ヽ｀、☁ヽ｀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 💕˚｡、ヽ｀☽ヽ｀

he knows (♡/☽)

cw// hard angst, very light fluff, themes/mentions of an ab*sive relationship, bl00d, brief mentions of death, pet names

at nighttime, quackity often steps silently through he and the president's shared bedroom in the Manberg white house, his arms wrapped around his slender waist to shield himself from the cold. the thin white shirt and boxers he wears don't do much to protect his smooth tanned skin from the biting breeze that blows through the open windows in the house. alex would close them, but schlatt likes to sleep with the windows open, so there's not much the other can do about it.

almost every time, he finds himself turning his head back, looking at the spot in bed that's his. the silky blankets are messed up and the ivory sheets are crinkled, but he knows they're so warm, and wants only to get back in bed. his pillow practically beckons him, and so does the quiet breathing of his husband, who's fast asleep. but he's already slid out of bed, and there's no point in laying back down just yet. he has more important things to do.

so he steps across the carpet, walking farther from the warmth and temporary safety of his bed. shivering immediately when his feet hit the smooth stone floor.

but he does the best he possibly can to ignore the intolerable sensation of being cold. he extends his hands out slowly, his pale fingertips shaking slightly from cold and excruciating fear that's beginning to build up. his hand wraps around the metal doorknob of the closet, and he bites his lip, tilting his head back a bit and squeezing his eyes shut against how incredibly cold he is. it's so cold.

his small wings wiggle uncomfortably beneath his shirt, and he gulps audibly, slowing stretching out the feathers. he hisses at the pain flowing through his bones and muscles as his wings spread out, ignoring the fabric of his shirt rising up in their wake.

his wings aren't big, not in the slightest. so far, they've grown to extend only a little past his shoulders when he spreads them out. but his feathers are fluffy and warm, so he wraps them around his shoulders, despite how painful it is. the sharp sting immediately triggers the terribly recent memories of large, cruel hands twisting and tugging at his bones and feathers, mercilessly ripping  at the appendages. binding them to his back with rope or bandages or whatever could be found. the feeling of being this injured and vulnerable makes alex feel sick; he doesn't know if he wants to cry or throw up. but for right now, he can't do either. he has to be silent. so he swallows the feeling and continues with the task at hand.

he begins to slowly pull at the closet door, his arm barely even moving. he squeezes his eyes shut and winces as the hinges start to creak, and he wishes, hopes, prays that schlatt wont wake up.

and he doesn't. thank god. even though it's the same process every night he does this, quackity still fears his "husband" waking up and asking him what the fuck he's doing. there would be no possible explanation for it. everything he could say, schlatt wouldn't believe. so alex would be forced to take anything that came his way, and that's something he just can't do.

with the closet now open, he crouches down and slides open one of the drawers in his tall wooden dresser. he reaches inside, his hands scrambling for something he can throw on quickly, but the damn drawer is nearly empty.
he settles with a pair of black suit pants for now, standing up and sliding the clothes on. he mentally curses as he grabs the elastic waistband of the pants before they can fall off; they aren't tight enough around alex's waist, and he'll need to find a belt.

shit.

after another terrifying process of looking and buckling the belt around the waist of the pants, alex's hands are shaking hard and his breathing has become irregular and ragged. he has no idea how he even managed to put on his belt with how much he's shaking. it's scary and anxiety-inducing; he's trying to be as quiet as possible, but schlatt could wake up any minute, he could wake up and see quackity, he could do anything to him. it was the worst feeling in the world.