Quackity doesn’t dare sour your mood by telling you about Schlatt. Not when you look so happy. He simply nods his head slowly, mumbling a confirmation under his breath. It is silent again, but this time it is more comfortable than before.
“Oh, I’m being rude aren’t I?” You sit up and shove your hand out to the male. In a lazy manner you introduce yourself to Quackity. In turn, he gives his name before grasping your hand in his own, shaking it loosely. Their hands are soft, unlike Schlatt’s. You smile widely and flop back onto the grass. The next couple of hours are followed by long conversations between you two. Many topics are thrown around and the mood seems to lighten. For the most part, Quackity feels better about being around you, as long as he doesn’t look at your horns that is.
After months of knowing you, Quackity still can’t help his lingering thoughts. He just can’t stop comparing you to Schlatt. It is your horns, for the most part, that send him spiralling back to the beginning. He tries to hide his fear, behind corny jokes and playful gestures but it doesn’t help too much. You can see it clearly. How his eyes linger on your horns. How he flinches if you move too fast. How he still looks at you with fear in his eyes. You tried bringing up the topic with him, not wanting to resurface bad memories, but knowing that you’ll have to talk about it eventually. Yet, he always avoided it one way or another. Not wanting to bother him, you dropped it. But the pressure continues to build up inside, for the both of you. Like a potion left on the brewing stand for too long, it boils to life, glass breaking from the pressure until it shatters completely. Leaving nothing but a mess behind.
And you are enjoying the peace of your home when the glass shatters. Quackity lays beside you, mimicking the night you two first interacted. Limbs are skewed together casually. For once, his beanie has been tossed aside, leading you to see his black hair spread out messily against the pillows. You reach a hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes, but he flinches, squeezing his eyes shut harshly. Your hand hangs in the air, frozen in place before returning to its spot next to your side.
“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that and-” He tries to apologize for some reason, but you cut him off coldly.
“And I remind you of Schlatt.” He flinches at the man’s name, his eyes meeting yours in worry. You pull away from the embrace, leaving the bed entirely. In a smooth movement, you leave the bedroom heading towards the living room in steely anger. He follows after you, hastily. Apologies tumble from his mouth in a restless manner. Angrily, you turn around, halting him in his tracks.
“Just stop it already. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” You know it isn’t his fault but it burns in your chest every time he looks at you like that. God, it hurts so much. He watches in silence as your fists clench and unclench by your side. You seethe silently then let everything spill at once.
“I see the way you look at me. I see the way everyone looks at me. Like I’m some kind of monster.” You turn to face him completely, your face contorting with anger. “I can’t do this. I can’t hurt you or anyone else.” You continue moving, grabbing your shoes and sitting down harshly on the couch as you tug them on.