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Today, It was raining in Las Nevadas.
Quackity had just finished his final errand of the day. He had been out and about, signing off business deals and various legal documents. A heavy workload was to be expected from a country such as this, but it never got any easier.
He begrudgingly stumbled over the city borders, his feet occasionally tripping on lumps of sand and rock. He opens a terribly mangled umbrella, an umbrella so disfigured one would assume he’d dug it out of the nearest dumpster.
But the fact of the matter is…this was Wilbur’s umbrella. He had meant to return it to him after borrowing it so long ago, but he never got around to it. After all, the man didn’t seem to be in a rush to return it anyway. It was Wilbur, and everyone knows Quackity doesn’t care about Wilbur.
Wilbur. The name stewed in his brain for a moment. He hadn’t seen or heard from the man in ages, ever since his “scuffle” with him back in Paradise he wanted nothing to do with him, or so he thought.
The man had intruded on his land, stolen his horse, threatened the lives of his coworkers, and to top it off, in typical Wilbur fashion, had blown it up to smithereens.
Wilbur was such a predictable, pathetic man. One second he claims he’s changed, the next, he’s destroying everything he touches. Quackity would even go so far as to say Wilbur was like Icarus, but instead, he liked when his wax wings melted, he liked that burning feeling. He liked the feeling of falling from grace. It disgusted Quackity so. Wilbur was a thorn in his side he would never be able to get rid of.
Until today, at least.
From out of the corner of his eye, he can see a small, golden haired figure stumble out from the trees surrounding Paradise. He’s hunched over, clutching a small book in his arms. His hands are trembling, his knees shaking, and he’s completely soaked.
Quackity recognizes him immediately and rushes over, nearly tripping on the slippery asphalt roads on the way.
“T-Tommy?! What happened?” Quackity asks, grabbing the boy softly by the shoulders.
Tommy did not answer. Instead, he just looked down at his shoes, which rainwater was now pooling into. He was cold to the touch, and he looked pale.
“Kid-What happened- I need you to talk to me, ok?” Quackity asks once again, attempting to make eye contact with Tommy.
“W-Wil. He’s- I-” His lip quivered. When he looked back to Quackity his eyes spoke of nothing but sadness. He could not see him through the tears.
“Wilby’s gone, Big Q he’s- He left- he’s gone.”
Quackity stood in silence for a moment, the rain pelted down on his back like bullets, the rocks and sand wedged into the soles of his shoes stabbed at him like knives, the wool on Tommy’s sweater sleeves cut his skin and left him bleeding. Wilbur wasn’t gone. Not yet. He can’t leave yet.
“What the hell do you mean “gone?” Quackity hated that he was worried. He hated that he cared. He cared so little yet he cared so much he wanted to scream and cry. He needed to know if Wilbur was ok, but at the same time, he wouldn’t care if Wilbur had plunged another sword through his chest. His mind and his heart were fighting and his mind was losing.
“He-he went- he went back home I guess I don’t- I want him to come back-“ Tommy sobbed into Quackity’s shoulder, his fingers tightly grasping at his sleeves.
Home?
“Where’s home? Where did he go?”
“Is he alive?”
Tommy didn’t respond for a moment, letting the rain seep into his clothes and his hair.
“He went to Utah..” Tommy responded, his voice shaky.
“I don’t know where that is- or where he is now- or if he’s even alive I-“ Tommy’s fists clench.
Quackity sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers, his face scrunching up.
Typical of Wilbur, to leave his little brother alone in the rain, running off to Prime knows where, and not leaving any form of contact behind.
Typical.
“We need to get out of the rain, you’re going to catch a cold.” Quackity says, his voice is tired and hoarse.
Tommy nods, his arms wrap around Quackity’s sleeve, his tail is wrapped around his leg.
“We can go to my office, it’s warm there-“
Tommy perks up.
“Can we go to the needle?”
Quackity was concerned about the rain, but the kid just lost his brother. Again. It’s the least he could do for him.
“Yeah, let’s go to the Needle.”
—
The two walked hand in hand to the Needle, no doubt the centerpiece of Las Nevadas. It was a landmark Quackity was incredibly proud of.
And it was also the last place the two had spoken to Wilbur.
