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ikeavrouw · 2 years

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Yan!C!Fundy x GN!Reader

Summary: Just as always, you’re walking through the park to clear your mind from the stress that work brings you. When you’re doing this, however, you quickly find a sobbing young adult sitting by the lake in the park, trying to hide away from anybody else. And you, the good-hearted person you are, can’t help but sit down with him to see if you can offer your aid in any way, unaware of the feelings this mere action sparks.

Genre: Comfort, angst

Words: 3.9K

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, (mentions of) stalking, unhealthy relationship with parents, hint of age gap between c!Fundy and reader.

Pronouns: you/yours, they/them

Request: [YES]/[NO]

AU: More Realistic AU (Or however I should call this)

Enjoy!

By the Lakeside

The sun shines through the leaves of the trees, lighting the grass on the ground beautifully. The alluring melodies of the birds only calm you more, giving you the much needed distraction from life.

You’ve always liked wandering through nature, so living close to the best park in your region, has always been a nice addition to your current living space.

With your hands in the pockets of your pants, you breathe in the pure fall air, the dark clouds above you only letting the sun through as it’s already predicting the rain that will fall soon. You do realize that it’s a lot more lonely to walk around here ever after you always had a partner to work with, but your solitude is welcoming as well.

While you keep wandering, your mind trailing off as well, rain drops already start falling down when you approach the lake that will forever hold a place in your heart. It’s very usual for you to come here. What is not usual, however, is the sound of sobbing coming with it.

Curiosity and empathy taking over your heart, you come closer to the source of the crying, where you quickly find a young adult sitting with his knees up to his face, hiding the tears that are flowing down his cheeks. There’s such a familiar image to see, yet you don’t dare to think of the day you sat in this same spot, hoping for someone to save you.

The boy, who you assume to be at least ten years younger than you are, is not aware of your presence at first, until you walk away from the original path to sit next to him in the bushes, almost hidden away from the world as well. The breaking branches catch his attention as his head snaps upwards, his eyes widening as he looks at you suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he stutters, trying to wipe away the tears quickly in the hopes that you didn’t see him crying. He’s not someone who wants people to know he’s upset enough to let the tears leave his eyes, after all. Living with a neglectful, narcissistic father and an emotionally absent, alcoholic mother does that to you. Fundy’s entire life, he’s been told to just suck it up. And thus, that’s all he’s been doing. The only moments he’s ever cried, has been the moments he was alone. Whether he was sitting in his room or in the nearby park at the lake, where nobody has ever bothered him: he’s always done it alone.

So, seeing a stranger come to him while he’s letting it all go for once, is quite new to him, to say the least. And in a way, it’s also giving him an anxiety he doesn’t recognize.

“The name’s Y/N,” you say with a gentle smile as you hold out your hand for him to shake. When you see that he doesn’t trust you enough - which, in your opinion, only makes sense and you cannot judge him for whatsoever - you put it in your pocket again as you tilt your head at him. “I heard you crying, so I thought I’d check up on you.”

Fundy looks at you, a stranger, with expected suspicion in his eyes. You sit a bit further away from him, assuming that he's feeling uncomfortable with you being so close already, but it instead seems to offend him. He doesn't admit it though. "Fundy."

"Hm?"

"Fundy. My name is Fundy." Fundy wipes away some more of his tears and you nod at him with another faint smile.

"Pleasure meeting you Fundy. Do you come here often? You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, by the way!"

Fundy looks away from your friendly eyes. "Sometimes. Why?"

"Just asking," you say with a shrug. For a short moment, the two of you sit there in silence, until you continue. "Do you want to talk about what upset you? We don't have to, but if it's bothering you, you can tell me. I might be a mere stranger, but telling someone may help." You're not asking for his life story, of course, but to Fundy, it does seem like a burden to just tell you what makes him feel so shitty. After all, what are you getting out of this?

"Just my dad being a dick," he lets out a sigh as he looks away. "I recently moved out and he's making a big fucking deal about it." Much to his parents' dismay, he got hired at a bakery of a family member's friend he met at university. Sure, he could be doing something with his education, but he has no passion for law whatsoever. Now, he isn't passionate about baking either, but it does piss his parents off, so it is good for something. Only problem is that now that he's moved out, his father insists on visiting him and just spending time with him, something he's refused to do when Fundy was an actual child, always prioritising his job in politics over his own son.

"Parents can be a lot, can't they?" you laugh and Fundy shakes his head right away.

