It's oddly endearing, watching Enid squirm every time a bee buzzes too close. She tries to hide her panic with a wide smile, bouncing on her toes as she hands you jars and frames before scurrying back to safety, muttering things like, "You guys are so brave," and "Do they always sound so angry?" Eugene is endlessly patient, explaining the hierarchy of the hive while you carefully brush bees aside with the back of your gloved hands. Though you suppose his patience is due to the obvious crush he has on her.

By the time the sun starts dipping low, the air hums with the content buzz of thousands of wings. Eugene thanks Enid for her help with a jar of fresh honey, golden and warm from the hive. Her smile is so wide it nearly splits her face in two, practically skipping beside you on the walk back to your dorm.

You've never had to console someone before. Sitting on Enid's bed, you try your best to calm her down while Wednesday is MIA. You do what your Aunt does to you when the memories of your parents turn you into a sobbing mess, smoothing a hand over Enid's hair, gentle and rhythmic, over and over. It seems to help, her ear splitting wails softening into hiccuping sobs she buries into her sheets.

When the window to your dorm creaks open, Enid lifts her head, eyes red and watery, just in time to see Wednesday climbing in.

"Where have you been?" Enid cries, voice cracking as she rushes forward. Wednesday casts a glance at you, but you can only shrug helplessly. Since Enid had burst into the room, tears streaming down her face, you'd barely been able to understand a word through her sniffles and gasps.

"I'm literally having a heart attack right now," Enid says, pacing as tears spill all over again, "Yoko's in the infirmary!"

Ah, so that's what firmy meant.

"What happened?" Wednesday asks, voice unnervingly calm.

"Garlic bread incident at dinner. She had a major allergic reaction, which means she's out of the Poe Cup! And I don't have a co-pilot."

"It wasn't an accident," Wednesday says immediately, "Bianca's behind it.”

Your brows knit, "How do you know that?"

Her gaze flicks to you, sharp as a knife, "Doesn't matter." Which means she broke at least one rule finding out. You let it go, she'll tell you later, when Enid's not around.

"You and I are going to take her down tomorrow."

Enid stops her pacing, eyes going wide, "Wait. You're joining the Black Cats?" She clasps her hands together, stepping closer to your cousin with a hopeful tremor in her voice. Wednesday takes a measured step back. "You're willing to do that? For me?"

"I want to humiliate Bianca so badly that the bitter taste of defeat burns in her throat," Wednesdays replies, deadpan.

Enid blinks, then gives her best puppy-dog eyes, "Yeah, but... mostly you're doing it because we're friends, right?"

Wednesday swiftly turns on her heel, facing the window, and Enid deflates, "Tell me how she keeps winning."

"It's a real brain cramp," Enid mutters, hands quickly swiping the tears away from her face, "The past two years, no other boat has made it across and back without sinking."

"Sounds like sabotage," Wednesday says.

"There are no rules in the Poe Cup," Enid shrugs, “And she is a siren. Which makes her master of the water."

Wednesday looks over her shoulder at Enid, then at you, "Then we beat her at her own game. Cousin, come. We have much to prepare for."

In the dead of night, you, Wednesday and Thing creep through the courtyard to the docks. The lake is ink-black under the moonlight, and mist curls along the surface like a slow-moving breath in the dead of winter. It reminds you of the swamp behind the mansion that Wednesday liked to drag you to when you were little, and your parents were still alive.

Wednesday works quickly, muttering instructions while Thing passes her tools and you reinforce the seams of the Black Cats' boat. As she works, she tells you what she's learned during the day.

How she found Rowan's broken and blood streaked glasses in the woods. The tense conversation she overheard Xavier and Bianca having while hiding in his room. It's how she knew about Bianca being involved with Yoko's "accident."

You don't interrupt. You just listen, letting the rhythm of the lake's lapping water distract you from the chill creeping up your spine. Should have grabbed a sweater before you left.

By the time you return to the dorm, the first hints of dawn are bleeding across the sky.

Later that morning, the school is filled to the brim with excitement. Students crowded the courtyard, waving banners for their respective halls. You walk beside Wednesday towards the docks, yawning into your sleeve.

"We're all set," Enid announces as you approach, bouncing up from her seat.

"Good," Wednesday replies, "Thing’s in position."

Enid squints suspiciously, leaning closer to Wednesday. You're surprised when your cousin doesn't move away, instead watching the blonde as she approaches, "Wanna tell me what you three were up to all night?"

"And spoil the surprise?" Wednesday arches a brow.

"Speaking of surprises," Enid says brightly, "your costumes in the tent."

Wednesday turns to you like you'd know what she was talking about. You only shrug, wondering what sort of costume Enid has in store for your cousin. And if she'll survive Wednesday's wrath.

Standing outside the Black Cats tent as Wednesday changes, your gaze drifts over the other teams. The air smells of lake water and cheap face paint.

Through the haze of unfamiliar faces, you spot Ajax easily. His jester cap stands out among the crowd of students clustered around. He's sitting alone, frowning down at the leather laces of his gloves.

You hesitate only a second before walking over, "Would you like help with that?"

He looks up, startled face covered in paint, then smiles once he sees you, "Oh, hey. Yeah, that'd be awesome."

You sit beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his arm. The leather creaks softly as you take his wrist, steadying his hand on your knee to lace the glove tight. His curled fingers brush against the back of your hand when you get to his wrist, and you find yourself tying the laces slower so the touch can linger for a moment longer.

"Thanks," he says quietly, watching your hands, "These things are impossible."

"Maybe you just need more practice," you tease lightly. His laugh is soft, a little sheepish.

When you glance up, he's already looking at you. It makes your breath catch.

"Ajax," the voice is nearly drowned out from the crowd, but you recognize Xavier's voice anyways. Ajax looks away from you and to the sound, a frown on his face.

"Shit, I gotta go," he mumbles, slowly pulling his hand from your grasp, "Thanks again for the help."

"You're welcome," you say, watching him stand up, "I'd wish you luck, but with the modifications me and Wednesday did to the Black Cat, you guys don't stand a chance."

He laughs, shaking his head, "Yeah? Can't wait to see it then."

He walks away with a wave, walking to the docks where the rest of his team is.

"Hey there, fellow Hummer!" Eugene drops onto the bench on your other side, his bright grin showing off his braces when you whip around to look at him, "Who are you rooting for?"

Your brows furrow, head tilting as you stare at him, "Ophelia Hall, of course. Who else would I be rooting for?"

Eugene smirks, waggling his brows, "Oh, I don't know... a certain beanie-wearing jester, perhaps?"

"I- what are you talking about?"

"I saw how cozy you two were on that bench," he points between you and the spot Ajax was once in, "If that glove lacing got any more romantic, I think even Enid would get a tooth ache."

You feel your face warm, looking away from his teasing grin, "Eugene!"

"I'm just saying!" He chirps, holding his hands up.

The mic comes to life before you can try and fail to defend yourself, feedback carrying over the water as Principal Weems stands on a podium in front of the waiting crowd.

"I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allen Poe Cup. This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions, dating back 125 years. Each team must row across to Raven Island, pull a flag from Crackstone's Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk. First team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well as some special privileges."

Weems raises the racing gun into the sky, "Let the Poe Cup begin!" and fires.

You join in on the applause as the boats surge forward, oars cutting into the water. As they get further away, and it becomes too hard to make out which boat belongs to whom, you let your gaze wander.

The raven from the day before is perched next to the tiny racoon waving its paws to get your attention. It's an adorable sight, one that brings a fond smile to your face.

"I'll be right back," you mutter to a distracted Eugene, pushing up from the bench and weaving between the students in your way.

"Hello you two," you say once you're close enough, crouching down to scoop the racoon into your arms. The raven flies up to sit on your shoulder.

"The little one has some information for you," the raven croons.

You look down at the racoon, who clings onto your finger, "What is it?"

"There's someone in the water," he whispers, as if anyone but you could understand him, "One of your kind that grows tails. I saw them jump in when the boats passed!"

You hum, casting your gaze out to the now empty water, "They're called sirens," you tell him softly, "That must be how Bianca has been winning.

You turn to the raven, a grin curling your lips, "I could use some help, if you're interested in a little trickery."

The bird laughs, wings ruffling, "Always."

"Good. I need a distraction."

You three wait in the shadows until the remaining boats return, the Gold Bugs and the Black Cats. The raven flies high before diving the Gold Bugs' boat, swooping and calling until the rowing falters in favour of shooing her away.

The Black cats ram into them, and you suspect the spears that were installed have pierced their hull. Not long after, the Gold Bugs start to sink. The raven flies to the Black Cats, perched on the prow of the boat.

You grin wildly, walking over to congratulate them with the racoon huddled up in your arms. Adrenaline buzzes through your veins, and a laugh bubbles up from your throat.

"I found something after the Poe Cup," Wednesday says later that night, while Enid is out celebrating the Black Cats victory, "It matches the symbol from Rowan's drawing. Your help would be appreciated."

You roll over on your bed to face her, sliding a bookmark into place before closing your book, "Sure, let's go."

You follow your cousin down to the quad and to a dark hallway. At the corner sits an Edgar Allen Poe statue. Notebook in hand, you jot down all the answers Wednesday gives you to the riddles carved into the book.

SUN

NETHER

APRIL

PANSY

TW

WILLOW

ICE

CIRCLE

EXCEPTION

You show her the notepad, passing her the pen when she holds her hand out. She circles the first letter of each answer.

SNAP TWICE

You look at each other, then up at the statue. You both raise a hand, and snap.

The statue shudders, and the raven's wings drop down. The clicking of the hidden mechanism fills the empty hall as the statue slides back, revealing a staircase that leads down. Along the walls are portraits of past alumni, their still faces staring back at you as you and Wednesday descend.

She leads you to a specific bookshelf, running her finger along the shelf where the dust has been disturbed. Pulling a tome free, she flips through it until, half way, there's a torn page, leaving half of an image left. The image remaining looks to match the one Rowan claims has Wednesday drawn on it.

"What now?" You ask, taking her bag so she can slip the book inside.

She shoulders it, gaze sweeping the identical books, "Now, we figure out what that drawing really means."

You nod, following her towards the stairs, only to freeze when your vision goes dark, firm hands grasping your arms. The gasp you let out is muffled, stumbling along with the person dragging you. You're shoved into a chair, wrists pulled behind you and bound.

Looks like the night is far from over.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

"None taken," you mutter, eyes flicking back toward the quad. The boy walks stiffly, head down, the Deputy beside him murmuring something only Rowan can hear, "I just don't understand. She's not the type to lie, especially about something that excites her like a murder does. Maybe a student played a trick on her?"

Enid, after taking a large gulp of water, mumbles, "Doubtful. We have to be on our best behaviour when off of school grounds. Principal Weems has a... creative imagination when it comes to punishment." She grimaces, "And honestly? I don't think any prank could fool Wednesday."

You hum softly, looking down at your plate. It's mostly untouched, some sliced fruit with mediocre waffles. The morning class you're supposed to have, Outcasts Lost to Time, has been cancelled, so you're indulging a bit for breakfast. Normally you just grab a muffin, but the excitement from last night has left you hungry.

The dorm feels strange whenever Wednesday's gone. She's at her weekly therapy session, leaving you alone with Enid and the soft, rhythmic buzz of her phone. She's sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling on whatever social media app currently has her attention, the sunlight from her side of the window turning it into a rainbow mess.

You've been pretending to work for the last half hour, textbook open on your lap, pen unmoving. Eventually, you give up the act, standing and padding softly across the room.

When Enid looks up, you gesture to the space in front of her, "Can I sit?"

Her brows lift in surprise, but she nods quickly, "Yeah, of course. What's up?"

You settle opposite her, crossing your legs to mirror her posture. For a moment, you can't find your words. The silence stretches, filled only by the sound of both of your quiet breathing.

"I kept thinking about what you said the other night," you start quietly, "about being a late bloomer..."

Her smile falters, back straightening as she watches you with a guarded expression, "What, you gonna tell me that it's good to be alone, too?"

You shake your head, gaze dropping to the sheets between you. The breath you take to steady yourself is shaky. You've never had to say this out loud before, and you don't really know where to start.

"No. I just, uh. I wanted you to know that you're not alone," your throat tightens, "I'm the same. Kind of."

