Their house is a museum

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝔾𝕆𝕄𝔼ℤ'𝕊 sudden exclamation startled everyone, causing them to turn their attention toward the door. With a rush of excitement, Thing hurried to open it, revealing the unexpected arrival of Gordan, masquerading as Fester. As he stepped inside, Gomez's face lit up with joy. "He's at the door!" Gomez exclaimed with delight. Thing's eager actions were met with anticipation from the assembled group as they watched Gordan, now appearing as Fester, enter the room. Gomez's smile widened as he whispered the name, "Fester."

Approaching his long-lost brother, Gomez gazed at him for a moment before pulling him into a heartfelt embrace. He pressed a kiss to Fester's cheek, expressing his affection before wrapping him in another tight hug. Mrs. Craven, wearing a smile, approached the group, her presence met with mixed reactions.

Lilith's eyes briefly flickered toward Mrs. Craven before she lowered her gaze to her feet, a subtle gesture of discomfort. Instinctively, she gripped tightly on Wednesday's hand for reassurance. Sensing her tension, Wednesday glanced at her in confusion, only to notice her slight trembling.

As Lilith moved her hair behind her ear, Wednesday's gaze fell upon a bruise on her cheekbone. Anger flared within him as he directed a sharp glare toward Mrs. Craven, his instincts telling him that she was somehow responsible for Lilith's distress. Squeezing Lilith's hand in a silent gesture of support, he vowed to protect her from any further harm. Meanwhile, Mrs. Craven introduced herself with a smile, adopting a refined accent. "Good evening. I am Dr. Pinder-Schloss," she announced, her tone pleasant despite the tension in the room. The Addams family and their guests regarded her with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion, while Wednesday continued to glare at her, his distrust evident.

In the cozy living room of the Addams mansion, Dr. Pinder-Schloss settled comfortably onto one of the couches, facing Gomez and Morticia, who occupied the other across from her. Wednesday opted to sit on the floor, with Lilith nestled beside him, her hand still securely held in his. Despite his confusion over the protective urge he felt toward her, Wednesday remained steadfast in his silent commitment to shield her from harm.

As the atmosphere hung heavy with anticipation, Dr. Pinder-Schloss began to recount the astonishing tale of Fester's discovery. Her voice was filled with drama and excitement as she described the harrowing ordeal: "He was found in Miami, tangled in a tuna net. It was just last month during the Hurricane Helga. The sky, it was black like pitch. The waves, they were walls of doom. Can you imagine? They drag him from the ocean, from the very jaws of oblivion."

She paused for effect, emphasizing the gravity of the situation before continuing. "I'm telling you. There were tests, so many tests! A complete psychological profile. At long last, the Florida Department of the Fish and the Game, they say, 'Lo and behold, oh, my, oh, my, oh, my, go tell it on the mountains, he is your brother.'" Gomez, deeply moved by the news, held his wife's hands tightly as he leaned his head against her shoulder, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But before he could succumb to tears, Dr. Pinder-Schloss's tone shifted, injecting a note of exuberance into her narrative." Boom! They give him to me at Human Services, and I am bringing him, after all these years, after who knows what heartache, after the naked and the dead. I am bringing him home to you!"

Margaret, however, seemed less than convinced by the tale. "That's preposterous," she exclaimed incredulously, her skepticism evident. Tully attempted to interject, his voice calm but hesitant, "Margaret..." But he was swiftly silenced by Margaret's dismissive retort, "Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?"

"It certainly is," Gomez affirmed with a warm smile, his eyes shimmering with joy as he addressed Fester. With a sense of completeness, he stood up and approached his long-lost brother. "Now you're back."

Tully chimed in, his tone jovial. "Yes, back. Back to share your joys, your sorrows. Hey, everything." Gomez draped his arm around Fester, expressing his happiness at their reunion.

Margaret's uncertainty lingered in the air. "Well, I just don't know," she admitted, her doubts evident. Tully, ever the jester, seized the opportunity to inject some levity into the moment. "Honey, how does this work, again?" he asked, holding up the finger trap. Margaret scoffed, brushing off his jest. "An infant would understand," she retorted, demonstrating how to use the finger trap, only to find herself caught in its grasp. Grandmama's laughter filled the room as Morticia spoke, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing. "Fester Addams, home at long last."

Fester's words, however, hinted at an impending departure. "Well, at least for a week," he confessed, prompting Morticia's surprised inquiry. "A week?"

Gomez, refusing to entertain the idea of Fester leaving again, interjected firmly. "Don't be ridiculous. You're home." But Fester remained resolute. "Sorry, but I have to get back. I've got a lot of things cooking in the Bermuda Triangle."

