Chapter Text
It was 132 days into their freshman year at Ulalume University before Enid wore Wednesday down. Honestly, it was a bit embarrassing how quickly she folded at the appearance of her roommate's sad lupine eyes. An uncharacteristically quick capitulation she deeply regretted as she grimaced at the wall-to-wall press of bodies.
If it weren't so damn crowded she may have appreciated the derelict state of the bar—though it dipped more than a toe across the line from gothic decomposition into general neglect. As it were, her eyes kept darting to the exit, waiting for the moment Enid eased her ironclad grip on Wednesday's limp wrist.
The human-tether strategy was honed from years of losing Wednesday just minutes into an agreed upon social gathering at Nevermore. Wednesday's purposefully exclusion of the element of time in her concession to attend the "Thirsty Thursday" outing had been more than a little suspicious in Enid's book and she certainly wasn't about to let her afternoon of dressing her roommate up like her own personal Barbie—grim reaper edition, of course—go to waste by letting her slip out the door at the first whiff of human interaction. Not for the first time, Enid weighed the pros and cons of slipping a tracking device onto Wednesday's boot when she wasn’t looking. Thus far the prospect of literal torture as retaliation if said device were ever traced back to her continued to out weigh any of the "pros" she could dream up. So instead, Wednesday's wrist found itself the temporary home of a werewolf bracelet.
From where they stood, Enid could barely make out the first few layers of melding bodies on the dance floor. She angled to breach the outer ring with her well-practiced art of weaving through the masses, but a terrified gorgon appeared in her periphery, eyes wide with guilt.
"Shit, I'm sorry, E. I really didn't think he'd show. I told him it'd be for the best if he laid low tonight," Ajax muttered, holding up his hands—partially in surrender, partially to protect his face from Enid's fully extended technicolor claws.
Wednesday's stomach flipped. There was only one "he" her friends exclusively referred to by pronouns alone, as if she were so delicate as to be set off by the sound of his name alone. The unconscious way Enid's grip tightened set off the alarm bells in Wednesday's mind. No, not alarm bells. It was more like deep, bellowing of a gong.
In her mind, her quick glance around was completely natural. Nothing more than the typical surveillance she made of every space. To Enid and Ajax, Wednesday's head swiveled owl-like in a nearly 180-degree rotation at a speed that made them both gasp.
Tyler Galpin stood with his back to the bar, elbows resting on the undoubtedly sticky surface, a phosphorescent blue liquid in a clear plastic cup dangling from his fingers, eyes searching the crowd with purpose. The moment his gaze snagged on hers, he smirked. Humor lit up the green in his hazel eyes, though Wednesday could swear they flashed yellow—a touch of the monster leaking out at the sight of his favorite prey.
With a practiced jerk, Wednesday shrugged off her "bracelet". Enid's blue eyes flared. Cognitively she knew that, even with her Alpha strength, Wednesday was always the one in control of their irregular physical contact. But seeing her pint-sized roommate slip free of a supernatural stronghold without breaking a sweat was still impressive.
A worried glance passed between the werewolf and gorgon.
"Should we clear the bar?" Ajax sank even further into his hoodie, fists clenched in its pockets, nervously calculating the potential casualties.
"Capri testified to Tyler's control of his abilities as part of the conditions for his enrollment," Enid reminded him, though the way she chewed at her lip betrayed her.
"Yeah, it's not the hyde I'm worried about."
From where they stood, they could see Wednesday deftly adjust the handle of the knife secured in the waistband of the tight, black mini skirt Enid had dressed her in. Ajax had a point.
"I'll go find Bianca. We might need to siren them into behaving," Enid said before nodding to the two supernovas inching towards impact. "If either of them start trouble, stone them both."
The gorgon swallowed thickly, touching the edge of his beanie absentmindedly as he turned to follow her instructions.
Wednesday stopped her advance just out of arms reach of the hyde. Tyler's laughing smirk hadn't wavered once as she parted the crowd with her mere presence. It was moments like these Wednesday missed the wolf-form she'd once accessed during what Enid now referred to as "the Freaky Friday incident". If she could, she would have clawed the lopsided grin right off his infuriating face. Instead, Wednesday merely arched a brow.
Neither moved. One heartbeat passed, then another.
