Hello! It's been a while.

Thank you to all of you who are still sticking with this story despite my infrequent updates, I can't even tell you how much I appreciate it. ❤️

This is not an easy story to write, I gotta admit, I really do struggle with it a lot so thank you for all your support and encouragement, it really helps me to get motivated and push through.

Be forewarned, this chapter is plain angst. Just plain angsty angst, so if you don't feel like you're in the best frame of mind for it, please skip it or read it some other time.

However, if you love reading about your fav characters going through emotional pain - I say take a seat and dive straight in.


Chapter 14

It was not happening.

It was not happening.

It was not fucking happening. Not to her.

"Shit," Ophelia swore out loud when she dropped her car keys on the icy ground for the second time. She was so angry her hands shook.

How dared he?

Another woman. Her mind refused to even comprehend such thought - what he was telling her, the sheer insolent audacity of it. She wasn't stupid, she knew how men worked, monogamy just wasn't in their DNA, simple as that, and Gomez wasn't any different. Everyone was aware of his reputation, but at least he could have an ounce of decency to be discreet. They were barely married, for fuck's sake, and he was telling her - telling her! in her face, that there was another woman. Another. Woman. And not even some quick and easy fuck he'd picked up at one of the seedy bars she knew he used to frequent with that idiot cousin of his. He had the audacity to tell her he wanted to leave her. Her. Leave her to go fuck around with some shameless whore. After her dead body, he was insane if he thought, even for a second that they were getting a divorce.

Divorce. Such an idea never even crossed her mind, she would not bear such humiliation. She could only imagine, the smug faces when people found out, no - absolutely out of the fucking question. She would never agree to this. What a bastard. Who did he think he was? Who the fuck did he think he was to humiliate her like this?

"Ophelia, wait!"

She didn't even turn towards him, trying to open the damn car but her hands just shook too much. Fuck it, and fuck him too.

"I think I've told you to get the hell away from me," she barked, and huffed in relief when she finally managed to get the key inside.

"I'm not going to let you drive," he insisted, catching up with her. "You're too upset, you can get into an accident -"

"Oh, fuck off, what the fuck do you care -, " she shouted, opening the car and shoved her gym bag onto the passenger seat.

"I care," he retorted, curling his fingers around her arm and turned her towards him, swallowing heavily. "I care."

"You don't care, Gomez," she seethed, shoving his hand away in a violent manner. "All you care about is yourself. If you cared about anyone but yourself you wouldn't be fucking some shameless whore behind my back," she hissed.

"She's not a whore," he replied immediately, almost instinctively.

Ophelia exhaled sharply and looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you actually going to stand here and defend her?" She asked incredulously." A woman who's fucking a married man, what does that make of her? I tell you what, she's a whore. A. Whore. And so are you."

She watched him swallow heavily and shift on his feet uncomfortably, and then his face twisted as he looked at her in what only could be an expression of pity.

Pity. The wave of anger surged through her so violently that her heart seemed to still against it and she had to place her hand on the open car doors to steady herself.

Pity. He dared to show her pity.

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to rip his throat open.

How dared he tell her these awful, humiliating things and then had the audacity to feel sorry for her?

Bastard.

Stupid, immature fuck-boy. Standing here before her and dared to defend some harlot that went after a married man. God, she wished she could -

"Who is she?" She asked suddenly."Tell me who is the slut that opened her legs for you so I can rip her heart out and get it over with."

She was certain he looked even more uncomfortable than a few seconds ago if that's even possible. His gaze on her was pained and soft and she had to restrain herself not to hit him.

"I didn't plan it," he said instead, in a hurried shaky breath."I never wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry - more sorry than I can ever express. It just happened. I never planned to fall in love with her, it - "

She blinked, utterly taken aback. In love? Did he really just say that?

"What do you mean you're…," she exhaled sharply, letting out a mirthless, disdained laugh."Are you insane?"

"We didn't plan this, I swear - "

"We?" She echoed in disbelief. "Who's we ? Who the fuck is she?"

