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“I begin to sing of Demeter, the holy goddess with the beautiful hair. And her daughter [Persephone] too. The one with the delicate ankles, whom Hades sized.”
When Wednesday was very little, her grandmother Eudora gifted her a book on Greek mythology. She bent down and showed her the book with a wicked smile on her face and a glint in her eyes.
“Everyone needs advice from mythology at some point in their life, my little death trap. Even an Addams,” she told her.
At the time, her hands were too small to hold heavy books and her mind was too far preoccupied with collecting spiders and scorpions to really care what was written inside of it, so Wednesday just nodded and left it to collect dust on a shelf.
She opened it one day, at seven years old, in desperate search of inspiration for torturing her classmates and brother.
She read it all in a couple of weeks and she grew obsessed with it. The cruelty, greediness and violence of those myths lulled her to sleep every night, haunting her nightmares with selfish Gods and monsters and blood as red as the wine-dark sea.
Hades, the unseen one, the terrifying God who guarded the Dead, was her favorite.
In her bed, at night, she imagined herself watching over the howling souls of the River Styx enough times to feel, in the ache of her heart, exactly like him.
As Hades, Wednesday felt like the only one in her world carrying and welcoming Death on her shoulders like an old friend.
She was powerful, frightening and held a graceless heart.
She was Hades and Hades was her and they roamed around the world with their bident and their merciless spirit.
Wednesday learned how to fight and kill and cut corpses into pieces and her life was her own myth and it ran away from her as fast as swift-footed Achilles.
And then, in the cruel happenstance of life, she met him.
Looking back, Wednesday knew she should have seen the signs. They were there for her to see, as clear as the stars in the darkest sky.
As a ten-year-old, when she met a boy at a funeral and the boy got stuck in his Godmother's coffin and screamed his lungs out until she saved him, Wednesday thought nothing of it.
Xavier Thorpe was a needy, helpless and annoying kid with eyes too full of tears, and Wednesday had far better aspirations than to care about his pleas to be her friend.
As a fifteen-year-old, when she met the boy again at a school she didn’t even want to go to and he turned out to be obsessed with her against his better judgment and despite her rejections, Wednesday thought nothing of it for the second time in her life. In fact, this time, not only she couldn’t stand him, but she pitied his weak disposition.
As a seventeen-year-old, though, her heart turned softer by the events of life, as sometimes happens, Wednesday discovered to be impressed with the boy who possessed enough of a graceful heart to forgive her even after she had ruthlessly accused him of murder and put him behind bars.
Wednesday was an incredibly stubborn creature by nature, but Xavier still poked inside her chest cavity with the same stubbornness and made her care for him in a foreign way.
There was really nothing left for her to do than to accept his annoying presence in her circle, and so she did.
Things were as deadly and gloomy as Wednesday wished them to be, until one day he went and ruined everything.
They were sitting next to each other in class, Wednesday’s posture rigid as always, eyes laser focused on the blackboard and Xavier slouched on the desk with a sketchbook in front of him. He wasn’t paying attention to the teacher, instead he kept running his charcoal along the page with precise movements, not caring one bit about getting caught.
He distracted her.
There was always something intrinsically distracting about Xavier drawing and Wednesday fought the urge to crush the black stick in his hands to stop him from being such a nuisance.
“No wonder you are failing this class,” she commented, piqued. Her eyes were still stubbornly
on the blackboard, refusing to engage with the scene more than she was doing already.
The scratching of the charcoal against the page suddenly stopped.
Xavier frowned glancing up, “I’m not failing this class.”
“On your last paper you got a mediocre B. You are failing,” she replied, flipping the page of the book in front of her in the attempt to still look focused.
However, it was turning out to be a hassle.
The words of Miss Rosewood were starting to become only an echo in her brain and she hated it. The lesson was centered around carnivorous plants and Wednesday had a deep appreciation for carnivorous plants.
If she only could take notes.
Xavier snorted, “Only in your brain a B is considered failing, Wednesday,” he sneered.
The scratching started again.
Wednesday glanced at the paper, too curious not to at that point, and that’s when she saw it.
The sketchbook was openly tilted in her direction.
On the page, Xavier had drawn a whole pomegranate and a broken chunk next to it, exposing the white flesh and seeds. Exactly six of them were drawn in extreme detail to the border.
Heat spread all over her cheeks turning Wednesday into a weak mortal.
She blinked.
Xavier felt her eyes on his face cause he glanced up once again. “You like it?” he asked, pointing at the drawing.
The nerve he had!
How could he sit there and make such bold and ridiculous suggestions to Wednesday, when he knew fairly well that she could kill him on the spot with a pencil in his throat?
The heat took her chest, too. Fire burning every nerve of her body.
Wednesday could not take the sight one second longer. Her lungs constricted painfully. Suddenly, she stood up, making the chair scrape the floor, and she bolted out of the room before anyone could stop her.
She spent the rest of the day actively avoiding Xavier, too shaken to comprehend the magnitude of what had happened to her.
In the rapture of her anxiety she nearly marched to the infirmary, determined to claim a deadly infectious disease, just to have an excuse to skip classes for the next few days, but when she got there the idea seemed ludicrous even to herself and she decided to retrieve back to her room.
