⫸——⫷

You awoke to a stabbing pain in your skull.

Blinking, you sneered because the room was so bright that it made your head pound even worse. You turned over, nestling your head into the cushions. That was when you realized that you were not in your motel's bed; this soft spot felt very different. Your eyes shot open and you sat up, disoriented.

Once you took a moment to collect yourself and the initial pain of your headache subsided, you looked around. You remembered this room, and this couch. This was Wally's living room. It all looked the same as it had during his painting lessons, except that the coffee table was void of painting materials. Someone had placed a glass of water on the table. Gratefully, you took the glass and chugged.

How did you end up here? You thought back to last night, of being drunk and dancing and singing with Wally, Barnaby and Julie. You remembered most of the night, but you did not recall leaving the bar and getting here.

There was so much wrongness about spending the night on Wally's couch, and it made your stomach roil. The newly brewing anxiety was made worse by your hangover. You had unintentionally trusted Wally with your life last night by sleeping here, something that you surely would not have done sober. But he had not hurt you — at least, not that you were aware of — and he did not do anything last night that jeopardized your secrets other than accidentally saying your name once. However, that would require further investigation; Wally might have spouted something to Julie or Barnaby when you were not listening.

Something was clattering in the kitchen, but you did not want to get up, so you laid back down on the couch and yawned. You had no idea what time it was, but you knew that you were scheduled to work with Eddie around noon. Hopefully, it was not that late in the morning yet.

You closed your eyes and thought about Wally again. He said something last night about alcohol washing away his problems or his guilt or something. Was Wally really a murderer? Did he want to kill you, or be your friend? Was this town just some big playground for Wally to play some sick game in?

"Good morning," you heard a voice say from within the kitchen. It sounded like Julie.

"Morning, Ju-Ju," a man that was not Wally said. Probably Barnaby. "I'm making breakfast, are you hungry?"

You kept your eyes shut and remained on the couch. They could not see you from your position in the living room, so you decided to keep listening. "Yes," Julie said, "I'm starving. Oooh, are those pancakes! Yum! I hope they have magical hangover-curing abilities because my head is pounding."

"They don't, unfortunately," Barnaby replied.

"Where's Wally? Is he awake yet? And where's Charlie? Did they sleep here with us, or go home?"

"I think Charlie is still here. They were asleep on the couch last night. I assume Wally's somewhere upstairs. I haven't seen him since last night. I'm sure he's not feeling too great, either."

You decided that it was time to get up. Sitting up again, you drank some more water, then paused for a moment and let yourself adjust to being awake. You then stood and loitered into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes as you walked. "Good morning, guys," you said when you were near them.

"Oh hey, Charlie!" Julie chirped. "Wow, you don't look so good."

Barnaby chuckled. "Be nice, you look just as exhausted as they do," he told Julie.

He was right. Julie's hair was a mess and her eyes looked glassy and bleary. Her dress was wrinkled and her tights were missing. However, she still looked beautiful somehow. You were sure you could not say the same about yourself.

"It's almost 11 A.M.," Julie observed. "You work today, right, Charlie?"

"Yeah, I work at noon. But today is my first real, non-training shift, so I think Eddie will give me a uniform there. That way, I don't have to go all the way back to the motel before I hit the post office."

Julie made a face. "Well — and I say this as your dearest friend — you'll certainly need to fix your hair before you go."

You chuckled. "Do you work?" You realized that you had no idea where her or Barnaby worked.

"Yeah, in the evening. I'm a waitress with Sally, by the way. We work at an all-day coney island slash brunch place. The food's great, you'll have to come try it some time! Except it's not the best, so don't get your hopes super high up," Julie said.

"Food is food." You shrugged. "I'll come in when you're working one day."

Eventually, Barnaby was finished cooking. You, him and Julie sat at Wally's dinner table, sipping coffee, enjoying your food and chatting. He made pancakes, eggs and sausages. You took small bites because your stomach refused to settle down.

Julie was mid-sentence when Wally came in the room. "Goooooood morning!" he sang, interrupting her. You looked up at him. He was looking right at you, smiling. His hair was still up in its pompadour, but it looked loose and strands were poking out everywhere. He was wearing his ordinary pants, which were wrinkled, but his vest was absent, having been replaced by a thin white button up.

Awkwardly handsome. You looked away from his searing eyes.

"Oh, hey Wally." Barnaby waved. "Come sit, I made breakfast."

Just like last night, you were sitting across from Barnaby and Julie, so after Wally got himself a cup of coffee, he sat next to you. The arrangement reminded you both of last night's dinner and of the previous dinner you spent at this very table. With the memories brought anxiety. Perhaps you were going to throw up. You forced down a gulp of water from the cup sitting next to your plate that Barnaby had given you, a different cup from earlier.

"How did you all sleep?" Wally asked.

