Wally Clark Imagine - Blog Posts

If I Open the Door to Heaven or Hell [Wally/Reader]

Summary: You're there for Wally after he confronts his scar. Word Count: 1.8k Author's Note: Just a little thing I wrote after I watched the new episode this morning. Because what do you mean he went through all that alone and no one was there for him? He deserved better. If you liked this, letting me know would make my day! Read On AO3 // Part Two // Part Three

When you noticed Wally grab his football, you knew that he was going to investigate his scar to see if Mr. Martin was there. He didn't tell anyone. Not even Maddie. But you saw it happen, so you followed him.  

He was so focused that he didn't even seem to realize you were following him. It shouldn't have hurt. You had spent your life treated like an outsider, so going unnoticed wasn’t a new feeling. You just hated that your death wasn’t shaping up to be any different.  

Even though you had been half in love with Wally for years, he never seemed to get the hint. He joked around with you and threw his arm around your shoulders to reel you in close to his side and gave you these ridiculous smiles that sent your stomach flipping over itself. He was so bright and thoughtful and beautiful. All you wanted was more time with him. You would take an eternity with him, even, but once Maddie showed up, everything changed.  

You were all dragged into the mystery of Maddie's death. But it turned out Maddie wasn't dead. Not really. Janet had been the one to steal her body and Mr. Martin, the guy you had all trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets had been using you all along.  

The betrayal hurt and now everyone was hiding something. But not Wally. He was the rock of the group, lending support and care to anyone who needed it. 

But now, you all had the items that linked you to your deaths and they opened up your own personal hells. Rhonda had been completely shaken by what she saw in hers and you weren't quite ready to face whatever waited for you once you stepped into the girl's bathroom on the second floor near the pre-cal classroom. 

The fact that Wally was skulking away to be tormented by his death just didn’t sit right with you.  

You wanted to stop Wally. But he was so determined to help Maddie that you knew you wouldn't be able to sway him.  

He got to the football field before you did and once he stepped onto the grass, football tucked securely under his arm, he disappeared.  

"Wally!" You called, glancing around for him, but realizing that he wouldn't be able to hear you. He had stepped through a door and you wouldn't be able to follow. All you could do was wait for him and hope that he made it out unscathed.  

You sat down on the bleachers, keeping your focus on the field. You waited for him to reappear, but when he didn't show, you just started talking to fill the empty space in front of you.  

"Wally, I hope you're doing okay in there. I don't know what's happening, but I want you to know you're not alone." You started tracing your fingers along the grooves in the bench beneath you. "You're really the best out of all of us, you know that? You're so kind. You take care of all of us. You have our backs. And I know you'd do anything for us. I guess that's why you're facing your own personal hell just to help out Maddie. But sometimes I wonder who’s there for you. Who’s going to hold you up when you need it?"  

You felt nervous. You trusted Wally and you loved him, but you had never revealed to him just how deep your feelings ran for him. Sometimes, you thought Charley or Rhonda might have an idea, but they never brought it up. Whether it was to save you dignity or they just didn't care all that much, you couldn't really tell.  

It was hard not to be stupid over Wally, though. He drew you in and you were helpless against the pull of him.  

"Sometimes, I get really scared," you admitted, digging your fingernails into the metal just to ground you. "I get scared that you'll leave. I don't think I can do this without you, Wally. Not anymore. You're too important to me. I need you." 

Wally still hadn't appeared, so you kept rambling. It felt freeing, in a way, finally confessing when Wally couldn't catch you.  

"I think the first time I knew that I was gone on you was when you found me in the library. I was upset because it was the anniversary of my death. And for three years, my friends and family showed up to hold some kind of vigil. They would meet on the front lawn and share stories and talk about how much they missed me. That first year, seeing my mom and dad there nearly broke me. My best friend and my little brother and all of them. They showed up for me. But then my friends graduated. And my parents moved. And then no one showed up."  

You felt tears gathering in your eyes and hastily swiped them away. If Wally managed to leave his scar now, you didn't want him seeing you so upset.  

"They always left flowers at the flagpole, because they didn’t want to go anywhere near where they found my body. And my friend wrote a letter about how much she missed me and my brother left his favorite stuffed animal. It’s that orange squid I have stashed away in my old locker. But by that fourth year, I didn't have anyone left around to care about me and I felt so alone. You found me in the library and you dragged me out to the flagpole and showed me the flowers you stole from the groundskeeper and you wrote a letter about how I still mattered even in death. I didn't tell you then, but I think that's when I finally started believing that I would be okay. Because I had you," you added with a shaky smile.  

"I don't know what's going to happen to us. But I just want you to know, Wally, that as long as you're around, I know I'll be okay. And I would do anything for you too. I want to be there for you like you’re there for me. For all of us. Because you're the best person I’ve ever met. And I...I lo--" you were cut off from declaring your feelings for Wally by the sight of him suddenly reappearing at the side of the field.  

He collapsed to the ground, clutching the football to his chest. He was breathing heavy and he flung the ball away, leaving him curled up on the grass. He put a hand to his chest and his breaths were coming fast and uncontrolled.  

"Wally!" You shouted, racing down the bleachers to reach him. You hesitated at his side before seeing the agony in his expression. You dropped down to your knees and wrapped your arms around him, fearing that he was drowning in his own fear.  

You weren't expecting the way he practically latched on to you. His arms wrapped tight around your waist and he hid his face in the crook of your neck.  

"Wally?" You tried, realizing that he was shaking. "Are you okay?" 

Wally didn't respond. He simply shook his head, and you held on tighter.  

"I'm here for you," you assured him. Wally was always so strong. So ready to fight and defend. But whatever he had witnessed in his scar had left him speechless and traumatized. "I'm right here. I’m not going anywhere." 

Wally held you close, his breaths eventually evening out from panicked to steady.  

"I heard you, you know," he muttered into your neck after what felt like forever. He still hadn't lifted his head and you got the idea he was trying to hide.  

You tried not to shiver at the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin.  

"Heard what?" You asked, worried that you knew where this was heading.  

"I couldn't get myself out of there on my own. My coach and my mom and everyone was just so disappointed in me. I didn't want to be there but I couldn't make myself move. When I died, I didn't know it happened. It was over in a second. Just boom. Instant lights out. But I saw it happen and it hurt so much," he got out on a shaky breath. "I was about to lose it, but then I heard you. And you were talking to me about how much I meant to you and all I could think was that you're not disappointed in me." He finally lifted his head, his eyes locking with yours and leaving you transfixed. "I followed your voice out of there. You saved me." 

"Wally, you saved yourself," you said, bringing up a hand to smooth it down over his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. You've never been a disappointment. That coach and your mom? They were wrong. You’re amazing." 

Wally watched you for one moment into the next, leaving you with the urge to fidget under his attention. Finally, you noticed a small smile pull at his mouth, his eyes glinting with a hint of life. "Don't hate me," he murmured before he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours.  

