Part 3
As Wednesday entered the quad during Lunch period, her gaze immediately fell on her usual table, where Enid was enthusiastically gesturing as she spoke to—you.
Eugene sat on one corner of the table, Enid said something particularly exuberant, causing you to stiffen visibly. Eugene, in turn, shot Enid a panicked look that screamed, Please stop talking before you get us all killed.
As Wednesday reached the table and took her seat across from you without a word, her gaze landing on Enid, who greeted her with a wide smile.
“Hey, Wednesday! Guess what?!” Enid began, her excitement practically vibrating off her.
“I would rather not,” Wednesday replied flatly.
Enid turned her attention back to you. “So, like I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and I’ve been thinking—Last year we barely won but it’s time we totally crush Bianca’s team this year. And you, Y/N, would be perfect for—”
You didn’t bother looking up from your plate. “No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish!” Enid said, huffing dramatically but quickly recovering with a smile. “Okay, but seriously, you’d be perfect. We need someone like you—someone who can strategize and, you know, scare people."
“I don’t care.” Your tone was sharp enough to cut, but Enid either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.
“Come on! You and Wednesday on the same team would be unstoppable! Seriously, we could destroy Bianca. She wouldn’t stand a chance!” Enid leaned closer to you, her smile widening as if sheer enthusiasm could wear down your resistance.
“Let me clarify,” you said, your focus still on your plate. “No. As in, absolutely not. As in, I’d rather eat broken glass than subject myself to whatever nonsense you have planned.”
Eugene shifted uncomfortably in his seat, darting a glance between you and Enid like he was bracing for an explosion.
“That was a bit harsh, But I promise you’re gonna love it once you try it!” Enid barreled on, her voice impossibly cheerful. “And imagine—Wednesday and Y/N! You’d wipe the floor with everyone.”
You set your utensils down with a quiet clink, turning to Enid with a gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “Do you ever stop to think before you speak?” you asked coldly, your tone a knife's edge. “Or is it your entire personality to be this relentlessly irritating?”
Enid blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment before she recovered. “Wow, okay, someone’s cranky. But I get it! You’re under a lot of pressure or whatever.”
“Pressure has nothing to do with it,” you replied, your tone colder still. “You’re insufferable. You don’t listen, you don’t think, and you certainly don’t understand the concept of personal boundaries. Take a hint: I’m not interested in whatever childish game you’re dragging me into.”
Enid’s bright demeanor faltered, her smile slowly dying... The table fell silent. Even Wednesday, who often found Enid’s enthusiasm grating, felt an unexpected pang at the harshness of your words.
But Enid didn’t retreat. Instead, she tilted her head as she unleashed her ultimate weapon.
The puppy eyes.
“Well,” Enid said after a beat, her voice quieter and sadder. “That’s a really mean thing to say. But I’m not giving up. Because deep down, I think you’re not as awful as you want people to think.”
You stared at her, unblinking, as though calculating the odds of her ever leaving you alone. Wednesday found herself watching the exchange with acute interest, her gaze flicking between you and Enid.
Wednesday stiffened. Even she wasn’t immune to Enid’s maddeningly effective weapon. She braced herself for your response, curious to see if you’d succumb.
You let out a tired sigh. “Fine,” you said at last, your voice heavy with exasperation. “I’ll join your team. Just stop talking so I can eat in peace.”
Enid let out an excited squeal and, before you could react, threw her arms around you in a side hug. You froze completely, your body going rigid as though you’d been petrified on the spot.
Wednesday felt something shift in her chest—a faint, unpleasant pang that she quickly dismissed as indigestion. Her fingers tightened around her fork as she watched Enid cling to you, her head resting against your shoulder...
You didn’t push her away, but your voice was low and measured as you began counting down. “Three… two…”
Enid immediately released you, sitting back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sorry! I just got excited. Thank you so much for agreeing, though! You won’t regret it, I promise!”
"I already do." You muttered, returning your attention to your plate with the same calm indifference you always exuded. But Wednesday caught the faintest flicker of something in your eyes—a weariness, perhaps, or a resignation you couldn’t quite mask.
Enid, oblivious as ever, turned her attention back to Wednesday. “Isn’t this great, Wens? With Y/N on our team, we’re totally going to win this year!”
Wednesday didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she studied you for a moment longer, her mind churning with thoughts she couldn’t fully articulate. Finally, she turned back to her own meal.
"We will see." She said, still feeling something unrecognizable. Whatever it was, she would not allow it to distract her. Not now, not tonight. Behind the greenhouse. After the sun falls. You had given her a directive, and she intended to follow it, not out of curiosity, of course, but because she refused to let you maintain the upper hand.
After the rest of the classes ended, Wednesday found herself in a disconcerting state of reflection. The day's events gnawed at her, though she maintained her usual stoic demeanor. Your words echoed in her mind, sharp and cutting, like the blade you so clearly wielded with mastery.
"You’re not worth wasting my time."
Though she would never admit it aloud, those words struck her. A part of her dismissed them—what could you possibly know of her worth? But another part, the one she rarely let surface, couldn’t help but dwell on the sting.
Wednesday Addams had faced monsters, both literal and metaphorical, yet here she was, feeling... unsettled. Not afraid. No, Wednesday Addams was never afraid. But the thought of meeting you, alone, made her feel something she couldn't entirely recognize.
She briefly considered informing Enid of her impending meeting with you. Not out of fear, of course. Fear was an emotion beneath her. It was a matter of logic, of ensuring someone knew her whereabouts. But as soon as the idea formed, she discarded it. No, involving Enid would complicate matters, and the thought of explaining herself to her overenthusiastic roommate was unbearable.
Instead, she opted for a more discreet confidant.
“You’re to keep an eye on the time,” she instructed Thing, her voice even but firm. “If I’m not back by ten, assume the worst.”