"That's the thing. Never has Dad paid any attention to me, but now I'm leaving, he suddenly wants to be a father. And honestly, my mother isn't any better. She's trying to change my mind too, but she's being less fake about it, at least."

"Damn, I'm sorry to hear that. I first assumed you were still in your teenager rebellious phase, or something," you joke, lightening the mood just like you attempted to do and Fundy growls, although it's not meant in a hostile way whatsoever.

"I'm in my 20s, I'm not a child anymore."

"Yeah, my bad," you laugh and Fundy smiles to himself, although he doesn't dare showing this. Fundy is still looking at you through the corners of his eyes, while you continue speaking. "You want to know something? I used to come here a lot as well, whenever I just needed to stand back and think. When I was younger, I had a couple of arguments with a friend of mine. They were honestly quite childish and neither of us were brave enough to admit we just had some problems we couldn't really deal with, if that makes sense. So, whenever we had an argument like that, I'd do the same as you: I came here and cried my eyes out. And yes, I was a teenager and a young one at that, but age doesn't really say anything, since I might as well have been an adult. Only thing is that once we both resolved those problems, or rather when I discovered that he had a hard time at home, I felt bad for him, you know?"

"What did you do after that?"

"I made it obvious that my anger issues weren't meant for him, whenever I actually hurt him in one way or another. Now that I think of it, I suppose my age did matter in this case, since I was still open to learning and growing. Or at least, a lot more than older people nowadays are." As much as your comment is meant to be taken as a joke, Fundy can find some truth in it.

"What are you trying to tell me with that?" Fundy asks, looking over at the helpful stranger that is you, and you chuckle.

"It's okay to cry and be upset, but don't let it consume you, I suppose. Life is full of surprises. I mean, that friend I used to argue with? I'm still besties with him now. One time I cried here, when I was just a little younger than you, after the death of a family member, and I met an amazing person who ended up becoming a lot more than I thought we would ever become, especially since she first was a simple stranger as well, just like me." As soon as you say that, Fundy starts repeating the words in his mind as he already starts overthinking them. The rain starts pouring down now, the sounds filling his ears and being a little too loud to his liking. You seem to notice this. As you let out a small laugh, Fundy looks away from you and you put your hand on his shoulder. It's a careful movement, probably a hesitant one as well, and you apologize softly. "What about we bring you home, huh? I have an umbrella, you can borrow it if you want to."

And there it is again. That kindness. That welcoming sweetness he hasn't seen in anyone else up till now. "Why?" he asks, almost stuttering. "Why are you doing this? What are you getting out of this?"

You look confusedly at him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice as you're already standing up, knowing you'll get your hands dirty in the mud if you stay there for too long. "I don't think I'm getting anything out of this," you comment nonchalantly, shrugging as you already opening your umbrella, holding it above your and Fundy's head, who's still sitting in the leaves. "I mean, if God wants to reward me, I'll accept anything in cash, but I'm pretty sure that's not the case."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to understand. Come on, stand up, before your pants get all wet and muddy." You hold out your hand for him to take, unaware of the butterflies that emerge in his stomach, and he takes it so you can help him up. "I'll just give you the umbrella, by the way. Need a shower anyway."

"You can come with me, if you want to," Fundy mumbles, avoiding eye contact and you look at him surprisedly.

"You sure? I'm okay with it, but my house isn't far from here. And I don't have the time to stay or anything, so I really don't want to make you feel obligated to invite me or something."

"No, it's okay, really."

So, after this interaction, you and Fundy walk towards his house so you can make sure he gets home safely. The entire walk to his destination, he glances at you curiously, analyzing every single detail of your face. There's a comfort to find in your eyes which he cannot explain. There's love that you are able to give; all the love that he's missed throughout his life. The love and care that his parents should've given him, but they didn't have the time nor will to even give him as much as a smile.

And you did this with no problem.

It's something Fundy doesn't think he'll ever understand, and he's too nervous to admit it to you. He's scared he'll drive you away if he tells you about the quiet feelings he's developed for a stranger, feelings which he's never genuinely felt for someone before. Maybe at school, but never this strong. Never this present. Never this loud.

"It seems like this is where our paths part, Fundy," you say with a grateful smile on your face. "It was nice meeting you. I hope your family won't be too... bothersome. May you have a prosperous and good life."

"We can stay in contact, though, can't we?" Fundy asks, thinking of reasons that could give him the opportunity to see you again, but you just laugh at that.

