talking to him

a new chapter

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

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quackity doesn't even know why he is awake right now. he'd much rather not be.

he was given time off work, for grief, but his body still can't get out of his usual routine, and he's been finding himself up at five each morning even though he feels so desperate for some sleep.

desperate for anything that might get rid of this exhaustion weighing down over him. he knows it's not physical tiredness, but sleeping would at least stop him from thinking. a small part of him just wants to sleep... forever.

but he ignores the thought, like he has been doing religiously over the past few days, and bends down to take a bottle of bleach from the cabinet under the sink.

this has been his new routine over the past few days when he wakes up too early. he comes to the bathroom, always with the intention of actually starting his day, but ends up with a coarse sponge in hand, scrubbing down every bathroom surface with all of his strength. it makes his hands burn, but he doesn't really want to wear gloves - maybe he sort of likes the uncomfortable rawness of his skin now.

quackity always follows the same steps, moving from the bath to the shower to the toilet to the sink, before ending up on his hands and knees and rubbing at the floor.

he thinks that, maybe, if he cleans enough, he will wash away the memory of what karl did.

the room is spotless of any reminders of what happened, but quackity's mind is still tortured by the sight. when he cleans, it's like the bleach fumes go to his head and he forgets, just for a minute.

if he cleans enough, maybe it will become all he can think about, and then he won't have space to think about karl anymore.

quackity cleans until the room smells like chemicals and his head spins from the scent. he feels dizzy and sick, but it's better than pain.

it's routine for quackity to stall now as he reaches to put the bleach back in the cupboard. he stares at the bottle in his hand and contemplates, not for the first time, what might happen if he just gave in and drank it.

initially, the idea always appeals to him, because it means everything in his head would finally stop and he could enter a blissful nothingness, but then sapnap always comes to mind and he's met with a queasy feeling in his stomach, hating himself for even considering. so he puts the bleach back, as he should, and leaves the room before he can consider it for even a second longer.

he passes karl and sapnap's room on his way out, before turning down the hallway, and he winces at the sound of music playing loud enough to be heard through the door but quiet enough that he thinks he isn't supposed to hear it. like sapnap is trying to drown out his thoughts with a sad melody, but he doesn't want quackity to know about it.

in some world, sapnap might have fallen asleep to the tunes, but quackity knows otherwise. he has no doubt that the ravenette is still wide awake, and more likely than not he is drunk.

quackity isn't actually sure when sapnap sleeps, if he does at all, because he's awake drinking all through the night and then he's stumbling around looking like his mind is dead during the day, just to restart again by dinner time. he must still be getting sleep, quackity just can't fathom when.