Chapter Text
Chapter Seven- Something Between the Silence
The long break passed in fragments—cello strings, unanswered messages, and shadows drawn long across quiet walls. Wednesday welcomed the solitude at first. She filled the days with music and meticulous routine, avoiding people with ease. It should have felt perfect. Predictable. Safe.
But the silence began to shift.
There were moments she didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking from dreams that clung like cobwebs—cold forests, shifting shadows, breath on her neck. She never said his name. Never admitted how often she thought of him. But the thoughts were there. Sharp. Persistent. Wrong.
By the time the return to Nevermore crept closer, her usual calm had thinned into something brittle. The thought of seeing him again shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
Xavier found no comfort in the break.
The days blurred together, marked only by ink-stained fingers and drawings he didn’t remember starting. He sketched compulsively, as if something inside him refused to stay still. The images came in pieces—forest paths, burning eyes, hands reaching through water. And always, the same face.
He tried not to look at it too long.
Sleep brought little peace. Dreams bled into waking. Words echoed faintly in his mind—ones he couldn’t place, ones he wasn’t sure were ever spoken aloud. More than once, he woke with the sense that he’d heard a voice that didn’t belong in his head.
By the end of the break, his walls were littered with pages. He stopped trying to make sense of them.
When term resumed, they returned to Nevermore with the rest of the students. No one said anything. No one asked why they looked a little more tired than before.
Their eyes didn’t meet. Not right away. But something shifted in the air between them—quiet, coiled, waiting.
There was no visible mark. No glowing sign.
But whatever tether existed between them had tightened in the dark.
The buzz of conversation in the Nevermore courtyard fell abruptly silent as a tall figure stepped forward, his presence commanding attention.
Principal Dort stood before the gathered students, posture straight, eyes sharp and unyielding.
He scanned the crowd with a cool, appraising gaze before speaking in a calm, firm voice.
“Welcome back to Nevermore Academy,” he began. “This semester will demand discipline, focus, and respect from every one of you. This is a place for learning and growth, but distractions will not be tolerated.”
His eyes lingered briefly on the students before he gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, footsteps echoing as he walked away.
The students exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of his words settling heavily over them.
Enid glanced toward Wednesday, who remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Xavier exhaled quietly near Ajax. “That sets the tone.”
Ajax smirked. “Welcome back to Nevermore.”
The courtyard was crisp with early spring’s breath.
Xavier stepped forward, taller now, his hair shorter and neater. His eyes locked with Wednesday’s, flickering with something deeper than teasing.
“You got rid of your fringe,” he said low, voice carrying warmth beneath the tease.
Wednesday lifted her gaze slowly, expression unreadable but a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “Your hair’s shorter.”
He grinned, stepping closer—just enough for their breaths to mingle. “Trying something new.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “You’re taller. It’s annoying.”
His smile deepened, voice dropping to a whisper. “Maybe. But I have to say… getting rid of your fringe? It suits you.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, but a flicker of something softer passed through them. “It’s not about suits.”
He closed the gap a little more, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face—a touch electric enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Still, it looks good. Different, but good.”
Her breath caught, lips parting slightly before she recovered with a dry, “Don’t get sentimental.”
“Not sentimental,” he said, voice low and steady. “Just honest.”
The space between them pulsed with unspoken words and a tension so thick it could be cut.
Wednesday’s eyes locked on his, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”
“Noted,” he breathed, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I won’t waste it.”
Just then, the distant sound of footsteps and voices sliced through the charged silence.
“Hey! You two lovebirds still blocking the hallway?” Enid’s cheerful voice echoed down the corridor.
Ajax’s laugh followed, stepping into view. “You guys gonna finish whatever this is or what?”
Wednesday and Xavier jumped apart, the moment shattered but the tension lingering like smoke.
Wednesday shot Enid a sharp glance. “You’re lucky we’re feeling generous today.”
Xavier ran a hand through his hair, smiling. “Next time.”
