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Everything begins after the wedding.
As guests begin to slowly move away from the venue, Jaiden catches sight of Quackity trailing behind Cucurucho.
By the time she catches up with Philza and Bad to tell them, both seem equally surprised.
“Where did you last see him?” Philza asks.
“I followed them until they reached this place. I don’t know where they went after that.” She gestures toward the empty train station that brought them to the island. “I think they used a warp plate, but I couldn’t find one. I was trying not to get caught so I couldn’t get much closer. They probably destroyed it already.”
“Here, you say?” Philza scans the area alongside his children, little Tallulah who’s concerned and Chayanne who’s trying to calm her sister down.
“Yeah. I just… lost track of them.”
As daylight fades into evening, no one has heard from Quackity.
It isn’t entirely unusual. Ever since Tilín’s death, he’d developed a habit of wandering off on his own, disappearing for hours without warning. People had slowly grown used to it.
Still, a few islanders can’t help but worry.
“I haven’t seen Quackity…” Roier mutters as he strolls through the aftermath of the ceremony, stepping around scattered chairs and abandoned decorations. “It’s fucking weird. I thought he’d be trying to butt in on our honeymoon. He’s not in his house.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Cellbit squeezes his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into it. “It’s Quackity. He wanted to get married first, so he’s probably sulking somewhere else, Guapito.”
His husband smiles reassuringly, then breaks into a yawn.
“Now let’s go back to the castle. We need to put Richas to bed, he needs his bedtime story.”
Roier gives the venue one last lingering glance before following him home.
—
In another universe, they wouldn’t see Quackity again for months.
When he finally returned, he would come back fractured beyond repair, carrying wounds that no amount of time could mend. The person replacing him wouldn’t simply be different, it would be someone else entirely, wearing his same face. Someone driven by vengeance, need for chaos, whose arrival would quietly alter the course of countless lives.
But that isn’t this universe.
Here, Quackity comes back only a day later.
And he returns alongside Cucurucho.
Gone is the wrinkled wedding suit he’d stumbled away in. Instead, he’s dressed in his usual blue hoodie and matching pants, looking almost exactly as he always has.
Almost.
Everyone had seen how much the wedding affected him. Rumors spread quickly across the island. Some claimed he’d shown up too late to confess his feelings. Others insisted he’d gotten his heart broken. Whether those theories held any truth was another topic entirely.
After all, no one could even agree on which groom Quackity had supposedly been in love with.
Yet now he walks through the island with an odd sort of confidence.
Like someone who has already moved on.
His return coincides with a Federation announcement: The island will be holding its first presidential election.
Half the residents groan at the thought of politics invading Quesadilla Island. The other half immediately begins plotting campaigns, already imagining themselves working alongside the Federation. Each one with their own reasons and interests.
Roier barely pays attention to any of it.
He’s too busy spotting Quackity sitting nearby. Feeling the sense of dread leave his body, he immediately walks over.
“Quackity? Where were you, pendejo? Jaiden told us you disappeared after the wedding—that Cucurucho took you.”
He keeps his voice low while, standing on the stage, Cucurucho explains the rules for candidacy to the gathered crowd.
“Oh, don’t worry. I was saved!” Quackity giggles, absentmindedly looking around the bleachers instead of at Roier. “Just a misunderstanding, don’t worry.”
“What do you mean?” Roier blinks, confused.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Cellbit paying suspiciously close attention to the election rules.
He sighs. Another obsession, now political, to infiltrate the federation.
“I’ll ask you again later. Give me a second.”
Cellbit merely offers him a reassuring smile.
It doesn’t reassure him in the slightest.
Instead, Cellbit reaches for his hands.
“This could be useful,” he murmurs. “It could help us learn more about the Federation.” His eyes remain fixed on the stage. “I think I’ll run.”
Before Roier can answer, Quackity suddenly says loudly, louder than the situation calls for.
“My boyfriend also ran for president, you know?”
Considering there are roughly fifteen adults and at least five feral children packed onto the bleachers, it’s almost impressive how effectively that single sentence silences everyone.
Even Cucurucho stops talking.
A beat passes.
Then the entire audience erupts into laughter.
Everyone except Roier.
