Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Nick? Are you still up?”

The door cracks open slightly, splitting the dark of Sapnap’s room with the soft light in the hallway. Karl peeks his head in. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darker room, and when they finally do, the silhouette of someone else is sitting on the edge of the bed pressed against the far wall. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Sapnap looks up from his place on the mattress. He hadn’t even changed. His pajamas remain untouched on his pillow. Karl makes his way into the room, placing a thick stack of paper in one of his drawers, presumably Karl’s newest manuscript.

“Why are you awake?-”

Oh, how ironic.

“-It’s like, 2AM, babe.”

Sapnap glances at the electric alarm clock on his nightstand, and sure enough, the glowing white numbers on screen project 2:07AM. He hadn’t noticed. Karl sinks down next to his partner, and recognizing the way Sapnap is staring so quizzically into the far wall, begins rubbing soft circles into Sapnap’s back.

“Something on your mind?” Karl murmurs. Sapnap sighs.

“Remember that law student that we met last month? Alex, I think, was his name.”

There's a beat of silence as Karl processes the name.

“Prefers to go by Quackity, but yes I remember him.”

Quackity.

Sapnap can’t remember the reasoning behind the name. Something to do with video-games, he thinks. Although he’s not really one to talk. Liking the name ‘Pandas’-but-backwards-and-upside-down doesn’t exactly free him of weird-name syndrome.

“Well, um…” The words, carefully practiced in the bathroom, the shower, and in any free time Sapnap had, fall dead and make his tongue heavy. It feels like there’s a block of lead where the muscle should be. 

How exactly does one tell their lover that they’ve developed feelings for someone else? And how, pray tell, are you supposed to explain that you also haven’t fallen out of love with them?

Sapnap’s palms are sweaty. He remembers when he was little, taking swimming lessons, and was too afraid to jump off the diving board. His instructor’s - Ms. Leah, if he remembers correctly - words echo through his head.

“I’m gonna count to three, and then you jump, okay? Don’t think, just jump. I’ll catch you!”

There’s no one to catch him now.

He can hear Leah begin to count and he swallows hard. Karl’s brow only furrows further.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

1…

Sapnap sucks in a deep breath and tries to clear his racing mind.

2…

His hands curl into fists. He can feel his nails, as blunt as they are, dig into his skin as he tries to release the tension pooling in every muscle in his body.

3!

He shuts his eyes as the words push past his lips.

“Karl, I think I’ve developed feelings for him.”

The room is quiet and Karl’s gentle hands still. Sapnap can feel tears pricking his eyes, and anxiety like he’s rarely felt before squeezes his lungs. Karl’s hand is slowly slipping off his back.

“...What?”

Sapnap feels sick.

“B-But, I still love you, babe,” He rushes to add. “But I also like him and… I don’t fucking know what’s going on with me, Karl.”

Said man is quiet and Sapnap hates it. He turns to the author next to him and gently takes one of his hands. Karl doesn’t meet his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

Sapnap hates it.

He hates when Karl begins to doubt, and he can see that abhorred emotion beginning to fester behind the soft brown eyes. Desperation starts to stir in Sapnap’s throat. He doesn’t want to lose Karl, but he can’t control that. He tries, though. He tries with everything in him to convey what’s going on in his jumbled brain.

“Karl, I swear I still love you. I-I don’t know why I caught feelings for him, but I did, and I couldn’t just not tell you.”

Karl remains staring at the wall. He doesn’t look… upset, much to Sapnap’s surprise. He can practically see the wheels in Karl’s head turning, nonetheless. Everything inside Sapnap is strung tight as a rope - and it’s fraying. He’s trying to keep it together, trying to keep from snapping under the pressure.

“Please say something…”

He bumps his forehead gently against the purple-clad shoulder next to him and a few overwhelmed and fearful tears finally break free and tumble down his cheeks. They land on Karl’s bicep, turning the purple cloth an even deeper shade of plum. A sob bubbles up, uninvited, in his throat and it forces its way out through clenched teeth. It makes his shoulders tremble.

That seems to shake Karl out of whatever trance he’s in, and he pulls himself out of Sapnap’s grasp for a moment. Sapnap will later find out he meant only to readjust his position. But his mind is going too fast to process that in the moment, and he goes cold with fear. Icy dread runs through his veins and finds himself frozen, unable to reach after Karl and pull him back. Sapnap can hear his breathing hitch, and grow quick and uneven.

Oh no… No, no, no, no, please no-

The few seconds they’re apart feels like a terrifying eternity, and Sapnap starts to shake.

Fingers are quick to lace back between his own. A hand slips under his chin, shifting to gently grab and guide his face up. Karl’s finally looking at him. He looks apologetic, and Sapnap will never know how sorry Karl is for accidentally making his lover panic so badly. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry Nick,” Karl’s voice is soft, quick to comfort, and Sapnap only cries harder. Gentle arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him close. Sapnap practically tackles Karl with the hug. He tucks his forehead into Karl’s neck and tries to breathe normally. Karl smells like lilies and rainstorms. It helps a little.

A hand cards gently through his hair.

“I’m not gonna leave you if that’s what you’re thinking, Nick. Okay?”

Sapnap would’ve collapsed with relief, were he not already sitting down. His arms, already around Karl’s waist, tighten ever so slightly. Another sob escapes him, as relief floods his body. He couldn’t imagine life without Karl. He doesn’t ever want to.

“Um… I have something I should say too.”

Sapnap can’t find it in him to let Karl’s words make him nervous.

“I like him too, if I’m being honest…” is the timid follow-up that makes Sapnap pull away ever so slightly. Karl’s cheeks are pink in the dim lighting. His fingers wring together anxiously behind Sapnap’s neck.

Well… This was the last thing Sapnap would’ve thought Karl to say. But, for some reason, he’s not exactly opposed to it. An overly excited thought flickers across his mind - just a fleeting image of himself, Karl and Quackity curled up together on the bed, tangled in sheets and in a haphazard, but comfortable, mess of tangled limbs. It leaves as soon as it had appeared and Sapnap is forced to acknowledge the present, not his minds’ fantasies about the future.

“...Well, this is a predicament.”

There’s a word for couples who had more than one partner in it. He had a friend in highschool who’d been a part of one. Hell, he’d been a part of one in senior year too, before the other two broke it off. Karl doesn’t know about that. 

Shit. 

Sapnap should probably tell him.

But anyways, he can’t remember what the word is. Luckily, before he - in his mind - can embarrass himself by stumbling over words trying to remember, Karl beats him to it.

“Nick, have you, um… Have you ever considered a polyamorous relationship?”

Chapter Text

Sapnap does a shit job of hiding the tremble in his fingertips. They drum nervously against the steering wheel, flex anxiously at every green light, and finally, once they hit a red light, Karl reaches over and pries one of Sapnap’s hands off the wheel. He pulls Sapnap’s arm down to rest on the center console, between the driver and passenger seat, and intertwines their fingers until the calming warmth of Karl's palm is pressed against the clammy heat of Sapnap’s.

It’s been a few days since the night he had hesitantly opened up to Karl about his feelings for Alex - Quackity. A few days since the idea of a possible polyamorous relationship had been tossed into the air. They both knew it was a little selfish - thinking about a relationship with someone who’s last name they didn’t even know, much less if they already had a partner. But with some discussion, and planning, and preparation, Sapnap had finally managed to convince Karl to call the number Quackity had given them.

-

“Yeah?” Came the gruff greeting over the speaker of Karl’s phone. Sapnap had frowned. That… was definitely not the voice he remembered from his first interaction with Quackity. Karl had looked equally as confused, before clearing his throat and asking a quick, relatively formal, “Hi, is this Alex?”

Silence.

“He also goes by Quackity?”

The voice came back.

“No. ‘s not him. Ya got the wrong number.”

Karl looked perplexed, but reached for the hangup button nonetheless. There was a quiet scuffling on the other end of the line that caused his finger to halt, and a quiet hiss that sounded like a slightly hostile ‘why the fuck are you answering MY phone?’ before a different voice came through the speaker.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about that. Who’s this?”

THAT sounded more like Quackity.

Karl re-introduced them to Quackity - the english major and music major he’d bumped into at the cafe on campus. To their surprise, Quackity had been quick to respond with a happy ‘Oh yeah! Karl and Nick right? I was wondering if you’d ever use the number. Is Nick there?’

The three of them spent the next hour and a half on the phone, talking and catching up with minimal interruptions, before Sapnap had brought up the idea of another meeting.

“Y’know, we just wanted to see if you’d be down to hangout sometime. That, and Karl needs some help on law things for a character in his newest book idea, and we aren’t exactly law students,” Sapnap explained. Karl was quick to agree, aside from the fact he did not, in fact, have a new book idea with a character involved in law. They’d laugh about it later and, unbeknownst to Sapnap, Karl would indeed start brainstorming later that night.

-

Cut back to the present, and the two of them are in the car, one more nervous than the other. Karl giggles. His thumb runs softly over the back of Sapnap’s hand.

“Calm down, love, you’ll be fine. We’re not even gonna tell him how we feel today,” He assures. “This is literally just going to be about hanging out. Getting to know each other!”

That is true.

They don’t know anything about Quackity, and this is supposed to be a casual meetup. A get-to-know-you type of deal. But Sapnap’s always been a bit of an overthinker. He takes solace in Karl’s gentle ministrations, and a deep breath. He’ll be okay. This is literally just a hangout with a friend. That’s all.

They pull into the parking lot of the selected restaurant - a Taco Bell - and Karl excitedly jumps out of the car, grabbing his bag from the seat. It contains notebooks and sketchpads, a laptop, and countless pencils, both colored and lead, just in case Karl had sudden inspiration for a story. He was very commonly prone to that. Sapnap smiles as he recalls the many times something would catch Karl’s attention. 

A certain light would brighten the author’s eyes and he’d race to find the nearest piece of paper and pencil. If he and Sapnap were out somewhere, he’d scribble down the idea and save it for when they were home, where he’d curl up against his boyfriend and expand the idea into a drawing or a short story. Sapnap was his proof-reader for the latter. It was one of said man’s favorite pastimes.

Sapnap hops out of the car and grabs his keys. Unlike Karl, he didn’t exactly have the artistic drive to bring so many creative utensils with him wherever he went. Anything that came to mind would go straight into his phone’s Notes app.

Karl practically skips over to Sapnap’s side. Their arms are linked together and Karl tells him one last time, “Breathe, hun. We’re gonna be FINE.” A quick, appreciative kiss is pressed to Karl’s temple against his mop of curls, and they head inside.

It’s relatively small. 9 or 10 tables are set around the restaurant, and only 3 of them are occupied. A family of four sits at the table closest and an elderly couple sits a bit further back. Finally, in a booth in the furthest corner of the restaurant, is a man in a blue sleeveless turtleneck and a matching blue LAFD beanie. He’s hard at work on his laptop, fingers flying over the keys for what the two of them can only speculate is some sort of homework. His upper teeth snag his lip in a gentle pull of concentration.

Karl grins and pulls Sapnap forward and they weave through the tables until they’re a few tables away from their destination. Quackity looks up after Sapnap bumps into one of the chairs, and a smile breaks over his face.

“Nick! Karl!”

He glances back at his work for a moment and presses a few times at the trackpad, before shutting his laptop and hopping to his feet. He rounds his table as they finally get to it, and enthusiastic greetings are swapped, along with quick and genuine hugs. Quackity slides back into his seat and the two other men sit across from him.

“So how are you guys?”

Quackity starts the conversation, hands clasped in front of him on the table. Sapnap can feel his stomach flutter for a moment at the prior man’s grin that’s spread itself over his face. Karl squeezes his hand under the table. Oh yeah, he has to actually talk.

“Pretty good! I haven’t been doing much, but I know Karl’s been working on a few things!” Sapnap says, looking over at said man. Karl nods eagerly and motions to his backpack.

“Oh yeah, the law character, right?” Quackity asks. Sapnap doesn’t miss the way Quackity scans over Karl’s face and neck, nor the way a small blush tints his cheeks a slightly darker shade of rose.

But he’s just imagining things, probably. The sun is coming through the window that the booth is sitting against. Quackity’s in a turtleneck and regardless of if it’s lack sleeves, it's still gotta be warm.

“That would be the one!” Karl exclaims. To Sapnap’s surprise, Karl pulls out a sketchbook and flips it open to a marked page. On the paper is the rough sketch of a character along with notes scattered around it, some in small paragraphs, others in a line or two and several that are just single words pertaining to some aspect of the character’s physical features. Karl turns the book towards Quackity, who pulls it closer with interest.

The law student spends a moment looking over the page intently. His eyes read over the lines of text written all over the page and as he leans forward for a better look at the ones toward the top, Sapnap spies a tattoo on Quackity’s shoulder - a duck. It’s relatively small, inked into the tanned skin that protects his deltoid muscle.

Sapnap absentmindedly wonders why he remembers that random piece of information. 

“It’s my favorite type of bird,” Quackity says, and Sapnap blinks. He looks back at Quackity, who’s staring right at him. The turtlenecked man grins and smacks the tattoo with his opposite hand. “Named him Alex, after your’s truly.”

Sapnap laughs, and pulls down his shirt collar a little, missing the way Quackity’s eyes widen just the slightest bit. There’s a cute panda face marked right above his collarbone.

“I got this as soon as it was legal for me to get one,” Sapnap explains, with a nostalgic smile. “I had no reason for it other than they’re super cute.”

Quackity grins. “Your favorite animal?”

“Yep.”

“Same with the duck.”

Quackity looks back down at the page and then back at Karl. The latter is already excitedly holding a blue notebook against his chest. Quackity slides the sketchbook back to its owner in exchange for the notebook, and when he flips it open, lines and lines of texts and notes cover the first page. Sapnap wonders when and how Karl came up with all this information about a fake character. Or y’know what? He probably came up with an entirely new character after Sapnap’s white lie. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time.

Before the two can begin to converse on the ins and outs of Karl’s character, Sapnap interrupts, asking if either of them are hungry. Quackity politely declines the offer, and Karl accepts. Sapnap hops up and heads for the counter, already knowing the order Karl would’ve put in. His stomach is still twisting in odd ways, so he decides on just getting a couple tacos for himself.

The cashier is a girl with a heavy Scottish accent and sharp cheekbones, with even sharper eyeliner to match. She takes his order and as she’s inputting the last of it, he catches sight of her name. ‘Beau’. Interesting. He rolls it silently over his tongue a few times before deciding it to be too frustrating to figure out on his own.

“Hey, uh, how do you pronounce your name?” Sapnap asks, his tone mild. She answers without looking at him.

“I pronounce it like ‘Bow’,” Is the short, blunt answer he gets.

“Ahh, cool. It's a cool name. Unique.”

This draws her attention and she glances up. Her hair, half-and-half colo red, frames her face as she spares him a small smile.

“Thanks.. I don’t get asked about it half as much as you might think, so that was nice of you.”

Sapnap smiles and bows his head quickly. The charge for the food appears on the small screen on the cash register and he pulls out his wallet, before producing a twenty and handing it over. She’s reaching for his change, but he waves her off.

“Keep it. I just got my paycheck, so I’ll be fine,” He says. Her eyes light up and she gives him a small nod.

“Thank you! Oh, and can I have a name for the order?”

“Nick.”

“Thank you Nick. Your order will be out shortly.”

She grins at him and turns away, walking into the back. He laughs to himself and pockets his wallet again, before turning back to the two guys seated in the back. They’re laughing about something.

He slides in next to Karl again.

“So how goes things?” He asks.

Karl grins at him.

“Great! He actually managed to help me out a lot while you were ordering. Most of what I needed were just word definitions and making sure I was using different terms the correct way,” Karl answers. “But honestly - and no offense, Quackity - I really hate law things and political stuff.”

Quackity’s laugh is high pitched and contagious, as Sapnap can’t help but let out a snicker himself.

“No offense taken. Sometimes I wonder why the fuck I chose to major in it myself,” He responds. Karl seems to deflate a bit with relief.

“Who was the cashier? Saw you two talking while she was ringing you up.” Quackity changes the subject, motioning to Beau as she hurries to the register again to take the order of a newly-arrived family of six. 

“Beau. Spelled B-E-A-U. I thought it was a cool name, so I asked about it,” Sapnap says.

Karl leans around him to look at her and his eyebrows shoot up.

“I like her hair,” He remarks. Sapnap chuckles and ruffles Karl’s hair as he remembers their terribly botched attempt to do the half-and-half look on the author a few years prior. Karl had not been happy when they’d accidentally fried his hair. But Sapnap knew Karl had never given up on his dreams of it, no matter how much he denied it.

“We’ll get you a proper half-and-half one day, buddy,” Sapnap teases, and an unmistakable spark lights up Karl’s eyes. Quackity laughs across from them.

“I forgot to ask last time, but, are you guys together?” He asks. Karl and Sapnap exchange a look, before Karl nods, bringing up their clasped hands that they had once again hidden under the table. 

“For like, three and a half years or something,” Sapnap says, playfully bonking his head into Karl's temple. Quackity nods and his eyes seem thoughtful. Slightly more serious than they were a moment ago.

Karl flips the question on it’s asker.

“How about you? You got a special someone?” He inquires. It takes a moment too long for Quackity to slowly nod his head.

“Yeah, you could say that. We’ve been a thing for like, two years.”

There’s a small pang of selfish sadness that squeezes Sapnap’s gut and Karl’s as well. So he DOES have a partner. Along with that, something in his tone is off and it adds to Sapnap’s grievances. But before they can question it further, the conversation is paused as a loud Scottish voice calls out ‘NICK, YOUR ORDER IS READY’. Sapnap brings Karl’s hand up to his lips in a quick, comforting kiss, before departing to get the food tray on the counter. 

Quackity does his best to not seem envious of the soft, loving gestures, and he pulls his turtleneck’s collar up as casually as he can. Fingers-crossed, the purple splotches on his skin are low enough to hide. His nail scratches idly at the scabs that lie below his collar. The longer he focuses on it, the more it seems he can smell the alcohol being spilled down his front, and breathed in his face as screaming accusations were thrown at him.

The food tray is set on the table and Sapnap plops a large cup down in front of the law student, who has his gaze turned out the window. His eyes follow an SUV that pulls into the parking lot.

“Hey, Big Q.”

The nickname catches Quackity by surprise and he turns his attention back to the situation at hand. He notices the cup. Sapnap cuts him off as his mouth begins to open.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I’m not just gonna sit here and let you dehydrate to death,” Sapnap quips, pushing the cup into Quackity’s hand. The latter’s mouth shuts and curves up into an appreciative smile.

“Well, if you insist, I suppose,” He replies, a fake British accent painting over his voice. Sapnap grins. He grabs his own cup and turns to head for the soft drink fountain.

“I do indeed insist,” He calls over his shoulder. Quackity laughs again somewhere behind him, and the sounds of two pairs of feet jumping up to follow Sapnap slap the tiles. The butterflies return to their place in Sapnap’s stomach as he hears his boyfriend start up another conversation with their friend. He knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but a small part of himself is envious of whoever has the privilege to be Quackity’s partner. 

But as the two catch up to him, and Quackity bumps their shoulders together, he decides to shelve that selfishness for another time.

Sometimes it’s good to just live in the moment.

Chapter Text

Sapnap feels like he’s floating. 

It’s almost 2AM, and the events of the day are still fresh in his mind. Against his better judgement, Sapnap had practically memorized the boy they’d met with; everything from his laugh, to the way his fingers drummed in an unconsciously practiced pattern whenever he had nothing to do with them.

They’d spent hours at the restaurant, until Beau had come marching up to their table and informed them that it WAS in fact midnight, and they were closing up. 

Quackity had seemed in a rush to leave after that fact was thrown at them. Sapnap and Karl, despite their confusion, ( “Can’t you just text your partner and let them know you’re gonna get home a little later?”   “..Not exactly. He likes me home earlier. Y’know, ‘it can get dangerous after the sun goes down’, and all that.” ) they had followed his given directions until they’d pulled into a park. 

Quackity had hopped out, bid them a hasty goodbye, and ran off into the dark before they could even ask about a second meeting. Karl was nervous about letting him walk home alone, but they couldn’t exactly follow - Quackity’s beeline headed straight across the park; somewhere that cars evidently WEREN’T allowed. 

They had tried to drive around, but the streets were empty. Quackity was nowhere to be seen.

Their whole drive home had been, admittedly, more than tense.

But Karl had received a text about 45 minutes later, from Q 🦆 , informing them that his trek home had ended safely. A mirror selfie was sent seconds later, of Quackity giving the mirror a thumbs up and a grin, his bag still on his shoulders. Karl and Sapnap sent one back, imitating the law student’s pose and expression.

Presently, Sapnap stares down at his phone, where the white background is peppered with texts between himself and Quackity. The last one had been sent at 12:51AM - two hours earlier. He’s debating whether or not to send another. 

No, surely Quackity would be asleep right now…

Karl murmurs something in his sleep, and shifts, unconsciously wrapping an arm around Sapnap’s waist. The sleeping boy nuzzles closer to the music major. Sapnap glances down and a loving smile breaks over his lips. 

Karl’s cheek is squished against the pillows. Brown curls tickle Sapnap’s jaw and somewhere under the covers, their legs are tangled together. For a moment, he forgets about the day's events, completely immersed in staring down at the sleeping form of his lover. 

He slowly slips his arm under Karl’s back, drawing the said man ever closer. Karl’s body is smaller than Sapnap’s, by quite a bit. It makes it all the more easy for Sapnap’s arms to wrap around him. 

He’s gonna regret this when he wakes up to a numb arm, but right now, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

Sapnap leans down slowly and kisses the top of Karl’s head. The scent of lilies and rain assault his nostrils in a comforting wave. God, he really should ask Karl where he gets his hair products. With one hand, Sapnap brings up his phone, still open to Quackity’s contact. 

Fuck it.

(1:56AM) I know it’s late but u up?

It's a painstaking process, typing with one hand. 

He drops the phone next to his pillow and turns to Karl again. The moonlight streaming through the crack where the curtains should meet dimly lights the room. The thin beam of soft light falls across the bed, across Karl’s forehead. 

It's almost like he has a halo of sorts.

“Fitting for an angel…” Sapnap finds himself murmuring. He cringes at the sappiness of it, but a soft laugh escapes his lips. 

He’s not lying. 

He never lies when it comes to Karl. 

His eyes study the soft, sleeping features of the latter’s face. He’s seen it a million times before, but it never fails to make his heart stutter. He lets his mind slip into a familiar haze of Karl-induced, lovey-dovey thoughts, and nearly misses the quiet ding! from his phone.

Begrudgingly, he rolls over and picks up the device. To his surprise, Quackity texted back.

(1:58AM) You couldn’t sleep either? 😂

Sapnap smiles, despite himself. Another long minute passes as he types with one hand.

(2:00AM) Lol nope. Karl’s sleeping on my arm, and it’s going numb.

(2:00AM) 😂😂😂

(2:01AM) Hbu? What’s your excuse?

(2:01AM) Boyfriend’s being loud asf

This makes Sapnap snort. Karl groans quietly at the laughter that momentarily shakes Sapnap’s chest. A quick look confirms that the man is still asleep.

(2:02AM) Can’t relate rip. Karl never snores.

There’s a long pause before Quackity’s text, and Sapnap’s nearly convinced that the prior might’ve fallen asleep. But his phone alerts him to otherwise.

(2:06AM) That’s just it. He’s not snoring lmao He’s awake and being fucken loud.

Sapnap switches to voice texting, deciding it would be faster that way. He whispers into the phone’s microphone, attempting not to bother the sleeping man against him.

(2:06AM) At 2AM? Bro, tell him to chill out.

(2:06AM) Nahh, he won’t listen to me. He likes the night time, apparently.

That rubs Sapnap the wrong way. The least the guy could do is keep it down and let Quackity sleep. Sapnap’s a night owl, but he tries not to wake Karl with his nocturnal antics. 

Why wouldn’t the person respect his own boyfriend’s requests? 

He ponders this question far longer than he means to, and is interrupted by a series of alerts from his device. It’s fallen onto his chest. Sapnap squints into the light that sears his eyes. A chain of four small texts are stacked atop each other on the screen.

(2:09AM) Is Karl a clingy sleeper? I know Schlatt is.

(2:09AM) But only if it’s HIM doing the touching.

(2:09AM) That came out weirder than it sounded in my head.

(2:10AM) lol sorry

Sapnap laughs again, jostling Karl again. The boy makes another noise of complaint. His hand curls into the loose fabric of Sapnap’s shirt.

“..Babe, why’re y’ up?” He slurs. Sapnap looks over. Karl is looking up, squinting at the light from the phone. Guilt squeezes Sapnap’s gut just a little. So much for not waking Karl with his nocturnal antics.

“Sorry, love,” Sapnap murmurs, pressing an apologetic kiss to Karl’s forehead. “Just talking to Quackity.”

Karl’s eyes slip shut and he lets his head fall onto Sapnap’s chest. He hums quietly. There’s a small motion, one that Sapnap doesn’t feel through his shirt, as Karl’s lips curve into a smile at the mention of the name.

“Wha’s he sayin’...” Karl murmurs. His voice is quiet, gravelly. It awakens a few butterflies in Sapnap’s stomach. He laughs internally at himself. 

“We’re just talking about you and Schlatt.”

“Who’s Schla’?”

“His boyfriend, if I’m reading the vibe correctly.”

Sapnap doesn’t feel Karl’s smile falter just a little. Karl’s sudden, biting curiosity drives his next movements.

A tired hand gently tugs at Sapnap’s phone. Sapnap giggles softly, turning the brightness as low as it can go, before handing the phone to Karl. He lifts his head a little, and his eyes look over the text. A quiet huff rushes from his lips; a sleepy chuckle, and a tired smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

He switches to the camera, handing the phone to Sapnap.

“Take pi’ture,” He says quietly, wrapping his arm further around Sapnap. The latter grins, shaking his head in disbelief, before holding the camera up in selfie mode. Karl looks at the camera through sleep-heavy eyelids and smiles at the camera. His free hand sneaks up, squished between himself and Sapnap, in a peace sign.

The camera clicks, and the screen goes white in an automatic flash.

It’s sent to Quackity.

[Attached image]

(2:12AM) Karl says to tell you that he is in fact a clingy sleeper.

Quackity doesn’t reply. The minutes pass, and as the phone clock changes to 2:30AM, Quackity’s texts remain silent. Sapnap turns off his phone, tucking it under his pillow. Quackity must’ve fallen asleep.