"Ophelia, please -"

"Tell me who the fuck is she, for once behave like a man and stop lying to me," she shouted and expected him - wanted him to deflect, make some pathetic excuses, or apologise but he didn't.

He looked at her with such startling vulnerability and determination it seemed to momentarily rob her of any ability to react.

"Morticia."

The name fell from his lips so naturally that for a second she failed to register it. She couldn't register it because it was so impossible. This name didn't belong to his lips, it didn't make sense, she must have misheard it.

It couldn't be happening.

It was impossible. Absurd. Almost laughable. And so unexpectedly honest she immediately knew that he was telling the truth. Good God, this was not happening.

No. No, no ,no, no -

She could feel the blood drain from her face and she felt momentarily dizzy. Of all the people, on this entire planet… she never expected - even for a split second - oh God -

She couldn't help then but let out a mirthless laugh.

"No," she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper."I don't believe it, you… you must be fucking kidding me… she's my sister , for God's sake, what are you saying - "

He looked at her with that unbearable, insolent pity again. His gaze was soft and apologetic but there was steel resolve being his words that she found the most just as insufferable.

"I'm in love…with Morticia."

She hit him then.

Her palm connected with his cheek sharply, leaving a red, angry mark across the olive skin of his cheek, her heart was hammering in her chest so hard she could feel the blood pounding in her ears.

She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"You bastard," she hissed lowly and hit him again, her fist square on his chest, so hard he was forced to take a step back."You… son of a bitch - not her, everyone but not her -"

She hit him again and again, her hands curled into tight fists, her knuckles white with rage and humiliation and the impossibility of what he was telling her. Anyone, anyone but not her…

Her hands were curled in such tight fists they started to hurt but she wanted to keep hitting him. She wanted to hit him until it hurt, until he took it all back. Until this whole damn thing never happened. She wished that damn, husband-stealing whore never existed, that they never met.

"I wish she were dead," she told him in a painful whisper and the words seemed to startle him. She thought he looked suddenly horrified and afeared, as if the mere thought was to him unbearable.

What a bastard.

What a shameless son-of-a-bitch.

"Don't say that," he breathed out, almost pleadingly and she could barely stand it. "It's not her fault."

"Oh, give me a fucking break," she snapped, pushing against him again, her rage almost inexplicable." You know nothing about her, you stupid bastard - nothing . I wish she were dead ."

"Stop it," he said, sharper this time." Stop saying it - "

It was a horrible thing to wish for but she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to cause him pain and it was the truth. She wished, not for the first time, that this whole thing never happened - that Morticia herself never happened.

"I wish she were dead, I wish she never existed," She echoed menacingly. "I wished she'd died together with that whore of her mother."


"You don't seem surprised," Eudora pointed out gently after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

There was an array of emotions crossing Patricia Frump's face, anything from disappointment and regret to dull anger but the look of surprise at the news of Morticia and Gomez having an affair was simply not there.

"Did he tell you?" Patricia asked instead. "Did he actually admit to having an affair with her?"

"He didn't tell me."

She watched the older woman tense before regarding her with a somewhat angry look.

"I assume you're not making an accusation out of thin air," she pointed out gravely."Because these are very serious accusations."

Eudora shook her head, letting out a tired sigh and reached for her glass, taking a dainty sip of her Chardonnay before looking back at the angry-looking Frump matriarch.

"I wouldn't ask you to come to meet me for a round of gossips, Patricia," she said, keeping her tone soft." He - Gomez admitted there's someone - Harald…," she paused and pressed her fingertips to her forehead." Harald confronted him, and he - he admitted there's another woman and - " she sighed heavily.

"And what makes you think this woman is Morticia?" Patricia interjected, rubbing her fingers together in an apprehensive manner.

"I saw lipstick's stain, on his collar - " she paused, taken aback when Patricia tilted her head and let out a small, derisive chuckle.

"Could be anybody's," she told her." Your son is not exactly known for his fidelity, now is he?"

