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It was Thursday afternoon, and every Thursday afternoon they were supposed to meet up to do their homework together.
Wednesday didn’t really care, and Tyler was honestly just glad whenever she felt generous enough to help him.
But this week, he’d been feeling pretty sick.
He wasn’t exactly in the mood for homework—yet she still climbed through his window at the exact time she usually came, probably just to scare him.
He didn’t said anything about being sick, because as long as she was here, he was fine.
A headache couldn’t compete with her voice or the way her scent filled the room.
He jumped like hell when she appeared in front of him.
She sighed. He was definitely too soft to survive out there.
“My dad’s not even home. You could just knock,” he complained.
“That’s stupid, Tyler,” she replied flatly.
“Aaah, of course. Sorry, love,” he said in an exaggeratedly formal tone, bowing to her.
She rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother reminding him again not to call her “love.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek.
Yeah, he was definitely too soft for the outside world.
It was concerning.
Before starting their homework, he tried every excuse not to.
“I need a glass of water.”
“Wait—Lucas sent me a video, I have to reply.”
“We should watch a movie!”
“Okay, maybe not a movie, but I think Elvis wants to go outside, let’s—”
That’s when she cut him off—Elvis was literally asleep on the couch.
“Tyler, we’re doing our homework whether you want to or not,” she said, deadpan and a little irritated.
He gave another mock bow and sighed as they headed back upstairs.
His head was pounding, he was cold, and math was the last thing he wanted to do.
They sat at his desk. She silently started working.
He picked up his pencil… and immediately turned to look at her instead.
She was so pretty.
Like, always.
It was insane.
Life was insane.
And scary.
Jeffrey Dahmer was insane and scary too—which reminded him he still had to watch that documentary on Netflix.
He really wished he could be doing that right now.
Or, honestly, doing her right now—
Wait. What the hell was that thought?!
Doing her? What was wrong with his brain? Was he some kinda dangerous misogynist to even think like that?
He stared blankly at his notebook, mortified. It had been at least four minutes of random nonsense thoughts.
She was probably already halfway done with her homework while he was just sitting there, letting his brain glitch out.
Not that his thoughts were that crazy—okay, stop. Focus. Math.
Half a minute later, he was still completely lost.
« If John has a pool full of liquor… »
Wait, what? How weird was John?
He reread it.
« If John has a pool full of liquid… »
Okay, that made more sense.
Although, now that he thought about it, a pool full of liquor would be kind of funny. Dangerous, but funny.
“Hey, do you think people would die if they got into a pool full of liquor?” he asked seriously.
She didn’t even look up.
“Probably. They’d inhale too much alcohol and die of alcohol poisoning,” she replied flatly.
Yeah, that made sense.
Still, why not just say “water” instead of “liquid”? Were these people trying to sound fancy?
He’d been “doing his homework” for fifteen minutes now and had spent maybe one of them actually focused on John and his stupid pool.
He dropped his head onto his arms on the desk.
His head hurt so much.
He was definitely not the person John was looking for.
And somehow, he fell asleep like that.
Wednesday only noticed when she finished her homework about five minutes later.
“Tyler,” she called dryly.
No answer. She sighed.
Instead of waking him, she glanced at his math problems and decided to do them for him—then explain later.
Apparently, she was feeling generous today.
When she finished, he suddenly jolted awake, escaping some fever dream where John was trying to drown him in his pool of liquor.
“AH—oh, hi Wens,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
She frowned. Something was off.
His eyes were duller than usual, and he’d fallen asleep way too easily.
She reached out and touched his forehead—it was burning.
“Your hand is cooold,” he whined.
“Are you sick?” she asked flatly.
“No,” he lied.
“Liar. You’re burning up,” she said, pointing accusingly at his forehead.
“Fine, I’m sick,” he sighed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, annoyed.
“Because I wanted to see you,” he mumbled.
“That’s stupid,” she replied, her tone dripping with mild contempt.
He rolled his eyes, stretched, and flopped onto his bed.
“Well, I did your homework. You can rest now,” she said from the desk.
She’d been planning to explain it, but he’d figure it out when he wasn’t half-dead.
He lifted his head weakly from the pillow.
“You did?” he asked, sounding way too emotional.
“Yes.”
“Aww, that’s so nice. Thank you,” he said sincerely.
She nodded and headed for the door.
“Wait—no, stay,” he whined louder than ever.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“Because I’m suffering so deeply and you’re supposed to care about me,” he said accusingly.
She sighed.
“Fine, but you owe me,” she replied dryly.
“Of course,” he said, smiling and giving a lazy version of his bow.
She sat on the edge of the bed—forgetting how easily he could drag her into his arms.
He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her down beside him.
“You owe me a lot,” she muttered.
“Mhm,” he chuckled, taking her hand.
“You have such cold hands,” he complained five second later.
So she slipped her other cold hand under his shirt, right against his stomach.
He yelped dramatically and jerked away.
She smirked as his coughing fit interrupted his protest.
When he finally settled down again, he stayed close—one arm draped over her waist, head tucked into the crook of her neck.
She smelled really good.
Not like Elvis, who desperately needed a bath.
One day Elvis would die, and he’d need another dog.
Wow, that was sad.
“Hey, if we ever live together, can we get a dog?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her.
“Yes, and also a bunch of kids,” she said ironically.
“Really?” he grinned.
“Absolutely not. Go to sleep and stop asking nonsense,” she said, horrified that he’d even think she wanted kids.
So he did.
When she was sure he was asleep, she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead.
Then she slipped out quietly to return to Nevermore without him waking up.
He was stupid—but her kind of stupid.