Xavier’s easiness in displaying his feelings and intentions towards Wednesday in such an offensive manner rattled her.
He must have known what his action would have caused.
She thought her repeated rejections had been enough and that Xavier had finally given up in pursuing a romantic relationship with her in favor of a tentative friendship, but she had been wrong apparently.
He had no intention of giving up, and he instead used what Wednesday held closest to her chest to try and persuade her.
The idea of accepting Xavier as her beloved, as her husband, even, in the dark realm of her heart, in her invisible kingdom below the earth, where she reigned supreme, and giving him equal powers to do as he pleased and commanded, made her ruinously ill.
Enid didn’t question her weird behavior that evening, too busy editing a vlog she wanted to post later in the week and glue gunning glitter heart on a jeans jacket. Wednesday was disgusted by the project, but she felt grateful for her indifference nonetheless.
She lay awake all night, retracing the shape of Xavier’s drawing until nausea settled in her belly and she fell asleep only for an half an hour before her alarm went off.
That short amount of time was enough to make her dream about him. In her dream, his blonde, soft hair was floating in the wind and he had magical hands strong enough to pull black dahlias from the barren earth with a soft smile on his lips.
It was exactly like any other time Wednesday had watched him use his hands to bring his drawings to life and she hated how she had already given permission to his perverted ideas to slither inside her mind and infest it with horrible images she never should have had.
Every soul in the Acheron weeped for her.
The next morning, at lunch, Wednesday spotted Xavier sitting at his table with the Nightshades, laughing at something Kent said and eating a pomegranate.
He had cut the pomegranate in two with a knife and he was getting the seeds out with messy movements and swallowing them with delight. His fingers were stained red, coated in juice and he looked entirely focused on the task until he spotted her in the crowd and waved at her.
Wednesday felt dread expanding all over her limbs. The nausea kicked in and she fisted her hands strong enough to feel pain and regain some control over herself.
One thing was clear.
She couldn’t ignore the problem anymore, she had to act.
Her first course of action was to get her hands on that sketchbook and see what else Xavier had drawn.
She needed to see how far his madness ran.
That night, she patiently waited under his bed for Xavier to fall asleep and when she heard his breath finally turn steady, she slipped out and started checking in his drawers for his sketchbook.
She found it very easily and flipped it open.
His last drawing was the pomegranate one he drew in front of her, but he had several other pomegranate sketches dated a few days and even a few weeks back. The technique he used seemed to differ for each drawing and in one of them he had even used red to color the seeds.
Wednesday was featured on the pages, too. Sketches of her face caught in random moments of the day filled the paper.
She was certain at the point that Xavier had wanted her to find it and tried to lure her to the exact same spot she found herself in at the moment.
Flattering her with threats of obsession and stalking, and trying to coax her into accepting his advances by hitting her where she was most vulnerable; he was really playing his best cards.
She ripped his last pomegranate drawing from the sketchbook and walked out the room throwing one last glance at Xavier before leaving.
If Wednesday’s eyes lingered over his lines more than she would have liked, mistaking his bed for a funeral couch and his mortal body for one belonging to a Greek God, nobody had to know.
She decided to ambush him the next day, naturally.
Xavier was walking down the hallway near the Nightshade library, with earphones on, music blasting in his ears and a lost expression on his face. Wednesday silently followed him, making sure he couldn’t see her, and kicked his ankle to make him trip. Before he could turn around to realize what was happening, she jumped on him.
His phone and earphones fell to the ground with a thudding sound.
“What the f-!” Xavier blurted, trying to escape from her vice.
Wednesday hung on to his back wrapping her legs around his hips to steady herself and then pressed her hands on the veins of his neck to cut his airways off.
He struggled for a few seconds, putting his hands on his neck to try and stop the pressure of hers, and then his eyes fluttered and his limbs turned languid.
Wednesday jumped off his back and watched him drop to the floor.
She fixed her skirt and jacket, retrieved his phone and earphones from the floor and dragged his body down to the Nightshade library. She then tied him to a chair and waited for him to wake up.
It didn’t take long for Xavier to open his eyes to find Wednesday standing in front of him.
After a few moments of disorientation he seemed to realize he was tied to a chair and panic took him.
His eyes were on her again.
“Wednesday? What the fuck is going on?” he mumbled.
With his loose hair fraiming his face nicely and his eyes so big and green and full of fear, he looked like a portrait of innocence and Wednesday could not bear it.
Not when she knew the truth, not when she knew how sick and twisted he really was.
Wednesday marched toward him and showed him the drawing.
“You should know that what you are implying with this is completely ludicrous and I have no intention of indulging you,” she said, holding the paper in front of his face like evidence in a crime.
Xavier squinted his eyes, “Are you stalking me again?” he asked, recognizing the picture. “When did you take this?”
Her anger flared up.
“I slipped into your room, hid under your bed, waited for you to fall asleep and stole it,” Wednesday replied with no preamble.
The paper was still dangling in front of his face.
“You hid under my bed while I was sleeping?” he cried.
“It’s not my first time. I hid under your bed last semester, too,” she confessed.
“Wednesday, what the fuck?” he swore. He tried in vain to free his wrists from the rope and then sagged on the chair. “Please, tell me you are not planning to murder me.”
