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Trust is something Wednesday Addams believes to be a poison.
The more you give it, the more likely it is to hurt you. A delightful twist with less than ideal circumstances.
The boy in front of her, boldly holding her close by the hips, administered a fatal dose to her system. Lured her with honey and delivered the first stab ever she did not appreciate.
Wednesday relished in pain. Nobody warned her what it does mixed with pleasure.
A murderer stood in front of her, yet the sin she needed him to atone for was the lethal truth. Or rather the betrayal of it. Betrayal is the fatal dose of truth you can pour into someone.
She was defiant, but he was desperate. Slowly, so as not to scare her away despite having her body in an iron grip, he lowered his face to her, eyes full of hope she thought had fled him long ago.
As Wednesday noticed him scanning her lips, she pondered whether there was an antidote for this poison. Push and pull. Fight and acceptance. She never felt as a storm embodied before; that's what Tyler did to her.
Even lower, his nose touching hers. His heart beats faster, and hers slows down.
In an ideal world, he'd kiss her right now. But Wednesday was no idealist. She was strictly Machiavellian, and he was trying to launch a coup on her body.
Again.
Her eyes study his features in the little resolution such closeness can provide. His face bears scars that weren't there before the last time she was so close to it.
She was bold and got shot for it.
Back in Jericho, she kissed a boy who had everything to lose by her learning the truth. Now forth stood the man who had nothing, except the raven he cradled in his arms.
For now, she just observes and lets the delightfully cruel feeling flood her heart.
Theirs was a story Shakespeare himself would grovel in.
She notices his eyes flutter shut. The guard is down, and he's at her mercy. Just as it was always supposed to be.
"Please..." Tyler does not move any further. He rests his forehead on hers, leaning down towards her, his long disheveled curls sticking to her skin where the black fringe parts.
This isn't the first time he pleaded with her.
"Kill me."
Love me.
It almost sounds the same.
She leans in. It's an impulsive act of mercy, she tells herself as the warmth she'd never thought would feel familiar envelops her.
Tyler's kisses are so soft that Wednesday has to open her eyes to survey whether they have been transported in time back to that fateful night in Weathervane.
Like no time has passed. Like the centuries have gone by.
But it's still the forest. Cold, dark forest up north near the Canadian border, where destiny has decided to bring them together once again.
Being a raven promised solitude, and Wednesday felt cheated. Because no matter the distance, their paths always met and intertwined.
His hands hold her face with the firmness of butterfly wings and she cannot believe that the same hands have pushed her, choked her and tried to kill her. The ways excitement and disdain rushed through her veins in unison every time he was violent with her on his family's little quest.
Her mother wouldn't approve.
Her mother also wouldn't understand.
The boy was broken, and she loved puzzles. The more cursed, the better. A pup and a predator. And for her to put it back together.
She imagined her hands to be a vice of judgement as she wrapped them around his shoulders and neck and pulled him down towards her, even closer.
Tyler whined or moaned; the origin of the sound was not known to her, and she felt warm tears kissing her cheeks near where his mouth was on hers.
Pathetic. Pathetic and mine.
She thought for a moment that the reunion of their old flame had brought Tyler to tears. That was until a strong bolt struck through her body and she went stiff, tearing her lips from his, head thrown back.
And that's when she realised. The tears must be black.
The vision wasn't clear and ended all too briefly, but when she came to, Tyler was leaning over her as she lay in his arms.
He stared at her, this time not with worry but recognition. She wasn't sure he was aware that this was the first vision she had had in months. Wednesday had to decipher what that meant later, for now savoring Tyler's arms around her.
He caught her, again. And then he spoke.
"Let's go find Enid."
After those words, she knew that from now on, ad infinitum and in perpetuity, until inevitable eternity, he would catch her every fall.
Who knew trust is a flower that, despite having been torn root and stem... can bloom again.