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milo-manheim-luver · 17 days

Text

October Sun

summary: the ability had manifested after your first semester of 7th grade. after the farmhouse cellar and the trail through the woods. after the EMTs and the policemen and Then Deputy Baxter. it was something you kept to yourself although you knew your mother had her suspicions. it made you more vulnerable to the things that go bump in the night, which was why you never used it. or so you thought.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

at last, the bbys have words! which means this is a long one 🕊️

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.9

The pulse between you and Wally flared to a fever pitch, swirling and cresting around you, into you, through you. One hand in your hair, fingers kneading; the other secure on your hip, supporting you firmly in his arms.

You wanted to bask in it forever, an intoxicating maelstrom of sensation, and all at once every pop ballad you'd heard growing up made sense. The kiss deepened and shallowed; a flick of his tongue, twin gasps, a moan, then back in, hungry and untethered.

Wally placed you on the edge of the stage, careful, like a totem at an altar, his lips never leaving yours for more than a breath. He stood between your thighs, big hands roaming down your arms to your waist, hips, up again, fingers teasing under the hem of your t-shirt.

Gradually, the feeling of hot need now lessened, though didn't dissipate completely. Rather, it softened into something contented, manageable. Satisfied now that you and Wally were tangled in each other's space.

Thoughts filtered in through the thinning cloud; questions you had to ask; admissions you had to give, so you put a stalling hand on Wally's chest and nudged gently.

"Wait," You said, and now you knew what you sounded like after being ravished to oblivion, wow. "We need to talk."

Wally blinked his eyes open, sweet brown almost entirely eclipsed by arousal. His lips, kiss-plumped and red, turned up in a smile you couldn't help but mirror.

Even though you'd shunned reason and responsibility—had gone against a lifetime of rules and shared yourself with a ghost—you felt at peace for the first time in days.

"What's up, baby?" Wally asked, pressing his forehead to yours. He took your hands in his, fingers laced, and waited for you to speak. But as you were about to, a lightbulb seemed to flick on in his head and he straightened. "Hold up," his voice dropped to a panicked whisper. "If you don't want anyone else to know, we should get out of here or Mina—"

"Is on lunch—" you air quoted, "—for another thirty minutes. She goes twice a day, sits outside the door, eats the same ham and cheese her mom packed her, and smokes the same cigarette she stole off Miranda Paterson before rehearsal."

Wally gaped, "I~ did not know that." Then he frowned cutely, "How do you know that?"

"My mom." You admitted, "She graduated the same year Mina died and warned me about it before I started here. She actually witnessed Mina's first loop." You grimaced, "The benefits of a residual haunting, I guess."

"Residual haunting?"

As you spoke, you crossed your ankles at the small of Wally's back and guided him back to you, "Basically, the worst kind of loop the dead can get stuck in." A peck to his lips, "At least, in my opinion."

"You know a lot about this stuff, huh?" He asked through quick, dry kisses of his own, grinning smugly when you chased his mouth as he leaned away.

You blushed and licked your lips, watched in fascination as Wally tracked the movement before doing the same. He squeezed the curve of your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, pulled you roughly against him, and nipped your lower lip.

"Tease," He said, rolling his hips against you so you could feel how worked up he was.

You moaned, the pulse flaring again, brief and bright, and oh hell no, you had to talk. Hoping to temper the connection back to a simmering second thought, you decided to answer Wally's question.

"My family has a long and unique history with the paranormal. According to my Nanna, we can trace it all the way back to the Arthurian Age." You punctuated your statement with a lingering kiss, separating on a sigh. "You make it really hard to concentrate."

You felt kind of dumb admitting that aloud and were relieved when Wally snickered, "Back at you, baby."

He stroked the back of his pointer finger down your cheek, gazing at you as if in worship. It was heady being on the receiving end of such a look, and you hoped he saw in your eyes equal awe and appreciation.

"How about we just—" He took a step backward, out of your space, and instantly the connection between you protested.

You whimpered, a grouchy kitten of a sound, and he reinserted himself between your legs, hands smoothing up your thighs to your hips where they rested.

"Or not." He said. After a lengthy pause, he asked, "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Nope. And we have a pretty specific collection of books at home. I couldn't find anything that talks about what this—" You indicated between you and him, "—might be. I'm praying that there'll at least be something there about why I can't see Maddie." You hadn't meant to divulge that tidbit so casually, but there it was.

