Note: Primarily angst, however depending on how you interpret it, the ending is far more lighthearted/ positive. Also, Frank Sinatra is so... >. There will be many more fics inspired by his music! Also, I absolutely adore this chapter : ) I'm very happy with it, so I hope you also enjoy it.
Summary: Consumed by the overwhelming industry and it's tricks Wally was deceived into abandoning his relationship with Y/N. Young yet his time drug by acting and everything that comes with it, as he works as one of the directors for a new romance film he finds himself going over his old world with you. Filled with longing and regret he can't control himself as he breaks apart, ditching the set in search of some reassurance that your love still exists.
Wally hadn't realized how much he longed for you until he visualized it. Unknowingly you consumed his mind so, it was bittersweet yet normal, he failed to notice it. Now, as he sat in one of the directors chairs aside the other director it drowned him in nostalgia, so harshly he felt sick. In the film industry for as long as he could remember, albeit young he contained ambition and a want for stories more personal to him, leading him to land a collaboration with another director. Driven by the want of your romance, he rewrote your past with him on the scripts.
The two actors on set were strikingly different, yet their affection for each other so apparent, it only made sense for them to be reserved for the other. The actor portraying what he knew to be him was gentle, his love shining through his eyes while his restrain to embrace his lover in it was apparent in the controlled and slightly stiff movements as he inched closer to his beloved. That beloved was so naturally graceful, adorned beautifully/handsomely in love.
Taken out of his thoughts by the sound of laughter Wally realized the two made a mistake, leading to the actors and stage crew's relief of a laugh and moment of break. Growing stiff, his eyes widened, trying to capture the tears back into them. As the scene quickly restarted, Wally stepped out.
Desperately sighing in the smoke from his cigar, he leaned against the wall, attempting to keep himself standing. Choking back a sob he choked on the smoke, not being able to breath it all out. Falling to his knees as he coughed the tears began falling. He rubbed his eyes in denial, begging himself to stop. Acceptance of his want for you stabbed him, the knife twisting the longer it stayed. Now so vividly being replayed by the scene, he tugged on his hair in an attempt to ground himself.
Finally allowing himself to imagine you, the brief flashes of your features demeaning, he envisioned his favorite clothes on you, the outfit which fit around you like a doll the day he saw you last. The way your hair framed your face so softly, enhancing your unique features. He imagined the times you'd allow him to move his fingers through your silky hair, the way he held your face to his as he kissed you. Your heavenly laughter as he kissed all over your face, showering you in his love and adoration.
He leaned his back against the building, taking deep breaths. He withheld the nostalgia, imagining it was still those two years ago, a time which let him admire and crave the view of your features until he returned to you later that day or night. Even if it was morning, he'd return into your arms, feeling impossibly strained and restless without seeing you.
Welcoming his presence with open and warm arms, he had cooked beside you, painted beside you, gardened beside you, embraced music beside you, walked beside you, slept beside you... He couldn't remember anything but you, his mind saving the space for the next time you blessed him with yourself. Long ago he had accepted you wouldn't, not in this lifetime. You were the force that made him believe in something more than this life, it feeling far too cruel without you. All he craved was you, any piece the world was willing to give him. So, day and night another part of his mind imagined when that day would come. How he'd embrace you into his arms, holding you tightly against him as he spun you around, pressing his cheek to yours as he laughed in disbelief.
His eyes grew tired as new tears welcomed themselves. How could he have been so stupid? He's always been willing to risk it all for you, all accept that day. However, he could never accept that. Having no choice, he hadn't been able to chase for you until there was no trail to follow. His manager despised you, and even Wally when he refused to embark on a relationship with another actor instead. Wally resisted the demands of his manager during that time, pulling his own strings to shift the world for you both. Finally, as his manager had enough he pulled what Wally hadn't wanted to imagine. Making sure the both of you had no contact with each other, even getting you fired from your job leading you to another, you had become untraceable to Wally.
Ever since he'd written you letters upon letters, saving his words and time for you. He pretended you were there, and finally he admitted you weren't. Although the scene and idea made him absolutely disgusted, he ran towards the bathroom in the crappy prop rooms in the back, occupied by no one right now. Desperately attempting to fix his hair he only broke down once again, kicking a stand full of hygienics and makeup next to him. Leaning against the sink he pretended you were fixing his hair, brushing your fingers through it as he rested against you near sleep. He mustered a breath with courage, giving himself one last attempt to fix it before he ran out the studio completely.
His hair was messy, his face panicked and distraught. He wore dress pants along with a nice short sleeved button up, the design now slightly wrinkled and misplaced. Desperately he ran to his car, taking the quickest way home, even speeding when that wasn't fast enough.
Slamming his door and running up the stairs until he reached his office, he dialed any and every connection he had and had thought of, offering ridiculous amounts of money to whichever could locate any trace of you. Exhausted, immediately as the last call ended he collapsed onto his bed, gripping his pillow.
He smiled to himself, no one except his closest friends could imagine him this way. He was so aggressive and blunt outside of his scenes. His walls were destroyed when you passed them, enchanting him. Desperately he longed for you, he had barely survived these two years, any more seemed near impossible. Everyone he called was bound to be suspicious, to be curious. Although he tried not to, he came across desperate to every person. His words were rushed, his breathe heavy. His grip on the telephone cord tightened every few seconds, finally, he let out a loud sigh before hanging up each call.
Hesitantly, he rose from his bed, looking around for a moment. Slowly, his feet dragging across the ground as though he were being pulled into a deal with the devil, he walked to his record player.
He dismissed the bunch of vinyls next to it, opting to search behind the table until he found a tiny box of a few.
Tracing the cover photo, his eyes drifting over the numerous songs of one album, he carefully brought it out the sleeve, admiring every piece of the music as it left it's protective sheet. He exhaled, lifting the needle, placing it down and hesitated before he brought them together. Waiting a moment, a song finally began to play. Unfortunately, his random selection of song from this album was bittersweet, he bit his tongue as the song echoed through the lonely room.
"And the sun and the moon
Seemed to be ours"
...
"Now over and over I keep going over the
The world we knew
Days when you used to love me"
Wally fell asleep to the song, hoping with every fibre of his being that you were a dream he was meant to hold.
It was 4 a.m. when Barnaby called, getting him a ride to the nearest airport. Wally stuffed all those letters into a bag, rushing to you.
