Archive of Our Own

The air felt strange in the way it filled his lungs, like there wasn’t actually any oxygen left down here in the reactor. Every breath he took was empty and hollow despite his body’s best effort to make the failing organs work. It didn’t help, that Multi knew this was impossible, Graf had checked the ventilation system just this morning, and Nexe would have been able to smell even the smallest gas leak around here. But not even the most reassuring thoughts could seem to convince his twisted brain of the truth, no matter how much every other cell begged for understanding.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of dizziness still, as he leaned back against the clean tiles of the laboratory walls, the cold surface pressing into his spine. His own arms wrapped tightly around himself as he slowly slid down the smooth surface, inch by inch, until he was sitting on the ground, knees slightly pulled in. Multi felt dirty, despite the contamination process, despite cleaning every surface after usage, despite wearing gloves and a lab coat as if those layers could truly separate him from what lingered beneath his skin.

In the silent lab, he felt like he could hear his skin prickle under the clothes, every nerve suddenly too aware, the way something deeply wrong inside himself tried to burst through the layers of muscle and skin as if it no longer belonged there. And he had felt something similar before in his life, even long before he had ever come into contact with any radioactive substances or the sterile walls of this place. It was mostly a blur, the memories of nights he would much rather forget, but the feeling was the same, unmistakable and suffocating, the itching underneath the flesh that never quite stopped.

He dug his nails into his palms, hard enough to leave marks, jolting his head backwards until it hit the tiles harshly, a sharp bolt of pain shooting through his skull and echoing down his spine. He did it once more, then twice, chasing the pain as if it might ground him, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop, they never did. A laugh slipped past his lips, strained and uneven, as he could feel his breathing quickening uncontrollably, whispering, “I’m better than that, I’m in control...of everything. I’m a god, I’m not like this anymore. I can...I need...I want-” the words died in his throat as he choked on them, his voice breaking apart. The memories wanted to combust out of his body, to leave it back to either heal or die on the wounds, but how could they achieve either if buried to deep and close to forgotten.

Nausea bubbled up his throat, thick and burning, and for a moment he felt like he might vomit out all the toxic things that were buried deep within the depths of his twisted soul, everything he had tried to lock away. The desire to destroy was as painful as seeing all his potential laid out in front of him, just within reach, as he could only gaze towards the fake clouds in the experimentation room. He imagined them drifting through his blurred vision, slow and artificial, and remembered the sun, the real one he had met, had barely time on the days it showed up at his horizon. And while it worried the others, for Multi the sickness was vanished when he was with him, there was no need of a cure in his presence.

He shall shut down the delusions, he told himself, he needed to continue with his mission. It was a logical reason for locking himself away, to work endlessly, to research until there was nothing left of him but the process. But truthfully Multi wasn’t scared of what might await him in the end. No, he wanted to spread his arms out towards it, to embrace it fully in a hug that was warm, comforting even, but not hot enough to burn him alive.
Because touches had always lingered on his skin before, dirty flesh against his own that seemed to burn itself into him through the surface, leaving marks that no one else could see. And he hated that it was worse than acid on his skin, or uranium, that the damage ran deeper than anything physical ever could, but remained the same forever, unchanged and unhealed.

When he closed his eyes tightly, squeezing them shut as if that alone could block it out, he could almost hear the sun moving across the cave, down the elevator and through the contamination barriers, as if nothing could truly keep it out. Keeping his own people away was easier than keeping himself contained. Ewron was a busy guy, he didn’t notice a thing, too distracted with his own attempts of pulling the strings wherever he could. Nexe on the other hand had an eye on him, always skeptical and ready to intervene if something seemed off. Graf was the one that stayed away on his own, because he was too smart, had probably looked through Multi long ago and simply chosen silence.

It was opposition, the things his heart yearned for, pulling him forward, and the way his brain kept reminding him, over and over again, that one thing could never exist with the other, that the sun was indeed hot enough to kill him, even if it made others feel warm, safe and alive.

Multi could feel the way his heart twisted in his chest, painfully tight, like not every single one of his bones was already aching, like his head wasn’t pounding relentlessly and his lungs weren’t gasping for air that never quite felt like enough.

“Multi?”

A familiar voice whispered softly, gentle and warm, like a hug that wasn’t dangerous, like something he didn’t immediately have to fear.

“Multi...” the voice came again, a little closer this time, and he could feel his consciousness floating out of the suffocating space it had been trapped in, drifting upward, slowly, all the way toward the light. Was it heaven already? Or the end of the universe? An explosion as bright as his own eyes, blinding and all-consuming.

Please take me. Destroy me.

He couldn’t quite register the other voice through his racing thoughts, when he blinked his dizzy eyelids open, vision unfocused and swimming, but he saw the man in front of him as if he were something pulled straight out of his dreams. The way the dark hair framed his face so beautifully, almost deliberately, like it was aware of its own beauty and leaned into it. He even saw the birthmarks and moles etched into his skin, grounding details in the blur, even if there was nothing else he could properly register.

Quackity looked so worried like this…worried for him?