Thing’s fingers scrambled into a questioning gesture.
“Do not be ridiculous,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “I am not afraid. Merely cautious.”
Thing’s tapping turned into a sarcastic drumroll, but Wednesday ignored him, brushing past to retrieve her coat.
The path to the greenhouse was empty, obviously no one would be out here at this time.
As she rounded the corner, she spotted you immediately. You were seated on the ground, your back against the glass wall of the greenhouse. A katana rested beside you, the blade gleaming faintly in the dimming light.
Did you summon it? Wednesday wondered.
You looked up as she approached, your gaze steady and unreadable. “You’re on time.”
Wednesday ignored the comment, her eyes flicking to the katana. “Are you finally going to show me?”
"Katana techniques aren’t something you can master by watching. It requires precision and patience, I know you fought some old wizard, but I highly doubt that would be enough."
Wednesday’s expression hardened. "That 'old wizard' was Crackstone."
“And?” Your tone was flat, unimpressed, as if the name meant nothing.
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. What do I need to do first?”
You reached down and picked up the katana beside you, holding it out for her. Wednesday accepted the sword with both hands, one curling around the scabber and the other around the handle. It was heavier than she expected—not unmanageable, but noticeable. Still, she adjusted quickly, refusing to let any hesitation show.
She stood, focusing on the sword, attempting to summon a vision. She hoped for even a glimpse of your history, your purpose, your motives. Nothing. The blade remained silent in her hands, its secrets as tightly guarded as yours.
Her reverie was broken by your voice. “Do you know how to unsheathe it without losing your fingers?”
Wednesday met your gaze, her tone sharp. “Of course. Just because I haven’t fought with a katana doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of its basics.” She demonstrated, flawlessly unsheathing the sword with a precise motion.
For a moment, she paused, her gaze lingering on the blade. Its sharp edge felt almost hypnotic.
“Now sheathe it again,” you instructed.
Wednesday hesitated, the command catching her off guard. “I just took it out,” she muttered annoyed.
Still, she attempted to comply, but the process proved unexpectedly awkward. She struggled to align the blade with the scabbard, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy. She half-expected you to smirk or make a biting comment, but your expression remained impassive, devoid of mockery.
Instead, you conjured your own katana, the same one she had seen in the Nightshade Library, and unsheathed it with effortless grace. “Watch,” you said simply. With practiced ease, you demonstrated the technique for resheathing the sword, pushing the scabbard forward while maintaining balance.
Wednesday observed intently, her sharp mind immediately grasping the mechanics. “I see,” she murmured, attempting the motion again. This time, her execution was far smoother, and the blade slid into place with satisfying precision.
“Good,” you said, your voice still emotionless.
From there, the lesson progressed. You guided her through a series of foundational techniques, demonstrating precise footwork and the fluidity required to wield the katana effectively. Your movements were deliberate, almost mesmerizing in their precision, and Wednesday found herself silently admiring your mastery. She didn’t smile. She didn’t laugh. But she felt something.... something she felt while grave digging... is this what Enid called... "fun"?
Still, she kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give you the satisfaction of knowing she was... pleased by this... would you even care if you knew?
By the end, her muscles ached pleasantly, but her mind was sharper than ever. She sheathed the katana with practiced ease, turning to you as you prepared to leave.
“Here,” she said, holding out the weapon.
You took it, and as soon as it was in your hands, both katanas vanished into thin air. Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
As you turned to leave without any , she felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of dissatisfaction. This wasn’t enough. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Wait.”
You paused, glancing back over your shoulder. “What is it?”
She struggled for a moment, the words eluding her. Finally, she asked, “Why did you agree to show me these techniques?”
You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you looked at her with that same unreadable expression. “Goodnight, Wednesday,” you said, your voice softer than she expected.
You turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. It wasn’t until you had disappeared into the shadows that she realized something—this was the first time you had used her name. And for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, it mattered.
As Wednesday pushed open the door to her shared dorm, her eyes went to Enid sprawled across her bed as she animatedly whispered to Thing, who was perched on her pillow like her sidekick.
As she stepped further into the room, she felt Enid’s gaze snap to her. It tracked her every step, as though waiting for some kind of confirmation.
“What?” Wednesday snapped, her tone as sharp as a blade.
Enid sat up, crossing her legs and hugging a pillow to her chest, a smug little smile spreading across her face. “Nothing,” she replied, her tone far too innocent to be genuine. “Absolutely nothing.”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes, peeling off her coat and hanging it neatly on its hook. “You’re staring at me."
Enid gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Staring? Me? No! I’m just... thinking."
"Thinking what, exactly?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Enid drawled, leaning forward with a grin that only grew wider with each passing second. “Maybe observing how you’ve been spending an unusual amount of time with a certain someone lately?”
Wednesday stiffened, her fingers pausing mid-motion as she adjusted the lace cuffs of her shirt. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about.”
“Sure you don’t,” Enid said with a giggle, hugging the pillow tighter.
“Choose your next words carefully, Enid.”
“What were you doing with Y/N?” Enid sat up straighter, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity.
Wednesday’s brow twitched. “That is none of your concern.”
“See, now you’re making it sound suspicious,” Enid teased, her grin widening. “Were you two, like, out in the woods doing something spooky? Summoning ghosts? Practicing dark magic? Or was it something more... romantic?”
Wednesday’s glare deepened. “Romantic?” she repeated, “Do you genuinely believe I would waste my time on such frivolity?”
“Well, I mean,” Enid said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “you do waste your time digging up graves"
Wednesday ignored her as she walked out to the balcony. She needed air. She needed quiet. She needed to expel whatever it was that Enid’s incessant prattling had stirred within her.
The cello waited in its usual spot.
