Chapter Text
To Xavier, there had always been something incredibly right about pencil against canvas. Tool against medium. Dark against light. They were forged as one being, two halves of one whole. Meant to complete each other. He wondered how that would feel, to be completed by something missing. He was almost jealous. Then he remembered that it was a fucking pencil.
Xavier shook his head. Attempting to find animation in the inanimate was something he had a habit of doing, whether it was in his mind or in his art.
He pulled his eyes away from the easel in front of him, the dim gray light of the shed illuminating a tornado of paper and paint. He wanted to grimace, but he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy a bit of chaos. Especially the kind as beautiful as this.
It was a couple days into the new school year, and Nevermore’s resident tortured artist (damn you Enid for the catchy title) was skipping class. Biding his time until something interesting happened, or a certain interesting someone made an appearance. Xavier isn’t a bad student. It’s just that something about math made him want to throw up, eat it, then throw up again.
Xavier half-heartedly bent down from his perch on the stool, forcing himself to make somewhat of an effort to clean. He didn’t even register what he was picking up until it was already in his hand. It was the first sketch he had ever drawn of Wednesday, resting undignified atop the rest of the half-baked doodles and Hyde paintings he had strewn across the floor. The edges were frayed, as expected given the shed’s less-than-ideal interior. But somehow the sketch managed to trip him up, pencil-carved eyes boring into him almost as well as the ones belonging to the piece’s inspiration.
He drew in a sharp breath, thumb trailing delicately across the paper. He hadn’t managed to capture her entire essence on the page, but it was close enough to make his mouth dry.
Xavier set the sketch down, thoughts conjuring an image of the girl featured on the page. Where was she now? She had arrived at Nevermore a couple days ago, but Xavier hadn’t really been able to talk to her one-on-one yet.
Some part of that made him slightly bitter. He had paid an outrageous fee to assimilate Wednesday into the 21st century, only to be met with not a single text. He was hesitant to admit how many times he had wondered about it over the summer, whether she had ever lingered by the phone, debating if she should reach out.
Xavier exhaled harshly through his nose. He found it hard to believe that Wednesday could be so indecisive, especially when it came to him. So far the only initiative he’d received from her end was putting him in jail, and she had seemed pretty set on that little judgment of hers.
Not that he blamed her. It wasn’t the fact that she had acted on her suspicions; all evidence had pointed to him. It was the fact that she hadn’t hesitated for one second to remember that Xavier had not only saved her life, but also cared about her very deeply. That alone should have proved his incapability of being a cold-blooded serial killer.
He dragged a charcoal-smeared hand over his face. That hatchet had been buried. In a shallow grave, of course, but a grave nonetheless.
Speaking of graves, he would be in an early one if he didn’t start heading to his next class. His math teacher could budge on his attendance, but Xavier doubted that the new botanical sciences teacher would. Is it bad that he preferred Mrs. Thornhill? Lust for revenge aside, she hadn’t been totally unbearable. Better than this Snape-like motherfucker.
Heaving a heavy sigh, our man-bunned prince gathered his art supplies, stacking them neatly in their respective places. A baby step towards tidiness. He imagined that Wednesday wouldn’t exactly be pleased with his setup.
That was another thing. Wednesday’s opinion of him has become more and more of a concern in Xavier’s mind. What would Wednesday think of this? Would she have liked this painting, this book, this song? Would she let me share them with her, and share her thoughts in return?
These questions lingered uninvitedly as Xavier packed up. He made sure to lock the shed correctly in order to prevent amateur, pig-tailed detectives from sniffing for clues.
“There’s no point in doing that. I prefer the windows. You should be locking those instead.”
So she’s a mindreader now, too?