“Do not take me for an amateur, Xavier. This is a warning, not a murder,” she replied. “I’m explicitly rejecting your advances. I have no interest in pursuing any kind of romantic entanglement with you and I demand you to stop your attempts to convince me otherwise.”
“I don’t even know what you are talking about!” Xavier screamed, pupils large like discs. “What kind of advances are you talking about? We barely talk!”
Silence fell between them.
“That sketchbook is private by the way,” he added then, self-conscious.
“Are you denying your actions, then?” Wednesday asked, livid. “You are bold enough to draw this, but not bold enough to admit guilt?”
He snorted, “Guilt? Over what? Drawing a pomegranate? It’s not a reason for murder!”
“I told you to not mistake me for an amateur, Xavier. If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead.”
“You choked me!”
She blinked.
Wednesday had secretly enjoyed choking Xavier to an embarrassing degree. The way he struggled, hopeless, and the way his hands were so big against hers but couldn’t stop her anyway and the delicious moans he made until his body lost all its strength, it all sent a traitorous thrill down her spine.
“I needed to render you unconscious,” Wednesday defended herself.
“You choked me!” Xavier cried again. “Over a drawing!”
“Stop pretending to have no part in this, Xavier. Your intentions are very clear and I’m rejecting them!”
Even in the low light of the library, her figure, as small as it was, looked like a vulture ready to swallow Xavier whole and spit him back up in bloody pieces.
“Is this about the other drawings?” he asked, blushing.
Wednesday hated colors, but his cheeks were the most flattering shade of pink.
“You were never meant to see them!” he rushed to say, blushing even more. “I’m sorry you did, okay? But they are just drawings! I know you are not interested in me, you have rejected me plenty of times, you don’t have to reject me again, I get it!”
The skin around his wrists was starting to get sensitive from the constant rubbing of the rope against it and Xavier hissed in pain after trying to free his arms a second time.
His face looked exactly like that day Wednesday had visited him in jail, open and disgustingly vulnerable.
She knew then. In her panic to handle emotions she had never felt before, she had misjudged the situation and misinterpreted his actions once again.
She had built a temple out of nothing and now she was watching it crumble right in front of her eyes.
Shame seized her against her will exactly like Hades had seized Persephone.
“You really have no idea of what I’m talking about, do you?” she asked.
“I don’t.”
Anger flushed out of her. Wednesday folded the paper and put the drawing back in her bag.
“It appears I may have misjudged things and for that I owe you an apology,” she replied, meeting his eyes.
Wednesday walked towards him and started to untie him.
After she freed his arms, she kneeled in front of him to free his ankles, too.
Wednesday could feel his breath tickling her skin and the strong perfume of his shampoo.
His hair smelled like flowers and honey, it was revolting.
“Wednesday,” Xavier muttered so close to her face, “I have no idea what I might have done to elicit such a reaction from you, and being choked and kidnapped fucking sucked,” he almost giggled saying it, like he was already over it, “but if you tell me what I did wrong I’m willing to apologize, too, I guess.”
Wednesday stopped her movements for a brief moment, caught off guard by his softeness and the way her body shivered. Everything was too warm and she was used to the coldness of death.
“There’s no need for that. I told you, I simply misjudged things,” she answered quickly.
She wasn’t ready to analyze why her body reacted the way it did, so she rushed to finish releasing Xavier and stood up after the job was done, turning around to walk away.
Xavier stood up from the chair and grabbed her arm before Wednesday had the time to leave, “This doesn’t look like nothing to me,” he argued.
Wednesday glared at him and pulled out her arm from his grasp, “This conversation is over,” she told him.
Xavier looked confused and hurt, but he let her walk away without saying anything else.
*
The shame and guilt she felt did not leave her body despite her best attempts to distract herself by torturing Thing by threatening him to stick needles into his skin like a voodoo doll.
Once the thought of comparing Xavier to Persephone crept into her mind, she couldn’t get rid of it. It grew more and more each breath she took, occupying every corner of her mind and leaving Wednesday no space to function properly.
When she walked into the quad the next day her eyes immediately searched for him.
The scene in front of her was peculiar and Wednesday was close enough to eavesdrop without being noticed.
Xavier was already in his seat, munching on a few french fries distractingly when Ajax walked towards their table with a tray in his hands and placed a pomegranate on Xavier’s tray.
When Xavier saw the pomegranate in front of him he grabbed it and threw it in Ajax’s direction, hitting him in the chest.
The pomegranate fell on the ground.
“Dude! What the fuck!” Ajax complained. “It was the last one, I brought it for you!”
Xavier sighed, “Sorry, man. I just don’t feel like eating pomegranates right now.”
He had particularly dark circles under his eyes and his leg was bouncing under the table in an effort to disperse his anxiety.
That’s how Persephone must have felt during winter, she thought and cursed herself afterwards.
“Are you okay? You have been acting weird all morning,” Ajax asked him.
“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all,” Xavier muttered.
At that moment Bianca joined their table and sneakered, “Don’t worry about him, Ajax! You know that Xavier has to brood at least once a week, his tortured soul needs it!”
Xavier made a face and Bianca laughed.
Wednesday tuned out the rest of their conversation.
It was time for her to let go.
