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A week. It had been a whole week since Schlatt had last heard from Quackity.
A week doesn’t seem like a long time in retrospect, but it was rather unusual for his friend to remain silent, without coming over, for a full week- considering the two hung out quite a bit.
Schlatt started overthinking things; what if Quackity had finally gotten tired with his bullshit and left? What if he was deeply annoyed? Had Schlatt said something? Did the younger man leave to his mom’s house without letting him know?
He didn’t have a lot of downtime to think about these possibilities during the day though, considering his five-year-old was bouncing off the walls every second he was home. He was attending part-time school, so he was home for a majority of the day, blabbering on and on about what he would be doing at school for the day. In that time that he was home, Schlatt would get the kid ready, brush out his hair, feed him, brush his teeth… you know, the necessities. It was very fast-paced, especially since the child would never want to focus on one thing for too long.
But when the boy went to school, the silence back home was deafening.
Usually when Quackity didn’t have to go to his college classes, he would be over. Schlatt never really had time to himself- not that he really wanted it anyway. All he would think about in the silence of his home was his impending doom and existentialism. It was quite the depressive episode.
Especially today, because this is when he realized he hadn’t spoken to his friend in a whole week.
The alcohol was warm against his throat- most of which was from the reason he couldn’t refrigerate the drinks. The heat rose to his cheeks and to his stomach the more he drank- the bottle seemed endless as with every drink the bottle remained just as full as it was before. In his slightly drunken state, he would pace back and forth with the bottle in his hand, the house phone in the other, constantly dialing Quackity’s number and praying that he would answer… usually he would answer after the first goddamn ring. This just wasn’t the case. He was sure he had left 20 missed calls that hour.
Eventually, Schlatt got the bright idea to just call Q’s mom. Why hadn’t he thought of that days prior?
Well, he knew why. Any bad thing that lingered in Schlatt’s mind was pushed right to the back as he hoped it would simply subside on its own.
They never fucking did.
And it was no longer just lingering as Quackity’s mom failed to answer the calls as well.
This was all way too usual.
What, did he just up and die? Without telling me? The thought made Schlatt chuckle.
Before he could think about it anymore, when he glanced at the clock he noticed it was 5pm- he was thirty minutes late to pick up Tubbo.
Had he really been out of it that long? Fuck, how much did he actually drink? Looking down at the one bottle he had in his hand, he saw that it was still rather full- only being maybe a quarter empty, maybe even less. It felt like… he had been drinking so much more though? He had a massive headache, and his vision was blurry from restlessness. He looked around for signs of empty cans or anything- he found nothing of the sorts. Thank fuck… no, it still wasn’t good to be driving, but he needed to pick up Tubbo. The boy was probably freaking out as everyone else but him got picked up.
Putting all of his woes aside, Schlatt rubbed his eyes and grabbed his car keys.
“Papa, are you alright?” Tubbo asked as he made his way into the living room after he ate his dinner. “Your soup is cold.”
“Are you still hungry, bud? You can have it if you’d like.” Schlatt looked over to Tubbo, taking his tired gaze off whatever show was keeping him distracted from his thoughts.
“Um, are you hungry?” The boy’s articulation in his words were getting better, but it was easy to tell that he was still rather new at it.
“No no, I don’t think I am. I had a sandwich earlier.” Schlatt pat his kid on the head. “Your horns need to be big and strong, so I think you should take it.”
Tubbo looked sad. “You look sick, Papa.”
“I do feel a bit-” Schlatt stopped himself. He didn’t want Tubbo to worry about things he shouldn’t need to worry about. “Fine. I’m fine, Tubbo.”
Tubbo just nodded and took his bee to the small table in the kitchen, sitting in front of the bowl of soup that sat idle on the wood.
Schlatt looked on at the TV in a bit of a stupor. He was… lost. No, he wasn’t hungry and it wasn’t like they could just be wasting food around here, so giving it to Tubbo was a better option. His lips curled up slightly as he thought about how Quackity would have scolded him for his lack of eating.
“Thanks for dinner, Papa.”
“Huh?” Schlatt was pulled from his mind as his small son stood in front of him once again.