Her phone slips from her hand, landing on her bed with a soft thump. Her hands curl around your wrists, leaning towards you in excitement, "You're a late bloomer too?! What are you? You're definitely not a werewolf, I'd smell that. And since Sirens and Gorgons are born-"

"Enid," you interrupt gently, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

She stops mid ramble, cheeks flushing. Your wrists are released, and she tucks her hands into her lap to keep from grabbing you again, "Sorry. Go on.

You inhale, steadying yourself, "I'm a fairy."

Enid goes still, as if a gorgon had just stoned her. Then, at a volume that could definitely be heard if someone were right outside your door, "What? A- a fairy?!"

You slap your hands over her mouth before she can get any louder, eyes darting towards the door, "Shh! Someone could hear you!"

She mumbles a muffled apology against your palm, and you slowly pull your hands away. Her gaze is questioning, flitting across your body as if she could spot any fairy-like features.

"I was there," you say, voice soft but trembling, "when my parents died. A drunk driver hit our car. My wings have been stuck ever since. It's why my back always hurts."

Enid's eyes soften. A quiet, wounded noise escapes her throat, something between a whine and a whimper, and then she's leaning forward, wrapping her arms around you before you can think to move. It's awkward, since you're both sitting with your legs crossed, knees knocking together, but you sink into it anyway. Your hands clutch at her sheets, letting her warmth envelop you.

She runs her fingers soothingly across your back, unknowingly tracing the invisible line where one of your wings used to unfold.

"Can I ask something?" She murmurs, voice thick.

You nod against her shoulder after a moment.

"I thought fairies lived in isolation. Why would they need a car?"

You laugh weakly, "The Fae gene is recessive, so the only way to be a Fairy is to be born by two Fairy parents or be half normie. My parents are both half normie, so they grew up doing normie things, hiding in plain sight. And they liked living as normies, so they never stopped."

You pause, swallowing hard, "We were on our way to the Addams Mansion to see Pugsley, his birthday was coming up. When we didn't arrive, they came looking."

Enid's arms tighten again. You feel the dampness of her tears against your neck, and that's all it takes. The ones you had so desperately held back silently spill over.

"What happened to the person that hit you?" She whispers.

A shaky laugh bubbles out of you, sounding too close to a sob, "Wednesday found him before the police did. Uncle Fester said she had shown him exactly how she wanted him punished. With dolls." You grimace faintly, "Everyone assumed he ran away to avoid the dui and manslaughter charges. Wednesday made Fester bring back his teeth as proof that he didn't get away."

Enid shudders against you, and you can feel her face scrunch up, "Yeah, I thought it was gross too. But she always said the only people that can torture her family is her. It's when I realized that she didn't just tolerate me because our parents were friends."

"That's kinda cute, in a serial killer type of way."

You smile, pulling away from the hug, "She's pretty great, when she's not hung up on the latest mystery or breeding more bloodthirsty pets."

"Bl-blood thirsty?"

Your head tilts, brows furrowing, "Yes, like the piranha used to attack that boy. The reason we got expelled?"

"I didn't know that! So, wait. Did he actually die?"

You shake your head, "No, just lost a testicle. It's for the best, really. Someone like him shouldn't be able to procreate anyways."

You shuffle out of the loose hug Enid still had you in, taking a hold of her hands, "I've never told anyone before. About being a fairy. But I couldn't let you think you were broken. You're not. Everyone is on their own path in life, you'll shift when you're ready, and that's okay."

Enid's smile is watery, but big, showing off the sharp wolfish canines that shine in the afternoon sun.

"Thank you, roomie."

After classes have ended for the day, you find yourself walking along the forest's edge, humming an aimless tune as you take in the smell of nature.

Many creatures have come up to you during your walk, small song birds, a fox, and one particularly determined racoon who decided you're his new favourite person. He sits happily in your arms, tiny paws clutching at your tie, chattering on about all the shiny things he's stolen from careless students. It's adorable.

He had begun rambling about a telepath that he was messing with when a raven swoops down in front of you, scaring you and the little raccoon. He wiggles out of your arms with a panicked squeak, dashing into the forest to hide. You press a hand over your frantically beating heart, turning your attention to the bird circling you.

"That wasn't very nice," you scold, steadying your breath. The raven swoops back around, landing on your shoulder.

"But it was funny," the raven croons, shaking her feathers out. They're cool against your cheek as she nuzzles into your hair, and softer than you thought they'd be, "The baby was hogging all of your time. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"Cousin."

You turn to see Wednesday walking down the path behind you, eyes a storm of furry. The raven on your shoulder watches your cousin approach with curiosity.

"Principal Weems has decided that simply attending this institution isn't enough suffering. We are now required to join a club."

Wednesday pays the bird no mind, used to you befriending wildlife by now, and thrusts a clipboard at you. The raven leans forward, peering at it as if she can read it.

"The starred ones are what she believes you are able to handle without overexerting yourself," she adds, before spinning on her heel, "Let's get this over with, I need to figure out what the deal is with Rowan."

"Till we meet again," the raven says before flying off into the trees. You follow your cousin, glancing at the list again. Sadly, only two clubs are starred. Hopefully one of them will be to your liking.

The first one you go to is the choir club, one of the ones that are starred off. You're not much of a singer, so you linger on the outskirts while Wednesday talks to Bianca. After Wednesday breaks all the surrounding glass with her inhuman sound frequency, hitting a note only dogs can hear, you head off to the next club.

Archery is something you loved to do when you were younger, so it's bitter sweet that it's another club on the list. When the pain was minimal and all you wanted to do was be alone with your thoughts, you would spend hours at the little range that was set up at the mansion. It was to you what the cello is to your cousin. An escape you so desperately miss. You'd given up on it years ago, when pulling the string even half way hurt too much.

Ending up in the outskirts of the woods, you head to the last club on the list. The Nevermore Hummers, the only other club with a star next to it. Some of the bees swarm around you, and you hold out a finger for one to land on.

"Well, hello there," you whisper, letting it crawl across your finger and into your palm.

Most insects are too small for you to hear, so you don't end up talking to them all that much, but you do know they can understand you just fine. The little wiggle the chunky bee gives calls more over to check you out, landing next to their sister to take a little break.

"Are you interested in the ancient art of beekeeping?" You turn, startled. A boy in a beekeeper suit stands before you, braces covered smile wide beneath the visor. He offers a gloved hand, "Eugene. Eugene Ottinger. Founder and president of the Nevermore Hummers."

Wednesday takes his hand, "Wednesday. Wednesday Addams," your cousin looks around the little clearing you're in, "Are we late or is it only you?"

Eugene shrugs, "The hive life isn't for everyone. Most kids are afraid of venomous insects." Then, leaning closer, "Are you willing to feel the sting?"

You and Wednesday exchange a look.

Moments later, you're both in suits, standing beside him as he gestures at the hives, "Bees have been producing honey in the same way for 150 million years. They're nature's perfect community. All working together to achieve a common goal."

As Eugene rambles, you notice Wednesday's attention shift. You follow her gaze to find Thing between two hives, gesturing to her that he's found Rowan.

Wednesday turns and leaves without a word, leaving you with Eugene, "Fun fact, it's also one of the few ecosystems in which females dominate. From the Queen bee to her workers. There's no patriarchy in the hive!"

When Eugene turns around, his words stutter to a stop. He looks around, then settles his gaze back on you, "Uh, was it something I said?"

You smile faintly, "No, she's just like that. But... I'd like to join, if that's okay."

His face brightens instantly, "Really?! My first member! This is monumental." He clasps his hands together, "Okay, first things first, proper bee handling!"

The conservatory smells of soil and humidity. The building is filled to the brim with a variety of plants, most of which you've never seen before. It brings the same kind of comfort the forest does, a canopy of green that's always brought you peace.

Looking around the room, you see that there are only two spots left, and they're not together. You pick the seat in the back row, sitting next to a girl with warm skin and dark, straight hair. You can't tell what she is by a glance, only that she's not a vampire or gorgon.

Wednesday takes a seat in front of you, next to Xavier. From between them, across the room, a familiar shape settles into their seat, catching your attention.

Ajax is sitting next to another gorgon, shuffling through some papers. When he looks up from the desk and catches you staring, a soft smile spreads across his face, and he lifts his hand to give you a tiny, quick wave. You return the smile, feeling your face heat.

You look away and at your desk, pretending to be busy with your notes.

"I doubt Wednesday is impressed by your tricks, Mr. Thorpe," Ms.Thornhill says, and you quickly look up to see what she's talking about. On the desk between Xavier and your cousin is a huge, metallic looking spider.

"Admit it, you're a little impressed," Xavier says, turning to your cousin.

Wednesday simply stares at the spider for a moment, before smushing it with her hand. A small cloud of graphite dust drifts across the desk.

Laughter ripples through the class. You blink, bewildered, as Ms. Thornhill carries on.

"Now, our newest additions," she says, eyes landing on you and your cousin, "We're thrilled to have you two join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants."

She circles her desk to stand in front of it, "Now, who can tell us the name of this beauty."

Ms.Thornhil gestures to a white flower that sits on her desk, covered by a big, glass dome. Across the room, Bianca raises her hand before the question is fully asked. Ms. Thornhill nods at her to answer, but it's your cousin's voice that fills the conservatory.

"Dendrophylax lindenii," she's staring straight at Bianca as she answers, too.

Bianca looks confused, lowering her hand slowly as she answers the question, "Otherwise known as the ghost orchid."

"First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854," your cousin adds in.

In front of the room, Ms. Thornhill has a surprised but pleased smile on her face, "Very good, Wednesday. Looks like you may have some competition for first chair, Bianca."

There's some quiet laughter at Bianca's expense, who seems to deflate slightly in her seat.

"Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the ghost orchid's greatest qualities."

Your cousin doesn't miss a beat, answering when the words have barely finished leaving your teacher's mouth, "Resilience and adaptability. It's able to thrive in even the most hostile environments."

"But its mere presence can change the ecosystem," Bianca chimes in, "causing the established plants to reject it."

"Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive unchecked. Nothing a Weedwacker couldn't fix."

Bianca smiles, "You can most certainly try."

Your eyes dart between the two, brows furrowed. You didn't realize how deep the apparent rivalry between the two went. Though you shouldn't be surprised, Wednesday tends to agitate the people around her without even trying.

Between the two girls, Xavier lets out a huff, "Are we still talking about flowers?"

"Thank you, ladies," Ms.Thornhill says, "for those illuminating insights. Clearly the plants aren't the only carnivores in class today."

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

The festival was full of colour and noise. You've never seen so many people in one place before, watching them pass you by in fascination. On Wednesday's other side, Enid practically vibrated with excitement, snapping photos of every display she passed.

Tyler stood a few feet away, arguing heatedly with his father, Jericho’s sheriff, their voices muffled by the loud music playing. Enid has been sceptical about you two accepting help from a normie the second she heard the plan, and you can't help but silently agree. Every encounter with normies always seems to end in disaster, but you trust that Wednesday knows what she's doing. Or that she can deal with him if he does become a problem.

Enid leaves you two to go find Yoko, wishing you luck. The carnival is teeming with people, but when you and Wednesday turn around to watch Enid go, you both spot Weems watching the two of you from a nearby picnic table.

Wednesday lets out a thoughtful hum, eyes twitching into a brief glare before settling back to normal, "Of course we’re under surveillance."

Before you can ask her what her plan is now, Wednesday turns sharply on her heel. You follow her as she strides to a nearby booth lined with balloons. The sign above promised "A Prize Every Time!" in bright orange letters.

There's a tray full of colourful darts, and Wednesday plucks one out of the pile. She sends it flying, hitting the balloon dead centre. The next two are thrown with the same deadly precision.

"Jeez, you get any better at this, you'll be taking home a whole pack," a voice says behind you both. Wednesday doesn't turn, though you look past her to see Xavier stepping up on her left, hands tucked into his pants pockets.

"Pandas don't travel in packs. They prefer their solitude." Wednesday says, hitting another balloon.

"Alright,” Xavier says, “Subtle hint taken."

"You should know we're waiting for someone," Wednesday throws another dart. Just one balloon left.

"Oh yeah, who's the lucky guy... or girl?"

Her last dart pierces the final balloon, and only then does she spare him a glance, "What does it matter to you?"

Xavier opens his mouth to reply, but his attention shifts to the side. You follow his gaze to Tyler, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, expression cautious.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Tyler says, gaze flicking between the three of you.

"You're not," Xavier says smoothly, his expression hardening. He brushes past Tyler and your cousin to disappear into the crowd. Tyler settles into the space Xavier was in, and informs the two of you that he has been given a curfew, and that you guys need to leave soon if he's to make it back home in time.