Morticia's eyes sparkled with intrigue at the mention of the enigmatic location. "Oh, Gomez. The Bermuda Triangle," she murmured, her voice laced with passion. Gomez, equally enthralled, approached her, echoing her sentiment. "The Devil's Island," he added, his affection evident as he took her hands in his. As they shared a tender moment, Morticia turned to Dr. Pinder-Schloss with a knowing smile. "Second honeymoon," she declared, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. Meanwhile, Pugsley, ever the curious one, was engrossed in burning the lock of Fester's suitcase, perhaps harbouring secrets yet to be revealed.

"Dr. Pinder-Schloss, will you be staying with us, too?" Morticia inquired, her voice soft yet curious. The doctor shook her head gently in response. "No, no. I must be going. But I will be back, you can bet, to be checking on Fester's adjustments. I was wondering maybe this young lady could stay here," she suggested, gesturing towards Lilith.

Tully chimed in with agreement. "A terrific idea."

A sudden noise diverted their attention, revealing Pugsley with a blunt bear trap latched onto his arm.. "Cool," he remarked. Concerned about imposing, Lilith hesitated, but Morticia quickly dismissed her worries. "Nonsense, you will not be a burden, my dear," she insisted warmly, her gaze conveying genuine care. Turning to the doctor and Tully, she continued, "We have rather enjoyed her company with us. It will also be nice to have someone here that is around Wednesday and Pugsley's age, to have a friend."

Gomez, ever the enthusiast, joined in with a proposal. "Do you do some fencing?" he asked Lilith, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Lilith nodded, her interest piqued. "A little, but I'd like to learn."

Gomez's enthusiasm was palpable. "Then it is settled," he declared with a slap of his knee. However, Wednesday interjected with a solemn warning directed at Fester. "Nobody gets out of the Bermuda Triangle. Not even for a vacation. Everyone knows that." Dr. Pinder-Schloss seized the moment to impart some cryptic wisdom. "Oh, my little bundle. So much you don't understand. The human spirit, it is a hard thing to kill." Her words carried a weight that unsettled Wednesday.

Grandmama, ever the one to add a touch of dark humour, chimed in, "Even with a chainsaw."

🥀

After the guest left, Wednesday led Lilith to the room she will be staying at and this time they were not holding hands, as Wednesday opened the door revealing the guest room, the air seems to hang heavy with a sense of stillness, as if time itself has slowed within these walls. The room is dimly lit, the only source of light filtering through the heavy curtains drawn tightly over the windows, casting a subdued glow across the space. Shadows dance along the walls, playing tricks on the eyes and adding to the eerie ambiance.

The furniture, though once elegant, now bears the weight of neglect. A grand wooden dresser stands against one wall, its surface marred by fine layers of dust, and its ornate handles dulled with age. A vanity mirror atop the dresser reflects a distorted image, as if reluctant to reveal the truth of its tarnished state. A small-sized bed dominates the centre of the room, its once plush mattress now sagging slightly beneath a thin layer of faded linens. The headboard, intricately carved with floral motifs, has accumulated a film of dust, lending it an air of forgotten grandeur.

In the corner, an antique armchair sits, its velvet upholstery faded and threadbare in places. A small side table nearby bears evidence of past occupants—a forgotten novel with yellowed pages, a half-empty glass of water, and a vase of wilted flowers, their petals drooping in resignation.

Despite the dimness and the dust that coats every surface, there's a certain charm to the room—a whisper of nostalgia that hangs in the air, inviting contemplation and reflection. It's a space frozen in time, waiting patiently for someone to breathe life back into its quiet corners and forgotten memories.

Lilith entered the room, her grip firm on the suitcase as she surveyed her surroundings. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting Wednesday's gaze momentarily before his hair veiled his eyes. "Thank you for the room, it's nice," she offered, her voice gentle in the dim light.

Wednesday nodded in acknowledgment; his expression inscrutable beneath the shadow of his hair. As he moved to close the door, Lilith interjected softly, "Goodnight." Her smile lingered as his eyes briefly met hers before the door sealed shut with a quiet finality, leaving her alone in the quiet room. In his own chamber, Wednesday sank onto the edge of his bed, the memory of Lilith's touch lingering on his skin. He scrutinized his hand, his thoughts spiralling into a whirlwind of confusion. "Why am I like this? Am I getting sick?" he mused silently, his brow furrowing with uncertainty.

Her laughter, her voice, her presence—it stirred something unfamiliar within him, something he couldn't quite grasp. "Why do I want to hold her hand? Protect her?" Wednesday pondered, his gaze drifting to the tempest raging outside his window. "Am I... why do I feel this way? The storm raged on, mirroring the turmoil within Wednesday's mind as he wrestled with his emotions. Suddenly, a piercing scream, which belonged to Fester, shattered the silence, jerking him from his reverie. With a heavy sigh, Wednesday resigned himself to the restless embrace of sleep, the unanswered questions lingering in the air like ghosts haunting his thoughts.

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMister707

Am I the only one who still spells Wednesday well breaking up the words in my head, Wed-nes-day? <3