Quackity wakes up with that paranoid parasite that the apocalypse brought, itching his mind. Even in his supposedly safe little apartment, he can't seem to relax. It scratches at his mind, eyeing everything as he sits up on the couch.

He doesn't need this right now. He just woke up and already feels on edge. Why? That's what he's trying to figure out.

Quackity looks over at the front door, it's closed. Huh. Nothing looks out of place. Odd. So his brain was just being dumb and still continues to be as he stands up. He can't shake the intruding feeling that twists in his stomach. Did he forget something?

Quackity's body halts when he faces the bedroom door. It's wide open and Quackity quickly remembers. 'Oh yeah, that Wilbur guy.'

Then it hits Quackity. 'Oh shit, that Wilbur guy-'

That Wilbur guy wasn't in the bedroom. Quackity groans, remembering how he didn't lock the door last night, distracted with his own things to take care of after dinner.

Quackity tenses, wondering where Wilbur could have gone when he realized the door was unlocked. Did he leave? Oh god, didn't Quackity give him weapons? Quackity should've closed the stupid door.

Quackity shakes his head, he shouldn't have given Wilbur even the bittest bit of trust- even if he did. Well, leaving the door unlocked might lead to a yes, yes he did. Quackity has to face the reality that he met this man only yesterday, hours of banter and laugh shouldn't immediately make Quackity trust him.

Should he be worried now? The reasonable side of him forces him to say yes and start nervously making his way to the front door. What if Wilbur left?

The other side of Quackity feels disappointed if that's the case, hurt even. He sighs, he shouldn't be if Wilbur left. Sure he said he wanted to stay, but staying the night just to take his supplies back and leave seems like something even Quackity himself would do. Curse him and his longing desire to talk with somebody, to have even the most simple interactions, now he can't decide whether to wonder if Wilbur left, if he's trustworthy, and now wondering whether Wilbur staying meant he could trust him or not.

Quackity jumps when he hears a door open, snapping his head to see Wilbur- Wilbur just walking out of the bathroom, calm and unaware of Quackity's running mind and wide eyes.

"You- Wilbur?"

Wilbur looks over at him, nodding his head up with a hum. "Yes?"

Quackity doesn't respond for a second, unsure of almost everything from before. He's been so damn paranoid since he woke up, mind painfully alert. He tries to shove it away, clearing his throat. "Nothing, just- I mean, yea, it's nothing."

Quackity feels Wilbur's glare on him, like he's trying to figure out whether Quackity was even speaking English or not. Eventually, with a sigh, Wilbur must've decided that Quackity wasn't saying something completely incomprehensible as he shrugs. "Alright. I was just washing up my face, haven't seen a working sink in ages so I had to take the opportunity to brush up a bit."

Oh, he was getting ready for the day while making Quackity's head spin with uncertainty at the same time. Good to know. Quackity almost feels embarrassed. Almost, he mostly still feels like his body and brain are trying to reach two different goals, one that thinks he can trust Wilbur and the other that doesn't. Utterly ridiculous.

"What?"

Quackity blinks up at Wilbur. "What 'what'?"

"You shook your head at me." Wilbur states, gesturing towards Quackity before patting down his brown hair, probably suspecting Quackity shook his head at the way he looked.

"I did?"

Wilbur scoffs, about to seem upset that Quackity was asking such a stupid question until he glances over at him, pausing and tilting his head at the dumbfounded and lost look on Quackity's face. "Uhm yes, you did. You good?"

Quackity feels oddly taken aback by the question, his brain having to reboot before he nods at the curious man. "Yeah."

"You sure?" Wilbur asks, brows furrowing the tiniest bit. Quackity wonders if he should trust him or not all over again. He selfishly wants to believe that Wilbur sounds concerned for him, like he's got someone to rely on. But they did meet just yesterday, and they didn't exactly have a great first interaction. So surely Wilbur isn't as dumb as Quackity feels. Surely Wilbur wasn't planning on staying for long, he wasn't already thinking about what it'd be like to have something of a friend or anything.