You felt yourself tense, unsure that this was actually happening, before you felt Wally begin to pull away.  

"Wait," you whispered before grabbing a fistful of his shirt and reeling him back in.  

This time, the kiss was less hesitant and more searching. You never thought for one second you would get this opportunity and you didn't want to waste it.  

Wally had pulled you closer, practically putting you in his lap, so when you broke the kiss, you leaned your forehead against his and smiled at him.  

"You really think I would hate you for that? Wally, it's what I've been wanting for years," you admitted, knowing that Wally had likely heard your aborted love confession. You might as well go for broke. "I've wanted you for years," you confessed.  

Wally's lips stretched into another smile. This one was radiant and relieved. He brought his hands up, framing your face in his palms, and held you close. "I think this is the first time I've been on this field since I died and felt anything good." He bit his lip, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded his head as if he had decided something. He moved to stand up, gripping your hand tight in his so you followed after him. He started leading you away from the field towards the bleachers, taking a moment to scoop up his football, before leading you away.  

"Where are we going?" You wondered, trusting Wally and knowing you would follow him anywhere.  

"I think I've earned something good," he told you, his gaze lingering on you letting you know that you were the something good he was talking about. The idea sent a little pleased thrill through you. "Want to go make out under the bleachers?" 

"God, yes," you agreed, delighted and exhilarated.  

You knew that the time would come to find the others. Wally would have to talk about his scar and you would eventually have to confront yours. But for now, you would push all the pain and fear aside and finally let yourself have something good with Wally. 

pas de deux

to the anon that requested this, i know this isn't exactly what you asked for, but inspiration struck. i hope you like it.

cw: wally certified yearner and loverboy, me not knowing how to describe dancing, allusions to reader being murdered in a very traumatic way by her dance partner but no specifics, sfw

wc: 3k

Wally knows that what he’s attempting to do is misguided at best, and probably disastrous at worst. 

The idea came to him a few weeks ago. He’d been sitting with Charley and Rhonda, shooting the shit in the gymnasium before their meeting with Mr. Martin, when he’d asked, “Is it possible to break a ghost out of their loop?” 

To Charley’s credit, he’d attempted to take the question seriously. Rhonda had just rolled her eyes, removing the ever present lollipop from her mouth before interrupting.

“Again with this? Come on, loverboy. Not gonna happen.” 

Charley sighed, tutting at Rhonda before turning back to Wally, a sympathetic look on his face, “There’s always a chance it could work, but if you’re talking about who we think you’re talking about, I’d say they’re pretty slim.” 

“More than slim, I’d say,” Rhonda butts in again, “I’m surprised she hasn’t worn a hole through the floor, with the way she dances. Like a ballerina in a music box.” She spins her lollipop through the air, follows it with her eyes before shoving it back into her mouth. 

“Have I ever told you your attitude is annoying?” Wally asked, sinking back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the scoff from Rhonda’s direction, “I’m just saying. We’ve never even tried. What if she’s like, aware in there, like in her mind.” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair - a nervous tick he hadn’t lost, even in death. 

“Does it matter? She’s still stuck here like the rest of us. Better to spend eternity dancing than dealing with the banalities of high school.” 

Mr. Martin walked in then, effectively ending the conversation. Through the whole meeting, Wally couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d seen you in the auditorium before, looping over and over, stuck in an endless dance for two but lacking a partner. It’s a rare thing for a ghost to act the way you do - there haven’t really been any other deaths at the school that were traumatic enough to warrant a loop like yours, and he’d been determined to break you out of it. Screw Rhonda, he’d thought. He could do it, he just needed to figure out how. 

The problem was, Wally knew nothing about dancing. He's not the smartest guy. He knows that, but he’d been brainstorming different ways to break you out of your loop for a while now, with nothing to show for it. It’d been grating heavily on his nerves.

In a moment he’d regrettably look back on, he’d gone so far as to join you on stage to attempt a fake out. When he’d lunged at you, and you hadn’t even blinked in his direction, he started to think Rhonda was right. You couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hear him. You were stuck up there, doomed to spin around the stage for God knows how long and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Then one day, something really fucking weird had happened. 

—

He’d taken to sitting in the audience, to watch you dance. It was weird, more than a little morbid and slightly obsessive, but watching you move was captivating to him. 

He found some similarities between dancing and playing football - the finesse needed to dodge and weave through people trying to tackle him was one thing - but he’d never seen anyone move the way you do. Every move you made had purpose. The lines created by your arms and legs, the softness with which you carried yourself from one end of the stage to the other. 

Preoccupied with the pressures his mom applied to him, the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’d never taken an interest in dancing, other than the awkward slow side to side swaying he’d done with his Junior year girlfriend at the prom. Now, he wishes he could dance with you - wishes you could teach him to move like you do. 

You’re stuck there, like a spinning top that refuses to fall - unable to fall. Except, as he was watching you, something unthinkable happened. 

You were looking at him. Like, looking straight at him. 

It took him more than a few seconds to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn’t believe it. Charley had talked to him about dancers having a spot to look at when they’re spinning - how it keeps them from falling over, keeps them from becoming dizzy and messing up. Was it possible Wally just happened to be in the seat you used as a spot? 

He couldn’t tell if there was recognition in your eyes, if you were really looking at him or seeing right through him, the way a living person would. But your gaze was fixated on him either way. And your face, it… you just looked so sad. If he didn’t know better, Wally would’ve thought your expression was pleading, looking for help. It only lasted a few seconds, before you turned your head in a different direction and your body followed. It sent him reeling. 

He found Charley and Rhonda in the library, and told them what happened. Charley sat up in his chair, struggling to understand what he meant. 

“What do you mean she looked at you?” 

Wally went to explain it to them again, hoping they’d believe this was out of the norm, “I mean she looked at me, dude. She was up there spinning like she always is, and I was just sitting there watching -” 

“You were watching her? Voyeurism doesn’t suit you, loverboy.” Rhonda’s arms were crossed over her chest, legs folded over each other - closed off, like she always is. 

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Wally sighed, exasperated, “It was weird. At first I thought she was using me to spot, while she was twirling, but the way her face looked? I don’t know, dude. It was just weird.” 

“There’s a chance she was looking at you, don’t you think? We don’t really know how looping works, so,” Charley’s endless kindness is a relief to Wally - especially when he says things like, “I think it’s good, what you’re doing. I wish we could help more.” Charley looks over in Rhonda’s direction, nudging her to say something to Wally. 

“Yeah. As much as I give you flack for it, your whole -” Rhonda waves a hand in Wally’s general direction, “boy savior thing, I do wish there was something we could do for her. It sucks. Not having a partner to dance with.” There was a glint of remorse in Rhonda’s eye, more than Wally ever thought he’d see from her. 

A spark lights up in Wally’s head, a hidden spotlight finding its mark onstage  - landing on you, your flawless form.

