MCYT Oneshots [Pt. 1]

Alexis Maldonado- TNT Duo 💧

CW: angst I think, also change of tense and stuff

Plot: Wilbur goes on a date with Quackity to see the opera.

~
Wilbur POV.

"Phil! I'm going to go get some smokes!" I call upstairs.

"Why do you need to smoke so late?" Tommy asks from the couch in the lounge room beside the foyer.

I lied. I have a date. "A mans got to do what a mans got to do," I tell him with a shrug.

Once I make my way into the city I walk down the street to the bridge that runs through the city. I see the silhouette of a shorter man leaning against the railing.

"Hey, Big Q," i say by way of greeting as i take my place beside him.

"Hey, Wil," He says, looking out to the water.

"What are we doing tonight?" I ask.

"I know you like music so I got two tickets to La Traviata," he tells me proudly, pulling out the tickets.

"Oh— that's very sweet, but...I hate...opera," I say, gently, not wanting to hurt the boys feelings.

He lets out a little giggle, making my heart flutter. "Lucky for you, you're with Alexis Maldonado," he nudges me gently with his side, a smile on his lips. "No importa lo que estés escuchando, solo con quién lo estés escuchando,"

"What does that mean?" I ask, taken aback by the sudden language change.

"It doesn't matter what you're listening to, just who you're listening with," he tells me, a sweet smile on his face. "Roughly, translations are never that exact,"

"Yeah," I say, chuckling, never taking my eyes off of the boy in front of me.

As we walk to lights of his city reflect off of his skin and the small amount of hair visible under his beanie. His button up shirt rolled up at the sleeves, with one of his hands tucked into his pocket, and the one closest to me dangling. It takes all my self control to not take his hand into mine.

We eventually arrive at the theatre and the room is crowded. So we take our seats, his hands are folded in his lap. If not a kiss, then I at least will get to sleep. I lean my head back and start to drift off while the orchestra tunes. Then I hear mellow violins fill the room, the hair on my neck rising, my chest tightening and my heart beat growing louder.

A feeling I haven't felt since beging revived returning to me, but it wasn't because of the sound of the music that made my heart pound.
It was because I found his hand is in mine, and that's where it would stay until they played the final chord.

"Were you bored?" He asks, tilting his head innocent as he turns to me, a knowing smile on his face.

"I guess it wasn't that bad," I tell him. "Was the most fun I've had since limbo,"

"Sì?" He asks giggling again. My heart swelling at the sound. "Well, lucky for you, I have tickets for Beethovens Fifth next week,"

After that night, everyday with him blurred to giggles and kisses. It wasn't all perfect, but I have never loved anyone as strongly as I loved this man. Before or after being revived.

We eventually got married and Fundy was gratefully receptive of Quackity becoming his father. Life passed by in a blur, nothing but happiness and contemptment surrounding our family, even though Fundy had moved out.

That was until we found out Quackity was sick. To the point where he only had a month to live.

When I found out it was as if the world had stopped. The frame cracking straight through my heart. I spent every moment I could with him, his health dwindling.

I tried to do everything we could possibly do before he was gone, but whenever I tried he would just say: "La vida no son las cosas que hacemos Es con quién lo estamos haciendo," but he would never tell me what it meant. Just that that was all that mattered to him.

One of my most fond memories of my husband was us dancing slowly to the phonograph playing La Traviata. Him weakly laying his hand on my chest as I sway us back and forth. Holding his hand in mine as the music soars around us. "I love you," he had whispered. "More than words can describe,"

"I love you too," I had responded as I blinked back the tears. "More than anything,"

A year after he was gone I was gone I was going through his things, missing the love of my life more than anything. When I found a letter with To Wilbur written in Quackity's hand writing. I had broken down into tears and I couldn't read the worlds through the water.

But when I did it said:

To Wilbur,

You are the best thing that's has ever happened to me, and I know that you will love me until the day I die. So I write this to you now. This was written the day we found out about the sickness, so it may be a bit behind, but I hope you know that you mean the world to me.
Thank you for letting me into your heart and into your family and thank you for loving me how I am. Thank you for giving opera a chance that night so many years ago. Thank you for being the most wonderful husband anyone could ever ask for.
I know that by the time you find this it'll be long after I'm gone, because you wouldn't be able to find an elephant in the snow if it was standing right in front of you, but I hope you know that I love every part of you. Even the stupid parts.
I love the part of you that loves me. I love the part of you that never gave up. I love the part of you that was so passionate about geography. I love the part of you that loves your family so fiercely, biological or adoptive. I love the part of you that played the guitar while I sung songs. I love the part of you that would zone out while you should have been paying attention. I love the part of you that was so kind and caring. I love the part of you that was so obsessed with Friend when you were in limbo. I love the part of you that came after you were in limbo. I love the part of you that created Manberg. I love the part of you that fought me in the election (even though I was the better candidate). I love the part of you that protected your country so fiercely. I even love the part of you that went crazy and blew up L'Manberg.
I love and will always love every single part of you. To the ends of the earth and back.
Now I know that leading up to my passing you'll try to do anything and everything possible with me, and I know that I'll just tell you:
La vida no son las cosas que hacemos Es con quién lo estamos haciendo.
And as hard as you tried to learn, I know that you don't know Spanish. So I'll tell you now that it means:
Life is not the things that we do
It's who we're doing them with.
And it's true.
I don't regret anything in my life and I don't regret anything I didn't do in my life, because I got to do it with you.

I love you with all that I am,
Alexis Maldonado

P.S. Tell Fundy that I love him and he's perfect the way he is, for me?

That letter broke me.

I've read it a million times, and every time I've cried.

When I play the phonograph and the room fills with Le Traviata, I can still hear his laugh.

And though it was real, it feels too good to be true that that night when you said to me "That I've got two tickets for La Traviata," I had found the love of my life.

It's sad but true, how much I miss you.
I miss you Alexis Maldonado.

La vida no son las cosas que hacemos Es con quién lo estamos haciendo.