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𝟏.
Multi doesn't know exactly when he fell in love with Quackity.
Perhaps it was the day their eyes trully met.
Precisely six months ago, Multi needed an easy way to pay the rent for the apartment he had rented near the college, but with his part-time job being the vocalist of an underground band that nobody really knew, he really couldn't afford all the expenses.
— I have the perfect solution for you, man! — Roier announced, his mischievous grin widening at the look of confusion on Multi's face.
Multi had learned, over the course of their friendship, that trusting Roier was always iffy. It usually preceded something chaotic, mildly illegal, or both. But rent was due in three days, and Multi's bank account was looking emptier than the audience at their last gig.
—I’m listening. — Multi said with a sigh, already regretting it.
Roier leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to share the coordinates to a buried treasure. — You know my friend Quackity, right? Well, he wants to move out of his parents house because it's far from here, and he's looking for an apartment near the college. You have a spare room. He needs a room. It's perfect.
Multi opened his mouth to protest. He liked his solitude. He liked walking around in his boxers at 2 AM and exploding flasks with suspicious chemicals. He liked not having to explain why there were half-empty energy drinks on every flat surface.
— Mhm, i don't know. I don't really know him that much and the few times we spoke he was kinda... loud and bubbly.
Roier laughed, loud and unbothered. — That's just his surface level, John Multas. You get past that and he's actually pretty chill. Well, chill for Quackity standards, which means he'll only annoy you three times a week instead of everyday.
— That's not reassuring.
— It's not supposed to be. — Roier shrugged, slapping Multi on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward. — Look, just meet him. Have coffee. Talk. If you hate each other, no harm done. But if you don't... you get a roommate who pays half the bills and might even cook for you. He makes the best steak quesadillas i know.
Multi hated how tempting that sounded. He hated even more that Roier knew exactly which buttons to push. Rent was suffocating him, and the thought of a home-cooked meal that didn't come from a microwave or a greasy takeout container was dangerously appealing.
— Fine. — Multi muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. — One coffee. But I'm not promising anything.
Multi liked to think that it was there that his fate was sealed, because the day after, when his eyes met Quackity's in the café, he knew that he was hopeless at the mere presence of his current roommate.
𝟐.
After that day, they began living under the same roof, on the same floor, with the same view from the balcony overlooking the bustling city of Los Angeles. Multi would say he was lucky to have found an apartment so close to the college, not needing to use any transportation to get there, a two-walk trip of about ten to fifteen minutes is all it takes.
It was night, around seven o'clock, the moon hovered in the sky, illuminating the open window of his room, where Multi was working on a project.
In a small glass container, Multi lightly pounded a apparently pasty substance with his wooden mallet until it became a fine, white powder, carefully transferring it to a pot and adding another black powder. Through his protective goggles, he observed his mixture with a satisfied little smile.
— Multi!~ — Quackity entered as if he owned the place, startling Multi, who hadn't even heard him arrive. The law student looked at him with a raised eyebrow. — What the fuck is this?
Multi shifted his gaze to look at his roommate, who had his head tilted curiously. He truly hated himself for feeling his heart pound over something so small.
— Basically potassium carbonate and metallic magnesium. I'm trying to make potassium spheres that react with water, which should release hydrogen gas and- — He cut himself out of nowhere, coughing slightly when he realized he'd gotten a little carried away. — Nevermind. It's just an experiment to show my teacher.
— Wow. — Quackity blinked, his voice dripping with something between "i didn't understand a single thing" and admiration. He sat on Multi's bed, crossing his legs. — Whatever you say, hot version of Walter White. I'm listening. Does it explodes things or something like that?
Multi snorted, amused, a sudden warmth rising in his cheeks which he quickly disguised by turning his face away. Quackity was there, looking at him as if he held up the sky and the stars, even though it was just a chemistry experiment.
The people around him weren't really interested in his nerdy explanations about combustion of hydrocarbons or how super cool it was that nuclear weapons were produced using uranium.
It was... pleasing. Having someone who was interested in the things he liked.
𝟑.
— No, but listen to me! Nacho doesn't want to eat the cheap food anymore because you only buy the expensive one! If he dies of malnutrition, i will fucking blame you.
Multi rolled his eyes for the tenth time in the last ten minutes, listening to Katie make her long, exasperating complaint about shared custody of their cat.
