Work Text:
“Tell me, Wilbur, are you satisfied? Are you happy with all the destruction that you have caused me and my Las Nevadas members?” and “I’m done.” were the last words that were spoken to the infamous Wilbur Soot. The last words before Quackity had left him forever, and had never appeared in his sight ever since.
Wilbur regrets his actions he made that day. He truly does. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he feels this thumping horrible ache in his heart that makes him feel as if his heart is gonna burst out any moment from now. It’s only seconds away until his entire life is crumbling down onto him, not just his love life.
He misses Quackity. He is unaware if Quackity reciprocates those feelings or not, but he knows that he misses Quackity. He yearns for Quackity’s touch, he yearns for Quackity’s snarky come-backs and insults. He wanted to lean into the touch whenever Quackity patted him, wanted to just let go of the past and create a new future. He couldn’t.
He had fucked up before he was even given the chance. Second chances aren’t available for a pair just like them. One mistake and you’re gone, and Wilbur had used his one mistake.
He still remembers the heartbreaking sight of Quackity’s pure eyes tainted with the glossy clear tears streaming down his beautiful face, those tiny little specks of freckles coming out. His blood stained shirt and his cologne that smelled like roses and milk.
He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He had destroyed his lover’s dream, his lover’s everything. He had grabbed everything his lover was working so hard for and slammed it onto the ground, shattering it. He shattered everything. Their relationship, their perspective, everything.
When Quackity stormed off with his crew of immortal beings and non-mortals, Wilbur felt a sharp pang in his heart. It was beating so fast, so hard, so painfully. The pain never went away and it still won’t go away now. He doesn’t know why. Why would he know why? All he knows is that he has to atone for his sins one way or another.
Even if it had meant giving up his life for the one he worshipped and cherished, for the one that he would risk everything for. If he had asked, he would do it. He was everything to him. He wondered if he had felt the same, even after the situation.
Quackity doesn’t regret what he said to Wilbur. Every single word laced in venom and anger was meant to sound like that, it was genuine. But one part in him told him to go back there, to beg for forgiveness and to beg for Wilbur to come back to him. He fought every body part and mind juice in him to fight back the urge to do so and ignored the beating and the immense pain that stung all around him.
It still felt like a fresh wound. He wanted to know why. It’s been weeks since he last encountered Wilbur. So why was there unfurling smoke that was up to his heart burning him so bad? Why would his mind always flash to moments with Wilbur, happy ones, just like the one where they went stargazing.
He won’t leave his mind.
He begged and pleaded for his body to just stop, to stop functioning and let him control what he thinks and does, but his body denies his counters and cries. It ignores the countless sobs and screaming that he does at night wondering if his actions were right. But his body tells him, ‘do not regret it.’ and he doesn’t regret it.
He doesn’t regret it but that doesn’t mean feelings can fade away like the fog in the sky when they’re driving down the highway smoking,
He wants to go back so bad, he wants to run back into the unsettling and uncomfortable amount of warmth that Wilbur can provide him, he wants his body to stop freezing him.
He feels like he’s laying in a freezer and he isn't allowed out. He feels cold and gross. His skin felt so bitter and frosty and he felt like he was gonna lose oxygen any moment now. It’s so numbing and it’s piercing every single part of his skin. He feels raw, empty, and lonely.
♡
They both remember that exact moment. They both remember the agony shown on each other’s faces. They didn’t know what the other was thinking.
Unfurling smokes flew up to the air painting the sky into a horizon, a crisp horizon, there was flaking ashes all over Las Nevadas, or what was Las Nevadas. Wilbur, Quackity, and his crew could see the charred walls melting under such immense heat. They remember the constant screams and pleas heard when everything went crashing and firing down, the moment Quackity stepped out to see his lover with a wicked grin on his face. He desired to see everything tumbling down on Quackity, he knew it.
It angers him. How could that monster have such a disgusting expression shown on those entrancing features of him.
“Well, Quackity, how do you like my little joke!” Wilbur exclaimed, eyes sparkling and embracing the light as he glared at the arising flames that prided themselves into burning everything in the ground.
Quackity already felt tears pricking at his eyes, they threatened to come out. He didn’t want to show weakness. He couldn’t help it. How could he stop the tears from flowing down those pretty pale pink cheeks of his and threatening to curse out every single thing he could have.
“You’re a monster.” Quackity whispered, but he made it thoroughly sure that Wilbur heard him.
Wilbur’s expression was none of the less startled by what Quackity said. Was it a joke? It sounded genuine. And the fact that it sounded like he meant it hurt him. Did Quackity really view him like that? Perhaps it was a joke taken too far.
