Work Text:
“Good morning, Home…” Wally Darling said sleepily, opening his plastic eyes and sitting up from his soft bed, yawning, as his humble abode gave a distant creek as its morning greeting.
The puppet lifted his beds quilt off of himself before he stood and stretched, popping his nonexistent bones. “…I should see what my friends are up to…” he spoke his thoughts aloud, briskly walking to the double door-like shutters of his wall and opening them, looking out at the neighborhood.
He saw Julie and Barnaby first, as they were positioned on the sidewalk in a game of hopscotch, based on the way Julie bounced along the concrete, and the box of chalks that lay scattered along the ground near them. Frank was not far from the two, seemingly studying an insect or plant, based on how his far off silhouette looked back and forth from his journal to what seemed to be a colorful flower in the bright grass. “They look like they’re having fun.” he smiled.
He looked to Poppy’s barn, watching as steam slowly lifted from an open window, most likely from a freshly baked pie. He hoped it was an apple like the last time she had made one, in which she explained the process of making it after his confusion of how it could be apples if it wasn’t even the correct color… “Maybe I could pay Poppy a visit with one of the others later…” he mused.
He glanced to Sally's home, watching her read from some kind of paper and make exaggerated gestures and poses with her arms and hands, it seemed like she was practicing lines off a script. “Hm, perhaps… I could be an actor for Sally again… or help paint props…”
He couldn’t spot his last two neighbors, “…Eddie and Howdy are probably busy at work…” he assumed, as he closed the shutters back as they were, and prepared to get ready for the day.
Home’s walls rose and fell in a calming repetition, as its floorboards thumped under his steps like a steady heartbeat, letting him know his Home was lively and ready for the day as well.
He switched from his striped pajamas into his regular cardigan and collared shirt, snuggly tying his apple colored ascot with ease. He looked at his reflection in his mirror, making sure every detail looked perfect and the most. When he confirmed everything was in order, he headed towards the door to leave, but was cut short by a groaning creek from the distant house.
Wally turned back in confusion, cocking his head, “…Home…?” He asked.
Home creaked once again, it’s wooden floorboards that sat behind Wally’s feet lifted up slightly, pushing him a few inches away from the door.
“Oh.” he said in understanding, “…did you want… to have a ‘Home day’…?”
Home’s shutters and doors opened and closed happily at the understanding of its wants.
“Ha, Ha, …Alright…” he tapped a felt finger to his chin to think, “…The other neighbors all seem to be busy, so… I’m sure they won’t mind...” Wally mused, to which Home’s various hinges squeaked in excited satisfaction.
‘Home days’ as Wally dubbed them, seemed to be happening more often, days where Home didn’t want to be left behind by its owner, thus it would insist he stay inside to spend time with it, which he was content with, usually using those days to paint or practice songs, and it was nice to occasionally have time away from prying eyes… even if the feeling of being watched was more prominent when he was alone, which was always odd… but then again, it might have just been Home, it did look out for him often after all.
“Would you want to draw together…?” He prompted to Home, who’s foundation shifted in excitement, He took its response as a yes.
“Ha, ha, …ok.” He said, walking away from the door and heading to his bedside table, which was thick and wooden like childrens building blocks, he opened the drawer and took out a stack of paper and crayon box.
He laid out on the floor, spreading out the papers and opened the box, making sure all the colors were accounted for. Red like Poppy’s multicolored feathers, orange like Eddie’s kind face, yellow like Sally’s sunny rays, green like Howdy’s felt arms, blue like Barnaby's fur, pink like Julie’s peachy skin, gray and black both were like Franks hair and frowny face, hm… he would have to think of something he knew that was purple…!
Home’s eye watched him from the window in silence as Wally began to scribble and doodle, using the rainbow of colors in knowing strokes, not haphazard or messy, clean and with some knowledge of the craft as his hand flowed between lines with ease, kicking his feet behind him and humming softly, some melody about dreamers and lullabies he had sung to it in the past, but one he never quite grasped all the lyrics of. Home liked hearing him sing, at least he assumed, it could be difficult to decipher its language barrier at times, but he and it both didn't seem to mind…
“Look…!” He said, proudly lifting up the doodle to the window for Home to see, “Do you like it…?”
