilbur’s stomach. 

The chilling bang, the feeling of wet warmth, and then there was the pain. 

Wilbur crumpled, folded like a deck of cards, eyes wide and mouth agape as he fell onto his knees, gripping onto the wound desperately. The panic was setting in as his hands were covered in his own warm and sticky blood.

Quackity looked down at Wilbur with a dark expression he’d never seen before, splattered in Wilbur’s own blood. He turned the gun over in his hand, looking at it as if it was the most insignificant thing in the world. 

Quackity flicked his wrist up, wordlessly pulling the trigger again for good measure. 

Wilbur quickly realised he wasn’t going to see tomorrow, Quackity did not intend for him to see the next hour. He desperately choked and gagged, feeling blood pool in his mouth, eyes searching for something, anything that could get him out of this situation, away from Quackity — the man he’d loved so much, dedicated the last few months to. He looked up at Quackity with horror and betrayal reflected in his eyes.

Turns out he wasn’t beautiful after all. Not whoever this was; because this wasn’t Quackity. This was not the lovely, kind man Wilbur had picked up off the pavement a few months ago. This was something else. 

Quackity sighed, seemingly bored, despite how fast his heart was racing.

He was something cold-hearted and undeserving of happiness, Something more vile than what he had run to this apartment from. Wilbur couldn’t even smile at his own stupidity, keeling over and scrabbling to stop the bleeding. 

It was on his face, hands, legs, chest, everywhere. He was covered in his own blood, cooling against his body as he bled out, staring back at Quackity helplessly the entire time. 

He found no comfort in Quackity’s cold hard eyes, the warmth long gone. Quackity scratched his face, smearing Wilbur’s blood across his face. His hand was red, the gun sparkling in the light as it too was covered in the liquid.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe! He choked and gagged as his throat filled with sticky blood, congealing on his lips as he coughed and sputtered uselessly.  

Wilbur gripped onto consciousness in despair, his own Quackity was a heartless monster, he’d given everything to him, and dedicated his entire being to making him happy. He’d shown him nothing but his love, and in return was shot in cold blood. 

Quackity watched, not feeling an inch of sympathy for the dying man below him. Wilbur’s unsettling eyes, however, told him all. Desperation and pure shock reflected back at him. 

Oh, how he wanted to gouge those fucking eyes out, then Wilbur wouldn’t be able to see, to watch as he had for months. 

But dead men can't see either, so there was no need to get even more of Wilbur’s disgusting blood on him. 

Wilbur, who he once saw as a wonderful and kind person soon lay lifelessly in a pool of his own blood.

Quackity couldn’t look at him anymore, swallowing the anxious lump in his throat and backing away from Wilbur, dropping the gun. 

Just looking at the dead man made Quackity uncomfortable, but he couldn’t take his eyes off him, relief rushing through his veins once the adrenaline faded.

It was like staring at a brutal car crash — Wilbur was his car crash, disgusting, horrifying, and vile, but Quackity couldn’t take his eyes off the corpse that once belonged to Wilbur Soot.

Admittedly, in the moment he hadn’t thought it through entirely, but now that his head was clear again he began to panic, backing away until he hit a wall, slumping down and sitting on the floor. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and debated on whether to call the authorities or Techno first. 

He put Techno on speed dial.

Everything he failed to feel in the moment hit him all at once.

He had killed Wilbur Soot.