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musicforastylesrestaurant · 16 days

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In The Stars.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here x

in which, harry is remembering you, his beloved wife, mother of his child, that passed away, this is him grieving, remembering the lives that the two of you shared together and will always share together, no matter the circumstances.

word count - 2.8k

warnings: mentioned of death, mentions of breast cancer.

April, 2010.

❛ Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin’ ❜

As Harry strolled down Woods Creek Road on a Sunday morning in the summer of 2010, the sun cast a warm glow over the quaint street.

His heart raced with anticipation as he made his way to meet his girlfriend, who awaited him at their usual meeting spot on the corner.

The two of you were meeting up just like the two of you did every Sunday morning before heading to church and meeting up with your families. It was a little ritual that would forever be engraved in your hearts.

You stood there, radiant in a pretty light pink summer dress, your hair elegantly styled up in a bun, giving you an air of effortless grace. Even though you were just headed to church, you always carried yourself as if you were destined for the spotlight.

As Harry approached, he couldn't help but admire how stunning you looked, a sense of pride swelling within him for being the one lucky enough to call you his own. Your eyes met, and a smile lit up your face, sending a rush of warmth through Harry's veins.

"Hey pretty girl," Harry greeted you, his voice filled with affection as he reached out to take your hand in his.

"Hey, H," you replied, your voice soft and filled with love. "You look handsome today."

Harry chuckled, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks at your compliment. "Thanks, pretty. You always look beautiful."

Together, hand in hand, you made your way to church, the sound of birds chirping and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze accompanying your steps.

As the duo walked hand in hand towards the church, he couldn't help but admire her beauty once again.

"You know it's only church that we're going," Harry teased with a playful grin, nudging her gently.

She laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the quiet street.

"I wore this dress to look good for you," she replied, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Harry's heart swelled with love for her.

"And you always do," he said earnestly, pulling her closer. "Y’could be wearing a paper bag and you'd still look pretty."

She blushed at his words, leaning into him. "You're too sweet, H."

They continued their stroll, their conversation peppered with laughter and affectionate glances,

February, 2024.

❛ Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

I'm screamin' at a God I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do ❜

In the dimly lit room, Harry lay tangled in the sheets of what used to be their shared bed. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, blocking out the world beyond, as if he hadn't felt the warmth of the sun in ages.

His once vibrant eyes were hollow, filled with a pain that seemed to consume him.

Sunday mornings had lost their luster, their meaning stripped away along with the love he had lost. He no longer had the will to rise from bed, to face a world that felt empty and devoid of purpose without her by his side.

Staring at the photo of a toddler on his bedside table, being held by his darling wife was a painful reminder of what once was, whilst the toddler slept in there room next door, you were no where to be found.

Harry felt a wave of anguish wash over him. He had buried his faith along with her, his heart screaming out to a God he no longer knew if he believed in.

Tears welled up in his eyes, his chest constricting with the weight of his sorrow. He longed for her presence, for the warmth of her touch, but she was gone, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

In the silence of the room, Harry found himself grappling with a pain so profound, he didn't know what else to do but scream into the void, hoping for some semblance of solace in a world that had turned its back on him.

Harry felt a wave of anguish wash over him. With trembling hands, he reached out and grabbed the photo of his wife, holding it close to his chest as tears streamed down his face.

"Why did y’take her?" he screamed into the empty room, his voice cracking with pain. "It should ‘ave been me!"

His cries echoed off the walls, a raw expression of the agony that consumed him. He clutched the photo tightly, as if holding onto it could somehow bring her back to him, could somehow ease the unbearable pain of her absence.

But she was gone, and Harry was left alone in a world that seemed intent on tearing him apart.

January, 2024.

❛ I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever ❜

"H," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "I want to see her grow up. I want to see her graduate, get married, have children of her own."

You were referring to your and harrys freshly turned two year old daughter Grace Anne Styles, she was everything to the two of you, with her fathers curly hair and signature green eyes, her personality was all you, kind, caring and nurturing.

The sterile scent of the hospital mingled with the faint whir of machines monitoring your vital signs, creating an atmosphere heavy with uncertainty.

Six months ago, when you were diagnosed with breast cancer, Harry had clung to hope like a lifeline, determined to fight alongside you every step of the way. But as each day passed, that hope dwindled, replaced by a gnawing fear of what the future held.

