Wednesday:Shadowbound

The road stretched out like a ribbon of darkness ahead, the headlights carving twin tunnels through the night. Fester hummed a tune, something from long ago, back when he still remembered things like lyrics. Now, it was just the melody, soft and worn, like an old friend who no longer needed to speak to be understood.

His fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel, not quite matching the melody, more out of nervousness than anything else. Fester wasn't used to long stretches of quiet. Chaos had always been his domain, his comfort zone. Silence? Silence had a way of pressing in, of making him think too much, and Fester preferred action over thought any day. The road felt endless tonight, and so did his thoughts, winding and twisting like a maze he couldn't quite escape, his eyes flicked toward the passenger seat.

Adrian was slumped against the window, his breath fogging the glass in steady, uneven puffs. Asleep, but not peacefully. Even in the darkness, Fester could see the way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth twitched every now and then, like he was trapped in some dream that wouldn't let him go, Shadows played across his features, highlighting—those sharp cheekbones, the dark, unruly hair, the look that seemed older than his years. He had that same haunted look she'd had.

Fester's heart gave a small tug, that old, familiar ache creeping in like a cold draft from under a door.

"You're just like her," Fester muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, drowned out by the engine's soft growl. "Your mother... always had that look, like the world was too heavy for her, but she was too stubborn to set it down." Even when she smiled, even when she laughed—it never quite reached her eyes. "You're your mother's son, all right."

Adrian shifted in his sleep, his face catching the pale glow of the dashboard. Fester shook his head, his lips quirking into something between a grin and a grimace. The boy didn't know it yet, but the road ahead of him was long and dark, full of twists and turns he couldn't even imagine. And Fester—well, Fester wasn't much of a guide. But he could be there, at least. He could be... something.

"Sleep tight, kid," Fester said under his breath, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "You've got a long road ahead."

The moon hung low, a sliver of silver against a black sky, barely peeking through the fingers of the thick clouds that clung to the horizon. As the miles rolled by, memories stirred at the edges of Fester's mind, flickering like old film reels, their colors muted and worn by time.

//=//

Nevermore Academy, Many Years Ago

The rain came down in sheets, splashing against the stone walls of Nevermore Academy, the grand old building looming up from the storm as though it had been carved straight out of the hillside. Lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating the jagged silhouette of the school, its spires and gargoyles standing like silent sentinels watching over the strange, twisted world below, their stony faces impassive as ever.

Fester Addams bounded up the steps two at a time, his bald head gleaming even in the muted light. He was late for alchemy, again, not that it mattered—being on time had never been his strong suit, and besides, there was always something far more interesting to occupy his mind. Class could wait. Adventure, on the other hand, never did.

He skidded to a halt just outside the Alchemy classroom, catching his breath, though his grin never faltered. From inside, he could hear Professor Blackthorn's droning lecture, something about the properties of nightshade and its many uses. Fester's fingers itched. He had a firecracker in his pocket, just waiting for a reason to explode, and he was tempted to give it one.

"Planning another grand entrance?"

The voice was soft but full of amusement, and Fester turned on his heel to find Seraphine Corvus standing behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her dark hair cascaded in wild curls over her shoulders, and her skin seemed to glow in the low light, like she was made of something otherworldly. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, fixed on him with that knowing look she always had, like she could see right through him.

Fester grinned wider, pulling the firecracker out and rolling it between his fingers. "Just a little something to keep things lively," he said, his tone as light as the rain that had just begun to fall outside. "Alchemy's all well and good, but it could use a bit of… excitement."

Seraphine's lips twitched into a smile, though she tried to keep her expression stern. "You know, one of these days, Professor Blackthorn's going to turn you into something slimy. And I won't be the one to save you."

Fester's grin didn't waver. "Wouldn't be the first time. Besides, I hear the view from the floor is underrated."

She shook her head, the smile breaking through now, and Fester felt that familiar tug in his chest. It wasn't that Seraphine was the type of girl to sweep a person off his feet—she was more like a whirlwind, a storm in her own right, and being around her felt like standing on the edge of something wild and untamed. Fester thrived on that feeling, like he could do anything, break any rule, and laugh about it later.

