wally's lament.

[ 26 ]

⫸——⫷

While Wally was off getting dressed, you took the time alone to take some deep breaths.

Nothing had changed. You were okay, your family was okay (probably), and the police were not after you. Everything was fine.

After a moment, Wally walked back downstairs and sauntered into the kitchen. Seeing his figure flit by reminded you of the kiss he had given you on Tuesday, when everyone came over to welcome you into your new home. The thought was a nice, but brief, distraction.

When Wally came back into the living room you noted that, although he was dressed, his pompadour was still down. He looked good with his hair down. It was still damp, giving off the appearance of gentle beachy waves. You found yourself staring; earlier, you had been to upset to make note of his beauty. In Wally's hands was a hot cup of coffee, which he placed on the coffee table in front of you before sitting down next to you.

"How are you feeling, darling?" he asked.

You shrugged, then took the coffee cup from the table and blew on the hot liquid inside. You would have prefered hot chocolate, but you were sure that the bitter, hot and caffeinated liquid in this cup would help your distressing thoughts cease. Even just taking some time alone, sitting here on his couch, had allowed your muscles to relax and your tears to dry. However, you still felt shaken up, and your family was still on your mind. "I'll be okay," you said.

"What happened when you called your family?" he continued. His voice was soft and gentle. You looked at him, finding kindness and love easily detectable in his lazy eyes.

The hot mug was warming your palms, urging you to take a sip. You did. It tasted sweet and smelled like vanilla. "Nothing, really. I just... I was upset because I saw the article about me on your desk. It was kind of shocking to read it, even though I already knew about it. I wasn't even going to call my mom until after you came down, because I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first and... wanted to ask some stuff about Home." You added the last bit on very quietly, trying to ensure that Home would not hear you. "But when I saw the article, my first thought was to call my mom. To tell her that I wasn't a murderer."

For a moment, Wally did not say anything. Silently, he put the palm of his hand on your back, in between your shoulder blades, and rubbed soft circles over the back of your shirt. The touch felt nice, sending shivers down your spine. He watched you, perhaps not knowing what to say, or perhaps wondering if you had anything more to add. You looked back down at your cup.

"I'm sure they don't think you're an evil person, (Y/N)," he finally said. "I've known you for... umm, about three weeks, and I already know that you aren't evil. You never could be."

"But I am!" you said. Your tone shocked you. You sounded like you were pleading with him, as if you wanted him to think you were evil. Of course, you did not want that at all, but the pleading tone continued to lace your words. "I did everything the article said I did."

"But you had reason to do all of that," Wally insisted. "Anyone would have done it if they were in your shoes, I can assure you."

"But my family doesn't know my reasons. And... I... I still made the choice to kill those people. I held the weapon." You paused. "What if I had decided not to? What if I went to the police about the first murder, the stupid fucking robber, and confessed? Would I have even been in trouble? Would I have stopped all of this shit from happening?"

"I... I don't know, my love."

You took a deep breath, followed by another sip of your coffee.

Wally's hand continued to run over your back. Eventually, he slid his hand up to your face and ran his thumb across your cheek. You looked at him, making eye contact.