A bolt of guilt surged through Multi, sharp and immediate, and he could feel his brows furrow together despite the haze. He never wanted to worry him, never wanted to burden him with any of this, wanted to protect him from everything bad, from the truth, from himself most of all.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he spoke then, the words finally sinking through the noise of his thoughts and the persistent ringing in his head, reaching him at last.

“Quackity?” Multi whispered, his voice unsteady and fragile, and his hand was shaking as he reached out toward him despite himself, unable to stop the movement even if he wanted to. He wanted to know so badly how much it would hurt to touch the source of warmth in front of him, he wanted, just once, for it not to hurt.

The skin was soft under his fingertips as he carefully brought his hand to Quackity’s cheek, almost hesitant at first. They were warm indeed, that much was undeniable, the shock hadn’t drained the blood from them, instead they seemed to grow warmer with every passing second. Multi could feel it if he concentrated hard enough, the way his own temperature was starting to rise in response, spreading faintly into his cheeks, the same way Quackitys layed subtly flushed underneath his fingers.

And it didn’t hurt.

And it made him want to cry, even though the tears didn’t come, because crying was sometimes far scarier than anything else he had to endure. Because showing more weakness now, would just mean he had failed one thing more.

“You’re warm,” Multi whispered, biting down on his lip so no sob could escape his throat. “Did you come to free me from my suffering, angel of light?”

To finally set me free.

Quackity furrowed his brows, worry deepening as he shook his head softly. “What’s happening? Are you feeling sick? Talk to me,” he demanded, panic slipping into his voice despite his attempt to stay calm.

The smile that formed on Multi’s lips was almost painful, like it yearned to express the sadness he couldn’t with tears, a ability that seemed burned away from him by acid and fire, leaving nothing behind but the hollow shape of it. “No, no...”, he shook his head and let out a quiet, trembling laugh, his voice unsteady as it wavered, “I think I’m finally cured.”

“Oh my god, he’s totally hallucinating,” Quackity muttered, his eyes widening as a few curses in Spanish slipped past his lips in quick succession. “Wait here...I’ll get someone. I saw Graf earlier-I’ll get him, okay? He’ll know what to do.”

He took Multi’s hand in his, slowly, carefully, as if afraid of doing something wrong, bringing it down from his own face while looking at him with something almost hopeful, waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

Multi looked down at his own hand in Quackity’s, who held it tightly and securely, yet so gently, as if it might break at any moment, and so unbearably worried. There was no help he needed other than this, not really, not in that moment, when the whole sun seemed to be at his feet, looking at him like it was waiting, like it was praying for his rising.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice soft and fragile as he squeezed his hand a little tighter, holding onto it like it might disappear. “Please don’t burn me too.”

“What?” Quackity muttered back, confusion flickering across his face as he looked at him, clearly lost, because to him none of this made any real sense.

“I’m so scared,” Multi replied, his voice shaking, uneven and raw, and then he could feel them in his eyes, building, swelling, hot and wrong and suddenly it was too late to stop them.

It was painful, the way the red tears streamed down his cheeks, thick and strange, and it came as a surprise even to himself, something he hadn’t expected anymore. He didn’t know he was still able to cry like this after all that time, after everything that had taken that from him. All the things he couldn’t even recall.

“Can I hug you?” Quackity asked, his voice quieter now, looking up at him like he could barely hold himself back from doing it without permission.

He was asking?

Despite feeling the ache in his body, the tingling in his fingers, he had stopped himself just short of reaching out, and was now looking at Multi with nothing but genuine concern, waiting, always waiting.

“Only...only a hug,” Multi nodded hesitantly, the words slow as he felt his blood rushing coldly through his veins out of fear, even as he said it.

But when the warmth wrapped around him, careful and soft, arms enclosing him without pressure, it felt safe there in a way he hadn’t expected. And he laid his head on Quackity’s shoulder, the fabric warm against his cheek, and the tears became clearer with every new one that followed, less burning, more real.

“Please tell me you’re okay,” Quackity whispered, his voice almost breaking as he spoke into his hair, holding him just a little tighter.

“Yes,” Multi nodded faintly, his voice quiet but certain in a way that didn’t quite match the moment. “No one can hurt me. No one but you.”

“I’d never hurt you,” Quackity said quickly, almost desperately, his hand coming up to clutch at the back of Multi’s head as if to steady him. “I’d never do anything you don’t like.”

A shuddering breath escaped Multi, uneven and fragile, as his own arms slowly lifted before he finally let himself respond, fingers digging into the back of Quackity’s shirt, holding on tighter than he meant to. “You might change your mind,” he muttered softly, sniffling under his breath. “After a while...everyone does eventually.”

“That’s why I stopped, actually...I stopped searching for a cure.”

“What? Are you crazy? I thought you were close?”

“Maybe it’s good, the sicker I get, you know?” Multi whispered, his voice distant, almost thoughtful in a way that didn’t belong. “Maybe I will ascend, up to the heavens, where touch is just light and not fire.”

Like you are right now, Quackity, he thought, but the words never made it past his lips.