Karl, who’d fallen asleep shortly after the selfie, makes a small noise in his sleep. Sapnap ever-so-gently pulls Karl onto his chest. It feels natural. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and Sapnap hums happily as he wraps his arms around his lover.

The brunet unconsciously nuzzles into Sapnap’s neck, tickling the music major’s ear with big, soft curls. Another sappy thought dances it’s way through Sapnap’s brain as he shuts his eyes, in the beginning of a chase for sleep.

So. Fucking. Perfect.

-

Some miles away, Quackity’s back is pressed against his closet’s wall. Coats and shirts shield him from the doorway, blocking him from the sight of anyone who might try to open the door. He tries to keep his breathing down. He stares hopelessly at the black screen of his dead phone. 

Fuck, of course his phone dies right when he didn’t want it to. A door slams somewhere in the house and Quackity flinches, trying to push himself further into the stationary wall behind him. 

It’s been a few hours since he got home. It’s been terrible. 

He should’ve known so much better than to come home so late. Schlatt had caught him trying to sneak back inside, and Quackity had been practically interrogated about his ‘job interview’. 

Had he gotten it? 

Who was he meeting with? 

Why was he out so late? 

Where did he go for the meeting? 

Quackity, unable to escape the situation, had tried to spin as much of a truthful lie as he could. He met with a couple of guys at Taco Bell. They liked him, and had asked him if there could be another meeting. As for being out late? He and the two guys had just gotten… distracted. 

The last part sat wrong with Schlatt. 

The next 10 minutes of Quackity’s night were a special kind of hell, what with Schlatt - in his drunken, cigarette scented stupor - backing him into a literal corner and accusing Quackity of PURPOSELY trying to disobey the rules.

-

“You got ‘distracted’? Bullshit. Fuck your stupid lies, you were probably out hooking up with someone, huh?? Because you hate me? Tell me the FUCKING TRUTH Alex, or so God help me I will MAKE you,” Schlatt snapped, hist fist balling into the front of Quackity’s shirt. Quackity was helpless to get away. 

He should be used to it, he guesses - Schlatt’s jumping to wild conclusions. But it never failed to make Quackity tremble. Whatever idea managed to screw it’s way into the other man’s brain would stick there - whether it was proven or assumed - and the repercussions were different for all of them.

Schlatt was unpredictable.

Terrifying.

“Schlatt please, I swear, I just got distracted,” He pleaded, his voice small and beginning to break. Tears began to spark in the corners of the ravenet’s eyes. Fear and dread surged through his veins. Adrenaline made his legs tingle. 

He pulled at Schlatt’s wrist to no avail, and was rewarded with Schlatt’s bitten, blunt nails digging tighter into his shirt. A dull pain began to bloom under the assaulted cloth.

The hand on his shirt was dropped. 

For a small moment of stupid hope, Quackity wondered if that was it.

But a strike to his cheek flung him into a nearby wall. A small cry broke free from its cage behind Quackity’s teeth. Blood ran down his chin, from where he’d bitten a little too hard into his lip. His shoulder throbbed, along with his face, and all he could do for a few stunned moments was cower against the wall - try to shrink small enough to become less of a so-called ‘threat’.

“I won’t have MY boyfriend hooking up with other guys. You’re fucking MINE, y’hear me??” Schlatt yelled. Quackity sank down against the wall, shaking and pressing a palm against his injured jaw. T

he few seconds of silence that followed, filled only by Schlatt’s heavy breathing and Quackity’s own light sobs, took forever to finally pass.

“Get out of my sight.”

It took a long second for Quackity to figure out how to move again. His teeth were chattering from how hard he was shaking. For a moment, he worried that he wouldn't be able to stand.

“GET OUT!!!”

Forcing himself to escape, Quackity had practically flown to their shared room and buried himself under the blankets on their bed. But the covers weren’t nearly as comforting as they’d been that morning. 

Finding the blankets too constricting, and smelling the fading alcohol from Schlatt’s nearly-unbearable addiction, Quackity found himself rolling out of bed. 

Tumbling to the floor. 

Trying to find somewhere to hide.

And somehow he’d found himself curled up against the furthest wall of the mini-room, sheltered behind racks of clothing. There, surrounded by heaps of laundry, shoes, and hanging coats, he let himself fall apart. Muffled sobs bounced off the walls of the closet. 

He’d let himself fall into a state of numbness, let himself zone out as his mind raced to try and block out as much of what had just happened as it could. Tears ran down his face, and his breathing remained choppy.

He’d stayed like that, undisturbed, until the soft alert from his phone notified him that a text from Sapman 🐼 had come through.

-

Now, he stares down at the blank, black screen. His cheek aches, and his tooth feels weird. It must’ve been chipped from the blow. He’ll need to schedule a dentist appointment tomorrow.

He guesses he should’ve known better than to come home so late. He’d had so many warnings before - that he needed to be back before eleven. 

He sighs. 

He knows there’ll be a bruise on his face come tomorrow, but he sighs and accepts his punishment. He deserves it, doesn’t he? He’d worried Schlatt, and made him suspicious again. He never does that. It makes him feel like the worst kind of person.

Somewhere, deep in his mind, he knows there’s so many things wrong with all of this. 

But he shouldn’t leave… right?

What if Schlatt ends up doing this to someone else? What if Schlatt goes downhill if he leaves? Quackity had always been told that if he left, Schlatt would do unthinkable things to himself. He couldn’t let that happen. Surely the man who he’d fallen for several years ago was still in there somewhere. What if-

“Alex???”

Quackity slaps a hand over his mouth. The bedroom door opens, just feet away from the closet. He grabs a coat on the floor and pulls it over himself, curling into the smallest ball he can manage. Maybe he’ll blend in with the laundry piled on the floor - the laundry he’d decided would be his bed for the night.

Stumbling, drunken footsteps wander the room. The closet door-knob jiggles and Quackity stops moving. 

The door opens. Quackity stops breathing. 

The footsteps come closer. Quackity pockets his phone as slowly as he can. 

“....Alex? Are you in here?”

Quackity remains silent. He can see Schlatt’s feet from his spot behind the coat rack. They stay there so long that he almost wonders if Schlatt fell asleep standing up. Quackity can feel more panic starting to spark in his stomach - afraid that Schlatt can see him, afraid that he might try to for Quackity to go to bed with him. 

He doesn’t think he can stand sleeping next to Schlatt tonight. It’s silent for so long that the next time Schlatt speaks, it makes Quackity jump. The movement jostles the coats and there’s no doubt in his mind that Schlatt knows where he’s hiding now.

“...Baby, I’m sorry… I’m going to bed now, please come with me…”

Schlatt’s voice is sad. Quackity bites his already injured lip as guilt swells in his gut. The pain helps to ground him just a little as he begins to spiral into self-destructive, self-blameful thoughts.

It sounded like Schlatt was crying. He’d made Schlatt cry. No, no, no this was his fault… His own partner is crying because of him, he needs to fix this-

“I guess you hate me, then… I’ll see you in the morning, love…” Schlatt murmurs, walking slowly out of the closet. The door shuts, and Quackity buries his face into the laundry on the floor as he bursts into another bout of tears. 

Everything in him wants to apologize. Wants to run out and tell Schlatt he’s sorry.

But the harsh words from those previous hours refreshen themselves. They echo around in Quackity’s mind. He can’t. Not tonight. He thinks might suffocate to death if he was forced to be the teddybear for the sweaty alcoholic outside. Maybe tomorrow…

Quackity rolls over to face the wall, and curls into himself. He falls asleep, face still wet with tears. Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow in a new bed. He hopes Sapnap and Karl will be there.

Schlatt will be fine on his own for a night.

Chapter Text

Quackity sighs into his reflection as he brushes his teeth. Thank FUCK the bruise is gone. The constant jabbing against the inside of his cheek would’ve definitely made the pain worse. It had finally faded over the course of the previous week, but before that, anything that moved his jaw absolutely KILLED him.

He runs his tongue over the bone, following his brush. A couple of them had been recently filled. When asked by the dentist how he’d gotten such a bad bruise and the tooth damage, Quackity had just said he tends to get into fights when he's drunk.

He wonders if he’ll ever get to stop making up excuses.

His phone dings. A text has come through.

With one hand, he reaches down for the counter and picks up the phone. 

Taco Bell Boi Kral 🍥 (he couldn’t find a normal swirl emoji) had texted him again. 

(10:54PM) Ayo :D Just double checking that you CAN come to the fair with me and Sapnap on Sat? He’s been on my ass about making sure you’ll be able to come lmao 🤣

A gentle smile paints it’s way over Quackity’s lips, irking the bruise just slightly. Small, painful sparks spread up his face. He doesn’t notice.

Over the past couple weeks, Quackity had refused any of their in-person meetup requests in favor of letting the bruise heal. Sure, he could've used the same excuse as he had during his dentist appointment, but something about the idea of lying to Karl and Sapnap felt wrong.

So they video called. A lot.

Quackity would shelter himself in his closet again, somewhere dark enough to hide the bruise, and they’d chat for hours. They never asked why he was always in the pitch black. He appreciated it.

Over the course of the calls, he had come closer to accepting the truth about how he felt.

He liked them. He really did.

They were everything he wanted, everything Schlatt wasn’t. If Quackity was having a bad day, Karl would share his screen and they’d watch cartoons together. Sapnap would check up on him in between episodes to see if he was feeling better.

After the first episode, he normally was.

Truth be told, though, it wasn’t always the cartoons he was watching.

Sapnap would let Quackity ramble on and on about a new passion or interest, and ask questions about it after. They were two of only a few people that Quackity found he could trust - open up to. They were slow to judgement. They supported him. They never yelled, never accused, never put him down for anything, regardless of how stupid or insignificant it might have been.

They cared .

He’d tried to deny himself the pleasure of thinking that someone finally did. He’d tried to fight the feelings out of fear of being discovered.

Constant paranoia of Schlatt finding out about his new feelings kept him trying to stamp out the growing flames that burned his heart in every moment Schlatt was absent. 

He liked those moments the best - the ones when Schlatt was gone. 

Quackity quite liked being able to drape himself over the couch and think about the two men that fate had drawn into his life. 

He meets his own eyes in the mirror. He giggles quietly at himself. A soft rosey flush has spread across his cheeks. His eyelids have dropped a little bit, hooding his eyes in a sort of romantic, reminiscent, wishful sort of stare. His mind conjures up a memory.

“Oh- Shit, I’m sorry Karl!”

The apology from the table across the aisle had caught Quackity’s attention. He was never able to resist drama. A few other tables around him obviously couldn’t either. At least six pairs of eyes were drawn to the table that the outcry had come from. 

Glancing up from his computer revealed the coffee-stained sight in front of him.

A man with jet black hair was quickly righting a knocked over coffee cup. A pool of dark, steaming liquid was splashed all over the table and poured off the other side, into the lap of another man. The latter’s face was twisted into a grimace. One that was very liked fueled by pain.

That coffee was definitely still hot.

Karl’s pained face is like an imprint in Quackity’s mind. Even seeing it for the first time in the cafe, he’d hated it. Karl never deserved to have that look on his face, accident or not.

Said man scrambled to the other side of the booth’s cushioned seat, out from under the sizzling waterfall. His hand was pressed hard against his leg (Quackity had cringed upon realizing the man was wearing shorts, and the coffee had just missed the fabric), and it was obvious he was trying to keep from crying. He must’ve noticed the onlookers, because he tilted his head in such a way that his mess of caramel curls drooped in front of his face. 

It looked like he was trying to shrink into his magenta hoodie. There was definitely room, Quackity had noted. It looked at least two sizes too big.

Cute.

Quackity laughs quietly. He knows that if he looks in the mirror, a giant goofy grin will be plastered over his lips. He can’t help it. Karl just has that effect. Quackity would do anything for him.

Quackity was quick to shut his laptop, and as the first man - the one whose coffee had met such an unfortunate demise - jumped up and started for the napkin dispenser, Quackity grabbed a handful of napkins sitting untouched beside his order.

“Hey,” He called. The second man, who had been left at the booth, looked up. His eyes were shimmering. Oh yeah, he was definitely about to cry. “Mind if I help?”

The stranger thought for a moment, his eyes landing on the napkins held ready in Quackity’s hand, before nodding. Quackity hopped up, thankful that most of the other watchers had resumed their business, and crossed the few feet to the messy table. He held out half of the napkins to the boy. Poor guy looked like he was trying to shove himself into the seat’s backrest.

“For your leg,” Quackity said. The napkins were eagerly taken, and pressed against the wound. Quackity turned his attention to the table, and set the few napkins he had left over the spill. He flinched and retracted his hand as it accidentally landed in some of the coffee.

Shit, that was very much still hot.

“Kinda like Sapnap…” Quackity mutters to himself. He buries his face in his hands and laughs again. God, he really is smitten. The hell was wrong with him? He doesn't mean it though, and giggles the thought away.

The napkins were soaked through in a matter of seconds. But a moment later, another presence sidled up to Quackity and tossed some more on the mess. The first man was back, armed with quite the stack of white, clothlike paper.

“Thanks man,” He said, giving Quackity a smile and a dip of the head when their eyes met. However, it was quick to change into a look of concern as the stranger’s eyes landed on his friend. The seat beside the burned man was cleaned with haste, and the first man slid in beside him, murmuring something unintelligible to the hoodie guy.

Something sparked in Quackity’s gut. Made butterflies come alive. He shook the thoughts free, though, and turned to head for the counter.

“Hey, do you guys have, like, an ice pack or something? One of my friends burned his leg from a coffee spill” He asked the barista, whose name-tag read ‘Nihachu’. Her eyebrows shot up and concern lit up her eyes.

“Oh, yes we do! One second,” She exclaimed, racing through the swinging door on her left. He watched her pink spacebuns disappear behind the door, nearly taking out a blonde man coming out with another coffee cup.

Quackity recognized Punz from his daily commute to the college campus, and offered a small wave. It was returned, along with a smile, before Punz turned his head, calling out the name of whoever was written on the side of the coffee cup.

Nihachu was returning through the door when Quackity looked back. A packet was clasped in her hand. 

“Here, just squeeze it and give it a good shake. It’ll get cold after that,” She said. “And which table? I’ll send someone over with a mop shortly.”

Quacity pointed to the booth, and thanked Nihachu before jogging back to the table.

‘Friends’. 

He’d referred to complete strangers as his ‘friends’. Quackity groaned inwardly and tried to forget about it as he rounded the table. 

Well, it’s true now. The thought flutters around Quackity’s head.

The napkins pressed against the burned man’s leg had been replaced. The old ones, soaked through and useless, had been discarded on the table.

“I, uh, got you an ice pack for your leg,” He announced quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Was this too far? 

What if he’d accidentally made them too uncomfortable? 

They didn’t know each other, after all. He had no business being so up in THEIR business. What if-

“Thank you,” Came the waterlogged answer. The hoodie guy. Quackity looked over at the one who’d been burned. The ice pack was tugged from his hands by the black-haired guy and appreciative smiles from both men were thrown his way. It was pressed against hoodie guy’s leg, eliciting a sigh of relief from said man.

“I also told them there’d been a spill, so they’re sending someone over with a mop, just you you’re aware…” Quackity said, nerves wracking up again. Two pairs of brown eyes - both different shades - looked back at him.

“Thanks for the heads up!” The first guy said, looking impressed at Quackity’s thoughtfulness. “You really didn’t have to.”

Had it gotten hotter in the cafe? Quackity wasn’t sure. But the heat climbing his neck and lacing over his face made it seem so. He tugged gently at his collar, scuffing the heel of his shoe against the ground.

“Figured I’d try to be helpful. Plus you already seemed a little stressed about it, and I hate seeing people get hurt, so…”

A second of silence passed and Quackity awkwardly cleared his throat before turning suddenly and beelining back for his table. He cringed at the blunt ending to the conversation. He hated not knowing what to say.

Was he red? God, he hoped not.

He sat back in his chair, opening his laptop to the unfinished paper he was working on. He could feel eyes on him. Was it everyone? Was it just the two guys? Was it anyone at all, or was he just over-reacting? He tried to forget about it, throwing himself back into his work.

And it worked! 

For about thirty seconds.

“Anyone sitting here?” Asked a familiar voice. This time, it was Quackity’s turn to look at them. The two men from the booth were at the other side of the table, behind the two empty chairs across from him. Across the way, another barista was mopping up the coffee spill.

Something in Quackity’s gut stirred again.

“Nope. I’m here alone today,” he replied. The chairs scraped against the ground as they were moved. The two slid into the previously unoccupied seats. The feeling in his gut flared. It raced up his spine, dragging tingles behind it. His stomach exploded with butterflies and he tried not to let the dread show on his face as he realized what the feeling was.

Fuck, Schlatt wasn’t going to be happy if he found out…

“Are you okay with some company?”

Quackity recalls all of it as if it were yesterday. It makes him smile, makes him feel giddy. God, he feels so stupidly euphoric. 

Karl messages him again. 

Quackity lowers the ice pack, in favor of texting with both hands, when there’s a pounding on the door.

Quackity nearly jumps out of his skin. He instinctively clutches his phone closer to his chest, half expecting it to be yanked out of his grip. It takes a moment for him to remember that the bathroom door is locked.

“You’re still in there??” Schlatt asks. His voice is rough.

“Um, yeah?”

His phone dings again, and Quackity swears under his breath. Fuck, the ringer was still on. He rushes to fix that slip up, muting alerts before anything else can come through.

“Phone’s been going off an awful lot, Alex,” The voice says again. It’s lower, though. Hints of danger pepper his tone and it makes Quackity’s gut twist. He knows what usually comes after that sort of tone. Anxious tears prick the corners of his eyes.

He doesn’t know why. He should be used to this!

But somehow he isn’t, and a far off thought speculates that he may never be.

“The fuck are you doing? It’s been 30 minutes and I know damn well you haven’t been showering,” Schlatt demands again. Quackity hesitantly walks over to the door, figuring he should try and deescalate the situation before it gets any worse. His hand trembles just slightly as he reaches for the lock.

He pauses.

He’s safe in here, so why go out?

But he can hear someone cracking their knuckles on the other side of the door. One of Schlatt’s anxious habits. One that normally comes shortly before something worse.

Quackity forces the growing nerves down and unlocks the door. It swings open. Revealed to him is the threat - his own fucking boyfriend. Schlatt stands nearly as tall as the doorframe and his eyes glare down at Quackity as the latter tries to push past him.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” He chastises. An arm stops Quackity from moving further. It wraps around his waist and pulls him back. To anyone else, the gesture may have seemed soft - a gentle tug. 

But Quackity can feel the tense muscles under Schlatt’s sweater. There’s aggression in the pull. There’s no room for lenience.

It’s the physical equivalent of ‘You’re not going ANYWHERE’.

Quackity tries to calm his racing heart as he’s tugged against the taller man.

“Give me your phone.”

Schlatt's words are calm. They hold millions of possible outcomes. Quackity feels slightly nauseous. The smell of cigarettes, hardly faded from Schlatt's sweater after last night’s smoke, doesn’t help.

“...No.”

Schlatt’s grip tightens, his fingers now digging into Quackity’s side. The dull pain forces a quiet groan from his lips. His back is pressed against Schlatt’s chest, and though he can’t see his Schlatt’s face, Quackity can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. Coarse facial hair grazes Quackity’s ear as Schlatt leans down.

His lips press close to Quackity’s ear

“Excuse me?”

Everything in Quackity screams to obey. He really isn’t in the mood for being thrown around.

But he’s stubborn. Schlatt hates that.

“No. You can’t have my phone,” Quackity says, louder this time. He pushes against Schlatt’s arm and though it hardly budges, he continues to try. “I’ve told you time and again that it’s MY fucking property.”

There's silence for a second. And then-

“Brat.”

The word is harsh. 

Everything goes from careful and still, to suddenly whirling and rushed.

Schlatt’s free hand grabs Quackity’s wrist and wrenches it in a way that sends sharp pains spiking through the law student’s arm. The phone is released, and clatters to the ground. Quackity yelps as Schlatt shoves him to the side and bends down to pick up the fallen device.

The spill lands Quackity on his already-throbbing wrist and he cries out again, drawing the hand up to his chest. Schlatt pays him no heed as he steps into the bathroom.

The door slams.

The lock clicks.

Quackity realises that he had failed to switch off his phone.

Dread floods his body and suddenly the pain in his wrist seems like an infinitely smaller problem. He’s on his feet in seconds. He knocks harshly on the bathroom door.

“Are you going through my fucking texts???” He yells. Schlatt is quiet.

Quackity starts to panic. The messages between himself and the two other men definitely weren’t professional. And he’d failed to inform them about his ‘you-guys-are-job-interviewers’ plan.

His breathing starts to quicken. The world seems to sway just the slightest bit. He stumbles back until the backs of his legs meet the edge of the bed. Quackity sinks down onto the mattress.

What would happen to him if Schlatt figured out his secret?

What would Schlatt do to Karl and Sapnap?

Would Quackity be able to see them ever again?

Hell, would he even be allowed to go out without Schlatt ever again?

The few minutes he's alone feels like days. He’s trying to breathe, but it feels like he’s underwater. Endless, terrifying possibilities run their course through his brain. He grips the blankets under him. It doesn’t help much.

The lock clicks again.

Schlatt appears in the doorway, phone in hand, and the blood drains from Quackity’s face. Schlatt’s face is calm, neutral, and his strides towards Quackity are normal. To an outsider, it would just look like a guy approaching his boyfriend.

But Quackity can see a new sort of anger burning behind Schlatt’s eyes. The phone is being gripped so tightly that veins in Schlatt’s hands are more discernible than normal. Schlatt’s fingertips are pale from how tight he’s clutching the device.

Quackity can’t meet his stare.

Schlatt holds out the phone and crouches in front of Quackity. Gingerly, as if he were taking something from a wild animal, Quackity takes the phone and slides it into his pocket. He stares at Schlatt’s feet.

A rough, calloused hand grips his chin. It forces his gaze up. Against his will, he meets Schlatt’s eyes.

Anger burns wildly in his stare. Quackity feels like he’s being scalded. Schlatt studies his opposite for a moment, before speaking.

“Tell him that, yes, a double date sounds good,” Schlatt mutters. A fake smile is forced onto his lips and he leans forward, kissing Quackity roughly.

It feels less like love, and more like a beast claiming it’s prey. 

The hand on Quackity’s face falls to the law student’s thigh and grips hard. Quackity’s blood is cold. He’s frozen. His hands curl tighter into the bed sheets.

And then it’s over.

Schlatt stands up, and leaves without another word. He slams the door to the bedroom, and a few seconds later, the front door slams even harder. A text comes through a minute later from Schlatt . 

(11:10PM) Heading out to meet with Connor and Charlie. I would tell you not to wait up, but you never do, so whatever. xx

Quackity leaves him on read and sits there, shaking. Now that he’s alone, all the previously built up panic is starting to leak out. It overwhelms him, until his emotions are in a flurry. He lays, splayed out on his back, and sobs into the empty room.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this.

Through teary eyes, he checks back on Karl’s contact.

Two new texts are on the screen.

(11:00PM) Yeah, I can come! Schlatt’s gonna come with me tho, sorry about that heh

(11:03PM) Haha, no problem! Double date sorta thing, then?

Quackity types out a reply.

So sorry, that was Schlatt. He took my phone and sent that w/o my permission. No, he’s not coming, but yes, I can still come!

His finger hovers over the send button. He should send it. He wants to.

But it might sound suspicious. And if the two started asking questions about it, Quackity knows he would fall apart. He’d tell them everything. He’d worry them, anger Schlatt, and get himself hurt in the process.

He can’t risk that.

He deletes the text and types out a different one, sending it before he can rethink.

(11:12PM)  Double date it is 👍

Chapter Text

Sapnap’s fingers dig into his thigh as he gazes out the window. The day is an overcast one. The perfect blend of cold-enough-to-be-cool but still warm-enough-to-be-pleasant. Trees blur against the pale sheet of sky as the car drives down the highway. He wishes he could enjoy it.

Schlatt was coming.

That annoying thought had been bouncing around in his head since Thursday night, when Karl had come downstairs to break the news to him. Karl didn’t have to ask in order to know how Sapnap felt. The feeling was mutual - the emotion practically palpable between them.

Karl had noted how selfish it was. Sapnap agreed.

Who were they to complain about Quackity wanting to bring his own BOYFRIEND? For God’s sake, they didn’t even know if they were anything more than friends in the law student’s eyes. And yet here they were, pouting their brains out about Quackity bringing his own partner.

Sapnap’s finger stings and he yanks his hand to his chest, quickly and suddenly. Karl glances over. Sapnap had been gripping his leg so hard that his nail had bent for a second. He hisses quietly at the pain.

“Something on your mind?” Karl asks, attention turned once more to the road. Someone on a motorcycle passes in the opposite lane. Sapnaps waits for the sound to fade before he answers.

“Take a wild guess,” He mutters, half-sarcastically. Karl huffs in amusement.

“Me too, babe, me too.” Karl’s newest hoodie - an impulse purchase from last night’s thrift store outing - is pale pink. A large, gorgeous rose had been embroidered on the chest. The cheerful clothing article contrasts sharply with Karl’s suddenly grim expression. “But we’ve talked about this, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” Sapnap grumbles, sulking back against the seat. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna bitch about it for a second.”

Karl giggles lightly at this.

“Fair point. I suppose doing it now is better than doing it in front of Quackity.”

Sapnap hums his agreement, and there's silence for a moment. A lightbulb goes off in Sapnap’s head.

“What if we rant?” He asks, looking over at Karl. A thought flickers across his mind, admiring Karl’s immaculate side profile. “Right now, before we get there.”

Karl’s eyebrows furrow, considering the offer. During their brief, but enticing relationship with Quackity, it had always been Sapnap. It was in the man's nature to be loud. He was always the more vocal of the two. Not that Karl wasn’t vocal - he very much was. He was just a little quieter. Karl preferred to listen, while Sapnap liked to talk. Opposites attract, after all.

“...Elaborate.”

“Well… I know we’re both a little upset about the extra company, so God knows we can’t have too much to drink tonight,” Sapnap replied. The corners of his lips tug up faintly, recalling how extremely loose-lipped he and Karl could get after one too many drinks. Whatever was on their mind would likely fall out of their mouths.

Honesty was always the best policy… except for those moments. Sometimes.

