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babymtal · 1 year

Text

gilded lily, continued.

genre: MAJOR ANGST, VERY GRAPHIC, 18+

warnings: gn!psychic!reader x xavier, (some) reader x wednesday, somewhat of a love triangle barely forms, reader is deep in grief, death of twin brother, death of mother, talk of mental health, overall possibly triggering content, descriptive scenes containing gore, guns, blood, self harm, death & suicide.

length: around 12.5k... don’t look at me like that!!!

you can find the first part of gilded lily: [here]!

notes: I want to thank everyone who enjoyed this story! I was very nervous to release this writing especially as my first work on this account but the feedback i've been given has been so amazing thank you all again <3

PLEASE be sure to read all warnings before continuing to read! I love you all so please be mindful of the content you consume and if you ever need someone to reach out to my inbox is always open <3

Xavier had returned to his dorm that night before his morning class. You sat in on your bed awake, basking in the sunrise as you read through the pages of the beaten up book. From the reading you had learned almost nothing new about this curse, very little information inked onto the worn pages. What you do know now, though, is that nobody who’s been cursed has survived longer than a week, most not even making it to five days. The information made your chest tighten, realization dawning on you that as the sun continued to take its place in the sky, setting ablaze hues of pinks and yellows in their wake, you were nearing the beginning of your fourth day.

You wanted to cry of grief, plead to whatever power above there could be for a second chance, to scream at the top of your lungs until they burned, and curse the universe that led you down this dreadful, dark path winding you to your life being ripped from you so suddenly- but your body pushed those emotions so deep, so far down in the tight, weaving vines of your heart. There, they stay simmering deep in your soul, forcefully lighting a fire to your insides. What had your family done to deserve such a cruel fate? With such little time did you have the energy to dive deep into your trauma and attempt to end this agony?

The thought of having to do something so vulnerable and scary without the security of your brother there to save you at any sign of danger brought a frown to your face. Spiraling down the small, deep pit of remorse, the reality of your brother’s death left you with a feeling in your chest you could describe as nothing but desolation. You hadn’t noticed before, too blinded by the need to get to the bottom of your brother’s gruesome death, but the whole world around seemed to just feel so bleak and unforgiving. An environment that was once so colorful it made you sick had slowly dulled, sombering to reflect the melancholic depths of your mind. Your muscles ached, straining with knots and pressure as the tension in your neck grew tighter. A slight buzzing in your ears accompanied the headache that constantly bloomed behind your eyes, digging its thorns around your brain; you were fucking miserable. The air around you even seemed to chill, leaving your skin with itchy, antagonizing goosebumps. Feeling a painful strain of a knot in your scalp had you realizing you haven't properly looked at yourself in a mirror since the incident, scared to confront the reflection that would stare back at you. You huffed as you shuffled from your position on the bed, trotting to your vanity, peering in the mirror to see your hollowed face in the reflective surface. Your eyes were sunken, deep bags pressed under your lash line to show your exhaustion. You looked like life was sucked out of you, and in a way it truly felt as if it was.

You sighed, closing your eyes and resting your forehead on your knees that were pressed to your chest in the small vanity chair. You couldn’t kill someone, there was no possibility of you even trying. Sure, you were no pure angel, nor a being of sunshine and rainbows, but murder? Fuck that. You sat for a long, quiet moment, mind racing in a frenzied panic as you came up short of options. After some time, you came to the conclusion that the only choice left was to confront your grief face on and put an end to all of this and you had to do it completely alone. Alone, you thought, scoffing to yourself. Your entire life was never spent alone, always being followed around by your brother’s trailing figure. Every memory of your childhood you held in the beats of your trembling heart, your brother was always somewhere nearby, experiencing things of his own at the same time. Everyone knows that twins have an unspoken bond but yours was incomprehensible, learning to communicate nonverbally with one another from a very young age, feeling each other’s boo boos and small, childish fits of rage unanimously. You were outcasts, after all.

Since you both were born you have been joined at the hip, parading through your childhood arm and arm, learning new things and developing your psychic abilities with the help of your doting mother. Where you were dark, full of shadows, timid, he stood not far from you, awakening your dried, wilting flowers and greenery with light, leaving a blazing path of optimism everywhere he touched, a soft smile ghosting his face. You both fit one another so well, as if you completed one big puzzle of the sun and moon. Your parents always boasted about their two little miracles, as they’d say. Truthfully, Y/B/N was the spine of who you were; your confidence, skill, and intelligence would be nowhere near the peak they were at now without him. He was always there to pick up the pieces and push you to try again, “This time, better”, he’d say, anytime you failed.

Suddenly, the mirror in front of you cracked, shattering into a circular pattern. You stood in shock, chair knocking the floor behind you, at the sudden loud bang. When silence fell once more in the room, you stepped closer to the mirror, a chill running over your spine as the air suddenly dropped in temperature. The air so cold your breath could be seen with each exhale you let out. Goosebumps invaded your skin, hairs standing to attention all over your body. Anxiety bubbled in your chest, fear that this might be it sending the alarms in your mind blaring, ears ringing. You turned, gaze scanning the room, looking for your brother’s mutilated figure. When you realized he wasn’t here with you, your eyebrows knitted together in question. Turning back to face the mirror, you hollered at the sight. Your face split into a million different small pictures on the shattered glass, only it was now mutated to show the infamous massive, haunting smile and void eyes. You wanted nothing more than the ground to just swallow you up, purging you from existence. Stomach churning painfully as your reflection moved closer, hands pressing against the glass as if it were alive beyond the surface. The reflection mockingly sobbed, jokingly letting out a teasing, “I’m sorry, daddy!” voice eerily replicated to yours. Suddenly, your doppelganger raised a large knife in their fist, handle decoratively carved with a shiny green jewel at the base.

You couldn’t look away or close your eyes to escape the horrific sight of you digging the large, shiny blade through your throat, nearly decapitating yourself in the process. You wailed in alarm, watching your now cleaved throat spew blood in all directions, splashing across your face and clothes. When the room fell to an uneasy quietness, you gasped, breaking from your reverie. The shock of what you had just witnessed froze you in place, unable to move even when a pounding erupted on your door. You hadn’t locked the hatch so when a few students burst through in a panicked frenzy at the sound of your screams you weren’t surprised. One of the faces you recognized was the one belonging to Wednesday Addams. She rushed towards you, face ghosting with a look of bewilderment at your blood covered, startled state. Your clothes were sticking to you, the smell of iron making your stomach lurch painfully, nauseous. The other students scattered, some to get help, others towards you, one to throw up at the sight of so much blood. Wednesday disregarded everyone around, shooing the stragglers off with a death glare before leading you carefully to sit on the edge of your bed, your eyes unblinking as they stared straight ahead, unfocused.

“Did you do that?” She questioned, emotionless. Her eyes flickered to the shattered mirror as if to emphasize what she was referring to before bringing them back to you.

“I don’t know,” you replied, body trembling. For a reason you’re unsure of, you grabbed Wednesday’s hand in yours, hold so tight, her skin paled at the contact so she couldn’t pull away. Her brows were connected in a confused, violated scowl before she looked at your frightened face. Hers softened, lips pursing as she grabbed your hand back, understanding you just needed a person by your side at the moment.

Despite having no real reason to, Wednesday stayed by you, never straying far from your connected hands the entire time as the nurses ran into your room, leading you back to the infirmary. She even sat in the chair next to the familiar uncomfortable nursing bed, arm outstretched to not break her hold of your palm as you lay there, head pounding. She was in the middle of telling you another bone rattling fact she had learned about whatever absurd interest she had at the moment when Xavier entered the room, eyes immediately landing on you and as he shut the door behind him. His gaze landed on the familiar black braids, his face morphing into one of perplexity as his eyes traveled to your hands interlocked. “Wednesday?” he asked. She turned in the seat, eyes resting on him as her eyebrow quirked in question. “What are you doing here? Actually, nevermind, I… I can take them from here you can leave now, please.” he spouted in a rush, face flushed.

Wednesday nodded back to you, moving to stand, hands unraveling when she saw your deadpan face. You could tell she sensed the tension between you and Xavier as she sauntered out the door after giving you a quiet, stolid, “Be safe.”

“Why was she here?” He asked, now taking place in the seat Wednesday had occupied seconds ago. “She was the one who found me when I had another episode- which I’m okay thanks for wondering- and she stayed with me. I’m not sure why.” You pointedly uttered, annoyed at his lack of care for your wellbeing. What was it about Wednesday that completely stole his attention away from you no matter the situation?

He coughed in embarrassment, apologizing softly before resting his hands on his knees, eyes glued to your now vacant hand that lay on the white bed at your side.

﹋﹋

Back at your dorm, Xavier layed across your bed, back propped against your headboard as he intently listened to your chaotic rambling of what you saw in your episode. He had refused to leave you alone, following you back to your dorm like an abandoned child after your departure from the infirmary. “Why are you following me?” you had asked, turning around abruptly, almost causing him to run into you.

“Well I can’t just leave you alone!” He insisted, eyes wide with a showcase that he assumed the answer was obvious. Despite your firm disputing of his claims, he continued to trail behind you, feet never faltering from the rhythm with yours as he bickered back, defensive of his need to stay at your side.

You sat inches away, back to him as your legs were thrown over the side of the bed. Your voice was wavering, unsteady with anxiety and fear. After you finished your venting, you looked to him, seeing his face in an angry scowl as he stared at his hands in his lap. He was battling with himself, angry with the situation at hand. It was just so unfair. Why did this curse decide to take you, his person? He broke from his self pitying thoughts to reach for your arm, fingers making contact with your smooth skin before your head flew back, a gasp racking your body, straining as every muscle tensed.

Xavier’s feet stumbled as he distraughtly ran through the dark trees that towered above him, moonlight splitting through the cracks between the dry branches. Loud sobs and deep pants left his mouth in rushed waves, composure completely crumbling as he fell to his knees, hands meeting the stone path below him, weakly holding his body up as he let an all-consuming painful scream out. His eyes wide with fear, pure terror entangling with his tears. The wail echoed through the dead shrubbery around him, voice getting lost in the cold air that swept by, tears choking him as he heaved. His vision tunneled and spun as he bawled. His breath steadied enough for him to boost himself back to his feet, sobs still vibrating through his body. His legs burned from the force he ran at, desperate to get back to the school as fast as he could, hollering for help desperately, his throat burning from the cold wind as he neared the gate that adorned the entrance to Nevermore.

A loud inhale filled your lungs as you came back to your senses. You panic, turning to find Xavier thankfully in the same position he was in before, eyes now trained on you patiently. You scrambled to wrap your arms around his figure, smothering him in a tight hug, tears staining his shirt as you bawled into his chest. He quickly reciprocated the hug, a hand coming to cradle the back of your head as he hushed you softly, calming you from your frenzied state.

“What was this one?” he asked after your breathing had steadied, hold on you not budging. He hadn’t had this kind of moment with you in so long, unknowingly neglecting you for the deathtrap of a girl adorned in black attire. “I think you saw me kill myself.” You stated, sorrow laced in your tone. You continued, “You were crying and screaming, running to Nevermore, begging for help. You were so scared.” You cried into his chest, recalling the vision.

“Your face was so terrified. Exactly like mine when Y/B/N killed himself in front of me.” You concluded. He took a deep breath, heart beat faltering a bit at the revelation. “That won’t happen. I swear. We’ll figure this out.” He assured, voice stern to hide his faux confidence. Despite his determination, you could tell deep down he knew this was not going to end well and that his time with you was coming to an abrupt end as his hands pulled you impossibly closer to him. He wanted to tell you his feelings, how you came around and just made him fall in love with you so easily, as if it was as simple as breathing. About how he felt like his heart wasn’t truly beating until he felt the thumping in his ears when he was around you. He wanted to kiss you, to show you how much he truly did care for you, how could he not when it was as much of an instinct to do so as blinking.

He knows his obsession with Wednesday is incomprehensible. He’s spent hours in his own head trying to assess every detail of the pigtailed girl, clutching at straws for reasons he always seemed to follow her every move like a lost puppy just to come up short handed. Dr. Kinbott and him had discussed in one of his many sessions a week back about how he had truly felt about the two of you. Xavier was never good at expressing his emotions, always choosing to deflect and run away instead. This was no different. He was scared, not only had he never truly felt love in his life, but to feel it so intensely, and so soon in his life? He couldn’t understand what it was about him that made him run away from what he truly wanted, and towards someone so wrong for him and the frustration it caused him ached in his core. What he did understand, however, is that what he needed was someone who would care enough to listen and love him; things he had never experienced and even considered impossible whereas you would deem simple and instinctive. He needed someone so devoted to him that they’d be patient enough to hear him out, understand his outbursts, deconstruct his walls. He knew the entire time, so painfully obvious, that the kind of person he longed for, needed, even, would never be Wednesday. Simply put, she was a narcissist; only feeding into the people around her to pawn them into a game of her own.