The other only shook his head frantically, panic written all over his face. “No, absolutely not. I need you here. What are you even thinking? Leaving me all alone?”

“The world is so big for you,” Multi murmured quietly.

“We live in the same fucking world, okay?” Quackity shot back immediately, frustration mixing with fear.

“No...we don’t.”

“Then let me move in,” he whispered, softer now, the edge in his voice fading into something more vulnerable. “Into yours...with you.”

“My world is in shambles, Quackity,” Multi said, his voice low, almost tired now, as if the weight of it all was finally settling in. “I can’t be with you in the way you want, no matter how much I might want to. I can’t be the man you need by your side...but I also could never reject you, and that would just...you know...burn everything to the ground eventually.”

“What man do I need by my side?” Quackity huffed, a disbelieving laugh slipping past his lips despite everything, strained and uneven.

“Someone that...you know,” Multi hesitated, his voice faltering slightly, “someone who can cherish every part of your body, that can make you feel good and loved...in a way I can’t.”

Multi could feel the way his skin was itching again, sharper now, the disgust settling deep into his bones alongside the fear that followed it. He could recall a similar conversation, the memory creeping in uninvited, about the last time, and the one before that, all the way back to the man with the hands that had burned his skin open with his recklessness. It was just parts of it, like a blurry picture taking on a old camera, buried in boxes on the attic, destroyed by the time he spend trying to forget about them.

They all said the same thing in the end, that it would be fine, that they could take it slow, that they only wanted to be with him for who he was, or some variation of that same empty promise. But he wasn’t buying it anymore, couldn’t make himself believe it again. He didn’t want to feel that same pain once more, didn’t want to fall back into that endless cycle he had barely escaped.

If only he could be the god he dreamed of being, where everything was light and untouchable, distant and safe. Knew somewhere in his twisted soul that he once had soft velvet under his fingertips and people admiring him, looking up at his throne with awe and respect. And he yearned for it again, for a independence and autonomy, that couldn’t hurt. That felt realer than the gap between his memories, and bolting dark clouds in his mind.

He pushed Quackity away, soft but firm, even if it took more strength than he wanted to admit. Because even if his touch didn’t burn yet, he knew, deep down, that their connection would sooner or later be set ablaze all the same.

“Sorry,” Multi muttered as he stood up, his knees barely holding him upright, unsteady beneath him, his cheeks wet from bloody tears that hadn’t quite stopped yet.

He pushed his chin high up into the air, ignoring the headache it sent bolting through his skull, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, step by step, toward the exit. Toward leaving, toward freedom, toward a world where he didn’t need to be confronted with his past, with everything bad and ugly that clung to him like something that refused to let go.

His steps were quick, almost rushed, and he could count them if he focused hard enough: one, two, three. He lifted his foot again, stretching it forward, the skin aching with the motion of the fourth step, a sharp pull running through him, and then it all seemed to rip apart. When his feet touched the cold tiles of the laboratory again, his vision had already gone black, swallowing him whole, and soon the rest of his numb body followed, collapsing onto the clean surface beneath him without resistance.

There, in the floating consciousness of his mind, everything was filled with a strange green substance, surrounding him from all sides, like he was the true experiment after all, locked inside a glass tube and injected with something radioactive, something that didn’t belong in him. Watched by someone unseen, observed in silence, the way his own cruel mind had sometimes yearned for in darker moments, where control meant becoming the subject rather than the observer.

He didn’t hear Quackity’s shouts where he was drifting, didn’t register the way he rushed over to him, overly worried despite having just been pushed away so coldly. He didn’t hear the panic in his voice either, as he called out for Nexe, hoping the dog hybrid’s hearing was sharp enough to reach him all the way down here in the reactor, while fumbling with Multi’s walkie-talkie, trying to pry it out of the pocket of his lab coat just to get a hold of Graf somehow.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Multi would be surprised later, when he found out, that it was actually Ewroon who had answered instead, that none of the others had been anywhere near the cave at that moment. It had been more of a coincidence, that Ewron had just stopped by, still sweaty in his Żabka uniform, only intending to grab some materials for the machinery in his store from the storage area before leaving again.

Instead, he had been met with a hysterical, panicked Quackity when he answered the voice over their shared walkie-talkie channel, the one they used only around the area to communicate with each other while also keeping out potential spies, since the information they sometimes broadcast from the reactor could be quite sensitive, to say the least. Especially with a court trial coming up soon.

Ewroon had tried to calm Quackity down, even while being a bit overwhelmed himself by the situation, and somehow, through rushed words and uneven coordination, they managed to carry Multi’s body out of the reactors lab and up into one of the beds, where Quackity immediately clutched tightly onto Multi’s hand as if letting go would somehow make things worse.

He kept asking Ewron again and again what was wrong with him, what had happened, what they were supposed to do now, but Ewroon didn’t have all the answers either. Instead, he focused on trying to reach one of the others, his voice more controlled, though just as tense beneath the surface.

Eventually, Nexe showed up.

He was serious for once, his usual demeanor gone entirely, his features stiff and drawn, ears flat against his sides, while something like guilt etched deep into his expression. Without much explanation, Nexe sent the other two out of the cave, telling them to go and search for Graf so he could take a closer look at Multi’s condition in peace.