Tyler slid to the side, gesturing at the newly vacated spot with his free hand.
It defied every survival instinct to turn her back to him. But she'd never truly been afraid of the monster. Not when he'd disemboweled Rowan in front of her. Not even when he'd sent her careening through a window. Besides, if it baited him into striking first, her friends couldn't exactly blame her for putting a quick end to their evening with a stabbing. It would be self-defense.
Wednesday stepped past him without so much as a side-eyed glance to stare down the bartenders. The moment one made eye contact, she requested a double of the top-shelf tequila. Neat.
"That's like forty dollars," the bartender responded dubiously.
The thick money clip she produced from her boot thudded on the counter. Behind her, Tyler huffed an incredulous scoff at the easy display of wealth. The bartender's eyes flicked from what was clearly more than the amount necessary back to Wednesday's face and shrugged before going to get a step-ladder to reach the dusty bottle near the ceiling.
An unnatural warmth hovered at her back. Wednesday refused to react to his nearness. It was all posturing. He was trying to annoy her as much as she aimed to goad him.
"New perfume?"
Wednesday's head whipped over her shoulder to see Tyler's knitted brow and wrinkled nose before he schooled his expression back to smug indifference. Wednesday stared at him blankly. The wood of the bar groaned as Tyler placed his hands on either side of her torso effectively caging her. His prismatic eyes dipped to her hands, checking for a weapon. Wednesday maintained her impeccable posture as he leaned in so close his nose aligned her ear. He inhaled noisily. Hot air skittered over her skin on his exhale and her autonomic nervous system betrayed her by causing her skin to pebble. She gritted her teeth hoping he wouldn't notice.
"Lilac," he spat as if the very word tasted sour.
Earlier that week, Enid had swapped their usual unscented detergent for one with a lilac topnote. In the moment Wednesday had been irate, but now? The discomfort it brought Tyler sparked with potential to spin this to her advantage. Perhaps she could douse her entire wardrobe in the oppressively artificial floral scent. Manufacture a staged run-in anytime she wanted to see his nose wrinkle in disgust. It wouldn't be hard. She already had his class schedule committed to memory—because, even in a strained ceasefire, one must keep tabs on one's mortal enemy, of course.
There was a triumphant tilt to her lips as Wednesday turned her head back toward the bar to exchange a crisp fifty for her drink with a dry, "Keep the change."
The bartender offered her an automatic tight-lipped smile before moving onto the next customer.
Wednesday turned in place, cursing the difference in their heights for forcing her to tilt her head back to look Tyler in the eye with another arched brow. The ice in her gaze promised retribution if he didn't remove himself from her path expeditiously. He called her bluff with a sharp look of his own.
"We're a bit old for the silent treatment, aren't we?" He asked drolly.
Fluidly, she ducked under his arm and pulled up alongside Ajax whose eyes flitted between the pair, hand hovering at the edge of his beanie. Enid and Bianca joined, each taking a position at Wednesday’s shoulders.
Tyler's face broke into a bright smile, one she now knew to be deviously false. "Looks like the gang's all here," he drawled.
Enid crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not above blackmail, Galpin. If you ruin all my hard work convincing Wednesday to come out with us, I will post about both of your bodycounts on my blog. The new one may help with your Eta bid, but I somehow doubt the old one will be accepted as quickly as your ambiguous 'sealed juvenile record.'"
Wednesday's stomach lurched, her eyes darting sideways to the lycanthrope. Was Tyler killing again? Based on the genuine flash of concern in his eyes when they flicked to—and quickly away from—Wednesday, she felt it was possible. And if Enid had been withholding such information…
"Hey," Tyler's voice cut into her spiraling thoughts. He held up his hands, one dangling the unnaturally blue drink he still nursed. "She walked up to me."
"I walked up to the bar to get a drink. The fact that you happened to be in my way of said bar is entirely irrelevant," Wednesday grit out from between her teeth. "And Enid, if Tyler is back to his murderous ways," she reached behind her back as she spoke.
There were three sets of hands on her at once. Lupine, siren, and gorgon all pressed down as a unit to keep her knife firmly sheathed in her waistband. At the amused look on Tyler's face, Wednesday tried another evasive move to break their hold. But the trio were not as easily shaken.
