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Summary
Quackity doesn't know what death feels like. He got close, once, but he did not die. And, moreover, he doesn't know what coming back from death feels like.
When Wilbur was revived he acted as if everything was fine, as if he was simply sleeping for the last 164 days and not six feet under in a grave of his own making. Quackity has come to the conclusion that his act was, in fact, just an act.
In the beginning, this lie entertained Quackity. Now, though, it feels cruel. Quackity has found himself caring for Wilbur, entertaining his theatrics of being unscathed from death is only harming them both. After all, you can only watch a man splinter and crack so much. You can only watch the beautiful stained glass shatter under the weight of reality and hope to piece it back together.
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A 5+1 where Quackity and Wilbur slowly fall in love over time, each milestone to their relationship happening due to one of Wilbur's many side effects of being revived.No AI used in this fic. I do not consent to my writing being put through AI.
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