The Powers That Be Ship Thee Brendan x Wally (Loverivalshipping)

Role Reversal

Me: *Points at picture and tries not to laugh/cry/scream until she throws up* "That's what I found from looking up the title for this chapter on Google Images. Now, please don't think that that would ever be what I would mean by 'role reversal.' No, I mean, Wally's getting a taste of his own fucking medicine in this chapter. Do you-? Do you even know how much of an asshole he has been to write for this entire fanfic? No. No, you don't. You can't imagine the internal struggles I've gone through, but let's forget about that and start over and move on for a second, okay?" *Waves* "Hi. Hi. Hi. Did ya miss me? Did ya miss me for all of half a second? I love you. I felt like the previous chapter was over so I just ended it on that cliffhanger, but at the same time I know I promised someone make-up sex, so I was, like, fuuuuuuuuuck, that didn't haaappen." *Scratches head awkwardly* "It will in this chapter, though, so smut warning activate! And NO, that doesn't mean you know how this chapter ends. I will keep you second guessing EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE UNTIL YOU DRAW YOUR LAST FUCKING BREATH WHILE FANGIRLING/FANBOYING AND/OR SCREAMING IN RAGE AND PAIN AT THIS BOOK. LOVE ME! LOVE ME! LOVE ME!" *Starts the show while she tries to regain some semblance of sanity* "P.S. Judging by that picture, someone really needs to cleanse the Internet one of these days. Like, just some sort of sweeping mass delete through Google Images and the YouTube comments section might be really worthwhile AT THE VERY LEAST."

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*Wally's POV*

May doesn't seem to feel that either of us can finish our conversation standing up, in a public place, so she takes me back to her and Brendan's apartment. Silence, heavy with unspoken thoughts, reigns between us the entire trip there. I don't know what exactly, but I already know that something is very wrong. Hell, I knew it yesterday at the library, but I didn't say anything, and I feel like that's a problem of mine—I'm always not saying things.

I should've just told him to stay with me yesterday. I miss him already because I can tell that—best case scenario for what is wrong here—he is going to be very upset with me. He didn't exactly seem thrilled yesterday at the end there, after all.

What have I done? I shake my head to myself. I wanted him back. I didn't want this.

When we enter through the front door, it's a nice place but I...I understand now. She doesn't have to tell me what happened. There are multiple spots where what must be May's knickknacks clutter counter spaces and end tables and coffee tables and even floor space, and then there are various spots that are blatantly, meaningfully barren with little rings of dust around them to show that things were indeed recently there.

"He moved out, didn't he?" I don't have to ask, not really, "Did I miss him by a day or just a few hours?" I almost feel like crying, but I'm so sick of being a crybaby about things—especially about things that I brought on myself.

May sighs heavily and slinks her way to a table situated by the small kitchen that they must have fought over furiously on days that I missed, missed, missed—I so regret that, all of a sudden, now—and then she slumps into a chair. I pause for a moment, then follow and take the seat across from her.

She glances up at me glumly. "He left this morning. I thought-...I thought things must have gone very well yesterday, but now I realize that all the years he's spent with me have just taught him to get very good at acting and lying and being completely nonchalant when you should probably be punching your fist through the wall. I..." her eyes turn away from me, to some open bit of air by my head, "didn't realize I had done that to him..."