Toji glanced down at his phone, the screen lighting up with a message from Tyler: "You ready for the ride?"
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. He typed back: "Come to Nevermore."
The reply came almost instantly. "Sure."
He stood, stretching lightly before heading to his room. From the closet, he pulled a fitted black shirt and a classic leather jacket, its texture worn smooth by time. Matching black pants and polished Italian leather shoes completed the look. He paused briefly at the mirror, adjusting his collar, eyes calm and unreadable.
Two keys rested on the desk. He picked up the one for his Ducati Panigale V4, its crimson glint reflecting in the morning light, then grabbed the other—a Kawasaki Ninja 300, tuned and spotless. Tyler's new companion for the day.
As he made his way toward the Nevermore gates, his stride measured and steady, he passed Xavier leaning against a wall, sketchbook in hand. The boy gave a slight nod. Toji returned it silently and kept walking.
Outside, the bikes waited like two black wolves under the pale sun. He swung a leg over his Ducati, the low rumble filling the still air—when a familiar voice cut through it.
"Where's my husband going?" Wednesday's tone carried her usual dry venom, the last word dripping with sarcasm as she appeared beside him, arms crossed, her dark gaze sharp and amused.
Toji exhaled slowly through his nose, knowing the morning had just grown more complicated.
Toji didn't answer immediately. The Ducati hummed beneath him, the steady vibration filling the quiet tension that hung between them. Wednesday stood there like a shadow carved from ink, the rising sunlight glinting faintly off her black braids. Her expression was unreadable, yet her eyes carried that same sharp glint — the one that always seemed to pry deeper than anyone had the right to.
He finally leaned back on the seat, one gloved hand resting lazily on the throttle. "Didn't know you were the jealous type," he said, voice smooth but low, almost challenging.
Wednesday raised a brow, unimpressed. "Curiosity isn't jealousy, Mr. Frump. Though I am curious why my husband"—she emphasized the word again with icy sarcasm—"decided to sneak off before dawn without informing me. Planning to elope with another blonde?"
Toji smirked faintly, his gaze drifting toward the trees instead of her. "Not my style. You'd hear the gunshots before I even got that far."
That earned him the smallest, most imperceptible twitch of her lips — amusement, or maybe disdain. Hard to tell with her.
He finally turned toward her fully, the morning breeze tugging at his collar. "It's a ride, Addams. That's all. Tyler's tagging along. Thought I'd give him something better to handle than coffee cups and teenage guilt."
Wednesday tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You're surprisingly charitable for someone who claims to despise sentiment."
"Maybe I just like seeing people try not to crash," he replied, kicking the stand and letting the Ducati roar to life.
She stepped closer, just enough that the sound of the engine wrapped around her words like a warning. "Try not to get him killed," she said flatly. "I'd hate to have to write your obituary before breakfast."
Toji chuckled quietly, eyes narrowing in that way that hinted at a man used to chaos. "You'd make it sound poetic, though."
"Of course," she said, taking a step back. "It would be the least I could do for my dearly departed husband."
The air between them held for a moment — her gaze sharp as a knife, his calm like tempered steel. Then, Toji's phone buzzed against his jacket. On my way, the message read. He looked once more at Wednesday, still standing like a carved statue, her stare piercing through his calm.
"Guess he's walking," Toji muttered, sliding the phone into his pocket.
Wednesday crossed her arms. "And you're gifting him a death sentence on two wheels?"
Toji smirked, swinging his leg over the Ducati. "Everyone needs a reason to live dangerously. Might as well start young."
She gave him that dry, quiet glare that could kill a lesser man. "Your definition of mentorship borders on homicide."
"Only if they're stupid," he said, starting the engine. The low growl filled the morning air. He gestured lazily toward the second bike parked beside the wall. "I'll teach him. I'm not that heartless."
Wednesday's gaze softened for just a fraction of a second before she masked it again. "You're not heartless, Toji. You're just very good at pretending."
He didn't respond, just pulled his helmet on, visor down. "Pretending keeps me alive," he said through the muffled glass.
And with that, he waited by the gates, the second key twirling around his finger, ready to toss it to Tyler the moment he showed up — one man already half in the wind, and another about to be.
Wednesday only replied, "Try not to make me regret letting you out of my sight."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Too late for that." And with a twist of his wrist, the bike thundered forward, the wind swallowing whatever reply she might've had.
---
So how long do you think it would take for Wednesday to find Tyler is the hyde now that Toji is showing interest in Tyler.