Fuck, Quackity's been alone for so long he's already clinging onto the first thing he's got and it hasn't even been a day. This man hasn't even had a day to prove he was trustworthy but a part of Quackity was ready to hand his trust right to him. Which he shouldn't- right? Yeah, right, Quackity reminds himself.

Quackity gets pulled out of his thoughts when Wilbur takes another step forward- since when was he even walking? Quackity doesn't know, he didn't even notice Wilbur moving across the room.

"I'm sure." He quickly rasps out, taking a step back as he tenses.

His legs have half the urge to run away from Wilbur, seek safety and follow one half of his brain. The part of his brain that's making him step back all the way into a wall, huffing when he hits it. He only then realizes Wilbur wasn't even walking towards him anymore.

Instead, he's standing there with a perplexed expression on his face, frowning at something a moment after. "Do you want me to leave?"

What? What does that mean? Why was Wilbur asking- Quackity finally registers the situation at hand. Well, more like what's in his hand. He releases the doorknob. Was he really just about to run away?

Quackity gulps, trying to shove down the unsteadiness in his stomach as well. Does he want Wilbur to leave?

Yes, of course, most definitely- wait. No, he doesn't want Wilbur to leave... Does he?

"No." He blurts out, shaking his head. He steps away from the door but steers clear of Wilbur as he beelines for the kitchen. "No, you don't have to leave I'm- I was just choosing whether I should go on a walk before or after breakfast."

Wilbur turns around, still glancing at Quackity from where he stood. The way he squints makes it obvious he didn't believe Quackity, but he only nods instead. "Right."

Quackity decides not to comment on anything else, leaving the awkward silence to bubble up as he stands in the kitchen. He's not even getting breakfast, Wilbur seems to notice as he sits down on a stool.

"What's for breakfast huh?" he asks with an energetic smile, tapping on the counter as if he was putting aside Quackity's very strange behavior all while Quackity was busy regretting and justifying it at the same time.

"Food," Quackity says when he remembers he was asked something, facing his back towards Wilbur to rummage through the cabinets. He wasn't even thinking of eating breakfast today- something about rationing his food properly- but know he's gonna have to because of his own panicked lie.

He grabs the crackers he stashed away yesterday, turning around with a bored look. "Well hopefully-" he pauses as he watches Wilbur pull out that same knife from yesterday. Quackity tenses up, maybe he really should've said no, saved himself then. But Wilbur only places it on the counter, looking up to see Quackity frozen in place.

"Hopefully?" He lifts an eyebrow, urging Quackity to continue. Quackity blinks out of his small panicked state, clearing his throat and fixing his posture.

"I- uh," Quackity trails off as he eyes the knife. "Forget it. I just was," he boldly gestures to the knife, not feeling too nervous now because he himself, has a knife. Just in case. "Just wondering about that knife."

Wilbur almost laughs, a huff passing his lips as his shoulders sink. "Oh, I just don't find it completely necessary to carry a weapon when I'm eating breakfast. Doesn't make it feel like breakfast."

Quackity can't help but tense up again, looking down at Wilbur with suspicion. That familiar sense of dread bubbles up in his chest as he takes a deep breath. "But you find it necessary when you're walking around the house?"

Wilbur stills and Quackity expects him to pick up the knife, anything violent really. But Wilbur only raises his brows with realization, possibly picking up on a bit of the paranoia Quackity felt. "Oh- oh no." He even lifts his hands at the side of his head, a very venerable move Quackity notes. "S'not like that."

Then he drops his arms, shrugging as he looks over at the door. "You can never expect anything with those zombies. They always manage better than you think."

"The zombies?" Quackity doesn't know whether Wilbur's making up a bunch of bullshit or telling the truth. His throat feels awfully soar. "Just the zombies?"

"Yes." Wilbur tries to confirm, pointing back at the front door. "You never know when a zombie could break in and I'm not trying to take any chances."

Quackity scoffs at the man, crossing his arms with an eye roll. "Out of the whole entire year I've lived here, only three zombies have managed to get up here."