“Can I just ramble for a second and you listen, please?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, the vulnerability of asking for your undivided attention making him feel small. He never shared his real feelings, usually masking it with anger or ignorance. You were shocked at his sudden outburst but instantly nodded, sitting up to face him.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since you suggested Weems let us take that shed and I know I’ve been… distracted, I guess, with Wednesday and I don’t even know why-” he huffed, chest raising with the sharp inhale he took before continuing his rant, “Truth is, my feelings for you scare the hell out of me, and that is no excuse for how I’ve been acting towards you, especially with the remarks about your family, but I’ve never felt truly myself or been actually heard before I met you. I don’t know what it is about you but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer with what is happening, and if you don’t feel that way I totally get it I’ve been so-” you cut him off, hands encasing his jaw, pulling his lips to yours to shut him up. You felt him kiss back after his shock wore off, large hands finding place on your hips. His fingers dug a little harder when you slightly broke away from one another to catch your breaths.

His hold on you desperately pulled you closer to him, guiding you to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his own. Your lips moved together harmoniously, warmth erupting all over your body when a muffled, pathetic moan erupted from his throat. You broke apart, staring into one another’s eyes, small smiles on your faces. The air around you cleared, bodies cooling down as the heated moment fell to one of peace, your grasps on each other encasing one another in desperate acts of love. There was no time left for the both of you, this moment was for all you wouldn’t have for later.

“I, uh, love you too by the way.” You whispered, a warm buzz veiling your heart, momentarily covering the ugly rotting organ beneath.

﹋﹋

When Xavier left once more at the sight of the rising sun, you bid him bye with a kiss that you tried to say I’m sorry and I love you with, hands around his neck to pull him close to you. As soon as he, begrudgingly so, left, you sauntered to your closet, dressing in a comfortable outfit, throwing your boots on. Trying to dull the painful ache in your heart was pointless, guilt tearing at your insides as you went over your plan in your mind once more. Dejected, you grabbed your phone from where it had been thrown between your pillows, turning it off as you made your way to your small desk. You threw the device in the drawer, shutting it close before turning the lights off and exiting your dorm, heading down the hall to the door at the very end corner. You knocked, waiting patiently as you heard the pattering of footsteps nearing. Wednesday was the one to pull the door open, deadpan stare not faltering as her gaze landed on your figure in her entrance. “I need your help,” you stated, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know on the way there but can you please not tell anyone about this?” you pleaded, watching her head tilt in curiosity. Her lips slightly curved into a smirk before she stepped forward, a small blush dusting her fair as she closed the dorm door behind her. She motioned for you to walk as you celebrated your successful mission of convincing Wednesday to join your plan in your head.

The walk to the art shed was spent explaining everything to Wednesday in shortened summaries. You started with the curse, everything you knew about it, how it had taken your mother years ago, moved onto your father, and somehow had circled its way back to your family, sweeping your brother along with it and now dancing circles around you. You explained your delusions, the smiles, the visions. She stayed relatively silent through the entire walk, nodding along and muttering a few Interesting's and Oh’s at the horrifying, unbelievable story you told. It was Wednesday Addams, though, of course she believed every word you were saying. She knew better than to turn a blind eye to something with such clear signs of underlying sinister happenings below the surface. She had dealt with all sorts of unexplainable, scary things others would cower at. In conclusion; Wednesday Addams was the exact person you needed for your plan.

As you entered the shed, you knew- or at least hoped- the coast would be clear for at least a few hours; Xavier had left your dorm exclaiming about how he would have the best day sleep of his life when he gets to his own bed. You knew better than to not second guess that statement, well aware of Xavier’s not so grand sleeping habits. You had explained to Wednesday your plan as you reached the end of the trail; If Xavier were to wake up or leave his dorm she would distract him, make sure he did not come to the shed under any circumstance, and when he went back to his dorm for the night she would come back to find your dead body, dispose of it, and never speak of you or the incident again. Somehow, she impassively listened to your plan, watching you pace around the shed, organizing your dozens of art covered canvases on one side and Xavier’s on his as you ranted off each detail, covering them all carefully with the sheets that were lazily thrown all over the ground.

She finally spoke after some time, dully stating, “I’m on board, but how are you so sure you’ll be killing yourself today? I thought you said you had up to a week.”

“I think I know how I can trigger it. I’m tired of hiding, and if it takes me, I don’t want it to pass onto another person.” You explained, watching her silently agree with you. “And how do you know the curse won’t pass onto me when I return?” She questioned, staring into your eyes, her gaze wandering a bit over your face. You were still attractive despite your tired and deteriorating state, she noted.

“It can only pass to someone else if they witness it. It can also only transfer if there’s trauma, and no offense, Wednesday, but you are clearly not a person of many emotions,” you ended with a slight chuckle. Her lip quirked into a small smirk, one that suited her quite well despite her somber appearance, you thought. Silence fell over the two of you as the air slightly thickened, tension rising slightly. You stared at one another, taking each other in. You took notice of her neatly braided pigtails, monotone attire that contrasted against her smooth, pale skin, and big, dark round eyes. You also took note of the faint flush that had never left her face since she had opened the door to find you. She was pretty, you could not deny that fact, as much as you dreaded to admit. Despite her spookish aura, her little button nose and full lips were pleasing to the eyes, freckles slightly sprinkling across her nose. She was ghoulishly breathtaking in her own way.

“You know, Xavier has some kind of obsession with you and… it made me feel some really not so good things about you, Wednesday, but I think you aren’t as bad as people make you out to be,” you whispered into the air between you. She took in every word you said, staring into your eyes, face still.

She nodded at your confession, lips slightly pursing before she spoke, “I have no interest in Xavier. In fact, I find his presence quite irksome, but you…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish. After swallowing the lump in her throat she finished, “your death will definitely be a tragic one. I’m sorry your family fell under such a horrible curse.” You were surprised she had opened up that much to you, a smile on your face before she turned to walk away at the sight of your dimpled grin, heading for the shed door in a sudden, embarrassed rush.

“Be safe, Wednesday!” You called out to her as she quickly departed.

You turned around grasping the sides of your easel with your unfinished artwork of your mother on it, moving it to the middle of the room. You grabbed the small lamp, moving it to accompany the easel along with the stool with your paint palette, brushes, and paint thinner placed at your convenience. You decided against wearing the apron, purposefully wanting to fully immerse yourself into the experience one last time, free of worry of making a mess. Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth, you took place at the easel, brush and palette in hand, mind focusing on the still air surrounding you, feeling it thicken as you stared at the morphed painting, the horrific smile on your mother’s face glaring back at you.

﹋﹋

As Wednesday marched down the stone path on her way to take watch of the boy’s dorm to make sure Xavier didn’t wake, she pondered about all you had said back at the shed. The tension between the both of you went ignored, rightfully so, but she couldn’t shake the slight tightening in her chest she felt as she left the old, rusty shed knowing the next time she saw your face you would be pathetically belittled to nothing but a corpse housing a horrific smile. She’s never felt any feeling for anyone at all, ever, maybe her younger brother but that didn’t count.

So why did her heart feel slightly heavier with every step she took away from you? Why did your genuine, happy, heart-stopping, oh god she was going to throw up, smile make her slightly dizzy as she glared down at her boots? What was it about you that had her wanting to turn around and convince you to wait and find a different solution? Her steps fell in speed, hesitance now overcoming her as she slowly continued to Nevermore. Should she turn around? She shook the thought off, speeding up again. She shouldn’t get in the way of your plan, one you insisted was the safest and least brutal option; though she had took note of the small laugh you made as she remarked that you should instead go out as brutal as possible to make an impact- anyway, over some stupid sensation she thought she felt in your presence.

Though, admittedly, she could now somewhat understand Xavier’s admiration towards you, and from what she had heard Enid say about you prior to your brother’s death, you were a reliable, genuine, intelligent person. All qualities she, herself, looked for in people that she had, dismissively so, claimed in her tight knit friend group. Not only were you a very gifted artist, but a psychic as well, like herself. She rummaged her memories for any sight of you, coming up short as she realized she truly never took notice to you before. She rolled her eyes at her wandering mind before speeding up once more, calves straining as she briskly trekked to the courtyard of Nevermore.

﹋﹋

Xavier had been abruptly disturbed from his sleep, the need to pee waking him with a painful ache in his abdomen. He quickly shot up, mind still foggy as he waddled his way out of his dorm room. This had alarmed Wednesday, her attention perking up from her large book at his figure making way down the hall from his dorm. She watched silently, a plan forming in her mind as he entered the male dorm restroom through the pillars, falling back in her seat with a relieved breath. It was a few minutes later when she saw him emerge from the restroom, back to his dorm, closing the door shut behind him.

Upon his arrival back to his room, he felt the energy from his short lived slumber coursing through him, realizing now that he would not be able to go back to sleep for some time. He sighed in annoyance, dragging a hand lazily down his face before deciding he would instead strategically use this time to work on a new painting. He wanted to create a huge art piece of you, a vision of what he would try to execute imprinted in his mind. He’s painted and drawn you hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, never quite having enough of sketching away the flashes of you he has in his mind through his days. Slight guilt bubbled in his chest knowing the sketchbooks normally full of you had recently begun to include pages full of his new dreary, pigtailed interest. He viewed you differently than Wednesday, though; hues of pinks and reds, completely enamored and sick with obsession of you. His mind reels at just the thought you permanently pressed into a large, attention grabbing canvas. He knew he didn’t have much time with you, no longer tiring himself with the self pity, instead inspired by the grief and his pure need to have you fueling his desperation to gift you with something beautiful and binding of both your passions before your departure.

When he pulled his coat on and made his way to the door, he pulled it open in a rush to find the deadpanned girl on the other side, startling him slightly as jumped back with a rushed “What the-!”.

“Could I use your place to study? Enid is too… Enid and the courtyard is full of loud imbeciles.” She stated matter-of-factly, eyes glaring up at him through her dark eyelashes from below. Xavier peered past her, seeing the view of the students in the courtyard who were chattering amongst themselves quietly, some with their heads in books themselves. His eyebrows shot up at her bluff, brushing it off with an, “of course,” and moving to the side to allow her in, shutting the door softly behind her as she entered.

Pulling his coat off, tossing it somewhere on the floor and sighing to himself quietly. His mood dampened a bit at the disruption of his plans but he moved to his desk and took hold of his art supplies and sketchbook, offering his desk to Wednesday nonetheless. He took a seat in the chair off to the side as he began sketching, mind full of you and all the little details of your face. He tried to portray the way you looked last night; detailing the drawing down to the exact curve of your lips, mold of your nose, and beautiful eyes that were brushed with dark circles to the best of his abilities, bringing you to life on paper. His eyes not once wandered from the drawing, ears tuning out Wednesday’s scribbling in her book and page turning every minute or so.

An hour, maybe hour and a half had to have passed before he finally broke away from his sketchbook in his lap, straightening his posture, and cracking his neck. He peered down at the finished drawing in search of anything he needed to tweak. Satisfied, he brought the sketchbook up in his grasp, holding it up to meet his eyes, waving his opposite hand over the drawing before it finally blinked back at him, the same small smile and flush ghosting on your face that he had seen the night prior. Wednesday watched the scene through the corner of her eye, intrigued at what Xavier’s attention could be so devoted to.

“Can I see what you’ve drawn?” She asked, emotionless, but trying her best to show her intrigue.

“Uh… sure,” he replied, handing the sketchbook to her, eyes scanning her face for a reaction. Yeah, sure, he was giving a girl he had been following around the past couple weeks like a pathetic dog, begging at her feet for her attention a drawing of another person he had been desperately longing for so long that his love for them begun to run through his veins, and yeah it may be a little fucked up, but when has Xavier Thorpe ever been anything but shameless?

“Wow, Xavier, this is beautiful. It looks exactly like them,” she breathed, taken aback by the detail of the artwork.

“Oh, so you think Y/N’s beautiful?” He joked, not expecting a response from the lifeless girl.

“They are,” she quickly articulated, eyes boring into Xavier’s baffled ones. Her face heated up a bit at the sudden admission, demeanor not faltering as she glared at the lanky boy sitting beside her.

He held his hands up in mock defense, sputtering out, “Trust me,” a short pause ensued as he carefully took back his sketchbook from her hold, “I am not disagreeing with you, at all.” His emphasis on the last words left Wednesday with a sharp pain in her chest, rolling her eyes not only at the feeling, but the smug boy who gazed upon his own artwork some more as well.

“Trust me, Xavier, the entire planet might as well be informed of your infatuation with them. You make it so plainly obvious,” she muttered, turning back to her book to hide behind her bangs. Her eyebrows couldn’t unlatch from one another as she angrily shouted at herself in her head to, please, get a grip. Why was Xavier’s affection for you suddenly leaving a bad taste in her mouth? Her whole life, boy after boy lined up, trying to knock down the infamous stone cold barriers of the Wednesday Addams, only to be met with such brutal rejections they left, mostly, in tears. So why did her eyes slightly glaze over at the drawing of you, the person that she did not care for days prior, only seeing them as another head in an ocean of pathetic outcasts, who she now was feeling jealousy for?

She brushed the thoughts away, clearing her mind and focusing on her breathing. She was a vital part to your plan that you openly pleaded for her devotion to and she was not going to let you down, despite the slight hammering in her heart. She focused back on her task at hand, keeping Xavier busy as you did whatever the hell you were doing back at that shed. She whipped her head in the direction in which he sat, watching his eyebrows furrowing as he peered down at the drawing, hands working to fix miniscule details in his artwork.

“Do you want to work together for Ms. Thornhill’s project, Xavier? I think it would be best to get a head start since we’re both here now,” she spoke, voice monotone. His acceptance to her proposal had her giving herself a little thumbs up in her head, successful in controlling the situation accordingly.

