Superstition is a powerful thing- as are curses. As someone who seems to be an animated meat sack of both bad luck and danger, Y/N believed in curses and was extremely superstitious. It appeared that whoever got too close to him, would come within an inch of their life or worse.
When he was born, his mother held him with love in her eyes- until a dodgy light fixture in the ceiling exploded due to an electric overload, glass shattered everywhere, especially in his mother's jugular. Y/N was fine though. A few weeks later, his father drove him to the ER with a bad case of a common cold- on the way there a faulty telephone pole blew over in the wind, crushing the driver's side of the car, and his father. He stood no chance. Y/N made a full recovery from his cold and shockingly sustained no injuries, not a single scratch. At the age of three, foster parent finally took Y/N and his older sister in after many grew superstitious of the boy, however the family wasn't a happy one for more than a few days as the house seemingly combusted into furious flames and with no apparent cause- taking the lives of his foster parents and nearly killing his sister- who after the number of tragic events, soon refused to even be in a one hundred metre radius of her own brother, believing he had been cursed. Though, as the theme followed, Y/N was in perfect condition- not one hair singed, no smoke in his lungs. Life became a forsaken longing for Y/N as anyone who even knew about him, feared to utter his name- in terror that they might be his next victim.
From what Y/N had managed to learn about his family- his original family, they were normal people with normal jobs. They were not psychic beings or vampires or any other type of creature, but just normal human beings who had the misfortune of making a terribly tragic and unlucky child.
It wasn't until he reached the age of 16 that Nevermore Academy took an interest in him- though a cautious one at that. They believed he had a special talent- a dark talent, but a special one. Those who had seen his continuous records of chaos and death believed he had the odd psychic ability of controlling the odds of a situation- although apparently only in a negative light. However, that did leave an gaping question as to how he gained such abilities if his mother and father were just regular people- although, there were rumors that his mother was something of a... harlot.
During his first days in Nevermore, his roommate was driven to insanity and tried to throw himself out of their third storey window. Many of those who he went to classes with were attacked by wild spores and falling ceiling tiles. The days grew into weeks, and weeks into months, Nevermore became a lonely place for Y/N, as once again the people around him grew distant. Everyone stayed away, apart from one small, raven haired student named Wednesday Addams.
Like everyone else, Wednesday had her fair share of near death experience around Y/N, from loose, poorly stored sabres nearly falling on her to very nearly being struck by lightning. But she wasn't to be deterred- besides, she had no interest in superstition or curses. She even made an effort to sit as close to him as she could to prove that he was not cursed with bad luck, but rather just misfortunate- after all, she hadn't died yet.
Wednesday would visit him in his now vacant dorm room, and just sit with him. She would record how many 'out of the ordinary' things would happen in the time they spent together, before comparing the results to the day before. Much to Wednesday's surprised, the results seemed to be becoming more severe- and got more severe the closer she got to him. It was exhilarating.
"Why won't you just leave me alone? Your only going to get hurt." Y/N asked tiredly as he shuffled his desk chair away from his bed where Wednesday sat. Wednesday had just rested her arm in her lap and snapped her pen in two. the plastic scrapped up her forearm. Y/N noticed she didn't even flinch.
"Your loneliness is pitiful, Y/N. It's hard- even for me to endure." She answered coldly, wiping her thumb across the small, light cut that ran up her left forearm. She looked at her pen which had seemingly snapped, the two ends appearing very sharp and lightly littered with blood. She then moved her eyes to thumb which was now also coated in warm, crimson blood. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and it came back out clean. Y/N grimaced. "You also make for very interesting entertainment." She added, not bothering to consider the effect her words might have.
His shoulders slouched as his head dropped. "Really- so I am just a means for enjoyment for you?" He question. A little slither of him hoped his question would guilt her into giving him the answer he wanted. Or that perhaps for once in his life he would get lucky and give him an ulterior motive as to why she really spent so much time with him.
While his head had dropped, Wednesday did seem to be hit with a wall of guilt. She wasn't just using him for research- he meant more to her than that. She found him interesting, he'd experienced so much death and destruction and despair- it was enough to make Wednesday flustered. However, she couldn't let her desires get in her way, she still had to figure out what made Y/N so misfortunate, so she put her façade on again. "Yes." She answered, again her voice was cold and unwavering. She had her theories to the case- and they weren't aligned with the teachers who believed he had control over odds. No, she believed Y/N was telekinetic, his powers were just very attuned to his emotions, hence the reason she could not stop pestering him. It was the only explanation.
The bed beneath her shifted a few inches. "You don't have to be so... rude." Y/N complained timidly.
"Trust me, I am just being straight forward with you." Wednesday pushed, tilting her head as she observed him. Even though his head had dropped, she could still make out the expression on her face- one of hurt and disappointment. "You shouldn't take everything to heart." She continued. "You're afraid. I know. Not of me but of yourself, right?" The question was near rhetorical. She already knew the answer.
The bed shifted another inch as he nodded. He bit onto his lip as his leg bounced up and down, nerves getting the better of him as he tried to calm himself.
"You are scared that anyone who gets too close to you will get hurt- have you ever considered that your subconscious mind is making these things happen?" She interrogated. "That maybe your fears come to fruition because you subconsciously act on anxious possibilities?"
When Y/N lifted his head, his features moved from disheartened to perplexed. He shook his head.
