Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was used to being left out; it was an often thing that happened. 

    Doesn’t mean it's any more hurtful. 

    Quackity was loud; everyone knew that at Esempi High. He was loud, annoying, and high energy. Maybe that’s why people find him annoying, or “too loud.” 

    But, believe it or not, he had friends! His little friend group seems to like him, he likes to believe that anyway. Karl laughs at his jokes, and George goes along with his crazy sceams. Dream, Sapnap and him poke around at each other, and Bad and Skeppy found him somewhat endearing. 

    It doesn’t matter that he wasn’t athletic like the rest of his friends; George isn’t really, either. He’s the waterboy. So what if everyone else plays football and some other sport? So what if Karl was a cheerleader and jumped around in the air and did cool tricks? And so what if George ran around lugging 20 pounds of water and gatorade every game? Quackity was content sitting on the bleachers and cheering louder than anyone else in the crowd.

    He got invited to some things as well! They ate out together, they went to the arcade, the skate park, and sometimes they all hung out on the field as the football players played some scrimmages and Karl practiced those crazy spins and jumps he does at the games.

    But sometimes they didn’t invite him..but that was ok! He didn’t need to be in every outing. Even if it did hurt that they posted on their story about them going to someplace and putting “The whole Squad here tonight!” Even if it did hurt that he would ask someone to hang out and then they say, “No sorry, I’m busy tonight.” And then going to someone else to hang out in front of him. And no, he didn’t miss the disgusted stares he got whenever he came to the lunch table. And he did not miss the annoyance he got whenever he talked too much, or too loud. And those “Quackity just stop talking for god sakes,” hurt a little more than they should have.

    …………

    So maybe it wasn’t as fine as he liked to admit.

    But it’s fine! His friends still like him! They still talk, they share homework, and they get along just fine!

    He was lying to himself, but he didn’t want to admit it. 

                       —————

    His breaking point was after a football game.

    Since he wasn’t on either the football or the cheerleading team, he had to wait until going into the locker rooms to congratulate his friends. He had to go there anyway, he had left his school bag and phone in the locker room when Karl went. 

    He had finally made it through the wave of people leaving, and made his way to the locker rooms. But just as he was about to come in with a smiling face and congratulate his friends on their win, he heard-

    “-really have to invite him? He’s annoying, Karl.”

    “I know, I know. But I hate to make him feel bad. I don’t like him too, but just for a bit so we can get our grades up!” Karl?

    A new voice appears. Dream? “Who, Quackity? Oh come on Karl, do we really have to invite him? He’s loud,” stab. “annoying,” stab. “and honestly tries too hard.”

“Bro, Karl, it’s fine.” Sapnap?  “We can just pretend that we can’t, and we just go without him. We can ask him for the homework answers and notes later. We all don’t want him around here, so let's not.”

Break. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He opened the door with all his might. His face felt wet. He felt numb. And he just wanted to go anywhere other than here.

“But Sap-’’ He saw Karl staring at him, dread filling his face. “Quack-’’ He tried to talk, but Quackity wasn’t having it. He had heard it all; he didn’t need any half-assed apologies. 

“Save it.” He sneered. He had already heard it all. He didn’t need their petty excuses. He pushed past Sapnap, who was frozen. He didn’t even try to stop him as he shoved all his stuff in his bag, taking out anything that belonged to them. He wouldn’t need it anymore, not after this. He could faintly hear Karl and a few others try to apologize, making half-assed excuses and pulling random shit out of their asses to redeem themselves, but it was all static at this point; background noise. He zipped up his bag as quickly as he could. He was crying. He was hurt, and he was tired And to be frank, he just wanted to go home. 

He pushed Sapnap once more, and was halfway out the locker room whenever a desperate hand grabbed onto his arm. “ Please Quackity, I’m so sorry.” Karl wept. He was also crying a bit; tears threatened to fall as they collected in his eyes. 

But it was too late now. The damage was done, and a measly sorry wasn’t going to change jack shit.

“Why Karl? Why?” He just wanted to know why. Why hadn’t they just told him? Why did they not like him? “Why was I not good enough?” Was all he could squeak out before he pushed Karl’s hang off and left. He was done with today. He wanted to go home and sleep. To forget this all happened. 

He stomped over to his car. Tears were running freely down his face now in frustration and betrayal. He missed the key hole twice, and was about to just break down right then and there when he finally got it in. He got into the drivers seat and gripped the wheel tightly, starting to sob as he stared at the car. He was pulling out of his parking place whenever he saw them. George and Karl were running out the school, heading straight towards his car, screaming words he hardly heard. 

“Quackity please!” Karl sobbed in anguish. It had been sprinkling rain whenever the game was going on; but it was pouring rain now. His cheer uniform was soaked. He had mascara running down his face and was screaming at the top of his lungs. George wasn’t any better; face red from screaming and crying, he was soaked from head to toe, and had his famous glasses up so you could see his mismatched eyes. 

But Quackity didn’t care. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep. So he just stared at them with a sob, and continued to drive away. He could hear a faint, “ No please!” but that wasn’t his problem. The ride was blurry for the most part, until he got a text from his mom. 

                 Friday—11:47 PM 

>     Hey amor! Me and your dad are going out tonight, so please spend the night at Karls or someone else. We love you. Text us when you’re home. We’ll be back around lunch

 >     See you- love you!

Dammit. Now he couldn’t go home. And he had no other friends. No friends now. 

Shut up brain. Not right now.

He frustratingly puts on his blinker to go to the only place he knows; the pond. It was his place. Not even Karl has seen it. It was his place to go when he needed, and god knows he needs it now. 

He goes 10 miles over the speed limit. He didn’t really care

He soon arrives at the pond. He parked his car in a nearby neighborhood, and walked the rest of the way. The rain had let up some, now only being a light sprinkle. He sat down by a nearby willow tree. It was summer, and a nice breeze was passing by as he closed his eyes. But the night’s prior events crashed on him all too soon, and he was now crying again. Why didn’t they like him? He did everything right! 