Quackity and Ewron both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

They still walked silently next to each other along the river outside, the sound of the water filling the space between them. If Graf hadn’t answered the walkie-talkie already, there was no use in searching for him, he simply didn’t want to be reached at the moment.

Lost in his thoughts, Quackity had to swallow the questions burning on his tongue, knowing they needed to give Nexe time, even if every second felt like it stretched too long. When the walkie finally beeped again, Nexe’s voice calling out for them, they both rushed back toward the cave without hesitation.

“How is he?” Ewroon asked immediately, snatching the clipboard out of Nexe’s paws as soon as they reached him, scanning it quickly, while Quackity had already pushed past both of them without waiting for an answer.

He found Multi lying on the mattress in a separated room, the space quieter, more controlled, his face even paler than before, almost unnaturally so, with a clean white bandage wrapped carefully around his head.

“Multi...” Quackity whispered, his voice softer now as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Once again, he reached for his hand, fingers brushing over the old scars that stretched across his knuckles, making his chest tighten uncomfortably.

The hand was cold as he squeezed it, unnervingly so, like the man in front of him was closer to a corpse than something still alive, and the thought alone made him shudder. His fingers immediately moved, searching along his arm for veins, closing his eyes as he desperately tried to feel something, anything that resembled a heartbeat.

“I’m alive,” Multi croaked out suddenly, his voice rough and weak, and Quackity’s eyes snapped open instantly.

He was met with a faint, tired smile, Multi’s eyes only half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, but unmistakably focused on him.

“Oh my god, I was so worried,” Quackity exhaled, a shaky laugh slipping past his throat as the tension spilled out all at once.

“I’m sorry...that wasn’t my goal,” Multi whispered, his voice soft as he gently squeezed Quackity’s hand in return, his gaze dropping down to where their hands were still intertwined, guilt flickering across his face.

“How-how are you feeling? Are you better now?” Quackity asked quickly, the concern still lingering in every word. Making the other already miss all the carelessness he would usually carry in his voice, the sun tained glow.

“Yes...” Multi nodded slightly, though there was still hesitation in his voice. “Listen, okay? Down there I wasn’t quite myself, I was in a weird state of mind, totally spiraling, it’s...it’s-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Quackity shook his head quickly, interrupting him as he shifted a little closer on the mattress, a silent way of showing he wasn’t upset, not even close. “I understand...I mean, I don’t really, but I know you had your reasons for acting the way you did.”

Multi pressed his lips together, nodding again, because what else was there to do. He couldn’t even fully recall everything that had happened an hour ago, not clearly, wasn’t sure which words he had actually said out loud and which ones had only existed in his head, loud enough to blur together with reality.

“Multi..?” Quackity spoke more carefully this time, watching him closely as their eyes met again, searching for something in his expression. “I meant what I said, even if you didn’t...or maybe you did. I don’t know, I’m not the one to decide that, but...please.”

He hesitated only for a moment, before whispering,“don’t push me away.”

Multi’s brows twitched slightly, a flicker of pain shooting through his skull as he tried to reach for the memories, for the words he had said, trying to separate sincerity from confusion. The conflict was written clearly across his face, along with something deeper, something closer to fear.

“Please,” Quackity whispered again, softer now, almost careful, “I want to get to know you...the way you really are. No more half-truths, or false assumptions.”

“You’re right,” Multi whispered, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears, unfamiliar in a way that made his chest tighten, and he felt terrible speaking the next words, as if he was forcing them out, spitting them into the space between them with all the bitterness he could gather. “We don’t fucking know each other, and we shouldn’t. We are good allies, that’s all. We’re not even friends.”

Quackity’s grip slowly began to loosen around his hand, his eyes widening as his head started shaking frantically, disbelief written all over his face. “What are you talking about?” he breathed out harshly, clearly not understanding what was happening, his voice rising slightly. “You can’t pull that shit.”

The words came out sharper now, almost like an accusation, and then their hands were apart again, the warmth gone in an instant, leaving nothing but coldness resonating through Multi’s body.
“First you follow me around, give me presents and compliment me, then you treat me like I’m this special thing of yours, treat me so different than everyone else, and now you act like that shit never happened. You’re a fucking...a fucking bastard, Multi,” he snapped, standing up abruptly, the mattress shifting under the sudden loss of weight, though it did nothing to lift the heaviness pressing down on Multi’s aching chest.

“Fuck you,” Quackity scoffed, the hurt bleeding so obviously through his voice that it latched onto Multi’s own in an instant, sharp and unavoidable.

Then he was gone.

Multi watched him storm out of the room without another word, the space he left behind still slightly indented in the mattress, a quiet reminder of how close he had been just moments ago.

“Don’t say anything,” Multi muttered into the silence, his voice dull and empty, his gaze still fixed on the exit Quackity had just disappeared through, as if expecting him to come back anyway.
“I feel like I should,” another voice replied from the side, calm and measured, as a man stepped in through the other entrance of the cave, a backpack slung over his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re making very thoughtful decisions in your current state Michał.”

