Chapter Text
Anyone who has met Bianca for more than five seconds, can tell she's a winner. There isn't a single person Xavier can think of that has taken his ex-girlfriend on.
Until now.
Wednesday Addams.
Certainly not a name he could forget. It's pretty in a bizarre way. Wednesday. It's a day of the week, it shouldn't be as hot to him as it is. Yet, he's fallen, muddled in the letters and he doesn't quite want to get himself out of them so soon.
She's interesting to look at too. Xavier knew it back when he was ten and was absolutely so far away in leagues from her with his dorky demeanor and his not-so-typical body. She was pale, very mean looking but she was Wednesday. The prettiest day of the week.
The Wednesday who saved his life.
The Wednesday who has just lost to Bianca. If he had a hundred chances, he would have bet every time that Wednesday would win, that goes for anything and everything. For some reason, she didn't. The tip of Bianca's sword grazing her head and drawing blood. He felt off kilter for a moment- he could tell the rest of the room felt it too. Wednesday isn't someone who looks like she bleeds.
He knows he's in deep when he follows after her to the infirmary. Just to make sure she's okay. Even though, she's Wednesday and she's never not been invincible. Especially not over something so superficial like a graze to her forehead.
If anything, he's worried because Rowan's in there with her. His roommate having been acting strange for awhile now. He knows he's plotting something. Even before Rowan slammed him into the wall with his telekinesis.
He hovers outside the building, waiting for her to leave. He thinks he'll talk to her. Introduce himself. No doubt she won't recognise him. Xavier's not like her, he's not memorable.
There's a chill in the air, despite winter almost coming to an end. He nestles his hands deeper in his pockets and closes his eyes. His head resting gently against the stone wall behind him.
It begins to pour.
He doesn't feel the first splash against his face, instead he feels it all at once. Like a bucket of water tipped over him. He never knows if he loves or hates the rain. He stares up at the sky, the rain splashing against his cheekbones.
He almost misses her when she walks past.
If it wasn't for the air shifting round her as she moves- the scent of peppermint following, he would have. He's about to chase after her when he sees something out of the corner of his eye.
The gargoyle, teetering the edge of the school's roof.
And Wednesday's about to head directly underneath it.
He's already moving towards her, to call out for her to move, when she looks up. She stares for a second too long. As if she's waiting for it to fall. It's now or never for Xavier. It's instinct.
"Wednesday!"
He propels himself at her, pushing her out of the way. The gargoyle smashing against the ground just as him and Wednesday fall to the side.
His whole body is wrapped over, to protect her. He barely feels the rain. Her back is what hits the concrete. Her umbrella scattered somewhere away from them. He lifts himself up, barely, just so he can see her face. See if she's hurt.
She's so small beneath him.
"Wednesday?" He tries because her eyes are closed. She doesn't respond, he gently shakes her. Nothing at all. "Wednesday!"
Shit.
He needs to take her back to the nurse. She's probably got a concussion or something. He should have spun them when he moved her out of the way, he should have been the one to take the brunt of the fall. Fuck.
Carefully, he lifts her in his arms. She's practically weightless, he shouldn't be surprised but he is. Her personality is probably the heaviest thing about her. She's like a doll, limp in his arms. With her eyes closed, she almost even looks fragile.
He carries her into the infirmary. One of the nurses already tutting and hovering, helping him lay Wednesday onto one of the beds.
"What happened here?" She fusses, moving Wednesday's bangs out of the way. Her graze from earlier is covered with a small plaster. If he wasn't so worried, he'd probably think it's cute.
"The gargoyle fell." He says simply, too preoccupied with watching Wednesday. Waiting for her to wake up. "I pushed her out of the way. Her head must have landed badly against the ground."
At least it wasn't crushed by a statue, his brain helpfully supplies.
"A statue fell?" The nurse says in disbelief.
He shrugs, "It's weird, I know."
"Are you sure?"