Karl chuckles. “Okay, so…?”

“Soooooo, I figured you could tell me what’s swimming around in that brain of yours before we get there,” Sapnap finishes. 

“I thought this was a ‘we’ thing.”

“Well, you’ve already listened to the shitload of things I’ve had to say on the topic. I’d like to return the favor.”

Karl contemplates this. He rolls the words around on his tongue, trying to figure out what he should say. Sapnap can practically hear the gears in his boyfriend’s head turning, can almost see him stringing together words in his throat.

“Well… I’m not the happiest about it, that’s for damn sure,” Karl murmurs. “I was… honestly hoping we could hang out alone. We haven’t seen him in person since Taco Bell.”

It’s quiet for another moment and Sapnap refrains from adding his 2 cents, while Karl still looks like he’s thinking.

“Technically, this is gonna be our first time actually SEEING him. He’s always in the dark when we VC.”

Oh shit. Karl’s right. 

Two weeks of video calls every night, hours upon hours of talking and laughing, occasionally watching cartoons, and somehow they’d never once seen his face. Sapnap had never put much thought into why.

“And, I know I say it’s selfish and I don’t like saying it but…” Karl hesitates. Sapnap reaches out, drawing one of Karl’s hands to the center console. He runs his thumb comfortingly over the author’s knuckles.

“...God, I wish he was here…” Karl murmurs, almost like he’s ashamed to say it. Sapnap squeezes his boyfriend’s hand.

“Me too, love, me too…” He answers.

-

The fair’s parking lot is a dirt lot. The smell of hay and farm animals assaults the nostrils of those just stepping out of their cars. Deep-fried food mixes with the scents as well, making the cool day seem just a bit warmer.

Karl pulls the keys from the ignition and Sapnap shoots Quackity a quick ‘hey, you here yet?’ text before hopping out himself. His white shoes quickly gather a thin layer of dust. He swears quietly. Oh well, he’ll wash them later.

Karl locks the car, and walks around it, linking his arm with Sapnap’s. The latter smiles, pressing a quick kiss across the prior’s temple. They head for the gates, which are farther from their parking spot than they would’ve liked. But the fair was a popular one, so the lot was packed. He glances back.

Row 13, got it.

They’re halfway to the entrance, when Sapnap’s phone ding! s.

(12:28) Is Karl in a pink hoodie by any chance?

Sapnap's heart starts to race. God, he needs to figure out how to keep his emotions under control.

(12:28) Yes, why?

(12:29) Look behind you :]

“Karl-” Sapnap breathes. It catches the man’s attention and Sapnap spins around. Karl follows. He knows exactly what Sapnap’s looking for.

Karl is the first to spot the familiar navy blue beanie, bobbing up and down between two nearby cars. Though he tries to keep it from getting too big, Sapnap can see the huge grin breaking it’s way over Karl’s face. Quackity grins, waving wildly as if he hadn’t already gotten their attention.

Karl breaks away from Sapnap. He plows past the cars and swamps Quackity in a hug that sends the two of them bumping into a nearby light pole. It’s crazy to think that, despite only meeting him once and festering their relationship solely online, they’ve become so close. Quackity’s loud laughter pierces the air. It makes Sapnap smile.

That laugh really was contagious.

Sapnap laughs quietly, making his way over to the two of them. A second man emerges from between the same two cars, tall and with messy sideburns that matched his equally wild hair. He has a black tshirt that reads ‘Schlatt & Co.’ (he’d find out later that it was a custom-printed shirt Quackity had given Schlatt for their one year anniversary), styled with a pair of gray sweatpants. He pauses, staring for a moment at Quackity, still bundled in a pastel pink hug.

Sapnap’s gut twists. He tries not to be jealous.

Schlatt.

Karl finally releases Quackity, though the author keeps an arm around Quackity’s shoulders. Karl notices Schlatt standing there and Sapnap prays Schlatt doesn’t notice Karl’s grin falter just the slightest bit.

“Hey, I’m Schlatt as you probably know.” Said man introduces himself as the two come closer. He looks over at Sapnap, who’s standing closer, and extends a hand. The music major shakes it heartily. A forced grin has been plastered on his lips.

“Nick. But call me Sapnap,” He replies. Schlatt nods, returning a thin smile. There’s a tension between them - both can feel it. 

Both have different reasonings as to why.

“Nick, huh? I gotta say, a bit underwhelming… For someone of your stature, of course,” Schlatt replies. Poison is spread thin over the words, and Sapnap is left without a response to the backhanded and obviously last-minute-save compliment. 

Sapnap and Karl lock eyes, and the latter can sense the ‘get-me-out-of-here’ energy that his partner is desperately projecting towards him. He releases Quackity and bounds forward, extending his own hand.

“I’m Karl! Sapnap’s partner.”

The emphasis Karl puts on Sapnap’s preferred name makes the mentioned man smile a little. Schlatt turns around, glancing down at Karl who stands a good 4 or 5 inches below him, and shakes his hand.

“Schlatt.”

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a challenge in Karl’s tone that makes Sapnap’s blood runs cold, and even Quackity glances up. Where the hell did that come from??

The two have yet to release hands, simply staring at the other and practically boring holes in each other’s head. The tension between them is even more palpable than it was between the previous two.

“Sapnap! It’s great to see you again, man!” Quackity exclaims, louder than he needed to be. He brushes past Schlatt and practically tackles Sapnap. This draws Schlatt’s attention, much to Quackity’s relief. S chlatt drops Karl’s hand and breaks the eye contact in favor of eyeing the two embracing figures.

Quackity throws his arms around Sapnap’s shoulders. He clings to Sapnap just a little too tightly, and something just doesn’t feel right. Sapnap’s arms wrap around the other man, equally as tight. He misses the way Schlatt’s jaw tenses as he clenches his teeth behind closed lips.

“Hey, Big Q,” Sapnap murmurs, a soft smile - a genuine one , this time - spreading over his lips. “How you been?”

Quackity releases the hug, leaning back.

“Good…” He answers, pausing just a little too long to let his eyes roam over Sapnap’s face. “You?”

Sapnap just nods. He’s trying to figure out an answer when the interaction is cut abruptly short. An arm slings over Quackity’s shoulder and pulls him, quick and hard, against Schlatt’s chest. As if on instinct, Quackity grabs his partner’s forearm. He’s half-expecting it to slide farther up to his neck.

“I say we go see what’s going on before the sun gets too hot,” Schlatt says, nodding towards the fair gates. His fingers dig into the skin and ribs below Quackity’s armpit. It’s a warning. One that Sapnap and Karl are oblivious to. 

Quackity tries not to wince.

Karl links his arm through Sapnap’s once more and the four of them proceed to the gates. Both in the parking lot and through the gates, any conversations attempted between Quackity and the other two were swift to be interrupted by Schlatt.

Crashing abruptly into Big Q after tripping over a very-much-not-untied shoelace, loud answers to questions not even aimed at him, more backhanded compliments about any of Karl and Sapnap’s attempts at jokes.

They would laugh, roll their eyes, shrug it off. Maybe Schlatt just wasn’t great with people. Maybe he wasn’t great with humor. Maybe Karl and Sapnap were just too blinded with their own jealousy. Sapnap hoped they hadn't stooped that low.

But Sapnap notices how pale Schlatt’s fingertips got with his arm around Quackity’s shoulders. The indents under them were too deep to just be a light squeeze. Maybe they weren’t overreacting.

It’s when Schlatt pulled Quackity close, and pulls him to his other side, now standing as a wall separating the three, that Karl gives Sapnap’s arm a gentle squeeze. Quackity, with a flustered laugh, tries to duck under the arm. Tries to circle around back to the other side.

He fails.

They’re barely more than 15 minutes into the hangout, and Sapnap already feels like he wants to explode.

On their way around the fair grounds, they run into their fair share of attractions. Mini rollercoasters, enough food booths to last the whole city a week or two, and even a petting zoo. Schlatt begins to loosen up a little, interrupting conversations less and less. After one certain joke from Sapnap - a stupid dad joke that was unnecissarily funny - Quackity finds himself collapsing against the two men in a fit of laughter.

Quackity’s laughing evokes the same reaction from Karl, and Sapnap just laughs at their shenanigans. All in all, they end up falling onto a nearby hay bale. They’re a bundle of limbs and laughter.

Passing strangers offer strange looks, and a couple of them chuckle along with the 3 before heading on their way. Once Quackity finally calms down, his sides are aching. None of them notice Schlatt flexing and fisting his hands a few feet away.

Quackity pulls off his beanie and leans down, shaking out his long, dark hair. A bit of sweat mats strands to his head. Schlatt despises how Karl and Sapnap’s eyes become softer. How their faces go just a bit slack as they take in every feature of the man in front of them. He hates that Sapnap seems to be biting his lip, just barely.

Quackity looks up at them, with messy hair. He tears his hand through it once again. Schlatt almost snaps upon seeing how Quackity’s expression shifts to match those of Karl and Sapnap.

Fuck that shit.

They stop by the Ferris Wheel and Quackity’s eyes light up. He turns to pull out his wallet, panicking for a second when he comes up empty handed. His shoulders slump. Oh yeah.

He didn't fucking have it with him.

“Schlatt, give me my wal-”

Schlatt smacks Quackity’s hand away. The prior glares daggers at the smaller one. Quackity notices the tightening of Schlatt’s fist and panic overwhelms his stomach. Quackity wraps his arms around himself, gaze cast down to the floor. Schlatt tosses the wallet back into the car, the soft thud! confirming that it had gone over the backseats and landed in the trunk.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Schlatt breaks the silence, his words dripping with artificial sugar. “You know I love you.”

“Then why do you do all this shit, then???” Quackity bursts out. He glares at the man in the drivers seat. “Ever since you got your hands on my phone - which was YESTERDAY - you haven’t let me have a single moment in peace. What the fuck, man??”

Schlatt inserts the keys into the ignition. The engine roars to life. Schlatt says nothing.

“Hello?? I’m asking you a damn question!!” Quackity snaps. At this point, he doesn’t care what his punishment might be.

But Schlatt refuses to speak. His eyes remain on the road.

“Are you ignoring me?” Quackity hisses. Schlatt’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as the GPS spits out a turn to take in 0.5 miles. The voice is annoyingly monotone.

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t question my methods,” Schlatt bites. “And this is your own fault. ‘s what you get when you decide to cheat and message OTHER GUYS behind my back!”

Quackity sighs. He hates feeling so helpless. Swallowing his pride, he turns to Schlatt.

“You got money? I wanna ride the Ferris Wheel,” he asks. A fake smile pulls his lips up. Schlatt doesn’t acknowledge him. Something in Quackity’s gut twists.

Fuck fuck fuck, please God not now, not here-

“Babyyyy, you got money? The Ferris Wheel tickets are 10 bucks each,” Quackity tries again. Schlatt finally moves, pulling out his wallet. He doesn’t look at Quackity. He opens it and thumbs through the bills, before shrugging.

“Sorry babe. I’m all outta cash,” He says.

Bullshit.

Quackity stares at the very prominent 20 dollar bill he can see before Schlatt folds up his wallet and tucks it away.

Karl comes up behind them. Green bills are sticking out of his hand.

“Don't worry, I got you!”

He doesn’t even wait for an answer, before grabbing Quackity’s wrist and nearly dragging him to the ticket booth. He pays for two tickets, and as soon as they’re in his grasp, Karl pulls Quackity into the small queue of people.

Quackity blinks.

“What was that about?” He asks, chuckling softly. Nerves are making his stomach a twisting mass of fear. Fuck, Schlatt was gonna be upset he had gone off with someone else on his own. He glances back. Sapnap is poised in front of Quackity’s boyfriend, talking to him. Schlatt isn’t responding. His eyes search the crowd, and Quackity feels sick when Schlatt finds him. Even from far away, the law student can feel the rage radiating off of his partner.

“Quackity, what’s going on?”

At the mention of his name, the man looks back at Karl. All traces of positivity are one. Worry, confusion and just the smallest bit of anger tint his eyes. Cool wind whips as their clothing, taking Quackity’s small smile away with it’s breeze.

“I- What do you mean?” He asks. The nerves in his stomach tighten.

“Schlatt. Something’s going on, Quackity, we can tell.”

Quackity goes pale. He presses his palms together to keep them from shaking.

“Nothing,” is the answer he gives. “It’s all good. We’ve just... um... hit a little bit of a rough patch in our relationship recently. Trying to mend it ‘n all... Yeah..”

Karl studies him. Quackity knows Karl doesn’t believe him.

Karl always had an innate way to tell when something was going on. Sapnap had often compared him to an empath. He had a talent for knowing how people were feeling, what they needed, how to help. For reasons Sapnap wouldn’t elaborate on, on the premise that it wasn’t his story to tell, Karl had a heart for the hurt. He was passionate about helping people who were in inescapable positions.

“Would you rather not talk about it with all these people around?” Karl asks. Quackity almost collapses, for the second time that day, with relief. A gentle hand settles on his back. Karl looks over at him.

His eyes are warm. Friendly.

Quackity’s heart pounds. If he could trust anyone with the secrets he was keeping, it was Karl.

Slowly, unsure, he nods. Karl hums his acknowledgement as they ascend to the boarding platform. The Wheel comes to a stop, and Karl hands the two tickets to the worker.

A moment later, they’re seated, and the Ferris Wheel starts to move again. Karl looks over at Quackity. The latter is digging his nails into his palms.

Karl gently takes the injured hands in his, working the fingers apart slowly. Quackity’s eyes land on Karl’s and don’t leave. The author works slowly, diligently, as not to hurt or scare the law student. 

The Wheel stops as they get to the peak of the circle. They can see the whole fairground from up here. Another couple at the bottom hands their tickets to the worker, and Karl has finally pulled Quackity’s hands apart.

Karl laces their fingers together, slowly enough to give Quackity time to pull away if he wanted to, and gives the trembling hand a comforting squeeze. He gets one in return and finally looks up.

Their eyes lock and Quackity sees the unmistakable tint of blush on Karl’s cheeks. The author tilts his head. His thumb is running over the back of the law student’s hand.

The Wheel starts to move again.

They have 5 rotations of the Wheel before they need to get off.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Karl asks. His voice is gentle, caring. Quackity nods, taking a deep breath.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

-

Sapnap watches the two finally exit the Ferris Wheel ride. Schlatt stands at his side, arms crossed, and chest puffed. If Sapnap had to guess, Schlatt is trying to intimidate him. As much as he wants to knock the ego out of Quackity’s boyfriend, he doesn’t. 

Something tells him that he wouldn’t be the only one sucked into the fight. As Quackity and Karl approach, he resolves to shelve that strategy for the time being.

Karl grins as he gets to Sapnap.

“That was fun! How’d things go down here?” The prior asks. Karl loves heights, and Sapnap doesn’t doubt that the ride gave him an extra spurt of energy.

“Just-” Schlatt answers. He reaches out and pulls Quackity close. “-fine.”

Karl slides his hand into Sapnap’s. Sapnap realizes that Karl’s grip isn’t gentle. His fingertips are digging into the back of the music major’s hand, and as Sapnap studies his boyfriend, he notices the clenched jaw, an unusually prominent vein on Karl’s forehead, and his other hand fisted so tightly that the knuckles are nearly white.

Karl’s pissed.

Sapnap’s worried. 

Karl rarely ever gets mad, and even rarer is this type of anger. Silent, lethal, and physical.

Schlatt rests his chin on Quackity’s head. His arms are wrapped tightly around the smaller man, and Karl tries not to zone in on the fact that Schlatt’s grip on Quackity’s arm is turning his fingers white.

“Soooo…. What now?” Sapnap asks. “Petting zoo, maybe?”

Schlatt gives that unnerving smile again. Sapnap shoves down the returning urge to rock his shit.

“Sure! I’m down!” Quackity pipes up. Karl nods, a bright smile painting over his face, and he turns his attention to the signs. He and Sapnap are too busy searching for the directions to notice Schlatt lean down to Quackity’s ear.

“You pull that shit again - going off one-on-one with a stranger,” Schlatt hisses, “and I will smash your phone to bits.”

Quackity chokes back a whimper. Schlatt had taken Quackity’s phone while the latter was asleep. He’d refused to give it back.

“Where is it??” Quackity demanded, jamming his pointer finger into Schlatt’s chest.

“Right here, you little bitch,” Schlatt replied, pulling the expensive iPhone that had vanished from it’s charging dock that morning out of his pocket. 

He smacked it down onto Quackity’s wrist. The metal connected. There was a hiss of pain, and Quackity’s hand dropped.

The latter opened his mouth to retaliate, but Schlatt shoved his hand over Quackity’s mouth, muffling anything he was about to say.

“Ah ah ah. Shut up.”

If looks could kill, Schlatt would be dead three times over.

“Now, this is what’s going to happen. We’re going to the fair today, all right? And I’m gonna keep this with me,” the alcoholic continued. He waved the phone in front of Quackity’s nose. “And if you try to pull any fancy stunts, or if I even THINK that you’re trying to get a hookup or something, I will break this.”

Quackity’s eyes went wide.

“But you can’t-”

“Oh yes I can. I bought you this shit, and I can and WILL take it away. You hear me?? Now go get dressed. And don’t wear anything that makes you look like a hooker, okay?”

Quackity moves numbly, being dragged along by Schlatt, following Sapnap and Karl to the petting zoo. They pass so many food vendors on the way there that Quackity’s stomach growls. The food smells good.

Shit. 

He hasn’t eaten today.

The procession pauses when Karl jolts to a stop.

“Pause!” He calls. The other three turn to him. The boy’s eyes are set on the nearby cotton candy booth. When he looks back at Sapnap, his eyes are sparkling. Sapnap giggles at the expression and presses a kiss to Karl’s forehead.

Quackity tries to ignore the jealousy in his stomach. He wants to be treated like that. Like royalty. But as Schlatt’s reminder of his phone’s possible fate wreaks havoc through his mind, Quackity tries to ignore the intrusive, wishful feeling.

“Y’all want any?” Sapnap asks, looking over at Quackity and Schlatt. He brings out his wallet. “My treat.”

For a quick, hopeful moment, Quackity’s face lights up and he looks like he’s about to agree. But he pauses.

Schlatt’s mind was a horror story of conclusions. Even the small act of accepting the offer could possibly spark something dangerous. Quackity doesn’t want to risk his phone.

“No thanks..!” He says, a pathetically fake smile plastered onto his face. “But thank you for offering.”

Schlatt smirks at Sapnap - something that looks more hostile than it should, and it takes everything in the latter to not absolutely deck him.

God, he really needs to stop wanting to punch Schlatt.

“I’ll take some,” Schlatt comments, hand finally sliding off it’s new home on Quackity’s hip. The law student suddenly looks smaller, hands wrapping around himself in a small hug. He offers a quick, less-than-convincing smile as Schlatt accompanies Sapnap to the booth.

Karl moves in the opposite direction of the booth. Sapnap already knows his favorite flavor.

Instead, he makes his way to Quackity’s side.

Quackity’s hands run idly up his arms. He looks like he’s trying to warm himself, despite the fact he’s already in a turtleneck - and one with long sleeves, this time. The shirt clings to his torso, accentuating his slim figure. 

Karl sets his hand on Quackity’s arm.

Quackity doesn’t respond.

Karl glances over his shoulder, making sure Schlatt was going over the menu, before putting his hands on both of Quackity’s cheeks. The gesture catches the law student by surprise. Karl smiles a little. Quackity seems to come out of his stupor when the hands leave his face. Karl pulls out his wallet.

He produces a 20 dollar bill and pushes it into Quackity’s hand.

“Say you found it on the ground,” He murmurs. The sound of Sapnap and Schlatt thanking the vendor float over the air. Karl regains an air of casualty and pulls out his phone, trying to look as if he hadn’t been doing anything.

Quackity pockets the money and ducks his head as the two come back. Schlatt makes no move to share his tub of cotton candy. Sapnap and Karl laugh together and share the treat, and it makes Quackity feel all the more envious.

God, it was harder than he thought, being around the guys he actually loved. Each shared interaction of theirs, from something as small as a hand-hold to as obvious as a kiss on the lips, made him feel a little bad. Should he be envious of that? Should he really be coveting this bond that they have?

Ending up in his relationship with Schlatt was his own fault.

As they resume their march for the petting zoo, Quackity wishes, with everything left in him, that he could tell them how he feels. 

How badly he wishes it was them he woke up next to in the morning. How he wanted to experience the little gestures of love that they shared. How much he wanted to escape this reality, and climb into theirs.

But would they feel the same? 

Quackity doesn’t know…

And getting his heart broken again was not a risk he’s willing to take.

Chapter Text

The baby rams in the petting zoo aren’t as soft as Quackity expects. Their fur is coarse, and while their adorable little faces make up for that, it doesn’t stop Quackity from cringing whenever his hand brushes one of them. It very much reminds him of Schlatt’s facial hair.

Nope.

He is not about to equate adorable baby animals to that man.

Quackity shakes the thought out of his head.

“Quackity, Quackity!!” Karl shouts. The chatter from the surrounding crowd is loud. Quackity barely hears him. He looks up.

“Bunnies!!!” Karl calls again.

A grin splits across Karl’s face. There’s a ball of fluff situated in his arms. Two big, floppy ears spring up from the cotton ball at the shrill nature of Karl’s shout, followed by two more. A third pair joins a moment later, but is quick to fall back down.

Three bunnies are gathered against the pink sweater, against Karl’s chest.

Butterflies wake up in Quackity’s stomach as he takes in the absolute euphoria on Karl’s face. He glances behind him. Schlatt is sitting on a hay bale, petting and cooing at the baby rams that seem to swamp around his knees.

Quackity’s heart sinks.

Of course Schlatt treats the damn ANIMALS better than he treats his own boyfriend.

Quackity forces himself to look away before the intrusive thoughts can take root.

He starts making his way towards Karl, who’s giggling so hard his face is turning red. Sapnap chuckles beside him. The music major has an armful of bunnies himself. They’re both laughing and Quackity thinks his heart might burst.

He saves this image in his mind, and tucks it away.

Karl glances up, grinning afresh upon realizing that Quackity is closer now. Carefully, the smallest bunny in his arms is maneuvered away from the other two and held out to the law student. Quackity carefully takes the little animal into his arms.

It looks up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and Quackity doesn’t think there could be a more innocent creature on earth. He runs a finger over it’s head, between its ears.

Karl nudges Sapnap with his hip and the latter looks up. Both hearts skip a beat at the sight; Quackity petting the rabbit slowly to sleep and looking at it with nothing but mirth in his eyes. Karl looks up at Sapnap. Sapnap looks down at him.

Stretching to his tiptoes, Karl presses a gentle kiss against Sapnap’s lips. It’s returned and they stay like that for a few seconds. It takes a minute to remember where they are.

Quackity watches them and, upon seeing the complete and utter tenderness in the gesture, he feels tears spring into his eyes. God, he wants that so badly.

He looks away before they notice.

He blinks his eyes rapidly and they dry after a moment.

Karl sidles up to him, flopping his head onto Quackity’s shoulder. The law student jumps, and then offers a quick apology as Karl’s head bounces against the bony joint.

“Sooooooooo, what do you think?” Karl asks. Quackity turns to him with a small smile, fingers still running idly through the bunny’s fur. The inside of the barn is significantly warmer than the outside, and they’re surrounded by the sounds and smells of animals; that, plus the mingling scent of the food booths outside and the ever-growing chatter of the crowd that pulses the front of Quackity’s head with the beginnings of a headache.

Karl’s big brown eyes bat up at him, and Quackity wouldn’t leave this place for the world.

“Best I’ve felt since Taco Bell,” He giggles. Sapnap laughs somewhere at his back.

He comes up from behind Karl and the law student, free of rabbits now, and tosses his arms over their shoulders. Quackity stumbles, curling his body protectively around the fluffball in his arms, and falls back onto a hay-bale nearby. Sapnap falls next to him, all laughter and warm touches, and Karl sits on his other side, soft and with the two remaining bunnies still in his arms.

Quackity tries not to squeal. His chest tightens with withheld happiness and he flexes some of his fingers to try and release some of it.

Karl notices.

He glances over his pink-clothed shoulder to where Schlatt is sitting. The latter’s eyes are piercing through his skull by the time they lock gazes. There’s something akin to poison in Schlatt’s eyes. Karl stares back, jaw tightened and eyes as unforgiving as steel.

-

Quackity’s hand trembled as he slowly drew his sleeve up. Bruises of varying degrees of severity splotched the tan skin of his forearm. It was like he’d been grabbed, forcefully, many times over. Karl sucked in a breath, teeth already beginning to grind.

“...Is this a what situation?” He asked quietly. “Or a who?”

He felt sick before Quackity ever even answered.

“...Who.”

The wind ran gently through Karl’s hair as the Ferris Wheel went down. Soft, careful fingertips barely grazed the mottled skin as they explored the abused surface of Quackity’s arm. Karl swallowed heavily, the hand intertwined with Quackity’s squeezing softly.

“What else?”

-

Karl bares his teeth, angling one last glare at Schlatt. He turns back to the other two with a smile. Quackity continues to flex and fist his hand. Karl catches it in one of his own, and laces their fingers together again. Quackity looks up. His cheeks are nearly red from the strain of how long he’s been smiling.

Unlike how Karl and Sapnap have seen him with Schlatt, Quackity seems to be glowing. Sapnap reaches over, petting the rabbit in Quackity’s embrace. The bunny blinks, tiredly, and nuzzles its face against Quackity’s chest.

“That is SICKENINGLY sweet,” He giggles. Karl looks over at the little animal and coos softly at it. Quackity thinks a moment.

“You really like bunnies, huh?”

Karl looks at him. He grins and nods.

“Yeah, my favorite animals.”

Quackity dares.

“You’re both adorable,” He says, setting the bunny on his lap. Karl turns a soft shade of pink, and Quackity runs his free hand through Karl’s hair. “Both of you are really fucking fluffy too.”

Karl giggles. Sapnap’s heart is pounding, unbeknownst to Quackity. Karl’s is racing equally as fast.

But things are cut a little too short a little too fast.

“We gotta go,” Schlatt says, suddenly far too close for Quackity’s comfort. He yanks his hand out of Karl’s. The hand on Karl’s head disappears. Both arms go once again to hold the bunny close. Schlatt walks around Karl, until he’s in front of the three of them.

Quackity drops his eyes to the ground. Fear replaces the giddiness in his chest. Suddenly, his heart is pumping twice as fast for different reasons.

