| b u g s | MCYT(OC)

~Abandoned Coffee~

"You're being strangely nice for also being the one holding me hostage here," Moth mumbled, staring into their cup. The coffee didn't move, but their hands shook in the air. "Wait, sorry. For being the husband of the man holding me here."

Quackity chuckled, setting down his cocoa so he wouldn't spill it on accident. "He's not really that bad."

"He reeks of alcohol," Moth shuddered, rippling the surface of their drink. "I don't know how you slept with that, honestly."

His smile softened, and his eyes formed a thin glaze. "I just- I love, him, you know? Flaws and all, he's still him." He shook his head quickly as if it would shake the tears trying to prick through his eyes. "You'll understand when you meet someone like him. It's like rose-tinted glasses, they make everything pink."

"They block out red flags, though," Moth stuttered, glancing up at him. "He's a druggie and an alcoholic. I just don't want you to get hurt; you seem really nice. The baby doesn't deserve that."

He held out his hand, setting down Moth's mug so he could hold theirs without risking a spill.

"We'll be okay. He's a good guy."

They ducked their head, thinking back. Trauma had taught them to avoid these things, but what else was there?

"I don't think I'll ever have someone like that," They mumbled, still unsure of the words that felt so thick on their tongue. "Someone that I love so much that every red flag is hidden behind the glasses."

"Maybe not romantically, but I know you already have," he smiled, rubbing his thumb across the back of their hand. They were glad he didn't try to hug them; only Tubbo could hug them. "You and Tubbo are close, after all."

"That's different," They bit, though they didn't understand why it made them mad. "It's- it's just different."

"How?" Quackity tilted his head, eyes peircing the top of Moth's head.

"He-" Moth cut themself off, taking deep breaths until their heart stopped pounding so loudly. "I don't remember how, but I know that we're related. Back when we were kids, before I can really remember, I know we were together."

Quackity nodded, giving them the space he thought they would need. Moth, however, had never wished for a distraction more than right now.

"At some point, I think the person watching over us gave up. We ended up on the side of the road somewhere, I think I would've gotten asthma from the dust if we hadn't gotten out."

"I remember hearing about this," Quackity chuckled. "It's how Phil found Tubbo, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Moth sighed, fiddling with his fingers. "Except I wasn't there anymore; someone else got there first. They only took me. I remember screaming for hours because they wouldn't bring him too, but they never went back. That place- Quackity, it was horrible."

"It's okay," He mumbled, grabbing their other hand. "You're okay now."

"I know," They flinched for a moment, but let him take their hand. "I'm glad they only took me. If they'd taken him too, I think I'd never forgive myself for letting it happen."

Quackity said nothing, eyes fixated solely on theirs. They wouldn't meet his.

"But now that we're together again, I don't think he remembers what happened. He hasn't said anything about the box or anything before that. I-" Moth cut themselves off before a sob could choke them, failing miserably. "I thought- that entire time. I thought he was dead." It came out as nothing more than a whisper, but Quackity seemed to catch it.

"He's not," He whispered, meeting their eyes for a moment when they darted up to look at him. "He's alive, I swear. Right outside. He's waiting for you."

"I get that," They cleared their throat, trying to force out the emotion. "So that's why it's different; my glasses are a different kind of red. Like, a fear. Instead of glasses, maybe they're chains."

Quackity chuckled, braking them from the trance they'd slipped into.

"It's a rational fear to have," He laughed, smile illuminating the increasingly dark room. "Trauma and all that shit. Don't blame yourself for it."

"I don't," They scoffed, tearing their hands from his to cross them over their chest. "I know that it's a normal response; I'm just saying, that's why he's different."

Quackity hummed. "I don't think he is, though."

"He is."

"No, your glasses still make it all pink. It's just that you've got different frames." He smiled even wider, which should've been virtually impossible.

"You're trying to be all deep," They said, corners of their mouth turning up. "It's weird."

Quackity gasped loudly, trying to make them chuckle, "Rude!" He yelped. "But really, you have found someone like that. You're just lucky enough to be missing the flags in the first place."

"No, they're there. He's selfless to a fault, and he's going to get hurt like that one day," They sighed, running a hand through their hair. "There's still red flags. They're just shaped differently."

He nodded along, pretending that made any sense.

"You know," He started, changing the subject. Moth clearly wanted that. "We changed the flag."

Their head darted up, glare hardening on their features. "You what?" They hissed, anger flaring and warming the cold room.

"Changed the flag," He shrugged. He had to have been stupid to not be afraid of their anger. "It's black and orange now. Really, way cooler than the old one."

"I did not bandage those idiots hands for a month just so you could tear down their work," They hissed. "Fundy poured his heart into that flag. How could you do that?"

"It was Fundy's idea, actually," Quackity pointed out, growing a little worried that he'd messed something up. Moth slumped over, giving up.

No.

He wouldn't do that to Wilbur.

His own father? He'd betray him? Why?

"I think I'm going to sleep," They mumbled, leaving their warm coffee sitting next to his cocoa. "Please leave."

He nodded, slowly packing everything up. he watched them curl up on the bed from the corner of his eye, not quite sure what he'd just done.

~

Where are they? None of them have answered me all day.

Fern's thoughts were racing, pouring into their skull and filling it until it felt like it should explode.

They're sick of you. That's what happened. You went to far and now they're trying to get away.

I don't blame them.