[Discontinued] The Things Left

16. On Their Way Back

» Word count: 2,095 «

"Huh, that's new," he said nonchalantly.

"I'd be worried if the ground did that often, to be honest," Wilbur sympathized before he went to check it out. Quackity had fallen on water, now decorated with patches of grass and colored with dirt. There was no immediate damage, except for that fact that Schlatt threw him down. He ripped him another one. "What were you thinking? Nevermind. You don't think. But still! What was that for?!"

"Please don't fight again. I can still hear you from down here."

Schlatt chuckled, peeking down. Quite the fall and thank you to the water. Then again, he was thinking of jumping himself. Dying wasn't that big of a deal. If he respawned, he'd be away from them. Even, if he wanted to be extreme, he could simply just not respawn to save the headache. All that he needed was there, each word that came out of Wilbur's mouth was fueling his desire to just tell Quackity to get rid of the water. The fall could be high enough, he hoped it was. He was always a bad judge for distance.

Wilbur placed a water bucket from above, waiting until the water reached the bottom to jump with a torch in hand. He splashed him, the water bouncing on the wall. The dirt and rocks dirtied the water, which was stale anyways. Six months was a long time for water. He pushed the patches of grass away from the walls, examining them. He ran his hands on them, trying to desperately find anything.

"There's nothing," Quackity whispered just a little louder than the water splashing around. He put a hand on Wilbur's shoulder, trying to stop him from walking in circles. "Wilbur, there's nothing…"

"Do you think he died here? And maybe when he respawned he got lost on his way here, that's why his things despawn? The fall could've killed him." He spoke rapidly, his head making scenarios quicker than he could process them, much less say them. Desperation drove him mad, madder than he was. His son could be anywhere, and he'd have no clue.

"What about the water?"

"I don't know… I don't know… Maybe… Maybe rain filled it! Yes! Rain. Has it been raining? No, we're too far from spawn. Maybe it was rain? It can still rain if we're not near, right?"

"I don't… I think I'll go up. I need fresh air."

"Yes! Good idea. Take a break. I'll continue looking."

Schlatt was sitting down, eavesdropping their conversation. Truly, Wilbur had many problems. One too many problems. He watched Quackity swim up, his face like he'd just seen a ghost; more worried for Wilbur than having just fallen however many blocks it was. He watched him with curiosity, wondering what the next move was.

"Why did you throw me down there?"

"Truth be told, I didn't know it was there. Honest mistake. It happens."

"You said you checked this place before. How can you miss something so big? Are you hiding something?"

That got him to his feet.

"Listen, cariño. Think what you want of me, I don't care. But don't think for a second that I would come all the way here just for some stupid 'prank' like this." He spat his words, watching him draw closer to the edge of the pit again. If he made him fall again, it would benefit his raging head. Just a little more. He could grab the things and leave, leaving them to fend for their own. He didn't care for them, so his conscience was free. But-

"Get him out, he won't listen to me," he spoke softly.

He hadn't seen that side of him in ages. Seeing him defenseless and with nowhere to run; so easy to use, disregard and forget. Yes, he had used him long ago to get to power. That's all that mattered in life anyways, to get ahead whatever it took. Wearing him out was easy, a task he'd crafted chip by chip with every order and action. With every punch and kick, and poisoned word. And he had enjoyed it, being superior that is.