𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ➶

𝔽𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕪-𝕊𝕚𝕩: ℂ𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕂𝕚𝕝𝕝

When Gomez was finally released from police custody, he didn't bother to stop at the boys' dorm to change out of his clothes from the Rave'N. To be fair, he practically had a wardrobe of his own stashed away in Tish's room at this point. Instead, he positively took flight like a corvid, racing to Ophelia Hall as if his life depended on it.

Four days without his lovers had been a special kind of torture, possibly the only one he didn't want to revisit. He needed to see them, touch them, kiss them... His heart blazed like a forest fire, wild and out of control.

Scaling the trellis and climbing through the window was more difficult than usual, likely due to his haste. He very nearly almost fell to his death twice. But, eventually, he made it inside...

And there they were, the two great loves of his life, tucked away in bed like crown jewels in a glass case. He stood there and just stared, awestruck, for the longest time. And, honestly? He would have stood there all night, if the prospect of joining them wasn't so tempting.

A snap and the wicks of every candle in the room burst into flames, bathing him in warm, welcoming light.

Valentina lurched up in bed, clutching the edge of the quilt in her tiny hands like a drowning woman clutching at straws. In stark contrast, Morticia rose with all the beauty and grace of a vampire rising from her coffin.

"Gomez!" They both called out, their harmonious cries like music to his ears.

His face hurt from how widely he was grinning. He dove into bed, wedging himself in between the two girls like a splinter in soft, supple flesh.

"Did you miss me?" He asked. Then, pleadingly, "Tell me you missed me!"

"Of course we missed you!" Tish cooed, pressing a hand to one of his cheeks and her lips to his other. This had been the longest that they'd been separated in... God, he couldn't remember.

Val dug into his side like a tick, burying her little face --already wet with tears-- into the crook of his neck.

"Gomez," she sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry!"

As much as he loved wiping away her tears, the question on the tip of his tongue was, "Why?"

"You-- Garrett--"

"Oh. That," he said with a laugh.

It was obvious from her dark-ringed eyes that she hadn't been getting much sleep. He and Morticia slept like babies after killing, but Valentina was built differently. She was like an overripe peach. Easy to sink your teeth into, but easily bruised as well.

"I didn't-- I didn't mean to--"

"Gomez, speak to her. Make her feel better," Tish begged him. "I keep telling her not to torture herself, that that's our job, but she won't listen to me."

So, stroking her hair, he said, "I'll let you in on a little secret, querida... Garrett Gates was always fated to die. Jealousy was going to drive him mad sooner or later, and he would have had to be put down like a rabid dog." Val's crying quieted down, likely as she imagined how Gates foamed at the mouth on the night of the Rave'N. "If you didn't kill him, Tish or I would have."

Silent and bug-eyed, she shrunk away... Just not by much. It wasn't an option. She was on the very edge of the mattress, after all.

He hooked an arm underneath her, around her waist, and pulled her in close, pressing his mouth to her widow's peak.

"You know, I never thought you would kill for us... But here we are, talking in bed together while that boy lies quiet and alone in his grave." The thought alone was damn near rapturous.

He squeezed her, tight as a vice, and she squeaked like a dog toy. A squeak was better than a hiccup, which was better than a sob.

A long moment of silence, and then...

"I have a vision for us, you know..." Morticia sighed, a Midsommer night's dream in the form of a girl. "A grand wedding, with everything you could ever wish for. You in a white dress, me in a black one, Gomez waiting for us both on the other end of an aisle."

It was a gamble, using the same phrasing to describe her prophecy as she had before they made her forget. But Tish always did like to play with her food. Valentina's face twisted in confusion, likely at the twinge of deja vu she felt in her gut, but she didn't question it any further.

Instead, she asked, "Are your visions ever wrong?" Likely the same question she'd asked Vincent at some point. Nothing changed but the answer.

"No." If Vincent's visions were nightmares, then Morticia's were dreams. But, like a lot of wishes made aloud, it was up to her to make them come true. Good thing that she always was a go-getter.

Val's fate was sealed the second Tish's prophecy of her was read. Yet she still furiously fought against it.

"Not yet, you mean," she said in the clipped tones of a teacher correcting a pupil.

"No--" Morticia said again, tone impatient. But she was interrupted before she could say more.

"How can you be so sure?" Valentina demanded, turning now into a petulant child. "It could happen."

"Mon chou... You killed for us. And Gomez took the fall for you. Walking away isn't an option anymore. We're never, ever, ever letting you go."

Gomez didn't know if it was the sharpness of Tish's voice cutting through the gentle glow of the candlelight or the reminder of her guilt, but Val began to whimper and tremble again.

He made quiet hushing sounds and used the arm tucked beneath her to bounce her a little, as if she were nothing more than a crying babe. Still, his first love had a point...

"What did you expect, mia bambina?" He whispered into her hair. "You can't just drive us to the fire and leave us there to burn."

"A lot of things need to happen between now and then, of course," Morticia added, tart as a dark cherry. "The first being us getting back together..."

To his surprise, and likely hers as well, Valentina didn't fight them on this. Not by much, at least.

"I can't promise you a fairytale wedding. I can't even promise you a steady relationship once you graduate from Nevermore. But I can offer you a shot." Then, upon witnessing the exasperated look Gomez and Tish shared, she emphasized, "A real shot! No holding back this time."

They both knew her to be a slippery devil --difficult to pin down-- by this point in time. "No promises," she repeated on loop, like a broken record, even as they were pressing her to make the biggest promise of her life: that of unholy matrimony.

Morticia's resolution was that of steel, though. In a fair fight between the two girls, one an unstoppable force and the other an immovable object, he wondered which one would win... Only Tish didn't fight fair. She fought dirty. As did he. Because of course he was on her team. Her wants were his needs.

Come hell or high water, the three of them would be standing at that altar.