Wally was visibly shocked, "Hold up, you can't see Maddie?" You shook your head, "So. At the bus stop yesterday, you really had no idea she was there?"

Holy shit, "Maddie was there?!"

Not all ghosts were visible, true, but every ghost had an assortment of ways to signal their presence. And you hadn't received any of them. No niggling thoughts in the back of your mind or strange prickles up your spine or high-pitched ringing in your ears. Zero, zip, zilch, nada.

"Yeah, she followed you and, uh, What's His Name—"

"Simon." You supplied, distracted.

"Him, yeah. She followed you guys out there. Wanted to see if you knew something about what happened to her."

Casting your mind back to yesterday's conversation, you tried to recall if Simon mentioned anything worthwhile. Except, he hadn't wanted to talk about Maddie. Not initially, not until you brought her up. Simon had wanted to talk about, "Whether or not I can see ghosts..." You glanced up at Wally. "That can't be coincidence. What if Simon's like me and he just can't see Maddie, either?"

Wally gave you a sympathetic look, "Trust me, that guy can't see ghosts."

"And how would you know that?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I've been here for a while, pretty girl." For some reason, that fact made your heart ache, "You're the second person with a pulse I've seen who I ever thought might be able to see me back."

"Second?"

Wally stared at you, long and hard, as if anticipating the pieces would slot into place. When they didn't, he helped you along, "You don't really look like her, you know?"

"Ah, yeah, obviously." Your mother, who had been a freshman at Wally's final Homecoming game. Your eyes narrowed, "How do you know it was my mom?"

"Back then, I didn't. But, after what you mentioned, it doesn't take a genius." Wally chuckled. "She never talked to me. And I never felt like this with her." He emphasized his point by delivering a bruising, heated kiss, parting with a wet-sticky smack.

Dazed, "Yeah, pretty sure that's something she'd lecture me about if it happened before. At least we can rule out that it's a 'you thing'."

"Cool, so it's not me. What about you?" Wally said, expression calculating, "What's changed?"

You cocked your head, "What do you mean?"

This time, Wally kissed you softly before he said, "Babe, you've managed to ignore me for three years because neither of us felt desperate to climb into each other's skin. So...why now?"

He was right.

You were a little impressed and a lot turned on. Wally had always come across to you as a bit of a stereotypical jock: somewhat slow on the uptake, but well-meaning and full of heart. And muscle. And stop it right there, not the time!

It made you consider that, while there was this intense, driving connection between you both, you didn't really know Wally Clark that well at all. Yes, you'd observed Wally from afar for the duration of your high school career, but up until yesterday, you'd never spoken, never revealed personal secrets or interests or anything.

As far as you were aware, he liked football and football-related things, and you were pretty sure he had an equally shallow idea of what made you tick aside from being able to see dead people.

Saddened by the realization, you blurted, "What's your favorite color?"

Wally seemed adorably rightly confused, "What?"

You repeated, "Your favorite color, what is it?"

"Um, red. What's yours?"

"Purple." Some days. "Or dark orange." Sounded more accurate, but actually, "Mostly green, but not, like, neon or anything."

Wally pressed his lips together, suppressing a goofy smile for a couple of seconds before surrendering it. "That answer totally suits you." He bussed you on the nose, making you go cross-eyed for a moment, "Do colors mean something?"

"No," You shook your head lightly, twinkling, "I just thought we should probably get to know each other better if we're gonna be under the influence of random hedonist ghost energy."

"Do you think that's what's making your powers go on the fritz?" Wally wondered, his phrasing punching a laugh out of you.

"Nah, it's not as simple as a glitch in the Matrix. This shit doesn't get glitchy."

Taking him by the wrists, you led his hands behind so that you were more fully encased in his arms, tucking your head under his chin and circling your arms loosely around his waist. You felt safe, wrapped up in him like that. Like nothing bad could or would ever happen to you again.

"Okay..." He said, picking through what information you'd given him so far. "If your ghost powers are working and it's not because of whatever's going on with us, maybe it's Maddie? Maybe you can't see her because she's new? She hasn't been dead as long as the rest of us, only since last Friday..."