"I wouldn't have come to you with it if I wasn't certain that it's her," Eudora shook her head, her tone firm, almost startlingly confident.

The older woman before her didn't reply, pressing her lips into a thin line before closing her eye briefly, as if processing the information.

"I knew quitting smoking was a bad idea," Patricia murmured mirthlessly. "I could use a cigarette."

The Addams matriarch reached absently to her purse, extracting an ornamented cigarette holder before sliding it across the table, towards the older lady, followed by the lighter.

Patricia managed a half-amused smirk, reaching for the cigarette.

"I hope we're not in the non-smoking area," she muttered, already placing a thin cigarette in between her pink lipstick-coated lips.

"In this place, there's no such thing," Eudora retorted, watching Patricia take the first drag and let out a satisfied murmur when the grey, fragrant cloud left her lips. " You need to speak with Morticia, find out what is going on, reason with her."

Patricia raised her eyebrows and let out a mirthless snort.

"If there was even an iota of reason involved in this situation, we wouldn't be having this conversation," she replied, nodding her head to the waiter. She needed another drink to take the edge off.

"We can't just stand by and watch this disaster unfold," Eudora declared somewhat angrily, leaning forward towards her companion." I know things between Ophelia and Morticia are far from perfect but this - "

"If you're about to imply that Morticia was having an affair with her sister's husband because of some absurd sibling rivalry, you're mistaken," Patricia interrupted in a sharp whisper."I know that girl like the back of my hand - she's not a saint, but she's far from being a malicious creature, she's never done anything to actively hurt Ophelia and believe me, she'd have plenty of reasons -"

"Why then," Eudora whispered back, her tone mildly accusatory."Why, for the love of - why him , of all men - "

"I don't know," Patricia interjected, releasing another could of fragrant smoke from her lips. "But let's not forget that it takes two to tango, shall we?"

"I'm not trying to defend my son - "

"Seems like you do."

"I'm not ," Eudora insisted, taking a deep breath before looking away briefly." Gomez…," she paused, considering her next words carefully." I am not going to say that being unfaithful is out of character for him - it's not. His relationships never lasted more than a few weeks - at best. It's not about shifting the blame - they are both at fault here. It's about Ophelia, she's being wronged here, not them," she whispered in an angry hiss and then paused, allowing her words to sink in." But I know my son well enough to know that talking to him will not do any good at this point, I have been watching Gomez for the past few weeks and whatever is going on between the two of them - he's in over his head. He is in love and there will be no reasoning with him if he's convinced his feeling are being reciprocated."

"What then?" Patricia asked impatiently."What do you suggest I should do?"

"You need to speak to Morticia," she insisted heatedly."Convince her to end this. This cannot continue, but she has to end it because Gomez will simply not do it. If he truly thinks he's in love with her, and I believe he thinks he is, then he will go to hell and back to be with her, do you understand? There will be no reasoning with him," she paused and took a deep breath before continuing in a more measured manner," Morticia has to end this. Make her ends this and then take her away, as far as possible from him until he comes back to his senses."

Eudora looked at the woman before her expectantly but her companion didn't reply, didn't acknowledge that she even heard what was being said and Eudora felt annoyance bubbling within her. She was so tired, with the lack of sleep and worry and this disaster that was slowly unfolding and threatening to destroy everything they managed to build back since the Amore Twins debacle and she hated, absolutely abhorred feeling so helpless and out of control.

They had to do something, they could not possibly allow this calamity to continue -

"Do you believe in karma, Eudora?" Patricia asked dully, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray.

Eudora blinked in surprise, taken aback by the question, then frowned and couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh at the sudden divergence from the topic.

"Sometimes, maybe... I don't know," she replied tiredly." Is this really the best time for philosophical musings?"