“Do you think if I dance with her, that it could break the loop?” Wally asks, looking back and forth between his two friends. 

“It’s definitely worth a shot,” Charley shrugs, gaze turning to his left, “Rhonda? What do you think?” 

The beatnik pauses for a second, long enough for them to see the cogs turning in her brain. 

“Look, I’m not saying it’ll work. Probably won’t. But maybe,” Wally starts to smile, “Just maybe, if you try to connect with her on her terms, instead of trying to force some logic onto the situation, something might change.” 

“I don’t know how to dance, though. I don’t even know where to start.” Wally drops his head in his hands, shoulders hunched over. Charley reaches over, splays a hand on Wally’s back and rubs back and forth. 

“Think of it like football maybe? You’ve got your plays, right?” Wally nods, sitting up and urging Charley to continue, “Those are like the steps. Formations could be the positions you take, and in dancing, timing is everything. The same way it is in football, at least from what I’ve gathered of the rants you go on. Rhonda’s right. Maybe if you learn how she moves, you can try communicating with her that way.” 

Wally sits up, throwing his arms around his two friends, ignoring Rhonda attempting to push him away before jumping up from his spot on the couch. He nearly trips over himself to sprint out of the room and down the hall, towards the auditorium, shouting “Thank you!” behind him. 

—

Wally stood in the echoing auditorium, the stage lights illuminating the otherwise dark room. Every day for the past week, he’d come to you - trying to decipher a language he did not speak. He watched you, trapped in your endless pas de deux. Gliding through the same steps, turns, your desperate yearning clear up close. 

At first, he’d just tried to mimic you. Clumsy and tripping over his own feet, he’d stumbled through the basic positions, frustrated with himself. His movements were jerky and awkward, a stark contrast to your effortless grace. He felt silly - like a hulking figure trying to copy something delicate and precise, something that took years and years of training. 

Slowly, things started to shift. He stopped just watching and copying, instead starting to feel the music that wasn’t there. He began to understand the reasoning behind your movements, the emotions they expressed. He started to see the gaps in your performance, the place where someone was supposed to fit, to complete the cycle you’d been stuck in. 

He started to see the places where he could fit. 

He wasn’t just mirroring anymore, he was learning the language. Each day he got a little closer, a little less clumsy, a little more in tune with the phantom rhythm that filled the empty auditorium. He was still a football player, and he always would be, but he was learning to use some of that training to become a dancer, too. For you. 

Wally knew this might not even work. He’d been in his head about it for a week at this point, and not even Charley or Rhonda could break him out of the loop he’d pulled himself into. He stopped going to the life support meetings in the gymnasium, much to Mr. Martin’s dismay - instead going to spend all of his free time right there next to you onstage. 

He put more effort into practicing for this than he ever did for one of his football games, a feeling of true purpose guiding his every movement. 

When the day finally came, Wally felt calm. He felt ready. 

He walked onto the stage, ready to put his rehearsing to the test. Ready to run the play, to score the winning point. You began your routine, perfect and meticulous and haunting as ever. This time, though, Wally didn’t just watch. He joined you. 

He didn’t try to lead, didn’t try to impose himself or change your dance, he simply became your partner. He matched your movements as best as he could, trying to feel his way through the dance. Trying not to be too robotic, but instead trying to move with the same empathy and yearning that he’d watched you dance with over and over. 

As you reached the point in your dance where your partner should have joined, Wally was there. He wasn’t a perfect dancer, not by any metric, but he was present. He was the missing piece. 

As your movements intertwined, a visible shift occurred. You, you who had been trapped in this endless cycle of longing, suddenly seemed to notice him. Your eyes, usually fixated on some distant point, flickered - focusing on Wally for the first time. Genuinely seeing him. Your eyes filled with tears, and as one of them dropped onto your cheek, Wally went to wipe it away. 

The music, which up until this point had only been an idea in Wally’s head, suddenly seemed to fill the auditorium, bouncing off of the walls and echoing around the two of you. Your dance became a true pas de deux, a conversation of movement and emotion. 

As the music started to slow, Wally found himself on unsure footing. He hadn’t stopped to think before about how the dance was supposed to end, but it didn’t matter. Grasping his hands in your own, taking the lead and guiding him through the end, the two of you moved in perfect harmony. Spectral echoes of each other, gazes connected and satisfaction blooming. 

The yearning in your movements softened, replaced by a sense of completion. The music faded, leaving the two of you in silence. For half a second, Wally thought you’d cross over, leaving him onstage by himself. Instead, you turned to him, a small smile gracing your lips. You didn’t fade. You were still there - as solid as he was. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, “You helped me finish.” 

Wally stood stock still, surprise still echoed on his features. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. You looked around the empty auditorium, eyes tracking over the seats before landing on him again, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to finish that dance.” 

“I’m glad I could help you,” Wally stutters out, a pink flush on his face, “I know I’m not the best dancer.” You laugh, a sweet, girlish thing. In the five minutes that had passed since the dance finished, Wally swore he could see the weight being lifted from your chest. 

“You were perfect.” A flicker of sadness crossed your face, quickly replaced by gentle acceptance, “I… I don’t think I’m going anywhere, I’m still here, but…” you emphasized, palms open and gesturing to the stage around you, “but, I think it’s different now. I’m not stuck anymore.” 

“That’s good!” Wally’s face lit up, empathetic and gleeful. 

Your own smile brightened, affected by his sheer amount of happiness for you. You took his hand, solid and steady in yours. 

“What do I do now?” you asked, eyebrows turned up and inward, “Do ghosts sleep? I feel like I need to sleep for a month.” 

Wally giggled, leading you down the side stage steps and down the rows of seats, out of the auditorium, “We don’t need to sleep, but you can if you want to. You want me to show you my hiding space?” You nod, following him down the hallway.

When he passes the teacher’s lounge, and Charley and Rhonda see whose hand he has grasped in his, he winks at their shocked expressions before continuing down the stretch of linoleum and lockers. 

—

Life - or, afterlife, you suppose - has been weird since Wally broke you out of your loop. The first couple of days were extremely rough, spent trying to understand just how long you’d been up on that stage. A new member of Mr. Martin’s life support group, everyone has been extremely welcoming to you. 

Because ghosts don’t need to sleep, you haven't experienced any nightmares, something you’re exceedingly grateful for. Even so, you wake up from your naps feeling uneasy. Flashes of the end of your life playing in your mind, reminding you of the circumstances surrounding your death. 

You’re not ready to talk to the group about it, but Wally hasn’t left your side since he’d woken you from your reverie. You tell him about it in bits and pieces - about your dance partner, a shy, kind boy, turned cold blooded killer. The specifics of it don’t matter anyways. He can’t hurt you anymore, and according to the computers in the library, he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore -  following you into that good night soon after the police had taken him away. 

