I feel my flesh, it's getting weaker

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝕋ℍ𝔼 small bee cabin smelled faintly of honey and woodsmoke, the air golden with beams of sunlight filtering through the cracks between the timber walls. Dust motes floated lazily, catching the light as if the room itself were alive. Wednesday stood before the wall, carefully pinning photographs and sketches onto his murder board—his dark mosaic of crime, shadow, and deduction.

Behind him, Eugene lingered, watching with his usual bright-eyed fascination. Wednesday stepped back, lips pursed in satisfaction.

"Enid wouldn't let me keep this in my dorm," Wednesday remarked flatly, though there was a faint note of irritation beneath his voice as he surveyed the work.

Eugene shrugged, cheerful as always. "No worries. Mi colmena es su colmena."

Wednesday's eyes flickered to him briefly, but he said nothing, turning back to the collage of horrors.

"I assume this is the creature that's been rampaging in the woods," Eugene continued, gesturing to the crude but effective sketch of the monster.

The casual statement caught Wednesday's attention like a thread pulled too tight. He slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing. "You've heard about it before?"

"Rumours," Eugene admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Mr. Fitts banned me from bug-hunting until further notice. Said a bear was on the loose, which was obviously a lie. Didn't match their hibernation schedules."

Wednesday's gaze lingered on him, calculating, his mind already arranging puzzle pieces in silence.

"Speaking of monsters with sharp claws," Eugene went on, picking up a jar of fresh honey, "could you give this to your neighbour? Put in a good word for me?" Before Wednesday could form a reply, a soft but steady voice broke through the air like velvet cutting glass.

"Eugene, we spoke about this."

Both boys turned sharply. At the door stood Lilith, framed by sunlight, her dark hair catching gold at the edges. She looked pale still, her posture fragile, but her presence commanded the space as if she belonged to it. Wednesday's eyes widened, his usually impassive face flickering with something raw. He crossed the room in an instant, closing the distance between them, his hands reaching to her arms with uncharacteristic gentleness.

"Cara Mia, what are you doing up?" His voice carried firmness, but beneath it was fear, and beneath that—love. His thumbs brushed against her sleeves as if to steady her. "You shouldn't be out of bed. You're still recovering."

Lilith blinked at him, startled by his urgency, but then her gaze softened. She raised a delicate hand, brushing a stray lock of black hair from his eyes, her touch almost reverent.

"I'm alright," she murmured, her voice tender, "I changed the medicine and bandages, my crow."

Wednesday's dark eyes searched hers as though he might catch the truth hiding between her words. For a moment, silence stretched, his jaw tightening—then he exhaled slowly, lowering his head just slightly, as though conceding only to her. His hand slid down to lace with hers, holding it firmly, letting her warmth seep into his cold veins.

Lilith turned her attention toward Eugene, but Wednesday's gaze never left her. In his eyes was something few ever saw—adoration, fragile and unguarded, reserved only for her.

"I hear Enid's still sans date for the Rave'N," Eugene chimed, trying to break the tension.

Wednesday's head snapped toward him, voice firm. "Eugene."

The boy lifted his hands in mock defence. "I know, I know. The chances of her asking me are next to zero, but I don't care. I'll keep putting myself out there until Enid finally... sees me."

Wednesday arched a brow, cold and curious. "And if she doesn't?"

"She will," Eugene said with a determination that almost surprised him. "I'm playing the long game. My moms say people will appreciate me when I'm older. They're probably just trying to make me feel better, but—"

Wednesday cut him off, his tone carrying weight. "Listen. People like me, you, and Lilith—we are different. We are original thinkers, intrepid outliers in this vast cesspool of adolescence. We don't need these inane rites of passage to validate who we are."

Lilith glanced up at him then, her lips curving faintly at the unusual warmth threaded through his sharp words.

"So, you're not going to the Rave'N either?" Eugene asked carefully.

Wednesday's gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat, before dropping to Lilith's face. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, gentler, meant for her alone.

"Only if my dark flower would go."

Lilith's breath caught at his words, surprise flashing across her features before it melted into something softer. She smiled, slow and warm, and with a small nod, gave him her answer.

Wednesday's gaze lingered on Lilith, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against her knuckles. The motion was deceptively simple, but in truth it was a confession—quiet, unspoken, yet burning. Lilith felt it seep into her bones, steady and certain, like the pulse of a vow.

Eugene shifted awkwardly, catching the weight in the air. A grin tugged at his lips before he cleared his throat. "I'll... wait outside." With that, he slipped out, leaving the room heavy with silence.

Wednesday turned back immediately, the world shrinking to just her. His hand rose, pale fingers catching her chin and lifting it with a reverence that contrasted the sharp precision of his movements. His eyes, dark and endless, searched hers as though he could see through every barrier she had ever built.

"You are certain you are well?" His voice was velvet wrapped around steel—gentle, but threaded with an uncharacteristic fragility, the kind born of fear he would never name aloud.