Eudora Addams watched the older woman's lips curl into a smile completely devoid of any amusement, then she looked at her, with an expression of dull regret and Eudora realized that the older woman sitting before her was barely keeping it together, that she was as lost and apprehensive about what to do as Eudora was. That the hope she was so desperately clinging to, that Patricia would be the only person able to talk some sense into Morticia, to fix this disaster, was feeble at best, and when the older woman finally replied, her voice was thick with emotions and barely above a whisper -

"I guess we're about to find out."


Morticia frowned as she carefully dabbed the thin paintbrush, covered with red pains against the canvas, the artificial light in the apartment was barely adequate to sufficiently judge the effect, at this time of the day it was already grey outside, but she needed something to keep her mind off things at hand. Even if she was hardly successful in that endeavour.

The prospect of telling Ophelia, of everyone finding out about their affair was looming over her constantly. She was barely able to think of anything else. She was more than determined to go through it, she loved Gomez more than anything in the world, and she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt that she wanted to be there for him for better and for worse, to grow and build their life together every step of the way. It meant so much to her that at the time when he needed comfort, when he was upset and distraught, he sought his solace with her. It meant more to her than she was prepared to admit, how good - no, how absolutely wonderful and beautiful it was to offer him this kind of support, to be able to be there for him when he was at his most vulnerable. She felt fervently committed to that - to him, she was simply madly, madly in love with him, but that didn't make the prospect of everyone finding out any easier. There was such frightening finality attached to all this, because after the deed was one there was no way back. There would be no understanding and no forgiveness. She doubted she herself would never forgive such betrayal and yet, here she was, determined beyond reason to go through with it.

She glanced through the window at the snow-covered streets, already illuminated by the street lights and sighed, drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth as she placed her hand over her flat stomach. She should eat something, she barely nibbled at the pastries Gomez brought for breakfast, but she could never eat when she was stressed, her stomach felt constantly in knots and she didn't feel she could manage anything more than tea. However, even though her daily food intake was usually minimal as it was, she had enough common sense left to know that she could not possibly live on tea for the unforeseeable future. Perhaps she could push herself to eat a few plain biscuits with tea.

She put the paintbrush away and wiped the paint off her fingers with a linen cloth, before making her way to the kitchen to make some tea. She glanced at the newspaper that Debbie left on the counter, it was open on the photograph featuring Gomez and Ophelia at one of the many Christmas events they have recently attended, but Gomez in the picture was sporting a long beard and pointy ears - expertly drawn with a black pen by none other but Miss Debbie Jellinsky and Morticia could not help but snort in amusement as she shook her head at her friend's childish antics.

Her face quickly lost its amused sparkle as she glanced at the article next to the picture. It was a note mentioning the charity auction tomorrow night. What a wonderful initiative. Mrs Leaticia Hornby, a well-known philanthropist, and Mrs Ophelia Addams teamed up to organize the spontaneous charity event in support of Widows and Orphans. The Addamses have been involved in various charitable organisations for as long as it can be remembered, and it was clear that the new Mrs Addams seemed inclined to continue and expand the family's generous philanthropic endeavours -

Hmmm, if they only knew.

Morticia folded the newspaper neatly before chucking it in the rubbish bin under the sink. She opened the tap and reached for the soap, intended on washing away the remnants of the red paint from her hand when she heard the faint knocking on the front door.

She frowned, closing the tap and drying her hands on a tea towel. She was not expecting anyone. Debbie wasn't due to be back from work for hours and she and Gomez agreed that it would be best not to see each other until after the auction and so it really did not leave many options for the unexpected visitor in the middle of the day. She could only pray it wasn't Vlad.

Or better yet, she could pretend she wasn't at home.

She moved soundlessly towards the door to check who was behind it and couldn't help but swallow heavily as the sudden feeling of dread swept over her. Her Grandmother was not in the habit of dropping by at her apartment unannounced and she could think of only one - one very unwelcomed reason why she would choose this impromptu visitation.

Morticia felt her whole body tense, involuntarily reading herself for the unavoidable confrontation. She fervently hoped she'd have at least a few more days to prepare herself for it but it seemed that extra time was not going to be the luxury given to her.