Without hesitation, Wednesday settled into her chair, the bow fitting naturally into her hand. She began to play.
The bartender wiped down the counter with practiced ease. His face was friendly, his demeanor warm as he smiled at the hooded girl sitting before him.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said, his tone easy and warm. “Sometimes we need some alone time away from family.”
The customer remained silent, her head tilted downward.
As Wednesday’s fingers danced over the cello strings, her mind drifted. She hadn’t meant to think of you, but it was impossible not to. The memory of your eyes, a depth that hid so much.
Why did you haunt her so? There was a quiet pain in your gaze, a barrier that dared anyone to come closer. What had happened to you? What had made you so guarded, so indifferent to the world?
The bartender smiled as he wiped a glass, his voice light. “You know, I love my family too. Even when they drive me insane.” He chuckled, setting the glass down. “Wouldn’t trade them for the world.”
Wednesday’s music swelled again, the melody turning wistful. How could she know more about you? Was it even possible?
The bartender glanced around the empty bar, shrugging. “It’s pretty quiet here this time of night. Honestly, I feel more like I’m on guard duty than actually working. Not that I’m complaining—it’s nice to have a slow shift every now and then.”
Wednesday’s bow trembled slightly, though her playing remained flawless. Her thoughts shifted, unwillingly, to you again. She couldn’t shake the questions that gnawed at her. Your precision, your coldness, the way you had spoken to her and yet spared her just enough... that made her understand, there was more to you than you allowed anyone to see.
The bartender leaned closer, his elbows on the counter. “Yeah, no, I get it totally. We all make mistakes. We’re human at the end of the day.”
The customer let out a low chuckle that seemed to echo unnaturally in the small space. It sent an involuntary shiver down the bartender’s spine.
“Are you?” the customer asked, her voice smooth yet chilling.
The bartender blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
The customer slid a card across the counter. His breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on it.
“Are you human?” she repeated, her tone dangerously calm.
As the final note hung in the air, fading into the night, she exhaled slowly, setting the bow down with measured care. The music hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. The unease was still there, coiled in her chest, lingering like a shadow that refused to leave.
Still, one thing was clear. Whatever this was, whatever you were, it wasn’t over.
Finally, she set the cello aside, her movements slower than usual, weighed down by an exhaustion she couldn’t name.
When sleep finally claimed her, it brought something.
Fire. It was everywhere.
And Wednesday was standing right where she fought Crackstone last year.
Enid’s scream, filled with desperation. “Y/N, no!”
The flames seemed to dance around you, as if you were their master rather than their victim. For a moment, you turned your gaze toward her, your eyes, darker... souless.. and then you nodded at Wednesday... as if.. thanking her.
"I know what I have to do now." you said.
The scene shattered like glass, and Wednesday jolted awake, her chest heaving as she sat up in bed. The room was still dark, the faint light of dawn just beginning to creep through the window.
Her fingers curled into the sheets as she struggled to steady her breathing. Dreams were not foreign to her, but this... this was different. It had felt too vivid, too real.
Was it a vision? No. Her visions came with a sharp, distinct pain, an undeniable clarity that marked them as something more than mere dreams. But this... it was murky, fragmented, like a puzzle with too many missing pieces.
She exhaled quietly, watching as the darkness outside softened with the rising sun. What were you? That question gnawed at her, more relentless than any puzzle she’d faced before. You didn’t fit neatly into any category of person she’d encountered. Why did her mind seem so determined to orbit around you?
Wednesday despised the thought of being consumed by anyone or anything, yet here she was, watching the sun rise while her thoughts were plagued by you.
She rose from her bed without making a sound and slipped into her black uniform.
Enid stirred in her bed, her sleepy form stretching lazily beneath her colorful blankets.
“Morning, Wends,” she mumbled.
Wednesday grabbed her coat and headed for the door without sparing her roommate a glance. The door clicked shut behind her before Enid could say anything more.
By the time she reached the quad, the space was still empty. Most students were still tucked away in their dorms, waiting for the breakfast bell to draw them out.
But her eyes found you.
You were sitting beneath a large tree at the far end of the quad, your back against the trunk, your eyes were closed, your features relaxed in a way she had never seen before. You seemed... at peace? It was unsettling to see you like this, so different from the guarded, vigilant person she’d encountered before. This version of you felt unfamiliar, almost vulnerable.
For a moment, she hesitated, her boots rooted to the ground as she watched you from afar. Why was she hesitating? Wednesday Addams didn’t hesitate. She was decisive, certain, unflinching. Yet here she was, caught in some inexplicable limbo. It infuriated her.
Finally, she forced herself to step forward. Each step felt heavier than it should, as though an invisible force was pulling her back. By the time she was only a few steps away from you, your eyes opened.
You looked directly at her.
Wednesday froze. The intensity of your gaze was unsettling, not because it was intimidating, but because it was so direct, so unflinching. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching taut between you.
“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice low and even.
Wednesday blinked, her composure snapping back into place like a well-worn mask. “I could ask you the same question.”
You regarded her for a moment, then shifted slightly against the tree. “Resting,” you said simply. “Breakfast isn’t ready yet.”
Wednesday tilted her head. “And I suppose you decided that lying on cold earth was preferable to staying in your dorm?”
You shrugged. “It’s quiet.”
Wednesday didn’t have a retort for that. She understood the value of silence more than anyone.
You studied her now, and she hated the way it made her feel. Like you were seeing something she hadn’t meant to show. “You don’t seem like the morning exercise type,” you finally said.
“I woke up early,” was all Wednesday offered.
You didn’t question it. You didn’t push. You didn’t even invite her to sit, which was something she had somehow expected.
She frowned at herself. Why did she expect that? You weren’t the kind of person who invited anyone to sit beside you, and Wednesday certainly wasn’t someone you would extend such an offer to. She wasn’t special in your eyes, nor should she be.
