Author's Note: This story is loosely based off of a Greek myth. The summary is not an excerpt from this story, but rather an exceprt from this one:
ancienthistory(.)about(.)com/od/myths/a/101810-Pyramus-And-Thisbe-By-Thomas-Bulfinch(.)htm
(Remove the parantheses... ffnet won't let me make a link.)
Warning: Implied Birdflash. This is AU, meaning Alternate Universe. As in, no powers, no superheroes-just them being semi-normal boys. Also implied abuse, mainly Wally's father abusing Wally and Wally's mother.
Disclaimer: Not getting any profit. YJ is not mine. Lalalalala, all that jazz.
In the very corner of his house, Wally had a secret place. He was only twelve, and although he was slowly but surely growing, he was still small enough to squeeze behind the water heater in the back of the laundry room and curl up in the corner.
Other kids his age may have thought it was scary, with it being so dark back there that not even the brightest of lights could reach. Or perhaps the occasional spider would send any girl running and screaming in the opposite direction. Maybe it was even stupid to some, that Wally found comfort in such a small, dreary corner. Many people, Wally knew, couldn't even fit in his corner.
But Wally loved his corner, where it was always quiet, if not for the small hum the machines around him made, and where the walls hugged him better than he'd ever been hugged before.
The day Wally found another in his corner was, of course, a day imprinted in his memory forever.
He'd been in a hurry, as he often times was when retreating to his corner. He'd been rushing to close the door and slipping as quickly as he could behind the water heater that he hadn't initially heard the sounds (although he wouldn'tve heard it had his mind been clear, what with his heavy panting and the hum of the water heater). But as soon as Wally sat down in his corner to catch his breath, he'd frozen completely.
A sound that did not belong—somebody breathing heavily… Perhaps even snoring.
Wally squinted through the crack in the wall—it had always been there, and although he could see nothing but small blurs through it, there had never been anything close enough to the crack that it bothered him, let alone make a noise loud enough to be heard on the other side.
But there was most definitely something—someone on the other side of the wall, and they were close. Maybe even leaning against it, as Wally often did himself (albeit on his own side of the wall). Squint as he may, Wally couldn't see anything through the crack besides the blurring light in the room next door. Being such a small sliver, Wally couldn't even get his fingernail through it. Although a piece of paper might…
Before he got up to look for a piece of paper, Wally decided he'd try to wake this fellow next door—get his attention and ask what he thought he was doing in his corner. "Psst," Wally whispered. "Hey, sleepy head!" When he got no response and he heard no change in the snoring pattern of the other party, Wally knocked on the wall, raising his voice slightly to let out a "Helloooo?"
"Wha—?" The snoring stopped and Wally waited a beat or two before he heard "Hello?"
Now that he had this fellow's attention, Wally wasn't quite sure what to say. Sure, he was offended that someone thought they could share his corner, but he didn't want to be rude. Trying for a subtle inquiry as to why this stranger was in his corner, Wally asked "Whatcha doin'?"
"Erm… Sleeping," the voice replied. "Are you… on the other side of this wall?" Wally heard a knock.
"Yep." Still not sure how to politely say "This is my corner, go away," Wally did not say anymore.
It was silent for no more than a minute before he heard "What're you doing?"
Wally was slightly taken aback. What was he doing in his own corner? "I like it here," he said.
"Me too," the stranger replied. "It's nice… and quiet." A pause, before he continued so quietly that Wally was surprised he heard it. "No place is quiet like this place is."
"Yeah," Wally whispered, leaning against the wall at his back. He stayed quiet, again unsure of what else to say, although he found he no longer minded the stranger's presence.
Perhaps it was because the stranger appreciated Wally's corner for the reasons Wally thought nobody else would understand.
"My name is Dick," the stranger—Dick—said quietly.
This was where our story began.
Dick came frequently to the corner. He and Wally would have often sat side by side had it not been for the wall that separated them. But even so, the two grew closer than they ever could have, had they even touched once.
They often found each other having a conversation, although Wally was initially put-off by Dick, who had been an intruder upon his safe haven. But both boys soon found that, despite their need for a quiet solstice, they still found peace upon hearing the other's voice.
On some days, Wally would come to the corner, hearing the soft snores on the other side. On a good day, he would giggle and curl up as he did before Dick came to share his corner and sit quietly, seemingly alone, but nowhere near lonely. On bad days, Wally would long to wake the other and would sit restlessly, tapping his foot or his fingers, grumbling and sighing. Sometimes he would even go so far as to wake Dick, although Dick never seemed to mind waking up to Wally… even if he wasn't in the best of moods.
