Promise me.

The sounds of the piano continued to echo in the room until dawn.

Tuesday felt full of vigor even after spending the whole night bathed in soft light. He could keep up the act for hours without stopping, but since nothing lasts forever, even that had to end.

Lurch suddenly stopped pressing the keys and looked at the clock on the wall stoically.

"Lunch."

A single, simple word instantly drained all the light from Tuesday's eyes.

Lurch was responsible for preparing all the meals in the house, so it was clear they couldn't stay there forever.

"I see. What a shame," he said, her dark mood evident as she stared at the floor.

Lurch stood up with his usual abrupt and stoic demeanor and headed for the kitchen.

But before he could reach the door, a small hand grabbed the hem of his pants.

"Hey, wait a minute."

Lurch turned his face toward little Tuesday, his naturally intimidating expression one that could unnerve even the bravest adult.

However, this stare didn't faze Tuesday at all. One thought lingered in his mind.

"Are we friends now?" A hesitant yet hopeful voice escaped his lips, like a child asking for a toy they had just seen on TV.

"Friends?"

The concept of friendship wasn't natural to Lurch. Since coming to the Addams mansion, his sole purpose had been to serve without question.

"Do you not know what friends are?" Tuesday asked, concern lacing his tone as he noticed the genuine confusion in Lurch's voice.

"A friend is someone you spend time with and share hobbies with." He gestured with his finger as if explaining something to a child. "I'm asking if you'd like to play the piano again sometime or just talk."

Tuesday's definition of friendship was basic, but he chose simple words, suspecting Lurch might not grasp anything too abstract.

Lurch stood still, resembling a statue, seemingly contemplating the meaning of the words.

Minutes passed in the tense silence. Tuesday, who had been patiently awaiting a response, started to feel anxious.

He had fun, but what if Lurch was merely humoring him? After all, Tuesday had barged into the piano room uninvited and disrupted Lurch's solitude.

Lurch's expressionless face made it hard to discern his intentions. His aura was enigmatic—a conflicting flow of dark and light energy.

What if all this fun had been a delusion? What if Lurch had just been polite?

Such doubts gnawed at Tuesday's mind during the prolonged silence.

"You can refuse if you want—"

Impulsive words of regret slipped out, but all his fears were silenced by a simple action.

A massive hand, large enough to cover his entire head, gently patted it with robotic awkwardness.

"Friends."

The single word, spoken in Lurch's deep, imposing voice, was followed by a brief pause. Then, without further ceremony, Lurch stopped patting his head, opened the door, and left.

Tuesday stood frozen in the room, still processing what had just happened.

'Did he smile?'

For the briefest moment, it seemed as though Lurch had smiled. It was so fleeting that a blink would have missed it, but Tuesday was certain he had seen it.

Expectations, happiness, and confusion swirled in his heart, bringing a strange smile to his face.

A happy expression, unimaginable on Wednesday's face, spread across his own as he celebrated the first friend he had made in this world.

"Can't you see, Wednesday? Making friends is a piece of cake," he boasted shamelessly, unable to contain his excitement.

'...'

"Did you think I couldn't do it? You're so naive. No matter how I look, my social skills are no joke."

His words brimmed with joy, his body alive with energy. He no longer seemed like the reclusive introvert who had spent nearly two years without uttering a single word to anyone.

'Congratulations, Tuesday,' Wednesday said with her usual calm tone, raising a hand to pat her own head.

"...?"

'I'm proud that you finally made a friend.'

She moved her hand in the same manner Lurch had, but with a clear care and natural ease that he lacked.

It was an uncharacteristic display of warmth from the usually stoic Wednesday.

"Thank you..." Tuesday managed to say, his cheeks flushing red.

He hadn't expected such a caring and honest reaction from her.

'I liked your melody.'

"O-Oh, did you like it?"

'The way you were out of breath but kept singing was very cute.'

"C-Cute?" Tuesday repeated the word in his mind over and over. What was she saying, and why was she acting so oddly?

Was this some new form of teasing because he had been bragging too much? Initially, he had craved praise, but now that it was coming, it was surprisingly hard to endure.

He silently wished Wednesday would return to her usual expressionless self, but the compliments kept flowing.

'I also thought it was cute how your fingers twitched when Lurch stopped talking.'

"Oh..."

Wednesday began pointing out every detail of his actions while praising each one.

It was like a mother doting on her shy son who had just taken his first steps into the world.

For an adult like him, being treated this way by a child was deeply embarrassing.

This only made him more aware of how childlike he had been acting in front of Wednesday.

'And the way you clench your wrists when you're embarrassed is very—'

"I got it! Stop." A cry of embarrassment echoed through the dark room. If she continued, he felt he might die from shame.

"Now it's your turn to fulfill the agreement!" He gestured at his body, signaling for her to take control again, but Wednesday didn't move.

'Tuesday.' Her tone suddenly turned serious and cold, sending a chill down his spine.

"What's up?"

'Was that fun?'

It turned out to be a false alarm. Her question was unexpectedly simple.

"You scared me so much for such a simple question?" he replied, catching his breath. "Of course, it was."

Since his reincarnation, he hadn't experienced such joy. He had thought peace was unattainable in the Addams mansion.

'I see.' Yet Wednesday's tone seemed conflicted.