The realization irritated her more than it should have.
The silence between you stretched, not awkward but Wednesday won't call it comfortable either. “Do you want to spar today?” she asked.
You blinked at her, then nodded.
She almost wished you had asked why. Maybe then she could figure out the answer herself.
Her mind drifted back to the dream. You had always been dark, just like her. But in the dream, it was different. You were worse. Your eyes weren’t yours.
She exhaled, not realizing she had until the sound broke the quiet.
You noticed immediately, your brow furrowing as you turned back to her.
“Something on your mind?” you asked, your tone cautious.
Wednesday straightened, her mind scrambling for a response. She couldn’t tell you about the dream, not yet. She needed more time to understand it herself. Instead, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Poe Cup.”
You frowned, tilting your head slightly. “What about it?”
“Since you and I are on the same team, I thought you should know more about it,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
You raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “It’s a simple boat race that lacks bound rules to keep the students from harming each other. That’s all I need to know. Works fine for me.”
Wednesday smirked, a small, fleeting expression that you might have missed if you hadn’t been paying attention. You had no idea about the costumes. The mandatory, humiliating black cat ensemble that had tortured her the first time she’d participated. It was only fair that you endured the same indignity. She decided then and there not to tell you about it. Let it be a surprise.
The quad was beginning to fill now, “You should join me for breakfast.”
You raised a brow at her.
She added, “Enid will drag you there anyway. It will save you the effort.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, following her as the two of you made your way toward the dining hall.
And Wednesday, for reasons she refused to name, felt a little more at ease.
Wednesday had expected you to leave.
As she sat on the bench, you settled across from her, your posture as composed as ever, shoulders relaxed but gaze sharp, always aware. She observed you from the corner of her eye, waiting for that moment where you'd inevitably get up, bored of the company. But you didn’t move.
You stayed.
That was new.
"Oh my god!" Enid's half yell pulled Wednesday from her thoughts.
“You’re sitting here willingly,” Enid launched herself to the seat beside you, grinning wide as she nudged your arm. “By yourself. No threats, no bribery, no blackmail—at least, I don’t think Wednesday blackmailed you. That’s progress, right?”
You merely hummed, not confirming nor denying anything.
Enid let out a dramatic gasp. “That was almost a response. Oh, we are making so much progress.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “Must you be so insufferable this early in every morning?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Enid shot back, flashing her a grin before turning her attention back to you. “You should sit with us more often. Now that we are a team!"
Before you could respond—not that you looked like you were going to—another voice cut in.
Bianca.
“So this is where the brooding duo gathers now?” she said, arching an eyebrow.
Enid turned to her, smirking. “Oh, come on, B. You’re just mad because Y/N’s on my team. You’re so screwed.”
Wednesday caught the way Bianca’s eyes narrowed, assessing. You, however, didn’t even acknowledge her. Not a glance. Not a shift in posture. Nothing. Bianca didn’t seem sure whether to be annoyed or impressed.
“Huh,” she muttered, tilting her head. “Guess it’ll be fun to have a challenge for once.”
Wednesday smirked, her voice dry as she leaned forward just slightly. “And lose badly again?”
Bianca shot her a glare, but before she could retort, another voice joined the conversation.
Xavier.
“Uh… morning,” Xavier said, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickered to you, but you still didn’t acknowledge him. He swallowed. “Mind if I join?”
“You’re asking that after joining in without permission,” Wednesday said flatly.
Xavier hesitated, then sat beside Bianca, opposite Enid. He looked like he wanted to say something to you but wisely decided against it.
Understandable. He was still shaken after whatever had happened during his last encounter with you.
Then came Eugene, who looked like he regretted his decision the moment he saw how crowded it had become—especially when his eyes landed on you.
He hesitated, clearly debating whether he should turn back. He probably would have, had Enid not noticed him first.
“Eugene!” she called out, “Come sit!”
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath before reluctantly shuffling over.
And to make matters worse—for him, at least—the only available seat was right beside Wednesday. Which, unfortunately, placed him directly across from you. He slid into the empty spot, making sure to position himself as far from you as possible.
Trying to lighten the mood, Xavier leaned forward, his attention shifting to you.
“So, Y/N,” he started, flashing a small grin. “We barely know anything about you. What’s your deal? Hobbies? Interests? Are you into art? Music?”
You said nothing.
Xavier tried again. “Come on, there’s gotta be something that gets you to loosen up a little.”
Silence.
Wednesday saw it then—the faintest flicker of amusement in your eyes, but it was at Xavier’s expense. You weren’t entertained by his charm. You were entertained by his failure.
Enid snickered. “Damn, Xavier, she hates you.”
Xavier groaned, throwing his hands up. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”
“More like failing to be friendly.” Bianca corrected, smirking.
Wednesday scowled. She didn’t like this. The way Xavier was blatantly trying to get your attention, the way he was—pathetically—trying to get a reaction out of you. And she especially didn’t like that, for a second, you looked... entertained.
Before she could dwell on it further, Yoko arrived, sliding onto the bench with her usual laid-back energy. “Wow,” she remarked, surveying the table. “This is a weird mix of people.”
Wednesday half expected you to get up and leave, to remove yourself from the growing number of people surrounding you. But you didn’t.
You remained where you were, though your shoulders tensed slightly, and there was a subtle shift in your expression. You weren’t uncomfortable. You weren’t guarded.
But here, among all these people, you seemed slightly irritated, but human.
And for some reason, that made her feel something she couldn’t quite place
Wednesday felt it all, the way she always seemed to end up beside you—walking through the halls, settling into her seat during class.
She told herself it was nothing. A strategic choice, you were an anomaly, and she was merely studying you, trying to make sense of that dream, trying to make sense of you.
