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Wednesday did not like Halloween.
For as long as she could remember, she had always found it futile and not scary enough—just a bunch of amateurs playing stupid games she didn’t even want to know about, like “trick or treat.”
Plus, there were so many kids that night in Jericho, all louder and more obnoxious than the last. It was overwhelming—and mostly annoying.
Tyler did like Halloween, but oddly enough, he was easily terrified. Since some kids told him a few awful stories years ago, he hadn’t tried to do anything special on Halloween. He preferred to stay home and watch a not-so-scary movie, always with Elvis nearby.
He liked being scared, but only a little.
Wednesday was supposed to go into the woods to work and investigate her current case, except when she mentioned it to Tyler the day before, he insisted on coming along. He said it would be fun and a little spooky. She rolled her eyes and, for some reason, agreed.
Maybe because he looked happy about it—but she’d never say that out loud.
So here they were, in the woods. He was completely lost as to why they were even there, but when he asked about the case last week, she just shot him a glance and muttered something about a need-to-know basis.
She had a flashlight and some random papers full of things (that’s all he could say, considering he couldn’t read any of it from where he is standing).
He had started the little forest trip pretty excited—and scared. Now he was just bored, because she stopped every five seconds to examine some detail, and she wasn’t exactly chatty.
Soooo...
“I’m booored,” he said, dragging out the “o” longer than the 135 times he’d already said it in the past five minutes. She lifted her head from her papers, irritated, and sighed through her nose.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m not even useful right now,” he added, whining.
“I’m always like that. And indeed, you are as useless as ever,” she muttered the last part, then pulled the knife hidden in her sleeve and handed it to him.
“You want to be useful? Then take this and mark the trees I’ve already examined.”
He smiled immediately, even though he was still very confused about what trees had to do with a police case. He took the knife anyway.
“Thanks, Wens!”
She rolled her eyes at his enthusiastic answer, but when he kissed her cheek before walking off to mark the trees, maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t that annoyed.
Approximately five seconds later, she heard a very loud, “Ow!”
She turned her head to see Tyler holding his hand, the knife on the ground.
She wouldn’t say she panicked—because she didn’t do panic—but she did walk faster than usual to reach him.
“Show me your hand,” she ordered.
“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” he whined again, jumping a little for some reason she didn’t understand.
“Don’t brag. Stop jumping and give me your hand.”
He pouted exaggeratedly at her firm tone.
“What are you, five?” she added dryly.
He gave her his hand, and she examined it with her flashlight. The cut was deep—but not you’re-dying deep, just you-need-a-bandage deep.
“I swear I didn’t do it on purpose! I was just cutting and the knife slipped,” he said in his defense (a very lame defense, if you asked her).
“I should hope so,” she replied. “Now come on, you’ll need a bandage for that,” and she took his arm to pull him toward his house.
He opened the door, leaving a smear of blood on the key and handle.
“Never become a serial killer—you’d be caught in less than ten minutes. And prison isn’t a place you could handle,” she said as they walked in.
“Aww, and then you’d miss me?” he teased, smiling.
She gave him a deadpan look, but seeing he wouldn’t stop smiling, she answered,
“In your wildest dreams.”
He kept grinning and squinted at her.
“Don’t worry, I only see you in my nightmares.”
She could feel her lips twitching upward for some reason, so she stopped them.
“Good,” she said simply.
He smiled even harder—because he’d seen the shadow of a smile on her face. And even if it was about nightmares, he lived for those moments.
He turned on the bathroom light once they were upstairs, leaving more bloody fingerprints on the switch and the wall. They stayed in comfortable silence while she cleaned and bandaged his wound tightly.
The night outside was darker than usual through the window, and now that he was back inside, he didn’t really want to go out again.
“Thanks,” he said when she was done, smiling sweetly.
That smile always stirred a bunch of butterflies (Enid called it that) in her stomach—a feeling she found quite unsettling and/or inappropriate.
At the moment she wanted to respond, the light suddenly flicked off with a soft click.
He didn’t like that. He tensed immediately, and she just walked out of the bathroom, ready as usual to investigate.
“Wait for me!” he squeaked, following closely, tugging on the back of her sweater.
She rolled her eyes—even though he couldn’t see her—at his lack of bravery.
They walked like that until they reached the basement.
She grabbed her flashlight from the kitchen table so he could light up the breaker box while she pressed some buttons, but nothing worked.
He started getting even more scared, because—obviously—basements were terrifying.