— Jeez, i promise i'll pick him up tomorrow, okay? — His eyes meet the closed door of the campus library. — I need to grab some books, see you later, or preferably never.
— Yeah, go date some books, you big nerd. — Katie teased, slapping Multi on the back of the neck and running off before he could retaliate. A sigh escaped his lips as his hand pushed open the large wooden door.
The smell of coffee and new books was comforting, there weren't many students at that time, making silence reign over the room. Multi walked past the bookshelves and picked up a book entitled as The Feynman Lectures on Physics, without paying much attention, he looked through the hole where the textbook had been and saw that someone was sleeping there.
He walked over and saw that Quackity had his face buried in a book, probably about law, considering his constant complaints about the start of his exams, his back rising and falling rhythmically with each soft breath.
A warm feeling spread through his chest, he looked from side to side, took off his jacket and placed it over the sleeping man. Quackity's cell phone was on the table, unlocked.
𝘋𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴. Multi thought as he opened the alarm clock, setting it for ten minutes.
Multi didn't realize he'd been standing there too long until Quackity stirred, letting out a soft mumble against the pages of his book. His fingers twitched slightly, clutching the edge of Multi's jacket like it was a blanket he'd had since childhood.
His breath caught.
He picked up his book and walked past the librarian, who gave him a knowing little smile, Multi ignored it.
𝟒.
Multi fiddled with his lip piercing with his tongue while his fingers slid across his phone screen, the bar had good lighting and the drinks were even better. He could say that he was used to performing with his band in small bars near the college. Usually the owners paid them a few dollars, and rarely some customers gave them money because they liked the music.
— Multi, look! — Ewron's loud voice pulled him from his thoughts, followed immediately by feeling him tug at his arm and point in a specific direction. — Isn't that your boyfriend over there?
— My what?! — Multi looked where he was pointing and his eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. Because there, along with Roier and Tina, was Quackity.
His wide smile, the little moles on his face, the baggy blue sweatshirt.
𝘖𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘥.
— Stop fucking pointing at him! — Multi whispered through clenched teeth, eliciting a laugh from his friend. — I will kill myself.
—Too late! — Ewron sang, waving enthusiastically at the trio. — He already saw us. And he's coming over.
Multi's soul nearly left his body when he saw Quackity's face light up, his eyes scanning the bar until they landed on Multi and that smile —that stupid, beautiful, devastating smile —widened. He started making his way through the crowd, weaving between tables with the kind of unearned confidence that only Quackity possessed.
— Multi! I didn't know you played here! — Quackity exclaimed, sliding onto the barstool next to him, close enough that Multi could smell his cologne. — Roier said you were in a band but he never told me where you guys performed. This is so cool!
— It's... it's nothing, really. — Multi managed, his voice coming out strangled. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to regain composure. — Just a small gig. We play here every other Friday.
— Every other Friday? — Quackity's eyes lit up even more, if that was possible. — Dude, I'm definitely coming to every single one from now on. Why didn't you tell me?
— Oh, you know. Our Multi is a little shy. — Ewron put his arm around Quackity's shoulders, and Multi felt his eye twitch. — But we make really, really great music. You should come to our practices, i'm sure you'll love it!
— I'd love to. — Quackity grinned, completely oblivious the murderous look Multi was shooting at Ewron. — Seriously, i've been dying to hear you play. You're always so quiet about it at home.
Multi's heart stuttered at the word home. It sounded so natural coming from Quackity's lips, like he belonged there, like he'd always belonged there.
— Yeah, well... — Multi rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very fascinated by the wooden floor. — I thought you wouldn't be very interested since it's not really your music genre.
— Are you fucking kidding me?— Quackity laughed, bumping his shoulder against Multi's. — You could sing anything and i'd be in the front row screaming. We're friends, right? Polska gurom!
Multi's smile faltered for a second.
𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
However, when he started singing on stage and Quackity looked at him with those dark, bright eyes, he didn't care about being just friends.
𝟓.
— Multi!
Quackity rummaged through his entire closet. It wasn't possible, there was simply no way.
He hadn't just procrastinated on his weekly laundry and now couldn't even find a clean sweatshirt. Right?
— Fuck my life. — A frustrated grumble escaped his lips as he left his room, the cold winter breeze maked his teeth chatter, and he opened Multi's door. Empty, his roommate had probably left early.