"We've got some dead weight we need to lose first," Wednesday says, looking past Tyler. Still sitting at the picnic table is Weems, a burger in hand as she watches the two of you, "We'll be harder to track alone. Meet behind the parking lot when the fireworks start."

Tyler nods, melting into the crowd. Wednesday turns to the game attendant. "The panda," she says, pointing at the largest plush prize. When the guy brings it over, she tells him to give it to Principal Weems, giving him a twenty as incentive.

The second Weems is distracted by the unexpected delivery, you both slip behind the booth, vanishing into the maze of festival stalls. You lose sight of Wednesday almost immediately after splitting up. The crowd swallows her whole, autumnal decorations filling your vision.

Left on your own, you drift between booths without purpose. The festival feels alive, laughter and joy blending with the hiss of fryers and the mechanical sounds from the rides. It's strange, watching people partake in this aimless joy. You've never felt well enough to do something just because.

You're still watching strangers drift by when a piercing shriek cuts through the music. You turn towards the sound, a ride shaped like a ship swings high into the air, its passengers screaming as it tips backwards. The wind whips past your face when it plunges again, the bright lights blinding as they rush past.

"Hey new girl," The voice is warm and instantly familiar. You glance to the side to see Ajax standing next to you, a green beanie covering his snakes and a lopsided grin stretched across his face.

"Hello, Ajax," you say quietly.

His eyes flick to the ride. "Were you thinking about getting on?"

You shake your head, "Even if I wanted to, I don't have time. I'm leaving when the fireworks start."

Ajax's brows furrow, the corners of his mouth dipping into a frown, "Leaving? Like… leaving-leaving?"

"Wednesday doesn't want to be stuck in this 'high school penitentiary'," you explain, "nor does she want to become her parents, so we're leaving tonight."

Ajax's face softens into a look you can't quite figure out, disappointment, maybe. "Couldn't you stay without her?"

You shrug, unsure how to answer, "I could, I suppose. Though she's the only one that knows about, well," you gesture vaguely to your back, "you know."

"Right," he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still... that sucks. I was kinda hoping I'd get to figure out what you are."

There's a brief, awkward pause before you say, "You still have time. If you'd like to try?"

That earns you a grin bright enough to rival the string lights above. "Deal."

Ajax turns the rest of your time into some kind of impromptu field study. He drags you from one booth to another, balloon popping, ring toss, high striker, muttering half serious theories after each failed test.

"Okay, probably nothing with enhanced senses," he mumbles after you miss two rings in a row, the child next to you landing their third toss.

You hum, looking up at him, "Maybe I'm just bad at carnival games."

He laughs, the sound light and unguarded, "Just a few more tests, then we're done." You let him guide you to the next booth without complaint.

Somewhere between games, you realize you're having fun. The thought startles you, fun isn't something you've experienced in a long time, and you're desperate to hold onto the feeling before you have to go.

"Damn," Ajax says after you miserably failed the latest game, "with how fast Enid warmed up to you guys, I figured one of you had to be a werewolf."

"I think that's just Enid, to be honest," some kids run past you screaming, holding something colourful on a cone. You follow them with your eyes, before looking back at Ajax to find he's already watching you.

"Did you want cotton candy?"

"Is that what that is?"

"Y-you've never had cotton candy before?!" When you shake your head he grabs your wrist, his hand sliding down to lace with yours as he guides you towards the treat stand. His palm is cool, the touch firm but careful. The unfamiliar warmth that stirs in your chest makes your breath hitch, and you can't help but stare at the hand in yours the whole way there.

When you get to the woman making the cotton candy, Ajax is vibrating with excitement. You don't understand how this 'cotton candy' could elicit such a response, but you're intrigued. The line goes fast, and soon the two of you are in the front.

Ajax has to let go of your hand to pay the woman, and you can't help but mourn the loss of his touch. It's something you've never felt before, your hand curling into a loose fist to try and hold onto the feeling.

The machine hums as the vendor pours a scoop of pink sugar into the middle of the spinning basin, the air filling with the smell of sugar. You watch, transfixed, as the cone swirls around, wisps of candy forming like a pink cloud. Then she's adding a second scoop, blue this time, wrapping around the pink like twilight swallowing a sunset.

When she holds it out Ajax gestures for you to take it. With a quiet thank you, you take it tentatively in your hands. Ajax guides you both away so you're not blocking anyone, and you stare down at the treat in apprehension.

"How do I eat this?" The thing is big and fluffy, and you gently twist the cone in your hand to look at it from all angles.

"Oh! Some people eat it right off the cone, but I got a big one so we can share, so it might be a little hard to do that. You can just pick some off with your fingers. Don't hold it for too long though, or it'll start to melt."

You nod, tearing off a piece of blue fluff from the top. You heed Ajax's warning and quickly pop it into your mouth. The sweet taste is surprisingly good, and as the sugary treat melts away, you long for another bite. No wonder he was so excited to have you try it.

"Hmm, I like this a lot, actually," you say, a small smile on your face as you hand him the cone, "I like the way it feels as it melts."

"I know, right? It's the best part. But you haven't tried the pink yet, it's the best flavour!" He takes some of the pink from the middle, a big amount of fluff that he shoves into his mouth with a grin. You let out a huff of amusement, taking some pink to try.

The candy dissolves on your tongue, in a flavour so similar to the blue you have a feeling there's little to no difference at all. You don't tell him though, not wanting the smile to fall from his face.

Before you can say anything else, the first firework goes off overhead. It pulls both of your gazes to the sky, watching the array of colours brighten the night. The small smile that had been on your face since the carnival games quickly drops into a frown.

"Can I walk you to the parking lot?" he asks suddenly, "See you off?"

You hesitate, then nod, "I don't see why not."

His smile is small, relieved. "Cool. Okay, let's go."

You walk side by side, taking bits of cotton candy when he holds it out to you as the fireworks continue overhead. The parking lot isn't far, so you take your time getting there. You want to take in as much as you can before you go. Even though you've only been here for a week, you know you're going to miss Nevermore a lot.

Commotion ripples through the festival just as you and Ajax near the parking lot. Shouts rise above the laughter as people are pushed aside. You look up just in time to see two figures dart through the crowd. Wednesday and Tyler, both sprinting. Behind them are a group of boys, all brandishing baseball bats. Your heart lurches. You don't think, you just run.

Ajax calls your name, but you barely hear him over the pounding of your heart. You weave through the chaos, dodging between people and stalls, your pulse hammering in your throat. The noise of the festival is replaced by the pounding of your heart and your laboured breathing. Your back screams in pain, but you ignore it in favour of finding Wednesday.

When you finally glance back, Ajax is right behind you, matching your pass effortlessly, eyes wide and cotton candy long gone.

The boys slow near the edge of the festival grounds, muttering to each other. They've thankfully lost Wednesday and Tyler, but that leaves you with no lead. You and Ajax duck past them, breath coming fast, as you head towards the woods.

By the time you have to stop to catch your breath, you're half hidden by trees. Your hands are braced on your knees as you try to catch your breath. Ajax straightens next to you, barely winded, "You lost 'em?"

"Yeah," you pant, scanning the treeline, "She's fast, but not that fast. She has to be close."

You walk towards a nearby tree, running your hand over the rough bark. "Hello?" You say quietly, looking up into the leaves at the presence you can feel, "I could use some help."

Dead leaves crunch under Ajax's shoes as he follows behind you, "Uh, what are you doing?"

Before you can answer, a small shape darts down the trunk, a squirrel with a big, bushy tail. You hold out your hands, and the squirrel clambers onto your palms like it's done so a hundred times before.

"Hello there," you murmur, smiling faintly, "Thank you for coming."

You transfer the little guy into one hand, the other going to the necklace tucked into your shirt. You pop open the folding locket, pointing to the picture of Wednesday, "Have you seen her? She was running away from a group of boys."

"The black haired one went that way," the squirrel says, turning to look deeper into the woods, "she was chasing a boy with glasses."

"Thank you very much," you say sincerely, petting the squirrel's tiny head before holding him up to the tree, letting him scurry back up and out of sight.

You turn to Ajax, ready to relay the information, but stop when you notice his wide eyed gaze on you, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You can talk to animals?" His voice cracks halfway through the question.

You blink, head tilting slightly, "Yes. Is that not... common here?"

He shakes his head so aggressively you worry his beanie will go flying. "No! I mean, some people can control animals and bugs and stuff, but never talk to them."

"Oh," you glance into the trees again, momentarily distracted, "Well, I guess you've gotten a clue after all."

Ajax grins, still dazed, "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Come on," you say, stepping further into the darkness of the forest, "We have to find my cousin."

Sadly, you don't find Wednesday. You do run into Tyler after a bit of searching, who's got dirt clinging to the bottom of his jeans and coating his shoes. He had lost her too, when she ran after another Nevermore student.

"They disappeared so fast, I have no idea where they went," Tyler says, casting his gaze around the darkness, "Sorry."

Your stomach drops, but Wednesday has a talent for survival. If she's found herself in trouble, she'll claw her way out. She always does.

"It's fine," you tell Tyler softly, "Sorry for wasting your time. You should probably head home before you get into trouble."

He nods, murmurs another apology, then heads towards the parking lot, pulling his phone out as he does.

Ajax lingers beside you, watching him walk away, "Guess that's your escape plan gone, huh?"

You exhale slowly, guilty in your relief, "Looks like it."

There's a pause, then a smile tugs at his lips, "So... since you're not running away, wanna try some rides?"

You glance back towards the bright glow of festival lights peeking through the trees. After everything that's happened tonight, you're exhausted. But the thought of going back to your dorm feels wrong.

"Sure," you say finally, "I'd like to see what's so fun about spinning tea cups."

Ajax's grin could power the festival. He leads you back through the crowd, right to the line where Enid, Yoko and Xavier are waiting. Enid spots you instantly, face lighting up.

"You're still here!" She squeals, clutching your arm once you're close enough, "Oh my god, I knew you wouldn't actually run away!"

"Not for a lack of trying," you mutter, earning a laugh.

It's a tight squeeze fitting five people into one teacup, but you make it work. Ajax's arm rests along the back of the seat behind you, and Yoko's sharp commentary keeps Enid giggling while the rest of the cups are filled up. Xavier, across from you, looks between you and Ajax with raised brows. The moment the ride starts, you all grab onto the spinning wheel in the centre and turn it with reckless abandon.

The world becomes a blur of colour and sound. Enid's giggles, Ajax's whoops of laughter as he holds a hand down on the top of his beanie, Yoko's fanged smile while Xavier tries to hide a grin. You grip the edge of your seat, dizzy and breathless, but for once, it's enjoyable.

When the ride ends, you stumble out on shaky legs, laughing despite the feeling of the world spinning beneath you. Ajax steadies you, his hand lingering on your elbow before he lets you go with a bright blush.

"Okay," you admit, "that was lots of fun."

"It's a classic, of course it was fun," he says, grinning wide, "Next one's even better."

He points to the swinging ship, the one he'd found you at earlier. The others opt out, and against your better judgement, you let Ajax pull you into line.

The first few swings aren't bad. You even start to enjoy it, until the ship climbs higher, and gravity drops out beneath you. Your stomach lurches, the wind whipping past your ears as you cling to the safety bars. It's a good thing you're not a werewolf like Ajax thought you were, otherwise you would have snapped the guard rail in half in your panic.

Ajax laughs until he notices the look on your face, "Oh. Oh no. You okay?"

"I think I'm going to die," you manage, and he immediately starts apologizing in a panic, mumbling words of encouragement that you don't hear, until the ride finally slows to a gradual stop.

He helps you to a nearby picnic table, hovering nervously as you clutch your chest, "Sorry, I completely forgot that some people don't do good with rides like that. We should have done something else. Like the carousel, or... or chess."

You let out a weak laugh, "I highly doubt they'd have chess set out at a festival. But you're forgiven."

It's there, sitting side by side under the soft glow of carnival lights, that Enid, Yoko and Xavier find you again. Enid's holding a half eaten corn dog, Yoko's sipping on a slushy, and Xavier's gaze flickers between you and Ajax before he looks away.

The rest of the night drifts by quietly. You talk, laugh, and watch as the last bursts of fireworks fade into smoke. And when the festival ends, your little group walks back to the buses together. Tired, content, and a little reluctant for the night to end.

When you get back to your dorm, Wednesday is already there. She's lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, more still than usual.

You open your mouth to speak, to ask where she went, but she beats you to it, "Rowan's dead."

