Ember and Ashes | Wavier| Slowburn

I'm Woe Yours

By the time they finally reached the art shed, both were thoroughly drenched. Wednesday's uniform was now a muddied mess, and Xavier's was in no better state; his wet hair clung to his forehead and water dripped down his face, but he didn't seem to mind as he guided her to a nearby stool.

As Wednesday sat down, she felt his hands linger on her waist for a moment longer than necessary, sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through her body. But then he withdrew, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.

Xavier's gaze suddenly shifted downwards, a peculiar expression on his face. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his pupils were dilated. As Wednesday followed his gaze, she realized with horror that the rain had rendered her white shirt transparent, leaving the outline of her black lace bra on full display. She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks as she quickly crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover herself. Xavier was equally mortified, his face turning a deep shade of red before he managed to stammer out an apology.

"I- I'm so sorry... Let me get you something dry."

With that, he dashed over to the end of the shed where several canvas stands were kept. A few seconds later, he returned with a white sheet bunched in his arms.

Wednesday couldn't help but notice the way his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the sheet around her shoulders.

"I think I have a sweater lying around somewhere... I'll see if I can find it."

As Xavier rummaged through the clutter of paint cans and art supplies, Wednesday's eyes wandered around the dimly lit shed until they fell upon a flicker of orange in a dark corner. It was the same one that Xavier had uncovered earlier.

Wednesday rose gingerly from the stool, carefully shifting the weight of her ankle as she slowly made her way toward the painting that had caught her attention. As she drew closer, her heart began to race and a lump formed in her throat.

It was a painting of Wednesday herself, frozen on canvas amid her battle against Crackstone. She looked like a dark angel as she raised a fiery sword overhead with one hand, the other arm stretched out towards her adversary. The brush strokes created an illusion of fire--flowing tendrils of red and yellow illuminated the scene, radiating from every inch of the canvas.

It felt as though she was seeing herself for the first time but through someone else's eyes. Not just anyone's eyes, but Xavier's.

"Wednesday?"

His gentle voice snapped her out of her trance, grounding her in reality once again. She spun around to see the artist standing behind her, holding out a bundled-up black sweater. Wednesday accepted it and started to unbutton her shirt while he turned away.

As the warmth from the sweater seeped into her skin, the coldness slowly dissipated. The softness was comforting, but it only intensified her longing for Xavier's arms around her once again. The memory of his touch was still fresh in her mind, and she yearned for more.

But then, she remembered why she was there in the first place. Xavier already had someone else, someone who was supposed to be the centerpiece of his artwork and the wearer of his sweater.

Someone that wasn't her.

"Why are you being so kind to me? What about Heather?"

She didn't mean for it to sound accusatory, but the words hung heavy in the air.

Xavier's shoulders drooped, and he let out a deep sigh before answering.

"I ended things with her yesterday," he admitted, his voice heavy.

Wednesday's heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in. All those excruciating moments, while she had watched from afar as he was with Heather, had been torture, each time was a stab to her gut. But now, here he was, standing in front of her, his eyes filled with vulnerability.

"I should've told you how I felt a long time ago," he continued,

"But I was scared of losing you completely. So, I tried to convince myself that I could be happy with someone else. It never worked, because it was always you, Wednesday. It's always been you."

Wednesday felt her knees buckle as Xavier took her in his arms, his touch sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for any sign that he was just saying these things to make her feel better. But there was no doubt in his eyes, no hesitation in his touch as he reached out a hand to caress her cheek.

"I'm sorry for hurting you,"
he said softly,

"But I want to make things right. Please give me a chance."

She had never stopped wanting him, and now, standing there in his embrace, she realized that she would never have to try to stop again.

Xavier had wanted her all along.

Without hesitation, he leaned down and captured her lips with his own.