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whoopsyeahokay · 14 days ago

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Cannonball

summary: prompt fill. it's the worst day of the year, and you need a distraction. too bad the one person you rely on to be there for you has vanished into the ether, leaving you alone with your thoughts. or has he? (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. oneshot. established relationship. cuties in love.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🟪

Cannonball

July. Your least favorite time of the year.

Without the regular activity within the school, there's nothing to distract you from the reality that you're deader than a doornail and your body is still buried under a tree a few feet over the Split River High boundary line.

Killed in 1910. Before the church was demolished to build the school. A parish shepherded by the loathsome Father Bloom, who had an eye for naïve, young girls dedicated to God.

You were one of six who'd been killed at his hands; the first victim. The only one whose body had never been found, and the only one whose ghost had remained stuck in the metaphysical world.

At first, you were convinced that your soul wasn't pure enough to ascend to Heaven, unlike Theresa, and Louise, Victoria, Catherine, and Heather. The girls whose ghosts crossed over within days of their murders.

As time went on, the parish and cemetery were relocated, the church demolished, the school erected in its stead. The boundary line expanded, and other ghosts joined you in the afterlife. You couldn't believe Janet Hamilton wasn't pure enough to go through the pearly gates, curious and kind and Christian.

It was because of her that you realized there was no rhyme or reason for it; some ghosts just got left behind. With Mr. Martin's help, you were able to release the guilt and confusion that had clung to you since Father Bloom had cut you open and bled you out.

Not entirely, but enough that you no longer feel that you were denied your ticket to Heaven because you'd broken your mother's priceless Capodimonte and had blamed it on your little brother.

Father Bloom's actions weren't driven by an angry God to punish you. He was responsible all by himself, and now he's burning in Hell for it.

Or so you hope.

Damn it, you're doing it again. Thinking about the past when you should focus on the here and now. And you want to, but your emotional support Wally was nowhere to be found before or after breakfast.

Normally, he's stuck to you like Velcro, especially around the anniversary of your death. Convincing you with conversation and cuddles that things aren't so bad; that he's grateful he died too, because he got to meet you (such a sap, you think with a little smile); that you and he should do this or that to distract you from the slow crest of intrusive thoughts that plague you as the 13th looms closer.

"And how is this supposed to make me feel better?" You asked, raising a brow at Wally as he grinned back at you, cow eyes twinkling.

"Come on, just trust me, close your eyes and describe it." He insisted as he took your hand in his and squeezed.

You sighed, rolled your eyes, but did as instructed. After a deep breath, you began, "If I could, I'd go back to the beach with my family. Build sandcastles like Les—" Your little brother "—and I used to." A smile crept across your face as you remembered how those days felt. And then you chuckled, "My mother would be scandalized by the swimsuits now. She didn't even like the one I wore then and it was practically a dress."

You peeked one eye open and caught Wally giving you the softest look you'd ever seen on his face. "Yeah? You thinkin' an itty bitty bikini?"

Both eyes opened, a playful smirk, "No, but apparently you are," you teased, warmed through when Wally ducked his head and bit his lip, trying to hide that he was picturing you in so little.

He'd given you your first kiss that day.

Wally had been a surprise, no doubt about it. Someone you were reluctant to let your guard down around at first. Bold and brazen and cocky. Big personality with big ambitions that never diminished, regardless of the barrier that kept everyone within a certain radius of the school.

He was loud, pushy. Overtly flirtatious in a way that encouraged you to avoid him at all costs. And then, one July, he found you curled up on the couch in the Faculty Lounge, staring into the distance, chin on your knees and arms tight around your legs.

Three failed jokes later, Wally realized you weren't okay and he just...sat with you. Nattered on about whatever popped into his head—mostly things about his cousin Dennis and the trouble they'd give Wally's mother. He didn't stop talking, and you finally started listening, pulled into one anecdote after another until, at last, you snorted. Which turned into a choked little giggle. Which blossomed into a full-blown belly laugh when Wally described how Dennis had been more mud than boy by the end of his tale.

"Feel better?" He asked, voice low and earnest.

You thought about it for a moment before, "a little," you said, and gave Wally a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Any time," He said with a shrug, so casual and easy, his gaze flickering across your face as if he was studying you for a test.

Wally's the reason you make it through July without going into that horrible state of suspension. Barely existing, staring into space as your brain replays your life over and over. Picks apart all the things that went wrong and how you could've avoided them. Days turn into weeks turn into months without moving an inch, the world outside your head muted completely until something happens to snap you out of it.

It hasn't happened since 1958, when you were yanked out of the stupor by the fire that claimed Mr. Martin and Janet's lives. But it can, is the point. And Wally knows that, so where is he?

You must've made a face or something, because Rhonda stops mid-sentence and looks down at you.

"If you want me to stop, you just have to say so." She says, expression quickly hardening.

"No!" You respond quickly, "No, please, keep going. I was just...getting in my head again." A sheepish smile, "Sorry..."