There’s no way Schlatt didn’t see him. No way he didn’t see his hand in Karl’s hair; Sapnap’s hand rubbing gentle circles on Quackity’s back.

“...Why?” Quackity asks. There’s silence for a moment as he studies Schlatt’s shoes.

“Family…emergency,” is the eventual answer.

It’s too forced.

Schlatt’s toe has begun to tap - a tic that comes right before something dangerous. His arms are crossed, fingers digging into his biceps. Quackity can see the slight shift of his jaw as Schlatt grinds his teeth.

That’s one hell of a lie.

-

“And you don’t have family you can stay with?” Quackity asks. “I thought you said your parents lived there.”

Schlatt shook his head, lips curling into a small snarl. The bottle tips back, pouring it’s alcoholic beverage down his throat. He smacks his lips as he sets the bottle back down.

“They do…” He says, trailing off. “...But I’ve been disowned, basically. A family outcast or something like that.”

Quackity wasn’t exactly shocked. He dared to press the issue. Schlatt could get very loose-lipped once he’d had a few drinks, and this was one of the few times Quackity could learn anything new about him.

“Why is that?”

“I’m abusive, according to them. Guess I started one too many fights at Thanksgiving,” He answered, with a dry laugh. “Landing your uncle in the hospital after a bottle to the head can do that to you, I guess. Eventually caught a restraining order.”

Quackity isn’t surprised - and it adds more fear to the already-swirling ball of it in his chest. He glances at the three empty bottles on the floor. He scoots a little further from the man on his right. Schlatt brings the bottle up again, downing the rest of its contents. He rolls over, pulling Quackity back. The law student crashes against Schlatt’s chest. There’s a drunken haze glazed over Schlatt’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t leave me tho,” He coos, pressing a kiss against Quackity’s lips. The latter can taste the alcohol remnants on Schlatt’s lips. He hates it. The scent of cigarettes makes Quackity’s stomach twist.

“I’d probably kill myself if you did,” Schlatt mutters. Quackity’s blood freezes over. “Nearly did after I got thrown out. And then your sweet ass decided to waltz into that bar and now look where we are.”

Quackity feels sick.

-

Quackity’s breathing hitches. The only ‘emergency’ there might be is Schlatt landing Quackity in a hospital once they got alone; Under the the excuse that ‘well, you were all over those guys. You don’t belong to them, do you?’

The law student’s leg starts bouncing. Sapnap notices. He also notices how fast Quackity’s breathing has become. The bunny has hopped off of Quackity’s lap to join its friends - Karl’s bunnies are close behind - and Sapnap realizes how tightly Quackity has his hand twisted into his shirt.

“Oh God, that sounds terrible,” Sapnap cuts in. “You should go. We’ll bring Quackity home once we’re done here.”

Schlatt spares him a glance. It’s not a friendly one.

“Didn’t ask you, pretty boy,” comes the frigid response. Karl butts in next.

“Well, you wouldn’t wanna stress him out too much, right? You go take care of your family, okay Schlatt?” Karl has a sweet smile on his face. It’s coated with selflessness and empathy. But his jaw is bared.

There’s poison just behind his lips.

Schlatt flat out ignores Karl. He leans down, grabbing Quackity’s wrist rather roughly. Quackity winces. Karl almost growls, ready to kick the shit out of Schlatt if another bruise appears. Quackity tries desperately to keep his legs from shaking.

No, he refuses to have a panic attack right here, in front of these two, in PUBLIC.

But things seem to be spinning. Schlatt’s grip is tight, irritating and likely worsening other, older bruises under his sleeve. Quackity doesn’t want to go. 

For a split second he was the happiest he’d been in forever. 

He wants to stay. He doesn’t want to leave. 

Leaving means ending up alone with Schlatt. After that moment, the idea terrifies Quackity. His ribs still ache, and the bruise that he knows runs the length of his spine throbs silently. He’d gotten hurt enough the night Schlatt found his texts with Karl and Sapnap, hasn’t it been enough??

Quackity’s chest is tight, and the warm barn air makes it harder to breathe. He can’t see straight, his legs are buckling and Schlatt is pulling him farther from the only two people that ever made him feel so safe and everything is just too loud too frightening too vulnerable too much -

His legs give out.

He crashes to his knees, wrist pulled unexpectedly from Schlatt’s grip. He falls to the side. His forehead explodes with pain as he hits it on a small rock. His lip screams with a similar pain as they connect with the dusty floor of the barn.

Damn. 

That’s unlucky. 

If he weren’t in this situation, he thinks he might’ve laughed at the irony of it being there.

He’s got some sort of movie luck. The bad kind.

There are shouts around him. He thinks Schlatt swears under his breath. But Quackity pays no attention, focusing on breathing enough to get the swirling colors out of his vision.

High-tops printed with some sort of anime fly by his face. He thinks someone shoves Schlatt away. A fight breaks out somewhere near him. Normally Quackity would want to curl up and die out of embarrassment that this was happening.

He keeps breathing.

There are shouts nearby, and a crowd has gathered. His head is pounding and he can barely pick out words from the screaming match that has started.

“-DID TO HIM-”

“THE FUCK YOU MEAN ABU-”

“-HIM ALONE-”

“FUCK OFF-”

“-AWAY!! WE’LL GET HIM-”

“-HEAR ME?? ALEX BEL-”

“-AME IS QUACKITY, AND-”

He keeps breathing.

Quackity’s head is killing him. He feels hands wrap under his arms, and they pull him against a broad, warm chest. Dark hair is the background for a tan face. 

Sapnap.

Sapnap accepts a container of something from someone else. Something cool presses against Quackity’s lips.

Water pours slowly past them and he drinks it greedily. He thinks he can taste a little bit of blood mingling with the drink. He ignores it.

His beanie is tugged off, but he can’t find it in him to care. Large and gentle hands comb softly through his hair.

It seems like days before new voices enter the scene, and suddenly Sapnap is being urged away, and paramedics are around Quackity.

“No…” he murmurs, half-slurred. He reaches vaguely in the direction Sapnap has disappeared into. Panic is setting in again, and he’s hyperventilating.

Nonononono- Sapnap's gone. His protection is gone. Schlatt's gonna come back, he's gonna force Quackity to leave with him. He's not gonna care about Quackity's injuries, just on getting his own for of revenge. He's gonna-

Someone presses down on his shoulders as he tries to chase after the man he loves.

Quackity struggles, but the paramedics are stronger, keeping him still and pressing an oxygen mask over his face. The cool voice of a stranger coaxes him into following her breathing exercises. He doesn’t pay much attention. 

He wants to know where Karl and Sapnap are. 

He vaguely sees a stretcher being wheeled over.

His headache spikes and he cries out, before losing touch with the conscious world.

Chapter Text

The waiting room is the quietest and loudest thing that Sapnap has ever had to endure. The silence is deafening as he scrolls anxiously through his phone, and somehow, the clock ticks seem louder than they had when he’d gotten here. His teeth pull nervously at a loose piece of skin on his lips. He hardly feels the sting when it comes loose onto his tongue, but he can feel it when the blood starts to bead on the newly-exposed flesh.

He wishes Karl was here. But he’s not. Unfortunately, the police station was closer to the fairgrounds than either of them had known, and Karl had been too caught up in the fight to realize when they’d shown up. He’d landed a good hit to Schlatt’s stomach before they got there though. The glare Karl had given Schlatt as the two were being forced apart by officers was a deadly one. 

Sapnap feels a twisted sense of pride.

Schlatt and Karl had been whisked away by law enforcement later on, and Sapnap doesn’t remember much after that. 

He thinks he was asked some questions by police and paramedics. He thinks he might’ve been offered a ride in the ambulance, but if he had been, he’d denied it. 

One thing led to another and he found himself parking in the lot near the hospital, wondering how in the hell he hadn’t crashed on the way here.

And now he’s here. In the waiting room. With a promise from one of the nurses that he’ll be alerted when Quackity wakes up.

If he wakes up.

Sapnap shakes the thought out of his head. Quackity will be fine. He just got a couple cuts, that’s all. It’s nothing life threatening…

He hopes.

He’s been on Twitter for too long. He tries to like another tweet and gets a notice that his behavior is bot-like, and to try again later. 

Well shit. 

He sighs, tearing a hand through his hair, and switches over to Instagram. Anything to distract him from now.

And suddenly, the silence is broken as a nurse that Sapnap had failed to notice enter the room calls for him. Quackity’s awake. 

He’s okay .

He all but sprints after the nurse, following her down hallways and around corners that he can’t be bothered to remember, until they stop in front of a door and then nurse motions for him to go inside. He hardly hears her reminder of the hospital’s visiting hours before she leaves him.

Quackity’s sitting up, picking at a hangnail on his finger. Sapnap breathes a sigh of relief as he sees no damage to the visible side of Quackity’s face, although that feeling sinks a bit as the latter turns to look at his visitor and two glaring red gashes in his skin make themselves known.

A butterfly bandage holds together a cut through his eyebrow, while two others close the gash that splits both his lips. They must sting.

“‘s rude to stare,” Quackity quips. There’s a small smile on his lips. But he flinches. The injured side of his lips drops and his face lights up with embarrassment.

“Does it hurt badly?” Sapnap asks, making his way over. He sits on the edge of the medical bed. Quackity shrugs, looking down at the hangnail again. It still hasn’t come loose. He tugs harder on it with his nails and a painful sting makes him curl the hand into a fist.

“Not really,” He lies.

He tries to pull the hangnail off one more time and hisses quietly at the pain. A large hand closes over his. It’s almost comical how easily one of Sapnap’s hands can hold BOTH of Quackity’s.

“Hey, hey,” the music major chastises lightly. “You’ll hurt yourself worse.”

Quackity continues to stare at his hands - or rather, at Sapnap’s hand that covers both of his. 

Sapnap has nice hands, Quackity thinks. Soft, firm, gentle, thoughtful. One of his own hands - his injured one - shifts to intertwine their fingers and Sapnap’s palm is so warm . His grip is soft. 

Quackity thinks he’s melting. Maybe Sap would hold him if he asked nicely.

He laughs internally. Just in the last day, he’s been shown more affection than he’d experienced in the last MONTH from Schlatt. At least, more genuine affection.

Schlatt.

Schlatt, who’s not here. Who’s not bursting through the door and trying to invade space and not there to make a mockery of his injuries or make insensitive jokes or-

“...Where’s Karl?” Quackity asks quietly.

“Police station.”

Quackity’s head snaps up, but Sapnap squeezes his hand softly, and Quackity suddenly realizes that they’re alone and oh shit, he HAD in fact grabbed Sapnap’s hand. Quackity gives him a quizzical look and Sapnap explains what had happened after he’d passed out.

Karl had punched Schlatt. Schlatt had been too winded to retaliate, and both were down at the station waiting for their rides home.

Quackity is speechless.

Anyone else that ever learned about how terrible his relationship was - which wasn’t many - had disappeared. Had been too afraid of any possible consequences they might endure if they’d interfered. Had been too worried about themselves to be worried about Quackity.

Never in his life had someone helped. Much less gone as far as to PUNCH Schlatt.

Quackity’s not sure how he should feel.

Sapnap interrupts his brain’s processing with a cough. Quackity realizes very suddenly that he’s clutching Sapnap’s hand like a lifeline and that his forehead is pressed into the man’s shoulder. But he hasn’t been pushed away. Not yet, at least.

“Karl’s always been better at all the touchy-feely love, but um… Do you want a hug?” Sapnap asks. Poorly disguised nerves invade his question, and Quackity bites back a small laugh as he hears the prior swallow quickly. Awkwardly.

Love .

Quackity’s brain latches onto the word and runs. He tries to stop it.

He’s getting too attached.

He nods.

Everyone leaves eventually; They always do.

Quackity leans into Sapnap’s chest as the latter pulls him close.

Look what happened last time he trusted someone with his heart.

Quackity let's Sapnap run hands through his hair.

But last time, that person wasn’t Sapnap. That person wasn’t Karl.

Quackity wraps his arms around the music major in return and tucks his face away in his neck. He’s shaking, he realizes. Sapnap does too. The hand in Quackity’s hair slides down to his back and presses there, firmly and caringly, and Quackity finally lets himself melt into the touch.

There’s no glaring eyes to promise pain right now. No gruff voice telling him they need to leave. Nothing stopping him from letting himself be held and taken care of. He shoves all the bad thoughts into a dark corner of his mind and tries to focus on Sapnap’s gentle embrace, and the patterns being traced on his back.

It’s been far too long since he’s let himself be loved.

Quackity is allowed to leave the hospital that same day. There’s no signs of a concussion or any serious injuries aside from the gashes on the right side of his face. The doctor doesn’t seem convinced, however, when Quackity makes up some barely-thought-out excuse to explain the bruises that the nurses had noticed near his neck and on his arms.

The doctor hands him a bottle of painkillers - sure to cost far more than they should be - for the pain and soon enough, they’re both in Sapnap’s car, cruising down the highway and headed for the police station.

The sun starts to set and Quackity notices how nicely the orangey glow from the sunset colors Sapnap’s face. The natural shadows carve his face into something gorgeous.

Quackity diverts his gaze out the window as heat creeps up his neck and into his cheeks. They finally reach the station as the sun begins to sink below the horizon. Things go by quickly, as everything seems to be today - Karl is brought to the front by an officer and tackles Quackity in a hug. 

Sapnap shares words with a different officer as Karl asks about Quackity. The concern on his face makes Quackity’s heart pound, and butterflies spring to life in his stomach as Karl gingerly traces over his injuries with careful fingers. They seem to slow the tiniest bit as they go over his lips.

Quackity tries not to think about it.

Karl’s questions are seemingly endless, and Quackity can’t help but laugh a little. He envelops Karl in another hug.

“I’m okay, Karl,” He murmurs, letting the smell of rainwater and lilies cement themselves in his mind. “I promise.”

The leftover tension in Karl’s body finally seems to melt away, and he sinks into the hug.

“Pinky promise?” Karl asks.

Quackity feels for Karl’s hand and hooks their smallest fingers together.

“Pinky promise.”

There’s a sigh of relief, and the two stand in an embrace until Quackity hears Sapnap’s conversation with the officer coming to a close. Time to go. Quackity tries not to be too obvious as he quietly takes one more inhale of Karl’s hair.

“Where do you get your hair stuff, by the way?”

Sapnap interrupts the conversation before Karl can reply, slinging his arms around both mens’ shoulders with a laugh. Karl spins around.

“Hi baby,” He chirps, leaning up to kiss his boyfriend quickly.

“Can I now say that I'm living the fanfiction criminal lover life?” Sapnap teases, and Quackity snorts, slapping a hand over his mouth. Karl wheezes and shakes his head as they walk out, saying that it doesn’t count if he hadn’t spent at least a night in jail.

As they exit the doors, someone bumps into Sapnap’s shoulder, and as the two swap quick apologies, the stranger notices Quackity. He cocks his head.

“Alex?”

Quackity looks up and oh fuck oh shit it’s Connor. One of Schlatt’s friends. He must’ve been who Schlatt called to pick him up. Connor looks skeptically at Karl and Sapnap and then back at Quackity.

“What are you doing here?” is Connor’s next question. Quackity is quiet for a moment, before ducking his head and murmuring a soft ‘Goodbye, Connor’. He tugs Karl and Sapnap away and Connor raises his voice to span the growing distance between them.

“What were you doing here??”

Sapnap spins around.

“Drop it, will you? He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Connor seems taken aback at Sapnap’s abrasive response, but he says nothing else and disappears behind the police station’s double doors. Karl and Sapnap don’t push Quackity for information, don’t ask how he knows the stranger.

As Sapnap starts the car, he plugs the aux cable into his phone and clicks on something on the screen. The beginning notes of Britney Spears’ ‘Criminal’ come through the speakers and Karl smacks his shoulder gently. Sapnap and Quackity laugh, and as they pull out of the parking lot, the chorus hits.

“You guys are the worst,” He teases. But he joins in the loud, raucous singing of the other two nonetheless and they speed off into the night singing loudly.

‘But mama, I’m in love with a criminal…’

Karl sits in the back seat with Quackity as they drive home. The night sky is speckled with stars, and tonight’s first quarter moon lights the dark land fairly well. They pass yellowed streetlights and Quackity leans his head against a window, counting each one they pass under.

No one says much. But the silence is a comfortable one.

Somewhere around the sixty-fourth streetlight, Quackity begins to recognize their surroundings - the shopping center with the Taco Bell, the park, a swimming pool, the construction area for a new Starbucks, Schlatt’s friend Charlie’s house.

But then they turn down a street he doesn’t recognize. And another one. And another one. He glances over at Karl with a raised eyebrow.

“Where are we going?” He asks. Karl’s hand, which he’d forgotten that he was still holding, squeezes.

“To mine and Sapnap’s house.”

Panic spikes Quackity’s stomach temporarily. Oh God. Schlatt was gonna be PISSED. 

“Oh- But can’t you just drop me off at mine?”

“We could,” Sapnap replies, eyes never leaving the road. “But the house would be empty and that doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. Plus we don’t know where you live, but given you’re somewhere across the park, I think me and Karl are closer.”

Quackity’s cheeks heat up. Oh yeah… He hadn’t exactly ever given them his address. Karl’s hand squeezes his gently, and the pink-clad man leans over to whisper softly in Quackity’s ear, so Sapnap can’t hear.

“And also because as long as you’re with us, he can’t get to you, okay?” He murmurs. That was true. Schlatt - and Quackity for that matter - had no idea where Karl and Sapnap lived. Quackity bites his lip nervously, weighing his options.

Stay with Karl and Sapnap, stay safe. Out of Schlatt’s reach. Somewhere that he doesn’t have to spend every waking moment wondering what’s gonna set off the next bombshell. Somewhere he can feel safe. Secure.

But life has a way of biting back. 

He can’t stay away from Schlatt forever. God knows what hell he’d bring on himself if he goes with them now; what kind of havoc Schlatt would wreak next time they met. If he goes now, he might be okay - get out of it with a black eye or something. But choosing to go with Karl and Sapnap, only for Schlatt to reappear later? He doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle that.

It’s no competition, really.

“Okay..” He nods, the answer breathy and light. Quackity feels a small sense of relief, but it’s followed by something else - something unsure and worried.

It always is.

“But I don’t have any spare clothes…” He says, louder this time, to include the driver in their conversation. Sapnap chuckles from the front seat.

“You can borrow some of my shirts,” He answers.

“And you can use some of my sweats!” Karl adds. “You look like you’re close to my size.”

“...How long can I stay?” Quackity asks timidly, testing the waters. “I don’t want to be too much trouble for you.”

They pull up to a red light and Sapnap turns in his seat, reaching a hand back to lay on Karl and Quackity’s already-joined ones. There’s honey in his eyes, sweet and all-encompassing. A look over at Karl shows the same. Quackity swallows back the knot in his throat.

“As long as you want to,” Karl murmurs. Sapnap nods, tracing his fingers over Quackity’s knuckles. Quackity exhales shakily and nods, blinking rapidly to avoid tearing up. 

The light turns green and they turn down a final street, pulling into the driveway of a cream-colored house. The front yard is bare, in the light of the moon, save for a small rose garden near the porch and some sort of fruit tree smacked in the middle of the grass.

A lemon tree.

The porch light glows a soft yellow, illuminating the trio beneath it, as Sapnap rummages through his key ring for the correct key to slot into the lock. The oaken door swings open, and Quackity gets his first glance into Sapnap and Karl’s livelihood.

Karl skips inside, flicking on lights and lamps until the whole of the downstairs is flooded in soft light.

The door opens directly into a living-room with hardwood floors, and a large gray couch is pressed up against the wall to the right. Across from that - after the small, oval coffee table - on the far wall is a large TV sat on a giant case of what might be a hundred different games, and a PS4.

At the end of the room is an archway leading to another room, this one with tile floors. Quackity thinks it may be the kitchen. Finally, the wall to the left leads into a carpeted staircase, leading to somewhere above them.

The house lacks the scent of liquor and smoke. It doesn’t have odd little bloodstains on corners where someone has bumped into them too hard while in a drunken stupor. No stains on the couch, no weird marks on the walls, no dirty footprints that had been left carelessly for someone else to clean the next day.

He follows in a daze, sliding his shoes off and into the shoe rack by the bottom of the stairs, making his way to the second floor, following them down a hallway. It takes him a few seconds longer than it should’ve to realize he’s standing in their room.

Karl smiles proudly and sinks onto the bed, where Sapnap has already flopped.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” He says, throwing his hands out. Quackity looks around and cracks a small smile. The room isn’t the largest, but it’s comfortable.

The bed is at least a king size, maybe bigger, and looks about 10 times more comfortable than the one back home. Maybe it’s because the sheets look cleaner. Maybe it’s because the room smells faintly like vanilla. Maybe it’s because Karl and Sapnap are there.

Any one of the three.

Sapnap sits up and stretches, glancing over at the clock.

“Only nine-thirty???”

Quackity blinks.

He becomes suddenly aware of the heaviness in his eyelids, despite the relatively early hours of the night. His injuries ache now that the adrenaline is long gone. Oh yeah, the painkillers. He thumbs the pill-bottle sized lump in his pocket.

“Me too,” Karl says. Quackity shakes off his daze, and cocks his head curiously. Sapnap chuckles.

“You said that out loud, dummy,” he teases. 

That rubs Quackity the wrong way. 

There’s no malice behind the word, no intentional harm meant. But it bounces around in Quackity’s head nonetheless and he bites the inside of his cheek as Sapnap’s voice morphs into one that the law student finds fearfully recognizable.

Karl’s eyes feel like they’re boring into his skull. His smile drops, and he glances over at Sapnap. Quackity lets his eyes fall to the carpet.

“Hey, let’s not call him that, okay?” Karl says softly. Quackity doesn’t see Karl take Sapnap’s hand. He doesn’t see the squeeze, or the warning in Karl’s eyes, or the way Sapnap’s face morphs into one of realization.

“Oh, shi- I’m sorry, man,” the music major apologizes. “My bad.”

He looks up at Quackity. The latter is worrying his lip in between his teeth, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, his chest rising and falling in what looks like a pattern. 

A breathing exercise.

“It’s no problem..” Quackity murmurs, forcing himself to look up at them and plasters on a smile. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, but still,” Sapnap replies. Quackity doesn’t like how unsure he sounds, and makes his way to the side of the bed that Sapnap is sitting on. He sits timidly and places his hand on Sapnap’s arm.

“Don’t think too much about it, okay? I’m not holding anything against you.”

That’s true. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Sapnap looks grateful. His smile makes it a little easier to fend off Schlatt’s voice in his head.

“Now, you were saying I could borrow some pajamas or something?” Quackity asks, changing the topic. Sapnap laughs and bumps their shoulders together.

“Sure do. Would you like a shirt, my good sir?” He asks, jumping up, only to dramatically swoop into a bow. Karl and Quackity’s laughs are a gorgeous melody to Sapnap’s ears.

“Yes please, Mister SaPnaP.” Quackity pops both ‘P’ sounds and Sapnap grins. He waltzes over to the dresser while Karl gets up to go find sweatpants. Quackity stops Karl as he grabs a handful of gray.

“Actually, do you have shorts? I can't sleep comfortably in sweats.”

Karl nods and starts rummaging through the drawers.

A moment later, Quackity is shutting himself into their bathroom, with an armful of black running shorts and a navy blue hoodie with a duck patch on the left breast. As the door locks, he lets himself fall into a mess of giggles and giddy smiles. He muffles it all into the clothes.

It takes a second for him to calm down enough to slide his shirt off.

He tries to ignore the large bruise on his side and chest that reflect in the mirror.

The hoodie is soft and warm, and the shorts feel good as they slide over his legs. The cool air against them is something he hasn't felt in a while. It’s nice.

He ditches his beanie and flips the hood up.

He grins to himself again. Euphoria gathers in his stomach, his hands ball into fists and vibrate with withheld happiness, and he takes a moment to himself to quietly jump around. He relishes in the feeling. 

It’s wonderful to be this happy about something again.

He sinks down against the counter, slapping his hands over his mouth to muffle the laughter that bubbles up his throat. He laughs until his cheeks hurt. 

He should go. He can’t stay in here for long.

Not because they would demand him to leave; He knows they wouldn’t.

He just wants to spend as much time with them as he possibly can.

God only knows when it all could be taken from him.

Quackity pulls himself up and leans against the counter, looking into the mirror. His eyes travel to his bare legs, a sight that had long since been seen.

The fading bruises on his shins and handprints on his thighs made sure of that.

Quackity takes a breath, steeling his gaze with himself.

They won’t judge him for them. They won’t push him. He’s safe now. He’s okay.

The law student gathers his discarded clothing and another smile, a gentler one, paints it’s way over his face. A last giggle slips past his lips.

Time to go.

He opens the door, and steps out into a world of new possibilities.

Chapter Text

Quackity finds that falling asleep is harder than he’d thought it be, since he’s finally somewhere without a loud bastard waking him up every two seconds. The clock reads 12:48AM. It’s not all that late, but they’d gone to bed around 10.

He rolls over, as carefully as he can.

Karl is sleeping peacefully beside him, and it’d be a terrible shame to wake him up.

The broken moonlight spills through the cracks in the blinds and over Karl’s face, illuminating his face almost angelically. His jaw curves softly into even softer curls. The curls drape over gently shut eyes and long, elegant lashes, which trail into pretty peach cheeks squished against a pillow. 

God, Quackity could stare at him for hours. Sapnap snores gently on the loveseat across from the bed as if to agree.

He doesn’t even realize he’s moving until his fingertips graze Karl’s cheek. He freezes. His hand retracts slowly, and tucks itself under Quackity’s head.

Quackity begins the painstakingly slow process of pulling himself into a sitting position without too much movement, and gathers his legs into his arms. His chin sets on his knees.

The bed’s headboard doesn’t harbor his bruised spine very well, but it does provide ample support for his head.

He stares at the ceiling fan, hanging dormant above them. The house settles as the air conditioner kicks on, and a moment later, Quackity begins to feel a soft breeze against his face. Barely tangible, but there nonetheless.

The Ferris Wheel goes up again, cool wind kissing their noses, and Karl grips Quackity’s hand softly. The warmth of his palm comforts Quackity as the words tumble from his mouth.

“He… hurts me…” Are the first words he manages. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to say this. ANY of this. It feels wrong, after quite literal years of keeping it to himself, barely trusting anyone enough to share it with.