﹋﹋

A couple hours had passed, great improvements made as you tirelessly pressed your paintbrush to the canvas. Tears poured from your eyes in remorseful rivers, coating your cheeks and nose with splotches of deep amber, your chest heaving with messy sobs. You wiped your running nose with your sleeve as you stepped back, taking in the full painting, mind hazy with grief and memories. You had painted new details into your painting, your mother’s smooth, manicured hands now shown holding a gathering of black dahlias to her chest.

Your brother’s loud, exaggerated, youthful giggles rang in your ears as your mother’s slim fingers ghosted small patterns on your back. You sat in her lap, chin placed on her shoulder, small arms around her waist. She hummed a soothing melody as she picked at the thorns adorning the stems of the basket full of dahlias she had just picked. The air feels fresh in your lungs, mind quiet at ease, environment so serene you’re left teetering on the edge of slumber. Feeling you drop your weight in her lap, your mother let out a small, adoring laugh. “Yeah, mommy’s tired too,” you heard her say calmly, fingers never stopping in their path of drawing little doodles into your side. Your tiresome gaze trailed the tall, stalky vines climbing the outsides of the glass dome that your family was settled in, taking part in your daily “outside time'' in the garden. The windchimes left blossoming tunes in the wind, sunlight peeking through the small crevices in the vines. The sounds of your brother’s chuckles and father’s boots hitting the floor neared you and your mother. Her head rose gracefully, eyes gleefully peering at her husband’s. “Ready to go in, little storm cloud?” Your father sang to you, feeling his hand come up to pet the back of your head. Your mother cooed softly as you leaned back, nodding to her softly before sleepily resuming to your previous place in the crook of her neck.

You painted over the horrific smile that had appeared, replacing it with your mother’s comforting grin.

You sat in the attic with your mother and brother, attention directed to the easel in front of you as your mother and brother were off to the side at the large desk that sat perched in the middle of large bookcases. Your ears were ringing, mind racing as you painted every detail of the vision you had just seen. You had started experiencing visions at random, unwanted times recently and your mother was more than delighted when you told her the news. You were hesitant to do so until your brother had confronted you, admitting to being tired of having to catch you when you sporadically keel backwards. Upon the revelation of your blossoming powers she instantly took a hold of you and your brother’s hands and dragged you to her little attic space where she kept all her endeavors. Inside the space sat a large desk and grand, towering bookcases to the farthest wall. In the small space extension of the front wall where a small window sat, a short antique desk complimented the area with a crystal ball and a few mysterious bottles adorned atop. Dark curtains blocked the light from the window, showing the glowing crystal’s reflection scattered around the surface below. An easel, violin, and piano scattered around the rest of the area.You neared the ending of the painting, pictures of the vision blurring to nothing in your mind suddenly. You felt drained, not physically, but mentally. The overuse of your freshly developing powers has you needing a 24 month long rest. You sat back in the stool your mother had placed in front of the easel, gaze wandering to the figures of your mother and brother at the big, wooden desk as she read over a paragraph in the book they shared. He read along silently with her, attention devoted completely to what she was saying. You smiled, grateful that he was just as interested in this as you were. After some time resting, listening along to your mother’s lecture and reading, your mother broke away from the desk, leaving your brother to pick the book up in his hands and stand himself, trailing behind her. She sauntered over to you, excitement written on her features to see what results you had. An exaggerated gasp left her lips as she soaked in every detail of the drawing. “My little blue, you are so talented. Wow! Do you know what this creature is?” She asked, taking place next to you as she continued to stare at every brushstroke on the canvas, completely in awe. “No, it’s the one I saw in my vision.” She nodded in understanding, “That is called a Hyde. You know, a very good friend of mine, Morticia Addams, encountered one once.” She looked at you, your gaze still set on the painted big eyes and rotting teeth. When you met her gaze, your mind went blank. Her eyes were glazed over, squinted from how widely she smiled, only this time, it lit a comforting, warm fire in you. A wave of complete safety washed over you, wracking a sob through your teeth. You fell into her embrace, sobbing into her chest. She cooed softly, pulling you back to show you her smile once more and plant a kiss to the crown of your head. You soaked the comfort in, returning her soft gaze and smile as you embraced.

You camouflaged the empty eyes to now show your mother’s irises, dark makeup and mysterious squint.

Your mother’s shoulders bumped into yours slightly as you sat next to each other, perched on the black vanity bench like two birds on a wire. You lounged beside her with a sketchbook in hand, pausing your scribbling every so often to look back up at the mirror and analyze your mother’s reflection as she hums along to the record playing a low song and applies her makeup. You watch as she looks at herself in the reflection, memorizing the way her brows falter for just the slightest second as she gazes a bit harder at her appearance.“Stop that,” you blurt, putting your hand on hers that was placed on the surface in front of her. You continued, “I think you look beautiful, see!” you say. You raise the sketchbook in your arm to show your mother, her eyes falling from yours to the page. A smile paints onto her face as her eyes widen, moving unbelieving between yours and the artwork. “My sweet raven, look at your talent!” She boasted, eyes settling on yours as she teared up. When your mother had fallen pregnant she had hoped to birth her own best friend, someone similar to her in their own way but unique to themselves as well. When she heard she was carrying twins, her heart felt as if it was going to erupt from her chest and break into a song and dance. And when she finally got to hold you and your brother in her arms, she knew instantly that you were the best friend she had been pleading the universe to give her. Not a day since then have you and your mother not been completely intertwined with one another. Your brother was often in your shadow, but was mostly found not too far parading behind his father. Everywhere your mother went, her little best friend sauntered along, always finding a cosy spot next to her somehow, her doting husband and adorably needy son never not within ear-shot. She thanked the world everyday for your presence in her life, there to remind her of her reality when she was low. Her large, tearful eyes, adorned with a dark purple eyeshadow, were ingrained in your soul, a look you’ll never forget as she embraced you on the bench, muttering a grateful, “thank you, my love.”

As you leaned back, memories ghosting on your mind, you decided the painting was complete. It was unfinished just enough for your liking, knowing you could never truly bring your mother’s every detail to life with such little time. You signed the painting with a white fingerprint of your own in the very bottom right corner. With that, you carefully moved the piece to the side to rest on an unoccupied easel, replacing yours with a fresh white canvas. You quickly got to work preparing your canvas, washing over it with watered down brown acrylic, setting the primer over to smooth the ridges of the surface. You paced around after setting the large, round fan in front of the canvas to dry it. Your mind wandered to what you could paint, so many ideas flowing through your mind.

You wanted to paint Xavier, brush your admiration and love for him into the canvas so hard the future perceivers won’t have any choice but to also feel your emotions for the boy. You wanted to paint your brother, engrave his mark in this world into the surface, leaving a portrait showcasing the adoration so many felt towards him in the paint. You wanted to paint your mind, all that wanders through it, showcase the dark, gated forest within where every branch you feel and stone you walk on shows you something deeper to yourself. You had painted your brother and Xavier tons of times, mind gathering over every portrait and candid you’ve painted into a canvas or sketched across a page that adorned either of the two as the subject. You had never painted a self portrait before, knowing the struggles most artists have to express themselves in such a vulnerable way. You stuck on the thought a bit longer, pondering over it. How horrifically tacky it would be to paint your own portrait before you kill yourself, right? Right?

﹋﹋

Hours later, Xavier fell dramatically back onto his bed, moaning about being bored and not wanting to work on the project any longer. He grasped at his stomach, theatrically announcing his hunger to Wednesday. She rolled her eyes from her position in front of the large, halfway finished poster board. Xavier popped up from his spot to snag his phone from his sweatpants pocket, before dialing a number and bringing the phone to his ear, a few seconds passing before his voice falters into a lower octave, speaking into the phone to whoever picked up, “Hey, dude, what’s up?”

Wednesday tuned the rest of the annoying conversation out, occupying herself with cleaning up all the scattered materials that fell to the desk, floor, and chairs. She let her thoughts wander back to you, wondering if you were dead already or not. Usually, the thought of someone dying left no wear or tear on Wednesday’s parade, no, none at all, but as she remembered it was you she was wondering about she suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Swallowing the upcoming bile in her throat, she placed the scissors and glue stick in her hand down on Xavier’s desk, turning to him upon picking up on his telling the other line a quick, “see you soon”.

“I told Ajax I’d pay him 20 extra to pick us up some food.” He stated, rising from his position on the bed to turn on his small pill shaped speaker that sat on his dresser. Quiet melodies sound from the device shortly after, filling the silence between the pair. Wednesday sat at the small desk, returning to her reading of her large, dusty book as Xavier pranced around his room, doing who knows what, waiting for Ajax to arrive. Suddenly, a knock erupted on the door breaking both parties away from their tasks. Xavier rushed to the door, pulling it open with a celebratory, “Yes!” at the sight of the pizza box in the beanie-wearing teen’s hand.

Ajax scratched the back of his head, gazing at his shoes guiltily as he stuttered out a quick, “Enid asked to hang out so you don’t gotta pay me back, I’m sorry. Hope the pizza makes up for it?” Xavier deadpanned at the boy, huffing an annoyed, “That’s the fourth time this week!”

“I know, dude, but, y’know,” the boy said, pleading for the taller one to just let it slide.

Xavier sighed, setting the pizza down on his bed and gesturing his other hand for the boy to go with a holler, “Be safe! We don’t need any snake-headed kiddies running around with their claws out!” His face held an amused grin, softly smirking to himself at his playful jab.

Ajax rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, muttering a “Shut up,” before shutting the door as he left.

“So you gonna come get some or just stare at me creepily from the corner?” He called to the girl, watching her rise from the chair and make her way to the pizza box, face never showing any sign of amusement. The pair sat on the bed, pizza box between them as they chattered away awkwardly. They talked about classes, art, and the occasional gossip Enid shared with both parties. The conversation felt as if it was dying eventually, silence falling over them as the slices in the box depleted.

“What are your feelings for Y/N Y/LN?” She abruptly asked, making the tall boy choke a bit on a piece of pepperoni.

“Wh- Why are you asking me that?” His face scowled a bit, defenses raising at the sudden intrusion that the pigtailed girl had never been intrigued about prior.

“You drew her. That’s all,” she deadpanned, waiting impatiently for an answer.

“I’ve loved them since we basically met. I didn’t really realize it until recently, but, yeah,” he stated matter-of-factly, nodding his head to prove his confidence in the statement.

“What does loving them feel like?” She pondered, curiosity ghosting in her voice. Xavier was admittedly very taken back at the question, not once ever really vocalizing the deep, obsessive thoughts he held for Y/N.

“It feels like breathing, blinking, moving. Except when I do those things now I do them with a purpose. I can feel my heart beat a bit more when they’re around, can see a bit clearer. It’s like they fit perfectly right into everything I need,” his eyes fell to the floor beside the bed he sat on, mind searching for the right words to describe it all. He had never shared these thoughts with another person before, heart thumping against his ribcage as he gulped. His throat began to burn from the emotions being scratched open, scabs raw and bleeding in their wakening. He continued, voice falling somber, “but it also hurts like fucking hell. It’s a straining in your chest so tight you feel like you might die if you don’t run back to their side for immediate attention. It’s a feeling of thorns wrapping around your insides and squeezing so, so tight at the thought of losing them. It’s-” his voice fell short on his lips, feelings he just described blossoming at their mention, tears threatening his lash line.

“It’s a constant heartache of knowing no amount of time with them will ever satisfy you,” he sounded, serious gaze resting on Wednesday’s. Her eyes were wide with his descriptive, gut wrenching revelation. Xavier was deep in grief as he thought about his fellow tortured artist and the quickly depleting time he had left with them. His mind once again trickled off to the painting he wished to create, shooting off his bed as he quickly grabbed his coat from the floor.

“Not to kick you out or anything, but I have something I gotta do. It was nice seeing you, we can work on the project again tomorrow? You should get back to your dorm anyway, the sun is setting,” He rambled as he staggered around his room, finding his belongings.

“Actually, I had hoped we could spend time together for a bit longer?” Wednesday said, big eyes making contact with him.

“I’d love to, but I really have to go do this one thing. Tomorrow? Please?” He pleaded, hands clasping together. He rushed out the door as she opened her mouth to fight back. Quickly, Wednesday darted out the door, shutting it close behind her as she beelined behind the boy, pleading for him to stop walking.

In a hurried desperation to stop his trailing back to the art shed, she grabbed a hold on his elbow, pulling forcefully to spin him in her direction. She didn’t wait for the boy to gather his footing before sternly grabbing the back of his head and pulling him down to kiss her. Her throat bubbled up with bile, fighting to swallow it down as she pulled away, gauging his reaction. Or… more like lack thereof.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as he pulled back sharply, creating distance between him and the emotionless girl. “Are you fucking joking, Wednesday?” He began, sputtering, arms raising and flailing around, “You kiss me when I just tell you that I’m head over heels, disastrously in love with the person that everyone knows is going fucking crazy about to kill themself!” He didn’t mean to yell so loud, but the yet again tragic revelation that Y/N’s time was dwindling lit a fire in him, fury and sorrow blurring his line of judgements.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly spat, covering her mouth, gagging behind her cold fingers a bit at the gut retching kiss she just had.

