Chapter Text
Admittedly, the zombies sort of throw a wrench in his plans.
Quackity’s a practical guy, not at all the sort to waste his time. Sure he took it easy in middle school, but who doesn’t? He shaped up for the final two years of high school though, and he’s never been the type to fuck around when it comes to things that really matter. He’s got it all outlined, see? Four years of college, two more to get his masters—plenty of time to network and make connections to ensure a smooth transition into long-term employment.
It’s also six solid years alongside the two idiots he’s got a major fucking crush on which is, you know, a bonus or whatever.
“Ah shit,” he rasps, voice hoarse from shouting over the baleful cacophony of voices surrounding them, hand pressed to his wrist to stem the flow of blood. Not that it matters much at this point. Bleeding out would arguably be a better way to go.
“Q-Quackity…” Karl whispers, face pale. Shocked, probably.
That makes two of them.
Anyways, the issue is that Karl and Sapnap have been dating since, like, high school so it’s not like he ever had a shot in the first place. He met them as a couple and there’s not a bone in his body that wants them to break up, so he’s just sorta been third-wheeling them ever since.
It’s been chill, as far as third-wheeling goes.
They’ve got inside jokes, just the three of them, that make the rest of their friends stare in confusion, and stupid handshakes and gestures that only they understand. If he’s being real about it, even though Karl and Sapnap are a couple, he’s never really felt left out. Like yeah, he daydreams about Karl kissing him gratefully when he brings takeout back to the apartment, or Sapnap breathing hot against his neck and asking him to stay the night, but like, he doesn’t let it go to his head. They’re friends.
… and if sometimes Sapnap will fall asleep on the couch leaning easily into him and instead of moving Sapnap back into his side, Karl will smile at the two of them with so much glittering fondness in his eyes that it makes Quackity’s heart pound like crazy that’s, you know, nice.
“No, no, no.” Sapnap sounds horrified. His eyes dart around, taking in Quackity from top to bottom like he’s trying to find some other explanation for the crescent-shaped mark currently covered by Quackity’s palm. “Q—No. No—”
Sapnap steps towards him.
“Stop!” Karl yells, grabbing him by the shoulder and holding him in place. Quackity doesn’t think he’s ever seen Karl so scared.
So mournful.
Now and then, Quackity toys with the idea that maybe they like him the way he likes them. Not in a, ‘I hope they break up and one of them ends up with me,’ sort of way, but more in a, ‘I hope I wake up in the morning and Sapnap’s snoring into my hair while Karl’s arm is wrapped tight around my waist’ type beat. It’s not likely, he knows, but that’s why he’s never pushed it, and that’s why it always surprises him when the two of them shower him with more affection than he knows how to process.
Like, he’s not about to brag, but he’s always been a pretty sociable guy—he’s familiar with how friendship works, thanks. It’s just, when they’re playing games after classes and Sapnap throws an arm around his shoulders and leans over to talk to Karl on the other side of him, body pressed heavy into his and fingers stroking down his upper arm, it feels… off from ‘just friends’ stuff. Or like when Karl is rambling on and on about one of his current fixations and he’ll freeze midway through, and when Quackity looks around to see what stopped him, he just grins and stares for a bit before shaking his head and going, ‘Nothing,’ with a small, secret smile before continuing on again. That shit’s different.
Or it feels like it anyways.
“Fuck. Shit,” Quackity laughs, breathless and hysterical. He’s winded from running all the way here and barricading the doors with all the furniture within reach. His body aches but he’s too wired to sit down.
He has no idea whose dorm this is, but the insides are still relatively intact. No one’s been here yet and the posters on the wall next to polaroids of people he’s never seen before seem out of place with the screaming and shouting just outside the single second story window. It’s like something out of a movie.
“Guess that’s your cue, Sap.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sapnap demands, voice rough like it’s taking all he has not to cry or yell or both.
Maybe it’s because his mind is going a mile a minute—god, is this what they meant when they said your memories flash before your eyes moments before you kick it for good?—but the snapshot of that day rings out as clear as a bell.