“Thanks for dinner.” Tubbo stumbled on his words a bit as he tried to get the sentence out; his face got red from embarrassment and he huddled up to his dad on the couch where he put his face in the man’s sweater. Schlatt gave a small laugh.
“C’mon bud, let’s get ready for bed.”
Yes, Schlatt had been thinking of Quackity’s absence all damn week, but now it was rather daunting. The fact that neither he or his mother were answering their phones… it was extremely unsettling.
So he wasn’t sleeping. At all, no matter how much he squeezed his eyes shut and willed them to stay that way. His headache was worse than it was earlier and the walls seemed to be closing in on him when he wasn’t watching them. The air was nearly strangling him as he tried to lay in one spot for more than five minutes at a time- this caused him to twist and turn.
There was no way he could sleep that night. Everything was just adding up, and it really fucking sucked.
So he just stopped trying to rest and shot up from the couch in a flurry of anxiety and frustration.
Before he went to grab his keys, he paced back to Tubbo’s room to grab his sleeping kid. He only stirred a bit as he heaved him into his arms- it wasn’t fucking easy. Schlatt huffed a bit and once he was sure he wouldn’t drop the 40 pound child, he made his way to grab his keys from the small table next to the door, and he was on his way out.
Schlatt pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road, careful not to roll up near the house with his headlights on in case Quackity was sleeping or something. Tubbo was still sleeping soundly in his booster seat; Schlatt sighed. What the fuck was he doing here? Was this too clingy? Would Quackity be pissed, call bullshit, cuss Schlatt out of his house? It was too late- sorta. He could just drive back home, but there really was no use. He wouldn’t sleep anyway, and at least if he got some type of closure, whether it was as bad as he made up in his mind to be, he could get some sleep, peace of mind.
He lifted Tubbo up into his arms once again and walked up to the front door, trying to remain as steady as possible. Tubbo really wasn’t that big, Schlatt was just weak.
Stretching out an arm, Schlatt knocked on the door.
“Quackity?” Schlatt called, his voice a bit hushed. There weren’t many houses around the one he was standing outside of, but he didn’t want anyone thinking he was trying to rob a house with a kid. That could be a major plot twist that he didn’t really want.
No one answered, even after a few times of incessantly knocking, so he pulled out his spare key and shoved it into the keyhole with a sigh. The door opened with a slight pop and that led Schlatt to believe that the door hadn’t been unlocked for some time. He narrowed his eyes and pushed the door open with his foot- he tentatively took a step in.
The breeze alone should’ve been enough to wake up the sleeping child in his arms. It was incredibly cold in the house- there weren’t any lights on, causing the home to look like a void; Schlatt couldn’t see a single thing. The man turned and shut the door, locking it behind him to feel safe in this eerie position. Once the door was closed, he walked over to the couch and laid Tubbo on it, draping some blankets over the boy.
“Quackity…?” Schlatt spoke softly, feeling his way around the small house. “Alex?” Schlatt’s eyes didn’t seem to want to adjust to anything because he just couldn’t see shit, no matter how hard he tried to focus.
Suddenly, the ram tripped over a large object on the floor. He gasped, catching himself on the floor- his hands met tile. That told him he was at the end of the living room and near the kitchen. What the fuck had he tripped over?
He realized the possibility of what it could be when the object groaned a bit.
“Quackity?” Schlatt’s eyes went wide as he stumbled up, looking for the kitchen light. Once he found the switch, he flicked it upwards and illumination broke through the cavern that had become Quackity’s house.
Low and behold, there was Quackity, laying on the floor, curled into himself, covered in blankets. Layers of blankets.
“Quackity-” Schlatt dropped to the floor in front of the younger man and he pushed the hair from his friend’s face, which had fallen over his features.
Quackity’s eyes were fluttering open, trying to focus on whoever was in front of him at the moment.
“J…?” His voice was small and raspy- his eyes were puffy and red.
“Yeah man, it’s me.” Schlatt’s eyes were flicking all around Quackity’s form; he was buried under blankets so he couldn’t see if he was hurt or something. “Why the fuck are you on the floor?”
Quackity just let out a breath and let his head fall on the floor again.
“Hey-” Schlatt gave a pat to Quackity’s cheek, trying to get his attention again. When he realized it was futile, the man decided that he would have to heave yet another body onto his own weight. And Quackity was a bit heavier than a five year old boy.