You freeze.

"He was trying to kill me," she continues flatly, "but a creature got him first. Tore him up."

You move closer, sitting on the edge of your bed, "A creature?"

"Yes. One I've never seen before," She stands, gesturing you to follow as she sits at her desk.

There is a torn page resting on a folder that she moves aside. You aren't able to make out what it's meant to be before she's opening the folder.

Your breath catches, fingers brushing along the edge of the photo that was revealed. It's a mugshot of uncle Gomez, looking to be about as old as you are now, staring back at you.

Before you can ask what it means, the crystal ball on her desk flickers to life, a glowing call request. Wednesday accepts it with a wave of her hand, and your aunt and uncle's face appear in the mist, both smiling expectantly.

"So," Morticia says, "how are our girls finding Nevermore?"

The question lingers in the air as Wednesday thinks over her answer. Her lips curl faintly as she glances at the open folder.

"As much as it pains me to admit, you were right, mother," Wednesday says, looking up from the papers, "I think I'm going to love it here."

You lie awake long after the call has ended. Enid has returned to the dorm shortly after, and both her and Wednesday have fallen asleep. Moonlight spills through the window, pooling silver on the floorboards. Your arm hangs over the side of the bed, your fingers dancing through the light as if you could wind it around them.

Somewhere in the trees, an owl hoots long and loud. You wonder how hard it would be to sneak out, to envelop yourself in the comfort of the woods. But then you remember what had happened mere hours ago.

You should be thinking about Rowan. About the creature that killed him. How strange your life has gotten only after a week of being at Nevermore. But every time your thoughts start to drift to the events of the night, they circle back to Ajax.

His laughter from the teacups still rings in your ears. The warmth of his hand on your arm when you'd almost fallen, steady and certain. The warmth in your stomach when your fingers were laced together.

If you focus hard enough, you swear you can taste the cotton candy on your tongue. Smell all the fried foods clinging to your skin. After years of ridicule, his effortless kindness is the strangest thing about your night.

You roll onto your side, back to the window and the forest that calls to you. Tomorrow will surely be crazy. There's a mystery to solve, after all. And you'll need all the sleep you can get if you're to keep up with Wednesday.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

There's still enough time to do your makeup, though you settle on something simple, a touch of tinted gloss and a crisp black wing framed by black mascara. It helps you look more awake, even though sleep still clings to you like morning dew.

When you finally turn from the mirror, you nearly jump out of your skin. Enid's sitting on her bed like an excited, rainbow puppy, watching you with a wide smile. Her phone dangles forgotten from one manicured hand. You were so focused on getting ready you didn't even notice Enid was in the room with you, ready as well. A quick look around shows that Wednesday has already left.

"Oh-em-gee you look so good!" She squeals, bounding over to stand next to you, "I took a peek at your schedule, and guess what? We share our first two morning classes! I figured I could show you the way."

You blink, the adrenaline from the scare fading away, "Thank you," you say, zipping your makeup bag shut, "That's very thoughtful of you."

Enid practically glows at your praise, bouncing on her toes as you sling your bag over your shoulder. You cast your gaze over the room, making sure you have everything you may need before following Enid out.

The halls are alive with students as they trickle towards their classes. Many look as tired as you feel, shuffling along with their breakfast in hand. The first class, "Outcast History & Culture" is held in a high ceilinged room filled with old tomes and relics of the past.

You sit beside Enid, who waves enthusiastically at a vampire she tells you is named Yoko across the room. The teacher, a tall man with silver hair and ghostly white skin, begins his lecture about the first outcast colonies in North America. You wait with bated breath to hear about your own heritage, knowing there's a chance the words will never come. You still eagerly take notes, happy to learn anything about your fellow outcasts.

Lunch comes and goes, and your fencing class rolls in like a storm cloud. You tug at the stuffy white uniform provided for you with a frown. It's not that you disliked fencing, it's just not really your thing. Most sports weren't, nowadays.

You're paired up with Yoko, Enid's vampire friend from your first class. She's polite as Enid introduces you, but you can tell she's wary of you. Probably because of Wednesday, her reputation tends to precede you both.

When the match begins, your foil moves on instinct. The clang of steel reverberates through your bones and for a moment, it feels as if you had never given it up. Yoko is quick, but your quicker, years of practice drilled into your very being from your aunt's intense training.

A flicker of movement catches your eye, dark and imposing. Wednesday walks through the room with purpose, uncaring of the matches she walks through. You pivot around her as she crosses your path, blade striking Yoko's shoulder. A clean hit.

Enid cheers from the sidelines, clapping as Yoko pulls off her mask with a groan. "Damn it, how are you so good at this?" She huffs, rubbing at her temple.

"We fence at home all the time," you say, sliding your own mask off, "My aunt was captain when she was here. The training’s... intense."

Yoko huffs, "Yeah, I can tell." She squints against the light streaming into the room, slipping on her shades as Enid hands them over.

The sound of a body hitting a mat pulls your attention to the other side of the room. Bianca Barclay towering smugly above a boy sprawled out on the mat.

"Coach, coach, she tripped me," he complains, gesturing up at her.

Your gaze flicks from the back of his head to the coach who has barely spared him a glance. "It was a clean strike, Rowan," he says blandly as the boy stumbles to his feet.

"Maybe if you whined less and practiced more, you wouldn't suck," Bianca says around a smirk, "Seriously, Coach, when am I gonna get real competition? Anyone else wanna challenge me?"

"I do," Wednesday's voice cuts through the clanging foils.

Bianca turns to your cousin with an amused smile, "Oh, you must be the psychopath they let in."

"And you must be the self appointed Queen Bee," Bianca nods, amusement never faltering, "Interesting thing about bees. Pull out their stingers, they drop dead."

That makes the smile slide from Bianca's face, her eyes darting around briefly before settling back on Wednesday, "Rowan doesn't need you to come to his defence. He's not helpless, he's lazy."

Wednesday stares up at the taller girl, gaze unwavering, "Are we doing this or not?"

Their spar starts quickly after that, foils clanging as they race to be the first one to get a point. They both strike as fluidly as water, moving around each other like a practiced dance.

Slowly, students have started taking notice of the not so friendly duel going on. By the time each have gotten a point, all eyes are on them. You can see the moment Wednesday gets bored with the fight before she even takes off her mask. She's used to no rules, using the environment to her advantage. When she rips the mask off, you know she's going to suggest something that your peers are wholly unprepared for.

Bianca follows suit, and they speak to each other, too quiet for you to catch, before Wednesday turns her attention to the coach, "For the final point, I would like to invoke a military challenge. No masks. No tips. Winner draws first blood."

Murmuring fills the room, people turning to their partners to see if they heard what Wednesday's said too.

"Is Wednesday for real?" A familiar voice says, and you look up to see Ajax stepping up on your right.

You hum, giving him a nod when his eyes lock onto yours, "That's how it's typically done at home. There's at least two foils in every common room in the house with how often they get the urge to duel."

"Woah," he looks back to the two as they swing at each other once again, but he looks back to you with his brows furrowed, "Wait, they? You don't join them?"

"It's not really my thing," you shrug, ignoring the twinge in your back, "I've got a back problem, so I don't partake in their spontaneity."

Before he's able to say anything, there's a gasp from Enid from your left, and you turn to look at her. She's staring at the two in the middle of the room, and when you look you're surprised to see that Bianca had won, a streak of blood staining Wednesday's forehead.

"Your face finally got that splash of colour it so desperately needed," Bianca chuckles. Wednesday doesn't flinch, but her gaze hardens. Just enough for you to notice.

After the commotion the two had caused with their spar, Coach ends the class short. He sends Wednesday and Rowan off early to the infirmary while everyone else goes through stretches to wind down.

Once in the changing room, you ignore Bianca's gloating as you change, sliding out of the room and to the infirmary, where you hope your cousin still is. When you get outside it's raining, but you thankfully catch your cousin in the distance as she walks across the quad, black umbrella obscuring her face. You quickly open your own umbrella, stepping out into the downpour to catch up to her.

You make it halfway across the quad before chaos ensues. A shout of her name, before a blur of a boy is tackling her to the side. A moment later a statue falls where she was once standing, and you run over to their side. You drop to your knees next to them, knees soaked in rain water.

Wednesday is out cold, and you feel the unwanted sting of tears in your eyes as you cradle her head in your hands. When the boy looks up, you're surprised to see that it's Xavier Thorpe staring back at you. The both of you prop her up between you, dragging her back into the infirmary.

She's not out for long, but it feels like hours as you and Xavier sit in silence at her bedside, waiting for her to wake up. Xavier, after a few minutes, pushes up from his chair, pacing small circles in the room. He stops every few steps to stare down at your cousin, before starting up again.

It's during one of his stops that Wednesday's eyes snap open, sharp gaze turning to look at him, then you, before settling back on Xavier.

The two bicker for a bit, Wednesday annoyed that she is now indebted to someone who had saved her life, and Xavier annoyed at her ungratefulness. You're just glad Wednesday's okay, even though Xavier's name still itches at the back of your mind, familiar.

When Xavier admits that not only does he know you both, but that saving Wednesday is returning a favour, that the memory slowly starts to take form. You had met him, briefly, when you guys were 10. You had been with the Addams family for nearly two years at that point.

A game of hide and seek that nearly turned deadly at the crematorium. You can't believe that this is that same boy sitting next to you. He's definitely far from the awkward kid he was, with his apparent new tortured artist persona.

Another familiar face at this school. And maybe a new friend, too.

Wednesday types steadily at her desk, the clack of her typewriter a comforting rhythm. You lay on your stomach, working on the dull normie homework that's sprawled all over your bed.

As you reach over to turn the page in your textbook, a twinge of pain blooms up your back. You push yourself upright with a wince, ready to stretch, when a sound catches your attention. You pause, straining to hear it over the sound of the type writer.

The rustle of fabric followed by the quiet creak of a spring. Your head whips to your cousin's perfectly made bed. Except it's not perfect anymore. There's a strange shape under the sheets.

"Wednesday?" You call, keeping your gaze locked onto the shape. She hums, waiting for you to continue. But you don't know what's under her sheets. You know it's not an animal, you would have sensed it. So you don't want whatever it is to know that you've caught onto it.

When you don't say anything else she lets out an annoyed huff, turning to face you. But then Wednesday sees that your gaze is fixed on her bed, and she shoots up to her feet. She stalks over to her bed with purposeful strides, pausing for a moment before yanking the sheet back.

You gasp, shooting up off the bed with a wide smile, "Thing! How long have you been here?"

The hand jumps, dashing across the bed in an attempt to flee. Wednesday catches him easily, holding the disembodied hand up to her face.

"Ever since we've been here, I'd assume. Do you really think my highly trained olfactory senses wouldn't have picked up the faint scent of neroli and bergamot in your favourite hand lotion?"

Thing twitches aggressively in Wednesday's hands, trying to break free to no avail. You follow Wednesday as she brings him to her desk, pinning him down on the surface. You giggle when he surrenders almost instantly, knowing the torture Wednesday could dish out is not to be played with.

After some more threats to his health and Thing pledging his allegiance to Wednesday, they both leave for Wednesday's mandatory therapy session.

You exhale and collapse face first onto your bed, rubbing absently between your shoulder blades. The skin burns beneath your touch, hot like you're running a fever. The pain’s been getting worse, year by year. You've learned to hide the true amount of pain you're in, even from Wednesday. Especially from her. She doesn't need another mystery she can't solve.

By the time Enid bursts in with Yoko trailing behind, you've hidden your pain behind a wall of indifference as you return back to your homework.

"Oh, hi! I thought you'd be with Wednesday in Jericho. We were gonna do a Mani-Pedi night."

"It's fine, I was just gonna study until dinner anyways."

"Awww, that's boring though," Enid whines, nose scrunched up as she takes in the work scattered across your bed, "You should come join us!"

You hesitate for a moment, looking between the work you should do and the two girls watching you. When you slide a leg off of the bed Enid squeals, jumping over to your side of the room to take your hand.

"This is going to be so fun! I have a ton of different colours, pick out any you want!" You're dragged over to her bed, sitting on the edge while Enid rummages underneath it. Yoko has crawled further up, round shades perched low on her nose as she scrolls her phone.

You watch in awe as Enid hauls three baskets of nail polish up onto the bed, the bottles clinking together. The girls are quick to poke through the vast array, but you don't know where to begin. There are even some nail stickers tucked into the side of a basket, and you pull the bundle out to have a look.