"Uhm, yeah, also not how this works." You replied playfully, bumping the tip of your nose to his, "Trust me, it takes four minutes before a person goes from attached to their earthen vessel to haunting the science lab."

A wicked, ruthless moment for everyone involved.

The scar on your left hand itched, reminding you of the nightmare that had hauled you in and coughed you out of that farmhouse cellar. Where you'd discovered—down to the second—how long it takes a soul to disconnect from the living world and cross over.

You groaned, "Maddie can't be dead." A hill you would proudly die on because that was the only explanation that made any kind of sense.

Wally wasn't convinced, "She seems pretty dead to me. I can see her. Rhonda, and Charley, and the others can see her. No one else can."

Feeling like a parrot, you repeated, "And I can't. What if...What if she isn't dead? What if she's trapped?"

"You mean more trapped than the rest of us?"

The statement inspired a whole host of questions that you forced yourself to ignore for the time being.

"This is gonna sound insane—"

"You're literally talking to a ghost."

"Insane-er," You amended, "But Maddie could've slipped into an In Between somehow." You barely had an argument, the list of hypotheticals dismal against what knowledge you'd collected from various factual sources, but you weren't willing to let it go. "Look, death is a very direct journey from one plane to the next, no detours. But if she isn't dead, then it could be possible."

Wally's eyes seemed to be trailing an onslaught of thoughts as they traveled across his mind. "Okay, yeah, you're right, that sounds insane. What the hell is an In Between?"

"It's—" A distant metallic snap-shudder pierced the otherwise quiet theater, interrupting you. Before you were able to discern where it had come from, you felt a hand grab your shoulder from behind.

You gasped, knocked back into yourself, and when you looked up, you saw Wally in a state of bewilderment, standing with his mouth agape and eyes the size of dinner plates, at the end of the center aisle that's length now divided you.

A familiar, though markedly less friendly, voice demanded, "What are you doing in here?" and when you glanced over your shoulder, Mr. Anderson stared, hard and haggard, awaiting your explanation.

💀___________________________

PART EIGHT

note: dun dun dun...i really hope you guys are still with me 😅 the next update might take me a little longer. between schoolwork and work-work and Life Things, i'm kinda swamped, but i'll do my absolute best to getter done!

sidenote: please let me know if the taglist ISN'T working for you. i'm fiddling with it in the hopes that something will work, so i need some feedback 🫥 merci my loves!

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!

@chosenoneslver @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @call-me-bunny @vi0lentb3rry @ilbradipodisagiato @champagne-cool @bbjel @miwagila @calam-arii @lovekm @melcatherine24 @valskeeper @milo-manheim-luver @starstruck-cupid @frenchvanillabatty @timetravelingmedstudent-blog @remanisce @noonesgoneuntiltheyregone @sukihito @alnitakstarsky03 @naok-iyuu @capailluiscedove @clearglittersparkle @cancelledkaley @jjmaysbaby @girlkissersco @bebbalandia @pixxiestixs @elauranicolee @madsrose @justareadernotawriter1 @hakunama-fuckit @alnitakstarsky03 @twsssmlmaa @urmomsspeciallady @bookedbymiri @thekebs @kitthouse @jacks4lifer @pommepiie @makennadement @kaceyh24 @1118b @deafstuff @musicownsme @onlyaero @peppermint-girl-blog @moonbutt12345 @moonlit-luna @allurycenoelle @briwasnothere @emilysamirrorball @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @amberputh @lunacurlclaw @unfortunatekiwitrash @rideacowbcy @aurory--borealis @lindsayjoy444 @cthoodaf @lomlbillieeilish @jasf444 @hoonieyun @styles-lov3r @vacillier @nowillingtolive @penny-the-pilea

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milo-manheim-luver · 21 days

Text

October Sun

summary: you'd known that Simon wasn't okay since it had been announced that they'd found blood in the boiler room. his pain, his hurt, his loss had spilled out from him and into you and you'd had no clue how to handle it. and then suddenly, you'd been soothed, and all you'd been able to think of had been getting to the source of that comfort and giving thanks.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.8

Wally couldn't stop thinking about earlier. How the slopes and arches of your body fit against him like a puzzle piece. How malleable you'd been under his touch. The intense liquid heat that had thrummed between you both as he'd leaned in to kiss you; heartbeats synchronized, eyes fluttering closed, utterly surrendered to the sensation.