Irritation flickers. "I mean it's outside, if you want to check?"
The nurse's brows raise but she doesn't chide him on his tone. "Did someone push it?"
"I didn't see anyone." He has a sneaking suspicion who it was. He can't just throw around accusations of his roommate shoving the statue off with only his mind, though. He needs proof.
Proof that Rowan has gone absolutely fucking insane.
"How strange." The nurse murmurs. "I'll let the headmistress know."
"Will Wednesday be okay?" He gnaws on his bottom lip. She still hasn't awakened.
"From the looks of it, just a bad bump." The nurse informs, she does a final check where she flashes a light into Wednesday's eyes. Her pupils reacting as they should. The light makes her irises look lighter, a little more chocolate coloured than her usual abyss of black. It's weird seeing her with anything other than greyscale, let alone thinking her eyes are the shade of sweets. "Let me know when she's awake and I'll do some more checks, if needs be."
She leaves him alone with Wednesday to attend to her other patients. Time moves slower when it's just the two of them. He drinks in her appearance. He tries to associate her with the little girl he knew. There isn't much of a change. She still wears her hair in two braids. Although, she has bangs now, they make her eyes look even bigger- if that's at all possible. He stares at them closed; he wonders if she wears makeup. Her eyelashes are so dark. She paints her fingernails black, so makeup isn't entirely from the realm of possibility. And even though she's still pale like she used to be, it suits her more now with her features grown into.
Xavier had heard his classmates speculate about Wednesday. She'd been expelled from her old school. Rumours that she'd murdered someone. She tortured her old teacher. That she eats human flesh, especially of the kid she supposedly murdered. He'd heard comments on her appearance too. About her being masculine, not how a girl should look. Others said she looked intimidating, scary, that they wouldn't go near her if they were paid to. Some people flat-out said she looks ugly.
He memorises her now, contemplating her features. He doesn't see what they do. He tries to, but all he sees is fierce beauty. A girl molded from graphite. She a rainbow of black and white. He's never seen anyone like her, he gets the feeling he never will. That Wednesday is unique in every possible way. How could that ever be undesirable?
Her eyes open.
He blinks, caught off guard.
Her impassive gaze reaches his.
She's sharp lines and dark stares. So lovely, he feels it like a gut punch.
"Welcome back." He tries to say casually. He's almost giddy. He's finally talking to her.
She rises with her hands still crossed over her chest, like a weird version of a corpse. It's almost cute. Her posture is incredible, it makes him straighten himself.
"Take it easy." He knows she won't. "The nurse said you don't have a concussion but a pretty nasty bump."
"You tackled me out of the way." She sounds almost accusing. Her stare doesn't help either. It reminds him of a dog in a way- like she's moments away from tilting her head in confusion. "Why?"
Why would he save someone from almost being killed?
Tough question.
He shrugs. "Call it instinct."
She continues to stare. It's as if she's looking for any lies. With how hard her gaze is, he should feel as though she's analysing the most inner parts of his soul- but he doesn't. In fact, it almost feels as though she's hardly seeing him at all.
"So, you were guided by blatant chivalry. A tool of the patriarchy to extract my undying gratitude." Definitely not toned as a question. He also doesn't think she's capable of undying gratitude.
"Mhm." He resists the wow crawling up his throat. Instead, nodding along. "You know most people just say thank you."
She's unlike most.
"I didn't want to be rescued."
"So, I should have let that thing smash you to mush?"
"I would have rather saved myself."
He scoffs. "It's good to see you haven't changed."
His earlier predictions were right. Wednesday doesn't remember him- if her pinched expression is anything to go by.
"If it makes you feel better, let's just say I returned the favour."
Wednesday looks around like the memory she needs is stored in the air.
He suppresses his sigh and puts her out of her misery. Although, she probably enjoys it. "Xavier Thorpe?"
Still no recognition.