“Are you good?” He opened his eyes and looked around, quickly wiping his tears as he saw another person right by him. He was tall, with brown curly locks covered loosely with a beanie. He had circular glasses and a guitar case on his back. He wore a yellow sweater and some loose black jeans, and had some old white converse. 

“Y-yea, don’t worry I’m good.” He said quickly, trying desperately to wipe away the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling goddamnit. 

“Well you don’t seem to be good as you were literally sobbing two seconds ago,” he sits down by Quackity, using the tree as support and continues talking, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” He wasn’t about to spill his guts out to a stranger. He could be a murderer for all he knew. 

“Ok.” He said, taking his guitar case off and started to unzip the sides, “I’m Wilbur. Wilbur Soot, by the way. I just turned 18 in September.” 

Ok, good thing he wasn’t a middle aged man. “Cool. I’m Alex, but nobody calls me that. So call me Quackity. Quackity HachQue. I’m turning 18 in November.” The man—no, Wilbur chuckled at his middle name. Everyone does. 

“Ok Quackity, I like the nickname.”

“It’s my middle name, asshole.” He correctet. He watched Wilbur’s face come to realization. 

“Oh. Cool.” 

They sat in awkward silence for a while. Quackity started picking at the grass and dandelions as Wilbur was tuning his guitar. “I’m going to play some, if that’s ok with you.”

“It's fine.” He replied, and so he started. It was calming and beautiful, the soft strumming and slight humming Wilbur did was soothing in a way Quackity had never heard before. He zoned out with it, picking the grass and dandelions as Wilbur played. 

Wilbur finished the final note, and stopped for a second to look at Quackity. 

“Why Are you out here at 12:34 AM on a Friday night, Quackity Hachque?”

“Why are you out here at 12:34 AM on a Friday night, Wilbur Soot?”

“Touche.”

“Touche indeed.”

And something clicked in him that night. A weird feeling saying that everything would be ok.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep. Maybe when he stopped picking at the grass. Maybe when he leaned his head back on the willow tree, really focusing on Wilbur’s music. He felt safe, like everything would be ok when Wilbur was playing.

                  —————————-

    Wilbur Soot saved his life that day. But he wouldn't know that until quite a while.

     At 12:34 AM on a Friday night, Quackity met his future. 

Chapter Text

Waking up was a slow process, the fresh smell of morning and the calming hum of the birds lulled him into falling back. 

Wait..his room did not smell like a fresh morning; it smelled like old McDonalds and shitty air freshener. And where was he even laying? And then it hit him like a stick to the eye; literally.

“Ow, what the hell man?” Quackity groaned, blinking his eyes rapidly to try to get used to the beaming sunlight, and get rid of the pain. He looked over to see Wilbur softly chuckling while picking out some leaves and small sticks from his matter hair. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Wilbur said with a small smile, “thought I’d wake you up—it is almost a quarter to eleven.” Wilbur stood up and stretched his arms, then started walking over to grab his guitar case. But those words that Wilbur just uttered got Quackity bolting up in a hurry.

“ What!? Why didn’t you wake me up earlier dude!?” Quackity yelled frantacly, quickly getting up and grabbing his jacket that had acted like a blanket while he slept.

Dammit. Because of this sweater-weather bitch, he was going to get bothered at home about where he was, getting that “mom look,” and then have his grave danced on. All in that order.

“Sorry man! Didn’t know you had to be home at a certain time, you didn’t really tell me-’’

“Just shush, ok? It’s fine.” Quackity urged. He dug through his pockets to find his car keys, “well, I’m going to go now, have a good day, I guess,” Quackity started to walk towards where he parked his car, but stopped whenever he heard a loud “Wait!”

He turned around to see none other than Wilbur jogging towards him, phone in hand; “I was just wondering if you wanted to exchange numbers possibly? You seem like a cool guy and I don’t know, can we talk? I like minecraft. And Tetris.” He anxiously said, playing with the pop socket on his phone. Quackity thought about the offer for a second. Did he really want to give his phone number to this guy? Well, he didn’t really have any friends now, and how bad could this guy be? He said he likes Tetris for god sakes! 

That’s what you thought with Karl, and look at you now.

Shut up brain, not the time.

“Oh um, sure?” He reluctantly said. And he wouldn’t deny the warm feeling that bubbled up in his chest when Wilbur brightened up at his words. “Here, let me put in my number.” Quackity took Wilbur’s phone and put in his number.

“Here, let me text you.” Wilbur quickly took his phone back and texted something to him. He felt a buzz in his pocket, and grinned at the text.

                        10:53 AM

 xxx-xxx-xxxx >  hiii this is wilbur lol :p

he thought for a second, and then texted back:

                       10:53 AM

 xxx-xxx-xxxx >  hiii this is wilbur lol :p

heyyy this is quackity if u get confused lol>

They both giggled at the text. Quackity put his phone back into his pocket and smiled at Wilbur. “Let’s hang sometime soon, I have to go now.” 

“Yea, same. If I don’t get back soon my dad will have my head,” Wilbur jokingly said as he readjusted the guitar straps around his shoulders. 

“Ok, bye Wilbur!” He yelled back to Wilbur as he started walking towards his car.

“Bye Quackity!” Quackity faintly heard Wilbur yell back. He got to his car and quickly hopped in. This time, he drove home with a smile on his face.

Wilbur doesn’t seem so bad. 

                     ———————

“Where have you been?” Wilbur cringed as he heard his adoptive-father’s voice. He hadn’t meant to stay the whole night at the pond, but Quackity (his name was interesting, even if it was his middle one,) looked like he needed it. And he got his number! Just to hang out, of course. Wilbur was trying to branch out! Make some more friends outside his small social circle! His metaphorical therapist would be so proud of him!

“I was out,” was all he said before brushing past Phil to go to the kitchen. He internally groaned whenever he heard the telltale stomping from upstairs, which meant that the gremlin had woken up from slumber to, put it simply, make Wilbur’s life a living hell. 

“ Oh what is this that I hear..?” Wilbur started digging his own grave as Tommy came dramatically down the stairs. “One of Philza’s Minecraft’s children was out? Without permission? Wow, Phil, how embarrassed you must be!” Tommy exaggerated while gripping dramatically onto the railing of the stairs for the “affect” as he would say. Yea, and they call me the drama kid.