He'd kissed a few girls when he'd been alive. Hell, he'd made out with Dawn a handful of times when adrenaline and hormones had needed an outlet. None of those experiences held a candle to what he'd felt when he'd just barely brushed his lips to yours.

There was something underneath it all. Not just his attraction to you, which he'd harbored for going on two years now. Something else. Something mystical and big and unleashed. Maybe you already knew what it was. After all, you could reach through the veil, hear and see and feel Wally...maybe you had an explanation.

If only the connection between you and Wally hadn't made it practically impossible to finish a conversation.

"Where'd you go, superstar?"

Wally nearly jumped in surprise, having forgotten he wasn't alone. He glanced around, saw Katelynn—the courtyard fatality—and Ajay studying him as intently as Rhonda. They were in the kitchen piling a late lunch of leftovers onto their plates while, around them, the staff muddled through their end-of-day breakdown.

"Uh," Wally supplied, intelligently. He was a miserable liar, something Rhonda had teased him for mirthlessly in the past. Told him he was as easy to read as 3rd grade English (ouch). But he didn't take his promises lightly and knew he had to come up with something or Rhonda would grill him until he broke. Deflection it was, "Do you think Maddie had a good time?"

Rhonda, perched primly on a counter, rolled her eyes and plucked a bread roll from the bin one of the staff was about to seal. "Jesus, you really are ditzy for her, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that," Wally said. He really wouldn't, "I just want her to—"

"Confess her undying love? Make you the center of her universe and forget all about her dreamy, badboy ex?" Rhonda scoffed, "Hate to break it to you, hot stuff, but you'd just be a rebound and we all know how those end."

"Badly?" Katelynn guessed. Having been fourteen when she'd kicked the bucket, she'd likely never had the chance to explore the intricacies of romance. Or of all its thorns.

Rhonda's hands clamped and then bloomed in front of her as she vocalized a bomb exploding.

"No, Rhonda, that's not it," Wally spoke in long strokes, as if to a child, willing away a flash of irritation. "What I was gonna say was that I want her to know there's more to being dead than trying to solve your own murder." Since, after all was said and done, there'd be nothing left to do besides passively haunt Split River High.

And that shit got dull after a semester or two.

Unexpectedly, "I spoke to her today." Rhonda admitted, somewhat reluctant, as the group paraded from the kitchen into the cafeteria. Wally encouraged her to continue with a smile, "About how I died. She thought it could help, so..." She slid into her regular seat next to Wally, eyes fixed on her plate, "I guess it did because she took off after."

It was obvious that relinquishing even that morsel of information made her uncomfortable, shoulders curled to her ears and lips pursed, those metaphorical walls re-erecting.

Wally clapped her on the back, "You did good, Deadly." A fond nickname he used sparingly as it often earned him an elbow to the ribs.

This time, Rhonda simply glared a warning at him before tearing a piece off her bread roll and smearing it through the gravy on Wally's plate. Progress, he supposed.

To move the conversation away from Rhonda, Wally engaged Katelynn, "I saw you with the extinguisher today."

Katelynn grinned through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"You know what we should do next time? We get those chairs with the wheels, a couple of fire extinguishers..." He mimed the scene with fervor, grinning conspiratorially between the others, "We could do it in the gym. Take bets. See who goes farthest. It would be awesome!"

Rhonda patted his knee twice—thank you—under the table. How she displayed gratitude without being obvious. As discreetly as possible, Wally returned the gesture, tapping three times to indicate I've got you.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Somehow, you'd done it: graduated to the end of the school day without incident. Sure, Mathilda had given you a funny look when you'd made your excuses to stay behind, but she'd been too distracted by what pieces to include in her portfolio to cross-examine you about it.

"Text me later, sillybean!" She called over her shoulder as she, Hana, and Lucas exited the school.

The siblings waved in unison, Hana pirouetting and blowing you a kaleidoscope of exaggerated kisses before falling back into step with her brother.

You turned back to your locker, shoving in your backpack and your uncle's hoodie. You'd accepted that the connection between you and Wally quashed any attempt you made to hide from him; berated yourself for not realizing it sooner.

After you'd closed the door and slipped the lock back into place, you mustered your courage and turned toward the direction of the theater. You could do this. Without getting sidetracked.