 He doesn’t notice Karl’s jaw grinding beside him. Quackity tries to find words to continue, but his tongue seems to suddenly die, and said words evade him.

It seems like Karl knows this. It’s quiet for a moment, and then-

“...Most recently?” He inquires, gently prompting. His tone is cautious, treading on glass shards, hoping desperately that he doesn’t end up triggering anything. 

Quackity is glad that he’s become mostly desensitized to discussion on the topic.

The Ferris Wheel continues to go up and Quackity waits until it pauses at the top to let a new couple in at the bottom. He turns his back to Karl as much as the seat and bar will allow, and pulls up his shirt. 

Karl sucks in a breath. Quackity knows what he’s seeing.

A green and purple bruise, evidently fresh and still forming, travels the length of his spine. Its stark contrast against his skin is almost frightening. Quackity had freaked out upon seeing it for the first time.

“How…” Karl trails off. Gentle fingers peruse Quackity’s back, just barely touching his skin. It’s not nearly enough pressure to hurt.

“Shoved me into a wall,” Quackity replies, letting his shirt fall back into place. “He found your invitation to the fair in my texts.”

He turns back to Karl and lifts the front of his shirt. A giant, glaring bruise of almost the same colors as his spine is splotched onto his ribs. Quackity bites his lip. Karl’s hands are stoic this time.

“This was shortly after the one on my back. I was still against the wall; also have one here.” He touches the part of his chest that's still covered.

Quackity could’ve sworn Karl growled. Quackity gives a bitter laugh, dropping the hem of his shirt.

“You haven’t even seen my legs yet.”

Quackity gingerly grabs the collar of his turtleneck. He drags it down to his collar, revealing the fading handprint shaped bruises that necklace his skin. They’re evidently older. Karl’s mouth falls open nonetheless.

“O-Oh my God-” Karl whispers. “Does he- No way he tried to-”

Quackity shakes his head.

“Strangle me? No,” He replies. The collar is pulled back up. “He’s just a kinky motherfucker, and I absolutely despise it. He couldn’t choke someone properly if his life depended on it. My voice was damaged for days after.”

Now Quackity is sure that Karl growled. The law student realizes, very suddenly, that he’s begun to tremble. He grabs Karl’s hand and tries to breathe properly, before he shakes hard enough to disturb their extremely suspended seat. 

Karl squeezes gently. Quackity squeezes back.

Neither of them speak for a minute, as the Ferris Wheel resumes it’s course and drops them constantly lower.

“And the reason I canceled all our plans up until now… Do you wanna know?” Quackity murmurs. There’s no hesitation before Karl nods, his grip tightening ever so slightly. Quackity swallows hard.

“The night I came home from Taco Bell, I rushed you guys out because he has a curfew set for me,” Quackity admits. “If I come home late, he gets so mad and…”

He sucks in a breath. A phantom pain runs across his cheekbone.

“It's okay,” Karl comforts. “If you’re not ready to say it, you don’t have to.”

Quackity shakes his head vigorously. If he doesn’t get this out now, he may never have this chance again.

“...I got home so late and he…” Another pause. “...He smacked me. So fucking hard.”

While Quackity blinks away the tears that are rapidly forming in his eyes, Karl tries to chase out the practically murderous thoughts that suddenly crowd into his brain.

“I hardly knew you and Sapnap at the time, so I didn’t want you guys to have to deal with knowing about my… relationship problems. So I canceled everything until the bruise healed.”

Quackity laughs the tears away. Dark jokes layer themselves on his tongue, but he bites them back.

Serious. He has to be serious.

“Is that why you were always in the dark while we were on call?” Karl asks. Quackity nods. 

“Yeah…”

Silence.

“And it's not just physical,” Quackity spits out. He tries to stop. But he’s already begun to speak, and it’s all coming out. 

“He likes control. To be in charge. All aspects of my mental state haven't been in proper shape since before I got with him,” He finishes, voice cracking. 

Karl looks over at him again, and the law student forces himself to look back. He almost wishes he didn’t. Karl’s eyes are watery, filled with guilt and hurt and hatred and promises of raising all hell the next time he gets his hands on Schlatt.

Quackity hates it with his whole heart. Those eyes look too similar to the ones he sees at home. The fear must show, because as soon as it was there, it’s gone, replaced with mild panic, worry, and even more guilt.

“I’m so sorry-” Karl rushes. “I just- I can’t stand it when people I love get hurt so badly.”

Love.

Quackity ignores that right now and takes a deep breath, leaning his forehead against Karl’s shoulder.

“It’s alright Karl,” He whispers. “I trust you.”

Karl’s free arm wraps gently around Quackity’s shoulders and despite the awkward angle, Karl doesn’t move. He rubs gentle circles between Quackity’s shoulder-blades, and the only sounds from them are soft breaths and the occasional sniffs.

Quackity feels his beanie being tugged off.

He doesn’t fight it.

He trusts Karl.

Gentle fingers comb through his hair and Quackity melts. Karl cards his fingers through Quackity’s raven locks and down his neck, and the tenderness of it nearly brings Quackity to tears. He tries to even out his breathing as he fights off the tears.

The Ferris Wheel stops a third time, at the top.

And then there’s something else.

Karl moves slowly.

Quackity feels careful, soft lips press against his hair. They linger there and Quackity doesn’t dare move. The dam breaks, and the tears finally fall. Only a few, but they fall nonetheless. They splatter on the back of Quackity’s hand.

The feeling of being cared for, PROPERLY cared for and cared about is practically foreign to Quackity. But it feels so good, and its as if a weight has been lifted from his chest. Its easier to breathe, and there’s more room. More room for acceptance.

More room for love.

Their hands.

Quackity takes a trembling breath. Finally, he flips their hands over and shakily draws Karl’s hand up to his lips. Slowly, and with more anxiety than he’s ever felt before, Quackity presses a kiss against each one of Karl’s knuckles. 

It’s a small gesture, and a light one at that. Gentle lips brushing the skin that would later be an angry red from a punch thrown just a little too hard. Karl thinks he may have died and gone to heaven as his heart explodes watching Quackity present the rare and entirely heart-melting token of affection. Karl sighs against the law student’s hair.

The words tear past Quackity’s lips before he can stop them.

“I love you…”

Karl stops moving. Quackity stops moving.

Both hearts are pounding, but different reasons for both. Quackity’s mind is racing.

Fuck shit oh God he just ruined everything, didn’t he?

They remain frozen for a long while, before one of them comes to a conclusion. 

The line’s been crossed. It’s make or break now.

Fuck it.

“I love you, Karl. You and Sapnap,” Quackity whispers. “You guys make me feel so fucking safe. You're the first people to actually care about me. I haven’t felt this happy - this KIND of happy - in so long, and you two are the only ones who have managed to bring that back to me.”

Quackity expects rejection. He always does. He forces his tears to stop, and he embraces the heartbreak before it can be voiced. He can’t look like he was crying in front of Schlatt.

Karl’s hand, the one resting on Quackity’s neck, drifts up.

It follows his jaw.

It settles over his cheek, and draws his gaze upward.

Karl’s smile is the sweetest thing Quackity has ever seen, and his eyes glimmer under the overcast sky with something so pure and so tender that the law student feels his heart squeeze.

For the first time in years, hope blossoms in Quackity’s chest.

Karl’s lips press against his forehead this time, as the Ferris Wheel shifts and begins to come down. They move softly against Quackity’s skin, and cover him with words sweeter than syrup.

Quackity is grinning into his knees, hands kneading the bed-sheets.

He looks down at Karl, whose head is lying near Quackity’s hip. The moonlight glitters as it hits Karl’s eyes. Eyes that are open. Looking up at the law student through a bleary haze.

The ‘bed-sheets’ under Quackity’s left hand turn out to be the sleeve of Karl’s pajama shirt.

“Hey,” Quackity murmurs. “Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

He glides a hand gently through Karl’s hair. The author closes his eyes and leans into the touch. A tired, contented hum emanates from the back of his throat. His eyes blink open again though, clearer now.

“Why’re y’ up?” He slurs, rubbing his eyes. Quackity sighs, staring once more into the dark abyss of the room.

“It’s not super important,” He replies. “Brain’s just overworking.”

A gentle arm tugs his wrist down. Karl beckons him to lay.

“Wanna talk about it?” The author asks as his opposite slides back under the blankets. Quackity shakes his head.

“Would you like, um…” Karl trails off. The law student cocks his head curiously.

“Like what?”

“Well- I know cuddles help Sapnap sleep easier when his brain gets busy, but I don’t know if you’re comfortable with that much touch, and- oh-”

Quackity slips his arms around Karl’s torso before he can finish the sentence. He pulls them together, and it takes Karl a moment to process the sudden change.

It feels natural. It's like he belongs here. 

Quackity’s brain has just caught up to what he’s done, and he’s a half second away from letting go, when an arm wraps tightly around him.

Quackity feels like he’s floating. Karl’s arms are gentle, laced with caution and affection, and he traces his fingers in gentle patterns against Quackity’s back. He hums appreciatively as Karl makes sure to be light over his bruise. The latter tries to remember the last time he’s been touched like this. It doesn’t come to him.

But screw that. He’s being held now, safe and in the comfort of a quiet home and against a quieter boy. Experiencing a moment that Quackity a year ago was afraid he’d never get to have again. He finds himself holding Karl just a little tighter.

A face buries into Quackity’s chest, and legs tangle with his under the blankets. It makes his face warm. Karl mumbles something into his shirt. Quackity chuckles quietly, shifting his arms to grab under Karl’s.

“I can’t hear you, babes,” Quackity teases. He pulls Karl up until they’re face-to-face. Karl’s legs slide up, settling around his waist now. Quackity tries to squash the butterflies in his stomach as he locks eyes with the boy across from him.

Focus.

“Now,” he murmurs. “What was that you said?”

He can’t see the pink glow that’s creeped up Karl’s neck and into his cheeks.

“I’m happy you’re here,” the author replies, somewhat sheepishly. “With me. With us.”

Quackity feels a blush of his own come on. He leans his forehead against Karl’s. They’re closer than they ever have been, and still the law student can’t help how nervous he gets when he leans still closer to nuzzle their noses together.

A hand settles on Quackity’s jaw, thumb rubbing feather-light circles into his cheek, clipping the corner of his mouth.

They’re close.

So, so close.

Quackity’s eyes flick to Karl’s lips which the pillow has squished into a small pucker.

He giggles, and so does the author.

“Absolutely no pressure,” Karl whispers. 

Neither of them have to specify what pressure, exactly, he’s talking about. But there’s no pressure to be had, as Quackity finds only quiet resolve. An urge to fulfill a fantasy long since begun. Heat swims down his throat in a quick swallow.

“Can I kiss you?” Quackity finally murmurs. Butterflies explode in Karl’s stomach, and it’s all he can do to not squeeze his legs tighter in anticipation and excitement. He feels like he might be floating as he bobs his head up and down.

Quackity leans forward and presses his lips carefully against Karl’s. Karl’s hands slide over the law student’s body, curling into the front of his shirt and holding tightly. Karl tastes like fading mint toothpaste, and Quackity relishes it, trying to memorize every last second of this moment - trying to cement it into his memory.

They’re steady for a moment, clinging to each other, tasting, feeling, wanting . Quackity takes one last risky step.

He takes Karl’s bottom lip between his teeth. And Karl moans .

Time seems to slow. 

Blur. 

Quackity pulls away and they stare at each other in wonder. Karl’s eyes flick to Quackity’s lips again, and the law student can see the braced desperation in his opposite’s eyes. He can feel how Karl’s hands tug unintentionally at Quackity’s clothing.

He closes the gap, capturing Karl’s lips again. This time, passion that was hidden in the pit of Quackity’s stomach bubbles up and he kisses Karl like it’s the end of the world.

Quackity’s heart is pounding as he cradles Karl’s face as if it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. For the first time in forever, he feels complete. In that moment, everything disappears, and Quackity’s world revolves solely around Karl, and the little noises he’s making against his mouth, the subtle - possibly unconscious - movement of his hips, the way he can feel Karl’s fingertips digging slightly into his back through the hoodie.

Quackity doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover. Karl is a never ending fountain of water and Quackity’s just been through a desert.

Euphoria whisks his stomach into knots as their hands intertwine again and Karl pulls at the duck patch on his hoodie, wordlessly asking for the fabric to move. Quackity’s hand pulls gently at his wrist and Karl lets go.

The author’s lips separate from his ever so slightly, and even in the darkness, it’s hard to miss how red his face is.

“Too far?” He asks. Quackity kisses him quickly. Karl, much to Quackity’s amusement, chases his lips when they separate a third time.

“A bit,” he replies. “I’m not exactly proud of how I look, at the moment, since…. y’know.”

“The bruises..?”

“Mhm.”

Karl hides his face in Quackity’s neck.

“Oh… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all, beautiful. I know you mean well.”

Quackity can feel Karl preen at the nickname. It’s impossible to ignore the heat that suddenly floods his stomach. He holds Karl just a little tighter.

They’re silent for a few minutes.

Basking in the blissful quiet.

Holding each other.

Karl’s breath is warm against Quackity’s skin, and as Quackity’s hands explore the author’s back, he finds himself craving hands on his skin. He’s never desired to be touched. At least, not to the degree he feels it now. Schlatt’s touches were either nonexistent or too overpowering, and he found that he never really wanted Schlatt to touch him at all.

But Karl?

He wants to know what Karl’s hands would feel like against his skin. His stomach. His chest. His arms. The urge is completely new to him, and he can feel something akin to need crawling under his skin. He wishes he could be more confident in himself, wishes he could get rid of the damned hoodie.

He gets an idea. People looking always made him terribly anxious. But, what if he…

“Hey Karl? Um…”

Quackity finds it much harder to propose the idea than he’d expected. 

Would this be too far?

Karl looks up at him, with big brown doe eyes and pupils expanded from trying to focus in the dark.

“Mhm?”

Quackity inhales deeply, and feels Karl nestle ever so much closer against his expanding chest.

“Would you…” Here goes nothing. “Touch.. Me?”

Karl raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to assume you mean in a different way than what first came to mind,” Karl murmurs, a small smile cracking his face as he watches Quackity’s face twist into so many different emotions as he realizes.

“Fuck wait- That came out so wrong- I- Jesus Christ-”

He laughs nervously. Karl giggles and presses a comforting kiss against his jaw. It helps ease the nerves. Karl finds it infinitely funnier, and he tucks his head away once again as the giggling shakes his whole body. Despite it being at his expense, Quackity finds the noise almost musical.

He rolls his eyes at himself. Karl’s just laughing, and he’s already falling head over heels AGAIN. God, when did he become such a sap? Maybe he just always was. There was just nothing to really TRULY love about Schlatt.

Quackity snorts.

“I apologize for my lack of asking-things-from-people skills,” He teases, nuzzling against Karl’s temple. The author hums against Quackity’s collar.

“It’s okay,” Karl grins. “Now, would you like to elaborate?”

Quackity bites his lips and his hands find one of Karl’s wrists. The nerves are back. Karl waits patiently, anticipation turning his stomach in every which way. Quackity’s hand brushes against Karl’s leg which oh shit , he forgot was still around the law student’s waist. The small connection shoots warmth into Karl’s chest.

They both can feel the hem of Quackity’s hoodie being tugged up. Karl tries to keep his breathing steady, tries to keep the furious blush off his face, tries to keep his emotions at bay as his palms settle against the soft skin of Quackity’s side.

He looks up and-

Oh.

Oh .

The absolute amount of trust in Quackity’s eyes is nearly blinding. He leans his forehead against Karl’s and the way he’s looking at the author, like Karl is his entire world, awakens a flurry of emotions in Karl’s mind.

His fingertips press gently into Quackity’s skin.

It’s soft, and there’s a slight tremble to it that helps Karl to coax out the question stuck in his throat.

“Are you sure?”

Quackity hums, thinking for a second. Karl kisses him softly. He doubts that Quackity’s let someone touch him like this recently. And with the bruises peppering all manner of skin on his body?

That trust is precious.

“I’m sure,” is Quackity’s whispered response. His lips move slowly against Karl’s. “I trust you.”

I trust you.

Karl thinks it must’ve been said a hundred times today. But now? It means something else. Something more .

Quackity is the most treasured thing that Karl’s ever had at his fingertips.

Chapter Text

The sound of rain outside is what wakes Sapnap up. At first he thinks it might be the shower running, or the remnants of a dream he can’t quite remember. But as his bleary eyes land on the clock that reads 7:04AM, he realizes it’s still dark outside. 

Heavy, dark clouds are glaring down through his window and he realizes that the weather from the day before - which had cleared up for a few hours while he was at the hospital - must’ve come back overnight.

He sits up, joints popping, and promptly realizes how cold it is in the room. The air is practically frigid against his bare chest. His feet hit the floor and he zones out for a moment, staring into the intricate designs of the bed’s comforter as his fingers play with the seam out the loveseat cushion and wait he’s not on the bed .

He blinks.

Clarity finally comes to him, along with the memories of the previous day’s events.

He stands, rubbing his eyes.

Karl and Quackity are curled up under the comforter, Karl nestled comfortably against Quackity’s chest, his brown curls matted against Quackity’s sweater. Sapnap feels his heart warm up as Quackity shifts in his sleep, tucking Karl’s head under his chin.

My boys .

Sapnap laughs softly at himself. He makes his way to the side of the bed. God, he loves those two. It's almost ridiculous how infatuated he is. Would Sapnap from the coffee shop believe this if it were told to him? Would he believe that the nervous, kindhearted boy who’d helped him clean the table after a coffee spill would come to mean so incredibly much to him?

Thunder rumbles somewhere outside. Karl’s face scrunches in his sleep and buries further into Quackity’s sweater. Karl hates thunder. Sapnap flinches as a flash of light turns everything white for a second, followed by a thankfully quieter clap of thunder.

And Sapnap hates lightning. 

How fitting.

It’s almost funny, he thinks. Karl, whom Sapnap had met on his rushed way home from a 7/11. He remembers seeing the man in a soaked purple sweater sitting under the playset in the park. He was shivering. Staring at the black screen of a dead phone. No cars in sight. One thing had led to another and Sapnap remembers watching cartoons that night, Karl curled up in a blanket on the other side of the couch and meaning only to stay the one night.

And now, with the sound of rain pouring down outside and the loves of Sapnap’s life curled up in blankets, the man is hit with a sense of nostalgia. Leaning down, Sapnap presses a gentle kiss against Karl’s curls. He hesitates for a second, before leaning over Karl to reach Quackity, pressing his lips softly against his forehead.

Sapnap misses the way dark brown eyes flutter open sleepily and follow him as he exits the room, padding softly down the hallway. The house is quiet. There’s a chill to the air that convinces him to stop by the thermostat at the base of the stairs.

The heater kicks on a second later.

He falls into his usual stormy day routine, lighting a couple candles in the kitchen so the bright kitchen lights wouldn’t possibly wake Karl - and now Quackity - up, tossing a few blankets and robes into the dryer a few rooms over, and then he starts back to the kitchen. He gathers ingredients and a griddle, deciding to make pancakes.

As he works, his sleep-weary brain thinks about whatever comes to it; The yet-to-be-used Keurig that sits on the other counter, the smell of vanilla and various other candle scents that mingle in the kitchen air, how many different types of glasses they have in the cupboards, the curves and dips that Karl and Quackity’s bodies made under the blankets, twisted together beneath the covers.

He pours. He mixes. He thinks.

Sapnap’s still waking up, and he hardly has the energy to care about what he thinks at the moment, trying not to focus on the times his mind thinks of the two people upstairs and dips just slightly into deeper fantasies.

He laughs quietly at himself and switches on the griddle. It’s too early for this.

Music sounds nice right about now.

He slips his hand into the pocket of his sweats, but his brows furrow as he finds only soft fabric. The other pocket is no help. Shit, he must’ve left his phone upstairs. He glances at the griddle and gives the batter one last stir.

The griddle should be nice and hot when he gets back.

He turns around and heads for the stairs. He freezes in his tracks.

Quackity’s standing shyly at the base of the steps, leaning sleepily against the wall and watching Sapnap curiously. There’s a buzz from his hand. Sapnap’s phone lights up. The butterflies invade Sapnap’s stomach once more.

“Someone called you,” Quackity murmurs, voice still heavily graveled from sleep. He rubs his eyes. He makes no move to approach the music major and seems like he might pass out against the wall at any given moment. Sapnap smiles

He comes up to Quackity and tugs the phone from his hand. There’s two alerts from Dreamie-Poo on his lockscreen - a missed call, and a text that reads ‘sorry, my bad, wrong button lol’. Sapnap slips the phone into his pocket.

“Why’re you up?” He asks softly. Quackity blinks. He looks up and seems to be thinking. Contemplating something. After a moment and a strangely deep breath, he leans up and Sapnap’s heart stutters as Quackity kisses his forehead. Sapnap’s tongue is heavy in his mouth. How does he talk, again? He’s joked about his brain short-circuiting before, but this time it feels like it actually HAS. The law student is blushing softly when he pulls away.

“‘m a light sleeper,” He whispers. This time, heat creeps up Sapnap’s neck as he realizes what Quackity means.

“Oh… I’m sorry I woke you.”

“‘s okay. Was a nice way to wake up.”

It’s at this moment that Quackity seems to realize that Sapnap is shirtless. His eyes sharpen with sudden clarity, all traces of sleep scattering, and his blush deepens. He shoves his hands into his hoodie’s pocket.

“Um…” Quackity clears his throat. “What are you doing?”

Oh yeah, breakfast.

“Making pancakes. Care to join?”

Quackity’s eyes light up and he nods eagerly. But the excitement dampens just a little and it seems like he draws closer into himself. He looks suddenly anxious.

“I mean… If it’s not too much trouble,” he adds quickly. He’s still waking up, and his mind is still fairly foggy, momentarily forgetting where he is. Or rather, where he is NOT. “If you’d rather do it alone, I can go back upstairs…”

Large, gentle hands settle on his shoulders.

‘Sap, I don’t think he’s used to having his own… life, so to speak. It’s like he expects to be pushed aside, or told what to do. If my gut is right - and I really hope it’s not, but I have a bad feeling - I think today we need to try and break that mold as best we can. He deserves so, so much better.’

Sapnap would be damned if he couldn’t offer this amazing man a piece of freedom.

“Quackity, I’d love to have you help me.”

The law student brightens again and it feels like he deflates, the tension seeping away from his shoulders and anxiety slowly leaking from his gaze. They chatter quietly, making their way back to the kitchen. Sapnap takes a minute to retrieve a robe from the still-running dryer. He glances away as Quackity tugs off his hoodie and replaces it with the warm, fluffy fabric.

Sapnap’s heart is racing.

He feels like a middle schooler in love.

Sapnap finds some slow and quiet music, fitting for the day outside, and together they work in tandem. Quackity pours the batter onto the griddle while Sapnap gathers plates, silverware and glasses. The table is mercifully clear as he sets it. He giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Quackity asks, a smile obvious in his voice despite the fact his back is toward the music major. Sapnap goes back to the fridge for orange juice.

“Normally our house is a fucking mess,” he chuckles. “Karl insisted we clean it last weekend though. Paid off since now we have company.”

Quackity laughs softly. They settle into comfortable silence for a little while longer, as the clock ticks past 7:34AM. The outside is no brighter. Quackity pours the last of the batter onto the griddle. This feels so domestic, and for a second, he forgets that he doesn’t belong here. At least, not physically. This isn’t his actual home. But the universe is a terrible mistress, and as the seconds of silence continue, reality comes down. Hard.

He’ll have to go home at some point. If he could even call that place home. God, what would Schlatt do when Quackity finally showed face back at the front door? Never once in his relationship had Quackity ever been gone overnight, much less with someone that Schlatt had discovered Quackity texting behind his back.

Karl and Sapnap had said he could stay as long as he wanted, but surely they were only saying it in the moment. There was no way in hell they’d willingly take him in. That would mean another mouth to feed, another person to take into account whenever they do something, another person to worry about. He’s imposing on them. He doesn’t mean to, but he knows he is.

“Is something burning?”

Quackity blinks, and alarms in his mind go off as he registers the tears on his cheeks and the faint smell of smoke.

“Shit-”

He flips the pancake onto the plate and bites his cheek. One side of it is a nice golden color, and the other is an angry, charred black. His hands are shaking. He hurries to turn off the griddle, and then moves to brace himself on an empty counter space where he wouldn’t accidentally burn himself.

Deep breaths.

“Quackity?”

Calm down, you’re okay for now.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Stop crying, dammit-

Sapnap takes a minute to put the dirty griddle tiles in the sink and then folds the machine up as Quackity tries to regulate his breathing. The latter swipes at his eyes and straightens up. He adjusts the robe where it slipped, revealing the bruised patch of skin beneath it.

Sapnap is at his side a moment later. There’s concern evident in his gaze, but he makes no move to touch the law student. 

“Something up?” He asks. His voice is so soft, so worried, and so full of care that Quackity fears he might tear up again. He just sniffles.

“I’m just… thinking.”

“About what, if I might ask?”

“...Nothing important.”

“Not to be pushy, but if it’s making you cry, it sounds a little important.”

Silence.

No, this is Sapnap. You can trust him.

“Admittedly,” Quackity starts, “it is, but… I’m not entirely ready to explain to you why. I will eventually though, okay?”

Sapnap nods, a smile cracking at the corners of his lips. He’ll do his best to earn the trust he sees in front of him. For now though…

“Would you like a hug?”

“Please.”

The two of them stand in the kitchen for the next five or so minutes, encircled in each others’ embrace. Sapnap leans against the counter and holds Quackity around the waist, hands carding through the fluffy robe and seeking out remnants of its warmth. Quackity’s chin is on his shoulder. 

This feels more than right.

The law student has relaxed fully against him, palms against his back. He’s comfortable, and feels like he’s melting. Sapnap smells like Old Spice. It’s nice. Quackity feels that feeling from last night bloom again in his chest, like a flower come back to life. That feeling of adoration, of everything else fading out for a moment, of being entirely made up of himself and the person he’s pressed against.

“...Hey Sap?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Sapnap pauses. The question doesn’t seem real. No way it’s real. The music major’s stomach is doing flips and he just knows he’s red. God, he’ll be able to make so many brain-has-short-circuited jokes after this. 

Reply, you idiot. Oh, shit, yeah-

“I- uh-” Pull yourself together.