Other days, Wally would not speak. He would come to the corner and curl up, his head in his arms, and Dick would talk. On good days, Dick would just talk and talk and talk, albeit softly and only of good things. On bad days, Dick would talk and then give up when there was no response.
One day, when his father had been absent, Wally did not go to his corner. Instead, he curled up in his mothers lap in the window seat in their living room. Together they watched the world go by—the wind blowing, the sun shining. Wally's mother pointed to the pretty, red-berried tree that grew in their front yard and told Wally a story about love.
That was one of Wally's most favorite moments. But when his father returned, Wally's mother pushed Wally away and hurried out of the room. Wally sadly went back to the laundry room, tears running down his face. He wanted to tell Dick, but instead, when he silently slid behind the water heater, Wally heard a soft, pretty voice singing.
Wally had sat, curled in the corner, and listened to Dick's soothing lullaby until his tears dried on his cheeks.
The days Wally's father did not yell or hit or scream were rare, but on one particularly quiet day, it was snowing. Wally found that he could not take his eyes away from the soft, falling flakes as they drifted down and blended so easily into the blanket of snow beneath.
That very same day, Wally watched three boys playing in the snow together. All were skinny, with dark hair. They threw snowballs at each other, and the two seemingly oldest tackled each other to the ground, laughing and getting snow in their hair and down their backs.
Wally longed to join them, but he knew better than to ask if he could go outside. Instead, he went to his and Dick's corner, longing for company, but Wally was only met with the sound of the water heater.
On a particularly bad day, Wally stomped through the house and into the laundry room, slamming the door behind him. He growled, clenching his fists before jumping up and down angrily. He kicked the water heater as his fingers found his hair, tugging harshly on the ginger locks.
"Wally?" Dick said, knocking on the wall.
Seemingly snapping out of his fit, Wally glanced up at the water heater. He let his hands fall from his hair and slid back to the wall. "Sing," Wally said.
"Huh?"
"Sing, Dick. Please."
At first, there was no response. Wally gently rested his forehead on the wall, but before he could mutter out another "Please," Dick began to softly sing about a happy place, far, far away.
On days when Dick did not come to their corner, Wally would stare out the window at the red-berried tree and wonder what it would look like if the berries were white.
He decided the tree would be much prettier that way, with snow-white berries instead of red.
One day Wally woke up, and his father was gone.
He was ecstatic to have a day to spend with his mother again, but when he hurried to sit with her on the window seat, instead of welcoming him into her arms, she held him back at arms length and told him about a happier place—a place he would be going to stay.
Initially excited, Wally babbled about how happy they would be. But his mother shook her head.
"You will be happy, but I… I will still be here."
Those words—they confused Wally. But he soon understood that he would be leaving for a better place on his own. But how happy could this place really be if his mother could not go with him?
As his mother packed his bags, Wally hurried to his corner to say goodbye to Dick, but Dick was not there. As even more tears spilled down his cheeks, Wally quickly drew a picture—a picture of the red-berried tree, except he did not color the berries red.
He left the berries white and quickly wrote a small message for Dick at the bottom.
Wally had just barely wrestled the picture through the crack in the wall when his mother told him it was time to leave. He kissed the wall and hurried to his mother, who took his hand and walked him to a strange car sitting in their driveway.
His things were packed inside the car, and Wally hugged his mother tightly around the waist. She held him tightly back before sending him away with a friendly, yet strange man, named Barry.
As the car drove away, Wally watched the red-berried tree grow smaller and smaller behind him, until he could not see it anymore.
Later that day, Dick Grayson returned home, tired and ready for a nap. But when he settled down in his usual napping spot, he found a piece of paper.
It was a picture of a pretty tree with white berries. There was a note at the bottom.
Meet me at the Tomb of Ninus.
Love, Wally.
I know you were probably expecting a much better, more meaningful note than the one Wally left, but I just felt that this fit. I also doubt Wally, being a kid, would actually leave a weird note like that... but again, I felt that it fit. If you haven't read the Greek myth of Pyramus and Thisbe, the ending won't make much sense (nor will the whole berry thing). Herp derp, I'm sorry this requires a bit of research to truly grasp. xP
I also kind of felt that, at age twelve, Wally seemed a lot younger than he actually was. But I think his home life kind of explains why he is the way he is. I also felt Dick seemed a lot more mature than his age (nine or ten, if Wally is to be twelve), but I origianlly had a backstory for him that I didn't get to include, as it didn't really fit, that explained why he is the way he is. Bruce was supposed to work constantly all the time while Dick had to constantly take care of his two, younger brothers (hence him sleeping in the corner and needing a quiet place). But, for the sake of the flow of the story and the focus on Wally, I decided to omit it.
Blah, this all seems kind of wordy and confusing, but I'm quite happy with it, and I hope somebody enjoyed it. :)