You didn’t question it. You didn’t ask why she was beside you between classes, why she sat near you when she had the chance, why she existed in your orbit like it was simply the way things were meant to be.
And Wednesday… Wednesday felt something almost like satisfaction in that. She wasn't sure why she felt… privileged.
It wasn’t as though you had declared her presence welcome, nor did you ever seek it out. You simply tolerated it. And somehow, that felt like enough. She had seen how you interacted—or rather, how you didn’t interact—with others. You kept your distance. You tolerated Enid. But beyond that, you were an island. Unreachable.
So why was she the exception?
The thought was infuriating. She didn’t like questions without answers.
And even in the dull monotony of school, she felt it, you never let your guard down entirely.
Except for one moment.
The fencing class.
She had been looking forward to it. She had been looking forward to you.
And you didn’t disappoint.
Wednesday had challenged you again. And, as expected, she lost. But this time, it was different. This time, she fought harder, adapted quicker. This time, she made you work for your victory.
And this time, she swore she saw something new in your expression—a flicker of exertion, a moment where you had to focus just a little harder.
She was getting better. And that meant something.
For once, she wasn’t entirely bitter about the loss.
By the time the final bell rang and students were retreating to their dorms, she found herself once again at your side. Neither of you spoke at first.
She felt a strange tightness in her chest, something akin to anticipation. It was an irritating, foreign sensation.
She cleared her throat. “I intend to continue our training this evening.”
You hummed.
That was it. Just a hum.
Wednesday frowned. “Is that a yes?”
You didn’t glance at her. “Maybe.”
She exhaled sharply. “I dislike uncertainty.”
You shrugged. “Then that’s your problem.”
She bristled. You had a talent for being insufferable. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, she found herself anticipating the evening regardless.
You reached your dorm, unlocking the door and stepping inside without another word.
You didn’t invite her in.
She hadn’t expected you to.
But she didn’t leave immediately either.
Her eyes flickered over your room, drinking in the details—or rather, the lack of them.
It was empty.
Not physically, of course. The furniture was there, the walls intact. But there was nothing personal. No photographs, no decorations, no trinkets that suggested someone actually lived here.
It was cold, soulless.
Just like you.
Like you weren’t meant to stay.
Wednesday’s gaze snapped back to you just in time to see you shrug off your blazer, revealing the toned muscles underneath.
That was—
She swallowed, fingers twitching at her sides.
You were strong. She had already known that, felt it in every spar, every clash of weapons. But seeing it like this, under normal lighting, without the rush of battle—
It was different.
She forced herself to look away, scanning the rest of the room instead. That’s when she noticed the bed. Singular.
“You don’t have a roommate?” she asked.
You barely glanced at her. “Wasn’t safe.”
Before she could question further, you reached for the door.
And then—
Slam.
No goodbye. No parting glance. Just the door shutting in her face.
She should have been angry. She should have been irritated at the sheer audacity of you brushing her off so effortlessly.
Instead, she was intrigued.
Again.
Not safe?
The Poe Cup was fast approaching. Preparation was necessary, and while Enid was all too excited about the event, Wednesday was far more interested in ensuring Bianca suffered another humiliating loss.
Her mind should have been occupied with tactics, strategies—ways to dismantle the Siren’s chances at victory.
Instead, it was occupied with you.
No matter how many times she tried to redirect her thoughts, they circled back to you.
Wednesday’s grip tightened around the paintbrush. This was unacceptable.
She had no reason to be thinking about you right now, yet you had embedded yourself into the crevices of her mind, refusing to be dislodged. Your movements, your words—or lack thereof—haunted her in ways she couldn’t quite explain.
It was infuriating.
Why were you always so quiet? Why did you refuse to let anyone in? And why did Wednesday want to be the exception?
The brush in her hand stopped mid-stroke.
A slow, creeping sense of realization settled over her.
She did.
She wanted to be the exception.
The thought was both disturbing and—
“Wow,” Enid said suddenly, snapping Wednesday from her thoughts. “You’ve been at that same spot for like, five minutes.”
Wednesday blinked, turning her head slightly. Enid was watching her, "You're all distracted and moody, well, more moody than usual. And you still haven't come up with a dozen of ways to beat Bianca so that says alot."
Wednesday tightened the rope harder than necessary, the material digging into her palms. "Perhaps you should concern yourself with decorating the boat and leave my thoughts alone."
Enid gasped dramatically. "So you admit you’re thinking about something else?"
Wednesday clenched her jaw.
There was a beat of silence before Enid's tone shifted, becoming far too smug for Wednesday’s liking. "So, what is it? What did she do? Did she say something? Did she look at you in a way that made your little goth heart go all boom boom—?"
"Enid." Wednesday’s voice was sharp, and for a moment, it seemed like Enid might actually drop it.
She didn’t. "Face it, Wednesday. You’re obsessed."
Wednesday stiffened.
The words hit closer than they should have.
Because the truth was, she was obsessed.
With figuring you out.
With understanding why you were the way you were.
Why you made her feel—
No.
She wouldn’t entertain that thought.
Instead, she inhaled sharply and said, "If I did want to learn more about someone, how would I do it?"
Enid blinked.
"You’re seriously asking me this?"
Wednesday rolled her eyes.
Enid grinned. "Well, you could just stalk them, but let’s be real, we both know that’s not going to work with her. She’s, like, the most un-stalkable person I’ve ever seen. Perhaps you should umm.. how would you say it 'Try courting her.' "
Wednesday blinked.
“What?”
“You know, court her,” Enid said, beaming. “Spend time with her, get to know her more. Talk with her. Maybe even—” she wiggled her eyebrows “—text her at night.”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “Why at night?”
“Because,” Enid said, “that’s usually when people let their guard down.”