That evening she sat down in front of her typewriter to write a new chapter of her novel and she stared at the blank page for an incalculable amount of time
without typing anything.
She had planned to write about Viper and a particularly hard case she was trying to solve, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Not the right ones, at least.
No part of her was focused on words like murder, investigation and crime, instead her brain kept thinking of words like green eyes, long fingers and round lips and after thinking of asking her uncle Fester to lobotomize her, Wednesday stood up and took the trunk under the bed.
Wednesday opened the trunk and pulled her beloved mythology book out of it. It had a black leather cover and the smell of it had always been comforting to her in her youth.
She brought it to her nose.
Her grandmother had gifted her this book with the premise of helping her guide her through life. And of course Wednesday, with her obsessive nature, had to go and transform it into something bigger than the book itself. And now everything was forever tainted by a boy Wednesday didn’t even like.
What advice could give her the book that had led her into despair in the first place?
Life was a funny thing.
*
The hole that Wednesday had opened in the ground was bigger than she had anticipated.
The next day Xavier, being an ever present thorn on her side, cornered her.
Wednesday wasn’t sure how he did it since she had spent her morning carefully avoiding him and making sure their roads wouldn’t cross.
She was coming out of her Science class, on the second floor, when he stood in front of her and blocked the entrance.
“Can we talk?” he asked. His eyes searched for hers and Wednesday hated when he did that.
“What’s there to talk about?” she asked back, challenging him.
She was nowhere ready to relive her actions.
“How about the fact that you kidnapped me two days ago,” he said and then checked around himself to see if people were listening to their conversation.
“It was a mistake and I have already apologized. My patience isn’t limitless, Xavier,” she remarked, curt.
A tremor took her chest, still.
“I want you to tell me why. I want to know the full story. You owe me.”
“I have an extra period right now,” she lied.
“No, you don’t. It’s Thursday, you don’t have an extra period on Thursday,” he argued, with vehemence, then stopped himself catching his mistake.
“And how do you know that?” she asked, feeling the winning card on her hand. “Are you stalking me, Xavier?”
He stood there, lost and staring, without knowing exactly what to say to that. It only lasted a few moments, though, because his next words were, “I’m gonna keep asking you until you cave.”
“And the next time you’ll be dead,” she shot back.
He closed his eyes and bit into his lower lip frustrated with himself, “Wednesday,” he whined, almost desperate.
And Wednesday felt her resolve disappear.
They went to the Weathervane.
They sat down in one of the booths and ordered coffee and neither of them talked before the waitress arrived.
“So- uh…I’m all ears when you wanna start,” Xavier said, breaking the silence.
Wednesday brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. Even the coffee tasted all wrong.
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“Why were you offended by my drawing?” His long bony fingers were wrapped around his cup, Wednesday couldn’t help but stare at them.
His hair was lazily tied into half a bun and the shirt he wore looked wrinkled. It seemed like he really didn’t bother to fix his appearance that day.
Not a behavior fitting of a God, she thought.
“How much do you know about Greek mythology?”
Xavier frowned, “Uh- I know a bit about Greek art, not much about Greek mythology, though. Why?”
“I’ve always been extremely passionate about Greek mythology. Hades, the God of the Dead is my favorite. I relate to him, I compare myself to him,” she explained quickly, ready to take the bandage off her bleeding wound and get it over with.
“The God of the Dead, eh? I guess it makes a lot of sense, but I still don’t get what my drawing has to do with any of this,” he said.
The waitress brought Xavier a pastry and left.
He picked at it with a fork, but didn’t eat it.
“Pomegranates are known as the fruit of the dead and they are associated with the Goddess Persephone. Goddess of Spring and Hades’ wife,” Wednesday continued. “In the myth, Hades kidnaps Persephone to make her his wife. After some time, her mother, Demeter, successfully convinces Zeus to order Hades to give her her daughter back and Hades agrees. However, it’s already too late for Persephone. She has already eaten seeds from a pomegranate and anyone who does is stuck in the Underworld forever. Having eaten only six, though, she’s granted to go back to earth for six months every year and go back to the Underworld for the other six.”
Xavier listened to her without saying anything.
“Any other question?” Wednesday asked, urging him to say something.
“Uh- let me see if I got this right,” he licked his lips, “In this equation,” Xavier made quotation marks with his fingers, “You are obviously Hades and I’m Persephone, I presume? And you thought I drew that pomegranate to -,” he seemed to choose his next words very carefully, “ -to make a move on you?”
“It all seemed very intentional on your part,” she defended herself.
The story, told exactly like this, seemed completely laughable and worth every mockery, Wednesday was highly aware of that.
“How could I have known about your obsession with Hades and pomegranates, Wednesday?” he asked in disbelief.
“It all seemed intentional on your part,” she repeated, not knowing exactly what to say.
Xavier sighed, “It is also very presumptuous of you to think I’m still interested in you like that.”
If he wanted to hurt her pride he was succeeding.
“Aren’t you?” she argued. “You have dozens of drawings of my face in that sketchbook of yours.”
Xavier stared at the plate in front of him, “I like drawing you, that doesn’t mean I still have feelings for you,” he murmured.
“Why are you drawing pomegranates then?”