"Whole entire year?" Wilbur repeats, a surprised look on his face before he shakes his head. "If three can, more can."

"They haven't gotten up here in months, I made some safety adjustments."

"Uh-huh. There's gonna be a fourth."

"No seriously, it's safe in here."

Wilbur only sighs, facing away from Quackity. "Safety adjustments my ass-"

"I'm not lying," Quackity says sternly, placing his hands on the counter. "Why do you the stairs are broken?"

Wilbur pauses, quickly shrugging it off. "They don't have proper maintenance, they're old."

"Because I want to keep the zombies away."

Wilbur goes silent for a moment, leaving Quackity to wonder what he could possibly think about. Maybe he still doesn't believe Quackity. And maybe that's because he has zero trust in Quackity. He wouldn't blame Wilbur, they met just recently after all.

Quackity's rambling thoughts are cut short as Wilbur turns to him, furrowed brows and a questioning look. "So we're safe in here?"

Quackity bites his cheek from saying anything out of frustration. He's been saying that this whole time-

But Quackity keeps his cool, only because of the worried look that Wilbur tries to hide as he faces away. So Quackity sighs, nodding with confidence. "Yes, we are."

Wilbur squints at nothing before his face finally seems to relax. "Okay- Okay that's good then."

Quackity hums, lazily pouring some crackers for Wilbur. The other silently thanks him before starting to eat.

"We're goin' out to look for stuff again," Quackity says blandly, walking out of the kitchen to sit on the stool next to Wilbur. "Just so you know."

"You're quite the scavenger," Wilbur says with a smile small that Quackity huffs at.

"I just like being productive and prepared."

"Normally I do that by staying around others."

"You mean leaning on others, right?" Quackity asks sarcastically, grinning at Wilbur.

"What?" Wilbur grimaces. "No, of course not."

"Right, right." Quackity chuckles, earning an even more offended look on Wilbur's part. "Now eat up so we can go find you a new trinket or something."

"But I like it, it doesn't need a replacement," Wilbur says with a frown, tossing a cracker into his mouth with a scrunched face due to it's staleness.

Quackity stands up, shaking his head at Wilbur. "It's called a collection, Craft.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'."

"No need to mock me," Wilbur says defensively as he stands up as well and fixes his sleeves. "Now, I've got a collection to start."

Quackity nods, amused as Wilbur inhales with his head tilted up.

"But first," Wilbur starts, hands dropping at his side as he glances over at Quackity. "First I need my coat."

"That thing's ugly." Quackity mumbles as Wilbur walks away. Then when he walks out with it on Quackity scrunches his face at the coat. "Didn't get any better in those twenty seconds either."

Wilbur glares at him, opening the front door and closing it right as Quackity tries to walk out.

"What the hell?" Quackity shouts past the door, quickly opening it back up and stepping outside. "What the fuck was that for?"

Wilbur shrugs, nonchalantly looking around as Quackity shakes his foot out of pain. "Don't insult my trench coat."

Quackity sputters in disbelief for a good few seconds before standing up straight and recollecting himself as best as possible. "Your coat? You did that because of your stupid coat?"

Wilbur steps forward, looking down at Quackity. "I did it because you insulted my coat."

Quackity groans as he turns around. "You're ridiculous."

Wilbur ignores the comment, following Quackity down the stairs while talking about the new collection of trinkets he's starting. And Quackity listens attentively, his anger washing off as he laughs at Wilbur for almost tripping because he was so focused on talking.

Eventually, they find a spot in the city that seems to have more to random stuff offer than others.

Quackity rummages through the rusty abandoned car, checking for anything useful that somebody might have left in the heat of the break out.

He pops open the compartment in the passenger seat, a paper flying out. Quackity pickes it up after eyeing the overly stuffed compartment.

It's not just a paper, he quickly realizes as he flips it over. It's a picture. If Quackity could guess how these people were related his guess is a mom with her two kids. They're on what he would guess was a camping trip, tall green trees behind them and woodchips under their feet.

