Quackity shifted and sneaked between the crowd, careful not to trip over anyone or even himself as the sound of many, many shoes hit the concrete while still keeping a decent pace that meant he could get to where he needed to go quickly.

He most certainly could not be late.

That would be embarrassing.

So he picked up the pace a bit.

The evening air was thin and cold, making Quackity adjust his hoodie only for a chill wind to creep up his spine. So he decided to pay the weather no mind and simply make his way down sidewalk after sidewalk.

Soon enough, Quackity could see a familiar old brick building just ahead of him. Finally.

The building itself was old, yes, and made out of brick, but some bits went under some changes to look a bit less like it was falling apart- as in the shiny dark oak wood that bordered the place or the thick dark red curtains on each window.

Quackity couldn't help but smile upon arrival, adjusting the hold he had on his old acoustic guitar.

Plus, today was his day.

He walked up the small set of stairs to push through the double doors awaiting him, inside a gush of warm air hit his cheeks as he sauntered across the room full of tables, some full, some not.

The room was lit nicely, candles hanging in pretty assortments from the ceiling, and low chatter filled any silence along with the sound of silverware and glass cups.

Quackity stepped up to a door in the back corner, passing through with a deep breath. A counter to the right and shelves to the left. Quackity was about to walk over to the counter before his eyes lit up at seeing a similar man shuffling through a closet.

"Hey Jack," Quackity said, greeting the man with a small friendly smile. Jack whipped around, in the middle of putting a bottle of cleaner away. He set it down and nudged a broom back in its place.

"Oh, Quackity." He grinned. "How are ya mate?"

"Good," Quackity said with a firm nod, leaning on the wall. "But nervous."

"Mm, I understand- to some extent," Jack told him, slipping off a pair of plastic disposable gloves and tossing them into the nearest trash can before grabbing a clipboard.

Quackity scoffed at that, fixing up his beanie. "You know Jack, you can be out there rather than back here if you really wanted to."

Jack's smile softened as he walked out of the closet, throwing a bag over his shoulder. "Yeah maybe. But not all of us have the skills you do, Quackity." He walked past the Quackity, holding the clipboard to his chest. "See ya soon."

"But I just got-"

"Ah ah," Jack called, walking back before waving. "I'm off the clock. No more cleaning for me. I told Niki I'd meet up with her anyway so I do have to leave."

"You're gonna miss it though," Quackity said with a fake pout on his face that Jack simply chuckled at.

"If that's what you believe."

And then Jack walked out of the room, leaving Quackity honestly a bit confused at his last words. He was literally leaving and Quackity would be performing in around ten minutes or so. Quackity sighed, shoulders drooping as he muttered words of disbelief with a shake of his head.

So he turned around, the counter ahead of them. Anybody who worked here- or performed here, went up to this counter when they were here. Whether they were a bartender or were signing up to get a spot on the stage, they would have to come here to this very counter that Quackity now stood at.

"Hey Rob."

The man, Rob, grunted as he spun his chair back around from a filing cabinet to Quackity, smacking the gum in his mouth before he raised his eyebrows. "Hello, what do you need?"

Quackity cleared his throat, ever so slightly leaning over to point at a sheet of paper. "Uhm, well my name was on that list and I was just-"

Rob sighed, setting a pen down. "We only got one more show tonight."

"Yes, that's me." Quackity felt a smile pull at his lips as he stood up straighter.

"Let's take a loo-"

The door burst open, grabbing Quackity's attention and Rob's judgeful look as a lanky man hurried in, "Rob! Rob!"

Quackity tilted his head as he rushed over and placed his hands on the counter, bowing his head and trying to get a grip of his breath as his hair fell over his forehead, the white streak of hair making Quackity roll his eyes. He cleared his throat, "Rob, shit- sorry."

"Uh-huh," Rob said, unamused.

Quackity held back even the smallest trace of a smile, instead, he frowned when the man finally stood up and faced him. "Oh, Quackity," he said with realization between two very large deep breaths and gestured lazily towards him. "Didn't know you could carry a guitar."

Quackity's frown only deepened. "Hello Wilbur."

Wilbur smiled, shoulders still rising and falling quickly as a small laugh split through his lips. "You look so happy to see me."

"Really?" Quackity asked mockingly. "That's funny because I'm actually quite the opposite now that you're here."

"Huh," Wilbur said, pretending to think about it as he furrowed his brows, looking ahead as his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. Then, he turned his head to face Quackity again. "Why?"

Quackity shook his head. "You idiot."