"Come on," Seraphine said, linking her arm through his and pulling him toward the door. "Before Morticia catches us. You know she'll give us one of her famous death glares for being late. She's already convinced she runs the place."

At the mention of Morticia, Fester's grin widened. "Ah, Morticia. She's got a soft spot for me, I know it. It's all in the glare. She just doesn't want to admit it."

Seraphine rolled her eyes, but her laughter echoed in the hallway as they pushed open the door and slipped inside.

//=//

Back to present

The past month had been a blur of small, strange encounters. Fester had a knack for stumbling into situations that ranged from mildly annoying to full-blown bizarre. There was the time they'd ended up in a dive bar full of vampires who had taken an unhealthy interest in Adrian's blood. Fester had laughed it off, buying everyone a round of drinks while Adrian had to politely—and then not-so-politely—decline multiple offers for 'just a taste.'

Then there was the matter of the ghost hitchhiker, a young woman who had mysteriously appeared in the backseat one night. Fester had chatted with her like they were old friends, while Adrian kept his hand hovering near the dagger Baba Yaga had given him. The ghost had left after a few hours, apparently satisfied with Fester's stories about life and death—mostly death—and had vanished without a trace. Adrian hadn't slept much that night.

It was these strange, unpredictable moments that left Adrian wondering how much longer he could keep up with Fester. But then, somewhere deep down, he realized that maybe Fester's madness was what kept the darkness at bay. Maybe it was exactly what Adrian needed.

"You know," Fester said, his voice breaking through Adrian's thoughts again, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yeah?" Adrian's eyes stayed on the road ahead, half-expecting a pack of werewolves to emerge from the woods at any moment. After the last month, nothing seemed too far-fetched.

"You got any papers?"

Adrian blinked, turning to stare at Fester. "What?"

"Papers. You know, ID. Birth certificate. All that bureaucratic nonsense the living seem to need."

"No," Adrian replied, shaking his head. His life hadn't exactly involved much in the way of formalities. He hadn't thought about documents since his father had abandoned him after his mother's death. The organization he had worked for didn't need papers—just his ability to track and kill. "Why?"

"Well," Fester started, flashing him a wild grin, "Nevermore's not exactly a 'come as you are' kind of place. Even for us outcasts, they like to keep tabs on you. Make sure you're not too chaotic." His grin widened, as if the idea of being 'too chaotic' was impossible.

Adrian sighed. He hadn't imagined his life would ever involve school again. The idea seemed so far removed from the world he had inhabited for so long—the darkness, the killing, the endless running. "So what? I just forge some documents?"

Fester let out a bark of laughter, loud and booming. "Forge? Kid, you wound me. I was thinking about something more... legitimate." His grin softened as he leaned back in his seat. "You know, maybe stick around with me for a bit longer. Hell, I'll adopt you if that's what it takes."

Adrian's stomach twisted at the thought. Adopted? It was so far from anything he'd ever considered—being wanted, being claimed, after everything he had lost. The idea felt like some kind of distant, painful joke. But Fester wasn't laughing. He was watching Adrian with a glint in his eye, that manic energy fading just enough to let a quiet sincerity seep through.

"I'm serious," Fester said, his tone dropping into something deeper, more genuine. "We've been through a lot, you and me. And I like you, kid. You remind me of myself back in the day. Brooding, mysterious, dangerous in all the right ways."

Adrian looked away, that familiar discomfort creeping up his spine—the one that came whenever someone tried to get close. But this time, he didn't shove it away. He didn't push Fester out.

"Think about it," Fester continued, his voice light again, back to its usual playful lilt. "Just until you're 18. After that, you can disappear into whatever shadows you like."

Adrian didn't respond right away. The rain had begun to fall, a steady rhythm against the windshield, filling the car with a soft, soothing patter. His fingers traced the handle of his dagger, the familiar weight grounding him in the chaos of his thoughts. But for the first time in a long while, he felt something stir deep within him—a small flicker of hope. A pull toward something more than survival.

"I'll think about it," Adrian said quietly.

Fester's grin returned, wide and soft at the same time. "Good. Now, how about we find a place to eat? I could go for something greasy and downright sinful."

