October Sun

October Sun

summary: you'd gone to the school, hoping to find Wally or Shy Boy or Bitnik Girl. hell, you'd settle for Mina Volkov and her volatility, adamant that you'd had to have practiced the right procedures to join her in the rafters. At that point, you'd been willing to do just about anything (exposing your abilities included) to help course-correct after Simon had been hauled away by the cops.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.21

You'd almost been willing to do as Xavier had asked. To stay home and rest—not that you'd have been able to do so successfully, earlier events churning together in a wild storm of tragic memory, frayed thought, and sick emotion. You'd been curled up on Aidan's bed, holding Limon like a lifeline, Xavier long gone after promising to pick you up in the morning.

Then Simon had texted; had told you about Mrs. Grace striding into the interrogation room and disarming the deputies' aggressive questioning with a single look before they'd had a chance to dig in. Apparently, Simon was due back at the station the next day, informed he was to give a formal statement that would be recorded and observed by the right parties.

In the aftermath, his parents had been frantic to the point of guarding the exits and refused to let him out of his room. He'd been allowed access to his phone for ten minutes until he'd had to hand it back to his mother.

Things had gone from abstract to real too quickly for you to fathom, everything utterly and completely fucked, and you were scared. Scared for Simon, for yourself. For Maddie. It'd been Simon's texts that had spurred you into action. They think I had something to do with it, Simon had relayed, they aren't even looking at Anderson. After that, there'd been no chance you'd sit idle, twiddling your thumbs through the night until Xavier returned before school.

You'd snuck out without trouble, quick-marched the path to Split River High, keeping to the shadows to avoid late-night weirdos, and possible Neighborhood Watchers who would tattle on you to your mother. You didn't have a plan, knew the school was locked and a night guard was on duty. Either Al or Barry, the two rotating shifts between day and night week by week.

Al was old, watermelon-round, and slow; wouldn't give you more than a lazy warning if he caught you trying to break into the building. Barry, on the other hand, was young, loud; had some kind of point to prove, and acted like his uniform made him the voice of authority. He wouldn't hesitate to tell Principal Hartman who he'd caught in the halls after dark, jaundiced teeth on display as he sneered through a heavily embellished version of the truth just to make things worse for you.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you hurried across the parking lot, practically jogging to the back of the school where you stopped a few feet short of the door. You were relying—perhaps too much—on the connection between you and Wally, blind hope warring with better judgment as you chanted his name in your mind. Over and over, infused with pleas to come find you. It was stupid, you thought, the dumbest idea anyone had ever had, begging a ghost to ride in like a white knight on the back of the telepathy neither of you had. What was worse was that, even upon entering the school grounds, the connection had only murmured to life, a barely-there purr reaching outward like a cat stretching after a nap. It was unbothered, the way you'd noticed it was when you and Wally weren't within a specific radius of one another.

While it made it easy to concentrate in class, that little mechanism made you want to punch a hole through the fabric of the universe and throttle whatever divine entity had thought it up. Motherfucker. Still, you prayed it would be enough to get Wally's attention.

Minutes passed and you paced a groove into the grass, hands shoved into the kangaroo pocket of Andrew's hoodie when you weren't combing your fingers through your hair or flapping them along with the angry conversation you were having in your head about weaponized bias. Because who the hell were those deputies to suspect Simon of anything? Of course, you didn't know the whole story. Simon had only had ten minutes to talk and he'd also been texting Nicole. Probably Mathilda, too, since she'd been on the verge of rabid by the time he was released into his parent's custody.

Fuck this. The connection wasn't working, or maybe Wally was preoccupied, or, who knew, he could be in that strange state of suspension that you'd read about; a whole chapter dedicated to the way in which ghosts linger between the hours, as if not existing at all, until something roused them. You didn't know enough about the connection between you and Wally to question whether or not it would be cause enough for him to come to.

Out of patience, you decided it was time to do something. You stomped around the side of the building, trying to guess where Wally would be at that time, and, god dammit, you both really needed to have more conversations about things outside of Maddie and mad teachers. Finally, you halted in front of the gym's exterior. You checked the ground for something to throw at the grated window, a stone or stick big enough to rattle the metal and make noise.

Stone in hand, you positioned yourself to hurl it at the school. Arm raised, body angled back, hyping yourself up in your head as you counted down from 3. Best case scenario: Wally came to get you. Worst case: Barry got to you first.

With a shuddery breath, you swung your arm and—

"Don't." An unfamiliar voice said from behind you as your wrist was grabbed in a hard, though not painful, grip.

You dropped the stone, "What the shit!?" and swirled around, irrationally terrified that it was Mr. Anderson come to do to you what he'd done to Maddie.

It took a moment for the fear to recoil, for your heart to slink down from your mouth to your chest. You took in the person who'd stopped you. A tall boy with South Asian features wearing autoshop coveralls, the top rolled and bunched around his waist. He studied his hand, as if touching you had caused some kind of reaction, before he looked back up and regarded you in awe.

"Uhm...hi?" You said for lack of anything better. The longer he stared without saying anything, the more time you had to process. With a thick swallow, cold dread crept over you as it slowly clicked who was standing in front of you. Arjun "Ajay" Khatwani. Died in 1992. Crushed under a car in autoshop. "Oh, fuck me," You bemoaned, scrubbing your hands over your face.

Great. That was great. Another nail in the coffin of keeping a secret you'd been sworn to by ancestral blood. He seemed to notice your despair, his posture changing from loose shock to rigidly unimpressed, arms folding and one brow arching.

"You can't be here." He said, "Especially not now." And what the hell did that mean?

"Look, buddy, I don't mean to be rude, but I really need to get into that school," You hooked your thumb over your shoulder, "and I am going to find a way to do it."

His shoulders squared, a determined expression hardening on his face, "And, trust me, I want to help. But you can't just fly in there and expect Wally not to get found out."

That was...what just happened? Wires sparked and the control board short-circuited as you tried and failed to respond. Mouth gupping as a rush-hour-of-traffic's worth of words clogged your throat. Had Wally told Ajay about you? No. He wouldn't. Logically, it was impossible to know, but something deep within you rejected the idea as soon as it manifested.

"Come again?"

"Everyone just got over Charley keeping Simon a secret. How do you think they'll feel when they find out Wally—our dopey, naive, puppy-dog mascot—betrayed everyone as well, hm?" He took a step toward you, a deep V between his brows that looked foreign on his face. "I know you have a lot to lose, too, but you have family who will support you no matter what. Here," He said, indicating more than the school, you recognized, "We only have each other."

"You just said everyone got over Charley—" Was he the kid with the glasses and the Timberlake frosted tips? "—why wouldn't they do the same for Wally?"

"It's different. Listen to me—" And then he said something that startled you back a step, your eyes bulging. Your name tumbled from his lips like he'd known you his whole life. Not your full name, no. It was the nickname Aurora had used when you were a baby. Ajay raised his hands in a placating gesture, "Please, just listen. I'll go get him, but understand," There Ajay paused, reluctant and no less determined to get his point across, "He's with the others right now and I can't think of a reason to get him alone at midnight on a Thursday. Not after everything that happened today."

"So bring them." You challenged, eyes narrowed, standing taller, because, honestly? If Ajay knew about you then what the fuck was the point anymore?

He might not have openly confessed that your sister had interacted with him of her own volition, but he didn't need to. You could sense his sincerity; his willingness not to disrupt the status quo. He wouldn't have sought Aurora out, and you hadn't seen anything from him in your years at the school to indicate he was the type of ghost to stalk the living. Not like Dreamy Dawn who insinuated herself into students' spaces to rifle through their things.

So, Aurora had dallied with a ghost, too, and no unearthly horrors had been unleashed upon her, why not say fuck you to a lifetime of indoctrinating magical gospel and do the same?

Ajay seemed uncertain, momentarily quiet as he thought about what to do. Clearly, he'd assumed you'd back down. Run home to bed, hide under the covers, and wait until tomorrow to find Wally. Yeah. Not happening. Not while Simon was on the cusp of expulsion. If you didn't find something to incriminate Anderson, something that would get Simon off the hook, you'd never forgive yourself.

"Do it, Ajay," You said, just a tiny bit smug when his head snapped up at your use of his name. "Bring. Everyone."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally had felt your presence as soon as you'd stepped through the barrier. A sweet honey tug in his gut that made his gums itch and his scalp tingle. He wanted to get up, go find you, hold you, kiss you, tell you how much he'd missed you since you'd left in a state that had broken his heart.

But he couldn't. Rhonda's change of heart toward Maddie and Charley had been hard-earned and Wally was far too nervous to do anything to rock the boat. Rhonda sat at the coffee table, an old yearbook open in front of her as she explained to Maddie what had happened to cause the Devils to become the Bandits.

Charley was curled up near Wally, back rested against the couch, at peace now that his place amongst their group had been reinstated. To Wally, it'd never been in question, and he doubted Rhonda would've let Charley's exile last more than a week, but still, it was nice to see Charley comfortable and content. Right where he belonged. With them.