Yeah, you believed that about as much as you believed the lunchroom bread rolls were 'made fresh' everyday.

A metallic clamor caught your attention before you'd even stepped a foot forward, causing you to hesitate. Down several lockers along the row, Simon shook his lock against the hasp furiously. He was unmistakably upset, jaw tight, vibrating with unfettered anger.

You approached him just as he kicked the locker below his.

"Here," You said, inserting yourself between Simon and his locker, "What's the combo?"

Without pause, "8-37-15," he recited through gritted teeth.

You dialed the combination, unhooked the lock and held it out for Simon to take.

"You okay?" You asked, already aware of the answer.

"Yes." Simon said then abruptly changed his mind, "No. I don't know." He dumped his bag at his feet and rummaged through the contents of his locker only to give up and spin around. Propped against the closed bottom level, Simon ran his hands through his hair roughly, reminding you of someone with far too much responsibility that outweighed their experience.

"What's going on, Si?"

He lifted his head, brow creased with despair, "Aren't friends supposed to trust each other?"

The question knocked you for six. Unsure if it was rhetorical, you chose to stay quiet and, sure enough, Simon expounded. "Aren't friends supposed to tell each other things, even if it's hard? Even if they think it might hurt? Because, at the end of the day, you chose that person to be there for you no matter what. And that person chose you right back."

No questions asked. Your voice overlapped with Xavier's, years worth of emotional petitions for comfort and unbiased support echoing in your head.

Thinking of your friend, you wondered, "Is this about Nicole leaving with Xavier after lunch?"

Simon seemed surprised by the news, yet, after a second, confirmed, "Yeah. Uh, yeah, it's about that."

He stared at his feet, arms folded tightly across his middle, chewed his lip as he pondered what he wanted to disclose. Finally, "I just want to be there for her, but it's like she won't let me. And it sucks." His voice was damp with pain. "And now she's pissed and she's shut me out and...I don't know what to do."

When he raised his head again, you almost choked on the sorrow in his eyes. You wanted to hug him, hold him, cry. Here was a boy whose best friend had, for all intents and purposes, left him behind, and now he was scared he'd lost someone else.

The mounting sadness radiating from Simon made your eyes sting. You had no clue how to comfort him, not like you did Xavier or Mathilda, the two people you'd chosen and who'd chosen you back.

The strength of secondhand emotion chipped away at you, threatened to shatter you into a thousand anguished pieces, but just as you thought you would break, a familiar warmth sunk into the cracks. The sensation blossomed upward and concentrated behind your ribs, loosening a deep breath of relief.

Absently, you shifted your hand the slightest bit away from where it rested against your thigh, the movement undetectable unless one was looking for it. The warmth grew, contented and safe, and then—a whisper of fingertips across the back of your hand, there and gone.

You didn't move, kept your gaze on Simon; simply waited for Wally to enter your periphery. His back was to you, his hand returning to his jacket pocket as he, Rhonda, and a couple of others walked toward the end of the hall. You vaguely saw him split from the rest of the group, Wally going left while the other three went right.

Simon swallowed, mournful, and he rasped, "What do I do?"

Invigorated by Wally's touch, you planted yourself in front of Simon, placed your hands on his shoulders, and urged him to, "Talk to her. People knock communication like it's some kind of cheap cliche, but it's the best way to resolve things." He nodded, weak but resolute, and you dragged him into a hug. "Trust me," You said, "Just be honest and listen. You don't have to understand everything, you just have to accept it."

Simon chuckled wetly, squeezed you tighter for an instant before releasing you.

"Thanks."

"Any time." And you meant it with every fiber of your being. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Simon said, scrubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes, "I'll be fine." He cleared his throat, "Listen, um, I forgot something in the cafeteria, but if you want to wait I could give you a ride home."

Something in his tone suggested the offer was halfhearted, though you appreciated it all the same.

"Nah, it's cool. I have to study." You replied, already positioning yourself to leave. Simon didn't mention that the library was in the other direction, merely flashed you a small, grateful smile.

"See you tomorrow." He saluted.

Free to excuse yourself, you found you had to fight the desire to go go go, hurry, go, that warm sensation purring louder the closer you got to the theater. Fuck making sure the coast was clear, you were supposed to be in there right now; swung the door open with probably a lot more force than necessary.

