>wednesday images<

-Just A Few Scratches- (xavier)

"fuck, fuck!" xavier yelled, sprinting across the field of pine needles before him and leaping over bushes and rocks.

cold sweat dripped down his flushed face; he could feel tears sting the back of his eyes. xavier felt like he could puke as he ran, but only one thing occupied his mind:

"(y/n)!"

> > >

-5 hours prior-

"are you doing okay, xavier?" you ask with worry. after class you had to stay late to ask the teacher something, so it was a surprise when you found xavier sitting on a bench in the hallway with his head in his hands.
he jolted. looking up, he seemed tired. really tired. you noticed the purple bags under his eyes and the way his breathing appeared to be unsteady.

xavier tried to smile, but it instantly fell off his face when he met your gaze. he bit the inside of he cheek to keep salty tears from spilling out of his eyes.

"I... " he began, but it came out as a strangled sob.

the sight of his pitiful state filled you with worry, and you picked up your pace as you sped over to him.

standing in front of xavier, you ask, "have you been sleeping? you look like a wreck."

xavier laughed at this, quickly wiping away a tear that dared to escape, "yeah, i know. I'm just.." he looked down, "I'm just really stressed."

you stepped closer and he pressed the top of his head to your stomach, refusing to look at you as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist.

you began to move your hand to pat his head, but hesitated. "can i...?"

without hearing the rest, xavier said, "please."

this consent allowed you to weave your fingers through his hair. "do you want to talk about it?" you asked in a low voice, afraid that somehow, despite the hall's vacancy, someone would hear this sensitive conversation.
he was quiet for a few moments, considering his words.

"it's... wednesday. i'm so, so tired of her- of her blaming me! always saying i'm a mass murdering monster! it fucking hurts and she keeps finding new evidence that genuinely makes sense, " his voice is strained as he tightens his hold, "but i can't do anything to convince her it's not me. and she even found my art studio, which just makes me look worse."

seeing him like this made you want to cry, but you restrained yourself because this wasn't about you; this was about xavier.

"i'm so fucking scared that she's going to get me locked up. i can't even blame her- all of the evidence points directly at me! and these nightmares, they plague me in my sleep and i wake up screaming and then i can't go back to sleep so i've just been painting that fucking thing so i-" his rambling is cut short when he hiccups through his frustrated tears. he felt angry and hurt and afraid.

you leaned down to hug his head, pushing his face into your tummy as he sniffles. "i'm sorry, xavier. i wish there was something i could do."

xavier looked up from your (now wet) shirt to say, "just listening is enough. don't worry about it, hopefully everything will fix itself soon."

and as he rested his head once more, an idea came to you.

there's a way to help xavier.

> > >

three knocks and wednesday was ready to order thing to strangle the person at the door.

she lifted from her desk, about to tell off the perpetrator for interrupting her writing time. when she opened the door, however, she recognized you as the person that xavier constantly follows around.