"I'd love to, but it's unlikely I'll actually be able to keep talking to you and whatnot. And I think that you'll also lead a busy life once you've found the job of your dreams. That, and I think that it's smarter to find friends that are closer to your age." Fundy tries to convince you, but you seem to have made up your mind. With a sigh, you put your hand in your pocket and give him a card with your name on it, along with an e-mail address. "Here. If you really need to talk to me, you can send a mail to my professional e-mail address. But please, only when it's really necessary, okay?"

"Thank you," Fundy says, disappointed, but still proud to have more of your personal information.

--------

The sound of the water cooking overpowers the talking of Fundy's parents in the living room, who are discussing the, according to them, 'surprising' change in both Fundy's behaviour and taste. Fundy is actually glad to have the ability to drown out their voices, already being exhausted enough without their presence. But here they are.

"I didn't know you were this much into literature, Fundy," his father shouts, the only time Fundy has ever heard him raise his voice to say something positive. "Who is this Y/N L/N, if I may ask?"

"They're a writer, Wilbur," Fundy's mother already answers before even allowing Fundy to process his father's words. "Apparently, they've helped Mr. Schlatt out with coming up with arguments for some of his debates."

"And you like this Y/N and their stories?" Wilbur asks, his forced sweetness being obvious to Fundy. After the young adult puts some tea in the cups and carries it to the living room, avoiding his parents' eyes, he hums. "You support Schlatt too?"

Fundy shrugs. "I prefer staying out of politics, actually," he states, sitting down in the couch with his own drink. Sally scoffs and Wilbur simply lets out a sigh.

"That's not at all like your father," she simply comments, taking a sip of her drink while reading through some of the pages of one of the books you've published, before going to the last page to get some more information on you.

"Writing books is more like a part-time job they have," Fundy explains plainly. "That's not what they make most of their money with."

"I assume that they're not involved in any politics either?" Wilbur asks with a raised eyebrow and Fundy shakes his head. "Of course not. Quite a shame. Maybe I would've had the pleasure to have a debate with them."

"Well, Schlatt is one of their closest friends, so," Fundy starts, but he's quickly interrupted by his mother.

"How's your job going?" Fundy falls silent. He hasn't told them yet. He hasn't told them yet about how he got fired due to his lack of decent work. According to his boss, he'd always get distracted or get too late or come too tiredly.

"You've made too many mistakes, Fundy," his boss had told him. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to let you go until you've pulled yourself back together again." Even if his words were meant at first, after Fundy's anger outburst towards him, he knew that he could never come back. Niki, the friend who also happened to be related to his boss, explained how Fundy gave the man a broken nose, which was pretty serious. She said that the likeliness of him ever working there again was close to non-existent, but that she could look for a better job soon, if he wanted to. Fundy refused, however. Maybe it was the realization that no matter how many jobs he'd find, he'd always fail. You are on his mind 24/7, after all, and he's find something that he can do without failing, which is being there for you, even without your knowledge.

But that's nothing with which he can make money, so he just hopes he can get some financial support of his parents when he needs it. "I got fired."

While Sally's neutral facial expression falls to that of disappointment, Wilbur just bursts out laughing. "I told you you shouldn't have chosen that career path? They don't appreciate the people with our intellect and intelligence there, son. It's way better to go for a job that fits your personality more."

"I'm not going to join politics, Dad," he mumbles and Wilbur simply rolls his eyes with a grin. Their parents keep talking with him, pretending as if they've always had a close relationship, but Fundy can't ignore the distance that he feels between him and them. The emptiness he feels when talking to them. An emptiness which he can fill, if only he had the guts to go to the person who made him actually feel loved.

When his parents finally leave again, he locks the door and feels tears pushing against his eyes, but he keeps them in. He really doesn't want to cry today. No, not now. Today is a special day, after all. It's been a month since he met you, an event which both led to a possible escape and unexpected tragedies.

He goes upstairs where he grabs his notebook, which is filled with all kinds of things related to you. There are photos he found on the internet, the card with your contact info, information he found online, etc. He knows your exact age, along with your birthday, but unfortunately he hasn't been able to discover as much as he wanted to.

One of the first things that upsets him quite, is that he cannot find too personal information about you. He has no idea where you went to school or who you live with, only that you have a pet of whom you make photos and put on a private account online, which he follows. He also knows you're pretty close with the politician J. Schlatt, who is in a relationship with Quackity, so it's unlikely that you've ever been more than friends with that drunk. Besides that, he has very little information on your friends and acquaintances. He is, however, pretty sure you also know Niki, since she mentioned you once.