Wally, who had been sitting on the edge of the stage awaiting your arrival, hopped down as soon as you entered the darkened space, his gaze instantly locking with yours.

One dubious step, two, three, and the warmth fizzled and licked inside you, encouraging your pace to quicken, faster, nearer. You broke into a run, closing the distance, Wally's stare never wavering. With less than a foot remaining, you sprung up and forward, body colliding into his. He caught you easily, held you in his arms with one hand under a thigh and the other around your waist.

No thoughts, no words, no inhibitions; fever-hot and eager; Wally's jaw in your palms, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN

note: they're so good at talking, eh? 😏 anyway, to let y'all in on my little headcanon: Hana is "helpful student" from episode 2, the girl who alerts Mr. Anderson to the deputy at the door when the class is watching Frankenstein (1931).

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!

@chosenoneslver @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @call-me-bunny @vi0lentb3rry @ilbradipodisagiato @user01283890 @champagne-cool @bbjel @miwagila @calam-arii @lovekm @melcatherine24 @valskeeper @milo-manheim-luver @starstruck-cupid @frenchvanillabatty @timetravelingmedstudent-blog @remanisce @wdwambs277 @noonesgoneuntiltheyregone @sukihito @xkzkskdnfsnsn @alnitakstarsky03 @naok-iyuu @capailluiscedove @clearglittersparkle @cancelledkaley @jjmaysbaby @girlkissersco @bebbalandia @pixxiestixs @elauranicolee @madsrose @justareadernotawriter1 @hakunama-fuckit @alnitakstarsky03 @twsssmlmaa @urmomsspeciallady @bookedbymiri @thekebs @kitthouse @jacks4lifer @pommepiie @makennadement @kaceyh24 @1118b @deafstuff @musicownsme @onlyaero @peppermint-girl-blog @moonbutt12345 @moonlit-luna @allurycenoelle @briwasnothere @emilysamirrorball @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @amberputh @lunacurlclaw @unfortunatekiwitrash @rideacowbcy @aurory--borealis @lindsayjoy444 @ooopsiedaisy997 @cthoodaf

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milo-manheim-luver · 21 days

Note

You support a Zionist who supports a whole genocide be frl 💀

this made me laugh lol.

a. idk who the fuck you think you are. but please for the love of god don’t come onto MY page and throw out accusations that have ZERO proof.

just because milo is standing up against Antisemitism DOES NOT mean he’s a zionist. he’s a JEW who’s speaking up against people like YOU who ARE discriminating against him and other jews alike for just being a jew. fuck off really. what would you like him to do? sit around and let others discriminate against him and all other jews for just being jewish?

oh and b. you’re too much of a fucking little bitch to even show your user so get the fuck out of here. frl. i don’t need your pathetic negativity on my page :)

#milo manheim

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milo-manheim-luver · 21 days

Photo

MILO MANHEIM in DOOGIE KAMEĀLOHA, M.D.

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milo-manheim-luver · 24 days

Text

GUHHH???

mans said “i have no ass and a dream”

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milo-manheim-luver · 25 days

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October Sun

summary: Confronted with the fact that Maddie was a ghost but, somehow, you hadn't been able to see her, you'd needed Wally to answer some questions. Unfortunately, the interrogation hadn't gone quite as planned...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.7

The world swam into focus, reality cementing itself as you rose to the surface by gentle degrees. Shapes bled along their edges, sight still partially in dreams, and your room was late-night dark.

Definitely not time to wake up yet, so why had you?

You sat up on a heavy exhale, groggy as you scanned your body for answers. Nothing. No pain, no desperate bladder, no dead limbs that protested leaving the comfort of your sleep-warm sheets. Rubbing your eyes, you swung your legs over the side of your bed and bowed your back to release the tension that had settled while you'd slept.

Slowly, straining your ears, you realized the house was silent. Not the typical clouding of sound that often descended after a certain hour, but absolutely silent. Void of any noise whatsoever. As if every molecule and atom had trembled to a dead stop, sound ceasing to exist with nothing to carry it.

A creeping, crawling sensation nudged your left side, not quite touching; an energy that crested into the barrier separating one dimension from the next. Yours. And Theirs.