“Xavier, I’ll be honest with you, okay, you deserve to know,” she began, thunder erupting loudly above them, her skin turned icy. “I have no feelings for you, Xavier, at all, and… and I don’t even think I like boys, or anyone, really, but I think I might have started to feel something towards Y/N as well.” her voice began to rise to adjust to the sudden, loud, spitting rain that poured over them. Xavier’s face dropped at Wednesday’s confession, grabbing her wrist and guiding them from the painful downpour to the pillared, circular halls of the court yard. His chest heaved slightly at the painful burn he housed in his lungs, turning to the girl with the now soaked pigtail braids. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. It’s the tortured artist effect thing, you know?” he joked, desperately trying to lighten the tension. When her glare failed to move, he coughed, looking down at his shoes.

“They’re also killing themselves right now as we speak.” She numbly voiced, fists balling at her side at the nasty, aching squeeze in her chest.

﹋﹋

You were so lost in thought, eyes glossy and mouth agape, your hand moving on its own accord, brushing instinctively against the surface with auto-piloted precision.

“My mother used to call me her little raven when I was young,” you said, falling into the taller boy’s side, an arm stretched out from the embrace to hold the detailed painting of your mother holding a raven in her hands. Xavier’s unoccupied palm ghosted above the canvas, pausing before his fingers twitched slightly, the bird’s wings now fluttering and your mother’s solemn face morphing into her famous, beautiful grin she often adorned. You never painted her smile, wanting to savor it selfishly, keep it for your eyes only, the vision never failing to simmer the ache in your heart. Sharing it with Xavier felt special, the vulnerability making you feel alarmed, but safe. His eyes were already on yours when you peered up at him. The tension rose a bit, faces only a couple inches apart. You felt his breath fan over your lips, your gazes not breaking from another’s. The realization of the intimate tension between you and your best friend struck you suddenly, quickly looking away from him and parting from the hug you were sharing.

Your painting came to still life slowly, void of details yet. Your unfinished portrait was dusted with somber hues, skin painted a much cooler tone. You had roughly blocked the colors out for your arms to cross over your chest, hands placed on your shoulders. You inhaled a bit, digging deeper into your heart as you let yourself zone out once more in deep thought.

You sat on your bed, brother sound asleep above you in his bunk, hidden under the dark emerald green covers as the moonlight crept through the black curtains, painting your room with a soft, light glow. Your hands grasped desperately onto the pillow pulled tightly over your face, smothering your ugly sobs. Moments prior you had been sound asleep, snoring softly, drool soaking the silk pillowcase below you until a sudden vision pulled you from your sleep, knocking the wind out of you, forcing your upper body upright, head tilted back painfully. The sight of your dead family members in front of you, blood mixing together in one big pool that swarmed around your knees as you sat knelt on the hard, rocky ground. Three guns lay sprawled near each of their figures, matching bullet holes buried beneath their chins. Your wails and desperate sobs fell on dead ears as you crawled, hands splashing in the ocean of crimson. You sobbed as you fell into your mother’s stomach face first, a horrified scream leaving your lips when you turned and saw her wide, eerie smile and emotionless eyes staring back at you.

You sobbed as you continued to paint, pushing through the tunneled vision and pulsing temples when your lungs got tired from the heavy gasps and bawling.

Birds chirping, your brother rings the bell on his bike, smiling as the wind brushes his hair back. You trailed not far behind on your own bike, pedaling casually. Your brother turned to check you were still behind him every now and then, each time making a different silly face that would leave a giggle leaving your mouth. To mess with him, you quickly moved to the other side behind him, out of sight from how he would turn to the left to check for you. Upon not seeing you, he slightly panicked, breaking suddenly, and toppling over his bike, back hitting the ground. You swerved a bit, laughter erupting in you, cheeks straining from your mouth opening agape. You quickly made a U-turn on your bike, pedaling back to your brother’s disheveled state, seeing his look of defeat. You laughed harder, stomach beginning to painfully twist from straining muscles, chest heaving.

The sound of the teapot whistling fell on familiar ears as you sat at the middle of the long table, piles of thousands of puzzle pieces messily thrown on the surface to your left. Your brother, sat across from you, worked on one end, you the other, having silently agreed to racing, small hands quickly working the puzzle, progression inching closer to the middle. You were at an even tie, father sat at the end seat of the dining table, book in hand, head slightly bopping to the music playing from the record player a few feet away. Your mother delicately placed a cup of tea to your right, kissing your head. Your throat ached, head pounding from overexerting your powers the night before in training. Your brother was in similar condition, both of you being uncharacteristically, unnervingly silent. She returned, giving your brother the same treatment as you before fetching your father and her a glass of wine and taking her place in the seat between you and your father’s end seat at the table. She watched silently, carefully watching as you and your brother were focused on your individual sections of the large puzzle, unknowingly charging each other's metaphorical batteries. She smiled, the thought of you both having one another to depend on making her heart swell. You ended up winning that race, by the way.

Your mother and father swayed along to the piano that sounded from the jukebox that was cozy, snuggled up next to the fireplace on the wall. Hand in hand, they moved together, flowing against one another like one, big, gothic hippie lake. Or whatever the hell you called all this. The dark green antique electric train let out a powerful choo-choo, a fluff of faux smoke puffing from its little funnel as it trotted along the tracks that sat upon the shelves circling your living room walls. Your dad chuckled softly at something your mother had whispered to him, kissing her hand and her temple before pulling her closer, resting his head on hers. Their love made you sick in such a self-deprecating, aching way. Your mind slightly wanders from the sketch you’re working on in your lap, body sinking into the couch as you submerge yourself in your daydreams of a love and tenderness as pure and genuine as your parents’.

The Rave’N had come way too soon for liking, sun setting as Enid and you rush, hurriedly trying on outfits and swapping out the bad ones for newer options. Enid had settled on a sequin white dress with fluffy, feathered detailing on the ends. You had struggled to pick an outfit, finally deciding on a piece that was silky, flattering, and long. You weren’t one to wear white, usually settling for darker tones but to stick with the theme you opened yourself up to branch out a bit. Any doubt held in your mind about your appearance vanished the moment you finished getting ready for the dance in Enid’s room. She had begged you to come get ready with her since her roommate had just vanished, leaving her to have her dorm for herself for almost a month, she reminded you, and she was not about to prepare for this treacherous battle alone. You complied, even convincing her to let you do some parts of her makeup for her as you giggled on the bench of her vanity. Throughout the couple hours of preparation she opened up to you about how Ajax hadn’t asked her to go to the dance, trailing off to how she even caved and agreed to bring some stupid pilgrim normie kid. By the time you had gotten to the dance your thoughts were no longer on Enid, you swear you tried to focus on her and not leave her behind alone with that normie kid, but Xavier’s pleading eyes for you come dance was too hard not to cave into. He took your drink from your hand delicately, placing it on the table before grabbing hold of your hand tenderly, pulling you with him. His hands landed at your side when you reached the outskirts of the crowd. The song was melancholic, yet upbeat, swaying your hips to the tempo with Xavier following your lead, watching your every move. Admittedly, the way Xavier’s hair was pulled up and how his white suit fit snug against his tall figure had you swooning, hands on his chest, and bicep, body inches from his as you were moving along with him. Someone definitely spiked the punch, you thought, pushing the thought back to return to later as he shimmied closer to you, taking your hands in his. Bringing them adoringly up to his chest and sighing, a lovesick smile on his face and his wide, sparkling eyes soaking up every detail of your appearance. From the way your hair was done to the dopey smile you unknowingly also had etched onto your face. The way he looked right through you then knocked the air from your lungs, forcing you to pull your hands from his grasp, anxiety bubbling painfully hot in your gut at the blossoming in your heart. You pulled him into an embrace instead, the song moving to a slower one as if on cue. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you snug against him.

You neared the end of your painting, woeful and reminiscent tears swarming your eyes. They dropped in fat bubbles, sliding down the slope of your cheeks, over the creases of the side of your mouth, cascading over your chin, and disappearing down your neck into the cloth of your shirt. Your lips were dry, splitting from the loud, painful meltdowns as you concluded your self portrait.

You took one last step back, taking in every tiny detail on the canvas. Behind your head lay a bed of black dahlias, your arms reaching over one another, crossed. Your hands lay delicately over your shoulders, dark attire adorning your resting body. Your head tilted down a bit, wide eyes peering up at the viewer. Irises displayed sunken, as they do in their state now. You included the tears, red nose, dry lips. The flush of red in your eyes and cheeks at the grief. The slight upward furrow of your eyebrows, creasing slightly. The painting was beautiful, eerie, and reminiscent. Everything you’d hoped it would be. As you stepped forward, you placed the palette down with the paintbrush to accompany it on the stool to the side. You had an idea, shuffling to Xavier’s side of the shed, pulling drawers open in a rushed search of something sharp. You had found a small, sharp metal palette knife in one of his drawers next to an open sketchbook, the previous pages bent back mysteriously.

You took both items out, placing them on the desk above. “Fuck it,” you thought, mind contemplating invading Xavier’s privacy, “Gonna die here before he found out anyway.”

You flipped through the sketchbook for a bit, realizing nearly every single piece of artwork in the small book was of you. Some were just simple portraits of you, recognizing some of your favorite earrings he included or how he drew the different ways you style your hair. Others were still shots like you painting at your infamous easel, you reading at lunch, you talking to Enid with your arm linked with hers, smiles on your faces.

Despair was not a deep enough word for the absolute darkness that consumed you after seeing the drawings. The dread of knowing you were leaving behind people who loved you no longer felt like you were set ablaze, it felt cold. Like everything is stinging, I’m gonna die, hypothermia, kinda cold. The icy chills devoured you, painfully needing the release of slumber in the icy hold of death. You sighed, looking down, taking the palette knife to your thumb in a quick, pressed swipe.

You wish you could say you hesitated, or winced, but you didn’t. Not even when it stung pushing your fresh, bloody cut onto the drying oil painting below, marking it. The connection of your wounded thumb to the canvas flipped a switch in the environment around you. The air seemed to drop 10 degrees, chilling around you as your breaths became visible in small, frozen puffs. The wind began to sing a deep, thundering, mournful tune that struck you deep in your core, numbing you as you took the palette knife to every inch of exposed skin repeatedly, unable to stop despite the voice in your mind wailing, begging you to break out of your trance.

You sobbed, lights in the shed flickering to darkness. You ran to the easel, dropping the palette knife to the ground in a rush of adrenaline breaking you from your delusion for a second. A dark, loud, brooding boom sounded at your feet, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach. A large, centipede resembling mush of human skin and flesh appeared from the shadows to the side of you, sound of wet flesh dragging along the concrete floor echoing in the small space. Pure dread in the form of an anchor weighs on your shoulders, your knees buckling at the sight before you as your throat is rubbed raw by the shrill force and volume of your blood-curdling scream. Your eyes nearly popped from their sockets at the sight of the creature’s height and size, towering over you as it released an ominous, bone chilling purr-like squeal. You cower away, falling onto your ass and scrambling as far back as you can, back thumping against Xavier’s art station. Your whimpers and whines sound from deep in you, fear evident in every inch of your being. You trembled, the creature slowly crawling towards you with its mutilated and boneless assortment of detached human arms and legs. Your face shriveled at the sight, a gasp leaving your agape mouth.

Your scream echoed through the forest around you, crows and owls in the trees around being terrorized out of their perches by the piercing sound, some swooping down low, past Xavier and Wednesday as they fight to run faster along the path. The sound of your howl, laced with fear, sent a shiver down the pair’s spines, tears erupting from their eyes as they pushed even harder, lungs burning in response to the decrease in temperature.

“What the fuck are you?!” You shriek, eyes impossibly wide in shock at the creature’s own; dozens of human eyes facing all directions simultaneously zero in on you, uneasy squeals erupting from the monster. “No! Please! Stop staring at me!” You plead, voice cracking, spit flying everywhere in the process of your cry. Your lips painfully stretched over your teeth, breaking the skin and springing blood as you pathetically wept.

Outside the shed, Wednesday stood with her foot on Xavier’s throat, the sound of your horrific pleas and sobs heard through the thin metal walls. A gun in her hand, loaded, pointed at the space between Xavier’s eyebrows. He lay crying on the wet, hard ground underneath her foot, hands wrapped around her ankle as her booted heel dug deeper in his throat at the struggle. He managed a small, “Why?” from his throat in between gasps for air as she subtly loosened her weight off his windpipe.

“This is how they want to leave. They’ve asked me to help them bring their dying wish to life and I will,” She stated, tone never faltering from her infamously monotonous, somber tune. Their eyes were glued to one another’s, tears streaming down their faces as they heard the bone chilling wails you let out inside. Wednesday’s composure faltered slightly, lips pressing one another and gaze lingering slightly to the door of the beaten up shed. The creature had cornered you against the wooden workstation, your shoulder digging deep in the handles of the drawers as it pressed against you, sticky to the touch and leaving a wetness behind on your skin as it made contact. You whimpered as one of its dismembered armed reached down, caressing your face.