“Ok Shakespeare, you can stop now,” Wilbur grumbled, going over to the fridge to see what they had to eat.

Phil good-heartedly huffed at the two before speaking up. “Ok Tommy, stop pretending like you’re in one of those medieval shows you’ve been watching on Netflix,” Tommy huffed at that, “and Wil, I would like an explanation as to where you were.” Wilbur ignored him and continued to rummage through the fridge.

“ Wilbur.” Phil sternly said. Wilbur rolled his eyes as he spun around to face him.

“It’s fine Phil, ok? I just went out to my private spot, and fell asleep cause I was tired. My head is still on, I’m breathing, and the car is safe and sound on the driveway.” He points to the window showing the car to further prove his point—“and you don’t need to worry about it, ok? Nothing happened: I just got bored after the football game and decided to go. Please trust me on that.” Wilbur pleated to Phil as he stared at him. Phil looked at Wilbur for a minute before sighing and giving Wilbur a small smile.

“I do, mate, don’t worry. I just get worried, you know how I am,” Phil explained, “sorry I’ve been such a worry-wart lately. Just been stressed recently. I’ll back off a bit.” Phil promised, and Phil never broke a promise: not to Wilbur, atleast.”

“Thanks,” Wilbur murmured quickly before going upstairs to his room. To his surprise, his older brother Techno was sitting on a bean bag reading a book. He glanced up at Wilbur with a suspicious look in his eye, like he just knew. 

“You met someone interesting, didn’t you?” Techno suddenly asked, which made Wilbur falter while putting his guitar back on the stand. He debated lying to Techno, but he doubted he could pull it off. Twins were like that, knowing whenever something happened and if they were lying or not. It was a curse and a blessing; more than often a curse if Wilbur was being honest.

Wilbur just sighed before saying, “how did you know?” He asked, and Techno looked at Wilbur through his reading glasses.

“You’re not that hard to read, Wilbur. You look more excited than usual, and are glancing at your phone like you’re waiting for someone to text you: it’s not that hard.” Wilbur blushed at that.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Damn,” he murmured. He went over to his dresser and grabbed his Switch off the top, his TV swaying from the slight movement. Techno wordlessly watched as he plopped down on the floor right next to his bed and booted up Tetris. 

“Your bed is right there.” Techno pointed out.

“I know.” Was all that Wilbur said before looking back at the game. 

“Can you promise me that you’ll tell me who it is after dinner?” Techno asked, his eyes not moving from the page.

Wilbur pondered the question for a second before ultimately saying: “Sure, Techno, I’ll tell you after dinner. But you can’t tell anyone. Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” 

Chapter Text

“I’m home!” Quackity yelled out as he came through the door. He expected his mom or dad to urgently come through the threshold and either start yelling at him, or asking if he was ok and then yell at him. But surprisingly, the house was still; no yelling and no fretting, just Quackity and the dust particles that were visible because of the sunlight filtering in through the windows. He looked over to his oven to check the time. 1:07, they should be home..are they running late? He pondered what he should do for a second. He could just text them, but if they were driving he was sure they wouldn’t respond. Maybe call? Nah, too much energy; he wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone right now. He thought for a second before just deciding to wait it out. If they weren’t here after 3, then he would call.

 He ran upstairs to his room, throwing his bag onto the floor. Even though he slept, it wasn’t a good one. His back and butt hurt, and his neck felt as stiff as a log: So he was grateful whenever he was able to drop onto his bed and have neck and back support. He opened his phone and frowned whenever he saw:

1 of my lovely fiances <33

—————-

> quackity please

> let us explain

> alex

> alex please answer tghe phone

> please.

47 more text from: 1 of my lovely fiances <33

20 missed calls from: 1 of my lovely fiances <33

DREAM SIMPP:

> quackity please answer

> let us explain

> you didn’t hear right.

>alex answer the fucking phone 

>pleaes

> we can go to the diner to talk        

> just answer

20 more text from: DREAM SIMPP

17 missed calls from: DREAM SIMPP

GOOFY ASS SHOES HAHSHA:

> quackity pls answer me or karl or sapnap or george

> you heard me wrong we can talk about this

> pleaseee

13 more messages from: GOOFY ASS SHOES HAHSHA

10 missed calls from: GOOFY ASS SHOES HAHSHA

My other lovely fiance <3:

> quackity pls answer me

> and karl

> quack pls

> u heard us wrong

> i love u

> me and karl and everyone else both do

>some more platonic than others

> pleaseeee

23 more messages from: my other lovely fiance <3

35 missed calls from: my other lovely fiance <3

—

103 missed texts and 75 missed calls from several other contacts. Text back?

He actually debated texting them back. That one part in his brain was still convinced that he’d heard them wrong; that it was all a joke. That they could go back to laughing over stupid things, celebrate after football games together, going over to that one place out of town and laughing so hard that milkshake came out of their noses. He must’ve been somewhat enjoyable at the very least, right? 

But the rational part of his brain knew that those things they said were their true opinions on Quackity: that he thought much higher of them then they did of him. And he would have to learn how to live with that for the rest of highschool.

 Quackity sighed as he threw his phone down next to him, debating whether to block them or not. He decided just to change their names to:

Karl Jacobs (lair)

George Notfound (fucking traitor)

Dream WasTaken (fakest ass)

Sapnap Halo(pretended to like me)

And a few others. And soon, a third of his contact list looked simaler: the person’s full name and a message behind it. It may have seemed sad to someone else, but to Quackity it was all he needed. Soon after changing people’s contact names, he was scrolling through Twitter whenever he heard keys jangling and his front door opening. 

“We’re home!” He heard his mom yell through the house. Quackity quickly got off his bed to see his parents.

 “Hi honey,” she sweetly said, going over to hug her son, “how was your stay at Karl’s?” He stiffened a bit. He didn’t want to tell her yet, but he didn’t want her knowing about his own place. So he decided to say a quick little white lie.

“Oh..yea it went well. We went to bed as soon as we got to his house; we were tired from the game.” He quickly lied. What? A little white lie never hurt anyone…right? 

