The Hyde's Redemption//gaddams fanfic(wednesday x tyler)

Nowhere to hyde

Author's note:
Filler chapter for a reason today, I'm going to be stirring up some drama as Tyler and Wednesday progress in their relationship. Hate to do it to you guys but I can't help it. I will be adding a new non-canon character, they are NOT a self insert. I have no interest in possibly ruining this fic with one (no hate to self insert fics) and they won't be following any stereotypes. They're not even an oc I just kind of thought them up while writing this chapter. Anyway I hope you enjoy, sorry it's so short and sorry for any mistakes <3

After a long, troubling conversation with the Sheriff, I eventually convinced him to let Tyler continue attending Nevermore. I also found out that Donavan Galpin very commonly projects his fears and insecurites in the direction of his son, though the latter is quite obvious.

I visited Tyler twice a day for the two days he was sectioned, then once on the extra day he stayed as his father couldn't come down to the hospital because of a car theft outside the Weathervane. Eventually Tyler was released, accompanied by the Sheriff and myself, we all head back to Ophelia hall.

"Son you sure you're going to be alright here?" Tyler puts his newly washed clothes I brought him in the hospital back into our shared closet.

"I'm fine." He sets a framed picture of his mother on his nightstand.

"I'll come back at around 4 drop you off at therapy ok?" The Sheriff says, checking his phone.

"I can go with Wednesday, Delia has been requesting a session with her present anyway." Tyler folds the extra fuzzy blanket he brought and gently places it on the end of his bed.

"I'm not letting you go about on your own after the stunt you just pulled." Stunt? Did he just call his son's attempted suicide a stunt? Anger bubbles in me, but Tyler maintains his composure.

"I'm not gonna be alone." Tyler turns to his father and gives a look that sends a slight chill through me. His expression tense and his jaw begins to clench after he finishes his sentence.

"Whatever you say Ty." The Sheriff moves to the door, mumbles a goodbye and heads out, his focus never leaving the bright screen in his hand.

"Asshole." Tyler whispers under his breath as he puts his now empty suitcase under his bed.

"It's 3:30, do you wanna head out to make it to your session?" I say as he sits on his bed.

"My session doesn't start until 4:10, but I wouldn't mind grabbing food beforehand." He shrugs his shoulders slightly.

"I'll grab my bag."

"I'm paying." He says as I yank my bag free from the handle of the closet.

"I'm meant to be look after you if I recall correctly, not the other way round." He huffs, not wanting to put energy into an argument he will inevitably lose, and follows me through the door.

I go up to the counter as Tyler sits in a booth and begin to order, one quad and a coffee with two shots of espresso, extra milk and sugar. The new barista scrambles to the coffee machine to get on the order while I leave the line and head towards the booth Tyler chose.

For obvious reasons, Tyler isn't employed at the Weathervane anymore. Alot of people were worried they may find chunks of human flesh in their morning latte, they see it as a bad thing, which puzzles me to a certain extent.

Without Tyler, in my personal, unbiased opinion, the Weathervane seems to be crumbling under the weight of itself, as result of it's new, foreign customers whose entitlement is as inconceivable as their accents.

A long line of customers argue over tables and parking spots, the amusing stupidity that radiates off the crowds almost makes me smile, almost.

Ever since the events of the previous semester, Jericho has received a wave of tourists. It always had a few wanderers hovering about that you could spot but the increasing amount makes me extremely uncomfortable, especially since Tyler's identity has been on the front of the local newspaper for some weeks now.

A female barista hurrys over and sets our drinks clumsly on the table. It seems our order was on the simpler side compared to the others. This takes me aback a little since I had scolded Tyler for having such a basic yet compilcated order.

As we drink our coffees, a few people stare at us from the queue and other neighboring booths, a few even take pictures, some far more obnoxiously than others. Tyler begins to anxiously pick at the skin surrounding his nails, look around every few minutes frantically.

"We only have five minutes until we have to leave for your session." I say to him, trying to ease him with the knowledge that we'll be heading to a safer more secluded enviorment that isn't overrun with greedy, filthy tourists.

He gives a nod in my direction but keeps at his nervous skin biting until one of his fingers starts to bleed and places the fingertip into his mouth to suck the blood from the small wound.

More and more people are beginning recognise us, obviously seeing our faces on the covers of newspapers and gossip sights consistently, we are hard to miss.

though I've never cared about weird looks or petty mockery, the amount of groups slowly inching towards our table causes me to break into a small sweat.

"We're leaving." I grab my bag from the seat beside me and place a 10 dollar bill on the table.

Tyler instantly gets up and stands at my side as a I rise from the booth, his half-nervous half-mortified expression takes me back to when we entered the dining hall at Nevermore. His fear of judgment easily overwhelmes him in public settings.

Some people are not built to be able to face the brutality and judgement of this harsh world. Tyler Galpin is one of those people.