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Chapter Text

Tyler’s POV

The days after the ritual pass by quickly. My body heals faster than my mind does. My scars itch more every day. But one thing is the best above all. The Hyde stays quiet. The monster is still there, but it’s not in control anymore.

About a month passes by before I’m finally able to sit down in the Addams living room without flinching at every sound or movement.

The fire cracks in the hearth; the flames claw at the logs. Shadows lean long across the velvet furniture, the black-and-blood-red décor suffocating and comforting all at once.

Wednesday sits across from me, a book balanced on her knee, a knife tracing the spine of the pages. She’s silent as usual.

I lean against the arm of the couch. My hands are wrapped around a mug of coffee. I’ve learnt to drink my coffee black. Wednesday insisted it was the best way to drink it. I’d never admit it to her, but I’ve stopped adding sugar.

I’m about to say something when I hear the sound of footsteps approaching us. I turn around and see Morticia step into the room. Her gown trails across the rug of the living room. Her eyes catch both me and Wednesday. She doesn’t speak right away. She doesn’t need to because she has my attention right away.

Finally, she interrupts the silence. “Tyler, walk with me.”

I set the mug down, my stomach knotting, and push myself up. Wednesday doesn’t look at me as I follow her mother out of the room.

The hallway is colder, lined with portraits whose eyes seem to follow. Morticia doesn’t stop until we reach a small study, its air heavy with candle smoke and ink. She closes the door behind us and turns, her gaze as sharp as ever.

‘’Nevermore will reopen in two months,’’ she says. ‘The damage to Iago Tower didn’t destroy the entire school. The academy seems to thrive on scars, much like the students.

I let her words sink in. Nevermore is the school where I killed my mother and Isaac. It’s on the same grounds as where I betrayed Wednesday. That place whispers my name like a curse. I never stepped into Nevermore as a student.

Before I can say something to Morticia, she takes a step closer. ‘The board required persuasion. They also needed a new principal. They have agreed to my appointment as principal.’’ Her lips give a hint of a smile. ‘’But that’s not why I’ve called you here, Tyler.’’

Morticia's eyes pin me down where I stand. ‘Would you be willing to attend Nevermore? To walk those halls, not as an intruder but as a student. You’re an outcast after all.’’

I never expected her to ask me to go to Nevermore. The question rips through me. My hands tremble. The memory of claws, blood, and screaming eyes flashes behind my eyelids.

“I…” My throat cracks. “I don’t belong there. I never did.”

Somehow Morticia’s expression doesn’t change. She studies me for a second before answering. ‘That’s not true, Tyler. You’re a Hyde, which means you’re an outcast. Way before everything happened, Hydes used to go to Nevermore. Your mother was the last Hyde to go to Nevermore. If you want to try, I can secure you a place as a student.’’

A silence stretches between Morticia and me. My mind goes to Wednesday. I wonder how Wednesday thinks about this. I think of her hand against my chest, her voice dragging me back from the edge of the ritual. I think of the way she said my name like it was both a warning and a promise. It’s a way for me to be close to Wednesday.

“Yes,” I whisper softly before I can stop myself. ‘’I want to try.’’

Morticia’s gaze sharpens. For a moment, I swear I see something flicker in her eyes. I can’t tell what’s going through her mind, but I know I can’t back down now.

‘Good,’ she says, approving of my choice. ‘Do remember one thing, Tyler. The world will never let you forget who you are. Don’t falter, or they’ll eat you alive.’’

…

Wednesday’s POV

Honestly, nothing happens when Tyler is gone. The fire doesn’t shift. The only thing it does is crackle. I don’t move from my chair. I try to pretend not to care why my mother took Tyler with her for a conversation.

I don’t know how long it takes before the door opens again. Tyler steps back into the living room. His scars catch the firelight like old wounds refusing to stay buried. His posture is tight, his jaw locked. He doesn’t speak until he’s crossed halfway into the room.

“She asked me to go to Nevermore,” he says finally, voice low, careful. “As a student.”

The words interrupt the silence in the room. My fingers pause on the book in my lap. ‘That’s original,’ I say flatly. ‘Throw a Hyde into a school full of fragile wannabe outcasts. Let’s pray the walls will hold…’’

I can see Tyler flinch at my words, but he exhales while rubbing a hand across his face. ‘’Wednesday. That’s not all. Your mother is going to be the new principal.’’

I let the book fall shut, my knife still marking the page. Slowly, I tilt my head. “So the board of education has finally embraced necromancy. They’ve resurrected the school with a corpse in charge.”

‘She thinks she can help the school. She also thinks I belong at Nevermore. She said my mother was the last Hyde to go to Nevermore. But I don’t know if I belong there Wednesday.’’

“Belonging is for sheep,” I reply. “You’re not there to be welcomed. You’re there to be endured. If they fear you, all the better. At least they’ll be honest.”

He looks at me across the firelight, his hands trembling just enough to betray him. “You really think I should go?”

“No,” I answer without hesitation. “But then again, I rarely endorse survival.”

A silence stretches between us for a while. Tyler doesn’t move. He remains frozen in his place. His fists are curling and uncurling at his sides.

“You’re stalling,” I say, my voice low. “If you intend to reject my mother’s offer, then do it. If you intend to accept, then do that. This middle ground is pathetic.”

His jaw tightens. “You make it sound easy.”

“Everything is easy when you stop pretending to be human,” I reply. “Choose like the monster you are. Without apology.”

My words make him snap. His eyes meet mine. They’re filled with a raw, burning rage. ‘You think I don’t know that? That I don’t know what they’ll see the second I step through those gates? I’ll be the Hyde. That’s all I’ll ever be to them.”

I rise from my chair. Moving closer to Tyler. “You’re afraid.” I murmur, I tilt my head slightly ‘’Not of them. Of yourself.’’

Tyler swallows hard, trying to control his anger. ‘Yes. ‘You’re right,’ he admits to me. ‘I’m afraid that I will lose control. We know the ritual has worked for now, but what will happen if I get dragged back into what I was…’’

I study Tyler in silence. I can see how he waits for my response.

Finally, his voice cracks. “But… I want to go.” The admission lingers, thick, almost shameful.

I arch a brow. “Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flicker to the fire, then back to me, as though the truth is burning him alive. “Because you’ll be there.” His voice drops. “Because if I have to be the Hyde in front of anyone, I’d rather it be you.”

I have to admit for a moment I feel something pull into my chest. I hate whenever this happens. I despise the way my body betrays me. So I smother it with words.

“You’re a fool if you think my presence makes you safe. I’d sooner slit your throat than coddle you.”

Tyler doesn’t flinch at my words. Instead, he looks relieved. “I know,” he whispers. “That’s why it would work.”

…

Tyler’s POV

The days pass by quickly ever since Morticia asked me to go to Nevermore. For the first time in years I have something that looks like a future. I told her yes and said that I will go to Nevermore.

The word itself still makes my stomach twist. I always thought Nevermore was a place to despise. A school full of outcasts who should be hated as well. Now it’s the only place where I can try to belong. It will be the closest thing to a clean start I will ever get.

Life has been tolerable lately. The Addams family has been nothing but kind to me. Pugsley is a handful sometimes. He likes to zap me out of nowhere before disappearing into thin air. But Gomez has been the strangest ally.

Today we went into town. He insisted we walk the streets. His arm was slung over my shoulders like I was family already. He bought me coffee, forced me into a chess match in the park (he destroyed me, of course), and told half the town some story about me rescuing Wednesday from certain death. I don’t know whether to thank him or crawl under the pavement.

By the time we get back to the house, dusk is already setting in. I thank Gomez for the day before heading inside. My mind is focused on her.

I search the halls for Wednesday. That’s when I hear her typewriter. I hear the faint noises coming from her room. I follow it, my chest tightening with every step I take.

I knock once before pushing the door open. Wednesday sits at her desk, spine rigid, fingers striking the keys. The air smells of wax and ink, sharp and strangely comforting.

She doesn’t look up. “If you intend to disturb me, do it quickly. I have sentences to mutilate.”

I lean against the doorframe, forcing down my nerves. “I wanted to ask you something.”

That earns me a flicker of her gaze. Her eyes meet mine. ‘’Proceed.’’

I swallow, then push it out before I lose my nerve. “Go out with me tonight. On a date.’’

Her brows lift a fraction. “You presume much.”

I step further into her room, meeting her gaze. ‘I’m not asking for a typical date with roses or a candlelit dinner. No, just something. To celebrate the fact that I’m actually going to Nevermore.’’

That earns the barest curl of her lips. Not a smile ‘Most people celebrate survival. You want to celebrate the prospect of incarceration.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” I mutter, though my chest feels lighter at her remark.

The silence stretches. Then, to my shock, she sets her hands flat on the desk and rises. “Fine. But if this devolves into sentimentality, I’ll leave you at the nearest graveyard.”

I grin before I can stop myself. “Sounds perfect.”

…

Of course I don’t take Wednesday to a restaurant. We don’t even go into town. I know this wouldn’t please her. Instead, I let Wednesday decide what she wants to do.

Wednesday leads me out the back of the house, through the overgrown gardens to the family cemetery. The stone angels glare down, their wings chipped and cracked. Lanterns flicker faintly against the mausoleums.

“This”, she says, gesturing to the rows of graves, “is where I find peace. If you insist on wasting my evening, it will be on my terms.”

I look around at the moss-covered stones, the skeletal trees. Somehow, it feels right. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Wednesday guides me through the rows of graves. She tells me about the names that are carved into the stones. The ways in which they died. She recites all their names. I listen to her.

Eventually, I tell her stories too. Not about family, because mine isn’t worth remembering. Instead, I tell her about the woods, about how silence used to terrify me until Thornhill twisted it into chains. I tell her how different it feels now, walking beside her without waiting for an order to snap into my skull.

She doesn’t say anything. But she doesn’t walk away either.

Later we sit down on the steps of the mausoleum. The stone is cold against my back. Her shoulder brushes against mine, just enough to make me feel warm.

“You’ve grown insufferably tolerable,” she says finally, her tone flat.

I huff a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.” But her eyes linger on me a second too long.

We don’t kiss, not tonight. But we don’t need to. By the time we head back toward the house, there’s an understanding between us.

“We’re not lovers,” she says abruptly, as if the thought disgusts her.

“Okay.”

“We’re not courting in the conventional sense. That would require flowers. Or worse, handholding.”

“Fine.”

“We are… acknowledging each other. Nothing more.”

I glance sideways at her, smirking faintly. “Acknowledging, huh? That’s what we’re calling it?”

“Yes. Do not test my patience.” But when our hands brush again, this time neither of us pulls away.

…

When we get back to the house, it’s quiet. Gomez and Pugsley have probably gone to bed. Morticia already left for Nevermore a few days ago to prepare for the new school year. Gomez gave me the details earlier, but it feels heavier when Wednesday finally says it out loud.

“My mother will make an interesting principal,” she remarks, her tone unreadable. “The students will either flourish or flee in terror. Either outcome pleases me.”

I glance at her, trying to determine how she feels about it, but her face is the same carved mask as always. Still, when her hand lingers against mine as we climb the stairs, I think I understand more than her words will ever admit.

…

Wednesday’s POV

More days pass by, and I’m surprised by the fact that Tyler and I have not killed each other. That alone feels remarkable to me.

We are not dating. That word is not to my liking. It suggests roses, picnics, and whispered endearments in candlelight. The very thought makes my stomach turn. What Tyler and I have is… acknowledgement. Mutual recognition. A pact forged in scars and shadows.

Tyler waits for me in the mornings. He’s often leaning against the hallway outside my room. He says nothing. Just watches until I’m ready to leave. Most would find his silence unnerving. I find it tolerable.

At meals, he sits beside me. Not across, not near, not beside. It’s subtle, but I notice. Sometimes our hands brush when reaching for bread. He pretends it’s accidental. I let him.

One afternoon, I am sharpening my blades in the living room. He sits across from me, a book in his lap. Every time the steel hisses against the whetstone, his eyes flick toward me.

Finally, I snap. “If you flinch every time I sharpen, I’ll gladly redirect the blade.”

He smirks faintly. “Not flinching. Just… appreciating the focus.”

My hands pause. That word tastes strange on my ears. I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he replies, his smile growing. “But you haven’t told me to leave.”

He is right. I return to my sharpening, more violently this time.

…

Another day we somehow find ourselves walking the gardens together. Tyler points out all types of flowers. I ignore them. When he comments that roses are beautiful. I tell him they’re overrated and uninspiring.

He chuckles. “You’re the only person I know who can insult a flower.”

“They deserve it.”

Tyler bends down and plucks one flower. It’s a crimson bloom. The petals are perfect; the stem is dripping with dew. Tyler hands me the flower. ‘’For you.’’

I stare at it, then at him. Slowly, I take it. Not delicately, but by the thorned stem. The thorns pierce my skin, blood welling up instantly.

His smirk falters. “Wednesday…”

I hold his gaze and tighten my grip until blood streaks my palm. “If you think I’ll accept tenderness without pain, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Instead of recoiling, he nods once. “Fair enough.”

We walk on, the rose clenched in my bleeding hand.

…

Evenings are the strangest. Tyler has started to visit my room every evening. He doesn’t ask me if it’s okay. No, he just enters. He sits in the chair opposite of my desk. He watches me type. I let him stay.

I continue to type as I usually do. He never interrupts me. No, he just listens. Sometimes he dozes off, his head tilted against the chair. I don’t wake him.

Last night, his head slipped to the side, resting briefly against my desk. His scars caught the candlelight. I should have shoved him off. I didn’t. Instead, I let him sleep there until his breath deepened. Only then did I stop typing.

I stared at him far too long. He looked younger, unguarded. Some part of me felt disgusted by the fact I looked at him for so long, but even then I didn’t look away.

…

Somehow this is our strange rhythm. Tyler and I don’t hold hands in the daylight. We don’t exchange sweet nothings. No, our gestures are colder. A blade offered instead of a flower. A glance that lingers too long. Silence stretched until it almost felt like comfort.

I suppose this is what passes for affection between us. I find it revolting and somehow tolerable at the same time.

…

Tyler’s POV

It’s two months later when I find myself sitting in the Addams’ car. The car rattles along the winding road. Nevermore’s spires claw higher into the morning mist with every mile we draw closer.

I’m sitting in the back, pressed between Pugsley, who’s staring out the window waiting for something to explode, and Wednesday, who simply sits, gaze fixed forward, her hands folded in her lap.

I know I should be used to the silence, but my chest feels tight. My pals sweat against the fabric of my trousers. Every bump in the road makes the scars across my arms itch.

I’m very nervous. Nevermore isn’t just another school to me. It’s where everything unravelled. It’s where I killed my mother and Isaac. Where the Hyde spilt out of me like a sickness and destroyed everything in its path. And now I’m supposed to walk through the gates as a student.

My knee bounces. I try to stop it, but I can’t. I try to force my leg still. I clench my jaw. That’s when I feel a sudden shift beside me.

Wednesday isn’t looking at me. She doesn’t even speak, but for a second I feel her hand brush against mine. She squeezes my hand before letting go again. Like nothing ever happened.

The knot in my chest loosens. My nerves lessen.

Up front, Gomez turns in his seat, his grin wide and gleaming. “Ah! Look at you two. My corazón is full. My daughter is finally dating; it makes me happier than a fresh grave.”

My face heats instantly. “We’re not…’’

“We’re not dating,” Wednesday interrupts flatly at the same time.

Gomez blinks, then laughs, deep and booming. “Denial! How sweet. Morticia and I once denied our flames too. For all of five minutes.”

I run a hand through my hair, muttering, “It’s not the same.”

But Wednesday doesn’t bother to argue further. She just folds her hands again, the faintest curl tugging at the corner of her lips.

…

The iron gates open when the call rolls up the long driveway. Nevermore looms above us, stone towers patched with newer repairs, the scars of Iago Tower’s collapse still visible along one wing. Students swarm across the lawn, their uniforms dark against the pale morning light.

When Lurch pulls to a stop, my throat goes dry. The doors open. Wednesday steps out first, her black skirt falling like a shadow. Pugsley follows, muttering something about firecrackers under his breath.

I force myself out last, my boots crunching on the gravel. The air tastes sharp here, alive with whispers and stares.

I can already feel the dozen eyes on me. Their voices ripple across the courtyard. “That’s him.”
“The Hyde…” “Why would they let him back here?”

Their whispers crawl along my skin. I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to keep my head high, but it feels like the ground itself wants to swallow me whole.

Gomez claps me on the shoulder, his grin as unwavering as ever. “Stand tall, Tyler. Nothing silences doubters like living well. Trust me.”

I nod, though the lump in my throat makes it hard to answer.

Before I can say another thing, the crowd parts, making room for the new principal.

Morticia glides down the steps in her long black gown. Every line of her posture is regal. Her gaze is sharp as ever. The morning light bends around her as though even the sun knows better than to compete.

“Wednesday. Pugsley. “Tyler,” she greets us. Her dark eyes linger on each of us before softening just slightly. “Welcome home.”

Pugsley mutters something about hoping for explosions in chemistry class. Wednesday only nods once, her face unreadable as ever.

I try to focus on Morticia’s words. But all I can hear are the whispers. I can feel all the eyes of every Nevermore student drilling into me like I’m a monster who just escaped from somewhere.

I swallow hard, trying not to let the weight crush me. But Wednesday’s voice slices through the noise. “Stop trembling. They smell fear.”

I glance at her. She hasn’t even looked at me, but I know the words are for me. Somehow, they anchor me.

…

The first hour feels like a blur. A lot of papers are shoved into my hands. I hear a lot of names I don’t remember. There are a lot of students that won’t meet my eyes. Every corridor seems to be filled with whispers the moment I pass by.

By the time a teacher leads me to the dormitories, my pulse is hammering in my throat. The Hyde coils beneath my ribs, restless, clawing. It feeds on nerves, on fear. And right now, there’s plenty of both.

I’m so focused on keeping my breathing steady that I almost don’t notice until we’re there. We have arrived in my new room.

It’s nothing like the Addams house, nothing like Jericho either. It’s a plain dormitory, with two beds, two desks and two wardrobes. The walls are bare, waiting for decoration. It smells faintly of dust and new paint, like they scrubbed it extra hard before I got here.

When the teacher leaves, the silence thickens in the room. But I’m not alone. Wednesday stands in the doorway. She didn’t have to come with me. But she did. I’m not sure if she did because she’s sentimental or because she wants to observe.

I drop my bag by the bed and sit down, my shoulders tight. I don’t look at her at first, but the words spill anyway. “I can feel him.”

Her voice cuts the silence, flat and sharp. “The Hyde”.

I nod at Wednesday before dragging a hand through my hair. ‘He’s restless for the first time since the ritual. Every whisper and every stare make it stronger.’’

Wednesday steps into the room, her boots precise against the floorboards. She stops a few feet from me, her gaze saying, “What do you want the Hyde to do?”

I look up at Wednesday. ‘I want him to remain silent. I want to be me. But at the same…’’ my voice cracks. But I force the words out. ‘’Without him, I don’t know who I am.’’

Wednesday’s eyes remain on me. She studies me for a second before taking a few steps closer.

“You’re a paradox,” she says, her tone even. “A monster who wants humanity. A boy who despises the thing that makes him whole.”

She takes another step, and then another, until she’s standing right in front of me. My breath catches. Her hand lifts, cold fingers brushing my jaw, and for a moment my entire world goes silent.

“Control isn’t about denial,” she murmurs. “It’s about ownership. And perhaps you need a reminder of what is yours.”

After that she leans in. Her lips meet mine. It feels real. It’s not tender. But it’s sharp and precise. Just like everything Wednesday does. But it does ground me.

I could stay in this moment forever. But of course the world has other plans.

The door of my dorm creaks open, and a voice blurts, “Ohhh… wow. Did not expect to walk in on that.”

We break apart instantly, and I turn toward the door. Standing there, bag slung over his shoulder, eyes wide, is Ajax Petropolus. My new roommate.

He smirks, clearly unfazed. “So you’re the infamous Hyde, huh? You’re already making out with Addams. Guess the rumours about you two weren’t exaggerated.”

My face heats. I open my mouth to defend myself, but he just shrugs. “Hey, no judgement. I mean, if she hasn’t stabbed you yet, you’re already doing better than most of us.”

Wednesday, of course, doesn’t flinch. She tilts her head, eyes cold. “If you speak of this to anyone, Ajax, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your snakes.”

Ajax raises his hands, smirking wider. “Noted. Your secret’s safe. Though, for the record? You two might actually be the scariest couple on campus. I mean that as a compliment.”

I can’t help it. Suddenly a laugh escapes me, shaky but real. For once, someone isn’t looking at me with terror or disgust. Just… amusement.

Wednesday doesn’t laugh, but I catch the faintest flicker in her eyes. Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the worst way to start our first day at Nevermore.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

The hallways of Nevermore haven’t changed at all. The portraits remain, and the candles are still burning, even during the day. The faintly gothic atmosphere is still there. Yet somehow, the silence feels heavier, like it remembers what happened at the destruction of Iago Tower.

Tyler remains in his dorm. He’s spending some time with Ajax. For now, we have to go our separate ways. He looks at me like he expects me to say something sentimental, but I don’t.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” I inform him flatly.

He smirks faintly. “Right. Dinner.”

I close the door behind me before the ache beneath my ribs has a chance to spread.

I make my way to Ophelia Hall. I find my room the same as I left it before the school closed. It’s clean and functional.

The moment I step in the room, Enid is already sprawled across her bed. Half our room is bleeding from rainbows. My side, the better side, is dark.

Enid squeals when she sees me. “Roomie!” she bursts out, leaping up to throw her arms around me.

I stiffen on impact. “Physical assault isn’t a sustainable greeting ritual.”

She only laughs, squeezing tighter before letting go. “I missed you too.”

I walk past Enid, setting down my typewriter on my desk. The keys click under my fingertips.

Enid, however, has the uncanny ability to sniff out disruption like a wolf detecting prey. “So,” she says slyly, plopping back onto her bed. “How’s your Hyde boyfriend?”

I don’t even know what to say to her. I turn toward her. ’Excuse me?’’

“You know,” she continues, grinning ear to ear. “Tyler. Tall, broody, scarred, and kind of hot in a tortured way. That's Tyler. Your Hyde boyfriend.”

“He is not my boyfriend.” My tone is flat. “Do not reduce me to such banal conventions. And do not presume.”

Enid chuckles. ‘So you’re not spending time with him then? Not walking around campus with him like you’re “dating”? She raises her fingers in exaggerated quotation marks.

I narrow my eyes at Enid. ‘We’re not dating. I tolerate him. That’s it.’’

She giggles. “That’s the most Wednesday Addams definition of dating I’ve ever heard.”

Before I can remind her that her pink sweaters make me long for the sweet silence of a mortuary, a knock interrupts. It’s deliberate, measured. Definitely an Addams knock.

“Enter,” I say.

The door opens and my mother walks in. As always, her black gown sweeps behind her. My mother's gaze scans the room. She pauses on Enid long enough to soften before settling on me.

“Wednesday”, my mother says, “may I have a word?”

I nod slowly. “Of course. But if this is about school policy, perhaps you should remember that I am a student.’’

Her lips curve faintly, though not in amusement. “It’s not policy. It’s you.”

Enid perks up, looking between us with wide eyes. “Ooh, this sounds serious.”

I cut her off with a look sharp enough to silence her. I stand, my skirts whispering across the stone floor, and follow my mother into the hall. Already, I feel the weight of something unsaid pressing down.

…

My mother’s heels click against the stone of the hallway. We move away from the dorm so no one can listen in on the conversation. My mother rushes to the end of the hallway.

She stops near a window where sunlight cuts through the glass. She turns toward me, her face unreadable as usual.

‘I want to invite Tyler and you to a dinner,’ she says smoothly. ‘’This Friday, after classes. I’m staying at the cottage at the edge of campus. It’s a quiet place. I thought it might do Tyler good to have familiar faces nearby.’’

I study my mother carefully. I know what she’s trying to imply. It annoys me. ‘’You mean me.’’

Her lips curve faintly. “And me. But yes, mostly you.”

I cross my arms, my gaze steady. “Why?”

My mother doesn’t move at all. ‘Because you know Tyler is going through a lot. He’s walking these hallways as a Hyde. Everyone is staring at him, and the whispers don’t help. He needs someone to guide him through all of this.’’

“Guide him?” I repeat flatly. “He’s free.”

“Yes,” she agrees softly. “But Wednesday, the Hyde isn’t gone. The ritual gave him control, but it’s not permanent. He will be tested. When that happens, he’s going to need you.’’

There’s a silence between us. I don’t even know what to say to her. Before I can answer, she continues, ‘There’s another topic I want to talk to him about. About his mother, Francoise. She wasn’t always like this. I want him to know the good stuff she’s done before the Hyde took over.’’

I feel something sharp twist beneath my ribs. My mother has always believed in the good of

I keep my expression carefully blank. “You expect me to guide him through all of this?’’

“No,” she says simply. “I expect you to stand with him.”

The words hit me. I hate how they feel close to emotions. ‘I’ll always stand with him. But if you want me to come to this dinner with him. I’d also like to bring Enid.’’

Her brow arches faintly, as though I’ve just suggested dragging a rainbow into a funeral parlour. “Enid?”

‘Yes. Enid. She will definitely annoy all of us. But she’s light-hearted. Something we can use if you’re going to talk about these heavy subjects. Besides, if this dinner devolves into sentimentality, I’d prefer someone else to absorb the emotional spillage.”

Morticia’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “Very well. Enid may join us.”

Her gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, as though she can see every thought I’ve tried to bury. Then she turns, gliding away with the same ease with which she arrived.

I remain in the corridor, staring after her.

…

That same evening I make my way towards the boy’s dormitory. Most of the students have scattered around the hallways. They’re huddling in cliques.

I stop in front of Tyler’s dorm. I knock once on his door. It creaks open a moment later.

Tyler is standing in front of me. His hair is messy. His scars catch the dim light of the room. I can see that Ajax has scattered things around half of his room. But Ajax himself isn’t there.

“Wednesday,” Tyler says, his voice low, almost startled. “I’m glad you’re here.’’

“Me too,” I reply, brushing past him without waiting for an invitation.

Tyler closes the door behind me. He moves slowly. I study him as I always do. I notice the tremor in his moves. His eyes are filled with worry.

“You’re out of sorts,” I observe.

Tyler lets out a breath and a laugh at once. It sounds like he feels defeated. ‘It’s a lot. I can feel everyone watching me. I swear, some of them looked like they expected me to sprout claws right there.”

‘They will keep staring for a while. After that they’ll get bored. ‘It shouldn’t take long,’’ I reply coolly.

He huffs, shaking his head. “Easy for you to say. You thrive on people being uncomfortable.”

“Correct,” I admit. ’It’ll get better, Tyler.’’

I fold my hands in front of me. ‘My mother has invited us for a dinner. This Friday. At her cottage.’’

I can see his eyes gaze at me. He looks more excited. ‘Dinner with Morticia, the principal?’ he says teasingly.

‘And Enid,’ I add. ‘This isn’t a romantic dinner, Tyler. My mother believes it will do you good. She wants to tell you more about your mother…’’

Tyler swallows hard, his throat tightening. I can see the nerves prick through him, but after a moment, he nods. “If you’ll be there… then yeah. I’ll go.”

I nod at him. ‘’Of course I will be there.’’

He gives me a hint of a smile, but I can see that he’s still going through a lot. Tyler moves to his desk before rummaging through a drawer. ‘’There’s something I want to give to you…’’

I arch a brow. “A gift? How revoltingly sentimental.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of warmth in his voice. He turns back, holding something small in his palm.

Tyler is holding an old pen in his hand. It’s polished and has dark metal. The nib of the pen gleams silver.Along the side, etched so faintly it’s almost hidden, is a raven in flight.

I carefully take it from him. My fingers brush his. The pen feels perfect in my hand.

My chest tightens. I’m not used to receiving gifts from anyone except from my family. ‘Thank you. ‘It’s beautiful,’’ I say softly. ’’

His shoulders ease. “I figured… you’d like it better than flowers.”

“Flowers rot,” I murmur, running my thumb along the etched raven. “This won’t.”

For a moment a silence follows. But before I realise what I’m doing, I step closer to him and let my arms slip around him.

Tyler leans into the hug. His arms circle around my shoulder. I let him stay there for a moment before stepping back, slipping the pen into the pocket of my dress as though it belongs there.

“Come,” I say softly, turning toward the door. “If we don’t appear in the dining hall soon, people will think you’re too afraid to show up.’’

Tyler lets out a nervous chuckle before following me into the hallway.

…

Tyler’s POV

The hallways are filled with noise. There’s laughter and whispers everywhere. But every conversation drops when I pass.

I keep my head down and follow Wednesday through the hallways. Of course she doesn’t slow down. She doesn’t even glance back. No, she assumes I will keep up with her. She’s right.

The stares, though, they’re suffocating. Words hiss from every corner of the hallway.

“That’s him…” “The Hyde”. “Did you see his scars?” “I heard he…”

I clench my jaw. My heartbeat is rising very fast. I can even feel a part of the Hyde underneath all of my nerves. It’s almost enough to make me turn around. I’m very tempted to walk back to my dorm. But before I can change my mind, it’s Wednesday’s presence that keeps me from giving up. She moves through these halls like she owns them. By sticking by her, I almost believe I belong here as well.

We’re one minute away from the dining hall when a shriek cuts through the air.

“There he is!”

I freeze from the screams. A group of first years run toward us like a stampede of caffeinated pixies. There are at least five of them, all with notebooks clutched in their arms and wide, sparkling eyes fixed on me.

“Oh my god, it’s Tyler Galpin!” One of them yells out, “The Hyde!”

Another wave, like we’re old friends. “We tried to visit you at Willowhill, but they wouldn’t let us in!”

“You’re even cuter in person,” the smallest one squeaks, blushing furiously.

I can feel my entire body shut down. My face is heating, and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Wednesday stops in her tracks. She slowly turns around to face the squealing voices. Her eyes are dark and narrow when she turns around to face me and the first years.

“Cute,” she repeats flatly, her voice cutting sharper than any knife.

The first years shuffle but don’t stop smiling. One even dares to step closer, notebook raised. “Can we get your autograph? Maybe a claw mark? You’re, like, the most iconic Hyde in history!”

I can see Wednesday's hands twitch toward the blade she has strapped at her hip. ‘’I can give you a scar instead,’’ she says coldly.

The girls gasp. They’re half terrified, half delighted. One whispers, “She’s even scarier in person…” as though it’s a compliment.

I clear my throat. Still feeling awkward. I rub the back of my neck. ‘Look...thanks...but maybe…’

I’m not even finished with my sentence when Wednesday interrupts me. She turns her attention to the girls. “Run,” Wednesday orders, her tone calm but deadly.

The first years scatter, squealing as they disappear down the hall. Their laughter echoes behind them.

I turn my attention to Wednesday, who hasn’t moved at all. I can see how tight her jaw is. Her eyes are as dark as ever.

“You scared them off,” I murmur carefully.

She doesn’t look at me. “They were irritating and wrong about you.’’

My brow furrows. “Wrong?”

Her gaze slices into me. “You are not cute. Don’t ever let me hear you answer to that again.”

I blink, and despite the tension clawing my chest, a laugh escapes me. “You’re jealous.”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “If you finish that sentence, I will poison your dinner.”

I bite back another laugh, shaking my head. “Noted.”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she turns away and starts walking again. I follow her.

When we push open the grand doors to the dining hall, the noise inside swells. Every table is full. Students from every clique. Fangs, furs, scales, and stoners stare openly as we step inside.

The whispers rise again, louder than before. My skin prickles under every set of eyes. But then Wednesday’s shoulder brushes mine, steady, grounding, as she leads us forward to a free spot where Enid is sitting.

…

Tyler’s POV

The moment I step into the dining hall, everything changes. The buzz of chatter stutters, then swells. Hundreds of eyes latch onto me as if I’ve sprouted claws right here in the doorway.

The fangs, aka the vampires, are the first to make a sneering comment. One guy with slicked-back hair bares his teeth at me. ‘Careful, Hyde. If you make one person bleed. We’ll bleed you dry.’’

I tense at his remark. I can even feel the anger rise inside of me. The Hyde wants to lash out, but before anything can happen, Wednesday intervenes.

She tilts her head, her black braids falling forward. “Bold threat,” she says coolly, “considering he’s already taken down people far less pathetic than you.”

The vampire stiffens. His friends mutter, and one hisses, but not a single one of them steps forward.

After the vampires, the furs come at me with a bold remark. One guy sitting in the corner talks to me. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? Nevermore is for outcasts, not murderers.’’

Wednesday doesn’t blink at the werewolf. She looks unimpressed. “Yet you were accepted.” She replies with her tone flat. After that the Fur table goes silent.

A few of the Scales whisper loud enough for me to catch it. “That’s him. The Hyde who tore through half the town.” Their voices quiver with fear, but they don’t dare say it too close.

Through all the whispers, Wednesday walks forward. She looks unhurried. She doesn’t even acknowledge any of the whispers. I stay next to her so I feel less threatened.

We walk past tables until we reach Enid. She’s waving at us. Ajax is sitting next to her. He’s grinning at Wednesday and me.

“Roomie!” Ajax calls, patting the empty seat beside him. “Glad you survived your first day.”

I blink at the nickname but take the seat anyway. Wednesday slides in next to me, across from Enid, who’s glowing from excitement.

‘I’ve missed this,’ Enid says. She’s loading her plate with a lot of food. ‘’All of us together like old times.’’

Wednesday arches a brow. “Old times? If you mean our constant brushes with death, then yes. Very nostalgic.”

Before Enid can roll her eyes, a voice cuts through the room. “Well, well. Look who finally crawled back.”

I look up and see Agnes DeMille walking toward us. Her orange hair catches the candlelight. Like always, there’s mischief in her smirk.

‘Agnes’, Wednesday says coldly.

Agnes stops at the table, crossing her arms. “Didn’t think I’d see you here again, Addams. Certainly not with him.” Her chin jerks toward me.

Before Wednesday can reply. Something crosses the table. It’s Thing. He perches near the bread basket and wiggles his fingers at Wednesday. After that at me.

I let out a short laugh. I’ve had plenty of run-ins with Thing before. Mostly him helping me. Seeing him here, like nothing’s changed, almost feels… normal.

Enid squeals and hugs Agnes before sliding over to make room. “This is perfect! It’s like a reunion.”

“Reunion implies fondness,” Wednesday remarks, though she doesn’t tell Agnes or Thing to leave. Which, in her language, is practically an embrace.

I catch Agnes’s gaze again. She studies me like she’s trying to peel back my skin and see what’s left underneath. Finally, she smirks. “Guess we’ll see if you’re as dangerous as everyone says, Hyde.”

Her words get to me. But I do notice she means well. It’s like she’s daring me.

I glance at Wednesday. She has not stopped watching Agnes and Thing. Suddenly her hand shifts slightly under the table. Her hand brushes mine for a brief second. It’s just enough to remind me that I’m not alone.

…

Wednesday’s POV

Honestly the dinner drags on for too long. Enid is the one who fills in every silence with chatter. Ajax tells half-baked jokes, and Agnes smirks at every opportunity to make Tyler squirm. Thing steals more food than he delivers to anyone’s plate.

By the time everyone is finished with their plates, the room is buzzing with conversations and laughter. All students are with their cliques. Some are still whispering, some pretending not to stare at the Hyde across from me. One particular group is staring at Tyler like he’s some demi-god. I try to ignore them especially. Fuck those fangirls. He’s my Hyde.

When everyone leaves the table, Thing approaches me. I tilt my head before looking down at him. ’Where have you been hiding?’’ I ask.

Thing curls his fingers together, then stretches them wide. He points toward the staff’s table, where Morticia has already vanished.

I arch a brow. “So you never left Nevermore. You’ve been conspiring with my mother all along.”

The thing gives me a proud thumbs-up.

“Traitor,” I say flatly, though I let him climb onto my shoulder. He drums his fingers against my collarbone, smug as always.

Enid pulls me into a hug. I can tolerate it when she hugs me. ‘We should catch up later tonight,’ she says with a smile.

Ajax waves lazily as Agnes smirks over her shoulder. “Don’t get into too much trouble, Addams.”

I don’t answer. Trouble doesn’t find me. I find it.

When they’re gone, I turn to Tyler. “Walk with me.” He hesitates only a moment before nodding.

…

We walk out of the dining hall into the cool night. The air is damp with mist, and the moon is hiding behind thin clouds. There’s a silence that’s only broken by our steps against the gravel.

I led Tyler through the familiar grounds, past the trees and toward the place where the earth always seemed to breathe heavier. To Crackstone’s crypt.

Tyler stops behind me when he realises where I’m taking him. I turn around to look at him. God, he looks good in the moonlight. His scars are even more visible, but that makes him look better.

 “Here? Of all places?” he asks me, surprised.

“Yes.” My voice is steady. “It’s where we had our first date.’’

He gives a broken laugh. “Yes, that’s true. Not a lot of people can say they had a first date in a crypt.’’

I glance at him. “Which is why we can. Mediocrity never suited me.”

His tension seems to leave him, and he follows me into the crypt. I light the torches that are hanging along the stone walls.

I stop near the cracked grave. It’s the same place where I nearly bled out. It was when Crackstone stabbed me with his knife. This is where my ancestor saved me.

I place my hand against the wall where I almost died. “This is where I almost died,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence.

Tyler stiffens beside me. His breath falters.

I turn to him, meeting his eyes. “Goodie Addams saved me. She sacrificed her spirit to keep me alive. Her essence is gone because of it.” I pause, letting the words weigh between us. “I am only here because she gave everything.’’

I can see Tyler struggling. He swallows hard before he speaks. His voice cracks. ‘I hate that night. It’s one of the nights that haunts me the most. I wanted to help you…’’ His hands curl into fists at his sides. “But Thornhill…ordered me to walk away. I wanted to fight her commands, but I couldn’t.’’

Before he can say anything, I take a step closer. ‘It’s not on you, Tyler. This was Thornhill’s doing.’’

His eyes burn with regret. “If I could have traded places with you back then, I would have.”

I shake my head. “Don’t. It’s okay.’’

