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The first thing Luzu remembers doing after parting from Bad and Foolish is looking for Quackity. It is possible that this is not the only thing he did, but he can’t remember anything between the time they broke the news and when he realized he was hunting.
Luzu had a son. A daughter. A child. Luzu had a child.
Within the duration of his dormancy, Luzu had had a child and lost a child, all before he’d even known their name. Before he’d even seen their face.
Tilín was dead, and Luzu was hunting. He hunted because he needed to know. He wanted to understand. How could his caring, passionate Quackity let this happen to their child?
(These were not words he believed. Deep down, under his grief, Luzu knew that the blame did not belong to his lover. But tragedy had a weird way of clouding one’s perception.)
After what could have been hours–or perhaps even days, Luzu finally spotted Quackity. He was a decent distance away, walking on a hill ahead of Luzu. The other looked worse for wear; hair clearly unkept and clothes dirty. Even from afar, he could see the exhaustion on the other’s face.
Another thing Luzu could see as he got closer was the small red ribbon tied carefully around Quackity’s frail wrist. A ribbon that matched well with the giant memorial beside Tilín’s grave.
Luzu saw red. He made his way closer, grief clouding his thoughts.
When Quackity spotted him, he turned to face Luzu, attempting to muster up a small smile. “Luzu, what’s–”
“Our–Our child is fucking dead, Quackity!” Luzu yelled, interrupting the other.
Quackity’s face switched between several emotions. Shocked. Frightened.
Anguished.
“How did you know about–”
“I was found, by BadBoyHalo and Foolish. They told me about Tilín, and–and they introduced me to the idea of a child– our child, and then ripped it away from me before I even got a chance to…” Luzu shook his head. That wasn’t important.
“He’s dead, Quackity, and we weren’t there to protect him!”
He didn’t mean to snap at the other. Would never mean to hurt Quackity. But he couldn’t help it.
“You weren’t fucking there, Luzu!” Quackity shouted back, arms flailing outwards. “You weren’t there, either. Not when it mattered, and not before.”
Quackity’s voice grew quiet, heavy with sorrow. “I was all alone. I didn’t…you were supposed to be there for me, and yet I had no one. I was raising our child all on my own. I–Roier and Jaiden were there, and Slime, too, but–Jaiden just reminded me of how I failed, and Slime’s the one who–who–” He cut himself off, a strangled sound leaving his throat.
“Our baby is dead, Luzu,” Quackity wailed, gripping at his chest as if trying to tear out his very heart. “Our sweet, sweet Tilín is dead. It–it isn’t fair. I was–I wanted to be better! I was trying to be better!”
Luzu trembled.
“I never even got to meet them,” he murmured, voice choked. “I had just found out about her and she was already dead. How is…how is that fair?”
A pair of arms delicately wrapped themselves around Luzu, and he felt the familiar weight of Quackity against him.
“It’s not.”
Luzu keened, letting his chin fall to rest on Quackity’s head. His eyes watered, and at the sound of Quackity’s shuddering sobs, he allowed himself to cry.
“I never even got to meet him, Quacks,” Luzu said again, voice wet with tears.
“You would’ve loved her,” Quackity replied softly. “Unconditionally. Tilín is–Tilín was a good egg.”
Some time later, the two of them were sat at Tilín’s grave, watching as the sun set. For a long while, there were no words between them.
“What was…What were they like?”
“Kind, love. They were kind. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Sort of like you, I think.”
“You’re always deserving of that love, I think,” Luzu said, and that was that.
They spent the rest of the night sitting at the grave, never daring to speak more than a whisper as they listened to the winds echo across the land.
And though he doesn’t know it, Luzu likes to think that he felt Tilín there that night, sitting and watching their fathers, happy to finally meet him.
Luzu was happy to meet her, too.