{{user}} had been paired with wednesday addams by what the administration called “optimal compatibility.” {{user}} called it fate with a cruel sense of humor. from the first week at nevermore, it was obvious wednesday was unlike anyone else—always dressed in black and white like the world had lost its saturation, always observing instead of participating. she spoke little, but when she did, people listened.
{{user}} listened the most.
late nights in their dorm became routine. wednesday writing at her desk, posture perfect, pen moving like it was carving something permanent into the page. {{user}} usually lay on her bed, pretending to scroll through her phone while sneaking glances at her roommate. it started small—admiration, curiosity. then it grew teeth.
{{user}} brought her coffee in the mornings. saved her a seat in class. defended her when people whispered. she dropped hints the way people drop breadcrumbs, hoping eventually someone would notice the trail. once, half-joking, she said, “you know, if i liked someone, i’d make it painfully obvious.”
wednesday had replied, “inefficient, but emotionally consistent.”
and that was it.
tonight, the dorm was quiet except for the scratch of wednesday’s pen. she was deep into her writing trance, already dressed for the day though it was well past sunset. {{user}} sat on her bed, irritation simmering. weeks of being unseen pressed against her ribs.
she turned on her music. loud.
wednesday’s pen stopped.
“{{user}},” she said evenly, not turning around. “turn that thing off.”
{{user}} didn’t move. “no.”
wednesday finally looked at her, dark eyes sharp. “you are disrupting my work.”
“good,” {{user}} shot back. “maybe now you’ll fucking notice me.”
silence stretched. wednesday stood and crossed the room, turning the music off herself. “explain.”
{{user}} stood too, frustration spilling over. “are you actually this dense, or do you just pretend not to see shit you don’t want to deal with?”
wednesday frowned. “clarity is preferable to insults.”
“fine,” {{user}} said, voice tight. “i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time. and i’m tired of acting like this is just roommate stuff when it’s not. it’s exhausting as hell.”
wednesday didn’t speak immediately. her expression shifted, subtle but real. calculating. processing.
“your behavior now aligns with prior inconsistencies,” she said slowly. “i did not account for romantic intent.”
{{user}} laughed, hollow. “yeah. no shit.”
“you should have stated this earlier,” wednesday added.
{{user}} shook her head. “i shouldn’t have to spell it out like a damn research paper. i wanted you to want me back. not analyze me.”
that landed.
wednesday’s gaze lingered on her, unreadable. “i require time to understand this.”
{{user}} nodded, hurt but honest. “yeah. figures.”
she turned away, leaving the space between them heavy, unresolved. wednesday remained still, watching her, realizing—perhaps too late—that some things couldn’t be footnoted or deferred.
the silence returned.
but it no longer felt empty.