“I like pomegranates and I’m practicing different art styles, that’s why I keep drawing them. It’s good to keep the same subject,” he explained. “I’m not- I’m not trying to ask you out or anything like that,” he picked the strawberry off the top of the pastry and studied it.
He didn’t seem to like how the pastry looked.
“I made an impulsive decision, I shouldn’t have drawn conclusions so soon,” she admitted. “I ask you to forget about it and move on.”
Xavier took a bite off the strawberry and smirked, “You know, Wednesday, now that I think about it, you are the one giving mixed signals.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that,” she said.
“Well, didn’t you say that Hades kidnapped Persephone to make her his wife? You kidnapped me.”
Wednesday glared at him, “That was a warning.”
A cocky smile split his lips, “Was it? I don’t know, I’m starting to feel flattered by it. I wouldn’t say I’m ready for marriage yet, but- ”
Wednesday immediately stood up from the chair, she didn’t know if she did it with the intention to kill Xavier or to run away from him.
“I’m joking! It’s a joke, I’m sorry!” Xavier rushed to say. “Please don’t go,” he begged her. “Please.”
Wednesday sat down again.
*
That episode ricocheted into Xavier seeking Wednesday’s company more and more often.
Xavier was the river Styx, flooding Wednesday’s reign, incontaminated.
He had taken to sitting next to her at lunch without asking. He wouldn’t do it everyday, but when he did Wednesday loathed it. A fire would take her skin and whatever mean comment she wanted to throw at him would die on her lips.
He told her things Wednesday didn’t care to know, like that he bought some new colors for his drawings and that his archery club was recruiting more members than they had in years and that he wanted to renovate his shed once more.
She would barely engage in their conversations, but Xavier left the table every time with a smile on his face. He never brought up the accident and never made another joke about it.
Wednesday had asked him to forget it and he had.
The only problem was that she hadn’t.
She had grown obsessed about it, she had grown obsessed about him.
Xavier was Persephone.
His long, delicate fingers brought things to life exactly like Persephone did with flowers.
His dark mind, plagued by terrific nightmares where he watched people die, related to Death in a way most people didn’t.
He was life and death at the same time, just like Persephone was.
His long, soft hair was the color of grain and his large tormented eyes resembled the color of the leaves of the wildest flowers.
When he was sitting next to her, it was easy for Wednesday to imagine both of them sitting in thrones made out of bones and gold looking out into the endless darkness and misery of her reign.
How could they blame Hades for stealing away Persephone?
Wednesday wanted to steal away Xavier, too.
*
“I’ve been reading about Persephone and Hades and other myths,” Xavier told her one day during class.
Wednesday was taking notes and she nearly split her pencil, holding it too tight in her hand.
“I like it. I get why you like Greek Mythology, it’s all very…violent,” he continued. “When did you start reading it?”
“When I was young my grandmother gave me a Mythology book. I’ve been passionate about it ever since,” she replied.
“That’s cool!”
Suddenly the clacking of Miss Rosewood’s heels got closer and she stood in front of their desk, staring at them with a stern expression.
“Mr Thorpe, Miss Addams, am I bothering you?” she asked.
Xavier blushed, “No, Miss Rosewood, sorry.”
Wednesday glared at him.
“Very well,” Miss Rosewood clapped her hands and moved back to her desk. “Now that I have everyone’s attention I’d like to announce your new assignment.”
“This year, for Midterms, I’ve decided you will work in pairs with your classmates. You will pick a subject from my list and write an essay about it. I’ll mail the list to all of you and we will discuss it together next week.”
Wednesday couldn’t have imagined anything worse.
She had always thought of Oizys, the goddess of misery, as one of her allies, but at that point she wasn’t so sure anymore.
“I guess you are stuck with me, Addams.”
Wednesday glared at him again.
Xavier insisted on working on “Poisonous effects of Narcissus flowers on Vampires” as their Midterms project and Wednesday pretended not to know why.
They decided to meet in the Nightshade library to start working on it together.
Xavier brought his computer and Wednesday picked up quite a few books to consult on the topic. Their table, on Xavier’s side, was messy and full of papers and notes.
They had been working on finding the right material to use for at least an hour before Xavier decided to interrupt the flow.
“I need a break, if I read some more I’m gonna feel sick,” he stated, closing his computer.
“You are weak,” she commented, underlining a particular passage of a book with her pencil.
Xavier chuckled, “I’ll try not to take it personally.”
Wednesday ignored his comment and kept reading.
“Come on now! You can take a break, too! We have plenty of time to work on this project,” he said.
“I do not like to waste time.”
Xavier snorted, “You are not, it’s just a small break!”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know. Enjoying each other’s company.”
“I do not enjoy people’s company,” she shot back, venomously.
She had no intention of enjoying Xavier’s company in any way.
He shrugged, “That’s a lie, but fine, be like that. Keep doing your research, I’m gonna go take some fresh air.”
Wednesday was too proud to stop Xavier so she watched him leave and focused back on her book.
After a couple of minutes she noticed his backpack on the chair and curiosity got hold of her quickly. Would his sketchbook be there? She could check.
She had been secretly dying to see what other drawings Xavier had done since the last one she stole.
Before logic could clear her mind Wednesday opened his backpack and just like she had anticipated found the incriminating sketchbook.
She opened it and got to the last page.