“That’s good to hear, next time you see his mom can you tell her I said hi? I would like to meet up again, she was a nice lady.” His mom requested. Quackity just nodded as he started to help put away the groceries. 

The day went by in a flash, and not too long after, he was lying in bed at 11:58 PM, sleep not coming as he tossed and turned in his covers. He flips again, and frowns when his eyes catch the glimpse of a picture frame. The picture was of him, Karl and Sapnap: back when they were friends and they actually made an effort to talk to him. Sapnap was on his right, Karl on his left, and Quackity straight in the middle. Sapnap was sticking his tongue to the side and making a peace sign with his free hand; and Karl was doing something similar, except making bunny ears behind Quackity’s head. Quackity was laughing, his head slightly forward as he had his arms behind both Karl and Sapnap’s shoulders for support. It was one of his happiest moments in life, and he still looks back on that memory fondly, even though things have changed. 

He tore his eyes away from the photo and turned away, not being able to bear looking at it any longer. And soon enough, sleep came, though it was not a restful one. 

—————

School was hell. The day had just started, and he was trying to become invisible in his math class.

He normally enjoyed school; being blessed with having at least one of his friends in every class. But now, he debated stomping over to the counselor’s office and demanding all of his classes to be switched. 

He zoned back into the lesson, the teacher still droning on and on about a math equation that she could care less for. But he felt eyes on him; that someone was staring bullets into his back. He glanced over to his side, and saw no other than George looking at him, eyes full of guilt and shame. George quickly turned his eyes away when he noticed that Quackity was glancing at him. Quackity couldn’t help but sneer at that, that now he had the audacity to be guilty and shameful. 

But soon, the bell rang and all the students gathered their things and flooded into the hallway. And the day went by just like that: Quackity seeing some of his ex-friend’s guilty faces, zone out on half of the lesson, then the bell rang and he left the depressing classroom. And soon, lunch rolled around, and Quackity was debating where to go. 

He normally sat at the football team’s table if they were in the cafeteria, which low and behold they were. They were much quieter than usual; you could normally hear them laughing across the school, but now you could only hear the clanking of silverware and the occasional cough. He debated going to his car and through the McDonald’s drive thru, and he was about to leave the cafeteria when he heard a familiar voice saying, “hey!”

He flipped his head to see no other then Wilbur Soot walking up to him, and behind him a small group of people standing dumb-founded. “Hey Quackity! Didn’t know you went to school here,” Wilbur smiled at him and gave him a half hug.

“Yea dude! Didn’t know you went here too! We have to exchange schedules to see what classes we have,” Quackity agreed, exchanging the hug. “I was just about to head out to get some food, actually.”

“Oh! Well I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come with me and some friends to get some food? There’s a really good pancake place in town that we always go to,” Wilbur offered. Quackity looked over to the small group of people that Wilbur was previously with, and almost everyone there gave him a small nod; some even giving him a thumbs up. He slightly hesitated before saying, “Oh um…yeah sure?” 

“Yay!! Ok, c’mon!” Wilbur cheered, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to his friend group. “Alright y’all! We can do introductions when we get there. Let’s get moving!” And then he was dragged to a 1997 Plymouth Voyager Minivan. And he had one thing to say about the car:

“That is the most disgusting car I’ve ever seen.” He deadpanned. He was surprised whenever everyone burst out in laughter, and Wilbur scoffed as he opened the car. 

“Excuse me, Debra is the best car in the world.” Wilbur exclaimed, clearly offended as he got into the driver’s seat, “I was about to offer you shot-gun, but since you think you’re too good for my car, then I guess you can take the middle seat in the middle row.” Quackity looked around to see everyone tumbling into seats but the one that Wilbur told him that he could have.

Quackity just sighed, not wanting to lose any new potential friends with arguing, and started climbing in. “Sorry big Q,” he stalled for a second and looked over to where the voice was: it was a tall blonde kid with braces and a T-shirt that was way too big for his lanky body, “you’re new. Meaning anyone new has to experience at least once, the horrors of the middle-middle seat.” He said blankly, but with guilt in his eyes. Quackity nodded slowly before sitting down in the seat and strapping in.

The inside of the car was somehow worse than the outside. Empty water bottles, old fast food bags, shoes, headphones and more littered the car. Empty cigarette boxes and empty vape pods were all over the floor, and he even saw some poking out of the cracks in between the seats. Great, so they also had some bad habits. Would they mind if he took a hit? 

A cough right by him brought him back, and he was suddenly very aware that he was sitting with two people, and there were five people right behind him. 

Great.

 The person to his left was only taller than him by a few inches, and looked like he was about to jump out of the car out of anxiety. He had short ginger hair, and had a black cap on. It seemed like he was sweating bullets with the black leather jacket that he had on with a T-shirt underneath with three stripes on the upper half of the shirt. He kept glancing from window-to-window, and was wringing his hands together to keep calm. 

Weird.

The guy to his right was much more chill, and was chatting to the braces-kid behind him. He had a buzz cut and when he talked he spit, but other then that he seemed like a chill guy; wearing just some basketball shorts and a shirt that said: “The ladies love this bald guy!”

Whoever gave him that shirt was handing him the biggest lie on the planet, QUackity chuckled to himself.

The ride was chill for the most part, mostly just some small snides and jokes thrown around, and the added bonus of having a guy on the aux that had some music taste. A smaller kid with unruly locks of brown hair and a green shirt tried to put on his playlist, but that lasted less than a minute with the discovery that the guy was more tone deaf then Sapnap, which was saying a lot. 

Wilbur soon pulls into a small parking lot and stops the car. Everyone collectively starts un-buckling their seat belts to get out. It seemed that both ginger-boy and Quackity were happy to get out from the close-proximity they were both in. As soon as Quackity steps out of the van, Wilbur comes over and drags him by the arm to the front of the diner and Quackity looks at the name: G+S Diner, and underneath, “We try most days.” 

Ha, nice.

The place seemed pretty run down from the front: the bright red paint was chipped from time and the elements, and some leftover graffiti marks from a half-assed attempt to clean them off. The windows were so smudged that you had to strain your eyes to see inside, the red trash can full to the brim, cigarette buds littered the outside, and the lights that Quackity assumed light up the front at night were broken: one hanging on by the wiring. 