Graf came sauntering over, unbothered by the tension still lingering in the room, placing the backpack on a chest near the mattress before crouching down slightly to search through it, his movements slow and deliberate.

“I don’t need you judging my shit,” Multi replied weakly, letting his head fall back into the pillows with a quiet exhale, his dreads itching uncomfortably beneath the bandages as he could feel dried blood clinging to them.

“I brought you this flower,” Graf said instead, completely ignoring the comment as he pulled out a small bundle of delicate blue flowers, holding them up briefly. “They call it Athelas where it’s from, a foreign, but very healing plant.”

Multi lifted an eyebrow slightly, despite himself, as the flowers released a strange scent into the air, something sweet but spicy at the same time. “What kind of business have you been doing behind our backs?” he asked, his voice quieter now, though still edged with suspicion.

Graf only shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Nothing that wouldn’t match your own level of secrecy, my dear friend.”

There wasn’t much to reply to that. Multi realized, not for the first time, that he had underestimated Graf far more than he should have, and maybe, eventually, he would be thankful for that, once the bitterness settled enough to allow it.

“The flower will ease your mind,” Graf continued, already setting up a small cauldron and beginning to prepare it, his movements practiced, “and for now, the damage the uranium has done to your body. The steam will carry out the rot and decay, ease some of the more advanced burdens you’re carrying.”

“And what’s the catch?” Multi asked, suspicious immediately, lowering his gaze as he watched Graf light the coals, the small flame flickering to life beneath the metal.

“Oh, the catch,” Graf hummed thoughtfully, nodding slowly as he crushed the flowers between his fingers and dropped them into the cauldron, “is that you are going to try and fix things with Quackity.”

“What?” Multi blurted out, sitting up straight on the mattress as if jolted awake, the sudden movement pulling at his body. “What does one thing have to do with the other? You did listen in, right? I made my choice.”

“Yeah,” Graf nodded simply. “You made the wrong choice, because you’re a coward.”

A scoff escaped Multi’s mouth, sharp and disbelieving. What was this supposed to be? Some kind of humiliation ritual? A lesson he hadn’t asked for? “I think I’m old enough to decide my partners on my own, thank you,” he huffed bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest as if that alone could shield him from the conversation.

“Then why are you pouting like a child?” Graf hummed, stirring the water as it slowly began to boil, his tone still infuriatingly calm. Before Multi could snap back at him, he continued, more serious now, “The past will always haunt you if you don’t try to move forward. No matter how deep you bury those memories, they will resurface eventually, and it is your decision whether you accept the help of the people around you, the ones who truly care, or if you choose to remain stubborn, in pain, suffering until not even death can become your redemption anymore.”

For a long moment, it was silent.

The soft crackling of the coals and the bubbling of the water filled the space instead, the air slowly thickening with the strange, calming scent of the flowers. Multi looked down at his hand, at the scars that stretched across it, uneven and familiar, and the way Quackity had held onto it earlier, like it had meant something, like it had mattered. His own hand had been so warm, so soft in comparison, so completely different from Multi’s, and yet he had reached for him without hesitation.

“We’ll hurt each other,” Multi mumbled eventually, more to himself than to Graf, his voice quieter now as it drifted into the scented air. “If we get too close...he’ll notice how broken I am, or worse, he won’t. And he’ll imagine this life, this future in front of us, only for the disappointment to settle in eventually, when he realizes that I’m not enough.”

“So you want to be alone for the rest of your life?” Graf asked, his tone steady, not unkind, but firm. “Without ever trying anything, without even considering that you could heal from the past?”

“No amount of healing in the world can change the way I am,” Multi replied, his voice tightening slightly. “What I was born with was never an illness...only what came after.”

“But have you ever considered that Quackity might understand you,” Graf countered calmly, “or have you just decided that he won’t? You said it yourself. you two don’t really know each other. So why do you think you know what he’s searching for in a partner? Why not give it a chance, instead of deciding the ending before it even begins?”

“It’s not that easy,” Multi bit back, frustration flickering through his voice.

“Talk to him,” Graf said firmly, as he poured some of the steaming water into a large bowl, the vapor rising between them. “Promise me you will, and your current pain will lessen one way or another.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Multi searched for Quackity by the North’s mansion, but his room was empty, only the towers of chests filling up the space, and the second in command, Juan, who had been in his office all day, told him that he hadn’t been back since leaving the mansion in the early morning hours. After saying his thanks, Multi continued his search, already running through the usual places Quackity tended to be seen at, trying to follow a pattern that suddenly felt unreliable.

He still continued, checking out the area around his statue, which stood gracefully, towering into the sky. Then he stopped by the shopping district, only taking a brief glance at Ewron’s unfinished machinery, the scattered parts and half-built structures left behind. Katie wasn’t there either, but Mike lingered in front of the fast-food place, carefully writing the weeks newest menu with a marker on the front window, sticking out his tongue all focused on the task.