For a second there’s a silence that follows. It feels heavy and intimate.

Tyler exhales, ragged. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I were able to fight her earlier.’’

I don’t answer him right away. Because I don’t know how to answer that. So I do the only thing I can think of. I take a step closer to him and hold his hand.

We linger there for a moment, letting the ghosts breathe around us. Then, without another word, I turn, leading him back up the stone steps.

…

The grounds of Nevermore are silent as we walk back. The mist coils over the grass. Even clinging to our shoes.

Neither of us speaks. It’s not uncomfortable. The silence is a language we both share.

When we reach the courtyard, the lantern light spills across the stone steps of Ophelia Hall. I stop in front of my dorm. Tyler stops right behind me.

For a moment he lingers there, shifting his weight, his scars catching the dull glow of the lamps. His expression is softer than I’ve seen it in months.

“Thank you,” he says finally, voice low and uneven. “For tonight. For… everything.”

I arch a brow. “You’re welcome.’’

His laugh is quiet but genuine. Then he looks at me with something sharper in his eyes.

“I love you, Wednesday.”

The words hang in the air. I don’t flinch. I do move my head. ‘’Love’s dangerous.’’

Tyler is about to answer. But before he can, I step closer to him. My lips brush his for the briefest moment. We share a quick kiss.

Then I turn away, my hand already on the door handle. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

The door clicks shut behind me before he can reply.

Inside, my pulse pounds like war drums. I hate it. I crave it. I don’t name it. But I know one thing: he’s my Hyde.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

It’s Friday afternoon. The daylight shines through the curtains. Enid is sprawled across her bed while painting her nails that match her colourful outfits. It makes my eyes ache.

I sit at my desk tightening the laces of my boots.

There’s silence in the room until Enid starts humming, much to my annoyance. She finally speaks. ’So...what’s up with you and Hyde boy?’’

I don’t bother looking at her. I’m too occupied with my booth. ‘’Define ‘up’.’’ He’s alive, so am I.’’

Enid lets out a sigh. Clearly not impressed by my answer. She rolls onto her stomach and rests her chin in her hands before answering. ‘Don’t do that. You know what I mean, Wednesday. He’s been out of sorts. He’s even quieter than usual. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. I saw your face when he spent yesterday hanging out with Ajax instead of you.’’

I tie my last lace with unnecessary force, my boot heel striking the floor. ‘If Tyler chooses to waste his time with Ajax, that’s his choice. I’m not his entertainer.’’

Enid grins at my answer. ‘’Who’d have thought Wednesday Addams would ever get jealous?’’

I finally fix my gaze on her. ‘Jealousy is for people who have nothing else to occupy their minds with. I’m busy with writing and school. Besides, if I wanted his attention, I’d simply dissect him on the dining table and pin his heart to the wall. That would solve the matter quickly.”

Enid lets out a laugh. She sounds unbothered by my answer. She’s twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. ‘Well, if that isn’t the closest to a love confession you’ve ever made.’

I decide to ignore Enid. I stand up to search for my jacket.

Somehow Enid can’t read the room, and she continues to talk. “I heard what happened on Wednesday.”

I pause when I’m about to reach my jacket. ‘’Hmm?’’ I ask, as if I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Yeah. When that one siren girl in class called you and Tyler ‘girlfriend and boyfriend’." Enid smirks like she’s been waiting for this moment. “Apparently you shot it down so hard the poor girl almost cried.”

‘Accuracy is important, Enid. Tyler is not my boyfriend, and I am not his girlfriend. I will not accept misinformation about this. I find it pathetic that everything needs to be labelled.’’

Enid raises an eyebrow at me. ’You could’ve been more polite…’’

“She deserved worse.”

Enid chuckles before rolling onto her back. She’s still looking at me. ‘You do realise that’s probably the reason why Tyler is avoiding you, right? He probably thought you were embarrassed. Or that you don’t want people to think you two are together.”

I put on my jacket before brushing off the non-existent dust from my sleeves. ‘If Tyler is fragile enough to be hurt by this, then he deserves to sulk with Ajax. Perhaps they can braid each other’s hair and whisper about their feelings.’’

Even as I say these words, something in my chest aches. The truth is that I’m more irritated than I’d care to admit. I do notice his absence, and it feels heavy. The fact that he’s avoiding me gnaws at me.

Enid rolls her eyes but doesn’t push further. She sits up, clapping her hands together. “Anyway. We should get ready. Dinner at your mom’s cottage, remember? I still can’t believe she’s the new principal. It’s like Nevermore went full Addams.”

I pick up my bag.‘Principal Addams’ does have a certain ring to it. Though I doubt she’ll enjoy it for long. This school has a habit of devouring authority figures.”

Enid sighs. ‘Well, at least she invited us. It’s sweet. I think it’ll be good for Tyler. You know, a break from all the stares and whispers.”

“Perhaps,” I reply evenly, heading for the door.

…

Tyler's POV

So all in all everything was going alright until the siren girl from class, who has this smug little smile, messed everything up.

I sit in class behind my desk. My books are scattered around it when she leans forward to Wednesday. Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Wednesday, how’s your Hyde boyfriend?”

I don’t even have time to process what the girl is saying. No, of course Wednesday has a response ready within a second.

Wednesday’s voice is resilient without any emotion. ‘’Tyler is not my boyfriend.’’ The words fall hard and merciless, final in a way only she can make them.

Everyone in the room goes silent. I can feel their eyes on me. Some are looking with wide eyes; others are smirking. I just stare at the edge of my desk. Though I feel my pulse clawing at my throat. I’m pretending their looks and stares don’t matter. That her words don’t matter. But they do. They hit harder than I care to admit.

I tell myself that I should not expect any difference. I mean, Wednesday told me herself that she will always put herself first. She doesn’t label anything, and she doesn’t do anything that needs softness or emotions. She has no need to use words everyone clings to. But hearing her say it like this in the middle of class, with the cold detachment she always has, hurts.

So I do what I do best. I retreat behind my walls. When class ends I leave before she can talk to me. I avoid her for the rest of the day. There are a few times when I see her in the hallway, but I turn before she can see me. In class, I keep my head low, letting silence be the one thing between us.

When it’s lunchtimeAjax notices the tension in me. ‘Damn, dude. ‘Why are you acting so tense?’’ he says, tossing grapes into his mouth.

One bounces off his chin, hits the table, and rolls, but he just grabs it and eats it anyway. “Like, extra tense. What’s going on? You looked like you were about to sprout claws in the middle of maths.”

I give him a hint of a smile. Trying to hide what’s going on. ‘It’s nothing. Just too many stares, I guess. My head’s not where it should be today.’’

Ajax looks at me for a second. I can see that he’s trying to read me. For a second I think he’s about to push me to talk, but he doesn’t. He just shrugs, then launches into his usual chatter, his voice jumping from one topic to the next like a stone skipping across water.

He complains about Enid trying to set him up with someone from her pack and about how his stone-shedding is clogging the dorm sink. None of it matters, but it fills the silence. It keeps me from thinking too hard, from spiralling into the pit where the Hyde waits to claw out.

But even the distraction that Ajax is providing me doesn’t keep my mind from dragging back to the moment in class. To Wednesday, her words.

I know Wednesday. I know she doesn’t want to belong to anyone. She doesn’t care about people, their expectations, and most of all, she doesn’t play. That’s a part of why I feel this much about her. She’s impossible, but there’s something beautiful in the way she is. But still, there’s this ugly, aching truth inside me: I want to belong to her. Whether she calls me boyfriend or monster or nothing at all. I want her to claim me.

But that’s not what she wants, so I keep my distance.

When classes end, Ajax brings me to the woods. He says he wants to practise skipping stones. I don’t mind going with him. It’s easier and feels more relaxed than waiting for Wednesday to corner me. Ajax is a good talker, and it helps to fill the quiet inside of me.

The afternoon passed by quickly, and before I knew it, the evening hit. I still don’t have the courage to face her. Not yet. Because I know her. Wednesday always finds me. Always, and when she does, I’ll have to look into those eyes again and hear, without her even saying it, that I’m not hers.

…

Friday is a day that feels very long. I keep on telling myself that I will talk to her today. That I can’t avoid her forever. That I just need to face whatever Wednesday is going to say to me.

But when the morning comes, I reside in my old habits. I avoid her yet again.

The first time I see her is in the hallway outside potions. She’s carrying her notebook, the black one filled with words she never lets anyone read. She looks like she hasn’t lost a single hour of sleep all week. She has perfect posture, steady hands and her unreadable face. But for a second her gaze meets mine. I can see the weight in her eyes.

I break my gaze before she has the time to approach me. I shove my books under my arms and walk out of the hallway. My chest tightens with guilt, but I don’t stop moving until I’m at the other side of the school.

The second time I see Wednesday is when it’s lunchtime. She’s with Enid, who’s gesturing about something. Wednesday doesn’t move; she doesn’t nod. She just stands there. But when I walk by, her gaze slides from Enid to me.

I feel the cut without her saying a word. My heart beats fast, but before my brain can talk me out of it, I turn away quickly, pretending I saw Ajax waving at me from across the yard.

The third time I run into Wednesday is worse. It’s late in the afternoon, and most of the students are talking about their plans for the weekend.

I’m heading toward my dorm when I hear footsteps approach me from behind. I don’t even have to look. I know it’s Wednesday.

“Tyler,” she says coldly.

I freeze for a moment. I do think about facing her and finally spilling out everything that’s bothering me. But that’s when the fear takes over. Fear that she’ll cut me down, that she’ll remind me she doesn’t want me in the way I want her. So I do the coward’s thing. I run.

It’s not that I don’t sprint away. No, I run away fast enough to look like I suddenly remembered someplace else I needed to be. My fists clench, my scars itch, and the Hyde growls in the back of my skull, mocking me.

…

Wednesday’s POV

I arrive at the cottage precisely on time. Enid is with me, but Tyler’s nowhere in sight. I’m not looking forward to the dinner at all. Enid, however, is already glowing and chattering about how cosy the cottage is. It’s like she’s never seen a dozen candles mixed with black before.

Of course the cottage is exactly what I expected of my mother. It has gothic elegance. There are black curtains, iron candle holders with black burning candles, and there’s a faint scent of dried roses.

My mother greets us at the door. She moves slowly, gliding like a shadow across the floor. She kissed Enid’s cheek. Enid is clearly delighted by the attention.

After that I can feel my mother’s gaze on me. “Wednesday,” she says, her lips curving faintly. “I’m pleased you came.”

“I wasn’t aware there was an option not to,” I reply evenly.

Enid nudges me. ’She means thank you, Principal Addams,” she says with a nervous laugh.

My mother leads us into the dining room. There’s a long table set with black plates and silver. I take my seat at the table without saying a word. Enid starts talking about how poison class was. My mother seems interested.

It only takes her a moment to realise Tyler is missing. I can see my mother glance at the clock. Her expression is unreadable before she turns her attention to me. ‘’Where is Tyler?’’

Her question is directed at me, as though I’ve somehow forgotten to inform him. My spine stiffens. “I wouldn’t know,” I answer, my tone flat. “I don’t keep tabs on him all the time.’’

Before my mother can answer me, I hear the door creak open. I turn around. That’s when I see him.

Tyler steps into the dining room. His hair looks messy. His scars that fill his face catch in the candlelight. His chest rises with the faintest hint of nerves, though he tries to mask it. For a split second, his eyes find mine, and something twists in my stomach before I can stop it.

I wasn’t expecting him at all. He’s been avoiding me for days now. But here he is. Walking straight into the room like he belongs at this table.

For the first time all day, I don’t know what to say.

…

My mother gestures toward the empty chair beside me. ‘Sit, Tyler. You’re practically family.’’

I can see how he hesitates for a second before pulling out the chair. His posture is rigid. He folds his hands tightly in his lap.

“You’ll forgive the absence of Gomez and Pugsley,” Morticia continues. “They’ll join us later. It seems Gomez has managed to get himself… detained with a new batch of carnivorous orchids.” Her lips curve faintly. “Dinner is best served before the plants start eating the silverware.”

Enid laughs nervously. I remain silent. My eyes stay fixed on Tyler. He answers Morticia’s pleasantries with clipped words.

“How are your classes so far?”
“They’re fine.”

“Are the teachers accommodating? ”
“Yes.”

“Students adjusting?”
“Some.”

Every word that comes out of him is flat, without any emotion. I know Tyler well enough to see that there’s something wrong. There’s this tension visible in his jaw. It’s even visible in the way his knuckles are white from the tension in his hands.

I don’t speak. I observe.

The dinner progresses slowly. My mother glides through conversation with Enid while Tyler barely touches his plate. I watch him push food around with his fork, every so often casting sidelong glances at me as though to make sure I haven’t vanished. I don’t flinch. I stay still. My eyes dissecting him. Trying to figure out why he’s been so distant.

Suddenly my mother begins to speak to Tyler. “Tyler,” she begins.

I see his head jerks up, wary.

“I did not invite you here merely for pleasantries. There is something you deserve to know. Something about your mother.”

I can see how he’s having difficulty breathing. He slowly nods, but he looks defeated and wary.

Morticia tilts her head slightly, as though looking past us all into the past itself.

‘I met your mother, Francoise. When I wasn’t much older than you are now. She was a student at Nevermore, just like her brother Isaac. Isaac was a mad scientist. Francoise had a thing for music. She could play every instrument. It was as if the music lived in her.’’

‘Francoise was happy. She had a smile that could unnerve even the most hardened outcast because it was genuine. Back in those days, happiness was rare.”

I glance at Tyler. I notice how his eyes are fixed on my mother. His chest rises quickly, as though he’s struggling to breathe.

My mother, her voice softens before she speaks. ‘She loved her brother dearly. There were many nights I walked through the hallways to find Francoise awake. She was always worried about Isaac. She lived for him in many ways.’’

Tyler’s hand twitches against the table.

“But…” Morticia pauses. “There was the other side. The Hyde.”

The mention of the Hyde makes Enid sit up straight. Even I have to admit that my mother has my attention.

“Francoise confided in me once,” Morticia continues. “She told me that each transformation cost her something. A sliver of her humanity. She said it felt as though Hyde stripped pieces of her away, leaving less of her each time she returned to herself. She was strong, yes, but she was afraid of the hunger. Afraid of becoming nothing but the monster.”

My mother’s eyes fall on Tyler. “I made her a promise. That if she could not save herself, I would watch over what came after. I would help her son.”

There’s a silence filling the room. Tyler doesn’t move. His face is pale. His jaw clenched. But his eyes betray how he’s feeling. I can see the emotion in his eyes tearing him apart. I can see the grief. The grief. The raw ache of hearing his mother remembered not as a monster, but as a girl. A friend. Someone who smiled. Someone who loved.

I can see how his walls break down. His breath stutters. He presses a shaking hand to his mouth, but it’s useless. His shoulders hunch forward, trembling.

I can feel something shift inside me. My chest aches for him. I don’t move because I never do. But I watch Tyler closely. I can see the fracture in his entire composure. It’s like he’s trying to hide the tears that have started to form in the corner of his eyes.

Eventually Tyler stands up from his chair. He mutters something barely audible. ‘’Sorry…I need a moment,’’ he says before excusing himself. Within seconds he walks out of the diner room.

Enid shifts uncomfortably. Morticia doesn’t follow him. She simply lifts her wine glass, her face unreadable.

I sit frozen, but my pulse hammers against my chest. I watch the empty chair next to me.

…

Tyler's POV

The moment Morticia speaks the words “I made her a promise to help her have a son,” something breaks inside of me.

Every word she tells me about my mother cuts deeper than the last. It’s not the part about the Hyde that gets to me. I’ve heard and experienced those parts of my mother. No, it’s the fact that she was someone who smiled. That she played music and that she cared enough about someone to make sure they were okay.

Unfortunately I don’t carry this version of her with me. She’s absent in my version. Like a shadow present in the past. She’s the blood on the floorboards at Iago Tower. A name spoken with venom in my father’s voice before he passed away.

I never got to experience how my mother was before the Hyde destroyed her from the inside.

Somehow I can’t breathe. I stand up from the chair, excusing myself. I don’t wait for an answer. I know if I stay, I will break right at the table.

I walk outside to calm down. The garden is sharp with the smell of earth and roses. I make it a few paces before my knees give out, and I collapse against the stone edge of a fountain.

I let out the sobs that rip through me. It feels raw and foreign. My hands claw at my hair and my face, desperate to tear out the ache that burns under my skin.

The Hyde stirs for the first time. Weakness, it hisses, coiling through my chest. Let me out. Let me take this pain. Let me show them what you are.

But I won’t lose control. So I let myself break. I cry out loud. My entire body shudders due to the sobs that rip through me. For the first time since Iago Tower, I grieve. For the mother, I will never know. For the family I never had. For the life that was stolen from me long before. But most of all, for the fact that I’m alone.

The sound of footsteps coming closer interrupts my thoughts. For a second I think it’s Morticia. Or maybe even Enid. But when they stop behind me, I know it’s Wednesday.

The weight of her gaze presses into me. I don’t turn around. I can’t. I keep my head bowed, tears streaking down my face, my chest heaving like I’m coming apart. I don’t speak. I don’t even breathe right. I just sit there, broken.

For a long moment, there’s silence. Only the sound of the fountain dripping and my ragged sobs filling the garden.

Suddenly her voice cuts through the night. ‘’Tyler.’’

…

Her voice cuts through me.

“Tyler” is all she says. Only my name. With the cold tone she always uses.

My shoulder tenses. But I refuse to look at her. I keep my head down; my fists are clenched.

She doesn’t move closer. Of course she doesn’t. She never does. But her gaze remains fixed on me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks me. Though her tone doesn’t soften. But the fact she asks at all makes something twist inside my chest.

I don’t answer. My throat is raw, my breath uneven. The silence grows thick between us.

A moment later, her voice cuts sharper. “So you’re still avoiding me. Noted.”

That makes me snap. My head jerks up, and I turn toward her, my eyes burning and red, my face streaked with tears I can’t hide.

I see how her expression changes for a second. I see how she takes in all the broken pieces of me.

Wednesday tilts her head before she finally speaks. “You weep like a child for a woman who treated you like garbage.”

Her words hit me in the wrong way. I flinch at them, though I don’t mean to.

I don’t fight her words. I don’t have the power to do so. So all I do is tell her to go. “You should go.” My voice breaks halfway through, but I spit the words anyway. “Just… go, Wednesday.’’

At first she doesn’t move. But after a few seconds I can see her turning. She’s really going to leave. It’s what I wanted. What I told her to do. But as her steps begin to fade, panic claws at my chest.

Suddenly she stops. She doesn’t look back at me. But she remains frozen in her place. Finally she speaks. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The question hits me hard. My whole body freezes.

She turns her head just enough for her black eyes to catch mine. They’re not kind. They’re never kind. But they are relentless. Unyielding. Demanding the truth I don’t want to give.

The air between us thickens, charged with every unspoken word, every moment I’ve pulled away, and every time I’ve run from the only person I want to stay near.

…

Wednesday’s POV

Of course Tyler doesn’t answer me. He’s that predictable. He is standing near the fountain with his shoulders tight. His fists are clenched, and he refuses to look at me.

I take a step closer while I fold my arms across my chest. ‘You’re not deaf. So I’m asking again: why are you avoiding me?’’

A silence stretches between us. He doesn’t answer me.

I let the air hang heavy for a moment before I press further. “You can glare at the ground all you want, but eventually you’ll break. I always win.”

Finally his voice cracks. “Because it hurt, Wednesday. What you said. That we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. Like it was nothing.” He lifts his head at last, and his eyes burn. “Do you know what it felt like to hear that? To sit there while you made it sound like I don’t matter? Like we’re… nothing?”

I take in his words without answering. He continues to speak. His voice is shaky, but he manages himself. ‘That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Because if I stay near you and keep feeling like this, it’s going to rip me apart.”

For a second, I almost feel the weight of his confession press against me. But I can’t hold myself together, so I burst out with a laugh. It’s a sharp and humourless sound.

Tyler looks at me for the first time. “See?” His voice breaks, hurt flashing across his face. “You don’t even take it seriously.”

My lips curl faintly, my tone laced with mockery. “You really think I’d announce how I feel in front of some nosy parasite desperate for gossip?”

He freezes, his breath hitching.

“You honestly think I’d bare myself to a random stranger in class?” I continue, stepping closer. My words are precise: “That I’d make them the keeper of truths I’ve bled to keep hidden?”

I can see how his entire body is trembling.

‘You clearly don’t know me very well. If I wanted to say something that matters, I would say it to you. And only you.’’

…

I can see Tyler, his face hardening at my words. It takes a moment before he speaks. His voice is raw. “If you really think I don’t know you,” he says, each word more hurtful than before, “maybe we should stop pretending. Let’s stop pretending this… Whatever this is… it is anything but a lie we’re both clinging to.”

My chest tightens at his words. But my face remains cold.

Tyler doesn’t stop there. ‘Let’s stop this courting. ‘Let’s be nothing.’ His voice cracks, but I can see the fire in his eyes burn brighter. ‘I love you, Wednesday. I know you love me too. You have told me that before. But we can’t even talk about this. You can’t admit it without tearing me down…’’ He shakes his head at me. ‘I’m out. I’m done, Wednesday.’’

The words hang heavy between us. For a second there’s nothing but silence until I see him turn around. He starts to make his way back to the house.

My voice cuts after him, low and sharp. “Don’t take your grief out on me. You know I warned you about how I am.”

I see how Tyler stops in his tracks. His entire body stiffens, but he doesn’t look back at me. He shakes his head once before disappearing inside.

I stay outside in the garden. The cold night presses against me. The garden feels too still, too quiet, save for the echo of his words tearing through me. I love you, Wednesday. I know you love me too.

Of course Tyler is right. I do love him. I told him that when everything inside me broke. I told him that I loved every monstrous part of him. I meant every word. But admitting it and living it are different to me. Something inside me holds me back. Maybe it’s pride, fear, or the refusal to be vulnerable. Perhaps all three combined.

I clench my fists until my nails bite into my palms. My face remains impassive, but inside I can feel the crack running through my ribs widening.

Tyler is gone. I’m left here in the garden, staring at where he stood minutes ago. I warned him about me. He still tried to love me anyway. And now, I’ve driven him away.

Yet I cannot bring myself to move.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s POV

The words taste like poison as I say them. ‘I’m out. I’m done, Wednesday.’’ I don’t even wait for her reply. I’m afraid if I wait I’ll break all over again.

I walk back toward the cottage. Every step feels heavy. My heart is beating like crazy. Even the night air feels different. The garden fades behind me as I make it to the house.

Inside the candles are still lit. I walk past the dining room to the front of the door. I catch Morticia’s eyes at me as I pass her in the hallway. She looks at me, trying to understand what’s going on.

‘’I need to be alone right now,’’ I mutter to her before walking out of the cottage.

Morticia doesn’t stop me. She nods at me, as though she’s always seen this coming.

When I’m about 5 minutes from the house, I fall to my knees. My knees touch the grass. My breath tears out of me in broken gasps. I let the tears flow.

I grieve for the mother I never knew. For every person I have hurt. For the life I could have had and for the girl I love with all my heart.

…

Wednesday’s POV

I don’t know how long I stay in the garden after Tyler leaves. Time seems to pass by quickly. I’m still standing at the same spot. The night is cold, which suits how I’m feeling. I can feel something stir inside of me. His words still echo in my head.

“Let’s stop pretending. Let’s be nothing.”

Tyler knows how I think about relationships. I told him that I don’t believe in weakness. Yet here I am, feeling stupid. Something inside me aches.

I don’t know how long it takes for me to get back to the cottage, but when I do. I compose myself quickly as I walk back into the dining room.

Enid is still at the table chatting with my mother. My mother stares at me the second I walk in.

“Tyler wanted to be alone,” my mother explains softly, as though that isn’t obvious.

I sit down, fold my hands in my lap, and say nothing.

Enid glares at me, her jaw tight. I know she wants to say something to me. But I ignore it. I will not show any emotions.

…

About 30 minutes pass by, and I can feel how nervous Enid is feeling. She keeps moving in her chair, and she doesn’t take her eyes off me. Her rainbow-painted nails tap restlessly against the wooden table until I finally glance at her.

After what feels like forever, she breaks the silence between us. ‘So, what happened? You two go outside, and not even 5 minutes later he’s gone. Your mother says he wants to be alone. Did you guys fight?’’

Her voice is cautious, but her eyes sparkle with the unholy light of gossip.

“You know I don’t fight with people.” I correct her. ‘I dissect them. But yes, Tyler and I did talk.’’

Enid leans forward, lowering her voice as if Morticia isn’t three feet away and probably hearing every syllable. “Okay, but… are you two okay?”

I tilt my head. "Define 'okay'? I mean, he’s alive, and so am I. But if you mean he’s skipping in a field of sunflowers, then no.’’

Enid lets out a sigh. I can see that she’s getting annoyed with me. The feeling is mutual. ‘You know that’s not what I mean. I saw him pass the dining room. He looked broken. You can’t just shrug that off.’’

“I don’t shrug,” I mutter. But I feel the weight of her words.

My mother, her gaze flickers between us. She remains silent. But she’s definitely observing me.

Enid leans closer again, whispering. ‘Did you at least tell Tyler how you feel? Because I know you feel something for him. You told me you admitted it to him. For you that’s big.’’

My jaw tightens because of Enid’s words. ‘I warned him about me. If he chooses to unravel because of it, that’s his burden. ‘Not mine,’’ I say as I’m trying to convince myself.

Enid, her voice softens. ‘’Wednesday. Tyler has been through a lot. How can this be his own burden?’’

Enid’s words get to me. I straighten my back, refusing to let the moment linger. “If Tyler requires comfort, he can purchase a weighted blanket.”

Enid is about to answer, but Morticia interrupts her. She finally speaks to me. My mother’s voice sounds smooth. “Wednesday. Perhaps he doesn’t need you. Perhaps he just loves you for who you are.’’

After that there’s a silence in the room. I don’t even know how to answer that. I won’t even answer to that. I made it perfectly clear to Tyler that I will always put myself first. But even though I’m trying to convince myself, I know deep down that they’re both right. I despise them for it.

…

Tyler’s POV

I don’t know how long it takes for me to get back to Nevermore. I honestly don’t care.

The air outside is damp, and it clings to my skin. Every step I take makes my chest ache. Of course Morticia let me go without question, but her eyes followed me right out of that cottage.

By the time I reach the gates of Nevermore, my throat is raw. I rub my sleeve across my face, trying to erase the tears before anyone notices, but the burn in my chest doesn’t go away.

The hallways are quiet at first, lit only by the lanterns along the walls. My boots echo against the stone, and for a second, I almost believe I’ve made it back unnoticed.

But that’s when the silence is interrupted by a few students.

“Look,” a voice sneers from behind me. Feminine, high-pitched, dripping with venom. “It’s the Hyde.”

My stomach drops, but I keep walking.

Another voice joins in, sharper. “You mean the killer. Surprised they let you in here at all. If there was any justice, you’d still be locked up. Or dead.”

Their cold mocking follows me down the hallway.

“Killer.”
“Monster.”
“Should’ve stayed locked up.”

The words bury themselves in my chest, deeper than they should. I move faster, boots pounding against the stone until my breath tears ragged in my throat. My hands clench so hard the old scars split open, blood trickling across my knuckles.

I can even feel the Hyde stir inside of me. It wants to get into my head, but I won’t let it. I refuse to go down that road.

I press my fist against my shirt, desperate to hide the blood, desperate to keep breathing.

That’s when I see Enid stepping inside. She’s shaking the last chill of the night from her sweater. Her eyes land on me. Her gaze widens. I can see her looking at me with one glance.

She notices how I’m trembling, the way I’m hunched against the wall, and of course the red smeared across my skin is visible.

For a second I expect Enid to run like other people would. I know she owes me nothing. But to my surprise, she doesn’t run away.

“Tyler,” she says, her voice steady. ’Are you okay?’’

‘’I’m fine…’’ I mutter, though the crack in my voice betrays me. I stand up and try to walk past her. I keep my eyes down, hoping she won’t notice how much I’ve been crying.

But before I can walk away, she stops me. She stops in front of me in the middle of the hallway.

“No, you’re not,” she snaps. Her gaze flicks to the blood on my hand. “You’re bleeding. Come on.”

Before I can protest, she grabs my wrist, gently but firmly enough that I can’t pull away, and tugs me down the corridor.

I want to shake her off, to tell her to leave me the hell alone, but my legs betray me. The fight drains out of me, leaving only exhaustion. So I let her guide me, one reluctant step at a time, until we reach the door to my dorm.

She pushes it open like she owns the place and steers me inside. “Sit,” she orders, pointing at the edge of my bed.

I sit down on my bed; my chest is feeling heavy. I don’t know what to say to her.

Enid crouches in front of me. She digs through her bag looking for something. ‘You don’t have to talk,’ she says, softer. ‘’Just let me help you.’’

I stare at her, the weight in my chest too heavy for words. All I can do is let her dab at the blood, her rainbow-painted nails a stark contrast against the crimson.

I hate myself for it, but I feel the burn in my throat again. The tears come before I can stop them.

Enid doesn’t say anything about it. She just keeps working, her silence more grounding than any lecture could ever be.

…

Enid is still crouched in front of me, cleaning up the wounds on my hand, when the door of my dorm opens.

Ajax walks in but freezes in the doorway. His backpack is over one shoulder. His eyes move from the blood to Enid, who’s in front of me.

For a second there’s a silence in the room. Until Enid starts talking. “I can explain,” she blurts out. Sitting back on her heels. ‘I found him bleeding in the hallway. I just helped him back here.’’

Ajax raises his hands, trying to show us that he means no harm. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not judging. Just didn’t expect to find you here. That’s all.’’

Ajax, his gaze lingers on me. He looks concerned.

Enid stands quickly, smoothing her skirt like she’s suddenly out of place. “He’ll be fine. You’ll make sure of that, right?”

Ajax nods. “Yeah. I got him.”

She gives me one last look, half-warning, half-kindness, and then she’s gone, the door clicking softly behind her.

Silence stretches, broken only by Ajax tossing his bag onto his bed. He pulls out a bottle of water and sets it on the desk like it’s nothing. “You’re a mess, man.”

I let out a shaky laugh, rubbing at my face with my uninjured hand. “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ajax moves closer, grabbing the tissues Enid left behind. He takes over with an ease that surprises me, cleaning what she didn’t finish. His movements are clumsy but careful, like he’s trying not to make me flinch.

“You don’t have to…” I start, but he cuts me off with a shrug.

“Roommates, right? Kind of comes with the territory.”

Something in my chest loosens. I nod once, letting him work.

When he’s done, I finally find my voice again. “Thanks,” I murmur. ‘’I should thank Enid as well…’’

Ajax smirks faintly, dropping the tissues into the trash. “I think she already knows.”

I sit there in the half-dark, exhausted, raw, but for the first time all night… not completely alone.

…

Wednesday’s POV

I’m buttoning the last clasp of my shirt when the door to my dorm slams shut behind me.

“Can’t you close the door slowly?!” I snap automatically. ‘Doors are to be closed with precision, not violence. Slamming them is what sloppy teenagers do when their crush doesn’t text back.”

My words trail off the moment I see Enid. She’s standing in the middle of the room. Her chest is rising and falling, but her cheeks are flushed pink. Her clothes are spattered with blood. Which clearly isn’t hers.

I narrow my eyes. “Interesting choice of accessories. Did you mug a butcher on the way back?”

Enid doesn’t smile at me. She doesn’t even roll her eyes like she usually does. No, instead her hands curl into fists. After that, she looks at me. It isn’t with the wide-eyed exasperation I’ve grown used to. No. It’s fury.

“Don’t,” she snaps angrily. “Don’t you dare make jokes right now. Do you even know what I just walked in on?”

I can feel my body stiffen, but I keep my expression blank. ‘’I assume it involves something melodramatic.’’

Enid’s voice cracks when she speaks; she sounds angry. ‘It involves Tyler. You should have seen him Wednesday. He was bleeding in the hallway. His hand was cut open, and he looked like he was barely holding it together. I had to drag him back to his room because he couldn’t even think straight.”

Something cold settles inside of me, but I don’t show it. Instead, I tilt my head before answering Enid. ‘’Can’t be that bad if the Hyde didn’t rip you apart.’’

I see the exact moment. Enid's jaws tighten. I’m clearly making her even more angry. ‘God, why are you like this? I’m telling you he’s broken, and you just…’’ She cuts herself off, shaking her head like she can’t stand to look at me. “What happened out there in the garden, Wednesday? What did you say to him?”

Her words hit me. I turn back toward the mirror, adjusting the lace cuff at my wrist. “We talked. He didn’t appreciate my honesty. That is his burden, not mine.”

Enid’s voice rises. ‘Burden? Wednesday, you can’t just…! He’s…” She stops herself again, but I hear it in her breath. “He’s in love with you, and he walked away tonight looking like you ripped the ground out from under him.”

Something sharp twists in my ribs. I refuse to let it surface.

I meet her eyes in the mirror. My voice comes out flat. “Then perhaps he should stop confusing me with salvation. I told him what I am. If he chooses to break on those edges, that is his mistake.”

Enid's shoulders sag, but her eyes stay locked on mine. “Or maybe it’s yours, Wednesday. Maybe for once in your life, you’re too scared to admit you actually feel something.”

My throat tightens at her words. But I don’t move.

Enid finally throws her hands up, muttering under her breath as she storms past me to her bed. “God, you’re impossible.”

…

I lie in bed that night. My arms are folded across my chest. The room is quiet except for Enid’s steady breathing. Though I can detect some faintly uneven breathing, clearly the last threads of frustration she’s still carrying. I know she falls asleep quickly because rage exhausts her.

Normally rage is my fuel, but tonight it isn’t.

The ceiling above me is as black as the pit I’ve dug myself into. I stare at it without blinking, as though if I hold still long enough, my thoughts will simply dissolve into nothing.

But they don’t. My thoughts keep returning to Tyler. The way his shoulders slumped as he walked away. The crack in his voice when he told me to stop pretending. The glint of betrayal in his eyes when he accused me of not trusting him.

I have a tight feeling in my chest. It’s not panic. No, it’s as if someone has reached inside with cold hands and pressed down, daring me to admit I’m bleeding inside.

Enid’s words keep echoing in my head: “Maybe for once in your life, you’re too scared to admit you actually feel something.”

I want to scoff at her, roll my eyes and mutter about her obsession with romance. But the truth is that she’s right. I did feel something for him. I did tell Tyler that I love him. I have given him more than I’ve ever given anyone. Yet at the same time I can’t give him anything.

I curl my fingers into my blanket. I hate this. I hate that I feel something like grief. I hate the fact that Tyler has managed to unearth feelings I never wanted to feel.

I try to close my eyes, but I keep seeing his face. I see how his face is filled with tears.

I imagine what he must look like now. Alone in his room, bleeding. Perhaps crying again. Perhaps not. The thought is revolting. And yet, the thought that he might truly leave me this time makes me feel sick.

I know sleep will not happen tonight, so I stay awake. I stay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling above me. Wishing it could swallow me whole.

…

The weekend passes by quickly but in total silence. Somehow I despise it.

I have not seen Tyler since that night in the garden. He isn’t in the dining hall. Not in the library. He’s not even hanging around in the corners of the grounds.

I keep telling myself that it doesn’t matter. It’s what I keep saying every morning when I lace my boots before starting the day. But it does.

I start noticing it in the small things first.

It’s when I walk through the hallways. I don’t hear the quiet drag of his steps just behind mine. The echo feels wrong without it.

At meals, there’s no shadow slipping onto the bench across from me, no deliberate silence that somehow manages to say more than a thousand words. The dining hall is too loud without him ignoring it.

When it’s writing time, there’s no subtle disturbance.

Even Enid seems to notice, but she doesn’t say anything. She watches me, as if she’s waiting for me to admit she was right.

I refuse to give her the satisfaction. I remind her that silence is a virtue and that she should learn it. She reminds me that stubbornness isn’t the same as strength. I don’t answer.

Still, the absence of Tyler gets to me.

I catch myself turning corners too quickly, half-expecting him to be there. I hate the flicker of disappointment when he isn’t.

 At night, I linger by the window longer than necessary, staring at the paths winding through the grounds, as if I’ll see him crossing them. As if he’ll suddenly appear.

I tell myself it’s research. Observation. A scientist tracking her subject. But the truth presses harder with every passing hour. I miss him.

The ache comes not with grand gestures or melodrama, but with the void where his presence should be. With the silence where his voice should cut. With the absence of his gaze, those conflicted eyes, too human and too monstrous all at once.

By Sunday night I can’t seem to take the silence anymore. I am sitting at my desk, my fingers hovering about the typewriter keys. I write one word across the paper. His name.

I stare at it for a long time before tearing the page in half and feeding it to the flame of my candle.

The fire eats the letters quickly. But it doesn’t burn away the gnawing in my chest.

…

Wednesday’s POV

Monday morning isn’t any better. The bells over Nevermore toll with their lack of subtlety. Most students look like they were dragged out of bed like corpses from their graves.

I walk through the hallways; my boots click against the stone. I’m indifferent; at least that’s what I tell myself.

Until I see Tyler pass me in the hallway on his way to Potions Class. Ajax is walking beside him. Tyler's posture is tight. His eyes are straight ahead, fixed on the classroom door as though I’m invisible to him. He doesn’t look in my direction.

The ache hits sharp and fast, like a blade slipped between my ribs.

I keep walking, keeping the same expression on my face. But every nerve in my body burns. I told him I wanted nothing, and now he gives me exactly that. The irony tastes bitter.

I sit down behind my usual desk. It would be the place where he normally joins me. But he chooses a seat two rows ahead of me. It’s far enough so I can’t see his face unless he turns around to look at me. He doesn’t do that.

The teacher’s droning instructions fade into static as I watch the set of his shoulders, the way his hand tightens around his quill.

I don’t take my eyes off him during class at all. It’s not because I want to stare at him. No, I have to admit that I can’t seem to help myself.

When class ends, he leaves quickly. Ajax follows him. I wait a minute before rising from my chair. I fold my hands around my book.

