Morning crept over Nevermore like a reluctant intruder. Sunlight pierced through tall windows, setting the Gothic halls aglow with fractured light. Most students stirred groggily from their rooms, pulling on uniforms and dragging themselves toward breakfast.
But in Room 214, the air was different.
Wednesday stood at the doorway, pale face expressionless, black attire as immaculate as ever. Yet her eyes, sharp and unblinking, fixated on one detail:
Enid Sinclair.
Asleep in Dirk Sanchez's bed.
Not sprawled out with reckless abandon as usual, but curled neatly at the edge, peaceful as moonlight.
Wednesday's gaze shifted to Dirk, seated in his chair by the window, broad frame relaxed, eyes closed as though in meditation. His composure was maddening. He offered nothing, explained nothing, as if daring her to speak first.
She did.
"This is… unexpected."
---
The Verbal Trap
Dirk opened one eye, unbothered. "Is it?"
"You allow someone into your space," Wednesday replied, voice flat but edged. "You, who guards yourself more fiercely than the academy gates. Curious."
"Enid doesn't pry," he said simply.
"Or perhaps she pries so softly that you fail to notice." Wednesday stepped inside, her shoes clicking softly against the floor. "Like a scalpel slipped beneath the skin."
Dirk's lips curved faintly. "Sounds like jealousy."
Wednesday blinked once, unflinching. "I don't indulge in juvenile emotions."
"And yet," Dirk countered smoothly, "you're here. Early. Watching."
For the first time, a flicker of color touched her pale cheeks. She hid it well, but Dirk noticed.
---
Wednesday's Counter
Enid stirred at that moment, stretching and blinking awake. When her eyes landed on Wednesday, she froze, ears pink.
"Oh! Uh—good morning, Wends!" she chirped nervously.
Wednesday didn't glance her way. Her eyes remained locked on Dirk. "Comfortable?"
Enid bit her lip. "…Yes?"
A silence hung. Heavy. Sharp. Enid fidgeted beneath the weight of it, until Dirk finally cut through with his calm baritone.
"She was," he said, deliberately, "until you arrived."
---
The Shift
Enid giggled nervously, grabbing her slippers. "I'll… go grab breakfast! Let you two… uh… brood in peace."
She slipped out, leaving Wednesday and Dirk alone.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The tension was thick, electric.
Then Wednesday stepped closer, stopping just a breath away from him. Her voice was quiet, deliberate.
"You unsettle me."
Dirk leaned forward, his height dwarfing her presence, yet his tone was maddeningly calm. "Good."
Her eyes narrowed, but something dangerous flickered there—curiosity, fascination, the faintest crack in her mask.
"You won't win," she whispered.
"I already have," he replied.
---
Retreat
Wednesday turned sharply, cloak swaying as she exited the room with clipped steps. But Dirk caught the subtle tremor in her shoulders, the quickening of her breath.
It wasn't defeat.
It was recognition.
For the first time in years, Wednesday Addams had met someone who could rattle her composure.
And she hated it.
Almost as much as she craved more.