Dark (wedler)

the staring game.

* TRIGGER WARNING: TORTURE (kinda, idk it's Wednesday, you get it)

Wednesday wasn't able to sleep at all the following nights.
The first one? Sure, she was glad she had caught him, and even more glad he was in jail and was getting the punishment he deserved.

Unfortunately though, as much as she pleasantly burned at the idea of confronting him, she simply didn't have time to go down there again: it was imperative that she would not remain behind on her writing, as it was obvious that her, scarcely furnished, room needed a makeover, in the event Enid would surprisingly come back to their dormitory early.
Needless to say that Wednesday Addams could not present herself in front of someone she despised without having a written down list of all the enjoyable torture methods she could inflict on them.

In the days Wednesday had willingly recluded herself to the perimeter of Nevermore's walls, she had rapidly figured out mrs. Weems schedule, allowing her to know the right moments she could sneak out, sneak back in or, go down to the downgeons, even.

Wednesday had spent the following week -following the day of their somewhat reunion- tossing, turning and desperately moving during her sleep... well, at least her mind was doing all those things, while her body was firmly laying down in her bed, eyes open, pierced at the ceiling staring back at her, constantly questioning her morals.

Was she feeling bad?
For Him?
For that... monster?

She blinked, giving her cornea the moisture it was craving for, and, as she inhaled, slowly but surely, filling her lungs with oxygen as if she would have never taken a fresh breath of air again, she stood up.
Wednesday had to immediately stabilize herself by firmly placing her left hand on the bed's metal headboard: her head was feeling heavy all of a sudden, her vision clouded by dark intermitted dots. She shook her head, again, blaming it to her low iron levels.

The slightly weakened girl finally stood up from her bedding, rigorously covered in black sheets, and, scanning the room, she reached over to grab a small kit, in a black metal box locked inside her night stand. She smiled proudly, then exited her room.

The captive boy had spent his days thinking about his Wednesday, the girl he had so atrociously betrayed. He spent a couple of days reminiscing all the strange, unique, but somehow wonderful, moments he had spent with the raven haired girl: all the secretive stares he had caught her giving him, the subtile smiles she would give him whenever he would refuse to leave her alone with her mild homicidal thoughts, and would just stay there with her instead, in absolute silence, letting her meditate while he could pretend to read when, in actuality, he would just be admiring her perfection.

He bit his own bottom lip, as the image of shock on Wednesday's face, when he had brought her to see 'Legally blond', was being magically depicted in his mind: how her lips slowly parted, trying to gasp for words she couldn't comprehend herself, how her face slowly got colored with the sole expression of disgust any time a way too pink outfit would appear on the screen, and how she would carelessly bring the tip of her dark painted nails towards her mouth, slowly biting on the polish covering them, an action that, in other circumstances, she would never be doing.

Those moments were beautiful, were perfect, were... real.

He knew they were, but he also knew the reality of the instants that followed that night.
He knew he could of saved her, that night, at the crypt, he knew he could of fought off his worst instincts and fight for her but instead he chose to end it all. He knew he let the Hyde win, he let his fear win, but most importantly, he let his guild overcome his better judgment.
The guilt of having manipulated her, the guilt of having tainted all those beautiful moments with lies, because, whenever he was looking at her, whenever she would get lost in those beautiful deep dark eyes, someone, something, at the back of his mind would remind him what he was there to do... that was the wrenching guild he could not escape.