[ Will's so busy watching the arms of the chair that he doesn't look anywhere else until he hears something behind him. He jolts and turns and can already see...lines appearing on the wall, in red.
Any threat from that fact disappears when Will approaches, close enough to see that it's the uneven, pointed effect of a ballpoint pen. It even scratches clear through the wallpaper at one point. Will stares at the incredibly normal detail of it, even if it's scrawling itself across the wall with no other human visible.
Will has no real-world basis to make guesses, here. Bits of movies and pop culture filter in, in that gap - people separated by time, writing passed between the past and future? Ghosts trying desperately to communicate? Maybe Will is the one who's dead, in fact, which would possibly explain everything else going on to him lately?
Absolutely none of those possibilities are things he actually wants to confront and deal with in any way, of course, but--
And then he's distracted, because that's...a child's handwriting. With another smiley face. Something tender and concerned clenches in his chest.
Will doesn't have a pen. So, in true slasher-movie fashion, he's going to just carve his own words into the wallpaper, using the fork he finds in the corner after a moment's frantic search. ]
Mine's Will. [ No smiley face, sorry. :( ] Where are you?
no subject
Any threat from that fact disappears when Will approaches, close enough to see that it's the uneven, pointed effect of a ballpoint pen. It even scratches clear through the wallpaper at one point. Will stares at the incredibly normal detail of it, even if it's scrawling itself across the wall with no other human visible.
Will has no real-world basis to make guesses, here. Bits of movies and pop culture filter in, in that gap - people separated by time, writing passed between the past and future? Ghosts trying desperately to communicate? Maybe Will is the one who's dead, in fact, which would possibly explain everything else going on to him lately?
Absolutely none of those possibilities are things he actually wants to confront and deal with in any way, of course, but--
And then he's distracted, because that's...a child's handwriting. With another smiley face. Something tender and concerned clenches in his chest.
Will doesn't have a pen. So, in true slasher-movie fashion, he's going to just carve his own words into the wallpaper, using the fork he finds in the corner after a moment's frantic search. ]
Mine's Will. [ No smiley face, sorry. :( ] Where are you?