What she saw froze the blood in her veins.
It wasn’t a pomegranate like last time.
It was her, but she looked different, it was her, but she looked like Hades.
Her black hair was pinned up at the nape of her neck and loose curls framed her face. Xavier had drawn her sitting in a throne, wearing a gray Himation and holding a bident in her hand.
Beneath her feet were endless skulls and bones.
In all her years imagining herself floating around the underworld she had never seen herself so clearly.
She looked powerful and undefeated and the image pierced through her heart and left her aching.
“You really don’t know the meaning of privacy, do you?”
Her head whipped so fast at the voice.
Xavier stood in front of her, glaring.
“Did you want another reason to kidnap me and choke me or what?” he continued, provoking her.
“Are you ashamed I caught you again?” she asked, swallowing the same shame she was feeling inside.
“Caught me again? You snoop around my stuff. I think you are the one who should feel ashamed right now, Wednesday.”
Xavier bent down and ripped the sketchbook off her hands.
“You know what? I’m done studying for today. I’ll ask Miss Rosewood if I can change partners for the project. I think it’s for the best.”
He put the sketchbook in his backpack, took the rest of his things and left.
Wednesday couldn’t finish studying no matter how hard she tried.
*
The same night she lay awake and retraced the curls of her hair and the perfect shade of the throne she was sitting on and the complete darkness of her eyes.
She loved it.
She wasn’t sorry for violating Xavier’s privacy, not if that meant that her eyes got to feast on something she had always dreamed about.
However, she didn’t want Xavier to change partners for the project. Annoying and ruinous as he was, Wednesday recoiled at the thought of having to work with someone else for months.
She had to fix the situation before it was too late.
*
The next day she found herself outside his shed.
Rock music was blasting from the inside and she thought it useless to knock, so she just barged in.
Xavier was busy repainting the walls of the shed and there was a strong smell of plaster. He turned immediately as if he felt her presence.
He always did, somehow.
“I’m not in the mood, Wednesday. Whatever it is that you want you can tell me another day.”
His left cheek was stained with paint and so were his hands. He dipped his paint roller in the can and turned around to face the wall.
“I don’t understand your need to be overdramatic,” she told him.
That wasn’t what she had planned to say to him, but she couldn’t resist saying it while having him in front of her.
Xavier sighed and turned to her again. The paint roller was dripping paint all over the floor.
“I doubt you understand how people other than yourself work, Wednesday.”
“I’m not at fault if people are emotional dummies!”
“So now I’m an emotional dummy, too, uh?” he shook his head, dropping his paint roller in the can. “What do you want, Wednesday? Why are you here?”
“There’s no need for you to change partners for Midterms,” she said.
“Why do you even care if I work with someone else anyway? It’s not like it’s gonna change something for you.”
“We have already started working on it. I told you, I don’t like to waste time,” Wednesday replied. The excuse seemed weak and fake even to her own ears, but she had nothing else.
“I don’t want to work with you on this project with you anymore, Wednesday. Go back to your dorm, I’m done talking about it.”
He walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for her to leave.
Wednesday did not move.
“I liked it,” she decided to confess ultimately.
“What?”
“Your drawing of me. It was good. I liked it.”
Xavier just stared at her saying nothing.
“It’s rather pointless for you to be upset about it, Xavier.”
She threw him one last glance and finally walked out.
*
“I’m not gonna change partners,” Xavier announced at lunch, sitting next to her with his tray.
He had picked chicken that morning.
“Satan is celebrating your newly gained brain, right now,” Wednesday joked.
Xavier stifled a laugh and then got serious.
He picked up a piece of chicken with his fork and looked at her, “Listen, Wednesday. You can’t keep snooping around my stuff and steal it, okay? Stalking is also out of the question,” he said. “Can you promise me that you won’t anymore?”
“I never make promises,” she said to unnerve him.
Xavier sighed.
“Did you really like my drawing?”
“I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” she confessed.
He gave her a full smile with dimples.
*
They started working on the project again. Twice a week they would meet in the nightshade library and study together.
The project kept her head busy, but to her dismay their relationship and Wednesday’s obsession with him only grew stronger.
She didn’t know how it happened but after they finished working on the project for the day Xavier would always invite her to do some other activity and she would always agree.
One time they went back to his shed and Wednesday helped Xavier paint the walls.
She wore protective gear for her allergy color and Xavier looked at her with something akin to amazement in his eyes.
“I appreciate you doing this,” he told her.
“I enjoy feeling the thrill of death,” she replied.
Xavier laughed.
“I wanted to buy a shelf, what do you think?” He asked her when they were painting the last wall.
The strong smell of paint and plaster was exactly how Wednesday imagined the Underworld to smell like.
Some other days they went to the Weathervane and they ordered coffee and Wednesday would bring a book with her and read.
The first time, Xavier drank his coffee and scrolled through his phone until Wednesday felt satisfied enough with her reading time and asked him to go back.
The second time, Xavier brought his own book.
It was a book on Norse mythology. He pulled it out of his bag almost scared of her reaction.
“I don’t own mythology, Xavier,” she told him then.
Truth was, watching Xavier being passionate about mythology pleased her in a way Wednesday wasn’t ready to talk about.
At times they walked around the school without plans.