But Mike hadn’t seen Quackity either, and so, even if the older, always grumpy man down by the river still made him uneasy, he eventually made his way over to Jschlatt’s cottage. But the house on the edge of the island was empty, the owner still on vacation, the windows shut tight and barricaded, with an unfriendly warning sign hanging on the door, making it very clear that nobody should even dare to enter in his absence.

It was eventually by coincidence that he found him. Or destiny all together.

Strolling down the rocky road from spawn, absentmindedly kicking small pebbles out of his way, lost in his thoughts, Multi almost missed it, the slightly open front door of the court building. He had heard stories from Ewron and Katie before, who had both tried to sneak a glance inside the room, only to be quickly caught and sent away with a warning not to linger around the building before the actual court case was meant to take place.

So Multi stepped closer, more out of curiosity than anything else at first, though something deeper pulled him forward. His heavy black boots echoed against the wooden floor as he stepped inside, the sound louder than he would have liked, as he placed his hand against the large courtroom door and pushed it open just a little further.

Quackity was sitting at the podium where the audience would be in a few days, his back turned toward the entrance, but Multi could tell by the way his shoulders tensed and his wings stiffened that he had heard the footsteps from the moment he entered.

For a brief second, Multi considered turning around again, slipping back out before he was noticed, when it still could have been anyone by the door, just another curious visitor who had wandered in and quickly left once they realized they weren’t alone. But turning away now, after everything Graf had said, suddenly felt even more cowardly than approaching him.

Because what if he stayed the same forever?

What if this was his one chance to change something, to start over, to finally begin healing instead of running in circles around it? What if this moment decided everything, his life, his future, everything that might come after?

Multi slipped fully through the door, carefully pulling it shut behind him, though not completely, afraid the sound might echo too loudly in the quiet room, might startle Quackity even though he already knew someone was there.

He wanted to say something as he approached, a greeting, a warning, anything to announce himself properly, but his throat suddenly felt tight, heavy, and he could feel the sweat forming at the back of his neck as anxiety crept in, his heartbeat picking up faster with every step.

Hey, I’m sorry, he wanted to say. Or maybe, can we talk? I messed up.

But the words felt dull, insufficient, and they lingered at the tip of his tongue without ever making it past, as he climbed over the rows of benches, moving closer.
I wasn’t myself back there. It was never my intention to hurt you.

But those were just thoughts, things he knew Quackity might want to hear, and that alone made them feel dangerous, too close to the half-truths he had been accused of, too easy to twist into something dishonest.

So when he stopped just one row behind him, there was nothing left that Multi felt was worth saying, nothing that didn’t feel tainted by doubt, his tongue heavy with things he didn’t trust himself to mean fully.

Instead, he sank down onto his knees on the bench behind Quackity, the wood pressing uncomfortably beneath him, like some quiet act of surrender. From behind, he carefully wrapped his arms around Quackity’s torso, burying his face into his shoulder, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, pressing his chest against Quackity’s back.

Quackity flinched at the sudden contact, a surprised gasp escaping him, his head turning as far as it could, only to be met with a mess of green dreads brushing against his face.

“Oh my god,” he sighed out, one hand clutching his chest as he tried to steady his breathing, the other accidentally scratching against Multi’s arm in the process. “You scared the shit out of me, Multi.”

“Didn’t want to scare you,” Multi muttered into his shoulder, his voice muffled as he nuzzled slightly closer against the side of his neck. “Just wanted...to be as close as I can.”

And for him, those words carried more meaning than anything he had failed to say before.

There was something almost calming about it, the way he could feel Quackity’s warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt, the faint contact of skin against his cheek, the steady presence of him there. And when he really focused on it, it didn’t feel bad, didn’t feel wrong or terrifying in the way he had expected.

This…this was almost the perfect kind of closeness.

“Uh, I’m not really following,” Quackity huffed, though there was a hint of something lighter in his tone now, something teasing. “I thought we were arguing? Or is this about to turn into you choking me?”

“Listen, I...well...” Multi hesitated, his voice quieter now, almost embarrassed as he spoke against his shoulder. “Graf said I’m a coward. A stupid one.”

“Yeah, I can kind of see where he’s coming from,” Quackity nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, and whatever apology had been forming on Multi’s tongue faltered the moment he looked up and actually met his eyes.

And suddenly, Multi was reminded that the sun was also a star, the biggest, brightest one of all, as he looked into those dark, shining eyes that still held so much warmth, even now.

“I’m sorry for running,” Quackity added with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “You know I like being a bit dramatic sometimes.”

A faint laugh followed, quiet but real, and then Multi could feel Quackity’s hands move, lifting carefully to rest over his arm and hand, gently stroking over his damaged skin without hesitation.

“Why are you apologizing?” Multi huffed in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly, when he was the one who should have been showering him in apologies by now.
“So you have it easier to reply with: me too, Quackity, I’m so sorry, please take me back,” Quackity said dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest and putting on a poorly acted Polish accent, exaggerating every word.

“Hey, I don’t talk like that,” Multi scoffed, feeling a small smile creeping onto his lips, that made the irritation in his guts flare up. He tilted his head upward slightly, so he could properly look at Quackity’s face while still resting against his shoulder.

