Title: Sorry Cowboy
Rating: K
Summary: Andy wakes up to a noise in his room and ends up reminiscing with his toys, most importantly, Woody. One-shot.
A/N: Please read, enjoy, and review!
He heard a rustle.
Andy blearily opened his eyes, the residual remnants of sleep disentangling from his body as he stretched his mouth out for a yawn. He flexed his fingers and struggled to sit up from his bed, the coverlet tumbling down his chest where it pooled in a heap of fabric and folds at the center of his belly. Vision still mottled and blurred, Andy scanned the dim expanse of his room; eyes anchoring on the digital clock perched on his nightstand.
1:30 AM. Great.
He shoddily ran the palm of his hand down his face, nimble fingers grazing through the dirty blond stalks of his hair, and he tensed again when a faint scuffle broke the silence. It was a diminutive noise, a slight one, something that sounded so trivial that it barely registered in his mind—but it was there nonetheless. He trailed his gaze along his poster-clad walls, aquamarine eyes skimming over the countless many items that decorated his room. Nothing seemed out of place: the glass of water on his computer desk was still there, his guitar still perched by the computer chair where he had left it, and what unnerved him most of all was his closed window. Hadn't he left it open?
Shaking the thought from his head, Andy sat up fully and leaned back against his headboard, bringing his knees to his chest, draping his arms over them. The pads of his fingers tapped languidly along his kneecaps, each digit dancing to some nonexistent tune, and Andy licked his lips out of habit.
Rustle, rustle.
There it was again. Andy hugged his knees tighter to his chest as he gingerly peeled the coverlet away from his body. He narrowed his eyes in hope that if he did so, he would somehow miraculously see in the dark, but to no avail. He scanned his room one last time, eyes temporarily anchoring over his guitar, his laptop, his skateboard, and then finally on….
….the toy chest.
He didn't know why he felt so compelled to walk over there and pry the withered thing open, couldn't comprehend why he suddenly threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up to full height. He took a step forward, the floor crying beneath him, and three steps later he found himself looming over the toy chest. It had collected dust over the years, its once shimmering mahogany coat now monotonous and dim and fragile with age. Andy knelt down beside the chest, running his index finger along the crest—it was still smooth, just how he remembered it.
A blooming ache swelled within his chest, memories from long ago flooding through his vision. When he was younger, he had spent countless many times rummaging through this very trunk, grubby fingers grabbing hold of any toy available, every toy he came across, however there was only one that he would instinctively search out for, only one toy that he knew by feel rather than by sight: Woody.
Andy took an intake of air as he deftly brought his fingers to the chest's clasp, and he couldn't help but lick his lips as he gently pried the lid open. A scent infiltrated his senses, a scent that smelled mildewed and aged—nostalgic, and glittering before his eyes was a treasure cove, a sea of plastic.
His toys.
They were old toys, Andy noted, but he was relieved to know that they hadn't emaciated away. Rex was still as green as ever, Slinky Dog still perfectly intact. Andy tepidly stuck his hand inside the chest and ran his fingers over the compact mass of toys, his eyes lighting up when he came across a certain neon green space man. He pried Buzz from the depths of the toy trunk and held him gently in the palm of his hand, laughing when he pressed a button on Buzz's chest. For some unknown reason, Andy was comforted knowing Buzz's voice module still worked. He didn't exactly know why, but he would have been fairly distressed if it hadn't—it was like the equivalent to dying: a dead toy, and that fact alone didn't sit well with the teen.
Andy nearly dropped Buzz in his fervor to snatch at the glimpse of a brown-colored hat that sat wedged between Jesse and Mrs. Potato Head, and when he curled his fingers around it and tugged, Woody followed along with it. Andy gasped and barely managed to hold onto the plush form of the cowboy. He felt his chest constrict, a heated swell of sorrow pumping along with his heart. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and Andy barely managed to swallow them down before they threatened to trickle down his cheeks.
He turned away from the toy chest and sat down on the carpeted floor of his room, crossing his legs one over the other as he held Woody in his hands. Andy tenderly flicked the Sheriff's wide-brimmed hat and trailed a finger loftily over the tiny star badge on the cowboy's front. Andy let a small smile flicker across his lips, but it didn't reach its full potential. There was a nagging feeling inside him, guilt and repentance stinging in his gut as he tried to impede another swell of tears. And then he realized he felt guilty, accountable of leaving all his precious toys, the toys he used to play with almost everyday of his childhood, to rot in an aging wooden chest. Andy brought Woody close to his face, letting a bitter chuckle escape his lips.
"I used to wish you guys were real," Andy whispered fondly. He removed Woody's hat and set it beside him, trailing a finger over the cowboy's painted hair. "Sometimes I thought you guys were real, there were moments…"
Andy trailed off and glimpsed over at the toy chest sitting beside him, smiling as childhood memories spent playing with his precious toys distilled him. He anchored his gaze on Woody once more. "Sometimes I wished you guys could talk to me, I loved you all so much. I still do."
"And I'm so sorry for not saying so sooner," he whispered, hugging Woody to his chest. "I'm so sorry for leaving you in there, Woody."
It wasn't until a few years later, when Andy left for college and Woody and the rest of the toys were placed in Bonnie's care, that the cowboy remembered those exact words, and as he watched the car speed away for the last time, Woody smiled.
A/N: Okay, I started this with the intention of writing a WoodyxAndy slash one-shot, and that didn't happen at all! What the hell!
Anyway, review? Please? :3