Quackity seemed to be fighting Schlatt when it came to trying to get him into at least a sitting position. He kept pushing down on Schlatt’s attempts and wanted nothing to do with the removal of his blankets.
“Quackity, what the hell is wrong with you? What’s going on?” Schlatt spoke firmly, a bit frustrated; it was like getting Tubbo out of bed after he stayed up later than usual the night before. This is when Schlatt noticed there were papers, books, and pencils lying on the floor everywhere.
“I’m fine, it’s fine,” the man grumbled, still trying everything he could to stay on the ground, keeping the blankets wrapped around him.
“It’s obviously not fine, it’s cold as shit in here, and you’re on the floor.” Schlatt huffed, continuing his fight to get Quackity to sit up.
“No, it is fine.”
“It’s not. It can’t be. Your phone hasn’t been touched in fucking days.”
You know, this situation would probably be hilarious if someone had just walked in to see a man with a mustache trying to sit up a blanket burrito. Schlatt was sure that his own kid would be laughing his ass off.
“I’m fine, it’s fine… I-”
Quackity’s voice broke as he finally gave into Schlatt, and with quite some force, he fell into Schlatt’s embrace, sobbing.
The blankets slowly shucked off as his shoulders heaved with every ragged breath he drew in. Schlatt’s finger twitched- he had no idea what to do. Does he ask questions? Does he pull off the blankets, or let them come off themselves? There had to be at least like, five blankets.
“I-I can’t do it-” Quackity coughed loudly into Schlatt’s sweater.
Quackity coughed and heaved as sobs racked his body, causing Schlatt to shake in sync with them as Quackity’s cold hands were drawn up to grab handfuls of Schlatt’s sweater.
“Do what? Do what?” Schlatt grabbed onto Quackity’s shoulders.
“It’s too much… so much is happening…” Quackity hiccuped, falling limp in his friend’s arms.
Schlatt’s eyes scanned the room, viewing the content around the room once again. Papers upon papers, books stacked on top of each other… it looked like mania.
“What-what’s going on?” Schlatt tried to usher Quackity up to the chair but again, the young man remained on the floor, pushing down on Schlatt’s attempts, trying to keep the blankets from falling as long as possible, despite it inevitably happening.
After a bit of sobbing and sniffling, Quackity started to breathe a bit less heavily and gave a small glance up to Schlatt.
“School… my final exams are coming up and I can’t find any of my notes. So I’ve been rewriting all of them for the past week, and I’m still so far behind. I emailed my teacher and she didn’t have any, like, extra notes. So I-I’ve been rereading all the course material from the past semester and rewriting them.”
Quackity’s hands were still clenched around Schlatt’s sweater.
“A-and my mom…. She’s ill…,” Quackity’s voice fell into a sob. “And I don’t have time to visit her.”
Schlatt’s heart dropped. That… that’s awful.
“Quackity, I’m so sorry. About all of that. C’mon, let’s get you to the table or something.”
“Wait-”
Before Quackity was able to prepare, Schlatt pulled him up and the blankets fell to reveal the rest of Quackity. At first glance, everything seemed in place- he was wearing pajama pants and a regular t-shirt, but there was one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb on the second glance.
Quackity’s wings.
They weren’t even really wings anymore. Nearly all the feathers were missing and they were dropping against Quackity’s back. They were scrunched into themselves- probably from the lack of stretching and exercise that Quackity would usually give them. Wings needed a shit ton of upkeep…
They looked terrible.
“Q… you’ve started that again?” Schlatt looked down to meet Quackity’s eyes. They were glossy and tired, his lips were quivering.
Again. This was a bad habit that Quackity had picked up when he first sprouted his wings. Since kids at their school would make fun of him, he started to pluck the feathers from his wings in attempts to get rid of them. His logic, while botched, was “maybe if I take all the feathers off, they'll just fall off completely.”
News flash: That didn’t fucking happen.
No, he didn’t pluck them now because he didn’t like them; Quackity came around to really appreciate his wings in high school. He was so confident in them. However, anytime he was stressed or anxious, he would pluck out feathers as a nervous habit. All throughout high school, Schlatt was constantly checking to make sure that none of his feathers were missing, and if they were, he would check in with his friend. It was a good system.