The paper contained drawings of him and the rest of the neighborhood, all smiling happily (minus Frank, of course.), the colors were all so vibrant and lively they could practically spring to life off the page if you weren’t looking.
Instead of Homes shutters or doors opening in happiness, Wally was surprised to hear a loud thud echo from no real specific spot in the house.
“Oh… do you not like it…?” He asked.
Another groaning thud. More insistent now.
“Is there something wrong…?”
Wally was cut off by a creeping noise from next to him, looking and seeing the floorboards lifted to roll the red colored crayon to lay next to him, as it hit against his pant leg.
He looked back up to Home, catching sight of its bright red colored walls and the puzzle finally clicked into place.
“Oh, I see…!” He said, “Ha, Ha, you want me to add you.”
Home creaked in satisfaction.
“Okay… I’ll add you…” he said, his arm bending to pick up the crayon, as he moved back to his original position, setting the art back to the floor and looking to the crayons strewn about, now reexamining the colors with a new set of eyes for the palette— red like Home’s walls, yellow like it’s windows, blue like it’s roof, green like it’s bushes, and black like it’s eyes.
He quickly added the red brick house in the background behind himself, making its eyes closed to give off a happy smiling manner like the rest of his paper friends held. When he turned the updated work back to Home, it seemed much more pleased, as its shutters waved back and forth.
“Ha, ha, I’m glad you like it…” he said, before looking down at his handiwork happily, before an idea entered his stuffing filled head.
“…I ought to show this to everyone in the neighborhood…!” He said, as he quickly stood up and began to walk to the door with the artwork in tow, “I’m sure they’ll think it’s just the mo—“
SLAM.
Wally jolted at the rather loud noise, looking back to the house, the walls and floors were still and calm, juxtaposing the previously heard sound, filling him with a slight hint of unease.
“Home…?”
Silence.
“…Is, something wrong…?” He asked warily.
The house's foundation seemed to shift in a wave, like a shiver went up its spine. Wally faintly felt something tap against his shoe, he looked down to once again see the red crayon resting against his sole.
“Oh… you want me to draw you again…?” He asked, and Home replied as chipper as ever, its various doors swung open and closed, making the various hinges squeak happily. It was like the outburst hadn’t even happened… odd.
“Okay… I think I can do one more…” he said, before slowly moving back to the floor, grabbing the same set of Home colors he had used, the red and yellow and blue now stood out in his mind as its colors, not just as his friends colors alone.
He decided to do a more simple piece, just a drawing of Home, no fancy shading or events happening, just his sweet home in its tricolor glory, once again, he gave it a much clearer kind expression than it truly could emote, as he finished it off by doodling little clouds of smoke puffing from its chimney.
Upon showing Home, it creaked in glee, the genuine show of gratitude made Wally smile. Thus he drew more, less scribbly and more refined, as he let his frets of his friends fade in favor of his happy Home.
Though the thoughts of them did resurface, the budded bushes outside of Home made him think of Frank or Julie’s fondness of flowers and plants, its mailbox making him think of the letters from Eddie, or its blue roof like Barnaby's fur and spots, no matter how hard he tried to focus on spending time with Home, the other neighbors still didn’t entirely leave his thoughts…
“Home…?” Wally asked, looking up from his scribbling to the eyed window. Home squeaked questionly in response.
“Would you like to show my friends all your lovely art…? I’m sure they’d think they’re the most…!” The puppet said sincerely, he did wish to show his friends the many drawings, but… he couldn’t exactly hide the hint of neediness in his tone…
Home was oddly silent.
Wally quirked a brow at its quietness. He wasn’t ever sure what it meant when it was silent, was it mad? Thinking? Calm? It was strange… in most houses, silence was a good thing, it meant things were calm, peaceful— in his home though, it was unnerving, worrisome, … unnatural.
Wally wearily stood up, holding the papers close to his chest, Home only stared.
He began making his way to the door, not noticing the way Homes walls quite literally breathed with seething drawn out inhales and deep exhales— or the way the floorboards trembled, the way they throbbed and pulsed like circulatory veins under his shoes.