You learn that your family moved out of Wisconsin a decade ago, in an attempt to escape the media following them around and shouting questions at them, about a court case that didn’t happen because there was nobody to put on trial. You hope wherever they were, that they found some semblance of peace. 

Wally has been an incredible influence on you, and after settling into what the rest of your eternity might look like, you’ve had the same effect on him. He didn’t expect you to dance again any time soon, if ever, but he’d catch you by yourself sometimes - stretching your legs, sitting on the floor with your arms poised in that certain way. 

Then, after a year spent together going to meetings and finding hidden corners in the school to make out like true teenagers, he’d found you in Split River High’s newly minted dance room - sock covered feet gliding over the lacquered floor, hope and joy baked into your movements instead of the grief and melancholy he’d become so accustomed to in your previous routine.  

Out of the corner of your eye, when you’d seen him peeking through the window, you’d beckoned him in to join you. You started to truly teach him how to dance - guiding him through Pliés and Relevés and giggling at him when his lanky legs got in his own way. 

“You’d be better at this if you were shorter, I think,” you’d said, a smile unable to hide taking over your face, “but you look pretty good.” 

“Pretty good? These legs saved you, babe,” Wally scoffed, wiggling his toes to get you to laugh.  He always succeeded in that. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” you walked over to stand nearer to him, eyes angled upward to meet his honey brown ones, “the prince to my sleeping beauty, how could I forget?” 

“Damn straight, I’m your prince,” Wally’s warm hands grasped your cheeks, his mouth lowering to meet yours for a few seconds before gently shoving you away, “now show me how to do that thing again? I think I’m finally getting it.” 

—

Rhonda would never admit it, but she’d been especially proud of the effort Wally had put in to drag you from your loop. She knows everyone thinks she’s cold hearted, and she agrees to a certain extent, but she’d known the agony Wally felt when he thought he couldn’t help you. She’d never tell anyone this, either, but she’d snuck into the auditorium the night that he’d broken your loop - woken you up from your neverending nightmare. She’d stood alone, in the back and out of view, a smile etched on her features.

“You go, loverboy.”

a/n: tysm for this request! this was honestly the most fun i've ever had writing something. the inspiration was crazy and even though i know nothing about dancing i hope this is readable and easy to follow because i'm immensely proud of it. anon if you liked it pls lmk! I'm having such a fun time writing for wally so PLS send in any requests you have!!!

also, don't forget to like and reblog!

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 6/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: Wally's reunion brings past regrets and unwelcome visitors. Word Count: 2.7k Author's Note: So, I got sick and I got depressed and it took me a little while to get here, but thank you to everyone for being so patient with me waiting on the next update!

Read On AO3 // Fic Masterlist

The aftermath of visiting your scar still weighed heavily on your mind days later. Wally had done everything in his power to help you, but you knew there was only so much he could do for you. The only person who could help you come to terms with what you suffered was you.  

And you just weren’t ready yet. 

It didn't help that Mr. Martin had found a way to jump into a body and escape the school. Now, there was no way to know if he would ever be back or if he was going after Janet. Maddie was worried about her friends and if she would ever manage to get her body back. All of you were worried about Janet and Maddie, since Mr. Martin posed the greatest threat to both. Everyone had been trying to theorize what Mr. Martin wanted with the keys and the scars, but no one knew enough to try to fit all the puzzle pieces together yet.  

Now, you were sitting at a table that had been set out for Wally's reunion. He was so psyched about it that you hated you were having a hard time pulling yourself out of your misery. Even though Wally had assured you over and over and showed you just how much he cared about you, you still couldn't shake the insecurity you felt every time you saw Wally and Maddie interact. It also didn't help that your mind was consumed with what happened in your scar.  

The others had been careful around you. It wouldn't have been so weird if Rhonda hadn't been practically gentle with you. Rhonda was usually the type to not sugarcoat anything. The fact that she was trying to comfort you felt odd, but you didn't know how to tell Rhonda that she was freaking you out. She was a good friend, and you knew she would always have your back, but you didn't know how to handle a different side of her.  

You had also managed to catch the end of an argument between Wally and Rhonda not long after you sought out the others once you were ready to leave the tech booth. Charley had pulled you aside, asking if everything was alright. Quinn had surprised you with a hug and Maddie had wondered why you went into your scar. You couldn't tell her it was because of how jealous you got seeing her with Wally, so you only shrugged your shoulders and returned the nod of solidarity Yuri aimed at you. 

As you walked back towards Wally and Rhonda, you overheard what Rhonda was telling him.  

"--you have any idea how that feels? She went into her scar because you ran after Maddie." 

"I know, I know," Wally assured Rhonda. "Don't you think I feel terrible enough about that without you here busting my ass over it?" 

Rhonda pulled the ever-present lollipop out of her mouth and pointed it at Wally. "Just think about what you're doing next time. Maybe instead of running off and playing around in the pool with another girl, you bring your girlfriend with you." 

"Maddie and I were just blowing off steam," Wally defended himself. "I would never do anything to hurt Y/N." 

"And yet you did," Rhonda pointed out with an arched brow. She brushed past Wally, leaving you to finally finish approaching him.  

Wally's eyes lit up once he noticed you. "Hey, how about we get out of here, huh? I think we've earned some time just the two of us. They've had enough of us for now. I want you all to myself," he told you before he tugged you forward into a kiss.  

It didn't take you long to realize that Rhonda's words must have struck a chord, because he was practically glued to your side after she spoke to him.  

You thought maybe Rhonda was being a little too harsh on Wally. But once the adrenaline had faded, you found it hard to stay positive. Quinn said you were in a funk, but you just felt downright depressed. Reliving your death had been hard on you and you were having a difficult time shaking all the negative thoughts and feelings that had risen since confronting it.  

Now, you were sitting in the library where the reunion was being held and trying to find the energy to be excited for Wally.  

Rhonda and Quinn were off to the side, talking about something you couldn't overhear. Charley was sitting on the stairs leading up to where the DJ booth had been set up while Wally flipped through records that had been left in a crate. You didn't know where Yuri or Maddie were, but you figured they would show up eventually.  

You listened to the others talking, not really paying enough attention to discern what they were speaking about and even managed to bring up a reluctant smile hearing Wally sass Rhonda after mentioning something about a girdle.  

"Oh, shit!" You heard Wally exclaim, abruptly forcing you out of your thoughts as he pulled a record out of the crate. "No way," he breathed as he brought up the record to show it off. "David Bowie. Y'all! We are so back," he said before he bounded up the stairs towards the turntable.  

You met Rhonda's gaze and caught her rolling her eyes, but you noticed the hint of a smile on her lips. Even when she was annoyed with Wally, she couldn't quite resist his infectious enthusiasm.  

Wally put the record on, letting Bowie's 'Let's Dance' fill the room. Wally's routine was something you had grown accustomed to over the years. Usually, you joined in, finding joy in Wally's excitement and letting yourself get easily roped in to the dance. But this time, you just weren't feeling it and that only made you feel worse.  

