raspberries and dirt

15. the boy in the lime-green hoodie

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, death, blood, mentioned/implied eating disorder

Quackity entered the filthy subway station. According to Tommy, there was a boy in a blue sweater down the track. He was with another boy, one who he would inevitably betray. What he was about to do was a favor to the other boy.

Quackity came to the fork where the three paths split off. This time, he chose the track that lead to the right. Of course, the only path that Quackity and Karl didn't select was the path George took. It wasn't long before he came across a lone train, sitting crookedly on the tracks.

Inside, the stupid son of a bitch was chatting happily with another boy in a lime-green hoodie.

Quackity pulled a switchblade out of his pocket, thought better of it, and put it back in. He noticed George looking at him through the window and waved. George's eyes widened. He conversed for a few moments more with the boy in the lime-green hoodie before exiting the train and walking towards Quackity.

George began his spiel. "I'm so sorry, I only took what I needed. You can have it all back now, all of it, and more. I'm happy here, and I never want to leave; I can give everything back if you're willing to-"

George was abruptly cut off by Quackity's switchblade entering his neck.

Quackity left it in the side of George's throat there for a moment, twisting it slightly before removing the weapon. A small spurt of blood came from the wound. Not nearly as much blood as there should be.

Fuck.

Quackity fucked up.

He was careless.

Quackity had missed George's artery.

George wasn't going to die. Not today, at least.

There are four major arteries in the neck: two in the front and two in the back. There was also the trachea, which essentially allowed someone to breathe.

Quackity hadn't hit a single major artery, so George wasn't going to bleed out. He didn't even nick the trachea, so he wouldn't die of air starvation.

George was going to survive.

George clutched his neck desperately before collapsing to the ground. The boy in the lime-green hoodie rushed out of the train and leaned over George with a roll of bandages. He did some first-aid shit; Quackity didn't know anything about first aid. Quackity didn't know how to heal. What Quackity knew was destruction.

He sauntered down the tracks, throwing his switchblade in the air and catching it. He left behind a dying boy and his desperate lover.
______

Quackity returned home to find Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo gone.

"They're having a dance party further down the sewer," Techno told him when he asked about it.

Quackity noticed that Techno's hair was no longer in a braid; instead, it was wrapped in a bun surrounded by flowers. His crown was missing. This was probably courtesy of Tommy. Techno seemed to have a soft spot for the boy.

Quackity gave Karl a kiss on the cheek by way of greeting. He nodded hello to Phil.

Nobody asked him why his clothes were covered in blood. He came home soaked in it often enough that it became an almost daily occurrence.

He cleaned off his hands just as the boys were getting back. Tommy, who was wearing Techno's crown, took one look at Quackity's blood-stained clothes and, in awe, asked him who he had killed.

"Not anyone today, unfortunately."

He would have killed someone if he hadn't been so careless. But he wasn't going to tell this child that.

"Shit," Phil muttered. "It's already lunch."

Quackity shrugged. "Don't look at me. I didn't bring anything."

Technoblade had a somehow endless supply of baked potatoes and passed those out to everyone. He noticed how satisfied Techno looked when Wilbur tentatively bit into his lunch. Quackity wasn't going to bring it up; it wasn't his business. Instead, he sat down next to Karl.

They sat together in silence until Quackity finished his meal.

"Those baked potatoes are shit, Techno!"

Technoblade grinned at him. "Yeah, okay. Why'd you eat all of them, then?"

Quackity didn't have a response to that and instead flipped him off. Techno laughed, then turned back to his conversation with Tommy, where the child was animatedly illustrating his tale of war. Tubbo and Ranboo discussed the pros and cons of nuclear weapons while Wilbur was sitting alone with a singular bite taken out of his baked potato. Phil was nowhere to be found, but he would turn up sooner or later.

The enclosed, crowded space was suffocating Quackity. He exited the sewer and strolled aimlessly down the street. He heard the sewer grate open and close behind him and turned to see Karl following him. Karl walked up to Quackity and gave him a peck on the cheek.

They continued down the road without a destination in mind. The couple turned down a street and came to a complete stop.

The boy in the lime-green hoodie was standing in front of him.

Holding a knife.

"Go home," Quackity whispered into Karl's ear. Karl obeyed, turning back to return home.

The boy in the lime-green hoodie rushed ahead, plunging the knife deep into Karl's throat.

No.

Not him.

Anyone but him.

Quackity sprinted to his boyfriend's body; it was already falling. He caught Karl and laid him down on the ground.

No, no, no, no, no.

The words played in repeat in his mind before he realized he was mumbling them aloud as well.

Quackity didn't know first aid.

The knife had ruptured one of Karl's arteries.

The boy in the lime-green hoodie had succeeded in that where Quackity couldn't.

Karl was hyperventilating, pressing his hands to his neck to try to stop the flow of blood.

It wasn't working.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," Karl whispered back.

"Keep your eyes open," Quackity told him.

Karl's eyes stayed open.

The pool of blood around Karl grew.

The blood stopped pouring out of his neck.

And Karl's open eyes stared into oblivion.