“I know you’ll like this place! They make pancakes, and they make their maple syrup by hand!” Wilbur cheerily chipped, releasing Quackity from his grip to put his hands on his hips.

“This has to be a health code violation.”

“Maybe, but they make good pancakes.”

Quackity looked at Wilbur. “I’m going to choke on the cigarette fumes. It’s a miracle that this place is still standing, Wil. I’m going to walk in there and die because of one of the lights.”

“But pancakes. And waffles.” Wilbur argued, looking at Quackity. Quackity thought for a second, hummed, and looked back at the building.

“Fair.” And with that, Wilbur opened the dirty glass doors to go inside. The inside wasn’t better construction wise, but it was cleaner, which Quackity could appreciate. The place was styled like an 80’s diner, and Quackity doesn’t doubt that this place was made in the 80’s. They had a long bar with red bar stools, and clattering and some yells confirmed to Quackity that the swinging doors behind the bar led to the kitchen. On the sides were some booths and a few hightops, and a jukebox sat in the corner playing some old jazzy tune. Quackity quite liked the place, even if he was still certain that this place didn’t follow a single health code. 

“Hello! Welcome to- oh, hey Wil!” A voice suddenly greeted the group. Quackity looked over to see a bubbly guy with light brown hair and glasses greeting them. They had on a red shirt that said “G+S Diner” with some black paints. The guy seemed friendly enough.

“Hey Grian, nice seeing you man!” Wilbur started,  then threw an arm over Quackity’s shoulder, “this is my friend Quackity, and he’s new to our little group. He’s never been here before; which is just socially unacceptable.”

“Ah, ok,” Grian said, and gave a smile to Quackity, “my name’s Grian; one of the owners. Wilbur comes here a lot, and it’s always nice to see new faces.” He explained, and grabbed one menu for Quackity, “find something you like. I’ll be over to your regular spot in a bit.” Quackity nodded. 

They thanked Grian and Quackity followed them to a corner booth in the corner. He assumed this was only their usual spot because it was the only way everyone would fit. Quackity slid in after three people, and ended up being right by Wilbur and some guy with glasses and a T-shirt with a pixel heart. He started flipping through the menu, and was surprised by how many choices they had. He felt Wilbur lean over to look at the menu.

“Their pancakes are really good. Unless you like waffles better, which first, is wrong. Pancakes are way better, and secondly, their blueberry and chocolate chip ones are good from what I’ve heard.” Wilbur recommended, “and you can get a milkshake. Personally, the strawberry one is the best; but choose whatever.” Quackity nodded, and was about to ask Wilbur a question until he heard an offended gasp from his left.

“Excuse you, Wilbur soot. Waffles are way better than pancakes: do not even try to fool this poor soul with your tomfoolery.” Glasses guy argued. He stared bullets into Wilbur for two seconds before looking at Quackity, his stare softening out to excitement.

“Hello Quackity from P.E! I’m Charlie, Charlie Slimecicle. But everyone just calls me Charlie or Slime; I don’t mind either.” Charlie quickly said, waving to Quackity as he talked, “also, you should get the chocolate chip waffles, those are way better than all the pancakes. Trust me.” Wilbur scoffed, and he and Charlie quickly got into a heated debate about which one was better. Quackity giggled at their antics as they somehow got onto the topic of “is water wet?”

“Hey!” Quackity turned his head to look at braces kid, “my name’s Tommy. But you can call me big man if you want. Or wife haver. Or lady-’’ Tommy got cut off by a hit to the back of the head by tone-deaf kid. 

“Sorry about him. He’s…unique.” Tommy squawked at that. “My name’s Tubbo, and my friend over here is Ranboo. We tag team wrangling in the gremlin.” Tubbo and Tommy started play fighting while Quackity scanned the table for this “Ranboo person.” And sure enough, beside Tubbo was a giraffe of a person giving him a shy wave. Quackity tried not to be jealous of his height as he waved back.

He then learned that the ginger that he sat by was called Fundy, and the other was Jack. Technoblade was the one with long pink hair, and also Wilbur’s twin brother. The girl with short pink and blonde hair was Niki, and that she and her older sister were Ranboo’s cousins. He learned that Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy were all siblings; with Wilbur and Techno being biologically related and Tommy being adopted at age 5 by their adoptive father; Phil. Fundy was also Wilbur and Techno’s biological cousin, which Quackity just said “What are the odds!?” to that information.

Quackity was also surprised that Tubbo was Dream’s brother whom he had never even met before, which was surprising to say the least. He had heard Dream mention something about having two brothers, but he had only really ever gone into detail about Foolish. Tubbo just chuckled and somberly said that Dream didn’t like him being friends with the Craft family, and had avoided him because of the fact. Quackity frowned and said, “well Dream is a dick anyways.” Tubbo chuckled at that, and agreed, which drew a soft smile from Quackity.

Soon, Grian came by and they ordered. Quackity ended up getting a strawberry milkshake and chocolate chip waffles, which made both Charlie and Wilbur slightly smile. They chatted, they made jokes, and Quackity felt a soft warmth creeping up in his chest. He liked this, he liked these people. These friends. 

Grian came back with the food, and as Quackity bit into his waffles, he saw the holy gates open and he moaned around the waffle. “-s so good!” He exclaimed, and started to devour the rest. Everyone laughed at his reaction, but they couldn’t blame him: Scar does make the best waffles. 

And as they all finished up, Wilbur and Quackity got into a debate about who should pay (Wilbur won, with the promise that next time Quackity would pay.)

….next time. Quackity thought, smiling at the thought of the next time.

And as the gang loaded up in the van, the air wasn’t as stiff, and he made jokes, and they laughed. Him and Tommy ganged up on Jack, which had even Techno chuckling softly. 

And he found himself appreciating the old danky van. He found himself reveling in the fact that when they entered back into the school, he smelled of must and old ciggerates. 

He got everyone’s numbers, and smiled as he saw what they had named themselves: even Wilbur changed his name.