“Have you heard Tyler is being released?” Xavier asked. They were outside in the empty quad.
The news of Tyler had spread like fire in town.
“Who hasn’t?”
Xavier hid a grimace, “Are you gonna go visit him?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” she told him.
Xavier didn’t seem happy about her answer, but Wednesday didn’t know how to tell him that what she had felt for Tyler once was nothing compared to what she was feeling for Xavier right now.
Tyler had given Wednesday an unexpected quick thrill amidst chaos.
Xavier was her chaos.
*
Going from spending time together twice a week to spending time together everyday was pretty easy.
Xavier’s presence felt like something inescapable and Wednesday had stopped trying to fight it.
In her dreams they ruled together over the Underworld and Xavier wore a wreath of flowers and held a flaming torch.
They sat down near the River Styx and kissed.
Light, timid kisses at first and then passionate long ones.
When she was awake it was hard for her not to stare at his lips and claim them as her own.
She wanted so badly to grab his face and ask him to be his Persephone.
She never did, though.
Some evenings he would text her all the new things he discovered about Ancient Greece and myths.
One day he begged her to teach him to read Ancient Greek.
He tried his best, but he was terrible at it and Wednesday enjoyed watching him struggle.
He looked so offended when she corrected him. How could Wednesday tell him that he had corrupted her soul so much that she didn’t even care if he couldn’t read the pitch accent.
“Do you think Persephone ate the seeds on purpose?” Xavier asked Wednesday one night when they were in the shed, lying on the floor.
Apparently it was a thing they did now.
“Some people like to think she did eat them on purpose to give her some sort of agency and to romanticize things,” Wednesday explained.
The smell of paint and plaster was still strong.
“And what do you think?”
“I think kidnapping is one of the highest forms of romance. Hades knew what he was doing,” she said, watching the ceiling like it was made out of stars.
Xavier laughed, “Oh yeah? Well, that still doesn’t answer my question, though.”
“I’ve never liked Persephone,” she admitted, staring at him.
He stared back whispering “That’s harsh!”
The light of the lamp hit his face just right.
“For the longest time I thought she was just a silly goddess who knew nothing about the world and I didn’t understand why Hades fell for her,” Wednesday confessed.
The words hung heavy between them.
I love her now, she thought, but didn’t say.
“After all, their myth is just a way to explain the changing of the seasons,” she added, when the silence was too loud even for her.
“Jeez, what a way to kill romance,” Xavier commented.
“I think she must have learned to love Hades, at some point,” she granted him then.
“I like to think she ate the seeds because she knew what they meant and she wanted to go back,” he stated.
Wednesday stared at the light hitting his cheeks once more and then got back to watch the ceiling.
One question haunted her.
Would Xavier eat the seeds if it meant he could stay in the Underworld with Wednesday?
*
After a while Wednesday decided that their project needed a hands-on approach and drugged Yoko using the pollen from the narcissus flower.
Yoko quickly developed rashes all over her skin and remained in the hospital for 48 hours.
Unfortunately, her plan backfired in an unexpected way.
Xavier got in touch with the pollen, too and Wednesday learned that in contrast to Persephone, who embodied the narcissus flowers, Xavier was allergic to them. Deadly allergic to them.
“We’ve been working on the poisonous effects of these flowers for weeks now. How come you haven’t mentioned that you are also allergic to them?” Wednesday asked him, staring at Xavier lying on the hospital bed.
Xavier mumbled something untellegilable.
“I doubt the drugs they gave you made you also lose your voice, Xavier.”
“I- I didn’t want you to know,” he confessed, refusing to look at her.
“Why?”
He blushed, “It’s not very Persephone-like.”
“This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said and you look horrendous,” she stated.
The best things always looked horrendous.
“Thanks,” Xavier said, rolling his eyes.
“You look horrendous,” she repeated, taken by desire.
She had to kiss him, she couldn’t deny herself any longer.
He made a face, “You have already said that.”
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” she alerted him.
“What?”
Wednesday bent down and kissed him before Xavier had the time to react.
*
They started spending all their free time kissing, usually hiding in Xavier’s shed or in the Nightshade library.
It was their little secret.
Wednesday’s body was always pressed against a shelf or a table or a door and she loved unbuttoning Xavier’s collar and untucking his shirt and touching his hip bones.
He was always incredibly responsive to her and he would kiss Wednesday exactly how she craved to be kissed and tug her braids in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
Some nights they would make out on the floor of his shed, too. Those were Wednesday’s favorite nights.
He would lay down a blanket and they would devour each other’s lips until they were red and plump and pleasure was just a bit too much and Xavier would pull away and remove Wednesday’s hands from his chest, kiss them, and ask her to stop despite her protests.
“We are taking things slow, remember?” he murmured one time in her ear, eyes darkened by bliss.
“I have never agreed to that,” Wednesday breathed on the skin of his cheeks.
Xavier giggled and caressed the line of her neck with the tip of his nose, “Soon, okay? Soon,” he muttered, pressing his hand on her waist line.
“How soon is soon? You have epididymal hypertension right now,” she argued.
Xavier frowned, “I have what?”
“I believe the vulgar term is blue balls,” she explained.
He bursted out laughing.