You lay in the bed, your once vibrant spirit now dimmed by the relentless assault of the disease. Cancer had robbed you of your strength, leaving you fragile and frail. Your hair, once a cascade of curls that framed your face with warmth, had been replaced by a bald scalp, a stark reminder of the battle you fought with every breath.

Even your wedding rings, symbols of the love you and Harry shared, no longer fit your slender fingers, so he wore them on a chain around his neck, keeping them close to his heart.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he reached out to take your hand in his.

"You will, pretty girl," he said softly, his voice filled with determination. "Y’going to get better, I know it."

But deep down, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his chest, the fear that he might lose you before you had the chance to see your dreams fulfilled.

So, as you drifted off to sleep, he sat by your bedside, his heart heavy with the weight of impending loss.

"I don't want to say goodbye," he whispered into the darkness, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because this one means forever."

He brushed a tear from his cheek as he watched over you, vowing to cherish every precious moment they had left together, unwilling to let go of the love that had defined their lives.

April, 2024.

❛ And now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers❜

As Harry sat in the garden with Grace nestled in his lap, the night enveloped them in its quiet embrace. The stars twinkled overhead, their distant light casting a soft glow over the garden, while the faint crackle of embers from the nearby fire pit added to the ambiance. But despite the beauty of the night, Harry couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of loneliness that washed over him.

All day little Grace had asked about seeing mummy so who was harry to deny her of that?

"Look, Daddy! Look at all the stars!" Grace exclaimed, her small finger pointing up at the shimmering sky.

Harry forced a smile, his heart heavy with the weight of your absence.

"They're beautiful, aren't they, sweet girl?" he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Yeah, but I still can't see Mommy," Grace said, her voice filled with longing. "When is she coming?"

“I’m not sure sweet girl,” Harry's heart shattered at her words, the pain of your loss echoing in his chest.

"I know you miss her, sweet girl," he said softly, pulling her closer. "I miss her too, but she’s always going to be up there isn’t she? up in the stars watching over me and you.”

"I want to see her," Grace insisted, her bottom lip trembling.

Harry's eyes welled up with tears as he looked down at his daughter, her innocent face filled with confusion and sorrow.

"I know, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "I wish I could bring her back for you."

"Why can't you, Daddy?" Grace asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

Harry's heart clenched at her words, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a lead weight.

"Because she's in the stars now, sweetheart," he explained gently, his voice trembling.

Grace's eyes filled with tears as she buried her face in Harry's chest, her small body shaking with sobs.

"I want Mommy," she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Harry held her tightly, his own tears mingling with hers as he struggled to find the words to comfort her.

"I know, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I want mommy too."

February, 2024.

❛ Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces ❜

As Harry sat in front of the photo of the two of you on your wedding day, the memories came flooding back like a tidal wave crashing over him.

The room felt empty, the silence deafening, as he clutched the half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. With Grace sleeping at his mom's house for the night, he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, it hurts so hard," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, as if afraid to disturb the stillness of the room.

He traced the outline of your face in the photo, his fingertips lingering on the curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes. The love they shared had been pure and unconditional, a bond that seemed unbreakable. But now, with you gone, Harry felt like a ship lost at sea, adrift in a vast ocean of loneliness and despair.

"You took the best of my heart," he murmured, his voice thick with tears,

And he didn’t want to admit that the rest was left in puzzle pieces.

Tears streamed down his face as he poured himself another glass of wine, the bitter taste doing little to dull the ache in his heart. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning in a sea of memories that threatened to swallow him whole.

"Why did y’have to go?" Harry whispered, his voice filled with anguish as he stared at the photo, as if willing it to provide him with answers. "We were supposed to grow old together, to watch Grace grow up, to share a lifetime of memories."

But the photo remained silent, a frozen moment in time that offered no solace, no comfort in the face of his pain. And as Harry sat alone in the darkness, he realized that no amount of wine could dull the ache of your absence, no words could bring you back to him.

"I miss you, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "More than words can say."

June, 2024.

❛ Diggin' through your old birthday letters

A crumpled 20 still in the box

I don't think that I could ever find a way to spend it

Even if it's the last 20 that I've got, oh ❜

the weight of your absence felt heavier than ever. Today was Grace's third birthday, a day meant to be filled with joy and celebration, but instead, it served as a painful reminder of the life you should have been there to share.