“What the fuck are you!? Tell me! What are you? Why are you doing this to me?! Fuck!” You pleaded, screaming and hollering at the ungodly monstrosity before you. Its high pitched, groggy voice sounded to you and you only, “I want to be inside you,” hissing sounds erupting from its every orifice before pressing against your face so hard you fought to breathe, screaming muffled by the spongy flesh. You felt your jaw ripping from its place, joints snapping as the mutant pried your mouth impossibly wider, until the skin that expanded across your cheeks ripped, stretching thin until the tension shredded the flesh, blood trickling from the rupture. Your vision went black, mind fell to silence when the pressure of the deformed creature’s entry to your body pulled your body so, so, so tight that you deflated, corpse turning to mush and liquidizing to form into a puddle. Your fleshy, gorey pool of existence came to a simmering life, climbing into the existing creature’s mutilated body to combine into one entity.

Xavier and Wednesday fell from their threatening and defenseless positions at the sound of you choking and screaming on your own blood, some splashing across the window of the shed in a quick spray. Wednesday forced Xavier’s head away from the shed, moving in front of him, hands on his neck. She looked into his eyes, breathing deeply exaggeratedly, watching as he followed along dumbly.

“I know what is happening right now Xavier, but you need to either leave, or stay out here and promise not to come inside or look, okay?” she shouted, talking over the sudden increasing wind around them, she continued, “Okay? I promised them you wouldn’t see it. I’m going to go make it all okay in there again, alright?” her voice dropping to a near maternal one as his scared and emotional eyes met hers, nodding his head as he leaned against the tree to his right. Her hands fell to his chest, leaving the gun in his hands to keep him safe, unsure of what could be lurking in the woods. He dropped to his knees, dropping the gun as his hands land on the rough, stone path below him, weakly holding his weight as he let out a painful, bitter scream. His mournful sobs invaded the eerie night silence, wind carrying his hollers along with them. Wednesday entered the shed, body bag in hand that she recalled you reminding her would be in the bushes, hands shaking uncontrollably. The smell was horrendous already and the thin metal door swung shut behind her, iron and death filling her nostrils as her gaze stayed glued to blood pooling on the floor.

You lay against Xavier’s art station, head tipped back, throat jammed and pried open with his small, pointy, metal palette knife. Wednesday’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of your wide, horrific smile and creepy eyes. Her knees wobbled as she sobbed loudly, screaming at the sight, never been so traumatized by the sight of a dead body before. She soaked in your horrified stare, eyelids pulled so tightly apart that your eyeballs bulged from their place, bloodshot and teary.

Shortly after she wailed, the sound of the shed door pulling open paralyzed her. The tall boy stood just a couple feet behind as he let a deep, agonizing shriek of complete remorse echo off the walls around them followed by a ghostly, haunting silence. The sound of the gun in his firm grasp cocking has a gasp leaving Wednesday, tears dropping harder as she stood frozen in place, unable to even look behind her. A singular, bone-chilling gunshot rang against the dingy walls of the shed, singing into the dying trees and nature that lay outside. A heavy thud hit the floor as his body dropped, metal of the gun clanking against the ground alongside him. Wednesday wept harder, her hands wrapping around her sides as she fell to the ground, head hitting the concrete below weakly, eyes never leaving Y/N’s. She blindly reached around the cold cement above her, looking for the gun that was fired a mere seconds ago. Her fingers caught the hand of Xavier’s, ghosting over his red hot fingertips, skimming through the pool of his flooding blood before finally landing on the cool, smooth metal of the gun. Her fingers gripping it in her now slippery hold, she desperately, shakingly dragged the weapon to her face level, lifting it up to dig it in the space under her chin, cool rim of the barrel chilling her hot, flushed skin. She cocked the gun.

Y/N’s smile glared at Wednesday mockingly across the shed, swearing she heard the paling corpse whisper a rushed, quiet, “do it,” before she grinned as wide as her face could handle, cheeks straining so hard the highest points of her face dimpled under the tension, eyes wrinkling shut at the force. Wednesday Addams never smiled, face constantly stone-cold and unfaltering in her natural state but as your dreary, void eyes bore into hers she couldn’t help the instinctual movements of her face as she grinned wide at your corpse. Her hand wobbled slightly, lips splitting and drawing blood from how tight they pushed across her smiling teeth, fingers tingling as she pulled the trigger, everything going black.

As she expected, nothing came after death.

#OH MY GOD ITS DONE!#i hope all who celebrate xmas had a grand one #and to everyone else i hope your holidays are amazing and wonderful #i thank everyone who read the first part and this one and to all who left me messages or likes #i'm a little scared of how ppl will reac to the ending #i just wanted something as tragic as possible and i think i got that down pretty good #anyway! love u all sm pls be safe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagines #xavier thorpe #wednesday show #wednesday angst #wednesday the series #netflix #angst #wednesday x reader #fandom x reader #dahlia.wrks

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babymtal · 1 year

Text

gilded lily

genre: PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS <3 MAJOR ANGST, VERY GRAPHIC, 18+

warnings: death of two family members, rocky relationship with father, gn!reader is a psychic and experiences visions similar to wednesday, reader x xavier, xavier’s a little bit of an asshole as always, xavier is pining after wednesday when hey! reader’s right there buddy, jealousy, use of Y/N (ik im sorry it’s hard to write over 22k words and not need to use it), descriptive scenes of gore, self harm, talk of mental health, blood, death, suicide, VERY VERY HEAVY on the suicide, ya’ll.

once again this is very graphic and very angsty with a lot of mentions of suicide!

length: 11k roughly, so long i had to split it in 2 parts because tumblr hates me, this is part one, part two is: [here]

note: this is completely inspired by the film “Smile” I just watched it and my brain got to working. This is very long I got super carried away with it but I hope you all enjoy it.

PLEASE do not read if any of the warnings seem as though they may trigger you please and thank you i love you <3

I also ask that none of my work be reposted or stolen xoxo

Taking a step back from the canvas, you wiped the sticky oil paint from your fingers onto your messy, rough denim apron. Your eyes squinted, dragging along every detail you’ve spent the past few hours brushing into the canvas, before squeezing them shut. A deep inhale through your nose, followed by the hallowing exhale that leaves your lungs empty and desperate. You peeled your eyes back open, trying to look at your unfinished creation in a new perspective. After a few minutes huffing and glaring holes into the canvas, you turned away from the easel.

The painting was clearly far from finished, missing details you know you will most likely lay restless in your bed late tonight pondering the execution of instead of lulling into the sweet embrace of slumber. The hair of the subject you had painted hundreds of times before, not the exact shade of black you were shooting for, the lips a touch too pink to be accurate, bridge of the nose too wide, not that anyone else but you would notice such small details. You huffed once more as you ripped the apron’s tie from the back of your neck and grabbed your bag that was slouched lazily on the floor near the feet of the stool that was placed between two easels; one belonging to you, the other to the man you’ve grown close to during the days you've spent at Nevermore.

His hair was tied back into a bun, pieces slipping from the hairtie’s hold and falling to frame his face. He wore a long sleeve ruby colored shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The jeans that he wore to the shed were always adorned with splashes of color from him rubbing paint off on them, but this evening his presence was cut short. You almost didn't notice his phone ding from the small circular stool it rested on between both of your figures. He was quick to pick the phone up and reply to the text, his bottom lip pulled under his teeth as he bit back a small smile. He had rushed out with an excuse and side hug shortly after and you knew immediately the source of his abrupt departure; Wednesday Addams.

The beginning of your walk back to Nevermore was nothing out of the ordinary, only the sound of your heavy shoes against the uneven stone path and a few leaves crunching here and there. You were tired, mind slowly lurching with thoughts about the world around you. That was until the increasing gnawing feeling in your mind started ringing bells in your ears: you’re being watched. Suddenly, every step forward you took was becoming increasingly faster. The wind was starting to become cold, chilling your face and burning your throat raw. More leaves began to fall the faster you ran, the tree branches singing an ominous tune to you as the wind swept harder and colder against their bark.

You tried to keep your eyes forward, catching sight of the stone walls of Nevermore. Waves of nausea hit you as you pushed harder, forcing your legs into a sprint. You're being watched. Static was everywhere, all you could hear, see, taste, it invaded your senses until everything suddenly went silent and you hilted to a stop. The wind had abruptly ceased, your mind blanking as you stared down at the ground around you, leaves piling more than ever. It had only just begun to shift from the blazing heat of Jericho summers into the coolness of fall. But the trees had beautiful shades of green to them, full of life when you had entered these woods hours prior, you had remembered that much. Turning around, bewildered, you looked up at the tall, naked, dark trunks and weak branches, empty of all greenery.

Only then had you realized you made it to the entrance of Nevermore, ears now picking up on the loud chaos behind the doors that lead to the middle grounds of the campus. You reached for the gate door, hesitant from the fog clouding your mind. You shook it off, finally breaking through the entrance to find groups of students huddled, some entangled in teary hugs, others holding hands, frowns stretched on their faces. All eyes fell on you at the sound of your entrance. Your eyes scanned until they found the familiar ones of Enid, hers red, teary, and swimming with desperation. “Y/N, it’s your brother. It’s really, really, really bad this time-” she cried, using the sleeve of her striped blazer to wipe her nose before continuing, “He kept talking about how there’s some ghost, or whatever, threatening him! He’s gone crazy, Y/N, saying it wants to kill him and move onto a new victim or something. You have to talk to him! Please!” her frail hands gripped onto your sleeves and she shouted, pleading eyes boring into yours.

“Thank you, Enid. I’ll talk to him.” Your lips pressed into each other as the force of your emotions bubbling up caused your throat to squeeze, mocking the burn and ache of being choked. Your gaze lowered, even as you passed by Xavier, who reached a hand to rub your back only to fall short of contact with you as you walked past him with no acknowledgement. The entire campus seemed to come to a dead, eerie silence after Enid had spread the word to her peers that you would talk your brother out of whatever “freak meltdown” he is having. Your boots made deep, thundering thumps against the staircase as you ascended to his doorstep. Your faux confidence of the situation faltered, fist shaking undoubtedly when you raised your hand to knock on the door. You retreated, taking a step back and breathing so deep you could feel your lungs push against your ribs. A piercing, high pitched ringing sound in your ears, mentally blinding you. Your body tensed, head flying back, air being knocked from your lungs, head straining from the sudden forceful lack of oxygen.

“What the fuck are you?” he screamed, sobs racking through him uncontrollably at the horrific sight before him. You watched from the side in fear as the being took its large, frail fingers and dug them deep into its face. Wails of pure fright ring through the dimly lit room as the towering monster was carefully curling its fingers in the tissue and muscle, ripping its skin from its place to reveal a bloody, fleshy assortment of teeth and tissue.

Coming back to your senses, head falling back to place, you grounded yourself, looking around the entrance to your brother’s room. Dahlias in a woven basket at his doorstep, a gift from you. You smiled, remembering the glee on his face. “My favorite flowers!”, he’d say. Taking the second of peace to digest all that you saw moments ago you came to your senses, fear ghosting over you at the sight of your brother’s fate.

Nodding to yourself, you straighten your posture before confidently knocking on the wooden door in a pattern of three. You hear the door locks unlatch as you move to turn the doorknob. “Y/B/N?” you call, eyes scanning the room until they land on his hunched figure, head fallen, elbows perched on his knees as the palms of his hands dug into his eyes. “You can’t be here, Y/N” he said, voice void of all emotion. “I just need to be by myself for now until this… this thing finally gets the fuck away from me!” he exclaimed, body rising from the bed and arms flying out around him to project his statement. Tears continuously shed, trailing rivers down his face and dripping down onto his t-shirt. “I don’t know what it wants from me, Y/N, please! No one will believe me! I’m scared! What the fuck is it?” He screams, staggering slightly in your direction in desperation, his eyes searching for comfort and validation.

“I don’t understand, Y/B/N, what’s going on?” you questioned, taking a step towards your brother. Suddenly the air felt as if it had shifted, temperature lowering and the static-y feeling returned. The room spun around you for a moment, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek, the taste in your mouth bitter as your eyes fell to the broken vase shattered on the ground that once housed the flowers your father had sent him when he couldn’t, again, visit you both here at Nevermore. All the hair on your body stood at attention when you lifted your head to see your brother smiling back at you, demeanor completely flipped from his teary eyes and sorrowful frown just moments ago. His eyes held no emotion, blank, pupils dilated. His smile was so large and prominent it strained the muscles in his face so hard his cheeks wrinkled, some of the bunched skin around his cheekbones dimpling. His lips were cracking from the stretch of the dry skin over his teeth.

The sight froze you to the core, feet planted in their place, adrenaline thumping loud in your ears. Only then had you looked down at his hand by his side, a large piece of glass being wrapped around his large hand so tight it drew blood. His stare never faltered from yours as he rose the glass in his hand to his face, resting softly against the apple of his cheek. Your cries and pleads to stop were caught in your throat, fear paralyzing you physically and mentally as you watched him, your breathing halted and eyes unblinking.

Only when the glass had broken skin, crimson spreading across his fingers and cheek as he dug deeper and deeper, did you let out a gasp. You tried to move- do anything- to push his hand away but some mental block was keeping your feet planted right where they stood on the dark wooden floor. His cold eyes shot hot, blazing lazers into your face, desperate to make contact with yours that were locked on the glass shard he held. He paused briefly, taking a second to let out a relieving sigh you wouldn’t have heard if the silence in the room wasn’t so deafening. He suddenly pushed the glass deep into his face, breaking skin and drilling deeper before dragging the glass to rip through layers of skin downwards, pushing his closed fist harder and drawing more blood as he sliced down his cheek, jaw, and across his throat. His hollow smile stayed cemented across his bloodied and torn face as he toppled forward, knees hitting the ground before his face smacked right before your shoes.