There's quite a few you pass by before they start getting interesting. Flowers and other fauna, some fruit and simple patterns. You narrow the sticker sheets down to two, a strawberry themed one and a blueberry themed one. Looking through the polishes, a dark blue catches your eye, so you settle on the blueberry themed ones.

Yoko does your left hand while Enid does your right, the girls talking about the latest gossip as they do your nails. It's some relationship drama you struggle to follow along with, but you don't really care. You're too busy enjoying the feeling of belonging.

For once, you start to feel like a teenage girl.

After dinner, Wednesday is outside playing the cello, something she tends to do when something's on her mind. You've long since finished your homework, and have decided to reread one of your favourite book series as you let the music soothe you. Propped up by your pillows, you cradle the blue book on your thighs, eyes gliding along the page.

The door to your dorm opens to reveal Enid, full of energy as always. She gives you an excited wave as a greeting, and you give a more subdued one back. Enid drops her bag on her bed, though her gaze is focused on the window that leads to your balcony, where Wednesday has just finished her song. She doesn't say a word as she wanders over, pushing open the window to duck out into the night after a moment of hesitation.

The window is left open, allowing you to hear their conversation. About how Enid, despite going to the best Lycanologist, hasn't been able to fully wolf out. That her claws are all she's got. And that she may never fully shift and become a lone wolf.

You've never heard so much sadness from the blonde before, and it makes your throat feel thick. Weirdly, though, it also makes you feel better. Now, at least you know you're not the only one that's "stuck".

You're not surprised to hear Wednesday is doing the opposite of comforting Enid, claiming that being a lone wolf would be perfect. You are surprised, however, at the story she tells when Enid starts to cry. The story of Nero. A time when Wednesday was happy, when you two would play together in her own weird way. But when she buried her scorpion, she buried that part of herself, too.

You close your book slowly, tracing your thumb along the worn spine. It's funny how different the three of you are. Yet the pain you all feel connects you in a way you didn't think possible. If only you'd be here long enough to see where it could go.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance; repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

You shake your head, looking away from the bags to her face, the words lodged in your throat. Her gaze never falters, challenging you to say more. You have to look away and back at the bags to get the words out.

"This is your last chance, remember?" You remind her softly, pleading with her. "Aunt Morticia said there will be no more chances after this. The walking trails nearby are quite nice, too. I'd hate to be sent to a city school after I've only just found them."

Wednesday scoffs, eyes rolling before turning back down the hall, "Mother is bluffing. That's exactly what she said at the last two schools. And yet here we are. There is nothing to worry about, you'll be visiting your little woodland creatures soon enough."

You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to point out the truth. That this is the last school within a hundred miles that would even consider taking her through its doors. Wednesday’s not stupid, she's well aware of the fact. She's probably counting on it, hoping that the inevitable expulsion will lead to what she's been after for years. Freedom from the 'prisons disguised as schools'.

When you finally reach the school's pool, the echo of your footsteps are drowned out by laughter. The boys in the water had noticed you both immediately. It's what people always seem to do when they see an Addams, even if you're just an honorary one. You've long since learned to hide the sting caused by cruel words and laughter, but it still always cuts just as deep.

You lean against the tiled wall, hands clasped lightly together in-front of you as Wednesday strides to the pool's edge. She holds the bags high so that there's no mistaking its contents, her voice echoing through the room, "Only I am allowed to torture my brother."

Their laughter dies fast. The boy's faces flash quickly from amusement, to confusion, before settling on horror. The sound of water splashing is loud as they desperately swim to the closest pool edge before the bags have even hit the water.

It's no use, though. Wednesday is a perfectionist. And with your guiding words and the yearbook pictures Wednesday provided, they know their target.

Through the screams of panic you find your mouth twitching into a smile despite yourself. Consequences be damned. At least this horrible boy will get what should have come to him years ago.

The weeks after your inevitable expulsion with Wednesday became nothing short of a civil war. Any communal space became a battlefield if Wednesday and Aunt Morticia were in the same room. Most nights ended with Wednesday storming into your room in anger, claiming that she will not, cannot, be sent to Nevermore. You humoured her, of course, but knew she was wasting her breath.

Aunt Morticia had been furious, but had seen the silver lining to what Wednesday had done after a few days. Wednesday's record ensured that no normie school in the state would touch her with a ten-foot pole. It left only one option.

So after nearly a month, you're now on the road to Nevermore, partway through the year. Once again an outcast even amongst your own people. If only Wednesday could have waited until the end of the school year before enacting her revenge, then you wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable stares that are sure to follow you. Nevertheless, you were excited. The chance of learning about other outcasts was something you have been looking forward to the whole drive.

You try to rein in your excitement, but the moment the school rises from the misty trees, your chest tightens in awe. It looks like a gothic castle out of one of your fantasy novels, its spires reaching high into the sky. Though the rain makes it seem even more magical, it's also brought along a little blessing. The storm has driven everyone indoors, sparing you the usual gawking that tends to follow your family.

Pugsley stays behind with Lurch while you and Wednesday trail after your aunt and uncle into Principal Weems' office. You're embarrassed to admit that you've barely heard any of the discussion once everyone is sitting. Standing behind Morticia's chair, you let your gaze wander the office, imagining what your new life will be like here.

Uncle Gomez warned you that your kind are very rarely seen, least of all at Nevermore. There were none when he attended, and only one had ever attended since the school's founding. Nearly all chose isolation, since the varying abilities of your kind had been exploited by normies and outcasts alike. It was upsetting, sure, but you still held hope that you would fit in better here than at the normie schools.

Rolling your shoulders to alleviate the pain in your back, you're happy when Principal Weems stands from her seat. The walk to Ophelia Hall is a blur, too busy taking in your new surroundings as you go. Wednesday, when the others are distracted in conversation, whispers about her plans of escape, ensuring you that this will all be temporary. You stop your gaze from wandering after that.

When Principal Weems opens the door to reveal a colourful imitation stained glass window that overlooks the dorm room, you can't help but stare. Then your gaze flicks to your roommates side of the room, also full of bright colours. You press your knuckles to your lips to stifle a laugh, imagining the look of disgust on your cousin's face without having to even look at her.

The wild mishmash of vibrant colours is... creative, you suppose, though you've always found yourself more drawn to browns and greens. And darker colours that reminded you of the night.

The blonde girl on the left side of the room jumps excitedly from her seat, practically bouncing over to stand in front of you and Wednesday. She's close enough that you can smell the overly sweet body spray she has on.

"Howdy, roomies!" She says after an excited inhale, a wide smile on her face that shows off her sharp canines. This close, you can see that she's got pink and blue streaks in her hair that have started to fade. Principal Weems introduces your roommate, Enid Sinclair, before giving the girl both of your names in turn.

"Are you feeling okay? You look a little... pale," Enid says to your cousin, and this time you can't stop yourself. A giggle bubbles out, barely stifled by your hand. You artfully sidestep Wednesday as she attempts to stomp on your foot.

"Wednesday always looks half-dead," your uncle says from behind you, grin wide.

"Oh," Enid says, gaze darting between you both. Then throws her arms out to her sides, "Welcome to Ophelia Hall!"

She takes a step forward, intending to wrap you both in a hug, but Wednesday recoils like she's about to be hit. Her cold hand clasps around your wrist to tug you backwards, away from Enid's outstretched arms.

"Please excuse Wednesday. She's allergic to colour," your Aunt supplies. The concern on Enid's face at your cousin's condition is amusing, especially when it worsens once Wednesday admits she breaks out in hives and her flesh peels from her bones.

"Luckily we've ordered you a special uniform," Principal Weems clears her throat with an uneasy chuckle, "Enid, please take the girls to the registrar's office to get their uniforms along with their schedule, and give them a tour along the way."

Wednesday doesn't have to say anything when she turns to her parents, the glare she gives them speaks volumes, before sweeping out of the room. Aunt Morticia smooths a hand over your hair as you follow, Enid skipping past you and Wednesday to eagerly lead you.

The hallways of Nevermore are filled with portraits, trophies and decades of history. Enid's voice fills the silence, giving you both a mini history lesson of the school. It's nothing you particularly care for, but you listen to her ramble on.

"You can save the sanitized sales pitch," Wednesday interrupts, tone sharp, "We're not staying here for long."

Enid falters, a small frown on her face, "Why not?"

"This was my parents idea," Wednesday says, her gaze wandering to the photos lining the walls. It stops on a display for the fencing team and its awards, "Oh look, there's my mother smirking at me."

It's a nice picture, the resemblance between the two really shining through.

"They've been looking for any excuse to send me, well, us, here," Wednesday continues, "It's all a part of their nefarious, yet completely obvious plan."

Enid, excited, clasps her hands together, "What plan?"

"To turn me into a version of themselves."

"Well in that case, perhaps you can clear something up." Enid says, turning to walk away. You both fall into step beside her, Wednesday staring ahead with a blank expression while you try to avoid the stares of the students that have begun to emerge, "Rumor's been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off."

"Actually, it was two kids, but who's counting?" Wednesday says. Enid's hair goes flying as she looks from your cousin to you. After a little stare down, you let a small smile form, shaking your head minutely. The worry on her face melts away quickly.

Enid leads you to a set of double doors, pushing it open to reveal an outside area with seating and a dead tree in the middle. It's filled with chatter, students littered all over the space.

When Enid dives into a "wiki" on Nevermore's social scene, you perk up. Even though your time here is dictated by Wednesday's ability to figure out an escape, you want to learn about as many different outcasts as possible before you go.

Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales are the nicknames she gives to the four main cliques. Sadly you're a little lost for some of them, but you don't have to embarrass yourself by asking for clarification, she jumps into an explanation on her own.

Fangs are Vampires, and Furs are Werewolves, the only ones you knew. Enid chimes in that she is a Werewolf too, and you find it fitting with the limited knowledge you have on them. Her going in for a hug first thing makes a lot more sense now.

Wednesday cuts Enid off to "guess" that Scales are Sirens. Enid proceeds to point out one in particular, a girl sitting at the edge of the fountain, hand swirling in the water. Bianca Barclay, the closest thing Nevermore has to royalty, apparently. Though her "crown" has been slipping lately.

Her breakup with the resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe has been the cause for her decline in popularity. You've never quite understood social hierarchy in your old schools, and it seems that those weird rules carry over to outcasts too. Though what confuses you more is that you recognize Xavier. His name, at least.

While Enid is gushing about her blog, a boy walks up to you guys, though he doesn't seem to notice you or Wednesday standing on Enid's other side.

"Yo, Enid! You're not gonna believe the dirt I heard about one of your new roommates. She eats human flesh. Totally chowed down on that kid she murdered. You better watch your back." You cover the smile on your face with your hand, looking down at Wednesday with amusement. She merely raises a brow.

Enid doesn't say anything, simply stepping aside to reveal Wednesday standing behind her, with you on the other side of your cousin.

"Quite the contrary," Wednesday starts, staring up at the boy. Without Enid in the way you have a clear view of him and his wide eyed stare. And the little snake head disappearing under his beanie, "I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets."

"Ajax, these are my new roommates," Enid says, gesturing to each of you as she gives him your names.

"Woah. You're in black and white. Like a living Instagram filter," Ajax says as he stares at Wednesday, though Enid is quick to cut him off, pushing him away slightly.

"Ignore him. Gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned." As he starts to wander away, his gaze lands on you, and his brows furrow. When he stops in place Enid goes to shoo him away, but he doesn't budge.

"Wait, why aren't you in black and white too?" He says, making Enid groan, hands coming up to cover her face.

You laugh, looking at your cousin briefly, "We're not actually related, it's a family friend sort of situation. So I didn't get the cool filter."

He blinks, then rushes to add, "No, you're still cool too!"

"Alright! Bye Ajax," Enid turns him around, and this time he wanders away. She lets out a sigh, turning back to the two of you. "He's sweet but clueless. Anyways, there wasn't much online about you two. You guys should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok."

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmations." Enid frowns at Wednesday as she turns and walks away, then looks at you.

"And we don't have cellphones." You add with a shrug.

Enid looks horrified, "You what?!"

You glance down the hall where Wednesday stalks ahead, ignoring her outburst , "Is she even going the right way?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

Once at the office you're given your uniforms, and are directed to a side room to get changed. It's small, but big enough for you both to use. They also had given you small, simple backpacks, though they said you're more than welcome to use your own. For now you just stuff your clothes in alongside the papers you were given.

