Don't Know How to Feel.

6. Idiot

Wilbur watched the shadow of his hair on the pavement. It was a very windy day, his hair becoming a mess because of it. He groaned, the coldness from the wind was the worst type of cold. The wind blew through your shirt causing shivers and it ruined your hair. He looked up and walked to the doors of the restaurant. He tried opening the doors but they were locked, he sighed in disappointment. He looked around for somebody, and seeing no one he crouched a bit against the corner to get out of the wind.

He sat there for what felt like half an hour before Quackity called his name. Wilbur shot up straight, he almost forgot he was here.

"Oh hello Quackity," he greeted. He watched as Quackity pulled out his keys and opened the doors.

"Have you been waiting out here for long?" Quackity asked waking in.

"No," Wilbur lied. He followed Quackity inside. 

Quackity turned around to face Wilbur, Wilbur just now noticing his outfit was a slight bit different from his usual. Instead of the dark grey trousers he normally wore, he wore dark blue ones. His shirt had a faint pattern on the pockets and sleeves, a red and yellow pattern of lines. His suspenders had been switched to a much darker shade of grey, almost black.

"Nice outfit change," he complimented, still looking at his outfit.

"Thanks?" Quackity shrugged, walking to lean on a table booth to the right. 

"You're welcome, charming," Wilbur smiled. "What about my outfit?"

Quackity paused and looked at Wilbur's face with a questioning look, then examined his outfit. Wilbur wore a tight black turtleneck sweater with a simple pair of light grey trousers.

Quackity blinked and looked at Wilbur's face, "Wow. You look like shit."

Wilbur frowned, "Prick." He shook his head at Quackity, "I compliment you and this is the response I get?"

"Well, what did you expect me to say?" 

Wilbur grinned, "Something nice, obviously Quackity."

"Oh, my bad Wilbur. I meant to say that you look so darn dashing in that sweater of yours." Quackity mocked him, snickering at Wilbur.

"Haha, Quackity is so funny." Wilbur rolled his eyes, placing a hand on Quackity's shoulder. Quackity turned to face Wilbur and scoffed.

"Don't be sarcastic, you know I'm most certainly funnier than you."

"I don't need to be funnier if I'm smarter."

"Well, I don't need to be smarter if I'm cooler."

"And I don't need to be cooler if I'm hotter."

Wilbur laughed, as Quackity scrunched his nose.

"Who the hell said you were hotter?"

Wilbur just laughed, shrugging.

"Wait, but that means I'm hot still," Quackity smirked.

"What no it doesn't." Wilbur shook his head slightly.

"What is hotter the comparative form of?" 

Wilbur shook his head and raised his eyebrow.

"Hot. Meaning that I'm still hot, just you for some reason think you're hotter." Quackity explained, giving Wilbur a teasing smile.

"Maybe because I am," Wilbur grinned at Quackity. Both were looking into each other's eyes for a while during Quackity's explanation until Quackity put on a fake frown and looked up.

"How? How is Wilbur hotter? He's a crusty man! He even has a bit of white hair, that old bitch!" He laughed.

Wilbur stood up straight and gently grabbed Quackity's wrist, pulling him to the door. He smirked mockingly and turned to Quackity,