You're Growing Tired of Me (and All the Things I Don't Talk About)

Slimecicle and Quackity were friends, right? At least that's what Slimecicle thought. 
He ran to his thought-to-be best friend. "Quackity from Las Nevadas! Quackity from Las Nevadas! Hey, hey! Guess what!"
Quackity turned around and stared at the human-acting slime, "what is it?" He said with a faked smile. Encased in a gross, slimy hug, the slime responded with three simple words the casino owner was deathly afraid of.
"I love you!"
He nodded, and replied as Slimecicle let go and walked off. "I... I love you too, kid."
Where the fuck did he learn that? Quackity thought, walking to the bar to calm down.
It must've been a bad afternoon, because now, all Quackity knows is that he's standing in front of Slimecicle, shouting.
"What the fuck did you do? Where did you put it?"
His voice only rose, and the slime cowered into a corner. Quackity grabbed Slimecicle's face, pausing and seeing the fear in his eyes.
"Oh. I-.. I'm so sorry. I love y-"
"Don't say you love me when you don't mean it, Quackity from Las Nevadas," Slimecicle interrupted the drunken one, tone sharper than any blade, but still wobbly. He tugged his face away, sprinting away and out of the building.
Quackity's shouts were loud, but they got farther away, it felt like he was escaping, but he knew he was going to come back sooner or later. Maybe he could stay with his other best friend, Ranboo. They would share cookies, and sit and talk, and he wouldn't ever have to deal with this again.
One day he would have to come back.