Wednesday stared at her, utterly still. This was absurd. Completely absurd. And yet… A horrifying thought took root in her mind. Would it work?
Wednesday tightened her grip on the rope.
She was going to kill Enid Sinclair.
Wednesday was finally done coloring their boat. Now her mind was finally where it should be—on strategy, on victory, on humiliating Bianca once again.
And then you arrived.
You carried the boat paddles, your expression unreadable as always.
Wednesday set her brush down, folding her arms as she eyed you. You placed the paddles beside her without a word.
“Let me guess. Enid forced you.”
“I don’t get forced to do things.”
Wednesday raised a skeptical brow. “So you willingly volunteered to help paint these?”
A beat of silence. Then, a flat, “No.”
Wednesday almost smirked. Almost.
You sighed as if resigning yourself to your fate, rolling up your sleeves. “Let’s get this over with.”
Wednesday wordlessly handed you a brush, watching as you dipped it into the paint. You worked with smooth, deliberate strokes, methodical in your approach. For a moment, there was nothing but the soft shh-shh of bristles against wood.
“You handle a brush like you handle a sword,” she said eventually.
You didn’t look at her. “And how is that?”
“Precise. Controlled.”
You were quiet for a beat. Then, “So do you.”
Wednesday paused mid-stroke.
It was such a simple remark, devoid of any weight or hidden meaning, but for some reason, it lodged itself into her thoughts like a splinter.
She turned slightly to glance at you, only to find you focused entirely on your task. As if the words had been nothing more than an observation.
Her mind was racing, but she refused to let it show. It was infuriating how easily you unsettled her, how effortlessly you took over her thoughts.
This was not supposed to happen.
And yet, it was.
She needed to say something—anything—to break the tension creeping into her chest.
“Why do you never ask questions?”
You paused mid-stroke, finally glancing at her. “What?”
Wednesday met your gaze. “You never ask anything. Never pry. Why?”
You studied her for a moment before looking away. “I don’t see the point.”
Wednesday tilted her head. “Curiosity is a natural human instinct.”
“I’ve never been particularly human.”
Wednesday’s fingers twitched again. That statement—it was too familiar. Too close to something she would say.
Before she could think of a response, footsteps approached again, breaking the moment entirely.
Enid and Yoko had arrived.
“So, are we finally making a battle plan, or are we just winging it?”
Wednesday exhaled slowly, “Yes,” she said, rising to her feet. “We’re discussing strategy.”
Enid perked up. “Good, because I just got some inside info—Bianca’s adding shields to her boat this year. That means last year’s spear trick won’t work.”
Wednesday clenched her jaw. The race was tomorrow, and she had yet to come up with an alternative strategy.
She had been too—
Distracted.
Enid leaned over the boat, frowning. “We need something else.”
Enid and Yoko began listing potential alternatives, but every suggestion was quickly met with a countermeasure that Bianca had likely already accounted for.
Nothing felt right.
Nothing seemed enough.
And then—
“Your focus is misplaced.” you spoke.
All three of them turned to you.
You remained seated, still painting, still looking entirely uninterested in the conversation.
“You’re too fixated on Bianca,” you continued. “There are other teams in this race. You’re underestimating them.”
Enid blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Focus on them,” you said simply.
Enid frowned. “And Bianca?”
“Leave taking Bianca’s boat down to me.” you said as you finished the last stroke of paint on the paddle.
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “And what guarantee do we have that you can take her down? The water is her field.”
Your gaze met hers.
Emotionless. And Wednesday can see it... the darkness building in your eyes.
“I don’t fail.”
A slow smirk curled at the edges of Wednesday’s lips.
Because suddenly—
Suddenly, she knew exactly how they were going to win.
Wednesday adjusted the black cat ears on her head with all the enthusiasm of someone fastening a noose around their own neck.
This was humiliating. She loathed every aspect of it. But, she supposed, she loathed losing more.
With a sigh, she pulled on the last piece of the outfit and stepped out of the Black Cat’s tent.
And there you were.
Standing a short distance away, arms crossed, staring at Enid and Yoko like they had personally insulted your ancestors.
Your expression was twisted into something resembling mild horror as you looked them up and down. Almost as if you felt her presence, your eyes flicked over to her.
And then—
Disgust.
Your face didn’t change much, but Wednesday caught the subtle narrowing of your eyes, the barely-there curl of your lip.
She had seen this expression on you before—when you were unimpressed, when you found something utterly beneath your standards.
And now you were looking at her like that.
Wednesday was already plotting different ways to murder Enid for putting her in this position.
“I’m not wearing that.” you said.
“Oh, what?” Enid gasped. “You didn’t know?” She turned to Wednesday, hands on her hips. “Wednesday didn’t tell you? This is compulsory.”
You turned to her, a glare so sharp it could cut steel.
She held your glare, unwavering, refusing to be intimidated by whatever silent death threat you were sending her way.
But—strangely—her pulse quickened.
Not out of fear.
Out of something far worse.
Something she refused to name.
Without another word, you grabbed one of the dreadful uniforms from the pile and disappeared into the changing tent.
The second you were gone, Enid turned to Wednesday, eyes practically gleaming.
“This is kinda romantic,” she mused.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “What part of this is remotely romantic?”
"The way you two had a telepathic deathmatch to see who comes out on top right now."
Wednesday ignored her and crossed her arms, waiting.
The minutes stretched, and with each passing second, an odd anticipation settled in her chest.
The tent flap opened and you stepped out.
Her mind stuttered.
There you stood, in the same ridiculous, skintight, fur-trimmed uniform as the rest of them.
Except—
Somehow, on you, it wasn’t ridiculous at all.
The tight fabric outlined every curve, every muscle. The high collar made your shoulders seem sharper, your stance more imposing. And somehow, somehow, the absurd cat ears didn’t make you look silly. They made you look…
Wednesday clenched her jaw.
