Every time he laughed at something Wednesday didn't say (because she rarely did), or leaned in just a fraction too close, a hot coal of jealousy settled deeper in your gut. You’d admired Wednesday since practically day one at Nevermore – her sharp intellect, her terrifying competence, the way she navigated the world with such unnerving certainty. You knew she occasionally tolerated Tyler’s presence, a connection to the town’s secrets, perhaps, or simply a source of mildly interesting observation. But seeing them together, even in this mundane setting, made your carefully constructed composure fray.

Tyler chose that moment to stand, heading to the counter for a refill. He paused near your table, his gaze landing on your open book. "Heavy reading for a coffee shop," he remarked, his tone light but carrying that underlying smugness you detested.

"Poe suits the atmosphere," you replied coolly, not looking up. "Unlike some distractions."

He raised an eyebrow, catching the barb. "Distractions? Or just enjoying a conversation?" He gestured vaguely towards Wednesday’s booth.

Your control snapped. "Conversation?" You finally met his eyes, your voice dropping low but sharp. "Seems more like you're auditioning for a role she hasn't written. Don't you have normie coffee to serve?"

Tyler’s easy smile vanished. "What’s your problem? Jealous Wednesday actually talks to someone outside her crypt?"

The word ‘jealous’ hit like a physical blow. Heat flooded your cheeks. "Jealous? Of what? Your ability to state the blindingly obvious? She tolerates you because you’re occasionally useful, Galpin. Don’t flatter yourself it’s anything more." The words were petty, beneath you, but the green-eyed monster had your tongue.

"Useful? Maybe," Tyler shot back, leaning down slightly, his voice tight. "At least I'm there. Unlike some people who just watch from the sidelines, sighing over her like she's some unattainable goth princess."

You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly. "She's not a prize to be won by the guy who serves her black coffee!" The entire coffee shop seemed to hush. You felt, rather than saw, Wednesday’s dark eyes shift from her untouched cup to settle on you and Tyler with the intensity of a crow spotting carrion.

Tyler straightened, a flush creeping up his neck. "Whatever. Just stay out of things you don't understand." He grabbed his refill and stalked back to Wednesday’s booth, muttering something you couldn't hear.

Humiliation warred with fury. You couldn’t look at Wednesday. Snatching your book and bag, you practically fled the Weathervane, the bell above the door jangling an accusatory farewell. The walk back to Nevermore was a blur of autumnal decay and simmering shame. Petty. Stupid. Revealing. Tyler’s words echoed: sighing over her like she's some unattainable goth princess. Was it that obvious?

You needed Enid. You needed her bright chaos, her unfiltered advice, her ability to make even your worst moments feel like a quirky plot point. Bursting into Ophelia Hall, you beelined for her room, rapping sharply on the vibrant, sticker-covered door. "Enid? You in?" Silence.

"Enid!" You knocked again, harder. Nothing. Peeking inside the slightly ajar door confirmed it: empty. Probably off filming a vlog with Yoko or buried in fabric for a new cosplay. Deflated, you slumped against the cool stone wall outside her room, pressing your forehead to the chill surface. What now? How could you face Wednesday again after that childish display?

The scrape of a boot heel on stone made you freeze. It was too deliberate, too measured to be anyone else. Slowly, you turned.

Wednesday stood a few feet away, a silent column of black wool and pale skin. Her hands were clasped loosely behind her back, her dark eyes fixed on you with unnerving stillness. She hadn't made a sound approaching. She rarely did.

"You departed the Weathervane with considerable velocity," she stated, her voice flat as a tombstone. She took a single step closer. "Your altercation with Tyler was… audible."