New Contacts: 

Big man Tommy (gremlin)

Your favorite person (bald bitch)

Tubeee >:D

Ranboo (girrafe ass-)

Jack Manifold (too british lolz)

Niki <3

Slime (Charlie :D)

The Blade (Pig bitch)

Fundy hehe (Furry)

He texted all of them, and laughed at their responses. And for the first time, he walked to P.E. with a smile on his face as he knew that Charlie would be there. 

Chapter Text

School was eating Quackity alive, and he chose to ignore it with the excuse that the first few months of school were always tough. But the days kept stretching, assignments kept on piling, and he was always having mental breakdowns in the bathroom. 

You know, normal school things. 

But today he wasn’t feeling good, and as he sat down to take a math test at 7:58 in the morning, the quiet atmosphere and the stress pushed him to the edge. 

He told his teacher he had to go, didn’t wait for a response, and ran to throw up his Nutrigrain bar he had for breakfast this morning.

So yes, school was eating Quackity alive, and he chose to ignore it for too long. Which is why he finds himself sitting in the nurse's office, nursing a juice box as she asks him questions.

“How are you feeling now, Alex?” She politely asked him, glancing up from her clipboard to look at him through black-rimmed glasses. His eye twitched at the use of his first name.

“Better now, thank you,” he mumbled out, getting up to leave. “I’m going to class now.”

She handed him a late slip, “ok, just come back if you feel ill again.” Quackity nodded at her and left the office. He gave a wave to the office ladies as he headed back to class. He debated calling his mom before going back to class, but decided against it as he needed to get as far as he could on his math test, even though the thought of even sitting down in front of it made his stomach turn.

He silently entered the math room, and shrunk in on himself as everyone’s eyes turned towards him. He made his way back to his desk, and avoided looking at the scrutinizing eyes of his teacher. He didn’t look up as he sat down, and glanced back at the forgotten test in front  of him. 

Ah, now I know why I threw up. 

To be fair, it was a combination of things. But the numbers and the fancy math symbols inked onto the page made his stomach feel like puking just to leave this class. He glanced at the clock: five minutes until the end of class, he would get nothing done either way. So he just opted to sit in his chair silently and glare at the paper. Even the thought of picking up the pencil made him wallow in anxiety. He felt eyes all over him, as if the entire class were judging him for storming out of the room and having the audacity to come back.

He flinched at the sound of the bell piercing the air, and soon students started filing out of the room. He quietly followed, but got stopped by his teacher before being able to leave the room. 

“You missed most of the class, and storming out was super disrespectful. But, I did get informed that you…you know,” the teacher trailed off, was vomit a bad word now? “So I’ll excuse you, come talk to me tomorrow about the test.” He finished. Quackity nodded as he left the classroom. 

He rushed to his locker and slammed it open, got his phone, and called his mom. The phone rang once, twice, thrice, and Quackity was getting scared his mom wouldn’t answer, the fourth time, and then a click.

“Hello?” She innocently answered, and Quackity heaved a sigh of relief

“Hi mom, are you home?” She hummed in a yes, “can you come pick me up? I just barfed, and I don’t want to be home alone. Can you possibly call the office and sign me out?” He explained, and a gasp came through the line. 

“ Ay mi hijo,” she murmured, “yes I’ll call the office. If you don’t feel well enough to drive home just call me, ok?”

“Yea I will, gracias mama. Besos.” He blew a kiss to seemingly nobody and cut the phone. He sighed a sigh of relief. It would probably take a while for his mom to call the office, and it was lunch. Quackity started his walk to the lunch room, which wasn’t far. 

Instantly he was hit by the smell of smelly highschoolers and cheap food: his stomach churned again. He didn’t bother getting in the lunch line, as the plastic food might make him barf again, and instead went straight to the now-familiar lunch table in the back corner of the cafeteria. It was dirty and messy, the janitors not giving the time of day to clean it, but they all tried to make sure it was decently clean. 

“Hi Quackity from P.E!” Charlie greeted, flashing him a smile before going back to his sandwhich. He noticed that Quackity had no lunch try with him. “Whe-s you- lu-nch?” He asked, though muffled, Quackity understood the question.

“Ah, not feeling good,” he explained, “I’m going home soon, I threw up.” Charlie frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, hope you feel better soon.” Charlie gave him an apoligetic look, and Quackity just gave him a half smile. The rest of lunch was him just making small talk to the rest of his friends, occasionly cracking a joke here and there. But soon, a lady from the office came to inform him that he was being signed out.

He said bye to all of his friends and made his way to his locker on his way back. He got to the beat up locker, and was getting his stuff out whenever he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He sighed before spinning around, and was met with none other than the new social studies teacher (who was a bitch, by the way.)

“Um, excuse me? What are you doing here? It’s lunch time, you’re supposed to be in the lunchroom.” She sneered, putting both of her hands on her waist, basically challenging him to say something snarky. 

He was way too stressed for this.

“I’m getting signed out, don’t worry. I’m getting my stuff and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Quackity calmy explained, shutting his locker and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. The teacher just huffed as Quackity walked away. 

He walked through the school, and made his way out of the auditorium to the student parking lot, and when he stepped outside he was hit with the smell of cow manure. Great, he sighed, and slowly made his way to his car. He was getting his keys out whenever the sound of familier laughter made him look up.

The cherry on fucking top, Quackity sighed as he saw none other then Karl, George and Sapnap walking through the school parking lot. They hadn’t noticed him, luckily, but he knew they would soon. He hurried to get in the car, throwing his backpack onto the passenger seat as the car came to life. He shifted gears and started driving, glancing at his mirrors every once in a while to see if they’d notice him. Quackity’s eyes widened whenever he saw who he thought was Sapnap, pointing at his car and seemingly yelling at the other two. 

But they were too late. Too late for apologies. Too late for talking it out.

Karl was a fast runner but never was the greatest at driving.

Quackity hated to run, but he drove like a madman.

——————————

“ Dammit— Quackity wait!” Karl panted as he slowed down, scornfully watching the old Jeep drive away. 