The question of telling Mr. Martin about Maddie and Simon came up, Maddie making a promise that Wally and Rhonda had discussed at length after Simon was dragged away by police. Wally and Rhonda had just suggested they follow Charley's lead instead, Charley then wondering where to go from there, when Ajay poked his head into the library.

He must've heard what Charley had asked because he stuttered, "Um...guys...there's someone here who I think can help you," gaze darting around the room before resting on Wally.

In that second, Wally knew exactly what was about to happen.

He leapt to his feet, ready to dash circuits around the school to find you, when Ajay halted him with an intentional, hard stare. Something akin to how his mama had looked at him when he'd been about to blurt information she hadn't wanted her Book Club to know.

The others stood, circling Ajay with a dozen questions, Maddie's voice above the rest as she pecked for answers about Simon. "Is he here? Is he okay?"

Ajay quieted them with a wave of his hand, "All I can say is I'm sorry for not telling you about her sooner." He leveled Wally with a look. It spoke volumes, told Wally to keep his mouth shut and follow Ajay's lead or Ajay would do unspeakable things to him for the remainder of their shared afterlife. Wally gave a minute jerk of his chin that Ajay received with an almost imperceptible quirk of his lips.

"She can see ghosts," He explained to the others, "And she wants to help."

"Who are you talking about?" Maddie questioned while Rhonda and Charley stood behind her in varying degrees of shock. "Who is it?"

Ajay swept an arm, a gesture for everyone to follow him to where he'd tucked you away. "Just. Come with me."

He set a quick pace and, as Wally caught up to walk beside Ajay, he understood why. The others had shorter strides and, although keeping up pretty well, lagged behind a small distance. It was still wide enough that Wally could whisper without being overheard.

"What's going on?" He had to know. "Is she okay?"

"I swear to every god in the Hindu pantheon, Clark, if you two get caught, I am not holding your hand through whatever Charley and Rhonda do to you," Ajay warned under his breath, speaking out of the side of his mouth.

Ouch. Violent, but okay. Wally got the message, loud and clear. Despite Ajay's stiff manner, Wally deeply appreciated his friend helping him avoid disaster. He realized it wasn't just for his sake, but for yours as well. If not handled delicately, shit could hit the fan. He didn't think those in the Afterlife Support Group were too big a risk, but he couldn't be sure how knowledge of your abilities would affect the Loopers. Mina notwithstanding, obviously.

Ajay led them up the flights of stairs to the roof exit—a hatch ladder that scaled up to the already open portal above. "You come up last." He said, hushed, before the others joined them in the cramped space, "And for the love of God, Wally, do not get too close to her. "

"Got it," Wally replied, shuffling back to allow Rhonda, and then Maddie and Charley, to climb up after Ajay. There was no way to know how the connection between you and him would react once he laid eyes on you, but he'd do his best to honor Ajay's wishes...there'd be some kind of effort made, at least.

Already he felt the connection stirring to life, his blood pumping faster, pulse humming in his ears, breath quickening. Fuck, he was sure his pupils were completely blown, the smell of vanilla on the breeze reminding him of how you're skin had tasted as he'd nipped and licked your neck in the theater last night, the tight little keens you'd made driving him crazy—

Ajay's head appeared through the portal, a look of total disappointment on his face, "For fuck's sake, buddy, pull yourself together," he growled and reached a hand in to help Wally over the metal lip and onto the gravel rooftop.

Chagrined, Wally took a few deep breaths through his nose—which helped about as much as you being pressed flush against him would have—and he shook his head, his hands, one foot after the other, in an attempt to work out some of the electricity that sparked under his skin.

When Wally finally glanced up, the others had you surrounded, Ajay sticking close to your side and putting everyone in their place with a matronly stare.

You were so damn close and all Wally could think of in the moment was sweeping you into his arms and holding you forever. You were adorable in the same oversized sweater you'd worn yesterday, looking particularly tiny under the bulky fabric. Your hair was mussed as if you'd just climbed out of bed and...oh shit god damn. He blazed a hot trail down your body with his eyes and had to bite back a groan when he saw that your thighs were bare, your cutesy sleep shorts doing nothing to help Wally's steadily worsening predicament.

Ajay flashed him another look of disdain which served to reel Wally's desire back in. Alright. He could do this. He could be normal about you. For sure.

The others seemed to part like the fucking Red Sea as Wally stepped toward you. In his periphery, he just make out Rhonda's deeply suspicious expression, Charley's narrowed eyes, and Maddie's woe. Shit, that's right, you probably had no idea Maddie was there. Had he mentioned that to Ajay? Crap, why couldn't he remember?! Should he say something?

He had to keep his eyes on everything except you—the ground, Rhonda's Oxfords, Charley's shoulder—as the connection crackled and licked like fire inside him. Wally tensed every muscle in his body, stiff as a board and probably emanating the most awkward vibes the others had ever seen from him, but he managed to maintain control.

Of course, keeping a level head and maintaining control wasn't really in Wally's wheelhouse. Not off the field, anyway. And especially not around you.

Like chimes in the wind, your voice clinked through the silence, a simple "Hi," forcing Wally's head up and his gaze to lock on yours, beautiful, marbling swirls the color of galaxies.

His breath caught and it was at that moment that he knew he was fucked.

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY

note: not edited, we die like students at Split River High.

anyway, thank you so much for keeping up with this journey, my beloveds! the next part might be out sooner than i thought since i have a few days off this coming week. no promises, just hopeful thinking 😭 expect a comical stage as Ajay tries to keep Wally from giving everything away 👻 we have fun here...

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: i'm afraid i am no longer updating or using the taglist. moving forward, if you'd like to keep up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. that thing took me to Hell and back, and we're no longer on speaking terms...😒

Neutrality is complicity. Your silence is so loud. CEASEFIRE NOW‼️ 🍉🗣️🍉🗣️

Y'all it's 1 in the morning and I have class tomorrow I need to go to bed but now I'm crying. Dawg keeps breaking my heart 💔😭

October Sun

summary: after you'd sent Xavier a text that told him not to meet you, you'd ventured to the school at dawn, alone, bouquet in hand as promised.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

🚨💀⚠️thank you for bearing with me, guys. this is entirely new material. PART 24/25/26 have been combined here to create a massive fluffing installment (6509 words 😮‍💨). i'd suggest rereading at least the latter half of PART 23 beforehand if you need a refresh of the point in time we're returning to. please pretend that the old parts never happened. erase them from your memories 🕰️👁️‍🗨️💤🌀

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.24

It was barely 6AM. You'd hardly slept after Dave had returned you to the house. He'd watched you climb the stairs to the second floor, ever the persistent warden, before you'd heard him slink down to the basement he and Aurora had converted into their private apartment. Besides the numerous big reveals that had unfolded last night—Ajay's odd friendship with your sister, Simon's warped inverse of your ability, Maddie's soul penetrating the field of your cosmic artery, the soul-tie you and Wally somehow shared—besides all of that, something, a feeling of profound unrest, had kept you up. Had you staring at the green stars on Aiden's ceiling until your alarm began to chime.

Sharing a soul-tie with Wally should've been the thing that terrified you most amongst all that'd transpired. It was unheard of, curious, downright impossible in nature. Soul-ties were as fragile as they were strong and required both souls to be alive, together in the same lifetime in the world of the living, to exist. That Wally was extremely not alive should've made you question the validity of the connection you and he had. Especially given there was evidence of magical tampering on school grounds, a spiteful, bitter essence sickened into the ether that surrounded the campus.

And yet, that nor the symbol etched into the tree, that bastardized amalgamation of runic lines, hadn't been what you'd kept ruminating about from the moment you'd laid down until dawn. No, it'd been Dave. Something about how he'd come out of the trees, so steady and sure-footed; how his eyes had held your gaze as he'd marched toward you.

You pressed your fingers into your eyes and groaned. There was no use thinking about it further. Not now. You had a bouquet to put together and two friends to save. Dave's feline equilibrium had to wait. With a grunt you rolled out of Aiden's little-kid bed and shuffled into your room, not daring to check your appearance in the mirror. You could feel the bags under your eyes. Heavy and dark like someone had injected squid ink beneath the delicate skin.

Showering was a groggy, clumsy affair, appendages weak and a step behind your brain's transmissions. You did what you could to make yourself presentable, hoped to conceal the fatigue behind a cute outfit: A thin, loose, autumn-orange destination sweater tucked partially into a slim, black denim skirt with opaque black tights underneath. You applied makeup where you needed it to hide the sleep deprivation and called it at that, unable to muster the strength for much else. It was going to be a long, long, l o n g day.

But worth it, you reminded yourself firmly in a voice not unlike Wally's, because you were going to find a way to help Simon and once Simon was helped, you'd both find a way to get Maddie back on the right side of the veil.

A sweep of berry-tinted lipgloss and you dragged yourself outside into your Nanna's garden, brandishing a pair of pruning shears from the mud room you'd passed through on your way out. You clipped a variety of flowers and piled them on the bouquet paper you'd liberated from the stash Nanna (and now Aurora) kept at the house. Once accomplished, it was time to head out and you sighed in regret that you'd texted Xavier to sleep in, telling him you wanted to be alone that morning to center yourself before having to face your classmates after yesterday's ordeal.

