This Time Around - Wally Darling x Reader

3 - Noon

     Even the first time around, You and Wally had a natural pull toward one another. He was always there to provide support when needed, and your relationship blossomed into something more than friends rather quickly. Wally never had enough time with you to figure out just what you two were, though. Because after a few weeks, usually on the third Sunday, your ex-husband would make his way to the neighborhood. It was always during the night, when the pitch-black could hide his malevolent intent. In some way or another, Wally was never there to protect you; whether it be because he was in another room or right beside you, he could never save you. Cain would always make it into Home, despite its best efforts to slam its doors shut and lock its windows. Wally would always be frozen in place, unable to move, only able to watch as the stocky man would lurk towards your sleeping form. No amount of struggling, begging, crying, anything, would unfreeze his limbs; any notion of power he once held had been swept away, if only for a moment. And always, without fail, it would be far too late before Wally was able to move again. 

     The first time around, when Cain had made it into Home, Wally had been painting in another room. He was alerted by Home's frantic creaking, though when he moved to set his brush down, he found that he was completely and utterly frozen. And so, Wally watched as the stocky figure made their way through his Home, into his room, and stood beside his lover. He watched as Cain took the knife, glistening in the moonlight, from his belt, his features dark and devoid of emotion. And he watched as Cain brought the knife down, making an awfully large mess on Wally's bed. 

     It was a good twenty minutes before any feeling returned to Wally's extremities, though he wasn't sure if that derived from the force that overcame him or the shock. Once he returned to his senses, however, he rushed into his bedroom, hoping to anybody that was listening that he wasn't too late. Climbing over the pools of blood that seeped into the sheets around you, he grabbed your wrist, checking for any signs of life. Nothing. He moved over your body desperately trying to find a pulse, as well as desperately trying to ignore that ugly gash on your neck. It was hopeless, but Wally knew that from the start. He begged. He begged until his voice went hoarse for you to wake up. He begged for you to smile at him and erase the darkness that was so pungent in the air. He longed for you to sit up and engulf him in an embrace while he ran his fingers through your hair. But you lay there, lifeless, devoid of any love that he had tried so hard to provide for you. And so, with his face buried into your unmoving chest, Wally wept. 

     Wally had never cried before, not that he could remember, anyways. There was never any reason to cry. He had you and his friends, he had his paintings and his apples, and he had the neighborhood and Home. Now, none of that mattered. His bedroom was insurmountably cold, and the only sound that could be heard was the occasional gasp from the sobbing puppet. It seemed as if time, if only for an instant, had allowed him a moment to grieve. When he finally sat up again many hours later, he found the room to be pitch black, despite the early morning hours. In fact, there appeared to be nothing in the room, only a void of nothingness that mirrored his heart. A voice spoke to him,
     "Do you want to fix this?" The voice seemed to be everywhere and everything, filling his head but not at the same time. He moved to stand up, his clothes and skin muted by your blood. It took him a few minutes for him to muster up an answer.
     "Yes." He replied, his voice barely above a whisper. 
     "Good. Stand still." And so Wally did. He dared not to move a muscle as red string seemed to float around his limbs, suspending him in the air. 
     "This will only hurt a little bit. Be a good puppet, won't you?" Two hands, large in design, took hold of either side of Wally's head. He held his breath, and the hands twisted.

     When Wally woke up once more, he was in his own bed. Although it was devoid of you, it was also devoid of your blood. Scurrying as fast as his little legs could take him, he ran outside, just in time to see you walking up the path to your house. On your very first day here. 

     The ending of the second time around was no different, with your motionless body in Wally's arms and the disembodied voice offering him a second chance. It was the same every time around after that, with Wally watching your end again and again and again. No amount of begging could change the outcome, no amount of preparation, and no amount of tears. But Wally always woke up once more, determined that this time around will be the one where he saves you. 

     This time around, Cain was even more emboldened than before. Never before had he gone as far as to speak to Wally directly, much less attempt to call his house. Though he feared the implications of this, it also excited him. Maybe this time around could truly be different. Maybe this time around, he could save you. 

     Wally watched your sleeping form as he prepared your food in the kitchen. He cradled a green apple in one hand, gazing at it endearingly, and handled a skillet in the other, trying to create some version of a pancake. You rose from your spot on the bed, the smell of food wafting deliciously throughout Home. Pushing yourself up, you made your way into the kitchen, where you saw Wally trying his hardest to not burn the pancake in the skillet. The green apple in his left hand was nearly gone, though he still cradled it gently, and he adorned a 'kiss the cook apron,' though it was much too long on him. You let out a content sigh as you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection.
     "Morning." You mumbled into his hair, trying ever so hard to not be suffocated by the smell of hairspray. Though he grimaced at the thought of having to re-fix his hair, he would've never dared to remove you from where you stood. He glanced up at the calendar, it was two days from your three-week anniversary of moving into the neighborhood. He turned his head to the side, placing a kiss on your cheek. 
     "Good afternoon, dear." He teased, grinning against your cheek as he planted another kiss. You hurriedly glanced up at the clock, confirming his words. 
      "Why did you let me sleep so late?" You said with a groan, burying your head once again into his fluffy tuft of hair. 
      "You were tired, and you're just so cute when you're snoring..." A blush spread across your cheeks as you rolled your eyes. Wally untangled his limbs from yours as he took the skillet off the stove. He ushered you to your chair, making sure to pull it out for you just as a gentleman would, and placed a stack of confetti pancakes in front of you. 
     "Bone apple teeth!" He said with a flourish, grabbing another apple and sitting across from you. You lifted a forkful of the pancake to your mouth, but stopped upon hearing his words. 
     "What did you just say?" You inquired, a singular eyebrow lifting up in confusion.
      "Bone... apple teeth?" He repeated again, though with a hint of hesitation lacing his words. You grinned, trying your hardest not to burst into a fit of laughter. 
      "Bon Appétit, Wally." His face flushed with embarrassment, though you only continued to grin. He attempted to repeat the words a few times, eventually settling on a mix between 'bone apple teeth' and 'bon appétit', which ended up as 'bon apeteeth'. Close enough.

     The two of you sat at the dining table, you with your surprisingly edible pancakes, and him with his apple, chatting aimlessly about the events of the day. You mentioned wanting to visit the apple orchard with him, which only made the spark in his eyes ignite even further. As you finished up your meal, you made your way into Wally's bathroom (which was basically just like your own at this point) and got ready. As you made your way out of the house, a wicker basket in hand, you could see Barnaby and Howdy discussing something hurriedly. Howdy's eyebrows creased in concern at the dog's words, though he quickly smiled when he noticed your staring.

     "Come on!" Wally pulled at your arm, forcing you to stumble as you made your way down to the orchard. The sun sat perfectly atop the clouds, creating a beautiful day that lulled all of the neighbors out of their houses. You walked hand in hand with Wally underneath the blue sky as he rambled about his favorite kinds of apples, though the conclusion was that he didn't have a favorite because he loved them all so much. When you arrived at the orchard, Wally burst into a sprint, grinning like a madman as he made his way into the abyss of trees. You watched affectionately as the small puppet made his way deeper into the trees, though he quickly vanished out of your line of sight. You sighed as you followed after him, though not at the speed that he had taken off with. You traveled down the path for a few minutes, following the sound of his excited rambling, before you were met with complete silence. You tried to follow the path further, but were startled by the sounds of branches snapping behind you. 

     When you turned around to investigate the sound, you were met with the sight of your ex-husband with a glimmering knife in his hand.