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Wilbur sits at the bar, neon lights making his skin glow and his profile sharp. The glass in his hand filled with some alcoholic drink he ordered. The burning sensation as he drinks feels like something close enough to filling whatever empty pit he has in his stomach that won't just- go away. He remembers he had originally come here to just get a drink before he really never comes back, but he forgot the plan after the desert sun had made his hair feel warm.
It almost made him forget he was in Quackity’s bar too, in Quackity’s country under Quackity’s rule. Maybe if he had been any more sober it would’ve angered him. It still angered him, it just sat more comfortably if he didn’t think about it. His trench coat felt heavy on his shoulders and his eyelids felt even heavier.
“Wilbur Soot,” That familiar voice says from behind him, stern and intimidating as ever. If he had been a normal person maybe he would be scared, but all he felt was a sense of determination or excitement spark in his chest. Suddenly his eyelids felt less heavy and Quackity’s dark eyes felt like purpose.
“Yes, Quackity?” Quackity shakes his head as if he’s disappointed.
“I knew you were a pathetic man, though I didn’t expect you to become one of those cassino-drinkers,” Quackity points at the glass, “But that's not what I care about, Wilbur, you’re not allowed here.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes, “okay? I’m still here, what are you going to do about it”
“Get Foolish and he’ll kick your ass as you walk out the fucking door,” Quackity replies but Wilbur doesn’t really care about that.
“Why don’t you kick me out? Or are you just as weak as I am?” Wilbur dares and Quackity’s eyes narrow.
“I have a loaded gun in my pocket,” Quackity threatens. Wilbur thinks that’s what he wants, he lets the thought pass.
“You wouldn’t use it,” Wilbur says with confidence.
Quackity doesn’t have a comeback; he just looks Wilbur up and down, the few people around them have been drinking themselves to death or gambling their money away. It feels quiet.
“What did you come here for” Quackity’s voice is monotone.
“Your guess is as good as mine” Wilbur replies.
“You come in here, get a few drinks, aware this is my country, and you say you don't know why you couldn’t have gone anywhere else?” Quackity snaps, “I’d call bullshit but It's believable.”
“You still haven’t kicked me out,” Wilbur points, ignoring Quackity’s argument.
Quackity is quiet again and Wilbur would say this is one of their more boring conversations. Wilbur’s glass has been left on the bar table for a while now, abandoned for a much more real way to fill the pit in his stomach. Wilbur abandons the thought too.
“So?” Wilbur doesn’t let the quiet go on, “Any more bitchy remarks?”
“Do you just-” Quackity thinks about his next words for a second, “Why do you just come here to talk to me”
“What?” Wilbur heard him perfectly.
“You know you are and I knew I had a better guess than you,” Quackity keeps his voice monotone.
“You come in here,” Wilbur repeats what Quackity said, “to complain about me being here and then threaten to kick me out and then never kick me out,”
Quackity looks pissed but his voice is still so monotone, “Fuck you Wilbur, you make my life hell. Get out of my nation.”
Wilbur should feel like he just won but he can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.
“Just get out before you get alcohol poisoning and die,” Quackity turns around. Wilbur remembers his plan from earlier and his eyes widen momentarily.
“Wait!” Wilbur shouts over the peoples voices that sound a lot more real than they did before. Quackity turns around.
“I thought I said get out!” Quackity shouts back, annoyance tainting his monotone voice and he turns around again and Wilbur feels like he’s just sealed his grave before he meant to.
Wilbur does the first idea his mind comes up with and runs next to Quackity, lightly grabbing his arm to stop him and then letting go of it when Quackity turns around looking like he might actually use the gun he had.
Wilbur wishes he had thought of something to say.
“Do you remember that time in pogtopia?” Wilbur feels his anxiety spike in his chest and he notices how Quackity’s shoulders tense at the mention, he doesn’t wait for an answer, too scared he’ll say he doesn’t, “I wanted longer i swear, I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly. I didn’t know how to tell you that then, I don't know how to tell you that now. And maybe I have just come here to talk to you, even if it is only to argue. It makes me feel real. It makes me feel something.” Wilbur suddenly regrets everything, but he has no clue what specific part he regrets.
Quackity eyes are wide and a mix of colors from the neon lights, “What- why are you telling me this?” Quackity says and he sounds genuinely confused.
“Because I regret a lot of things, Quackity, but you need to know I never regretted knowing you. Not in any context, not when you called me stupid using every word you know, and not when I left everyone. I regret putting people through so much pain but this time I won't go without saying it.”
Wilbur wouldn’t have blamed Quackity for turning and leaving, maybe he expected it.