Enid winked. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Ajax nudged Xavier with a grin. “Yeah, don’t keep us waiting.”
They moved down the hallway together, but the charged silence between Wednesday and Xavier lingered, promising more to come.
“I’ll see you after class,” she said.
He smiled.
The air in the Alchemy lab shifted the moment Principal Dort stepped through the door.
“Apologies for the interruption,” he said, though his tone lacked apology. “We have a new addition to this class.”
He stepped aside, revealing a tall boy with striking pale eyes and a presence too quiet to ignore.
“This is Lucien Blackwood. He’ll be joining your year group, though he’s slightly older than most of you. Due to… unique educational circumstances, we’ve placed him here for reintegration. You’ll find he’s ahead in some areas.”
He didn’t elaborate.
Lucien’s eyes flicked around the room, expression unreadable. Then he walked forward and, without hesitation, slid into the empty seat beside Wednesday.
Dort gave a curt nod and exited without another word.
Enid leaned toward Wednesday, whispering, “What does that even mean? ‘Unique educational circumstances’? Was he raised in a haunted library?”
Wednesday didn’t answer.
Because Lucien had already turned toward her and sat down
“ Wednesday Addams, I’ve read your theories,” he said, voice low. “The ones on Hyde-trigger reactions and psychic echoes. Smart.”
“Most people say hello,” she replied flatly.
“I don’t care much for pleasantries.”
He grabbed her hand.
She eyed it and how tight his grip was — as she tried to release his hold but he wouldn’t budge
The Vision
The classroom vanished like a dream.
Wednesday found herself in a narrow hallway, dimly lit, the air heavy with smoke and fear.
A woman knelt beside two small boys.
Lucien, maybe five, was crying softly, his face buried against her side.
The other—younger, barely more than a toddler—stood nearby, silent. Confused.
Xavier.
The woman clutched Lucien’s hand, whispering fiercely, “We have to go. Now.”
Little Xavier blinked, swaying slightly where he stood. “Mama?”
Her voice trembled. “You have to stay here, mon cœur. Be brave. I’ll come back.”
He didn’t understand. Just stood there—big-eyed and wordless.
A tall man stood at the edge of the hallway, expression cold and still.
“You can’t take both,” he said flatly.
She looked between the boys—torn. Then she squeezed Lucien’s hand tighter.
“Don’t forget who you are,” she whispered to Xavier. “Even if he tries to make you.”
Then the door slammed behind her, Lucien in tow.
And the dark swallowed everything.
Back in the Present
Wednesday ripped her hand away from Lucien’s, her breath catching as if someone had plunged her into ice water.
Lucien simply tilted his head, studying her reaction. “You saw it,” he murmured. Not a question.
She didn’t answer.
A few seats over, Enid furrowed her brow, clearly picking up on something strange.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Enid whispered.
Wednesday met her gaze, expression unreadable.
After a long pause, she answered quietly, “Fine. Alchemy is just… tedious.”
The words hung between them—brittle and sharp—like the fragile calm before a storm.
Wednesday turned back to her notes, but somewhere deep inside, the shadow of the vision lingered, refusing to be ignored.
Elsewhere — Xavier
Across campus, in the middle of History of the Occult, Xavier froze.
A sudden jolt hit his chest—not pain, not exactly. But pressure. Like someone had yanked an invisible thread tied to his ribs.
He dropped his pencil. A breath hitched in his throat.
The bond.
He closed his eyes, trying to center himself, reaching into that strange space between them.
Wednesday?
The word formed silently in his mind.
A beat. Then, a flicker—cool and faint like frost on glass.
I’m here.
Relief and dread twisted in his chest.
What happened?
I saw things, came her answer. Quiet. Things I’m not ready to explain.
You don’t have to, he sent back. Just don’t shut me out again.
There was a pause. Not cold—just cautious.
I won’t, she replied at last. Not yet.
Then the thread dimmed, but didn’t break.
Xavier opened his eyes slowly. He was still in class. Ajax was still beside him, oblivious.
But nothing felt the same.