Smoothing your hand down the black and purple uniform, you turn around to see Wednesday fixing her braids in her black version.

"Well," you sigh, stepping towards the door, "time to see the family."

That evening, you find yourself sitting on your bed, a small wooden box balanced on your knees. Morticia had pressed it into your hands before leaving, her words soft but cryptic: "Open it when it calls to you."

You don't know what that means. All you can do is stare at it in hopes of something happening.

You've long since been settled in, your meager amalgamation of trinkets and clothes put in their place. Wednesday has meticulously arranged all her belongings, but hasn't settled down. Her first order of business was taking care of the "garish abomination plastered on our window."

She's been peeling away at it for nearly half an hour, careful to not damage the glass as she goes. When the door opens and a horrified gasp follows, you pointedly keep your gaze away from the two.

"What did you do to my room?!"

"Dividing our room equally," Wednesday kicks the removed strips of colour over towards Enid's half, "It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side."

"I--"

"Silence would be appreciated, this is my writing time." Wednesday slides into her chair, fingers dancing across the keys without a glance at Enid. The blonde casts a bewildered look at you, but you simply shrug. You've got a half bookcase that separates your half from Wednesdays, and you tuck the box onto the bottom shelf, replacing it with a random book.

"Your writing time?"

"I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same, your blog might be coherent. I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation."

You wince, hissing your cousin's name in warning. She simply shrugs, her attention on her work. You head back to your bed, lying down with your back to the room.

"I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love."

You hear Wednesday's chair creek as she stands up, boots thumping on the wood floor, "Your followers are clearly imbeciles. They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures."

"Uh, you mean, emojis?" Enid sounds amused, "It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you."

It's quiet for a moment before Wednesday speaks again, "When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole. By the way, there are two D's in Addams. If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly."

When Enid turns on her music player and the room fills with music, you can't help the quiet groan that slips out. The fight that was surely about to break out is thankfully stopped by a single knock before the door is opened. You sit up to see the intruder better, closing the book you haven't even paid attention to.

"Good evening girls! Oh, sorry about the mud," a woman with ginger hair steps into the room, her long skirt flowing around her. She has to kick the door closed, as she has two flower pots in her hands, "I wanted to make sure you girls are settling in okay."

The woman, who you assume is a teacher, looks around the room, eyes lingering on the changed windows before her gaze lands on the tape Wednesday had put down to separate the room in two, "Ah. Is this a bad time?"

No one answers.

"I'm Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you two the old Nevermore welcome."

"She's been smothering me with hospitality," is Wednesday's quick response, "I hope to return the favour. In her sleep."

Ms. Thornhill's eyes widen slightly, though she bounces back fast, smile back on her face as she adjusts the flowerpots cradled to her chest.

"Well, here's a little welcome gift from my conservatory. I try to match the right flower to each of my girls."

You're quick to get up from your bed, though you hesitate before taking a flowerpot from her. Her encouraging smile makes you bridge the gap to take the purple bell shaped flowers from her, knowing the black one is for Wednesday.

"Wednesdays was easier to pick after reading her personal statement, but yours was a bit tricky. Though I think these will help you in your journey of figuring out more about yourself."

"The black dahlia," Wednesday says, the appreciation easy to miss, but obvious to you.

"Oh, you know it?" Ms. Thornhill sounds excited, leaning forward slightly.

"Of course. It's named after my favourite unsolved murder. Thank you."

You're hesitant to ask, but anything that will help you learn more about yourself, the better, "Uh, what are these called?"

"Those are Foxgloves, poisonous to cats, dogs and humans. You're immune though, so it's nothing to worry about." Wednesday stares at the flower in consideration when hearing it's poisonous, but you're distracted by the pretty colour, excited to place it on your shelf with the rest of your things.

"Okey-dokey. Before I leave, I want to go over a few house rules. Lights off at 10:00, no loud music, and no boys. Ever." The rules are easy enough to follow, and when she's done you turn back to your bed, placing your flower in an empty space on your shelf before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What's the story about going into the local town?" Wednesday asks.

"Passes to Jericho are a privilege, not a right. It's a brisk 25-minute walk, or there's a shuttle on the weekends. The locals are a tad bit wary about Nevermore, so please, don't go making any waves, or perpetuating any outcast stereotypes. That means keeping your claws to yourself, and no smothering people in their sleep. Are we clear?"

When she leaves, Enid and Wednesday turn to glare at the other, before briskly turning and heading to their designated sides of the room.

With the two of them doing their own thing, you forego reading and decide to just get ready for bed. You'll have to face your classmates tomorrow, and you don't know if it'll be better or worse than at a normie school.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

The long, white wig your friend had forced you to wear (one that sadly did complete the look, not that you would ever admit that to her) was sticking to your bright pink lip gloss every time you moved your head too fast. You've long since tried to keep your hair behind your shoulders, the silky fake texture making it too slippery to stay in place.

Taking a sip of the heavily spiked drink in your hand, you pull your friend closer as she turns her back to you, letting her grind up against you. The fake leather of her cat woman suit sticks to your dewy legs, the body glitter you had slathered on at the start of the night smearing onto the dark fabric.

"I take it cute guy is looking at you?" You say, letting your free arm wrap around her waist when she nods. The cute guy in question is a tall Rugby player from the UK, his curly hair only a few shades darker than his skin and wanted by half the population of the entire University. He had seemed wholly uninterested in every person that flung themselves at him, while still somehow being ridiculously polite about it.

Your friend is nothing if not persistent, and had decided after watching so many people try and fail to win his affections to try a different approach. She instead decided to play the long game, one that seems to be working.

"'m gonna make my move," your friend says, spinning around to face you with a wide grin, "wish me luck!"

You watch as she walks away, holding eye contact with him as she goes past him and towards the back of the house where one of the bathrooms are. You see him stare after her, quickly chugging the rest of his drink before he shoves the empty cup into one of his friends hands, following after her. There are envious looks following after the pair, and you giggle at a girl that actually stomps her foot in anger.

Thankful that you're now sitting down, you adjust the fluffy skirt of your dress as feeling starts to slowly come back to your feet. There are people dancing all around you, a couple curled up on the hopefully drink covered couch and making out. It's honestly kinda gross, her muddy green lipstick for whatever her costume was supposed to be is smeared all over her girlfriends face, mixing horribly with her orange face paint.

Looking away from the green mess, you cast your gaze around the room. Your friend is dancing with Rugby guy, tucked away in a corner so that no one can see that his hand is definitely lower than it should be in public. As you continue to scan the room, you find your gaze meeting with a cute looking knight across the room.

He's standing next to Chad, who's in your calc class and likes to bug you for notes whenever he falls asleep. Which is almost every class. Frankly, it pisses you off, considering he's one of the top students without really even trying. You'd kill him if he wasn't the sole reason you're even passing.

Anyway, the guy next to him, who you think is cute but you can't really tell because you're tipsy and not wearing your glasses, quickly looks away from you and toward Chad. He's clutching the shot glass to his chest, shaking his head as Chad looks away from him and to you. A wide grin takes over his face, and then he's grabbing mystery boy by the arm and dragging him over to the kitchen.

They're gone from your view for only a minute before Chad is directing him out and towards you. The cardboard knight has ditched the shot glass and instead has two red solo cups in his hands, staring down at them like they hold the secrets to the universe.

You try to keep the amused grin off your face as Chad weaves the two of them through the crowd. The open face of his cardboard knight's helmet does nothing to hide the bright flush of his cheeks, spreading along his nose and lighting up his brown eyes. Yeah, he's cute, dangerously so.

“Hello there princess,” Chad says, giving you an obnoxious bow while tipping his hat at you. You lean back in your arm chair, crossing your legs while you take a long sip of your drink.

“Well howdy there partner,” you say, using your free hand to lift the side of your dress in a mock curtsy while still in your seat. You down the last of the sickly sweet drink, licking your lips as you set the plastic cup on a cluttered side table, “and who might this be?”

“This,” Chad says, pulling his friend forward so that he was standing in front of him, the toe of his sneakers bumping against the cheap heels you had bedazzled the night before. He quickly pulls his foot back, mumbling out an apology while keeping his gaze away from yours, “is my friend Ethan, who thinks you look really pretty. Treat my boy well, yeah?”

With that Chad saunters off, probably looking for Tara, leaving you alone with Ethan. Ethan, who looks like Chad has betrayed him in the worst way possible by leaving him there with you.

"Hi, Ethan," you say, giving him a smile and then your name, "you enjoying the party?"

"Oh! It's, uh... it's great!" He says, a cute smile on his face, though you can tell he doesn't really mean what he's saying.

You snort, shifting over in the arm chair to try and make some room for him. It's not much, but you really don't mind the thought of being pressed up next to him, "You don't have to lie, it's not my party or anything. Come sit with me?"

He eyes the spot you made next to you with wide eyes, nodding absently as he squishes into the newly made space. It's a tight fit, just like you thought, so you carefully turn to face him, legs going over his and hanging over the armrest. You hear him suck in a deep breath, the flush on his face somehow going darker.

"Mmm, yeah, parties aren't really my thing. Chad wanted me to come, don't know how he convinced me though..." He says, mumbling down at the cups in his hands. One of which you know is for you.

You giggle, letting your fingers trail over the back of the hand holding the drink closest to you, "Well, I'm glad you came."

"You are? Why?" Ethan's gaze follows your hand, unconsciously pushing into the contact.

"Because every thrift store princess needs their cardboard knight!" You can't help the smug grin on your face when he ducks his head, moving your hand away from his to instead tuck a stray curl back inside his helmet, "Shame you've got this on though, hiding those beautiful curls."

"Oh, uhm. Thank you. Your hair is pretty too. You know, under the wig..." he presses his lips together, eyes flicking up to the wig before they fall to your face. You're happy to find that he's able to hold your gaze, even though he starts to get squirmy when you shift just a bit against him. It takes you a moment to realize that he knows what you look like outside of this party, and you feel jittery excitement knowing you've had his attention before tonight.

"You gonna drink both of those, or are one of them for me?" You tease, giggling when he starts to stutter out a response. Putting him out of his misery, you take the drink when he confirms through his rambling that yes, one of them is for you, "you're so sweet, thank you."

Taking a sip you throw your left arm along the back of the arm chair, letting your long nails dance along his exposed bicep, marveling at the shiver that wracks through him. He takes a drink himself, nose scrunching up cutely when the taste hits his mouth.

"Too strong for you?" You ask, voice muffled by the cup you bring up to take another drink from. He looks embarrassed when he nods his head, but instead of teasing him, you take a hold of his free hand, lacing your fingers together as you get up off the armchair, dragging him along with you.

"Where're we going?" He follows you along without complaint, hand a little clammy as they tighten around yours. You bring him into the kitchen, which is surprisingly empty, and head to the fridge. Bending over a little more than necessary, you fish through the various cans of sodas until you find one that's just a carbonated lemonade, making a show of straightening up slowly to give Ethan ample time to stare before you turn to face him.

Despite how slow you were, you're still able catch his gaze as it snaps back up to your eyes, but you pretend not to have noticed as you hand him your drink so you can open the can.

Taking a light hold of his wrist, you guide his hand down so that you can see into his cup, one that was filled significantly less than yours was. You pour in the fizzy drink right up to the top, pouring the little bit that's left into your own cup when you take it from him.

"There, that should taste a bit better," you say, smiling up at him as you step into his space. He nods jerkily, taking another go at the spiked punch. His face doesn't scrunch up, and he looks pleasantly surprised as he takes another drink.

"So?" Even without his response you know it's better, but he's got a nice voice, one you want to keep hearing. It's even better when he's flustered and stuttering, so you slide up to his side, staring up at him with his arm brushing your breasts.

He's only able to nod, eyes now locked onto where you're pressed against him, no doubt getting an eye full of your cleavage. You let him have his fill, keeping your smile innocent when he looks back at your face.

"Good," you say, taking his hand again and leading him to the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor, "I'm glad."

He follows behind obediently, and you make sure to add more of a swing to your hips for him to appreciate. You see Chad as you guide Ethan to the darkened corner, pretending you didn't see the wink and thumbs up he gives Ethan as you pass.

There's a little area in the corner of the room that isn't overly crowded, so you guide him over there before someone else can settle into the space. Smiling up at him through lowered lids, glossy bottom lip between your teeth, you sway to the music. The blush that had been slowly fading from Ethan's face is back in full force, eyes unable to stay in one place as they flick to and away from you.