You choked on a dry swallow, panning your head to the left, the silence bearing down like a weight on your shoulders. There. At the foot of your bed. A door in its frame, freely standing, ominous and unbelonging.

Your heart pounded; breath shuddered; tears welled in your eyes. You recognized it, the dry, greyed wood and rusted handle horrifyingly familiar. You'd seen it, had walked through it twice—in and out—had used it to shut in the monster that had abused your innocence. Gouged into it, bled it, chewed it up, and spat it out. Fed it back to you as a shrunken, mangled thing.

Please, no.

The rattle of the handle shook through the silence, sharp and metallic and terrifying. Without thinking, you leapt across the space between, threw your body against the door, and held tight to the handle. Sobbing. Screaming for your mother. Help, God, please, help me!

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. No sound, no voice, no help. The handle rattled harder, faster; the monster on the other side beat against the door like a war drum.

Bam.

The pulse of a tarred heart, the wood swelling forward then shrinking back again. Your knees buckled and you sunk to the floor, gripping the handle with every ounce of strength you had. Tears streamed down your cheeks, each gasp for breath thick and wet, please please no!

"You're dead, you little bitch! You hear me!? DEAD!!"

Again, you screamed, and this time it cracked through the night, the sound splitting across the silence like a spiderweb. Again. Again. Screaming against the void, against the clattering handle, the battering wood.

The silence shattered completely, a blast of air moved in to take its place, and the door...disappeared. You crumpled into a heap on your bedroom floor, folding over your knees and sobbing hard. And then your mother was there, kind hands and comforting words, cradling you against her chest. Safe. Finally safe.

But for how long?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You were spiraling, thoughts a thousand voices rising and falling in waves, most of them warning you against lifting your phone to your ear and using it as a buffer in case anyone walked by.

Well, too late, you'd already done it, because Wally had said Maddie's name. Casually, as if he'd spent time with her, hung out with her like friends do. And Wally was a ghost which meant Maddie was a ghost, except that you. saw. dead. people. Had that M Night Shyamalan flavor to you, but you couldn't see Maddie.

Jesus Christ, my mom's going to kill me. The thought pitched high above the others, over and over again, only quieting when you finally spoke.

"What did you just say?"

And Wally looked slightly disarmed by the question like he hadn't anticipated you'd ask about anything other than how he spent his afternoons when he wasn't destroying metaphysical school property. Which, yes, you were honestly curious about, but now.was.not.the.time.

"Uh..." Wally seemed to replay in his mind what he'd said in the last few minutes, "About Field Day?"

You shook your head, simultaneously checking your surroundings. There was no one around; just you and a ghost you r e a l l y shouldn't be talking to.

"About Maddie," You clarified in a hushed tone. "You said you were showing her the ropes?"

"Well, yeah. She's way too in her head about how she died, you know? I just wanted to help get her mind off it for a bit. Why?" Wally suddenly looked worried. "Is that...are you mad? Because she and I are totally just friends. Even though Rhonda thinks I have a crush on her, I don't, so, like, don't listen to her."

You flipped through your mental rolodex, trying to figure out which ghost Wally meant. "Rhonda? The one with the oral fixation?"

Wally grinned a dopey, sunbright grin, clearly happy that you could identify who was who amongst Split River High's otherworldly residents. You couldn't help it, your heart melted at the sight.

Something in the air shifted. Thickened. Wally's image suddenly sharpened against a bokeh blur, the world around you easing out of focus. Across from you, Wally appeared to notice the change in atmosphere, his eyes hazing over the way Xavier's did when he indulged his vape.

The urgency you'd felt moments before seeped from your pores and into the breeze, replaced with a muggy kind of desire. The feeling reached from your chest to Wally, instinct leading you to conclude that he could assuage it if only he were nearer.

Your heartbeat skipped and your breathing shallowed as you observed Wally closing the short distance between you until only a few inches remained.

Staring down at you, eyes at half-mast, he reassured, "Yeah, that's her. But, I swear, she doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Right." You whispered—what were you talking about?—watching his gaze slide left to right then down to your lips where it lingered for weighted seconds. Time lapsed, a drowsy slog from one minute to the next, and all the busy thoughts you'd been having drained from your head. "What?"