Tuesday could sense the worry in her voice, an unusual sentiment for her. Normally, Wednesday was composed, preferring logic and actions over emotions.

Her earlier behavior had also been uncharacteristic. It seemed something was deeply troubling her.

"You're anxious," Tuesday observed, placing a hand over his chest, his heartbeat quickening in sympathy.

This was a feeling he knew well, though Wednesday's calm nature usually suppressed such emotions.

But this time, the roles were reversed. She was anxious, while he remained calm.

For the first time, Tuesday felt he could truly support her.

He took a deep breath and mustered his gentlest tone.

"Is something bothering you, Wednesday?"

Tuesday was curious about what could unsettle someone as self-assured as Wednesday. In nearly two years, she had never shown fear or anxiety.

The only emotions she had expressed were curiosity, satisfaction from a good book or melody, and frustration when her hobbies were interrupted.

This newfound emotional depth hinted at growth. Tuesday waited patiently for her response.

'I'm sorry, Tuesday.'

"What are you sorry about?"

'Do you remember the day you cried outside our door?'

Tuesday's cheeks flushed red. Why was she bringing up such a dark memory?

"Yes, I do..." he admitted reluctantly.

'I was angry and made you walk alone. I knew you were scared, but I still said harsh words. I'm sorry.'

"It's in the past. Don't worry, Wednesday."

'Don't you resent me?'

"Why would I?"

'I always get angry with you.'

Her unexpected admission moved Tuesday.

The rascal who played with swords had such a tender side.

Perhaps his efforts to make her more emotionally aware were finally bearing fruit.

"I'm not angry about that."

'I thought I was rational and impartial, but I was selfishly using our time without considering you. I was stealing your life, forcing you into uncomfortable situations.'

Though her voice was calm, the sadness beneath her words was unmistakable.

'I was a hypocrite.'

"Wednesday..."

He hadn't expected such vulnerable words from her.

In his eyes, she had done nothing wrong. His life as an idol had ended, and this new existence was hers to live.

Alex Taylor was already dead.

His tragic and untimely demise didn't change the fact that his life had ended.

Now, his only goal was to raise Wednesday well, far away from her eccentric family. As long as she was happy, he was content.

"There's no need to apologize."

He wanted to reassure her.

"You're the one who should be living."

He shared his feelings openly once more.

"Whatever you're doing, I enjoy doing it with you. Not once have I felt regret or resentment."

Tuesday looked at his hands, the image of a grown man overlapping with the body of an innocent child.

Even now, he couldn't see this body as his own. In his mind, it was Wednesday's body.

That's why he quickly "accepted" his circumstances, even the change in his gender.

The answer to those worries was simple.

"I should have died long ago."

Deep down, he was still the same dead man inhabiting this child's body. This life, this home, these parents—they weren't his.

Not even this new name.

"The only one who should apologize is me."

If not for the Addams family, he wouldn't have interfered in Wednesday's life.

"Be happy, make good friends, achieve your dreams."

What he envisioned was a bright future for her, one filled with happiness, joy, and hope.

Away from the Addams family, surrounded by kind people.

He lived to make that dream a reality.

The mere thought brought a smile to his face.

"This life has no meaning to me, so you can have it."

With the innocence of a child stating the obvious, Tuesday smiled brightly.

"My happiness is your happiness."

His words were sincere to the core, so much so that even without powers, Wednesday could surely feel their truth.

The only strange thing was that his heartbeat, already irregular, now felt heavier.

'I'm sorry.'

"Ugh-"

Tuesday clutched his chest, gasping for air. Wednesday's emotions overwhelmed him, flooding his mind with intensity.

'I can't accept this kind of happiness.'

Dark energy began to coil around his body.

"Crack."

The piano cracked under the oppressive force, the air itself vibrating with tension.

Tuesday felt a deep sense of danger.

If Wednesday continued to release this energy, something terrible would happen.

He tried to intervene, but her words stopped him.

'Promise me,' she said, her voice calm despite the chaos. 'Promise you'll never say your life has no meaning again.'

Tuesday stood frozen, unable to process her demand.

'Promise me.'

"CRACK!"

Her tone grew colder, and the dark energy intensified, enveloping the room.

Almost instinctively, Tuesday opened his trembling lips.

"I promise..."

'Good.'

'And from now on, you must take control of the body for at least an hour a day,' she added, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"CRACK!"

Another wave of dark energy shattered the piano in half. Tuesday stared blankly at the wreckage.

Wednesday extended her small hand, pinky finger outstretched.

'Promise me.'

Awkwardly, Tuesday linked their pinkies.

Almost like magic, the oppressive energy dissipated, and he felt his body relax.

'If you break this promise, you'll have to swallow a thousand needles. You don't want that, do you?'

"No..."

With those words, Tuesday felt their places shift, Wednesday taking control once more.

"Good girl."

She patted her own head as if praising a child.

Tuesday remained silent.

The little Wednesday of not even two years old had finally awakened one of her supernatural powers.

In the future, it could become a weapon for the most diverse purposes.

And, among the most useful of them, was educating her younger sister.

*

Author note

I apologize for the late release ;-;. I was having a hell of a block but I forced myself to finish it somehow. Thank you to everyone who donated power stones and commented on it. I hope this was at least entertaining.