He frowns at the image, their smiles seem so genuine. But then there was an apocalypse, and only god knows what could've happened to them by now. They're most likely dead, Quackity hates to admit. At least, the kids most certainly are.

He doesn't want to but he can only start trying to picture what happened when the outbreak first started. The car was slammed into the side of a building, so it helps him try an come up with a story. Did the kids die from the crash or the zombies? What about the mom, how'd she die? What if she's a zombie- one that Quackity could've killed, completely numb and no regret as he takes a mother's life?

His headache increases, he didn't even notice the pain with all of his ranting thoughts.

But it makes his brain hot and fuzzy like an old overheated computer about ready to power off. He honestly wishes it would. He wishes he could get the image of what possibly happened to those kids out of his head. And he really wishes he couldn't see himself killing that poor mom, barely even a zombie but Quackity was too ruthless to care.

All of his thoughts seemingly plummet into his stomach and swirl around like it's the only chance they get to screw him up. He can't take it with the banging in his head, the stupid image of brutally ending a poor woman's life stuck in his head.

He tries to calm himself, reminding himself that there was really only a small chance that the mom both turned into a zombie and was killed by his own hands. But it doesn't work and Quackity's throat starts to burn and tighten at the same time, only tipping him overboard as he rushes out of the car.

His throat still feels like it's on fire, but his stomach feels better. Quackity's face twists with disgust as he steps back only to fall because of his still very dizzy head.

'Ew, I just threw the fuck up.' Quackity takes in a shaky breath of the still air, patting his beanie down before laying on his back and staring up at the clouds.

That hasn't happened in a while, Quackity comes to the conclusion that meeting Wilbur made him soften up on other people. So now he's here, laying on the ground and throwing up because he looked at a picture.

Quackity scampers to his feet when he hears something approaching, almost falling right back down as the rush of his quick movements hit him. Then he sees a familiar trench coat and relaxes, still, Quackity embarrassingly falling to the floor with a huff.

"Hey Quackity-" Wilbur looks up as he sees Quackity stumble. He would've laughed if it weren't for how disoriented the other looked. So instead he rushes over to Quackity's side and kneels next to him. "You okay? Did something happen to your foot?"

Quackity simply tries to push to his feet again only to have Wilbur stop him. "Wilbur-"

"I've actually broken my foot before, so I should be able to take care of this." Wilbur rambles on, rubbing his own ankle. "I mean, it-"

"Wilbur." Quackity tries for a second time, pushing to his feet as Wilbur shuts his mouth. "It wasn't my damn foot."

Wilbur hesitates before standing up, clearing his throat before the silence gets to them. "Okay?" He tries to agree, but it comes out as a question.

Quackity sighs, rubbing his nose bridge before looking away. "I just had a moment."

"Had a moment?"

"Yes, a moment."

"I don't know what that means."

"I got a headache and threw up."

Quackity faces Wilbur again, seeing somewhat of an apologetic look on his face.

"Oh." Then Wilbur averts his eyes elsewhere as his voice grows quiet. "I have water..."

Quackity smiles at the offer- and at Wilbur's uncertain look, clearly not knowing what to do in a situation like this. "I'm alright, but thank you."

"You sure, I was told that if you throw up-"

"I'm sure," Quackity says bluntly. Wilbur simply reaches to grab his water bottle.

"Well in case you do, I've got it right-"

"I know, stop caring about it." Quackity cuts him off, eyes focused on the car. He should look away, he doesn't need another headache. But he doesn't, and it feels like there's a rock sitting in his stomach.

"Well okay." Wilbur mutters, brows furrowed in something of distaste. "Just trying to help'"

"Then stop trying." Quackity blatantly states, crossing his arms. He really shouldn't say stuff like this, but he can't properly think about why. Wilbur's short-lived expression of surprise doesn't even pull him out of his head. All he knows is the more he talks with Wilbur, the heavier the rock gets.

"What?" Wilbur even sounds shocked and Quackity watches as it fades to disappointment.