Mouth dipping closer to yours, Wally responded, low, simmered, "I didn't say anything, pretty girl." One large hand found purchase on your waist, the other on the slope of your neck, his thumb stroking a blissed path across your lower lip.

He angled his head, tracking closer, breath mingling with yours.

"I'm going to kiss you." He stated and your eyes fell closed. God, his voice; sandpaper hoarse as if he'd already spent careful hours taking you apart and piecing you back together. "Gotta tell me you want it, baby."

Vaguely, you nodded, consumed by the dense, silky warmth that had slumped over you both. "Yeah~."

Wally's lips brushed yours, parted and soft, and followed by the wet flick of his tongue. A tease, there and gone, but still so good. A tingle washed over your scalp, down your nape, up your arms; body responding to Wally's touch with an intensity you'd never experienced before. Your mouth parted slightly, drawing in each of his humid breaths like ambrosia as he hovered.

His grip firmed on your waist, fingertips pressed their mark into your flesh, and the tip of his nose grazed your cheek—more, more, more. He shuddered, wanton, the sound filthy and debauched, coaxing a whimper out of you and finally, finally, you felt him press in—

))) bzzzzzzzzzt (((

Your phone vibrated against your ear, shocking you out of the trance. Wally came-to as well, matching your movements and taking two full strides backward.

"Shit!" You rasped. "It's Tilly."

Where the hell are you? The text read in fewer characters, Mathilda's question accentuated by a string of random emojis: A fried shrimp. A potato. Two roller-skates and an angry cat.

"Okay." Wally said. He was scratching the back of his head, looking around himself as if there was some sign of what had guided you both into the situation that had just unfolded between you. And then he processed what you'd said, "Wait, who?"

"My best friend." You stated as you typed your response. When you finished, you looked at him, phone once more pressed to your ear, "We'll have to finish this later." His expression sobered, a dark, sultry cast to it. "Not that!" You amended, "Maddie!"

Wally's face fell, though he recovered quickly, "Yeah, right, sure." He made to take a step toward you which you reacted to by holding up a halting hand.

"Just...stay there. Don't. Don't move." Because if he moseyed into your space again, you knew you'd climb him like a tree and let him have his wicked way with you, carte blanche. "Until we figure this—" You gestured between the both of you, "—out, we need to stay at least three feet apart." If it was good enough for the CDC, it was good enough for you to deter whatever insane bouts of ghost-lust kept affecting you.

After all, you had Maddie to think about. Maddie who, despite what Wally had inferred, wasn't dead because you couldn't see her, even if she was somehow haunting the high school alongside Wally and the others.

Those were the facts you had to believe were true otherwise you'd unravel.

Really, you needed more information. "I have to go before Tilly decides to come looking." Wally nodded sagely, "But...okay, how about after school?" You suggested as you started toward the side door. "Meet me in the theater."

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

You flushed crimson, stammered, "I-good. Great." Awkwardly, you twisted around and set a hastened pace to the door, leaving Wally behind to do with the rest of his day what he would. And then you remembered, "Wait!" You reversed along your path, jogging back to him.

He hadn't moved, hands in the pockets of his sweater, a silly grin slanted across his mouth. You almost crossed the imaginary line, overstepping the three-foot mark by inches before hurriedly rectifying the error.

Wally smiled, "Yeah?"

"You can't..." You stopped, started again, imploring, "Wally, you can't tell anyone. Please," pleading with your eyes that he accept the gravity of what you were risking by speaking to him. "If anyone finds out." A worried pause. "No one can know...please."

Disregarding your three-foot rule completely, Wally strolled right into your space, placed one of his big hands on your cheeks and smoothed a dry, gentle kiss to the spot between your brows, staying there for a moment before pulling away.

He held your gaze, bold and sure, and said, "I promise, baby. I won't tell a soul." Wally released you with a wink, backing up a number of steps then turning in the direction of the field.

You were marshmallow soft and way too pleased with how he'd bid you goodbye, evidenced by the ridiculous grin you could feel plastered on your face.

God dammit.

You were in so much trouble.

💀___________________________

PART SIX

note: guys. GUUUYYS. THANK YOU!! your response to this story has been incredible and i am deeply grateful for your engagement 😭 like, i cannot even BEGIN to express how much it means to me that y'all are interested in what i've got to share 😭 i intend to have the next part up soon, but i've just started back at school so🤞

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