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It was today Quackity decided balconies were good for contemplation, and he was quite glad to have invested in one.
He stood at the railings, arms hanging off the side, a coin tucked between his fingers. It was dark, and the cool night air was just what he needed to clear his head- especially considering all the smoke and sickly sweet perfume emanating from the residents in the casino.
He stared down at the lit streets, watching as cars drove down the roads only to get stuck in traffic a little over the hill. It was, peaceful, in a way that only the city could be.
Then his eyes drifted down to his left hand, fingers delicately gripping the stone banister. On his ring finger gleamed- well, rings. One a gaudy gold, shimmering up with arrogance, the other studded with pastel green gems, less loud in its presence, but still tight around his finger.
He didn't know why he kept those.
Some nights he thought long and hard in the privacy of his bedroom about throwing them over the edge of this balcony, watching as their glittering selves fell into the empty expanse of dark city shadows and distant headlights of cars.
But he's always stopped himself short before he could hurdle them over the edge, before he could throw them under his boot and smash them to pieces, before he could lock them in his drawer and never think about them again.
It was hard, a lot harder than he'd thought.
He pondered again - about throwing them - as he focused his vision once again at the busy streets below. Maybe some civilian would pick it up and pocket it, never knowing the value it held to him - or maybe some con man would scoop it up and make a quick buck with it; it was almost as if the more he thought, the easier it was to drop the, but the harder it was to forgive himself for it.
When a figure approached, Quackity barely noticed, his thoughts loud in his ears. He took the rings off his fingers, placing them in his palm. How easy it would be to just...tip his hand. One simple movement, and all his burdens would be gone, the chain that's been holding him would be released and he'd be free to roam, to do what he pleased.
He pinched the two bands of metal between his fingers, admiring them one last time. Even if he regretted it in the morning, there wasn't anything time couldn't fix.
Without hesitation, he held the rings over the edge, the wind billowing beside him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Then a hand closed around his wrist.
All it took was a sharp pull and Quackity's hands were back over the safety of the balcony, the rings clattering against the floor with the force of the action.
Fearing the worst for himself, Quackity turned, wings flaring. He reared his fist back, before opening his eyes, freezing his movements.
"Wilbur," he all but sneered.
"Hello," said the aforementioned man. He let go of Quackity's hand almost casually, letting it fall to his side. He stepped back, leaning down to grab the rings that had fallen, clutching them slightly in his palm. "And what were you up to this fine evening dear colleague?"
It was at times like this Quackity regretted bringing Wilbur along to his little scheme, resorting to relying on him and having him around near daily. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the company- he just simply wished the other didn't barge in during....personal affairs.
"None of your goddamn business," Quackity shot back quickly. He thrusted a palm out, shooting a glare. "Give me those rings, right now."
Wilbur had the audacity to play coy, mock pouting.
It was really starting to piss Quackity off.
"Wilbur I won't hesitate to cut off our agreements," he said sharply. In hindsight, it might have been a smidgen too extreme, but Quackity didn't care about proper business - he wanted those rings back with him.
Despite the threat, Wilbur didn't look at all disturbed, simply bored. He pulled the gloved hand that held the precious items closer to his chest, stance rather relaxed. "Y'know, if I didn't know any better I'd think these were just, some gift given to you as a shitty birthday present," he said, pacing a bit now. His wings were folded behind him, tucked neatly over each other. He looked up now, gazing at Quackity with an expression he wasn't able to read. "But these are something more, aren't they?"
“What are you going to do? Sell them? Use them for blackmail? This is a bit blunt, even for you,” he said coldly, dodging the question. Everything about this situation made him nervous - not that he would ever admit that - and it almost seemed like Wilbur could tell, what with that cocked eyebrow and stupid smirk.
He was more punchable than Quackity had ever seen him.
“No, no, no, of course not!” Wilbur said, feigning mock hurt. “Who do you take me for, I have no need for- for money. In our little agreement you know I never said anything about money.”
And he would be right, but why would Quackity trust the words of a conman?
“Then hand over those fucking rings,” he demanded, battered wings flaring out behind him. He was losing control of the situation fast, but he needed those rings back in his possession. “You agreed not to meddle with my shit- I don’t mess with yours, now hand it over Soot!”