"I said stop caring, if you didn't hear," Quackity says with a sharp tone. He ignores the way his knees wobble under him, that means nothing.

Wilbur finally faces him, eyes scanning over Quackity before he steps back. "I heard the first time, Quackity."

"Then you would've left the first time."

Wilbur stills, debating something with regret before he stands up straight. "You really don't want me around, huh?"

"Sure." Quackity scoffs, but his chest tightens. Now he has to ignore that too. "I don't."

It's silent for a moment and Quackity hates it. He just needs a break, maybe. Maybe he should say something and sit down. Maybe-

"Fine then," Wilbur says and it takes Quackity's mind a minute to figure out what that meant. And by the time he does, he turns around to see Wilbur walking away.

"Fine then." Quackity mumbles under his breath right as the rock in his stomach turns into a piercing knife at the realization of what he said. Well shit, there Wilbur goes. Quackity's arms feel limp as he slowly walks in the opposite direction in shame because he just fucked it up.

He made Wilbur leave on his second day. 'What a wonderful person. I'm such a wonderful person. The best.'

Quackity keeps his eyes trained on the ground as he drags himself anywhere really. He just lost Wilbur after he met him, like the great guy he was.

He takes out the knife in his pocket, frowning when it looks too similar to the one Wilbur has. He doesn't even know where he's headed but that's fine, he knows the city well enough. Even with his foggy mind, he should be fine.

He only realizes how long he's been walking when he looks up. It's growing dim and he's in a cramped alleyway full of knocked-over bins and boards of wood. Somebody probably tried to live here, but it seems they're long gone. Quackity sighs as he leans against the brick wall, sliding to the floor and curling his knees to his chest.

If Wilbur was here, he'd probably be asking Quackity if he's alright. If Wilbur was here Quackity wouldn't be sitting on the floor. But he isn't here, and it's Quackity's fault. So he's alone, sitting on the floor and nobody asks if he's alright.

But Quackity hears slow shuffling feet, maybe he's not alone. He quickly gets off the ground as he looks around, hearing a wooden plank fall over to reveal a grumbling zombie. Quackity's shoulders rise with anticipation as it creeps forward. He pulls his knife out, thankful it appeared to be a normal zombie.

His brows furrow in focus, a small panic interrupting his focus when he remembers the wall behind him. But it quickly fades, he forces the panic out, he needs to concentrate.

Quackity grips the knife tighter and dashes away. It's a normal zombie, he doesn't even need the knife. But he's sure they'll be more around this corner. Thankfully he's proven wrong, the backstreet is empty. But not so thankfully, Quackity was also wrong about the zombie. He turns around to see it running at him, he's seen one of these before but it never fails to scare him.

So he's quick to get back on his feet, knowing he couldn't outrun this thing forever he looks around. He spots a good enough hiding spot in between two wired fences and a wood panel.

He rushes in as the fast footsteps grow louder. 'God if those things weren't terrifying.' He ducks down low, peeking out as he watches the zombie run past. He sighs out of relief, breath heavy and uneven.

But then there's an undead hand poking through a crack in the fence, making him jump as the zombie growls. He looks around in desperation, climbing up the storage boxes to his right. There's nothing he can do, so he watches as the zombie starts breaking through the fence. His back presses uncomfortably against the wall and roof, he regrets hiding here.

The zombie fully breaks in, it's noise growing louder and Quackity scrunched his face at the gross sight of it hastily trying to reach him. Why did zombies have to look so inhuman? They were humans before, but once they turn they barely even have the same qualities as a person.

Quackity tries to keep it back by holding his knife out, nicking the zombie here and there. But overall it's no use as the zombie figures out how to step on the box. Quackity yelps when it reaches a hand up to grab his ankle, kicking the dead thing away and backing up even further into the wall.

But he maybe backs up with too much force as his wrist hits the wall, sending the knife to tumble to the ground. Quackity's breath only picks up its pace as he trips to his knees on the box, almost being smacked by the zombie's waving hand. He inches back to the wall, once again curling his knees into his chest as he looks up with teary eyes.

