Part 2
The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.
You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.
Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.
Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.
But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.
Why?
The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?
Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.
The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.
“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”
The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.
You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.
Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”
Still, you said nothing.
Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.
“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.
You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”
You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.
Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?
She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.
But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.
You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.
No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.
Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”
They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.
When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”
Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.
“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."
Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.
“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”
“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.
Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."
“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.
Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"
Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.
The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.
As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.
“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.
“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.
“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”
“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”
“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”
Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.
Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”
“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.
Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.
The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”
She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.
“Is she here?” you asked.
Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.
Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.
She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.
The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”
The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice",Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?
“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”
The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?
“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”
You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.
“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.
Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.
“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.
“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins.” you said.
It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.
And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.
“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”
Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.
“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”
You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.
Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?
The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.
Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.
She snapped her fingers twice.
The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.
Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.
Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”
“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.
It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.
As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.
Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.
Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.
The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.
“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.
Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”
Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”
One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.
“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,” Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”
Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”
You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”
The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.
Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.
“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”
Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.
Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.
Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”
You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.
“What’s in the book?” she asked,
“Information,” you replied simply.
She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”
“Not me.”
The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.
“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”
Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.
That smirk.
She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.
It was... unsettling.
Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”
Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.
“Why are you really here?”
You raised an eyebrow.
"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.
“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.
“Why?” she pressed.
“I had work.”
“Work?”
“Demon hunting.”
It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.
“What… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.
“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”
The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.
Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.
“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.
You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”
It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?
“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.
You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”
It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.
She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.
“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”
You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.
The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”
Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.
Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.
Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.
Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”
This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.
“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”
Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”
You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.
Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.
The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.
When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.
This was it.
For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.
As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”
You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”
Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”
You turned fully now, facing her.
She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”
“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity
Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”
“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”
She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”
You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.
“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.
You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.
She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.
She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.
When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,
“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.
“I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”
Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”
Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”
“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”
Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”
Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”
“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”
“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”
“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”
Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”
Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”
Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?
“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”
“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.
Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.
“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"
"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.
“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”
Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”
“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”
“No.”
“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.
Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”
“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”
“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.
"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”
Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”
“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”
Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.
Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”
She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”
Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”
Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.
“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.
“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.” Wednesday replied, stepping into position.
Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.
Where are you?
You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.
Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.
“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.
“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.
The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.
Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.
It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.
You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.
She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.
Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”
Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”
The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.
“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.
"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.
Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.
After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.
Evidently, she was wrong.
She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.
When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.
She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.
As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.
She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.
Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”
“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.
“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.
You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”
“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”
“And?” she pressed.
“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.
“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.
Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”
The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.
But she would never let you see it.
“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.
Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.
And yet, when class ended, you approached her.
“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”
Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.