𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ➶

𝕋𝕖𝕟: 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣

Over the course of the rest of the week, Valentina felt like an insect under a magnifying glass or a frog beneath a scalpel. Her every word and action was taken note of, cataloged.

Why, do you ask? Morticia and Gomez were trying to woo her, pick the lock to her heart seeing as she hadn't yet given them the key.

It started with a series of pieces of paper. They seemed to just magically appear in her most frequented places. She found them tucked in among her pillows, stowed away in her desks, bookmarking her favorite novel. They never addressed her by name, itself referring to her by pet names: mon chou, cariño, valentine.

Creepier than their frequency was their contents.

Some were love letters that read as borderline threatening. One fantasized about how, someday, the three of them would be buried in the Addams Family Cemetery, side by side, six feet under, in matching coffins, their lifeless bodies rotting together for all eternity.

Valentina learned quickly not to read these letters before bed. When she did, they often gave her nightmares.

She much preferred the photographs and drawings they sent, although those weren't altogether innocent either. It was strange to receive photos of herself that she never remembered being taken. Then there was the stretch book left on her bed, which contained nothing but pencil illustrations of her with different poses and expressions.

These were not the only gifts she received, either.

A bouquet of black roses with the biggest and sharpest thorns she'd ever seen, a box of cocoa beetles exported from Zanzibar, an evil eye made of yellow gold and diamonds and a blue moonstone, a stuffed and mounted Luzon bleeding-heart marked, "Do not eat."

The only remotely normal love language that Gomez and Morticia expressed was acts of service.

They offered to help her with her homework, encouraged her to sign up for the same extracurriculars as them. Morticia was captain of the fencing team, naturally. It turned out that Gomez was part of the photography club. Her plan was to join Nevermore's archery group, however, allowing her to dodge them both, spend some time with others.

These gifts and grand gestures were not to be taken lightly. No, instead, Valentina was wracking up a debt that she couldn't even begin to repay. And they wouldn't accept money, either. Rather, they wanted quality time and physical touch.

Time alone was the one gift she desperately wanted, but it was the only gift that the pair refused to give her. They wanted to be attached at the hip, like Siamese triplets. Even if they were separated for just five minutes, each would wax demented poetry about their yearning hearts as soon as they reunited.

Gomez was always in her personal space, no matter how she tried to distance herself. He was always watching, waiting for the opportunity to crowd her close for an embrace. She usually hopped, skipped, or jumped away and out of reach. It was a weird sort of dance they performed almost every day.

She let Morticia get away with more, seeing as she never attempted to murder her. It felt like, whenever they hung out, the older girl was always touching her. She would rub soothing circles into her back, lean her forehead on her shoulder, or tuck her head under her chin.

They hugged, they held hands, but they did not kiss. Valentina wasn't remotely ready for that.

But the constant declarations of love, the romantic endearments, the eccentric gifts... It was all too much! She appreciated their efforts but would appreciate them toning it down a little bit even more... But she didn't want to be mean, though.

They never asked her if she loved them. She never knew why. Were they self-assured she did or did they know in their heart of hearts that she didn't?

She wanted to love them. Really, she did! That would make all of this so much easier. She admired them, to be sure. She was attracted to them, yes. But love? Love was tricky.

She wished she could just apply her love magic to herself, but she was immune. It was one of the perks of being Cupid's envoy.

"So this is where you've been hiding," a voice asked. It was deep, masculine, familiar. But it didn't belong to Gomez, thankfully.

Valentina looked guiltily up from her hidden little nook and saw Deuce peering down at her. There was no judgment or disapproval apparent on his face, at least. He nudged her leg with the toe of one of his Oxfords. Once she made room for him, he sat down right next to her.

"Gomez says that, if you keep this up, they're gonna have to get you a collar. Preferably one with a bell," he teased.

"You're joking."

"I wish I was. Hell, I wish he was." Her horror must have shown on her face, because he laughed. His mirth quickly died, though. Looking down at the ground between his feet rather than at her, he said, "Listen... There aren't any hard feelings between us, are there?"

"Why do you ask? Because you stood me up?" Valentina congratulated herself on how even and firm she kept her tone.

"I'll be honest with you... The date was a farce from the start," Deuce sighed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "You see, Gomez is my buddy, my pal. He wanted to meet with you alone, didn't think you'd agree to it, so he had me arrange something."

"Did you know why he wanted to meet me?" She knew why. She just wanted to know if he knew.

"He thought you were the one who hurt Tish? I mean, I knew you weren't. But he can be like a dog with a bone sometimes. Snaps at anyone who tries to take it away."

"What do you think would have happened if I was?"

"I don't know... I don't know. But it all worked out, didn't it? You're okay."

"I'm not okay. You tricked me!" Her voice was shrill --accusatory-- even to her own ears. "I thought... I thought you liked me. I thought you were different," she whispered afterward. She shouldn't have. She had no good reason to. Foolish girl.

Then Valentina started to cry, quickly hid her face in her hands so he wouldn't see how her eyes swelled and her complexion got all splotchy-red.

"I'm sorry! I am so sorry. I didn't know-- I didn't think--" Deuce stammered and stuttered, not knowing how to handle this weeping girl.

Once he stopped panicking, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. As desperate for comfort as she was, she allowed it.

She didn't know how long she spent crying. She hadn't had a good cry in forever, though, so she felt it was time. You could only bottle up your negative emotions for so long.

Once her sobs had dissolved into sniffles, he handed her a handkerchief that she guessed he was probably using as a pocket square. She blew her nose into it without hesitation. It was better than walking around with a face full of snot.

"How can I make it up to you?" The questions came out as plead.

"There's a dance coming up, right?" She asked in turn.

Deuce nodded, but with a confused expression. "Yeah, the Rave'N. I think this year's theme is masquerade ball. The party committee even decided to go with a string quartet as opposed to a DJ. Can't wait to see how that goes down..."

"I want... A dress. Not just any dress! My dream dress. I don't know what it is yet, but I know it's out there and I know I probably can't afford it."

"I see where this is going. You want me to buy your dress for the Rave'N?" Valentina bit her lip, suddenly feeling very shy, but eventually nodded. "And then it's all water under the bridge?" Another nod. He appeared to think it over for a minute before saying, "Alright... Deal."