Quackity’s heart begins to pound. Shit, was he not here yet with Sapnap? Did he just bite off way more than he could chew? He hopes not. But as the silence drags on and the air becomes more charged, he wonders if he may have made a mistake.

“You already did,” Sapnap finally says. Quackity pulls back and cocks an eyebrow.

“By the stairs,” He adds. Quackity thinks back as a mischievous smirk grows on Sapnap’s face. Oh yeah, the forehead one. He chuckles, rolls his eyes and decides to pull away, twisting out of the way of Sapnap’s arms as they extend to catch him. He offers a teasing grin and starts walking out of the room.

“You’re gonna leave me hanging?”

The law student pauses. Sapnap’s still leaning against the counter and he runs a hand through his hair. Oh, fuck. Quackity stops himself from sucking in a breath. Leaned against a counter, shirtless and in sweatpants, with messy hair, Sapnap looks breathtaking. Quackity hopes he’s not blushing.

It takes a second to figure out how words work again.

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course.”

With a stupidly giddy giggle, Quackity practically runs back to Sapnap and launches himself into the ravenet’s arms. Sapnap catches him with ease and shivers run down his back as Quackity’s hands slip over his neck, settling on his jaw.

Quackity kisses a second person in two days and he feels a rush of excitement. Unlike last night, this one is playful, fueled by gentle giggles and giddy smiles. Sapnap spins them around and sets Quackity on the counter, fingers dancing lightly over his sides as he tugs him closer.

Their lips alternate between fast and aggressive and slow and teasing. It’s like it was planned. But it’s not and that makes Quackity’s stomach warm. It's as if they were made for each other, perfectly created and choreographed for this moment.

Their lips separate and he whines quietly. Sapnap giggles, before attacking his jaw with light, playful kisses. Quackity gasps, hands suddenly gripping Sapnap’s shoulders as the ticklish feeling travels slowly down his neck. Light stubble makes Quackity giggle as it brushes his collarbone. 

“Fuck off,” He laughs, no real conviction behind the words, when Sapnap starts tickling his sides. He bats at Sapnap’s hands, but they’re caught, fingers interlaced, and held still as the moment melts into something a little bit quieter. 

Slower, more affectionate kisses pepper their way up the other side of Quackity’s neck, until they’re pulled away completely. Brown eyes meet navy blue. It’s like they’re drowned in mirth, affection he’s never felt before, and bare, plain-to-see love.

“You’re amazing,” Sapnap murmurs. Quackity blushes again, eyes watering just a little. He bites his lip and makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust his voice, but squeezes Sapnap’s hands gently.

The latter understands perfectly.

Their lips meet again and it’s slower this time. Careful, curious. Sapnap’s hands drop Quackity’s and come up to settle on his neck. It’s so, so warm, and he feels so incredibly safe. 

Sapnap feels good . He feels like home.

Quackity pulls him closer, until his hips are pressed against the music major’s stomach, and there’s no gaps between them. It feels right. They’re flush together; in some universe, somewhere out there, they might be considered as one. Quackity feels that sense of wholeness return. He wants to be close to them, he never wants to leave, God he hopes they meant what they said in their invitation.

He’d do anything to stay, everything else be damned.

“Finally.”

The two of them are yanked from their obsession with each other, and look over to see Karl sitting at the table. He’s smiling from ear to ear and giggles when they meet his gaze. Both of them flush red, and Quackity pulls himself against Sapanap again, laughing shyly and trying his best to hide himself from Karl. Sapnap laughs as well, but scoops Quackity into his arms. Quackity squeaks. His arms are thrown around Sapnap’s neck.

“Y’all are down here having fun and didn’t think to wake me up?” Karl teases. Sapnap sets Quackity in the chair next to Karl.

“So did Sapnap finally get over himself and kiss you?” Karl asks. There’s an indignant ‘Hey!’ from Sapnap as he picks up the plate of pancakes. The burnt one is tossed into the trash. Quackity blushes again and shakes his head.

Sapnap… had wanted to kiss him? Before he’d asked??

“Nope,” Sapnap says with a grin, setting the pancakes down on the table. “He kissed me.” He heads off again, gathering various toppings from around the room.

Karl takes Quackity’s hand gently. A kiss is pressed to the back of it.

“I’m proud of you,” He murmurs, leaning closer and lowering his voice.

“Thank you.”

Quackity’s eyes flick down to the pretty pink lips sitting a few inches away from his. Karl giggles and Quackity’s face gets redder than he thought possible.

“May I?” The author asks.

A nod.

Karl kisses him softly and Quackity feels warmth explode in his chest. Sapnap returns, setting the bowls of toppings on the table.

“You guys need to stop being so cute or I’m gonna kiss both of you,” He teases. Quackity giggles and Karl pulls away to smack the music major softly in the shoulder.

“Again?” Quackity responds, as he and Karl start piling pancakes onto their own plates. Sapnap smirks.

“Of course again.”

Karl snorts.

“Can we have breakfast BEFORE we start kissing everyone? I’m kinda starving,” He chastises playfully. Sapnap kisses his temple in response.

“Of course, my dear. Whatever you wish. Plus with the amount of chocolate chips you’re putting on yours, you’ll taste sweet at that point too.”

“SAPNAP!”

Quackity almost chokes as he swallows a bite of his food. He doubles over laughing.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it, mister,” Sapnap says, slinging an arm around Quackity’s shoulders from his spot on the law student’s other side. “I see how much syrup you like. You’re gonna be just as sweet as him.”

“Oh my God, Sap. Just let us eat.”

Chapter Text

“Seriously dude? That’s like, your fourth or fifth bottle. You trying to drink yourself to death or something??”

Schlatt scowls as he tips back another swig of his liquor. He kicks one of the empty bottles lying at his feet towards Connor, as the latter comes out of the kitchen. Schlatt earns himself a glare.

“You’re picking all this shit up, you hear me?” Connor snaps. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. I’m not your maid.”

“I didn’t even ask you to stay,” Schlatt mumbles. He tips the contents of the bottle down his throat again.

“Yeah, but I saw Alex leaving the station with two randos that WEREN’T you. And I know how you get when you’re jealous.” Connor flops onto the recliner and cracks open his first can of the evening.

“‘m not jealous.”

“Not jealous, my ass. Then what do you call all this?”

No answer.

They sit in charged silence as Schlatt continues to down the bottle. It seems like a small infinity before he finishes his drink. He lets the empty glass roll down his leg and onto the floor, before sighing and getting up from his seat.

“Are you getting another one?”

“Yeah.”

There’s movement behind him. His wrist is grabbed and he swings around, fist raised.

Connor narrowly avoids a broken nose.

Schlatt tries to yank his arm free, but it’s no use.

“Get the fuck off me!!” He yells, smacking Connor’s arm. He’s yanked away from his destination with such force that he stumbles and falls back onto the couch. He grabs an empty bottle from the cushions.

“THE FUCK HAVE I SAID ABOUT TOUCHING ME???”

Connor backs up a step, hands raised.

“I forgot you’re an angry drunk…” He mumbles. Schlatt doesn’t let go of the bottle.

“Look man,” Connor continues, sounding more frustrated than anything, “drinking yourself into a frenzy isn’t gonna make him fucking come back. Call the damn cops or something, and stop being a moron!”

Schlatt’s seething. 

Connor’s words are grating against his skull, and he wants nothing more than to see if he could land a hit. No one fucking tells him what to do. And sure as HELL, no one calls him a moron.

No one insults him in his own house.

His instincts tell him to swing the bottle. But he doesn’t.

He’s not really in the mood to clean glass off the floor.

“Schlatt, come on-” Of course he’s still talking “-you can’t do this every time something doesn’t go your way. I’ve been here with you since high-school, man, and you do this EVERY. TIME. But getting drunk off your ass isn’t gonna help Alex OR get him back, so you need to-”

“I need to what, huh?” Schlatt barks. “To calm down? To sober up? You’re not my fucking parent, Connor, and I sure as hell haven’t asked you to stick around, so it’s your own fault if I end up breaking this goddamn bottle over your head!!”

His volume grows with each word.

For a second, Connor looks uncharacteristically fearful. The next, he’s glaring and his fists are balled.

“I’m just trying to be a decent friend, Schlatt. From what I’ve seen, Alex is good for you, man. He’s-”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Schlatt interrupts, waving at Connor dismissively. He beelines for the kitchen. Heavy footfalls come from behind him and something in him snaps. With an enraged shout, Schlatt whirls around and throws the bottle at Connor with as much power as he can muster.

Thankfully, all the alcohol in his system has thrown off his balance. The bottle misses Connor’s head and smashes into the wall behind him, spraying glass shards everywhere. Connor freezes.

Everything’s quiet for a second.

Then-

“Goddammit, now there’s glass everywhere…”

Connor goes red with rage.

“IS THAT ALL YOU CAN FUCKING THINK ABOUT? YOU COULD’VE FUCKING KILLED ME, AND YOU’E WORRIED ABOUT MAKING A MESS??”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Connor.”

“Schlatt, don’t you d-”

“GET OUT!!”

Schlatt is seeing red. 

He doesn’t register lunging forward.

He doesn’t register shoving Connor as hard as he can.

He doesn’t register Connor’s pained shouts as his hands slide across broken glass.

He doesn’t register his foot slamming into Connor’s side.

He doesn’t register anything until Connor is stumbling to his feet and making his way to the door. His eyes are wide and watery, from pain and from fear.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to make sure you haven’t pulled any bullshit overnight,” Connor hisses, wincing as his hand grabs the doorknob. “Fuck you, Schlatt. Seriously. I hope your hangover hurts like a bitch.”

The door slams and Schlatt is alone. He resumes his mission, grabbing another bottle from the fridge and somehow making his way back to the couch without falling onto shattered glass. He growls as he pops the lid off.

The liquor fills his mouth and slides down his throat.

Somehow, it tastes infinitely worse than it usually does.

He spits it back out. It splashes his pants, but he doesn’t care.

He knows Connor is trying.

Trying to be the one constant in Schlatt’s life after everyone else left. Connor has always been so stupidly set on trying to keep Schlatt on the right track, and Sc hlatt knows he’s just made a mistake.

But of course, he’ll deny it. He’ll pretend it went differently. Connor was in the wrong. Connor pushed Schlatt’s buttons.

Connor brought this upon himself.

Schlatt doesn’t like being overwhelmed. But the conflicting emotions in his mind don’t listen to his wishes and he screams in frustration, chucking the entirely-full bottle at the wall.

Great. There’s more glass and now alcohol everywhere.

Sitting still suddenly seems impossible. He needs to break something. But he doesn’t know what. He heads for the stairs.

The vase at the top of the stairs meets its fate as Schlatt backhands it on his way past, sending it flying over the railing and shattering with a semi-satisfying crash! onto the floor below. 

Make that glass, alcohol, water, flowers AND ceramic he has to clean now.

He’s nearly to his room when he remembers something.

It’s been a long day, and he’d nearly forgotten about the small weight sitting in his back pocket. He fishes out an iPhone. A navy blue iPhone, who’s lockscreen is a picture of a duck with something reminiscent of Saturn’s rings around it. Planet Duck is written in light blue next to it.

A little doodle. Cute. It makes him angry, pisses the hell out of his already-drunken state of mind. His own words echo back to him.

“And if you try to pull any fancy stunts, or if I even THINK that you’re trying to get a hookup or something, I will break this.”

He’s never been a promise breaker.

Now, he wonders. Hammer, or second story drop?

-

“I’m sorry about dragging you with me,” Connor says, for what must be the fifth time that morning.

“Your hands are hurt, man. I couldn’t just leave you to do this by yourself,” Charlie answers behind him, also for what must be the fifth time that morning. “Plus, he’s my friend too. And if it was even half as bad as you were telling me…”

He trails off as they reach the door. It’s been left unlocked.

“Jesus Christ,” Connor mumbles as he pushes open the door. He enters immediately into the living room, and it reeks of alcohol. Shattered glass remains where it had been the night before, and Connor’s bandaged hands ache as he fists them in memory of their injuries.

“God, what’s that smell?” Charlie asks from behind him. Connor grimaces.

“Alcohol. He must’ve broken a full bottle.”

“Jesus Christ.” Charlie echoes Connor as he peeks around his shoulder. “How drunk WAS he?”

“Four or five bottles in at least,” Connor answers as they make their way in. “Watch your step. You might end up with glass in your shoes.”

Carefully, they make their way around the glass shards (Connor grimaces as he notices some shards dark with dried blood) and Connor groans as he notices another mess. Wilting flowers, surrounded by blue ceramic and the unmistakable water-stain on the hardwood floors sits a few yards away, under the second floor balcony. The vase that normally sits on the table by the railing is conveniently missing.

Connor sighs.

“Every time, I tell him I’m not his maid, and yet every time, I’m back. Cleaning up all his messes.”

“Your heart’s in the right place,” Charlie says, clapping him on the shoulder gently. “You’re a good friend.”

“Sometimes I feel like I might be TOO good,” Connor murmurs.

They spend the morning cleaning the downstairs area, sweeping up the glass, cleaning the alcohol, the flowers, and the ceramic. 

Schlatt wakes up sometime around one-thirty. 

Connor’s chilling in the front room on the couch, scrolling idly through his phone. Charlie’s laying across the cushions, legs thrown across Connor’s lap. He’s snoring quietly. Connor had insisted that Charlie go home, but as the latter had pointed out, they'd shared a car on the way here AND he also wanted to make sure Schlatt was alright.

Loud footsteps exit Schlatt’s upstairs room and Connor’s head snaps up as the stumbling figure of his friend slams open the door to the bathroom next to his bedroom. A few seconds later and Connor cringes as the telltale sound of Schlatt puking into the toilet can be heard.

Charlie blinks wearily.

“He up?”

“Yeah.”

Charlie pulls himself into a sitting position and Connor hops up, jogging up the stairs and peering through the bathroom doorframe. Schlatt’s bent over the toilet, having probably heaved his guts out. He gasps for breath and groans, pressing his hand to his head.

Connor snorts.

“Hurts like a bitch, don’t it?”

Schlatt jumps, flipping off Connor as he notices him standing there.

“You fuckin’ scared me.”

“Good.”

The two stare each other down, until Schlatt gags and Connor looks down at his feet as Schlatt retches again. He walks over to the railing and calls down to his friend.

“Charlie, can you grab Mister Drink-Until-Hungover-Me-Hates-Past-Me-For-It a glass of water? Pretty please,” he asks. Charlie laughs and hops up, disappearing into the kitchen as requested. Connor goes back to leaning against the doorway.

“Charlie’s he-here?” Schlatt asks, voice trembling from strain. Connor nods.

“Yeah. Fixed me up after you decided to make a bang-up job of my hands,” Connor says, holding out his bandaged hands for Schlatt to see. “Told him I was coming over, since I figured you hadn’t cleaned up for yourself, and he insisted on coming with.”

Schlatt looks over his friend’s hands and there’s a flicker of regret.

“Sorry about that,” He mutters. He winces as the bathroom light feeds his raging headache and Connor snickers.

“Hurts like a bitch?” He asks again.

“Yeah…”

“Good. That’s my revenge taken care of. Consider your sins forgiven.”

The dramatism Connor puts on the last part makes Schlatt chuckle. The motion makes him throw up a third time, but it seems that he’s thrown up all his stomach had. He dry heaves for a few seconds, and Charlie appears behind Connor.

“Someone requested water?”

Connor moves to let Charlie in, and Schlatt accepts the glass, swishing a mouthful around in his mouth and then spitting it out. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly. Charlie hums.

The rest of the afternoon is passed fairly unceremoniously, with Charlie and Connor taking the household responsibilities upon themselves. Schlatt settles on the couch, after getting a change of clothes (he’d fallen asleep in the clothes from yesterday), and the three of them exchange pleasant conversation as the hours drag on.

The relative peace is shattered, however, as Charlie and Connor are packing up to leave.

Connor is up in Schlatt’s room, searching for a phone charger. He rounds the bed and nearly steps on more broken glass. He blinks. There’s a phone on the ground a few feet away, and a hammer lies next to it. Judging by the broken screen and few dents that pepper the floor around it, it’s not hard to guess what happened. 

He picks up the phone, careful not to touch any of the broken glass and tries to turn it on. The screen remains black. A closer examination of the phone makes Connor furious. He recognizes the small duck sticker on the back of it; He’d given Alex a pack of them for his birthday.

He forgets about finding the phone charger.

Connor storms out of the room as Charlie shoulders his small bag, and is silent as he thunders down the stairs and up to Schlatt.

“What the fuck is this?” He snaps. He brandishes the broken phone in front of Schlatt’s nose. Schlatt raises an eyebrow.

“A phone,” he answers nonchalantly.

Connor grits his teeth. His friend was drunk last night, so this could easily be a result of his incoherent state of mind at the time. But why did he have Alex’s phone in the first place? The kid takes it with him everywhere.

“Schlatt.”

“Connor, what’s wrong?” Charlie asks. Connor shows him the phone and Charlie’s face twists into shock.

“It’s Alex’s phone,” He says, lowly. Charlie’s stare switches to Schlatt.

“What the hell, man?” He asks. “You don’t just do that to someone else’s property.”

“I bought that for him,” Schlatt mutters. “Technically, ‘s mine.”

“Why do you even have it??” Connor interrogates, sounding increasingly more and more exasperated.

“None of your business,” comes the cold response. Schlatt refuses to meet his eyes, drinking more of the water from the bottle he was holding. Connor tries to stay calm. But his friend has, over the last couple days, begun to seem more and more like a stranger.

“Schlatt, why’d you break it? This was your chance to communicate with him!! You could’ve known where he was by now!” Connor pushes. Schlatt rolls his eyes.

“Deserved it.”

“What?” Now it’s Charlie’s turn to sound shocked.

“Decided to go dancing off with two other guys like a fuckin’ whore or somethin’,” he grumbles. He chugs more water as Connor and Charlie remain speechless. Never in all their time knowing Alex had they ever heard Schlatt use that kind of language in regards to the law student.

“Why would you ever talk about your own boyfriend like that??” Connor isn’t even the one being insulted and he feels offended. Charlie looks disappointed, noticeably further from the two of them than he had been a minute ago.

“He decides to go talking to two strangers behind my back, meet up with them and LIE to me about it, and then he goes off and spends the night with them?? What do you want me to call him, a fuckin' saint???” Schlatt snaps. Connor steps back. He doesn’t recognize Schlatt like this. All he’d ever heard about Alex was praise, be it sometimes a little vulgar, but it was praise nonetheless.

“Dude, you don’t know if he even likes them!” Charlie adds. Schlatt shrugs.

“He was practically undressing them with his eyes. Probably got fucked by both of ‘em last night or someshit.”

He growls at the thought, and there’s a look in his eyes that Connor can only describe as violence. He finds himself praying that Quackity doesn’t decide to come back. God only knows what Schlatt might do if he does.

Connor shakes his head violently and backs away, turning and urging Charlie to the door.

“Jesus fucking Christ man,” Connor says, accusingly. “If that’s how you’re gonna fucking talk about him - if that’s how low you think of him - then I hope he stays away.”

He throws the phone back to Schlatt’s feet.

“If this is how you treat him, then he doesn’t deserve you,” Connor adds as he steps out the door. Schlatt shoots him a glare that could wilt flowers.

“Get out of my house before I throw another bottle at you.”

Connor reels at the threat. This time, he can’t blame it on the alcohol.

He slams the door in Schlatt’s face.

Chapter Text

He only meant to stay for a night or two.

But as he wakes up on day twelve, Quackity wonders if he’ll ever get up the guts to go back. This is like a dream come true.

Quackity from a year ago would’ve never believed the life he was living now.

The law student nuzzles closer against Sapnap, listening contentedly to the soft snores coming from above him. They rumble deep in Sapnap’s chest and the noise is comforting. Karl had rolled over in his sleep, his back now facing the two of them, but his fingers remain still loosely tangled with Quackity’s. The position his arm is in can't be the most comfortable.

As if a mind reader, Karl shifts again. The movement jostles the mattress, and Quackity holds his breath, wondering momentarily if it would be enough to wake Sapnap up. But the man remains still.

Karl’s hand leaves Quackity’s as he rolls over. His cheek presses firmly against the latter’s shoulder now. Quackity laughs a little.

This isn’t the first time he’d woken up like this - sandwiched between Sapnap and Karl. But it’s the first time he’s woken up first . 

He’s woken up plenty of times to other things - Sapnap’s hand running gently over his back or shoulders, Karl’s fingers carding through his hair, soft kisses on his forehead, quiet conversation on both sides of him. 

Once, on the singular occasion he HADN’T fallen asleep between them, he’d woken up to Karl laying on top of Sapnap and kissing all over his neck and chest. Sapnap looked like he was fighting tooth and nail to stay quiet. The way his hands were clutching Karl’s sides gave Quackity the idea that he was probably trying to keep himself from moving too.

It was kinda hot.

Quackity had merely shut his eyes again, thankful neither of them had noticed him, and hoped he wasn’t turning red. He waited until Sapnap had gotten up to use the restroom before ‘waking up’.

Neither Karl nor Sapnap knew about that.

His life, in the last week-and-a-half, had seemed like a completely different world. Karl and Sapnap were a break in the clouds of his stormy life. A breath of fresh air after a room full of smoke.

If he wasn’t sure before, he was overly-certain now: These two were the loves of his life.

And had he mentioned that to them yet?

Nope.

As ridiculous as it sounds, he wasn’t sure they’d feel the same. 

Even on the Ferris Wheel, Karl had never said ‘I love you’ back. And sure, they’d kissed MANY times before this morning. And on more than one occasion, he let Karl get a little touchy. And maybe, after a burst of confidence, he’d heard Sapnap whimper after a few well-placed hickeys.

So what? 

The doubtful thoughts were never far behind.

What if they were only here for his body? Or his physical affection? What if this whole thing was fake - a sham, to help him feel better about himself before he went back to Schlatt?

God, he hates this. He hates feeling so unsure of himself.

Half of his brain feels like it’s screaming at him ‘THERE IS NO WAY THEY COULD BE MORE OBVIOUS THAT THEY WANT YOU TO BE WITH THEM’, while the other half says ‘but what if they don’t…’

He swallows hard. He needs to stop this once and for all. He needs some sort of conformation in order to shut his mind up. And he’s dreading it.

They should’ve had a talk a long time ago.

-

Lunch that day is served on the couch. Normally Sapnap is adamant that they eat at the table so they don’t need to worry about dishes being where they shouldn’t be, but today is a lazy day. Right now, they’re watching cartoons and eating grilled cheese.

Quackity volunteers to take the dishes to the sink.

He decides to wash them too, to give Sapnap a little bit of a break, and to let himself think. Anxiety spreads limb-numbing tingles through his body.

He doesn’t want to disrupt their nice afternoon. But he knows that a discussion needs to happen, sooner or later. And he’d rather have his heart broken sooner so he doesn’t stay longer than he has to, although he’s fairly certain that that line has long since been crossed.

“Are you washing them, too?” Karl asks, suddenly right behind him. Quackity jumps, dropping the plate into the sink with a loud clatter. Thank God it’s plastic.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Karl apologizes with a gentle laugh. He rubs Quackity’s shoulders reassuringly. Quackity laughs and shakes his head.

“You’re good. Warn me next time, though,” He teases. Karl giggles. He lays his chin on Quackity’s shoulder.

“Need any help?” The author asks. Quackity bonks his head softly against Karl’s.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“You sureeee?”

“Karl, it’s literally three plates and three cups.”

Karl laughs. He squeezes Quackity’s shoulders again as he straightens back up.

“If you insist,” he teases, in a weirdly British accent. He presses a quick kiss against Quackity’s temple. “Come back soon. Your legs make comfy neck supporters.”

“You mean pillows?”

The little teasing grin Quackity gets in response makes his heart flutter.

As Karl skips back toward the couch, Quackity gets that weird feeling again. The place where Karl’s lips touched him seems to burn. Once again, his brain goes to war, arguing with itself about whether or not the kiss was legitimate or meant anything at all.

He gulps.

As he washes the dishes, he tries to figure out where he would even start with the conversation. What would he say? Would they hate him for questioning their feelings? Would they consider him stupid if they WERE genuine and he was too much of a mess to realize? God, what would he do about Schlatt if they were for real?

Schlatt.

Technically, they were still boyfriends. Quackity had failed to break up with him before his trip to the hospital. Starting a new relationship without ending the old one just feels wrong, no matter how bad Schlatt is. But he’s jumping too far ahead of himself. New relationship? How could he even consider that when they haven’t spoken about it?

He sighs as he places the last dish on the drying rack.

Well, here goes nothing.

He decides on getting answers before his mind catches up to him. Against his better judgment, he throws out whatever bits of a plan he managed to muster up as he beelines for the couch. If he thinks too much, he might chicken out.

And while this wouldn’t technically be the last chance he has to talk to them about it, he knows that if he doesn’t ask now, he’ll lose the nerve to ask for quite a little while.

He stops by the armrest and bites his lip.

“Karl? Sap?”

Karl looks up with a smile. But it drops as he registers the look on Quackity’s face. Confusion and worry gather in the beautiful brown that are Karl’s eyes. Quackity nearly decides to postpone the talk, just so he doesn’t need to see that look anymore.

Karl elbows Sapnap gently, breaking the latter’s attention from the TV. Quackity’s fingers are twisted together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

“Hey Sap, pause the TV,” Karl says, sitting up from his position lying across Sapnap’s lap. The noise from the TV stops and Quackity notices that Sapnap is looking at him now. His eyebrows are tilted up. His gaze matches Karl’s in worry.

No, you can’t back out now. This will be good for all of you.

Wordlessly, Quackity sits back down. Unlike previously though, he doesn't snuggle up to Sapnap. He presses himself into the corner of the couch.

His stomach is twisting itself into knots - he’s never felt this afraid in his life. Not all the times he’d faced down Schlatt when he was blackout drunk. Not when Schlatt had discovered his hidden relationship with Karl and Sapnap. Never before had he felt this type of fear. To call it sickening would be an understatement.

The armest is hard against his back. It’s not really the same as having Sapnap there to lean on. Karl scoots closer, although he’s definitely being more cautious now.

“What’s on your mind, Q?” He asks, gently.

Quackity can already feel tears behind his eyes. God, he hasn’t even started speaking yet. He looks over Karl’s face. Thoughtful, careful, gentle Karl. His eyes are the brightest, softest shade of brown that the law student has ever seen on a person in his life.

