AN OBSESSION "Wednesday x Xavier"

Nevermore Academy

The new headmistress of Nevermore Academy wasn't a headmistress at all. He was a man, tall and bald, with facial hair that hardly looked groomed. If Xavier had to guess, he'd figure him to be pushing sixty and a possessor of deep hatred for his life. Xavier wondered if the man could sense the same feeling materializing off of himself like a sickness. It had taken every ounce of strength for Xavier to get out of bed that morning.

"Principal Bell, but call me Bell," he said curtly, reaching his hand out toward Xavier, who shook it out of respect and tried to remember the last time he'd touched someone. Lately, Xavier hadn't seen much of anybody. Despite his expectations of a roommate in the new semester, his room had remained a single. This was a relief, although he'd secretly wanted one at the start of the semester. The Xavier of two months ago was riddled with optimism. He'd been hopeful. The last time he'd seen her, she was cold, but she always was.

Her, God, Wednesday.

Sure, she hadn't reached out over the break, but Xavier was giving her time. What had occurred during the first semester was nothing that could've been prepared for and similarly difficult to understand. Yet, that statement held true for the both of them, and all that Xavier wanted to do was talk to her. He thought about that often, the fact that she could seemingly stay away from him so easily. He swallowed that and chalked it up to their personality differences. Wednesday wasn't a doting person, not like Xavier. Regardless, he was riding on the idea of the first day back in the spring. He imagined seeing her again a million times over, almost as many times as he'd replayed the expression on her face when that arrow made contact with her shoulder. Her face had twisted in pain, and when she looked at him her eyes looked impossibly wide. It made him weak in the knees, how wounded she looked in that moment. He hated himself for that, because he knew Wednesday was anything but helpless. Xavier told himself that he had no desire to compromise her independence. Truthfully, he just wanted her to need him.

On the first day of the spring semester, Xavier was half-expecting her to not show up, as though she hadn't been real in the first place. But she was there, and she was seemingly happy. He saw her in the Quad sitting by the fountain with Enid. If he looked closely, it almost seemed like Wednesday was smiling. When he passed them, across the courtyard and clearly in plain view, he begged her eyes to meet his. They didn't, not that day or the next, and two months had gone by that way.

Yesterday, she wore her hair down for the first time that Xavier could recall. He selfishly preferred her hair in braids, so he could see her neck, all the places he'd kiss if she let him.

"Xavier Thorpe." He looked up at Bell, realizing he'd forgotten to introduce himself formally.

"Oh, I know," Bell laughed and pulled a reasonably large manila envelope from his filing cabinet. "Quite a story you have."

Xavier's cheeks flushed. He felt constantly scrutinized and always watched, particularly by his peers. In this case, he wondered which chapters of the alleged 'story' Bell was referring to - the arrest record, celebrity father, a girl taking an arrow in the shoulder for him. Maybe he meant some of the arguably better ones, such as his awards in art competitions and once popular status at the hands of Bianca Barclay. She certainly judged him. Every time they passed one another in the hallway he felt like he could read her mind, and it was always the same question. What happened to you?

"Yeah, you could say that." Xavier laughed reluctantly, unsure of how else to respond.

Bell removed the contents of the envelope and flipped through them like a deck of cards. "There's been some concern, Xavier."

"About?"

"Your performance, your stability," Bell shrugged empathetically. "Look, kid, I've never met you, but many of the teachers here have raved about your intellect. Your grades are falling, there's been complaints about your lack of a roommate... your name keeps coming up, is what I'm trying to say."

"I'm not bothering anyone."

"The grades are an issue."

Xavier couldn't argue this. School was among the last of his concerns. Frankly, he couldn't recall the last time he'd opened a textbook, studying for hours and writing notes in the margins. This used to be something he'd loved to do. "I'm working on it."

Bell nodded slowly before reaching to grab yet another envelope. "You're also going to be getting a roommate."

Xavier's fist slammed against the table in an uncontrollable response. His room was a sanctuary and escape from chastising reality, marked clearly by discarded half-finished drawings and granola bar wrappers from the dining hall. He couldn't fathom another person interrupting the space as it was now, cluttered in a way that he knew exactly where everything was. No one aside from himself had been in his room the entire semester. He was avoiding it all, skipping class, archery, meetings of the Nightshade Society... just to lay in bed. Just to think about her.

Bell didn't give Xavier a chance to interject, raising his hands in surrender. "I know you're frustrated. However, this is protocol. Most students, especially those your age, have a roommate. To have a single at any point, which you have had, is rare and to be appreciated. There is no room for debate."

"Fuck this," Xavier muttered quietly before raising his voice to ask the next question. "Who is it?"

Bell handed Xavier the second envelope he'd retrieved. "His name is Miles Atwater. He's your age, also a psychic and his parents went to Nevermore."

Begrudgingly, Xavier tore the envelope open. A Polaroid photo fell out, along with a letter and a roommate agreement form that was only missing his signature. He grabbed the Polaroid first. In the image, Miles was strewn across a couch wearing a navy sweater, hardly smiling. The background of the photo appeared to be a wealthy home with red velvet drapes and a carpet made from tiger's fur. His shaggy brown hair initially made him look boyish, but his features were dark and aggressive. Xavier disliked his eyes the most. They were cunning, and cocky. They looked familiar. They looked like Tyler's. The thought caused Xavier to set the photo facedown on the desk, and neglect to read the letter.

"When will he move in?" Xavier posed an inquiry that he was sure both the letter and agreement would've outlined, but he couldn't stand to look at it anymore.

"In two days. This is a good thing, Xavier, a friend could do wonders for you."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then we will be connecting you with a psychiatrist in Jericho, as well as a therapist."

Xavier knew that would never happen. They'd have to consult his father first, and he would under no circumstances grant permission for his one and only begotten son to be put through therapy at the risk of any media or press finding out. The dramatics of last semester had nearly put him in the grave, but hadn't been enough to make him genuinely care for Xavier's well-being. Before he left for school, his father told him to learn how to lay low and be less of an embarrassment. Psychiatry? God, he'd never. The prospect alone would be insulting. "Yeah, okay," Xavier threw Miles' envelope in his backpack and stood to leave. "We're done here."

"Are you opposed to the idea to that degree?" A laugh entered Bell's tone, which angered Xavier. There were few feelings he hated more than the idea that he was being chastised.

"Didn't you know that the last therapist in Jericho got brutally murdered?" Xavier asked this plainly, his hand on the doorknob.

Shock overcame Bell's face. "Frankly, that's past the line of appropriate and-"

"Now that I think about it, our last principal was brutally murdered too."

Xavier didn't wait around to see his reaction, nor did he turn back when Bell yelled his name. His rage felt uncontrollable as he contemplated everything that he hated. He hated Nevermore, Wednesday, Tyler, every teacher and every student, he even hated Miles already. He was seeing red, seeing Miles' conceited stare and thinking of Tyler, thinking about how Tyler kissed Wednesday and what else they might have done, what he may never get to.