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Of course Quackity knew that Roier had remarried, in theory. Hell, he’d been invited to their wedding. Which he hadn’t gone to, because going to your ex-husband’s second wedding is awkward as hell and he’d wanted to spare everyone the trouble, but at least he knew Roier had a new husband. And he’d seen pics of him, both on social media and on the wedding invite, so he knew that that “Cellbit” was way too hot, though he’d never admit it to Roier, and that there was a definitive winner in their divorce.
Now, knowing that was one thing. Meeting the guy, had it been while picking up Tilín at Roier's or dropping Richarlyson, his dear godson, off, had been another. But at least those had been short exchanges in passing, nothing more than awkward courtesies. All things considered, Quackity was almost proud of how he’d handled those first few interactions with Cellbit and his relationship with Roier’s household overall. Divorce and new, hotter husband be damned, he was going to stay friends with his ex-husband. For his sake, for Tilín’s sake, and for the sake of all the good they had made in their marriage before the bad came along.
So yes, he was willing to put in the effort to make their arrangement work.
… Unfortunately, that also meant going to the party Roier decided to throw on his birthday.
Now, Quackity had been to one of Roier's parties exactly once, back when they still shared a college dorm room, and he'd immediately sworn off those. Too much noise, too little light, and way, way too many people. Drunk people – which were the worst kind of people to be around. He should know.
All this to say that when Quackity was invited to that birthday party, he had a very simple game plan in mind: come in about fifteen minutes late, bring the cheapest bottle of champagne he could buy and a bag of plain crisps, lock himself up in one of the restrooms for about half an hour and then slip out unnoticed. With enough luck, he could be back home within an hour and avoid paying the babysitter – who was just the neighbours' teenage daughter, really – any more than that.
Which was how he ended up in front of the door to Roier's apartment at 7:14 in the evening, his bottle under one arm and his bag of crisps under the other.
First issue: the hallway was quiet. Way too quiet. Back in their college days, Quackity almost had to change buildings to avoid the booming music echoing throughout the dorms – whose occupants were pretty much all getting wasted at the party anyway. Now he was standing directly in front of the door, and yet he couldn't hear anything. Either the building's sound isolation was fantastic or there wasn't any music in the first place. Which, thankful though Quackity should have been, he couldn't help but take as a bad omen.
The second issue came immediately after he rang the bell, in the form of a handsome man with striking blue eyes and messy brown hair opening the door and grinning.
"Quackity! We though you might not come," Cellbit exclaimed, reaching out to give him a sort of half-baked side hug.
Quackity jumped at the sudden contact, and for half a second he considered pushing Cellbit away; but he quickly decided he was being ridiculous, and instead settled for giving him a small tap on the back along with a strained smile, before pulling away as soon as he could. "Hey…! I'm, um, sorry I'm late."
"It's all good. We got kind of started already, but we were waiting for you to get into the serious stuff." He flashed Quackity a smile that had him looking away, hoping he didn't blush too hard. "Please, come in!"
Then, without any more stalling, he turned hills and went inside.
Quackity grimaced as he followed him into the apartment. Sure, he'd come there before to drop off Tilín, but he'd always made it a point not to enter it. It just… felt wrong, seeing Roier's new place, the one he lived in now that they didn't live together anymore. Like he was intruding. That was what most of interacting with Roier felt like these days, really, but his apartment reingorced the feeling.
It was just so much fancier, so much… better than their old apartment used to be. He couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear the thought that this Cellbit could provide a much better life to Roier – to Tilín – than he ever could.
Then again, Roier had always been the more better off of the two.
"Eyyy, Quackity!" the exact voice he was thinking of called out, interrupting the trainwreck that were his thoughts.
He barely had time to react before a human-shaped hurricane slammed into him, knocking the air straight out of his lungs and pushing him off-balance, yet holding him in place at the same time. It wasn't too hard for Quackity to identify Roier, his long-time friend and past lover – though he didn't expect that much… affection from him. Sure, he'd always been an affectionate man, but Quackity didn't think he would see that affection directed towards him again. Not after everything that had happened.
"A little strong there, guapito," Cellbit purred in Roier's ear, just loud enough that Quackity could hear. Great. Their pet names. Like this wasn't embarrassing enough.
"Roier! Feliz cumpleaños," he butted in in a voice he tried to make cheerful, but was just a little too fond – and just a little too strained – not to sound off. Fuck. "Sorry I'm late?"
Fuck. Damn it. This was everything he'd feared would happen. He shouldn't have come. Was it too late to turn around and run away? Yes, of course it was. Ugh. Maybe he could pretend that the babysitter was calling him and he had to make a quick escape? But they'd know immediately, they'd know he was a coward.
"No problem man, no worries! Ey, come sit with us!" Roier finally pulled away, flashing one of those blinding smiles that couldn't help but remind Quackity of why they'd dated in the first place. Ugh. He was just like his husband in that aspect.
Nodding, Quackity made his way to the circle of seats, waving slightly to the people already sitting there. Jaiden was there, of course, as one of the people closest to Roier, alongside Richarlyson's other parents, who Quackity only sort of knew – the story of how he'd become that kid's godfather was a long and complicated one that somehow only marginally included his parents – and Vegetta, whose relationship with Roier he had yet to understand, even after he'd tried to explain it to him. They all waved back, smiling at him like they were welcoming him into the fray.
He couldn't believe he'd been so wrong. This wasn't a frat party: it was a grown-up party. The kind you invited close friends to and discussed with them all evening at.
The kind he couldn't just escape without raising questions.
Fuck.
There was only one seat left, a chair in the corner. No looking a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed – especially when he was the last one to arrive.