Still, Wally tried, pointing at you and pretending to try to reel you in, but you stayed in your seat, refusing to move. You felt a pang of guilt when you noticed his obvious disappointment, but he turned towards Charley, silently respecting your wish to be left alone. It didn't take long before Charley was going through the moves Wally had coached you all through years before, a delighted grin on his face as he danced.  

While Wally worked through his routine, you noticed the way his attention kept straying back to you. It was like he was checking in on you and the thought brought a slight smile to your lips. Even when he was having the time of his life, he was still worried about you.  

You were content to sit at the table, your chin propped up on your hand while you watched him dance. You weren’t surprised that it was lifting your spirits to see Wally so in his element. You couldn't help but think that if he hadn't been thrown into football, then maybe he would have enjoyed being a theater kid.  

You watched Rhonda and then Quinn join the dance. Rhonda never missed a step, but while Quinn was new to the routine, her eagerness to be part of the group more than made up for it.  

Any sense of lingering despair was swept away when you watched the way Wally spun away from the group. He was still moving to the music, but he had deviated from his usual routine. He threw in a slide where he usually had a hip thrust and a shoulder shimmy where he would have moonwalked. He threw a smirk and a wink in your direction, and it was then you realized that this year Wally wasn't dancing for himself.  

He was dancing for you.  

That more than anything had you finally getting out of your seat. You caught the delighted grin on Wally's face before he reached a hand out towards you. You let yourself put your hand in his, letting out a surprised laugh when he immediately reeled you in only to spin you out again. He kept his grip on your hand tight, like he was worried you would try to leave, before he pulled you back towards him.  

His lips met yours, the kiss turning desperate and intense within a moment. All you could do was hold on, your fingers digging into his shoulders, as Wally poured everything he had into the kiss.  

It was fear and despair and joy and want. It swept you along with everything Wally had been trying to show you for days now.  

It was love.  

"Fuck," you gasped when you turned your head to the side to break the kiss.  

You felt his smirk against the side of your face. "Later," he promised, hiding a kiss against the skin beneath your ear.  

"That was awesome!" Quinn exclaimed, drawing your attention. "You do that every year?" She directed at Rhonda, a grin on her face.  

"Every year," Rhonda drawled, shooting a look at Wally that was equal parts annoyed and fond.  

"We should go again," Quinn decided, already bounding towards the DJ setup to restart the song.  

“Quinn,” Rhonda groaned, following her like she was thinking about stopping her.  

Later, you dressed up for Wally's big night and met him at the doors of the library.  

"Damn," Wally sighed, looking you up and down. "How'd I get so lucky?" 

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to tell him that if anyone was lucky, it was you. "Sap," you accused, because you didn't know how else to respond.  

Wally grinned at you and held his arm out, letting you hook your hand around his elbow. "Before I forget," he said, reaching out to open the door. "We're playing wingman for Charley." 

"Charley?" You asked, surprised that he was finally making his move. "Yuri?" You guessed, thinking of all the times Charley blushed around Yuri and how he couldn't keep his eyes off him.  

"Yup," Wally answered, leading you into the library. "Promised not to let him embarrass himself. So, I might need your help running interference later."  

"Got it," you agreed, offering him a tentative smile. Wally's dance and the promise of a date night had gone a long way towards lifting your mood, but you were still trying to shake the last vestiges of sadness that still clung to you.  

Wally leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before he led you into the library.  

You let Wally get you a glass of punch and watched him reunite with some of his former classmates. He looked so happy to be remembered by the class of '84 that you almost didn't realize anything was wrong at first. You had been in the middle of talking Charley up to Yuri, even though you were sure from the way Yuri looked at Charley that it was completely unnecessary.  

It took you entirely too long to realize what the two guys were saying about Wally. Wally's crestfallen expression was enough to get you at his side. You also didn't miss the way Charley was carefully not looking at Wally.  

"Look, it's alright," Charley told Wally when he tried to apologize. "It was forty years ago. You don't have to be sorry." 

"But--" Wally started, before Yuri placed a hand on Charley's shoulder.  

"How about a dance?" He asked, nodding towards the couples who had taken over the space in front of the stage. A slow song was playing and the couples were all swaying along to the melody.  

"Okay, yeah, I'd love that," Charley answered, handing you his drink before letting Yuri lead him towards the dance floor.  

Wally kept glancing at Charley and Yuri, as if he was worried something bad would happen. You knew that Wally had been a different person when he was alive. But the Wally you knew now wasn't anything like him. He had grown and started to accept that he didn't have to only see himself as the guy he was before he died. The fact he was obviously so torn up over his past actions was testament to that.  

You were briefly distracted by Mr. Anderson showing up to wreak havoc on a reunion full of people who couldn't even see him. When you glanced back at Charley and Yuri, it was to see Charley putting distance between them.  

You weren't sure why Charley looked so distressed, but when he pulled away from Yuri and walked away, you tried to find out what was wrong.  

"Hey," you called, turning to look at Charley as he passed you. "What's wrong?" 

"It's just...," he sighed before he shook his head and walked away. His jaw was clenched, and you noticed how tensed his shoulders were. Yuri looked just as lost as you felt when you glanced back at him.  

Wally watched Charley leave the library. He looked worried, but he stayed rooted to the spot, even though it was obvious he wanted to go after him.  

"Wally," you whispered, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.  

Wally turned to look at you. "Babe, I'm not like that anymore," he promised, gesturing towards the guys who were now commenting on the woman who was announcing something onstage. "I would never hurt Charley. I would never let anyone hurt him. I'd beat the shit out of them for laying a finger on him." 

"I know," you assured him, letting your hand find his to hold onto. "Charley knows that too." 

"But, I guess," Wally continued, glancing again at the guys who had brought up Wally's past. "I guess I was that guy. And that's how they remember me. I was no better than the people who hurt Charley." 

"You've changed," you reminded him. "You're one of the best people I've ever met and that's for a reason, Wally." 

Wally nodded his head, but he still looked like he was struggling with himself.  

"Go find Charley," you urged him. "I think you two need to talk this out." You knew that Charley would need a friend now more than anything and Wally needed to prove to himself that he could be that friend.  

Wally looked unsure and still didn't budge.  

"It'll be fine," you promised him. "Trust me," you added, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  

Wally nodded his head, offering you an unsure smile, before he left in search of Charley.  

"You're good for him," Yuri observed.  

You startled, glancing at him over your shoulder. "You're good for Charley," you shot back. "He just gets a little nervous. Give him time." 

Yuri nodded his head, looking thoughtful. "I've got time," he assured you before taking Charley's drink back from you.  

You watched Yuri take a sip of the drink. "You know if you ever hurt him, though, I'll kill you. Forget that, Wally will kill you." 

It wasn't much of a threat when you were all already dead. But Charley was your friend and you would do anything for him. He deserved happiness and if Yuri was the one who could provide it for him, then you wanted to make sure it stuck. 