For someone who’s only known Quackity a handful of months, he probably understands him better than anyone else present.
And Quackity doesn’t look like he’s joking.
Still, his face flushes bright red as the laughter continues around him, the avian uncomfortably shrinks into himself.
For a second, he looks as though he’s considering defending himself.
Instead, he quietly searches the crowd for… something.
Or someone.
When he doesn’t find it, he stays silent.
“Are you inventing boyfriends now?” Bad teases between laughs. Beside him, Dapper copies his father’s giggling almost perfectly.
Richas, meanwhile, looks thoroughly confused. He scribbles across his little sign before holding it toward Cellbit: “Pai Quackity has a boyfriend?”
Cellbit simply shrugs. Then, after a moment’s thought, subtly shakes his head with an apologetic smile.
“Look, Quackity,” Cellbit begins, sounding almost guilty. “If this is because I said nobody in their right mind would marry you… I’m sorry. I was just worried Roier would think I’d ever marry you over him.”
He instinctively wraps an arm around his husband as he speaks.
Roier winces, sometimes Cellbit really does have the subtlety of a brick.
This is one of those times.
He loves him anyway, so he lets it pass.
“It’s not—” Quackity frowns deeper. “I don’t get why you guys don’t believe me.”
“Well,” Etoiles says lazily without looking up from the election papers, “last week you were desperately trying to find someone to marry. You even asked me. So forgive us for being skeptical.”
The laughter starts all over again, Philza’s the loudest of them all even if he tries to muffle it.
“You guys suck.”
Quackity snatches one of the pamphlets off the table before storming out.
As he disappears, Cucurucho quietly watches him leave.
Without saying a word, the masked bear tilts his head toward one of the Federation workers. The worker immediately pulls out a communicator and begins typing, moments later, the presentation resumes.
As if nothing ever happened.
The first presidential debate goes horribly.
To ease the tension, the Federation announces an afterparty.
As usual, everyone attends.
Big events always managed to bring the island together. Free food, good company, and children running around causing harmless chaos while having fun, it was hard to ever say no.
After the disaster that had been the debate, candidates shouting over one another, interrupting every other sentence and nearly jumping each other, everyone welcomed the chance to relax.
Unfortunately, it goes just as badly. Arguably worse.
The moment the entire crowd reaches the venue, an explosion tears through the celebration. The blast leaves a massive crater into the ground, as though a meteor had crashed straight into Quesadilla Island.
Chaos immediately erupts.
Parents scramble to find their children while everyone else rushes toward the injured.
The presidential candidates, painfully aware that losing one of their extra lives would disqualify them from the election, quickly reach the same obvious conclusion.
Someone is trying to sabotage the campaign and kill the candidates.
Roier’s first instinct is to check Richas.
Thankfully, his little Brazilian Egg only seems dusty, his shirt stained with dirt but otherwise unharmed.
“You guys need help?” Quackity is making rounds through the crowd, stopping to check on anyone who looks injured.
“Ah, Quackity. No, we’re okay,” Roier replies with a tired smile.
“Dude.” Quackity’s eyes immediately drop to his arm. “Your arm.”
Only then does Roier notice the blood soaking into the sleeve of his red hoodie.
He must’ve cut himself shielding Richas from the blast.
It isn’t serious, just enough to leave a crimson stain that’s barely noticeable in his already red clothing.
“I didn’t even feel it. Don’t worry.”
Quackity barely acknowledges the reassurance, already rummaging through his inventory, pulling out bandages and a handful of golden apples.
Roier it’s too distracted by the whole situation, but later that night he’ll ask himself: Since when did Quackity have golden apples?
“This looks bad. Let me help you.” Without waiting for permission, Quackity carefully pulls the hoodie aside before wrapping the bandage around Roier’s arm.
The result is terrible, it’s too loose to actually keep the wound closed or to keep the blood from messing his clothes.
“Fuck.” He stares at his own handiwork. “Maybe I should call a doctor.”
Roier laughs, feeling thankful regardless. “We don’t have doctors on the island.” Then he tilts his head. “You mean Melissa?”
His psychologist cousin, which wouldn’t be that much help.
Quackity immediately puffs out his chest. “Well, my boyfriend is a doctor.” A brief pause as he rethinks it. “Kind of.”
