Stay Home (Wally Darling x Reader)

Chapter 3

I should probably say this right now before I get too far into the fic, but the person who requested this story is my editor. So, he is going to be reviewing chapters before I publish them. So, please do not ask me for updates. I will write when I have time away from work, and my editor will edit when he doesn't have homework he needs to do. Please do not rush us and try to respect that we both have lives outside of working on this story.

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You could hear birds chirping in the distance. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair. The world around you felt cold, damp. Off in the distance, you thought you heard the sound of some sort of upbeat music playing. Trying to open your eyes, you found that you couldn't. That, or the world around you was just extremely dark and opening your eyes wasn't doing you shit.

"(y/n)!"

You shot up, your breathing heavy. Your body still felt damp. Looking around, the first thing you were greeted with was Roz standing above you. His eyes were narrowed, a deep frown on his face as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"Dude, you were like- thrashing around in your sleep. You hit the wall like five or six times at least. You good?" he asked.

"I'm... I'm fine," you mumbled, running a hand through your (h/c) hair.

Roz stared at you for a minute. "Do you... need help with anything? Like, anything at all?"

"I'll be fine, I just need to make at least one call today."

Roz nodded before turning and leaving your room. As you heard the door click shut, you pulled at your shirt. It was extremely damp. You hesitantly tugged at the fabric, bringing it up to your nose and giving it a tentative sniff. Letting out a choked gag, you pulled the shirt off and tossed it into your laundry hamper, going over to your dresser to get a proper shirt.

"Yeah, because chirping birds and distant show tunes is a fucking terrifying nightmare," you grumbled.

After getting dressed and powering on your computer, you dug up the phone number. It may have been over four decades old, but you were hoping and praying to whatever entity might be in the heavens that someone picked up the line. Grabbing the receiver, you typed in the number and waited.

Ring... ring... ring...

"Come on, pick up."

Ring... ring...

"Thank you for calling Playfellow Workshop! We are sorry to inform you that no one is currently available to take your call. Our studio is currently closed and we do not know when it will open back up. Please keep your eyes and ears out for any updates on our current situation. If you are an employee looking to contact a supervisor, please dial the number on the third page of your handbook. Thank you for your support and have a wonderful day in the neighborhood."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair and half-hazardously tossing the receiver back onto the landline. Of course no one would pick up. The studio had been closed for decades. Why would there be anyone who could answer your call?

Then again, the line was still owned by the right company, and it was still active. That meant the phone still had to be ringing somewhere. Maybe the person just didn't answer the phone in time? You could call again, it wasn't like it'd kill you.

Dialing up the number a second time, you waited for someone to pick up.

Ring... ring... ring... ring... ring...

"Thank you for calling Playfellow Workshop! We are sorry-"

"Mother fucker!" You slammed the receiver down. "Why would anyone keep a landline like that if they aren't gonna answer it? And there's no voice mail? Shouldn't there be a voice mail?"