Absolutely not.
She refused to acknowledge whatever this was.
You had the same unimpressed, vaguely murderous expression you always did, but now it was directed at Enid.
“Try to hug me and I’ll gut you.”
Enid, unbothered, clasped her hands together. “Awww, you’re so cute when you threaten me.”
Wednesday barely heard them.
She was too focused on regaining her composure.
Luckily, Enid was already moving on. “So this is it. You ready?" she asked.
You nodded and strode toward the competition’s starting line. Wednesday followed a moment later, trying very hard to bury whatever the hell had just happened to her brain.
Wednesday gripped her oar with steady fingers, her mind already calculating all the different outcomes, all the scenarios.
Enid sat in the front of their sleek black boat, all grins and bubbling excitement, her fingers twitching with the urge to start rowing before Weems even gave the signal. Yoko was just behind her. Then there was herself, positioned in the middle, strategically placed for control, for observation.
And finally—
You.
Right behind her.
The final and most unpredictable element of this entire race.
She had spent so much time observing you, studying you, trying to untangle the mystery of who you were. And now, here you were, closer than ever, a mere breath away from her.
It made something restless twist inside her.
To their right sat the Amontillados, Xavier's team, who was currently staring at the their boat with open amusement. No—
Not at the boat.
At you.
Wednesday stiffened as Xavier leaned forward, his mouth already curving into that insufferable smirk.
“Wow,” he mused, voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Never thought I’d see you in something like that. Gotta say, it’s a look.”
Wednesday’s grip on her oar tightened.
She knew Xavier well enough to recognize that tone, that smug attempt at charm. He tried it on herself last year. He was flirting. With you.
Wednesday felt something snap. A cold, sharp irritation slithered through her chest. She resisted the urge to throw him overboard.
Your reaction, as always, was infuriatingly unreadable. You didn’t acknowledge Xavier, didn’t look at him, didn’t even blink and Xavier chuckled, clearly amused.
She would drown him.
She would personally drag him to the bottom of the lake and drown him.
Before she could act on the impulse, the sound of Principal Weems clearing her throat brought her back.
“The annual Poe Cup is a tradition that has stood since the founding of Nevermore Academy,” Weems began, her voice carrying across the water. “It is a test of teamwork, strategy, and endurance.”
Wednesday resisted the urge to scoff.
Weems continued, glancing between the competing boats. “As always, the rules are simple. Each team must paddle across Raven’s Island, retrieve their team flag, and return to the starting line without being sunk. First team across with their flag—wins.”
Weems lifted the revolver high.
“Let the best team win.”
The second the gunshot rang through the air, the boats shot forward, Bianca’s team took the lead almost immediately, her boat gliding through the water with practiced ease, her team moving in perfect sync with her commands.
Wednesday focused. Bianca wasn’t their immediate concern.
Not yet.
Enid paddled furiously at the front, Yoko, right behind her, was more controlled, keeping pace with Wednesday’s calculated movements.
And at the very back, you were eerily calm as you paddled.
Silent.
Watching.
It was infuriating how unfazed you looked while the rest of them exerted themselves, muscles burning as they fought against the current.
But Wednesday had no time to dwell on it.
Not when she caught movement to her left.
Wednesday snapped her head toward them.
The Pit and the Pendulum’s boat was creeping up at an angle, dangerously close, their team moving with clear intent. And then she saw it—
A glint of metal.
The Pit and the Pendulum’s boat jerked to the side, revealing the hidden mechanism at their center.
A massive swinging axe, And it was falling. Right toward them.
A normal person might have panicked.
Enid let out a startled noise, already moving instinctively to the side—
But before the axe could make contact—
It should have split their boat in half.
But it didn’t.
Wednesday had barely registered the movement before she saw it.
You.
Your sword was there.
Your conjured katana, held in one hand with a casual ease, intercepting the massive axe mid-swing.
The force alone should have sent you staggering—should have sent you reeling back—but you stood firm. Your grip never wavered, the katana steady as it held the axe at bay.
Wednesday felt something crawl up her spine.
Admiration? Fascination? Something else? There wasn’t time to dissect it.
She had to move. Now.
With the axe momentarily stalled, Wednesday yanked at the mechanism near her foot—a concealed lever.
The Black Cats’ trap sprang into action.
A weighted net shot out from the side of their boat as it latched onto three of the Pit and the Pendulum’s oars, entangling them, causing them to lose their balance. Their boat wobbled dangerously and then, they tipped.
Wednesday didn’t look back. She wasn't the one to revel in the small victory. Neither were you.
Because the race wasn’t over yet.
Ahead, Bianca’s boat surged forward, sleek and unhindered, cutting through the water like a blade. She had taken an early lead, and despite Wednesday’s best efforts to focus, irritation prickled at the back of her mind.
Not because Bianca was winning.
But because her own mind—her own cursed thoughts—kept slipping back to the girl at the rear of their boat who was silent as ever.
Bianca’s team had reached the island first.
Wednesday grit her teeth, adjusting her grip on the oar. Each stroke sent a sharp pull through her muscles, the effort burning in her arms, but she refused to relent.
Enid panted in front of her, “We’re almost there!”
Yoko, ever composed, nodded. “Push harder. We need to close the gap.”
Bianca’s team had already beached their boat, Bianca going for the flag while the rest stayed behind to defend the boat against any sabotage.
Wednesday didn’t hesitate.
The moment their boat scraped against the shore, she jumped out, boots sinking into the wet sand. She knew the way.
She had walked this ground before.
But so had Bianca. She moved quickly, heart pounding not from exertion, but from the quiet thrill of the challenge. When she reached their flags Bianca was already taking her's. Wednesday narrowed her eyes, stepping closer.
