18/10/2026
# Part 3: A Date with the Girl Who Hates Everyone
The following afternoon, Wednesday Addams found herself in the Nevermore cemetery.
It was one of the few places on campus where she could enjoy the silence without someone attempting to discuss their feelings.
The dead were excellent conversationalists. They never interrupted.
Wednesday sat on an old stone bench beneath a leafless tree, a black book resting in her lap. Mist drifted between the gravestones, and the distant sound of students playing on the grounds barely reached her.
She was enjoying herself.
Naturally, someone had to ruin it.
Auren: "I was hoping I'd find you here."
Wednesday didn't look up from her book.
Wednesday: "How unfortunate. I was hoping the cemetery would finally claim someone interesting."
Auren approached with a small paper bag in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other. His dark hair was slightly untidy, and his smile carried that same warmth that had irritated her the previous morning.
Auren: "Good afternoon to you, too, Wednesday."
Wednesday: "You're developing a disturbing habit of appearing wherever I happen to be."
Auren: "I could say the same about you. We seem to have something in common."
Wednesday: "If you compare our circumstances again, I'll make sure you don't have anything in common with the living."
Auren laughed softly.
Instead of sitting immediately, he held out one of the cups.
Auren: "Black coffee. No sugar. I remembered."
Wednesday looked at the cup.
Then at Auren.
Wednesday: "Your memory is functional. How disappointing."
Auren: "I was hoping you'd be impressed."
Wednesday: "I reserve my admiration for people who accomplish something."
Auren: "Then I'll have to keep trying."
He said it with such easy affection that Wednesday couldn't decide whether to insult him or investigate him.
She took the coffee.
Wednesday: "You may sit. But if you disturb my reading, I'll use your spine as a bookmark."
Auren: "I'll try to remain a comfortable distance from your literature."
Auren sat beside her, leaving enough space that she didn't feel crowded. He placed the paper bag between them.
Wednesday eyed it suspiciously.
Wednesday: "What's that?"
Auren: "A peace offering."
Wednesday: "I don't make peace."
Auren: "Then consider it a bribe."
Wednesday: "Better."
She opened the bag. Inside was a small pastry, still warm.
Wednesday glanced at him.
Wednesday: "Trying to win my affection through baked goods?"
Auren: "No. If I were trying to win your affection, I'd bring you something more memorable."
Wednesday: "Such as?"
Auren turned toward her, his expression becoming playfully thoughtful.
Auren: "A private cemetery. A moonlit evening. Perhaps a bouquet of black roses."
Wednesday: "A private cemetery would be practical. The roses would be unnecessary."
Auren: "Noted. I'll skip the roses and focus on the cemetery."
Wednesday: "I wasn't inviting you to plan our future."
Auren's smile softened at the word our, though he was wise enough not to point it out.
Auren: "Of course not. I'd never presume to plan something so important without consulting you."
Wednesday gave him a suspicious look.
Wednesday: "You are remarkably comfortable flirting with someone who has threatened you several times."
Auren: "You've threatened me, yes. But you haven't asked me to leave today."
Wednesday: "Would you like me to correct that oversight?"
Auren: "Not particularly."
He looked at her with such genuine fondness that, for a moment, Wednesday forgot to produce a suitably cruel response.
She immediately took a bite of the pastry.
It was excellent.
This was becoming intolerable.
For a while, they sat together, drinking coffee as the afternoon light faded over the cemetery.
Auren occasionally asked about her book, and Wednesday answered with descriptions of historical murders that would have made most people lose their appetite.
Auren, however, listened with genuine interest.
Wednesday: "The murderer made one particularly foolish mistake. He underestimated the intelligence of his intended victim."
Auren: "A fatal error."
Wednesday: "Literally."
Auren: "I admire a person who pays attention to details."
Wednesday closed the book halfway.
Wednesday: "You say that as though you've encountered many people who don't."
Auren looked out across the gravestones.
For a brief moment, his smile faded into something quieter.
Auren: "I've encountered a great many people."
Something about his tone caught Wednesday's attention.
Wednesday: "And how many have you liked?"
Auren considered the question.