"You probably don't remember me." He remembers her, though. He gestures with his hands, "Last time, we met, I was about two feet shorter. Forty pounds heavier."
"What happened?"
Always this question. "Puberty, I guess."
"I meant what happened the last time we met." She doesn't have the undertone of condescension that most other people would give, although she does hold a glint in her gaze that screams, she thinks he's stupid.
"Oh. Uh. Yeah." He thinks back on the day, "Yeah, it was my Godmother's funeral. Apparently, she was friends with your grandmother, and they spent their twenties in Europe." He furrows brows, reflecting back on what he was told, "Swindling the rich and the notorious."
At the lack of humour on her face. He straightens up before shrugging again. "I don't know but we were ten and we were bored. So, we decided to play hide and seek."
He still remembers the terror like it was yesterday. His hands slamming the lid of the coffin, desperate to get out. It felt as though there was no air, he couldn't breathe. He screamed so loud and for so long that his throat felt raw. Truly, he thought he was going to die- all so he could win hide and seek. He recalls sobbing, desperate for someone to let him out. He hasn't experienced panic like that since.
Wednesday found him. She saved him.
He swallows, finishing the story, "I had the inspired idea to hide in her casket. I got stuck as it headed to the crematorium."
Her eyes may as well light up.
Immediately, he wants to draw it.
"I'd heard muffled screams." She continues for him. "I just figured she'd been buried alive."
"Well, you saved me from being flame-broiled. So..." He gestures with his arms, "Now, we're even."
She stares at him as if she doesn't know what the word means.
...
The next time he sees Wednesday, it's at the Harvest Festival.
She's killing it with one of the little games. Quickly firing darts at balloons and making them land perfectly every time. The balloons popping one after the other. He smiles to himself before walking up, she's good at everything.
He plants his hands at the booth, probably a meter or so down from her, and leans down to watch the game.
"Jeez," He's a step away from exhaling an impressed whistle. What can Wednesday not do? "You get any better at this, you'll be taking home a whole pack."
"Pandas don't travel in packs. They prefer the solitude."
Wednesday. The girl who's as direct as a smack in the face.
"Alright." He knows when his presence isn't wanted. He smiles anyway, it's probably more of a grimace. "Subtle hint taken."
She gives him a grave look, "You should know I'm waiting for someone."
That gets his attention. Although, Wednesday's existence pretty much demands it most of the time, anyway. Truth be told, he doesn't even know why Wednesday's bothering to tell him this.
"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky guy..." His gaze trails down Wednesday, "or girl?"
She turns to face him fully.
"What does it matter to you?"
Isn't it obvious?
It's at that moment, Tyler fucking Galpin appears out of nowhere. It's like finding shit on his shoe.
Tyler looks between the two of them, before shifting his attention to Wednesday. He looks like the picture of innocence. Xavier fights to bite his tongue. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
Tyler Galpin. She's here with normie, Tyler Galpin. Fuck. For fuck's sake. He could laugh at the ludicrousy of the situation. Why him?
He's flooded with memories of last year. Tyler and his group of fuckheads, laughing as they threw paint at his mural. He had spent hours over countless days, designing and creating just for it all to be for nothing. When he went to confront them, they beat him up until the mural was no longer his number one thing to worry about.
There may as well be acid in Xavier's mouth. Instead of continuing the fight from last year, he grinds out, "You're not."
Just before he leaves, he gives Wednesday a meaningful look. Which she at least seems to take on board with her sudden look of contemplation. Apathetic, still, but better than nothing. Only a small consolation.
It could have been anybody but Tyler.
What's he got that Xavier doesn't?
Fuck, why should it matter what Tyler's got? He's too fucking normal and boring for someone like Wednesday. Not to mention, he's also the biggest piece of shit in town.
And why is Tyler with Wednesday anyway? Wednesday's not exactly Tyler's type either. Something about it doesn't sit right with him.
Tyler's up to something, he knows it.
He's just got to figure out what.
[12.12.2022]