He hadn’t done it for a while, at least to Schlatt’s knowledge.
And that’s why he said again.
“I-I know it looks bad, but it’s not really-”
“This is probably the worst I’ve ever seen you, Quackity.” Schlatt deadpanned, being as real as possible with Quackity, just like the younger man was with him. Quackity deserved the truth, even if the man had to be blunt about it.
Quackity looked down, averting his gaze from Schlatt’s.
Without saying anything, Schlatt gently pulled Quackity close to him and walked with him to the kitchen. His wings were a great source of energy; Schlatt will never forget the first “time Quackity moulted. The boy hadn’t shown up to school for three weeks; he came back but he was still immensely tired. He also had to hide his wings from the school because they were a “distraction.” Schlatt constantly came over and checked on his friend, making sure he had gotten out of bed at least a few times to get water and food.
So it was no wonder why Quackity had been on the ground.
Quackity found his way to a seat at the table while Schlatt walked over to the sink to get a cup of water for the duck.
“When did you last sleep?” Schlatt asked, walking back over to the table.
“Uhhh…” Quackity closed his eyes. “I dunno, a bit.”
Schlatt sighed, handing the man the glass of water. “Okay well, we’re changing that tonight.”
“But-”
“No fucking asses, Quackity.” Schlatt pointed a finger. “You’re a goddamn mess; you can’t go on like this. You really think your notes are gonna be comprehensible when you can barely form sentences?”
Quackity laughed. “God this is usually flipped around… I’m usually scolding you.”
“Yeah well…” Schlatt thought for a moment.
That was incredibly true.
Schlatt had so many issues with himself. He thought he was a terrible father, he thought he wasn’t a good friend, he knew this drinking was a huge problem. His inner turmoil with himself never fucking ceased, but he never really thought about how Quackity acted alone.
He always saw Quackity with a giant ass smile on his face; ironed clothes, excellent posture (when he thought about it), perfectly placed beanie. He always knew the right things to say in situations and he was a better dad to Tubbo than Schlatt could probably ever be. Quackity was this immensely holy being in Schlatt’s eyes, and the man assumed his friend could never be in a state like this. He never thought that Quackity had flaws. Especially not ones that were as detrimental as this. Yes, he did this in high school, but that was quite a while ago.
Seeing him in the broken state really opened Schlatt’s eyes.
Quackity was not capable of everything. He was human, just like Schlatt. He was capable of a downfall- he was sensitive. He was real.
Thinking about it got Schlatt misty in the eyes. His friend was hurting and he never even stopped to think that it was even possible. He never thought to ask if Quackity was okay, if he needed any help for himself… he was too caught up in his own issues.
It was ridiculous how much this reflected, to himself, how terrible of a friend he was.
“J? Why the hell are you crying?”
Schlatt was pulled back down to earth when he found Quackity looking at him with a very tired, yet confused, expression.
“I just suck so bad, Q.” Schlatt wiped his face as quickly as a tear fell from his eye. “You’re fucked up and I didn’t even know.”
Quackity sucked in a breath. “I mean… there was no way for you to know, Schlatt. That-- this is such a… private thing for me.”
Schlatt looked up.
“You’ve got a whole lot more shit to deal with than me.”
“That doesn’t invalidate your issues, though.” Schlatt frowned.
Quackity’s eyes glossed over before he looked down again.
“Um… I’m sure my mom will be okay. I-It’s just a whole lot, y’know? I didn’t… I don’t know how to handle shit like this.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“News flash asshole: I was worried a whole lot more when you didn’t call me!” Schlatt waved his hands around.
Quackity laughed. “Fuck man, I’m sorry. I-”
“Shut the fuck up.” Schlatt spoke. “Don’t be sorry. You’re fine.”
Quackity smiled softly and looked into his glass.
“Uh, could you maybe… stay here?”
“Planned on it. The kid is already sleeping on the couch- he’s solidified himself there already. I am not lifting him again.” Schlatt joked. He actually hadn’t planned on staying over; he didn’t have a bag or anything but he didn’t want Quackity to know that he was so willing to just keel over and spend the night.
“Thanks.”
Schlatt nodded, giving a small smile.