You loop your arms around his shoulders, cup held loosely in your hand behind his head as you press right up against him. The cardboard scrapes against your exposed upper thighs as you move, though you ignore the discomfort when Ethan starts to hesitantly follow your movements. They're jerky and uncoordinated, but he looks adorable, concentrating hard on being able to follow your movements.

You keep it simple, not wanting to overwhelm him too fast. So you're pleasantly surprised when you feel the hesitant touch of his free hand as it settles on your waist, just barely resting there but touching you all the same.

There's cheering from the other room, loud and obnoxious and the perfect distraction you need. You tug at Ethan's neck, a pleasant thrill going through you when he dips his head down without hesitation. You don't even have to push up onto your toes, your heels making you tall enough that you can comfortably whisper into Ethan's ear, "I really want to kiss you right now."

"You- me?" He sputters around his words, cheeks flaming hot when he pulls back to look at you. You wait patiently, though you've been desperate to get your mouth on this doe eyed boy for so long you feel like you're about to explode, "Really?"

"Yes, really," you coo, shuffling close enough to press yourself firmly against his cardboard covered body, smiling when the hand that was still gently resting on your waist moves to press at your back.

"Yeah. Yes, yes please," he nods along with his words, cringing at the tinge of desperation that coats them. You don't mind though, more than happy to know that someone as pretty as him is this desperate for just a kiss.

Wanting to see how far it could go, you start at his chin, glossy lips smoothing along his clean shaven skin. The next is pressed to the corner of his mouth, and you struggle to contain your smile when you hear the small whine he lets out at the touch.

Meeting his gaze, you find his half lidded, bottom lip bright pink from being gnawed on between his teeth.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," you sing, quickly shoving your drink at a random passerby before you tuck your hands under the sides of his helmet, cupping his cheeks as you guide his lips to yours. They're soft and plush against yours, tangy from the lemon flavoured soda mixed into his drink.

Gently taking his bottom lip between your teeth, you revel in the moan he lets out when you pull back, giving him a flirty grin before going back in. Behind you, you can hear his cup drop to the ground, ignoring the feeling of the cold liquid splashing up the back of your legs. You run your tongue along his lip, soothing where you bit him. It has Ethan gasping, mouth open just enough for you lick into his.

After that it's a mess of teeth and tongues, uncaring of the people moving around you, lost in the heat radiating off of him. All you want is to run your hands all over Ethan. His homemade costume keeps you from feeling his chest against yours, and you groan in annoyance.

Gently pulling your hands out from under his helmet, you tug it up and off, holding it in one hand as you tuck your head into is neck.

The gasp he lets out when your lips graze along his skin has your thighs pressing together, makes you wonder just what other sounds you can get out of him. You run your hand through his curly hair, long nails gently scraping against his scalp, pulling a long moan that he has to muffle against your neck so that anyone close to you can't hear him.

His hot breath dances along your skin, tiny whines escaping as you bite at his neck, sucking a mark that will be too high up to hide on his pale skin. You can't wait for everyone to see it tomorrow morning.

"Hey," you whisper, pulling back a little to look at him. His eyes are half lidded and unfocused as he stares back at you, pink dusting along his cheeks and nose, "it's a little hot in here. Wanna go outside? Get some air?"

You don't know if he's really even hearing the words that come out of your mouth, gaze fixed to your lips void of the lip gloss that has been smeared onto his neck and face. He nods though, and that's all you need. Thankfully you were already near the backyard, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the open sliding door and past the few people loitering around.

It's cool out, a shiver running down your spine when a breeze dances over your flushed skin. Keeping a tight grip on Ethan's hand, you guide him to the back corner of the yard and to what used to be a storage shed. You know from being to a few parties here that it has been transformed into a bit of a lounge, if you could even call it that. There's a table and futon in there, with a mix of different garage sale armchairs and bean bags squeezed in.

Thankfully, it's empty when you open it, and the lingering smell of weed from the last hot boxing isn't as bad as you expected it to be. The futon isn't turned out, but you don't really care, gesturing for Ethan to sit while you close and latch the door behind you.

When you turn back Ethan's staring down at the ground while he's got a hand in his hair, musing up his beautiful curls. You gently place his cardboard helmet on the coffee table, moving to kneel next to him on the couch, facing him.

"There, this is much better," you whisper, shuffling forward so that your knees brush against his thigh. You can hear his gulp, failing to fight down your smile at the sound. Before he has the time to possibly get embarrassed over it, you cup his face in both of yours, kissing him again.

Now alone, without the possibility of people watching and potentially spooking Ethan, you're able to be a bit more... aggressive with your affections. Thumbing over the already blooming bruise you left on his neck, you lick into his mouth when he lets out a sweet moan. He's a little sloppy as he kisses you back, hesitant as his tongue slides along yours.

It's cute, the way he tries to copy your movements, has you humming happily into the kiss at every moan you're able to pull from him. You can hear the creek of the old metal frame beneath you as you push up on your knees, swinging your leg over his to settle on his lap.

It hikes up your already short skirt, ass exposed to the cool air of the shed. His erection presses into your core as you push your body into his, rolling your hips in the process. Ethan pulls away from you with a gasp, face bright red and his hand firmly planted on your hips to keep you from moving again.

“Shit, I- I'm so sorry. Fuck. I, uhm…” Ethan looks mortified, and when you smile at him, amused at his stuttering, he looks like he would have run out there if it weren't for you sitting on his lap.

The quick kiss you place on his lips quickly shuts him up, though it isn't much of one with the way you're still smiling.

“I'd be a little offended if you had no reaction to me,” you mumble, trailing kisses down along his jaw to bite at his neck. It has his breath shaking, lips firmly pressed together to try and muffle his moans, “especially with what I have planned for you.”

He looks confused when you pull away from his neck, so you just take one of his hands that were fisted in his pants, guiding it to the zipper on your side. Ethan's fingers are unsteady as he grasps the metal between his fingers, slowly pulling it down until it stops right at the swell of your hips. You pull the dress down over your breasts, letting him get his fill as you work at pulling apart the surprisingly intricate cardboard costume.

Ethan doesn't move to help you, too busy staring down at your chest, nipples pebbled in the cool night air. It's only when you start tugging the cardboard up that he seems to come back to himself, looking away from you as he lifts his arms. When his arms come back down to his sides you play with the collar of his polo, making sure your arms are tight against the sides of your breasts to perk them up a bit.

“Can I take this off too?” You whisper, letting your fingers dip underneath to graze along Ethan's flushed collarbone.

Ethan nods, a hoarse little ‘yeah’ escaping his lips as he again lifts his arms for you to tug the shirt up and off. Once it's out of the way you press your chest right up against his, smiling when his breath seems to get caught in his throat.

“You can touch me if you want,” you say, smoothing your hands across his shoulders and down his surprisingly defined biceps. Though you suppose with a roommate like Chad, it's likely he got dragged into quite a few gym trips after they became friends.

You bring your lips back to his, hands roaming between your body's to trail over his chest and stomach before going back up. Ethan's hesitant as he kisses you back, hands still on your hips before they slowly smooth up your sides. His thumbs come to sit right under your breasts, and you press yourself harder against him to try and encourage him to move that last little bit and touch you.

It's the tiny plea that escapes your lips as you take a quick gulp of air that makes Ethan more confident, mouth working against yours with more intent as his hands finally palm at your breasts. The happy hum you let out causes Ethan to smile against your lips, warm fingers moving to tweak your nipple.

Each moan and sigh you let out has Ethan moving with more and more confidence, touch firmer and kisses rougher. When you pull back to get much needed air, Ethan dips down to mouth at your neck, his ragged breaths cooling the spit on your skin as he moves further down.

You sit up on your knees to bring your chest level with his face, and Ethan moans at the sight. He presses a quick kiss right above your left breast, no doubt feeling the erratic beating of your heart, then moves down to take your nipple into his mouth. His tongue laves over the soft flesh, a soft moan vibrating against you as you push him firmly into your chest with a hand on the back of his head.

He suckles and runs his teeth over you until your skin is tingly, then swaps to the other nipple. You drop down into his lap before he can get lost in your flesh, settling back onto his erection with a satisfied moan. As you connect your mouth to his neck, teeth working at the skin to ensure he's bruised when you're done with him, you roll your hips against his.

Ethan's hips jerk up into yours, the seam of his jeans pressing right up against you perfectly. He tucks his face into your neck, breathing deeply as he wraps his arms around your waist. You're pulled flush against him, so you aren't able to really move, but Ethan doesn't seem to mind.

“Fuck, you feel so good against me,” You moan when you pull away from his neck, admiring the red splotches and teeth marks left behind, “Feel even better if you took these jeans off.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, looking at you in wonder. You can't help the giggle that escapes you, shifting back so you can get at his jeans. You undo the belt and unbutton the jeans, sliding off his lap to stand in front of him so he can take them off. As you stand, gravity pulls at your dress, and you tug at it just enough so that it can get over the swell of your hips and pool into a sparkly mess on the ground.

You're left in just your panties. And while you weren't expecting your night to go quite like this, you're very glad you decided to wear the cute, lacy pastel ones instead of something ugly and comfortable. Having Ethan gawk at you is a confidence boost like no other, letting him have his fill for a few seconds before you slide back into his lap.

With only your underwear in the way, the friction between you when you roll your hips into his is mind numbingly delicious. The wet spot in your panties makes it so they're basically non-existent, the glide smooth.

Ethan's mouth hangs open on a moan, gaze locked onto where your hips bring together. His hands fly up to grip your hips, but they just hold you, letting you set the pace as you continue to roll your hips against his. You plant your hands firmly on his shoulders, using them for leverage as you grind down into him.

You can't help the sounds falling from your lips, whines and gasps as you desperately rut yourself against his thickness. Every guy you've slept with before has never made you this desperate before, but being in this dingy shack with Ethan has you falling apart with him even being inside of you.

It takes more effort than you'd like to admit to slow your hips to a stop. You nearly start back again at the desperate whine Ethan lets out, his hips rolling up into you and forcing a gasp from your lips.

“As good as that feels, I really wanna get you inside of me,” you drop your gaze to your lap, hands trailing down his shoulders and along his chest before you let your fingers run along the band of his boxers, “Bet you'd fill me up so good.”

And you're not even lying. Even when he still had his jeans on you could tell he was thick, but now you can feel and see the outline of him in its entirety, and you can't wait for the full acke that will surely come with him stretching you out.

“Please,” Ethan whines, his hands sliding back to grab handfuls of your ass to push your hips down against his. Your eyes flutter shut, losing yourself in the feeling as you let him guide you, head dropping to his shoulder. Toes curling in your shoes, you lift up off of his lap to stop the orgasm you can feel building.

The whine Ethan lets out in protest is short lived as you yank at his boxers. His hands leave your ass to push them down far enough to free his erection, and you damn near salivate at the sight of him.

He's thicker than you've ever had, veiny and with a flushed head that's dripping precum.

It takes some very unsexy maneuvering to get your panties off without getting off his lap, but you're reluctant to lose his touch for even a moment. He helps guide them off, hands running over your thighs when your panties are out of reach. You let them hang off of your foot, too lazy to take it off or let it fall onto the dirty ground.

Slowly, you settle back onto his lap, making sure that his cock is nestled right between your soaking lips. It has the desired effect, a shaky moan escaping him and his head drops to your neck. You cradle the back of his head with one hand, the other gripping the back of the futon as you slowly roll your hips.

“A-ah, fuck,” Ethan whines, his hands bruising as they tighten on your hips, pulling you down into him. You aren't able to move, but the angle he has you at while he ruts up into you is enough to have you moaning along with him.

Grabbing a fistful of hair, you pull his face from your neck, smiling at the flushed, blissed out look on his face. “Sit tight, okay? Gonna see if there's any condoms in here.”

There are two side tables here. The first is full of rolling paper and random bits of weed that have fallen out of the grinders. You hit the jackpot with the second, quickly checking to make sure it's not off date before you pull a packet out and rip it open.

When you turn back Ethan has a tight grip around the base of his cock, eyes half lidded as he watches you move around the small room. When you move to put the condom on him he quickly shakes his head, holding his hand out to take it from you.

“Can’t. If you touch me I'll- I don't wanna, not yet.” You hum, letting him have it as you climb back onto his lap. His hands are unsteady, but he's able to slide the condom on in one go.

You don't give him any time to relax, shuffling forward to press yourself against him, your dominate hand gripping the futon once more. The kiss you press to his lips is a distraction, wanting to settle the racing of his heart that you can feel against your chest. Once his hands are steady as they roam across your skin, you reach back, grabbing a hold of him to line him up with your entrance.