It only hit him after he'd sat down that he was sitting directly in front of Cellbit, who was buried in his couch and snuggling with Roier. Great. He was going to bear witness to his much more accomplished ex-husband and his new piece cuddling all night, how lucky.
"So!" Vegetta called out in the tone of someone who was continuing a conversation that had been interrupted, "you two were going to tell us about something that happened during your honeymoon…?"
That was about when Quackity's mind fully disconnected. His evening was already shitty enough, he didn't need to hear about Roier and Cellbit's fancy holidays on top of it. Not when he'd already seen the pictures and considered blocking Roier back then.
So instead, he just grabbed a glass of… some drink, he didn't even care about which one, from the coffee table, and downed it in one go. Wine. Fuck, wine? He would rather have gone for something stronger, but wine would have to do, he thought as he poured himself another glass.
Why had he even been invited to this party? It made even less sense now that he knew that this was such a small-scale event. Maybe Roier truly wanted to patch things up with him – which he didn't really need to do, because things were already… saying "good" would have been a lie. Adequate. Acceptable, maybe. But not that bad.
Or maybe he was just afraid of Quackity learning about this party afterwards somehow and getting mad. Which he might have been. But moreso hurt. Yeah… just hurt.
That second glass took him longer to finish drinking, and was quickly followed by the realisation that he hadn't eaten since lunch. Damn. He tried to grab some crisps from a bowl, but it did little to lessen the throbbing in his head.
Next thing he knew, his third glass was full and he was sipping on it again – but this time was different. He kept his eyes closed to stop his vision from blurring, and his head hurt more and more, and fuck, when had he become such a lightweight…?
Someone laid a hand on his shoulder.
He flinched.
"Woah! Quackity? You ok?" a voice asked, and Quackity could have sworn he nodded back but that didn't seem to appease whoever that was.
He felt the hand on his shoulder move to his side, to his waist, as the person the voice belonged to pressed themselves against his side, slowly helping him rise from his chair before leading him… somewhere. Not anywhere he knew, or was sober enough to recognise.
He heard something slide against the ground before a rush of cold air hit his skin, making him shiver and whine. The person holding him did not falter, however, pushing him until his feet hit cold stone and his back was pressed against a metallic chair of some kind. "Fuck," he groaned under his breath.
Soon, a glass – cold, too cold – was pressed between his hands; when he lifted it to his lips, he realised it was water. Refreshing water. He'd been so thirsty, he downed it without a second thought, letting out a cold, shaky breath once he was done.
"Feeling better?"
That voice, that silhouette, Quackity recognised them now that he'd sobered up. He had figured, somewhat unconsciously, that it might have been Roier, but no, the man standing in front of him was none other than Cellbit, looking down at him… no, looking at him in concern from above.
He managed to produce a gurgly noise through the headache he could feel swelling within his skull. Cellbit grimaced. He went back through the sliding door, and Quackity thought he might leave him alone in there, but instead he returned with another glass of water.
The perfect husband, the perfect host… was there anything this guy wasn't perfect at?
It was…
It was pissing Quackity off.
"So what," he barked out, pushing the glass away with the back of his hand. "You're gonna make fun of me? Prove that you're better than me, hotter than me and I never deserved Roier? Oh, it must be sooo fun seeing me like this, huh?"
He knew immediately that he'd said too much, just like he knew he'd acted out of line. He thought Cellbit might get mad, kick him out; but instead, the man just crumbled, eyebrows hitched up and eyes widened in a face of pure distress.
"What? No! Is that what you think I'd say?"
… To Quackity's surprise, no it wasn't. That didn't match with the Cellbit he'd interacted with every so often; and, no matter how much he wanted this guy to secretly be a snake, he had to admit… he just wasn't like that.
Fuck.
Quackity's head dipped down between his shoulders in shame. What was going to happen now? Where was he supposed to go from there?
"… I'm sorry."
To Quackity's surprise, it wasn't his lips those words escaped from, but Cellbit's.
"Wait," Quackity frowned, straightening his back a little too fast before wincing from the whiplash. "Hang on… you're sorry? No, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I showed up and ruined you guys' evening, and… I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake."
Something in Cellbit's expression fell, but he nodded nonetheless. "You didn't ruin it, but… I don't know. Maybe Roier was right… maybe I shouldn't have insisted to invite you."
… Wait.
Huh?
"You… wanted to invite me? You wanted me here?"
"Yeah, of course," Cellbit chuckled mirthlessly. "Roier told me it would probably complicate things, but… I don't know, you're important to him, and to Tilín and Richas, and… I guess I wanted to get to know you. To make you part of the family."
It wasn't Roier who'd asked him to come. It was Cellbit. All this time, he'd considered him a stranger at best and a threat at worst, while he'd just been… trying to befriend him.
Quackity was at a loss for words.
So he didn't speak. He just looked up at Cellbit. Cellbit who was standing there, eyes to the side, hair glistening under the moonlight, looking worried and uncertain and… still so fucking handsome…
"Look," Cellbit sighed after a moment of silence, "you can't leave in this state, obviously. I'll let you cool off, and then I'll take you back home. Would that be alright?"
Quackity nodded wordlessly. A small smile grew back on Cellbit's face.
"Good. I'm gonna let the others know you're ok and I'll be right back."
And as he slunk back inside of the apartment, Quackity watched him leave, his heart hurting, and for a second he caught himself wishing that they'd met in different circumstances. That Cellbit wasn't his ex-husband's husband. Maybe then, they could have been… something else. He wasn't quite sure what.
But when Cellbit showed back up with a mug of hot chocolate, beaming like a proud child, Quackity decided that he wasn't going to let "if"s and "maybe"s dictate his life any longer. He was going to try and get closer to Roier… and to Cellbit. Not just for Tilín's sake, but for his own, too.