With trembling hands, Harry sifted through the stack of cards, each one a precious memento of the love you poured into every aspect of your daughter's life. He ran his fingers over the familiar handwriting, his heart breaking with each heartfelt message penned by your hand.

But then, something caught his eye at the bottom of the box—a crumpled £20 note. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he unfolded the worn bill, his fingers trembling as he realized its significance. It was the last £20 that you had given him, tucked away as a surprise in one of Grace's birthday cards.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he stared at the crumpled note, his heart aching with the weight of your absence. He had never been able to bring himself to spend it, holding onto it like a lifeline to the memories of the life they had shared together.

"Mommy got y’something special," Harry said softly, his voice thick with emotion, as he called Grace into the room. "This card is from her."

Grace's eyes widened with excitement as she took the card from Harry's outstretched hand, her fingers tracing the familiar handwriting.

"From Mommy?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder as Harry also handed her the crumpled £20.

"What are you going to spend the money on, sweet girl?" Harry asked gently, his voice tinged with sadness as he looked into his daughter's innocent eyes.

Grace's brows furrowed slightly as she considered her father's question. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she looked up at Harry with a determined expression.

"M’going to buy some happiness," she replied softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "So that you can be happy, Daddy."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at his daughter, her words piercing through the veil of his grief like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out to pull Grace into a tight embrace.

"Oh, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Y’already make me happier than I ever thought possible."

February, 2025.

❛ I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

And now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers ❜

The anniversary of your death was a cruel reminder of the void that now existed in his life, a void that could never be filled. He set down the bouquet of flowers he had brought, their vibrant colors stark against the somber backdrop of the cemetery.

"M’still holding on to everything that's dead and gone," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, as if afraid to disturb the silence of the graveyard.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he sat down beside your grave, the cold earth beneath him a painful reminder of the finality of death. He traced the letters of your name etched into the headstone, his fingers trembling with grief.

"And now you're in the stars, and six-feet's never felt so far," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Y’should be here, by m’side and we should be living life like we were supposed to be doing, I shouldn’t be visiting your gave, s’too unfair."

"I brought you y’favorite flowers," he said softly, his voice choked with emotion. "I hope you like them."

He paused, as if waiting for a response that would never come. The silence of the cemetery enveloped him like a shroud, amplifying the ache in his heart.

"I wish you were here," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish we could have just one more day together."

Tears streamed down Harry's face as he poured out his heart to you, his words a mix of sorrow and longing.

"Grace is growing up so fast," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "She's so much like you, y’know? Sometimes it feels like you're still here, watching over us."

He reached out to touch the cold marble of your headstone, his fingers tracing the letters of your name.

"I miss you every day," he confessed, his voice breaking with grief. "I don't know how to live without you."

As Harry spoke, memories flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had shared.

"Do y’remember our first date?" he asked softly, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I was so nervous, but you made me feel like everything was going to be okay."

He wiped away his tears, his heart heavy with the weight of your absence.

"I wish I could turn back time," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I could tell y’how much I love you one more time."

And then, with a heavy heart, Harry pressed a kiss to your grave, his lips lingering on the cold stone as if seeking solace in its unforgiving surface.

"Goodbye, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the wind.

“Until we meet again.”

92 notes · View notes

maryannecrimsworth · 1 year

Note

Version 1 of the sequel of Only Silence(without you), honestly super duper excited, THE SONG FOR THIS IS "Billie Eilish - Happier than Ever". Ive already talked about it in the reblog of OSWY but ill be putting it in summarized form instead of ramble form.

Wednesday x Singer!Reader

After that last concert in Jericho, you and your crew left without any problems and you started your preparation to move on from Wednesday with putting away that Crystal ball that the Addams Family gifted to you to be in contact with Wednesday, you touch the Crystal ball and reminisce all those talks between you two, you let out a breath that you didnt know you were holding and decided on contacting them to inform them of the break up between you two, anxiety and paranoia would strike you. You think that they will not take it well, you think they will hunt you for breaking up with Wednesday. You take a deep breath and took that leap of faith and called them and informed them of your situation (you decide their reaction, would they be understanding or will they cut you off from their lives), and you also inform them of you putting away the crystal ball and that if they need you, just give you a letter or text.

