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He shouldn’t have known what it felt like—it had all happened far too fast for him to have felt any pain. He was dead before the pain of his second cervical vertebra breaking was able to register in his mind. Even if he hadn’t been, the near full body paralysis would have made it blissfully painless.
Despite the odds though, afterlife and all, it wasn’t uncommon for Wally to occasionally feel the phantom pains creeping up his spine and straight to his neck. It usually came when he was feeling particularly down about something—when the nights felt too long and the school grounds too small.
The day hadn’t been much different than any other, but perhaps that had been the problem. Sometimes it felt like they all started to blend together, and the prospect of forever began to feel more terrifying than usual. There had been coffee in the teacher’s lounge with Rhonda at breakfast, group with Mr. M in the gym in the afternoon, and a few workouts in the weight room between it all. It was when the students had all gone home for the day, and the dead had all retreated to their respective corners of solitude that always brought about the worst of it.
“Everything all right, Wally?” you prompted with concern. You watched with trepidation as he rubbed at his neck. The library was silent and the lights were dimmed low, but he still seemed particularly on edge as he lounged across the couch.
“Yeah, all good,” he chirped quickly. Wally—the peacemaker and the people pleaser. It was something the two of you were decidedly working on together, but evidently there was still progress to be made.
“You sure about that?”
He finally glanced up at you. A shy and quiet smile that he always reserved just for you was on his face, but it did little to mask the obvious pain he was futility attempting to hide.
"Is it your neck again?" You kept your tone gentle and light as you placed your book aside. He finally confirmed as much with a defeated nod.
The two of you had fallen into an easy routine that you practiced like religion each time the occasion arose. The fact of the matter was that he was dead, and so were you. There was, for all intents and purposes, nothing wrong with his neck. And even if there had been, you were hardly in any position to fix it. Still, it didn't make what he felt any less real. It didn't change the fact that he did still feel the broken and hurt, and in those moments, what he needed most was the kind of comfort and reassurance that only you could provide.
And so you massaged his neck. As he often did, he slid off the couch with languid ease, placing himself on the carpeted floor where he could be guarded within the confines of your legs on either side of him. It was often his favorite place to be.
He hummed in tranquil delight as your fingers pressed into his skin and your warmth seeped into him. Ultimately, it was less so about the actual physical pain and more so about the way your touch grounded him. The way it reminded him that he was real when one too many students had walked through him in the hallways and were none the wiser to him. The way it reminded him that even if his dad was gone, and one day his mom and all of his old classmates would be too, he wouldn't be forgotten. Not as long as he had you.
It was a ritual that was often exclusively practiced in silence, but he broke it with a soft chuckle more to himself than anything.
"What's so funny?" you prodded, the smile just as evident in your voice as it was your face. Still, he rolled his head back to meet your gaze, his head tilting slightly to the side to rest on your thigh.
"You know, I'm almost 60 years old." His grin was bright and filled with warning of the coming absurdity of his statement.
"I do know," you grinned back in curiosity. "So what?"
"So this feels so—" he paused, trying to find the words. "Normal, I guess. I mean isn't this exactly what it would be like if we were actually alive and old. Giving each other massages because we've got an ache in our muscles we just can't get out."
"Yeah, I guess so," you giggled. For both of your sakes, you chose not to comment on the fact that were you both alive, he'd probably be near old enough to be your grandfather.
"Thank you." His voice was soft and gentle as he spoke, and the smile from earlier had returned.
"Any time, babe," you smiled in return. You leaned down to plant a kiss to his hairline and your heart swelled at the way he pressed into the touch.
You watched as he further settled into the position, leaning further into the inside of your leg with seemingly no intent on detaching himself from it anytime soon. Even if the massage was decidedly over.