“Great, now what are we going to do?” Karl turned to see Sapnap glaring bullets at him. “Quackity’s gone, and we can’t just go to his house and demand to talk to him! And whenever we try to talk to him in school. he either runs away or the pig-bitch and stoner take him away to “talk.” Like what fucking bullshit is that! What does Quackity even like about those guys anyways?” Sapnap complained, and continued rambling on about what he hated about Wilbur and Techno. George was uncharacteristically quiet as he stared at Sapnap rambling about them.

“They’re much nicer than us, I’m not surprised. I’m happy for him, honestly.” Karl and Sapnap spun their heads at George. 

“What?” Both Karl and Sapnap said at the same time. Karl was so confused, what was George on about?

“Yea, glad he found people. He deserved better anyways.” George softly smiled as he started walking away towards the school; leaving a dumbfounded Karl and Sapnap to ponder his word choices.

I’m glad you’re happy, Quackity, George smiled to himself, even if it hurts me.

Chapter Text

Hey! I'm so sorry this isn't a chapter but I need to say some stuff anyways. This will be an official announcement chapter, where I will put anything I have to say that I think is too long for the author's notes before chapters. I'll edit this up a bit later, but for now it will do

This was supposed to be a chapter, but my WiFi broke and won't show the progress that I made on my IPad (the finished chapter,) to my phone Docs App (where I transfer and post my chapters.) I'll try to fix this tomorrow though (which is technically today for me as it is 12:06 AM and I have school tomorrow ahahahah :D)

SOME IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS PLEASE READ:

First, the name of this fic is getting changed! It will be getting changed to: You Made my Heart Float (but I found someone who let it fly) I will add this in the summary, next chap., and authors notes for people to know. I'll also be changing the summary and adding some tags. This is going to happen as soon as Chapter 5 gets released :)

Second, I think I may have a semi-schedule. I hope to post at least once a month (maybe once every 2 weeks on a good month, don't bet on it though) with added specials like a Halloween and Christmas chapters! There will be a Halloween special being released during Halloween day at around possibly 3-5 PM (where I live) I also plan to do one for Christmas, and a Valentine's day one!

5th: Now this is a more serious topic. TW: gro0ming

I am aware of the current situation. I have taken into consideration and accounted for both sides of views. I have decided on staying neutral, and wait until more info comes out. Dream is includes in the next Chapter, as that part was already planned and written. I am not too sure if I am going to keep Dream in this fan fiction if they are proven true. This is all I am going to say about this for the time being. If I see anything in the comments about this other then "thanks for addressing this" or something along those lines, it is going to be deleted. That is your first and final warning.

Fifth: I have decided to move my little talk about Techno over here because it was just too much for author notes. If you haven't noticed, I have decided to keep Techno in this fic and future ones to come. I would like to keep his legacy alive, and I think that he would be annoyed and call me a nerd if I didn't write this the way I intended to just because of him. If you have a problem with this, please DNI with this fic immediately. If you comment about this in negative light, it will get deleted.

I think that is all I have to say for now. This will be a reference page if I have something to say that I think is too long to be in the author's notes. I will tell you to reference here if I have some thing to say. 

So sorry about the late chapter, but trust me it will be released!

          love--Arin =)

Chapter Text

The next three days Quackity spent in bed: the only oxygen being his snot that he was sniffing down his throat. His mom was also not helping with the amount of Febreeze she was spraying around the room, claiming it smelled “worse then the composte that Uncle Rodrigo had outside his farm.” Quackity personally didn’t think that the rotting Dunkin’s cup smelled that bad. 

He snapped out of his thoughts by the smacking of notebooks hitting desk: Right. He wasn’t in his room with the mixed smell of lemon air freshener and old Dunkin Donuts; he was in the 50 degree math room with the peircing florecent lights that make it feel like a hospital room. He shivered and pulled his jacket impossibly closer to him—were they trying to freeze the useless math facts into their brains? 

He glanced out the window two seats infront of him; it was fall now—halloween was coming up soon, he still hadn’t figured out what he wanted to be. He could be a zombie again; he probably still had the blood-stained clothes somewhere. He smiled sofly at the memory of Sapnap and Dream having a paint fight while painting the shirts. 

The bell snapped him out of his thoughts, and he stood up to collect his things. Quackity didn’t even bother listening to what his teacher was trying to say through the shuffling and chatter of students as he left the classroom. He was thankful that the air conditioning was a bit more barable in the halls. Luckily his locker wasn’t very far; so it didn’t take him long to get there and start unlocking it. He popped it open and started putting his books away when;

“Hey bed-head,” Quackity sighed at the familiar voice and turned around, being greeted with fluffy brown curls and sly eyes behind round glasses.

“Really Wilbur?” He greeted, seemingly uninpressed. wilbur chuckled as Quackity just glared him up and down—their outfits coralating a lot more then Quackity would have liked—like they had planned them. “Did you really have to also wear sweatpants and a sweater?”

“That’s what I wear every day Quackity,” Wilbur corrected, “so technically, your stealing my fashion style.” Quackity huffed and turned back around to face his locker, quickly checking his phone before putting it in his pocket, sighing at the time that indicated that class would start in less then a minute.

“Come on weirdo, class is about to start, “Quackity urged Wilbur, grabbing his wrist and having to drag him there, Wilbur saying that “he couldn’t do Biology this early.” 

“Well good thing we both don’t have plans to be Biologist—as we are both going to fail this class at this rate.”

The bell rang as they neared the door, indicating that they hadn’t made it there on time—but both Quackity and Wilbur didn’t mind; all they did was talk in that class anyways. They entered the classroom as quietly as they could, slowly turning the door nob as they pushed open the door. The teacher stopped speaking and glared at them as they walked in. 

“Ah, there you are Alex HachQue and William Gold,” they both cringed at the use of their real names: but they weren’t really suprised. She was a pretty old and traditional teacher, after all. “Would you like to tell the class why you were late?” Both Quackity and Wilbur glanced at each other nervously.

“Um…well…” Wilbur started, mumbling as he trailed off—not even knowing himself what he was saying. 

“Repeat that please, William Gold,” the teacher instructed. But as Wilbur was about to repeat his mumbling, Quackity suddenly blurted out:

“My goldfish died.” 