Rob cleared his throat, making both of them switch back to him as if all a button was pressed as they looked at him. Rob clicked his tongue, tiredly and slowly sitting up straighter in his chair. "So, what can I do for the two of ya?"

"What I was previously talking about," Quackity had said just so luckily the same time Wilbur held his own hands politely and said, "I have a spot on the list."

Of course, neither of them heard each other and Rob couldn't decipher the two sentences so he sighed and pointed at Wilbur, making Quackity silently grimace. "So what's your deal?"

"Well I'm supposed to check in with you before I perform, aren't I?" Wilbur questioned jokingly because yes, everyone had to confirm their name and all that jazz before they could step out on stage. But the only problem is that as Rob had said, there was one slot left for somebody to perform.

And Quackity had put his name there.

Rob noticed this to some extent, humming to himself. "I see."

Quackity furrowed his brows, the fact that he was slowly becoming confused apparent on his face as he slowly looked over at Wilbur. If this stupidly tall stupid man had messed up the one open window he would have for weeks then he swore to whatever-

"And you?"

Quackity blinked, his attention winding back to Rob who was gesturing towards him with a pen. Quackity refused the large urge to start getting upset and instead glanced over at Wilbur before shrugging. "Well, uhm, like I said before I'm the last performer for tonight."

Wilbur coughed, having to place a hand on the counter to steady himself before he managed out a very baffled and annoyed, "What?!"

That was the moment of confirmation that Quackity so very much did not want. The moment where his world went still into an indecisive mess of anger and confusion. Since when- why just why?

Quackity prayed this wasn't true, but as Rob tapped his pen on the counter with one hand and grabbed a piece of paper- the reservation sheet- with a dreadful slowness, Quackity didn't think this was exactly in his favor.

"Well," Rob started, clicking his pen and the sound of him chewing gum became louder than normal for a hot second as Quackity and Wilbur stood there frozen like if they were to move the floor would fall out underneath them into a lake of lava. "There seems to be an issue here."

"Clearly," Quackity muttered sourly whereas Wilbur barked out a sharp laugh. However, both responses didn't affect Rob at all as he placed the paper up where they could see it.

"There are two names for that slot."

Dammit. Quackity knew it.

"Rob!" Wilbur raised his voice, throwing his hands at his sides dramatically before accusingly pointing at him. "It is literally your job to make sure this-" He placed the pointing finger down on the counter so hard Quackity winced, "exact situation doesn't happen."

Rob simply chuckled with a shake of his head, making Quackity shrink back and cover his face as he groaned with annoyance.

"Oh hell," Quackity mumbled. "I cannot believe this, how did that even happen?" He asked, glaring at Wilbur who was currently impatiently tapping his foot with annoyance as he looked all around the room like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"Heh, you two just put your name down on the same time slot," Rob said dryly, setting the paper down as Quackity huffed.

"But- how? This is like, something that is supposed to be prevented," Quackity said all muddled with disbelief as he narrowed his eyes on the paper that was now barely out of his view. "I had my name on there. Nobody else wrote theirs."

Wilbur paused, hands dropping at his side as he raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying I was the one who wrote over your name?"

"Well how the fuck else would there be both of our names on there if I put mine down first?" Quackity shot back, crossing his arms as the heat of anger built up in front of his vision. He had spent so much time and work to get one single spot on a stage but of course, Wilbur, who was already familiar with the audience, was somehow screwing it up. Because the truth is, places like this don't like new shows unless they know for certain the crowd is going to enjoy it. But Wilbur's been here for a whole three months, that's how Quackity found this place. But of course when Wilbur said Quackity should try it out, the man never said how hard it'd be nor that he'd ruin his first time.

Honestly, why did he even listen? He didn't even like Wilbur. He was just one of the only people from college that was still around. Didn't mean anything, so neither should his crappy advice that was probably brought out of pity because Wilbur thought he was better and-

"The show starts in five minutes you two," Rob blurted out, Quackity's head snapping towards him as the idea of just stuffing Wilbur in the closet and walking out on stage became more reasonable by the second.

"Great," Wilbur said with a tight smile, obviously fake but neither cared for it as he faced Quackity fully. "What the hell."

It felt more like an insult than a question and Quackity simply bit his tongue and abruptly stepped back to the drinking fountain in the corner of the room, almost making Wilbur blink in surprise at the sudden action. Listen, he just really needed to clear the anger out of his head so he could think more properly.