It wasn't entirely false. It couldn't have been. You didn't lie to Xavier as a personal commandment. But it wasn't entirely the truth either and you felt queasy from it. Still, you sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to move forward. Nanna was in the kitchen when you walked in with the bouquet, sitting at the table as she waited for the kettle to boil. You could smell the floral tea blend Nanna, Aurora, and Dave drank. Even dry the scent was potent, overwhelming the herb and warm spice aroma the kitchen usually held. You nearly gagged as you passed the open teapot, the concoction inside like a punch to the nose when you got too close.

"Good morning, Maypie." She smiled warmly, patting the table in front of the seat beside her. The nickname irritated you, too close to the one you'd scolded Xavier for using yesterday, but it was Nanna and you couldn't find it in yourself to say something.

Instead, "Morning, Nanna," you greeted with a yawn, setting the bouquet on the counter as you traipsed toward the sink to fill a glass of water. "Can't sit. Gotta get to school."

Nanna hummed in acknowledgment and you could tell she was checking the time on the stove before she turned to face you in her chair. "Awfully early, isn't it?"

"So early," You agreed with a sob of disdain as you brought the glass to your lips for a sip of cold water. Your skin began to feel warm and wherever you rested your gaze seemed irrationally farther than where it should be. Shaking your head to dispel what you assumed was a lack of sleep, you took a deep drink from your glass.

Nanna tilted her head and raised a snowy brow at something near your elbow, "And who are those for?"

For a brief moment, you didn't grasp the question, casting about to understand. When your eyes landed on the bouquet beside the sink, you blinked slowly at it, lids like lead. The floral aroma itched your nostrils, traveled into your skull, a thick fog dampening your mental processing.

Sedate, you panned your head and stared properly at the bouquet, told Nanna, "It's for Maddie," confused as to why you'd believed you shouldn't. That desperate, nagging feeling you'd had earlier when thinking of last night—last night?—growled in warning in the back of your mind, but it was so far away you easily ignored it.

"Oh, how lovely," Nanna replied, standing to put her hands on your shoulders and rub your arms kindly, "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture when she comes home."

"Who will appreciate what gesture?" Ginny croaked from the doorway, slugging into the kitchen in a silk robe and thick, knitted socks up to her knees. You knew she wore them to keep in place the gauze she slathered in anti-aging creams and wore overnight. Grumpy and rumpled, she questioned, "Who're the flowers for?"

You huffed a laugh as you watched her pull out a chair and drop into the seat, seeming as ill-suited to the morning as you.

"They're for Maddie," Nanna explained and, immediately, Ginny straightened, her glazed eyes turning sharp as they landed on you.

"She's back?" She asked.

You shook your head, "No," and you were tired, so tired, and couldn't quite seem to formulate the words to explain why you were taking flowers to school for Maddie who hadn't actually returned from wherever she'd run off to in order to accept them.

"Is it a shrine thing?" Ginny asked.

A feeling of awareness clawed through the mist that had filled your head. You felt an insidious tickle in the back of your nose, gasped a breath, and then released a cathartic blast of a sneeze, expelling that horrible, heady floral scent.

You blinked several times as you recovered your wits, glancing at the bouquet and then between Nanna and Ginny, at last able to think clearly, "Something like that. We're just trying to stay positive. Principal Hartman said he'd pass along whatever we bring in to Maddie's mom." And there you were, feeling like yourself again, able to map out a plausible lie to keep Wally (and, by extension, Maddie-as-a-ghost) safe from whatever Ginny or your mother could do if they discovered you were conspiring with the school's dead.

Ginny returned to a slouch, propping her head on her fist, "That's nice of you." She looked halfway back to sleep when you gave her a kiss goodbye, patting your thigh limply and muttering a slurred farewell. As you shrugged into your leather jacket, you heard Ginny scoff at Nanna, barking, "Don't you bring that nasty stuff near me, I don't know how you drink it," and couldn't help but snort because, truly, not even a man dying of thirst would accept a cup of it.

"I'm taking mom's car." You announced, peeking back into the kitchen. Your mother was on what constituted for her as a work trip; taking money to perform a ceremony that had no bearing on the ghosts—if they hadn't already crossed over as many of them had—at all. The concept was as stupid as it was a scam and you were revolted that someone in your family, who you'd once respected, was capable of performing such a farce.

Fucking. Ghost weddings.

You pressed your lips in a line in an effort to control the disgusted expression you knew you'd make upon thinking about it. Without looking at you, Nanna and Ginny gave their assent and carried on bickering after wishing you a pleasant day.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"So," Maddie said in a neutral tone which set Wally's teeth on edge, "How long have you guys really known each other?"

It was just him and her outside, lingering by the door waiting for you and Xavier to arrive. Wally leaned while Maddie sat on an empty bike rack adjacent to the entrance, looking out over the parking lot like watchmen on duty. The others were inside; Ajay had vowed to coax Mina down from the rafters while Charlie and Rhonda had simply wanted to observe how that interaction went after learning Ajay and Mina were entangled in their own version of a relationship. Strange and unconventional and, apparently, wholesome though Wally had no idea what that meant coming from Ajay.

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask me." Wally said, ducking his head sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted his gaze to Maddie, "Not long. Since Field Day."

Maddie's brows raised, but she remained composed. After a few moments of silence, Maddie spoke again, a smile in her voice, "She talked about you a lot."

Wally swallowed, his heart fluttering at the information, unable to repress the feeling of giddiness that fizzled through him. Regardless, he tried to play it cool, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She always said her 'ghost was so hot' and that she was 'saving herself for her ghost'." She paused, chewed her lip, and stared down at her lap as she thought about what to say next. "Looking back, I guess she thought she could hide in plain sight." And then, with a snort, "And it worked. None of us believed her for a second. It never even crossed my mind that it could be true until I got here."

Wally nudged her side in a friendly motion. "Was she right?" He snickered, teasing, "Am I hot?"

Maddie shoved his head down playfully with a laugh, "You're an idiot." Another comfortable beat. She hummed quietly before she revealed in a gentle tone, "You two are cute together. If it means anything."

"It does," Wally said and it was true. It was more reassuring than it should've been to have someone on the outside see what he saw. Cemented it somehow.

Another few minutes passed before a car pulled into the parking lot. Maddie jumped down from her perch, face screwed up in confusion, "Wasn't she bringing Xavier?"

Wally could see the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders slowly diminish as you parked and climbed out. Alone. He and Maddie made their way over to greet you, twin smiles of relief on their faces. Wally hadn't been keen to see that dickbag anytime soon. It was better for everyone that you'd decided to leave him behind.

"Hey guys," You said, eyes automatically finding Wally's, his heart beating that much harder in his chest. You seemed to read the unspoken question and informed, "I thought we'd get more accomplished if Xavier wasn't here."

Maddie nodded, "Smart," visibly grateful for your forethought.

Wally treaded around the front of the car you'd driven and scooped you up into a solid hold, one arm under your thighs while the other clamped at a diagonal on your back, his hand tangling in your hair. Looking at you closely, he could see the exhaustion beneath the surface and felt a pang of guilt for agreeing with everyone (including you) that you should come as early as permissible by school standards.

"Hey, baby," He uttered, pressed your foreheads together with a lopsided, affectionate grin, and hinted greedily for a kiss that you supplied without complaint. He almost groaned as your lips yielded under his, the simple touch striking a match low in his belly. Fuck, he wanted you. Like, always. Was hardwired at this point to get aroused whenever you were within arm's length. It was driving him half insane that he couldn't climb into the back of the car with you, have you straddle his lap, and show you how affected he was by you.

"Rhonda's right," Maddie commented from the sidelines, referencing something Rhonda had said the previous night after you'd left with your brother-in-law. "You guys are gross."

You pulled away from Wally with a cackle, prompting him to place you back on your feet, and said, "Oh, like you and Zav aren't just as bad."

Twirling around and bending (very nicely) into the backseat of the car to collect your things, you didn't see the look that flashed across Maddie's face, one of hurt and betrayal and anger, but Wally did and it made him want to grab you by the shoulders, and shake you until you stopped thinking the world of Xavier Baxter. He wouldn't dare do that, of course, you were too precious, and he couldn't imagine doing anything to frighten you like that. On the contrary, he'd proudly do things to Xavier that would earn Wally a spot on a Most Wanted list if he'd still been alive.

He pushed those thoughts down when you straightened, lifting a lush, full bouquet into your arms which you handed over to Maddie in a way that signaled to Wally you and she were used to each other's mannerisms and motions. Again, you reached into the car, grabbed your backpack, and hoisted it out of the backseat. Wally noticed that it seemed to be holding more weight than normal and took it from you, slinging it over his shoulder with a broad grin.

"Such a gentleman," You teased, though Wally could see how much you enjoyed the gesture by the way you pinked up so sweetly. He slung his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side as you and he walked, stamping a kiss to your hair and openly breathing in the scent of musky vanilla and coconut.