“Mhh, right, right...because I’ve never heard it before,” Quackity nodded smugly, clearly not convinced.

Multi groaned softly, trying to hide the grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay...I’m sorry, kochanie.”

“What does that mean?” Quackity asked immediately, his interest piqued as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh-uh...nothing,” Multi muttered quickly, his pale cheeks instantly flushing with a faint pink as he pulled back from the embrace, retreating just a little too fast to make it subtle.

“Like a nickname? Something cute, or an insult?” Quackity laughed, turning around fully now to face him, his expression curious and a little too entertained.

“I’ll never talk to you again if you don’t tell me,” Quackity added, pouting in mock threat.

“It’s like...what’s the English word...honey, I think?” Multi admitted reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. It tugged at his heart violently, like a terrible mistake he was about to make, a warning sign. Something inside of him wanted to scream, run away from that man and this conversation. He should lock himself up in reactor again, he had stuff to do, work, experiments, something that would deem him worth of redemption.

“So you do like me?” Quackity asked, raising a brow. And just like that, everything shattered again, like the sun peeking out behind the clouds after a terrible storm.

“Of course I like you, Quackity”, Multi answered, his voice dry and etched with confusion, about himself.

“But not...enough for anything?” Quackity pressed, the hesitation in his voice sharper now. “Because you said I’m not the right man for you or something, and I’m just...confused, okay?”

Multi didn’t answer immediately. His fingers twitched where they rested against his arm, nails pressing faintly into his own skin as his gaze dropped somewhere past Quackity, unfocused towards the jury seats, was trying to find words that even remotely felt honest.

“I just-” he started, then stopped again, his jaw tightening slightly. “I’m not really...suited for stuff like this,” he muttered eventually, the words coming out slower now, more reluctant. “Relationships, I mean. I’m bad at them. Probably. Even friendships,” he added with a quiet, humorless breath, shaking his head like he already knew where this went.

“I always end up pushing people away,” he continued, voice quieter now, more distant, like he was talking about someone else and Quackity was just a mere bystander. “The only reason my three idiot roommates are still around is because they’re too stubborn to leave.”

There was another pause, longer this time.

“It’s just...” he exhaled, dragging a hand briefly over his face before letting it fall again, restless. “Trusting people doesn’t really...work. Not for me. Not in the long run.” His shoulders tensed slightly, like even saying that much was already too far. “And I noticed I started trusting you,” he admitted, more quietly now, almost under his breath.

His fingers curled slightly, like he was about to pull away, but didn’t, because the other part of him, the one that was even more scared that bleeding being inside his soul, wanted so desperately to hold onto this.

“And something about that feels wrong,” he added after a second, his voice tightening, choking out the words just barely. “Like I’m making the same mistake again and just waiting for it to go to shit.”

“But I just don’t get that,” Quackity shook his head, clearly confused but trying to follow. “Can’t we just take our time? Figure things out as we go? There’s no need to get married tomorrow, we can just get to know each other more, just be honest, and I’m sure-” he trailed off, looking at him with something hopeful, his fingers tightening slightly around Multi’s hands, “that it’s worth a try...at least that.”

“But-” Multi’s voice broke for a second, and he looked away, searching for the right words, “if there aren’t the right...uh-how do you say it in English...kurwa-prerequisites, then why get all invested with the heart and shit?” he muttered, pushing his dreads out of his face with his free hand, visibly stressed now, genuine emotions pouting out of him, no matter how much it scared him.

“Wha-what prerequisites?” Quackity let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I genuinely can’t think of anything that would be that big of a problem.” He paused for a second, something clicking.
“Wait-you like guys too, right?”

“Oh my god,” Multi groaned, shaking his head, though a small laugh slipped through. “Hell yes, Quackity, I do.”

“Great,” Quackity grinned, like that solved everything. “Then what’s stopping us, other than your fear of commitment?”

“Okay-that…what the fuck, Quackity,” Multi laughed now, reaching out to lightly shove at his shoulder, though there was no real force behind it. And he could feel something strange bubbling inside his stomach, something unfamiliar, an urge to reach out, to stay close, in a way that felt safe and warm instead of threatening. But it was still overwhelming, and the desire on it’s own, made him want to rip himself apart, put a gun to his heart, or a knife deep inside his flesh.

Quackity laughed too, catching Multi’s hands with his own, intertwining their fingers together again before lifting them slightly, bringing them closer to his face. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Multi’s hand, looking up at him with those dark, sparkling eyes.

Multi sighed, his fingers tingling where they touched, and his stomach twisting in a way that made his chest feel too tight, like his heart might burst right through it if it kept going.

Multi’s breath hitched slightly, like something had caught in his throat before he could stop it.

He didn’t speak right away, could feel the nausea bubbling up from afar. Instead, his gaze dropped, fingers tensing where they were still loosely held, like he had suddenly become too aware of the contact, of everything, of how close this had gotten without him meaning it to.

“I...” he started, then stopped, jaw tightening as if he was already regretting opening his mouth at all.