But unfortunately, Wilbur had joined him at his side so when Quackity stood back up he was face to face with an annoyed Wilbur with brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" Quackity asked with a biting tone, placing his guitar in the limited space between the wall and him on his left as Wilbur's eyes scanned over him before the taller grimaced.

"I can't believe you."

Quackity laughed in his face, tilting his chin up ever so slightly to meet his eyes just in case looks really could kill. "I can't believe you either."

Wilbur stepped closer and looked down at Quackity's guitar with a scrutinizing gaze before it was directed towards Quackity himself. "What's so unbelievable about me huh?" He asked a bit bitterly, tilting his head.

"You know what? You're right Wilbur," Quackity spat, lifting a hand in between them before digging a finger in Wilbur's chest which earned only a second of shock across the man's face. "I should've expected you to screw me over." He pressed a whole hand against his chest this time, earning a huff from Wilbur, "I should've known that you would try and mess this up for me."

Wilbur blinked. And then he laughed bluntly as Quackity poorly pushed him again. "Mess what up?"

"This was gonna be my first fucking time on a stage, Wilbur!"

Wilbur's eyes flickered, Quackity didn't know why. He only knew he was confused about the way Wilbur's face dimmed like his anger had settled down and left him almost hollow.

But then he frowned, really confusing Quackity. "Oh."

It was silent for a beat, then Quackity scrunched his face and crossed his arms. "Oh what, Wilbur?

"I-" Wilbur's shoulders went slack, almost representing a white flag in a battlefield as his voice dropped in volume. "I didn't know."

No. Quackity was right. Wilbur was still unbelievable because what was this?

"So?" Quackity questioned.

Wilbur gave a weak smile and chuckled, "You should have told me."

Quackity fought the need to sit down and start wondering what the hell was going on and cleared his throat. "Why?"

"Because."

Damn Wilbur. "Because why?"

"Because then I would've been out getting a seat and not back here," Wilbur said.

Oh.

Quackity blinked, baffled beyond anything else as he just stood there with lost eyes and a puzzled brain.

Then it hit him.

Right, Wilbur wasn't actually one of the few people to stay with Quackity.

He was the only one.

The one that introduced him to all of his friends too like Jack or Niki. The one that brought Quackity here to see other people perform and told him he could be there if he wanted to.

But of course Wilbur was also the only one willing to push Quackity's buttons, making him an annoyance because he knew exactly how to (so Quackity did it back). Of course, Wilbur was also the one who couldn't resist watching Quackity have to try so damn hard while he sat on a cushioned seat, yet he was steps ahead.

Wilbur was the one difficult thing in Quackity's life that was willing to stick around and either piss him off or cheer him up.

Some bit of Quackity had his cheeks warm up at the realization.

Wilbur had always been there. He was always here.

He was here right now, gazing over at Quackity with a softened apologetic look.

Quackity cleared his throat, "I'm still upset at you."

"I can tell," Wilbur said steadily.

"I really don't like you right now."

"I know," Wilbur whispered.

The moment felt heavy, it felt strange.

Quackity couldn't think of what to say next.

Apparently, Rob did as he stood up from his desk and waved to them. "Hey! Three minutes. Are we getting a performance or not?"

Quackity blinked back at Wilbur. Right, what were they going to do about that bit.

He didn't know. But time was ticking by surely enough as Quackity watched the way Wilbur's eyes flickered with some sort of last moment trick.

"You know, Quackity, there are two names written," Wilbur said softly, placing a gentle sneaky hand on Quackity's shoulder.

Quackity's throat felt tight and his chest felt warm as he furrowed his brows. "I don't understand you."

Wilbur bowed his head down and it all slowed down as Wilbur smiled earnestly. "I don't understand you either, but maybe we can figure each other out."

Quackity was struck with a loss of words as Wilbur handed him his guitar, his knuckles brushing against the material of his hoodie. "Perform with me, Quackity."

They had done it before. Well, not exactly. Because they hadn't done it in front of anyone yet. Still, they had played a couple of songs together but for some reason this time it made Quackity's chest simmer and his cheeks burn.

He swallowed, weighing out all the options while keeping in mind the timer that was running. This was supposed to be his first time, the one where all his friends were sitting at tables waiting for him.

And so, with a deep breath, Quackity took his guitar, their hands grazing over each other as he nodded. "What song?"

Wilbur looked like he had misheard him for a quick second before he eased into a content smile.

So naturally or unnaturally, the two ended up walking onto the stage and playing the song they always knew best with each other.

Of course, the crowd loved it.

And maybe, the two of them loved something more than playing music together.