His eyes wandered around the room, it was strangely organized, despite having some papers scattered on the floor. Until his gaze landed on a black sweatshirt, neatly folded on the bed.
— Well, he probably won't mind if I borrow it. — With a swift movement, Quackity put on the hoodie and let out a contented sound, pleased by the warm fabric. Despite being shorter than Multi, the cloth squeezed his arms just right, while the length was a little longer.
Inside the classroom, Quackity sat next to Roier and Aldo, who looked at each other with mischievous expressions.
— What? Are you both checking me out? — He asked, sounding somewhat confused as he felt Aldo's hand on his shoulder like a cartoon character.
— Quackity, we want to say that we support you, even though you hid it from us.
— Yeah, man. Congratulations. — Roier finished, chuckling.
— Wait, what? — Quackity's brow furrowed, looking between his two friends like they'd just started speaking in tongues. — Congratulations for what? Did i miss something? I'm not pregnant, am i?
Aldo gestured vaguely at the sweatshirt Quackity was wearing, his grin widening. — You know... that. Multi's hoodie. The one you're literally wrapped in right now.
Quackity looked down at himself, then back up at Aldo, then down at the sweatshirt again. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, which he disguised by crossing his arms over his chest. — Well, yeah. He wasn't home so i borrowed it, it's normal between friends. And besides, how the hell do you know it's his?
— Because I've seen him wear that exact hoodie like fifty times, pendejo. — Roier laughed, throwing an arm around Quackity's shoulder. — And also because it has his initials stitched on the collar. You didn't notice?
Quackity's hands flew to the back of his neck, fingers fumbling until they found the small embroidered letters: 𝘠.𝘔
His face burned brighter than Aldo's neon green backpack.
— Oh.
— Oh, he says. — Aldo snorted, leaning back in his chair with the smugness of someone who had just won a bet he didn't even make. — You're literally wearing his name like a tag. That's not friends behavior, Quackity. That's 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 behavior.
— Ew! Don't fucking say that, you weirdo! — Quackity exclaimed, embarrassed, while Roier laughed so hard his stomach started to hurt.
That same afternoon, Multi returned home and searched all his room.
— Gdzie do cholery jest moja bluza?
+𝟏.
The night was cold, the wind lashed Quackity's skin like a coarse sand, who was trying in vain to light his lighter. An irritated grunt escaped his lips and he rested his arms on the balcony railing.
Suddenly, gray smoke billowed from inside the apartment, and he turned to see where it was coming from. Multi was standing in the doorway of the balcony, right behind him, with his hands in his dark green pajama pants.
A cigarette between his lips, the faint orange glow illuminating his sharp features in the dim light. He didn't say anything at first, just leaned against the doorframe and watched Quackity struggle with his lighter like it had personally offended him.
— Need help? — Multi's voice was low, rough from sleep or disuse, Quackity couldn't tell which. It made something in his stomach flip regardless.
Quackity turned fully, a pout forming on his lips that was entirely too endearing for someone who was supposed to be a grown adult. — This piece of shit lighter died on me. I've been out here for ten minutes trying to get it to work.
Multi looked away for a second, as if he were thinking about doing something he would probably regret later. He walked over to his roommate, his bare feet barely making a sound against the surface.
With a gentleness that almost made Quackity think he was dreaming, Multi lifted his chin with a finger and brought his face closer. He pressed his lit cigarette against Quackity's, transferring the faint flame to him, the smoke rising between their close faces.
Quackity's breath caught in his throat. The proximity was dizzying, he could see the way Multi's dark lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones in the dim balcony light.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Multi's hand was still hovering near Quackity's jaw, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his skin without quite touching it.
— You know... — Quackity murmured, voice barely above a whisper, — You could have just handed me your lighter.
— I could have. — Multi's thumb grazed the corner of Quackity's jaw, featherlight. — But this was more interesting.
The bustling city seemed to fade away with the noise of cars, leaving only the mingled breaths of the two as Quackity stared at Multi's mouth, so close to his own.
In an almost theatrical movement, he took Multi's cigarette from his mouth while simultaneously spitting his own out the balcony, cupping the scientist's face in his hands and finally pressing their lips together.
For a second, Multi seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Just the sensation of Quackity's tongue meeting his made his brain panic.
His hands found the Mexican's waist as he tilted his head, adjusting the kiss better. The wind howled around them, but neither of them felt the cold anymore.