"Wednes," Enid spoke low and close to her ear so it was more like a whisper, "that's not what I meant."
Tyler's smirk slipped. Wednesday leaned back to search Enid's face. There was something like sympathy leaking into her tone that felt incongruent with the information at hand.
"What did you mean?" Wednesday asked, her curiosity not softening the tension as she continued to push up against her friends' grasps.
Bianca scoffed softly, annoyed at herself that she could still be shocked by Wednesday's continued willful ignorance of slang. She should have concocted an excuse to back out of the evening the moment she'd gotten Enid's text that her former rival would be attending. They may have become more friendly over the years, but Wednesday remained a magnet for drama that Bianca wanted no part of. Like trying to stab her ex in a college bar.
Enid's brow furrowed, trying to determine if answering would make the situation better or worse, "Uhhhhhhh."
"Bodycount is a euphemism for the number of sexual partners a person has had," Bianca explained flatly. "Although, I personally find the term, as well as society's fixation on the sum, to be uninspired."
As she finished speaking, Bianca glanced at Tyler. She hadn't lied. The siren did find the idea of attaching judgement to an individual's number of partners to be weird as fuck. However, she also knew that hyper-sexuality could be linked to a myriad of neurological and psychological sources. And from what she'd pieced together over the years about how Tyler's hyde was unlocked, Bianca was concerned she knew exactly what type of trauma was driving up the numbers in Tyler's secondary 'bodycount.'
Wednesday went unnaturally still. If it weren't for the odd, umber color bleeding across her face, the casual observer might think Ajax had stoned her. Like a cornered animal, her large obsidian dark eyes darted around, never landing anywhere for more than a second and pointedly avoiding the equally still form of the hyde directly in front of her. As if a switch flipped, her eyes stilled and her muscles went lax, her fingers unfurling from the knife handle.
"Everyone will let go of me before I count to three or I will ensure your final moments are bloody and painful and very, very soon," she growled icily. "One—"
Ajax, Bianca, and Enid released their holds as if they'd been burned. Even Tyler took a step back, her tone clear this particular threat was no bluff. Wednesday lifted the cup of tequila she'd managed to hold onto throughout the small scuffle and tilted her head back to swallow the double shot in one go. The liquor burned pleasantly as it made down her digestive tract and loosened the inexplicable tightness in her chest enough that she could breathe again.
"I came. I had a drink. I'm going home now," Wednesday forced out, hoping they’d attribute the sudden croak of her voice to the shot.
Despite the strong declaration, Wednesday still found herself looking to Enid for acknowledgement. It was a mistake.
The lycanthrope's face looked too guilty. As if she'd done something wrong. As if Wednesday cared how many sexual partners Tyler Galpin had or had not had. She rolled her eyes at the very thought. Yes, she'd been momentarily stunned by the definition Bianca had provided, but that had nothing to do with Tyler. It was just a… a processing pause… Yes, that's what it'd been. She'd simply needed a moment to analyze the phrase. And her face had gotten so hot because… well… actually, this was just stupid and she was going home so it didn't matter!
Stiffly, Wednesday spun on her heel, aiming for the nearest exit which spit her out into the alley. No one tried to stop her.
Despite the now closed door blocking out the nauseating pop music, the night air still pulsed around her. Wednesday took a steadying breath. Reaching back to her waistband, she unsheathed the knife and chucked it at a pile of pallets. The blade slammed into the wood so viciously it made a whomp, whomp, whomp noise as it quivered in the moonlight. Expending the pent up violence settled her more than the breath. It wasn't until she'd collected the knife that she saw the bike.
The neon of the signs in the bar window reflected brightly off of the chrome rims, while the rest of the blacked-out vintage design seemed to devour the colored lights completely. She'd seen it around campus before, usually with a certain sandy brunette straddling the patinated black leather saddle—sans helmet because of course the hyde didn't have the decency to take any measures to protect the life she'd spared in Iago Tower.
Fine. Wednesday thought as she crouched next to the bike feeling around for an access point to get to his brake lines. A quick snip was all it would take. For the night, she could play Tyler's fairy godmother and help him fulfill his death wish.
"How unoriginal, Addams," came a low growl from behind her.