Second problem which he had quickly come across, was the lack of information when it came to contacting you. He only found your professional email address over and over, but he has mailed it before and hasn't gotten any answer yet. When you didn't answer the next day, he sent another one and another one and that's how it kept going. Just telling you about his day, or about how he wants to meet up sometime: he tries everything, yet you seem to be unavailable. He has even thought of returning to the park and crying his eyes out in the hope you would appear, but he hasn't found the courage yet to do that.

That's when his phone buzzes. Hopeful, he opens the social media app of which it came, smiling when he sees that you posted another picture of your pet. This time, however, it's something way more useful.

Your street. Fundy can see your street in the background.

Screenshotting the photo immediately, he zooms into the sign that tells every person to pass it what the name of the street is, and thanks to his knowledge of the place he lives in, he immediately knows what street you live in.

Looking through his window, he sees that it's already gotten dark outside. So, with his heart beating in his chest, he makes a decision. A decision which he will not be able to back down from.

He'll go to your house.

----

It's not hard to tell which house belongs to you, thanks to the familiar animal lying behind the closed curtains and seeing Fundy approach already. Fundy, however, makes sure to stay out of sight. Having put his hoodie over his head, the darkness hides his face, so he is safe to jump over the fences to your backyard, which will shield him away from the rest of the world as well.

The curtains to your backyard are not entirely closed as the light goes through it, showing three happy people sitting on the couch and having dinner. Fundy gets close to the window, but makes sure to watch out, having the luck of not being in any of the people's sight. He recognizes you without even trying, but the other two women are tricky at first. The one, he discovers to be a well-known therapist, while the other's face he cannot see, thanks to her back being turned to him. After some closer looking, though, he identifies the stranger to be Niki.

Hold up, you and Niki are actually friends?

Fundy watches as the three of you finish the food and once the therapist stands up to put the plates away, he lowers to the ground to make sure he doesn't get seen. When the shadow of the woman covers the ground and gets smaller, telling him that she's returning to the table, he dares looking through the window again.

Sitting up right, he looks closely, seeing that she's carrying a box with some food inside. Is it cake? Why do they have cake? Fundy knows that it's not your birthday and it can't be Niki's either, but it wouldn't make sense for the therapist to be the one carrying the delicious food if it was hers either. What are you celebrating?

He can hear your laughs through the window regularly, and it's quite easy to tell yours apart from the giggles of the other two people present. After all, your laugh is the one that makes his body feel all warm inside, while neither of them can make him feel anything at all. When he concentrates enough, he can even hear your voices.

"To this special day of Y/N, Niki and Puffy! May we..." Puffy. Yes, that name sounds familiar. That's the therapist.

His mind wandering off, he doesn't understand what she's saying, so the least he can do is assume that they're pretty close friends. But close friends don't look at each other like that, right? They don't hold hands the way they do. Every gesture of theirs, every kiss on the cheek: it's something that he can only wish you did to him. But still, he's lying to himself, trying to get himself to believe that these people are just your friends.

But he can't do that any longer, when it's your voice that overpowers theirs. "We've known each other for so long already and I could not be more grateful for you two, so I first want to thank you for being in my life." The two women hold each other's hand when you say that, before looking at you, allowing you to continue. "Which is why I want to officially put a label on what we have, also to the public." You can see how much happiness these words give Puffy and Niki, but you are unaware of the shattering heart of a certain young adult.

Fundy watches as you sit down on one knee, clearing your throat uncertainly. "Puffy, Niki. Will the two of you marry me?"

That one sentence. That one sentence hurts Fundy more than his parents ever could have. Puffy's and Niki's happy cheers are drowned out by the high-pitched sound that fills his ears. Tears leave his eyes as he stands up with shaking legs, running out of the yard and tripping over something. Although he manages to get himself up after this mistake, it does not go unseen and unheard, unlike his sorrow.

Shot in a panic and overflown by emotion, he runs and runs. The tears in his eyes blind his sight and he quickly picks up the scent of rain and nature. He has entered the park. Still running, he approaches the lake, where he jumps into the bushes by the lakeside, at the exact same place where he was sitting when he first met you. And there, he sits down, crying and sobbing and doing everything he did that day.

Except now, there is no one to save him.