The fact that the concert was the last one of your tour, you were afraid that with nothing much to do, your head might get filled with thoughts of her, but surprisingly you were a lil inspired so you write and write, compose and compose until you are satisfied. You gave yourself a pat on the back, you have outdone yourself as you knew your song is gonna go big but your grin becomes a melancholic smile. You look up at the ceiling and clench ur fists while letting out a stuttering breath and you lay down and sleep for the night hoping that the night will wash your feelings away.

The next morning you ask your manager if you could do a live stream Q&A cuz you always liked to do fan interactions. After a few days of pleading, Your manager gave in and you gave a cheer also telling them ur inviting a famous friend. Past forward a week later, everything was prepared and all set up, you and ur friend are side by side answering questions about ur tour and life etc etc. By the end of the stream, you sneakily said that you have a song cooked up and grabbed ur instrument and started singing the song.

(NOW ITS UP TO YOU AUTHOR FOR THIS TO END CUZ LEGIT ive run out of things to type for this and do please have fun -love, Tundra)

After listening very carefully to all the songs you suggested, I chose one --- and this version practically wrote itself. I hope you like this pure sadness

Sequel(1) of Only Silence(Without You) / Sequel (2)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warning: Memories; heart-break; moving on; sad end; reader pranks the local church(no offense directed at any religion, it's just the reader's background)

Author's note: This is the Version 1(aka angsty end). There will be an Version 2(aka hurt and comfort) soon

I am alone(In The Stars)

Reason.

That was what Wednesday kept looking for: reason.

For what reason did she remain quiet? For what reason did she ignore your letters, your calls? For what reason did she choose Tyler, for what reason did she kiss him, knowing his lips would never taste like yours? Why did she ruin you, you two — her everything.

The person who never cheated, lied, or used her — you were always there for her, no matter what; bad or good, criminal or legal, and now you weren’t.

You were not by her side, and you would never be again. You were her partner, a part of her life — a part of her, and now you are missing.

Now you are gone, far away and her day feels empty. She sits on the last seat of the empty church, and her body shivers as her mind remembers you. She itches, scratches, trembles like she’s sick, like something has been violently ripped from her — like a phantom limb lingering, hurting, aching, screaming and bawling in despair, even though it is not really there. And this is what hurts: its absence, your absence. You are missing. She misses you.

And the church's quiet inside just made her notice how empty she felt without you.

Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

It was almost comical how you behaved. Every single week, every single Sunday, you would sneak into the church — under the priest’s nose, to your aunt’s disgrain — and watch the saints and symbols as if they were real deities. As if your father could be among them, singing with the choir, listening to the sermon, watching and praying like you were. Then someone would yawn, a teen would scoff, an old man would curse and you were shattered. The deities disappeared, being placed with pale, old statues, as you stood up and laughed. You laughed loudly, scornfully, wickedly and the whole church would look at you. The priest would grasp your arm as you shoot questions at him, your aunt would slap you in the face and take you out of the temple. It was your theater, your show, your little spectacle to make all the believers shiver and tremble in their feet. To make them regret rejecting you and your father — to make them remember what you have done on your first day in the city. On the day you first met her.

Your posture was as straight and confident as always: you were not older than 10, but you lifted your chin and watched the people in the funeral as if they were plebs, farseers, as if they were worms. Worms crawling up to your father’s corpse, on display in the middle of the pulpit — you despised them, you despised their hypocrisy, you despised how they pretended to care after kicking your father out of town. After expelling a man in need, a man with a newborn — you — and acting as if they were right, as if they had the right to do it.

No deity would allow this, no deity would accept believers this dissembling — no deity would allow its followers to sin like this in complete silence.

So you broke the silence — you interrupted your aunt's speech of empty, lying words — you made the statues sing and sob while the believers turned pale. The symbols and faces you always look at sang in a motionless choir — the Saints spoke and rebuked their bad testimonies, Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus scolded all the relatives you have never talked to. Your family trembled and cried, begging the heavens to stop, begging for forgiveness, promising they would be better — the priest was in despair, and screams took over the church until your laughter arose. Sitting next to Wednesday, hidden by her side, watching the chaos with her, you were witnessing your own show from outside, feeling pleasure for the despair of your family.