"Wait." Maddie said, just as you and Wally were about to reach the door. You and he paused, turning to look at Maddie as she regarded the bouquet in her hands and then the backpack on Wally's shoulder, an intense cast to her features. "How..." She squinted at you, "Where are the originals?" Scanned back to the car, then you, then the bouquet.

"Originals?" You asked, completely lost, though Wally recognized what Maddie meant. It hadn't occurred to him how unfeasible it was that he still had the notes you'd given him stashed away in his private, just-for-him corner of the school; none of the resets between now and then had vanished them as resets were wont to do.

"Yeah, the originals." Maddie repeated.

Wally stepped in, taking over the explanation since Maddie appeared to struggle with how to phrase that every object they, as ghosts, picked up was just a clone of one that stayed anchored in the living world. He did his best to describe it, beckoning both you and Maddie to follow him so he could show you an example with a piece of chalk in an unlocked classroom. He lifted it, of course wielding the copy while the original remained in place, untouched, not even a sign that it'd been tampered with.

You cocked your head, lifting the original and handing it to Maddie who took it without issue. Experimenting, Maddie placed it back on the chalk ledge, left it there for multiple seconds, and then instructed Wally to, "Pick it up now."

Wally did.

As in he actually did. Picked up the original, no immense, herculean emphasis of energy required (and that very, very rarely worked, normally resulting in a brief flicker of an already on-its-way-out lightbulb). How had Wally not noticed before?

"Gnarly," Wally laughed, tossing the chalk in the air and catching it. "Do you think the living see it floating if I'm holding it?" He began to zoom it around like a toy airplane. "I wonder if it works the other way."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Like, things that we brought with us into the afterlife," Maddie clarified, "Do you think you could make them real on your side?"

You shrugged and admitted, "I didn't even know I could do this until you guys pointed it out." And then you sighed and rubbed your temples, "Another thing to add to the laundry list of stuff I have to look in to." You looked at Maddie, "I'd probably need someone who can't see you guys to confirm whether or not it works both ways."

Wally strode over to you, putting the chalk back down on the ledge as he went. He adjusted the weight of your backpack on his shoulder so he could cradle your face in both of his big palms. "One thing at a time, baby," He said, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Let's check off giving Mina the flowers and then go from there, okay?"

You slumped, thankful, and slanted into him so that your forehead was pressed to the center of his chest, "That sounds like a good plan."

Together, you, Wally, and Maddie strolled to the theater, passing Mr. South who welcomed you with a friendly wave and a short hello. His eyes seemed to migrate this way and that as he watched you walk by, Maddie close to your side, Wally a half-step behind and falling father back as he studied Mr. South. Vaguely, he heard the man mutter, "Mm, I love the smell of dahlias," but that was about as much fuss as he expressed. Nothing to indicate Mr. South saw a puppeted bouquet or levitating backpack drifting down the hall of their own volition.

Wally caught up to you and Maddie quickly, his hand finding the small of your back on instinct. Rhonda and Charlie were already outside the theater when you, Maddie, and Wally arrived, Charlie rising from where he'd been seated on the floor as Rhonda pushed herself off the wall, today's lollipop stuffed into her cheek.

"Well, Ajay got her down," She announced, rolling her eyes, "But she refuses to talk to us. She won't even answer Ajay if he asks because she knows the questions aren't his." Rhonda offered belligerently and shook her head, "And I thought Janet was a diva."

Charley shook his head, "I'm sorry, but that," He hooked his thumb over his shoulder to stipulate Mina's behavior, "isn't anywhere near as bad as Janet was. At least Mina was polite when she told us where to go."

Rhonda conceded with a bob of her head, pursed lips, and raised brows. Upon noticing the flowers, she remarked, "Huh, you came through, strawberry pie," her tone impressed, "Next time you should bring lover boy a new wardrobe," a smirk at Wally and a coy look at you, "He looks pretty good in jeans."

Wally cleared his throat and squeezed you to him tightly, his gaze soft and imploring as he said, "Ignore her, you don't have to bring me anything," then to Rhonda, "She's not our personal gofer."

Rhonda raised her hands in surrender, glimpsing at Charley in amusement, "No need to blow your jets, superstar, it was just a suggestion."

Charley added, "And a joke," as he gave Rhonda a sardonic side-eye. "So, should we get this over with? See if our Split River Phantom has anything useful to share?"

You patted Wally's chest to signal for your backpack which he handed over with a pout, disliking the idea of you hauling it around when you were so tired.

"You guys go do that. I'm going to steal Ajay and see if we can figure out what these symbols mean." You looked at Maddie, "If you guys find anything, let me know."

"How?" Maddie wondered. It wasn't as if she still had a means of communication in the afterlife; the decoy phone had been with Xavier when she'd been thrown from her body, and, as far as Wally knew, her real phone was in pieces. Even if she did have a phone...would it have worked? Wally had heard Dawn brag about her 'socials', but she wasn't actually capturing or uploading selfies...was she?

Before he could fall too far down that rabbit hole, he felt your hand grasp his, fingers twined, skin smooth under his thumb. You grinned at Maddie, "That's the best part," you brought your and Wally's joined hands up, "If Ajay and I don't get back before you're done, just manipulate the connection. Wally and I—"

"Don't know if it'll work!" He interrupted, worried that you might've forgotten that all those times he'd felt your emotions like his own or found you in crowded spaces had happened before last night.

It seemed you had because you blinked those darling Bambi eyes up at him, visibly uncertain. Wally saw the instant you realized your mistake, could see the gears turning as you backtracked and reassembled your speech. It didn't take long, maybe a second or two, and then you picked up where you'd left off, saying, "—but it should make it so he can find me."

Rhonda twirled her lollipop, whistled in surprise, "Magic is in.sane."

"It's not magic," You stated mildly, "It's connectedness. I promise there is a difference." You listed into Wally's side, turned your head to hide a yawn, and then seemed to try to shake yourself awake.

In response, Wally, cupped the back of your head and kissed your hair, rubbing his hand up and down your arm while holding you closer. "You gonna be okay?" He asked, concerned that you might not be able to stay upright much longer.

"I'll be fine," You said, however, the assurance you'd meant to offer was dimmed by another yawn you couldn't suppress.

It was then that Ajay appeared. He held the door to the theater open for Charley, Rhonda, and Maddie who waved their see-you-laters to you. Wally released you in measured degrees, careful and considerate, so you wouldn't fall into the space he left behind.

"I'm coming to find you as soon as we get something, okay, baby?"

You nod, a forced smile on your face that makes Wally want to carry you home and tuck you into your bed. Innocently. Innocently. But he can't help himself, dipping in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss that still somehow makes his breath catch and his heart pound and his desire coil tight in his belly.

"Okay, we get it, you're hot for each other, can we go now?" Ajay's voice cuts through the muggy atmosphere that now permeated between you and Wally, Ajay's exasperation crystal clear and pitched shrill as a school bell.

Wally untangled himself from you, hated having to do it, but understood that it needed to be done in order for both you and him to focus on what was important. That was finding clues or proof that Mr. Anderson was involved in Maddie's circumstances and pointing the police away from Simon. Right. Wally was an independent, capable guy who could do what it took to help. He just didn't want to do it without you plastered to him in some way.

"That face is exactly why you two can't be around each other right now." Ajay stated flatly, all but shoving Wally aside and ushering you back down the hall.

With a chuckle, Wally called after you, "I'll see you later, baby!"

"If either of you say 'I'll miss you', I'm boycotting this relationship until I can cross over." Ajay declared, not allowing you to stop and respond.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier sat behind the wheel of his truck, nervous, jittery; inching toward full-blown paranoia after having stopped at your house to pick you up. He'd received your message earlier, the one that gently told him to stay home and sleep in since you weren't going to crusade after evidence against Mr. Anderson until a more appropriate hour.

But he hadn't been able to get back to sleep, had instead sat in bed contemplating how fucked up everything would inevitably get. And he was scared. Your newfound friendship with Simon made Xavier's veins clog with cold, slimy fear. He had no idea if Maddie had read the message he'd accidentally sent her ("The coast is clear, I'm alone. Wanna see you, babe, so hurry up."). Had no idea if she'd told Simon about Xavier and Claire. Simon hadn't outright accused Xavier of cheating on Maddie—not to Xavier's face, anyway—but, if Simon did know, it was only a matter of time before it came up and Xavier lost you forever.

Fueled by anxiety and desperation, Xavier had dressed and left the house in a flurry, drove over and at the speed limit in frenzied intervals as he'd forgotten and remembered it by turns. He'd arrived at your place faster than ever before only to discover that, according to Abigail, you'd left about forty-five minutes earlier. Granted, you hadn't explicitly said you'd want to spend the morning by yourself at home, but Xavier couldn't shake the feeling that something was utterly and profoundly wrong.

Why go to the school alone? Why leave him out of it? An agitated growl ruptured from his throat as he smacked the steering wheel, tears springing to his eyes unbidden. He pulled in huge gulps of air to stop himself from tipping into a panicked breakdown, begged the universe or God or whatever was out there that he was overthinking it, that you weren't slipping away from him and everything was okay, it was all going to be okay.