As they walked, The rain began to subside. Not entirely, but enough to let small glints of sunlight beam down from the clouds. It was almost as if nature herself was sparing them.
Tommy stayed close to Quackity’s side, attempting to crouch down slightly to fit entirely under the umbrella. His eyes hurt from crying, and he was freezing cold. He hated feeling like this. Feeling numb.
Quackity on the other hand, had not said a word since they started walking. His thoughts were all over the place, he couldn’t decide if he was furious at Wilbur for leaving on such short notice, and leaving Tommy alone..or if he was devastated.
Devastated that he would never see him on the borders of Las Nevadas again.
Devastated that he would never stare at him with stars in his eyes from across an election stage again.
Devastated that the two would never get drunk and dance the night away at birthday parties again.
Devastated that he never truly got to say goodbye.
But he couldn’t let thoughts like that distract him. This wasn’t about him. This was about Tommy. The poor kid had been abandoned again, and it seemed Quackity was the only older person he had left to go to. Quackity shouldn’t care about Wilbur
He doesn’t care about Wilbur.
The two entered the elevator, Q closing up the umbrella and leaning against the wall. Tommy just stood, the rainwater from his clothes created a small puddle on the elevator floor.
He could not stop trembling, and Quackity noticed this.
“Hey- kid calm down alright? You’re ok.” Quackity reaches for Tommy’s cardigan sleeve.
Tommy flinches.
“Don’t touch me, please.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“…”
Silence. Again.
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors creaked open. The sun had just begun to set.
Golden Hour.
The sky had turned an orange color, and drops of rain still fell from the roof of the building. But for now, the rain has stopped.
Tommy shuffled over the balcony of the tower, leaning over the glass and staring at the ocean in the distance. The sun was setting over the water’s horizon.
Quackity pulled out a lighter from his pocket, fidgeting with it before joining Tommy on the balcony.
Silence.
“What are you looking at Toms?” Quackity asked. Tommy was just staring out into the distance. He sighed.
“His sunset.” Tommy said, his eyes not moving from the sun.
“What?” Quackity lit a cigarette and leaned over the glass.
“This is his sunset.”
Quackity’s eyes shifted from the sun, back to Tommy, and back to the sun again. It takes a second for him to respond.
“So, he’s..really gone?” Quackity mutters, exhaling smoke from his lungs.
Tommy sniffles. He’s still shaking.
“He’s gone.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
This was real.
Wilbur’s gone.
Wilbur’s gone and it looked like he wasn’t coming back this time.
Quackity didn’t really know how to feel about this. Part of him wanted to believe this was all just another ploy. A ruse to rile him up.
But despite everything, Wilbur wouldn’t trick Tommy like that. This was as real as it gets.
“Did he..leave anything behind?” Quackity asks, turning to Tommy and glancing down at the book clutched in his arms, it’s pages were now sopping wet.
“Just..a book. He told me nobody else could read it...” Tommy mumbled, still not making eye contact with Quackity. “He did leave something for you too, though.”
“Yeah? Let me see.” Quackity held his hand out. Tommy noticed it was trembling slightly.
Tommy handed over a pair of red glasses, there was a small note wedged between them.
“Red suits you better.
Thank you for everything.
Love, Soot.”
Quackity hesitantly took the pair of glasses, his finger softly rubbing the frames.
“Love, Soot”
He stared down at his hands for a moment, until he let it all out.
“Fffuck.” He exhaled shakily, leaning over the balcony, trying to hide his tears. His hand was covering his eyes.
Tommy was caught off guard by his reaction, there was a certain pain in his voice that Tommy had never heard from Quackity.
“Big Q..? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He says with a breaking voice, his wings covering his face.
There was a pause for a moment, until a soft pair of small arms wrapped around Quackity.
“I know you don’t think so, but he loved you a lot. Maybe a little bit too much at times, the prick never shut up about you. But, he did. He has for a really long time. It’s ok to be sad, it’s ok to cry.” Tommy’s words stung.
“It’s ok to miss him.” Tommy mutters, his head buried in Quackity’s torso.
Quackity was frozen solid. Was this real?
Was he crying, sobbing into the arms of a child over this man he was supposed to abhor?