He takes as steady a breath as he can.

“...What is this?”

Confusion is quick to become the domineering emotion in Karl’s eyes. Sapnap cocks his head. There’s a worried crease between his eyebrows now. 

Quackity sucks in a deep breath. Anxiety is coursing through him like a wildfire, numbing his legs and making him feel just a little sick. He forces himself to relax his hands as pain starts to bloom in his knuckles.

God, he feels like he’s letting everyone down.

“I mean, what are WE?” He clarifies, forcing the words out before he can second guess himself. There’s a look of realization that hits Karl first. Like a wave, it rolls over Sapnap next. Sapnap opens his mouth to answer, but hardly gets the first few words out before Karl grabs his wrist.

“Hang on babe, he’s not done,” Karl reprimands gently. Quackity wonders how he knows. Everything about Karl seems far too good to be true. There’s no way a human this perfect could know everything about what’s going through Quackity’s mind, exactly how to comfort him, exactly what to do and say to make him feel so, so safe.

Everything Karl had been and done for him over the last month or so… Quackity had never met anyone who could soothe him in all the right ways. Who could read him like a book. In Quackity’s mind, everything about Karl was perfect.

Too perfect… 

Unless he knows what it feels like. 

How it feels to be in Quackity’s shoes.

The sudden realization that maybe he doesn’t know EVERYTHING about Karl shakes Quackity to the bone. He silently prays that Karl was just born this intuitive.

Quackity tries to shelve the thought for now. He distracts himself. Formulates his next thought.

“I mean, I know we’ve kissed on more than one occasion, and I know we sleep in the same bed, and you guys are so incredibly nice to me, but… I don’t know, my brain keeps wondering if you guys are just with me to make me feel better,” He continues. Karl understands. Sapnap, however, is a different story. He looks just a little more confused. But as the silence stretches on, it’s like something clicks. He catches Quackity staring.

Heeding to Karl’s previous recognition, he motions for Quackity to continue.

“Or because I’m attractive, somehow,” the law student adds. “I guess I’m just used to people using me for themselves, and not being entirely sure what feelings are real and which are just a product of something in-the-moment. I’m just… really confused, and I’m sorry if it’s obvious and I’m just an idiot, but I keep coming back to that and being with Schlatt has made me really bad at reading people right and…”

He forces himself to stop. Too much. He’s spoken too much. He hasn’t even told Sapnap about his trauma yet, he realizes. They’re gonna end up overwhelmed, and they’re gonna tell him to shut up, and they’re gonna tell him that his feelings are just a ton overthinking and that he should only say that much if it was ACTUALLY important, and-

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Karl asks. The soft edge in his voice nearly makes Quackity cry. He continues to be far too understanding for it to just be intuition.

Quackity shakes his head vigorously.

“I’m just rambling…” He murmurs. “I don’t wanna annoy you.”

Karl turns to Sapnap and points at a pillow on the other side of the couch.

“Grab me that, will you, love?”

As Sapnap moves to grab the pillow, Quackity curls up, looking everywhere except for Karl. The pillow is passed to Karl, who holds it out for Quackity. The author smiles reassuringly.

“This is something that’s obviously been on your mind for a little while, so whatever you have to say about it isn’t just rambling. Sometimes it’s easier to talk about serious things when you have something to hold and hide in,” He comforts. Quackity gingerly accepts the pillow, hugging it tightly to his chest. It does make him feel a little better. 

Karl scoots a little closer to Quackity and motions to the space between himself and Sapnap.

“Do you wanna sit between me and Sap while you talk?”

Quackity feels a little bad for shaking his head.

“Not… Not right now, sorry,” He whispers. Karl nods and scoots back towards Sapnap, leaning against his chest.

Quackity continues, this time studying the embroidery on the pillow closely.

“I, um, I like you guys, I really do,” He admits.

There it is. Out in the open now. His hands begin to shake.

He can’t bring himself to look at either of them.

“Seriously, you guys have made my life so much better, and you guys are just… incredible.” He speaks while fighting back tears.

The next thought feels like fire coming from his mouth.

Time to either burn the bridge, or light another flame.

“I fucking love you guys, who am I kidding? And I already told Karl, so Sap, I know this is a first for you. But really, I really actually love you guys and I never wanna leave you.”

There are tears on his face now, fuck. He realizes how childish he must sound. Crying, begging, sounding like a clingy mess. But the bridge might already be burning, and he’s not sure how much time he has left. He tries to rush out the rest of the thought without stumbling too much.

“But, I don’t know how you guys see me. As stupid as it sounds - after all we’ve been through since the fair - I’m really not sure, and it’s confusing me really, really badly. I don’t know how much of this is out of pity, or how much is genuine or if I’m just making up things in my head to help myself cope with all the shit Schlatt put me through…”

Quackity takes a deep breath, before burying his face in the pillow.

“I just… I really don’t wanna leave you guys…”

There’s silence for a minute.

He doesn’t see Karl look at Sapnap, with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t see Sapnap, looking stunned and all-together more in love. He doesn’t see the way Karl’s hands twitch, aching to reach out and soothe the poor boy sitting on his couch, overwhelmed and insecure and more than a little afraid.

He doesn’t see Karl and Sapnap’s wordless agreement.

“Hey Quackity..?” Sapnap asks softly. Quackity hums, never taking his face out of the plush material of the pillow.

“Are you okay with being touched right now? If you’re not, that’s completely okay; we can talk from here.”

For a moment, there’s no response. 

Karl’s hand has found its way to Sapnap’s arm and is squeezing with nerves strung tight as a cord. And then there’s another hum, quieter this time, as Quackity slowly, fearfully, looks up. He nods, searching their faces for what Karl knows is, in Quackity’s mind, imminent disappointment.

Karl reaches out with shaking arms and Quackity, sensing none of the rejection he feared so badly, lets himself be pulled into a tight embrace. Karl is so warm, and his fingers are careful and light against Quackity’s back.

There’s a looseness to the hug, a message that Quackity is free to pull away if he needs to. It's so gentle, so thoughtful, so loving.

The law student finds himself crying again, pressing his face into the author’s neck. Sapnap hops up for a moment, moving around them to Quackity’s other side. He sits down and scoots close, using one hand to rub gentle circles between Quackity’s shoulder blades.

“We should’ve talked about this so much sooner,” Karl murmurs. The other two nod. Karl looks up, smiling at Sapnap with tears on his face.

“Would you like to say it, Nick?” He asks, his voice cracking. Quackity’s breath catches. Was this something they’d discussed before? He pulls away and turns to look at Sapnap, tearing up again as he finds even the music major with a few tears down his cheeks. But his eyes are accepting and kind and brimming over with all sorts of adoration. Large hands slide up Quackity’s neck to cup his cheeks.

It feels so safe.

“We love you too, Q,” He whispers, a watery grin splitting his face. “God, we would talk about you all the time. We’ve hoped that maybe you’d end up as a part of our relationship at some point, but we didn’t want to force the thought on you.”

The disbelief on Quackity’s face melts into a smile that every so slowly grows bigger, and Christ, if it isn’t the most incredible thing Sapnap’s seen in his life.

“...Really?”

Quackity’s voice is filled with hope, and love and just a pinch of desperation. He looks so star-struck, and it’s something that will be burned into Sapnap’s memory for the rest of his life. For the first time since they’ve met, Quackity looks free.

Actually free.

“Really,” Karl murmurs from behind him. His arms wrap around Quackity’s waist and he hugs him tightly from behind. Quackity pulls Sapnap close, sandwiching himself once again between his soulmates. Quackity continues to cry softly into Sapnap’s neck.

“You’re amazing, Quackity,” Karl murmurs.

“And beautiful,” Sapnap adds.

Beautiful.

A quick intrusive thought tells him that Sapnap is lying. He can’t be beautiful. Not with his bruises. Not with his scars. Not with all his baggage.

Quackity swallows hard as he realizes that he’s never explained Schlatt’s behavior to Sapnap. He remembers how he did with Karl, and how he’d promised Sapnap 12 days prior that he would explain one day.

If there were ever a ‘right’ moment, it would be now.

He lets himself hold and be held for a few minutes longer, though, as he gathers the courage to break the tender moment.

After a short lifetime of trying to please everyone, he lets himself be selfish, even if it’s just for a second.

But when he finally does, when Quackity finally decides to open his heart to Sapnap as well, he will find nothing but acceptance. As he recounts to Sapnap what Karl already knows, he’ll find that Sapnap is willing to listen. 

Quackity shows him the faded bruises, and Sapnap is quiet. 

He tells Sapnap about being punched, about being violated, being hurt and degraded.

Sapnap takes it all in. The emotions behind his eyes swing like a pendulum.

Every time Schlatt is brought up brings out the anger. Every bruise Quackity shows him bares his sadness. In 15 minutes, Sapnap will have reacted to 2 and a half years of Quackity’s life.

Karl squeezes Quackity’s hand as he explains. He fills in with what he’s already been told when Quackity gets too choked up. The law student apologizes for not telling him sooner.

For telling Karl and then not him.

Sapnap’s heart pounds against his chest as he processes the information he’s just been given. Just been trusted with.

He wishes he could turn back time. He wants to find the younger, more innocent Quackity and keep him away from everything he went through. He wants to take all the pain, all the sadness, all the hopelessness and throw it back into Schlatt’s face.

But he knows that there’s no room for wishful thinking. Sapnap knows that what’s done is done. The past will remain the same. He can’t change Schlatt’s actions. He can’t make the bruises go away. 

But he can make promises.

And so he does.

He promises the beautiful boy in front of him that he’ll do everything in his power to make him happy. He promises protection, and security, and communication and a lifetime of unconditional, unwavering love. 

He’d promise him the world, if he ever asked for it.

Love, affection, power, happiness, comfort, he offers him everything and more.

Quackity asks if that means he gets to keep waking up against him.

Sapnap says yes, as long as that’s what he wants.

Quackity asks if that means he can stay.

This time, Karl chimes in as well when Sapnap says yes.

Quackity accepts their offers of kisses and asks if this means they want him, too.

Karl’s lips trace up the back of his neck, peppering his skin with tingly, sweet love, and Sapnap’s lips move gently against his. Warmth bursts out in Quackity’s chest like fireworks.

It’s sweeter than his first night with Karl. It’s more tender than his first morning with Sapnap.

Nothing holds a torch to this.

As Karl and Sapnap each murmur ‘yes’ into his ears, Quackity knows that their names have been burned into his heart, into his psyche. They entwine themselves into the very threads of his soul. 

New marks have been created, and this time, Quackity prays that he’ll never recover.

Chapter Text

Quackity is breathing hard.

He finds himself hidden in between two bread racks in the furthest corner of the store, his cart abandoned four or five aisles away. He clutches his arms and slides down against the wall, trying not to panic. But every movement puts him on edge and every person who emerges from an aisle makes him jump, tremble.

Every face that turns his way he expects to be the one.

In an effort to not burst into hysterics in a public place, he tries to recount how the hell he’d gotten here in the first place. Fractured, rushed memories run circles in his mind, and in his panic, he finds that he can’t focus properly on one.

Phone, where’s your phone?

He feels frantically around in his pockets, but the familiar object is nowhere to be found. Shit, shit, shit. He’s trying to breathe, but it's getting harder and harder to take deep breaths.

The lights are too bright. 

Are they shining on him?? 

Someone’s trying to out him. Trying to get him in trouble. They’re shining a spotlight on him, and they need to stop, stop, STOP -

When did the shopping carts get so loud? Are there people nearby? 

Crap- 

He doesn’t wanna seem like he’s crazy. 

He realizes that he hasn’t breathed in about a minute. He gasps for air and tears slide off his eyelashes and onto his cheeks.

Stop crying, dammit, you’ll get the cops called on you or something.

No, no, not the cops. He JUST got the ‘okay’ to stay with Karl and Sapnap, and that is NOT the kind of stress he wants to put on them. It's only been 4 days.

He presses himself harder into the bread rack and as his eyes jump from one face to another, he feels like they’re all looking at him. Surely they are; he’s so loud, so obvious. How can they NOT be looking?

Why is he hot? 

Why does everything suddenly feel uncomfortable? His pants crease in ways that just feel wrong against his legs. They didn’t feel like that a few minutes ago. But then again, a few minutes ago he wasn’t on the ground in a heap.

Someone’s in front of him. They’re staring down at him.

“Alex?”

Quackity jolts and smacks a hand over his mouth. No, don’t scream. The person crouches down in front of him.

“Hey, hey, Alex take a breath, man.”

The person leans closer and Quackity’s eyes squeeze shut; he doesn’t want to face his imminent fate. There’s hands on his arms and he smacks them away, pressing himself harder against the wall. 

Fuck, no he doesn’t wanna go with them.

He can’t go back. 

No, no, no-

Careful fingers touch his cheek. He nearly smacks at it again when he realizes that the touch is cautious. Cool fingertips tap against his cheeks. It’s not violent. Panicked, careful, Quackity opens his eyes.

“...Charlie?”

Charlie breathes a sigh of relief and pushes his glasses up his nose. He nods, dropping the hand on Quackity’s face.

“Yeah, it’s me. You good, dude?”

Quackity shakes his head, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Of course he’s not, Charlie. The kid’s two seconds away from passing out.”

Connor. He must be standing behind the bread shelf where I can’t see.

“Fair, fair. Stupid question on my end,” Charlie says. He turns a worried look to Quackity. The law student is wringing his hands together so tightly that they’re turning white. His eyes are searching over Charlie’s shoulder for something. 

Or someone. 

Now Connor’s at Quackity’s side too.

“You look scared, man. What’s wrong?” Connor asks. Quackity’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he tries to find an answer. Believe it or not, admitting that seeing your abusive boyfriend at the store was enough to trigger a full on panic attack is not something that's easy to talk about.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the universe sometimes knows when to give the answer itself.

A few aisles down, Quackity spots a familiar sweatshirt step out into the walkway. That damned New York Yankees baseball cap is something that will likely be branded into Quackity’s brain forever. And the sideburns.

Those fucking sideburns.

A dead giveaway.

Quackity’s breathing picks up again. He grabs at the fabric over his chest. Panic turns his body warm and he grabs Connor’s arm with enough force to make the latter wince. Charlie and Connor follow his gaze down the corridor, and Charlie realizes it first.

“Shit, shit, shit- Can you stand, Alex?” He asks, rushed. Quackity’s legs feel like jelly, but he refuses to make himself any more of a problem than he already feels like. 

He nods quickly, and with Connor’s help, he stands up, gripping Charlie like a lifeline. It takes a few deep breaths before Quackity’s sure his legs won’t give out, and he lets go of Charlie’s arm.

“Connor, go make sure he doesn’t see us,” Charlie says.

“On it.”

Connor jogs away and Charlie walks with Quackity back towards the sliding front doors of the store. 

Quackity blinks. 

It doesn’t seem real, somehow. Time goes both so quickly and so slowly as they head for the doors.  Somehow, it takes eons for them to get outside. Aren’t these Schlatt’s friends? Why are they helping him?

A minute is the fastest thing he’s ever experienced. But as the cool evening air hits his face, suddenly it’s like he’s back in the present; back in his body. 

He can feel his hands. His legs are slowly coming back to him. The tingling in his limbs is fading.

He takes a shuddering breath. It feels nice.

“You come in a car?” Charlie asks. Quackity shakes his head.

“Walked,” he murmurs. He thought the walk might do him some good. And it DID, when he’d started out from the house. But now he regrets not asking either Karl or Sap to use the car. Charlie bites his lip.

“I’d offer to drive you back to wherever you are now, but the three of us only came in one car,” Charlie says. Quackity bites his lip.

“Wait, but aren’t you like, Schlatt’s best friend or something? How come you’re not asking if I wanna go back to his house?”

Charlie sighs and motions for Quackity to follow. They walk over to a bench nearby and he spares the law student a short glance.

“We went over to his house a couple weeks ago. The day after Connor said he saw you leaving the police station with some other guys, actually. He’s…” Charlie pauses. Quackity hates that he knows what the prior is thinking.

“A huge jackass?” Quackity offers. He gets a small laugh in return.

“Yeah, basically. He started talking about you and it was NOT in a good way. Smashed your phone to hell and back, too.”

The law student can feel his heart sink. That phone was his most prized possession; his escape. That was at the top of his list of ‘Things To Get Back From Schlatt’.

Guess not, now.

He feels tears prick at his eyes, and scrubs them away. 

Seriously? You’re about to cry over a phone?  

It sounds stupid, but it doesn’t feel like it.

“...have to live like that?”

Oh yeah, Charlie’s still talking. Quackity shakes his head quickly.

“Sorry? I missed that.”

“Oh, no problem, you’re good. I was asking how long you’ve had to live like that. He’s a MESS, dude. And a total jackass, like you were saying,” Charlie reiterates. Quackity heaves a breath and looks down at the sidewalk. A small trail of ants line the cracks in the concrete nearby.

“Couple years, now. Believe me though, if I could’ve left, I would’ve,” He explains. He fidgets with the ring on one of his fingers. Charlie cocks his head.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s…” Quackity shuffles through possible responses for a moment. “...not something I wanna get into right now, sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! Totally get it. Me and Connor have been over to Schlatt’s house like every other day since the police station, and I’ve seen some shit. Just in these last two weeks, too. You were LIVING with him. For what, like two years?”

Quackity nods. “Something like that.”

“Jesus, man. I can only imagine how that was.”

They sit in silence for a minute, before Charlie offers to let Quackity call home and ask for a ride. He takes the phone and punches in Karl’s number. He wonders momentarily if he should’ve called Sapnap. He lets the thought go before it lingers too long; the chance of Sapnap punching Schlatt if he saw him was too high right now.

Another thought says that they should probably have another talk about that. That idea is filed away into the corner of his brain for Important Things To Do That Aren’t Top Priority Right Now.

As much as he would love to see Schlatt get sucker-punched, he’s not really up for a fight at the moment.

The phone clicks and a moment later, a familiar voice floods over the line.

“Karl Jacobs speaking. Who’s this?”

Quackity nearly sighs in relief.

“Hi, Karl.”

“Quackity??”

“ Sí, señor,” he replies with a small chuckle.

“Where are you calling from? I didn’t think you had a phone! Wait, no that’s not important right now. Why are you calling? Did something happen at the store?” Karl sounds worried, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“Can you come pick me up? I’ll explain it once you get here.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in two seconds. Lemme get Sapnap-”

“No!”

A small, tense pause.

“I mean,” Quackity backtracks. “I’d rather you didn’t. You’re less likely to cause a scene than he is, I think.”

Karl doesn’t speak for a moment. The law student glances over at Charlie, who’s picking at a hangnail. If he’s listening, he doesn’t show it.

“Is he there?” Karl asks the question so quietly, it almost doesn’t come over the staticky line. “Did Schlatt show up?”

Quackity breathes a small, equally quiet, “Yes.”

He can hear rustling over the line. A screen door creaks open and shuts. Faintly, in the background, he can hear Sapnap calling for Karl, but the author doesn’t respond. Wind washes over the microphone, and it’s deafening; Karl must be running. Keys jingle, another door opens and shuts.

“I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Thank you…” Quackity murmurs. He hangs up and hands the phone back to Charlie. The two exchange minimal words after that. Charlie’s phone goes off a few times in succession, but while he answers those, Quackity leans back and stares up at the sky.

The clouds form various shapes, and he lets his mind float off to join them. A bird over there, an apple drifting off behind a tree, a swan that’s begun to break off into smaller clouds. 

He’s still so drained from his breakdown in the store, and right now, being a cloud doesn’t seem like a bad idea. 

He’d be so free.

What WOULD it be like to be a cloud? He smiles a little. Just staying up there, against the blue. Floating around all willy-nilly, raining occasionally. He chuckles at the idea of little kids in the park looking up and trying to figure out what shape he is.

A duck, he thinks. Yes, definitely a duck. Maybe the sun. No, wait! Saturn. Yeah, looking like a fluffy Saturn would be sick.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Quackity’s clouds turn into a thunderstorm and he jolts out of his daydream.

Fuck.

Schlatt’s standing there, less than six feet away. His arms are crossed, and there’s a wry smile pressed onto his face. A hand grabs Quackity’s shoulder from behind and instinctually he jumps and smacks the hand off, whirling around to face a stunned Charlie whom he’d forgotten was there.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Don’t apologize,” Charlie says quietly. “Just come here."

Quackity ducks behind Charlie. Schlatt scoffs and looks the latter dead in the eyes. His eyes are poisonous. Were it not for them being in public, Quackity would be genuinely worried for Charlie and his safety.

Schlatt was a terrible person, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Why the fuck are you hiding, Alex?” Schlatt asks, never looking away from Charlie. Sizing up his prey. “You’ve been gone for so long, so why not come here and gimme a kiss?”

Quackity shudders and steps farther away. Charlie’s gaze sharpens into something deadly.

“Leave him alone, will you?” He snaps. Schlatt’s grin turns into a snarl.

“And why are YOU defending him? Tryin’ to make my life worse or something??” Schlatt spits. He makes a move to shove past Charlie, and Quackity whimpers softly. He scrambles back.

The small noise of fear from Quackity snaps Charlie’s heart in half. He catches Schlatt with his arm and shoves him away, into the chest of Connor who’s just emerged from the store.

“I said, leave him alone. Are you fucking deaf or something?” He challenges Schlatt.

There’s new danger now, real and palpable, and Quackity’s no longer sure that being in public will protect Charlie anymore.

“He ran the fuck away to go sleep around like some fucking prostitute or something, and you’re trying to DEFEND him??? HE ruined MY life the second he decided to abandon me, and you’re sitting there like his precious little knight in shining armor,” Schlatt hisses.

A wave of guilt swamps Quackity in a rush. He ruined Schlatt’s life? Something in his brain tells him to snap out of it, that this is just gu ilt-tripping and that he is in no way responsible for Schlatt’s choices.

But he finds himself considering something he hasn’t in a long while.

He didn’t mean to do any of this but...

...would going back fix it?

“Alex, do NOT listen to him. Absolutely no one blames you for any of this. He fucked up his own life by being a dick,” Charlie says over his shoulder. Quackity grits his teeth and tries to take some solace in that.

But… I was the one to leave first… If I had just stayed, we wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be risking your friendship and, God forbid, your LIFE for me…

“What the FUCK, Charlie? I thought you cared about me. I thought we were friends,” Schlatt pouts. Quackity cringes. 

There it is. 

Charlie scowls.

“Oh, no. Your manipulator bullshit won’t work on me. I AM your friend; but unlike you, I have a soul and would rather my OTHER friend not have to suffer some sort of mental decline because you’re being an asshole!”

Quackity looks up. Friends? Is that what Charlie considered them? A few weeks ago, he would’ve disagreed. But right now, with Charlie glaring down Schlatt, Quackity wonders if maybe that’s possible.

Stranger things have happened.

Connor watches from behind Schlatt as Quackity pulls nervously on his own sleeves, eyes shooting from Schlatt to Charlie and back again. Poor kid looks like he’s about to collapse. Even from here, Connor can see him shaking like a leaf. He’s either about to pass out or run.

“Schlatt,” Connor mutters. He tugs on the prior’s arm, glancing anxiously around at the crowd that’s gathered. Some of them are filming; others are talking into their phones, shooting the spectacle nervous looks. “You’re making a scene.”

“Do I look like I care?”

His hand is shaken off. He grabs Schaltt’s arm again and pulls, much rougher this time. A young man emerges for the crowd and it looks like he might be coming to try and separate them. Connor growls at him, and the man stops. He hesitantly backs into the crowd again.

“No, but I care. If you get the cops called again, I WILL leave your ass in that cell for the night. Maybe longer.”

This time, Schlatt turns to look at him. If human eyes could change colors, Connor imagines that his opponent’s would be blood red.

“Is that a threat?”

He can’t back down now.

If he did, Charlie wouldn’t have anyone to help him if the situation escalated. And Quackity… He can’t leave until he knows that kid is safe.

“Yes. Now shut the hell up and get your ass back to the car.”

Schlatt looks at him with something akin to murderous intent. But he merely shoots Quackity and Charlie one more venomous look and spins on his heel. Connor sighs in relief as Schlatt stalks back to the car.

But of course, the universe takes this moment to poke the metaphorical bear.

“QUACKITY??”

A voice rises over the quiet murmur of the crowd and Connor’s blood runs cold as Schlatt freezes in his tracks. He turns slowly and his eyes stalk the figure of a young man who shoves his way through the crowd. 

Quackity’s head is swiveling wildly. But as the two of them meet each other's eyes, Quackity makes a break for it. Charlie keeps a careful eye on him as he runs, poised to run after him should a threat arise.

Quackity crashes into the stranger’s chest, hugging him tightly and trembling in his embrace.

“So you ARE cheating on me. Did you EVER love me, you bitch???”

The crowd gasps.

The loud, gruff shout comes from directly behind Connor. Said man flinches as the voice booms in his ear. Schlatt’s breathing is heavy and heaving; his hands are curled into white-knuckled fists, and his teeth are grinding in a way that Connor has come to know precedes disaster.

The stranger - a curly-haired brunet - looks up. Connor is surprised when the smaller man easily matches Schlatt’s deadly stare. Quackity glances up, but just as quickly buries his face back into the man’s neck. He shakes his head vigorously, and his hands move up to cover his ears.

The man in the purple hoodie speaks for him.

“No.”

It’s not a shout.

It’s merely a word.

It rocks the whole parking lot.

Someone in the crowd yells ‘OH SHIT-’. Connor grabs Schlatt’s arm again as he spins around to look for the perpetrator. As his eyes scan over the crowd, all the quiet chatter screeches to a stop.

“If you fucking attack a stranger, I will NOT be paying for your bail,” Connor growls quietly. That, of all things, seems to register, and Schlatt turns his attention back to the three across from him. Charlie has since moved, stanced in front of the two men now.

He’s ready to protect them if he has to.

In the distance, Connor vaguely registers police sirens. Shit.

Regardless of if they’re for Schlatt or not, they have to leave. Now. But Schlatt seems more interested in screaming down the man holding Quackity. No matter how hard Connor tugs on him, he ignores it. His yelling is drawing attention even from the people on the other side of the street.

“YOU STOLE HIM FROM ME!!”

“You chased him away on your own.”

The stranger holding Quackity in his arms takes Connor by surprise. A quick tongue. Sharp one, too.

“YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO CARE FOR HIM LIKE I CAN. THAT BITCH NEEDS ME.”

