Antithesis
But you slipped back into habit after that, once again taking him for granted, and, worst of all, you really didn't feel guilty. (Veronica, Wallace friendship 1.21 & 2.22)
A/N: There isn't enough Wallace in the world.
Also, there's some Lilly-bashing going on here. I didn't mean it to be that way, but it somehow happened. So if you adore Lilly, you might want to skip this. No flames, please!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
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"Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. 'Pooh!' he whispered.
'Yes, Piglet?'
'Nothing,' said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. 'I just wanted to be sure of you.'"
– A. A. Milne
--
The first time you realized you'd turned into Lilly, you rushed into the bathroom to lose your breakfast in the toilet. It was the end of last year, and you were closing in on your rapist. Things were complicated with Logan—you so desperately wanted to trust him, and yet all the evidence was against it, and it all left a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You still had the issue of whether Dad was your real Dad and Mom was still gone and you still hadn't found out who killed Lilly. There were a million tons on your shoulders, threatening to crush you…
And then there was Wallace.
Standing patiently beside your locker as you cleaned it (trying to regain some sort of control over your life, make yourself feel clean for once), with patient eyes that told you that he was just waiting for you to confide in him (come on, V, you know you want to tell me). He shrugged off the trouble he and his mom had gotten into because he was just following orders (I'm not stupid. I knew I wasn't just delivering a plant). He asked about Logan (that guy doesn't even know my name). And you lied to him or evaded his questions—which was the same thing. And you've never felt as bad as you did when he reminded you that again and again he had done things that you asked him to, simply because you asked, and that he'd never asked why.
It was an invitation. An invitation for you to unburden yourself, confide in him, let someone else shoulder part of the weight (crushing, exhausting, paralyzing weight). But for the hundredth time since you'd met him, you had the opportunity to tell him the truth, and you didn't take it. His eyes were disappointed (not at all the way Wallace's eyes were supposed to look—laughing and carefree and optimistic and everything you weren't and hadn't been since Lilly died), and his next words hit you in the gut.
"Thanks. Now that I have all the details, I don't feel like such a chump."
It wasn't even an accusation, wasn't bitter or resentful, because Wallace could never be any of those things. He just sounded as tired as you felt (as you had been since you pulled up outside the Kane house in Dad's car and saw Duncan sitting alone in the foyer), like you'd met his expectations and broken his heart in the process.
This was just exactly how Lilly treated me, you thought, and then you were hunched over the porcelain throne, and your Coco Puffs were staining the water in the bowl.
You really did love Lilly. But more than that, you worshiped her and admired her. But Lilly only cared about people and things as they related to her. She cared about your relationship with Duncan because he was her brother. She cared about what clothes you bought because you reflected her to everyone. But did she really care about your worries about Mom and her drinking? Did she care when your grandma died? You could never be sure: she acted sympathetic, but five minutes later was back to spreading gossip and trying to decide which guy to toy with next. She took you for granted and issued orders and never told you why.
And that's exactly what you'd been doing to Wallace. Had you ever once asked him about his dad (how did he die, does he still miss him, what does he miss the most?) or basketball practice or his little brother's birthday party? Did you know anything about his life in Chicago or why the Fennels moved to Neptune? You didn't ask, and what's worse, it never occurred to you to ask.
And the favors--he always knew when you were going to ask one, he always expected them, because, after all, this was the foundation on which your relationship was built, but there's something twisted about that.
But you resolved to be better, and once the truth about Shelley's party finally came out, you ran to him, because he was the only person you could run to. He sat there in silence as you cried, his arm wrapped tightly around you, and just having him there was enough to make you feel better. He was the best friend you could imagine, and he was always, always there, and he was right—you did feel better after you told him, after you'd trusted someone.
But you slipped back into habit after that, once again taking him for granted, and, worst of all, you really didn't feel guilty.
--
You feel guilty now, waking to the smell of bacon and Dad's cheerfulness. The dream that started out idyllic quickly turned into a nightmare, because suddenly you realize how much Wallace means to you and just how close you were to never having him in your life.
Because if Lilly were still alive, you never would have known him.
You had no identity apart from Lilly. Everyone at school knew you as Lilly Kane's best friend (oh, you know, Mars—with the camera? Plays soccer? Lilly Kane's best friend? Oh. Right.) and only that, till you started dating Duncan, and that was fine by you. Riding on her coattails, trailing along in her wake, and sure, she loved you (as much as she could love anyone) but it was like scraps to dogs, and all your adoration was her due.
And you wanted to be Lilly, because you had no idea how to be yourself.
But Wallace is the opposite of everything Lilly was, and you love him for all the reasons you (sometimes, secretly) resented her.
He never takes anything for granted. Not his mom (you always blamed Celeste and Jake, but now you see that they did love her, they just wanted what was best for her), not his little brother (Duncan was a means to an end with Lilly, but you've seen the way Wallace carries Darrell around on his shoulders, goes to his Little League games, watches cartoons with him), not you (Wallace has never had a problem with letting you know how much you mean to him, even if he doesn't often come right out and tell you—you'll never forget yesterday in the hall and the "it was worth getting taped to a pole" speech). He smiles, and it's for you, and not for himself, and you don't remember seeing that before. He's always on the lookout to help people, and he almost never asks for anything in return (you're always on the lookout for people who need you, but you never even noticed when he did).
And you can't help but wonder. Would it be worth it? Listening to Lilly ramble on and on about her sexual exploits at Vassar, having Duncan and Dick tease you, Logan tell you he loves you, even Mom at home to make waffles—to never have a Wallace, "You're one of those" the only words he ever spoke to you? Would school have been better without his smile, his teasing at lunch, his unquestioning faith—sitting at the 09er tables with Madison's new plastic surgery, Dick's new surfboard, Lilly's new dalliance?
You spent so much time after you lost Lilly longing for that old life. But maybe, eventually, you would have outgrown that. Stopped caring about who was taking who to the homecoming dance and what color Shelley Pomroy was dyeing her hair. Maybe you would have even outgrown Lilly—outgrown the games (she toyed with Logan, took advantage of his desperate need to be loved and give love), outgrown the secrets (guess who it is this week? always someone new, god I'm so bored), outgrown the constant need for attention (Veroni-ca come entertain me, let's go shopping, I'm bored). Or maybe you wouldn't have—maybe there would never have been any cases (the thrill of hearing someone ask "Can you help me?" and knowing you can), never been any Logan (she's Lilly, Ronnie, you know I can't say no to her— you can't either), never been that bond with Dad (make sure you take Backup, sweetheart. I love you), never been any Wallace (seriously, V, sometimes I think you're only using me for my office aide status—at least use me for my body or something not humiliating).
But you hope that you would have grown up and started caring about important things and maybe you would have become the person you are now. Because you like who you are now, and you never could have been this Veronica if you were still in Lilly's shadow. This is the life you fought for and rebuilt from the rubble of the one you lost, and Wallace helped you. He gave you hope that there were people besides Dad who you could care about, who you could trust, that there was good in the world, selfless, pure hearted people.
But there's that dream that came so close to being a reality—that dream that is a nightmare, because oh, you're one of those are some of the worst words you've ever heard (right after "There's been a disturbance at the Kane's" "Veronica, stay in the car" "Sweetheart, I don't think she's coming back, no matter what the letter says"). And you lie on your back, gasping for air, and, for the first time, you're thankful that you're exactly where you are.
The first thing you do after breakfast is call Wallace.