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Quackity wakes up in a grassy void. It’s full of no color, of bleak shapes. It’s comparable to what revived people describe as the after life, their personal hells. Like a circus, but without the tent, fair, or cotton candy, just depression.
He pats himself down, making sure he has all his items. He has his necklace, his lighter, and his cigarettes. He’s okay.
The figure takes a walk around this colorless realm. It is not the first time his dreams have been like this.
When he goes to sleep, it’s either nightmares or paradise. Flashes of chains, of axes, of blood and death course through his mind. It scares him. He knows it’s not real, though.
Other times, it’s memories, or the universes of what could have been. Domestic nights in the grass, beds of flowers hugging his body to whole, or warm, uncalloused touches. It’s perfect.
But it’s not real. He knows that.
Once his brain is knowing, this escape pod, his safespace, turns sour. Comparable to real life. The warm, oozing holds become cold and icy. They’re bittersweet and sour. Disgusting.
This time is no exception. It’s mellow right now, but he has no idea which path it will lead this day.
He comes to a halt as he sees a figure sitting by a tree. They’re by themself, supposingly fidgeting from the perspective that he can see. Color starts to seep at the edges of the field. He edges on closer.
The figure looks up at him, confused and airy.
His world turns bright in a second. Color fuels his
surroundings, around the corners of his eyes to his peripheral vision. It’s green, pink, blue, all the colors of nature. His heart feels as if it’s been pierced with a spear, but good.
He’s stunned, confused, and lightheaded.
“Hello..? Quackity? Q? You there?” The duck hybrid shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of his daze.
“You’re staring at me like I’m a deer in headlights, hun. Didn’t know I was that hot.”
“S..Sapnap?”
“Yea, hun?”
“You’re here?” Quackity says, out of it to an extreme. Sure, he’s had dreams with his past lovers and memories, but not as vivid as this. Not as forward. This is weird.
“Yeah I am.” The fire hybrid chuckles. “If you’re gonna stand like that looking at me at least sit down.” Sapnap says, patting the short grass next to him.
Quackity hesitantly goes to sit down, laying his head against the trunk. Sapnap moves his ankle closer to him, intertwining their legs. It knocks the breath out of Quackity. A light fluster pans on his face.
“What’s with all the affection Sapnap? This isn’t very like you.” He says with a smile.
“I just wanna be closer to you. I know this isn’t real.” The other sighs. The second sentence slightly startles him.
“W...What do you mean this isn’t real?” Quackity nervously chuckles.
“I know you aren’t real. I know this place isn’t real. I know that when I wake up, in the real world, neither you nor Karl will be by my side. So, I’ll cling to you here. That's all I got.” Sapnap says, so nonchalantly it nearly frightens Quackity.
“S-Sapnap. I’m..I’m real.” He scoots closer to the fire hybrid, fearing the moment he may wake up. This dream is much too evocative for something he would want to give up. He wants to stay. He needs to stay. “Are...Are you dreaming too?”
“I think so.” There’s a fault in his voice. He lays farther to the grass.
They’re both quiet for a moment, recollecting their thoughts.
“...When you came in here, did you get the color burst too?” Sapnap says.
“The fuck is a ‘color burst’, Sapnap? I’m not 5.” The duck hybrid laughs.
“I mean, when you saw me,” He pauses. “Fuck, this is embarrassing.” Quackity laughs at his flustering. “When you saw me, did your world turn, like, colorful?” He pauses again, fidgeting with his hands.
“It happened to me when I saw you.” Sapnap ends with a flustered mumble.
“Oh Sapnap,” Quackity puts his arm around the other’s neck to make him look at him. “of course it did.” He says, with a real, heartfelt and genuine smile. Not the fake smiles he puts up at work, at “friends”, or anyone else. It’s an exhilarating feeling.
He stares into Sapnap’s eyes, into his beauty. He hasn’t aged a day. He savors the moment, as much as he can.
The two talk for a while, catching up on memories, events, such and such.
Not a word about rings or relationships is discussed. Maybe it’s gone at this point, both the two are too scared to touch on it. No “I love you.” anymore, nothing. Just simple, desolate conversation. The duck hybrid lights a cigarette in the meanwhile, to put his mind off things. It doesn’t feel real, though.
Quackity decides to bring up the topic plaguing his mind to…some extent.
“I don’t really think we were ever..meant’ to stay together,” He weakly gestures. “forever, you know.”
The other sighs. “You think so?”
A hitch of breath is stolen from the scarred man’s mouth. “Yeah. Yeah I think so. Something wrong with our timelines, or just us.” They both chuckle lightly, anxious and airy.
The bird hybrid takes a puff of his cigarette, and lays his head lightly on Sapnap’s shoulder. It doesn’t seem full of love or feelings anymore. Maybe friends, maybe benefits, maybe acquaintances. Neither of them know at this point. Could be more, time will tell.
“I miss you. I miss you and it sucks, really, cause you’re right here.” Sapnaps says. “Can’t you just...come back?” Quackity cringes. He can’t look at his fiance (?) in the eye if he’s going to speak of this.
“I have too much work to do. I’m sorry.” He scoots closer.
“I don’t...I don’t want you to leave, duckling.” He can hear a sniffle coming from the fire hyrbid’s figure. He frowns.
“Come here.” Quackity says, holding his arms out. Sapnap greatly accepts, toppling to hug the avian, tight and warm. Neither want to let go. They both cry.
The ground shakes around them.
“S...Sapnap?” He whispers, light and scared. He grips into the embrace tighter.
He can feel the color in his eyes drain, the grass being a mulky gray, the sun becoming a lifeless white. The flowers around them seem to die in an instant, stems hanging, petals falling.
“We’re waking up.” Sapnap says, his throat dry of crying. The hug is bone crushing at this point, on both affections. “Please don’t forget about this.”
“I’ll try not to.” Quackity smiles through pained tears. He hopes on Prime he will.
The dreamscape, and his vision, fades to black.
——————-
The avian wakes up in a jolt, feverishly holding a pillow in his arms. The blanket around him feels too hot, everything does.
Gleams of bleak trees and stunned looks fill his mind. It seems familiar, but he can’t place his finger on it.
Probably didn’t matter anyway.
He takes a look out his window. It’s very early morning, the sky only a murky bluish-orange. It’s time for him to get out of bed.
He showers, he cleans. He does the regular routine. Shower, sulk, cry, clean. Nothing special. He puts on his clothes, and accessories .
He puts on his necklace.
The duck hybrid’s mind is pierced with memories of warm hugs, pink flowers, and colored grass. It’s all coming back. He’s remembering.
Quackity dashes as fast as he possibly can to his horse stable, to fetch Ossium. He’s sick of longing, of yearning, of crying.
No more sleepless nights. No more forgotten letters. He’s going back this time.
And this time? He’s going to make things right. One last time.