Rhonda doesn't exactly soften, but her features loosen somewhat, and she picks up where she left off.

You're truly grateful to have her company after you couldn't find Wally (or Charley, or Janet, or Ajay, or Katelynn, or—) before or after breakfast. Where the hell was everyone?

It doesn't matter, you suppose, settling back in to listen as Rhonda recites chapter 12 of a modern book that recently resurged in popularity amongst the student body, particularly the girls.

Sparkly vampires and werewolves and toxic relationship dynamics aren't usually your thing, but why not? Rhonda does the voices, and you enjoy how she pauses to rant about something totally inept every few pages.

A gentle breeze casts across your skin as you soak in the summer sun; the deranged and silly antics of the characters make you giggle even when the scene is supposed to be serious. It's as nice a distraction as any.

...

But...

It's just that this moment would be even better with Wally there. Cuddled up in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, his big hands caressing your back or waist or thighs—safe and secure and close—while he inserts his own crude jokes every few lines because he can't help himself.

"Aaand you're gone again." Rhonda's voice penetrates your spiraling thoughts.

You blink rapidly, once again forcing yourself back to the present to offer her an apologetic smile, "Sorry, sorry, just...thinking about...stuff."

Rhonda arches a brow, "Stuff as in the anniversary of your death? Or stuff as in why your boyfriend isn't the one reading to you about dumb vampires?"

"Both." You say after a moment, sitting up to stare out over the field. Another short lull, and then, "He's been weird the last couple of days. I can tell he's hiding something, but every time I tried to confront him, he got all squeaky and just...took off." You look at Rhonda, chewing your lip, "You don't think he's trying to break up with me, do you?"

Rhonda clearly isn't expecting you to ask that, because her eyes widen and her jaw drops for a split second before she schools her expression, "God no. That idiot loves you more than anything." She snorts, "So much that he sacrifices his jelly donuts for you."

You blush, eyes all soft and smile warm, "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" And your heart pitter-patters at the memory of Wally holding the box of donuts out to you without so much as a second thought, encouraging you to take the last jelly donut with a lopsided grin.

When you look at Rhonda again, her face is pinched in displeasure.

"If you could not make that face while I'm around, I'd appreciate it," She grumbles, rolling her eyes, but you know her well enough by now that she doesn't mean it. That, despite how often she complains about the lovesick expressions you and Wally exchange, Rhonda fully supports you and him and your unconventional, in-death love story.

"I'd say sorry, but it'd be a lie," You snicker, bumping Rhonda's shoulder with your own. "Seriously, though, what's up with everyone?" You look at the sky as you try to put into words what you've observed from everyone lately. "Charley's acting odd, too. And Janet. And Ajay. It's like they all have some big secret and they won't tell me. Did something happen?"

"Not that I know of," Rhonda answers before sticking her lollipop in her mouth, offering you her usual disinterest when it comes to the actions and behaviors of her fellow ghosts. "Who cares, anyway? No one is going anywhere. If they are hiding something, it'll come out eventually."

"Yeah..." A heavy sigh, shoulders sagging, "I guess you're right."

‗•‗

An hour later and Rhonda has moved on to the second book in the series. You've been dozing in her lap, her fingers in your hair to keep you mellow since your mind kept wandering to Wally and your death and back again.

It isn't enough, though. You're getting restless, antsy, bored with the events unfolding in gloomy Forks, Washington. Bored with the sunshine and the breeze. You need to move.

Just as you open your mouth to suggest heading inside, you hear the low rumble of an engine and the sound of tires in the grass.

"Jesus, finally," Rhonda says under her breath, unmistakably relieved.

Suspicious, you sit up and narrow your eyes at her, "Finally, what?" You ask, but your attention is drawn to the golf cart making its way toward you. Specifically, to the driver.

Wally grins through the windshield, all teeth and crinkled eyes, so bright it's infectious, and you can't keep yourself from mirroring his good mood. Standing, you step down the rows between you and the ground, and meet him as he pulls the golf cart to a jerky stop.

"Hey, pretty girl," He greets, hopping out and jogging around the front of the golf cart to sweep you into his arms. "I missed you."

"And whose fault is that?" You quip, though you're smiling, "You could've joined us out here if you hadn't been avoiding me."

Alarmed, Wally pulls you into a hug, long arms fastened around you, his voice against your cheek as he presses kisses to your face. "Babe, I wasn't avoiding you, I promise. I just had some...things to take care of."

You lean back, eyes narrowed, "Things?"

"Things." He returns and now he's grinning, big and proud and...suspicious, you think.

"What things?"

He teeter-totters his head, beaming, and says as nonchalantly as Wally is capable of, "It may or may not be a surprise." And he looks so proud, a kid watching their mom put on the fridge their interpretation of a lion drawn in messy crayon.

Your eyes widen, "Surprise?" and you glance over your shoulder at Rhonda, who has since descended the bleachers to settle herself in the back of the golf cart, regarding you and Wally with her usual apathy.

