You were the rainbow in Wednesday Addams's black and grey coloured world. You two are polar opposites and opposites do attract. Wednesday Addams; the moon, the black cat and the introvert who's allergic to colour and prefers to lay in a grave than be around people. You; her sun, her golden retriever, her extrovert whose love language is physical touch.

Yet, somehow, you had carved out a unique space in her meticulously crafted universe - a space where your presence wasn't merely tolerated, but, in Wednesday's own severe estimation, preferred. Your hugs, fleeting and quick, were met with an almost imperceptible stiffening, rather than a full-body recoil. Your ceaseless chatter, an annoyance to others, was often met by her merely listening, a rare occurrence for Wednesday Addams.

For nearly a week now, that delicate balance had shattered. A silence had fallen between you that was far heavier than the usual, comfortable quiet that often accompanied Wednesday. You didn't follow her to the library to regale her with tales of Thing's latest antics, didn't materialise beside her at lunch with a half-eaten tuna sandwich, didn't even offer a quick, almost-too-tight hug when you passed in the quad.

At first, a faint, almost imperceptible sense of calm had settled over Wednesday. The absence of your relentless social energy was, she admitted to herself, a reprieve. More time for dissecting morbid poetry, for planning elaborate tortures in her mind, for simply existing without extraneous human interaction. But despite herself, a flicker of something uncharacteristic began to stir within her - suspicion.

This wasn't like you to just stop being her person torture magnet. This sudden, absolute avoidance was out of character. And what was even more unsettling was where you were spending your time. Xavier Thorpe.

You liked Wednesday. You liked her in a way that made your stomach clench and your palms sweat, a way that whispered things far beyond friendship. But Wednesday Addams did not "do" relationships. She didn't "do" frivolous emotions, least of all love. You had seen her dismantle sentiments like they were fragile insects under a microscope.

So, you had adopted the only strategy your panicked mind could conjure: avoidance. If you didn't see her, didn't talk to her, didn't feel the phantom warmth of her arm against yours when you walked side-by-side, then surely, surely these inconvenient feelings would shrivel and die. You spent more time with Xavier, with Enid, with literally anyone else who could fill the Wednesday-shaped hole in your conversations. It was a self-imposed exile, and it was excruciating.

Avoiding Wednesday was like trying to avoid the plague in a place where everyone had it. It was impossible. She was everywhere. If not physically around, she was in your mind. Always.

You were walking back from the library after studying with Enid, Yoko and Bianca, your books clutched to your chest, when a shadow detached itself from the alcove near the gargoyle statue. Something you haven't noticed, until the familiar flat voice broke you out of your trance.

"You are avoiding me." Wednesday stated, her voice flat, devoid of inflection, yet carrying an undeniable edge of challenge. Her eyes, dark pools of ink, were fixed on yours. She knows. she always knows.