Behind Closed Doors

The rain had arrived like an uninvited guest, unrelenting and cold, soaking the stone walkways of Nevermore Academy as Y/N trudged her way back to the dormitory building. Her dark uniform clung uncomfortably to her skin, heavy with water, while her hair stuck to her cheeks. It was fitting, really—a pathetic end to an already dreadful day.

Classes had been hell.

First, Professor Thornwell had embarrassed her in Elemental Theory for failing to properly control a simple fire charm. Of course, the spell had misfired—only because one of her less-than-friendly classmates, Bianca's newest sycophant, had muttered a hex under their breath behind her. The flames had erupted out of control, nearly scorching the professor's desk.

A lecture. A detention slip. More whispers behind her back.

The cafeteria hadn’t been much better. Every table seemed to hush as she entered, heads leaned in close as if her failures were tonight's entertainment. Even a seasoned witch could only pretend for so long that it didn’t sting. The isolation settled into her chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating.

But worst of all had been the run-in with Principal Weems. Apparently, her "behavior" was under review, her "control" in question. Another warning, another black mark on her record.

It was one of those days where everything went wrong.

She finally reached the dorm building, her limbs aching, head pounding from the weight of it all. The winding hallways blurred together in a tired haze as she finally reached the door she was so desperate to see:

Wednesday’s dorm.

Their dorm, really, though no one dared call it that out loud.

She lifted a trembling hand and knocked softly.

The door opened almost instantly, as though Wednesday had been waiting for her.

There she stood—Wednesday Addams in all her haunting glory—dressed in her signature black, two long braids perfectly in place, dark eyes sharp and calculating. But Y/N saw it: the brief flicker of concern that flashed behind her gaze when she saw Y/N's soaked and miserable state.

Behind her, Enid was sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone, oblivious. "Hey, Y/N! Oh my gosh, you’re soaked! Rough day?"

Y/N forced a brittle smile. "You could say that."

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, darting from Enid back to Y/N. She said nothing at first, standing still like a statue.

Y/N knew that look. She wasn’t angry at Enid for speaking. But she wanted her gone.

Enid kept chatting. “You should’ve seen it, Wednesday! Ajax totally tried to grow a cactus in Herbology and it exploded. I mean—”

Wednesday’s sharp, calculated glare cut across the room. A warning.

Enid faltered mid-sentence.

Another, more pointed glare.

Enid blinked. “Uh… you know what? I’m gonna head to the rec room for a bit. Y/N, hope your night gets better!”

With an awkward wave, Enid hurried out the door, her brightly colored sweater disappearing down the hall.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

And just like that, the mask cracked.

Wednesday’s entire demeanor shifted the moment they were alone. She closed the distance between them without hesitation, her cold exterior melting into something softer, almost tender—though still with her signature restraint.