Except it wasn't okay. He'd fucked up and fucked around and made you participate by sending texts about band practices that'd never been scheduled, lies about how you'd needed help around the house and Xavier was family so he'd been obligated to assist. Jesus Christ, what had he done? He couldn't breathe, a balloon in his chest that expanded the closer he got to the school. When he pulled in and saw your mother's car, he was already one foot into a mental crisis.

He parked beside your mother's car and sat for a moment, filtering through a litany of excuses and reasons and apologies to retch at your feet in libation. Xavier couldn't. lose. you. Not you. The only person left in his life who fucking mattered. Hurt and anger and grief and hopelessness funneled into him, a tornado of self-deprecation howling insults that ricocheted inside his skull, the torment building and building and—

"FUCK." He belted, smashing the steering wheel over and over again until his body collapsed forward and he heaved a thick, wet sob.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The other vertices in the barrier projected outward from symbols that varied slightly from the first you'd found. Two were etched in stone, one in a tree planted on the same alignment as the other, and the last had been burned so thoroughly into the dirt that you couldn't dig under it or dig it up.

"Can we call it magic now?" Ajay folded his arms and thinned his lips in a dour line as he watched you dog-dig at the dirt from a new angle. "Because this feels like magic."

You huffed and let yourself fall back on your bum, mopping the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of your sweater. "I mean, it's harnessed energy," you countered, still reluctant to call it something so fantastical when you had dirt caked under your fingernails and math class in twenty minutes. Those mundane, ultra-ordinary truths made it difficult to reconcile the existence of something Harry Potter fought a war with.

Ajay wasn't having it, "Girl, just say it. It's magic."

A squawky noise of denial later and you snapped a picture of the symbol on your phone, finally standing and returning to your backpack which you'd left at Ajay's feet. You dug out the notebook you'd used to scribble down the Futhark alphabet last night before tiptoeing back into Aiden's room and compared the symbol in the dirt to the runes on the page.

"It's like the others," You observed, "It has all the binding elements, except this one also has an extra line here..." You indicated, chewed your lip in thought, frustrated when nothing jumped out at you. Whoever had created these symbols and performed the ritual that accompanied them had either not known anything about the Futhark runes or they'd known too much. Which meant that you had no way of decoding the bastardized symbols by yourself. At least, not without major effort.

"An extra line?" Ajay echoed, "To make us extra trapped?"

You slanted him an unimpressed look, "No, Sassy McQueen...but also kind of yes."

Ajay flashed a victorious grin then crouched to look over your shoulder at your notebook. "Why would someone want to trap ghosts here?"

"Maybe they didn't." You considered as you brainstormed aloud, "Maybe they wanted to trap something and didn't realize the effect their spell—"

"Which is magic."

"—Nghyah," You declined and then continued, "The effect their spell would have on the different realms within the parcel they created."

"I know English isn't my first language, but I can tell that wouldn't make sense to anyone."

You rolled your eyes, clapping your notebook closed and filing it away in your backpack. "Think of the spell like a box. Whoever cast it brought that box down on this specific location, trapping everything in this location in it. But it only affects things outside of the physical world because it's not a physical box."

"...Have you ever seen the Witches of Eastwick?"

"Have you?"

You straightened, curving your back to loosen the stiffness that had collected in your spine. Ajay took responsibility of your backpack and together you and he walked back toward the school.

After a short silence, Ajay spoke, "You know, Wally mentioned a cult that used to practice around here. He's really into that spooky-ooky, creepy shit." He emphasized with spirit fingers.

You stopped and stared after Ajay, eyes round and mouth ajar, "Wally? Golden retriever, football bro, Wally?"

Ajay turned to walk backward, smiling, "Oh yeah. He was into it before he died, too. A real savant of the deranged history of Split River." He pondered you for a moment and then muttered, "You know you two are allowed to talk when you're alone, right?"

Kissing your teeth, you resumed your stride, waving Ajay off, "In our defense, we haven't actually had a lot of time to be alone since we started talking."

Ajay snorted, but merrily settled his pace to match yours, his gait slower and longer, "He was alive during the rise of the Satanic Panic. If I'm remembering right, he told me about a cult called the Something-Something of Dagda."

"Very helpful."

"They were established before Milwaukee was founded and then faded out of history for awhile."

You sighed drearily, having heard similar tales through the family grapevine as well as your own special-interest research, "Let me guess, the Something-Something of Dagda made a comeback in the '20s when it was fashionable to be associated with the occult?"

Ajay nodded, "I think that's what Wally said. Apparently, they crawled back into the shadows, never to be heard from again, just before the Second World War."

"Typical," You chuckled, shaking your head, "You join a resurrectionist cult and then leave when—"

"How do you know it was resurrectionist?"

"I'm assuming." You confessed, "Dagda is a Celtic god whose staff can resurrect or kill whoever he clubs with it." When Ajay acknowledged your answer with a low oh, you expanded on your previous point, "I guess the members didn't like that their sons didn't all come home in one piece." To put it crudely. Unfortunately, that was the reality of many cults borne from the spiritualism boom in the 1920s. People either got bored or got bitter when their prophet couldn't stand and deliver in the face of a catastrophic global event.

You and Ajay entered the theater from the side door to avoid the students who began to flood the halls as the morning trundled toward the first bell. You found Maddie rising like the second coming out of the center of the stage, followed closely by Wally and then Rhonda, Charley, and lastly, Mina who turned and closed the trap door behind her.

"You find anything?" You inquired as Wally neared you, eagerness writ all over his features.

"Yeah!" Wally grinned, planting himself in front of you to band his arms around your waist, "You?"

"The symbols are definitely based on the Futhark alphabet and they're all designed to keep energies in." You said, snuggling into his front, happy to let him take your weight. He shifted you around so you and he could walk toward the stage, everyone gathered around a spot at the end of the center aisle. Rhonda and Charley sat on the edge, Ajay joined Mina who leaned beside Charley's legs, and Maddie stood with her back to the door, facing everyone.

As soon as you were within reach, she held out a piece of paper, informing you that, "It's a receipt for new band uniforms signed by Mr. Anderson." You scanned the paper, trying to absorb where it fit in the puzzle, but your brain was rapidly losing steam. Seeing your fatigue, Maddie interpreted it on your behalf, "I think he's been stealing money from Booster Club. He's got a whole operation under the stage to replace the old patches with the new ones."

All you could think to respond with was, "Holy shit."

"It doesn't prove he had anything to do with what happened to me," Maddie went on, "But I think it'll at least help Simon."

"Maddie this is awesome!" You beamed and surged forward to hug her. With your arm still around her shoulders, you and she looked over the receipt again, "Is that how much you figure was in the closet?"

"I'd say it for sure is." She answered, her gaze turning a trepidatious sort of hopeful, "It's Friday, so there's a staff meeting tonight. If we give this to Simon, he can prove that Mr. Anderson is guilty of something and then we can try to figure out where my body is. Together."

"Together." You repeated with a grin because, God dammit, finally, you felt like progress was being made. While not the kind of progress you'd hoped for, it was something, and now that you knew Simon could see Maddie, you didn't have to swerve around landmines in conversation to hide your abilities.

It was one step closer to bringing Maddie home.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier hated himself more than he had before his breakdown, having succumbed to the siren call of his vape in the dissociative aftermath. He skulked into the school, shoulders up and hands stuffed in his pockets in an effort to make himself invisible. He wasn't going to his first class, wasn't entirely aware of where he was going, but he followed his feet nonetheless. Since the blissful first hit, his mind had quieted some, though his nerves were still ragged, eyes puffy and bloodshot, hair rumpled, a scab on his lip where he'd bitten it too hard to redirect the emotional pain he'd inflicted on himself.

He was distantly surprised to find himself standing in front of the theater when he eventually lifted his gaze from the ground. Without giving it too much thought, he reached out and opened the door, stepping into the shadowy space beyond. For a moment, a cotton-candy static fuzzed across his brain and made it hard to process whether or not what his eyes saw was real.

It couldn't be, could it?

At the end of the center aisle, you stood, body wilted from exhaustion. Around you were incoherent silhouettes that phased in and out of focus, nothing substantial to them, just distorted shadows that seemed out of place against the direction of what muted light filtered into the theater. What made his breath catch and the balloon in his chest swell bigger wasn't you, standing in the dark, or the uncanny shadows, it was—

"Maddie," He croaked, voice reedy and tight, "You came back."

The fuzziness in his head was instantly replaced by fear when his gaze slid to you, an expression on your face—wide eyes, parted lips, furrowed brows—that Xavier readily interpreted as betrayal. The darkness crowded against him, the rampage of wailing curses picked up within him again, screaming at him for how worthless and stupid and vile he was to do what he'd done.

"I-I'm so sorry," He choked out, pushing the words past the balloon that had expanded from his chest into his throat. Maddie's expression didn't change, something akin to alarm or hate or defeat or all three, he didn't know because his vision was beginning to cloud. "I'm so, so sorry." And then he stumbled sideways, falling into one of the empty seats, curling himself into a ball as if he could make himself disappear. Everything would be better, so much better, if he could just...stop being.

