I love the Dreamsend, Inc. characters from End Roll SO MUCH. I love their relationships I love their personalities I love their designs I LOVE THEM. and so I wrote a fic about Raymond and Walter after the events of the game :P
(ignore the way I get lost and incoherent when I have to figure out how to end a story)
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end roll fanfiction ~ takes place after the game so big spoilers lolol you've been warned ~ takes place after the true ending ~ tw/cw: mentions of suicide
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Maybe the news shouldn't have been so much of a shock. Raymond had talked to the boy - stood right in front of him - seen the haunted darkness in his eyes. He'd seen how much guilt the boy carried on his shoulders.
He kept trying to tell himself not to feel so… responsible for it. It wasn't his fault that Russell had killed himself. If anyone had seen it coming or had been able to prevent it, they would have. No one was happy with this outcome. No one ever wanted it to happen.
But still. Raymond felt the guilt, gnawing at him like it must have gnawed at Russell. If only he’d talked to him longer. If only he’d held the boy by the shoulders and really dug into him - how are you doing. really. do you need anything? we don’t want your mind to crack.
No one had even considered that Russell’s mind might snap under the pressure. All they thought about was succeeding. All they thought about was get him to repent.
Raymond missed the kid. He’d been a little odd, sure, but he’d been so brave, and so smart. There had been a lot going on in that boy’s head.
And now it was all gone.
It was haunting, really, to remember that bright and vibrant world; and then to remember how completely and utterly it had been destroyed. There was no trace left of it. None at all.
Raymond had been looking forward to talking to the kid after he’d gotten out. He had so many questions for him. That place had been messed up. And he wanted to see the kid’s face relax for once. He wanted to see him smile, for once.
Dang.
Well, it was getting late. Walter would be on his back tomorrow for not finishing all of the paperwork he’d been handed; but it had been such a thick, aggressive stack slammed down on his desk so early in the morning, and Raymond had never thrived in an office. This was his max. No more paperwork tonight. His head was fuzzy. He needed a drink.
Raymond switched off his office light and trudged down the hall. The air had been so tense, so gloomy, ever since the incident, as everyone called it in hushed whispers. Dreamsend, Inc. had just taken a major hit. And no one was taking it well.
There were several other employees still in the building this late. They ignored Raymond. He did the same.
A gust of hot, wet wind hit Raymond as soon as he opened the door. It was stormy tonight. There wasn’t much rain yet, thankfully. Only a few drizzly droplets.
Raymond tugged his hat down firmer on his head and marched on. The bar was only a few drops away. He’d be fine.
He was drenched by the time he finally got inside the bar. Out of breath and dripping. Now, at least, he looked as gross as he felt.
The bartender knew him. She waved as he approached.
“Pretty stormy out there, huh?”
“Don’t remind me.” He ordered and glanced around himself.
There was a blond man two seats down from him at the bar, staring at his own glass and obviously trying not to notice Raymond.
“...Walter?”
The man got up to leave.
“What are you doing here?” Walter at a bar was somehow the last thing Raymond could have expected. Walter seemed like he’d drink wine alone in his living room. Or drink coffee in his office, late at night. Honestly, that’s where Raymond expected him to be. Bent over a desk, stressing about the public nightmare that Russell’s situation was turning into. Filing hundreds and hundreds of pages of paperwork. Eyebrows sharp and fingers flying.
Walter sighed and finally looked over at Raymond, his eyes narrowed and angry.
“None of your concern,” he huffed. “I was just leaving, anyway.”
“No, you weren’t. Hey. Sit down. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Walter wavered.
“C’mon. I could use the company.”
Walter let out another long sigh and sat down, still a seat away.
The bartender brought him a fresh drink and he stared down at it, running his fingers over the glass.
Raymond hadn’t seen Walter in a few days; they’d both been so caught up in the chaos that had erupted ever since they’d received the panicked screams over the intercom. He took advantage of this moment to study him.
His eyes were sunken, rimmed with black; his lips chapped and shaky; his complexion pale and dry. The skin around his fingernails was chewed raw.
Raymond bit his lip. He knew Walter was upset about everything - but he hadn’t expected to see him rattled like this. Walter didn’t get rattled. He just got stressed.
But the man sitting next to him right now had obviously not slept in a few days, or eaten a solid meal, or even drawn a proper breath. He was beyond stressed. He was disturbed. Haunted.
“You good?” Raymond asked, softly.
Walter glared at him.
“Obviously not,” he snapped. “That kid - that kid was supposed to be our first success. Our first ever success. I was so proud. So excited. But he - he -”
Walter curled his fist tight around the glass and thumped his head against the bartop.
He stayed like that for a while. Raymond sipped his drink.
Walter lifted his head again.
“He was supposed to be the one,” he mumbled. “The only one to actually work. I had so much faith in him.”
Raymond ran his fingers along the wet ring on the bartop.
“You know he wasn’t, like, just a test subject, right?” he said, softly.
“Hm? Yeah, yeah, of course.”
“I mean it. He was fourteen, you know. He was just a kid. And - and we made him feel so guilty he offed himself. We did our job a little too well. Don’t you feel bad about that, Walter? Stop blaming him for dying. We were the ones who killed him.”
“We didn’t kill him, you idiot -”
“Yes, we did! We did and you know it!!”
The bartender shot them both a dirty look. Raymond fell silent.
“I’m so disgusted at myself,” he said, quietly. “At the both of us, really, if I’m being honest.”
Walter didn’t reply.
“Don’t you feel guilty about it, Walter? Even a little? You have to realize the hand you played in it.”
Walter bit at his fingernail.
“Whatever.”
It was getting hot and loud in Raymond’s chest. If he looked at Walter any longer, he’d start yelling. And then he’d get kicked out.
He left some money for the bartender and stood up. He was almost dry now. Maybe it wouldn’t be raining outside anymore. He could only hope, right?
Walter was bent over the bartop again when he left. His shoulders were shaky.
Raymond stepped into the hot, musky air outside. The door slammed behind him.
For a moment, he considered heading back to the office to finish the paperwork. Don’t worry, Russell. I won’t forget about you. I’ll do the paperwork for you.
But in the end, he just turned around and went home.
It didn’t rain for the rest of the night.
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