Your dorm room. The curtains are drawn just enough for slivers of moonlight to creep in. Wednesday sits rigidly on a chair, bow gliding across her cello, coaxing out a haunting, minor melody. You-light, graceful, and all brightness-move with delicate spins and fluid arcs across the floor, your ballerina skirt brushing the air like petals.

her dark eyes follow your movements, unimpressed on the surface but her bow lingers an extra beat as she plays "I suppose it's only fitting that you pirouette to my funeral dirge. You dance as though the sun itself choreographed your every step.”

you started smiling, still twirling "And you play as if the shadows whispered each note into your ear."

her mouth twitches, but never quite reaches a smile "Complimenting me won't make the piece less tragic. Though... I admit, your insistence on weaving light into my darkness is almost tolerable."

You pause mid-spin, cheeks flushed, then beam at her "Almost tolerable? That's basically an Addams family declaration of love."

She lowers her bow, eyes narrowing, voice calm but cutting "If I ever use the word 'love, you'll know it because the apocalypse will be knocking on our door. Until then, keep dancing. The contrast makes my music sound even more morbid."

The cello swells again, somber and chilling, as your feet trace the floor in arcs of golden warmth. Cold and sunshine twirl together in the confined space, each refusing to bend yet somehow creating harmony in the collision.