The rest of the day isn’t any better. At lunch he’s sitting at the far end of the hall. He’s talking to Ajax and two other students. He doesn’t look in my direction once. He doesn’t look in my direction. I test him by letting my gaze linger long enough for him to feel it, but it doesn’t seem to work.

In literature, he takes a seat across the room, deliberately far from me. My jaw tightens so hard I nearly crack a tooth.

When evening hits, I have had enough. I sit at my desk and let my typewriter keys rattle until Enid complains about the noise. Each word I write is sharp, every sentence dissecting betrayal, silence, and absence. But no matter how many pages I fill, they do not quiet the gnawing ache inside me.

He is everywhere and yet nowhere at all. By the end of the day, I realise something I loathe. I miss Tyler Galpin.

…

Tyler’s POV

Monday morning feels even heavier than normal. I wake up because of Ajax. He’s talking about hair gel. He tells some jokes. I laugh when I’m supposed to. I smile when it’s expected. Inside, my chest feels heavy.

I know I won’t be able to avoid her. We have the same classes.

I try to convince myself that it doesn’t matter that I will see her. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That after what I said in the garden, after I told her we should stop pretending, it’s better this way. If I keep my distance, maybe the ache in me will quiet down. Maybe she won’t haunt every thought, every breath.

I’m wrong because it only takes me a second when I step into the hallway that I feel her presence. My pulse rises, and my stomach ties in knots. Ajax is trying to distract me. He tells me something about what Yoko did.

But that’s when I see her. Wednesday is looking at me. I can feel her eyes looking at me. But I keep my eyes straight ahead. If I turn, if I meet her gaze, I’ll break. I’ll fold the way I always do.

So I don’t. I walk right past her, my shoulders rigid, my face carved into something cold.

Inside, every nerve in my body screams to turn around.

In Potions class I decide to sit two rows ahead. Close enough to sense her watching but far enough that I don’t risk meeting her eyes. It’s torture. I can feel the weight of her gaze. My hands shake as I measure out ingredients, so I curl them into fists under the desk.

I don’t dare look back. Not once.

I leave quickly when class ends. Ajax follows me. I hear the scrape of her chair behind me. My whole body aches to stop, to wait for her, to hear her voice even if it’s cruel. But I force myself to keep moving. I remind myself of her words. Don’t take your grief out on me. You know I warned you about how I am.

To be honest, lunch isn’t any better. I’m sitting at the far end with Ajax, Bianca and some other random student. Their voices are blurry to me because all I can sense is her presence from across the room. My eyes flicker up once to where Wednesday sits. She’s wearing her typical black school attire. I can see that her gaze is on me.

By the time it’s our last class of the day, I feel like I’ve mastered the act. I sit across the room, as far away as possible. Ajax shoots me a look, one of those silent questions, but I don’t answer. I can’t. Because even from across the room, I can feel her eyes burning into me. It’s suffocating, intoxicating, and unbearable all at once.

By nightfall, my body feels wrung out. My head pounds. The Hyde stirs in the edges of my chest, restless with all the restraint, the silence.

I lie on my bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Ajax snores lightly from the other side of the room.

All I can think about is how badly I want to go to her. To knock on her door. To tell her I didn’t mean it, that I can’t stand being nothing with her. But I don’t. Instead, I close my eyes and let the ache eat me alive.

…

The rest of the week seems to go on forever. Each day is the same. On Wednesday her eyes are on me. I refuse to look back. The silence between us grows thicker with every passing moment.

Every time I see her, walking down the hall, sitting in the dining hall, or standing outside, I can feel that magnetic pull she carries. Every time, I crush the urge to close the distance. I tell myself I have to. Because if I don’t, if I give in, I’ll unravel.

Ajax notices how I keep my distance from Wednesday. He keeps trying to distract me by cracking jokes. Sometimes he tries to ask why I have decided to sit on the opposite end of the room from the girl who once dragged me back from the edge. I give him half-smiles and excuses. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press.

Every night I lie awake. I feel weak for avoiding her.

When Friday morning hits, I’m a mess of nerves. Ajax is sick. He ate too much sugar, so he decided to skip Potions. So I drag myself to class, running on the little sleep I have.

When I walk into the room, the smell of boiling herbs makes my stomach turn.

The classroom is loud with clattering glass and muttered complaints. I take my usual seat at the back. I can feel her presence from across the room.

The teacher’s voice cuts through the noise. “Galpin. Addams. You’ll work together today.”

His words hit me. I jerk my head up before I can stop myself. Wednesday’s gaze meets mine for the first time all week. Her look is cold and dark.

Something in my stomach flips. I want to protest, to insist I’ll work alone, but the teacher is already shoving a tray of ingredients onto our desk. “Your usual partner’s ill, Galpin. No excuses. Sit.”

My legs move before my brain catches up. I drag my chair over and lower myself into the seat beside her. Wednesday doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to.

Here we are, side by side, trapped by circumstance, forced into orbit once again. The air between us is suffocating. I know this silence between us won’t hold much longer.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

I don’t know what the professor is planning to do, but the smell of sulphur and rosemary is awful. It reeks of adolescent incompetence. I sit at my desk alone, my quill poised over my notebook. That’s when the professor decides to annoy me.

“Wednesday Addams,” he says, sounding way too happy. “You’ll be working with Mr Galpin.”

The universe is cruel. But I accept his decision. I know there’s no point arguing about it with the professor.

I don’t look in Tyler’s direction. I prefer to keep my distance. I want him to squirm under the tension. But of course my curiosity wins. I turn around and see him sitting across the room. His shoulders look tense. He doesn’t stand up right away.

I can hear Tyler stand up from his desk. His steps are slow, as if each one takes effort to walk towards me. After what feels like forever, he puts his chair beside me before sitting down. His sleeve brushes my arm as he sits. I don’t flinch at the touch, but I do feel something crawl across my skin.

There’s this long stretching silence between us. It’s interrupted by Tyler, who speaks. ‘’Addams,’’ he mutters, greeting me without any emotion.

‘Galpin’, I answer.

Our 'conversation' is interrupted by the professor who explains the experiment we’re about to do. His voice blends in with the background noise and the boiling liquids. I don’t write down a single thing he says. I don’t need to because I know I will memorise everything.

Instead I fix my eyes on the cauldron that’s standing on the desk between Tyler and me. I can feel Tyler’s stare on me the entire time.

The awkward silence between us remains. It’s not the comfortable silence we had gotten used to, like the one in the crypts. No, this silence feels suffocating. It’s filled with unspoken words that neither of us wants to give voice to.

After the professor is done talking, we start the potion. Tyler grabs the herbs from the tray. I crush them. Tyler measures the powder of a bat wing. I add it to the liquid. At one point our hands nearly collide. I freeze, not knowing what to do.

Clearly Tyler can sense the tension. He clears his throat, trying to remain calm. ‘’Sorry.’’

The words he says feel wrong. Tyler, apologising for almost touching me. One week ago I would have welcomed his touch. A part of me still longs for it. But I would never admit that to anyone.

I don’t look at Tyler, but I do speak. ‘’Don’t be. Physical contact can be treated with soap.’’

Out of the corner of my eye I see his jaw tighten. He presses his lips together. He doesn’t speak, but I can see that my words hurt him.

In the meantime the cauldron on the desk bubbles. It shows sparks of violet light. It should feel like a creation, but it doesn’t feel great.

After what feels like forever, the class ends. The professor congratulates Tyler and me for our cooperation. I have to resist the urge to poison his tea.

I rise from my seat. I tuck my quill neatly in my notebook, and without a word, I walk away from the desk. Away from him.

…

The corridors of Nevermore feel too small at this moment. It’s a typical Friday, chaos everywhere. Students filling the grounds. Laughter and screams were hearable throughout the entire school.

My next class is in one of the South Wings, which means that I have to walk way too many stairs. Somehow Tyler and I find ourselves walking the same way. There’s a silence between us that’s filled with tension. I refuse to break it.

He walks behind me. Not slowing down, walking at my pace.

When I finally reach the carved oak door of the classroom, I realise I’m too early. The professor is nowhere in sight, and the classroom is locked.

I stand there, awkwardly waiting for the professor to show up. Tyler is standing at the other side of the hallway. His hands shoved into his pockets. I fold my arms tightly. Honestly, this feels like punishment.

To make it even worse, there’s this girl that shows up out of nowhere. I think she must be a third year. She spots Tyler and steps forward to him. Her voice is light and a bit flirty. “You’re Galpin, right? The Hyde?’’

I can see Tyler stiffen. But he remains calm before he answers. ‘’Yeah.’’ His voice sounds low and restrained.

The girl smiles at him. ‘I heard stories about the infamous Galpin Hyde. You must’ve been terrifying. But…I guess it was exhilarating. You have a lot of fangirls.’’

I see the girl step closer to Tyler. Her perfume fills the entire air. It’s a suffocating smell. She smells like roses.

I don’t move at all. I don’t speak. The only thing I do is observe. I see the way her hand lingers near his arm. She tilts her head as though he’s something fascinating.

Tyler doesn’t say much. He only shifts where he’s standing. I can see how uncomfortable he is. But he doesn’t step away. He doesn’t tell her to leave.

I don’t want to admit it, but I feel something sharp and unwanted beneath my ribs. It’s not anger. It’s way messier. It’s possessiveness. I don’t want that girl to be near Tyler.

The girl laughs softly. Brushing her hair over her shoulder. She whispers something to him. Unfortunately I can’t hear what she’s saying.

I narrow my eyes, trying to remain calm. I don’t intervene, but I do have the urge to do so.

Tyler mutters something to her. She giggles before walking away. She leaves him standing there. I can see how tense his shoulders are.

I say nothing to Tyler, but I don’t look away from him either.

After a minute or so the professor finally shows up. He opens the door, and I make my way inside the classroom.

…

When lunchtime arrives, it’s just as unbearable as ever. There’s noise everywhere. The students are clinging to the illusion of normalcy in a place that thrives on monstrosity.

I slide my tray onto the table across from Enid. She’s halfway through her third drink. She looks at me like she hasn’t just spent the morning dragging glitter across every surface of our dorm.

‘’S…’ she begins to talk. ‘How’s Potions going? Or how’s the new, old lab partner?’’

I slice my food while listening to Enid. “Explosive,” I answer. “In the way arsenic and sugar explode when you mix them in the wrong proportions.”

Enid smirks knowingly. “Translation: awkward.”

I lift my gaze to her. “If you consider silence awkward, then yes. We are practically drowning in it.”

She leans closer, lowering her voice. “And what about fangirl? I heard she was hovering around Tyler before class. People say she looked like she wanted to crawl inside his ribcage.”

I stab my fork in the lump of meat on my plate. ‘I guess he lacks boundaries. Probably has something to do with her vampirism.’’

I see Enid grin at me. ‘You mean you didn’t like her being close to Tyler? Because from what I’ve heard from Biance, it looked like you were about to lunge at her throat.’’

I shake my head, expression unreadable. ‘Why would I care who he wastes his time with? He’s free to entertain whoever he wants to entertain.’’

I can see Enid frown as she hears my answer. ‘’Wednesday…’’ His voice softens. ‘I heard he didn’t look comfortable at all. Bianca said you were shooting daggers at her, though. He probably felt that.’’

I take a bite of my food, chewing slowly. I refuse to acknowledge the feeling I had. ‘’No.’’

Enid sighs dramatically before she flops back in her seat. ‘You two are so painfully obvious. You sit there acting like you don’t care, while he spends his entire days avoiding you. Now you’re pretending that this girl doesn’t bother you, while you’re practically murdering your food with your fork.’’

I glance down. The fork is buried deep, the meat shredded into something unrecognisable.

I set it aside calmly. “Coincidence.”

Enid leans forward again, her eyes glittering with unholy delight. “You miss him, and you’re jealous.”

I sip my water without flinching. “I don’t get jealous. Jealousy implies emotional weakness. I simply… dislike incompetence parading as affection.”

Her grin returns, smug and wide. “That’s literally jealousy, Wednesday.”

I don’t answer her. I fold my hands neatly in my lap and stare at her until she finally squirms.

But the truth lingers, sharp and uncomfortable. That girl’s hand had been far too close. Tyler hadn’t pushed her away fast enough. And I hate myself for noticing.

…

Tyler's POV

The girl’s perfume is what hits me first. It’s a mixture of sweet and suffocating. It clings to my lungs. I can feel her leaning in way too close as I’m waiting for the next class to open. Her arm brushes mine. It feels deliberate. She smiles at me, showing her perfect teeth. I can feel every set of eyes on me in the hallway.

“Hyde boy...” she whispers softly. It’s almost like she’s naming me as her pet. ‘What’s it like… you know, changing? Is it true you can’t control yourself?’’

I can hear the mixture of fascination and fear in her tone. But there’s something else as well. Excitement. Like I’m a dangerous game she wants to play.

I take a step back, putting space between us. “Don’t.”

The girl laughs softly. Tilting her head. ‘You’re scary. I like it.’’

Suddenly I feel a burn inside of me. I know it’s Wednesday staring at me. I meet her gaze for a second. She doesn’t move, and she doesn’t speak. But she pins me down with her gaze.

The girl finally steps away when the classroom opens. But the damage is done. For the rest of the day, I feel her perfume crawling under my skin, and worse, the image of Wednesday watching, blank and dissecting, as if she’s filing it away for later judgement.

Every class that passes after that feels like a blur to me. I keep replaying everything in my head. Wednesday, her words in the garden. The way she looked at me. The way I told her I was done. I did mean it. But it’s so hard not to run back to her. Every time I think about facing her, my throat closes.

The last class of the day is fencing practice. I’m feeling drained and restless. When I walk into the changing room, I’m greeted by the smell of sweat and steel.

I strip out of my school uniform skirt, revealing my scars.

That’s when I hear the soft scuff of a shoe behind me.

I turn around expecting Ajax. But instead it’s the same girl from earlier. She is leaning against the wall. Her eyes are fixed on me. Not on my face. But on the scars visible on my entire body.

“Wanted to see for myself,” she purrs. “You hide it under layers, but… you’re even prettier broken.”

My skin crawls when she says the words. I reach for my fencing shirt, wanting to cover myself up. But the girl is quicker. She snatches it before I can reach it. She hugs it like it’s some trophy.

“Give it back,” I growl, my voice sharp and dangerous.

Before she can answer me. The lights flicker in the changing room. What follows is a loud bang. From the shadows I see Agnes appear.

Her pale face tilts, eyes sharp on the girl.

“Run along,” Agnes says softly, “unless you want to see how fast a Hyde bites.”

The girl pales instantly, drops my shirt, and bolts out of the room with a scream.

I stare at Agnes, breath shallow. “What the hell was that?”

She smirks faintly. “Just making sure she doesn’t get in the way.”

“Get in the way of what?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she fades back into the shadows like she was never there.

I’m left standing half-dressed, shirt crumpled on the floor, chest bare. My scars gleam in the cold light, each one screaming a memory I’d rather bury.

When I finally step out into the hallway, clutching my shirt in my hand, the fencing team is already gathered.

 A ripple runs through the group. Whistles, laughs and comments.

“Damn, Galpin,” someone calls. “Didn’t know you were hiding that under all the brooding.”

A whistle follows. “Scars and abs. The whole package.”

I can feel the heat burning up in my neck. I want to vanish, to disappear. But it only gets worse when I see Wednesday.

She’s standing further down the hall, already dressed in her fencing clothes. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her. Her face was unreadable as always.

But I can see her eyes linger on me. The faintest flicker of something I can’t name crosses her features before she turns away like I’m nothing.

My chest tightens. I pull the shirt over my head, desperate to cover up again, but the damage is already done.

…

Wednesday’s POV

I hear the whistles before I see Tyler. I look up, prepared to carve the offenders open with a single glare, only to feel something twist sharply in my chest.

Tyler emerges from the changing room with his shirt in his hand. His chest is bare, revealing his scars glowing under the light. Every mark looks carved, etched into him like scripture of violence and survival. I’ve seen his scars before. The ones on his hands, his neck, glimpses beneath his collar.

My classmates react like idiots. Whistling, laughing, tossing out comments about abs and bodies as though they’ve never seen skin before. They’re a bunch of morons.

I don’t laugh. I don’t blink. I just stare at Tyler. It’s not the abs or his body that holds me. No, it’s his scars. Every line and cruel ridge is a reminder of what he’s gone through. His battles, his betrayals and his choices. He wears them like a confession across his skin, and something about that unsettles me more than I will ever admit.

For a second I feel my breath catch. I can see him staring straight at me. I can see the raw look in his eyes as he yanks his shirt off his head. Trying to bury himself.

For a fraction of a second—too quick for anyone to notice but me—I feel my breath catch.

I fold my hands neatly in front of me. Refusing to let my face betray anything. The tension in my chest is an enemy I will not give voice to. Instead, I tilt my chin higher and turn my gaze away, as if he’s of no consequence at all.

But inside, I feel the ache again. The same ache from the garden. The one that gnaws at me when he isn’t near. The one that tells me I lied to myself when I claimed I could endure being “nothing” with him.

If he thinks flashing his scars will earn my sympathy or lure me closer, he’s mistaken. And yet…the thought of anyone else staring at him like that, reducing his scars to fascination or lust, makes something sharp coil inside of me. Almost something like jealousy. The word tastes like poison, but I can’t deny it.

I turn around, walking toward the classroom without a word. I will not be one of those girls who whistles. I am Wednesday Addams. I try to shut the image out. But the image of Tyler shirtless, scarred and vulnerable refuses to leave me.

…

It’s evening when I find myself sitting behind my desk. I’m trying to find something inspiring to write about. I hit the keys with full force. Each strike is deliberate. The words come easily tonight: blood, betrayal, resurrection. The usual themes. A comfortable abyss.

Suddenly I feel a shift in my surroundings. It’s like a flicker of cold that passes behind me. My fingers remain on my keys. I know exactly who’s there.

‘Spare me the theatrics, Agnes,’ I mutter, my eyes still on the page. ’You’re not subtle at all.’’

When I finally turn my head, I can see Agnes standing in the corner.

“You should know,” Agnes begins, her voice low, carrying that eerie echo only she can manage. “Your Hyde nearly lost his shirt today. Quite literally.”

I narrow my eyes. “Elaborate.”

Her lips curve faintly, as though amused by my command. “A third-year thought it amusing to sneak into the changing room. She lingered long enough to drool at his scars. When he turned his back, she nearly walked away with his shirt. I intervened. She won’t try again.”

My fingers drum once against the typewriter keys. “Intervened,” I repeat. “By which you mean you frightened her within an inch of her insignificant life.”

Agnes tilts her head, feigning innocence. “She fled screaming. Hardly my fault if mortals are so easily unsettled.”

I look back at the typewriter, pressing the page lever with unnecessary force. “Good. Tyler’s scars aren’t carnival entertainment.”

A silence follows, stretching for a moment.

I refuse to give Agnes the satisfaction. “And if you came to deliver gossip about half-dressed Hydes, you’ve wasted both our time.”

Agnes drifts closer, her feet not touching the floor. “You looked at him.”

My spine stiffens, but I don’t stop typing. “I look at everything.”

“You looked,” she presses, her voice a whisper of amusement. ‘Tell me, Wednesday, did it unsettle you? To want him?”

I strike the next key harder than necessary, the ink blotting the paper. “Leave.”

Agnes lingers at the threshold between shadow and candlelight. “Be careful, Wednesday. Wanting always comes at a price. You may find yourself paying more than you intended.”

Before I can say something, Agnes disappears. Leaving the air in the room colder than before.

I hate how she dares to speak about Tyler. I hate her for saying those words aloud. I hate it because she’s right. For a second today I wanted Tyler again. That is something I will never forgive myself for.

…

Tyler's POV

Ajax is lying on his bed when I come back from fencing practice. Ajax wears his usual goofy grin on his face. He doesn’t even wait for me to sit down when he starts talking.

‘Well, well, Mr Hyde,’ he says jokingly. ‘Word around the school is you gave half the hallway a free show. Shirtless, scarred and brooding. Some people say you were like a tragic romance novel cover come to life.”

I drop my fencing bag on the floor with more force than necessary. “Shut up.”

Ajax snorts. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know. Even Wednesday looked like she was about to combust. I swear I saw her eyes dilate. And that girl? What was her name, Margot? She practically fainted.”

“Ajax.” My tone is sharper than I mean it to be.

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But you can’t tell me nothing’s going on there. You and Wednesday have this… thing. Everyone can see it.”

The words hit harder than I expect. I sit down on my bed, dragging a hand through my hair. “There was a thing. Past tense.”

Ajax leans forward, frowning. “What happened?”

I don’t want to talk about it, but the words crawl up my throat anyway. “The dinner at Morticia’s cottage. We argued. She pushed, and I snapped. Told her we should stop pretending. Told her I was done.”

Ajax whistles low. “Ouch. And she just let you walk?”

I laugh bitterly, though it’s more a breath than a sound. “She didn’t chase me. She didn’t have to. Wednesday doesn’t beg.” I pause, clenching my fists. “She warned me what she was. And I didn’t listen.”

Ajax doesn’t joke this time. He studies me quietly, then nods. “So what now?”

I can’t answer Ajax. I can feel the walls of the room closing in on me. So I excuse myself.

The hallways are quiet. Most students are in their dorms or in Jericho. I push through the heavy doors before stepping out into the night. The grounds stretch before me, lit only by the pale light of the moon.

I walk with no real destination, my boots crunching against the gravel path. My chest still feels tight. Every memory from the cottage comes flooding back. The way Wednesday’s eyes cut into me, the sound of my own voice breaking when I told her I couldn’t stay.

I hate how much it still matters.

By the time I circle near the crypts, I think I’ve shaken the thoughts enough to breathe properly.

That’s when I hear footsteps approach. Of course it’s Wednesday. She steps out of the shadows. Her posture is straight, and her face is unreadable. Her hands are folded behind her back. But her eyes lock on me instantly.

For a moment there’s nothing but silence between us. I swallow hard, trying to remain calm. But I feel the ache in my chest. I don’t know what to do. But before I can make a choice, she speaks.

“Out for a midnight stroll?” She asks flatly, though there’s an edge in her tone I can’t quite place.

Her voice cuts through me, sharp as always. And suddenly, I feel like I’m right back at the cottage, words stuck in my throat, emotions twisting into something I can’t control.

…

Of course Wednesday is the one who finds me. She moves quietly, like the night itself, until she’s standing in front of me.

“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice flat.

I don’t answer her. Instead, I sit down on the nearest bench. My hands tremble against my knees, and I try to breathe normally. I can see how Wednesday is studying me before she sits down beside me.

‘I hated today. The fact that everyone was staring at me felt horrible. It felt like they were peeling me open just to see what was left. There’s nothing left I want them to see.”

I feel broken at this moment. ‘I never wanted anyone to know my story like that. Not with their stares. Not like that.”

Wednesday doesn’t comfort me. She only tilts her head before speaking. ‘If that girl had leaned in any closer, she might have suffocated in her own desperation. It would’ve been a shame to miss the spectacle.”

Somehow she manages to get a laugh out of me. I shake my head, but I can feel the heaviness in my chest ease for a bit.

When I look at Wednesday, I realise she’s been watching me this entire time. Her gaze doesn’t falter.

“I’ve missed talking to you,” she admits. Her tone sounds flat. It’s the only way she could confess something.

I can feel my throat close. Of course I want to reach for her. I want to hold onto that tiny crack in her armour. But I force myself to sit still. I don’t want to get hurt again.

“I missed you too,” I manage to get out. ''But even though I've missed you. I do realise we should never have been 'something'.'' God, I hate how I'm lying to her. 

…

Wednesday’s POV

Tyler sits on the bench. He’s staring down at his hands like they might hold the answer to everything. He finally speaks, his voice low, careful. ’Maybe... maybe we can be friends?’’

I blink at him once. Trying to take in his words. I almost choke on the word. “Friends.” The word feels foreign, almost offensive, considering the things we’ve done. Even worse after everything we’ve been through. I can feel my lips twitch at the edges. Not from a smile but from something darker.

I lean forward, close enough that he has no choice but to look at me. My voice is sharp and merciless when I answer. “Friends don’t know the way you taste.”

I can see how his shoulders tense at my words. I don’t wait for a response. I rise from the bench before turning away. I don’t look back.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

I can’t believe how fast time has passed. It has been one month since Tyler asked me the most insulting question I have ever endured.

The thought of being “friends” when we have been through so much makes me sick. Still does, even after one month.

To be honest, I haven’t spoken more than a handful of words to him since. Nothing more than a forced good morning. Once I told him to move because he blocked my way. But that’s it. The exchanges feel hollow without meaning.

At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. The truth is that I notice everything. I despise it, but I can’t help it.

I notice how he seems to laugh more now. He seems to feel more at home at Nevermore. He’s been hanging around with Ajax. Ajax introduced him to half the school. Which sounds stupid because he’s been the main character of the students their fears since he joined Nevermore.

Sometimes the first years watch him from a distance, as if he’ll transform into Hyde right in front of them.

But what gnaws at me the most is her. Celeste, a third-year. Who wears a smug smile all day. She wears perfect braids and has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. She has been spending a lot of time with him.

…

Today seems to be one of these days that Celeste annoys me. I walk into the library, which always feels like a place that understands me. It’s cold and silent. What I like. It’s the perfect atmosphere for some clarity.

Well, today it isn’t. I walk into the history aisle, looking for a book where the records are of the deceased. That’s when I hear her voice against the quiet of the library.

I pause, my hand resting on the spine of a book. I lean forward just enough to see around the shelf.

Tyler is sitting at a table, across from Celeste. His posture looks tense, and his shoulder seems rigid. But he’s there with her. His scars catch the flicker of the lantern light.

Celeste leans too close; her hair brushes forward. She laughs at Tyler even though he isn’t speaking. Her laugh is way too loud.

Suddenly her hand drifts forward, and she places her hand lightly against his wrist.

I can feel my grip tighten on the book until the leather creaks. She’s touching Tyler.

Tyler doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t exactly acknowledge her, but he doesn’t pull away either. His jaw flexes, and his gaze seems locked on the book in front of him. I know that look. He’s clearly uncomfortable.

Some part of me reminds me that it’s not my concern how he feels. He made his choice. He said he regretted ever being something with me. Yet, somewhere deep inside of me I feel an ache. The sight of her hand on him burns more than I’d like to admit.

Celeste laughs again. This time she leans closer to his ear. If I cared about social niceties, I might walk over and suggest she remove her hand before I remove it for her.

Instead I decide to do something more stupid. I move from behind the aisle of books. My boots strike against the stone. Each of my steps echoes through the library.

I don’t look at Tyler when I pass their table. I keep my gaze forward and my posture straight. But I can feel his eyes on me. He always notices.

Apparently so does she. I see her eyes flicker toward me with a smug laugh.

My throat feels tight, but I refuse to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing it. I keep walking, my boots the only sound cutting through the silence. I don’t look back. If I do, I’ll betray myself.

…

Later that evening when I’m in my dorm, Enid doesn’t just walk in; no, it’s like the room explodes. That’s how loud she is. She slams the door against the wall before flopping down on her bed. Of course she’s wearing her usual rainbow sweater.

She doesn’t wait long to speak either. ‘’So,’’ she says, ‘’you didn’t tell me your Hyde was having a study date.’’

I don’t look up from my typewriter. The keys snap beneath my fingers with satisfying precision. “He is not my Hyde. He is a Hyde. There’s a difference.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her feet in the air. “And that Hyde just happened to be in the library with Celeste, who just happened to be laughing like a banshee at literally everything he said.”

The typewriter hammers louder. “Laughter is often the desperate mating call of the banal.”

Enid gasps dramatically. “Wednesday. You’re jealous.”

I finally stop typing and tilt my head toward her, my expression sharp. “The day I’m jealous of a girl who cannot conjugate Latin is the day I submit myself to be buried alive under rose petals.”

She props her chin in her hands, grinning. “You’re dodging. Again. You saw them together, didn’t you?”

I don’t answer Enid. Silence is my preferred weapon, but with Enid that’s no use. She always knows how to drag words out of me.

Enid squeals before she rolls over again on her mattress. ‘’So you did see them! I knew it! This is so good. Now you’re even brooding about it.’’

“It’s not ‘good'' I snap. “It’s nauseating. Like watching someone pet a venomous snake and expecting it not to bite.”

Enid smirks. “So you admit you noticed.”

I narrow my eyes. “I notice everything. That doesn’t mean I care.”

Her grin softens, but it doesn’t disappear. “Maybe not. But I think you do care, Wednesday. But you know, that’s okay.’’

I sigh loudly. ‘’It’s not okay, Enid. It distracts me.’’

Enid flops against her pillows. ‘’It’s what reminds you that you’re alive, Wednesday.’’

Her words hang in the room. I pretend not to hear them. But the ache in my chest betrays me.

…

Enid falls asleep before midnight. Her legs are sprawled like she’s been murdered in her sleep. Though her snoring ruins the illusion. I, however, am wide awake, lying perfectly still in bed. My eyes are open to the dark.

Sleep refuses me, unfortunately this happens all the time. Though the reason tonight infuriates me.

My thoughts seem to circle back to Tyler all the time. The name itself feels like a curse at the moment. It’s lodged in my thoughts, no matter how many times I try to carve it out.

I tell myself I don’t care. I tell myself it’s irrelevant that I saw him in the library, Celeste leaning far too close, her hand brushing his. The Hyde who once tore bodies apart should not be reduced to a study partner with a fluttering third-year.

But the image clings, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling. The way his lips curve, the smile most people wouldn’t notice. The way he looked was almost… normal.

My chest tightens. I despise the sensation. It feels like something is clawing under my ribs, something foreign. I roll onto my back and stare at the canopy above me, as though the ceiling might suffocate the thought out of me.

Honestly, I hate that I miss him. Not his absence, no I love being alone. But I miss Tyler. I miss his remarks. The way his presence steadied me in moments I didn’t want to admit were unstable. The way he looked at me. Damn, I miss the way he used to look at me.

I keep trying to convince myself that he’s the one who walked away. That he was the one who made his choice. He asked for us to be nothing, and I gave it to him.

So why does ‘nothing’ ache this much? I press my palms against the sheets, my nails biting the fabric until I nearly tear it. My heart beats way too fast. I close my eyes, telling myself that I don’t care. That I never will. But the truth is: I do care, and that disgusts me.

…

Eventually exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep. I don’t dream often, but when I do, it’s usually filled with the same elements: blood, knives and graves.

But tonight seems to be different. It seems my mind is betraying me. I find myself back in the garden of the cottage. The night is the same. The air is damp and filled with silence. It’s the same place where he walked away.

Only this time, he doesn’t. Tyler is still there, standing a few paces away, the moonlight catching on the lines of his scars. His eyes lock onto mine, and they’re raw.

I hear my voice, though I don’t remember choosing the words. “Don’t go.”

The air between us seems to shift. He relaxes his shoulder. He steps closer to me, his boots crushing the gravel. Until there’s no space left to pretend we aren’t drawn to each other.

His hand finds my wrist, trembling but steady enough to tether me. “Say it, Wednesday,” he whispers, almost pleading.

And in this dream, in this cruel, impossible dream, I do. “I want you.”

The words scrape against my throat, jagged and unfamiliar, but they hang in the air like a curse I cannot take back. His face breaks open, relief and hunger flooding it at once. His lips brush mine, and the world tilts.

For one fragile, treacherous moment, it feels real. His warmth against me, my hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, the ache in my chest that feels almost alive.

But the dream rots as quickly as it blooms.

A voice cuts through, shrill and unwelcome. “Tyler?”

We seem to break apart. I look to my side and see her there, Celeste. She’s standing at the edge of the garden. Her expression is wide and sweet. But her eyes show something else, something dangerous.

Tyler stares at her, startled. The warmth between us turns to ash. I can feel it slipping, the dream collapsing, the choice unravelling.

I try to move, to snarl, to drive her away, but my voice dies in my throat. The moment is gone.

I jolt awake, cold sweat prickling my skin, the weight of that single word still burning in my chest.‘’I want you.’’

…

I believe that dreams are the brain’s way of mocking you. Like illusions stitched together with weakness and memory. But mine seems to linger. The heat of his lips still burns against mine as I wake. It feels like torture on a whole new level.

When morning comes, my mind is sharpened back in the coldness I love. The ache remains, but I refuse to give it the light of day. I ignore it by going by my routine.

The first class this morning is fencing class. Our teacher thought it’d be a good idea to combine several classes. When I walk into the room, I’m greeted by the smell of anticipation mixed with sweat.

There are swarms of students in white jackets and masks, training.

I grip the hilt of my foil, my face blank, waiting for something to cut.

That’s when I see Tyler. He’s standing on the opposite side of the room. He has a blade in his hand. His mask is tilted back. His hair falls into his eyes. He looks sharper and more at peace than he did a month ago. But I still sense the toughness in his posture. As though the Hyde is still lurking inside of him.

Across from him is Celeste. Celeste is close to him with a bright smile.

My fingers twitch against my foil. I remind myself she is irrelevant. But I cannot seem to look away.

They spar together. Celeste pushes towards Tyler. She’s light on her feet. He holds his stance, but I can see the strain in his shoulder. His movements look heavier. Celeste laughs when she lands a hit.

That’s when something unexpected happens. She drives Tyler back with a thrust which is harder than necessary. His footing slips. His body collides with the ground following a loud bang. I can see his head crack against the floor.

“Tyler!” Celeste gasps, dropping her foil and rushing forward, the perfect portrait of false concern. She crouches, reaching for him, her hand hovering too close to his face.

I don’t hesitate for a second. ‘’Move’’ I yell at her. It’s coming out cold and sharp. I’m already at his side before she can move. I glare at her with anger ‘’Step away. Now’’

For once, Celeste falters. Her lips part, but no words come. She retreats a step, face pale beneath her mask.

I kneel, my hand brushing his shoulder. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow but steady. Something sharp twists beneath my ribs.

Without hesitation I slide my arms under him. He’s heavier than he looks. Luckily Ajax joins within a minute. He helps me up. I rise to my feet.

“I’ll take him,” I state, my tone flat, final. No one dares argue.

The hall parts for us as we carry him out. His head lolls lightly against my shoulder, his breath hot against my collarbone. I keep my face blank, but my chest feels tight with every step toward the infirmary.

…

Luckily Ajax insists on helping me carry Tyler to the infirmary. Together we lay Tyler carefully down on one of the beds. His face is pale, and his breathing seems shallow.

I smooth my clothes, stepping back, collecting myself before anyone else can see it.

Ajax lingers, scratching the back of his head, eyes darting between me and Tyler lying unconscious. “So… you, uh, moved pretty fast back there.”

I arch a brow. “Would you rather I let him bleed out on the fencing floor?”

“No, no!” Ajax waves his hands quickly. “I just mean… like… you didn’t even hesitate. You yelled pretty loudly at Celeste.’’

I blink slowly at him. “She was in my way.”

Ajax studies me with a strange little smirk. For once, he’s quiet for longer than three seconds. Then he tilts his head, his voice softer. “You know… I think you love him. You just… do it in your own Wednesday kind of way.”

The words hang in the air, heavier than they should. Love. A word I truly despise and hate.

My lips part because I’m ready to cut him down. Something about how love is a weakness, a chemical imbalance in the brain, and an unnecessary distraction from higher pursuits.

But nothing comes. Instead I find myself staring at Tyler. The lines of tension are even visible in his sleep. The small tremor in his hand. The unsteady breathing.

I say nothing to Ajax.

Ajax tilts his head at me knowingly, but he doesn’t press. He busies himself pulling a blanket up to Tyler’s chest. I turn, my boots clicking against the cold floor.

“Stay with him until he wakes,” I instruct evenly, not bothering to look back.

Ajax gives a quick nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

I step out of the infirmary, the air in the corridor cooler, sharper. My spine is straight, my face is blank. But inside, Ajax’s words reverberate like a curse I can’t shake. I don’t deny them.

…

I don’t exactly remember leaving the infirmary. One moment I’m asking Ajax to stay with Tyler the next I’m pacing down a hallway I never wander. My nails bite into my palms. I can feel my chest tighten. I feel something like panic. It’s not an emotion I’m accustomed to. God, I despise this. It’s sloppy and messy. It’s just not me.

I stop at the nearest window. I press my fingertips against the cold glass. Forcing myself to breathe evenly. I can see my reflection staring back at me.

Suddenly I hear my mother’s voice coming from behind me. ‘’Wednesday.’’

I turn around, facing my mother. My mother approaches me. She’s like a shadow gliding across the floor. Her gown sweeps behind her. Her eyes are calm.

“Come with me,” she says softly. It’s not a suggestion.

I follow my mother through winding halls until we reach her office. Nothing in the room seems familiar. She put up shelves, and now it’s filled with gothic furniture. There are a few files covering most of her desk.

My mother sits down behind the desk before she begins. ‘’Celeste came to me. She claims you threatened her in fencing today. Poor girl looked shaken..’’

My jaw clenches. “Good.”

Mother raises one elegant brow, but before she can say more, I snap. The words rip out of me sharper than I intend.

“She knocked Tyler to the ground. He was unconscious.” My voice drops lower, heavier. “And while he lay there, she hovered like a vulture, as if waiting to pick at him. I told her to leave. That’s all.”

My mother remains silent for a moment. Her fingers trace the edge of the desk. She doesn’t ask why it matters to me. She knows me better than that.

“Wednesday,” she says finally. ‘’You cannot let your temper control the narrative. Even when your intent is… protecting Tyler.’’

When she says the words, I want to argue with her. I want to deny it. To tell her she’s wrong.

But the images of Tyler’s body crumpled on the floor, the pale tremor of his chest, take over. Even the way Celeste leaned in too close, her hand reaching toward him like he was hers to claim.

I know exactly why I snapped at her.

My mother studies me without asking anything. “Would you like me to dismiss her complaint?” she asks gently.

I stare straight ahead, my voice flat. “Do whatever pleases you. I only care that Tyler is alive.”

Her lips curve into the faintest smile. “How interesting.”

…

For a moment there’s a silence that fills the room until I lower myself into the chair across from my mother’s desk. The leather makes a sound when I sit down. My hands fold neatly in my lap. My face is still, as always.

I see my mother leaning back in her chair. Her hands are laced together. Her gaze lingers on me.