“Evidently not, given that he’s been without you for what, two weeks now?”

No one’s ever dared to backtalk Schlatt. No one besides Charlie or Connor, anyway. Anyone who did would inevitably be intimidated or threatened into silence. But this new man is rock solid in his demeanor. He carefully strokes Quackity’s back, stopping every so often to rub circles between his shoulder blades.

“WHY YOU LITTLE-”

Schlatt storms forward. Charlie’s fists raise and he braces for a fight. But Connor’s had enough. 

He grabs and yanks. 

Schlatt stumbles and falls.

“SCHLATT. THAT’S ENOUGH.”

The taller man glares at him from the ground.

“Now get your ass to the goddamn car before the cops show up, or so help me God I'll throw you in jail myself,” Connor snaps. He points towards the car and his ‘friend’ looks ready to run him through with the nearest, sharpest object.

But he doesn’t.

Schlatt merely pulls himself to his feet and sends another deadly look towards the new couple, before storming away. He pauses, though, and Connor has just about had it when-

“Leave Charlie.”

“What??”

“Charlie stays the fuck here. He can walk back to his house.”

Connor stands in disbelief. He looks over his shoulder and Charlie looks shocked. He looks hurt.

“I’m not leaving Charlie here because you’re having a fucking temper tantrum!”

“He wants to ruin my life so bad, he can fucking stay out of it. If you come back to the car with him in tow, I will drive away and leave you BOTH here.”

Schlatt shoves his way through the crowd before Connor can answer, knocking more than one person to the ground. They yell angrily after him, but no one dares to pursue.

Connor glances around.

Everyone’s looking at him expectantly.

“WHAT? YOU WAITING FOR A MAGIC TRICK OR SOMETHING? SHOW’S OVER,” he yells. A few people trickle away, but a majority don’t move.

“I SAID FUCK OFF!!”

He spins in a circle, meeting the eyes of as many people as he can. He tries to make himself look as intimidating as possible.

Somehow, it works.

The crowd finally starts to break. Distantly, Connor realizes that the sirens are gone. The realization gives him a little relief; at least he won’t have to waste excess energy getting that bastard out of jail a second time.

Some passersby who weren’t in the crowd glare at him and cover the ears of the children beside them. He sighs. 

Fuck, was he this drained when they got here? 

He rubs his eyes and turns back to Charlie. The latter is now talking to the stranger, and fussing over Quackity, who’s rubbing his arms and looking extremely shaken.

He joins them.

“Hey.” He extends a hand to the stranger. “I’m Connor.”

He receives a skeptical look, before the man shakes his hand.

“Karl. Are you a friend of Schlatt?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, yes. Or at least, I think so. Maybe not so much after today. But I’m basically just his babysitter. Making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

He’s met with silence. He can almost imagine the stranger - Karl - saying ‘well that whole event seemed pretty stupid to me’.

Quackity tugs on Karl’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“He’s okay, Karl. He helped me back in the store. And from what I remember, he’s not that bad. I’m pretty sure he’s also kinda stuck with Schlatt, y’know?”

Karl’s shoulders relax a bit and he cracks an empathetic smile, thanking both Charlie and Connor for making sure Quackity got out of that okay. Charlie smiles and says it’s no biggie. Connor agrees. Schlatt might be a dick, but that doesn’t mean they have to be.

Connor almost feels bad when he has to cut the conversation short.

“Charlie?”

He looks over expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I, um… I don’t know what we should do about-”

“You go, dude!”

Connor blinks. Charlie chuckles and gives him a smile, making small ‘shoo’ motions with his hands. “Really! I’ll be okay. My house isn’t even that far!”

But they’ve been friends for years. Connor can see right through him.

“Charlie, your house is like, three hours away WALKING,” Connor argues. “Just come on, we’ll talk something out with Schlatt.”

Charlie’s agreeable facade drops just a little. He tries to keep up the chipper attitude, but Connor knows he’s hurt. Schlatt’s never done anything like this to him before. Betrayal is a knife, and it cuts Charlie deep. He shakes his head

“Dude, no. You know how he gets when he’s mad. I’m pretty sure he WILL just drive away without both of us if I come back too.”

Connor sighs. He feels bad. Guilt boils up in his stomach and doubt swims through his mind like a fish in water. He should be better than this. He should go up to Schlatt and give him a piece of his mind. Tell him that Charlie IS coming whether he likes it or not. But a part of him knows that his friend is right. 

He hates that.

He hates that one person can have so much power over them.

“He can come with us,” Karl offers. The sudden offer catches them off guard. Karl giggles at the shock on Connor and Charlie’s faces.

“I have no problem driving him. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ and all that, y’know?”

Quackity rolls his eyes. So dramatic. But thus is the life of an author.

“I appreciate that, dude!” Charlie grins. Connor thanks Karl profusely and Karl waves it off, saying that they have nowhere to be anyway. Quackity nods in agreement. The small group exchanges quick goodbyes, and Connor gives them one last thumbs up before making his way back to the car.

Karl watches to make sure he’s able to get in, before turning back to the other two. He brings up Quackity’s hand and plants a gentle kiss to the back of it. Charlie notices Quackity’s face has melted into something tired and sad. His eyes are lidded and glazed over and he just looks so worn out .

It’s a little worrying.

“So Karl, where ya parked?”

-

“So he prefers being called Quackity?” Charlie asks as they turn onto his street. Karl nods.

“Yup! Said he feels more comfortable with that,” Karl explains. “Didn’t Schlatt tell you?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“If he knew, he never said anything. He just always called him ‘Alex’.”

Karl groans. “I hate that guy.”

“I can imagine why. This house on the left.”

Karl nods and pulls up to the curb, putting the car into park. Charlie turns in his seat, looking into the backseat where Quackity sits, gazing blankly out the window. He looks like he hasn’t even been listening to them talk. To be honest, Charlie had thought he’d fallen asleep. 

Charlie bites the inside of his cheek as he sees just how drained the kid looks.

“You want the front seat, man? This is my stop,” he asks. Quackity blinks, like he’s coming back to reality. He shakes his head and manages a half-smile and a nod of appreciation. Charlie dips his head back and makes short work of getting out of the car.

“Take care, Quackity,” he says through the open window. “And it was nice meeting you, Karl!”

“You too, Charlie!” Karl replies. Charlie waves and heads across the front lawn. Karl watches him until he disappears into the house before he pulls back out onto the street.

The car is silent for a few minutes.

The tension in the car is noticeably there. It makes Karl nervous.

“How you holdin’ up back there?” He asks softly, glancing in the rear-view mirror. Quackity doesn’t even spare him a glance. Karl notices too how tired he looks. It's like the life has just been sucked out of him. All the vitality is gone, and even his clothes seem duller than they were before. 

“Hungry?”

Still no answer. 

Karl doesn’t want to push too much harder. Quackity’s obviously out of it, and looks like he just wants to go to bed. Karl doesn’t blame him. He’d barely gotten there at the end of the fight, and his blood is practically boiling at the thought of whatever else Schlatt might’ve said before Karl had arrived.

There’s another 15 minutes of silence, until Google Maps tells him to get off the freeway. He decides to try one more time.

“There’s a Jack in the Box a few blocks down. Do you wanna grab something while we’re out?”

Quackity’s nails dig into the back of his hand. He winces.

“ No . I just wanna go home.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as irritated as it does. But there’s a bite to the words, and Karl knows that the limit has been reached. He nods.

“Home it is, then.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the drive.

Quackity feels that familiar sting behind his eyes. Fuck, did he just mess this up? He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but today was just… too much. Surely Karl knows. Surely he knows that Quackity doesn’t hate him, and that he’s not angry. He’s just overwhelmed.

The law student swallows the lump in his throat. 

He doesn’t want to do anything except go back home and lay down for a while; maybe take a nap. He can’t bring himself to look in the mirror and try to see Karl’s face. He doesn’t wanna see the hurt he may have caused.

He looks back out the window and tries to fight off the tears as they continue down the road.

It’s another 10 minutes of silent hell before they pull into their driveway.

Karl turns the car off and he turns in his seat. Quackity’s heart drops and he closes his eyes preemptively, waiting for Karl to scold him for yelling.

“You look so tired, hun. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

His voice is so gentle, and it makes Quackity’s chest squeeze. 

He doesn’t deserve this. Any of this.

Maybe Schlatt was right…

Karl hops out of the car and as soon as the door closes, Quackity lets out a quiet sob. A few tears come. He swipes them away defiantly. He doesn’t wanna cry until he’s in the safe, hidden protection of their room. 

He sits in the backseat and continues to brush away the occasional tear as he watches Karl open the door and yell. Probably for Sapnap.

Sure enough, said man runs over to the doorway. He looks over at the car as Karl speaks to him, before taking off back into the house. Quackity tries to regain his composure as Karl returns to the car.

Karl opens the back door and offers a hand to help. But Quackity doesn’t have the energy to take it. 

He doesn’t deserve this. 

He forces himself to get out of the car, and beelines for the house as soon as his feet hit the ground. The door closes behind him.

Quackity doesn’t have the heart to look back. He thinks that he may have angered Karl, and that’s not something he wants to bear witness to.

He shoves open the door and wraps his arms around himself as he walks in. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

Sapnap runs back down the stairs, eyes widening as he watches Quackity cross the living room to get to the stairs. The music major opens his arms, offering a hug if it’s needed. But Quackity brushes past him. He pays it no attention.

“Quackity! Are you okay?” The concern in Sapnap’s voice is overflowing and Quackity bites back another sob. 

He doesn’t deserve this either. This kind of care.

He jogs up the stairs.

“Karl left so fast, what happened? You guys are okay, right?”

Quackity shakes his head with a quiet hum and disappears into the upstairs hall, leaving Sapnap behind. He hears Karl join the latter at the base of the stairs.

“Give him some space, hun. He’s had a rough day. If you can go start boiling some water for tea, I’ll explain it to you while you do that,” Karl says.

That’s the last thing Quackity hears before he shuts himself in their room. The rest of the sobs finally break free and he sinks down against the door, burying his face in his hands and crying as quietly as he can manage.

He remembers that sick grin Schlatt gave him, looking like a predator who has just found his prey. What would’ve happened if Charlie and Connor hadn’t been there? Quackity doesn’t wanna think about it. He just wants to forget. He wants to go to bed and pretend this never happened.

Bed.

He pulls himself to his feet and notices that, on the bed in front of him, are his favorite duck hoodie of Sapnap’s and the shorts he always sleeps in. Along with that, a corner of the covers have been pulled back, revealing the inviting sheets below.

He nearly starts crying again.

So that’s what Karl was telling Sap to do.

He doesn’t deserve any of this.

Eventually, he’ll climb into that bed. He’ll curl up in the hoodie and shorts and pretend it’s not 5 in the afternoon. He’ll listen to the neighbors swimming in their backyard, Sapnap and Karl’s quiet footsteps downstairs, the birds outside.

A dove has made its nest near the window.

He’ll hope to anything out there that might listen to him that he still gets to stay. He’ll hug one of the pillows and pretend it’s one of his partners - God, it feels so weird to say that now after over a month of denial - since he won’t be able to bring himself to go down and see them himself.

Finally, once he’s had a while to calm down, he’ll tell himself that they’re not mad. He’ll try to convince himself that they understand. It’ll help a little. But as he starts to hear unexpected quiet crying from downstairs, he’ll wonder if everything is REALLY okay.

He’ll fall into a fitful, dreamless sleep as the sun touches the horizon.

Chapter Text

Sapnap combs his fingers carefully through Karl’s hair, massaging his scalp as Karl lets out a contented hum from below. The author is curled up on the couch, his head resting on Sapnap’s thighs. It’s hard to tell if he’s fallen asleep or not.

The TV plays quietly in the background. Its soft light spills gently over the living room and right now, it’s the only light on in the house.

His eyes wander up the stairs until the wall cuts off his vision to the hallway.

Are you okay, Quackity?

He’s itching to go up and check on the law student. He remembers how miserable Quackity had been upon entering the house; curled in on himself, arms wrapped like armor around his body, eyes lidded and dull.

Sapnap wants to go to him. To try and fix what happened, even though he knows that the damage has been done. There was no fixing anything.

But per Karl’s suggestion of giving him some space, he stays put.

Karl.

He looks down at the mop of curly hair in his lap and sighs, tucking it behind his lover’s ear. Karl’s cheeks are pale under the shifting TV light, but the shine of dried and drying tear tracks says that they’re probably bright pink. Puffy too, like his eyes.

Sapnap’s heart cracks a little more. He gently rubs away the evidence that there were ever any tears at all.

Karl’s heart is big. He was probably the kindest and most empathetic person that Sapnap’s ever met. But leaving himself so open to things often left him vulnerable too, and easily made emotional.

Karl liked to love. He liked to help. If he could take all the pain in the world on to himself, he would do it in a heartbeat so that no one else would have to bear it.

God only knows how badly he’s tearing himself up after this evening.

Sapnap remembers hearing the door slam open and Karl shout his name. It sounded urgent and for a few seconds, dread shot up his spine; at least, until he got to the door.

“Go grab Quackity’s pajamas, babe. And get the bed ready,” Karl ordered. Rarely had Sapnap ever heard Karl so strict, so no-nonsense; Thus, he merely nodded, saving his questions for later, and dashed for the stairs. He took them three at a time, practically flying to their shared room.

Thankfully, the three of them had kept their pajamas in the same drawer, so it wasn’t hard to grab the hoodie and shorts. He’d set them down, pulled back the comforter and rushed back downstairs in time to see Quackity coming inside, on the verge of tears.

Everything in Sapnap’s chest had sunken when Quackity brushed coldly past him. To see the normally bubbly law student as such a shell of himself… it hurt . A lot.

Neither of them chased him, but Sapnap wishes he had.

In fact…

Sapnap glances down at Karl and leans over. His fingers graze lightly over the pale cheek below him.

“Karl?” He whispers.

Nothing.

“Karl, wake up.”

Nothing.

As if to confirm this investigation, a quiet snore slips past the author’s lips. Sapnap smiles a little. Despite the tears on his face and the tragic evening, Karl remains as angelic as ever as he sleeps under the TV light.

It takes a while for Sapnap to carefully maneuver himself out from under his sleeping boyfriend without waking him up. He replaces his legs with a pillow. He drops a kiss onto Karl’s temple.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” he murmurs, running his hand one more time through Karl’s hair. The latter snuffles quietly in his sleep.

Quietly, Sapnap sneaks across the floor and towards the stairs. He’s glad he’d decided against putting shoes on earlier. He’s careful about how he walks, fearing a creaking board or a loud footstep might wake up one or both of his sleeping lovers as he makes his way to their room.

Quackity had gone to bed a few hours ago. He should be asleep by now.

Sapnap tells himself that he’s just going to check that the law student is okay. He won’t stay long. If Quackity wakes up, Sapnap doesn’t want to seem like a creep.

He just needs to know that Quackity’s okay.

The room is dark.

But Sapnap knows the layout like the back of his hand, and he steps in quietly, leaving the door open just a crack for an easy escape. He pads softly around the bed, over to the side he knows Quackity prefers and sure enough, as his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees the boy laying there, hugging a pillow like a lifeline.

It simultaneously makes his heart flutter and squeeze.

Sapnap brushes his hand over the law student’s forehead, restyling some of the hair peeking out from under his beanie. 

He wears that to bed?

Apparently so. 

But as Sapnap’s fingers trace over his forehead again, they come away damp with sweat. Carefully, he reaches out again to tug Quackity’s beanie off. It slides off rather easily, revealing the head of damp black hair beneath it. He looks pretty like this, Sapnap thinks.

Messy hair, moonlit skin, the light shimmer of sweat glazing over his face, arms curled tightly around one of their pillows. It’s almost enough to make Sapnap forget about today.

Almost.

But not quite.

Sapnap wants nothing more than to replace that stupid pillow. To hold Quackity against him and let him cry, let him know that he wouldn’t leave until Quackity wanted him to. 

God, he wants so badly to be able to help.

But Karl knows more than he does about this kind of thing. He knows what should be done. And that means giving Quackity the night alone… right? 

He leans down to kiss Quackity’s cheek.

He’s met with soft lips instead.

Quackity smiles softly up at him as Sapnap pulls away, shocked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Sapnap whispers. Quackity groans as he stretches a bit.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did,” he replies. He settles back against the mattress again, looking up at Sapnap with wide eyes that are obviously swollen from crying a few hours ago. 

Sapnap’s never felt such a strong urge to hold and protect.

“R-Really?” He asks. Quackity nods. The pillow is returned to its normal place and Quackity shimmies over between the sheets, patting the newly empty spot next to him. Sapnap blinks.

“Please stay with me,” the law student murmurs. “I need someone here…”

And how could he ever say no to that?

Sapnap slides in next to him a minute later, grateful that it had been a lazy day for him. He’d been lounging about all day, in his pajamas and doing nothing of any sort of importance. 

All is quiet and motionless for a bit, filled only with quiet crickets and Sapnap’s rushing thoughts. Quackity seems more timid than usual, although it could hardly be wondered why. Sapnap stares into the darkness. He thinks back to Karl’s recap of the day, his blood boiling as he recalls Karl recounting what had been shared - what venom had been injected with his enemy’s metaphorical fangs. 

God, he wants to kill Schlatt. Or at the VERY least, knock out a few teeth. 

He’s so zoned out, focused entirely on his plans for revenge and all is quiet, until-

“Hold me.”

It’s so quiet that Sapnap hardly hears him. But he looks at Quackity once again, finding the law student with fresh tears falling down his cheeks and his arms starting to wrap around himself again, trying to hold on to whatever he could at that moment.

His jaw is clenched, his teeth gritting. Sapnap can hear the withheld sobs trying to force their way up Quackity’s throat.

Sapnap’s arms practically swallow him whole.

Quackity melts against him. His arms encircle Sapnap and cling tightly as broken sobs slowly make themselves known into the music major’s chest, trembling and gripping on to Sapnap like he’s the last string of reality Quackity has left.

Sapnap abandons all unspoken plans for revenge and every idea of what he would do if he EVER caught Schlatt hurting Quackity again. Every thought in his mind sharpens into one steel point, one goal, one primal instinct:

Protect.

So as Quackity cries into his shirt, Sapnap combs his fingers gently through the soft black hair on the top of Quackity’s head. He rubs gentle circles into his back and murmurs soft reassurances and love into his ear, promises of protection and support and always a shoulder cry on. He gently pries one of the law student’s hands off and intertwines their fingers, pressing gentle kisses against each of Quackity’s knuckles.

It seems like hours pass.

It seems like seconds.

Sapnap doesn’t know how much time has gone by when Quackity pulls back enough to look at him.

Tear-stained cheeks.

Trembling lips.

Whimpering breaths.

Sapnap wishes he could take it all away. Fix it. He hates seeing Quackity this broken, hates that there’s nothing he can really do about it except to be there while he grieves. But time-machines aren’t real, and wishes don’t do a damn thing.

He can’t fix it. He probably never can.

He can’t take away what’s happened. He can’t undo the damage that Schlatt’s caused. As much as Sapnap hates to admit it, it’s a part of Quackity that will probably take ages to heal properly, if heal at all.

There’s so much he can’t do about it.

But what he can do, he does.

He's always been better as physical comfort.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs. “If not, that’s perfectly fine.”

The replying nod is almost instantaneous.

“Please…” He answers, quiet and still broken, but now with just a small ray of hope shining through the cracks.

Sapnap slides a hand up his neck and up to his cheek. The moonlight glitters on the tears. Even shattered, he’s beautiful. God, Sapnap hopes he knows that.

He kisses Quackity with intent and burning love. Passion heats his tongue like fire as he pulls his opposite close. Quackity’s hands move to the front of Sapnap’s shirt, curling into the fabric and holding himself in the moment, in the warm embrace of his lover.

A spark of warmth lights a small flame in the pit of Quackity’s stomach, lighting up the pitch black with the warm glow of hope and trust. He leans into Sapnap’s wordless promises that dance on his lips as they move against his own.

Amidst all of this, he feels the gentle sensation of Sapnap’s thumb rubbing tender circles on his cheek. It’s a small gesture. Almost lost among everything else going on.

But Quackity feels it, and it’s the most filling, most grounding thing in the world.

God, he’s a mess.

He feels like a burden.

But Sapnap kisses him like he’s a gift from the heavens above. He holds him like precious gold. He loves him like he’s adorned in king’s silk.

They separate for a moment to catch their breaths, and Sapnap presses his forehead against Quackity’s. The law student closes his eyes as he feels more tears start to well up in his eyes. 

He doesn’t deserve Sapnap. He doesn’t deserve Karl.

But moments like these? Times when everything else disappears and it’s like Quackity becomes someone special? When they shower him with so much love and adoration that it couldn’t possibly be for anyone else?

Times when it’s just him ?

Maybe, just maybe , Schlatt was wrong.

Sapnap leans in against, kissing Quackity right next to his mouth. And then on his jaw. And his lips trace down Quackity’s jawline, until they reach his neck.

“I love you,” Sapnap whispers against his skin.

Quackity almost sobs again.

Sapnap pulls himself up into a sitting position, and Quackity joins him, flushed and with tears on his face once more. Sapnap’s brow furrows and he wipes Quackity’s face gently, guiding the law student gently into his lap. His free hand rests, unmoving, on one of Quackity’s legs as the latter straddles his lap, still shaking just a little.

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap murmurs, all soft edges and warm mirth. Quackity’s lip trembles again. It takes him a minute to figure out how to speak, and Sapnap blessedly doesn’t force him to try until he’s ready. When he does, his words are watery. His voice cracks. His lips tremble, and more tears pour down his face.

But Quackity’s never been more in love.

“I-I just love you.. so fucking much.”

It ends in a sob, and Quackity pulls him into a tight embrace. He cries into Sapnap’s neck, holding on to him like he’s a fire in the winter.

“Don’t go,” he pleads quietly. “Please, don’t go. Stay with me. Don’t leave.”

Sapnap has always been a reliable support system, both physically and emotionally. But Quackity’s pleading leaves cracks in his heart as he nuzzles close; it threatens the very foundations of his soul.

But Sapnap would never dream of it.

To leave one of his most dearly beloved treasures was something he would rather step out into oncoming traffic than do. He sturdies the arm around his lover’s waist and slips another up to the back of his neck. It lays comfortingly at the base of Quackity’s neck.

Sapnap holds him close.

“I’m here,” he answers. “I’m right here. I promise. I’m not going anywhere. I promise .”

Quackity breathes heavily against Sapnap’s neck and the two of them just stay. They exist. They float in this realm that they have made entirely their own; two souls, one heartbeat, broken pieces slowly, slowly beginning to mend themselves back together.

“I don’t deserve you…” Quackity whispers, finally bringing the words from his mind into the physical world. He shakes his head vigorously. Dark hair tickles Sapnap’s neck and if this were an entirely different situation, Sapnap might’ve giggled. “He said I ruined his life. He said I cheated on him. He said I NEEDED him and I can’t tell if that’s true or not- God, I never wanted any of this to happen but- but I don’t deserve you, or Karl, or Charlie or any of you and- and I…”

It devolves back into another sob. Through his desperate attempts to stop, somehow he manages to speak.

“I'm- I’m sorry f-for crying so much. God, I try not to be like this around people because it’s so st-stupid and-”

“It’s not stupid, Quackity,” Sapnap whispers, threading his fingers through loose black hair. “I swear to you, it’s anything but stupid.”

“B-But I’m not with him anymore and it’s just- For some reason I can’t keep him out of my head and I SHOULD be able to cope better but I just can’t and-”

“Quackity.”

The mentioned pauses.

“Look at me, please.”

It’s gentle, coaxing. And he does just that, staring through watery eyes at Sapnap. Quackity touches his opposite’s jaw, running slow fingers over the black stubble. The music major leans into Quackity’s hand.

“Whatever you’re feeling right now isn’t stupid, okay? It’s perfectly fine to feel like this, especially after everything he put you through, today and before. You can’t just expect to be over all of that a month later, okay?” Sapnap murmurs, all sweet whispers and gentle caresses. “To be a little blunt, he’s put you through hell the past couple years, and shit like that leaves a lasting impression. A bad one. I’m not very good at talking about this - that’s more of Karl’s area of expertise - but what I’ve learned from him is that feeling this stuff after finally finding an escape from it is okay. I promise you. Keeping it bottled up just makes it hurt that much more.”

Quackity didn’t know he was able to cry so much.

“Karl told me once that you can think of it like exercising. It doesn’t hurt immediately after the fact, but give it a little while and the aching starts catching up to you. Does that make sense?” Sapnap asks.

Quackity nods with a sniffle, scrubbing at his eyes. A weak smile spreads over his lips and a wet laugh tumbles from his lips. Somehow, the weight on his chest seems just a little bit lighter; the smoke has lifted just a bit, and it's easier to breathe. Just a little. But even the smallest diamond is worth infinitely more than it's size.

“You know, for a guy who says he’s not great with words, you’d make a great motivational speaker,” Quackity teases lightly. Sapnap grins and giggles, nuzzling his nose against Quackity’s.

“Would you come listen to me?” He retorts. Quackity pretends to think for a moment.

“I might consider it.”

The two of them share another quiet laugh, which dwindles out into a comfortable silence, with Quackity pressed snugly against Sapnap’s chest, and Sapnap hugging him close. They breathe in sync, practically as one, and Quackity takes solace in Sapnap’s gentle heartbeat that pounds underneath his palm.

“...I guess I’m kinda fucked up, huh?” Quackity asks eventually. Sapnap looks down at him and presses a finger under Quackity’s chin until the law student is looking at his face again. Sapnap presses a sweet kiss against his forehead.

“Maybe a little. But that’s what me and Karl are here for. We’re here to support you when you feel like you’re falling back down, and we’re here to make sure you can get up again.”

Quackity sniffles again and buries his head into Sapnap’s neck again. God, this feels good. It feels right. It feels safe.

It feels like home.

“I really don’t deserve you. Either of you.”

It’s almost entrancing, the way Sapnap rubs his back. The fluidity in how Quackity pulls away and presses his lips against Sapnap’s again is magical. The way the two of them kiss each other like it’s something they’ve been made to do, and the love that is passed between them, and the passion and promises they wordlessly share is absolutely intoxicating.

And it’s addicting, the way Sapnap kisses down Quackity’s jaw again, to his ear and whispers,

“Darling, you deserve the world.”