Wednesday stood up so fast, her head spun slightly. Or perhaps that was the tequila on an empty stomach.
"About as original as your new bad guy persona," she snapped, nodding at his leather jacket and heavy boots.
Tyler leaned forward slightly, arms crossed. "I thought we were both in on it now," he dropped his voice in a mock whisper, "I am the bad guy."
Her jaw twitched, but she bit down the potential responses that bubbled up in her throat. It had been so much easier when they were pretending the other didn't exist. At her silence, Tyler's face softened–brow smoothing, eyes relaxing, jaw releasing its sharp tension–until he looked more like the barista she'd thought she'd known.
"Back to the silent treatment?" He gave her a chagrinned, almost playful look. "I thought we were working past that?"
The ease with which he slipped back into that skin made her stomach roil. It was almost commendable. He was a master of disguise, but she wouldn't be so easily fooled again.
"Don't pretend you weren't studying me as intensely as I was researching the hyde. You knew the price of your deception. Did you really mistake my misplaced axe for forgiveness?"
Tyler took a step toward her, brows furrowing as he said, "You're right. I did do my research which is why I thought there was nothing to ask forgiveness for. " A step closer. "Did you know I thought you'd come to Willow Hill to make up? I thought all that time you'd been letting me suffer as punishment for wounding your pride, but that you were finally there to break me out so we could—" he stopped choking off the end of his sentence with a forceful swallow.
"Pillage the world together?" She finished with a sneer.
"Yes," he huffed, breath washing over her face.
There was an unguarded honesty to those three simple letters that made something in her chest collapse in on itself. For a single, un-delightfully painful moment she saw it. Tyler's face when she appeared in front of the reinforced glass door of his cell. Smug and excited, as if…
Had he really thought—? No.
"Even you can't be that delusional," she snapped.
"Oh, for fucksakes, come clean," he groaned, opening his arms to gesture to the empty alley. "It's just you and me out here. You can deny it to everyone else every day for the rest of your life, but I can tell you one thing," he leaned down until their noses almost touched, an ember of something savage flickering in his unwavering stare, "cockroach."
A sharp tug on one of her braids made Wednesday inhale sharply—one might even classify it as a gasp though Wednesday would never. It was so startling she hardly registered the pet name that she'd surely have eviscerated him for otherwise. The corners of Tyler's lips lifted, pupils dilating before her eyes at an almost alarming rate. For a second she thought he might transform, but the color remained a steady hazel green, not a speck of monstrous yellow to be seen.
"I know you wanted me," Tyler rasped, the sound skating down Wednesday's spine, drawing those obnoxious bumps to her skin once more.
There was a quick glance from her eyes to her lips and back again. She'd seen him do that before. More than once. It wasn't until after their doomed kiss at the Weathervane that she realized it was a sign that he was thinking about kissing her. Reflexively, she found her own gaze drawn to his mouth.
A mouth that barely moved as he mumbled, "And maybe you still do."
Her eyes snapped back up to his. She expected to see the same insufferable smirk she'd come to consider synonymous with Tyler Galpin. Instead, there was something worse. Hope.
"You're making a mistake."
She heard her own voice but didn't register what she'd actually said.
It wasn't until he breathed out, "Probably," that it clicked.
She'd unintentionally recreated the moment before his late father interrupted their almost-first-kiss.
The force with which she shoved his chest caught them both off guard. Tyler reeled back clumsily as if he wasn't an exceptional monster before he caught himself on the handlebar of his bike. She teetered as well, though her training allowed her to recover faster.
For a moment they just stared at each other. That hope bled into something warmer. Tyler grinned at her. Not a smirk. Not baring his teeth. A wide, goofy smile that made her stomach flip and heat rush through her core.
It wasn't a retreat, she was simply done with the conversation. At least that's what she told herself as she spun on her heel and walked briskly up the alley.
Just before she made it to the street, Tyler spoke, so softly he likely thought she wouldn't hear. "Oh, cockroach, I think you'll find you were never not mine."
She should have turned. She should have argued. Thrown a knife. Told him just how wrong he was. She wasn't anyone's, much less his. But she couldn't. Because if she did, she wasn't a hundred-percent certain where it would lead. That uncertainty was more terrifying than any monster she'd faced in her life.