And before she could notice, Wednesday was laughing too. Your aunt got you before you could talk to her — but you saw her. You heard her low laugh and turned your head in an abrupt motion, and you saw her. You smiled at her while you were being dragged out of the church.

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

That was where she met you. That was where she always met you — at church, on the Sunday morning, and she would watch your show, your display of anger and revolt, and she would smirk back at you as you were being kicked out of the temple once again. In the beginning, you were testing her — you wanted to know if she was truly enjoying your spectacle. She was — and that’s why you kept doing it.

At church, then at her house; after a few months meeting at the temple, changing nothing but a few glances, you followed her home — to the haunted mansion of the city — and waited for the dusk. When the silence came and the fog arose among the gravestones of the Addams' yard, you started to sing. Your voice sounded like thunder at first, shaking the whole building with a supernatural power.

“Hello darkness, my old friend!” The singing resounded inside her room, and Wednesday jumped from her seat immediately — her eyes wandered fastly around the place, looking for the source of the song. “I've come to talk with you again.”

She opened her window and saw you standing in the middle of the garden.

You were smiling at her.

You will never sing to her again.

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

She was the only one in the church now. The funeral was over — the dead had already been buried, the priest had already spoken, the widow had already cried. The sky and nature were mourning — the whole city was quiet, grieving, reminiscing. Ever since you left, silence has taken over everything. Wednesday used to enjoy it, but now it tortured her — now, while the outside was quiet and still, her mind was disrupted by you; by your singings, by your voice, by your serenades and by your letters. By every single part of you she had lost.

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

‘Ma noirceur’. It was how you signed all your letters: to Ma noirceur. My darkness; that was how you used to call her when you were alone. In front of other people, you called her Nessie, because she was as ‘mysterious and scary’ as the Loch Ness monster — and because it fitted her. An unknown monster, hiding in the depths of water, powerful and lonely, unreachable for the cowards and ordinary — just like her: you saw how Wednesday behaved, how her blank expression was nothing but a barrer, and you smiled at it. “Lucky me” you used to say “that I’m quirky and bold!”

“You mean dumb and reckless.” She used to argue back. Then you used to laugh and kiss her.

Used to.

Just like you used to leave messages in the crystal ball she was now holding.

“My parents have no say in the matter.” Wednesday said to Thing after watching him gesticulate. “Neither do you.” She shoved him out of the bench; he fell to the ground and signed angrily to her. “Leave me alone.” She ordered, without lowering her gaze to him — without letting her watery eyes be seen.

The air in the graveyard behind the church was even heavier than before; the oxygen was thick, cold, a warning of the coming storm. The heavens were about to cry, to tear up, to paint the whole city with their melancholy and grieve — and still, they were silent. The clouds moved fastly in the sky, but there was not a sound in the air: no wind blowing, no rain dropping, no branch cracking. There was only Wednesday and you, inside her mind.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

In days like this, sad, cloudy Sundays, you would take her home after church, and stay: you would smile and make her parents laugh with your awful jokes; you would teach Pugsley some of your worst prank; you would arm-wrestle Thing, and lose every time; you would nag Lurch until he played the piano while you sang for all of them; you would woke up all the spirits of the cemetery with your voice and all the Addams would watch your performance; then you would say good night, and leave the house for a few minutes. The rain would fall, the grass would turn to mud and Wednesday would look out of her window. And she would see you there, sitting under a dry tree, waiting for her.

“You will die under this rain.” She said, stepping slowly closer to you.

“I will only die in your arms, Ma noirceur.” You reached her, and she moved like she had done so many times before: she sat by your side as your arms enfolded her tightly. “That’s better.” You whispered in her ear, your hot breath reaching her face as she turned to look at you. The water falling down on both of you froze your bodies, you were cold, trembling, soaked, and yet, somehow, your voice made her core burn; her face flamed while you smiled at her. But you were kind — you never stared at her for too long, you never laughed or talked about her blushed cheeks, you never asked her to hug you back; you simply held her as the sky collapsed above you.

You flinched every time a lighting shone on the heavens, and your hands loosened around her ever so slightly.