"I know," Yuri claimed, "but he won't have to. I only want what's best for Charley."  

"Good," you told him. "Keep it that way."  

You were going to ask Yuri if he wanted to see how Wally and Charley were doing when your attention was caught by someone across the room. She was leaving the library, slipping out of the room with a quick look over her shoulder.  

 It took you a moment to recognize her, but when you did, you felt like the whole world had stopped. Suddenly, your hands were shaking and you felt like everything was collapsing around you. It had been years since you saw her, but you knew you would never forget that face. 

You felt your mind race in several different directions as you found yourself rushing to follow her. Yuri called your name, but you ignored him. You didn’t know why she was here, but all you could think about was figuring out the reason. You wanted her out, gone, but there wasn’t much you could do about that now that you were dead. 

As you left the library in pursuit of her, there were really only three questions you desperately needed answered on your mind. 

Why the hell would she come back?  

How could she show her face here after what she did?  

And lastly, did she feel any remorse for killing you?  

Taglist: @preparedfruit @morstuavitamea-a @jaes-last-words @thatonegayloser616 @kmarie06

@girlthatislost @peterpangirl21 @uk1y0 @i-mmunity @siriusxmunofficial

@lov3bug @morallygrayboys @loudtalehologram @hey-its-roseaurum @doves1120

@benjiiisstuff @schoolspiritsfan14 @friedfrogs @superlegend216

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 5/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: Wally tries to break you out of your scar. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: This chapter is from Wally's POV.

Read On AO3 // Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four //

Wally didn't know how they ended up here. One moment, he was joking around with Maddie, glad to finally get a smile on her face after she had been so hurt to hear Janet having successfully infiltrated her old life, and the next he was watching Y/N standing there in front of that damn door. He didn't know why she would stand where she had sworn never to go. But there she was in front of her scar with her jacket in hand ready to face her demons. 

He froze, prompting Maddie to stop at his side.  

"Y/N," he tried, hoping not to spook her into action. If he played this right, then maybe he could get her to back away from the door. "What are you doing?" 

Maddie shot him a confused look before finally looking down the hallway to see what had caught his attention. It didn't take her long to get it.  

"Is that--?" 

"It's her scar," Wally answered, not daring to take his eyes off Y/N.  

He noticed the way Y/N was tensed, ready to act, which meant he only had a moment to get to her. He took off running, making good use of all of the training he never wanted when he was alive but desperately needed now to sprint down the hallway.  

Y/N opened the door to her scar and stepped inside, the door shutting behind her. He hit the door only a moment after it closed. He tried the doorknob, but when the door opened, there was only an empty bathroom.  

"It doesn't work like that," Maddie informed him.  

"Well, something's got to work," he snapped, hitting his fist on the closed door. He rested his forehead against the door, wishing he had a solution.  

"Wally," Maddie started, before she stopped.  

"I just don't get it," he found himself saying. He tried the doorknob again, swinging open the door to an empty room. "I don't get it," he repeated before trying again and again to enter Y/N's scar and drag her out of there. "There's got to be a way to get to her." 

"Wally," Maddie said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She's got to make it out on her own." 

"No," Wally denied, shaking his head. He kicked the door, wishing he could break it down. It would all just reset. He was useless in this situation. "When I was in my scar, she talked to me. She got me out of there. I was so...I was so," he tried again, but he couldn't get the words out. He was lost. Hurt. Terrified. But Y/N's voice had led him out of hell and right into her arms.  

"Look, maybe we should go get the others," Maddie suggested. "Maybe we can figure out why she went in there in the first place. Something must have happened." 

"You go," Wally urged, not taking his gaze off the door in front of him. Y/N was just on the other side. He swore he could feel her. But he couldn't get to her and he was so frustrated at the idea that he couldn't save her. "I'm not leaving her." 

Maddie stood there at his side for a moment before leaving him. Wally knew she was going to get the others, but he was glad she was gone. He didn't want anyone else around to witness his failure.  

Y/N was everything to him and now he couldn’t even save her. He knew what her scar held for her. His death had only been built on disappointment and the fear that he would never be able to shoulder the expectations others dropped on him. He had gone to his afterlife feeling like he wasn't enough.  

But Y/N had her life ripped away from her by someone who wasn't worth impressing at all. Y/N had died scared and alone, not surrounded by teammates and a crowd. No one had been there to watch her fall into the afterlife except for the person who gave her the push.  

He wouldn't have her go through that again. His scar had been bad enough, but hers was just downright cruel.  

He didn't understand why she would want to put herself in that situation again. He didn't get why she would want to relive her death. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and protect her from the pain.  

All he really wanted was her. Her laugh and the smile she gave him when she was proud of him. The way having her anywhere near him drove him absolutely crazy, because he just wanted to touch her. And when she didn't even notice he was watching her, the way she viewed the world around her. Even in death, she was curious and bright, lighting up the darkness he felt inside and banishing it with just a look at him.  

"Y/N," he tried again, resisting the urge to try to open the door again. "Can you hear me?"  

God, he hoped she could hear him. He didn't want her to be alone. Not now. Not ever again.  

He remembered when Y/N died. The way all the other students talked about it like it was such a tragedy even though they didn’t really know her. How the girl who had bullied Y/N to death was expelled. How he watched them march her out of the school and how much he hated her even then for damning someone else to an eternity at the school. He remembered the way the teachers referred to Y/N as 'that poor girl.' How her mother cried knowing that she would never see her daughter again. How her little brother stood there, confused about why his sister would never go home again.  

"Y/N, get out of there! Just come on. Please," he pleaded, hoping she could hear him. He put a hand on the door, trying to sense her on the other side.  

He remembered when no one came to remember her on the anniversary of her death. She faded away into anonymity. Just a story for anyone looking to spook a freshman about the bathroom on the second floor with the flickering lights. It was only a dying bulb, but that didn't stop a senior from using Y/N's death as a scare tactic.  

 She didn’t get a stadium named after her. She didn’t get people reminiscing over her achievements. All she got was an abandoned memorial sight and no one left to mourn her. 

She sat and waited and no one came for her. No family. No friends. But he was still there. He would have done anything to show her she wasn't alone. They were the same now. Left to forever roam the halls of Split River High in the hopes that maybe one day, something would change.  

He always assumed that something would be crossing over.  

He didn't realize that something would be Y/N.  

"I don't know why you wanted to do this, but please just come out." He stood there on the other side of the door, waiting for any sign from her. "I'm right here for you. I'm not going anywhere."  

As far as he was concerned, she was never going anywhere without him again. If this is what it led to, then he would stick as close to her as she would let him.  

He knew she didn't get really get how much she meant to him. Sometimes, he felt like he was being pulled in so many different directions. He had to help Maddie and he had to be there for Charley and he had to keep Rhonda from being too Rhonda.  