"When you were born, I imagine you were in pain and wailing. You accidently acted out of these feelings and caused the death of your mother." She explained before pausing. She observed Y/N as he shook his head, closing his eyes tight. "When your father passed, your little baby brain probably felt shunted by a disgruntled father due to the recent passing of your mother- because of this you acted out in a tantrum, killing him." She continued, despite Y/N's growingly uncomfortably demeanour. "When you were adopted, I am guessing that you felt as though you were in a foreign environment and felt very uncomfortable- causing a fire in their house, likely by knocking something onto the stove. Then of course you felt abandoned by your sister as even she grew fearful of you-"
"Stop." Y/N uttered, cutting Wednesday off. "I haven't killed anybody." He told her- and moreso told himself.
"Really? Then why is my own switchblade pressed up against my throat?" She questioned.
His eyes shot open- she was right. A knife levitated right against her cool smooth skin. His eyelids widened at the sight and the knife quickly dropped to the floor with a clang. "I-"
"It's alright." Wednesday assured him, a slight pull at the corners of her darkened lips. "It was actually quite rousing." She added.
"You should leave." Y/N blurted. His hands were unsteady with nerves and panic. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Wednesday - it might have sounded cliché but she was all he had left. The only person he could trust and he needed her to be safe. If what she theorised was true, there was no way he could trust himself to be around her.
"I won't." She responded coldly. "I suggest you pull yourself together before you end up alone for the rest of your life."
"There's no need to be so harsh-"
"I am not being harsh. Rather I am showing you the unfortunate truth of what your future might hold should you not overcome your anxieties." She shot back. She bent down to pick up her blade, slowing it and slipping it into the side of her boot. "I am going to train you. I am going to set up some social situations for you to deal with. For every interaction you leave without harming anyone, you will get a reward."
"Positive reinforcement- like a dog?" He whined, his shoulders slouching.
"Yes. Like a dog." She confirmed, bluntly as she got to her feet. "Starting with this one."
"Wait. We're starting right now?" Y/N asked, worry on his features. He wasn't sure of what she might come up with for his 'social situation'- and worse yet, he feared what kind of reward she would think up. Knowing her it would be something like grave digging or dissecting a cute little puppy. She shivered at the thought.
"Yes, now stand up." Wednesday demanded, approaching Y/N and stopping a foot or so before him.
He swallowed hard and drew a shaky breath. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling began to sway, sounding a metallic scrapping.
The sound caught the girls attention. "Take a few breaths. Deep ones. Like you're about to hold your breath to dive into the sea."
He nodded and did as she said. With each breath, he became a little less nervous as the prickly burning heat across his chest began to lessen. "Okay..." He said quietly. He stood up and nodded his head. "What now?"
Wednesday didn't give an answer, rather she reached out to one of his hands that remained hanging either side of him. She took it in her own.
Y/N realised how touch deprived he was. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched him- and her hand was unbelievably cold. The sensation made his spine tingle.
She kept her eyes on him. "Close your eyes." She told him, her voice changing from demanding and cold to rather warm.
The chandelier swung once more- his desk shifted across the wood floor a few inches and so did his chair. Still, he did as he was instructed, letting his eyes close.
Wednesday reached up with both of her hands, cupping the sides of his face. His cheeks were warm- and growing warmer while she noticed the blush forming on his cheeks. The chandelier stopped swaying but rather poised itself in Wednesday's direction- only the wiring kept it secured to the ceiling. His desk slid a few feet towards them both, as did the bed behind her. She ignored them. She pushed herself onto the tips of her toes, pulling his head down to meet her half way.
The chandelier pulled harder as it came loose- the furniture picked up and began levitating off of the rough ground. It seemed at first that they would all make impact with them, but at the last second, the direction diverted as instead the objects came to encompass and fence them both in- like she was in the eye of a tornado. The longer she lingered on her next movement, the more objects that got sucked in, ranging from loose notebooks to pens to decorations.
Wednesday shook off the fear that had grown in the pits of her stomach and let her eyes close. Warmth blossomed in Y/N's chest, sparks igniting as Wednesday leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time. The smell of his cologne, of the soft, woody-green scent was near dizzying as it entered her lungs, hornets nesting in her stomach. But warmth consumed her as he leaned into the kiss.
His hands planted down on the hooks of her hips pulling her closet in. Her lips felt soft, near silk against his. All feeling of anxiety left his body- like a parasite leaving it's host's body. The objects swirling around them fell to the ground one by one, some heavier than others.
She pulled away but kept her eyes closed. She had the need to do that for a while. She rested her forehead against his while they both caught their breaths.
They stayed like that for a few moments before he lifted his head up and looked at the mess around them. His eyes went wide at the state of his room- his desk flipped and blocking the doorway, his bed halfway into his bathroom, countless pages from his notebooks torn out and scattered. But most importantly, Wednesday was untouched.
When he looked back down, he found Wednesday admiring the mess he had made. She seemed to take enjoyment out of the chaos he could unknowingly cause.
"Good." She spoke, monotone as ever. "Well done."
"What is my reward?" He asked curiously.
She raised a brow. "That was your reward." She answered.
A slight smirk grew on his face. "So does that mean it will be my reward every time you set something up?"
"So long as no one dies, there is a high possibility." She answered, smirking back.
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