Willy Wonka x Reader

Making Friends

(Willy's POV)

     I walk into my tiny room. There's a rickety bed, a washbasin, a desk, and a leaky ceiling. I avoid the leaks as I walk to the window. The golden dome of the Galeries Gourmet seems a long way away. A knock is heard at my door.

"Room Service," two female voices say, and I smile when I recognize them.

"Told you to read the small print," the little girl says.

"Slight problem with that," I respond.

"You can't read, can you?" the young woman asks me.

"I focused my studies almost exclusively on chocolate," I explain.

"I see," she says, sounding sympathetic.

"For everything else, I've relied on the kindness of strangers," I add, turning to look at the girls.

"And look where that's got you: the Staff Quarters," the little girl says.

The young woman sighs, and then walks up to me.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," she says. "I'm (Y/n) (L/n), and this is my best friend, Noodle. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wonka."

So she's (Y/n). Her name is just as beautiful as her. She holds her hand out for me to shake, but I gently take her hand and plant a kiss on it. Her eyes widen a bit, and a small bashful smile starts to appear on her face.

"Very nice to meet you, Miss (Y/n). And you can call me Willy," I tell her, making her smile grow a bit.

"So, um, despite your. . . misfortune, I wouldn't say everything is bad. For example, you have a bed," (Y/n) says.

It's sweet that she's trying to be optimistic. I go to sit on my bed, but I shout when it collapses beneath me! (Y/n) gasps with worry.

"You had a bed," she corrects herself as she comes to help me.

She holds her hand out and I take it, and she helps me up.

"Desk," Noodle says, gesturing to the desk, and she walks to the washbasin with a metal cup. "And washbasin slash toilet. Water comes in two temperatures. 'Cold' and 'Colder.'"

She fills the cup with water. (Y/n) looks at me.

"How much do you owe them?" she asks.

"Ten thousand," I reply.

"Count yourself lucky," Noodle says. "(Y/n) owes twenty, and I owe thirty."

"What? How do you two owe them money?" I ask her, shocked. "I thought they found you down the laundry chute, and (Y/n) when she was lost at the age of four."

"Oh, they did. Took us in out of the goodness of their hearts and charged us for the privilege," Noodle replies as she prepares me a bowl of slops.

"What a pair of monsters," I say.

"The greedy beat the needy every time, Willy," (Y/n) says.

"Guess it's just the way of the world," Noodle adds as she and (Y/n) leave the room.

"Oh, come on, girls. That's just your Orphan Syndrome talking," I call after them.

They reappear in the doorway, looking very confused.

"Our what?" they ask at the same time.

"Your Orphan Syndrome," I repeat, and I toss the bowl of slops into a bucket of water. "And we are not eating any slops."

     I put my sample case on the desk.