The air was thick, so thick you couldn’t inhale, the burn in your head and lungs was crashing on you. All of your senses heightened, you could feel everything in the room. Your eyes were hypnotized into staring at his piercing eyes and wide, chilling smile. You could hear the sounds of people walking just outside the door, in halls of the dorm, a few feet from where you stood. The putrid must of all the blood clogged your mind, the crimson fluid pooling around your boots. A sudden ring of your ears tipped you over the edge, barreling you back into reality; your brother’s bloody, creepy, smiling dead face was staring back up at you from the ground it rested on.

A booming, near deafening wail sounded from the depths of your throat. The horrific sound caught the attention of others passing outside the door, Xavier and Ajax barreling through with a few other classmates to find the scene. The adrenaline had drained from you fully, the pulsing behind your eyes consuming you whole. Many emotions hit you at once; grief, despair, confusion, anger, horror, and agony all swarmed into one big stormy cloud that hung low above your head the past few days of experiencing your brother’s concerning behavior. But watching him gleefully slit his own throat in front of you had this large storm cloud suddenly pouring down cold, harsh, splitting rain and booming with loud thunder that shuddered across your nerves, lighting sorrowful fires in their wake. Tears flooded your eyes but you couldn’t scream anymore, wail floating away from your lips, trailing to a deafening quietness. The sight of his slashed throat and eerie smile was violating your brain every time you closed your eyes.

Xavier rushed to reach for you after he gained his own composure, pulling you away from the scene and out the doors, into the fresh air of the courtyard. The sudden change in environment left you dizzy, scrambling to the nearest trash can, nausea devouring you as you spilled your guts into the garbage. Xavier held your hair with one fist, his other hand pressed soothing circles into your back. Snot was dripping from your nose, tears pouring out onto your cheeks, over the bridge of your nose, and into the trash as the bile kept rushing from your mouth in waves. Once you had puked all the contents in your stomach and wiped your face, you straightened your back, exhaling shakily, clinging onto some kind of composure.

“Are you okay now? No more throwing up?” He leaned down to connect his line of sight to yours, irises scanning over your face, his eyebrows scrunched, wrinkles showing concern, confusion, and remorse. His nostrils flared as he let out heavy huffs.

You nodded weakly, staring back into his glossy, wide eyes. The tears adorning yours hadn’t stopped flowing since they began, wetting your face and the black shirt you wore.

“What the fuck happened to him?” He questioned, hands locked on your arms as if he was scared you’d start running like a frightened animal. You could see in his eyes that behind his composed and calm face he was terrified of what he just saw. A good friend of his lay on the creaky, wooden floor in an ocean of his own blood.

“I- I don’t know. I went to… to talk to him, like I told Enid, and then- then he started shouting for me to help him and that he was scared but he didn’t tell me what it was before he-” you trailed off, the words getting stuck in the back of your throat in bile laced, mucus-y clumps.

“Before he what?” Xavier pressed, thumbs digging slightly deeper into your elbows.

“Before he slit his throat in front of me.”

You swallowed the giant lump in your throat after frantically barking the response back at Xavier. His face completely fell at your reply, eyes darting to meet yours. “I’m sorry, he… he slit his own throat? In front of you?” Xavier’s voice was wavering, fighting to get through the statement. All you could do was nod in return. He ran a hand over his face harshly as he exhaled deeply, murmuring a quiet, exasperated “oh my god” before nodding to himself and returning his attention to you.

“Let’s get the blood off your shoes before Weems comes for you.” He deadpanned, grabbing your bicep in his grasp and dragging you behind him.

﹋﹋

“I’m really sorry for the incredible loss you have experienced today. Nobody should ever watch a loved one die before them, especially not in such a disturbing manner.” Weems cooed, voice laced with sympathy. She nodded at you, giving you a sympathetic, tight lipped smile.

Her face suddenly beamed, “-and your cooperation with the Sheriff today is greatly appreciated, Y/N-” She paused, taking a drag of the cigarette that was wedged between her two manicured fingers. Her eyes searched your emotionless, deadpanned ones before she continued, “That being said, if you need anything at all I ask you to confide in me.” “Thank you, Principal Weems, but nothing you can do can fix this right now.” you sneered, eyelids lowered to show how unimpressed you were with her woeful act.

Her eyebrows bounced upwards, face momentarily showing her shock of your dismissal. She smiled a bit harder, chuckling lightly as if what you had said was funny.

“Is there something you didn't mention to the Sheriff, Y/N?” She suddenly spoke, voice turning cold. Her face dropped to a straight, serious one, the dim light of the fireplace casting across her face. Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes squinting in her direction. You were taken aback, called out on your bluff. She smiled for a second before speaking. “Y/N, I know what happened to you today is not easy, but we need to know what happened. The Sheriff needs to know everything from the moment your brother began to lose his mind until the second he dropped dead at your feet. How did he go from being an ace student, full of ambition, to misbehaving, causing scenes, to killing himself in front of his own sibling?” You sat in the chair across her large desk speechless, unsure of what to say.

“Why did Y/B/N kill himself, Y/N?! Why would your own twin brother slit his throat in front of you?” Her frustration bled through more each word that left her mouth, her hand slamming down on the desk in front of her. Her nostrils flared before her eyes met yours.

Your deadpanned act faltered, huffing as you slouched deeper into the chair. “In short, Y/B/N and I had found our mother after she had committed suicide when we were young and that incident dominoed us to this. It was earth shattering for both of us. And when our father was arrested for murder it broke Y/B/N. He looked up to him, idolized the man. But- but no matter the situation Y/B/N had never talked about killing himself.” You began, taking a deep breath and grounding yourself before continuing, “Around a week ago we know he was the only witness in the incident of the man in Jericho killing himself in the street. Since then, he had started acting strange. More and more people were coming to me, telling me he was losing his mind. Constantly talking about some ghost, or something, following him everywhere. That no one but him could see it. He said it was threatening him and when I had gone to his room he was shouting the same thing to me. Then suddenly it felt like someone else was in the room, like, someone, or thing, other than Y/B/N.”

Your gaze drifted up to meet Weems’ as you paused your story. Searching for some sign she believed you, but you came up short. “His face was… terrifying. His eyes were so cold, dead almost. Like there was nothing there anymore. And he…” you cleared your throat, voice wavering into silence as his face flashed in your mind. Weems’ head tilted, her sign that she was listening. You breathed through your nose. “He was smiling.”

“Smiling?” she allured, eyes begging you to continue.

“It wasn’t just a normal smile. It was like it took up his whole face. It was horrifying. Like he was looking right through me with this giant, creepy smile painted across his face.” You voiced. She had sighed, placing her hands delicately on top of another in her lap.

“It sounds like your brother was really struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and experiencing delusions, Y/N. I'm sorry you had to be present during his final moments spent in delusion. I'm sure it's hard that the last memory of your brother was to see such a strong figure in your life in such a vulnerable position. I think it would be best if you took a week away from classes.” Weems spoke, voice soft and almost genuine. You shook your head, gaze falling to your lap in disbelief. From an outside view you could see why people took your brother’s pleas for help for delusional outbursts, but you knew him better than anyone else. Y/B/N was never suicidal, always the light and breath of fresh air of everyone’s day when he graced them with his presence. He was the direct opposite of you; doting, ambitious, headstrong. You wanted to believe he was delusional and move on from replaying the scene in your head over and over again but something is gnawing away at you, begging you to believe your brother’s claims instead. And you do.

﹋﹋

You spent the rest of your night tucked away in your bed, the foot of your mattress being occupied by nearly a dozen books you had stolen from the Nightshade library. You focused intently on scanning each page briefly looking for anything related to what this situation could mean. The calming scent of the old book pages eased your fired up nerves, your mind freeing itself from everything but the task at hand. After a couple hours and being half way through the stack of books you snuck into your dorm, a knock on your dorm room door snapped you out of your little trance. You grabbed a blanket from the couch perched against the wall near your bed and threw it over the books, covering the incriminating evidence enough to answer the door. You made your way to the entrance, unlatching the lock and pulling it open by the handle. Xavier stood there, dressed in a plain green long sleeve shirt and pair of gray sweats. “How shocking the most horrific, traumatic thing happened to me today and you still somehow show up at my door like always,” you mutter, face erased of all emotion as you peered up at him, “Not sure if you noticed, Xavier, but I’m the farthest thing from in the mood for your games.”

“Actually, I just wanted to come check on you before we have to return to our dorms for the night.” He sneered, eyebrows knitted together in a slight scowl. He pushed past you, letting himself in. You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind you as you followed him into your room. He stood at the foot of your head, leaning on the bedpost as he angled himself to look at you.

“Seriously, how are you doing? You can talk to me, you know.” His eyes reflected the dim, yellow light of the lamp perched in the corner of your room. Your cheeks were on fire under his gaze as you move to settle back to your previous position at the head of the bed. You definitely couldn't tell Xavier about all that was swarming your mind, fear of his dismissal and rejection cementing your words where they bury themselves in your mind. As you seated your body relaxed, muscles slightly untightening, and posture loosening. So badly did you want to mourn your brother, do the entire crying for a month, go through the 5 stages of grief, get his name tattooed or a necklace with his name on it or whatever people do, and figure out what the fuck you’re going to do now- but it felt as though your body was carrying you through these motions of needing to find information. Something in you knew that there was something evil twisted somewhere deep beneath this all. Eyes scanning the soft blanket draped across your bedding, hoping to find the words you needed in the woven linen below.

“Xavier- I’m fine. Really. I haven’t exactly... digested everything yet. I’m kind of in autopilot mode right now if that makes sense.” you opened up to him, not exactly giving him the rundown. He nodded, muttering a sympathetic “I’m sorry” before moving to sit in front of you on the bed. As his butt met the hard covers of the books under the blanket he instantly sat back up, confusion written on his face. He lifted the cloth that was thrown over your bed, ripping it off the surface to reveal the old, musty books. He sighed, confused, eyes bouncing between the books and you perched innocently against the pillow, legs folded beneath you.

“And what is all this?” He gestured his hand out to the books, looking to you for an explanation. You gnawed on your lip, debating whether you should tell him the truth or not. You’ve sorted the pros and cons of letting Xavier in on the scary details of your life as of recent but you knew he would never believe you. Why was it that everyone else around you was set dead on the fact your brother had just inevitably lost his fucking shit? What was it that made you completely contest them, fully investing yourself into the depths of your brother’s crazed pleas for help that fell on nothing but deaf ears, besides your own. Whatever it was, Xavier didn’t belong in this plan, that was obvious. “I was just… curious is all.” you nearly whispered, voice quiet in the tension filled space. Xavier’s frustration ached through him, bleeding into the air around you. You shrunk under his gaze, feeling his eyes judge every inch of your face, eyes wide in shock as if to give you a look that said, “You’re joking, right?”

“Curious about what exactly?”

“You heard everyone… Y/B/N had talked about something haunting and threatening him! I just wanted to look and see if maybe this had happened to someone else is all. It’s really not a big deal, Xavier.” Your voice raised in defense, desperately hoping Xavier would understand and validate your reasonings.

“He was crazy, Y/N! I know it’s a really hard pill to swallow and you haven’t gotten there yet but he lost his mind. You’re not the only one here hurting or who had to endure his psycho behavior the past few days. There is nothing going around haunting people. If there was, don't you think we would have heard about it? Please, just stop. Take time to actually digest what happened and don’t go driving your own self crazy trying to find an answer to something that doesn’t fucking have one!” He yelled back, frustratingly waving his hands around, exaggerating his feelings.

“Crazy?” you spat, “Y/B/N was not crazy. And how can you even say this when he literally died hours ago? Are we all supposed to just move on because oh he was just a psycho who just lost it?” You tried not to tear up, truly you did. But the bubbling water in the heated metal pot on your metaphorical stove continue to swirl, bubbles of hearing your peers so casually dismiss his death boiled up, rising until it inevitably boiled over the sides.

“You know I didn’t mean it li-” He began to rebut but you cut him off, “Get out, Xavier. Please.” you pleaded, pointing past him and at the door. He looked at you in complete disbelief before his face hardened, shoulders shrugging.

“Y’know what? Fine.” He sneered. He shook his head at you, eyes never leaving yours as his bottom lip caught between his teeth, before storming out the door, slamming it shut behind him. You cleared your throat when silence filled the room after his departure. Gathering yourself, you reached for the next book perched on your bed in the “haven’t checked” pile, opening the cover and flipping through the pages.

“Just because they don’t believe you doesn’t mean I won’t,” you whispered to the large room before you, hoping your brother was somewhere, creeping along the walls, listening to you.

﹋﹋

Your body ached as you woke the next day, the sun beaming through the long, dark curtains that adorned the big, circular window above your bed. You turned to check your phone, screen lighting up a mocking 12:33 PM. Your eyes closed shut in annoyance, groaning as you dropped the device down on the mattress below, arms and legs stretching out, a few joints cracking in the process. You sat up in your bed, throwing your legs over the side forcefully. Slowly coming out from beneath the veil of your sleepy fog, you could now feel the deep, twisting knots in your shoulders, the weight of the trauma now proving heavy on your mind.