“I haven’t seen you with Tyler in some time,” she says, her voice smooth. “A month, perhaps more.’’

I stare at my mother. ‘’Apparently observing others is a hobby in our family.’’

The corner of her lips curves faintly. “Indeed. My observation tells me you’re avoiding him. Or he’s avoiding you. Possibly both.” She tilts her head slightly, studying me the way one studies a delicate specimen in a jar. “So which is it, my darling? Have you cut the thread… or has he?”

I try to regain my composure. But her words ache. My throat feels tight. “We came to an understanding,” I say at last. “That was the end of it.”

Mother doesn’t blink. “An understanding,” she repeats. “How… clinical.”

I look away, letting my eyes trace the shelves stacked with tomes and relics. Anything but her face.

“He’s been… absent,” my mother says softly. ‘’Even when he’s present. The other teachers remark on it. The students whisper. His steps are heavy. His eyes, haunted. He’s drifting, Wednesday. I know enough about you to recognise when someone you care for is drifting too.”

I snap my gaze back to her, the cold in my voice sharper than intended. “I do not care.”

Mother’s smile doesn’t falter. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her voice velvet-smooth. “And yet, when Celeste laid a hand on him today, you reacted as if she’d slit your veins.”

My jaw tightens. A muscle jumps in my cheek. I hate how much she sees. How little I can hide.

“You may deny it,” she says, her eyes locking on mine, “but the truth is stitched into your every movement. You care for him. Whether you wish it or not.’’

…

I remain in the chair. My exes are fixed on my mother’s desk. I know she’s watching me. Hoping I’ll respond to her. But I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

She interrupts the silence between us. “Two weeks ago,” she begins, her voice slow, “your father spoke with Tyler.”

My head tilts, just slightly. I don’t respond.

“He came to him late one evening,” she continues, “looking… worn. He admitted that he’s been feeling the Hyde stir more frequently again. Like an itch under the skin. He told Gomez that he fears it’s clawing closer to the surface every day.”

I take my mother's words in. I keep my face still, but I feel a burn in my chest.

“Why did he tell Father and not me?” The words escape before I can stop them.

Mother’s gaze sharpens. “Because you have not been close with him for a while, Wednesday,” she says softly. ‘’Maybe because he felt more comfortable with Gomez. Maybe he was afraid you’d judge him.’’

I can’t even argue with my mother. Because it’s true. Tyler and I haven’t been close. I made sure of that.

She leans forward slightly, her fingers tapping once on the wood between us. “And now, today, he lies unconscious after being struck in class. Do you understand what that means, Wednesday?”

My silence is answer enough.

“When the mind retreats,” she continues, her tone calm but firm, “the Hyde does not sleep. The Hyde waits. Without him present to fight it, to bind it with sheer will, the creature may find an opening. This may be the very thing it has been waiting for.”

I can feel a chill run through me. I think of Tyler lying in the infirmary bed.

My mother watches me. ‘’I’m afraid Tyler might lose this fight against the Hyde, Wednesday.’’

I clench my hands together. My nails dig into my skin. If I lost Tyler, I don’t know what I would do.

‘’He needs you Wednesday. You care for him,’’ my mother repeats yet again.

I want to reply with something cruel. I know some cruel remark that will end this conversation. But I know denying is no use. Because I can feel it in my entire body. I love Tyler, and that will not go away. He’s the only exception. He remains the only monster I’ve ever grown to like.

But my entire system is still fighting against all of those feelings. I don’t know how to deal with this. He made it clear he regretted ever being something with him. So how do I move on from something that’s tethered so deeply within me? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. Pretending to not like him, to not care for him, makes it at least bearable.

…

Tyler’s POV

The first thing I feel is the pounding in my skull. It’s a sharp, deep pain. It feels like someone wedged a blade into my head.

It takes some time before the rest comes back to me. The clang of steel. The ground against my back. The blur of faces followed by nothing.

When I finally force my eyes open, the ceiling above me is washed in the pale glow of lanterns. My throat is dry, my limbs heavy. It takes a second before I realise where I am. I am in the infirmary.

“Finally,” a voice says beside me.

I turn my head to see Ajax sitting next to me. He’s slouched in a chair. His curls stick out underneath his beanie. He has his arms crossed. Though his eyes are fixed on me. I can see the worry in his eyes.

“You were out for hours, man,” he says, relief breaking through his attempt at casual. “Scared the hell out of everybody.”

I groan while trying to push myself up. My chest protests. My body aches everywhere. ’What happened?’’

Ajax leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Fencing class happened. You and Celeste were sparring. She went too far and knocked you out cold.” He hesitates before adding, “She looked like she was about to play nurse until Wednesday got there first.”

That makes my heart stutter. “…Wednesday?”

Ajax smirks, though there’s no teasing in it. “Yeah. She basically shoved Celeste out of the way. She yelled at her. You should’ve seen it. The scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Then she and I carried you here.”

I swallow hard, my pulse tightening in my throat. “She… carried me?”

“Well, dragged you more than anything,” Ajax says with a shrug. “But still. She didn’t hesitate.”

Ajax watches me for a second and then shakes his head. “You know, for someone who claims to hate feelings, Wednesday looked like she was seconds away from stabbing anyone who even breathed wrong near you. If that’s not love, man, I don’t know what is.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I close my eyes for a second. A part of me still aches, knowing I told her that I regret ever being something with her. But another part clings to Ajax and his words. Like maybe she still has some caring left inside of her.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s POV

It’s been two long days since I fell to the ground during fencing. My body still feels fragile. Every breath I take hurts my ribs.

After I woke up, they moved me to Jericho General. The air is filled with a mixed scent of sterile fluids and antiseptic. I never thought I would be back in this hospital. But sometimes life can be cruel.

The nurses check in every few hours, telling me about the tests and medical procedures they have to go through. They think I only have a concussion. But I know better. I can feel the Hyde begging to be let out again. He’s growing hungrier by the minute.

I somehow find myself thinking about Wednesday a lot of the time. Somehow every thought goes back to her. Even when I’m staring at the cracks in the ceiling, it reminds me of her.

Suddenly the door of my room opens softly. I’m not expecting any visitors. I’ve got no family. Some part of me hopes it’s her. But to my surprise it’s Morticia who steps into the room; she has the same presence around her that she always carries with her. It’s grace mixed with darkness. Gomez follows her into the room, smiling at me.

“Tyler,” Morticia says smoothly, her tone soft but carrying weight. “You look… pale.”

“Hospital lighting does wonders,” I mumble, trying to sit up straighter.

Gomez chuckles, stepping closer, a small box of something wrapped in black ribbon in his hand. “Brought you chocolates. Don’t worry, they’re only mildly poisoned.”

Even though I am in pain, I let out a small chuckle. It hurts, but it feels good to laugh. Gomez always cheers me up.

Morticia sits at the edge of my bed, her eyes scanning me. “The doctors said you collapsed mid-match. Celeste reported that you were… distracted. That you weren’t listening to instructions.”

I notice how careful Morticia is with her words.

I look away, jaw tightening. “She hit harder than she meant to. I just lost my footing.”

Gomez raises an eyebrow, and I can see the disbelief there, but he lets Morticia continue.

“Celeste also claimed,” Morticia says, folding her hands neatly in her lap, “that you growled before you fell. That your eyes changed.”

The silence that fills the room is heavy. I can feel the ache in my chest. I hate how people always seem to come up with lies.

I press my palms against the blanket, knuckles white. “She’s lying.” The words come out faster than I mean them to. “I didn’t change. I didn’t even feel it happening.”

Morticia doesn’t say anything for a while. Until she sighs. “You know she’s frightened. People often turn fear into stories when they don’t understand what they see.”

Gomez crosses his arms, his grin fading into something softer. “And you, mijo? What did you see?”

I stare down at my hands, which are still covered in bruises. ‘’ I didn’t see anything. “I don’t know. One second I was fine. The next, I felt it like something pulling from the inside. I tried to fight it, but… it’s getting harder.”

Morticia tilts her head. “You’re saying the Hyde is resurfacing?”

“Maybe it never went away.” My voice breaks a little on the words. “Maybe the ritual didn’t fix me. Maybe it just buried him for a while.”

Morticia studies me before answering, "The Hyde is a part of you, Tyler. You cannot kill what you are. But you can learn to live with it. You did once.”

“I don’t know if I can this time.”

Another silence follows until Gomez breaks the silence. “You are not the first to wrestle with what lives inside. The trick is to stop seeing it as the enemy.”

 “A man is defined not by what darkness he carries but by what he chooses to do with it. I should know. I married mine.”

Morticia’s lips curve faintly. “Flatterer.”

I can see their love for each other. It makes me smile for a moment. It’s real what they have.

Morticia rises gracefully. “You’ll stay here one more night for observation. After that, you’ll return to Nevermore. The others will know nothing of this. Let Celeste’s version of the story die quietly.”

I nod slowly. “Thank you.”

She pauses at the door, turning to look at me. Her voice softens. “Wednesday has been… concerned.”

Morticia Her words hit harder than I expect. I look up at Morticia. But she doesn’t see me; she’s already out of the room.

Gomez lingers for a second longer, his grin returning, softer now. “Wednesday is breaking her own heart, chico. She only pretends she doesn’t have one.’’

After that he disappears into the hallway as well. I lean back against my pillow, staring at the ceiling until the lines blur.

…

The evening settles in at the hospital. The light through the window has gone from sterile white to that sickly orange that makes everything look like it’s fading.

 I’m half-asleep when I hear the door creak open. For a second, my heart stops because every time that door moves, I keep hoping it’s her.

To my surprise it’s Enid who slips quietly into my room. Her hair is a chaotic mix of pink and blonde. She wears a knitted cardigan. She looks out of place in contrast to the white hospital room.

‘’Hey’’ Enid says softly while closing the door. ‘’Hope I’m not interrupting your brooding.’’

I try to sit up a little. But it hurts. ’I wasn’t.’’

Enid raises her eyebrow. I know she doesn’t believe me for a second.

“Right. ‘You just like staring dramatically out the window,’ she teases, stepping closer. “Classic Tyler.”

I huff out something between a laugh and a sigh. “You didn’t have to come all the way here, Enid.”

'Someone had to. Wednesday is pretending she is fine. Which means she isn’t.’’

I can hear the sincerity in Enid’s voice. It must mean Wednesday is being her typical self. Afraid to admit that she cares.

Enid gestures to the chair next to my bed. “Mind if I sit?”

I nod. Enid sits down before tucking her legs underneath her. She’s silent for a second before she speaks. “I heard you fall hard, literally. Are you okay?’’

“Yeah. Just overdid it, I guess.” I try to shrug it off, but she doesn’t buy it.

Her tone softens. “Tyler, I was there when Wednesday carried you into the infirmary. She looked like she was about to commit a homicide.”

That catches me off guard. I blink at her. “She did?”

Enid nods. “Scared everyone half to death. She nearly bit Celeste’s head off. If Principal Morticia hadn’t stepped in, I think Wednesday would’ve…” She pauses, grinning faintly. “...Well, let’s just say Celeste would’ve been a little shorter.”

I look away for a second. Pretending to adjust my blanket. Just hoping that Enid doesn’t see the small smile on my face. ‘’She didn’t have to do that…’’

“She didn’t have to, but she did.” Enid’s tone sharpens, just a little. “You know, for two people who claim they’re not together, you two are terrible at acting like it.”

I exhale slowly. ‘It’s complicated, Enid. I wanted to be with her. But she never fully gave herself over…’’

“That’s one word for it,” she mutters, then studies me quietly. “You know, she misses you.”

I let out a laugh; it sounds bitter. I shake my head at Enid. ‘No, she doesn’t miss me, Enid. She misses being in control. That’s a big difference.’’

Enid tilts her head. “You really think that?”

I don’t answer right away. The truth is that I don’t know what to think. The distance between Wednesday and me feels like a wound that will never heal.

Enid sighs. “Look, I didn’t come here to play therapist. I just wanted to check if you’re okay. And maybe tell you… she’s not as heartless as she pretends to be. She’s just terrified of what she feels. Which, in Wednesday-speak, is basically a declaration of undying love.”

I snort quietly. “You really think she loves me?”

Enid gives a half-smile. “I think she’d bury anyone who hurt you. That’s close enough.”

The corner of my throat burns – a laugh or maybe something else. “Thanks, Enid.”

After that, Enid stands up before smoothing down her cardigan. ‘Get some rest, Tyler. I promised Morticia I wouldn’t stress you out. I better listen to her because she’s scary when she’s in principal mode.’’

As she reaches for the door, I manage a quiet, “Hey, Enid?”

She glances back.

“Tell her I’m fine. She doesn’t need to worry.”

Enid’s grin softens into something sad. “You know she will anyway.”

After that, Enid is gone. The room feels emptier the moment she leaves. The only sound that is left is the hum of the machines.

I stare at the ceiling, thinking of Wednesday carrying me, of her hand on my shoulder, of her eyes sharp enough to cut through anything except her own feelings.

I tell myself I don’t need her. That I’m fine. But I know I’m lying.

…

Wednesday’s POV

Enid said she was going for a walk, but she has been gone for a while.

I’m sitting at my desk when Enid bursts through the door. I’m behind my typewriter, my fingers curled against the keys.

Enid is loud as usual. I turn around to face her. Her face gives away everything before she even speaks. There’s a kind of glow to her, a mixture of relief and that unbearable optimism.

“You went to see him,” I say flatly, not looking up from the typewriter.

Enid freezes halfway to her bed. “How do you always know?”

“I make it my business to know.” My voice sounds detached, but my stomach twists traitorously. “How is he?”

She drops onto her bed, exhaling. “He’s alive, but I think he’s really tired. He’s pretending to be fine...’’ Her tone softens. ‘’He looks lonely, Wednesday.’’

I pause. The key under my finger trembles slightly, the smallest betrayal. I press it down. The clack breaks the silence, but I don’t start a sentence.

“Did you go there out of guilt?” I ask finally. “Or pity?”

Enid sighs at me. She’s clearly annoyed by me. ‘’Neither. I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. I know you care about him. Even if you’d rather die than admit it.’’

I turn in my chair, my braid brushing over my shoulder, my expression carved in marble. “Care is an overstatement.”

’Sure…’’ she mutters.

Her sarcasm hits me harder than I expect. I look away for a second, trying to regain my composure. ‘’Did he…mention me?’’ I blurt out.

Enid looks at me for a moment. I can see she’s deciding how to answer my question. ‘’He asked me to tell you not to worry.’’

I scoff loudly, feeling almost offended by his words. But the ache in my chest betrays me. ‘’How considerate of him.’’

Enid doesn’t answer my remark. She just smiles in that knowing way. ’You’re jealous.’’

“Jealousy is a frivolous emotion. Reserved for insecure people.’’

‘’Uhu.’’ Enid says, clearly not believing me. ‘So you’re fine with me visiting him. Totally fine with what Celeste did.’’

“Enid.” My voice cuts through hers.

Enid stops mid-sentence. I can see her gaze soften. ‘’Wednesday, I wish you’d stop pretending.’’

Her words frustrate me. I somehow find myself standing up from my chair. I walk to the window, staring out at the grounds.

 “Pretending is a useful skill,” I say. “It keeps people from seeing where you bleed.”

Enid doesn’t respond. She’s learnt when silence says more than words. For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound is the faint ticking of the clock and the rustle of her blankets as she lies down.

When she finally speaks, her voice is soft, almost hesitant. “He really does miss you, Wednesday.”

I don’t turn around. I don’t want her to see the struggle I’m going through. I can even feel my throat feeling tighter than it should. ’He should be focusing on recovering…’’

Enid doesn’t answer anymore. I hear her breathing slowly until she falls asleep.

I stay by the window, watching the fog drift past the glass, my reflection faint and ghostlike. My mind replays her words: 'He looked lonely,' and something inside me cracks open.

I imagine him in that sterile room, staring at the ceiling, thinking too much, trying not to fall apart. I tell myself I don’t care. That this distance is healthy. But my body betrays me. My pulse races. My hands tremble. I hate it. I hate him for making me feel anything at all. I press my fingers to the glass, tracing the faint outline of the moonlight.

“If you wanted me not to worry,” I whisper to the night, “you should’ve tried harder.”

…

Tyler’s POV

It’s awful how quiet the hospital is during the night. It’s the kind of quiet that makes you hear everything. The only sounds I hear are the faint tick of the clock and the whir of the machines.

I’m about to fall asleep when I hear footsteps coming closer.

For a moment I think it’s the nurse again, checking my monitors. Pretending not to stare at my scars, they don’t understand. But somehow these steps don’t sound like the nurses. They’re more slow and precise.

They stop at the edge of my bed.

I blink, forcing my eyes open. The light from the moon spills through the half-closed blinds, silver and cold. Standing there, framed by that pale glow, is Wednesday Addams.

For a second I refuse to believe that Wednesday is really here. My throat tightens and my chest aches. Wednesday looks unreal; her hair is in two perfect braids, and she’s wearing a dark dress. Her eyes are as dark as ever.

I can barely breathe. “Wednesday?” My voice comes out hoarse, rough with disbelief. “Am I dreaming?”

Her head tilts slightly, that familiar gesture of curiosity. “If you are,” she says softly, “I’d suggest you stay asleep. I don’t visit people in hospitals.”

I let out a chuckle followed by a sob. My chest hurts, but I can’t stop it. ’You’re really here…’’

Wednesday doesn’t answer. She’s standing there studying me. Her gaze drifts over the bandages on my hands and the faint bruising at my temple. There’s something unreadable in her face, something that almost looks like worry, but that can’t be right.

‘I missed you,’ I whisper. I try to stop the words from leaving my mouth, but I can’t help it. ‘’I miss you so much…’’

I expect her to react with one of her remarks. To tell me I shouldn’t be emotional. But to my surprise, she doesn’t.

Instead, she moves closer to me. Her hand, pale and cold, rests lightly on the edge of my bed. Her voice is low, quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “I miss you too.”

Her words hit me hard. I look up at her, trying to read her. But it’s hard to because Wednesday doesn’t show any emotion. She hides it well.

The words hit me harder than any blow. I look up at her, trying to read her expression, but it’s

“Tell me I’m not dying,” I murmur. “Because this… this feels like it should hurt more.”

Her lips twitch faintly, almost like she’s fighting a smile. “If you were dying, I’d make sure you knew it.”

I laugh again. Suddenly Wednesday sits down on the edge of my bed. She folds her hands in her lap.

For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. The silence isn’t empty. It’s full of all the things we’ve never said. All the moments we ruined, the words we swallowed.

‘’If this is a dream… I don’t want to wake up,’’ I blurt out suddenly.

Her eyes flick toward me. “Then don’t.”

Somehow her words make me feel at ease. Even if this is just a dream, I can feel relief for a second. I feel my eyelids grow heavier, the exhaustion pulling me down again. But before sleep takes me, I feel the slightest touch. Her fingers brush against mine.

“Rest, Tyler,” she says. You’re safe.”

I truly want to answer her. To tell her how sorry I am for everything. But sleep, the darkness, is pulling me under. The last thing I feel is her hand slipping away.

When I wake again, she’s gone. I’m even doubting if she was ever really there.

…

Tyler’s POV

The morning creeps through the hospital blinds. It’s a pale and sterile light. It wakes before I’m truly ready to wake up. It pulls me out of the fragments of a dream I can’t quite remember. It did feel real.

For a second, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling. My throat is dry, my body heavy, my mind fogged with exhaustion. Everything feels the same as it did yesterday. The beeping monitor. The faint smell of disinfectant. The ache behind my ribs.

But something is different. It takes me a few moments to notice. My hand brushes against something soft near my pillow.

I blink, pushing myself upright. There’s a black dahlia that’s untouched resting across the seams of my pillow.

I know it has been placed there. My heart stops for a moment because I know there’s only one person who would leave a black dahlia behind.

I reach out for the flower. I’m very careful because I don’t want to ruin it. My fingers graze the petals.

For a second, I think maybe I am still dreaming. That she wasn’t really here last night. That my exhausted mind conjured her from longing and regret. But no. The flower is real, and the memories come rushing back.

I remember Wednesday’s voice being soft. Her hands brushing mine. Her whispering the words, “I miss you too.”

I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I stare down at the dahlia. I don’t know if she said it because she meant it or because she pitied me. I don’t even know why she came. Maybe Morticia told her I was here. Maybe she couldn’t help herself.

But I do know that Wednesday was here, and that means the world to me.

Before I can really think about the situation, the door opens. I see the nurse open the door. ‘Good morning, Mr Galpin. You’re up early. How are you feeling?’’

I quickly slide the flower under my blanket. “Better,” I lie. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.

She gives a polite nod and leaves, her shoes squeaking against the floor as she disappears down the hall.

When the door closes again, I take the flower out and look at it one more time. My thumb rubs gently along the stem. It’s such a small thing, but in this quiet, sterile room, it means a lot.

I press the flower between the pages of the notebook on my bedside table. It feels safer there, between words I’ll never let anyone read.

“Guess I’ll see you soon, Wednesday,” I whisper, and for the first time in weeks, my voice doesn’t shake. Because now I at least know that she still cares.

…

Wednesday’s POV

Honestly, hospitals always unsettle me. It’s not because of death, but because of how clean they are. There’s no rot, and god, don’t even get me started about these flowers. Everything is sanitised, hollow and just feels wrong.

I step through the doors of the hospital; my boots echo faintly on the floor. The nurse at the front desk looks up. She’s startled and clearly not expecting me.

“I’m here for Tyler Galpin,” I say, my tone flat. He’s being discharged today.”

The nurse fumbles with a clipboard, eyes flickering nervously. “Oh...uh...yes, Miss Addams. The principal called ahead. The car is already waiting outside.”

“Excellent.”

I make my way down the hallway toward his room. The scent of antiseptic burns my nose, and my patience burns with it. I push the door open without knocking.

Tyler is sitting on the bed, wearing his usual clothes. Jeans with a cheap shirt. His hair is still damp.

“Wednesday?” he blurts. “I…I thought your mother was coming to pick me up.”

I show a hint of a smile before replying, ‘She was. But I decided I was more suited for the task.’’

Tyler stares at me for a while. A smile curls at the corner of his mouth. ‘’You came all this way…to bring me back to Nevermore?’’

‘’Yes…’’ I answer. ‘’Although…this might be a field study as well.’’

Tyler lets out a laugh. I ignore the warmth that stirs in my chest the moment I hear him laugh.

I hand him his jacket. “Come on. The car’s waiting.”

Tyler hesitates a second before sliding off the bed. He is still wobbly on his feet. I move without thinking, and I reach out my hand to steady him. My fingers brush the inside of his wrist where his scars begin. I can feel his pulse beat beneath my skin.

For a moment neither of us moves. But I see how his gaze finds mine. Suddenly the room feels too small.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Don’t make a habit of fainting,” I say, withdrawing my hand. “It’s becoming boring.’’

After that we walk in silence through the hallway. Tyler, his steps are uneven.

When we reach the car, Lurch opens the door without a word. Tyler climbs in first, and I follow him after.

The Addams car smells like dust, candle wax, and faint decay. It’s a comfort to me, but apparently not to him, given how he shifts in his seat.

For a while, we just sit there as Lurch starts the engine. The world outside is grey, rain slicking the windows. Tyler watches it, his reflection flickering between the raindrops.

I decide to break the silence. “My mother told me about the Hyde resurfacing…’’

His jaw tightens. “Did she?’’

I study him. “Yes. Do you remember what happens when you feel the Hyde resurface?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Not really. One moment I feel like myself; the next moment the Hyde fills my brain with his thoughts. Morticia thinks that’s what happened when I fell during fencing…’’

‘’Perhaps your inner beast decided to audition for freedom again…’’ I blur out.

He lets out a breath that could almost be a laugh. “Funny.”

“I wasn’t joking,” I reply, though my tone softens a fraction. “But you’re here now. That’s the most important thing.’’

He glances at me, then back at the rain. “Yeah. Thanks to you, apparently.”

“Ajax helped too,” I say, almost defensively. “I merely ensured the blonde girl didn’t continue her rampage of stupidity.”

That earns a real smile from him. “You mean Celeste?”

“Yes. Her fencing form is sloppy. So is her judgement.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head. The sound fills the car, warm and disarming. It’s unsettling.

The silence returns, but it’s heavier now, thick with the kind of tension neither of us wants to name. I stare straight ahead, my reflection cold and composed in the glass.

Finally, I speak. “Tyler…”

He turns toward me, cautious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve come to a conclusion,” I say. “After careful observation, irritation, and more self-reflection than I’d care to admit.” I pause, meeting his eyes. “I am willing to attempt… friendship. If you are.”

He blinks, caught between surprise and amusement. “Friendship?”

“Yes. We are clearly incapable of… nothingness. Therefore, friendship seems the most logical compromise.”

He studies me, his expression unreadable. Then he nods slowly. “Alright,” he says softly. “Friends.”

The word feels strange between us. Too small for what’s always existed here.

“Good,” I reply, looking back out the window. “Then it’s settled.”

But as the car rolls down the wet road, our shoulders nearly touch, and I can feel his warmth seeping through the small space between us.

If this is friendship, it’s already proving dangerously complicated.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

The car stops in front of the Nevermore front gates. The towers of Nevermore stretch upward against the grey sky.

Lurch stops the car, and before I know it, he opens the door for Tyler and me. He wears the same expression on his face as he always does.

I step out of the car first. My boots hit the cobblestone. Tyler follows me. The wind catches the edge of his coat. His hair is messy because of the wind. I catch him looking at Nevermore in front of us. I can see the unease in his demeanour.

It’s like the beginning of the year all over again. But before I can say anything to him, I see that other students crowd themselves in the courtyard. First class has just ended, which means everyone is everywhere. They’re chatting and laughing way too loud.

The moment Tyler and I step into view, a lot of voices falter. They turn their heads toward us and start to whisper.

‘’So he isn’t dead.’’ ‘’The Hyde has returned.’’ ‘’I heard he got killed and was brought back.’’ ‘’His scars..’’

When I come closer to the nearest group, I give them my usual death stare. They go silent immediately.

Tyler exhales slowly. Like he’s trying to calm himself down. ‘’Guess some things never change…’’

I nod at him. ‘’They’re persistent. ‘We should try fire,’’ I say with a hint of a smile.

Tyler chuckles. It’s low, but I can hear his familiar laugh. It has the irritating effect of warming something in my chest I’d rather leave frozen.

Before I can reply to him. Something changes in the air around us. I don’t even have to look to know who’s approaching us.

It’s Celeste. She appears near the fountain, flanked by her wannabe popular ‘besties’. Her smile is as bright as ever. Don’t even get me started about her awful perfume.

“Tyler!” she calls, walking toward us. “You’re back! I was so worried.”

I don’t move at all. I remain frozen in place. But I can feel my grip tighten around the handle of my bag.

Tyler offers her a smile. ‘’Hey, Celeste. I’m fine.’’

Celeste steps closer. Too close for my liking. I see her fingers brush the sleeve of his coat. ‘’You look pale. You should rest, Ty. Maybe I could bring you some tea later…’’

Before Celeste can finish her sentence, I interrupt her. ‘’Run along, Barbie,’’ I say flatly.

Celeste's smile falters the moment she hears me speak. There’s a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. Definitely betraying that she doesn’t like how I’m speaking to her.

“Excuse me?” she asks, voice as annoying as ever.

“You heard me,” I reply without blinking. “Find another plastic doll to polish. This one’s not for sale.”

Tyler looks at me sharply, but there’s amusement flickering behind his eyes. Celeste, on the other hand, flushes pink.

“I was just being nice,” she insists, her tone sharp now.

‘Your definition of nice involves unnecessary touching, Tyler,’ I say.

The courtyard has gone quiet, and I can feel the students staring at us. Celeste is about to open her mouth to say something back, but she holds herself back.

She gives Tyler a hint of a smile before walking away. ‘’See you in class.’’

Tyler exhales deeply before turning his gaze towards me. He gives me a small smile. ‘’You didn’t have to do that, Wednesday.’’

“Didn’t I?” I ask. “She was annoying you.”

He shakes his head, trying not to grin. “You know, one day your comments are going to get you detention.”

“Unlikely,” I reply. “The last teacher who tried retired early after an unfortunate incident involving frogs and acid.”

I can see Tyler can’t help himself. He lets out a loud laugh despite the tension I can still see in his body. ’I missed this.’’

‘’I didn’t,’’ I say, but I betray myself by curving the corner of my mouth slightly. Tyler seems to notice this right away.

We walk toward the entrance. The students around us make room for us instinctively. Of course the whispers return, but I keep on walking.

I see how Tyler keeps his gaze down. His hands are in his pockets. I can feel the tension radiating.

When we finally reach the doors, I stop in front of him and turn around. ‘’Ignore them. They will find someone else to talk about in about an hour.’’

I can see him looking at me. He is quiet for a moment before he speaks. ‘’Thank you, Wednesday.’’

“For what?” I ask him.

“For being here.”

I glance away, hoping he doesn’t see how the faint warmth on my cheeks betrays me. ‘’Don’t mistake this for sentiment. I’m only making sure they won’t kill you before lunch.’’

His grin widens. “Right. Of course.”

…

The doors of the entrance close behind us with a deep echoing thud. The scent of candles greets me the moment I set foot in the hallway.

Tyler's shoes echo faintly beside mine as we walk through the main hallway. I can see he’s taking in his surroundings. He’s quiet. The portraits of dead alumni stare back at us, their eyes following our every step.

“This place never changes,’’ he says softly.

“It wouldn’t dare,” I reply.

After that we make it into the main hall. There’s a chandelier in the middle that is lit. The light casts fractured light across the polished floors.

That illusion shatters the moment we step into the main hall. There are students gathered in clusters around the main hall. I can feel their curiosity right away. Their conversations pause when they see Tyler.

‘’The Hyde. He shouldn’t be here.’’ ’Isn’t that dangerous?’’ ‘I heard Principal Addams only let him in because she’s insane too…’

I can see Tyler’s jaw tighten. He clenches his hands at his side. His breath becomes shallow.

I don’t hesitate for a second and step forward. Just enough in the light from the chandelier that makes me stand out. ‘’If anyone’s planning to continue speculating, do it outside,’’ I say. ‘’Preferably all the way in Jericho, so I don’t have to chase you away.’’

The whispers stop right away, and most students disappear out of the hallway.

“I know,” I answer.

Before he can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the. “Wednesday. Mr Galpin.”

My mother descends the main staircase with her usual grace. She’s dressed in a gown of black silk. It seems to swallow all the light around her. My mother is calm as usual. But she has an amused look in her eyes.

“Welcome back to Nevermore,” she says, her voice carrying through the hall.

Students immediately part, lowering their gazes. Some look relieved; others look terrified. Both reactions are appropriate.

“Mother,” I greet her with my usual lack of enthusiasm. “You’re intimidating the student body again.”

“Only the ones who require discipline,” she replies lightly before turning her gaze to Tyler. “Mr Galpin. I trust your recovery was complete?”

“Yes, Principal Addams,” Tyler says, straightening slightly. “Thank you for checking in.”

Her smile is faint but genuine. “Nevermore has long been a home for the misunderstood. This place is your home.”

I catch the flicker of surprise in Tyler’s eyes before he nods. “Thank you.”

Morticia turns her gaze to me, one elegant brow arched. “And you, my dear? Try not to threaten too many classmates today.’’

“I’ll limit myself to those who deserve it,” I answer.

“Splendid.”

There’s laughter from a few students who clearly don’t realise she’s serious.

My mother moves her attention to the rest of the students that remain in the hallway.

I glance at Tyler. I see he is standing straighter as if the tension is fading. He looks like he belongs here.

The assembly ends with my mother’s warning about curfews and boundaries, which, ironically, she knows I’ll ignore.

When the crowd begins to scatter, Tyler leans closer. “I think your mom just scared half the student body into behaving.”

“She’s efficient like that,” I say. “Terror is hereditary.”

He grins, and for the first time since the hospital, the smile reaches his eyes.

After that we walk toward the stairway. His shoulder brushes mine for the briefest second. It makes my chest ache.

From across the hall, I spot Celeste watching. Her perfect smile is gone. She looks annoyed at me.

…

That same evening I find myself walking the corridors of Nevermore. I don’t have a clear destination. But I enjoy the fact that the hallways are quieter at night. Most students are in their dorms. They’re usually too frightened or too boring to wander the halls past the curfew.

My mother calls my behaviour “restlessness”. I call it avoiding homicidal urges. Both definitions feel accurate to me. My thoughts keep returning to the same thing. How genuinely at ease Tyler felt when my mother welcomed him back.

For a second I find myself pathetic even thinking about it. Some part of me still feels like attachment is weakness. Like I should have severed it long ago. But another part of me knows I will never be able to let that go. That’s why I agreed to be friends with him. I can never be nothing with Tyler.

I’m about to turn the corner near the staircase when I hear voices drift from the common hall below. It’s a light and feminine voice. It’s clearly Celeste.

I stop in my tracks without meaning to. I look down for a second and see Celeste leaning against the railing near the fountain. She’s surrounded by her two friends. I can’t hear every word, but the tone is unmistakable. Miss. Barbie is up to no good.

’..Wednesday thinks she can just own him.’’ Celeste is saying, her voice clearly filled with a poisonous tone. ‘’Like she’s the dark queen and he’s her pet. It’s pathetic. If she wants to play with fire. I’ll make sure Wednesday Addams burns.’’

One of her ‘friends’ laughs nervously. “You’re not really still upset about what she said, are you?”

Celeste tilts her head; her expression turns into something cruel. ‘’No, I’m not upset. I’m motivated.’’

I hear her tone change. ‘’Tyler is easy enough to come around. He just needs the right encouragement. Nothing a little charm or magic can’t fix. He won’t even know what’s happening.’’

I can feel my heartbeat rise in my chest. I lean down far enough so I can see her face. She is wearing the same self-satisfied smile she always wears.

Her friend whispers, “You can’t be serious. A spell?”

Celeste shrugs. “It’s harmless. Just… persuasion. A way to make him forget about her. Besides, Principal Addams will never suspect me. She likes me.”

I can hear the girls giggle. It’s a sound that makes me want to puke.

I step back into the shadows, unseen, unbothered by the moral implications of what I’m already planning. If Celeste wants to play with fire, she’ll learn what happens when the flames fight back.

…

When I return to my dorm, Enid is already asleep. She is curled under a mountain of colourful blankets. I pass her bed silently and sit down behind my desk.

I sit down, place my fingers on the keys, and begin to type.

Experiment #12: Emotional interference and magical manipulation of sentient subjects.
Subject: Tyler Galpin.
Threat: Celeste, third year.

Each key hits the paper with a satisfying sound. This is no longer curiosity. No, I just found myself a new investigation.

When I finally blow out the candle, the room plunges into darkness. My reflection stares back faintly from the window with determination.

…

Honestly, the morning comes far too quickly. The sun slithers through the cracks of the curtains into my dorm. I didn’t sleep well and have been feeling restless since last night.

When I step outside, I find Tyler waiting for me. His posture is composed. But I can see that he must have had a rough night as well by the faint shadows under his eyes.

‘’Good morning,’’ he says softly.

I walk closer to him and stop beside him. ‘’Sleep deprivation suits you. ‘You look poetic,’’ I say.

He smirks faintly. “That’s one way to say I look terrible. Or is it supposed to be a compliment?”

“Both,” I say with a smirk.

We walk the hallways toward the potion lab. Of course students look at us when we pass, but they don’t talk anymore. That helps.

When we reach the classroom, I’m greeted by the sharp scent of herbs. The professor is pacing near a big cauldron at the front of the classroom. He’s muttering something about precision.

Tyler and I look awkwardly at each other for a second. I step into the room firstly and walk towards my usual seat. Tyler follows me. We take our usual seats. For once there’s no weird tension between us. No hostility and no awkwardness. Just a familiar rhythm of working together.

Tyler grinds valerian root while I stir the base mixture. The potion hisses faintly, turning from pale silver to dark violet. Our movements sync naturally, as though the last month of silence never existed.

When I glance at Tyler, I can see how his brows are furrowed. His mouth is set quiet as though he’s concentrating.  There’s ink smudged along his wrist and a faint burn scar near his collarbone that I hadn’t noticed before.

I look away for a second, hoping he didn’t catch me staring at him.

“Still think we make a decent team?” he asks after a while, not looking up.

“We make an efficient team,” I correct.

“Efficient, huh?” He chuckles. “I’ll take it.”

I love how he sounds so normal. He sounds so sweet, kind even. Everything inside me is fighting against the feeling not to touch him. Because in these moments I want to be close to him.

When class ends, most of my nerves have calmed down. But then we pack our materials, and he brushes past me, touching me for a moment. My pulse spikes at the faint scent that’s surrounding him. It’s a mixture of smoke and soap.

I’m about to say something to him when I hear a voice interrupting me.

’Tyler!’’ Celeste says to him. Her voice cuts through the low chatter in the room. She stands in the doorway. Looking like a perfect Barbie, her blonde hair is coiled neatly, and her uniform is way too clean.

Tyler freezes for a second before turning to face Celeste. “Hey.”

Celeste gives him a smile. ‘’I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For what happened during fencing…and of course for what happened when you arrived back at Nevermore. I was out of line.’’

Out of line? Out of existence would be preferable. I think to myself.

I can see how Tyler's expression softens when she speaks. Honestly, he’s too kind for his own good.

‘’It’s fine, really,’’ he says to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, stepping closer. “I feel awful. Maybe we could talk later? Just to clear the air?”

The way she speaks makes my skin crawl. I can hear the fakeness in her voice.

I watch them from my seat, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. There’s a faint shimmer around her wrist, almost invisible, but I see it. A subtle glint of blue light that fades as quickly as it appeared.

I narrow my eyes and realise it’s magic.

Tyler hesitates, polite but uncertain. “Uh, maybe. I’ve got some stuff to catch up on.”

She tilts her head, feigning disappointment. “Of course. Another time then.”

Celeste gives him one last smile before leaving the classroom. Unfortunately her perfume lingers, smelling awful.

I rise from my chair and walk towards Tyler. A feeling in my gut tells me this thing with Celeste isn’t over.

Tyler turns around and glances at me. It’s like he’s reading my thoughts. ‘’What is it, Wednesday?’’