He was now at the door, ignoring the sounds of his Home trembling and shaking, “I’ll be back soon, don't worry…” he reassured it as he reached his hand to the doorknob…
A shrill thundering clatter boomed in his ears— glasses shattered and clanged against walls, and cabinets slammed so roughly he wouldn’t be surprised if they splintered. He whipped his head back in a gasp, watching as thin lines like veins pulsed up and shuttered along Homes flat walls, as the floorboards moved out of sync in crooked tandem, inky tendrils seeped from under the cracks.
“Ah—!? H- Home!?” The puppet said in panic, the black strands from the floors snaked toward his feet, slithering and writhing between the wooden slabs. “I- I don’t know what you’re saying.” He said as he clasped his hands over his ears as the palpitated banging grated at his senses.
The house's only response was the insistent crashes and slams of its furniture, the sounds were loud and pounding against his cotton ear drums, as the wet fleshy pulsing of nerves and shadows rang throughout as well. The nauseating scent of ink and meat filled his non-existent nose, doubled by the fact the tendrils lengthened and stretched in distorted ways— like black paint being splattered on the very world itself.
Wally turned on his heel back to the door, hurriedly reaching for the knob, but the string-like shadows clung to him like puppet strings, ensnaring and circling around his body like worms. He tried to speak but one reached from the back of his head to his face, muffling his non-existent words as it covered his mouth and kept him trapped within the coils.
They began to tighten, constructing his form, Why was this happening? Why was Home doing this!? Was… was this the end…? Wally squeezed his eyes shut— preparing for whatever came next…
But instead of pain like he imagined— there was nothing — just… a tight squeeze…?
He could feel the tendrils more clearly now, they were slick but not wet like he imagined, and the soft pressure wasn’t cold, but it was warm and comfortable against his fabric… almost …like a—
A hug . Home… was hugging him…
It wasn’t pulling him back forcefully… it just… didn’t want him to go… did it?
Wally eased in its grasp, though mentally still on edge and afraid, he used body language to calm Homes worries, showing it he wouldn’t leave, as if he had a choice…
Homes infrastructure had calmed, back to its normality of flat walls and floors, no longer did its insides pulse and throb unnaturally. Wally simply stood still within the ink holding him, as Homes eye just stared at him from the corner of his own. The two were left in a tense silence…
A quick pounding knock rang from the other end of the door, making the two jump out of their skin.
“Wally!~ Hello! Knock, knock!~” a high muffled voice said sing-songily from the other side. Julie.
Wally looked to Home, who slowly (or… was it hesitantly?) released its hold, the puppet took a moment to gather his bearings, before slowly reaching his hand to the door.
He just barely cracked it open, peeking his head out revealed the pastel pink and yellow monster, excitedly smiling on the other end.
“Hi Wally!” She waved at him so fast her arm seemed to blur together.
“Hi Julie…” he replied, “What are you doing here…?”
“I just came to ask a favor!” She smiled.
“Favor…?” Wally barely tilted his head.
She nodded, “mhm! Me and Barnaby were wondering if you could help redraw our hopscotch squares!” She smiled, “The numbers got all smudged thanks to somebody .” She said as she gave a lighthearted deathglare to Barnaby, Wally looked behind her to the sidewalk, to which he could faintly see the pastel chalk lines scribbled across it. She just needed him for art. That was all. After all… He was the neighborhood’s local artist, right? So… why did it sting so much to know that’s all he was to them…?
“Oh... I’d love to Julie. But, I’m… busy.” Wally lied.
“Oh? With what?” She asked curiously.
“I…” he glanced behind him to the artwork littered along the floorboards, all slightly stained with black ink, “I’m relearning the colors…!” It wasn’t technically a lie— he had been doing that, rearranging his associations with the hues in his mind from them to it.
“Oooo! Are you making a new painting?” She bounced on her toes.
Wally only nodded, though he internally cringed, hating himself for fibbing, having to fight the urge to verbalize every thought as the feeling of being watched screamed at him to do so, go on Darling, tell her, tell them, tell them , tell them all your secrets, all your desires, the viewers need to know, need to know every part of you, they need to see it—
“Well I can’t wait to see it! I’m sure it’ll be great!”
Wally snapped from his spiraling, “Yes, it will be just the most…” he lied once again. “Maybe… Frank can help you with the chalk instead…?” He suggested.
Julie nodded, giving a small ‘mhm!’ As she did so, as she then began to leave, waving happily, “Bye Wally! Toodaloo!~”
“Bye…” Wally said, barely lifting his hand.