After scanning through all the stolen Nightshade books last night but one, you came up short handed. Most of the pages were adorned with information and drawings of witchery, large monsters, and deadly diseases none of which mention the symptoms you were looking for. You piled all the dead-end books into two piles on your duvet, leaving the lone, untouched book to the side. Getting ready for the day, you pulled on your uniform before gathering the stacks of books in your arms, making your way to the Nightshade Library.

Stares and murmurs were thrown your way as you walked through the courtyard. You tried to keep your head low and sight to the ground in front of you but you instinctively looked up, searching around you eagerly when the sound of your brother's voice called your name from afar. You halted at once, now twisting around in circles to fully scan the small crowds of students around you, all of which were already staring back at you, their faces ranging from one of sympathy to another showing confusion. Some people were turning to look around thinking something had happened, others watching you desperately and half-hazardly scan the faces around you, anxiety radiating off you.

The slight sound of your name yet again being called by your brother has you whipping your head in the direction it came. His figure met your gaze, sitting perched next to Ajax’s and across from Xavier’s, the wind in your lungs became chilly as you watched every peer in your vicinity suddenly fall to silence, conversations dissipating, before turning to you slowly, facing you with large, straining grins and wide, glossy eyes. Their faces were so morphed they were nearly impossible to differentiate from another. Your brother’s the only familiar one in the ocean of tight lipped grins.

“Holy fucking shit,-” you rushed, air around you feeling incredibly thin as it rushed past you in small gusts. “-fuck, fuck, fuck, no, please. No.” You begged, eyes finally focusing, taking in his sliced, cheery face, wounds flowing like rivers of crimson onto his uniform below. When you felt a shoulder hit yours, the abrupt contact snapped you from your hallucinations. Your books stayed snug between your forearms and chest, unmoving from the disruption. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, your eyes both dropping a singular, puffy tear as you caught your footing. Just as soon as you came forth from the trance, you were now stomping one foot in front of the other, determinately treading through the courtyard, no regard for whoever had even bumped into you.

Quickly, you snuck into the darker halls of the campus, looking around you as you made your way to the entrance of the library, doing your best to snap twice with your arms preoccupied once the coast was clear. Your speedy return of the books and escape went smooth, now hastily making your way back to your dorm where you plan to stay the rest of your week, hopefully unbothered this time.

As you passed through the courtyard you see Xavier sitting at the same bench with Ajax and now Wednesday Addams, his attention on her and her deadpan face that stared back at him with no emotion. You quickly diverted your attention to the ground ahead of you, walking a bit faster to avoid any confrontation. You dryly laughed at the thought, as if he could even bring himself to stop staring at her and see you rush by him in a frenzied manner. You continued marching to your dorm, heart thumping painfully with jealousy to the beat of your footsteps. The way he looked at her made you want to throw up. His eyes so entranced while looking at her, the pretty near-death looking girl with braided pigtails. “Whatever,” you thought, rushing to twist the knob once you reached the door.

With an end to the successful, yet concerning, Nightshade Library trip you shut the door to your dorm, leaning your back against it and slouching once you had realized you were finally alone, shut away from the world. Pulling the heavy blazer off your shoulders and undoing your belt, you sighed contently at the feeling of your body becoming unrestrained by the thick material of your attire.

“Stupid fucking uniforms,” you cursed as the clothing hit the floor. You stayed in your tank top and lazily changed into a pair of shorts. Your butt hit the mattress clumsily, eyes fixating on the wall in front of you. Despite the rest you had just awoken from not long ago you could feel exhaustion seeping out of your every pore. Everything just ached. Before you could think too far into your emotions, a chill ran over your spine. You let a shaky breath out, feeling the air around you shift, something sinister now lingering around. Your gaze had yet to leave the wall, suddenly feeling a pair of eyes lazering into the side of your head. Your body froze in fear at the feeling. You’re being watched.

Willing yourself to move, you turned your head to look to the corners of your dorm room. First one empty, second empty, third empty, you held your breath impossibly harder, hearing the blood rush to your head in loud, pulsing waves. Your head turned impossibly slow and you caught a glimpse of feet in the darkest corner of your room. Your exhale caught in your throat at once, goosebumps rising across your arms and legs. Your eyes trained onto the familiar boots of your late brother’s. “No, no, no, no-” Your eyes slowly looked up, grazing from his boots, up his blood covered jean adorned legs, and the white wife-beater that was completely painted red, save a few areas. Your heart began to race, fear and adrenaline flowing through you. Finally looking at his face you flinch- despite seeing the face so many times. The chilling, teeth-y smile that strained his face, the soulless eyes. Only this time your stomach twisted unnervingly, mind entranced by his eyes.

“Y/B/N?” you called, not expecting a response. Everything around you began to blur, faint faces appearing in the smudges of color that once was your room. You whimpered, fear consuming you as you began to lose sight of reality around you.

“I’m sorry,” you heard faintly whispered into your ear, as if the person was right next to you. You gasped, head twisting to find the owner of the voice, to no avail. You shuffled back on your bed until your back hit the headboard. The faces quickly multiplied around you, the colors sharpening and refining back into your walls, desk, couch, and floor. Your eyes widened, a scream of horror erupting from you as you looked around your room, psychotic smiles and ghostly, empty eyes staring through you everywhere you looked- even under you in the bedding below. Your brother stood in his same place at the corner of your room, smiling at you unmoving. Tears crept up into your eyes, the faces around you feeling as though they were vibrating your body, shuffling forward as though they are closing in on you.

“Why are you doing this?!” you screamed, eyes unable to pick one face to stick to, a whine of despair leaving your lips, gaze fearfully roaming the different pairs of eyes etched into the walls and flooring. Your knees were pulled to your chest, feeling small and vulnerable in the sight of so many eyes. The silence following your outburst overwhelmed you more, the fear of not knowing what is going on enough to drive you mad.

“What the fuck are you?!” you hollered louder, voice straining with fear and anxiety. “Stop staring at me!” you pleaded, covering your face with your trembling hands, the stare and smile following you in your mind when you closed your eyes.

“No!” you shrieked in horror, “Please!” your voice getting caught in hiccups and sobs as you bawled into your palms, the eyes becoming increasingly wider, smiles growing in size, overwhelming you until everything stung. When suddenly, it stopped. All that was left was a buzzing in your mind and dead silence before Enid and Ajax were suddenly kneeled in front of you, fear in their eyes and concern plastered on their features.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what happened? Why are you bleeding?!” Enid shouted, panicking at the sight of the deep scratches on your neck, face, and chest. They both pulled you into a standing position, each hauling an arm over their shoulders as they dragged you to the infirmary.

﹋﹋

After a night in the white, bland room with no visitors or texts even the morning following, and Enid avoiding you like the Black Plague as you walked across the courtyard and out the large doors leading outside the campus, you can officially say you definitely feel like are losing your mind. The gaze of your peers once welcoming and warm, eyes shining with greetings to you, were now frightened, hesitant to disturb you in your clearly disheveled state. You had time in the stiff nurse’s bed to rethink the things you saw in your dorm room, your eyes never leaving the view of mountains in the distance as you recalled the incident. Those faces were haunting, smiles so large, big empty eyes piercing through you as if they wanted to devour you. You realized these faces have to be what your brother was talking about when he had talked about the ghosts, or whatever, that were haunting him. So whatever this thing is has been passed on from your brother to you. Great. Realizing how incredibly unrealistic that all sounded left you with a lump in your throat, brows twitching.

Only then, when you glanced down at your hands in your lap for the first time, did your eyes widen, this time not with horror or tears. This look was one that announced the bewilderment that exploded in you. Your hands sat laced together in your lap politely, unscathed, not a drop of blood or ripped skin in sight. The skin was smooth and clean. These scratches weren’t caused by you, no way. A couple hours of check ups and talking to the nurse about self harm later, you were dismissed. You tightened your coat Ajax had gone back to your dorm to get when they brought you in around your body as you walked through the chilly forest to the art shed you and Xavier have inhabited.

Though only a couple days had passed, the weather had changed drastically, abruptly chilling over and darkening, the clouds turning from a pure white to a dark, stormy gray, and the greenery around quickly shriveling to small branches and a satisfying crunch of the dead leaves beneath you as you continued along the path in thought.

You weren’t expecting to see him when you opened the shed door, actually, you knew he should’ve been in one of his classes right now. His focus quickly diverted from his painting to the shed door opening. When his eyes locked onto yours, his glare softened. “Y/N,-” he paused, looking at you, taking in your dark circles and the small bandaged cuts that accompanied your face, “I wanted to apologize for what happened a couple nights ago. I just got frustrated because I’m scared for you.”

“Scared for me?”

“I’m scared you’re going to end up like your brother and mother, Y/N. Really, really scared. Enid told me what happened last night. Why did you hurt yourself like that? She- She said you were screaming and crying.” His wide eyes searched your face for a reaction, but you stayed stone-faced, speechless.

“I’m not crazy, Xavier.” you pressed.

“I didn’t say that.”

You scoffed, not believing his dismissal. You wanted to confide in him and seek his help, but his eyes felt as if they were seeing through you, judging you, putting you down. “I don’t know what happened, okay? I just got really emotional and kind of blacked out and when I came back to it Enid was taking me to the infirmary. But not once did I harm myself! Look at my hands! Nothing is wrong with them! I swear I didn’t do this to myself but I don’t know what did. Listen, I- I just really miss Y/B/N. I’m trying really hard to stick this through, Xavier, but in the past eighteen years of life I spent with him we had never been apart for longer than a full 24 hours,” you sighed, hadn’t giving yourself a chance to go through these thoughts with yourself prior to this vulnerable confession, “so please excuse me if I’m not handling the fact I’ll never see my brother, hear his voice, or hug him ever again very fucking well.” You spewed, emotions bubbling over and forming into sharp dagger that pierced right through Xavier. You pinched the bridge of your nose, the heavy weight on your back feeling as if it had gained a couple more pounds.

“Hey-” he called, moving closer and grabbing your wrists, bringing them up to his chest. His head tilted down to meet your gaze, “We’ll figure this out, okay? Day by day.” He smiled warmly at you but seeing his grin just made your stomach drop painfully in a fit of terror and disgust. You plastered a fake smile on your face, masking your horror. “Of course. Thank you,” you replied in faux sincerity, breaking away from his grasp to set your coat up on the jacket rack.

He smiled to himself, feeling relieved that you opened up to him, or so he thought. He resumed his place at his easel, paintbrush in hand, focusing on the canvas in front of him. Securing the tie of your painting apron around your neck and picking up your favorite paint brush, you finally peered up at the artwork you were eager to resume. You stepped back, startled, a yelp releasing from your mouth at the sight of the now altered portrait. “What?” Xavier quickly rushed to your side, looking at the painting you were working on. “Wow,” he gasped, “This one’s really going to be beautiful. I think it’ll be my favorite. You’ve never painted her smiling before. She looks a little creepy right now though, but once you paint some life into her this’ll be a masterpiece for sure.” He noted, brushing your odd reaction to your own painting off, and going back to his own creation once more.

You watched, mouth still slightly agape, as he settled back to his painting before turning your attention back to yours. The grim portrait of your late mother that you had replicated many times was not how you had left it.

You stepped toward the artwork once more, analyzing it. Most details were the exact way you left them; straight black hair framing her supposed to be woeful, beautiful face and body dressed with a dark red, velvet dress that framed her shoulders and collar bones. Even the background was the way you had created, dark curtains flowing behind her elegantly, but her facial expression was now eerily replaced with one of the faces that had been haunting you as of lately. Her dark eyes peered back at you, an unsettling grin grazing her features. Your mother’s face looked cold and scary, almost demonic. Her painted gaze drew you in, hypnotizing you until all the air was knocked from you, body tensing, head flying back. The paintbrush was dropped to the floor with a clack.

Y/B/N had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, sobs wracking his skinny, frail body as he pleaded for mother to wake up. You gazed up at your brother bawling, eyes trailing to her still figure laying on the bed. Her eyes wide, dead, staring back at yours with a smile on her face. Suddenly, she rose with a loud gasp, your twin brother now nowhere to be seen. “Y/N…” she sang, looking at you. “What the hell is going on?” you interrogated, urgently needing an answer to all this. She tsk’d at you, shaking her head at your impatience. “There’s only one person who you can go to for that,” “Who?” you pressed. “Your father,” She turned to look at the other side of the room. Following her gaze, now appeared a younger version of your father, eyes wide and teary as he stared at your mother in fear and despair. His sobs and cries for your mother echoed through the room, “No! Why?!”

Air filled your lungs at once as you came back to reality. Xavier had his arms around you, holding you up, looking intently at your face for signs of injury. You peered back up at him before realizing the position, quickly scrambling out of his grasp. He cleared his throat, scratching his neck.

“A vision? What was this one?” He innocently asked.

“The ghost has something to do with my father.” you replied. He pursed his lips, nodding. His eyes squinted as his gaze faltered from you to his coat, having an internal battle with himself. Why should he stay here and have to listen to the same things your brother was spewing days before his death? He couldn’t bear to watch you, the person he’s been longing for for years, who was the strongest person he knew, now falling down the same path their late relatives walked not too long ago. Fetching his coat and phone from around the shed, he shuffled around some more, throwing his coat on and zipping it up, before calling out a quick, “Be safe walking back,” as he left, shed door slamming against the wood frame. You looked around the shed, confused as to what just happened.

