To Stray Too Far From Home (Wally X Reader)

Return To Your Roots

The thundering grumble of your motorcycle engine roaring to life drowned out your chattering thoughts, replacing them with a gentle rumble that washed over your endless worries like a wave, soothing them if only for a moment.

Pulling out of the long winding driveway of a teal Victorian home, you double checked to make sure you still had the several boxes secured to your pillion; you certainly didn't want them falling off now that they were all that remained of your mother's legacy.

Your mother had passed away a few weeks ago due to a heart condition and now you were returning back to your quaint home after receiving the items she left for you in her will. Truthfully, you knew she probably only left you the junk she had lying around, you were never really on good terms with the woman- not since you took up a profession as a vocalist.

She always claimed that singing would get you nowhere and that you should be more like your siblings; Marcus and Chelsey, who went on to become a lawyer and accountant respectively. Though, of course, every family has their black sheep and here you were, decked out in black leather with a deep green shirt being the only colour on your person- unless you counted the rainbow decal on your motorcycle helmet.

Huffing out a sigh, you revved your engine and turned down the winding road leading to your home, dialing up your music to drown out the chaos of the world.

It wasn't long till your bland, cream coloured home came into view, a stark contrast from the earthy wilderness that surrounded it. You had been lucky to have found it on the housing market for such a cheap price and with the assistance of your father's trust fund, you were now a humble home owner.

Though its affordable price was probably due to how distant you were from your neighbors and the few murders that took place there. Yep, that's right, a whole family was killed by their eldest daughter around fifteen years ago- you blamed the shitty floral wallpaper, that stuff would be enough to drive anyone crazy.

Parking your motorcycle within the tight unfinished garage, you slipped off of the seat, kicking a few wooden boards out of your way as you went to undo the straps which held the boxes of what was most definitely your mother's old trash, but hey, maybe she gave you something of value. Though you wouldn't know until you got it into your house and opened it.

Removing the cables from your pillion and taking the boxes in your arms, you stumbled through your garage, having forgotten how damn heavy these things were. Growling out obscenities as you stubbed your toe on a nearby toolkit, you briskly headed through the garage entry of your home, hitting the button to shut the garage door as you went.

As soon as you made it to your living room, you sighed out in relief, letting the boxes within your grasp fall onto your coffee table with a dull thud, the contents within the bottom box clattering loudly.

"Alright, let's see what dear old mom left for me." you whispered to yourself, plopping down on your sofa and kicking off the leather boots you had forgotten to remove at the door due to your overwhelming curiosity as to what may be residing inside the dusty boxes.

Surely your mother wouldn't have actually left you with only junk, hell, your siblings both received tens of thousands of dollars worth of your mother's belongings, it would only make sense she would do the same for you. However, glancing over the worn boxes, you were starting to lose hope that your mother was as fair as you remembered her to be.

Shifting the bottom conatiner over to yourself you began the process of unfolding the top and opening it. The dilapidated box easily gave into your efforts, opening within seconds and you were both disappointed and confused as to what lay inside.

VHS tapes, loads of them, all covered in blank white stickers with the title 'Welcome Home' written on it in cursive, though not just any cursive, it was your father's. And right in the middle, atop the stacked VHS tapes, was a VHS player coated in a fine layer of dust.