It’s a couple months ago, last semester, a Friday after that stupid evening class he took because ‘guys please, it’s not like I spend my evenings doing anything else,’ and regretted taking two weeks too late to drop. He’s lounging on Karl and Sapnap’s sofa in their shitty apartment that they share because rent anywhere decent near campus is crazy expensive even divided between two people. He’s stolen a pillow from Karl’s bed so he can lay down on the couch without the armrest fucking up his neck. Karl’s got his feet up on the cushion and his back on the floor as he reads through some obscure comic Quackity’s never heard of while Sapnap plays an undead FPS Quackity thinks is boring as fuck. It’s domestic and chill and mundane.
He wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.
“So if I got bit by a zombie, which one of you would have the balls to kill me?”
Karl snorts, “What?”
“You heard me,” Quackity grins down at him from the other end of the couch.
“Where is this coming from? Besides Sap’s game, that is. You got a sudden hankering for brains? Should I be worried?”
“Dude, I’m fucking bored,” Quackity bemoans, “Class sucked and then when I got here you two weren’t doing jack. I’m a guest. Entertain me.”
“And raising hypotheticals where one of us kills you is your idea of entertainment?” Karl asks, amused enough to set his comic aside and sit up.
“You got a problem with it?”
“If you just dropped your fucking course, you could’ve hung out with us when we were actually doing shit,” Sapnap murmurs, his gaze is still glued to the screen.
Quackity rolls his eyes.
“Motherfucker, I can’t drop it now! If I did, it’d show up on my transcript!”
Sapnap shrugs. “Take the L then, idiot.”
That’s about when Quackity throws the pillow at Sapnap’s head, misses, and hits his console instead, promptly disconnecting a loose wire and shutting his game off.
The three of them stare at the tv screen, blackened save for the white lettering in the corner reading ‘HDMI 3.’ There’s a beat, pure silence, and then Quackity starts to cackle.
Sapnap is less amused.
“You fucker—!”
“Whoa, hey,” Karl laughs, grabbing Sapnap’s legs when he launches himself at Quackity.
It’s funny, watching Sapnap make swipes at him, cussing and shouting, from where Karl keeps dragging him back. Quackity makes kissing noises at him, fluttering his eyelashes and watching his face go pink while his brows stay furrowed and angry. Karl giggles while keeping a surprisingly strong grip around Sapnap all the while.
It’s a good memory. The kind Quackity cherishes.
“I guess we have a volunteer for the Kill Quackity Squad,” Karl suggests, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Jesus,” Quackity laughs. “Awful fucking segue, Karl.”
“Am I wrong though?”
“Why wait for an apocalypse?” Sapnap snarls, “I’ll kill him right now.”
Karl exchanges a glance with Quackity, as if to say ‘see?’
Quackity pouts at Sapnap. “Just like that? You wouldn’t even feel bad about it?”
“Hell no.”
“Stone cold,” Karl admonishes and Quackity laughs and laughs and laughs.
Now, back in the barricaded dorm room of a stranger, his blood already feels like it’s boiling him inside out. Part of him wants to drop to the ground right then and there, but his muscles are rigor mortis stiff. He doesn’t know whether his hands are shaking or if it’s just the way his vision slides and slips as his heart pounds so quick it feels like it’s going to burst out through his chest.
“Dude, there’s no fucking way I can do it myself,” Quackity titters, panic-driven.
“What. The fuck. Are you talking about?” Sapnap’s hands are curled into fists at his sides, white-knuckled from how hard he’s clenching them.
They don’t have long here, that’s for sure.
Pretty soon the halls will be overrun, and the courtyard past the window will be entirely infested. Already, Quackity can hear the sounds in the air changing—less screaming and more groaning and shuffling and grunting. Whatever they do, they have to do it fast.
“You said,” Quackity whispers, body heavy, “You said you’d kill me.”
Sapnap’s eyes flash, angry.