“You’re disgusting. How could you? No. Psh. What am I thinking? . . . Of course you would. I forgot that you’re a manipulative little bastard. You never changed! You were only trying to build up trust with me, fool me, take me out and get yourself laid, just so you could do this! Do you think you’re being funny right now, Wilbur? Genuinely, tell me. Do you ?” Quackity snarled, those tears glistening as the sunset was rising down.
Wilbur didn’t know what to say. After preparing every single speech for so many occasions, he couldn’t spit out words to counter back. He couldn’t respond back, and he couldn’t form proper sentences.
“Why do you look so sad!? Your nation is not the one who went down willingly! Are you planning on destroying every nation?! Might as well attack Snowchester while you’re at it!” Quackity screamed once again, and it hurt Wilbur’s ears to hear such dangerously hatred in his voice.
“I-” Wilbur stuttered out. That’s all he managed to get out before shutting his mouth clamp down. those cocoa-colored curls were spreading out from his hat, and that scar that resembled his face stung when Wilbur felt cold and salty drops fall onto him.
“You, what, Wilbur? You’re here to call me off and tell me how foolish I am for trusting you? Because trust me, I’m already agonizing over that fact. Piss off.” Quackity scoffed, crossing his arms. His crew was behind him, watching the scene. Being careful not to interrupt a part of it, it was personal.
“I’m done. Wilbur. I’m so sick of your shit!” Quackity cried out, stomping his foot onto the ground and Wilbur still couldn’t find the right words to speak for forgiveness.
“Tell me, Wilbur, are you satisfied? Are you happy with all the destruction that you have caused me and my Las Nevadas members?” Quackity questioned, curving one of his eyebrows waiting for a reply.
He didn’t think before speaking. “Yes.”
Quackity glared at him before sniffling and walking away, “I’m done.” Quackity tilted his hand and curved it indicating for his crew to follow behind him, “Let’s go.”
After that ruckus, Wilbur was still standing there, dumbfounded. He didn’t expect to get dumped. He loved Quackity. Or at least he thought he did. He fell to his knees and god he didn’t even know what he was going to do with his life. How should he explain this to Tommy, to everyone? That he destroyed his lover’s hard work and crumbled it into shambles? He doesn’t know.
Weeks passed by and they still haven’t encountered each other once. One was thinking on how to encounter the other and the other was thinking about how to avoid the one person.
It still burned Quackity like a blazing crimson inside him. It still stressed him out that he had isolated himself. It gnawed at him, the harsh words that he had spat out to Wilbur. But Wilbur had deserved those words to be chewing at him.
Quackity knew that Wilbur was in pain. But he still chose not to talk to Wilbur. He couldn’t. Not just after what he had done.
Wilbur was always pacing around after that situation, he was always yelling at himself and slamming everything he found in view point to the ground, screaming at himself, “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!”
He had banged his fist against the wall, he had banged his head against the wall hoping that the littlest of brain juice would at least come out to him. But unfortunately it didn’t. Of course not. How foolish of him. Wilbur was hideous and yet Quackity chose to be with him. So why did Wilbur choose to set it all on fire? What was he thinking? Quackity was right. He is a monster. A disgusting, gross, and hideous monster that was meant to be dead in the first place. Maybe Ghostbur was better, maybe Ghostbur would have been a better match at taking care of Quackity unlike he tried. Those foolish attempts at making Quackity happy that actually succeeded, those ways that he felt his heart beat like a drum and his cheeks flush when Quackity finally told him that he had finally started to trust Wilbur.
And yet he still fucked it up. He fucked it all up like some stupid idiot would. Of course, Wilbur was the stupid idiot in the relationship. He was the fucked one, he was the one who was meant to be a mistake in this disgusting world that didn’t need his presence. If he had just stayed out of Quackity’s path, none of this would be happening. Tommy would be happily in Quackity’s care, in Quackity’s facility of a family, a wonderful and loving family. The Las Nevadas cared for each other, a type of care that Wilbur could never reciprocate to Tommy.
Everyone was right. He deserved to die again. Why couldn’t he bring himself to just do it? Is it because he knew he had that one sin to atone to and he couldn’t leave without telling Quackity that he’s sorry? To have his pride crumble away and turn to dust just so he could get the love of his life back? To know that he was weak for such a snarky and cocky human being who struck his heart with a Cupid arrow? He didn’t even know the answer himself.
Did Quackity even love him like he loved him? No. Wrong question. Did he even love Quackity like Quackity had loved him? He doesn’t even know if he loves Quackity but he definitely knows that he feels something for that ravenette. He feels something warm everytime a smile is flashed at him, everytime one of those intoxicating laughs are heard around him, everytime those touches feel so uncomfortably soothing and calming. He wants to get rid of it. He showered so many times yet those won’t go away. The warm comforting touch of his ex lover wouldn’t go away. Why?
Perhaps, everyone was right. They were never meant to be. He was life, and Wilbur was death. Of course. How stupid. Why would they ever be right for each-other?