Lilith's lips parted. "I am. The wound is healing."

He studied her, obsidian gaze sweeping her face as though daring her words to betray themselves. At last, he gave the faintest nod, though tension still wound tight in his shoulders.

Lilith hesitated. "About the Rave'N... we don't have to go if you don't want to. I know you don't like people—"

Her words fell to silence as Wednesday's thumb brushed her lower lip. The contact was a brand, tender yet commanding, as if he could shape silence with touch alone.

"I will only go for you, darling."

Her breath caught. For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes locked in a silent battle of longing and restraint. His stare swept between her eyes and the temptation of her mouth, and for the first time, Lilith saw Wednesday Addams hesitate—not out of doubt, but out of the unbearable weight of wanting.

Then the restraint broke.

He leaned in, his lips finding hers with a gentleness that barely contained the storm inside him. It was deliberate, reverent—like a man kneeling before a forbidden altar. Yet beneath that restraint surged passion, raw and unyielding, as though kissing her was at once his undoing and his salvation.

Lilith melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt, while Wednesday deepened the kiss, no longer able to pretend he could remain untouched. His hand slid to cradle the back of her head, holding her as though she might vanish if he let go. The taste of her was fire and shadow, and for once in his life, Wednesday allowed himself to burn.

When at last he broke away, it was only to breathe her in, his forehead lingering against hers. His eyes, once so cold, now smouldered with something achingly human, something he could not disguise even if he tried.

"Let's go," he whispered—not a command, but a vow.

Their hands clasped, fingers locking tight. He led her out of the cabin with a steadiness that betrayed none of the tempest still raging inside him, while Eugene, waiting outside, remained blissfully unaware of the fire that had just been kindled.

The three of them stood at the edge of the cave, its mouth yawning open like some blackened wound carved into the earth. The air that seeped from it was colder, heavy with the damp scent of moss and decay.

"It's definitely a match," Wednesday said, his voice low but steady as his dark eyes traced the jagged ridges around the entrance. It was the same as the sketch pinned to his murder board. Too precise to be coincidence.

Lilith's gaze flicked to Eugene, her tone sharp and protective, the way an older sister scolds without saying the word. "What were you doing out here?"

Eugene shifted, clutching his bug kit like a shield. "Collecting specimens. This place is ground zero for horny gypsy moths." Lilith arched a brow but said nothing more, turning her eyes back to the cave. Eugene, however, looked at it with growing unease. "You think it's in there?"

Wednesday didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering. "Only one way to find out."

Lilith's jaw set. She turned, placing herself just slightly ahead of Eugene, her body instinctively shielding his. "Stay behind me." Eugene nodded quickly, obeying. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Wednesday, who tightened his grip on Lilith's hand as if tethering her to him. Without words, the three pressed forward until the cave's shadow swallowed them.

At the threshold, Eugene's voice broke the silence, faintly trembling. "I'm not a huge fan of enclosed spaces. I'm claustrophobic."

Wednesday turned just enough to glance at him, his tone laced with morbid humour. "If you hear me screaming bloody murder, there's a good chance I'm just enjoying myself."

Lilith gave him a sidelong look, one part disapproval, one part amusement, though her determination was clear in her eyes—she was going in with him whether he liked it or not. He sighed faintly, resigned, then reached for her hand again.

"Watch your step," he murmured.

Her lips curved, almost imperceptibly, as she nodded. Together, they crossed the threshold.

The ground inside sloped unevenly, damp stone slick under their boots. Wednesday steadied Lilith with a hand on her arm, waiting until her footing was sure before slipping his bag around to his front. He retrieved two flashlights, handing one to her. Their fingers brushed, a fleeting warmth in the cold.

The beams cut through the dark, slicing across the cavern floor. What they revealed made Eugene gasp. Bones. Dozens, scattered in pale heaps, cracked and gnawed.

Lilith crouched, her eyes sharp as she sifted through the remains. She lifted one piece into the light, her voice calm but certain. "I think it's got a taste for venison."

Wednesday paused, watching her. It wasn't just what she said—it was the certainty, the ease in which she distinguished human from animal remains. His heart gave a strange, unwanted lurch before he quickly averted his gaze, forcing his attention forward.

The light swept across the far wall, revealing deep claw marks etched into stone. Chains, broken and rusted, clung to the rock like remnants of something meant to be bound but never contained. "Yahtzee," Wednesday muttered. He moved forward, crouching before one particularly large claw embedded in the wall. With careful precision, he worked it loose.

The jagged black talon gleamed in the flashlight's beam. Wednesday's lips curved into a sharp grin as he slipped it into a plastic evidence bag. "Concrete proof."

The sound of the bag sealing echoed in the cavern, final and cold, like a gavel's strike.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

Sorry that I haven't posted much, my family and I have been busy with packing.