"Meh," Julie mumbled. "I feel like crap. But wow, it was kind of worth it. Last night was so fun. You guys were hilarious — and Charlie! I'm so glad I invited you! You really know how to let loose."

The compliment was flattering, but also embarrassing. "Well, thanks. You guys have amazing singing voices, by the way. I know I already told you last night, but wow."

"If you think we're good, you should hear Sally sing," Wally said. Somehow, he had acquired an apple, and was staring at it. A crisp bite formed in its juicy flesh.

"No drinking for a while, all of you," Barnaby said through a mouthful of food. "It took me nearly two hours to get all of your stumbling butts home."

So that was how you got here.

"Sorry, Barnaby," Wally said with a chuckle. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

A little while later, Barnaby finished eating and stood up. "I should head out now, but thanks for a great night guys," he said as he rinsed his plate off in the sink. "Since I fixed breakfast, I'm sure one of you can clean it all up."

"Bye, Barnaby!" Julie called. "Thanks for breakfast!"

When Julie and Wally were done eating their food, they began to clean everything up. Wally hummed a tune as he worked, and sometimes Julie would hum along, just an octave higher. You felt a twinge of jealousy at their closeness, but it quickly faded, because you were aware of how wrong the feeling was.

You helped clean where you could. Eventually, Julie bid both of you farewell, saying that she needed to go home and take a nap before work. She gave you a hug on your way out and promised to come see you again soon.

Once Julie was gone, you got ready to leave as well. It was almost time for you to work, anyways. You dried your hands off, which were wet from washing dishes, and started to head for the door. Wally, who was wiping the table down, stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, staring at you. He did look like a bit of a tired mess. You were sure that his hangover was just as bad as yours.

"Yes, I have to go to work," you said, crossing your arms. "By the way, no more calling me (Y/N). If you call me that in private, then it increases your chances of slipping up in public."

"Oh, come on!" Wally pouted. "Last night was an innocent mistake. I was drunk, and I caught it before anyone realized."

"Doesn't matter."

"Does matter." His smile twinged slightly on one side, resembling a smirk. "Plus, I can do what I want. Need I remind you...?" Wally pointed at his eyes.

You frowned. Then, a memory popped in your head like a lightbulb clicking on. "You can't threaten me anymore," you said. "I have information that I can use against you now, so the rules of this stupid game are changing."

"Color me curious... what information do you have?" He leaned forward, smiling coyly at you.

You had to get out of this funk where you kept seeing Wally as handsome. Sure, it was a fact that literally stared you in the face, but it was becoming distracting at this point. It heightened your nerve-frying anxiety in a new way. "I won't tell you," you said.

"Then you have no information," he retorted.

"No, I most certainly do."

"Well, what is it then? If you don't tell me, I'll believe that you don't have it."

"Shut up. It doesn't matter if you believe me, because if you fuck up and say my name again, I'll wag it all over your smug little face."

For a moment, Wally looked shocked, then the shock once again melted into serene confidence. He reached forward and smoothed his hands down your shoulders and over the sleeves of your shirt, as if fixing some wrinkles. His touch electrified your skin. "Well that was kind of mean. It sounds like you don't like me very much... (Y/N)."

He stared at you. Waiting for you to wag the information in his face. You found yourself blushing, because his hands were still on your arms, and his face was too close.

"Ugh." You brushed past Wally, knocking his arms off of you. "You are impossible," you added, walking towards the door. Your shoes were on the floor in front of the door, so still in view of the kitchen.

"Why are you so worried that someone will find out what your name is? Is there more that you're hiding from me? Hm?" Wally taunted.

You huffed, turned around again, and strode back to where Wally was standing. You looked him in his eyes, pointed a finger at his chest, and said, "Yeah, there is more that I'm hiding. And I know that you're hiding something too. But it doesn't matter, because we'd both rather keep our secrets as secrets. Isn't that right?"

For a moment, Wally said nothing. He simply stared at you. You found his gaze both excruciating and pleasant for so many reasons. But it was time that you were bold with him. This game could extend no longer.

"My, you're so passionate," Wally finally whispered.

"Ugh!" you cried, turning for the door again. "Impossible. I'm leaving."

"Bye, bye," Wally said. "Thanks for all the fun last night. You're real charming when you're drunk."

"Be quiet," you said as you put your shoes on.

"I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow! You must come over so I can paint your portrait."

"I don't want my portrait painted," you said. It was true — a portrait would be physical proof that you were here, in this town. Your shoes were on now, so you reached for the door handle.

"I don't care," Wally called after you. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Nope! Bye, Wally!"

"Bye, (Y/N)."

You slammed the door shut. Then you remembered that Home was alive and awkwardly turned and patted the door with your palm. "Sorry, Home," you whispered before walking away.

Although you were not aware of it, Home accepted your apology. Home's eyes followed you down the road for as long as they could; if you were precious to Wally, then you were also precious to Home.

⫸——⫷