Wednesday Addams didn’t believe in fate.
She believed in logic, in patterns, in bloodstains that never lied. She believed in the brutality of truth, and that affection was often just the first step toward distraction — or worse, weakness. Love stories bored her. Soulmates were laughable.
So naturally, the universe decided to play a cruel joke on her.
She was in Jericho’s town library on a dreary afternoon, digging into ancient legal archives and rare occult texts for her latest investigation. Something about a local cold case and whispers of ritualistic ties. It was quiet — just the way she liked it. She stalked down the aisles, coat trailing like a shadow, black boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor.
Then you happened.
You were new. The assistant librarian. Kind voice. Soft sweater. Hair tucked behind your ears as you quietly asked, “Is there anything I can help you find?”
Wednesday didn’t even glance your way.
“No.”
Her tone was the usual: flat, dismissive, arctic.
You didn’t seem offended. You simply nodded and left her alone — something she appreciated more than she admitted. A lesser person would’ve taken her coldness personally. You just let her exist.
But then came the checkout.
She found her books. Marched to the desk. You took them gently, began to scan them. And your hand brushed hers.
Just that.
The moment was electric — and awful.
Wednesday jerked her hand back as if scalded. Her eyes flicked to yours. Your smile faltered.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Something had shifted. The air around her felt heavier, her pulse skipping in ways she didn’t trust. She left without a word, storming out into the rain like it could wash the feeling off.
She returned the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
Each time with a new excuse, a new research thread. Each time she told herself it was purely academic. Each time she caught herself watching you. Wondering why your laugh stuck in her mind like a melody she hadn’t meant to learn. Why your eyes looked at her like she wasn’t something to fear, but something to understand.
One day, you were bold enough to ask, “How do you feel about relationships?”
It felt like the floor fell out from beneath her.
Wednesday snapped. Not cruel, but cold in that careful, clinical way of hers. Said something about how people only get close to stab you in the back. About how she wasn’t capable of such foolishness, nor interested. Not after what happened between her and Tyler…
You didn’t argue. You just nodded. And didn’t smile.
She stopped going to the library after that.
For three days, Wednesday couldn’t focus. Her case went cold. Her violin sounded like static. She found herself standing in the rain outside the library once, then turned away like a coward.
Finally, she cracked. Marched to Enid’s dorm, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and eyes dark.
“I need your help.”
Wednesday muttered. Enid’s jaw dropped.
“Who are you and what have you done with Wednesday Addams?”
Wednesday rolled her eyes.
“If you tell a single soul what I’m about to say, I will smother you in your sleep with a pillow stitched from unicorn fur.”
Enid grinned. “Go on.”
So Wednesday, armed with begrudging advice and the emotional capacity of a brick wall, found herself in front of your door.
When you opened it, she looked… awkward. Not tense — vulnerable. Her arms were stiff at her sides, her face unreadable except for the flicker of guilt in her eyes.
“I was unkind.”
Wednesday said.
“I meant to push you away. That was the goal. You succeeded in making me feel something and I hate that.”
Then she added:
“I guess I ghosted you.”