Chapter Text
After some time, Xavier noticed Wednesday’s freckles. The day he did — one random moment in botany, failing to listen to the lecture and resorting to gaze into the emptiness of his mind because he lacked the inspiration to doodle — it was an immediate mental note, adding it to the list of her features to paint later.
They were like stars; mini constellations that filled the depths of the embodiment of midnight. Her freckles scattered across her pale face, giving her life, in direct contrast to her sunken yet mesmerizing eyes and frail, corpse-like body.
Xavier found Wednesday to be the perfect muse. Her lack of expression made her the perfect subject of studying, using the excuse of practicing body expressions to come to learn all of her tells. Her eyes went wide when she was intrigued, posture straightening like a wave of excitement trickled up her spine. Her mouth twisted, tight lipped, after making a snarky remark, as if she were hiding the urge to smirk.
Wednesday was his guilty pleasure. He craved the sight of her like an alcoholic to booze. He knows, if he were in his right mind, that he should resent her for everything she did. Wednesday Addams was a creature of lies and selfish deceit. Her way was final, taking any measure to get to it, no matter if it meant trampling over the open hearts being handed to her. Everything was done by her own means; no strings attached.
It was everything Xavier stood against — the manipulation, the carelessness — yet it had him by the collar of his hoodie, dragging him by his inconceivable yearning. He was right, the day he confronted her from inside the cell: She was toxic. Toxically addictive.
The phone was one final attempt, he told himself. His final try at latching onto his hope like a leech. She had taken an arrow for him, that couldn’t have meant nothing . Their entire relationship was built off of the foundation of the many actions of saving each other. In some dejected, sinister, and dreadful way, they held their lives in each other’s hands.
Wednesday held his heart in her hands, too. His sewn, stitched up heart that she could easily crush in between her fingers like she’s done times before. This time, however, the stitches are sewn on by her own hands. He’s already prepared himself for the inevitable reopening. It’s come to a point that it resembles more of a spool of thread, and he makes sure to keep a sewing kit handy, in the form of graphite and a pad of paper. The easy road would be moving on from Wednesday, letting the stitches heal in a tedious process of ignorant grief so he could come out of this happier. But he can’t. He can’t let go of the one thing he’s held onto since he was ten.
He’s foolishly committed, and it only amplifies further when he finally receives a text from her. It’s simple, straight to the point and just as dry as her speaking habits:
“Hope Christmas treats you terribly.”
And there it is again: imprudent hope, a bittersweet smile. He’s spending Christmas with Ajax and his family this year, something Xavier couldn’t be more grateful for. He shakes with adrenaline at the thought of a normal Christmas, no drama, no callous comments. The knowledge of coming home to a snide present slipped into his room is forced at the back of his mind. A pack of No.2 pencils or a pitiful self help book can wait just one more week to be opened and tucked away.
Xavier wonders, carelessly, on what the Christmas season is like for the Addams. He can only imagine a wilted tree, decorated in black licorice garlands and lit up by candlelight— presents wrapped with barbed wire. He wonders what a good present for Wednesday would be. A pack of elastics to tie off her braids maybe, black. He retracts that thought almost immediately, the perfect gift for Wednesday would most likely be something less than conventional. Something inside Xavier knows a phone was a terrible gift for the girl. She had an obvious distaste for electronics, but that didn’t stop Xavier— the opportunity was right in front of him, he had to take it.
That’s what it was. An opportunity more than a gift. An ulterior motive for his own sake. At that thought, Xavier smiled; maybe he was just as selfishly deceitful as she was.
He left the girl on read for a while( two minutes) before responding. It was insipidly simple, just like she would like.
“Likewise :)”
He wanted to add on, mention something about new years, keep this unforeseen interaction lasting as long as he could. He once again grasped at the opportunity, tucking it away so it could grow later on. He would be the first to wish her a happy new year. No, not happy, but blissfully atrocious.
A fire erupted inside Xavier, and he looked up from his phone, forcing his smile to fall in an act of relaxation. He sat next to Ajax in his room, watching as he cleared levels in COD zombies.
“Wednesday wishes us an awful Christmas.” Xavier says, composed, and Ajax smiles, an aware nod, before his fingers stop moving on the controller and he turns to Xavier, brows furrowed in hesitant confusion.
“Wait— how do you know? Is that like a psychic thing?”
Xavier smirked, a conniving glint in his eyes. He blesses Ajax’s heart briefly. “Carrier pigeon.”
Ajax tilts his nose up, like he smells the lie, but he can’t prod any further due to a horde of zombies cornering him on the screen. He turns back to the screen with a curse, tilting forward in immediate concentration. After a couple seconds, and his character’s inevitable safety, Ajax smiles. “That’s cool though, hope she sent one to Enid.”
She didn’t is at the tip of Xavier’s tongue, but he swallows it down. Ajax doesn’t need to know that. Xavier doesn’t want him to know that. He’s gonna keep this between him and Wednesday— Ajax nothing but a remorseful afterthought. Wednesday wished him a Merry Christmas, and he’s going to keep that; close it in a lockbox and throw away the key.
That night, while the Petropolus family was asleep, Xavier sat awake in the guest bedroom, sketchbook illuminated by a book light. He sketched harsh lines, colored in dark graphite. Wednesday Addams was a prominent figure in his memory, freckles and all.
He wonders if this would be an adequate gift for the girl and carefully tears the paper out, folding it in half and tucking it into his bag.
He falls asleep hoping that Google Maps could prove useful to him.