For Our Own Sake

4. A Wooden Board With Hinges Could Never Be More Frustrating

Quackity's been thinking. Thinking a lot about a lot.

He's managed to come up with a pretty good explanation for the past two days. Something that clarifies most of it and excuses the rest. Really, it gets the job done.

So the conclusion Quackity's up with? The great simple sentence that would prove the why behind certain things he's been pondering all day?

Quackity was lonely and now he's not.

Boom. He knows, pretty smart observation on his part.

Why did he react so uhm... intensely to a picture he found in a random car?

Simple, he was alone for so long that stuff like that didn't bother him all that much. But now he's not alone, Wilbur's company softened him up resulting in his reaction.

And why was he left with that odd lurching emptiness once he found out he wasn't going to die?

This one is pretty simple too. No human contact means no influence or celebration or- just nothing, it means nothing. So he did nothing almost everyday before Wilbur showed up. Before, he only did what he had to do to survive, like a computer executing mindless commands, following the built program and nothing else. Quackity was just following the program of survival, but now that he's almost died and met Wilbur, he doesn't want to only follow a numbless operation of this and that. He wants to do something with his life, just because the world's over doesn't mean his personality and happiness had to die with it.

And that was the realization he had in the middle of the street, leaving him empty because he was finally stepping out of a straight line and didn't have anymore emotionless commands to follow. He wants do to more than just survive in this world and it took meeting Wilbur (and also almost dying but hey) to figure that out.

Oh and this one- this one's been on Quackity's mind especially. Why the hell was he getting all warm and fuzzy at Wilbur's words and touch?

Quackity cringes, that sounds odd but he doesn't know how else to describe the way Wilbur's softness was drowning his senses and mind in a thick hot putty of his own thought, each one melting together to one big feeling that he couldn't help but divert his attention to.

So, how does Quackity's conclusion "explain" this?

Well it's because he hasn't experienced human interaction in quite a while, of course. So much so that Wilbur's company was like breaking a dam that Quackity had built up slowly for each day he'd been alone. So this was reasonable, of course. It was reasonable that he couldn't stop focusing on the way Wilbur laughed or how Wilbur's warm hands on his shoulders felt- yeah, of course.

Quackity hums to himself, he just cracked this case open and solved it like a puzzle for kids. So he leans against the couch with satisfaction, opening his eyes after he sighs.

And just like that, his satisfaction fades at the sight of a closed door.

Okay so there's one thing Quackity has yet to solve or explain. Something that makes him frown, any feeling of accomplishment fleeting out and being replaced with an aching pain around that certain 'beating with life' part of his body in his chest, a rock in his stomach, and an ocean with waves of confusion and anxiousness crashing into eachother up in his mind.

After dinner yesterday, Wilbur went to the bedroom and never came out.

Quackity woke up this morning, feelin' fresh and waitin' to say good morning (he wouldn't want to wake up Wilbur if the man was sleeping so of course he waited). But Wilbur never came out.

Quackity prepared a lunch that was a bit more decent than normal, more food and less stale. He called Wilbur out to join him, secretly bouncing with excitement to finally see the man. But Wilbur never came out.