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Quackity sighed and put a hand against the frame of the mirror. This mirror had been there through everything, through before everything. When he moved in, innocent and thinking everything was going to be great.
His shirt was crumpled and stained with… it. He had only been able to pull on a pair of sweatpants this morning. The house was silent, he was alone. The way he liked it. He didn’t remember when he stopped caring about the gentleness, the love, just started wanting that feel of adrenaline, of pleasure. But that was how he was now. He trailed his hand over his neck, softly sighing and inspecting the aftermath of last night. He needed to take a break today, tell Charlie he was feeling sick and just lay back. But that would get him lost in his thoughts, remind him of what he didn’t get last night- that look. That look only came once, but he expected it for every possible time after.
He decided to just shower and suffer through it. The ceiling was a familiar sight, him looking up as he just showered quickly, never looking down on himself. He managed to stumble into work, just deciding to sit down somewhere and not move for the entire day. Work could come to him. He felt so tired, so exhausted. At least he managed to get into a clean shirt, tie, and pair of pants. He even managed to tug his beanie on. The same beanie. Why had he never gotten rid of it? It still smelled like Schlatt.
Schlatt. He couldn’t stop thinking of him. He was his world, even when he was gone into oblivion and useless to everyone. Dream would never bring him back, he wasn’t important enough to him. Quackity was in a world without Schlatt, forever. He should be glad. Instead he suffered. He blamed himself, blamed Schlatt, blamed the others. He should have been happy. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t know why.
He did know why. He knew the moment Karl and Sap started drifting away, and why. He pretended it was for no reason, that it came like a sudden shock, but it was all an act. He knew. He knew why, and it stung that he didn’t blame him. He didn’t blame them for finally seeing how broken and scarred he was and running the opposite way. They knew everything he didn’t tell them in a moment, and it was too much. Maybe they would have stayed if it had come out of his mouth. But it didn’t.
The day it happened came back to mind. Long, far too long ago. He still had the ring. The ring from them, when they had loved him. It was his second scar, but one he could have gotten rid of. He just didn’t want to admit it was his fault, that they weren’t the assholes. That day he had been standing in front of the mirror, shirt off and just processing. Trying not to cry as he had so many memories, memories of Schlatt. Everything burned, he was so sore and it hurt. Sap came in without knocking, he always did. Karl was a few steps behind. Sap saw, and knew immediately what was going on. Quackity always saw the shock and… fear in his eyes whenever he closed them. He covered Karl’s eyes, but Karl saw. Karl just smiled and walked out apologizing for stepping in on him, but it was strained. Sap stared for another minute before leaving without a word. He apologized later, but it felt hollow on Quackity’s ears. They all knew there was no way Quackity could be theirs, all theirs.
That was why he made the demand last night with Wilbur. Shirt on, lights off. Anything else goes. He technically had more boundaries than that, but he knew what Wil would do. He was right. He was sore, so incredibly sore, but nothing more than that. A little marked up, but it would fade. Nothing was permanent, even the memory might fade. He knew it was just a one night stand, or even worse, just a one week lie where they pretended they cared about each other. Wil was going to leave and it was a fact. At least he wouldn’t leave any lasting marks this time. Quackity was careful he didn’t leave anything behind. Wilbur left without an ‘are you okay?’, ‘How sore are you?,’ or ‘How can I help?’ Last night when he was finished he didn’t either, just pulled the covers over them and spooned the slightly shaking Quackity until he fell asleep. Quackity loved it that way.
Quackity hated Schlatt. But he had loved him. That was the problem. He loved him back then, back when Schlatt was his boss, when he had no right loving him. Even as the war started, he didn’t leave. It was just one kiss with the taste of that cheap wine on it, a hug that was a bit too rough and unloving, or just one pet name that Quackity didn’t realize he never meant that had Quackity running back to him. Schlatt was always drunk. He was drunk on that night. Sometimes Quackity convinced himself he was sober, but he knew he wasn’t. He would never have done that if he was sober, it was too cruel.
Quackity sighed, looking around. It was far too empty. No one was there, his employees were working in other places. It was just him and his thoughts. Until he heard the door open, slamming open, making a small wind flow into the place. His breath stopped for a millisecond as Wilbur walked in, looking neutral, far too neutral, as he walked up to Quackity and grabbed him by his collar. Quackity was confused, was this a fight? Another hookup? Until he felt Wilbur tug at the front of his shirt, making the buttons pop and the shirt fall open enough. His heart stopped as Wilbur just sighed. “I knew it.” With those three words he left and Quackity knew he wasn’t coming back.
He didn’t know when he broke. He didn’t know when he started crying, running out of the casino to his house. He didn’t know when he grabbed the bottles, half drinking them, half letting them slip out of his fingers and crash, soaking his shoes and cutting his legs a bit. All he knew was that he did. So much broken glass and spilled alcohol later, he was huddled in his kitchen, just sobbing. The shirt was drenched, so he took it off. He didn’t know why it hurt from a man he never loved, but that wasn’t the truth. He had loved Wilbur, but he didn’t mind the way he dismissed him after. If that was all he got, if rough hookups were all he got, it was enough for him. It was simple enough, it was fucking loving enough, it wasn’t as bad as the other two relationships before Wilbur.
He couldn’t stop crying. His scar was aching from the movement and strain his face was making as he curled up into a ball and just sobbed. He just went into silent sobbing, his mouth opening but making no sound, tears there but not falling anymore. He heard the door slowly creak open, and two pairs of feet were just barely visible. He reached for the ring attached by a thread around his neck. It couldn’t be, could it..?
It wasn’t. He heard fundy’s familiar voice sigh as he said simply, “I’ll clean this up. You’re good at emotional stuff Charlie, please, please help him.” His voice got softer by the end. Charlie nodded and picked Quackity up giggling. Quackity loved being touched by Charlie in the simplest ways, just taps on the shoulder and gentle hugs. It was such a unique sensation, and always left a small mark that went away so quickly if you wanted it to, but stuck around for as long as you wanted it to.
It was a blur of Charlie helping him to his room, just taking off the necklace without asking Quackity. He got him a clean pair of pants and boxers and let him change on his own, stepping out of the room for a minute before hearing Quackity’s croaking and sore “done.” Charlie smiled as he sat Quackity down in a chair, changing the sheets that smelled so much like Wilbur and like the deeds they had done the night before. He threw the old sheets away. Quackity didn’t mind. He laid Quackity down and pulled a nice warm blanket over him smiling at him. Quackity looked up, eyes searching for something, and Charlie got the hint.
He crawled under the covers, gently holding Quackity close with one arm. He put the other arm on Quackity’s chest, right between his pecs. It should have made Quackity, thrash, freak out, scream, or tense up but it didn’t. The touch was soothing and made it ache less. It was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound but the bandaid worked, if only a bit. “It looks like it hurts…” Charlie got out with a smile. Quackity nodded, tears coming back to his eyes.
The truth was Schlatt was sober that night. The truth was he wasn’t broken, and Sapnap and Karl didn’t love him anymore and they were assholes to discard him over something he couldn’t control. The truth was he was only okay with the roughness because that’s all he thought he deserved. The truth was Schlatt had grabbed a knife that night, and Quackity was too caught up in the passion to say no as he carved his name far too neatly into his chest. Not enough that it would kill him, but enough that it was permanent and do far far worse. And the truth was Quackity was in love for what he was sure would be a final time this time, with a man who knew his past, what it did to him, and loved him anyway. The man staring at him smiling with that goofy smile, the man that, finally, loved him back as himself.