Xavier didn't realize he was crying until he felt your hands on him, pushing his arms away from his head, forcing him to kneel on the ground with you.

"Zav? What's happening? Are you okay? Zav!"

Your words sounded spoken through water and he couldn't get his head above the surface, couldn't breathe, couldn't answer, his body wracked violently with stinging sobs as he kept trying to apologize. He grappled at your back, pinned you against him, a buoy to keep him afloat as the waves crashed over him and threatened to pull him down into the cavernous abyss below.

"I'm sorry, please, don't leave me, I'm so sorry," He begged you, but couldn't hear himself, so he repeated them louder and louder until his throat scraped.

This is the moment, a facsimile of Maddie's voice told him, this is the moment you lose everyone.

And then another voice, unfamiliar, louder than Xavier's, louder than Maddie's began to roar:

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-THREE

note: i am of the belief that Mr. South is spooky in his own right and doesn't need Reader to expose him to the supernatural. agree with me or not, his ominous words to Simon at the beginning of the season set me on a path that i can't ignore 🤭

i really hope you guys are okay with how i'm reworking this. i know i gave away a pretty major spoiler, and i regret that so much because i dearly want you all to enjoy this, but it had to be done. otherwise i was more than likely going to throw in the towel. rest assured, there is SO MUCH more to unfold.

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: y'all know, it ain't a thing around here anymore due to the overuse of ritual magic, some demon-summoning, and an unfortunate sacrifice that resulted in more technical issues than tumblr could handle 🔮🗡️

Can never skip a wally fic love this

Born in the Wrong Era pt. 3

a/n: it's finally here! sorry it took so long and thank you to @iluveveryone for sending your ask. i hope all y'all enjoy it!

edit: I linked pt. 2 because I forgot to last night.

warnings: shouting/screaming, flirty best friends, mentions of death/trauma, mentions of mr. martin, hitting (not a person but inanimate object(s))

word count: 2k

pt. 2

Reader’s POV

A frustrated noise leaves your mouth. You really wish you hadn't let Wally get into your head about Bea. You knew he had a point but could Bea have really been that different? Insistent, maybe but not stubborn. And it was always for the other person's good because she knew their potential. Bea was the only person in your life that actually listened to you. But this was her son. He knew her first. And in some weird way you knew Wally. You knew that he loves Bea with everything he has and then some. 

"Damn it. Hey Siri?"

Siri Dings.

"How do you apologize to a ghost?"

Tuesday-Wally’s POV

“Can we change? Or do we simply live in the heart of the mulberry bush destined to return where we once started?”

As Mr. Martin started on whatever pseudo-sophical rant he was going on Wally perked up. The dead have no choice to change do they? Wally remember’s Charley going on about this movie with Cybill Shepherd and Robert Downey Jr and how her dead husband was able to  cross over after living as him. Wally knows he’s missing some details but that’s besides the point. Almost every ghost movie ever made has some plot-point that the dead have to cross over and they have to grow and all that other shit before they can cross over and start their afterlife.

Wally had been here for 40 years. That’s forty years longer than he ever wanted to be in high school. But how is he to change? 

“Wally? Is there something you would like to share?”

“Huh?”

Wally didn’t even pay attention to the last five minutes of whatever Mr. Martin was spewing this morning. Now there are many pairs of expectant eyes on him. 

“We’re debating whether or not people can change. Dead or Alive. I’d like to hear your thoughts Wally.”

Wally goes to open his mouth but his8 voice isn’t the one that’s heard. 

“He’d have to have a brain for that.” Oh Rhonda, always quick with a jab to the ego.

“Well you should start with getting a new heart, Rhonda, because the one you have now is cold and shriveled.”

Rhonda breaks out one of her sarcastic grins. “Finally someone sees me.”

There are a couple of chuckles from the circle before Mr. Martin clears his throat.

“Wally, please continue”

Wally gets one more taunt in by squinting at Rhonda before he starts talking. 

“I think when you die, you break the circle around the mudberry bush as you put it–

Wally catches Charley mouthing something out the corner of his eye but can’t make out what it was.

“And can give you the room you need to change.”

There are a couple of murmurs of agreement around the circle which made Wall feel proud of himself. 

“That’s interesting Wally. But before we break the circle; why don’t we move to the center of it?”

This made Wally think. “Maybe. Thanks Mr. M.” 

Mr. Martin gives Wally a tight-lipped smile that never seems to bring comfort to Wally but what’s new. 

Soon the morning circle is dismissed but Wally lingers for a minute after everyone else left. Or so he thought. 

“Hey Wally?”

It was Janet. Even after 40 years Wally still wasn’t used to her 60’s fashion. Her light pink gingham dress with matching ballet flats and white gloves on her hands. Compared to the others in the group it was a silent rebellion that was all Janet’s. Which is pretty rad if you ask Wally. 

“Hey Janet what’s up?”

“I was wondering; what was on your mind earlier? You don’t really space out like that.”

Wally hesitated. “Uhh.. I was tired from… working out earlier.” Wally barely believed himself.

Janet’s furrowed brows had him coming up with another lie in seconds. Before he could though; Mr8. Martin called Janet away. 

Before Janet left the gym she turned and waved goodbye. “We’ll talk later Wally!” 

Wally returns the wave and once Janet and Mr. Martin are out of sight, Wally lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Hey Wally you okay?”

It was Charley this time, luckily Wally is able to keep his shock to a minimum. 

“Yeah, it’s just sometimes the morning circle makes me want to…”

Charley interjects. “Die all over again?”

Wally snaps his fingers and points. “Yeah! I mean I know he just wants to help but Jeez sometimes it’s agonizing.”

Charley laughs. “Well, Hippie dude has a sub and they’re watching a movie. Wanna come?”

Wally pretends to think about it. “Is it Rudy?”

Charley sighs in defeat. “I don’t know what movie it is but I’m almost 100% sure an AP Lit Class will not watch “Rudy”.”

“Where is there “enjambment” in “Finding Nemo”, Charley?”

“Where is the ‘allusion’ in ‘Rudy’, Wally?”

“What are you talking about, all Rudy does is dream!”

Charley pinches the bridge of his nose. “Allusion not ILLusion!”

“You’re literally saying the same word.”

“I- you know what? Sure. Anyway if you get tired of working out you know where I’ll be.”

Charley walks off, leaving Wally alone with his thoughts. He needs to find some answers. And there’s only one person who can give him that. 

Reader’s POV

There’s a sense of comfort you feel when “Bad Reputation” flows through your ears. You wish you were more like her. Letting things roll off your back and not listening to what others say. You feel for Wally, you do. You’re not going to agree with your parents about everything but to insinuate that they don’t care? Ridiculous. Wally’s feelings are still valid though. Eye twitch inducing but valid nonetheless. You don’t know how to summon him (and you’re not sure you want to know?) but when you see him you’ll apologize for being impudent. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when “Fat Bottomed Girls” starts to play and your eyes widen. It’s not Queen that shocks you so much as this may 8be a clue as to what his type is. Not that it matters. Not that you care. 

The next thing you know there’s a giant pair of hands waving in your face, luckily they’re attached to your good friend Jacques. You take off your headphones so you can hear him. 

“Hey Jaques.”

“Hey dorkalicious!” You chuckle. “Where were you yesterday?”

“Just getting tickets to Horror Con.”

You stop in your tracks. “You’re joking.”

Jacque fights a smile as he shakes his head. “Waited in line all day for these. I can’t wait to go next week.”

“Wait tickets? As in, plural?”

“I’m pretty sure “tickets” means more than one ticket.”

You have to jump a little bit to properly hug him because he’s so damn tall but you can’t contain your happiness. 

While horror isn’t your biggest interest you’re utterly obsessed with the cinematography of it all. Plus dressing up has always been a favorite pastime. 

“Merci mon cher ami!”

Jacques blushes. “Alright, alright get down before you start licking my face dork. And stop speaking to me in french, it shifts my beret.”

You laugh as you pull away from him. “Oh shut up you’re like a quarter french.”

“My name makes it half.”

Before you can continue to call him on his bullshit, the bell for class rings and you have to go to third period which is Mr. Anderson’s class.

“Oh Jacq, do we have a sub in Anderson’s class?”

“How’d you know?”

“ I didn’t. I was hoping for it though. I had a weird interaction with Anderson outside of class.”

“Is it because you guys argued about which decade was best again?”

“It’s not my fault we had better movies! Plus peak television. I’m still looking for who shot JR. And there was history made when Alexis called Krystle a bitch. The first time it was ever said on primetime TV.”

Jacques sighs, filled with regret. “Why did I even ask? Look for whatever happened, I’m glad you can avoid addressing it for another 24 hours. Just like I will do to you if you don’t shut up.”

“Like you could go that long without talking to your personal musipedia.”

“They have this thing called shazam.”

“Yeah but I’m cuter.”

Jacques ruffles pats your head. “Yes you are. Now go make me proud okay?” You smile at him “C+ it is.”

Jacques dabs fake tears from his eyes. “I’ve never been more proud.”

