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!Tw!: mentioned bruises/alchohol

Fire, is one of humanities greatest phenomenons, one of few things able to survive without human force, though it takes great effort to fuel such a flame.

The days had past, 6, nearly a week. Nearly a week without any sort of conflict. Quackity, as per usual, walked into the eery, fowl smelling oak cottage. He hung his keys up and made his way further into the living room. The duckling was waiting for the infamous foot steps to sound, half-wet cardboard handle of the six-pack clutched tightly in his hand. Though, tonight was different..everything felt..off. Figuring the ram had passed out early, Quackity knelt down infront of the couch and once more pulled out the small brown box. The duckling reached into his pocket, nearing a 10 dollar bill, stopping in his tracks as he realized the box was..empty. Quackitys eyes widened. He was panicked. Just then, footsteps echoed throughout the house. Quackity immediately got off of his knees, he strode up to schlatt, six pack no longer in his grasp. Schlatt gave a huff and looked down at the (much) smaller boy.

"Where is it?!"

Schlatt scoffed, seemingly confused

"Wheres what?"

Quackity sighed and knelt down once more, searching to see if it happened to have spilt under the couch.

"Pfft- relax it was only like 3,000 dollars Quacky"

Quackity froze. He focused his vision onto a loose thread hanging from the couch. He knew he had to handle this situation with patience, but he couldn't..he just couldn't at this point..4 years..4 years Quackity had been saving up money for 4 years..and suddenly, it was all gone.

Thr duckling stood up, and practically ran toward his ram counter part, fully ready to lecture him. Then suddenly,

Whack

Quackity stumbled backwards, hand now cupped onto his own cheek, pain rushing through his veins.

"Don't EVER think about approaching me like that again."

Quackity felt tears threaten the corners of his eyes. There wasn't much he could do, seeing as schlatt was far more capable of any fighting back than he was.

All the duckling could do was nod and clean up the shattered glass, as schlatt had managed to drop the six pack.

The next morning, quackity woke up early. He stumbled Groggily into the bathroom, running his hands along his cheeks he felt a rush of pain.
Right.
Quackity looked in the mirror, only to find a darkened bruise perched upon the left side of his face. The boy sighed and continued getting ready for work. After stepping outside, Alex quickly made his way to the bar. The duckling opened up shop, exhausted, despite it being late afternoon.

Business went by as usual, a few verbal arguments that would would never amount to anything physical, some changed Taps, murder threats, nothing un-ordinary. Quackity was grateful no one had managed to notice the rather ovbious bruise on his face, anyone who commented on it was usually drunk, and likely wouldn't remember the conversation.

Hours later, wilbur walked in. He stopped dead in his tracks, dropping both his satchel and bag, walking over to the smaller man. Wilbur cupped quackitys (non bruised) cheek gently and inspected the wound further.

"Alexis..what happened?"

Quackity sighed and looked down, attempting to push the brits hand away. As much as be hated to admit it, hid was the most affection he had gotten in a while.

"Nothing wil. I fell down some stairs leave me alone"

"But I-"

"I said drop it!"

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