Ok, to be fair, not the the best excuse he’s ever made; but it could’ve been worse. The teacher raised her eyebrows at them.

“You’re golfish died?” She repeated skeptically, and Wilbur and Quackity rapidly shaked their heads.

“Yea, yea, I just got the news; Goldy was old—but it still hurts to loose a pet—especially Goldy.” Quackity tried to sound somber as he talked, sniffling a bit at the end. Wilbur shook his head and patted his back.

“Yea, I knew Goldy; great fish. Such a short life for such a legend. I’m here to emotionally support you through this Quackity—don’t worry.” Wilbur reasshured as he rubbed his back. Quackity kept on the act as he kept on sniffling. He still had some left from his prior sickness. 

“Thank you Wilbur, what would I do without you?” Quackity dramtically announced, wiping away imaginary tears from his eyes. The teacher stood there awe-struck at the scene.

The teacher closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, “Ok boys, that’s enough. Alex I am so sorry about your fish, but maybe you can learn the cause of it’s death in this class if you both go and take a seat, ok?” They both nodded and slowly walked to their desk in the back, keeping up the act of saddness.

Quackity didn’t even own a fish—and he wouldn’t name it Goldy by any means. But that’s what made it all the funnier. 

Wilbur and Quackity both had grins bigger then the Cheshire cat as they heard some kids giggling softly at their antics. The teacher wasn’t impressed though, and called everyone back to attention to continue the lesson. Their smiles never faded through the whole class, whispering quietly to eachother the whole time. You could see the way the teacher’s shoulders dropped with relief when the bell finally rang dismissing them to lunch. Wilbur and Quackity shrunk under her glare as they hurried to leave the cold chemistry lab. 

“Dude I can’t believe we didn’t get written up,” Quackity sighed in relief as they made their way to the front entrance; having already made plans with Charlie and Fundy to get some food at Grian’s place for lunch. 

Wilbur hummed as he snapped Charlie and Fundy to ask about their whereabouts. “Yea, I was really thinking that we were going to get lunch detention or something,” Wilbur agreed, slipping his phone in his back pocket. “I was ready to cancel waffles—good thing we didn’t have to though. I didn’t bring anything else to eat.”

They walked the cold halls, passing the smell of plastic cheese and loud chatter as they got closer to the main entrance. Quackity then realized that he couldn’t hear the synchronized steps next to him anymore, and turned around to see Wilbur slightly behind him, something festering in his mind.

“C’mon dude, what’re you thinking about?” Quackity inquired as he glared Wilbur down with a suspicious eye. Wilbur froze for a moment, before hesistantly catching up to Quackity.

“Have you heard from them?” He blurted out suddenly. Quackity stopped and raised his eyebrow, “Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about—Karl, Dream and everybody?” 

Quackity scowled at the mention of them, “no I haven’t, and I have no interest in reaching out. Why?”

“No reason—just curiosity is all.” Wilbur simply explained, putting a pep in his step as they got closer to the exit.

“Mhm..ok.” 

They walked in silence, but it was luckily not uncomfortable: just peaceful. Quackity was never good at silence—always needing to fill it so it didn’t become awkward. But now is was something that Wilbur and him did often: sit in scilence together as they did whatever they were doing, and it was something that so simple that Quackity began to appreciate it even more. 

But the peaceful quietness was cut short when he heard two of the most recognizable laughs he has ever had in his memory: not even the Mr. Clean magic eraser that he had been trying to use on all of his old memories with them could erase the unique laughter that they had managed to engrave in his brain.

Out from the corner come Dream and Karl, giggling as Karl shows Dream something on his phone. From the audio, Quackity guesses its a TikTok meme. Wilbur, the angel, notices his sudden distreass and lightly holds his hand, which Quackity gratefully squeezes. Quackity forces himself to take deep breaths as Wilbur lightly pulls him to the doors that leads outside, other wise known as “freedom” in Quackity’s eyes. 

They were so close; Quackity swears that he could smell the smell of Wilbur’s car and fresh pancakes.

He was never religious, but he swears that Lady Luck picked favorites.

“Hey um..Quack?” Quackity wipped his head around to the familiar voice. Karl and Dream stood there, Karl being the only one making eye contact as Dream’s eyes roamed all the monotone walls. Quackity made a small, hesitant hum. “Are…or are any of us blocked on your phone?”

Really, that’s what you’re asking me? He wanted to say a million things at the moment: ask all the questions he has been dying to ask. Why did you not like me? Why didn’t you tell me anything? Millions of questions, but all could be reduced to a simple “Why?” 

But he didn’t say the millions’ of questions, or just the simple “why?” Instead, he looked down and said—“you and Sap aren’t.” 

“Oh…ok.” Karl sounded suprised as he spoke. Both wanted to say so much, but Dream put his hand on Karl’s shoulder and started leading them to the cafeteria, and Wilbur lightly grabbed Quackity’s index finger and lead them outside. Quackity was gratefull at the fresh air that waved around.

“Want me to tell Charlie and Fundy we can’t make it and go get some Panda?”

Gosh, Wilbur knew him so well. 

“Yes please.”

——————

 Quackity felt bad as Wilbur called Fundy, telling him that they couldn’t make it. But Fundy ashured them both that it was ok, and that they both were probably going to go get something else anyways. 

The drive was slow, Wilbur playing his “psychotic breakdown” playlist (which was suprisingly calm,) as they drove to Panda. Wilbur reached over to turn it down as they pulled up to the drive through, and Quackity ordered his standared. 

Wilbur had no snarky remarks, but didn’t make that many jokes. He was just a comforting silent; ready to listen but content to sit in silence.

Which was exactly what they did as they ate their meals in an empty store parking lot, the sun shining down as the music softly played as background noise. They didn’t speak, because it was not needed. They could tell if someone needed a napkin or a sip of water by simply just knowing. 

It’s something that Quackity envied never having with a person, but now treasures dearly.

Silence was all that Quackity needed—and maybe what Wilbur needed, too. 

Needless to say, the intess mocking from their friends about their “date” got him back upbeat.

….Wait…...date?