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Maybe it was stupid to seek out the man who you're supposed to hate, and maybe it was stupid to care so much about his disappearance. But sue Quackity for having his schedule torn apart by a literal zombie.
He has no right to show up every day at the exact same time and then disappear. No right.
So maybe that's why Quackity has ended up outside said zombies van in the middle of the night, and not because it was plaguing his mind while he was trying to sleep. And not because Wilbur is all he ever thinks about when he is trying to fall asleep.
The man is a leech.
But Quackity can never quite find it in him to stop the supply of blood.
Quackity sits down on the bench, weighing his options. To start, he doesn't even know if Wilbur is here right now. For all he knows, the man could be back at Phils. And for all he cares, he could be dead.
This shouldn't be as stressful as it is, as a base rule Quackity shouldn't care. But the man has killed himself once before.
Gods this is ridiculous.
Quackity pushes himself back to stand, immediately regretting it but pushing forward regardless. Worst-case scenario the van is empty, and Quackity goes home. Best-case scenario?
The same outcome.
Wilbur is in there.
But it's empty. Because, of course it is.
Quackity slowly steps to the front of the van, his eyes tracing over how neat everything in here is, the mattress wedged in between the front of the vehicle and the driver's seat being the only difference. Quackity could almost imagine the other man still there.
For a split second, he almost thought he was, Wilburs brown trench coat thrown over the drivers seat like it was left in some kind of quick decision.
Quackity almost wants to look through it. Something in his gut screaming about how wrong this all is. Wilbur doesn't take that coat off, and yet it's sitting here like it was left without a second thought.
Though it's not like Wilbur is here to know, and if he doesn't want people in his van, maybe he should invest in a lock.
He should probably still make it look untampered with. Even if Wilbur will most likely not remember the position he left his coat in when he comes back.
It's already been a few days, and it's a pretty minor detail.
Quackity wouldn't think twice if this whole place was somehow rigged with explosives or something like that.
Perhaps a little too boring of a method to get rid of him, though. Especially for everything these past few months have been leading up to.
If it's even anything, sometimes it's hard to tell with Wilbur.
Which is maybe why Quackity is so hesitant to touch the piece of paper sticking from the other man's coat, clearly addressed to him.
Maybe it's an invasion of privacy, but if he's bound to see it anyway one day, what's the harm? Plus, it's not like Wilbur ever cared for privacy. Or rules. Or much, really.
Quackity hesitantly grabs the piece of paper, looking around before unfolding it.
My dearest, Big Q.
Nope.
Quackity folds it back up, staring down at the cursive Q on the front of the paper. It's not his business, even if it's addressed to him.
It's not his business.
Even if Quackity is curious.
Even if it will eat at him every single day if he never reads the end.
Wilbur could come back, and Wilbur could hand it to him himself.
Wilbur will come back.
But he may not hand him the letter.
God fucking damn it.
My dearest, Big Q.
From when you are reading this letter, I will hopefully be long gone. That is unless you end up standing behind me and reading it the second I turn my back from you. Though if you did not respect my wishes, I do not expect you to attempt to stop me.
Of course, this is if I even work up the courage to hand you this in person. Which by the look of how things are going as I am writing this, I am not too sure I will.
I hope for you that our final interaction didn't end too sour or that you worked out my true intentions too soon. Though, from this point in time, I could never truly know. You are just as unpredictable as I. I meant it when I said you were my yang, even if you disagreed and told me not to compare you to me, which is understandable. In spite of that, I will always see you this way. You complete me, Quackity, in a way that no other person has ever been able to. You fill a hole in my heart that I didn't even know was there. Your presence throughout my life left an indelible mark, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. However, I am aware that the sentiment I hold most likely is not reciprocated anymore, and that is a truth I must face.
I am under no illusion that this revelation will change anything and most likely wouldn't have if I had stuck around, but I felt compelled to share nonetheless. But, Quackity, I plan to kill myself after I leave you. You are the only person to whom I have given this information in a straightforward manner since you are the only person I know who would not either discard this letter or tear it open the second it is in your hands. And saying it to their face was obviously out of the question. I don't intend to let anyone prolong this further than necessary.
The truth is, I am not supposed to have gotten a second chance. The moment Phil drove that sword through my chest was my end. Not this. However, nothing can occur around here without something strange resulting after it. I'm sure you can understand.
I hope you are aware that my intention wasn't to try and get the last word, though if you would like to see it that way, you may. It is not as if our paths are destined to cross again, much to your enjoyment, I assume.
-W.S
Right.