Well, they might as well get it over and done with. She opened the door, her body so rigid, she was almost sure she'd snap in half at some point.

"I just had an interesting lunch date with Eudora Addams," Patricia Frump greeted dryly.

She felt her heart sink, despite fully expecting what this visit was about. And now it was clear that Gomez's mother knew as well, not just that there was another woman but that it was her.

"Would you like to come in?" Morticia asked, trying her best to keep her voice even."I was about to make some tea."

"You do know why I'm here, don't you?" Patricia asked, making her way past Morticia and towards the kitchen and watched the younger woman nod mutely. "A few weeks ago," she continued, staring at her Granddaughter intently, but surprisingly Morticia barely flinched under her gaze," I've asked you a question. And you've lied to me."

"Yes," she whispered dully. "I have."

"Why?" Patricia challenged."I asked you, as blatantly as humanly possible and you chose to lie to me."

Morticia crossed her arms against her middle in a defensive manner but didn't avert her gaze or any of that timid nonsense.

"What would you expect me to do?" She retorted, her voice soft but firm at the same time."To admit that I had an affair with Gomez?"

"I expected not to be lied to," her Grandmother retorted in a hurtful tone, swallowing heavily."No by you. I thought we trusted each other."

Morticia blinked, every muscle in her body felt tense and ready to snap if she so much as moved.

"How could I have told you?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper."How could I have admitted to you that I was in love with my sister's husband?"

Patricia's gaze seemed to soften and she took a small step closer to Morticia.

"This has to end," she said firmly. "Immediately."

"I can't do that," Morticia replied, shaking her head and watched Patricia's eyes widen in shock.

"What are you saying?" The older lady asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Surely you don't plan to continue this affair?"

Morticia swallowed heavily, digging her nails into her forearm until it was almost painful but she needed something to ground her. How could she explain it? How could she dress into words and justify the magnitude of her feelings for Gomez, it seemed impossible to label them into such paltry terms as love and passion because it was so much more, so so much more.

"I love him," she said simply, because in the end that was the essence of the deed, and it seemed simultaneously too much and not enough but what else could she say?

Her Grandmother didn't reply, weighing her words but Morticia could see how tense her shoulders were, how she was determined to harness the control of the situation. She watched the older lady open her heavy fur coat and take it off, dropping it carelessly over the edge of the sofa with an exhausted sigh before turning back towards Morticia.

"I understand that," Patricia insisted with a forced calm that was evident to both of them. "I understand the passion, and I understand love but, darling, don't you see how much more than that is at stake here?"

"I do see it," Morticia assured, trying to keep her voice even. "I do see it and I do understand how… difficult - how impossible this is but, -" " she paused, closing her eyes briefly and swallowed heavily, her voice breaking just a little, " I love him. I love him more than I can say and I … can't live my life without him… he is my life, do you understand?"

"He's not," Patricia retorted passionately and shook her head, putting her hands on Morticia's shoulders. " You might think that now but it's simply not true. There's more to your life than this… than him , " she insisted, her gaze burning and desperate." He's married to your sister, there's no future here, make no mistake in thinking otherwise. Think logically, where is this all going? You will break Ophelia's marriage - "

"And is allowing her to continue her marriage to a man who doesn't love her any better?" Morticia challenged, her tone sharper than she intended but she knew she would probably get only one chance to get her stance on this before the hell broke loose and she had to make her position - her reasoning clear.

"Imagine the scandal - "

"Imagine living your life with a man who will always look at you and wish - from the core of his very soul - that you were someone else," she breathed out desperately." Living every day, for the rest of your life, with the knowledge that he's desperately in love with another woman, that whatever life you're going to build together, whatever feelings are going to be between you - his heart will never be in it… because his heart is always somewhere else. How is that better for her?"

She paused, letting her words sink in and watched her Grandmother blink, as if startled and took a step back, curling her fingers against the back of the chair until her fingertips paled against the polished wood.