“Okay, I think we should all calm down—” Karl starts, only to get shut down by Sapnap ripping out of his grasp and stalking up to Quackity, shoving him straight in the chest. He winces at the impact, but he wasn’t prepared for it so he topples over like a stack of books, tripping onto the mattress behind him.
“Fuck you,” Sapnap growls. “What the fuck, kill you? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You practically promised,” Quackity argues, drawing his hand away from his wrist as he struggles to get himself upright again. It streaks the blue-beige comforter underneath him with red. It looks bad. He feels sick. “You were so fucking gung-ho about it as a hypothetical, but the minute you actually have to step the fuck up you’re—”
“You can’t be serious! It was a fucking joke, Q, you ever heard of one—”
“Yeah, real fucking funny asshole, ha ha, let’s dick around some more while we banter about murdering a friend in cold blood—”
“Don’t even start that shit with me, you’re the one who—”
“Shut up!” Karl shouts, voice loud over the two of them. It startles them both silent, heads snapping in Karl’s direction only to find him standing against the dorm’s only real exit, ear pressed to the white door. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth set in a grim line, voice quieter as he adds, “Shut the fuck up, or you’re gonna get us all killed.”
In the newfound lull, they can hear it.
Scratching at their door.
Sapnap pales, looking back at Quackity with an expression that’s both nauseous and fearful. Quackity doesn’t know what kind of look he makes back at him, but the lurch in his heart mirrors the same emotions.
“Please,” Quackity tries, quieter this time, “I’m… fuck… I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. I need you to kill me.” He stares up at Sapnap as he says it, begging with his eyes where his voice fails him. Sapnap sets his jaw and turns away. Desperate, Quackity turns his gaze to Karl next, beseeching. “Karl…”
“Are you sure you were bitten?” Karl challenges instead. There’s a desperation to it. Like somehow he can smooth-talk his way out of this one.
Quackity laughs, suddenly so, so tired, the adrenaline bleeding from his wrist through the crescent-shaped wound dug into it. He holds his arm up. “Take a look yourself.”
It’s bad.
Ugly, too—the kind of wound where, if it was anything other than lethal, when it healed it’d scar for sure, skin puckering up at the edges, leaving it rough to the touch.
It’s still bleeding, but it’s not a mind-numbing gush like it was earlier. None of that arterial spray in movies that Quackity had instantly thought back to, the moment he’d felt the teeth dig in. It stings like a bitch, and it’ll need bandaging to stave off infection but… well, there’s no point in doing first aid on the imminently terminal.
The bed dips to his right, and Quackity thinks at first it must be Karl, but it’s Sapnap settling in next to him. Quackity tries to catch his eye, but Sapnap is studiously focused on his wrist, gingerly taking it into his hand despite the way Karl inhales sharply just past the two of them, clearly disapproving. His hand is warm on Quackity’s skin as he twists his hand this way and that, examining the bite from all angles.
He smells good. Not like perfume or cologne good, but good good.
Quackity doesn’t want to think about what that implies.
“Fuck,” Sapnap curses, vehement, and the sorrow in his tone distracts Quackity from the sudden daze he’d fallen into. He frowns, resisting the urge to hold his head as his thoughts spin. Maybe he’s lost more blood than he’d thought.
At Sapnap’s low exclamation, Karl trepidatiously leaves the door behind, with one last long look at the lock, making sure it’s twisted shut. He carefully retrieves Quackity’s wrist from Sapnap and turns it over himself, looking at the damage done. As the seconds pass, his fingers start to shake where he’s holding onto him.
“Shit,” Karl rasps, voice thick.
“Yeah.” It’s all Quackity can offer. He doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t, but somehow he’s gone straight past denial and disbelief and landed himself squarely in resignation and acceptance. “So maybe now you see why you gotta kill me before I kill you.”
Sapnap stiffens next to him.
Karl shakes his head. “No one is killing anyone.”