“Do I want to know?” It’s Ms. Fields. You and Jacques' favorite teacher. 

You answer. “It’s best if you don’t.”

She nods her head. “Good to know. C’mon Jacques, today we’re going over the war of 1812.”

“So nap time?”

You slightly shove him into the class which makes Ms. Fields chuckle.

“Be good.”

“Bite me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry about him. I’ll catch you later Ms. Fields.”

“I’ll see you in class, hon.”

You nod and keep making your way to class. You decide to switch out Wally’s tape with your own. You love Wally’s taste but the music definitely got better later in the decade. Which is why when you hear “Raspberry Beret” You smile. 

You walk into mr. Anderson's class still smiling, causing everyone to look at you. Including the dead. 

You quickly make your way to your seat. You wait a couple of moments and are shocked when you don’t see Wally at your desk. You turn your head and your brows can’t help but furrow when you don’t see him.

You’re slightly disappointed but you figure he’ll come around when he’s ready. 

Wally’s POV

They still make walkmans? No, they still have cassette tapes? Wally only half circles Retro as to not draw attention. He sees the walkman hanging on the waist of their jeans, and gently pulls it up. As he inspects the walkman he can tell it looks a little worn; like they bought it from a secondhand store.

Then he sees It. “W.Clark” written in black sharpie.

He drops the walkman but catches it last minute, so as not to break it. There’s too much going on in Wally’s brain to process what any of this means. 

Wally takes the walkman and storms out of the classroom. He puts the headphones on his head only to hear “Never Gonna Give You Up” which is the icing on the cake to his frustration. 

He knows you and Bea are close but that close? Wally knows it’s been 40 years but it still feels like yesterday. That tackle. It was so fast Wally barely felt the weight of the Behemoth that ended his life. It doesn’t mean it stung any less. His moms last words to him. 

“Make me proud”

It comes flooding back at the memory. That anger, the exhaustion and defeat. 

Letting these emotions consume him, with a scream Wally’s fist connects with a locker. And again. And again. He eventually has enough and has his forearms resting on the lockers while he catches his breath. Somehow, while his head is hanging low, his headphones catch his ear just in time to hear the beginning of “Deacon Blues”. 

He chuckles. “The kid’s got taste.” 

“Of course I do. And who are you calling Kid?”

Wally’s head turns in Retro’s direction. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I had to take a leak. The bigger question is, how the hell are you able to listen to my music?”

“I can interact with the physical world but I don’t make an impact on it. So I can listen to your surprisingly good mixtape but I can’t skip a song I don’t like.”

Retro’s eyebrows furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean have you tried with the walkman? It is yours afterall.”

Wally shakes his head with a chuckle. “I don’t think it’s going to make a diff–

Wally is cut off by his own shock as deacon blues cuts to September.

“See I told you.”

If Wally could pass out he would. 

“Walls, you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I knew it. You’re the answer.”

“To what?”

“You’re going to help me cross over.”

Not sleeping all night just so I can read each part was worth it

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been tormented by many things since Maddie's disappearance, Simon's distrust and hostility at the top of the list. but there'd been other things that'd kept him up at night as well, and for a much longer time. I know we don't talk about it, he'd said, but maybe we should...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: panic attacks. eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER SUN pt.20

Xavier stood in front of the closed door, wary, unsure if he was allowed to open it. He knew what was behind it, knew you were in there because you hadn't been in your room when he'd gone to check on you after he'd heard the pipes shudder and the water stop.

He'd spent the last thirty minutes with Abigail—your grandmother—in the kitchen, their conversation skirting around the topic of your panic attack as if admitting what had caused it would conjure another episode. Abigail had fed him cookies and chocolate milk like he was still the little boy she'd been introduced to years ago, all scraped knees and peach-fuzz hair, adult teeth too big for his smile.

A massive tupperware of spaghetti and meatballs waited for him on the bench in the foyer where he'd kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket upon entering the house. Abigail always fretted over him. Hugged him and held him like her own. Xavier adored her. Adored your whole family, really; profoundly grateful to be accepted as part of it. Especially after his own had dissolved into something he couldn't hold together no matter how much he'd tried.

Still, being accepted into your family didn't mean Xavier had access to every corner and cranny. Some things were off-limits, private, For Our Eyes Only, and the room he lingered outside of was one of them. But, fuck it, he'd already missed his Bio test; had skipped last period to get you home safe, and he needed to make sure you were okay before he left.

With a grounding breath, Xavier summoned the courage and opened the door.

The room was daytime-dark, curtains drawn, the stars tacked on the ceiling glowing an eerie, phosphorous green. He could easily make out the child-height furniture. The shelves of picture books and action figures. Spiderman sheets, sleeves of Pokémon cards, and a stack of VHS tapes Aurora had insisted on playing whenever she'd been forced to babysit—"This sucks, Rory, we want Netflix!"—"Shut up. This is so much better!"

The air smelt stale, stuffy, and there was a thick film of dust on every surface but the bed. A shrine untouched in the years between Then and Now.

Xavier's eyes fell to where you sat on the floor, knees up, head tipped back to rest on the low, single bed. He wanted to turn around. Leave. Being there felt intrusive. But, you didn't yell at him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't throw something at his head. You barely acknowledged him apart from patting the ground beside you in behest.

He dropped down easily; accepted your weight when you slumped into his side, head on his shoulder, damp hair soaking a wet patch into the collar of his shirt. He rested his elbows on his knees, hand clasped around opposite wrist, and pressed his cheek into the top of your head. Glancing down the length of you, he noticed the stuffed lion in your arms. A long, gangly thing with a round face and button eyes, features sewn in black thread on a corduroy canvas.

Aidan had toted that thing around like a limb, Xavier remembered.

It hurt everywhere to think of the little boy who'd inserted himself into the sleepovers and hangouts you'd had in elementary school. Afternoons and evenings spent shooing him away only to give in within minutes because neither you nor Xavier or Hana had the heart to say no to him.

"Sissy~, I want to play, too!"

A lump formed in Xavier's throat, pressure behind his eyes that he ignored to ask, "Are you okay?" He kept his voice just above a whisper, the way people spoke in church. Afraid to disturb the spectral peace that pervaded the room.

After several beats, you finally admitted, "I don't think so," and held the lion tighter.

Xavier didn't know how to respond, the agreement you'd both made six years ago—no questions asked—weighing his conscience down. He wanted to respect the promise. Had always respected it just as you had done for him. However, things felt too heavy not to at least broach the subject.

On a shaky exhale, Xavier ventured, "I know we don't talk about it, but...maybe we should."

"Zav..."

"No, listen, you freaked the fuck out back there and it scared the shit out of me. I haven't seen you that bad in years." He nudged you off his shoulder with a minute shrug, shifting to prop his head against the bed. You studied him, thick lashes starred from your shower, and eyes glassy. The misery miring your expression was visible enough through the dark that Xavier felt guilty for saying anything. He said anyway, "Please don't shut me out."

His mother had very little interest in him; his dad treated him like an unbroken animal. And Maddie...he'd fucked that up so much that, even if she came back, he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. And yes, yeah, he'd done it to himself, okay? He knew that. He'd always made sure not to let himself get too comfortable. Kept people at arm's length because, if he didn't, it would hurt so much worse when they eventually left.

But you were different. You'd been there since he'd pushed Harrison Levi out of the sandbox in kindergarten and split the kid's eyebrow open. The only one in the class who hadn't been afraid of Xavier after that, and had shared your crayons and glue during crafts period.

Xavier needed you like a lifeline, the one person in the whole damn world who saw him for who he was and hadn't left him in the past. You'd stayed through the angst of his parents' separation; through a childhood filled with inappropriate humor and distasteful comments. Through above-average forgetfulness and outbursts he couldn't control.

He felt the warmth of your breath on his cheeks, smelt peppermint toothpaste and vanilla shampoo; faces close, sides pressed together in a soft line. An intimate bubble of privacy and safety.

"I saw Ms. Chung in the hallway before class." You said at last, as if that explained everything, and okay, sure, Xavier could work with that.

Kind of. "Who?"

"The grief counselor that Principal Hartman brought in on Monday." You elaborated. "She, uhm...She was the counselor I saw after..."

Xavier understood what you couldn't say. Nodded and smiled gratefully at you for having shared that much. He filled in some blanks himself, "And, I guess, this whole thing with Maddie is hitting pretty close to home, huh?"

You snorted, "Yeah, it definitely has the whole 'someone you think you can trust ends up betraying you' thing going for it."

Xavier's blood ran cold.

It would occur to him later that he didn't fully understand how your comment related to your trauma. It was the one police file his dad had ensured Xavier couldn't get his hands on and snoop through.

For now, he was blindsided by fear. Because who the fuck else had Maddie been meant to trust and was instead betrayed by? Sandra, perhaps, but you didn't know that. Did you? Had you also been to see her? No, that would be weird as hell. You and Maddie were friends-by-extension. Xavier didn't think you even knew where Maddie lived. Thus, as far as Xavier knew, he was the only one who fit the profile, which meant that, oh God no, you knew about Claire and this was the moment you banished Xavier from your life forever. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to be entirely alone, not yet, please, not yet—

"What does that mean?" He fished, tone even, though inwardly he was losing his shit.