Auren: "Not many."
Wednesday: "How tragic. Perhaps the problem is you."
Auren: "It's possible."
He turned back to her, his warmth returning.
Auren: "But I'm beginning to think my luck is improving."
Wednesday stared at him.
Wednesday: "You really don't know when to stop."
Auren: "Would you prefer that I stop?"
The question was gentle. There was no challenge in it, no attempt to corner her into admitting anything.
Wednesday looked down at her coffee.
She could tell him to leave. He would probably smile, wish her a pleasant afternoon, and go without making her feel guilty.
For reasons she found deeply inconvenient, she didn't want him to.
Wednesday: "I haven't decided."
Auren: "Then I'll wait until you do."
He leaned back against the stone bench, perfectly content to sit beside her in silence.
And that was the strange thing about Auren.
He could fill a conversation with teasing remarks and romantic nonsense, but he never seemed afraid of silence. He didn't need Wednesday to entertain him. He didn't demand that she smile or pretend to enjoy herself.
He simply liked being near her.
Wednesday had no idea what to do with that.
After several minutes, she spoke again.
Wednesday: "Why are you so determined to spend time with me?"
Auren turned toward her.
This time, he didn't answer with a joke.
Auren: "Because I like the way you see the world. You don't pretend things are beautiful when they're ugly. You don't say things just because people want to hear them."
He paused, looking at her with quiet affection.
Auren: "And because, even when you threaten to murder me, I find myself hoping you'll let me stay a little longer."
Wednesday's expression remained composed, but her fingers tightened slightly around the coffee cup.
Wednesday: "That sounds like a serious psychological defect."
Auren: "Probably."
Wednesday: "You should seek professional help."
Auren: "Would you accompany me?"
Wednesday: "I'd rather attend your funeral."
Auren: "Then I'll have to make sure I outlive your interest in me."
Wednesday raised an eyebrow.
Wednesday: "Ambitious."
Auren: "I have my moments."
For a second, Wednesday's lips almost curved into a smile.
Almost.
Auren noticed, but he didn't celebrate his victory this time. Instead, he looked at her as though that tiny, nearly invisible change in her expression was something precious.
That was much more dangerous than his flirting.
Because Wednesday had the uncomfortable suspicion that he meant every word he said.
The evening grew colder. Auren noticed her hands resting around the coffee cup and gently offered her his spare glove.
Auren: "Here. Your hands are getting cold."
Wednesday: "I can survive a little cold."
Auren: "I know. I just don't see why you should have to."
She looked at the glove.
Then at him.
Wednesday: "You understand that kindness makes people suspicious."
Auren: "Then be suspicious. I'll keep being kind anyway."
Wednesday took the glove.
She didn't thank him.
Auren didn't ask her to.
They remained on the bench until the cemetery lamps began to glow against the gathering mist.
Finally, Wednesday stood and tucked her book beneath her arm.
Wednesday: "I should return to the academy before my roommate organizes a search party."
Auren: "I'd offer to walk you back, but I suspect you'd consider that an invasion of your privacy."
Wednesday: "At last, a demonstration of intelligence."
Auren rose beside her.
Auren: "Then I'll simply say goodnight."
Wednesday began walking away, then stopped.
She turned back toward him.
Wednesday: "Auren."
He looked at her immediately.
Auren: "Yes?"
Wednesday hesitated for the briefest moment.
Wednesday: "You may bring coffee again tomorrow."
Auren's face brightened with such unmistakable happiness that she almost regretted saying it.
Almost.
Auren: "I'd love to."
Wednesday: "Don't look so delighted. It's only coffee."
Auren: "Of course. Just coffee."
His smile suggested he understood perfectly well that it meant a little more to him.
Wednesday rolled her eyes and walked away.
But this time, she didn't tell him to stop following her.
And Auren, watching her disappear into the mist, found himself smiling at the simple promise of another afternoon together.
He had crossed impossible distances and witnessed wonders beyond imagination.
Yet somehow, the thought of bringing Wednesday Addams another cup of coffee tomorrow was enough to make him look forward to the day.
End of Part 3.