Roier slowly looks up.
“…Is he?” He tries very hard to sound casual.
“Uhm. Yeah.” Quackity rolls his eyes with unmistakable smugness.
Before Roier can ask anything else, Cellbit appears beside them.
His ears stand stiff with alarm and tail is tense enough to snap, it’s only after quickly checking Roier for injuries do his feline pupils soften.
“Guapito.” He exhales, shoulders finally slumped. “It’s safer if we go back to the castle. Richas is already there.”
He reaches into his inventory for his warp stone while helping Roier to his feet.
“You can come too, Quackity. It’s dangerous to be alone until we find whoever did this.”
“Oh, don’t worry!” Quackity beams. “Multi’s waiting for me.” He waves cheerfully. “Bye!”
Purple particles swirl around him as he teleports away.
The silence he leaves behind lasts exactly three seconds.
Cellbit slowly turns toward his husband.
“Who the fuck is Multi?”
—
It doesn’t stop there.
If anything, it gets worse.
Apparently, everyone has heard about him.
Multi.
The mysterious boyfriend who supposedly ran for president somewhere else, works as a doctor, researches nuclear energy, and according to Philza’s latest gossip, even has a son named Nacho. A child no one has ever actually seen.
The entire situation feels ridiculous. Quackity’s apparently perfect boyfriend, who came from God-knows-where.
The general consensus across the island is split between two possibilities.
Either Quackity has completely lost it or someone is taking advantage of him.
Neither explanation feels particularly comforting.
It certainly doesn’t help that every time someone asks to meet Multi, Quackity always gives exactly the same answer.
“He’s busy right now” or “He’s visiting another island.”
Which sounds suspiciously similar to: “You wouldn’t know my girlfriend. She goes to another school.”
Still, whatever this relationship is, Quackity seems genuinely attached to it.
People constantly catch him smiling down at his communicator, typing messages, laughing quietly to himself, unbearably fond.
Yet the moment anyone tries to peek at the screen.
“No.”
He hugs the communicator to his chest.
“It’s private.”
“I think he’s finally gone mad.” Bad sighs dramatically during one of his visits to Cellbit and Roier’s castle. “Very sad, right, Dapper?”
Dapper immediately nods along before dissolving into laughter alongside his father.
Neither Cellbit nor Roier joins in.
It’s becoming difficult to laugh about it, now it’s actually worrying.
Eventually, Roier decides enough is enough.
If nobody else is going to figure out what’s happening, Detectivoier will.
He sends Quackity a message asking where he is, the response arrives almost immediately.
—
As usual these days, Quackity brings him up without warning.
It happens while they’re cleaning the Egg Daycare, Roier reorganizing scattered books while Quackity stares a little too long at a lab kit left out for the children’s lessons.
Apparently, he’s also a scientist.
“Didn’t you say he ran for president?” Roier asks carefully, stacking a few drawings.
“Well, he’s from Poland,” Quackity explains, as if that clarifies everything, and he keeps rambling. “He said he wasn’t really interested in his election and that he only ran because he lived there, so—”
“Wait, what? He’s from where?” Roier interrupts, a few books slipping from his hands.
“He’s Polish. From Poland. Polonia. Polski Cave.”
Roier pauses.
Normally, he lets Quackity’s stories pass. He knows the avian talks nonsense half the time, either joking, exaggerating, or outright trolling, only to ruin his own bit by laughing seconds later. Can’t keep a straight face.
But this time feels different.
He carefully picks up the fallen books, forcing his tone to stay light. “Oh, okay... So where did you meet him?”
“Dude, it’s fucking insane!” Quackity lights up instantly. “He saved me! Well, I don’t know. Let’s just say they were going to take me to do God knows what but he stopped them, saying something about his rank and information exchange.”
Roier hums slowly.
“Uh huh…” He keeps his face neutral, even as confusion builds behind his eyes. The duck hybrid is completely clueless, lost in thought.
“I think he, like, loves me. Or something,” Quackity adds quietly, almost shy.
Quackity.
Shy.
The same man who would throw himself into absurd situations for attention, strip himself of dignity without hesitation, and beg for affection from anyone who would listen.