“Nothing,” I say flatly, though my tone gives me away. “Just observing poor decisions unfold in real time.”

He sighs. “She was just apologising.”

“Mm. And wolves just apologise to sheep before eating them.”

His lips twitch for a second. “You really don’t like her, do you?”

“I don’t dislike her,” I say. “I simply wish she would spontaneously combust.”

Suddenly he lets out a laugh. Shaking his head at me while we leave the classroom together. But despite this, I can feel a shift in the air surrounding us. I know Celeste is up to something.

…

Tyler’s POV

Honestly, the day drags on slowly. When the lunch bell rings, I’ve sat through two classes without seeing Wednesday. I know it should not matter to me. But the empty feeling in my chest when she isn’t near me is still present.

I head toward the dining hall. My head is still foggy from potions class combined with the lack of sleep. The hall is filled with laughter and gossip. Students are everywhere. I keep my eyes down, not wanting to draw attention.

Unfortunately this doesn’t seem to work. ’Tyler!’’ Celeste yells out way too loud.

I stop, my shoulders tensing before I even turn. Celeste is there, her perfect blonde curls catching the light.

“Hey,” I say carefully, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

She smiles at me. ‘’I just wanted to say thank you for being so kind to me before. I know I made things awkward.’’

“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “Really. You don’t have to keep apologising.”

“Oh, but I do.” Her tone is soft, but there’s something underneath it, something almost rehearsed. “I wanted to make it up to you.”

I blink. “You really don’t have to…’’

“I insist.” She steps closer. “I was thinking… maybe we could have dinner tonight? Just the two of us. In the woods.”

“The woods?” I ask, sceptical.

Celeste nods at me. ‘’There’s a clearing not far from Nevermore. I’ll bring food. Nothing formal. I just thought it would be nice to talk to you…without everyone staring at you.’’

I know I should just say no to her. Every instinct in me tells me to. But something in her voice softens the edges of my resistance. There’s this strange, warm pull in my chest. For a second my thoughts blur.

I blink again, trying to regain myself. But before I can say no, other words leave my mouth. ‘Uh, sure... It sounds nice.’

Her smile deepens, and for a heartbeat, her eyes glint with that same faint blue shimmer I saw in class. Then it’s gone.

“Great,” she says brightly. “7 PM. I’ll find you.”

I nod slowly, still feeling like I’ve just agreed to something without meaning to. “Okay.”

She touches my arm lightly before walking away, and the warmth lingers on my skin longer than it should.

I don’t know how long I’m standing there frozen in place when I hear Wednesday’s footsteps approach. I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s her.

“Dinner?” Wednesday speaks, interrupting the silence. “In the woods?”

I inhale before turning around to face her. She stands close to me. She wears her unreadable expression as always. She seems composed. Her arms are crossed, and I can see her dark eyes are locked on me.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” I say quickly.

Her eyebrow arches. “It sounds like poor decision-making wrapped in potential homicide. So, standard for you.”

I try not to laugh. Mostly because some part of this isn’t funny, but I can’t seem to help myself.

 “She just wants to apologise properly. I said yes to be polite.”

“That’s the problem,” she says flatly. “Politeness kills.”

I sigh. “Wednesday…”

Before I can say something, she walks past me. ‘’Enjoy your forest rendezvous. Try not to get yourself killed.’’

Her tone isn’t as sharp as usual. I can actually hear worry in her voice. Like there’s something she’s trying to tell me. Like she really cares.

…

When the afternoon ends, I can’t seem to shake this strange feeling. It sits behind my eyes. It’s not a painful feeling but a heavy feeling. Like the world is slower than usual. Everything I touch lingers too long.

I tell myself it’s exhaustion, maybe leftover stress from the hospital. I’ve been through worse.

Ajax is chilling on his bed across the room, flipping through a novel when I walk into my dorm. He looks up at me. ‘’You look way too clean. What’s going on?’’

I grab a clean shirt from the chair and pull it on. “Nothing.”

He sits up, his expression sharpening. “You’ve got that ‘I’m totally not doing something stupid’ face.”

I sigh at him before speaking. “Celeste asked me to dinner. She said she wanted to apologise for what happened during fencing.”

Ajax blinks. “Dinner? As in… date dinner?”

“It’s not a date,” I mutter, tugging on my sleeve. “Just sharing some food and talking.’’

I can see Ajax's reaction right away. He raises an eyebrow. ’Does Wednesday know this dude?’’

I don’t answer him. No, I hesitate. That’s all he needs.

He lets out a whistle. ‘’Oh dude. She’s gonna ‘love’ that.’’

“She already knows,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “She overheard earlier. Wasn’t thrilled about it.’’

“‘Wasn’t thrilled,’” Ajax repeats, leaning forward. “You mean she looked like she was planning a murder?”

“Something like that.”

He smirks. “And you’re still going? Dude. You’ve got guts or a death wish.”

’I just…’’ I want to finish my sentence, but something in my brain feels static for a second. I blink, trying to shake off the feeling, but it doesn’t work. ‘’I just want to keep the peace. Maybe it will calm things down…’’

Ajax watches me; it’s like he’s observing me. ‘Are you good, man? You seem…off.’’

“I’m fine.” The words feel automatic, too practised. My heart beats weirdly fast, and the air seems thicker for a moment. There’s a faint hum under my skin. It’s not painful, but warm.

Ajax studies me. “You’re pale. You need to chill. Don’t go running into the woods tonight if you’re not okay.”

I laugh, but it comes out flat. “You sound like Wednesday.”

“She’s smarter than you. That’s not saying much.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He shrugs, tossing a pillow at me. “Seriously, man. Don’t do anything dumb. If Celeste tries anything weird, call me.”

I nod, though the motion feels slow, distant.

When he finally goes back to reading, I sit down on the edge of my bed. My fingers twitch restlessly, unsteadily. The sound in my head won’t stop, like faint whispering just beyond hearing.

Celeste’s voice echoes somewhere in the back of my mind, soft and sweet. “Just the two of us…’’

For some reason, Celeste, her words feel comforting. I close my eyes as a warmth spreads further down my spine. For a moment I almost forget Wednesday’s glare. The genuine worry in her eyes.

…

The sun has barely set when I make my way to the entrance of Nevermore. The sky outside is grey. There’s this sharp rain-like smell.

I keep telling myself that I’m not nervous. That this isn’t a date. That I’m only going because Celeste insisted it was her way of apologising to me.

The main gates creak open with a sound that feels louder than it should. The world outside the school looks almost untouched by time.

I wait by the iron gate. Shifting my weight constantly from nerves. A part of me knows I should not have agreed to this. A part of me knows that Wednesday hates this.

But I stop the thought because Wednesday and I agreed to be friends.

My thoughts are interrupted by Celeste. ’You came.”

Her voice comes from behind me. When I turn around, I see Celeste standing in front of me. She’s wearing a silk dress. Her hair is loose, brushing her bare shoulders.

“I said I would,” I reply, trying to sound like this doesn’t already feel wrong.

She smiles. “Then follow me. I want to show you something.”

Celeste leads me down a trail that leads between dark trees. There are lanterns hanging from the branches glowing faintly. The deeper we go, the more the air feels heavy.

By the time we reach the clearing, the fog has rolled in. It curls around the grass and climbs over the roots.

There’s a blanket spread out in the centre of the clearing. It’s surrounded by glass jars filled with floating candles. There’s food, fruit, and a bottle of wine that glows faintly with that same strange light.

“Did you… do all this?” I ask.

Celeste laughs softly. It almost sounds practised. ‘’You sound surprised. Don’t I seem like someone who can plan something nice?”

“You seem like someone who gets what she wants.”

Her eyes glint. “You’re not wrong.”

Celeste kneels, arranging plates that don’t need arranging. “Sit. You’ve been through enough seriousness for one lifetime, Tyler. Humour me.”

I sit down across from her on the blanket.

At first it’s quiet between us until Celeste starts talking. She tells me about classes, about teachers and about how unfairly everyone has been treating her since the fencing accident. Her voice is soft and low. She has this voice you want to keep listening to.

I nod at her, but the more she talks, the less I can comprehend what she’s saying.

Something in the air feels warm, and my chest feels heavy. I don’t know what’s happening to me. But before I can understand, I can see Celeste leaning forward. She’s reaching for a piece of fruit. Her fingers brush mine. It may be accidental. I’m not sure. But something electric passes between us.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’re so tense. Do I make you nervous?”

I shake my head, but my voice doesn’t come out.

Celeste smiles faintly and moves closer. “You always look like you’re waiting for someone to hurt you. It’s… sad.”

I open my mouth to answer, but my thoughts slip like water through my hands.

Her fingers touch my wrist, light but certain. The warmth spreads up my arm, dizzying and unfamiliar. I blink hard, trying to clear the haze, but the fog only thickens around us, curling in tighter, muffling sound and space until there’s nothing left but her and me.

“Breathe,” she murmurs. “Just breathe, Tyler.”

I do, because she tells me to.

“You’ve been so strong,” she continues, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Fighting the darkness, the Hyde, your past. Don’t you ever get tired of fighting?”

I nod before I can stop myself.

Her hand trails up my arm to my shoulder. ‘’Stop fighting it, Ty.’’

The world around us seems to narrow. I should stand up and walk away. But somehow I don’t. It’s like I’m watching from somewhere else. Like I’m trapped behind my own eyes.

Celeste shifts closer. I can smell her perfume now. A mixture of honey and smoke and something metallic beneath it. She rests her hand on my chest. Her palm is cool against the scar over my heart.

“See?” she whispers. “You’re still human.”

Her face tilts up toward mine. Her lips are inches away. My heart lurches painfully in my chest.  Not from wanting her, but from confusion.

“Celeste…” I start, but the word dissolves when she closes the distance.

The kiss is slow at first. Everything inside me stills.

Then warmth floods through me like fire. My hands move without my consent. One at her back, one at her neck. Pulling her closer. The world spins, and the fog pulses like it’s alive, whispering in a language that I don’t know.

It’s not desire that burns through me. It’s magic. I can feel it.

I can feel the magic taking over my body. I can feel it wrapping around my bones. Pushing my own thoughts out of my head.

I feel Celeste move her mouth against mine. I know this is wrong. That some part of me doesn’t want this, but I don’t stop.

Suddenly I can hear Celeste speak. Her voice drifts against my lips. ‘’Forget Wednesday. Be with me.’’

Celeste, her words echo through my skull. Like she’s reshaping my thoughts.

Suddenly I can feel a tremor run through me. I feel Hyde wake up for a second. It’s like it’s fighting with the fog that’s taking over.

The words echo through my skull, reshaping the edges of my thoughts.

“Stop…” I try to speak, but no words come out.

Celeste only smiles against my mouth. “Shh. You’re safe. You don’t need to fight anymore.”

The light from the jars flares brighter, sharp enough to hurt. For a second I think I hear laughter. But I don’t know where it’s coming from.

The last thing I feel before I lose myself completely is the burn of her touch against my chest. It’s cold now, not warm.

‘’Don’t think about her,’’ Celeste repeats to me.

So I don’t think about her. My lips remain on Celeste. But everything about this feels wrong.

…

Wednesday’s POV

I promised Enid I wouldn’t follow him. But my curiosity always gets the best of me. So when I hear Celeste’s voice outside and Tyler’s low murmur answering her, I find myself moving before I know what I’m doing.

I tell myself I’m just observing. That this is just for my investigation. But it’s a lie, and I know it.

By the time I reach the edge of the woods, it’s dark outside. The trees hang low, and there’s a fog. Somewhere ahead a light flickers. It must be something like a lantern.

I follow it without hesitation. That’s when I hear the sound of laughter cut through the silence. It’s hers first, but it’s followed by Tyler’s laugh.

When I see the clearing, it’s like I’m walking into someone else’s dream. I have to admit that it’s a beautiful place. There is a blanket in the middle of the clearing. Candles burn in jars across the grass. There’s even food and wine. In the centre of it all are Tyler and Celeste. They are sitting across from each other on the blanket. So close that their knees almost touch.

I freeze. I take a good look at Tyler, and I notice how different he looks. He looks softer than usual. His eyes don’t have the same restless look he always carries. Instead, he looks unfocused.

I see Celeste leaning closer. She raises her hand to his cheek. I can see how her fingers trace the scar along his jaw. The way she touches him makes my chest hurt. Tyler doesn’t pull away.

Out of nowhere she leans in even further, and she kisses him. It’s a slow and deliberate kiss.

For a moment I forgot how to breathe. Something cold lodges beneath my ribs. I can feel the burn in my throat. I hate how this ache takes over. There’s this traitorous part of me that wants to scream at them.

I know I should leave and walk away. I know I have no right to feel this upset. But that’s when I notice it. The lights around Tyler flicker unnaturally. The fog thickens and is spiralling upward. It’s like there’s this blue tendril that’s clinging to his skin.

That’s when I feel it. There’s magic at play here. Not the old magic, not the clean magic that actually helps people. Not the kind of magic that corrupts the mind.

I see how Celeste's eyes glimmer in a faint silver.

I also notice how Tyler isn’t really there. His hands are still on her, but his movements look mechanical. His expression is blank. His pulse, from what I can see at his throat, is way too fast.

That’s when I stop thinking. I step into the clearing without hesitation. My boots crush the dead leaves. The sound is sharp enough to break the spell’s rhythm.

Celeste jerks back from Tyler. She’s clearly startled. Tyler blinks once, with a confused look on his face.

He looks at me, and for a moment I think I can see him. The true him. But then his expression changes.

’Well,” he says, his voice flat, dreamlike. “Guess you found us.”

Celeste’s smirk returns instantly. “Wednesday Addams. How… predictable.”

I ignore her, my eyes locked on Tyler. “What did she do to you?”

He tilts his head, and for a moment he almost laughs. “Do to me? Nothing. Celeste’s just better company than someone who can’t admit what she wants.”

His words hurt me. I know they aren’t really his. I mean, I can see the magic coiled inside of him.

“Better company?” I ask, my tone cold. “That’s amusing. I didn’t realise ‘better company’ meant drooling under a spell like a lovesick fool.”

Celeste steps forward, eyes filled with anger. “Careful, Addams. Not everyone enjoys being dissected by your cynicism.”

I look at Celeste. I’m not impressed. “Not everyone deserves to be dissected. But you might.”

She smiles at me. “He kissed me willingly.”

I feel something snap inside of me. I hate how she’s lying. I know Tyler would never kiss her voluntarily. I take a step closer. “Did he?”

Celeste opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance to answer. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you needed magic to make someone touch you.”

The fog around us stirs violently, like it’s alive. Celeste’s control wavers. I can feel it, and for a second, Tyler’s expression flickers.

A confused look on his face appears. But before he can fight it, the fog tightens again. Sealing him back under its control.

He looks at me, his voice shaking. “She’s… she’s a better kisser than you, Wednesday.”

The worlds should crush me. But I let out a laugh. It sounds cruel, but I let them out anyway. ’Then why”, I murmur, stepping closer, “couldn’t you ever get enough of me?”

I can see how Celeste's expression changes. She’s raging. I can see how the rage causes her to lose control of the magic. The spell is cracking at the edges.

“Tyler,” I say, my voice low. “Listen to me. You’re being controlled. This isn’t you.”

He winces, clutching his head. “Stop…”

“Look at me,’’ I say to him.

He tries, but his gaze keeps shifting back to Celeste. She grips his arm tighter, her nails digging into his skin. “Don’t listen to her. She’s the reason you’re broken. I can fix you. I can make Hyde obey.”

I can see how distracted she is, so that’s when I move. I cross the distance between us, and I shove her backward. She stumbles, landing on the grass. The candles flicker, some going out.

Celeste snarls, the charm falling from her smile. “You don’t understand what he is!”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” I snap. “He’s mine to deal with.”

The moment Celeste hits the ground, the fog starts to shudder. I can sense how she’s losing control. But at the same time, so is he. I can see Tyler grip his head; he is groaning, and I can see how his knuckles turn white.

I know what this means. I can see the shift beginning beneath his skin. His back arches, and the veins in his neck turn black.

“Tyler,” I scream out, reaching for him. “No. Stay with me.”

But it’s too late. A low growl leaves his throat. It’s definitely not human. I see how his muscles convulse, his body twists, and every bone in his body reshapes with a sickening crack. His eyes turn gold, and claws rip through the end of his fingers.

It’s like the Hyde explodes out of Tyler. Which I can understand because the Hyde has been trapped for a while now.

When Celeste has lost control of Tyler, she starts screaming. She stumbles backward yet again, this time tripping over the blanket. She raises her hand, trying to form another spell to try to control him. But Tyler is faster.

He lunges at Celeste. He crashes into her; I can see the fury in his eyes. They hit the ground hard, the air bursting from her lungs. The earth shakes beneath the impact.

“Tyler!” I shout, my voice swallowed by his loud growl.

Celeste is pinned beneath him. I can see how pale her face is. Her eyes are filled with terror. The Hyde’s claws dig into the ground beside her head. I can see how Tyler is inches away from tearing through her throat. But I can also see the tremble in his claws. It’s like a part of Hyde is fighting the rage.

I move closer to Tyler without hesitation. ‘’Stop, Tyler. You will kill her!’’

He doesn’t respond. His Hyde form quivers and is followed by his ragged breathing. Celeste whimpers beneath his claw, frozen in place.

I know I can only try one thing. The only thing that has helped in the past. So without hesitation I step forward. I take a few steps closer toward Tyler.

I step forward and touch Tyler. My hand presses against the rough, trembling fur at his chest right where his heart should be. It’s pounding too fast, too violently.

“Tyler,” I whisper. “Look at me.”

The Hyde’s golden eyes flick toward me. He growls, low and feral, but doesn’t move. The sound vibrates through my bones, but I don’t back away.

“You’re not her weapon anymore,” I say, my voice sharp and steady. “You’re mine.”

I can see something flicker in his eyes. Maybe it’s confusion or pain. It’s almost human.

Within seconds I can see how his claws retract and how the muscles in his arm shake as he pulls back. Tyler stumbles away from Celeste before he collapses on the ground. The fur recedes, his breathing hitching violently as the transformation reverses.

Celeste scrambles to her feet, trembling, dirt and leaves tangled in her hair. “He, he almost killed me!” She stammers.

I look at her. “If I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve. You should be grateful I was feeling merciful tonight.”

Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She turns and runs into the woods, vanishing into the fog.

I kneel beside Tyler. He’s human again. There’s sweat and dirt streaking his skin. His entire body is shaking. He looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears. ‘’I.. I didn’t..’’

“I know.” I reach for him, my hand brushing his shoulder. “She did this to you. She provoked it.”

He swallows hard, guilt and exhaustion flooding his face. “I almost…”

“Yes,” I interrupt. “But you didn’t. You stopped yourself.”

His breath comes in short, sharp bursts. “I heard you,” he murmurs finally. “Through the noise. You said… I’m yours.”

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “I did.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m aware.” My tone softens just slightly. “But I don’t take them back.”

For a moment we sit here in silence. The clearing around us is wrecked, the candles are out and we’re in the dark. But that seems to suit us.

When I finally speak, my voice is barely a whisper.
“Let’s get you home before someone finds out how close you came to killing your admirer.”

…

The walk back to Nevermore doesn’t take long. But we don’t speak. Tyler leans on me for most of the walk. I can feel his body tremble under the weight of what happened.

I can smell how blood and earth cling to him. His clothes are torn and streaked with dirt and faint burns. He’s silent and is holding his head down.

I know I should bring him to the infirmary. That’s what a normal person would do. But I’m Wednesday Addams. My logic is different. Like my logic has no explanation for not letting go of his hand the entire time.

By the time we make it back to Nevermore, most of the lights are out. I know most of the students are in their dorms. The hallways are empty. The only sound I hear is my footsteps that echo against the stone. Tyler follows me without protest.

I take him to my room. The door shuts behind us with a click that sounds far too loud in the quiet. The thing chitters from his perch on the desk, startled, before scuttling behind a stack of books.

Tyler stops in the middle of the room, swaying slightly. His chest rises and falls too fast, and the lamplight catches the sheen of sweat on his skin.

“You should sit,” I tell him. My voice comes out steadier than I feel.

He obeys, dropping onto the edge of my bed. His eyes flick toward me once, uncertain, but he doesn’t speak. His shirt clings to him, half torn open. Beneath the rips, bruises bloom dark across his ribs.

I cross the room, grab a basin and a cloth from the small bathroom, and return. “You’re bleeding.”

He lets out a sigh. ‘’You say it like that’s new.’’

I dip the cloth into water and hand it to Tyler. ‘’Clean yourself before you ruin my sheets.’’

Tyler takes the cloth from me. His fingers brush mine. I can feel the spark the moment we touch.

Tyler hesitates for a second before he wipes away the dirt from his arms and chest. I can see how the cloth turns pink. I try not to look at his chest, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off him.

Suddenly he pulls the remains of his shirt over his head. The shirt hits the floor within seconds.

I take in how pale Tyler looks. The scars are carved on his torso. Every one of them is a story I know too well.

He catches me staring. “I should probably… thank you. For stopping me.”

“Thank me by not losing control next time.”

“Noted,” he murmurs. His voice sounds rough.

He presses the cloth to his chest. He hisses when the cloth touches a cut. The sound does something irritating to my pulse. Without thinking, I take the cloth from him. “You’re doing it wrong.”

He blinks, then freezes as I press the damp cloth against his skin myself. “Wednesday…”

“Hold still. You’ll make it worse.”

The space between us seems to be non-existent. My hand moves slowly, dragging the cloth over his ribs up toward his shoulder. I can feel his breath hitch. But he doesn’t move.

“Your hands are freezing,” he murmurs.

“Consider it an incentive to heal faster.”

The tension between us is undeniable. His eyes meet mine, and for a long moment, neither of us moves.

Then his hand lifts, trembling slightly, and he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so gentle it makes me feel all kinds of things.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says softly.

I shake my head, disagreeing with him. ‘’I don’t deserve you,’’ my voice barely above a whisper.

Neither of us moves. I can see how his gaze drops to my lips. The space between us is closing in. I can feel his breath against my cheek. I can feel the heat of him. I can feel the pull between us.

We’re a breath apart when I break the silence. “Before you attempt to do anything regrettable,” I say dryly, “you should let your mouth be cleaned first. I wouldn’t want to risk infection from Celeste’s germs.”

Tyler blinks before he bursts out laughing. It sends a flutter through my chest.

“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t want to contaminate you.”

“Precisely.”

The spell between us cracks, replaced by a silence that’s somehow softer. He sits back, rubbing a hand over his face, still smiling faintly.

I watch Tyler for a moment before wringing out the cloth. ’You should rest.’’

He nods. “What about you?”

“I don’t rest,” I reply. “I brood.”

He smiles at me for a second. He leans back against the wall behind my bed. I can see how his eyes start to close.

I let him stay. I don’t want to interrupt him. I know turning into the Hyde has its toll on his human part.

I leave the bathroom light on and settle into my chair, but my eyes keep finding their way back to him.

…

Tyler’s POV

When I wake up, I have no idea where I am. I smell candle wax and ink surrounding me. The ceiling above me is black. That’s when I realise where I am. I’m in Wednesday her room.

I sit up fast. My entire body aches as the blanket slides off me. I’m half dressed, covered in bruises. Suddenly the memories come back to me: Celeste, her magic spell, and Hyde and Wednesday bringing me back.

My thoughts are interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

I turn around and see Enid across the room. ‘’Enid?’’ I ask softly.

Enid grins from where she’s sitting cross-legged in Wednesday’s chair. Her clothes are colourful against the darkness of Wednesday’s part of the room.

‘’Morning, sleepyhead. I was wondering how long you were going to nap in her bed before she decided to use you for a science experiment.”

I blink, trying to shake off the haze. “Where’s… Wednesday?”

“Oh, she left early,” Enid says, twirling a strand of rainbow hair. “Something about talking to Principal Addams, which is just so weird to say out loud. She wanted to make sure Celeste gets what’s coming to her.”

My stomach twists at the name. “She’s…she’s handling that?”

Enid shrugs. “Yep. She marched down there first thing this morning, trench coat swishing, eyes all murder-y. I’ve seen wolves less terrifying.”

I rub a hand over my face, guilt and relief tangling somewhere in my chest. “Do you know if it worked?”

Before Enid can answer, the door opens.

Wednesday steps into the room. She looks as beautiful as she always does. Her hair is braided perfectly. Her expression is unreadable as always. I can see her eyes looking at me. I can see how she’s checking that I’m alive. Before she turns her attention to Enid.

“You can leave,” Wednesday says simply.

Enid sighs dramatically, muttering, “Always the hostess,” as she stands. “I’ll just go before you start being all emotionally repressed at each other.”

“Excellent plan,” Wednesday replies, holding the door open until Enid disappears down the hallway.

The second the door closes, silence falls between us.

I clear my throat, suddenly aware that I’m still sitting on her bed, shirtless and half broken. “So… did it work?”

Her gaze meets mine, sharp but unreadable. “Celeste won’t be returning to Nevermore.”

I blink. “You got her expelled?”

“Actions have consequences,” Wednesday says, folding her hands neatly behind her back. “She tampered with forbidden magic and endangered a student. Even my mother couldn’t overlook that. She’s lucky I didn’t deal with her personally.”

There’s no emotion in her voice, but there’s something simmering under it. Something fierce and protective that makes my throat tighten.

I swallow hard. “I… I don’t know what to say. “Thank you” doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Then don’t say it,” she replies.

I laugh softly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it in a good way'' I say, teasing her a bit.

I can see something flicker in her expression. She seems to soften for a moment.

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” I admit quietly.

Somehow my words help. The tension between us changes. The distance that was there between us. The anger, the guilt and the tension dissolve.

Wednesday steps closer to me. “Then it’s fortunate,” she murmurs, “that I have no intention of disappearing.”

Before I can say anything, she leans in and kisses me. It’s not soft. Nothing about Wednesday ever is. It’s precise, claiming, and cold at first until warmth sparks between us. The kind of warmth that feels dangerous. Her hand slides up my chest, stopping at my collarbone, fingers resting over the faint pulse there.

When Wednesday pulls back, she’s as calm as she always is.  “Now that you’re awake, you can leave my bed.”

I blink, stunned, my heart still hammering. “That’s… it?”

“For now.” Her lips curve in a smile. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She turns toward her desk, braid swinging, already reaching for her typewriter. The click of the keys starts a second later, as if she didn’t just dismantle me with one kiss.

I sit there for a long time, half smiling, half dazed, before I finally find the strength to stand.

The thing peeks out from behind a book and waves at me like he knows something I don’t.

I whisper to him as I head for the door, “Yeah, I know. I’m doomed.”

He gives a tiny thumbs-up.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

I can still feel his lips linger on mine long after the kiss. For once I allow myself to feel it. The pulse and the warmth between us. It’s something I never asked for. But a part of me knows I can’t fight it.

But after a while I remember who I am. So I smother these warm thoughts and go about my day.

Tyler, as sweet and kind as he is, doesn’t see the change in me. No, I think he’s too caught up in relief. I almost envy him for it. I envy him, for he sees love as a strength.

I’m still haunted by what Celeste has done. Her conversation with her friends that night still haunts my mind. I haven’t told Tyler what I overheard. I didn’t tell him how I think Celeste didn’t just manipulate his heart. No, I think she had a darker plan. Something I want to investigate further.

I know I should tell Tyler. I mean, a part of me wants to. But Tyler is still relearning how to exist without someone else pulling the strings. I’m afraid if I confess about what I think happened, he’ll spiral back into guilt. I’m afraid he will think he’s nothing more than the vessel for the Hyde. Honestly, I’m afraid the truth would destroy him.

I think the spell worked because Thornhill's influence has left damage inside of him. I know magic follows the damage that’s already caused by others. I think Celeste didn’t create the control over Tyler. She just used another way to find control over him.

If I tell him. He’ll break. If I stay silent, he keeps fighting to be whole.

So I keep the truth, not out of mercy, but out of fear for what would happen. Perhaps this is the closest thing I can offer to love. Guarding him from what I think would destroy him. Love in my language has never been soft. No, it’s the art of protecting someone you care about.

…

The morning brings its usual routine. The bells go at the usual time. Enid’s alarm shrieks loudly, and there’s a faint smell of coffee all through the hallways.

I’m sitting behind my desk when I hear a soft knock on the door. I know it’s Tyler because I can feel this undeniable pull.

I open the door with a swing. Tyler stands in front of me. He looks half awake; his hair is still damp from a shower. His shirt is buttoned wrong. He looks harmless and dangerous at the same time. Mostly dangerous because I can feel this hunger rise inside of me for a moment. A part of me wants to pull him into the room and rip his clothes off. But of course I don’t give in to such impulses.

“You didn’t show up for breakfast,” he says. His voice is quiet, tentative.

“I don’t eat breakfast. Food before noon is an insult to the digestive system.”

Tyler lets out a small laugh. I notice how there’s something distant in his demeanour. I see a slight tremor in his hands. His eyes aren’t focused. I see he’s trying to hide it. But I can see right through him.

“You should rest,” I say finally. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” he answers too quickly. “Just… weird dreams, that’s all.”

“Define weird.”

“I don’t remember them. All I remember is this weird sound…’’

Tyler brushes the back of his neck. That’s when I notice the faint shimmer of black under his skin. It’s only there for a moment before it disappears. I know it’s Hyde trying to resurface.

My chest tightens, though my expression remains the same. ‘’Hearing sounds?’’ I ask. ‘’You’re either sleep-deprived or slowly unravelling. Both are fascinating.’’

Tyler chuckles. His body seems to relax a bit. Before he tenses again. I can see the way his gaze flickers away. “I should head to class,” he says. “Morticia wants me to check in after lunch.”

“Tell my mother I said she’s frighteningly efficient. It will make her day.”

“I will.”

He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway. “Hey… Wednesday?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For… you know. Everything.”

I tilt my head. “Gratitude is unnecessary. I’d rather you demonstrate it by not dying.”

He smiles again, and this time, it almost looks real.

When he’s gone I let out a deep sigh. I look at the empty doorway. I worry about Tyler. I can see that something isn’t right with him. There’s this faint shift in the air when he’s near, the way shadows seem to curl toward him.

I know whatever Celeste did hasn’t been undone. I glance at my typewriter, at the page I abandoned mid-sentence. The ink has dried, but the story isn’t over.

I reach for my coat and leave the room, already knowing where I’ll go. If Hyde wants to break free again. I need answers. I just hope I can find them in time.

…

Most of the hallways are empty because classes are still ongoing. It’s the perfect timing for trespassing.

I walk as silently as possible through the hallways. I know Celeste’s dorm is on the third floor. She shares it with two other third years. I know they have classes right now.

I stop in front of Celeste’s dorm. Obviously the door is locked. But that will not stop me. I pull a thin blade from my coat sleeve. It’s one of my smaller companions, elegantly curved. The lock surrenders after a few seconds.

I’m greeted by an awful smell. It’s a mixture of jasmine and roses. Obviously not a smell to my taste. One other thing I can feel in the room is the presence of magic.

Celeste’s side of the room is almost theatrical. Gilded mirrors, velvet throws, a vanity crowded with bottles and jars. Every surface screams for attention, which makes it easier to spot the one thing that doesn’t belong: a black leather book, half hidden beneath a pile of silk scarves.

I walk toward the book. My finger traces the sigil on the cover. There’s an eye with a tear running down its cheek. I know I have seen this book before. It was in Weems's archive.

I open the book carefully. The pages are filled with ink so dark it seems to pulse in the candlelight. Most of it is in Latin, but the handwriting is meticulous, as if the writer believed beauty could soften the horror.

I flip through until I find it: a heading written in red.

“Subjugation of the Hyde.”

My pulse quickens not in fear, but recognition. The text beneath it is detailed and disturbing at the same time. I read:

“The Hyde’s curse is dual in nature. A Hyde is born of human guilt and supernatural submission. Once bound, the Hyde carries the residue of its master’s command, even after the master’s death. That residue can be triggered by multiple things: through words, touch, or desire. A substitute can awaken the chain if their will is strong enough and their motive clear.’’

I stop reading. Of course there’s damage left inside of Tyler. Celeste didn’t need much to control Tyler. No, she used her charm to get close to him. She used some sort of seduction combined with magic to mimic what Thornhill did to him. Desire became the key, and Tyler’s body did the rest.

I keep reading, though my hands tremble slightly.

“Once reactivated, the bond grants partial control. The host feels pleasure and peace where there should be fear. The Hyde confuses command for comfort. Only the host’s full consciousness can sever it, but few survive the realisation.”

I snap the book shut, my jaw clenching. I realise why Celeste's control worked. Celeste made sure the Hyde came out. It wasn’t because of the magic. No, it was because of the traces Thornhill left inside of Tyler. Tyler’s body remembered what it meant to surrender. Celeste just pressed the reset button.

Now that she’s gone, the damage might already be done.

Suddenly I feel a shift in the air in the room. I know someone’s behind me. I don’t turn immediately.

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me,” I say coolly, “I should warn you that my mother’s taught me seventy-four ways to kill a person with a pen.’’

“Relax, Wednesday.” It’s Enid’s voice. She sounds bright and nervous. “I saw you come in here and thought, well, if you’re going to break into someone’s room, you could at least invite your best friend.”

I roll my eyes. “Your definition of friendship involves far too much enthusiasm.”

Enid peers over my shoulder at the book. “So… this was Celeste’s? Is it, like, a diary or a death curse?”

“Both,” I answer. “Apparently, she discovered a way to reactivate Thornhill’s control through imitation. She didn’t control Tyler. She reminded him of what it felt like to be controlled.”

Enid’s eyes widen. “That’s messed up. So… what does that mean for him?”

I look at the pages again, the ink still shimmering faintly. “It means the spell may not be gone. And if he still dreams of sounds…”  I pause. “It’s not dreams. It’s the Hyde remembering the leash.”

Enid bites her lip. “So what do we do?”

“We burn the book,” I say simply. “Then we wait. If the Hyde stirs again, I’ll handle it.”

“Handle it how?”

I close the book, slip the blade back into my sleeve, and meet Enid’s gaze. “However, I must.”

We leave the room in silence. I take the book with me. I hide it underneath my coat.

I’ll burn it when I’m certain it’s the only way. For now, I need to see if Tyler’s truly free or if the monster is still waiting beneath his skin, patient and hungry.

…

The rest of the day passes by quickly. I skip a few classes, and no one seems bothered about that.

It’s later in the afternoon when I find Tyler in the courtyard. The air seems to shift slowly into evening.

Tyler is sitting beneath a willow tree; he has a sketchbook open, but it seems untouched. I can see the pencil slack between his fingers. He doesn’t move.

I should keep walking. I tell myself this twice before I ignore the thought completely.

“You’re avoiding me,” I announce, crossing the grass until I’m close enough to see the tired slope of his shoulders.

He glances up, faint surprise in his eyes. “Normally you’re the one who’s avoiding me.’’

“True.’’

He gives me a hint of a smile. But I can see how fragile it is. Before I know what I’m doing, I lower myself beside him. My boots brush against the damp roots of the tree.

I don’t speak right away. Neither does he. But the silence between us isn’t filled with tension. No, it’s peaceful in a way that we both know we don’t have to say anything to understand each other.

“How are you feeling?” I finally ask, tone carefully neutral.

He exhales through his nose, gaze still on the sketchbook in front of him. “Better. I think. The doctors said it was stress. Your mother thinks it’s… him.”

“The Hyde”.

He nods once, jaw tightening. “I keep getting flashes. Sounds. Like someone breathing inside my head. But I don’t lose control. I just feel it. Like it’s waiting for the right moment to come out.”

I study him. His hand has a visible tremor, and I can see faint bruising beneath his eyes. The monster doesn’t need to roar to be present. Sometimes it’s enough that it lingers.

“You’re fighting it,” I say quietly. “That’s what matters.”

He gives a broken laugh. “You make it sound simple.”

“I said it mattered, not that it was easy.”

He lets out a sigh. He seems tired and defeated. It hurts to see him like this. Without saying anything, he leans sideways and rests his head on my lap.

For a moment the movement startles me. But I don’t show it. His hair brushes against the fabric of my dress. He feels soft and warm. I know I could tell him to move. To sit up. To remind him that I don’t like affection. But no, I lift my hand and run my fingers through his hair. My fingertipsgraze his hair softly.

“You’re going to ruin your reputation,” I murmur.

His voice comes muffled. “Pretty sure I already did that when I turned into a monster on school grounds.”

“A fair point.” I pause, brushing away a lock that falls over his forehead. “Though you could try to appear slightly less pitiful. People might think I’ve domesticated you.”

He chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating through my knees. “You haven’t. You’ve just calmed me down.’’

I don’t respond to that. I don’t know what to say. But maybe that’s the thing. Maybe there’s something so fragile between us that unspoken words are the best.

His breathing steadies. Mine doesn’t.

I look down at Tyler. I take in the faint curve of his lashes. The faint scar at his temple. The small line between his brows that he only shows when he’s fighting himself. He almost looks peaceful.

“You know,” he murmurs after a moment, eyes still closed, “I missed this. I missed being near you. Even though you can be scary at times.’’

“That’s the correct response to affection,” I say dryly, though the words come softer than I intend.

He shifts slightly, looking up at me. “Did you miss me?”

My fingers are still in his hair. I could lie. I should lie. But the truth is already burning the back of my throat.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I did.”

He blinks, as if unsure he heard me right. “Really?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” I warn. “I may revoke it out of spite.”

He laughs again, quiet and rough, and something inside me twists painfully – that inconvenient, maddening ache I can’t quite kill.

The last of the light fades from the sky. The lake catches the dark like a mirror swallowing its reflection. I keep brushing my fingers through his hair until his breathing slows, until the tension in his body drains completely.

“You should sleep,” I murmur finally. “At least one of us should.”

“If I do,” he says, eyes half-lidded, “don’t disappear again.”

I look down at him, this boy who shouldn’t have survived, who still somehow finds the strength to want me despite everything.

“No promises,” I answer softly.

He smiles at me. It’s a small, tired smile. After that he closes his eyes.

I stay there a little longer, fingers still tangled in his hair, watching the world go dark around us.

…

It’s late in the evening when I return to my dorm. When I step inside, Enid’s side of the room glows faintly pink because of her light. She’s already asleep, curled under her blankets.

