Lil scott pilgrim fanfic 4 yall (also love ya mapleshade!)
un·re·quit·ed
adjective
(of a feeling, especially love) not returned or rewarded.
"he's been pining with unrequited love"
Being friends with Scott Pilgrim, the one who “defeated” Ramona’s evil exes, the inspiration of a 27-Tony-award-winning play, the man who practically rose from the dead, was hard. It was frustrating, and it was quietly waiting, and it was soul-crushingly lonely. It was also hand-holding, and it was playing video games, and it was so, so perfect.
It wouldn’t be too hard for Wallace if he wasn’t completely in love with Scott.
He loved his hands, big, warm, and rough, and callused from years of playing the bass. He loved his hair, somehow always messy but still perfect. He loved his taste in music, even if their favorite genres were completely different. Wallace loved the excited look on Scott’s face when talking about Sonic the Hedgehog, or the way he would hold Wallace at night, or the way he’d somehow never know what to say. He loved even his imperfections. On a late night, Wallace far away in a stranger’s bed, he realized he missed Scott’s breathing.
Scott loved Ramona, and everyone knew. Ramona loved Scott, and everyone could tell. Wallace loved Scott, and he hoped no one noticed.
Wallace was always obvious. It didn’t help that every secret he could think about keeping could be bargained out of him by Stacey or softly questioned by Scott. Everything was always evident to Scott, who knew Wallace’s hands like his own. He told Scott anything, whether he wanted to or not.
He’d never tell Scott what he thought of him - close, and closer still, licking into his mouth and his hands in Scott’s hair until - he didn’t know.
This isn’t the first time Wallace has loved someone so intensely, middle school in the closet meant a lot of dead-end crushes. He remembers pining for guys who wouldn’t look him in the eyes for over a second. He remembers being an “experiment” for too many people, getting emotionally invested, and then being left behind. Wallace would come home drunk, cry a little, find comfort in Scott’s arms, and get up in the morning and pretend it didn’t happen. Rinse and repeat. It wasn’t healthy for either of them, but since when did he care? It was lonely, sure, but Wallace had enough charisma to pick up another one of Stacey’s closeted boyfriends with a wink and a smile.
He tried to comfort himself with what Scott told him he saw in the future, he was happily married - hopefully - to a Nintendo employee with glasses. He supposed the glasses could be a perk. Scott and Ramona didn’t work out either, apparently, as Scott said he was back living with him. He wishes he could tell Scott to get out of his house, or that he loves him, or that he couldn’t go another second without telling him how he feels. But he was too afraid, just like always. So, when he saw Scott, he shrugged it off as best as he could. He joked, “Shouldn’t you be at Ramona’s?” when really, he meant it. Scott was a good guy, had a good girlfriend, and was about to get a job to clean up his act. Ramona made him happier, a better person.
(After the first official date Scott and Ramona had, Wallace woke up the next morning to Scott cooking them breakfast. Granted, he did almost burn the house down, but it was a start.)
So, Wallace choked down his feelings. He’d rather get wasted and crash on his futon, head pounding from a hangover, than tell Scott anything. Scott would look at him concerned, his brow furrowing in the way it always did. Wallace pretended he didn’t need any caring, pushing him away further when he wanted him so much closer. Scott could always tell when he felt bad, drunk, or angry. Scott knew too much about Wallace. How he acted in college, what type of guys he goes for, that he hates eye contact. It would be so much easier to push Scott away from him, kick him out of his apartment, and delete his phone number if he didn’t know Scott too well. He knew his home life, his favorite manga, the feeling of wearing his jacket, the warmth of his hands. Wallace knew that if he cut Scott out of his life, he’d wake up with a tear-stained letter through his door by the next morning. Plus, Ramona would run rollerblade tracks all over Wallace by the next day.
Everything Scott did left Wallace wanting. When Scott fixed his hair before a show, he imagined Scott running his fingers through Wallace’s hair, soft and slow. When Scott sprawled out on the couch, he imagined sitting in his lap, complaining about Scott’s calluses sliding up his shirt.
(Sometimes, at night, he’d imagine whichever guy was in his bed was Scott instead. He hated those nights.)
Scott was too familiar. He was too clumsy, Wallace walking in the street instead to keep Scott from being nothing more than coins on the road. He was too stupid, not picking up on any of Wallace’s hints. He was too sappy, noting things about Wallace he knew no one else considered. It was too nice when they brushed hands at the DVD store, Kim’s clacking phone keys as background noise.
He couldn’t tell Ramona how he felt, either. How are you supposed to say I think I’m in love with your boyfriend? Even worse, Ramona wouldn’t treat Wallace any differently. She was kind and starting to learn how to face her problems. It was no wonder Ramona and Scott ended up together, a sweet but clumsy guy with an equally sweet and forgiving girl.
Besides, even if Scott and Ramona weren’t together, it wouldn’t make any difference. Scott is very much not gay. Except back in college, late at night. Scott doesn’t like to talk about it. Neither does Wallace.
Wallace decided he’d never tell Scott, keep it to himself, or scream it out into the empty snow fields on another freezing Canadian night. Or, much more realistically, he’ll just get drunk again.
As his idol, Lucas Lee, always said, “Whatever.”
hope u enjoyed!