"He-hello?"
"Hello?" another voice speaks softly.
Quackity jumps to his feet.
"OKAY. I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he yells
No response.
"I'M CALLING 999.." Quackity threatens.
The shadowy figure emerges from the corner.
"Ok, ok, Jesus you don't have to do that. It's not like I'm alive anyway" the voice mumbles.
The man pushes his fluffy brown hair out of his face. Quackity could see the face of the figure much more clearly now.
It was-
No-
That's impossible.
Quackity scrambles to pick up a photo out of the box labeled 'Sally'.
He flips the photo to the back to see the date it was taken.
6/04/06
There in front of Quackity stood the same exact man from almost 20 years ago. And he looks like he hasn't aged a day.
Ok what the fuck this is too much.
"This- this is impossible I'm calling the police for real" Quackity says, retrieving his phone from his pocket.
"No no no please! Don't…do that" the man says.
"And why should I listen to you? The random fucking murderer in my house?"
"I'm- I'm not a murderer.." the man chuckles softly.
"Then why the fuck are you here?"
"Um- Jesus Christ how do I put this…I'm..dead..?" the man says.
"Yeah no I'm calling the-"
"Please! Don't! I swear I'm telling the truth. Though I don't know how the fuck you see me I swear I'm not lying!" the man interrupts.
Quackity ignores him and turns on his phone and starts dialing.
"Wait! Wait! I'm Wilbur. Wilbur Soot." the man exclaims, trying to draw Quackity's attention away from the phone.
"No. I saw in a photo that Wilbur died 16 years ago."
"This is probably some bullshit hallucination. I probably just haven't gotten enough sleep" Quackity thinks to himself.
He puts his phone back in his pocket.
"Y'know what? Fine 'WiLbUr'. I won't call the cops. Instead, I'm gonna go eat a granola bar from downstairs and then pass out on the smelly couch." Quackity says, walking away from Wilbur slowly and shutting off the lamp.
"Wait I-"
Quackity slams the door, leaving Wilbur alone in the dark room.
"Ugh nevermind. I'll give you a moment to cool down!" Wilbur yells back.
—-------------------------
Quackity makes his way to the kitchen.
"Stupid fucking hallucinations. Stupid fucking brain I need more sleep" Quackity mumbles, along with a few more cuss words.
He opens the fresh new box of granola bars, grabs one, and sits on his couch.
He sighs heavily and pulls out his phone. He opens in his camera roll to see a photo of him and Karl. They were standing in front of the Disneyland Castle in Mickey ears, holding hands.
"Shit I thought I deleted all the photos of me and him," he mumbles.
Quackity hovers his finger over the 'trash' button, but he couldn't bring himself to delete it. Instead he just stared at the photo. God, he fucking missed him.
"Who's that?" a man asked.
"Ah!-" Quackity yelled and glanced over to see Wilbur sitting on the couch, looking over his shoulder at the phone.
"Go away. You stupid fucking character of my imagination." Quackity says, turning his attention back to his phone.
"I'm afraid I can't go away. And I'm not some imaginary friend."
Quackity chuckles. "Nah fuck that. I need to sleep"
Wilbur clearly looks like he has had enough of Quackity's bullshit.
"My name is Wilbur Soot. I died November 16th 2007 due to a freak accident. I'm now a ghost. And I don't know why or how the fuck you can see me." Wilbur said firmly.
Quackity looks up from his phone at Wilbur.
"And you just expect me to believe you..? You sure look human to me. Plus you're literally sitting on fucking furniture right now."
"Yes I understand that and I still have no clue how I can do that. I can sit on furniture. I can walk on floors or ground. But I cannot pick anything up, touch items or people or talk to anyone.. except you for some reason."
"Really? You can't touch people? You expect me to believe that when I can just-"
Quackity tries to touch Wilbur shoulder but he-
he went through his shoulder.
What. The. Fuck.
"Okay- no. No. There's no such thing as cute ghosts." Quackity sputters.
Wilbur raises an eyebrow. "Cute, you say?"
"No. I don't know. Just- fuck off! Why can you go haunt an abandoned mansion and be friends with Casper the Ghost?"
"First of all, ouch offensive ghost stereotypes."
Quackity rolls his eyes.
"Second of all, because I have nowhere else to go! I can teleport just about anywhere-"
Wilbur demonstrates by teleporting from the couch, to the table, back to the couch. Quackity was stunned.
"-but I still don't have anywhere else to be! I haven't met a single other ghost in the past 16 years, man. Plus it's all too good now! I have a fucking living who can talk to me!" Wilbur rambles, teleporting back to his spot next to Quackity.
"Okay fine. Y'know what? I believe you." Quackity gives in. "But you CANNOT live here".
"No" Wilbur grins.
"Wh- bu- I-" Quackity stutters.
"You heard me. No. I'm staying here. And there's quite literally nothing you can do! I'm dead."
"Oh fuck you! Fine! Go back to your fucking attic with a hole in the roof! I'm going to go to sleep in my new bedroom with ugly pink roses!"
Wilbur sighs.
Quackity, in a very childlike manner, sticks his tongue out at Wilbur, flips him off, and stomps up the creaky stairs, leaving Wilbur alone on the couch.
"Good night to you too, then." Wilbur mumbles
YOU ARE READING
•Unfinished Symphony• (Quackbur)
FanfictionQuackity, whose life seems to have just fallen apart after he finds his boyfriend was cheating on him, decides to move to the UK to restart his life. He ends up finding himself moving into a small, crappy house where he meets Wilbur, a ghost who die...
