Chapter Text
Wilbur heaves his guitar over his shoulder, the strap wrapping around his chest and keeping the wooden instrument in place. He sits down at the bus stop and leans over his lap, holding his head in his hands to rest. His band’s first professionally recorded music video, and he could already feel his life draining out of him. He’s never had to take to take the bus before, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but he’d have to get used to it, because he’d be taking the bus back and forth to the studio for the next week and a half. Or longer, if they were unlucky enough to have to postpone recording.
It doesn’t take long for the bus to arrive, and he stands up from a bench as it comes to a stop. The door opens, and he and a few other people walk in. A crowd of people like this was most definitely not something Wilbur was accustomed to, and he did his best to find a seat that was as close to empty as possible, eventually deciding that he would just stand. The bus started off and Wilbur struggled not to lose his balance. He held onto the pole keeping the seats up and took out his phone.
A voicemail.
He opens his phone and clicks to listen to it. Before it’s able to play, he scrambles for his headphones, now tangled up from spending the whole day inside his pocket. He plugs them in and quickly puts one in his ear, clicking to let the message play. The familiar sound of his wife’s voice chimes over the phone.
“Hey honey!” Her cheery tone puts a smile on his face, even if it’s prerecorded. “I know you’re gonna be home late today, so I asked my boss if she would let me me go home early, and it was a yes. So I’m on my way home right now- well, right now as I record this, I don’t know how long you’ll be working for. Oh, by the way, how’s everything going with the recording? Oh, I’m getting off topic, you can tell me when you get home. Anyways I’m gonna start on dinner and maybe watch some TV with Fundy if I have the time. I was thinking chicken? I’ll see what we have in the fridge.”
There’s a brief pause in her words and some white noise in the background. Eventually, her voice chimes back up
“Traffic is just terrible today, I hope you have a safe trip home. I should probably wrap this up. I was thinking, if we’re both gonna be out of the house for a while, we should hire a babysitter for Fundy. I just don’t feel safe leaving him alone by himself all day, he’s too young. I was lucky to get off early today, I trust that he’s ok. Alright, well, I love you! See you soon.”
The message ends with a small click.
Wilbur smiles and goes to call his wife back, but is stopped when he hears a voice behind him.
“Wilbur?” A strangely familiar voice. He turns around suddenly and sees someone he barely recognizes. A short man with shoulder length black hair and a scar down the left side of his face. He’s wearing a dress shirt, a tie, and suspenders, like a door to door salesman from the 70’s. It’s only when he smiles does Wilbur recognize him. A golden canine where his missing tooth used to be, back when they were fresh into highschool.
“Quackity?!” Wilbur eyes widen in surprise, and Quackity laughs at the recognition.
“No way! I didn’t know you lived here!”
“W-well, my whole family lives here, I’ve got no reason to not live here,” Wilbur eyes Quackity up and down, so much has changed since summer camp. “Wait, why do you live here?” Quackity sits down on the brightly colored bus seat without hesitation, despite how dirty it probably is. Then he shrugs.
“I just do. I mean, I moved here to work at this big tech company in downtown, nice building but a long drive.”
“Ah,” Wilbur makes a noise of recognition, not very invested in the conversation. His mind was elsewhere, remembering the now defunct camp where his dad and brother used to work, where he met Quackity. Where they fought, and argued, and laughed, and made the counselor’s angry. And the end of the summer, where they parted ways, and the last thing Quackity said to him.
‘I don’t feel that way about you Wilbur, I don’t feel that way about anyone.’ And he ran to the entrance to embrace his parents. It was a somber reminder of his first real crush, and it’s failure, to see him again.
Wilbur shook the thought from his mind, turning his attention back to current Quackity, the real Quackity, who seemed so much more smug than his childhood counterpart. Quackity was always a rambunctious child, who spoke his mind and wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself, even if it meant he got hurt and started to cry. Wilbur wonders to himself if Quackity is still like that.
“S-so what do you do, exactly?” Wilbur begins the conversation again, unable to stop himself.
“Oh, I’m actually the CEO,” this surprises Wilbur. “It’s actually pretty boring.”
“You’re a… CEO?”
Quackity snickers, knowing what Wilbur was thinking.
“I know right?”
“Never thought you’d be responsible enough for a job like that.” Wilbur playfully jabs.
“And I never thought you’d be responsible enough for a marriage.” Quackity points at the wedding wing on Wilbur’s hand. Quackity meant it just as playfully, but for some reason, it hit Wilbur just a little bit harder.
“O-oh,” Wilbur lifts his hand up and begins messing with the ring nervously. “Yeah, I’ve got a kid too.”
“Gonna need evidence for that one big guy.”
“You want pictures asshole? I have pictures!” The two of them laugh.
“Sure, show me these totally legit ‘pictures’ of your ‘kid’.”
Wilbur pulls out his phone, compelled to prove Quackity wrong. He wasn’t sure why he so badly wanted to compete with him again. Even he’s able to pull his camera roll and open up the abundance of photos he has of his child and shove it in Quackity’s face. Fundy was a young, only about 4 or 5. Quackity looked at the photos of the toddler with the bright orange hair, crawling around, wearing different outfits, on his first day of school. It makes him smile.
