ivy; walker scobell imagines

everything has changed

requested by: @ averyaugustine

trigger warning: mentions of gastric acid (stomach acid for those who aren't familiar)

summary: taytay!

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y/n's pov:

ten years ago ~

it's getting late. it's almost dinner time. you can tell because the sun has sunk past the trees. you're sitting on the swing set in your neighborhood park alone. you kick your legs in the air with no specific rhythm. you aren't tall enough for your toes to even brush the ground, so your bare feet are left dangling in the cool evening air. today was a good day. school was good, your afternoon snack was delicious, everyone was nice today.

"do you want me to push you?"

you turn your head to see a boy. messy blonde hair and big wide blue eyes. you kick your feet again.

"yes, please!"

he does. you giggle as you get higher and as soon as you're high enough that you don't need to be pushed, the boy hops onto the swing besides you and pushes himself into the air. your swings synchronize and for a couple minutes you both do nothing but stare at the sunset, painting the canvas sky in shades of golden and cerulean. your swings slow and you hear your mother call for dinner in the distance. the boy turns to you and holds out his hand.

"i'm walker."

seven years later ~

"walker, where did you put the toothpaste," you shout from the bathroom.

you're helping him pack.

"uhh, probably where i left it?" you hear him call from his bedroom.

he's leaving soon. he got a huge role, like major could-win-him-some-awards kind of role. you're so proud. you are so happy that your best friend of seven years is pursuing his dreams. and he has big dreams. 

it's different for you, though. it's a different kind of proud. it's the same kind of proud you felt when you were eight and watching him perform in the school plays. the same kind of proud you felt when he got his first role on that zoom call where you were hiding off screen. the same kind of proud that you feel when you help him practice lines and fight sequences and tell him that everyone will love him because if they hate him, they hate you and no one hates you. it's only been a few weeks since you came to terms with the fact that you love him. not just the friend kind of love. the secret, longing love. the hidden glances and flushed cheeks. rapid heart rates and the thoughts you hope only you can hear. 

you want him to stay so bad that it hurts, but you know he can't. you won't be the reason that he doesn't get to do what he loves. you will not let him stay behind for you. so you do the only thing you know how to do.

you let him go.

present ~

it's been three years.

three years, two months, seventeen days, not that you've been counting.

since you last saw walker.

it's not like you haven't seen him, you watch his interviews, you like his instagram posts, you wish that he'd send you a sign. anything. a call, a text, even just a like on one of your stories. nothing but radio silence.

everything has changed.

you yearn for the old days. the long summer eves when you and walker would run amuck through the woodlands between your houses. you'd build sand castles on the lake shore and giggle over whispered secrets. it's a longing that has settled deep in your bones. taking the shape of rust on a door hinge. of a door that hasn't been opened in centuries.

today is the day. today is the day that he comes back to visit. his family is coming over for dinner. you're nervous. your pants pool around your ankles like the sweat pools on your forehead. it's been so long. does he even remember you? butterflies nibble at the edges of your stomach. you hope that your gastric acid leaks and you disintegrate into an ashy pile of nothing and everything all at once. they can put you in an urn and throw you into the lake.

"y/n, they're almost here," your mom shouts up the stairs.

you do a couple hops and tell yourself that you are a bad bitch and a teenage boy who you may or may not still be in love with should not be affecting you this much. then, you head down the stairs. when you get down, they aren't in fact almost here, they are very much here. your heart rises to your throat and you swallow it down. there he is.

walker.

he looks older. tired. there are subtle bags under his eyes and his posture sags. you know every crevice of this boy. you're reading him like a book. and his book doesn't seem to have a happy ending. something is wrong? he turns to look at you and you swear that if gravity wasn't real, that piercing stare could've made you levitate several inches off the ground.

"y/n!" heather says, pulling you in for a hug, "we've missed you so much!"

you laugh and say you missed her too.

"why don't you and walker go up to your room?" your mom suggests.

great. exactly what you didn't want to do. you don't even gesture for him to follow you, you just head back up the stairs to your room. walker follows, socked feet soft on the carpeted steps. you plop down on your bed and pull your legs into criss-cross applesauce. he sits down across from you. the bed sinks and you slide a couple inches towards him. that definitely does wonders for the butterflies in your stomach.

"what's wrong?" you ask him.

his "i'm ok" demeanor drops. it's you. it's always been you.

"how was it?" you ask him another question, since he didn't answer your first.

"miserable," he says.

that takes you by surprise.

"what do you mean?"

"it was horrible. i'm so tired. and i hate myself."

"why?" you exclaim. he's never acted like this before.

"because of you."

it's like a knife to your chest. a blade in the soft spot right under your ribcage. your face falls.

"because i left you behind."

the knife disappears.

"aw, walk, i was ok. you don't have to worry about me."

"no. it's not ok. i left you and i didn't talk to you because i thought it would be better. i was scared of my feelings, so i abandoned you. and it didn't fucking help. the only thing that got me through that was that at the end of it all? i'd be able to come home to you."

he's crying now. so are you, you realize, when a tear hits your arm.

"i love you, y/n. i loved you then, i still love you now. you are the achilles to my patroclus, the apollo to my hyacinth, the nico to my will, ok?"

"ok," you say, sobbing, "please don't even leave me again?"

he gives you a half smile and nods.

"never."

he reaches out and pulls you in. he's stronger. braver. his arms more defined, his curls, his voice. there is still a mole on his left hand, he still has a little lisp and his dimples still peek through when he smiles. his nose still scrunches up when he laughs and he still looks at you like you are his universe. he is the same walker you met ten years ago, but he is not. he is different.

and everything has changed.

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i hope you enjoyed the gay greek references i put in there 

-1.2k words