I sit down at my desk before looking at my typewriter. The keys gleam in the candlelight, eager for confession.

I don’t write about emotions. No, at least not directly. They are better dissected than described. Still, my fingers hover over the keys longer than usual before I start typing.

“Case Notes. Subject: Tyler Galpin.
Observation: Proximity continues to produce physiological and emotional responses I find… distracting. His pulse calms when he’s near me. Mine does the opposite. Cause undetermined. Possibly psychosomatic. Possibly ... love?”

I pause for a second. I can’t believe I would ever write the word ‘love. The sound of the keys lingers in the air.

I think about the way his head felt on my lap. The weight of him, the slow, steady rise of his chest. The faint twitch in his jaw when he drifted toward sleep. Even then, I could see it: the Hyde, restless at the edges of him.

It wasn’t visible, not in the monstrous sense. It was subtler than that: a flicker behind his eyelids, the way his fingers twitched like they were remembering claws.

He’s never free, not really. The Hyde is still there, waiting for a moment of weakness. Waiting for him to let go.

I start typing again.

“Secondary Observation:
Evidence suggests Hyde’s reawakening may have been deliberate. Celeste used emotional manipulation. A consequence of Thornhill’s conditioning. However, the level of precision indicates premeditation. This was not an experiment. It was intentional.’’

I stop, frowning. My mind replays everything. The way Celeste approached Tyler that first day back, the deliberate apologies, the carefully constructed charm. The “picnic” in the woods. It wasn’t random. It was like she planned this out.

I pull the black leather book closer and flip through the pages again, scanning for any mention of how one could use desire as a trigger. Most of the spells require amplifiers. Items tied to the Hyde’s original bond: blood, command phrases, or symbols of control.

Suddenly I see it. It’s a small note scribbled between two spells.

“To restore the original master’s link, the subject’s blood must touch the soil of its first submission. When the Hyde obeys, the host’s mind will fracture, creating an opening.”

My stomach drops. The first submission would have been Thornhill torturing Tyler until he turned into the Hyde.

I remember the way the ground looked when I found him again. The disturbed earth, the scent of wet moss and decay. Celeste could have easily taken some of that soil.

This wasn’t just an act of cruelty. It was a calculated attempt to unleash the Hyde again.

I flip through more pages, searching for what would happen next. Another line catches my eye, one written in darker ink as if pressed by a shaking hand:

“If the bond completes, the Hyde will awaken in full. Its first act will be destruction of the host’s last restraint. The object of its affection.”

My throat goes dry. That’s why she targeted him. That’s why she kissed him. Not only to control him, but to make him destroy the only thing keeping him human. Me.

The typewriter sits quiet now, waiting for me to translate the realisation into words, but I can’t. I just stare at the black book, at the cruel logic of it all.

Celeste didn’t want to control the Hyde. She wanted to weaponise it against me.

I close the book, locking it in my drawer. My reflection in the mirror looks pale, even by my standards. I hate that I can see fear there.

Not for myself, but for him. If she managed to awaken even a fraction of that link… My mind doesn’t dare to go there.

I blow out the candle, letting the darkness swallow the room.

In the silence, I whisper to no one, “If you ever lose control again, I’ll find a way to bring you back.” It’s the closest thing to love I can give.

…

I have to start to observe Tyler. Not in the way most people would. No, I’m not spying on him. I don’t have to sneak around to observe Tyler. No, precision is my way of observing him.

I take notes on his habits and behaviour. I write down when he sleeps and when he eats. I even write down when he seems to be having a hard time controlling the tremors. Sometimes even his laugh doesn’t feel real. I write that down as well.

I don’t think Tyler has noticed. If you don’t know Tyler well, you would think he is fine. He attends classes, and he hangs out with Ajax. He even laughs at Enid's ridiculous jokes. Most people would think Tyler has healed from everything.

But I see something. I see the cracks in his armour. I see how his eyes seem to disappear into thought. I see the faint tremor passing through his fingers when he’s holding his pen. Even the way he flinches at sudden sounds. I realise Hyde isn’t gone or asleep. No, it’s waiting to claw out at the right time.

Every night I reread my notes of the day. I try to match his behaviour against what I find in Celeste’s book. If I’m right and she has found a way to reopen the link to the Hyde. I know that it’s just a matter of time before the Hyde will snap. The Hyde could be feeding off the leftover command, looking for a new anchor.

Some part of me even thinks that Celeste wasn’t acting alone. That’s the part I can’t quite shake. I know these spells are way too advanced for a regular third-year student. It read like something designed by someone who already understood the Hyde’s architecture. Someone with experience.

Someone who has done this before. The first name that comes to mind is Thornhill. But I know she is dead. I know Tyler killed her in Willowhill.

I spend most of the day trying to piece fragments together. I listen to every gossip in the dining hall, and I research every book related to this subject. I even intercept the occasional letters from Jericho.

The worst part is that I can see how Tyler drifts further away from the version of himself.

The first time I notice this is when he’s sitting at the far end of the dining hall. He has a fork in his hand. His lips move slightly, too quietly to make out; for a second his pupils constrict unnaturally, sharp and dark like a predator’s. After that he acts like nothing happens. He smiles at Ajax and continues his day.

I close my notebook. Something cold stirs behind my ribs.

That same night I decide to investigate further. I go to his dorm. I hear movement inside. I don’t knock, and I just open the door.

I see Tyler standing in front of the mirror. His shirt is half undone. His chest is sweaty. His reflection looks off. His eyes are too bright. I can see the tension in his jaw.

He sees me and startles. “Wednesday?”

“You were talking to yourself,” I state. “Loudly.”

“I…” He swallows, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just… nightmares.”

“You were awake.”

“Then maybe I’m daydreaming,” he says weakly, trying for humour.

I step closer to him. I see how his hand twitches. It feels like he’s holding back.

“You’re lying,” I whisper. “Something’s pulling you again.”

He exhales shakily. “I can handle it.”

“You said that last time.”

His jaw tightens. “And I survived, didn’t I?”

This actually pisses me off. I want to argue with him. To ask him to stop pretending. But I contain myself because I know if I push too hard, he will close himself off.

I reach for his hand. I feel how cold his fingers are. I hold them.

“If there’s something coming for you,” I say quietly, “it will have to get through me first.”

He laughs once.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Violence has always been one of my love languages.”

For a moment he smiles at me, and the darkness seems to fade.

…

Unfortunately the feeling of unease doesn’t seem to leave. The following morning I can feel it haunting my every thought. Even as I walk through the hallways, my mind is on it constantly. Even Enid seems to notice how distracted I am. She tries to comment on it once, before my glare convinces her to retreat behind her rainbow smoothie.

It gets even worse when I see Tyler. He seems to be having a bad day. I can see how he’s trying to hide how he’s feeling. His classmates don’t seem to notice, but I do. His hands twitch every time someone brushes past him. He laughs a half second too late when Ajax cracks a joke. And when he thinks no one’s watching, his expression goes blank. To that empty, faraway look that once came right before his eyes turned gold.

I write down everything. The frequency of his tremors. The times he zones out. The way his knuckles go white when he grips his pencil. The way the veins near his neck faintly darken whenever someone mentions Celeste’s name.

By the time classes end, my patience runs thinner than Enid’s sense of subtlety. I go to Celeste’s former dorm. It’s been officially sealed by the faculty, but “officially sealed” is an invitation to someone like me.

I’m once again greeted by that awful smell. Most of Celeste's belongings are gone. But a few items remain. For one, her mirror is now cracked. There’s some wax residue left on the floor. In a corner there’s an empty vial.

I open her wardrobe. A folded stack of papers falls out of it. They’re letters.

Most are signed with her looping, self-obsessed handwriting. Most contain petty gossip, notes, and unfinished essays. But one letter stands out. It’s written on old, darker paper with ink that’s slightly metallic. The handwriting is neat, precise, and foreign.

“To Miss Celeste Vale,
The soil must remember the blood. The Hyde must remember its true master. You have served well. When the final bond weakens, the path will open.
You are invited to attend the Requiem in Hollowvale on the 13th. The Master will be expecting progress. Bring what remains of him.
— M.”

Hollowvale. I have heard that name before. Not in any official records. No, it’s buried in old books. It’s a place built over an ancient graveyard. It’s the kind of place Thornhill would have loved.

I reread the letter twice, memorising every word. “When the final bond weakens…”
My mind translates it instantly: when Tyler stops fighting the Hyde.

I realise they don’t just want to awaken the Hyde inside of Tyler. No, they want to claim it. They want to control him.

I tuck the letter into my pocket and stand up. My reflection in Celeste’s broken mirror stares back at me. I look pale and tired.

After that I leave Celeste’s dorm. I am on my way to potions class when I pass Tyler. He’s slumped against the wall outside of Fencing. His eyes seem unfocused, and his breathing is ragged.

When he notices me, I see his pupils flare for a second. He straightens when he sees me, trying to hide the tremor in his hands.

“You’re shaking again,” I say flatly.

‘’I’m just cold,’’ he lies. But I see through him right away.

“Liar,” I reply, softer this time. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. After that he looks away. “I’m fine, Wednesday. You don’t have to keep checking on me.”

That stings more than I expected. “Unfortunately for you,” I answer, “I have no intention of stopping.”

He tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can’t fix me.”

“Perhaps not,” I say, “but I can stop whoever broke you.”

After that I walk past him. I need distance to figure out what my next step will be.

I decide to skip potions class.

…

When I’m back in my room, I unfold the letter again. I trace the sharp edge of the signature. I know who this master is. They’re pulling the strings. Celeste was just a pawn. If they want Tyler, they’ll come for him soon.

I glance at the window. The moon is already rising. The date on the letter burns into my mind: the 13th. Three days from now. Three days to find Hollowvale. Three days to prepare. Three days before they take Tyler away from me.

I pull my typewriter closer, the keys echoing in the quiet.
“New entry,” I type. “Objective: Locate Hollowvale before the Requiem. Secondary objective: Prevent subject’s transformation. Tertiary objective: Unmask ‘M’ and neutralise threat.”

I hesitate, then add one last line. “Personal note: Should containment fail, eliminate Tyler before they reach him. Mercy is still an act of love.

…

Tyler’s POV

I honestly don’t remember when the tremors started. Maybe they never stopped.

But the last few days feel like a blur. I only experience half of my days. I notice flashes of the hallways and the faces of my fellow students I only half recognise. Hours seem to vanish. It’s like they have been swallowed by a fog. I feel like there’s something beneath my ribs. Waiting to come out. Sometimes it feels like a whisper; other times it screams and almost takes over.

Tonight it screams loudly in my head. I’m sitting on the floor of my dorm. My back is leaning against my bed, and my hands are digging into my hair. The room seems to move around me. It’s almost like the walls are bending and that the shadows are moving on their own.

Ajax went out half an hour ago. I told him that I needed some sleep. That was a lie. I just didn’t want him to see me like this.

I can feel the Hyde inside of me. My monster. He claws at the edges of my mind. Testing my limit constantly. Every time I blink I see his reflection behind mine. He’s waiting to come out.

My throat burns. I dig my nails into my palms until blood wells up, trying to ground myself in the sting. “No,” I whisper. “You don’t get to win.”

The air turns heavy, almost like it’s filled with Celeste’s magic again. For a second I think I’m back at the clearing in the middle of the woods. But when I hear his voice, I know I’m not there.

‘She’s gone,’ it says. ‘’You’ll lose her again. Just like before.’’

I slam my hand against the floor, hard enough to sting. “Shut up.”

‘’You can’t save her. You can’t even save yourself.’’

I stand up and walk over to the mirror. I see my reflection shift. My eyes flash gold. My jaw almost opens. I stumble to my feet, trying to control my breathing.

“Stop it!” I yell at my own reflection. The sound barely sounds human.

That’s when the door bursts open. “Tyler,” Wednesday says, her voice sharp and somehow grounding.

I turn around to see Wednesday standing in the doorway. Her silhouette is framed by the faint glow from the hallway. She doesn’t look afraid, just… furious. But not at me.

“Don’t,” I manage to say. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Incorrect,” she replies. “I should be here precisely because you told me not to.”

I want to laugh at her, but I can’t because the tension in my chest won’t let me.

 “You don’t understand, Wednesday. I’m losing it. I can’t…”

“I understand perfectly,” she interrupts, stepping forward. “You’re fighting yourself. Again.”

She moves closer. I feel the Hyde pulse harder, a guttural growl echoing somewhere behind my teeth. I stumble back until my knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Stop,” I choke. “If I change…”

“You won’t.”

Her tone cuts through the noise. I look up at her.

She kneels in front of me. The candlelight catches the edges of her face, making her look both ethereal and dangerous. Her hands hover near mine, close but not touching.

“Breathe,” she says softly. “You’re still here. I can see it in your eyes.”

I shake my head, but she doesn’t move away. My breathing stutters, uneven. The air around me hums with that awful energy, but her voice slices through it.

“Focus on me,” she says again, quieter this time. “Not him. Me.”

I do. Her gaze is cold and sharp and grounding. Slowly, the gold fades from my vision. The Hyde’s growling recedes, swallowed by her presence. My body stops shaking.

When it’s over, I realise I’m shaking for a different reason entirely.

“I’m so damn scared,” I admit. My voice cracks on the word. “Every time I close my eyes, I feel him pulling. I don’t know how much longer I can fight it.”

Wednesday’s eyes flicker. For a second, something fragile crosses her face.

“I told you once,” she says, “if something comes for you, it will have to go through me first.”

“Are you sure?’’ I ask softly.

Her gaze doesn’t waver. “My promises don’t expire.”

Suddenly the room feels smaller to me. Or maybe it’s just the space between us. She’s close enough that I can feel her breath against my cheek.

“Wednesday…”

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing this? After everything?”

She tilts her head slightly, a hint of worry filling her eyes. “Because no one gets to destroy what’s mine.”

I laugh. Sounding broken “So I’m an experiment again?”

“An obsession,” she corrects softly. “And perhaps something more inconvenient.”

Before I can ask what that means, she places a hand on my jaw. Her cold fingers are definitely a contrast against my fever-hot skin. Her touch silences everything inside me. The Hyde is silent.

“I’ll protect you,” she says, almost to herself. “Even if it kills me.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

Mornings have always been my favourite to plot schemes. Everything is cold, and the whole world still needs to wake up. I love the silence that comes with early mornings.

Today feels different. I feel the weight of what’s happening to Tyler. I worry for him.

The letter I found in Celeste’s room sits on my desk. I’ve spent the entire evening trying to dissect it further. To figure out who sent it to Celeste. Unfortunately I didn’t get any new information. Whoever sent the letter knows how to cover their tracks.

I have come to an uncomfortable conclusion. I need help. There’s only one person I trust enough to involve in this matter.

…

The principal's office already seems occupied when I arrive. I open the door and see my mother writing something down. My mother looks elegant behind her desk.

She looks up and meets my eyes. She can see something’s wrong.

“Wednesday, dearest,” she says. “You’re awake unusually early. That’s… almost concerning.”

I step closer to my mother’s desk before holding out the letter. “I found this in Celeste’s belongings.”

My mother’s expression doesn’t change at first. But when she looks at the seal, I see a coldness passing over her. She recognises the seal.

She takes it from me with careful fingers, tracing the wax symbol once, twice, as if testing whether it’s real.

“Where did you say you found this?”

“In her room. In a closet,” I reply. “It mentions something called the Vale Gathering.”

She exhales slowly, a hesitation in her voice. “Of course it does. Hollowvale.”

The name drips from her tongue like poison.

“You know it,” I state.

“Everyone in our bloodline knows it,” Morticia answers softly. “Though few are foolish enough to say it aloud. Hollowvale was an old congregation ground. Predating Nevermore, even the Crackstone family. It was where witches and outcasts met to practise magic too dangerous for the school to sanction. Rituals that broke more than rules.”

She sets the letter on her desk, eyes narrowing. “The Gathering was thought to have ended decades ago. But if someone has revived it…” Her voice trails off.

I cross my arms. “Then it involves the Hydes.”

Morticia meets my gaze. “It always did. Hollowvale’s magic was built on control. The binding of monsters. The Hydes were created there on Wednesday. Born through corruption, not birth. Their existence was... engineered.”

For the first time in a long while, I feel my breath catch. “And now they want to gather again?”

Morticia nods. “If this letter is genuine, yes. And if Tyler’s condition is worsening, they’ll come for him. They’ll want him to serve as their vessel. The last pure Hyde line.”

My throat tightens. “He’ll never allow that.”

She studies me in silence for a moment too long, her eyes dark and knowing. “He may not have a choice, my dear.”

For the first time in a long time I don’t have a response. The thought of Tyler losing himself makes me ache for him. I want him to be okay. He deserves to be happy.

My mother leans back in her chair. ‘’You’ve grown to care for him. ‘A lot,’ she states.

“I… yeah. I care for him,” I say, though even I can hear the fracture in my voice.

“Of course you do,’’ my mother says softly. “Wednesday, darling. This is serious. If the Vale Gathering takes place, you’ll need more than sharp words and a fencing blade. You’ll need allies.’’

I lift my chin. “I’ve never been good at making allies.’’

Her smile deepens. “You get that from me.”

I take the letter back from my mother’s desk before putting it back in my pocket.

‘’Tell me where Hollowvale is. If they want Tyler, they will have to go through me.’’

“It lies beneath the woods outside Jericho,” she says quietly. “But promise me something, Wednesday.”

“What?”

“If you go there, do not go alone.”

…

When I return to my dorm, I feel my heart beat very fast. My mother’s words haunt me. ‘’The Hydes were created there.’’ This means someone is responsible for the way Tyler is. Hollowvale isn’t just a place. It’s a birthplace. A factory of monsters.

Enid is sitting on her bed when I walk into the dorm. Her hair is braided with colourful ribbons. She looks up, noticing the tension in my posture.

‘’You look like you found another corpse,’’ she says carefully. ‘’Not the fun kind.’’

“Close enough.” I close the door behind me and lock it. “We’re going on a trip.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait…like a field trip or a felony trip?”

“The latter,” I answer simply, pulling the letter from my coat pocket and setting it on my desk. “Celeste wasn’t working alone. Someone invited her to something called the Vale Gathering. My mother confirmed it’s real. It’s happening in three days.”

Enid stops mid-braid. “And you’re planning to… what? Crash it? You can’t just walk into some cult-like gathering!”

“I wasn’t asking for permission,” I reply, my tone flat. “I’m asking for your help.”

That catches her off guard. “My help?”

“You’re persistent and very loud. Those are qualities I can use when trespassing an ancient ritual site.’’

I can see Enid blinking at me. After that she sighs dramatically.  “You really know how to make a girl feel special.’’

Enid gets up, already slipping on her shoes. “I’m in. But if something happens to me, I’ll haunt you forever.’’

“Duly noted.”

A soft thunk echoes behind us, and I glance toward the dresser. The thing has climbed up, tapping insistently against the letter.

“Ah, the silent volunteer,” I say dryly. “Very well. You’re coming too.”

The thing gives a smug little thumbs-up.

…

I’m about to leave the room when I stop in my tracks. Tyler is standing in front of me. I can see he just came out of the shower. His hair is still damp. His eyes are brighter than yesterday. He is holding two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Morning,” he says, offering a smile. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab breakfast before class.”

“I can’t,” I say quickly. “Not right now.”

His smile fades. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully. “But it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

He frowns. “Wednesday…”

“I need you to stay in your dorm today,” I interrupt. “Promise me.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

His eyes darken, frustration flickering beneath the surface. “You can’t just vanish and expect me not to worry.”

“Then don’t worry,” I say flatly, though my throat tightens. “Just trust me.”

He shakes his head, about to argue. “You’re asking me to…”

I stop him the only way I can think of. I step forward and kiss him.

His lips are warm and startled against mine, his breath catching between us.

When I pull back, his eyes are wide, searching mine for an explanation.

“Wednesday…”

“Don’t say anything,” I whisper. “Just… stay in your dorm. Please.”

Before he can reply, I turn and walk away, motioning for Enid and Thing to follow.
Behind me, I can feel his gaze burning into my back. And though I’ll never admit it aloud, the taste of him lingers.

…

The woods are always silent. But this time it doesn’t feel peaceful at all. There’s this thick fog everywhere. The fog clings to the trees like cobwebs, and every step seems to echo a little too long.

Enid is walking beside me. I can feel the tension radiating off of her. She keeps glancing at me, as though she’s waiting for me to change my mind and turn back. Even Thing seems tense. His fingers twitch every time the forest seems to move.

I tighten my grip on the lantern. “We’re getting close.”

“How can you even tell?” Enid whispers.

“Because the energy feels wrong,” I reply. “I can feel this dark energy.”

She groans softly. “Really? Wednesday Addams feeling dark energy.

“Most people lack vocabulary and survival instinct.”

I sigh at Enid as we keep walking. The path seems to fade. It’s replaced by slick earth and twisted roots. Suddenly the forest opens into a hollow.  For a second, the light shifts. It isn’t sunlight. No, it’s something else. A faint red glow pulsing beneath the soil, like the ground itself is breathing.

I stop. Enid nearly runs into me.

“Tell me that’s not normal,” she murmurs.

“It’s Hollowvale,” I say quietly. “Or what’s left of it.”

Before us lies a half-buried stone circle, the remnants of old runes carved deep into cracked slabs. The air hums faintly, alive with static. The symbols match the ones from the letter’s seal. The crescent split by a thorn.

The thing scuttles forward, tapping frantically against the outermost stone. That’s when I see it.

There are footprints in the mud. Definitely not ours. They’re fresh ones leading toward the centre of the ruins.

“Someone’s already been here,” Enid whispers.

I crouch down, examining the footprints. “More than one person. At least two sets. One heavy, one light.”

The heavier prints are unmistakable. I trace the edges with my finger, and my stomach drops.
“Boots from Jericho law enforcement,” I murmur. “Sheriff issue.”

Enid’s eyes widen. “Wait… you mean…”

“Yes,” I cut in. “Someone brought the sheriff here.”

A rustle to our right makes us both freeze. We turn, and out of the fog, a figure steps forward.

For a moment, my mind refuses to accept what I’m seeing.

“Francoise,” I whisper.

Enid blinks. “Who…wait, Tyler’s mother? She’s…she’s supposed to be dead!”

Francoise Galpin stands at the edge of the circle, her face pale as bone, her eyes too still, too empty. I notice she isn’t alive. I can feel it. There’s this unnatural cold radiating from her. There’s a faint shimmer around her body.

Suddenly she speaks. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “He’s slipping away, Wednesday. You can’t stop what’s already begun.”

Enid grips my arm. “Okay, this is officially above my comfort level.”

I take a slow step forward, ignoring her. “What do you mean? What’s happening to him?”

Francoise tilts her head. “The Gathering calls for blood. They took mine. They’ll take his.”

The glow beneath the stones flares brighter, and for a moment, her image flickers, like a candle about to die out.
But before she disappears completely, she says one more thing: “Hollowvale isn’t a place. It’s a door. And it’s opening.”

After that, she’s gone.

The clearing falls silent again, but the ground hums beneath my boots. I can feel it now. A pulse that doesn’t belong to this world.

Enid turns to me, voice trembling. “Please tell me you have a plan.”

“I always have a plan,” I say, though the words sound thin even to me.

Thing taps twice on my boot, and when I glance down, he points toward the glowing runes.
I see it too now. There’s a faint pattern forming between them. A symbol. Not a crescent or a thorn this time, but a chain wrapping around a heart.

It’s a sigil of binding. Whoever started this isn’t summoning the Hyde. They’re claiming it.

I straighten slowly, my pulse steady but sharp. “We need to get back. Now.”

As we turn to leave, the red glow dimming is retreating into the soil.

…

The morning fog has turned into rain. It runs down the black stones of the courtyard. When we finally return to Nevermore, we’re soaked.

Enid is quiet beside me. Too quiet for how she usually is. Her sweater is soaked and clings to her. The thing hides under her sleeve.

“I’m going to speak with my mother,” I tell Enid. “Go dry off.’’

Enid opens her mouth to argue, but one look from me silences her. She mutters something before she storms off toward our dorm.

I walk alone through the west wing. Each echoing step carries me closer to the principal’s office. The candles lining the hallway burn low.

I push the door open without knocking.

My mother looks up from her desk. There’s a pen between her fingers. Her expression doesn’t change, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.

“I was expecting you,” she says. “Enid has already informed me that you left school grounds. Again.”

I close the door behind me. “You’re welcome. I found something useful.”

My mother arches a brow. “I assumed as much. You rarely risk detention for something trivial.”

I step closer, dropping the sealed letter on her desk again. “You were right. Hollowvale isn’t dead. It’s… breathing.”

Her gaze sharpens. “Explain.”

So I decide to tell her everything. I tell her about the clearing. About the runes and about the pulsing light beneath the soil. I even tell her about the impossible part, the ghostly figure who stood in front of us.

‘’It was Francoise Galpin. She wasn’t exactly alive. But she said they took her blood and that Tyler will be next.’’

Morticia’s lips part. Not in surprise, but in something close to pain. “I hoped it wouldn’t reach this far,” she murmurs.

My stomach knots. “You knew something like this could happen.”

“I knew it once existed.” Her voice is soft now, careful. “When I was a student here, before I met your father, Hollowvale wasn’t just a legend whispered by frightened witches. It was a circle. An order. They believed Hyde's blood carried the key to immortality. That the chaos in them wasn’t a curse but a vessel. A bridge between life and death. They called themselves The Veiled Thorns”.

The name feels familiar, sharp. “You were part of them.”

My mother looks at me. ‘’I was young and curious Wednesday. The same way you are now. They promised answers. But it turned out their work was dark. They didn’t just study Hydes. No, they manipulated them. Used them as experiments. They used Tyler’s mother.

My pulse quickens. “Tyler’s mother was part of a cult?”

“Not by choice.” Morticia’s voice lowers, dark as the rain outside. “Francoise was a gifted musician. She used to be gentle and empathetic. They chose her precisely for that. They believed emotion made the transformation more potent.’’

It takes everything in me not to flinch. “So that’s what destroyed her.”

“And almost destroyed me,” my mother admits. “I saw what they did. I ran before they could finish their work. Before they bound me, too.”

My mother leans back in her chair. I can see the haunted expression in her eyes. ’I found out years later that Francoise had survived. She begged me to protect her son if he ever came to Nevermore. That’s why I asked you to look after him.”

The realisation hits me. It was never a coincidence that Tyler and I met.

“You used me,” I whisper.

My mother shakes her head. ’No. I trusted you to protect him. That’s a big difference, Wednesday.’’

For a moment there’s a silence between us. The rain outside turns harder, beating against the windows.

I finally break the silence. “Francoise’s spirit warned me that Hollowvale isn’t a place. It’s a door.’’

My mother nods slowly. “Then the Veiled Thorns are waking. And if they take Tyler, they’ll use his Hyde to finish what they started.”

The words settle in the room like ash.

“Then we stop them,” I say simply.

Her lips curve into the faintest smile. “Of course you will. You’re my daughter.”

…

Tyler’s POV

I know I am not supposed to be here. I made a promise to Wednesday that I would stay in my dorm. But I felt restless there.

I was heading toward Morticia’s office to ask if she’d seen Wednesday. I’d been waiting for her all morning, pacing in my dorm like an idiot.

I stop outside of the principal's office when I overhear their voices. Morticia and Wednesday are talking about something. I can hear the seriousness in both their voices.

At first, I only caught fragments. After that I overhear my mother's name. Francoise Galpin.

I freeze in the hallway. My chest tightens so fast it’s hard to breathe. I take a single step closer, just enough to hear more clearly.

“…they believed Hyde blood carried the key to immortality. ‘That the chaos wasn’t a curse, but a vessel,’’ Morticia says, with a calm voice. She’s too calm for my liking. It hurts to know she’s talking like this about my family.

My heart is hammering against my ribs. My palms slick with cold sweat.

“They called themselves The Veiled Thorns.”

There’s a pause before Wednesday; her voice cuts through. ‘’You were a part of them.’’

Every word that follows makes my entire body ache. Francoise, my own mother, was offered as an experiment to this cult. She wasn’t a victim by accident. No, she was chosen to be experimented on.

My stomach turns. The hallway feels like it’s closing in on me, pressing in on every side. The edges of my vision blur.

I step back, trying to regain my composure, but I stumble into the wall. The world around me seems to close in on me. I can feel the Hyde wanting to claw out. There’s this aching feeling below my ribs.

I press my palms to my temples, trying to push it back down. Not now. Not here.

“She begged me to protect her son if he ever came to Nevermore.’’ Morticia says she sounds calm and detached.

That’s when it hits me. None of this was coincidence. Wednesday didn’t find me because fate was merciful. She found me because her mother promised her she would.

My throat burns from everything. It’s too much to take in. It’s not just anger I feel. No, it’s grief as well. I want to scream. To tear everything apart. But I can feel my body isn’t really holding back anymore. The Hyde is about to come out.

My throat burns. It’s not just anger — it’s grief. It’s betrayal twisted together until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other starts.

The hum turns into a pulse, deep and rhythmic, matching my heartbeat. My fingernails dig into my palms until they draw blood. I can feel the change tugging at me. Like claws scraping along the inside of my skin, begging to be let out.

My reflection in the hallway window wavers. My eyes are flashing that unmistakable yellow.
“No,” I whisper. “Not here. Not now. Please…”

But it’s too late.  The growl builds, low and guttural. The glass in the window trembles. The lamps along the wall flicker violently, one after another, casting jagged shadows that dance like flames.

Suddenly there’s this pain that hits my spine. I can feel my spine arch and my bones shift beneath my skin. I can feel it clawing its way up, the monster beneath the surface, furious and desperate.

Suddenly I hear Wednesday’s voice. ‘’Tyler!’’

The office door slams open, and Wednesday runs out of the office. Morticia follows Wednesday into the hallway.

I turn toward them, gasping, trembling so hard my teeth ache. My hands are no longer steady. My veins are blackened.

“Stay back!” I choke out. “I can’t… I can’t stop it!”

But Wednesday doesn’t listen to me. No, she walks toward me.

“Look at me!” She snaps, stepping closer. “Tyler, look at me!”

My breath comes out ragged. My vision splits. Part human, part monster. Her face blurs and sharpens again. I can hear every beat of her heart and smell her fear and defiance tangled together. The Hyde likes it. It wants it.

“You’re not him,” she says, her tone as cold. You are you. You hear me? Not the Hyde. Not Thornhill’s weapon. Not their creation.”

The growl in my throat dies just a little. I blink while the yellow fades in my eyes. My eyes fill with tears that burn on their way down.

“I didn’t know,” I manage to say, my voice broken. “I didn’t know what they did to her. What they made her do.”

Morticia moves beside me. ‘’She loved you, Tyler. Even after everything they took from her, she loved you.”

That undoes me completely. I drop to my knees, the weight of it all pressing down until it feels like I can’t breathe. My chest shakes, my hands tremble.

I feel Wednesday’s hand on my shoulder. They’re firm but grounding.

“Next time you think you’re alone,” she says quietly, “please remember that I’ll always be here.’’

The world slowly stops spinning. The hum inside me dims to a dull ache.
The Hyde retreats, but I can still feel it breathing somewhere deep inside. It’s restless.

When I finally look up, Wednesday’s face is unreadable, but her eyes… they aren’t empty.
There’s something there. Something I don’t deserve.

“Come on,” she says. “You’re bleeding on the floor. It’s unsanitary.”

A weak laugh escapes me, half-choked, but real.

As she helps me up, Morticia watches us. There’s worry in her eyes that she doesn’t voice.

Because she knows. This isn’t over. Whatever’s coming next… started long before any of us were born.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s POV

The air in Morticia’s office feels suffocating. It’s cold, and you can cut the tension with a knife. It makes it hard to breathe.

Wednesday is sitting beside me. Her posture is straight as always. Her expression was unreadable.

Morticia stands behind the desk. Her hands are clasped in front of her. I’m surprised at how calm she is. Then again, she is an Addams.

I already know parts of the story. The cult, my mother and Hollowvale. But somehow hearing it from Morticia feels different. I know she’s about to tell me things I will never be able to forget.

‘’Tyler,’’ she begins. ‘’You deserve to know the entire truth about your mother. I wanted to tell you that night at the cottage, but...we all know how that ended. Anyway, I will tell you all of it.’’

Her words hit me hard. I nod at Morticia even though a part of me wants to run away from all of this.

She moves around the desk, pacing around the office. ‘’Your mother, Francoise. She was extraordinary when I first met her. She was gifted. But there was also conflict in her. Her Hyde was awakened.’’

“Awakened?” I echo, my throat dry.

She nods. “By them. The Veiled Thorns.”

That name has been haunting my mind ever since the moment I found out about their existence.

Morticia continues. “They sought out young outcasts who displayed unusual control. People who could bridge the human and the monstrous. Francoise was chosen for her empathy, for her ability to feel deeply. They believed emotion made a Hyde more powerful.”

Somehow a bitter laugh escapes me. ’So they tortured my mother because she was too kind?’’

I can see Mortica’s gaze soften. ‘’They didn’t just torture her, Tyler. They used her. The cult believed that by binding her Hyde to the cult’s bloodline, they could create a being that could never die. A vessel. Half human, half eternal.”

My pulse stutters. “And they succeeded?”

“Partially.” Morticia’s expression darkens. “Francoise’s Hyde was bound to her, but she resisted them. She ran before they could finish. I helped her escape.”

Somehow the room feels smaller. The air is heavy.

“What happened to her?” I ask, my voice cracking.

Morticia hesitates for the first time since I’ve known her. “She lived in hiding for years. But the binding left marks. Every generation, the ritual demands renewal. A sacrifice to feed the bloodline. They probably came looking for her back at Iago Tower.’’

I blink, unable to move, my heart pounding too loud in my ears. “So all that time. The tower, the fire that wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t even Thornhill, was it?”

Morticia shakes her head slowly. “Thornhill was one of them, yes. But the tower’s collapse… that was the cult reclaiming what they’d lost. They wanted Francoise back. And when she died, the blood bond transferred.”

“To me,” I whisper.

Morticia nods once. “You are the heir of the bloodline, Tyler. The last living host of the Hyde they created. The cult believes you are the key to finishing their ritual. To bind the immortal vessel once and for all.”

I push away from the chair, my hands shaking. “No. No, that’s not… That can’t be…”

“Tyler,” Wednesday says softly, but I can barely hear her.

“They want me,” I say, my voice breaking. “They killed her, and now they want me. All of this…the letter, Celeste, the spell…it’s been leading to this?”

Morticia steps closer, her expression dark but steady. “They will try to summon you at the Gathering. The ritual can only be completed willingly. They need your acceptance. Your surrender.”

I laugh again, but it comes out like a sob. “My surrender? I barely survived the last time the Hyde took over. You think I’ll just give in?”

“The Hyde isn’t your enemy,” Morticia says.

I snap at her. ‘’The Hyde killed people,’’ I shout. My voice cracks. ‘’It has ruined everything. My life. It has taken over my mind. Everything I think I’ve got control of is tearing me apart inside.’’

The hum starts again. Deep, guttural, inside my ribs. I take a step back, trying to control my breathing, but the air burns in my lungs.

“I can feel it,” I whisper. “It’s stronger every day. I thought it was gone after the ritual, but it’s… it’s coming back.”

Wednesday stands now, her face pale. “You’re not alone this time, Tyler.”

I turn to her, my hands still trembling. “You say that like you actually believe it.”

“I do.”

Something inside me breaks. “Then you’re a fool.”

Her expression doesn’t even flinch. “I’ve been called worse.”

Morticia takes a careful step forward, hand raised.

“Tyler, listen to me,” she says quietly. “You cannot let them take what’s left of you. The Gathering is in three days. Whatever they’re planning, they will use your fear against you. You must fight it, or they will turn you into what your mother died to destroy.”

My breathing slows, but it’s unsteady and ragged. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong breath away from falling.

I finally meet Morticia’s gaze. “Then tell me how to stop them.”

She studies me for a long moment before she answers. “You can’t stop what’s already begun. But you can end it.”

The weight of those words makes my blood run cold. “End it how?” I ask.

Morticia’s voice softens. “The same way Francoise tried to. By choosing who you really are before they choose for you.”

…

Wednesday’s POV

The moment I step out of my mother’s office, a silence hits us. There are no right words for what Tyler is going through.

Tyler is walking beside me. Even though I wouldn’t use the word ‘walk’ to describe how he’s moving. He moves like he’s barely holding himself together. I see him trembling with every step he takes. His eyes are fixed on the floor, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Even the tension in his jaw is visible. I know he’s unravelling.

The hallway we walk through is long and dark. It’s only lit by the occasional torch that flickers against the stone walls. The shadows bend strangely with our movements, the air thick with the scent of candle wax and dust.

When we reach the end of the hallway, Tyler stops. He presses his palm against the wall.

‘’Tyler…’’ I say softly. Hoping that I can reach him.

’Don’t.” His voice is rough. “Don’t say anything right now.”

I stay silent. I’ve learnt that when someone is about to break, words are useless.

After a moment, he turns, his eyes wet and wild. “She lied to me. My whole life. Every memory of my mother was a lie. She wasn’t sick. She was running from danger… and I killed her…’’

His voice cracks on the last word. I watch his throat tighten, the vein in his neck twitching.

“She didn’t deserve that,” he says, quieter now, almost choking on it. “She didn’t deserve any of it.”

I nod once. “No. She didn’t.”

His laugh is bitter, hollow. “I’m supposed to believe I’m different? That I’m not just another version of her? Another monster they built?”

I take a step closer. “You’re not her.”

He looks up at me, his expression raw. “But I am. That’s the point, isn’t it? Her blood, her curse – it’s all in me. And now they want to finish what they started.”

He paces, dragging his hand through his hair. The motion is frantic, desperate. “It makes sense now. The seizures, the nightmares, and why I’ve felt it clawing again. They’re pulling me back, Wednesday. They’re using me like they used her.”

His voice shakes, but it’s not just fear; it’s grief.

“You said you’d do anything to protect me,” he says suddenly, looking up at me with something fierce in his eyes. “How? How do you protect something like this?”

My throat tightens. ‘’By killing anyone who tries to hurt you.’’