He shut the door as he stepped backwards back indoors, giving a sigh of relief, before he heard a faint creak from behind.
He looked back to Home, a slight tired look in his gaze.
“Don’t worry Home, we can keep having our Home day.” He said.
Home only gave a distant quiet thud that rang from everywhere and nowhere. Was it happy? Angry? Concerned even? He could never tell…
“Ha, Ha, It’s alright. Like I said before, everyone else is already having lots of fun on their own, they won’t care…” he didn’t notice the way his words shifted from not minding to not caring…
Home once again gave the unknown meaning thud.
Wally only smiled at it, charcoal eyes looking into ink ones.
—
Wally was startled by a knock on his door the next morning.
The puppet slowly sat up, bringing himself to the door, upon creeping it open, just like he had with Julie, he saw the one who had been making the noise.
“Ah! Hey there Mr. Darling!” Eddie said, tipping his hat in Wally’s direction with one hand, while using his other to hold up a box under his arm, “Got a package here for ya!” He tilted his head to the box as he said it.
“For me…?” Wally asked.
“Yep! Special delivery!” The mailman beamed. “Rumors goin’ round you’re making a new painting, s’ that right?”
Wally only nodded, “Yes…!”
Eddie chuckled, “Well I’m sure it’ll be great knowing your work! Welp—“ he gave a quiet strained sound as he bent down to sit the package on Home's welcome mat, “I best be off then.” He announced, before adjusting his satchel and walking off, waving as he did so, “take care Neighbor! I hope you enjoy the delivery!” He said before departing.
Wally stood in the threshold for a moment before finally leaning down to pick up the parcel, he shifted his weight as he lifted it up and began to carry it inside, Home politely closing the door after him.
“We got mail.” Wally announced. To which Home groaned in what he assumed was curiosity.
He sat the box down upon the floor, as he sat on his knees, “I wonder what it is…” he questioned aloud before opening it, revealing its contents as his eyes widened at the sight.
Inside sat… a paint set! It was very neatly organized by the looks of it. And along with it sat what looked to be a letter? He picked up the paper that was neatly stacked on top of the gift, it was written in a light pink crayon with doodles of swirls and flowers adorning the corners and edges, as the words also swirled with a looping pretty writing style.
‘Dear Wally! I was SO excited about your painting that I HAD to tell as many people about it as I could! And Frank sujje suggested that we could put together a gift for you so it can be extra special! So he included new paints and I added some stickers and glitter! (They’re at the bottom under the paints!) Anyway, I can’t wait to see the finished drawing! I hope these help, maybe you’ll be able to use some of our presents in it!’ Signed by Julie Joyful.
Digging through the box Wally saw the mentioned sticker sheet and small shakers of glitter. The fact of the paints being organized by Frank now was much clearer, as he looked at the way the colors neatly descended in color order.
The puppet smiled at the gesture, his Home however was oddly quiet…
—
“Wally, are you home?” A nasally voice rang from the door.
“Ha, ha, no… I’m Wally.” He replied lightheartedly.
“Oh you know what I mean!” Frank chided, “I swear Barnaby’s rubbing off on you…” he mumbled under his breath, Wally imagined he was pinching the bridge of his nose as he said it.
Wally sat with his back against the door, he didn’t really feel like opening it, he wasn’t sure why, maybe he just needed rest, but he couldn’t do that, Home would be all alone if he did that.
“Anyway, I just wanted to check if you got our package?”
Wally gave a humming ‘mhm.’ in answerment.
“Well, I just wanted to double check, Julie’s been driving me up the walls over asking if you’d gotten it or not.” He said in a mixture of endearment and annoyance.
There was a silence, as Wally simply let his head tilt against the wood, keeping it propped up and away from bobbing up and down in tiredness.
“Um… Wally?” Frank asked.
“Hm…?” Wally once again only hummed.
“Are… are you alright…?” Concern lined the others voice as the words left their mouth.
What…? Why wouldn’t he be…?
“I just- well… maybe I’m just being silly, Poppy might be rubbing off on me, heh, but…” he paused, “you’ve been awfully quiet… It doesn’t feel like you to… stay inside like this? I thought you usually painted outdoors, or at the very least let us watch you work?” Wally could imagine Frank rubbing his felt hands around themselves in circles.