Roier takes a moment longer than usual before answering.
“I see.” He exhales, still trying to process it “When did you meet him, again?”
“Oh! Like nine days ago, I think.” Quackity tilts his head upward, counting on his fingers. “Wait, no, eight days ago. Ha! Crazy, right?”
He smiles brightly.
Roier is silent for a moment.
“Yeah. Fucking crazy, man.”
—
Eventually, someone says what most of them are already thinking.
Maximus.
“You don’t have a boyfriend. It’s not real,” he says flatly after yet another mention of the mysterious Polish doctor. “We’ve been following your delusions but it’s getting weird now. We already forgave you for trying to kill our children, so stop with this nonsense.”
“What nonsense?” Quackity snaps immediately. “Multi is real. He’s just really busy.”
“And he’s only awake when everyone else is sleeping, yeah, you’ve told us already,” Baghera adds, exhausted.
“Well, it’s not my fault he actually has a real job, unlike you,” Quackity fires back.
“Yeah, working in nuclear weapons,” Bad adds mockingly. “In his secret facility.”
“It’s not secret. It’s closed for safety reasons. I can’t— I can’t take you guys there because it would be dangerous for your guys’ health.”
His voice falters slightly, as if even he realizes how it sounds. For a brief moment, the confidence slips and all he’s left with is the weight of everyone’s staring.
“Don’t worry, Quackity. I also don’t see Vegetta very often,” Foolish offers casually, continuing to distribute Kelp for his campaign.
“That’s different, because we’ve all seen Vegetta and your weird relationship,” Mike replies immediately.
“Oh, I guess you’re right,” Foolish admits, while his daughter, Leo, nods enthusiastically beside him.
“Quackity, you don’t need to lie to us. Just stop mentioning it that much, we’ll act like nothing happened, I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually,” Cellbit says more gently, trying to soften the blow.
“I’m not!” Quackity’s voice cracks slightly with frustration. He looks around the room, cornered.
“Roier, tell them!” His gaze locks onto him. “You believe me, right?”
Roier freezes.
“…Well…”
Silence falls instantly.
Quackity doesn’t wait for anything else.
His boots hit the white concrete fast, each step sharper than the last, until he disappears from the room.
—
After the presidential elections end –full of assassination attempts, endless debates, and even encounters with the Code Monster trying to tear the island apart and kill their children– they all gather to celebrate.
Cucurucho speaks with the winner while everyone else finally sits down to eat, tension slowly seeping out of their backs.
After a while, things almost feel normal in the island again.
And after the entire boyfriend fiasco, Quackity stops mentioning Multi all-together.
Roier thinks that marks the end of his investigation, until Quackity walks into the dining area.
He isn’t alone.
Beside him stands a man no one has ever seen before, composed, with green dreads and a lab coat that looks far too clean for Quesadilla Island. His blue eyes quietly scanning the room with a calm focus that feels almost unnatural, Roier could swear he sees a green glint.
He looks human, barely, but human enough compared to the Federation’s faceless workers.
Before anyone can react, Fit’s voice cuts through the room.
“Oh, hey, Multi! Nice seeing you here, finally got a day off?” He stands and casually greets him, completely unaware of the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“Hi, Fit. Yes, I’m taking a short break,” the stranger replies calmly, unbothered.
“What?!” Bad is the first to react, triggering a wave of noise across the table. Endless chatter and panic ensues.
Quackity’s grin widens instantly.
“This is my plus one! Everyone, meet Multi.” He practically pushes the man forward, proudly showing off.
Multi only glances at him with mild amusement before straightening his posture, hands behind his back.
“Hello. I’m Dr. YoungMulti, pleased to meet you.”
The table erupts into overlapping conversations once again.
Eventually, things settle enough for dinner to continue, dessert arriving while tension still lingers in the air. Quackity hogs his partner’s full attention, incessantly rambling as the other eats carefully listening.
Everyone sneaks peeks at the weird couple, who seem to be living in a different world.
Bad leans toward Fit, whispering while frowning. “Did you know him?”
“Multi? Oh yeah, he works with the feds,” Fit says casually while serving ice cream to his son, Ramon. “Don’t worry, he’s a good one.”
Jaiden looks up, confused. “How do you know him?”