For the first time this evening, Wilbur gave Quackity a frown, almost serious if not for the way he seemed to shrug it off. “You seem to need these so bad, yet when I first caught you here you nearly dropped these all the way down into the gutter,” he said, voice trailing off. “What exactly are these Quackity?” he asked. “Why are you so..…” He paused, grasping for a word. “-passionate about them?” he decided.
How long was Wilbur going to bore him with these inane - and honestly tedious - questions? How long was he going to push?
But Quackity knew- why wouldn’t he? He’s done the same before, it was almost a tactic of stalling but usually it worked to get out the most information; pressuring someone and while picking at their weak points - it was the best way to gain even the hardest bits of knowledge. And now Wilbur was using that tactic against him.
A tiny voice urged him to give in, even at the sake of his ego. There was something akin to refuge in those eyes, despite how imperceptible it may be. It was almost like...Wilbur was worried.
Would it really hurt to let someone else understand? To have someone hold onto the chains? To have someone release the weight, if only for a moment.
Maybe Quackity was tired, or maybe his disparity had reached an all time high. But slowly, tentatively, he inched closer to Wilbur. At first, the taller didn’t seem to understand the move, but realization soon dawned on his face, and he opened a wing, wrapping it around Quackity as he leaned in, hitting his head lightly against Wilbur’s musty sweater.
They were quiet for a long while, the rhythm of the city the only sounds around them - alongside the wind of course. Things fell peaceful again, and the weariness and fatigue that once felt nonexistent fell down on Quackity like a sack of rocks, his shoulders slumping forward into the near-awkward embrace he resided in. “The rings are from my fiances,” he said finally, voice as tired as he felt.
Hearing no response, he continued. “I never told you this but, I kinda built this whole fucking nation for them,” he said, eyes darting to the city beside him, looking drearily at the buildings. “But then I find out they made a whole ‘nother place without me - didn’t even bother to say anything.”
As if the small act of rebellion did anything, Quackity kicked the heel of his boot against the ground, feathers bristling. “I spent months making this fucking place, and they just left me in the dust, like some sort of bad habit.”
Quackity brought his hands up, fingers tightening in the faded, yellow sweater in front of him. “I didn’t even find out about ‘Kinoko Kingdom’ from them- fucking George of all people told me! They couldn’t even tell me to my fucking face!”
The bunched up the soft material in his fists, shaking softly. “I was going to show them around,” he whispered dully, looking at the ground, at his feet. “I was going to propose to them- right here, right fucking here, with flowers, and candles and all that romantic crap,” he cried, voice trembling now.
“And they just fucking left me.”
Silence fell over them again, the wind blowing more harshly against his ears, the noise loud and burning. Then, as quick as it came, it fell- a drop of stillness surrounding them.
Wilbur brought his hand up to Quackity’s head, simply resting his palm there. “Do you hate them?” he asked simply, as if it had a simple answer.
The question was rather jarring - Quackity had never asked himself that before, but perhaps that was because he was refusing to answer it, not wanting to face the consequences of his choices.
But why was he so afraid of his answer? So what if he did hate them? He should, after they abandoned him. The three vowed they would stick together no matter what, to lift up each other when they were down, to love each other forever and always.
Maybe that’s why it was so hard.
Cause at the end of the day, as much as Quackity hates what they did, he could never hate them.
Never.
And maybe, when he started crying, that’s when it hit him- just how much he loved them. Just how much they took up his thoughts, his life, his dreams. It hurt to love so much, he knew as the tears streamed down his cheeks and stained the sweater before him, he knew as he shook with his sobs and pressed closer to the warm embrace of his friend.
He knew when the rings were placed back into his palm, Wilbur’s hands gently clasping Quackity’s fingers over them, keeping them tucked.
“Don’t throw them out like they might’ve you,” Wilbur whispered quietly, chin resting on Quackity’s head.
For once he didn’t feel the need to have the last word, simply sniffling into the quiet, wiping his face with his sleeve.
Now as he gazed at the balcony’s edge, he held the rings tighter to his chest, letting the bands crease his skin.