But Y/N had become his rock. His foundation. With her, he felt like he was whole again. Without her, he didn't know what he would do. She had a way of keeping him steady when he felt like he was going to fall. He hated the thought that maybe he hadn't done the same for her.  

"Please, babe," he breathed, both his hands on the door now with his forehead resting against the wood. "You don't need to do this. You don't need to relive it." 

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to do something now. So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He threw himself against the barrier keeping him from Y/N. He hit it and kicked it and slammed into it like it was an enemy he could try to defeat. He would fight his way to her if he had to.  

He didn't know what she was going through. The silence coming from the other side of the door only served to spur him on, because he wanted to hear her voice. He needed to know that she was okay. His scar had been so twisted and horrifying and he hated that she was going through the same thing.  

"Whatever's going on in there, it's not real. You are real." He needed her to know that she wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't whatever she would see in that bathroom. She was so much more. "You don't deserve whatever's happening," he added, hoping she knew it was the truth.  

More silence. More stillness.  

He tried opening the door again, but the scene was still the same.  

He hit the door again and again, not letting him think about the pain. "Babe? Babe!" He tried, wishing he could find a way to get through to her.  

He was going to make a last-ditch effort to rush the door. He took a few steps back, ready to try to break it down, when it suddenly opened. Y/N rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door closed behind her.  

She was standing there, watching him with such a tormented expression that he felt like he was dying all over again. All he could think was that he had failed her. But he would never do that again.  

She suddenly ripped off her jacket and threw it back down the hallway. He only had a moment to realize what would happen before she was throwing herself at him. He fell to the floor, unprepared, and she went with him. She was clinging to him like she never wanted to let go and as far as he was concerned, she never had to.  

He managed to sit up, pulling her up with him. She had her face hidden in his neck and her arms were squeezing him so tight it was nearly painful. He didn't know if she would ever be ready to talk about what she just faced, but he would be there for her. He didn't plan on going anywhere. At least not without her.  

"I'm here," he assured her. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. You're out."  

He kept trying to soothe the pain she felt. It was all he could do. From the way she was holding onto him, he knew that more than anything, she just needed to know that she wasn't back in that bathroom, about to die all over again.  

He wasn't sure how long they sat like that before he caught movement at the end of the hallway. It was Maddie returning with Charley, Rhonda, and Quinn in tow. Y/N hadn't even noticed them, she was so lost in her grief and fear. He knew she wouldn't want an audience for what she was going through. It was bad enough they had witnessed this much.  

He waved them off, hoping they got the hint. Charley immediately started herding Maddie and Quinn away. Quinn shot a confused, inquisitive look back, but she kept walking. Rhonda lingered behind, watching the scene before her with a set to her jaw that told him she was oddly pissed off about something.  

He didn't know if it was because Wally wouldn't let her be there for her friend or she was mad that Y/N had gone into her scar. Either way, he shook his head, waiting for her to finally turn away before he gave Y/N all of his attention again.  

He didn't have all the answers. He didn't know what was running through her mind.  

But he did know one thing.  

He would wait for her.  

For whatever she needed from him, he would be there. And he wasn't going anywhere without her. 

Taglist: @preparedfruit @morstuavitamea-a @thatonegayloser616 @kmarie06 @girlthatislost

@peterpangirl21 @uk1y0 @i-mmunity @siriusxmunofficial @lov3bug

@morallygrayboys @loudtalehologram @hey-its-roseaurum @doves1120 @benjiiisstuff

Author's Note: Next up, Wally's reunion!

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

a/n at the end!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him. 

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested -  worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding. 

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood. 

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times. 

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones -  sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally. 

“Is that who you’re talking about?” 

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things. 

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn’t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well. 

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless. 

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty. 

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space. 

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved. 

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve. 

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically. 

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker. 

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you. 

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed. 

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move. 

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside. 

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!” 

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t. 

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!” 

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown. 

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it. 

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it. 

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you. 

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car. 

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad. 

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go. 

You’re in it now, for better or for worse. 

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence. 

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.” 

You don’t want to lie. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.” 

-

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to. 

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind. 

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him. 

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms. 

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head. 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-” 

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat. 

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses. 

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him. 

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.” 

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him. 

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip. 

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?” 

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference. 

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.” 

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby. 

You look at him, trying to decide where to start. 

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why. 

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.” 

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did. 

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.” 

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things. 

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework. 

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.  

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 4/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: You confront your scar. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: This chapter contains bullying and how reader died as a result of that bullying. Read On AO3 // Part One // Part Two // Part Three

You hesitated once you stepped into the bathroom, keeping your back pressed to the closed door behind you. Everything was washed in a red glow that lent an eeriness to the scene before you.  

You gripped your jacket tight in your hands before slipping it on. You figured you didn't want to risk dropping it even if it would make things harder on you later. You took a deep breath and forced yourself forward.  

The smell of cigarette smoke stopped you in your tracks.  

"What are you doing in here, freak?"  

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to try to center yourself. You hadn't heard that voice since you were alive.  

"Well? You going to stand there all day with that stupid look on your face?" 

You shook your head, taking another step into the bathroom. It gave you a better view of her. The one who had killed you. The one who had ripped everything away from you, leaving you to haunt the school forever. 

You knew how this was all going to play out. The girl who had bullied you mercilessly for years would end up being your downfall. You should have never stepped foot in this bathroom.  

She was leaning against the wall by the window. She had managed to crack it open and was letting smoke drift outside. It did nothing to cover the smell.  

"God, look at you. What a fucking idiot," she sneered before tapping her cigarette against the windowsill.  

You could feel panic building inside you. Your hands were shaking and you felt like you were frozen to the spot.  

After you died, she had been expelled. You never had to see her again. But now here she was, ready to kill you all over again.  

"You're such a waste of space, you know that? It'd be better if you never existed."  

You didn't know how to react to the words. Those weren't the same ones she spat at you the day you died. She was going off-script, which terrified you even more. Anything could happen now. 

"You can't even speak, huh?" She asked, finally dropping her cigarette to the floor and crushing it beneath her boot heel. "Got nothing to say to me?" 

You didn't know how to speak. All you could think about was where this confrontation was heading and you didn't want to experience it all over again. You had been stupid to let your jealousy and insecurity drive you into this.  

She started approaching you and you felt like you were going to throw up.  

"Y/N!" You heard a faint voice call your name. "Can you hear me?" 

You briefly turned towards the bathroom door, shocked to hear the muffled voice of Wally. He sounded far away and not like he was right on the other side of the door. But you could still hear him.  

Turning your attention away from her had been a mistake. Before you knew it, there was a harsh grip on your arm and you were being backed up into the wall beside the sinks.  

"I think," she started before popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "That this place would be a lot better without you here." She reached out and gripped your face tight, leaving the sting of her nails biting into your skin. She smacked her gum and grinned at you. "You got anything to say to that, freak? Or are you just going to stare at me?" 