Bianca said running past her, “Try not to take a cat nap this time, Addams.”
“I could take one and still win," Wednesday said yanking their flag off.
As soon as she returned back to the shoreline, she spotted her team already waiting in the boat. Enid was already waving frantically from the boat.
“Hurry!” she yelled. “They’re getting ready to launch!”
Wednesday barely slowed as she reached the water’s edge. The boat rocked as she jumped in, but her balance remained steady. She shoved the flag into the side compartment before gripping her oar.
They were back on the water.
And Bianca was still ahead.
The race was now in its most critical moment. The return.
Bianca’s boat cut through the waves, her team paddling with brutal efficiency. But then— Bianca’s team made their move.
Wednesday saw it before the Amontillados did.
Dark shapes slithered beneath the water, just barely visible beneath the surface. Sirens.
Wednesday watched as Xavier’s boat lurch violently.
His teammates flailed, oars slipping from their grasp as hands dragged against their boat, pulling them off course.
The Amontillados didn’t stand a chance.
Xavier and his team barely had time to react before the boat tipped, sending them plunging into the lake.
“Bianca with her damn sirens again,” Yoko muttered. “She took out the Amontillados. We’re next, get ready!”
“I will cut their arms off if they touch this boat.” Your voice was even, void of emotion. “They know that,” you continued, “So they won’t. They probably have some other strategy to take us down.”
Wednesday believed you.
She wasn’t sure if the sirens feared you because of what you could do, or because they had seen you do it before.
They rowed and they rowed.
The finish line loomed ahead, the cheers from the shore swallowed by the sound of paddles striking the water and the waves.
Bianca’s boat was ahead, but not by much. The Black Cats were closing in, their speed a perfect, deadly rhythm, Wednesday just needs to slow it down. She got ready, this was her time, her hand tightened around the crossbow, the one you had given her, or more accurately, conjured for her. It was light, too light, yet it fit in her hands as if it had always been meant for her.
She positioned herself, lifting the crossbow, lining up the shot. One bolt. Just one hole in that boat and the black cats are winning this.
She exhaled, steadying her fingers on the trigger—
Then froze.
A sound curled through the air, slipping into her mind like a wisp of fog curling around her thoughts. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t forceful.
It was beautiful.
Her aim faltered.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
Bianca.
Bianca was singing.
Wednesday clenched her jaw, forcing her grip to stay firm, her finger pressing against the trigger. She blinked, forcing focus, forcing precision—Then fired.
The bolt sliced through the air, cutting towards its target. And then....
Then it missed. No, it didn't miss, it went through Bianca's boat, or more like.. the fake projection of the boat Bianca created in her vision, just behind their actual boat.
Wednesday gritted her teeth. Bianca’s smirk was sharp, knowing.
Then the real attack began.
The siren’s song grew louder, crashing over them like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just in her head anymore—it was in the air, vibrating in her skull, pressing against her ribs.
“Shit—” Yoko’s voice was strangled as she tore her hands from the oar, slamming them over her ears.
Enid whimpered, her claws scraping against the boat’s side as she did the same.
The song grew stronger, insidious. Not just a suggestion, but a command.
Jump.
The word coiled around them like a serpent tightening its grip.
Wednesday felt it seep into her thoughts, her fingers twitching at the oar. Her arms burned as she struggled to paddle alone, the boat swaying against the current.
Bianca’s gaze locked onto hers, triumph in every line of her expression.
She had won. She knew it. And so did Wednesday.
The edges of her vision darkened, the melody still tugging, pulling, commanding, and then—
Bianca’s face twisted. Her smirk faltered.
The song stopped.
A scream.
No
Multiple screams.
Wednesday knew screams.
She had heard them before—raw, agonized, desperate cries that filled the halls of her mind like a sweet melody.
But this—
This was different.
It wasn’t just pain.
It was terror.
Pure, unfiltered terror.
Wednesday’s gaze snapped to Bianca’s boat.
Bianca’s team was writhing, clawing at themselves, their mouths open in bloodcurdling shrieks. Their fingers tore at their skin, their bodies convulsing as if set ablaze by something unseen.
One of them lurched forward, eyes wide in horror as he let out a strangled gasp—
Then flung himself into the water.
Then another.
And another.
Bianca was the only one left.
And she was shaking.
Slowly, she turned looking at their boat but her eyes weren’t on Wednesday anymore.
They were looking behind her.
Enid and Yoko turned first.
And then Wednesday followed.
You weren’t there.
The space where you had been sitting was empty. They immediately turned back, looking at Bianca.
Bianca’s expression was frozen in something Wednesday had never seen on her before.
Fear.
Not apprehension.
Not wariness.
True, genuine fear.
Then Wednesday saw why.
You stood on Bianca’s boat.
No sound, no splash, no indication of movement. One moment you had been with them. The next, you were standing before Bianca, staring at her as if.., as if you were the bringer of death itself.
Then, with a flicker of motion so quick it was almost imperceptible—
Your katana materialized in your hand.
A sharp whistle of air as the blade cut through space—
Bianca flinched, her arms flying up in reflex, but the strike never touched her.
Instead—
A sharp crack echoed through the water.
A split second later, Bianca’s boat lurched violently.
A clean, perfect slash—
Straight through the hull.
The boat split in two, water rushing in, swallowing it whole.
Bianca barely had time to react before she was sinking, her body hitting the water with a sharp splash.
Wednesday steadied her breath.
Her fingers curled around the oar, her grip firm.
She turned back.
And there you were. Sitting in your seat.
As if you had never left. As if nothing had happened.
“Start rowing.” Your voice was emotionless, cold. Commanding.
Wednesday’s fingers twitched against the wood. She had never been one to follow orders. But she didn’t hesitate to follow this.