“Fuck.” was all Quackity managed to get out, his wing wrapped around Tommy’s back. His hands still pressed against his face. His tears were warm, a stark contrast to the cold Las Nevadas air.
The two felt as if grieving over this man who wasn’t dead felt..odd. Then again, they could never really know if he had made it to Utah. What if he was dead? Or what if they were mourning someone who’s very much alive? It was a confusing moment for the both of them.
Perhaps they were grieving the loss of the old Wilbur.
The one who lived, despite it all.
“It’s..It’s ok Big Q. I’m sorry.”
“...For what..? Wilbur’s the one that left without saying goodbye, not you.” Quackity muttered, still looking at his reflection in the red lenses of Wilbur’s glasses.
“I’m sorry he never apologized to you.” Tommy replied, crossing his arms. “He did make an effort to-we waited for you..but-” He did feel as if this was partially his fault, maybe he should have convinced Wilbur to visit Big Q sooner, despite how much it annoyed him to see them argue and try to “one-up” the other, it would have done some good to get that apology out, he knew Wilbur had one.
In fact, he recalls waking up one night, and seeing Wilbur still awake. Scribbling in a book exactly what he wanted to say to Quackity. Beside him on the floor would be several wads of crumpled up paper. Tommy remembers when he woke up the next morning, grabbing the book and reading every page. Each one slightly blotted and smudged with tear stains.
Wilbur did care. He really did. He just didn’t want to show it.
“It’s okay kid, this isn’t your fault. Don’t think for a second this is your fault.” Quackity said, grabbing Tommy tightly by the shoulders and looking at him directly in the eyes.
The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments, before pulling each other in for a tight hug, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. They stayed like this for 5 minutes, until slowly pulling away, wiping their faces.
The two simultaneously stared out onto the water just past Las Nevadas’s borders. The sun was still setting, almost like it was waiting for something to happen before it fell over the horizon
“Toms..I have a question.” Quackity says, still starting into the distance.
“Yeah?” Tommy responds, rubbing his hands together to spark some sort of heat between them. Occasionally breathing hot air into his palms.
“What was..Wil like before you guys got here..? To the server, I mean.” Quackity looked over, his feathers rustled in the breeze.
Tommy choked out a slight laugh, before his tired eyes stared out into the sun again.
“Oh..he was great. He played his guitar a lot, he was constantly writing shit. He used to uh..ask me to listen to his work in progress songs before he would finish them..”
“Oh, he sounded..different.” Quackity sighed. “A nice kind of different though, really nice.”
He rubbed his thumb over Wilbur’s initials that had been engraved into the frames of the glasses. The small “W.S.” was all Quackity really had left to cling onto.
He was going to miss hearing his voice early in the morning, beckoning from outside. Standing on the sand and the sun beaming directly on his face. Shouting some flirty remark from across the city borders.
“Do you know..why he left..?” Quackity choked out, his heart felt heavy and his wings felt like weights tied to his back.
“I don’t think he felt right here anymore, like he was just..meant to be somewhere else. I just hope he’s doing ok. Wherever he is.” Tommy tugged on the strings of his hat.
“I wish I could have told him all the things I wanted to say.” Quackity blurted out, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to.
“Me too.” Tommy replied.“What did you want to tell him? No judgment here..nobody around but us.”
Quackity sighed, before looking back out into the water.
“I wanted to tell him that I loved him.”
Quackity bit his lip, his heart had won.
All that build up, those years of tension, of fighting, of pining. Just to lead up to a pitiful, pathetic confession.
And the man wasn’t even there to witness it. Only his little brother.
“Oh.” Tommy replied, part of him was happy that Quackity had finally admitted it, but he knew it was under the worst of circumstances.
“I would’ve told him that too. Not in the same way of course, I think he’s ugly.” Tommy laughed, nudging Quackity in the shoulder.
“Yeah, don’t get any ideas, pipsqueak.” Quackity joked back. The two sharing tired laughter.
Quackity pulled Tommy in for a side hug, wrapping his wings around him.
“We can love and miss him together, then.” Tommy mumbled.
“Yeah.” Quackity sighed, lighting another cigarette and leaning over the balcony.
“Hey, the sun went down.” Tommy looked back up into the sky.
Quackity looked too, before putting the glasses on.
“Finally, I guess it got what it wanted.”