“Wow.”
“Told ya.” Once he’s done showing off, he puts his phone back into his pocket triumphantly. Quackity leans back in the seat and smiles up at Wilbur.
“It’s crazy,” he begins. “How time flies.”
Wilbur sighs and fixes his glasses.
“I guess so.” There’s a brief pause before either of them say anything else.
“Ive never seen you on the bus before, what brings you here?” Quackity is quick to change the subject.
“Oh, I’m recording a music video with my band for the next week or so, and the studio is all the way across town.”
“Woah, you’re in a band?? That’s awesome!”
Wilbur laughs, embarrassed.
“It’s nothing special.”
“Seems even Dream smashing your guitar couldn’t stop you from playing.”
“Nothing ever could really,” Wilbur smiles. “I think I’m gonna play music forever.”
“I think you should.”
“Really?? You said I was terrible when we were kids!”
“Oh come on I was 14!” Quackity laughs as he talks, prompting Wilbur to laugh as well. “I bet you’re great.”
“I’m decent.”
Quackity holds back his laughter.
“You’re a liar is what you are.”
“I would NEVER lie.”
Quackity pauses.
“I think you just created a paradox.”
Wilbur shrugs.
“I might’ve,” he jokes. The bus suddenly begins to slow, and it doesn’t take long for it to come to a stop. The bus door slides open, and the drivers voice sounds over the speaker, saying a street name Wilbur doesn’t recognize. Quackity suddenly stands and rushes to the back of the bus, grabbing a black bag and tossing it over his shoulder.
“I’ve gotta go,” he rushes back to Wilbur and smiles at him. “Good to see you again!” He quickly dashes off to the front of the bus, and climbs out, not even giving Wilbur a chance to say goodbye. A few people he doesn’t know walk onto the bus, and it doesn’t take long for it to start moving once again.
—
Wilbur unlocks the door to his house and steps inside, unable to shake the interaction with Quackity from his mind. The first thing he hears is the TV, and the laughter of his son, and he finds himself unable to stop the smile creeping onto his face. He locks the door and sets down his guitar next to the shoe rack, as well as his torn up boots and his jacket. He rushes into the living room as watches as Fundy excitedly jumps around on the couch from cushion to cushion.
“Fundy?” He’s able to get his child’s attention by saying his name, and he’s quickly met with a smile.
“Daddy!” Fundy hops off the couch and rushes to his father, hugging his leg tightly. “I missed you all day! Don’t leave again!” Wilbur bends over and gently pats Fundy’s head.
“I missed you too kiddo.”
“We’ll look who’s finally home,” Sally steps out of the kitchen with her hands on her hips, smiling. Wilbur stands and walks over to her, Quickly kissing her and brushing a hair out of her face to tuck it behind her ear.
“Ew!” Fundy shouts before returning to his game of The Floor is Lava. The two laugh, Sally moving into the kitchen. Wilbur follows.
“How’s dinner coming?”
“Good, it’s almost done. Just a few more minutes and it should be ready to go,” Sally reaches up to a cabinet next to microwave, opening it and taking out plates. “In the meantime, tell me about your day.”
“Oh, it was fine,” Wilbur leans against the archway between the kitchen and the dining area. “I had a fun, but it’s also extremely stressful. I’m excited for when it finally gets done though.”
“How are the other members holding up?” Sally continues running around the kitchen as she talks, grabbing utensils, napkins, and making sure the food doesn’t burn.
“They’re well, I can assume.”
“Did you get my message?”
“I did, I did…” Wilbur tries to form his thoughts into words. “I was going to call you back but I ran into an old friend and we did some catching up.”
“An old friend?”
“Well, kind of. We didn’t get along very well.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm, I met him at summer camp. I think I told you about that, that obedience camp for unruly kids?”
“You did, I remember. And how is he now?”
“He’s a CEO now, it’s weird.”
“Huh,” Sally turns the heat off the stove off and brings the plates closer to her. “Could you go tell Fundy that dinner is ready?” Wilbur nods and stands up straight, turning into the living room.
“Hey kiddo,” Wilbur searches the living room for the TV remote, finding it resting on the couch. He reaches for it and turns the TV off. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Aw man,” Fundy jumps off the couch and runs into the dining room, happily taking a seat. Wilbur’s soon to follow, sitting down next to him.
—
Wilbur shuts the lamp next to the bed off in his room and lays down next to his wife, pulling the blankets up over them.
“Wilbur?” She whispers, turning to face him.
“Hm?”
It’s obvious she has something on her mind, something bothering her. But she only smiles.
“Goodnight.”
Wilbur forces himself to smile back.
“Night.”
She closes her eyes and begins to drift away, but Wilbur stares at the ceiling, only one thing on his mind. Today, by all means, was a good day. And by all means, Wilbur lives a good life. He can’t help but wonder to himself why he feels so sad.