For a second, it looked like he might just pull away again, like before. But he didn’t. maybe because the dizziness was too much to bear, because he was scared of collapsing onto the wooden floor, or knew that if he let go of his hand now, that he would forever float up in the space between regret and guilt.

“I just-” he tried again, quieter this time, his voice rougher, like the words didn’t belong there. “I don’t do that.”

The sentence hung there, incomplete, like he was hoping it would be enough.

But he knew it wasn’t.

His fingers curled slightly, digging his nails now into Quackitys skin, and forced himself to finish it, the words slipping out faster this time, less controlled.

“I don’t wanna fuck,” he muttered finally, the phrasing blunt in a way that didn’t quite match it’s importance, like he had chosen the harshest version of it just to get it over with.

He swallowed hard, looking away immediately after, like he couldn’t stand to see the reaction. His cheeks pale, like the life was seconds from slipping away from him.
Silence stretched for a second too long.

“Oh,” Quackity said, blinking, a little taken aback as he tilted his head slightly. “Okay.”

He narrowed his eyes just a little, a thoughtful expression settling over his face as their joined hands slowly lowered between them, his grip loosening just slightly.

“Okay”, Quackity repeated, but this time it came out quieter, less immediate.

He didn’t move right away.

Instead, he just looked at him for a second longer, like he was trying to understand what had just been said instead of brushing past it. His grip shifted slightly, not pulling away, but loosening just enough to show he was thinking.

“Okay,” he said a third time, more certain now, though softer, like he had made a decision.

Only then did he move, climbing up until he was closer to Multi, still keeping one hand loosely intertwined with his in the process, careful, like he didn’t want to push too far.

Quackity tilted his head slightly, his expression gentler now, the earlier teasing gone, replaced by something steadier.

“I’m okay with that,” he said, voice quieter than before, but firm in a way that mattered more than volume.

Multi blinked at him.

“What?” he blurted out, the word sharp with disbelief, like he genuinely thought he had misheard. “No-like, I’m talking never never.”

“Yeah,” Quackity nodded, a small breath leaving him, not laughing this time, just honest and reassuring. “I got that.”

That only made Multi’s expression tighten.

His eyes narrowed slightly, something restless flickering behind them as his fingers shifted in Quackity’s grip, like he was debating pulling away again.

“No, you don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head, a quiet edge creeping into his voice now. “You’re just saying that right now.”

He pulled one hand free, running it through his dreads in a quick, agitated motion, desperate for a distraction of any kind.

“Think about it,” he continued, more insistent now, words coming faster. “Like-what do people always say, huh? ‘Oh, my needs,’ and ‘it’s important for health,’ and ‘it’s the backbone of every relationship,’ and-” he let out a short, bitter breath, “‘I can change you.’”

His gaze snapped back to Quackity then, searching, almost accusing.

“That’s how it always goes,” he added, quieter now, but heavier. “At the start, it’s fine. And then it’s not.”

Quackity smiled at him, his cheeks flushed and so full of life, like none of it had shaken him in the way Multi expected. “Let’s go home sweetheart,” he said softly, almost to himself, as if the decision had already been made somewhere along the way. “Cucurucho isn’t going to be very happy when he finds us in his courtroom.”

He pushed himself up from the bench, extending a hand toward Multi without hesitation, like this was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on.”

“What home?” Multi scoffed, though his hand had already moved on its own, fingers closing around Quackity’s before he could second-guess it.

“The Polish cave?” Quackity laughed lightly, like the answer was obvious, like there had never been another option. “I could take a nap, actually,” he added with a yawn, stretching his shoulders, wings fluttering open, “or two, maybe.”

Multi’s head was still spinning, either from standing up too fast or from the fact that Quackity was, without a doubt, the strangest person he had ever met.

They climbed over the rows together, never quite letting go of each other, a steady grip grounding them both. Quackity kept a careful hold on him, guiding him more than necessary, like he didn’t trust Multi not to stumble, or maybe just didn’t want to let go yet.

He kept talking, careless and light, as if nothing heavy had just been laid bare between them. “But we should definitely push our beds together,” he continued, glancing back at him with a crooked smile. “I still don’t get why Graf put them on opposite sides of the room like that.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, no awkwardness, no second thoughts, just an easy continuation, like nothing about Multi’s confession had complicated things for him at all.

“We can just share mine,” Multi muttered, quieter now, as they slipped out of the courtroom. Quackity pulled the door shut behind them, locking it with a strange white key that Multi chose not to question right now.

“Sure, if you don’t mind having me there,” Quackity grinned, bumping his shoulder lightly against his. “Because we might need to cuddle a bit.”

And that was it.

No conditions. No hesitation. And somehow, that said more than anything else could have.

So right now, for the first time in so long, it was quite in Multis head.

“Not at all,” he whispered, and this time he meant it, even if the thought still felt fragile, like something that could crack under too much pressure. Even if he knew the disgust might settle back in later, and the doubts would creep in again, slow and familiar.

He would probably push him away again. He was still the same after all.

So the real question was how persistent Quackity was going to be.

And, maybe how many times Multi would keep the blinds open in the morning for the sunshine to continue seeping through.