But all Quackity does is look at him and say his next words like if he says them too loud he might jinx himself with the question in his eyes, “What are you saying? What do you mean ‘go’”
Wilbur could almost see something akin to concern cross the man’s face, “Y’know. Leave.” Wilbur says, his voice hushed and fragile and somehow ashamed.
Quackity doesn’t respond but Wilbur can tell he understood. He’s glad about that, the truth might be something for later. Later as in too late.
“I don't forgive you,” Quackity says and his voice is fair, “I dont forgive you but I’ve fucked up somewhere near as much as you have. Dont forgive me either.”
“Where are you going after this” Quackity asks without letting Wilbur say anything back. Like he knew Wilbur would try getting the last words, although, there will never be any last words between them.
“You know as much as I do” The neon lights are still shining in their eyes and it seems to blend perfectly with Quackitys.
“Do you want to go smoke?”
“Sure” Wilbur replies and if it had been any other day he would expect Quackity to go shoot him when they step out the door. Today is not any other day, there is no tomorrow for him even if Quackity doesn’t shoot him.
They walk out into the cold Las Nevadas air and it makes him forget about any bit of alcohol he had in his system from before. Quackity lights a cigarette beside him and Wilbur copies it. They sit down on the curb, a distant neon sign dully lighting up Quackitys hair with a bright red.
“So you still remember Pogtopia?” Quackity breaks the silence like a knife.
“Who wouldn't?” Wilbur replies.
“Anyone who has moved on” Quackity says and Wilbur notices the slight sadness in his voice, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“I don’t move on from much, Quackity, definitely not Pogtopia” Wilbur replies, looking at Quackity who just stares off into space, smoke curling around his lips.
There's silence again but this time Wilbur breaks it.
“What are your goals for this place?”
“I just want something. I don't know what, I don't know why I'm telling you this.” Quackity’s eyebrows furrow.
“I hope you enjoy it, even if you don't understand it” Wilbur replies.
“Going for wisdom tonight I see,” Quackity laughs.
“Shut the fuck up,” Wilbur jokes back and for once it doesn’t feel violent or agressive. It feels friendly and Wilbur could get drunk off of it.
They sit there in silence and smoke for a while, Wilbur glancing at the man with a ring of neon billboard light in his eyes. The smoke still curls around his lips and the darkness outlines his side profile. His chest settles with a familiar sense of heaviness that Wilbur will never take the time to figure out.
“Thank you, Quackity,” Wilbur says, and the man looks at him with confusion.
“For what?” Quackity asks.
“Just- thank you Quackity,” And to be honest, he doesn’t know why. He will miss Quackity and that's the closest he will get to saying the words out loud.
“You’re welcome I guess” Quackity replies and Wilbur can't help but to notice the small smile that forms around his cigarette.
“Are you leaving now?” Quackity says and the smile fades and Wilbur misses it.
“Yeah,” Wilbur says as he gets up, brushing the dust off his coat and jeans, Quackity follows.
“Goodnight Wilbur” Quackity says. Wilbur has so many things to say but he just opens his arms, letting Quackity into a hug that Wilbur desperately needed. He lets out a deep sigh that feels like he just let out his soul for Quackity. Maybe he would. The man's hair is soft next to his and he smells like a cologne he can't quite put his finger on, but he knows it smells good and he knows it will stain his coat and he knows he will let it.
They just hold each other lightly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know if he can say goodbye now. He has to but this moment will be on repeat in his head as he takes his last steps out of this nation.
“Goodnight Quackity” His voice might’ve broken but he doesn’t think about it. He pulls away and Quackitys eyes look peaceful and calm and beautiful.
“Ojalá pudieras quedarte,” Quackity says and his voice is soft. Quiet enough that Wilbur couldn’t exactly make out what he said.
“What?”
“Nothing important. Goodbye Wilbur,” Quackity takes a deep breath and Wilbur feels guilt in his veins like an old friend asking if he remembers and god he remembers.
Why did he make up his mind? Why is he second guessing? Why is this a mistake? What if he didn’t go through with it? He misses when this was simple.
Every question races through his head as he turns and leaves the country, the taste of ash and smoke lining his mouth and he feels gross. He feels dumb and stupid. He feels so much regret and he wishes he knew what part he felt so much regret over.
He turns around at the huge Las Nevadas sign and he sees Quackity in the distance, sitting back down and he waves at him. Wilbur waves back and he smiles because who wouldn’t smile at Quackity.
He turns back around to the empty forest and he feels so empty.
And his coat still smells like Quackity.