Tyler freezes for a second. His haunted look seems to fade for a second. ’You would kill for me?’’

‘’I would burn the world for you.’’

Tyler exhales. ‘’That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.’’

I shrug. “You attract the right kind of women.”

I can see a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. But it’s only for a second. After that I see his body tremble. I realise it’s starting. The Hyde is trying to surface. His eyes flash yellow for a split second before he squeezes them shut, shaking his head.

“Not here,” he mutters. “Not again.”

I move closer before he can step away. “You need to breathe.”

“Don’t…”

“Tyler.” My voice cuts sharper than his panic. “Look at me.”

He looks at me right away. I can see how wide his pupils are. The yellow flickers at the edges. I place my hand on his chest. Over his heart. I can feel it beating too fast.

“You’re here,” I tell him. “You’re human right now. You are not a weapon. You are not theirs.”

His breath shudders, and his hand closes over mine. His skin is cold, slick with sweat.

“You don’t know that,” he whispers. “You don’t know what it feels like when it’s inside you. It’s not just in my head. It’s me. It’s everything.”

“I do know one thing.’’ I say. “I know you’ve fought it before. You’ll do it again.”

He shakes his head, his voice breaking. “You don’t get it. It’s not just whispering anymore. It’s screaming.”

For a moment, his entire body tenses, like something just ripped through him. I can see it in his eyes. The brief, horrifying flicker of something else looking back.

He slumps against the wall, his chest heaving, his hand still clutching mine like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“I can’t do this,” he says, his voice raw. “I can’t keep fighting something that never dies.”

I hold his gaze. “Then let me fight it with you.”

He laughs again, but softer this time. “You don’t know what you’re volunteering for.”

“I do know. I’m choosing to fight with you. I’ll always fight with you.’’

Tyler looks at me for a long time. I can see the chaos in his eyes fading away.

Finally, he nods, his voice barely above a whisper. “If it comes to it… don’t let me become like her.”

My heart twists, but my expression doesn’t change. “I promise.’’

…

My dorm is way too small for this much chaos. God, I’m about to lose my mind.

Enid is pacing around the room. The thing is scribbling things on paper. My mother is sitting in my chair, like it’s her throne. My father is on the floor surrounded by books about Hyde lore and ancient blood rites. He’s muttering in delight.

Tyler is sitting on the edge of my bed. His shoulders are slumped. His hands are clasped tightly between his knees. He looks pale and sick.

I’m standing by the window, watching the storm outside twist the trees in the distance. It feels fitting with what’s happening. Nature always has impeccable timing when it comes to tragedy.

Enid stops pacing long enough to groan, “Okay, so is there any way we can stop them?!”

My father perks up. “We don’t know. But it’s definitely a grand adventure. Maybe it will involve secret tunnels?’’

My mother gives him a sharp look. “Gomez, dear, this is not the time for enthusiasm.”

I turn from the window. “Actually, enthusiasm might be the only thing keeping us from spiralling into hysteria.”

Enid snorts. “I’m already spiralling. I just hide it better than most.”

Tyler finally speaks, his voice soft but steady. “What if this is exactly what they want? All of us are looking for a way to stop them. Maybe that’s part of it. Maybe they want me desperate.”

“You’re giving them too much credit,” I say. “Most cults barely manage basic arithmetic.”

“Still,” Morticia says, “we must assume the Veiled Thorns are more organised than they appear. Their interest in Hyde lore suggests a leader with direct knowledge of the rituals. Someone connected to your mother’s generation.”

“Thornhill,” I say automatically.

“But Thornhill’s dead,” Enid argues.

“So was Frankenstein’s monster,” my father says cheerfully, “and yet, there he was again.”

My mother sighs. “You see what I live with?”

Tyler’s voice interrupts them, strained and low. “Even if Thornhill’s gone, someone else picked up where she left off. Celeste didn’t do all this on her own.”

I nod. “She was bait. A pawn.”

Enid glances between us, her bright hair haloed by the candlelight. “Okay, then what’s the plan? Because if we just sit here, the only thing we’ll accomplish is emotional trauma and poor posture.”

Thing slams his hand against the desk, pointing insistently at one of the open books.

I walk over, leaning closer. The page is old, the ink faded but still legible. “Ritual of the Vessel,” I read aloud. “Requires three components: blood of the origin, the fractured soul, and the willing sacrifice.”

Enid’s face pales. “Please tell me we don’t have two of those already.”

I glance at Tyler. His expression answers the question for me.

My mother folds her hands. “Then we must prevent the final piece. The willingness.”

Tyler lets out a hollow laugh. “You can’t exactly stop a person from giving up, Morticia.”

She studies him with quiet intensity. “Then we give you something worth fighting for.”

The room falls into a heavy silence. I can feel every heartbeat in the room.

My father breaks it, of course. “That’s the spirit! Family, friendship, and perhaps a little mayhem!”

Enid shakes her head. “You’re way too cheerful about apocalyptic cult stuff.”

He grins. “Darling, the Addams family thrives on apocalyptic cult stuff.”

Tyler exhales, rubbing his temples. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me.”

I move closer, my tone flat but certain. “That’s not your decision.”

He looks up at me, eyes rimmed red but sharp. “It is if it’s my blood they want.”

“Then we poison it,” I say simply.

Everyone turns to look at me.

I continue, “The ritual requires pure blood. Hyde blood that still carries the connection. If we taint that connection. Even temporarily, the ritual won’t bind. They’ll fail before they can even start.”

My mother’s eyes glint with pride. “Poison as protection. A classic Addams approach.”

Enid makes a face. “Please don’t tell me we’re going to literally poison Tyler.”

My father chuckles. “Oh, I wouldn’t say literally. Just metaphorically. And with flair.”

Tyler manages a small, tired smile. “If it keeps them from using me, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t make promises before you know the cost,” I warn. “The cure could break you as easily as the curse.”

He meets my eyes. “Then we break together.”

For a moment, I say nothing. I can’t.

Outside, thunder rattles the windowpanes. Enid jumps. The thing hides under the papers. My mother rises, smoothing her dress.

“Then it’s settled,” Morticia says. “We prepare the counterspell. Wednesday, you’ll gather the remaining ingredients. Gomez and I will keep watch for movement near the grounds. Enid…”

“I’ll make snacks,” Enid offers weakly.

Morticia smiles. “Precisely.”

As everyone begins to move, I glance back at Tyler. He’s staring out the window again, shoulders still tense, but there’s something different now.

I don’t touch him. But I stand close enough that our hands almost brush.

He looks at me. “You think this’ll work?”

“I hope so.’’

He exhales, almost a laugh. “That’s good enough for me.”

And for the first time in days, I let the smallest smile touch my lips. Because for once, I need it to work.

…

We have decided to try the counterspell in the morning. Everyone has left. It’s midnight, and a quiet has settled into my dorm.

Enid’s finally fallen asleep, curled up under her pink blanket, her breathing slow and steady. Thing has retreated to his small velvet-lined drawer beside her bed. My parents left an hour ago. My mother with calm confidence, my father humming something disturbingly cheerful about cult dismantling.

It’s just Tyler and me who are still awake.

The candles have burnt low, their wax dripping across my desk in strange, skeletal shapes. The air smells of smoke and old paper.

Tyler sits beside me on the floor, legs crossed, his back against the side of my bed. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing the faint bruising along his arms. Remnants of the last Hyde episode that still haven’t faded.

There’s a map between us of Hollowvale on the ground. We’ve been reviewing the details over and over, but my mind keeps drifting back to the sound of his breathing.

“Does it ever stop?” I ask quietly.

He looks up, startled. “What?”

“The sound of it inside you. The Hyde. Does it ever go silent?”

Tyler’s jaw tenses. He looks away, toward the flickering candlelight. “Sometimes. When I’m with you.”

My pulse skips. It feels traitorous and inconvenient. I look back at the map before he can see it in my eyes. “Flattery is wasted on me.”

He huffs a breath, halfway to a laugh. “It wasn’t flattery. It’s just… quieter when you’re around. I don’t know why.”

“I do.”

He turns to face me fully now. “Yeah?”

“It’s because you know I won’t hesitate to stab you if you lose control.”

He grins faintly. “Romantic.”

“I try.”

For a brief moment, there’s a flicker of something warm in his expression. The kind of softness he never shows anyone else. Then it fades, replaced by that familiar, haunted look.

“Wednesday…” His voice drops, low and rough. “What if this doesn’t work? What if this thing inside me wins?”

I study him. His hands tremble slightly, his breathing shallow. The candlelight throws shadows across his face.

‘’Then I promise I will end it. I will not let it devour you. You have my promise.’’

He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have to keep saving me.”

“I don’t do it for you.”

His lips twitch. “For whom, then?”

“For me.’’

He looks at me, really looks at me, and I hate that I can feel the pull of it, the gravity between us that neither of us wants to name.

Before either of us can say more, he flinches. His fingers dig into his knees.

“Tyler?”

He doesn’t answer. His head bows forward, his breath coming in jagged gasps. The flickering candlelight seems to pulse with him, as if reacting to the thing inside.

Then I hear it. That guttural sound, low and animal.

I move closer, my voice calm, measured. “It’s happening again.”

He grits his teeth. “It’s… it’s fine.”

‘’It’s not fine, Tyler.’’

He smiles at me with a broken laugh. He clutches his chest for a moment; I can even see the change in his eyes again. I reach for him, catching his wrists before he can dig his nails into his skin.

“Listen to me,” I say firmly. “You are not the Hyde. You’re Tyler.”

“It’s…it’s stronger. It’s not listening anymore.”

“Then listen to me.”

For a moment, our eyes lock. I can see it. The fracture between him and Hyde. His jaw tightens, his muscles tremble, and his breath stutters like it’s being dragged out of him.

And then I do something reckless. I cup his face in both my hands. His skin is ice-cold, his pulse wild beneath it.

“Focus,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

He blinks, and after that his eyes turn normal. His breathing slows. The tension in his shoulders eases. He slumps forward, pressing his forehead against my shoulder. I stay still for a moment, my hands still in his hair.

We sit there in silence. His breath is warm against my neck, uneven but real.

After a long moment, he murmurs, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make it stop.”

I look at him, the words sticking in my throat before I force them out. ‘’Because I’d do anything for you…’’

Tyler turns silent for a second. He smiles at me. ‘’Why?’’ he asks softly.

“Because I can’t imagine how life would be without you in it.’’

For a while, neither of us speaks. The candles burn low, the map forgotten between us. He eventually drifts off, exhaustion claiming him. I watch the rise and fall of his chest, listening for any sign of the Hyde.

I don’t move. I can’t. My hands still rest in his hair, his head resting near my leg again. The same way it did before.

When I finally whisper to him. ‘God, I love you so much…please don’t stop fighting…’

Because the truth is, I’m not sure who I’d be without him.

…

The morning light bled through the curtains. For a moment I enjoy the quiet. Until I realise it’s too quiet.

I sit up and see that the space beside my window is empty. The map, the books and the vials are all gone. So is Tyler.

A cold shiver crawls down my spine, but I force myself to move. I check the corner where Thing usually lurks. It’s empty. I check the floor, the desk, and the hallway, but he’s not there either.

I tell myself I’m not panicking. Panic is disorder, and I do not break that easily. But my hands are shaking anyway.

He wouldn’t leave. Not before the counterspell. Not without saying something.

That’s when something catches my eye. There’s a folded piece of paper on my desk. My name is written across it. With a handwriting I’d recognise anywhere.

My chest tightens as I unfold it.

‘’Wednesday,

I’m sorry. I can’t let you do this. I can’t let anyone sacrifice themselves for me. You’ve already done too much.

You were right. Hyde is still inside me. It always will be. I thought I could fight it, but maybe I was never meant to win. Maybe this is how I make it mean something.

I heard you last night. I wasn’t fully asleep. You said you loved me. You said you’d kill for me.
You gave me something worth protecting.

I love you. Even if it means I’ll die with the monster still in me, I want you to know that you made me feel human again.

Please don’t come after me.

— Tyler

The words blur before I realise why. A tear slides down my cheek. It’s uninvited and infuriating.

I stare at it, almost fascinated. I haven’t cried since childhood.

But now, standing here with this letter trembling in my hands, I understand the peculiar cruelty of emotion. How it doesn’t ask permission before it rips you open.

The candle on my desk flickers once and dies, as if the air itself has gone still.

He’s gone. I know exactly where he’s gone to. He’s gone to Hollowvale.

The Gathering isn’t in two days anymore. He’s going there now. To sacrifice himself before I can stop him.

I close my eyes, pressing the letter to my chest for just a moment. It’s enough to feel the weight of it. Then I fold it neatly, tucking it inside my coat.

When I open my eyes again, the tears are gone. What remains is cold precision.

“I warned you not to make me care,” I whisper to the empty room. “Now you’ll see what that mistake costs.”

I turn, grab my coat, and stride out of the dorm.

Because if Tyler Galpin thinks he can decide how this ends, he doesn’t know me at all.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

I don’t waste any time. By the time the candlelight fades, I’m already moving around. I have my coat on, and my boots echo against the floors of Nevermore. I can feel the letter inside my jacket.

Tyler has gone to Hollowvale. To the gathering. He’s probably going to die.

I can feel it in my bones that he’s going to give himself over to them, and I can’t let him do that.

The hallways are empty at this hour. The early morning light hits the stained glass. I’m heading to my mother’s office. She’s the only one who can help me now.

When I reach the door, I don’t knock. I push it open.

My mother looks up from her desk. She has a black quill in her hand. She doesn’t move when she sees me. Though her eyes move to the letter I have in my fist.

 “I assume this visit isn’t social,” she says quietly.

“It’s Tyler,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend. “He’s gone. He left this.”

I toss the letter onto her desk. She reads it, her expression unreadable, the candlelight glinting off the black polish of her nails. When she finishes, she exhales softly. It’s almost a sigh.

“I feared this,” she murmurs. “The boy carries too much guilt for one heart to hold.”

“He’s going to Hollowvale,” I press. “He means to sacrifice himself before the Gathering begins.”

Her gaze lifts to mine. “Then the Gathering has already begun.”

The words land like stones in my stomach. “What?”

“The signs have been building all week,” she says. “Letters exchanged. Offerings left at the woods’ edge. I had hoped it would be delayed until the solstice, but…” She trails off, her voice turning colder. “They’re accelerating. They want him now, while the link to the Hyde is still there.’’

I clench my fists. “Then I need the counterspell.”

My mother’s eyes soften; it almost looks like pity. “Even if you find him, Wednesday, there’s no guarantee it will work. The Hyde’s bond to its host isn’t just magic. It’s tethered to his blood. If the ritual completes…’’

“I don’t care,” I interrupt. “I won’t let him die for this.”

My mother's gaze lingers on me. I can feel her studying me. After a long moment, she stands, gliding to the cabinet behind her desk. From it, she takes a black vial etched with silver runes.

“This is the counterspell,” she says, holding it out. “It must be broken on the ground where the ritual began. But you’ll only have one chance. If you misjudge the timing, it could destroy him instead of freeing him.”

I take the vial, feeling its weight settle in my palm like a promise. “Then I’ll aim precisely.”

Morticia’s lips curve faintly, though not in amusement. “You have your father’s stubbornness and my lack of mercy. That’s a dangerous combination.”

“Flattery won’t slow me down.”

Her expression turns serious again. “Wednesday… Prepare yourself for the possibility that you may not bring him back at all.”

For the first time, I hesitate.

My mother sees it, of course. She always does. She steps closer, her voice dropping. “You care for him. That makes you vulnerable. But it also gives you strength. If he truly loves you as his letter says, that bond may be the only thing stronger than the curse itself.”

I slip the vial into my pocket, straightening my shoulders. “Then love will have to be sufficient.”

Morticia nods once, the faintest glint of pride in her eyes. “Don’t go alone. Take Enid and Thing with you. Your father and I will come as well.’’

“Okay.’’

I turn and stride toward the door. Because whatever waits for me in Hollowvale, nothing frightens me as much as the thought of losing Tyler.

…

Tyler’s POV

The ink is still wet when I leave the letter behind. The words are uneven. I don’t read them again. Because I know if I do, I’ll stay. Staying means I will put her in danger, and I can’t risk that.

So I walk. The night air is cold and heavy as I leave Nevermore behind. I keep my head down and my hands deep in my pockets, trying to ignore the pounding behind my eyes. The headache started the second I decided to leave. Now it’s a knife twisting deeper with every step.

Come back. Finish what she started. You can’t outrun your blood.

The whisper crawls through my head, low and familiar, but it doesn’t sound like the Hyde. It sounds older. It sounds like something that was always there, waiting.

By the time I reach the woods, the world feels wrong. The air is thick, humming with energy that makes the back of my neck crawl. I stumble over roots, breath coming in shallow gasps, the pain behind my eyes growing sharper, brighter. I know where I’m going, even though I don’t remember choosing the path, but it’s clearly leading to Hollowvale.

It feels like being dragged by an invisible chain wrapped around my ribs.

When I finally reach the hollow, the fog is so dense it looks solid. I fall to my knees, pressing my hands to the dirt. It’s the same place where they tortured my mother. Suddenly I feel an aching pain throughout my entire body. I almost black out.

Suddenly I hear footsteps approaching. Slowly but surely heading my way. I can see a shadow moving between the trees.

My heart starts hammering so hard I can hear it. For a second, I think it’s Wednesday. Maybe she ignored my letter; maybe she came anyway. But then the figure steps into the light, and my body freezes.

Because it’s not her. It’s someone that was buried months ago.

“Tyler.”

My stomach drops at the voice calling out my name. It’s impossible.

I look up. My father, Sheriff Donovan Galpin, is standing in front of me.

He looks exactly like the last night I saw him. He’s wearing a uniform jacket. He has the same faint scar underneath his eyes. And of course he has the same disappointing frown.

But there’s something different now. His eyes are wrong. Too pale. Too cold.

My mouth goes dry. “You’re dead.”

He smirks faintly. “That’s what they said about you too, remember?”

I stumble backward, my legs barely holding me. “No… no… Wednesday found you! They killed you.’’

My father steps closer, his boots sinking into the dirt. ‘’She saw what they wanted her to see.’’

The words sink in like hooks. I can’t breathe. “How…?”

“Because they wanted the world to think I died,” he interrupts.

I shake my head, the pain in my skull flaring so violently I have to grab the nearest tree for balance. “You can’t be here.”

“But I am,” he says softly. “You thought I didn’t know what you were, Tyler? You thought I didn’t see it in you. Even as a child?”

He takes another step closer. His eyes glint like ice. “You got it from her!’’

Something inside me twists. ‘’Shame you were never there for her.’’

He laughs. It sounds low, sharp and humourless. “Did you ever wonder why I hated those things in the woods? Why did I keep you away from Nevermore? Why did I make you afraid of yourself? Because I knew. Because I remembered what they did to your mother...”

He’s standing right in front of me now, his face too close, his voice almost gentle. “You didn’t become the Hyde because of Thornhill. She just woke it up. It was always there. It’s your family’s gift. You think Francoise ran away because she was afraid of you?” He shakes his head slowly. “No, son. She was afraid of them.’’

The world tilts. I stagger backward, clutching at my chest. Every word digs into me like a knife.

“No,” I whisper. “You’re not real. You can’t be…”

He grabs my wrist, his grip iron-tight. The heat that floods through my arm feels alive, spreading through my veins like wildfire.

“Feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s the truth. It’s in your blood. You can’t escape it.”

The Hyde stirs. My vision pulses black and red. My breath catches, my hands trembling as claws threaten to break through my skin.

“Stop it,” I choke out.

“You can’t stop what you are,” he says softly, almost tenderly. “You’re theirs, Tyler. You’ve always been theirs.”

The pain detonates. I scream, falling to my knees as the transformation rips through me. My bones start shifting, skin tearing, and the world splitting in two. I catch a final glimpse of my father watching me.

“That’s my boy,” he whispers, just before everything goes dark.

…

For a split second I think I’ve died. Because there’s no pain, no sound, and everything is black.

But then it hits me. The Hyde bursts through me. My lungs seize, my vision flickers, and suddenly I’m standing in a place that isn’t real. The clearing is gone, and I’m seeing fog spreading around me.

I hear my heartbeat, fast and uneven. But there’s an even louder sound beneath it. It’s the Hyde. It’s awake and angry.

I try to focus. “Stop.” My own voice sounds distant, swallowed by the fog. “You’re not him.”

But then I hear it again ... that voice. My father’s voice.

“Tyler, you were born for this.”

“No!” I shout, clutching my head. The sound bounces back at me, echoing until it’s almost laughter.

“You can’t run from what’s in your blood.”

Every word twists into me. It’s like a thousand memories cut through the dark. My father’s disappointment, the way he used to look at me when he was drunk. But somehow they blur, manufacturing into something else.

The laughter shifts. It changes.

My father’s voice fades. It warps and cracks until it becomes something else.

I freeze. The fog shivers around me.

“You always were so easy to break.” The tone is silk wrapped around glass. It sounds smooth, deadly, and familiar in a way that makes my stomach twist.

Suddenly I can see a shape moving in the fog. It’s the woman speaking to me. Her steps are light.

I try to move, but my body won’t obey. The Hyde within me growls low, uncertain. Even it doesn’t know what to do.

The figure steps closer until I see her face. Her eyes are as dark as the night.

It isn’t my father. It never was.

“I see you’ve been dreaming of ghosts again,” she purrs. “You humans are so sentimental. Always clinging to pain.”

“Who are you?” My voice breaks, half a growl, half a plea.

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Names are such small things. But if you must, call me what your mother did, the Seeker.”

The air hums with that word. My pulse falters. “You knew my mother?”

“I made her what she was.” Her smile widens, revealing teeth too sharp to belong to anything human. “And now, I’ll finish what she couldn’t. The Hyde was never meant to serve mortals. It’s a weapon. One I forged from something far older than your bloodline.”

My hands shake violently. The Hyde snarls through my veins, half fighting, half obeying. “You used her.”

“She was weak,” the Seeker hisses. “She thought she could bind it with love. That’s what broke her.”

Rage floods through me, hot and electric. “You’re lying.”

Her laugh ripples through the air like a blade. “Then why are you still on your knees?”

I force myself to stand, though the world tilts around me. The fog thickens, pressing against my skin like cold hands. “You’re not real.”

“Oh, I’m very real.” She steps closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve been sleeping inside you since the day you were born. Every time you changed, every time you hurt someone, that was me guiding you home.”

I shake my head, backing away. “No…”

She leans forward, her eyes burning gold for a moment. It’s the same glow that flickers behind mine when the Hyde takes over. “You thought Thornhill made you a monster? She was just the key. I was the door.”

Something inside me fractures. The Hyde surges again, clawing for release, and I realise it’s afraid. It’s afraid of her.

“What do you want from me?” I manage, my voice raw.

Her smile turns sharp. “The same thing I wanted from Francoise. The completion of the bloodline. The perfect host.”

I stagger back, my pulse slamming in my ears. “I’ll die before I let you…”

“You will,” she says softly. “But not before you kill her.”

Suddenly she’s gone. The fog collapses inward, dragging me with it. The last thing I hear is her laugh echoing through the dark. It sounds sweet and cruel and final.

When I open my eyes again, I’m lying in the dirt. My clothes are torn. My hands are covered in blood. It’s not mine. The smell of it burns my throat.

I don’t remember what happened, only that the forest feels alive now. Whispering her name.
The Seeker.

Somewhere far away, I swear I hear Wednesday’s voice calling my name.

…

Wednesday’s POV

I’m usually the one person who loves tension and darkness. But even I have to admit that everything about the forest feels wrong tonight. It’s too quiet, and even the wind feels heavy.

Enid keeps close behind me, her flashlight sweeping through the mist, while Thing scuttles ahead. His fingers were tapping frantically against the wet leaves as if warning us to hurry.

We’ve been following the tracks for an hour. Tyler’s tracks. I recognise the pattern of his boots, the way the mud splinters where he stumbled. He’s been gone since dawn, and I can feel it. Whatever’s pulling him, it’s not just the Hyde.

My mother warned me to wait until morning. She said the forest near Hollowvale isn’t safe. But she should know by now that I never listen.

I tighten my grip around the blade hidden beneath my sleeve and push through a curtain of branches. The scent hits me instantly. It’s the scent of damp earth, smoke, and something faintly metallic.

“Wednesday,” Enid whispers, nervous. “Are you sure we should be here?”

“No,” I answer simply. “That’s why we’re here.”

We move deeper into the forest. The fog thickens, swallowing most of the light. Thing pauses ahead, tapping sharply on the ground. I know he’s warning me.

I step closer, peering past a crooked oak. That’s when I see Celeste. She’s standing in the middle of the forest. Her eyes flash in anger.

“Well, well,” she says sweetly, tilting her head. “The Addams girl finally comes running. I was beginning to think you didn’t care what happened to your little monster.”

I step forward, my face calm though my pulse quickens. “You should be careful with your choice of words. I have a habit of taking them literally.”

She smirks. “You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

Her hand twitches, and suddenly the air between us snaps. There’s energy rippling like heat off a flame. The ground quivers beneath my boots. Enid gasps as a circle of light flares around Celeste’s feet, symbols etched in the soil pulsing like veins.

“You’re too late, Wednesday,” she says. “He’s already theirs.”

My knife flashes before she finishes the sentence. I throw it straight at her, but it stops midair. It’s suspended inches from her chest before clattering uselessly to the ground.

Celeste laughs. “Still relying on sharp objects to solve emotional problems?”

I charge. The moment I move, she raises her hand, and a surge of force slams into me like a wall. My body hits the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me.

“Wednesday!” Enid’s voice cracks as she rushes forward, claws flicking out.

“Stay back!” I bark, pushing myself up. My shoulder burns. My fingers tighten around the second blade hidden in my sleeve.

Celeste steps closer, her smirk fading into something colder. “You think you can protect him? He’s not yours to save. He never was.”

She moves faster than I expect, her hand cutting through the air. A wave of black energy slams into me. A pain scorches down my arm.

She grabs me by the collar, dragging me close until her face is inches from mine. “You’ll see, Wednesday. When Hyde rises, you’ll be the first he tears apart.”

“Over my dead body,” I hiss.

“That can be arranged.”

Her hand lifts again, glowing with energy, but before she can strike, something golden flashes.

It’s Enid. She hits Celeste from the side, claws out, teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat. The two crash into the dirt, rolling, with Enid’s claws slicing through the spell circle and scattering its glow. Celeste screams, throwing Enid back with another blast of power.

I stagger to my feet just in time to see Enid land hard, panting, her hands bleeding, but she’s alive.

Celeste’s eyes blaze. “You’ll pay for that…”

Before she can finish, the forest itself seems to shudder.

A sound cuts through the night. It’s low, guttural, and human only in its agony.

I know it’s Tyler who’s screaming. It tears through the trees, raw and unrestrained, echoing from somewhere deeper in the woods.

My blood runs cold. “Enid,” I breathe, already moving.

She scrambles to her feet. “Wednesday, wait…!”

But I’m already gone, sprinting toward the sound. Branches whip at my face, mud clings to my boots, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Because that scream wasn’t just pain. It was the Hyde. And it was calling my name.

…

The air crackles with unnatural energy as I stumble through the last line of trees, my boots sinking into mud that smells of blood and ozone. The moon hangs above the forest.

I can see the Hyde in the clearing. It’s like he’s waiting for me.

The Hyde stands where the boy once did, a silhouette of muscle and shadow, his skin crawling with veins of black light. His eyes burn like molten gold, too bright to belong to anything human. The sight steals my breath in a way I despise.

For a moment, I can almost see the boy beneath the beast. I can see him trembling, but then he roars, and the sound knocks the world sideways. The trees shudder and the ground quakes.

“Tyler!” I shout, but it’s like screaming into a storm.

He turns his head, the movement sharp and unnatural. Recognition flickers and dies in his eyes.  After that he moves.

He’s on me before I can even draw breath. His claws rake across my sleeve, sparks of pain lighting up my nerves. I throw myself backward; I pull the counterspell from my coat pocket. The parchment shakes between my fingers, but my voice doesn’t waver. It never does.

“Sanguis vinculum fractum sit…”

He snarls, slamming into me again. I crash against the trunk of a tree, the impact stealing my breath. My ribs scream in protest. My blade clatters from my hand.

He’s faster this time. His claws slash through my coat, close enough that I can feel the heat of him.

“Tyler!” I yell out, louder this time. “It’s me! It’s Wednesday!”

I see Tyler freeze for a second. It’s long enough to see the hesitation in him. For a moment I see him, the boy. The one who kissed me with all he had. The one who made me feel something I swore I’d never feel.

But it’s gone within seconds. The Hyde lunges at me. I duck, swing up the paper, and shout the last word of the counterspell, “SOLVERE!”

The forest lights up. The runes Celeste carved into the dirt flare to life, reacting to the magic. White light bursts from the page and lashes out, wrapping around him like fire.

Tyler screams, loudly. It’s definitely not a human sound. It’s pain, rage and loss all woven together.

Then I feel it. His claws slice through me. I look down. His hand is buried in my chest.

For a heartbeat, we’re both still. His claws tremble. My blood runs down his arm. The air smells of a mixture of iron and rain.

“Tyler…” My voice comes out small, too soft for me. “You came back.”

His eyes were wide, gold bleeding into green. The Hyde fades, receding like a tide. He drops to his knees, pulling his hand away as if burnt. My body crumples with him.

“No, no, no…” His voice cracks, desperate. “Wednesday, I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

I cough, and red spills over my lips. “You’re consistent. You keep stabbing people who love you.”

He lets out a strangled laugh. It’s part sob, part denial. “Don’t…don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that like it’s funny.”

I reach for him, fingers slick with blood. My hand finds his cheek. He’s shaking like he’s freezing. “Stop shaking. You’re making it dramatic.”

“Please,” he whispers. “Don’t do this.”

I can feel the pain spread through me. It’s sharp at first, but it slowly turns numb. The edges of my vision blur, colours smearing into shadow. But I can still hear him. Still feel the heat of his skin under my fingertips.

“Tyler,” I breathe, forcing my words out through a trembling smile. “You can’t let her win.”

He blinks, confused, broken. “Who…”

“The Seeker”, I manage, my voice fading. “She’s here. She’s been here all along.”

As if summoned by her name, the air splits open behind him. The light vanishes. Darkness floods the clearing.

The Seeker steps from the fog like a nightmare given shape. Her eyes gleam, black shot through with gold, like venom and fire.

“Beautiful,” she whispers. “The moment the heart breaks is always the most delicious.”

Tyler turns, still clutching me against him, his face twisted in fury. “You did this!”

“I merely allowed nature to take its course,” she points out. “The Hyde was always meant to destroy what it loves most.”

“Shut up!” He roars, his voice cracking with something beyond rage.

I tighten my grip on his wrist, my voice barely audible now. “Don’t let her see your weakness. Don’t let her make you like her.”

He looks down at me, tears falling freely now. “Don’t leave me.”

I manage a faint smirk. “I’m too stubborn for that.”

The Seeker raises her hand. A ripple of energy cuts through the air. The ground splits, light bleeding through the cracks. The Hyde inside him stirs again, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Tyler looks torn apart from the inside. “She’s calling me,” he gasps. “I can feel her…’’

I reach for him, even as my strength slips away. My blood stains his hands, his face. “Then fight it. Not for me. But for yourself…’’

I can see how his breath shakes. The ground beneath us is shaking.

Just before the world shatters right in front of us, I manage to whisper, ‘I’m not afraid of dying, Tyler.’ But please make sure it wasn’t for nothing…’’

The Seeker’s power explodes outward, swallowing everything in light and shadow. Tyler screams my name, clutching me tighter as the forest vanishes around us.

The last thing I feel is warmth. Not from the magic, not from the blood, but from him. I can feel his arms around me. His voice breaks. There’s a faint echo of his voice whispering my name over and over again. “Wednesday, please…”

Chapter Text

Tyler’s POV

It feels like the world ends in screams. I can hear myself screaming before everything goes silent.

After that there’s nothing but the blood that I feel on my hands. It’s warm and slack, seeping into the cracks of my skin. I can feel it sinking deeper, feeding the part of me that should have died long ago. Wednesday’s head is in my lap, her skin pale against the dark earth. Her eyes are open but unfocused, like she’s already watching something I can’t see.

“Wednesday…” I shake her, voice breaking. “No, no, no. You’re not gone. You don’t get to die on me. You hear me?”

Her lips twitch, but nothing comes out. Her blood stains my shirt, her fingers limp against my arm. I can’t breathe. The sound of her name leaves my throat like a wound.

“Please.”

Something inside me snaps. The Hyde doesn’t come this time in waves. No,No, it erupts. Pain explodes behind my ribs, claws tearing their way out of me. The world blurs into shades of red and black. My body splits open under the weight of the monster. My bones crack, my skin tears, but I don’t care. I want it. I want the power. I want her back.

The Seeker is still standing there. She’s calm, smiling, watching me unravel. “Ah,” she says softly. “There it is. The beautiful ruin.”

I don’t think. I move. The Hyde surges forward with a roar that rattles the clearing. The trees bend away from me. The air burns. I slam into her with enough force to make the ground shake, claws tearing through the illusion of her face. She laughs even as I crush her against the earth.

“You can’t kill what isn’t flesh,” she hisses. Her form flickers. It’s a shadow, light, smoke. “You’ll only drown in me.”

I roar again, louder this time. My claws slice through her, but she reforms. She raises her hand and somehow black fire spills from her palm. It sears through my chest. I stumble but keep moving. I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

I tear into her again; my rage is endless. Every time she reforms, I strike harder. The Hyde is a storm, and I let it take everything.

Through it all, one thought burns clear through the chaos: Wednesday is dead because of her.

The Seeker laughs, her voice echoing like a dozen of her speaking at once. “She gave her life for a monster! You think this will bring her back?”

I snarl, lunging again, but something slams into me from the side.

I whirl, ready to kill,kill, but freeze when I realiserealise it’s Enid. It’s not the bright, colourful, colourful Enid I know. No, her wolf form gleams under the moonlight. Her eyes are glowing. She looks feral and angry.

“Stay back!” I shout, or try to, but, butHyde’s voice comes out distorted, growling.

She doesn’t listen. She throws herself at the Seeker, claws flashing. The forest fills with howls and shrieks as they collide. The Seeker stumbles backward under the wolf’s fury, her shadows scattering like smoke.

I turn back toward Wednesday. Her chest isn’t moving.

Something in me breaks open. It’s deeper than the Hyde. I stumble to her side, falling to my knees. I don’t care if I’m man or monster. No, I know I would burn the world if it would mean that she would open her eyes again.

“Please,” I whisper again, voice torn and broken. “Don’t leave me. You’re the only thing that ever made sense.”

The Seeker’s laughter cuts through the clearing again. “She’s gone, Hyde. Just like your mother. Just like everything you touch.”

I turn on her, rage boiling over. My claws dig into the ground, splitting the earth beneath me. The Hyde takes full control. I’m no longer fighting it. No longer wanting to fight it.

She took her. She took everything.

I launch myself at the Seeker again, both hands closing around her throat as the world burns around us. Her scream pierces through the night as I crush her shadowy form, piece by piece.

“YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH HER AGAIN!” I roar,roar, and this time, she doesn’t reform.

The light bursts from her like shattering glass, scattering into the trees. The ground heaves one last time before falling still.

I collapse. The Hyde dissolves from my skin like smoke retreating after fire. I’m left kneeling in the dirt. I’m human again. again. I’m shaking and covered in blood that’s not entirely mine.

“Wednesday…” I crawl back to her beforeher before I gather her in my arms again. Her body is cold now.

Enid approaches, shifting back to her human form before she comes closer. Her face is streaked with dirt. She drops to her knees beside me.

“Tyler…” she whispers. “She’s…”

“Don’t say it,” I choke.

She presses her lips together and looks away, tears spilling freely.

We stay there, in the clearing, surrounded by the scent of death and burntburnt magic.

For the first time since becoming a Hyde, I feel something I can’t fight or name. Not rage. Not hunger. Just the unbearable truth that Wednesday Addams, the only person who ever looked at me and saw both the boy and the monster, is, is gone.

…

What follows is complete silence. The forest is silent. Too silent for my liking. Even the wind has stopped. The moon hangs heavy above the forest.

I sit there, in the dirt, holding what’s left of Wednesday. Her head is against my chest, her braid tangled in my bloodstained shirt. I can’t stop staring at her face. She looks… peaceful. Like she’s just asleep, and any second now, she’ll open her eyes, roll them, and make some morbid remark about my tears.

But she doesn’t.

Enid kneels a few feet away, her eyes swollen and red. She doesn’t speak. I think she’s afraid that if she says anything, I’ll finally break apart.

The smell of smoke and blood clings to everything. The trees are charred. The earth is split and scorched. The Seeker’s remains,remains, or whatever counts as remains for something that inhuman, are scattered like ash.

It’s over,over, and yet, it feels like nothing has ended.

A faint sound breaks through the stillness. I can hear wheels against gravel, boots crunching on wet leaves. Then a familiar voice, calm but cracking slightly at the edges.

“Enid? Tyler?”

I see Morticia standing a few feet away from us. I don’t move. I keep my arms around Wednesday.

Gomez follows, his silhouette appearing through the fog. He’s holding a lantern, its light flickering against the trees. “Mija?” he calls softly. “Where is she?”

Enid’s breath hitches. “Here,” she says, her voice breaking.

Gomez stops dead in his tracks, the light trembling in his hand. Morticia takes two slow steps forward, her face unreadable. The lantern’s flame glints against the tears starting to gather in her eyes.

She doesn’t run. She doesn’t scream. She just… moves, as if drawn by something deeper than grief.

When she reaches us, she kneels beside me. Her black dress pools around her like liquid shadow. She looks at Wednesday, her fingers hovering just above her daughter’s cheek,cheek, afraid to touch, afraid to confirm what she already knows.

For a moment, no one speaks. The silence presses down until I can barely breathe.

Then Gomez exhales sharply, dropping to his knees beside Morticia. “Dios mío…” His voice cracks. “Mi pequeña muerte…”

Morticia’s hand finally settles on Wednesday’s face. Her thumb brushes a smear of blood from her lips. Her expression doesn’t change, but her voice breaks, low and trembling. “She’s cold.”

