⫸ Art creds to starleska on Tumblr <3

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After he painted your portrait, you had left Wally's house in a hurry, leaving him with a flurry of emotions.

He stood alone in his living room for a moment, his heart hammering. He exhaled a sigh, letting his frazzled nerves calm slightly. It was not often that another person shook him up like this. His painting of you still sat on his easel, your acrylic eyes staring off into the distance. Home watched Wally from the window to the left of him.

Wally began to finish cleaning his supplies. He put his easel and everything else back in his office, all of it where it belonged. He put your portrait on his desk; he was either going to wrap it up and give it to you as a gift, or frame it and put it up with the other portraits he had of his friends. Perhaps he would paint another portrait of you so he could do both.

Currently, he was ignoring the fact that was staring him so hard in the face. His hands gripped the edge of his desk, his eyes locked on your portrait, which stared back up at him.

Wally was love sick. He adored you.

This was more than he had felt with Julie. It was more than he had ever felt at all. It nearly pained him, for it felt as though physical tendrils of obsession and love roped around his entire body every moment that he was with you. You had a way of rattling him, of disorienting his calculated way of thinking.

Ever since Wally read the article about you, he had felt more than just obsessed with you. What word could be used to describe something more than obsession? His heart had skipped beats the whole time he had been with you today, and not just because he had confessed to his secret and put himself in danger. His heart still thrummed in his chest like a bird trying to escape a cage, all because he looked into your eyes.

Wally sat on his desk chair and put his face in his hands. His face flushed just thinking about you, about how nervous you were today, about the intimacy of it all — and oh, how you loved to stare! It seemed like every moment your eyes locked with his, you were inviting his soul to sink into your veins.

That being said, you knew his secret now. He had admitted to his duties. Of course, you did not know the... details... and for your sake, he would prefer to keep it that way for now. Not only did knowing the remainder of what Wally hid pose a danger for you, but he also still did not know if it would turn you away.

But maybe you would understand him. Oh, how he loved entertaining that thought. Wally was, much like you, being forced to kill people. It was a duty he was obliged to take part in. But he could not run away. He could not hide in another town like you did.

Wally swiveled around in his office chair, looking up at the ceiling. His face was hot with the blush that had spread over his skin. What was he to do? He wanted to see you again. He was most certainly going to. He wanted to see you all the time. But did you hate him now? Were you just going to be afraid of him from here on out? Or would you understand him? Were you going to tease him and interrogate him like he had done to you?

Just then, the office's window opened, just halfway, with a squeak. Wally glanced at it. An eye sat in the unopened glass half of the window, staring in at Wally. He smiled at Home. "I'm just thinking about (Y/N)," he said quietly. "Nothing to worry about here."

Wally's train of thought wandered again. He absently wondered if you were lying about being blackmailed. Perhaps you actually were a serial killer, as the article framed you as. Wally reached into his desk drawer and reread the news pamphlet, scanning every word for details that he may have missed. He had received the article physically in the mail; he had signed up for your home town's local news outlet over the phone. No, it was not a smart decision for him to do that, because the police might see it as evidence of your whereabouts. But Wally could not help himself, not when it came to you.

Wally finished reading the article. No, it was all the same as last time. The article described you and your appearance, explaining that you and your family had mysteriously vanished from town. Shortly after your disappearance, an anonymous tipper gave the police small bits of evidence that pointed to you being the person who killed several people. The police had been hunting you the whole time, apparently, but your identity was completely hidden until the anonymous tipper came forward.

What if you had actually done all that murdering on your own accord, and the anonymous tipper just happened to be someone who found out that it was you? Were you capable of murdering Wally? Of murdering any of his friends?

The thought was almost pleasant, in a sickening way, because, again, you were capable of what Wally was capable of, and that touched the deepest reaches of his heart.

On a completely different note, Wally got the job at the theatre. He now edited scripts for them, which was a job that he could do at home if he pleased. He also got a role in the upcoming play, titled Haunted Lake, a who-dunnit style play. Wally was cast as, ironically, the secret killer.

He was excited to tell you about it. He did not get the chance to today, for you two were too busy dancing between each other's secrets. Oh, how he adored you...

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