Well, this is it, this is where he dies. Isn't it? Quackity shuts his eyes as the zombie makes another deathly sound, grabbing his ankle and starting to tug.

Maybe if he didn't make Wilbur leave he'd be nice and safe right now. Maybe he wouldn't be in the hands of death and crying about it. God, he's gonna die now. And it's all his fault. He's gonna die and Wilbur's never going to see him again.

He grits his teeth with a painful hiss as the zombie's nails dig into his skin. If it infects him it doesn't even matter, he's dying anyway. He turns away, ready to die all by his own doing. But all he hears is a crack and something heavy falling to the ground.

Quackity dares to open his eyes, not being able to see anything at first with how much he was crying. But then his vision clears and he can see a figure standing below on the ground, and it's not a zombie. The zombies laying lifeless at their feet. Quackity rubs his eyes, shakily getting to his feet and finally being able to identify the stranger as Wilbur.

He lets out a shaky sob, dropping to the floor and standing there with wobbly legs. He tries to calm his breathing, hoping to hide his tears as well. "Hey..."

Wilbur inhales sharply like he just ran for miles. "Hey."

Quackity taps the zombie with his foot, regretting it as he falls to the ground once more. "Shit-" He clears his throat, looking up at Wilbur from the ground. "Thanks- thanks for saving me, and all that."

Wilbur reaches a hand out, silent as Quackity accepts his help. Wilbur pulls him up to his feet, looking at him with an unreadable expression. "I snapped its neck."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'."

Quackity lets out a wet laugh despite the situation, sniffling before clearing his throat. "I uh, almost died there."

"That you did."

"But you saved me."

"I did do that."

"So thank you," Quackity says, voice breaking slightly as he looks at Wilbur. He steps closer, fighting the urge to pull Wilbur closer as he faces the ground with embarrassment and guilt. "I'm sorry. For- for making you leave and saying that shit. I didn't mean any of it, I promise that. I was just so- fuck I'm sorry Wilbur. I shouldn't even be alive right now-"

Wilbur cuts him off as he places a hand on his shoulder, sighing as he does so. "I know, I get it. You were having another moment."

"Doesn't mean I should've said that, I shouldn't be-"

"Don't say that." Wilbur interrupts, squeezing his shoulder for assurance as he looks at him. "You're alive and that's how it should be."

Quackity breaks, giving in to that urge and hugging Wilbur tightly. "I'm sorry." He mumbles. He feels slightly embarrassed by this situation, he's had near-death experiences before, but now add Wilbur into the mix and he's shaken up so badly. But Wilbur only hugs him back, making his breath hitch before he sighs. "I really am."

"I know." Wilbur simply hums. "I forgive you."

Quackity pulls back, raising his eyebrows. "You do, huh?"

Wilbur grins, patting Quackity's shoulder before leading them out of this awful hiding spot. "Guess almost dying taught you well enough."

"Oh, wow," Quackity sarcastically says, leaning on Wilbur for a second as his body regains itself. Wilbur waits patiently, eyeing him carefully. When Quackity seems better, he leans back and Wilbur faces forward.

"Guess we should probably head back huh?"

"Probably, yeah."

Wilbur nods, pausing before throwing his arm over Quackity's shoulder. "You know, it's a good thing you're alive."

Quackity warms up at the comment, smiling at Wilbur. "Oh, thank-"

"Because now I can show you the newest additions to my collection," Wilbur says with a smug smile. Quackity frowns immediately at those words, rolling his eyes.

"I hate you."

"I saved your life."

Quackity sighs. "Guess you did." He turns back to the empty roads, eyes heavy as he yawns. Man, today was eventful. "Let's hurry up, I'm tired."

Wilbur scoffs but still complies, picking up the pace as the sun sinks lower and lower and he gently pulls Quackity closer and closer. And Quackity leads the way home before they're both eating dinner together again. Quackity thinks it's safe to say, yes, he could get used to this.