After getting drunk on Xavier’s kisses and his passion, Xavier would read to her and they would fall asleep until sunrise and slip back into their dorms before anyone could notice they were missing.
It was easy to forget everything else.
*
“What are you doing tonight?” Xavier murmured on her lips in between kisses.
Wednesday was sitting on top of their table in the Nightshade library, legs wrapped around Xavier’s body.
“It’s my writing time. Why?”
Xavier kissed her again and then said, “I thought we could do something together.”
“I need to work on my novel tonight,” she told him even if she didn’t want to. Spending time with Xavier was the perfect torture, but she had been denying her writing for too long.
“Oh. I- okay, it’s fine,” he mumbled, disappointed. “We are…we are throwing a party here tonight. Well, it’s not really a party. It’s more of a get together and I know it’s not really your scene, but…I don’t know, I thought maybe you would want to come with me.”
“Nobody knows we spend time kissing. They’ll start asking questions,” she said.
He fixed her bangs with his hand, “And what if they do? Who cares, they’ll never know for sure.”
“I hate parties and we can’t spend all of our time together, Xavier.”
From the way he pulled his hands and body away from her, Wednesday knew she had said the wrong thing.
*
Enid was invited to the party, too.
She was getting ready while Wednesday was busy writing.
“How do I look?” Enid asked, showing off her outfit.
She was wearing a pink sparkly dress and had her hair tied to the sides.
“Like a fairy stole your body and dressed you up,” she replied, glancing at her.
“Perfect!” Enid squealed, jumping from excitement.
She stared at herself in the mirror one more time before opening the door and squeaking, “Well, I’m going now. My Prince Charming waits for me downstairs!”
The door closed right after.
Wednesday ripped the page from the typewriter.
She wasn’t sure she had made the right decision rejecting Xavier’s invitation.
The truth was that she was scared.
She was terrified of things changing.
In the deepest parts of her heart and mind Wednesday knew with utmost certainty that Xavier was hers to keep. Of course, he was. How couldn’t he be?
The signs had been there from the start.
How couldn’t exist someone else for her other than Xavier?
He took her hands and gave her life and death in equal measure and waited for her to come down her throne and kiss him on the lips.
Wednesday was gonna let him worship her forever.
And yet. And yet she was terrified of telling the world about them.
She stood there, blinking.
Realization hit her. Wednesday had rejected him again.
Xavier had looked defeated.
She couldn’t risk losing him.
She had to stake her claim on him. Once and for all.
*
She spent the night coming up with the perfect plan. Wednesday had to kidnap him again, it was the only natural conclusion to things.
She couldn’t use Narcissus flowers, like Hades used with Persephone to lure her in, not if she wanted Xavier alive and well, so she left a note on his bed.
“Come to the Nightshade library during lunch.”
The note wasn’t signed but he would know it was her.
Before Xavier could walk to the library, Wednesday was right behind him and pulled his arms behind his back.
“What’s going on?” he asked without moving.
“I’m kidnapping you, you won’t make a sound if you know what’s good for you,” Wednesday threatened him, tightening her hold on his wrists.
Xavier’s body relaxed. He didn't even try to fight her.
He stifled a laugh, “No choking this time?”
“Do you want to be choked?”
He giggled breathlessly, “Maybe next time.”
“Good. Now walk. We are going to the library.”
Xavier did.
*
Wednesday began tying Xavier to a chair.
“Can I kiss you after you are done?”
They were as close as the last time she did this, but Wednesday knew Xavier’s body this time around and she knew he was getting turned on.
“I have to say something first,” she said.
“What?”
“I kidnapped you again,” she explained. She was kneeling in front of him, tying his left ankle to the foot of the chair.
He frowned, “yeah, I can see that.”
“Kidnapping is the highest form of romance, I told you,” she continued.
Xavier smiled, “Are you wooing me, Miss Addams?”
His eyes sparkled with things unsaid.
“I apologize for not being there yesterday,” she told him, standing up.
“That’s okay. You are not ready to tell other people about us, I have to respect that. And you are right, we can’t spend all of our time together. I’m clingy.”
“Xavier. This is me telling you I’m ready.”
Xavier frowned, “What changed?”
“I don’t…I don’t want to lose you,” she confessed.
His eyes softened, “You are not gonna lose me, Wednesday. We can wait, if that’s what you need right now.”
Wednesday blinked.
“No, I don’t want to wait anymore. You are my Persephone, Xavier.”
A blinding smile split Xavier’s face.
“Can you sit on me and kiss me now?” he asked.
Wednesday didn’t waste time.
*
The next day they were eating lunch together and Xavier was cutting a pomegranate.
It was the first time Xavier was eating a pomegranate in front of her since the accident.
Wednesday was obsessed already, staring at his every movement.
Xavier made the seeds come out and counted exactly six with his fingers. He raised his head to look at her then.
Wednesday’s breath hitched in her throat.
He took each seed in his mouth and swallowed it.
“Oops, I guess I’m yours forever now,” he breathed with a timid smile.
Everything around her stopped.
“Wait. Should I eat twelve seeds? Cause I want to be with you all year, not just six months,” he said, frowning.
“Six is fine, we’ll work logistics later,” she said, pulling him by the tie and kissing him.
Everyone in the quad turned to stare at them.