"I understand that… perhaps better than anyone," Patricia whispered, her eyes welling up with desperate tears but her eyes were fixed firmly on her Granddaughter. " But you don't get to make those decisions for her because it suits you. I love you, Morticia, and your happiness means more to me than you could possibly understand but this… is not it. You're making a reckless decision that will affect not only you and your life but also that of your family - your sister, your father - this scandal will put an end to his campaign, surely you understand that. And I can't support you in this - "

"I never expected your support in this," Morticia replied, swallowing heavily."I understand the consequences, I really do. I thought about this thousands of times, and despite what you might think this decision is not reckless - it's hard and it's impossible, yes, but not reckless. I love him and I want to spend my life with him and I can't imagine my life if he's not in it," she paused briefly, forcing out another breath." I hate the thought of hurting Ophelia, I truly do but living my life without Gomez is just not worth it."

"You don't know that," Patricia breathed out angrily." You haven't even lived your life long enough to make such claims but I have. I have lived long enough, experienced things you never had and I can tell you, with utmost certainty, that this - this will haunt you for the rest of your life, Morticia, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

"Perhaps," Morticia retorted, her chest so constricted she was surprised that any sound came out of her at all. "But ending this affair will not solve anything. I will not stop loving him, and he will not stop loving me. That marriage is over whether I stay or not, he doesn't love her - "

"That's not for you to decide," her Grandmother insisted, her tone so cold it seemed to cut through her very soul and Morticia felt her eyes well up with desperate, angry tears. "You've made a mistake, but it's not too late to fix things before Ophelia finds out. Please."

Morticia bit her lower lips so hard she was sure it would bleed. This was going nowhere, she could not explain and her Grandmother could not understand and even though she expected nothing else, the truth, the reality of it was almost too much to bear.

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper, the words almost choking her. "I didn't choose this, I never wanted to hurt Ophelia, or anyone else but…," she paused, forcing the words out."I can't give him up."

Her Grandmother shook her head and let out an exasperated, shaky breath as she moved her bony hands to frame Morticia's face, caressing her cheek tenderly with her thumb and it took all of Morticia's willpower not to crumble, not to choke with the pain and the heartache so clearly painted on Patricia's face.

"I have never asked you for anything," her Grandmother continued desperately. "You are dearer to me than anything or anyone in this life and so this one time I ask you… I beg you," the older lady whispered. "I beg you, my darling, don't do this. Don't ruin your life over this. Don't ruin this family. Please."

There were no words with which she could respond, and even if there were she could not possibly voice them because her throat, her chest, her very soul felt so constricted she didn't know how it was still possible for her to breathe.

"I'm sorry," she managed but she wasn't even sure if it was audible enough for her Grandmother to hear it.

She watched the older lady's posture visibly sag with disappointment and then her bony arms were around her, pulling her towards her until her cheek was nested against hers. She felt her Grandmother's hand rest on the back of her head in a tender gesture and it was just all too much. She felt her cheeks wet with tears and couldn't help the choked gasp that reverberated from her body, securely nestled in her Grandmother's arms.

"I love you," Patricia whispered, placing a soft kiss on Morticia's temple." I understand you think you love him, and maybe you do. I truly do understand. And I know it's hard, I know how unbearable it feels but…," she paused, her voice on the verge of breaking." You have no right - no right to destroy your sister's marriage, no matter how you feel, you have no right to take him away from her, " she continued firmly, pushing Morticia gently away so he could look at her face.

And what a pathetic, pitiful sight it was, Morticia could only imagine. Eyes red and swollen with tears and the realization that the choices she was about to make were bruising, deep and permanent and there would be no forgiveness for any of them.

"No one can force you, or make this decision for you but...," Patricia said, perhaps in her one last attempt to reason with the young women before her, who seemed so vulnerable and conflicted and on the verge of falling apart, it broke her heart but what other choice did she have than to be honest. What choice was there but to do everything she could to save whatever was left of this mess.

Her gaze was firm, desperate and broken and pleading.

"Make sure it's the right one because you will have to live with the consequences for the rest of your life."


