Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dead to Me

Wally throws his shoulder into Home's door with as much pure force and anger as he can. A sharp pain runs through his shoulder than across his neck and back, but he pays it no mind. He's been in far worse pain for these past few months. At this point his hair has fallen out of its style and into a greasy matted mess, his nails are cracked and bloody, he's fully abandoned his shirt and cardigan in a disgusting pile somewhere in Home, and there's blood caked onto his chin and down his neck from how often he's bit his lips in his rage.

He slowly steps away from the door, before letting out a howl and running at the wall on the other side of Home's living room. Past the couch that's been tipped over and torn to shreds of its former self, and the coffee table he'd managed to break in half.

When he hits the wall he begins kicking and punching at it, his lungs and vocal cords making as much and as loud of a sound as they could. With tears running down his face, he manages to punch a hole into Home's wall.

When he realizes what he's done, he starts pulling at the opening in the wall. His nails start to bleed again as he tears wallpaper and drywall away like a starving animal picking at a corpse. Like he's trying to take something back from Home.

Idle Roaring Room

Wally runs frantically around Home, destroying the furniture even further than it already had been. He then stops everything, and after a few seconds tears fall from his eyes and he screams as loud as he can.

His hands go to the roots of his hair and he continues to scream, pulling out a few strands as he does so. He sinks down to the floor, the loud noises still leaving him as he starts hyperventilating.

His lungs and throat hurt.

Four Walls

Wally quickly scrambles up to his feet, running about Home once more. This time, however, he gathers all of his crucifixes and candles and places them around Home's door. He grabs his ashtray, his lighter, and a cigarette from the kitchen counter. He still feels breathless as he places the ashtray on the floor amongst the crosses and candles, lighting the candles and the cigarette with his lighter.

He kneels down in front of Home's door, takes a long drag from the cigarette, then gently places it on the rim of the ashtray. He holds his rosary in two hands, bows his head, and begins praying.

One of the crosses falls and knocks over a candle while he's not paying attention.

Seeds To Sow

"I just wanna know, is this how flowers grow?

I'm learning how, how to let it go

Sun the seeds I've, seeds I've sown

How flowers grow; this is how flowers grow"

Chapter Text

Everyone rushes outside of their houses when Home starts going up in flames. They watch, frozen in fear, as Wally does his best to break down the door as it starts to turn to ash. When he finally does,he comes barreling out of Home. His hair has some ashes stuck in it and the upper half of his right arm has some painful looking burn marks on it.

He stares, dazed, at his neighbors all standing around Home's lawn. He thinks they're trying to talk to him. He doesn't quite recognize any of them. He looks down at the pavement, and it seems to be swirling. He doesn't quite recognize his surroundings.

Wally brings his hand up to where his arm is burnt, and presses down on it. He barely registers the pain as some of it sticks to his fingers a bit before beading at the edges. It smells like chemicals, and he can see his skin start to pull away from the flesh underneath. Isn't skin supposed to blister when it's burnt?

He's pulled away from his thoughts when he feels feathers brush against his opposite shoulder. He quickly snaps his head up and slaps the wing of the large bird away from him. She looks incredibly upset as she steps away from him.

Wally feels himself say something. He can't hear what he said, neither does he fully know, but he can feel the vibrations in his chest and the pain in his throat. Everyone in front of him looks at each other, then back at him.

He falls to the ground.

Chapter Text

Wally awoke in a bed in a room that he didn't fully recognize. It felt like it was something from a dream.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the large bird slowly opening the door and stepping inside. She sits down on a chair beside the bed and tries to talk to him, but he can't process what she's saying. She sighs, and reaches a feathered wing to brush his hair out of his face. While her wing is outstretched he sits up and brings her into a tight embrace. He doesn't even know why he does it, it's as if his body moves on some weird autopilot. He presses his face into her chest and inhales. She smells like fresh cookies and a walk through a dense garden, with a hint of the lingering scent of smoke just upon the surface.

He can feel the vibrations of her saying something again, but he still can't process the words. He feels himself being picked up out of bed and carried somewhere. She sits him down on the lid of the toilet in a small bathroom that smells strongly of lavender. He notices that a bath full of bubbles has already been run as she gently removes his clothes, folds them, and places them on the counter.

She briefly picks him up again before setting him back down in the tub. She kneels down next to him and starts cleaning him like he's a small child, being particularly careful with his injury. He can see and feel the night before - as well as the past few months - being washed away from his skin. The bird tries her best at washing his hair and detangling it, but she stops as soon as she sees him wince from his hair being tugged on. She finishes trying to at least wash his scalp before helping him out of the bath and wrapping him in a soft, pink towel.

She starts letting the water drain when a knock is heard from the front door. She leaves the room for a moment, and the only words Wally picks up from a brief conversation from the person at the door are the bird saying "Thank you, Julie" before the door closes. She comes back in a moment later and sets down some folded clothes next to the dirty ones on the counter.

She looks at him for a moment before sighing once again. She grabs a pair of scissors and some clippers from a basket under the sink. She has him turn around so he's facing away from her, then starts cutting his hair. She begins by cutting out all the matts, then shaves his head just enough to even his hair out, leaving just above an inch left.

She brushes some stray hairs off his shoulders before helping him dry off the rest of the way, wrapping his injury in gouze, and then dressing him in the new clothes. They were a long white linen sleeveless dress and a pair of soft white ankle socks with some lace around the tops of them. As she dressed him he got a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. At his newly short hair and the little additional bits of blue growing along his jaw. His eyes are tinged red and he looks so tired.

A few minutes later, he's sitting on the porch of the big blue dog's house sipping a cup of mint tea. The bird had already gone back to her own home. Wally tries to look at Home for a moment, but when he does his eyes start to water so he opts for looking into the distance. He stares far past the store and the trees. He wonders what's out there.

He sets down his tea cup next to him and then stands up. He steps onto the pavement, and it warms his feet through the socks as he walks far past the store and into the trees.

He walks through the woods in the way it feels like it's taking him. Along a brook and through a patch of apple trees and into a clearing. The grass and flowers come up to his hips as he walks through it up to a very old tree. He sits down with his back against the tree and takes a deep breath. He can see the whole neighborhood up on this hill in the woods.

He feels like he's lost something.

Chapter Text

Wally lays against the tree and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets the warmth of the sun seep into his skin.

He opens his eyes when he hears someone clear their throat. Standing a few feet in front of him is the big blue dog. The dog takes a few steps forward then picks Wally up and holds him like he's a baby.

They walk all the way back to the dog's house, and sit together on the porch. Wally takes a sip of his tea, and by now it's gone cold. The dog lights his pipe and a pink cigarette. He hands the cigarette to Wally.

Wally gazes at what was once Home, and even though he feels himself start to cry he doesn't look away. Home is now an empty burnt husk. Most of the building had collapsed in the fire, and even some of the grass around it didn't make it out without getting burned. There's no way Home could be salvaged.

He shakily takes a drag from his cigarette as he starts to sob. The dog notices and pulls Wally into his lap, taking the cigarette out of his hands and putting it into a noticeably clean ashtray. Wally and the dog hold each other tightly, and at some point Wally cries himself to sleep in the dog's arms.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like that.