𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝒀𝑴𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑵𝒀

33

You have chosen: Choice B

Final Votes:
21 votes for Choice A
104 votes for Choice B

═══ *.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.* ═══

"If he needs to speak with me so urgently, he can speak to me down here," You reply, turning back to Quackity. Niki still had his head placed gently in her lap; she had removed his deep blue beanie and was massaging his head.

You placed the empty glass on the bedside table. 

"He sounded nervous..." Wilbur trailed off.

"I really don't care, Wilbur," You stood and turned sharply on your heel to face Wilbur, taking a few strong strides towards him. You stopped a few inches away from him and tilted your chin to look up at him, your expression stoic.

"You should know just as well as I do. A good doctor never leaves their patient's side. Especially while the patient is still recovering from a major injury." You couldn't help the irritation laced in your tone.

"If Dream truly needs to speak with me," You reiterated sharply, "He can come down here and speak with me himself. You go tell him that."

Wilbur rose a brow at you, surprised. "Yes, ma'am," He responded, sending a mock salute your way. He turned, his cloak fluttering behind him dramatically, and began to climb the stairs leading to the entrance of Pogtopia.

Sighing, you returned to your place at Quackity's bedside. Niki watched you with a sense of awe.

"I wish I had the strength and the confidence that you just had," She confessed, "To stand up to Wilbur like that...I'd be terrified that he'd blow up at me, next. You've seen how he's affected poor Tommy..."

You blew out a breath, staring down at the sleeping figure below you, "We need to get that boy away from him. Tommy's just a kid. Who knows how this is going to affect him as he grows."

Niki hummed sadly, agreeing with you.

You reached forward and pushed a stray strand of hair away from Quackity's forehead, his skin slick with sweat. He was still breathing, and the blackness creeping up his arm was starting to fade. That was a good sign.

"(Y/N)," The low voice at the door signaled Dream's arrival; you pulled your hand away from Quackity's face and stood. Dream's gaze lingered on the space your hand had been for a moment too long...but you couldn't see that behind the mask. A slight tinge of jealousy panged his heart, but he brushed it away.

"Can I please speak to you?" He glanced at Niki, "Alone?"

"Oh...uhm, sure," You and Niki exchanged a nervous glance. How bad was this conversation? "Niki...would you mind..."

"Oh, sure, of course." Niki stood, setting a pillow under Quackity's head to keep him comfortable as he slept, "He's swallowed the potion, and I don't think he'll be spitting it up. I'm not needed anyways." Once Niki passed by Dream, she gave you two thumbs up and a nervous smile.

You mouthed your thanks to her, and she was gone, shutting the door behind her.

Your wary gaze was back on Dream. "What's wrong?"

Dream took your hand and led you to the open cot beside you. "I...I think you're going to want to sit down for this."

You resisted the urge to jerk your hand away, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, not unlike the one you'd had at the festival not so long ago.

"What's wrong?" You asked again as the two of you sat down.

Clay removed his mask, setting it on the cot beside him. "There's something on my chest that I've been meaning to tell you for a while. I've been keeping it a secret from you...but I don't know why. Maybe it's because I didn't want you to hate me, though I'm sure you will anyway. And it'll be even worse now because I've kept this from you for a while..." He rambled, looking away, his cheeks already beginning to grow red with shame.