“Dude, be reasonable—”
“Quackity, it’s fucking shitty of you to ask us to do that to you.” Karl snaps, and it makes Quackity swallow his words. “Nothing about what you’re doing right now is reasonable.”
There’s an anger brewing under Quackity’s skin, an itch he can’t pick at. He’s upset, tears prickling at the corners of his vision, but he snatches his hand back from Karl’s grasp and rounds on him instead.
“Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll just—I’ll leave then. I’ll go out into the hall or jump out the goddamn window, I guess.” Nevermind that his legs shake at just the thought. Nevermind that he doesn’t think he can find the courage to get up from this bed, much less throw himself down two stories.
Karl’s expression is impassive.
“No. You’re gonna shut the fuck up and sit right here.”
“For how long!” Quackity shouts, heedless of the way the scratching at their door starts up anew. Sapnap looks at him, alarmed, but there’s a heat burning up his skin that Quackity can’t help but want to dig his fingernails into. The urge to tear into the flesh just to feel the blood run between his fingertips steadily rising and rising. “Are you telling me the three of us are just gonna sit here till I turn and take you both down with me? What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“Karl…” Sapnap says, ignoring the tail end of Quackity’s outburst entirely, “How long does he have?”
“I don’t know… we haven’t exactly stuck around and seen people turn from beginning to end. It’s gotta be quick, considering how rapidly it’s spread, but definitely not instant. Maybe five minutes? Ten?”
“It’s gotta have been at least five minutes since the bite.”
“Yeah… guess that means we don’t have much longer to wait.”
“The fuck do you mean ‘wait,’” Quackity interjects, before the time limit truly sinks in and hysteria takes him over, listless laughter bubbling up out of him. “God. Haha, I don’t want to turn! I don’t want to—to be one of those things! What I want is to be put out of my goddamn misery before it ever gets to that point!”
“Q, stop it,” Karl says sternly, but Quackity is tired of this, tired of waiting, of trying to pretend there’s any other way this is going to end. Already he can feel his body growing sluggish, his vision dulling, and that gnawing pit in his stomach that grows and grows. He’s not about to let things get worse.
“At the very least, if you two won’t help me out, you could get the fuck out of here before it’s too late,” he argues. “If—if I just stay in here, there’s nobody I can hurt.”
“You want us to leave you behind?” Sapnap makes a face like he’s swallowed something nasty.
Quackity isn’t deterred. “Yes. You won’t kill me, and I can’t fucking do it myself, so you two should just—just leave. I’ll stay here, and I’ll turn, and then I’ll rot here, and that’ll be the best case scenario ‘cause at least that way you’ll both be okay—”
“We’re not leaving you behind, Big Q.”
It would be sweet, if it wasn’t so dense and self-destructive.
“Why the fuck not?”
Karl slams his hand against the headboard, the force of it racketing up the wall. Quackity jolts in place, eyes wide. His head snaps to the side, meeting Karl’s hardened gaze with his own. Karl waits until he’s sure of Quackity looking before he speaks, his words shattering Quackity’s bravado in an instant.
“Because we’re in love with you, idiot.”
The room goes silent, but a ringing starts up in Quackity’s head like the aftermath of an explosion. His heart soars and crashes in tandem. He doesn’t miss the plural in Karl’s matter-of-fact statement, and somehow that just makes things hurt that much more.
“What?” he whispers, voice cracking on the single syllable.
“You heard him,” Sapnap grunts.
“Holy shit… haha, what the fuck…” Quackity can’t believe it. He ducks his head, hands pressed over his ears like he can blot out the thoughts. He feels sick. After all this time. After all those years of hoping for a miracle like this. And for what? “God, talk about the worst possible time to confess. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
It’s awkward and quiet. He can practically feel Karl and Sapnap exchanging glances above his head. And then the bed dips to his open side, and Karl rests a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Let us stay with you.” The words are said, soft.