Not to her, apparently, because she looked amused.
“Are you somehow enjoying this random, terrifying power outage? And on Halloween no less ?” he dared ask.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is quite obviously a coincidence,” she replied.
As they made their way upstairs to the living room, he whispered like he might disturb some spirit if he spoke louder.
“You know, one of the stories I heard as a kid started just like this. It was two sisters and their dogs—wait, no, it was a cat. And they were in the kitchen... uhh, no, no sorry—it started in the bedroom, and—”
He was cut off by a loud crack of thunder in the distance.
He went silent.
“Finally…” she muttered.
“Hey, I heard that!” he said, offended.
“Well, that’s why I said it out loud,” she replied. “And to be honest, you’re not a very efficient storyteller.”
He just laughed, which made her stomach feel warm and uncomfortable.
She did not appreciate that.
His phone buzzed with a text, making him jump. She sighed through her nose again.
It was a message from his dad saying the power had gone out across Jericho and he’d let him know when it came back. Also, a long list of things not to do in the meantime.
He typed a quick reply and shoved the phone into his jeans pocket.
They went upstairs so he could lay on his bed and do nothing but complain, while she studied her case at his desk with the flashlight.
The lights flickered a few times but never fully came back on.
He started hearing scratching or creaking noises from the wooden floor, and it made him shiver and panic a little.
He sat up and tried to listen more carefully.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered.
“Yes. So?” she replied, not looking up.
He stayed silent—until another scratching sound.
“So… usually in horror movies, that’s not a good sign.”
She rolled her eyes and let him sit beside her in the other chair.
Plus, she actually liked feeling his warm presence next to her—not that she would ever say it out loud.
A few moments later, someone knocked on the door.
He was terrified but followed her downstairs anyway.
She opened the door, half-hoping for some kind of terrifying monster.
Instead, it was just Tyler’s dad, who had forgotten his keys.
What an unpleasant surprise.
“What is she doing here again? You know what—never mind. I need some files I left here, and then I’m heading to the station for the night,” Sheriff Galpin said dryly, walking to the table.
“The power outage didn’t cause too many problems?” Tyler asked. While Wednesday just stood there, disappointed.
“No, it’s fine. But we’ve got a new case to work on, so I’ll be back tomorrow,” he replied before leaving, files in hand.
Double disappointment for Wednesday. She’d been expecting trouble in Jericho—but she couldn’t even have that.
The door shut again and they went back upstairs.
“Aww, Wens, there’ll be tons of other chances for trouble in Jericho,” Tyler said gently, seeing her disapproval of such a peaceful night.
She sighed and nodded. He did a loud, “Awwwsocute,” before kissing her forehead and cheek—which she found pretty useless in this situation but didn’t complain.
He, on his part, was just happy it had only been his dad. But seeing her still visibly disappointed, he offered to watch a horror movie she chose and suggested she stay the night (because after the movie, he’d be too traumatized to stay alone).
She accepted.
The movie ended—and saying he was terrified would be an understatement. But she’d smiled at some parts, and that brightened the whole night more than anything.
So he was happy.
She left to change into some of his black sweatpants and a black hoodie he gave her in the bathroom. She also brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush he’d once bought for her that she always used when she stayed over.
When she came back to his bedroom, he was changed too and went to brush his teeth while she undid her braids.
As she suspected, he dramatically overreacted to seeing her without them. When he returned, he launched into what she could only describe as a torture speech about how beautiful she looked, in a high-pitched, excited voice—while she actively rolled her eyes.
When he finally stopped, he lay down next to her, making sure to wrap one arm tightly around her.
She gave him a side-eye.
He laughed softly at that, then leaned in to kiss her gently.
She kissed him back.
(Those damn butterflies.)
They exchanged tired, soft kisses until he stopped to yawn and his head hit the pillow—right where he could breathe in the scent of her hair all night.
“Goodnight. I love you,” he whispered while she was thinking about what to say to Principal Weems tomorrow (and she decided, obviously, to say nothing. And get away with it, like she always did.)
“Goodnight,” she said.
She didn’t add “I love you.”
Because she didn’t need to.
He already knew.
He was already asleep when she looked at him—breathing slowly, curls falling onto his forehead, lips slightly parted.
She adjusted a strand of hair that always fell too low and caught herself snuggling closer, his arm now loose around her waist.
She didn’t move anyway—just closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Maybe she would miss him if he were gone.