#wenthorpe

Enid:

Ajax:

Eugene: Wow Wednesday, when did you get your driver's license?

Wednesday: My what?

Xavier Thorpe’s absence lingers in the halls of Nevermore High like a spectre bound to the place they once called home. 

The raven mural was covered the day after Vincent Thorpe pulled him from school. Wednesday finds herself staring at it with a furrow in her brow as a myriad of complex emotions burn through her veins. 

Whispers of his name are permanently etched in the walls as several students ask the same question. “What happened?”

Wednesday leans forward, inspecting the once beautiful mural, now covered in a muted shade of grey. The paint hasn’t fully dried, yet she finds herself tearing a piece of fabric off her skirt and wiping away a small spot in the middle. An eye as dark as the onyx stone stares back at her, and a chill slices down her body, freezing her in place as her vision is consumed with multiple ravens surrounding the artist of the mural. Xavier’s face burns in her mind as the overwhelming sense of danger pulses in her.

“...nesday….Wednesday….WEDNESDAY!” 

Wednesday jolts out of the vision to see Ajax Petropolus towering over her with his hand over her shoulder, close but not touching.

“Are you okay, Wednesday?” He asks, a little shaken and uncertain how to proceed. He’s never seen Wednesday in the middle of having a vision before. Enid always told him they were…a spectacle, but Ajax wouldn’t have guessed it would look painful. However, he supposes that Wednesday wouldn’t mind the pain. But the vacant look in her eye and the slightest tremor of her hand suggest otherwise. 

Wednesday blinks, straightening her spine before meeting Ajax’s gaze. “I’m fine.”

Ajax ponders for a moment, unsure of whether or not to take her at her word, but he doesn’t want to risk losing a finger…or ten, so he leaves it and turns toward the covered-up mural.

“It’s strange without him here, isn’t it.” Ajax doesn’t phrase it like a question, and Wednesday finds herself grateful. 

She grips the strap of her bag and lets out a noncommittal noise. Her eyes find the raven’s again, and her fingers twitch with the urge to wipe away the rest of the paint before it’s completely dried. 

“What happened, Wednesday? And don’t give me the same crap Weems gave all of us. You were the one closest to Xavier before he left.”

Wednesday bristles as she remembers Weems non-explicit farewell for Xavier. No details. No time frame. Just: ‘I’m sorry to announce that Xavier Thorpe will not be finishing the semester with us. He’ll be off enlightening fellow outcasts at a much higher renowned school, and it’ll be an insult to his memory if we don’t finish these last couple of months strong.”

That was two days ago. Wednesday hasn’t had a chance to recover from the Crackstone incident. Her shoulder still burns every time Xavier’s name is said. 

Wednesday pulls out the phone Xavier gifted her with two fingers, holding it on either side like it is covered in toxin. Truthfully, she never planned on texting him first, or at all, but after Weems made her announcement, Wednesday found herself struggling with the sense that something was wrong. That Weems was lying. Ever since what happened with Tyler, Wednesday vowed never to ignore her instincts again. 

So that's why her first, and only text, was to Xavier Thorpe with a simple phrase. “Where are you.”

Not a question, not just a mere sentence. A demand. 

She nearly threw the phone across the room when the message immediately read as ‘undelivered’ in that stupid red text with an exclamation point, taunting her. Even Wednesday Addams can be bested by modern technology. 

Wednesday opens the message and shows Ajax. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The snakes under his beanie let out multiple hisses, sensing his distress. 

“Damnit,” Ajax curses, and Wednesday tucks the phone in her pocket. 

“You know something,” Wednesday says, taking a step forward. 

“I tried calling him, and it kept going straight to voicemail. I figured something major had happened, and I didn’t want to add to it, so I decided to leave him be. I was planning on calling him again later, but now I know that won’t matter.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Ajax?”

“Xavier’s father pulled him out of school, but it seems like he’s willing to disconnect Xavier from his life here, which is why I’m asking you again, Wednesday, what happened?”

Wednesday takes a deep breath and wonders momentarily why Enid hasn’t informed Ajax of the details of her battle with Crackstone. But ever since Enid’s fight with Tyler in his Hyde form, something has shifted within her. She still puts on that annoyingly bright smile and dances around their room until the early hours of the morning, but there’s a tension there that wasn’t present before.

But Wednesday is tired. And Enid Sinclair’s newest drama is low on the list of Wednesday’s priorities. So, she never asks. She figures Enid would yap about it one day during Wednesday’s designated writing hour, so every time she sits at her typewriter, she always puts plugs in her ears now. 

“Do you remember the fight Enid had with that big monster?” Wednesday asks slowly, searching Ajax’s face for signs of recognition.

Ajax nods, rubbing the back of his neck and breaks eye contact. Wednesday makes note of that for later.

“Before that, I accidentally framed Xavier as the one behind the murders–” Ajax lets out a squeak, but Wednesday puts her hand up, silencing him. “However, I realised soon after that I had been mistaken and went back to the jail to free him. Eventually, the real culprit was caught, and Xavier was freed,” she pauses. Short. Quick. But enough for Ajax to notice. “Freed in time to save my life.”

“God, Wednesday.” Ajax slumps against the pillar with his head in his hands.

“Enid never told you this, did she.”

Ajax lets out a bitter scoff. “She’s been distant with me lately. The most I’m able to get out of her is a good morning and a good night text.”

Wednesday says nothing, facing the mural once more. 

“But,” Ajax continues, pushing off the pillar with his foot. “That explains why his father yanked him out of Nevermore. Couldn’t handle the ‘scandle.’”

“Xavier’s father? Vincent Thorpe?”

Ajax hums in conformation. Wednesday remembers seeing the enigmatic man on the television. Pugsley harboured a mild obsession with watching his talk show. ‘Unlocking the Inner Eye with residual Psychic and Entrepreneur Extraordinaire, Vincent Thorpe.’ Wednesday chalked him up to be a narcissist and paid him no mind. Even Morticia was less than pleased that he was the new face of Psychics, and that surprised Wednesday. She would’ve pegged Morticia to be a sucker for him like the rest of his audience. 

There she goes, underestimating her mother once again. 

“He’s an asshole,” Ajax says bluntly. “Xavier told me that the reason why he attended Nevermore was that his father couldn’t bear to be in the same room as him due to how underdeveloped his psychic abilities are. He’s also never shown up for any of the Family Day events.”

“I see.” 

“I can guarantee you that his leaving was Vincent’s idea. Xavier always said that Nevermore was more his home than the Thorpe mansion.”

“What about his mother?”

Ajax tenses, his eyes shifting again. “That’s not for me to say. I’m sorry.”

Wednesday bristles, but doesn’t push it.

“I know it's a long shot, but if you do manage to reach Xavier somehow,” Ajax pauses, giving Wednesday a knowing look. She quirks a brow. “Please tell him I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for him, tried harder, somehow.”

Wednesday gives him a singular nod, and Ajax smiles softly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in days, before taking one last look at the once beautiful mural and walking out of the courtyard. 

Wednesday meets the eye of the raven for a final time, and the hairs on the back of her neck stick up as one thought barrels its way to the forefront of her mind.

With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine.

© Corpse Bride