Xavier half-smiled, turning to meet Wednesday’s eyes as he finished adjusting the door. “I’m impressed that you’re tall enough to reach them.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m not opposed to using stilts every once and a while. Brings out my inner circus clown.” She studied him, her Kubrick-stare and monotone voice dark and malicious as always. Everything about her was the same, from her dark braids to her manicured nails (claws?). Something about it made him ache. Ache for her, ache for how it used to be. He longed for the proximity of that night in the Nightshade library, tensions high but fingers close enough to touch her. He needed to find out if her skin was as cold as it looked.
Xavier’s grin widened. “Well, it took you long enough to come and find me,” he said, feigning hurt feelings. “I was surprised you hadn’t already set up camp in the shed. Was it because of the mess?”
“No. I quite enjoy the look of a fresh crime scene. But Enid’s been keeping me busy. She's been trying to teach me how to knit a snood, ever since I lost the first one she gave me.” Wednesday’s freckled nose scrunched up in disgust, causing something in Xavier’s stomach to flutter. It was horrifying that a simple gesture had such an effect on him.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re branching out.” Xavier started walking away from the shed, towards Nevermore. Wednesday fell in step beside him, a puzzle piece sliding into place. It felt as natural as taking a breath. “Maybe now that you’ll be occupied by more artistic pursuits, I’ll be able to beat you in a fencing match this year.”
Something resembling a snort came out of her mouth. “I wouldn’t bet on it. The Crackstone debacle gave me a lot of practice at defeating elitist snobs.”
Xavier almost winced. What a wonderful callback. “And to think I spent money on you. Did you ever end up using your little enslavement device?”
For a split second, Xavier could have sworn he saw her tense. “No. Your pathetic excuse for a gift didn’t come with instructions. I take pride in not knowing how to technologically brainwash myself.” Wednesday adjusted the hem of her uniform as their feet moved in unison, a crisp black cashmere coat completing the ensemble. Monochromatic chic suited her, Xavier thought absently. “I simply don’t see the point.”
He nodded, humming softly as Nevermore’s outline came into sight. “I respect that. Fully and completely. But maybe it would help for you to be a little more connected with the people who care about you?” Xavier eyed Wednesday, allowing himself yet another smug smile. He relished the glare she sent his way. “We are kind of trauma-bonded now. Might as well keep each other up to date.”
Wednesday was quiet for a moment. Xavier didn’t know whether he should take this as a win or prepare to be beaten into the ground. What was the point in leaving the shed if Wednesday was going to kill him before Ms. Snape anyway?
“You may be right. A very minuscule amount,” Wednesday added harshly when Xavier lit up, shushing him immediately. “Perhaps it would do some good. I’ll be able to get a hold of you faster if something happens.” Wednesday narrowed her eyes at him. “Just don’t let Enid sign me up for any of those dreadful social media platforms. I will participate in the bare minimum of modern technology, but no more than that.”
Xavier bobbed his head obediently, cheekily saluting her. “Yes, ma’am.” He then paused. “Could I come to your dorm after class to help you set it up?”
Xavier watched Wednesday consider him for a moment, lips pouted thoughtfully and bangs brushing the tips of her eyelashes. He tried his best not to stare, to keep an air of seriousness around her carefully poised stature. But something about Wednesday Addams made him lose all sense of self-preservation; his mind was filled only by her.
He snapped out of it the second she began to speak. “That would work. Thing will let you in.” Wednesday stared at Xavier. Her gaze traced him up and down, causing words to knot in his throat.
“Nice. I’ll see you then.” Xavier dipped his head down in a warm regard, turning away from her before sharply turning back. “Actually, I’ll see you in, like, two minutes. I forgot that we sit together in BotSci.”
Wednesday almost rolled her eyes. “Yes. I will see you in two minutes.” Her version of a farewell was an even more brooding glare in his direction, which Xavier accepted happily. He watched Wednesday walk inside Nevermore, and saw her cast a glance over her shoulder. He half-smiled, and that was all she needed before disappearing into the gathering crowd of Outcasts.
Xavier let out a weary sigh. Well. This would be one step towards getting that text.
And with that thought, Xavier headed in after her.