The second you touch him he reacts, hands that were feeling up your thighs seize up, fingers digging into your skin. You make sure to go slow, for both of your benefits. Despite how bad you wanna find out if taking him all at once would make him cum on the spot, you don't think you would recover from his girth, even with how wet you are.

With every bit of him you take, it feels like the air in your lungs is being forced up out of you.

“Fuck. I'm not - I don't think I'm gonna last,” Ethan whines, head ducked so he can watch where he disappears inside of you.

As you fully settle into his lap, you have to take a moment for the both of you to get accustomed to the feeling. You've never felt a burn like this since you had lost your virginity, the tingles of pain seeming to heighten your pleasure.

You keep up the slow pace, rocking back and forth on his lap. Ethan's biting his lip so hard he'll surely draw blood, still watching where you're connected. Pulling his bottom lip out with your thumb, you give him a quick kiss, before you plant your hands firmly on his shoulders.

The fake dollar store rhinestones on your heels dig into the fat of your ass as you start to bounce on his lap. Ethan's head is thrown back, neck littered in your bites as he moans and whines in tandem to your movements. Your fingernails are surely leaving marks on his skin, but he doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he gets louder every time you drag pink lines across his skin.

You aren't any better. Gasping and cursing each time he bottoms out, you feel like you're being split in two. Each time you lift off of him you can feel the sticky trails of your arousal that connect you two together. Tomorrow you'll feel bad for whatever poor soul discovers the mess you two are sure to leave behind.

Ethan's hands have migrated to your ass, helping you move along his length. He's babbling now, words all jumbled together. Slowly, he's just cursing over and over, hissing a desperate “shit shit SHIT” before his hands press flat against your back, holding you to him as he cum la into the condom.

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, clenching around him at the feeling. He whines, mouthing at your neck to try and muffle the sound.

You cup his face, guiding him to look at you. The red that's taken over his face is adorable, and you tell him as much before kissing him. When you pull back he's pouting at you, a hand moving from your ass to trail between you.

“You didn't cum,” he says, thumb slipping down to nudge at your clit. The slight touch after being denied an orgasm has you gasping, clenching around his surprisingly still hard cock.

With a hum you roll your hips into his touch, watching him with a small smile, “Nights still young, I think you can figure something out.”

❛ Hair ruffling, shoulder pats, the occasional bear hug when showing affection to Gally

❛ Probably just presses brief kisses to the top of his wife's head since she's short.

❛ If something Gally has mentioned wanting in passing shows up randomly in his room, it'll be from his dad, since his mom makes a big deal out off all gifts and will wrap them or put them in a cute little bag no matter the occasion

❛ When Gally showed interest in wood working his dad bought him his own set of tools and they built a tv stand together then looked online for a second hand tv for his room

❛ Either an only child or has a brother significantly older than him. Like when Gally was born they were in grade 8 (year before highschool)

❛ His older brother was born right after his parents graduated high school, and his grandparents helped watch him while his mom went to university and his dad worked

❛ Gally was 100% unplanned after years of his parents trying for another kid. They kinda gave up on trying only for him to be a happy surprise a few months later

❛ Big mamas boy, very protective of her and surprisingly never really shied away from her affection like most kids do as they grow up. (If you watch anime, picture the dynamic of Ichigo (( Bleach )) and his mom when he was a kid)

❛ Was probably teased growing up, cried easily which just made it worse. Made him a very angry kid and he got into lots of fights

❛ His parents absolutely stood up for him and were great support in trying to get that shit to stop right away

❛ I'd say it's unsurprising that his mom was they one to barge into the principal's office in a fiery rage, considering she's the more talkative one (she's very much the “he asked for no pickles” one between her and her husband)

❛ His father just sat there quietly next to Gally, a satisfied smirk on his face while Gally watched in surprised awe as his tiny mom made the principal cower behind his desk.

❛ The teasing obviously didn't stop cuz kids are evil but it was more subtle. Making a point to exclude him and making it obvious he was being talked about behind his back

❛ But he hit a growth spurt before everyone else and then just kept getting taller and taller, so kids stopped bothering him, especially with how grumpy/angry he became after puberty hit

❛ Not to mention the muscle he gained in highschool since the school had a workout room with all kinds of equipment

❛ Has MASSIVE resting bitch face so has a very small group of friends, everyone else avoids him like the plague cuz they're scared of him

❛ Like his father he's bad with emotions but is very smart, just not in a nerdy way like his mom is. He keeps that shit hidden cuz he doesn't want to be teased again

❛ 100% a bullies bully, sees someone getting messed with and that bully is getting shoved around and tripped, especially if they were someone that used to mess with him as a kid

❛ If anyones says ANYTHING about his friends (Newt being gay, Frypan/Minho’s race) it's OVER for them. Absolutely gets himself detention for punching the daylight outta them

❛ Will not notice if anyone is attracted to him and is HORRIBLE with dealing with a crush. 100% will not want ANYTHING to do with you because he hates the fluttery feeling he gets around you

❛ Probably won't be outright mean to you but won't be all that welcoming. The only way you're even getting a “hi” from him is if you befriend one of HIS friends first and you get introduced to each other

❛ The slowest of slow burns. Probably won't take more than a year but it's rough for you, you will be in the TRENCHES trying to flirt with him

❛ Defending his friends will quickly put you in his good graces and you will now be promoted from friend of a friend that I have to tolerate into friend of a friend I could learn to like (unlike Tommy who huffs and puffs when Gally accepts you into the friend group before him)

❛ The first time you defend HIM is when he realizes he likes you in a way that's more than just surface level. His brain will shut down, I'm talking dial up tones and a million windows pop ups. Poor boys COOKED. Will ghost everyone over the weekend to wallow in his human emotions but come back on Monday like nothing happened

❛ Surprisingly I feel like he would confess in his own emotionally constipated way

❛ Probably happens on your birthday, when he gives you a jewelry box or something similar that he made for you

❛ It's super intricate and you spend most of the party distracted by it, eyes glancing over to it in the middle of conversations

❛ At some point in the night it's just you and Gally alone, and he'll be red in that face, unable to look at you as he asks if you liked the gift

❛ As you gush about how much you like, and give him a big tight hug because it's the first time someone has made you a gift like this, he breaks

❛ He'll hug you back after a moment of surprise, and doesn't let go even when he knows the hug is lasting longer than it should. But you're not moving either, so he'll take it

❛ When you pull away to look up at him, your bright smile would drop to something small and bashful, eyes flicking to his lips so quick he nearly misses it

❛ He'd take the leap, pressing a very stiff kiss to your lips before pulling back right away, face so red you worry it'll catch on fire

❛ You'd pull him back for a proper kiss, but your friends who have been hiding around the corner watching the whole time would come out to tease you guys after a bit, happy you're finally together

❛ Sadly they didn't realize that you guys getting together would be worse then having to watch you two pine helplessly over one another

After both Paul and Embry assured you that the vampire wasn't close enough for them to sense, Embry had immediately called Sam. The older man talked on the phone with you for a bit, going into greater detail about what the pack will do to ensure your safety.

They would have one of them posted at your house at all times. While at school, Sam would stay in the woods that surrounded the building, and would follow the bus you take home, waiting there for the one that would trade shifts with him.

You know the boys had been struggling in their classes before this, their late nights spent on patrol gave them no time to do any of their work, let alone time for themselves. You knew this was only going to make things worse for them, but Embry and Paul had assured you that everything would be fine. That they didn't mind. It was their job, after all. It didn't make you feel any better about it, anyways.

Fiddling absently with your bracelet, you let your eyes scan the forest from the safety of your second story classroom. Math, while not your worst subject, was also nowhere near your best. You were going to be very behind once this vampire shit is all over with, but you can't really bring yourself to care.

It's sunny, a rarity in Forks. Not that it brings you any comfort. You have no idea who the other vampire is, what they look like. Hell, what they sound like. It could be a classmate, for all you knew. And since some of them have powers, what's stopping this one from being immune to the effects of the sun?

It's pointless, scaring yourself with what-ifs. You know, because it took nearly half an hour for Embry, Paul, and Sam to calm you down enough before they left you in the protection of Jared.

The last bell of the day rings out, but you only notice when the students around you shoot up out of their seats. You slowly follow suit, collecting your unopened textbook and head out the door.

You feel numb, going through the motions of opening your locker. You don't even know what you put into your bag, stuffing the first thing you touch into it blindly.

When you turn around, you don't even jump when Bella Swan's concerned eyes stare back at you. She looks much better than she did a few days ago, the dark bags under her eyes lightening up. You feel like it had just transferred onto you, eyes drooping with your lack of sleep.

"Hey," Bella starts, hesitating when she notices just how bad a shape your in, "Do you want a ride home? You don't live too far from my house."

"Nobody lives far from anyone," you mumble. Pulling your bag higher up you shoulder, you close your locker behind you, not bothering to lock it. Whoever feels the need to snoop will only find textbooks in there anyways.

"I'm fine, Sam said it's fine if I take the bus."

"If you're sure," Bella says, still hesitant. You can tell she feels out of her element, and you're warmed by her concern. Lifting a hand, you give her arm a squeeze, before brushing past her and towards the bus.

You're the last one to get on, forced to share the seat with a freshman. You don't mind it as much as you normally would have, but you can tell he's uncomfortable. You're basically a zombie, staring at the seat in front of you with unwavering intensity.

Tomorrow you'll probably feel embarrassed by it, but you can't feel much of anything, right now. You feel beyond exhausted, more than you ever have before. And you've had your fare share of sleepless nights, playing games until the sun rises.

The bus jerks to a stop, and you look up, surprised to find yourself at your stop. You stumble from the bus, walking down the street behind your other classmates.

Slowly, they all veer off, going down other streets or into their houses, until it's just you. But you don't panic, because Sam said he would be following you. And for as intimidating as he is, you knew you could trust him.

You hear your name called, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time for you to turn towards the voice. Candice is walking out of her front door, the trunk of her car open, "Doing any better today?"

You hesitate, looking towards you house. Sam said you should go straight home, and avoid being in places that would be hard for them to get to just in case. But for some reason, you find yourself walking over to Candices house.

"No," your eyes drift to the bags in her trunk. The bags are all black, the handles tired off on the top so that you can't see what's inside of them, "do you want some help?"

A slow smile spreads across Candices face, and she tilts her head as her gaze flicks over your shoulder. It's brief, so quick that you don't question what had caught her attention.

"Sure. I would love the help."

You wait for her to grab some bags, taking the last two left in your hands. It's a struggle to close the trunk, whatever was in those bags was heavy, arm shaking as you lift into the air.

As you force your arm down on the trunk, your bracelet gets caught in the handle. One of the charms snap off as you jerk your arm back, and you watch in dismay as it rolls down the driveway.

Candice is waiting for you at the front door, letting you pass her by before she closes the door behind you.

Her house is spotless. That's the first thing you notice as you look around. It's dark inside, the curtains drawn tight. The lights she has are dimmed, only bright enough to make out where everything is.

You toe off your shoes, not wanting to dirty her very white carpet. You can see the dinning room from the front door, the table covered in dark bags. Placing the other bags next to them, you open the bag closest to you to help put things away.

But it's not food inside of the bags. Thick, blue rope stares back up at you, and lots of it. When you turn around, Candice is standing right behind you.

Instead of the blue eyes you remember her having, they're now red. Just like the woman in the woods. Just like the ones you've been seeing. As recognition passes onto your groggy face, Candice lets her smile warp into one of cruelty.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," she whispers, hand coming up to brush against your cheek. It's cold, just like when she had pressed it against your forehead. But now you know it wasn't your mind playing ticks on you.

"Please," you slur, head dipping. It's getting harder for you to keep your eyes open, and your legs can barely hold you up anymore. You lean heavily into the table behind you, knocking one of the tables off the edge, "please let me go."

It makes sense now, this unshakable exhaustion that's been clinging to you. It was her.

"I can't, not after they touched what was mine," her hand drops from your cheek to wrap around your throat, slowly tightening, "their stench all over you, muddling the sweet smell of your blood. I've waited too many years to let them have you."

Your gasping around her tight grip, hands clawing helplessly at her arm, but it's no use. Black pours into the edge of your vision, heart pounding frantically in your chest. As the darkness threatens to consume you, you hear Candice whisper one last thing before you loose consciousness.

"My beautiful blood-singer, I won't let anyone have you."