“Oh…! No, I’m alright Frank. Ha, ha, I… just… want it to be a surprise.” Wally surmised.
Frank was silent, before Wally heard a deep sigh escape their lips, “Alright Wally, if you say so. In any case, I hope this painting of yours ends up as good as Julie is making it out to be.” He mused, before Wally heard the faint sound of shoes clicking against concrete, fading further and further away until the sound was gone…
Wally looked sleepily to the pile of drawings on the floor.
Home creaked faintly.
He wondered if it was calling him a liar.
—
The puppet sat glued in the corner of his Home, knees hugging against himself, his head lolling to the side, navy hair now stringy and drooping into his face.
Home was still silent, as was he, as his energy both physical and mental was all but drained from all the constant drawing and sleepless past few days…
A knock.
Wally remained silent, maybe he could pretend to not be there.
Another knock.
“Aye, little Buddy? You in there?” A deep voice came out muffled from the other side.
Silence…
Another knock.
“Alright, then, I’m comin’ in!” Barnaby said.
Wally waited in anticipation for the doorknob to shake and rattle, the door remaining stiff and unmoving— locked. But what he did not expect was for the creaking of hinges to meet his ears, and light blue fur to meet his eyes as they looked up in shock like a deer in headlights.
“Yeesh!” Was all the dog said upon seeing the state Wally was in.
“B… Barnaby…? H— ow did you get in…?” Wally’s voice cracked out like glass.
“Door was open.” He said, gesturing his thumb behind him to the door.
Wally looked up to Homes window, had it been unlocked the entire time…? Was he never even trapped in the first place…?
“Anyway, ya sound like one of Sally’s frog prince actors with that rasp! Ha! Didja get sick or somethin?” Barnaby joked.
Wally wasn’t sure how to reply, simply letting his head droop down a bit as he averted his gaze.
Barnaby looked around the house, spotting the endless pile of scribbly papers, he walked over, picking one up, “Heh… this that ‘masterpiece’ you’re supposedly workin on?” Barnaby spoke lightheartedly, but there was a sense of knowingness in it, you’ve not been working on anything, have you?
Liar. He easily imagined the dog thinking.
Wally cringed, burying his head in his knees, Barnaby’s brow furrowed, as he walked closer, bending down on his knees to be closer to the artist's height.
“So… mind tellin’ ol Barn why you’ve been all cooped up in here?”
Wally let his head lift back up slightly, merely letting his bagged eyes meet the beagles gaze.
“Home wanted to spend time with me…” was all he said.
Barnaby was silent for a moment, before stiffening, “What!? That’s all?” He exclaimed, immediately turning to the sentient house, “Home! Why didn’tja tell us you was feeling lonely!? You didn’t have to make poor Wally stay stuck in here all week!” He chastised.
Memories of Homes instability from those few days ago rose to the surface, his anxieties spiking as he watched its walls beat up and down ever so slightly, “Ah…! B- Barnab—!”
“No, I ain’t done! Now Wally—“ he turned to the puppet in question, pointing a pawed finger at him, “—Why didn’t you say nothin’ sooner!?”
“I…” Wally froze, what could he say…?
He looked at his friend's face, it wasn’t angry as he thought it would be from his tone, but it was instead soft and full of concern.
“I… didn’t want… to worry you.” He said, sincerely , not a lie.
Barnaby only sighed, looking back to Home, “Alright, Home, the next time you pull a stunt like this, why don’t we have a sleepover! Huh? That way we can both spend some time with Wally, we miss him when he’s not around too y’know!”
Home, rather than throwing furniture or slamming doors, instead gave a creaking moan, like the wine of a puppy with its ears drooping down and tail tucked between its legs.
Oh… that’s what the silence was then… it felt guilty.
“So,” Barnaby started, standing back up and stretching his arms as he did, “How about we make that masterpiece together, huh? I’m sure it would be more… easel if you had some help, haha!” Barnaby beamed at the pun.
Wally smiled, though it wavered after glancing at his home…
“Barnaby… I…”
He looked up to his friend, then back, … Home, what do you want to do…? He had to stop himself from asking, Barnaby asked him , not Home… Right.
Wally smiled, a sincere one, not worn down by fatigue or fibs.
“… I’d love to…!”