Your focus went distant as you seemed to think carefully about what you wanted to say. With his heart in his throat, Xavier listened as you told him, "Simon and I think Mr. Anderson had something to do with Maddie's disappearance."

And he almost cried in relief. Until a certain part of your statement sunk in.

"You and Simon?"

You leaned back, looking at Xavier like you were mentally fitting him for a dunce cap. "Really? That's what you're concerned about? Zav, you went on an adventure with his only other best friend yesterday. He didn't have anyone else to talk to, so yeah, I'm happy to help him follow whatever leads he finds."

"At least Nicole doesn't hate me." Xavier hissed, "Simon dead-ass accused me of hurting Maddie in front of everyone."

"Okay, a) I made sure to get it through his skull that you're innocent. And, b) Simon doesn't hate you." You stopped, appearing somewhat hesitant to continue before you went on in sympathy, "He's just obviously in love with Maddie and you're the guy she chose instead."

As if Xavier hadn't been painfully aware of Simon's big, fat crush on Maddie since the fledgling days of their relationship. Simon had been a looming presence; had viscerally attempted to hold back glaring daggers at Xavier across the lunch table or over your and Mathilda's heads at shows, or movies, or tailgates.

"We're all trying to figure out where Maddie is." You said, bringing the situation to order. "And it seems like we've all been doing a better job than the cops because you and Nicole found boot prints and a ticket, and Simon found a stash of cash in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Plus, after talking about it last night—"

"You saw Simon last night?"

You talked over Xavier, the volume of your voice rising marginally, "—he and I think he's hiding something in the theater, too."

Xavier hung his head, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders, trying to calm the wave of conflicting emotion cresting inside him. You were his best friend. Yet, you'd buddied off with Simon Creepy Possessive Elroy to—

"Wait. Anderson has money in his classroom?"

You rolled your eyes, sporting a sardonic smile, "Yes, Officer Baxter, welcome back to the point. You done being weird?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Xavier apologized sincerely, ducking to catch your eye. He swiveled to rest his side against the bed and face you more easily. "That was a lot of information to digest. I didn't mean to get weird about you and Simon being close all of a sudden."

You playfully shoved a hand into Xavier's face, "Aw, Zav, don't worry, I'm still all yours," and winked before dissolving into a merry cackle.

Xavier reached across the narrow space between you both and slung an arm around your neck, dragging you close to ruffle your hair. It didn't have the same effect as when your hair was dry, tangling and teasing it into an 80s starburst, but it was close enough. You squealed and giggled, laid Aidan's lion on the bed, and then wrestled Xavier off you. In retaliation, he banded his arms around your torso and pulled you into his chest, fingers dancing along your sides.

It was fun, silly, something neither of you had been in what Xavier felt had been forever. Your laughter brightened the room, pushed the melancholy shadows into the corners, and made way for a cheerful lightness that hadn't existed in the space for too long.

"You're an ass." You wheezed, squirming out of Xavier's grasp and settling back against the bed, one leg held close and chin propped on your knee.

"Yeah, but you love me," Xavier teased.

He was loathe to ruin the moment—you beaming at him with dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes—but his phone started to buzz in his front pocket. He dug it out, saw who was calling and glanced at you for confirmation that he should answer.

At your nod, he accepted the call, "Hey Tilda, sorry for not calling before, but—"

"SIMON, DON'T SAY A FUCKING WORD UNTIL MY MOM GETS THERE!" Mathilda shrieked on the other end of the line and then, into the phone, "What the fuck, Xavier, I tried calling you three times already!"

She had? Xavier hadn't felt his phone vibrate before then...Of course, when he was hyper-focused on something, everything else fell away, muffled by the void until he poked his head out of whatever rabbit hole he'd tumbled down. And, when it came to taking care of you, nothing else penetrated until he'd exhausted himself putting a smile back on your face.

Something he'd just succeeding in doing, damn it.

You pounced forward, grabbing Xavier's phone out of his hand and putting the call on speaker, "What's going on?"

"The cops just dragged Simon out of the school." Mathilda relayed, harried, clearly on the move. "I called my mom, but she won't be in town for another hour!" You and Xavier shared a look before Mathilda pulled attention back to what was unfolding on her end, "They're putting him in the back seat! That's bad, right!? XAVIER!? Is that bad!? What the heLL IS GOING ON!?"

"It's fine, Tilda," Xavier reassured firmly, eyes fixed on yours. "Unless he's in handcuffs, they aren't arresting him. They probably just want his statement on the record."

"His statement for what?" Mathilda sounded ready to go to battle, "They already asked us about Friday!"

Oh shit, you mouthed, the money.

Xavier muted the call to ask you, "Would Simon call the cops on Anderson?"

"I mean, he stole the man's phone. If he found something, he definitely wouldn't wait."

"Simon stole his phone?" Xavier almost clutched his proverbial pearls like a maiden aunt. The unhinged act of devotion to Maddie made him reconsider what it meant to care.

Simon was on the warpath, no fucks left to give, ready and willing to throw himself on the sword if necessary. Was that the kind of love Xavier had been meant to summon for Maddie? He had a lot of big feelings for her, most of them overshadowed by guilt now that she'd taken off without a backward glance, but none of them had inspired him to burn the world down in pursuit of her. There were—maybe—only two people he'd ever felt that kind of feral protectiveness over, and one of them was dead. The other...

He glanced up at you carefully, saw the distress in your eyes as you worried over Simon. "If they're taking him in," Xavier said, putting a hand on your knee for comfort, "they didn't find the money in Anderson's class."

"Then Anderson moved it." You choked. "Simon wasn't lying, Zav. If you'd seen how Mr. Anderson was acting last night, you'd know it was true, too."

"Hello!? Are you still there? Xavier!"

Xavier unmuted the call, both you and he chiming, "Yep, here!"

"Can't you call your dad?" Mathilda demanded and Xavier could picture her perfectly with her hand on her hip, brows furrowed, eyes ablaze, about to scold him like a mother hen. "He's the Sheriff! He could make them let Simon go!"

"Not necessarily, Tils. What if Simon knows something we don't?"

"Like what? He was at the APEX with us last week when Maddie took off. I saw him with my own eyeballs, Bax, he didn't know anything." Mathilda argued.

"Guess she's not pissed at him anymore," You commented quietly, more to a general audience than Xavier specifically.

"Alright, how's this. I'll go see what I can get out of my dad. You've already called your mom, she's on her way," He stated in a measured cadence, "There's nothing else we can do."

Begrudgingly, Mathilda agreed, closing the call with a semi-threatening, "Call me immediately, babes! I want to know why you weren't in Bio," directed to you, and then, "Love you both~!"

"I wasn't in Bio, either," Xavier grumbled, pouting at the white call-ended screen, "I don't count?"

You didn't indulge him, instead asking, "What should I do?"

"What should you do about what?"

"Tilly called her mom, you're going to sniff around your dad's office. What should I do? I can head back to the school and see if there's anything in the theater."

Immediately Xavier was on edge. The idea of you going back to the school and getting caught—possibly by Mr. Anderson who was, if as guilty as you inferred, absolutely going to be on alert now that the police had been called—didn't sit well with him. Not after what had happened to you earlier.

"No." He said, authoritative, stiff, "That's...no."

"I have to do something. What if Mr. Anderson hurt Maddie, huh? What if that money ties him to her somehow? And now he's going to get away with it because the police are focused on Simon."

Xavier grabbed you by the back of the head, angled your face so you had to look at him when he told you in no uncertain terms, "You're not going back there, kiddo. Not without me, okay? You've been through enough today, you need to rest."

"But—"

"How about this," He reasoned and dropped his hand to your shoulder, "We go in tomorrow morning before class and take a look around. Together."

You deflated, "And what about Simon?"

"There's literally nothing we can do about that right now, okay?"

An unhappy silence followed as you chewed over the alternatives Xavier offered. He was gearing up to sling you over his shoulder, carry you back to your bedroom, and lock you in your closet until he came to get you in the morning. Completely dismissing that you had a whole family who would hear you trying to escape and then very likely sneak you into the school themselves just for shits and giggles.

Color him surprised when you actually seemed to acquiesce.

"Fine." You said, audibly pissed that you were being benched, but, hey, Xavier was being sensible for once, the least you could do was humor him for one night. "But you'd better be here at dawn, Xavier."

Xavier traced an X over his heart, "I promise."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Of course, Xavier really should've had you promise to do as he'd said because, as soon as the coast was clear, you snuck out of the house, once again donning Uncle Andrew's hoodie and your mom's black jeans...

💀___________________________

PART NINETEEN

note: all i kept picturing is this teeny-tiny madwoman glaring ferociously at the squad car as she drives after it to keep an eye on Simon. a crazy, over-protective witch just yelling profanities out of her window at the cops the whole way to the station. Mathilda is a delight.

It's 4am and I'm learning stuff about myself 😊 (I'm internally sobbing)

this post hasn't left my mind since i've first saw it