The words hit me harder than any wound I’ve ever taken. My body folds in on itself. I bury my face in Wednesday’s hair, biting back a sob that tears out anyway. “I tried…”tried...” I choke. “I tried to stop it. She…sheShe...she saved me.”

Morticia doesn’t look at me right away. When she finally does, her eyes are glassy,glassy, bottomless wells of both rage and love. “Did she suffer?”

I shake my head, though I don’t really know if it’s true. “She fought. Until the end.”

Morticia nods once, the smallest motion, as if acknowledging something inevitable. “Of course she did.”

Enid stands a few steps behind us, trembling, her hands covering her mouth. Thing sits on her shoulder, silent for once. His fingers curling in grief.

Gomez moves closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. His grip is surprisingly steady. “Son,” he says softly, “let her rest now.”

I shake my head, clutching Wednesday tighter. “I can’t. I can’t let her go.”

Morticia’s hand finds mine. It’s cold, but strong. “You must. If there’s any part of her spirit left near this place, she won’t cross if she feels you holding her here.”

I look down at her again. I look at the girl who never smiled unless she meant it, who kissed me like a dare, who fought monsters and made me believe I could be more than one.

My throat burns. “I don’t know how to live without her.”

Morticia’s eyes soften, though her voice doesn’t waver. “Then you’ll have to learn. Because she wouldn’t forgive you if you didn’t.”

Enid’s sob cracks the silence again. I finally loosen my grip, letting Morticia and Gomez lift Wednesday from my arms.

Her braid slips through my fingers as they carry her. I can still feel the warmth of her blood against my skin, fading by the second.

The fog thickens around us. The moon dips lower,lower, and as Morticia and Gomez walk ahead, Wednesday’s body in their arms, I stay behind. I drop to my knees in the dirt, my breath shattering into the night.

For the first time since I was a child, I pray. Not to any god, not to anything holy. Just to her.

If there’s anything left of her in the dark. Any echo, any shadow – I– I beg it to find its way back to me. Because I don’t care what she becomes. Ghost, spirit or curse. I’ll take her in any form.

…

Eventually I do follow Morticia and Gomez to the car. We’re halfway down the old path that cuts through Hollowvale, the air thick as ash, the moon bleeding silver through the branches. Morticia walks ahead, Wednesday’s body in her arms like something sacred. Gomez follows close behind, his face grim and pale. Enid and I bring up the rear. We’re both silent, broken shadows of ourselves.

I keep expecting to hear Wednesday’s voice. Her dry, sharp whisper cutcut through the dark, mocking me for crying. But the only sound is the crunch of our boots and the faint hum that’s been growing louder since we left the clearing.

A hum that feels… alive.

Morticia stops. Her hand goes up. “Don’t move.”

The air changes. The forest exhales. Suddenly I see movement between the trees. They’re cloaked, hooded figureshooded figures who hide their faces masked in bone-white.

“The Hollowvale Cult,” Morticia murmurs.

The circle closes around us. At least a dozen figures, each holding a candle burning with black flame.

“Get behind me,” Morticia says. But before we can move, one figure steps forward.

They’re taller than the rest. The leader's robe has a deep crimson colour. Their mask is gold, carved with strange sigils that pulse faintly, like veins under skin. I know it’s the leader.

When they speak, their voice is distorted. “Morticia Addams. You have something that belongs to us.”

Morticia narrows her eyes. “You mean my daughter? You’ll have to kill me first.”

The leader chuckles softly. “That was always the plan.”

I tense, stepping forward, the Hyde already stirring beneath my skin. “Who are you?”

The figure tilts their head toward me. “Don’t you recognise me, Tyler?”

Suddenly the voice shifts, and I can hear it clearly. My blood goes cold. I recognise that voice. It’s Isaac. My uncle. Francoise’s brother.

But that’s impossible because he’s dead. He was found dead the night of the Iago Tower explosion. Except he’s not dead.

He removes the mask, and I wish he’d kept it on. His face looks like something carved from marble and rot. He looks too pale, his veins are dark, and his eyes are gold with madness.

“Uncle…” I choke. “You…you died.”

He smiles faintly. “No, Tyler. You tried to kill me.”

Morticia takes a sharp breath. “You were the one who led the Hollowvale ritual thirty years ago.”

Isaac laughs. His laugh sounds cracked. “Someone had to finish what Francoise started. She was supposed to be the bridge, Morticia! But you interfered. You took her away from the bloodline, from me!”

His eyes lock on me. “You were meant to be her heir. The perfect vessel. Half her blood, half mine. The Hyde made flesh.”

I stumble back, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

“I’m faithful,” he hisses. “To what we were meant to become. Do you think Hydes are accidents? No. We are the next step: evolution bound by rage. Francoise saw it. She wanted to complete the work. Until you were born, and she grew weak.”

Morticia steps forward, her power radiating in black waves. “She loved her son, Isaac. She protected him from you.”

“She betrayed me!” he screams, his voice cracking with fury. “And you stole her soul to hide her truth. But blood remembers, Morticia. Blood always finds its way home.”

I can’t breathe. The forest spins.

“Stop,” I manage. “You… you’re lying.”

He smiles sadly. “Ask your mother. She’s been watching.”

The shadows behind him shift. For a moment I can see her. My mother.

Her ghost flickers in the moonlight. She has a pale, shimmering appearance; her face has a mix of grief and warning.

“Run,” she whispers.

Then Isaac raises his hand, and everything explodes.

The chanting grows louder. It’s guttural, ancient, and vibrates in my bones. Every tree around us bends inward, as if the woods themselves are suffocating. The air smells of iron and smoke.

Isaac stands at the centre of it all, robe flaring in the wind, eyes burning with gold fire. His face is cracked like porcelain. Half human, half something else.

“Let it out!” he roars over the chaos, his voice splitting into echoes. “You were made for this! The Hyde isn’t your curse, Tyler! It’s your inheritance!”

“Shut up!” I shout, but my voice twists halfway into a growl. My hands claw at the earth, trembling violently. The Hyde is fighting me, pulling me under like a rip tide.

I hear Morticia’s voice behind me, low and urgent. “Hold on to yourself! Don’t give him an opening!”

I can’t. I can feel him.  Isaac is in my head. His magic digs into me like hooks.
Each pulse of it drags another memory up: Francoise is screaming. Blood. Chains. My mother’s voice begging me to forgive her.

Isaac raises his arms. “She suffered for you, Tyler! She bled for this! And for what? So you could play house with an Addams girl?” His words twist, venomous. “She died believing her son would finish what she couldn’t.”

“Don’t…” My throat burns. “Don’t talk about her!”

The Hyde surges forward. The shift hits me like fire under my skin. My ribs snap, claws split through flesh, and my scream becomes something inhuman.

The Hyde’s roar shakes the forest.

Enid shifts mid-run, silver fur flashing, lunging toward a cluster of cultists. She tears through them, but three more take their place, chanting louder.

Morticia launches black fire runes spinning from her hands like knives. They collide with Isaac, but he absorbs it, laughing as his body pulses with red light.

“You can’t kill what’s already been promised!” he bellows. “Blood binds blood, Morticia!”

He slams his hands into the ground. A shockwave explodes outward. Trees splinter. Gomez is thrown backward, hitting the trunk of an oak with a crack. Morticia shields Wednesday’s body with her own.

I lunge at Isaac. The Hyde moves like lightning, faster than thought. My claws slash through the air.

Isaac blocks the first strike with a burst of energy, but the second tears through his chest. He stumbles, laughing even as blood spills down his robe.

“Good,” he hisses, smiling with blood in his teeth. “You’re learning.”

He thrusts his hand forward. Black tendrils burst from the ground, wrapping around my neck, my arms, and my legs. They burn like acid.

I roar, tearing through one, then another. The Hyde’s fury is unstoppable now. My vision narrows to red and gold. Isaac glowing in the centre like a living wound.

I slam into him, driving him backward through the dirt. He hits the base of a tree hard enough to crack the bark. His laughter turns to a snarl.

“You think you’re saving them?” He spits, his voice half human, half something monstrous. “You’ll bring them ruin!”

He raises one hand, pressing it to my chest, and the pain that rips through me feels like my soul being peeled apart.

The Hyde falters. My knees buckle. I fall, screaming.

Suddenly I hear Morticia’s voice again. She chants something in a tongue I don’t understand. The ground shakes beneath us. I can see a shadow flaring up around her and Isaac.

“No!” he shouts. “You can’t bind what’s already bound!”

But the magic hits him full force. The energy tears through him, wrapping around his body like a thousand serpents of light and darkness. He thrashes, his laughter warping into a scream.

For a moment, he looks at me, and all that golden rage fades. What’s left is something worse.

Pity.

“Poor boy,” he whispers. “You think you’ve won. But blood calls to blood. I’ll see you tonight, Tyler.”

His form fractures, splitting into smoke and gold shards, and then he’s gone.

The forest collapses into silence. The cultists scatter like ghosts dissolving in the wind. The smell of burning earth and blood lingers in the air.

I drop to my knees, half human again, shaking so hard I can barely breathe.

Enid limps towards us, her fur matted with blood. Gomez pushes himself up, dazed, his suit torn. Morticia still kneels over Wednesday’s body.

I stumble toward her, my voice cracking. “He…he’s gone. It’s over.”

Morticia looks up slowly, her eyes haunted. “No, Tyler,” she says softly. “That was a warning. The ritual isn’t done.”

I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

She glances down at Wednesday. The earth beneath her is glowing faintly, with red veins spreading from where her blood spilt.

“The binding between you two hasn’t broken,” Morticia whispers. “He’s coming back for you.’’

As Morticia speaks, a cold wind moves through the forest, carrying Isaac’s words back on the air.

“I’ll see you tonight.” The whisper crawls through my skull.

…

After the confrontation with Isaac, we hurry to the cottage. The storm outside hasn’t stopped since we returned from Hollowvale. Rain hammers against the windows. Lightning carves the sky in half. The candlelight flickers like it’s afraid to stay.

I can see Wednesday lying on Morticia’s bed. She looks very pale. She looks asleep, but there’s no breath, no heartbeat. No, Wednesday Addams has passed away.

Morticia is sitting next to Wednesday on the bed. She is silent but still looks composed. Enid is sitting in a corner, biting her nails raw. Gomez paces like a caged animal.

I just stand there, half-human, half-something else, afraid that if I blink, she’ll vanish.

“She’s gone,” I whisper, finally. The words taste like ash.

Morticia shakes her head. “Not yet.”

I turn to her, desperate. “You said there was a way.”

Her voice is low and deliberate. “There is. But it’s not one you’ll want.”

“I’ll take it anyway.”

Her gaze sharpens. “The ritual to bring someone back from that threshold isn’t resurrection, Tyler. It’s transference. A life for a life. A bond forged in blood.”

I don’t hesitate. “Then take mine.”

Morticia doesn’t flinch, though her voice softens. “That’s not my decision to make.”

She gestures to the candles. “If she returns, her soul will be tied to yours. You will never be free of her. And she will never be free of you.”

“Good,” I say, without thinking. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Before she can respond, the temperature drops.

The candle flames bend sideways. Every single one of them. The shadows stretch long across the walls. The storm outside goes silent, like the world just swallowed its own breath.

I can hear a faint familiar voice threading through the air.

“Tyler…” I know that voice. Every part of me freezes.

“Mom?”

The shadows pull together in the corner of the room. At first it’s nothing but a shimmer. Light on glass, and then she’s there. Francoise Galpin.

Somehow she looks different now. She’s exactly as I remember my mother from old photos. Her hair is long, her skin pale and her eyes soft. She’s translucent, flickering in and out of focus.

Morticia’s breath catches. “Francoise…”

Francoise turns to her old friend with a sad smile. “I always knew you’d keep your promise.”

After that, my mother's eyes shift to me. “You’ve grown into everything I feared and everything I hoped for.”

I can’t breathe. “You’re really here?”

“For a little while.” Her voice trembles. “Not all of me. Just what’s left that loves you.”

Her gaze drifts toward the bed. She steps closer, her presence leaving frost on the wood. “Wednesday Addams,” she whispers, almost reverently. “You found someone as stubborn as I was.”

“Can you help her?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Please…”

Francoise’s eyes close, pained. “I can’t bring her back. Not the way you want. But I can reach her.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a space between death and what waits after,” she says softly. “A space where souls still hear the living. She’s caught there. Her blood called to yours when she died. That’s why you feel her even now.”

I blink hard, because she’s right.  I can feel Wednesday. The phantom ache in my chest. The pulse that isn’t mine.

Francoise reaches toward me, her ghostly hand hovering an inch from my chest. “I can’t stay long. The bond between you two was made the moment she saved your life. I can strengthen it, but it will change you both forever.”

Morticia takes a step forward. “What will it do?”

Francoise looks at her old friend, eyes full of sorrow. “It will give them one life… shared between two souls. If one falls, the other follows.”

Enid whispers, “Like twin hearts.”

“Yes,” Francoise says, “one heartbeat in two bodies. It will keep her tethered. But the Hyde in him will be tied to her too. If it takes control again, she will feel its hunger.”

Morticia hesitates. “That’s dangerous.”

Francoise nods slowly. “Love always is.”

I step forward. “Do it.”

Francoise looks at me, not with pity, but with pride. “You’re your mother’s son.”

She kneels beside the bed, brushing her spectral fingers along Wednesday’s cheek. “So much like I was. Too sharp to break. Too human to stay.”

She glances at me. “Take her hand.”

I obey. Wednesday’s fingers are ice cold.

Francoise places her translucent hand over both of ours. “When the bond is complete, she will breathe through you. Guard that breath.”

Her eyes begin to glow faint gold. Wind swirls through the room, rattling the windowpanes.

She whispers words I can’t understand. Something ancient, older than magic itself. The candles flare with blue fire.

Pain slams through my body like lightning. I gasp, clutching Wednesday’s hand harder.

For one impossible second. Her fingers twitch. Her chest rises. It’s followed by a faint, fragile breath.

Francoise’s form flickers, her voice fading. “You’ll only have until the Blood Moon rises to make the bond permanent. Protect her. Don’t let Isaac find you.”

“Wait!” I reach toward her as she fades. “What happens if we don’t?”

Her voice is barely a whisper now. “Then you’ll lose her twice.”

After that my mother is gone. The candles are out, and everything falls into darkness.

But this time, I can hear a soft inhale. Wednesday is breathing.

Morticia covers her mouth, tears glinting even in the dark. Enid lets out a choked sob. Gomez grips my shoulder with shaking hands.

I fall to my knees beside her, my hand still locked in hers, my own heartbeat pounding twice as fast. It’s now beating for me and for her.

…

All I can do is stare at Wednesday. Her skin is still pale, but I can see the colour creep back into her lips. I can even feel her fingers twitch in mine. She’s breathing again. It’s not steady, but it’s there. Every exhale feels like it’s dragging her back from the edge.

Every time she breathes, my chest tightens in answer. My pulse stutters, syncing with hers.

It’s not just a metaphor. No, I feel it. One heartbeat. Two bodies.

The bond Francoise made hums under my skin, vibrating through every nerve. When Wednesday exhales, something deep inside me expands and burns. It’s like being set on fire from the inside, but it doesn’t hurt. It makes me feel alive.

Morticia kneels beside the bed, eyes glistening in the candlelight. “She’s between worlds now. The bond holds her, but it will take time.”

“How much time?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Morticia doesn’t look away from her daughter. “Until the Blood Moon rises. After that… if the connection isn’t sealed, her soul will drift back to where it came from.”

Enid wipes her eyes. “And how do we seal it?”

Morticia’s expression darkens. “By defeating Isaac.’’

I look down at Wednesday. Even unconscious, she looks unbreakable. Her lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks. There’s a smear of blood near her collarbone that isn’t hers. My blood, probably. I wonder if she’ll hate that when she wakes up.

Gomez puts a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “You did what needed to be done, muchacho.”

“I didn’t do it,” I say quietly. “She did. Again.”

He squeezes my shoulder, firm. “Then maybe this time you save her back.”

I don’t know how long I sit there. Minutes, hours maybe. Enid falls asleep in the chair. Morticia drapes a blanket over her and whispers something to Gomez before stepping outside, leaving me alone with Wednesday and the low flicker of candlelight.

The cottage is quiet again. I brush my thumb against her hand. It’s still cold, but warmer than before.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” I murmur. “You shouldn’t have run after me. You always said you weren’t built for weakness, remember?”

No answer, of course. But somehow, I feel her. Not just her hand in mine. No, I also feel her pulse, faint and distant, echoing through me like a second rhythm.

It’s maddening and beautiful all at once. I close my eyes. “If I lose you again, I’ll lose myself too. So don’t make me do that.”

Something shifts. It’s so subtle that I almost miss it. Her fingers move just enough to press back against mine.

My throat tightens. “Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s what I thought.”

For the first time since the woods, I let myself believe she might come back.

Morticia returns after a while. Her voice is calm, too calm. “Francoise’s warning still stands. Isaac will come for the bond.”

I nod slowly. “Then he’ll have to go through me.”

Morticia meets my eyes. “He will, Tyler. That’s exactly what he wants.”

I glance down at Wednesday again. Her lips part slightly as she breathes. The sound is faint, but it’s there.

“I don’t care,” I say, without looking away. “Let him come.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s POV

There are no sounds. Just darkness surrounding me. It’s not the darkness that usually comforts me. No, this darkness feels slow and endless. It feels like a void that can’t be filled.

I’m not cold, but I know I should be. My hands feel weightless, and my thoughts aren’t coming together like they usually do.

Am I dead? If so, it feels disappointing. I expected more poetry and beauty in death.

I try to move, but there’s nobody to move around. Only a faint echo of a pulse, that feels far away. It doesn’t feel like mine. No, I know it’s Tyler’s.

The name feels wrong here, like a heartbeat in a grave. It drags me toward a dim light flickering somewhere ahead. The light is pale and trembling, like candlelight beneath water.

I decide to follow it. It’s not exactly steps I’m taking, but it feels endless and nonexistent. The darkness parts just enough to reveal something that looks like a path? I don’t know where it leads to, but it feels like a memory.

The walls ripple around me, shadows shaped like trees, like Nevermore’s gates, like hands reaching from soil. The light grows stronger until it shapes itself into a figure.

I can see a woman standing with her back to me. She has long hair. Her posture feels familiar. When she turns around to face me. I recognise her from the old photographs from Tyler’s desk. It’s his mother, Francoise.

She’s standing with her back to me, her hair long and black, her posture eerily familiar — straight, proud, defiant even here. When she turns, I recognise her face from the old photographs that once haunted Tyler’s desk.

“Wednesday Addams,” she says, “I was wondering when you’d find your way through.”

I study her in silence before answering her. “So this is death? How… anticlimactic.”

A faint smile touches her mouth. “You sound just like your mother.”

I tilt my head. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“It’s not flattery. It’s recognition.” She steps closer. “You and I share something, you know. We both made the same mistake.”

I fold my arms, or at least, I think I do. “And what was that?”

“Loving a monster.”

The words echo through the dark, sharp enough to sting.

Francoise glances past me, toward the invisible world I left behind. “I thought I could save mine. Isaac. He wasn’t always a monster. Once, he was just a boy desperate to be special. I bound my power to his, thinking I could tame him. Instead, I created him.”

“So you built your own executioner,” I say flatly.

Her eyes flicker with pain, but she nods. “Yes. And you?”

“I didn’t build mine,” I answer. “I just… refused to destroy him.”

Francoise smiles again. It’s sad, almost tender. “That’s why you’re here. Love is the most dangerous form of resurrection.”

I open my mouth to answer, but something in the dark shifts. A tremor ripples through the ground, if it can even be called that. The faint tether that ties me to the living world tightens, pulling at my chest.

“He’s calling for you,” Francoise whispers. “You’re not gone yet.”

I glance into the distance. The light flares gold, warm, familiar. A heartbeat pounding in rhythm with mine.

“Tyler?” I whisper.

“Yes,” she says softly. “He’s the one dragging you back. His blood, his soul. But the bond isn’t complete yet. When the Blood Moon rises, the two of you will stand between worlds again. If you falter then, you’ll both be lost.”

“Then tell me how to stop it.”

Francoise’s gaze sharpens. “You can’t stop love, Wednesday Addams. You can only decide what it costs.”

The ground quakes again, brighter light tearing through the dark. Her image flickers, fading.

“Wait!” I reach toward her. “If you knew this would happen, why help him bring me back?”

Her voice comes faintly, already distant. “Because he’s my son. And because I failed where you might succeed.”

“Which means what?”

Her answer is barely a whisper. “Don’t let him become me.”

…

The light that carried Francoise away fades too quickly, leaving me alone again in the endless dark.

Her final words echo like a curse. Don’t let him become me.

The silence afterward feels heavier and thicker. I don’t know how long I stand here. Time doesn’t move here.

I start walking. The ground is soft beneath my boots, like ash that remembers being something else. The air hums with whispers. Not voices. Just… memories. Every step I take stirs them up. I hear laughter, crying, and screams. Some are mine. Some aren’t.

I keep moving forward, following a dim shape in the distance.

At first, I think it’s another echo. One of the thousands of fragments I’ve conjured in my head to keep myself from unravelling.

My heart, if it still exists, seems to beat faster.

I see Principal Weems standing at the end of what looks like a hallway. Her white hair gleams faintly. Untouched by this place’s decay. Her expression is calm and elegant. A little condescending, but it’s just like I remember her.

“Miss Addams,” she says smoothly. “You look dreadful.”

I blink once at her before replying, “You’re dead.”

“Technically, so are you.”

“So it seems,’’ I answer.

She smiles faintly. “Always the optimist.”

I don’t move closer, but my mind feels sharper here, more aware. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. In purgatory, mentoring lost souls?”

“I wouldn’t call it mentoring,” she replies. “More… observing. I like to keep an eye on my former students.” Her gaze softens just slightly. “Especially the ones who seem determined to self-destruct.”

I scowl. “You sound like my mother.”

“Morticia and I did spend quite a bit of time comparing notes.”

I roll my eyes. “How nauseating.”

Weems laughs. The sound warms the air around her. “You haven’t changed.”

“I don’t intend to.”

She steps closer, and her expression turns grave. “Then you’ll never make it back.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re implying I want to.”

“Don’t you?”

Her tone cuts straight through the brittle shell I’ve built. I want to answer with something cold, detached, and intellectual, but the truth swells up before I can stop it.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “The world is full of idiocy and pain. Here, there’s quiet.”

“What about Tyler Galpin?” she asks softly.

Her name of him hits like a knife. My silence is answer enough.

Weems nods slowly. “Ah. There it is. The confession you could never say aloud.”

“Spare me the psychoanalysis,” I snap. “I’m aware of my emotional failings.”

“You always were.”

She begins to circle me, her footsteps soundless on the ash. “But let’s be honest, Wednesday, for all your control, all your discipline, you’ve always been afraid. Not of death, not of monsters. But you’re afraid of being known and being loved.’’

“That’s a tedious theory.”

“It’s also true.”

She stops in front of me, her eyes glowing faintly blue. “You do know he bound himself to you, right? You’re now bound to a boy who would die for you. It can be your strength but also your undoing. Because he will always choose to protect you. That, my dearest Wednesday, is love.’’

I feel something twist inside my chest. It’s a mixture of anger and grief.

“So this is what death is,” I murmur. “Endless lectures.”

Weems smirks. “You missed them.”

Before I can reply, I can feel the ground tremble. The corridor of shadows splinters. I hear a deep guttural roar filling the void. It’s a sound I know in my bones.

It’s the Hyde. It’s not older. No, it’s something older, an echo of his curse, stalking through the in-between.

Weems’s smile fades. “He’s closer to the edge than you think. You’re his anchor, Wednesday. If you don’t return soon, he will drown in it.”

“And what happens if I do?”

Her gaze turns sharp. “Then you’ll share his chains.”

I meet her eyes without flinching. “That seems fair.”

Weems’s expression softens again. It’s a mixture of pride, sorrow and resignation all at once. “Then go before it’s too late.’’

I glance around. The light that once flickered ahead has returned, golden and warm. I feel its pull deep in my sternum, dragging me toward the living.

I look back at her. “If I see you again, I’ll assume it means I failed.”

Her lips curve faintly. “Or succeeded, depending on your point of view.”

The ground begins to fall away beneath me. I don’t stumble; I never do. But my hands tremble as light fills the void.

Before everything dissolves, I hear her final words, clear and quiet in my mind:

“Don’t fight love, Wednesday. It’s the only monster you can’t kill.”

…

Weems disappears with the light.  Only the echo of Weems’s words hangs in the air: “Don’t fight love. It’s the only monster you can’t kill.”

The sound fades, leaving me alone with the dark. But something’s changed. The darkness now moves. It breathes, slowly, as though it’s studying me.

I take a step forward, and the ground bends beneath my boots. A whisper curls through the air. It’s low.

‘’Wednesday…’’

I follow the whisper. I’m drawn toward a pulse that keeps breaking and rebuilding itself in the black. Each beat feels like it’s inside my chest, then far away, then everywhere at once.

I try to speak, but my voice doesn’t sound right here. It comes out thin, swallowed by the air.
“I’m not finished yet,” I tell the dark. “I refuse to die surrounded by metaphor.”

The whisper answers with half growl, half plea. Then wake up.

I want to. I try. I can feel the thread that connects me to him. It’s thin, but it’s there. But every time I reach for it, something drags me backward.

Suddenly the air seems to split open. A hallway appears in front of me. It looks narrow and endless. It’s lined with mirrors that don’t reflect me. No, it shows fragments of others’ lives. I see the hallways of Nevermore, Enid in my dorm, and eventually I see Tyler’s hands stained red.
Every reflection flickers like it’s trying to decide which version of me belongs here.

I walk through them slowly. In one mirror, I see myself at the altar, screaming his name.
In another, I see him bleeding on the stones, whispering mine. In the last one, I see both of us lying side by side.

The glass ripples. A face appears behind my reflection. It looks like Weems again.

“Still here?” I ask.

“You’re holding on too tightly,” she says, her voice muffled through the glass.
“If you keep resisting the current, you’ll fracture the tether. You’ll be nothing.”

“I’ve been accused of worse.”

Her expression hardens. “You think this place obeys logic? It feeds on what you deny.”

Before I can answer, a new sound rolls through the corridor. It’s a low, violent roar. It’s the Hyde closing in on me.

The mirrors shatter, spraying shards of silver light that hang in the air like frozen stars.
Through the broken glass, I glimpse something moving. It looks large and feral. It crawls toward me on all fours, eyes burning blue-white.

For a second, I think it’s Tyler. Then I know it isn’t. This Hyde is older. Wilder. The origin of them all.

Weems shouts through the cracking mirror, “Run!”

“I don’t run,” I say, and draw the blade that shouldn’t exist in a world without matter.
It’s my knife, the one I carried at Nevermore. The one that’s killed before.

The creature lunges. Its claws scrape against nothing, its breath hot and rancid.
I strike, but my knife passes through it like smoke.

It laughs. A terrible, broken sound that vibrates through every mirror still floating around me.
Then it speaks, in a voice made of every scream I’ve ever heard.

You can’t save him. It slams into me, knocking me back into the dark.

The world twists. The silver thread between me and Tyler tightens around my wrist like wire, burning.
I hear his voice again, distant but real this time. I hear him calling my name.

“Wednesday!”

I reach for him, but my fingers meet only black water. It rises fast, pulling me under.

As I sink, I see the faint glow of Weems’s eyes through the dark.
“Hold on,” she whispers. “Or you’ll never find your way back.”

The current drags me deeper. My lungs burn. The last thing I see before everything goes still again is that same thread. It’s stretching upward, glowing faintly gold before disappearing into the light of the living world.

I reach for it, but I seem to miss.

…

Tyler’s POV

I glance back once before leaving the cottage behind. I look back at where Wednesday lies unmoving under a black blanket. Morticia sits beside her bed; she’s holding Wednesday’s hand. Her eyes look hollow.  Thing rests on the nightstand; I can see him watching Wednesday, her chest rising and falling like each breath is borrowed time.

When I get outside, the air hits me right away. Nothing feels right. It’s too quiet. Like it’s waiting to swallow me whole.

A part of me wants to stay. To be with her. But I know I can’t. Because if I stay. She will die.

I can still feel her heartbeat, faint and distant, like it’s buried under a thousand miles of dirt. Every pulse is a reminder that she’s alive because I’m still alive. If I fall, she falls with me.

Enid is beside me. Her eyes are bright. Her body trembles as we move through the trees. She’s on edge, halfway between human and wolf, her claws twitching under her skin.

“You don’t have to come,” I tell her quietly.

“Yes, I do.” Her voice is steady but cracked with grief. “Because she’d kill me if I didn’t, and because I can’t lose both of you.”

I nod, saying nothing more.

Ahead of us the forest opens into Hollowvale. I see the ruin pulse with an unholy light. There are runes carved into the earth. Smoke rises from the symbols. Dozens of hooded figures chant in a language older than sin.

At the centre stands Isaac. His presence burns the air itself.

He looks nothing like he did a few hours ago. His eyes are even darker than before. I can see veins crawl with red light.  His voice cuts through the chanting. “Welcome home, nephew.”

The sound of that word, nephew, is enough to ignite every nerve in my body.

I step forward, fists clenched, fighting the tremor in my hands. “You shouldn’t exist.”

He laughs. “Your mother tried to erase me. She failed. The blood of our line doesn’t vanish so easily.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

He tilts his head, almost pitying. “You are exactly like me. Born from the same bloodline. Moulded by the same hunger.”

“I have control.”

“You have her,” he sneers. “A leash disguised as love.”

Enid growls, her fangs flashing. “Watch your mouth.”

Isaac barely glances at her. “And the little wolf comes too. How quaint.”

Suddenly the chanting intensifies. The ground is vibrating, and I can feel the heat rise through the soil. I can feel something stir beneath us. But there’s something else I feel. I can feel the Hyde awaken inside of me.

My heart starts to hammer too fast. The sound drowns everything. I can feel the darkness coiling inside my veins, twisting, clawing for release.

“Tyler!” Enid’s voice cuts through the haze. “Don’t let him in!”

But it’s too late. The pain hits like lightning. Every muscle locks, every nerve catches fire. I hit my knees, gasping as my skin ripples. The Hyde pushes through me. My bones snap and my skin splits.

The cultists around me are cheering. They want this. They want the Hyde.

“Don’t fight it!” Isaac shouts. “Embrace what you are!”

Through the blur, I see Enid charge at the cultists. She’s fully shifted now, massive and silver, her howl echoing through the forest. She tears into the first line of cultists, blood spraying, fire crackling in the air.

After that, chaos unleashes. Flames rise from the ground, and the night fills with screams.

I can’t stop the transformation anymore, so I give in. The Hyde roars into the world, bursting from my skin like a storm given flesh. My claws dig into the ground, my breath coming out in growls that shake the trees.

The cult scatters. The first one runs. I catch him mid-stride and snap his spine like a twig.

Blood splashes across my face. I taste iron. The Hyde likes it.

I leap into the crowd, rending and tearing. Spells crackle against my hide, but they barely sting. I crush another, then another, bodies breaking like fragile shells.

Enid is everywhere. She’s ripping, slashing. She glows in the crimson light. She moves like fury incarnate, her fur streaked with blood.

“Tyler!” she howls. “Behind you!”

I spin just in time to catch a bolt of energy that sears across my chest. Isaac stands at the altar, palms raised. He’s chanting words that I can feel dig into my head. ‘’Obey.’’

The Hyde stumbles. For one second, I lose myself completely; even my vision flickers, and everything goes black.

When I blink again, I’m standing over Enid. She’s on the ground, bleeding, eyes wide.

“No…” The human part of me breaks through just long enough to stop my claws before they strike her throat. I wrench myself backward, roaring at the sky.

Isaac laughs. “Good! Feel it! The beast knows its purpose!”

He lifts his hands higher. Runes explode around the altar. The earth splits open, and black fire spills upward.

Through the flame, I see him. It’s something else, something ancient. The Keeper. The creature from Hollowvale’s oldest stories. He’s neither man nor god, just hunger in a shape.

It towers above the ruins, cloaked in smoke, eyes like molten gold. Its voice vibrates through the trees. ‘’You carry my mark, Hyde. Return what is mine.’’

The Hyde inside me answers. My body convulses. Pain floods every inch of me, my skin blistering as my veins turn black. Enid screams my name, but it’s fading. Her voice is swallowed by the roar in my head.

“Tyler!” she cries, lunging toward me. Isaac lashes out. A wave of energy flings Enid aside like a doll. She hits a stone pillar with a sickening crack and collapses, unmoving.

That’s the moment something inside me snaps. I stop fighting the Hyde. I become it. The transformation finishes with a sound like bone being torn apart. My body doubles in size. Every breath is a growl. Every heartbeat is violence.

Isaac shouts something, but I can’t hear him anymore. The world is only light and rage.

I slam into Isaac, forcing him back toward the altar. His hand catches my side, ripping into me, but I don’t stop. I bite down on his shoulder, and the taste of him burns like poison.

He swings again, throwing me through the air. I hit the ground, shattering stone, but I’m already up before I can feel the pain.

I charge one last time. We collide monster against monster, blood against blood. The explosion tears through Hollowvale like the wrath of the earth itself. Trees splinter, and fire rains down.

…

Smoke rolls across the ruins of Hollowvale.

Isaac is gone. His body burnt to ash the moment the altar collapsed.
But the forest is still trembling. Because it's the true source of all this. The darkness that started everything still stands before me. The keeper is still alive.

The Keeper moves through the rising smoke.

His shape shifts. One moment he’s almost human; the next he takes on a monstrous form. His eyes burn gold like fire trapped behind glass.

“You’ve done what I could not,” he says. “You have silenced the corrupted blood.”

His voice cuts through the ringing in my skull. I can barely stand. My claws are still out, my body half-Hyde, barely holding form. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am your beginning,” the creature answers. “The first bearer of the Hyde.”

The words hit hard. My breath catches. “What?”

He steps closer, and for the first time I see him clearly. He has the same dark hair, the same sharp jawline, and the same eyes I’ve seen in the mirror every morning.

“Your ancestor,” he says. “The one who made a pact with the dark vein of creation itself. When the world was young, I took in the Hyde to protect mankind. But power has no mercy. The Hyde consumed me until I became what I am now. The Keeper of all that is unchained.”

I stagger backward, the truth burning inside my chest. “You mean… this curse started with you?”

“Yes. I was the first. And when I broke, the Hyde scattered into bloodlines, into sons and daughters. It was meant to fade. But your uncle, Isaac…” His voice grows colder. “He found my resting place. He used my blood, twisted by his greed, to restart the cycle. He wanted to make gods out of monsters.”

The ruins pulse faintly as he speaks. I can feel the Hyde stirring inside me again, angry and restless.

“He corrupted my legacy,” the Keeper continues. “He made you a half-breed of both power and pain. Now, the Hyde exists only in you. I am hollow without it.”

He extends a hand toward me. “Return what is mine.”

I take a step back, shaking my head. “No. If I give it up, I die.”

His gaze sharpens. “If you keep it, you will die worse.”

He circles me slowly, every footstep echoing like a drumbeat. “The Hyde was never meant to live in mortal flesh for so long. It will corrupt you. You will lose the last of your mind, and when you do, the world will pay for your stubbornness.”

My hands tremble. The edges of my vision pulse with black and gold. I can feel the Hyde growing stronger. My bones ache like they’re ready to burst.

I think of Wednesday. I think of her face when I left the letter behind and the softness in her voice when she said my name the last time. She’s tethered to me now. Her soul is bound to mine. If I lose myself, she goes with me.

My throat tightens. “If I give it up,” I whisper, “does she live?”

“She might,” the Keeper says. “The tether would snap. She would awaken, but you…”

“…wouldn’t.”

He nods once.

The world tilts. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling my pulse pound in my skull. I can’t lose her. But I also can’t bear the thought of her dying because of me.

He steps closer again, his golden light flickering across my face. “Choose. Your soul, or hers. But choose now. The Hyde’s hunger grows.”

I stare at his outstretched hand. It’s glowing faintly, veins of gold running through translucent skin. It’s not mercy he offers. It’s an ending.

I shake my head. “No.”

He tilts his head, curious. “You refuse?”

“I’m not giving you anything.” My voice cracks but doesn’t falter. “You call it a curse. You call it hunger. But you don’t understand. It’s a part of me. I’ve bled for it. I’ve killed for it. It’s the reason I’m still standing. I won’t let you take that away.”

The Keeper’s eyes darken. “Then you will fall as I did.”

“Maybe.” I take a step forward. “But at least I’ll fall as myself. Not as your shadow.”

His face hardens, the ancient stillness breaking into fury. “You arrogant child. You think love can save you? You think that girl’s devotion will protect you from what lives inside your blood?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I know I can protect her. And if that means carrying this thing until it kills me, then so be it.”

The forest groans. The ground cracks open. Energy floods through my body, burning from the inside out.

The Keeper’s voice rises to a roar. “Then your mind will rot! The Hyde will claim you piece by piece until nothing remains!”

“I’ve lived with that my whole life!” I shout back, voice raw. “If it takes me, I’ll drag it down with me!”

The Keeper surges forward, his form unravelling into shadow and light, his voice echoing in my skull. “Then remember when your thoughts begin to turn black and her name slips from your lips. You chose this.”

His hand presses against my chest. The mark of the Hyde burns beneath my ribs, searing bright gold before fading to black. And just like that, he’s gone.

The ruins are silent again. But the silence feels wrong. The Hyde inside me isn’t quiet. It’s awake.

It whispers now, clearer than ever. It whispers her name.

I drop to my knees, gasping. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. My pulse is erratic. The forest hums with the Hyde’s heartbeat.

“I won’t lose her,” I breathe. “I won’t.”

But as I say it, I can feel the cracks forming. The whisper turning into a voice. The voice turning into hunger.

Somewhere in the distance, through the fragile tether between Wednesday and me. I can feel her. It’s faint and flickering, but it’s there. Though I can sense she’s trapped in the dark.

But I know she’s still fighting, and so am I. Because Wednesday Addams is the one person I will never stop fighting for. Even if it will end me.