His head hurt.

Sitting in front of the empty fireplace Gomez sighed heavily, cradling his head in between his hands. He felt sick, nauseous, and exhausted beyond words. Well, he supposed ruining someone's life was never bound to make one feel good. He certainly had plenty of experience in that area.

When he finally managed to convince Ophelia to allow Lurch to drive her wherever she wanted to go, he barely knew what to do with himself, but one thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't stay in the house, he couldn't share an intimate space with Ophelia and he didn't have an ounce of energy left in him to face his parents, so he filled his suitcase with clothes and some personal items before deciding to spend the night at the apartment. He took his tuxedo as well. Although, he didn't know for the life of his, how were they supposed to act as a happy couple at the charity auction after all this?

This is exactly why he wanted to tell her after the event but he blew that as well. He just couldn't stand her verbal attacks, Ophelia could be so mean when someone crossed her she was downright cruel and her words seemed to just cut right through him, cut through and made him bleed. And it hurt and the idiot, the fool that he was, he just couldn't take it and he should have because what did she say that wasn't the truth. Cruel, but the truth never.

But it hurt. It hurt him more than he was prepared to admit.

He was at loss as to what to do now. He needed to speak to Morticia, they needed to discuss the best course of action. In all honesty, it never occurred to him that Ophelia might refuse to divorce him - after all he's done, he expected her to lash out at him, hit him even, he expected her to be mean and cruel, but he would never expect that she would want to look at him ever again, let alone stay married to him. It was insane. But she was so angry, so so angry, she probably didn't think straight at all, didn't realize what she was saying to him - why else would she call her own mother such awful things, why else would she wish she had died. And Morticia - gods, he didn't even want to think about it anymore.

He needed to call Morticia and tell her what happened. He needed a drink first, he felt so stressed and on edge that he could barely form a thought, never mind making a phone call.

He barely lift himself from the armchair when he heard the front door open and saw Morticia step inside, her black hooded cloak wrapped securely around her and he immediately felt his heart skip a beat, so ridiculously happy and relieved to see her. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to get lost in her, to allow her to make things better again.

He smiled, despite himself, as he watched her pull her hood back and all the hope and bliss that filled his soul upon seeing her evaporated so instantly that he felt almost bereaved with the sudden loss of it.

"Tish what - " he whispered but halted when she shook her head.

"I don't want to talk," she breathed out and swallowed heavily, trying to blink her tears away. "I need a minute, I just need a - damn it, " she let out a frustrated sigh when the tears she was trying so hard at bay, fell freely down her cheeks and she didn't even try to stop them.

Before she could so much as let out a quiet sob, his arms were around her, and her head nestled under his chin.

"Don't cry," he whispered, kissing the side of her head and pulled her even closer. His heart broke at her quiet sobs and he longed to say something, do something - anything to comfort her because he just couldn't bear her distress.

"I love you," he said, his tone apologetic and desperate but what more could he say, what was there to say that wouldn't feel so pathetic and paltry and not enough?

He loved her beyond reason, he had fallen her unexpectedly, irrevocably and completely and he loved her more than such an exiguous term as love could ever encompass but holding her now in his arms, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs, he felt helpless, inadequate and he couldn't help but wonder - how much could their love endure in their quest to be together? Would they have the strength to go through with it till the very end, would they have the strength to go through with something that already seemed so unbearably hard? How much pain will be too much? How long until it breaks them apart?

"I love you," he whispered again but his love felt inadequate, agonizingly insufficient, simply not enough but it was all he could offer.

He felt her sobs subdue, ever so slightly, as she fisted her hands into the material of his shirt, letting out a shaky breath and then pressed her lips gently against the olive skin of his neck.

"I love you," he echoed again, and again, the words colliding and blending together until they seemed to drown everything else.

He closed his eyes, pressing his face into her hair, praying that maybe, just maybe, despite all the odds, it would be enough.


A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! I know, I might have gone overboard with the feels but I hope the story feels believable and not overly melodramatic.