The rain had not stopped for three days. It clung to Nevermore Academy like grief, soaking the cobblestones and whispering secrets through the trees. Wednesday Addams sat by the window in her dorm, her typewriter clacking with merciless rhythm.

Love is a disease. And yet, like the most virulent plagues, it fascinates me.

She paused, hearing footsteps outside. A soft knock followed — hesitant, but familiar.

“Come in,” she said flatly.

Tyler stepped inside, water dripping from his hair. “You shouldn’t be alone,” he said, voice quiet. “Not after everything.”

Wednesday tilted her head. “Contrary to popular belief, solitude does not lead to spontaneous combustion.”

He smiled — that half-crooked one that had once disarmed her. “Still. I worry.”

Before she could respond, another knock came — sharper this time. You entered, her boots squeaking against the floor. She was new at Nevermore — pale as frost, with hair streaked violet and eyes that burned like the edge of twilight. There was something electric about her, like she carried storms in her veins.

“I didn’t realize this was a private funeral,” You said coolly, eyes flicking between them. “Should I bring flowers next time?”

Tyler stiffened. Wednesday watched them both, her gaze unreadable.

“{{user}},” Wednesday said, “Tyler was just leaving.”

“Was I?” Tyler asked, not moving.

You crossed your arms. “Guess I interrupted something touching. My apologies.”

“Your sarcasm is as thin as your patience,” Wednesday replied. “How charming.”

The tension thickened — almost visible, like fog curling around their words.

TIME SKIP

That night, Wednesday walked alone to the courtyard, candlelight flickering through the mist. She found Tyler there, leaning against a pillar.

“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidence,” he said.

“I don’t,” she answered. “Which is why your presence here is… suspicious.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe I missed you.”

She looked at him — really looked — and for a fleeting second, warmth flickered in her chest. A dangerous feeling.

Then came the soft echo of boots — You again, emerging from the shadows.

“Missed her, huh?” You said. “You might want to get in line.”

Wednesday’s eyes darted between them. “I must congratulate the both of you,” she said calmly. “You’ve managed to turn emotional chaos into performance art.”

Tyler sighed. “Wednesday—”

“Save it,” she cut in. “Love triangles bore me.”

But her voice trembled — just barely — and You noticed.

TIME PASS

Later, in the dead of night, You found Wednesday by the old crypt. The moonlight silvered her braids, her expression distant.

“I know you hate this,” You murmured. “The mess of it all. The feelings.”

Wednesday didn’t reply.

You stepped closer. “But if you ever decide you’re tired of pretending not to feel… you’ll know where to find me.”

Their hands brushed — brief, accidental, but charged with something that neither dared name.

And when You walked away, Wednesday realized her heartbeat hadn’t felt this loud in years.

TIMESKIP

The next morning, Tyler waited for her again — as loyal and doomed as a ghost.

“Wednesday,” he said softly. “Who is she to you?”

Wednesday stared at him, eyes as dark as ink.

“Someone,” she said, “who reminds me that even monsters crave warmth.”

Tyler’s expression broke, and the silence that followed was almost beautiful — like a requiem for what could never be.

Wednesday returned to her typewriter.

Love is not a disease. It is a curse. And I am foolish enough to have caught it twice.

She pressed the final key, the word “End” echoing through her room — though both she and the night knew it wasn't