Things click into place; Wally's uncharacteristic secretiveness, Charley's weird deflections, Janet's scared mouse routine, Ajay's... Okay, honestly, Ajay's hard to read on a good day, so you can't be one-hundred percent sure he's been in on the whole thing, but you figure he must have been, being Wally's best buddy.

"Surprise?" You repeat when Rhonda blatantly ignores the question, your gaze returning to Wally's.

He nods enthusiastically, "Surprise." That's it, that's all he says, giving nothing away. "Come on, I can't wait for you to see it!"

Suddenly, you're being bundled into the passenger seat, kissed on the forehead, hand scooped into Wally's as soon as he's settled behind the wheel. He steps on the gas, the golf cart bouncing and swaying its way back toward the school. In particular, the back end of the school, where the new natatorium is.

As soon as he's put the golf cart in park, Wally's up and out and around to your side, yanking you from the golf cart and then behind him as he trots into the building, his excitement palpable. You can barely keep up, his legs that much longer than yours, and you hear Rhonda snort behind you.

"Did you know about this?" You ask over your shoulder.

She simply shrugs, her grin concealed around her lollipop, but the twinkle in her eyes tells you everything you need to know.

You'd demand more from her, except that Wally's pulled you through the door, the scent of chlorine hitting you in the face like a punch and drawing your attention ahead of you where...

Oh...wow...

Your mouth falls open, eyes round in awe. The space has been completely transformed. Sand, likely from the baseball diamond, has been piled around the edge of the pool. There are three sets of stacked gym mats, draped in towels under canopies made from repurposed volleyball nets that remind you of beach cabanas.

The water is purple, your favorite color, and you're sure that's all Janet's doing because there's no way the kitchen had enough purple food coloring to dye a whole swimming pool, and chemical reactions are Janet's favorite hobby.

There's a massive banner strung across the back wall announcing Happy Death Day in purple glitter and paint, balloons and fairy lights and streamers decorating the space around it.

A table bursting with snacks sits below the banner, filled with what you recognize as Charley's famous chocolate chip cookies, Janet's delicate finger sandwiches, Bernie's shrimp jambalaya, and, oooh yesss, Mr. Martin's old-fashioned, classic burgers. There are also bowls of chips and chocolate and chewy candies boosted from the vending machines, pitchers of soda and iced tea and lemonade.

It's... "Amazing," You choke around the lump in your throat.

Charley puffs out his chest while Janet's eyes skirt to the ground bashfully. Mr. Martin and Ajay exchange job-well-done nods. And Wally... Wally puts his arm around your waist, hand engulfing your hip, and tucks you into his side.

"We know how much today sucks," He begins, low and sympathetic, "So we wanted to make it a little better."

"We got the idea from Harry Potter," Janet grins, so sweet and innocent that you can't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. Although she decided to sit the Twilight Saga out, she was wholeheartedly into Harry Potter when you and Rhonda read the series.

"So... I'm Nearly Headless Nick now, huh?" You joke, looking between your friends.

"Babe, we all are, don't even try." Wally shakes his head, serious for about three seconds before a smile blossoms across his face. "Do you like it?"

You don't even have to think. "I love it," You answer, and you can't avoid how your eyes sting and your heart swells, because everything about July is suddenly bearable in a way it has never been in over 100 years.

Wally presses a kiss to your hair, the moment soft, tender, quiet, until he unceremoniously shoves Rhonda into the pool, Rhonda squawking in shock and betrayal before she hits the water.

‗•‗

The day is magical. The laughter loud, the food delicious, the atmosphere jubilant and jolly. Pool games and lounging in the floating donuts, sipping non-alcoholic Minute Maid margaritas.

You haven't thought about your death once from the time Wally dragged you into the natatorium until now, too preoccupied by your friends' shenanigans.

Currently, it's a cannonball contest that Ajay is winning. No surprise there, the judge being Mina, who—shock and awe—climbed down from the rafters to participate in the day's activities.

Dawn is also in attendance, teaching Charley how to summon chakras...or something. Something mystical or holistic or pagan. All you know is there's a lit candle between them, and Charley's face is twisted in utter concentration.

Halfway through the celebration, Mr. Martin takes the time to set up the projector screen above the bleachers with Ajay's help. The shutters are drawn, the space dark apart from the glow of the fairy lights, and you and Wally cuddle up in one of the makeshift cabanas, Rhonda on his left, Janet on your right.

You nuzzle into Wally's chest, plant a kiss over his heart, and sink into his side.

July. Your least favorite time of the year.

Except it doesn't feel so bad right now. You're not unaffected. The ache of your death still sits like a pit in your stomach. It's just not as big. Unable to grow as it usually does against the power of what your friends have done to help get you through the worst anniversary of your existence.

"You good, baby?" Wally whispers, hand stroking your back, before he tightens his hold on you and squeezes your hip, lips pressed into your hair.

Peeking up at him, you smile. A real one, wide and warm and genuine, "Yeah. I am, actually."

And you revel in the fact that, for the first July 13th ever, you mean it.

🟪___________fin.____________