Wednesday went back to her room an hour or so later, making a beeline for her cello. She needed to clear her head of all the terrible things that happened earlier that day, and finding solace in her music was her best bet. Enid asked her what happened, clearly in the middle of a manicure session with Thing, and Wednesday explained. Enid was horrified, reassuring Wednesday that she was in her corner should anything go down. Thing nodded along (in his own way), the silvery nail polish adorning him shifting and glittering in the light. Looks like the pair hadn't gotten any homework done, after all.
Wednesday set up her cello outside, Enid and Thing joining her. Thing didn't bring out any sheet music, as per Wednesday's request, because Wednesday wanted to freestyle. She set herself up in the chair, leaning forward and into the body of the cello, holding her bow in a long-fingered delicate hand, and she began to play. Wednesday let the anguish of the day play out into her music, followed by the grief of Tyler's breakdown, and ending with the comfort and love she found with him.
The bow moved like the tide, rushing in and out across the strings, the waves crashing in every crescendo, the tilling pulling back in every decrescendo. Wednesday let the music throw her about; taking control of her fingers as she swayed against the instrument. The anger that raced through her when she thought of Tyler being taken from her came out in a roughly plucked pizzicato. The fear of what was to come was sharp, quick movements with her bow. The comfort she found in her boy's arms was a smooth movement across the fingerboard, notes drawn out in legato. Wednesday let her cello say all the words she could not; I love you, I love you, I love you.
Wednesday heard the window next to their room slide open and saw Tyler sit at the desk beside it, his head leaning against the window sill as he listened. Tyler let the bond open fully, and all the blissful feelings he had, all the comfort and quiet joy, and all the assuaged fear filled her every movement. Wednesday played and the bond shifted and stretched with every note, letting the music move her as it wished. Tyler sighed, letting his eyes drift towards her, watching Wednesday play straight from their bond.
The music was dark, rich, and haunting. It was Wednesday's form of confession, colored brightly with Tyler's softer, sweeter nature. The music was a combination of the two of them; slow, soft, eerie, beautiful, melancholy, blissful, and at times, bright. Tyler was the Sun to Wednesday's moon. I love you, Wednesday said in every note. I love you too, Tyler said in every emotion that fell through the bond. My love, my summer's day, my darling, lovely boy. I love you more than words could ever describe. Wednesday wasn't speaking, nor would she ever say such a thing out loud, but Tyler knew. Tyler had always known.
Wednesday remembered the first time they'd seen each other, only a few weeks ago. She remembered the intrigue, the interest, but the understanding that it would only ever be a temporary obsession. Then, the realization of what they were to each other. The fast-paced, whirling physical tension. The crescendo, the climax, and the descrescendo. But even knowing all those days ago that she and he were bonded forever, Wednesday had never expected this level of connection. She'd never expected Tyler to see her, and yet he did. He saw her in all her entirety, and never turned or flinched away. Wednesday saw him in all his monstrous, fucked-up, complicated glory, and didn't walk away or give up on him.
Wednesday would never leave him the way his father had. She would be with Tyler until her last breath, and beyond that. Perhaps it was wrong, or co-dependent, to be so intertwined with someone, but Wednesday didn't care. What did those people know of their relationship? How could any of them rival what Wednesday and Tyler had? What they'd always had? How could they resist any better, if they'd been in her position? Wednesday's lovely, perfect boy, who took her so off guard she'd nearly tripped on her own confusion. Her boy. Hers. No cult, or boss, or obsessive stalker would ever separate them. Wednesday would rip the spine from the body of anybody who dared to think of doing such a thing.
YOU ARE READING
you can occupy my every sigh
Fanfiction(cross posted on ao3) au where Tyler is already attending Nevermore by the time Wednesday first joins. Obsessive, fast-paced, and still full of murder. (In typical Wednesday fashion). The boy was tall, his face boyish, his stance non-threatening but...