She never knew — and she would never know — if you did it on purpose. If moving away after embracing her so kindly was some kind of intentional torture. Because, for her, it was: her skin shivered as you distanced yourself, and she grasped you closer in a reflex. In an urge. In a need she would only show to you — only then, under the rain, when the sounds of the thunders and whispers of the winds sounded like the most beautiful choir around you. When, under her touch, you were hers, and hers alone; When you smiled while her lips found yours.

While her world spinned at the perfect pace, even though her heart was beating like never before.

You tasted cold, soaked yet sweet; natural, like dew, and her head got light once you moved slightly away.

“I love you, Wednesday Addams.” You spoke between laughs before kissing her again.

You were completely different from Tyler.

Tyler’s lips were warm, bitter, almost dry. His kiss made her stomach churn as yours torched her whole skin. He opened her eyes while you could keep her in the dark forever.

Now she missed it: she missed the darkness, she missed the rain, she missed you.

The storm wasn’t the same without you. The silence reigned without you by her side. It was torture, of the worst kind.

Then she asked herself again: for what reason?

For what reason did she make you go forever?

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

“The dead will miss you, my dearest.” Morticia sounded sad. It was disturbing to hear such a sweet, calm voice speaking like this. Like you were dead. You felt like you were — and now, you were indeed dead for the Addams. No matter how much you loved Gomez, Morticia and Pugsley, you couldn’t handle seeing them. You couldn’t bear talking and laughing with them while every single thing made you remember Wednesday — made you remember the boy she kissed while ignoring your letters. Made you remember her betrayal.

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet one last time?” Meet her. Gomez was still hoping for a reconciliation between you two. “You can always come here, you know that, mi cariño.”

“I know, sir, and I appreciate it.” Gomez frowned as you spoke. You haven't called him "sir" in years. “But I don’t think Wednesday would like it.” You tried to smile, but failed. Tears were about to fall from your eyes again. “I’m really sorry but I think…I think it’s really over.” You whispered. “Please send Pugsley my goodbye.”

You lost Wednesday. Now you lost your family too.

“We will, Y/N.”

“Adíos.”

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

“Come on, Y/N!” Your friend held your feet and dragged you across the bedroom floor. “We didn't make your manager go through hell to back off now!”

“I hate you!” You grunted from the ground, your voice muffled by your hands. “Let me suffer.” You whined. “This is what makes a good artist!”

“Exactly! Turn this into something!”

You took your hands off your face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ‘stop crying and get yourself together!’” She grabbed you by your shoulders and made you sit up. “Let’s answer the questions from the fans and then you can play your new song.” Your friend held your face, forcing you to look at her. “Please.” She pleaded. “I haven’t heard your voice in days.”

“I don’t have a new song.” You mumbled.

“You do. I know you do!” She bit her lips, shaking her head in order to not shake you. “Get. Up.”

A week. You were in your bedroom for a week now and you wrote like never before. You have already done most of your new album. There was only one song missing — the song you have been mulling inside your head over and over again, incapable of singing it. You remained in silence for days because you could not force yourself to sing it — you could not say goodbye for her, not yet.

But you had to.

“HELL YES!” Your friend cheered as you stood up. “I’ll grab your guitar!”

I'm still holdin' on

Holdin' on, holdin' on

Your phone vibrated inside your coat’s pocket. You saw the screen and frowned immediately: an unknown number.

The call was answered and you held the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Wednesday.

“I…I have to…”

You closed your eyes — a tear ran down your cheek as your breath faltered. Your whole body trembled as you struggled to remain in silence.

“Y/N?” You put the cell phone away. “Are you there?”

You ended the call.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Wednesday continued to sit alone, watching the rain fall over the cemetery while your friend returned with the camera and your guitar. She stayed silent as questions and likes popped up

on your cell phone screen. The rain mingled with her tears as your eyes finally dried.

It was over. It was over.

The last question from your fans finally made you accept it.

“Any new song?” Your friend read the question on the screen. You were already holding your guitar by the time she turned around to smile at you. “What is your answer, Y/N L/N?”

You started to sing.

It was your goodbye.

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

Left the rest in pieces

@tundra1029 @unknownvibesve @carolcunha7 @myfturn

#wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x gn reader #wednesday addams #benson boone #in the stars #wednesday x reader

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