﹋﹋

“You said if I need anything at all to come to you, and now that I am you’re denying me?” you questioned, scoffing at the situation. “You're asking me to arrange for you see your father, who I remind you, you haven’t seen in nearly half a decade and is being held at the county prison for murder!” She exclaimed, arms raising in disbelief.

“My brother just fucking killed himself and all I want is to talk to the last bit of goddamn family I have left!” You shouted back, anger coursing through your nerves. You were tired, scared, and felt completely isolated. Dejected, you lowered your voice to pointedly ask, “Is that really so bad, Principal Weems?”

She squinted her eyes at you, releasing a defeated sigh, and picking up the small office phone in front of her on the large desk, pressing a few keys with her manicured nails before raising the phone up to her ear. Her unimpressed gaze stayed glued to yours in what felt like a stare off, your eyes boring into one another’s. After a few rings, her demeanor completely switches, a smile spreading over her milky face and voice smoothly raising an octave, contorting into a more calm, almost soothing replacement.

“Hi, yes this is Principal Weems at Nevermore. Could you be a doll and transfer me to the warden?” She politely requested, humming cheerfully into the phone at the response on the other line. “Thank you!” she quipped. A fake smile and a nod of your head was sent her way as she rolled her eyes at you, clicking her tongue.

﹋﹋

Your nerves were at an all time high, hands shaking, and knees slightly wobbly as you walked down the long corridor to the big metal door you were directed to by a guard. You took a second to close your eyes and gather everything you had planned to discuss in your mind before you signaled for the guard to open the door for you.

He followed in behind you, taking his place right next to the now shut door you had just walked through. You sat down at the large, metal desk that stretched wall to wall with glass dividers separating you from the other side. As you peered up, you caught your father’s eyes and the wind got stuck in your throat. Just looking at him at first glance, you could see he was a grieving, miserable man. Deep sunken, tired eyes, hollowed cheeks, wrinkling skin. “Haven’t seen your face in a while.” He spoke calmly, “I thought it was your brother visiting me, not you”, leaning his elbows against the surface in front of him. “What happened, Y/N? What are you here for?” his face nearly drooping, fatigue lacing through his features and voice. You never visited your father during his time he was serving here. You couldn’t bear to confront that part of your life, deciding to neglect it completely and move on. Seeing your father’s despair in person is exactly what you had been spending years avoiding.

“What happened after you watched mom kill herself?” You questioned, lips pressing together from nerves. Your eyes made direct contact with his, unwavering. Looking at him made your stomach feel as if it was eating itself, the twisting nearly unbearable. He sighed deeply before cautiously saying, “Do you really want to know?” You nodded at him hesitantly, determined to get at least some kind of answer to this giant question mark plaguing your life.

“Okay, well, when your mother killed herself, she was completely out of it. We began to argue every time we were around each other. She had claimed she saw faces that were threatening her. I didn’t believe her at first, you know, that’s crazy people talk.” He stopped to lean back in his chair, eyes glued to nothing in particular, mind lost in thought, trying to recall everything. “A week before her suicide she had watched a pregnant woman walk into oncoming traffic. Killed herself and her baby right in front of your mother. It completely wrecked her.” He eyed your face for a second, watching you tilt your head slightly to encourage him to continue his story. “That night she was having another episode. She was screaming, begging me to help her. I didn’t know what to do.” His voice trembled slightly, recalling the memories. “I’ll never forget the horrified screams she let out and the look of fear on her face and god, when she shot herself in front of me that night… her smile.” He hesitated, looking around the table as he tried to gather his thoughts into words, “It was terrifying, Y/N. I still see it everytime I close my eyes. And… and then I began to experience the exact same visions your mother had. The faces followed me everywhere, I was having hallucinations of your mother everywhere I went.” When his eyes finally met yours and you saw the pure fear and grief in his eyes that mirrored yours, you nearly broke down.

Tearfully, you admitted, “Y/B/N… He killed himself 3 days ago. I had gone to check on him because he had been acting so strange the past week. He was describing the same things you said mom described, the- the faces, the haunting, and-” you breathed deep through your nose, gaining your composure as you watched your father’s face crumble into one of pure grief at the news of your brother’s passing. “When I went to check on him he was- he was there… and then it was like suddenly it wasn’t him anymore. And- and when he killed himself he uh-” You stopped to catch your breath. Your father was sobbing, chin in his hands, eyes still trained on yours to let you know he was still listening to what you were saying. He sobbed harder, harshly coughing in between sobs.

“He slit his throat in front of me while smiling.” You stated after a moment of silence, tears flowing and composure crumbling, walls falling brick by brick. Your father caught his breath enough to finish your story for you, “And now it’s passed onto you.” He watches you nod meekly, hands coming up to roughly wipe the tears from your face. He shut his eyes, exhaling deeply. “What did we do to deserve this?” He pondered to no one in particular, head rested back to look up at the ceiling. “Y/N, there’s two ways this will go; you either wait for this… this disease to kill you and pass onto someone else or you kill someone.” his voice lowered into a quiet whisper you could barely hear, depending mostly on reading his lips through the glass between you. You choked on your spit, sputtering at his claim.

“I have to-?” “Yes. And it has to be meaningful. It has to be in front of someone as well. That’s how it passes. Someone has to witness it. Its source of power is trauma.” His voice remained low and firm during his lecture. “You choose to die or rot away in prison for the rest of your life, and I’ll be honest with you, Y/N,”

“Every day I wish I had let it take me.”

﹋﹋

The visit with your father had left you distraught, broken pieces of your heart just cracking into tinier, weaker pieces. Guilt swam through your bloodstream, sadness creeping in your chest that you had waited so long to see your father again. Knowing that would be the last time you saw him, you wept as you said goodbye to him, both of your hands pressed to the glass. You continued to cry as you exited the prison, mind beginning to dissect the information he had given you. Years ago, your father had worked for Nevermore, holding painting classes for students at the time. He told you about the blue book found in Nightshade’s library that he found information from where he had learned his escape from death. As he described the book, you knew exactly where to find it; your dorm room.

Your feet hurt from the fast, powerful walk you took across Jericho to get back to campus. Your mind was racing with your lack of time and options as you beelined straight for your dorm; either let this consume you until you kill yourself in front of someone and pass this thing onto whoever the hell they are or find a way to kill someone else. You finally arrived at your door, relief washing over you. Twisting the knob, you entered your dorm, pushing the door closed by leaning your back against it. You opened your eyes to reveal Xavier, Enid, and Ajax sitting on the small couch and bean bag chair in your dorm. All of their eyes shifted to you at your arrival.

“Y/N hey… come sit,” Enid says, patting the empty spot on your couch next to her, hinting for you to take a seat.

“What is this?” You questioned, unamused. Ajax and Enid shared a look between themselves at your question. Xavier cleared his throat, body leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he looked up at you through his hair. “An uh… intervention? I guess?” Xavier said, looking to Ajax for support. Ajax caught on, pushing his shoulders back to confidently add, “Yeah, we’re just really worried about you, Y/N.” Enid smiled at his confession before turning to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. “We want you to talk to us. You feel so far the past couple days.” Her voice muffled by your shoulder. “Are you serious? An intervention? And at 10 at night? Guys, I’m not crazy!” you jumped from your place on the couch, voice raising. “Shhh, please. No one is calling you crazy. Just sit. We care about you.” Xavier tried to reason with you, eyes pleading for you to just comply.

The air around you budged suddenly, air thinning and burning your throat with every panicked gasp you make. “No,” you plead, “Please no, fuck, not now!” you screamed. Your mind was racing, the familiar goosebumps rising across your skin. All you could think of was Xavier, Enid, and Ajax. They needed to leave. Your breath became harder and harder to catch, sight becoming drastically tunneled from lack of oxygen. What if this was it? You peered down at your shaking hands, desperately trying to calm your staggering breath. When your attention focused back onto the trio sitting in your dorm, they were already staring back at you, wide smiles and big eyes. A scream ripped through your throat at the sight, stumbling a bit back.

Xavier was the one to speak, voice monotone and deep, “Your time is almost up,” he stated, that dreadful smile never leaving his face. All three figures stood at once, surrounding you as they continued to stare, moving in closer and closer. Scared, you back up until your back hits the wall, sliding down until your knees are to your chest as it heaved, hyperventilating as you stared back at their soulless eyes, unable to look away. Ajax moved his hands to his face, fingers gently placed under the lash line of his eyes. “No!” you screamed, “Ajax please!” He laughed dryly behind his teeth, gaze not once faltering from yours. The sound of him ripping his skin from his face so close in proximity to you chilled you to the core, paralyzing you. You screamed in terror, watching his face hang like curtains from his chin where the mutilated skin stay attached. Underneath the veil of skin was a mushed assortment of teeth, tissue, flesh, and blood. With his lower eyelids ripped from his skull, his eyes bulged as they peered down at you, unblinking. You sobbed, shrieking for help. Blood from Ajax’s deformed and mutated face was dripping onto your skin and shirt as he stood towering over you, his smile nearly doubled the size, yellow, decaying teeth hypnotizing you, making it impossible to look away or blink.

A sudden gasp has you clutching your chest, lungs burning and eyes flooded with unshed tears. Blinking, they tumbled down your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Xavier’s shouts startled you out of your trance, “Hey! It’s okay! Oh my god!” His hands rested firmly on either side of your face as you swallowed deeply, eyes flickering from Xavier’s in front of you to Ajax’s who stood a few feet away, cradling a crying and startled Enid in his arms. Ajax’s face was contorted into one of concern, fear, and as you peered a little harder you could see the suppressed disgust he felt as he looked at you.

“Hey, man, I’m gonna get Enid out of here. You okay?” Ajax called out to Xavier. Xavier turned his head to Ajax, jerking his head to the door to silently signal it was okay for him to leave. He led Enid out of the dorm, closing the door softly on the way out. Xavier returned his attention back to your trembling form when he heard the lock click shut. He sighed, shaking his head, “What am I gonna do with you?” he rhetorically pondered. You stayed silent, body still shuddering with fear as you watched Xavier’s eyes look at yours, searching for what you’ve been hiding.

“Do you have any idea what just happened in the past- I don’t know- like two minutes?” He asked, head tilting to the side to gauge your response. You weakly shook your head no, gaze falling from Xavier’s, jumping from corner to corner to ensure no one else was with you in the room. At this moment, you could no longer find the energy to care about what you had done during your episode, just that Xavier finally hears you. The pressure of all of this was weighing down on you, driving you insane. If it was the last thing you did, you were going to warn Xavier of all this. Truthfully, the fear of him being the one you pass this curse onto was growing like a wildfire in your chest, squeezing and burning your heart at the mere thought that he would be the next doomed suicide victim. “I’m ready to be honest with you about everything Xavier- but you have to listen to me.” You commanded, voice sharp. “I swear to you, Xavier, I’m not crazy. Please believe me,” Reaching out, your hands rested on his shoulders. He nodded softly, whispering a soft, “Go ahead.”

So you told him everything. Starting from the beginning with your mother and father, how your father escaped the curse by killing someone and he was now serving a life sentence, about your brother’s descent into madness after watching a man in Jericho kill himself, about everything your brother had said during his last days before he killed himself, the information you’ve gathered about this curse, the visions you had at your brother’s dorm and the shed, the talk you had with your father at the prison, the hallucinations, how Ajax ripped his face off in front of you, the smiles, everything.

Silence was not a strong enough word to describe the eerie, deafening stillness in the room between you and Xavier after you had concluded telling him all you could. By now the sun was just now peaking out from the mountains and trees, slowly shifting the dark starry night into hues of dark purples and pinks. Xavier used the moment of peace to gather everything you told him in his mind, a headache bubbling behind his eyes. After long, tense moments of silence, he finally moved to speak, “I believe you, Y/N.” he started, “really, I do.” His hands held yours in his as he looked into your eyes. You let the breath you didn’t realize you were holding escape your lips at his reassurance. You rose from your spot abruptly, “oh, yeah!” you exclaimed. You quickly sauntered to your bed to grab the nearly forgotten book. The cover was exactly as your father described. You brought it back to the couch Xavier was now perched on, sitting close beside him as you began to flip through the pages of the book.

“And this,” you motioned to the large book in your lap, “-according to my father, contains some information about this curse. He said he didn’t have enough time to research further before he was forced to kill that man.” You trailed off, eyes catching Xavier’s. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing your head to his chest before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know now isn’t the best time,” he paused, “but, god, I really hope we figure this the fuck out.” His warmth lulled you to relaxation, eyes closing and breathing in through your nose, Xavier’s cologne filling your senses.

“Me too.” you replied, but you’re unsure if he heard you.

#it is currently 5:30 AM I just finished writing the ending to this #Will be edited tomorrow perhaps #This part is very time skippy but I swear the second part is like two povs at same time and everything idk just expect more bc i was #tip tapping on this keyboard for HOURS. i think i started writing the ending at 10 and finished around 5 so #yeah #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagines #wednesday #wednesday show #xavier thorpe #angst #wednesday angst #fandom x reader #dahlia.wrks

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