Work Text:
"Ugh," Wallace groans and turns onto his back, not finding it in himself to stay facing Scott any longer, "I hate when you look at me like that."
This always happens. Scott Pilgrim regularly goes through difficulty in life because he is not a good person, and he does not make good choices, but Wallace Wells is there despite it all, no matter what Scott does.
"Like what?" Scott asks, confused, like the oblivious, heedless person he is.
Wallace is probably the only person who bothers to entertain Scott's problems anymore. He wishes he wasn't. Every time he does, Scott looks at him in this weird way that he can't describe but makes him feel special, and he hates it. Because he knows that he is special to Scott.
"I don't know," Wallace answers pathetically.
He's just not special in the way he wants to be.
"Like you could love me." He turns to face Scott once again and watches as his brows furrow, the emotion in his eyes changes, almost insulted looking.
"I do love you." Scott tells him earnest, aware as he's always and will ever be.
Wallace smiles a convincing fake smile, "love you too, guy." Then he pulls their blanket closer to him, gripping it tight even though he knows Scott will steal it from him in the night anyway. And they say their 'good night's and fall asleep like any other insignificant day, because to Scott it is, and so, to Wallace it needs to be.
At least things didn't change for the worst.