He doesn’t know how long it takes—minutes he doesn’t have, if he’s being honest—but when he finally gathers himself up enough to wipe his face dry and make sure his voice is level when he speaks, he finds he has no energy left in him to resist. He’s—hah—dead to it all.
“I’m only gonna hurt you both.”
Sapnap puts his hand, big and warm, on Karl’s where they rest on Quackity, the combined pressure from them both grounding him even as he feels like he’s floating away. “We won’t let you hurt us.”
Quackity doesn’t know why, but he nods.
They can’t guarantee that of course. They can’t do a thing about it at all. But he’s tired of fighting and he’s tired of self-sacrifice, and if the last thing he gets to do before he’s gone for good is hang out with the two guys he’s wanted to be with for years, then hell, he’ll take it.
He’s earned the right to be a little selfish on his literal deathbed.
“If we’re doing this…” He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes as he fully fills and clears his lungs for maybe the last time. The light filtering in through his eyelids is red. His stomach churns and his wrist aches. “If we’re really doing this stupid thing and risking both your lives then… then you two have got to at least tie me up.”
“I used to daydream about you asking us to tie you up,” Karl teases, his voice wobbling and his eyes wet with unshed tears. “Lucky me.”
The three of them laugh at that, but it’s a ghost of how they normally are. They look around the room for items to use as restraints—sheets, scarves, various bits of clothing—and once they’ve amassed a sizeable pile, Karl and Sapnap get to work restraining him.
Before long, Quackity is held to the headboard, arms and legs bound. He tests the knots, tugging roughly, but even though the wood rattles and shakes, it holds. He exchanges relieved looks with the other two, and then they settle in again, quiet as they sit side by side by side.
And isn’t that a wonder? That they still sit so close to him when any moment now he could turn and tear the flesh from their bones.
As things stand, their confession doesn’t change anything. The whole thing feels a bit ridiculous to Quackity. Here they are, in love in the middle of an apocalypse, and there’s nothing for them to do about it. They don’t know how the infection travels—he can’t risk kissing them. Touching is probably fine, but it’s not like they can hold him in their arms. Not when he’s moments away from turning into a brain-dead monster.
He’s frustrated, to be honest. He’s… grateful, that they’re here with him, but a part of him is angry they didn’t just make their peace and leave him be. They’re wasting time in a life or death scenario.
Soon the sun will sink over the horizon and the infected will outnumber the living. Instead of using the precious few hours of daylight they have to make an escape, they’re squandering it here, witnesses to his last moments.
And last moments they are, he knows, because he can feel something within him slowly changing, an indescribable feeling like melting and freezing all at once. He shivers in place swallowing hard and Sapnap and Karl tense up where they sit.
“Quackity, are you okay?” Karl asks, but he couldn’t answer if he wanted to.
He feels breathless, chest tight as an inbuilt panic ricochets through him. His whole body spasms, limbs yanking against the restraints and making Sapnap jump up and put distance between the two of them. Karl stands his ground, worrying his lip between his teeth and staring at him with furrowed brows.
He’s relieved—he doesn’t know what he’d do if either of them tried to come closer.
Quackity’s body feels heavy, weighted down like there’s something viscous and dense pumping through his veins and for a ridiculous, light-headed moment, he wonders maybe he did bleed out and all his insides have been replaced with glycerin. Sapnap is saying something, but Quackity can’t hear it over the roaring inside his own head, a discordant symphony of every process in his body going into overdrive. Vaguely, distantly, he thinks he hears Karl call out to him, but it’s too late—it’s too damn late—because he can feel the pit in his stomach, the gnawing, a ceaseless void that grows and grows.
He’s so. Fucking. Hungry.
There’s a loud creaking sound, like wood splintering, and then a scream that sounds like Karl. Quackity experiences it all entirely out of body, fading in and out of consciousness as snarls and snaps abound. He knows, in a surreal way, that the noises must be coming from him, but he can’t process it at all.
Then something hits him over the back of his head, and all he gets is a moment to be relieved before his vision goes dark.
Good.
Quackity hopes he’s dead.