Fit laughs. “I’m working with the Feds now! I’m just a janitor. The pay’s shit, but the fofoca is great.”
Roier glances sideways at Cellbit.
Cellbit looks back.
No words are exchanged, just a silent agreement.
—
The party ends too late, just before dawn begins to creep over the horizon.
As everyone slowly leaves, four people remain behind.
“I told you I had a boyfriend,” Quackity says smugly, breaking the silence first.
The tone is sharp, almost satisfied, like he’s been waiting for this moment.
Roier and Cellbit exchange a look, but before they get the chance to say anything, someone interrupts them.
“We never— we are not dating. When did you or I ever talk about that?” The scientist sputters, stumbling over his own words.
“What?! We are! We are. What are you talking about?” Quackity snaps back immediately, offended.
“We never—”
“You cried when you saw me for the first time! Saying shit about how you’ve been looking for me.”
“Ugh, Quackity, please…” He hides his face in his hands.
“Okay, I’m sorry, yeah. That’s private. You guys don’t need to know. But he did. Cry. For me.” The man in the lab coat looks like he wants to crawl inside a hole.
“Hey pendejo, don’t bother him too much or he’ll dump you,” Roier says lightly, turning toward the doctor. “Multi, right?”
The scientist looks up. “Oh, hey Roier.”
That alone is enough to make Roier uncomfortable, too much familiarity in his voice.
“I don’t think we’ve met before.” He awkwardly laughs, trying to convince his husband that he has never seen this guy in his life.
“No, we haven’t met before,” Multi replies smoothly, accentuating the last word.
Roier decides he’s fucking weird.
Cellbit steps forward slightly, positioning himself between them.
“So are you part of the Federation?”
“In a way, yes. Yes. I work with them,” Multi answers calmly, hands behind his back.
“So you’re insane like them,” Cellbit mutters.
“I’m just a scientist.” His tone is quiet, eerily calm.
“Quackity, I think you shouldn’t be near him,” Cellbit adds, already tense.
Before anything escalates, Quackity is gently pulled back by Multi, who steps forward instead. Roier supresses a giggle watching how much the avian is enjoying this situation.
“Quackity is fine. His health is my utmost priority. You don’t need to worry. Nor get in the way.” The doctor warns.
Roier laughs under his breath. “Oh! So you are boyfriends!”
“What?” Multi looks taken aback, ready to deny it. But he’s too late.
The avian, instead of correcting it, just laughs under his breath like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all night.
“Right? He’s crazy but, you know what? Who isn’t these days?” Quackity adds with a grin, already saying nonsense.
There’s something almost fond in the way he says it, like the word crazy doesn’t even mean anything bad when it comes to him.
Cellbit sighs, rubbing his face. “Esqueci o quão louco você é. Whatever. Take care of Quackity then, he’s a good friend.”
“Aww! Thank you.”
“Richas misses you, you need to visit your son,” Roier adds.
“You have a son?” Multi whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice down.
“Yes, but only like 1%,” Quackity replies, avoiding eye contact.
“And it’ll be zero soon if you don’t visit,” Cellbit adds. “I’ll let you bring your boyfriend, but only if we supervise.”
“I’m not his—”
Quackity doesn’t let him finish.
“Okay! Since he finally has a day off I’ll go show him around the island now.” He grabs Multi’s arm with zero hesitation, but this time it’s not rushed or chaotic. It’s familiar. “I’m gonna laugh in Bad’s face and show Dapper that his father is the only lonely fucking loser on this island, byee!”
Before he chooses a waypoint, they shared a hushed conversation Roier catches thanks to his refined hearing.
“You’re gonna like it here,” the younger says, quieter now. “I think.”
“I already do,” Multi replies.
It’s simple.
But it makes Quackity smile in a way that feels a little less performative than before.
They finally disappear in a burst of purple particles.
“…Well, that was something,” Cellbit says. “I feel bad for not believing him.”
“It’s Quackity. You never know with him.”
“É verdade, é verdade.”
“Okay. Let’s go home. Richarlyson is going to wake up any time now and he’ll be mad if he doesn’t get his morning coffee.”
Roier laughs softly.
“Yes. Let’s go, gatinho.”