It's not hard to lose control, no

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝕋ℍ𝔼 music pulsed faintly in the background as Wednesday pressed a glass into Lilith's hand. Before she could take a sip, Xavier approached, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made the air feel heavier.

"So," Xavier's voice cut through, edged with bitterness, "when you said you wouldn't be with anyone... you meant me?" Lilith's fingers tightened on the glass. Her sigh carried both weariness and the faintest tremor of regret. "Why are you bringing this up now? I already told you."

The words hung between them like smoke.

Wednesday stepped closer, the space between him and Lilith vanishing, his presence folding over her like a shadow. His dark eyes narrowed, locking onto Xavier with the weight of unspoken threat.
"We're done here."

His hand slid firmly against the small of Lilith's back, guiding her away. Without a word more, they left the crowd and its suffocating stares behind, slipping into the quiet breath of the hallway. The lamps burned low, their glow stretching shadows against the walls. A row of seats lay waiting, empty and silent. Lilith sank down, her body folding into itself. She rubbed at her temples, her leg bouncing, the rhythm of her anxiety spilling out into the stillness.

Wednesday lowered himself beside her, his movements measured, precise. He reached for her hand, curling his cool fingers over hers, anchoring her trembling. His voice was softer now, a rare balm.
"What's the matter, Cara Mia?"

Her eyes lifted to his, haunted and fragile. "The last time I went to a dance... I lost control. I burned the school building—there were people inside. Too many. I couldn't stop it."

Wednesday's face remained blank, yet his eyes betrayed him—dark, fathomless, but threaded with quiet devotion. He didn't flinch, didn't recoil. Instead, he spoke as though her confession were a crown, not a curse. "You are not there anymore." His words fell steady, resolute. "And if you burn this school down... I will build you a castle from its ashes. And crown you with a throne of darkness."

He lifted her hand slowly, deliberately, until her trembling fingers brushed his lips. His kiss lingered, and his gaze never once wavered. Then, with the grace of inevitability, he rose, drawing her up with him as though she weighed nothing. His voice gentled, almost coaxing, though it carried the gravity of command.

"Come. Let's go dance."

Lilith's lips curved into a fragile, beautiful smile. For the first time that evening, she nodded without hesitation, letting him lead her back into the light and music—toward the place where shadows and love interlaced.

As Wednesday and Lilith stepped into the centre of the dance floor, a hush seemed to ripple outward, pulling eyes and whispers in their wake. The crowd parted, curiosity and unease twining together like smoke. Lilith's gaze flickered to the faces, to the weight of their stares, her breath catching in her throat.

But then—Wednesday's hand rose, cool and steady, his fingers tilting her chin until her eyes met his. The room dimmed around them, shadows pressing in like velvet curtains. He leaned close, his voice threading into her ear like a vow whispered in the dark.

"Focus on me."

His lips brushed against the pale curve of her neck, a fleeting kiss that lingered like fire beneath her skin. When he drew back, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The music swelled.

Wednesday guided her with precision, his arm anchoring her against him as their bodies fell into the waltz. It was not light, nor gentle—it was something darker, sharper, a dance carved of tension and devotion. Their steps echoed like heartbeats, haunting and steady, each movement pulling them deeper into one another's orbit.

The crowd watched in silence, mesmerized. Their classmates saw two figures circling in perfect unison—an Addams cloaked in black resolve, and the girl who matched him in shadow and flame. But to Wednesday and Lilith, the world was gone. There was no music, no stares, no judgment. Only the press of his hand at her waist, the brush of her breath against his cheek, the undeniable pull of something larger than themselves.

They moved as though bound by something ancient, a thread of passion and darkness weaving through every step, every turn. His gaze never left hers, and hers never faltered, caught in the abyss of him.

It was not just a dance. It was a confession. A promise. A storm disguised in elegance.

And though the ballroom was filled with murmurs and widened eyes, Wednesday and Lilith were untouchable, two figures suspended in their own world—where shadows were not chains, but wings.

The waltz deepened, each step sharper, more consuming, as if the music bent itself to their will. Wednesday's movements were precise, commanding, his grip on Lilith both an anchor and an invitation into his storm. Lilith followed with unearthly grace, her dress flowing like smoke, her presence both fragile and unyielding—a paradox that made her untouchable.

Their dance grew faster, darker.
The crowd could hardly breathe.

Wednesday spun her, the world blurring into shadows and candlelight, until he caught her again, pulling her flush against his chest. Their eyes locked—an abyss staring into a flame, and neither looked away.

The music thundered.

Wednesday led her into a turn so sudden it drew gasps from the audience. Lilith's hair came loose, strands spilling like ink against her pale skin, and yet her gaze never broke from his. For her, there was no fear—only the intoxicating gravity of his devotion. For him, there was no hesitation—only the truth that she was his chosen chaos, his beloved ruin.

At the climax, Wednesday dipped her low, his hand splayed against her back as though he held both her weight and her soul. Lilith's arm curled around his neck, her lips dangerously close to his, her chest rising with breathless fire.

Silence fell over the hall.
Not even the violins dared intrude.

Slowly, deliberately, Wednesday raised her back to her feet. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling, the entire world holding still as if to witness the dark vow unspoken between them.

When the final note struck, they did not bow, nor did they release each other. They simply stood there, in the centre of the room, locked in their own universe—two creatures born of shadow and passion, daring anyone to look away.

The crowd erupted in murmurs, whispers of awe and unease. Yet none dared step forward.
For in that moment, it was undeniable—Wednesday and Lilith were not merely dancing.
They were declaring war and love in the same breath.

And everyone knew it.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

I know it's a bit short, but I hope you enjoyed it and I will be making the next part intense with Lilith about Eugene. <3