The rain started to drum on the windshield as Fester leaned forward, squinting through the fog of the night. "Ah, there's gotta be a place up ahead," he muttered, more to himself than to Adrian. His grin had faded slightly, but that twinkle of mischief never quite left his eyes. "Somewhere to refuel, maybe pick up a little trouble along the way."

Adrian, still processing Fester's unexpected offer, remained silent, his eyes flicking between the road and the dark shapes of the trees whipping past them. The silence between them was different now—not the uncomfortable quiet that Adrian usually dreaded, but something softer. A truce, of sorts. He could feel Fester's gaze on him, even if the older man didn't say anything more.

They drove in that quiet for a few more miles before the faint neon glow of a roadside diner flickered into view. The sign buzzed with a worn-out hum, casting an eerie, pale light on the cracked pavement. "The Raven's Nest," Fester read aloud, his grin returning full force. "Looks promising, doesn't it?"

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Promising how? Like it's about to collapse?"

"Exactly!" Fester chuckled as he swung the car into the parking lot, the tires kicking up small sprays of water from the puddles scattered around. "Best places are always on the verge of falling apart. You can always count on the food being real... memorable."

Adrian gave a small huff of something that might've been amusement, though he wasn't quite ready to admit it. Fester was right about one thing: the place did look like it had seen better days. The windows were fogged up, and the faint clatter of dishes and murmur of voices inside told them the place was still alive, at least in some small way.

Fester killed the engine, the sudden absence of the car's hum making the rain sound even louder. He turned to Adrian, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Come on, kid. Let's see if we can't find a little adventure over some questionable coffee."

Adrian hesitated for a beat, then nodded. He wasn't sure when it had happened—maybe during one of their many strange encounters over the past few months—but somewhere along the way, Fester's madness had become almost... comforting. Predictably unpredictable, like a storm that you knew would always bring chaos but never destruction. At least, not on purpose.

They stepped out into the rain, the cold droplets soaking through Adrian's jacket in seconds. Fester, for his part, seemed oblivious, striding toward the diner like the weather didn't exist. He pushed open the door, the small bell above it jangling to announce their arrival.

The inside of the diner was exactly what Adrian had expected. It was warm but smelled faintly of grease and burnt coffee, and the tired waitress behind the counter barely glanced up from her book as they walked in. A couple of truckers sat at the far end of the counter, talking quietly, and the radio played an old, crackling tune that felt like it had been playing there for decades.

They slid into a booth near the window, the cracked vinyl seats creaking under Fester's weight as he sprawled out with a contented sigh. "Home sweet home," he said, grabbing a menu from the table and flipping through it with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Let's see what culinary delights they've got for us tonight."

Adrian scanned the menu, though he wasn't particularly hungry. His mind was still turning over Fester's words in the car. Adoption. Staying together. It was absurd, really, but also... tempting. He hadn't felt like he belonged anywhere in a long time, not since before his mother's death. The idea of having someone who cared, someone who could be there for him, was a distant dream he'd given up on long ago. But Fester's offer wasn't the same. It wasn't some saccharine promise of family—it was raw, different, and as unpredictable as the man himself. And maybe that was why it didn't scare Adrian as much as it should have.

"What'll it be, boys?" The waitress appeared at their table, notepad in hand, her eyes tired but kind. Fester didn't even look at the menu.

"I'll take the biggest burger you've got, extra bacon, extra cheese. And a milkshake. Chocolate. No, wait—vanilla. No, make it both!" He grinned up at the waitress, who jotted it all down without blinking.

Adrian glanced up, catching the woman's eye. "Just coffee. Black."

"Sure thing," she said, heading back to the counter without another word.

Fester leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the table in a rhythm that didn't quite match the music playing on the radio. "So, kid," he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful, "you give any more thought to my offer? You and me, sticking together for a while?"

Adrian looked down at his hands, turning the idea over in his mind again. It was absurd, yes, but at the same time... what else did he have? He was tired of running, tired of the darkness that clung to him like a shadow. Maybe Fester's madness was exactly what he needed. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to have something more.

"I have," Adrian said after a long pause. His voice was low, almost swallowed up by the rain outside. "And... yeah. I'll stick around."

Fester's grin widened, that wild, manic energy returning to his eyes. "Good choice, kid. I knew you had it in you."

And for the first time in a long while, Adrian felt a flicker of something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

Hope.