You wanted to say or do anything, but you felt like you were frozen with fear.  

"Y/N, get out of there! Just come on. Please," you heard Wally beg.  

"You paying attention to me?" She wondered, pulling her hand back and slapping you.  

It jarred you out of your daze, leaving you to bring a hand up to cover your cheek.  

"I don't know why you wanted to do this, but please just come out. I'm right here for you. I'm not going anywhere." 

"You're so pathetic. No one's ever going to want such a freak, you know that, right? You're gonna be alone forever." 

"Please, babe," Wally pleaded, his voice wavering. "You don't need to do this. You don't need to relive it." 

You couldn't help but think about how Wally only pulled out the 'babe' pet name when he was really stressed about something.  

Another slap before she gripped your chin again, forcing you to look at her.  

"I should have made you eat that cigarette. Got a light? Maybe I can put this one out on that stupid jacket you love so much." 

You could hear someone pounding on the door now. It sounded as if someone was throwing themselves against it, attempting to break it down. 

"Whatever's going on in there, it's not real. You are real. You don't deserve whatever's happening," Wally continued to try to get through to you. He was out there doing his damnedest to break into your scar just to save you. You didn't know how you could have ever thought that Wally didn't want you anymore.   

"Or maybe," she continued, voice low, "I can stick it in your eye. Maybe that way you won't have to see how much we all hate you." 

You felt stuck between her disdain and Wally's desperation. It wasn't until you noticed her reaching for her pocket and slipping out a cigarette that you knew things were about to get worse.  

Suddenly, all you wanted was Wally and the promise of safety he offered. You used her distraction of lighting up again to rush past her, making for the bathroom door.  

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" She growled before you felt a hand tuck into the back collar of your jacket and pull.  

You knew what happened next, but you still weren't prepared for the fall. It felt endless as you struggled to stay upright, helpless against the pull of gravity. And then your head connected with the edge of the sink and you were on the floor.  

You stared up at the ceiling in a daze, because you didn't make it this far the first time. It was over before you could even hit the tiles. This was new territory and you didn’t know how to continue from here.  

You managed to push yourself to your feet and glanced down.  

Your body was on the floor. You were staring up at the ceiling, but you weren't blinking. You weren't even moving. There was a pool of blood forming beneath your head and your neck was bent at an unnatural angle and you couldn't take it anymore.  

You felt like there was something sharp twisting in your gut. You had never thought about what you might have looked like on that bathroom floor. Dead. Unresponsive. Gone forever.  

"What are you doing in here, freak?" She asked again and when you looked up, she was back over by the window, smoking.  

You glanced down at the floor, but your body was still there. The scene had reset, but the reminder of how all of this played out was staring sightlessly up at you.  

"Babe? Babe!" Wally was calling, still trying to break down the door.  

You felt a sob catch in your throat before you were throwing yourself at the bathroom door. You were so sure she was chasing you, intent on dragging you back down into the depths of your personal hell, but you didn't dare look back. You managed to open the door and slam it closed behind you.  

Wally was standing just in front of you. You weren't sure what he saw on your face, but the way his expression twisted from concern to horror had you feeling like someone had reached right inside your chest and was trying to tear out your heart. You ripped your denim jacket off and flung it down the hallway, never wanting to see it again.  

You threw yourself at Wally, taking both of you down to the floor. Wally had managed to sit up and you clung to him like he was your own personal savior. Your face was pressed to the crook of his neck and your arms were wrapped tight around his waist.  

He brought a hand up and smoothed it down your back.  

"I'm here," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. You're out." 

You weren't sure how long you sat there on the floor with Wally. At some point, he had begun to gently rock the both of you from side to side, his touch attempting to calm you as he whispered soothing words in your ear. His lips were brushing the shell of your ear and his hands were running along your back and sides and any part of you he could reach like he was trying to convince himself you were really there.  

"It was horrible," you finally muttered into his skin. "I was so stupid." 

"You're not stupid," Wally argued. "But why did you do that? You know how terrified I was seeing you walk in there?" 

"So stupid," you repeated before finally pulling away enough to meet Wally's eyes. "I saw you and Maddie in the pool." 

Wally's brow furrowed in confusion. "And that made you want to visit your scar?" 

"I thought you and Maddie...," you trailed off, not knowing how to continue. "I was jealous," you finally confessed. "And hurt. And stupid," you reiterated.  

"Oh," Wally said before he seemed to realize what you weren't saying. "Oh," he breathed. "Maddie and I were just goofing off. She needed a friend and I was being a friend. I didn’t mean it any other way." 

"I think I get that now," you sheepishly admitted. Wally had been trying to break into your scar just to drag you out. He was holding on to you now like you were the most important person to him and he was afraid you were going to slip away again. He looked at you like you were his everything.  

"No, look," he insisted, bringing his hands up to frame your face in them. You nearly flinched, thinking about the last person who had held your face. She had only touched you with malice, but Wally’s touch only made you feel loved. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I would never in a million years ever want that and what we have is nothing like what I've got going on with Maddie or any of the others. You're the only one I've been kissing," he promised, his lips ticking up in a grin.  

"Okay," you agreed with a small nod of your head. 

"And I never want you to ever have to go back in there," he continued, glancing briefly at the bathroom door just over your shoulder.  

“Even if it helps Maddie?” You couldn’t help but check.  

“Never again,” Wally insisted, shaking his head. “You don’t know what that did to me. Seeing you walk in there. God, babe, I was so scared.” 

Wally was looking at you like he thought you had died all over again. In some ways, you supposed that was true.  

"I'm never going back in there," you promised him, hoping it was true. "It was--," you stopped before starting again. "And she--," you cut yourself off again. "It hurt," you finally settled on. It had also put things into perspective for you.  

"It'll get better," Wally promised. "I'm here for you and our friends are here for you too. I'm not saying you won't ever think about it again, but I'll do my best to distract you." 

You let your forehead rest against Wally's, taking a moment to simply look at him. The whole night had been a real rollercoaster of emotion and now you felt exhausted. There was really only one thing you wanted at the moment and that was Wally.  

So, you moved to stand up, reaching down to help him to his feet.  

"Want to pay another visit to the tech booth?" You asked, hoping he knew what you were really asking.  

The tech booth offered privacy and a comfortable couch and a place to revisit better memories. All it needed now was you and Wally.  

Wally grinned before placing a brief kiss to your lips.  

"Hell yeah," he agreed, reaching down and taking your hand in his. "I go where you go. Let's get the hell out of here."  Taglist: @morallygrayboys @loudtalehologram @hey-its-roseaurum @doves1120 @benjiiiisstuff

Author's Note: So, the next chapter is already written! It's this chapter but from Wally's POV, because I wanted to show what he was going through during this. It'll be posted next Wednesday or Thursday! If you want to be tagged, just let me know!