In the Moonlight Court, a dozen werewolf students sat cross-legged on the grass.
Victor had enthusiastically squeezed himself next to Enid. Venom was wriggling excitedly on his shoulder: "Finally! We get to see a werewolf transformation!"
Professor Greyback—a grey-haired man wearing a monocle—adjusted his eyewear and opened a heavy, ancient tome.
"Today, we discuss The History of Werewolf Social Structure and Territorial Awareness."
"Huh?" Victor and Venom tilted their heads in unison.
Five minutes later.
"...During the Third Lunar War, the alpha wolf's urine marking technique underwent a revolutionary breakthrough..."
Greyback's voice droned on like overcooked oatmeal, thick and sticking to the air. Victor's eyelids began to flutter uncontrollably, his head feeling as heavy as lead—
Thud.
His forehead landed gently on Enid's shoulder.
"Hey!" Enid instinctively moved to push him away, but her fingers froze just as they touched his black hair.
He was asleep.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling Victor's eyelashes.
Without his usual exaggerated expressions and motormouth, his sleeping face was unexpectedly... handsome.
The curve of his nose looked like it had been carefully sculpted. His lips were slightly parted, his breath brushing against her collarbone, carrying the faint scent of chocolate.
Enid's face turned bright red.
"Sinclair!" Greyback suddenly called out. "Please recite the olfactory etiquette in werewolf diplomacy!"
"Ah?" Enid jolted upright. Victor slid from her shoulder onto her lap with a muffled groan.
The gaze of every werewolf in the class shot toward them.
"I-I mean..." Enid stammered, her fingers unconsciously twirling a lock of Victor's hair. "Use the third claw of the left front paw dipped in saliva..."
"Wrong! It is the right paw!" Greyback slammed his hand on the podium. Victor nuzzled comfortably into Enid's lap, continuing his slumber.
Venom quietly oozed out of Victor's sleeve and whispered into Enid's ear: "Want to hear about how he still wet the bed at age five?"
"Yes," Enid whispered, blushing furiously. Her right hand had somehow found its way into Victor's.
---
Half an hour later, the theory portion finally ended.
"Practical application," Greyback announced, stripping off his jacket to reveal a torso covered in scars. "Observe my transformation process."
Victor suddenly jolted awake, his eyes shining like searchlights. "Whoa! Rated R content!"
Greyback's bones began to crack and shift, fur sprouting wildly from beneath his skin. Just as he was about to complete the transformation—
"Professor!" Victor's hand shot up. "Since you're naked when you transform, isn't that technically streaking in front of the entire student body?"
Dead silence fell over the courtyard.
Greyback froze mid-change. A very human flush of embarrassment appeared on his half-wolf face.
"You..." The word was squeezed through clenched teeth.
"Also!" Victor continued digging his own grave. "Do pants rip during transformation? If you wear elastic underwear, does it—"
"GET OUT!!!!"
Greyback smashed the podium with a clawed hand. Amidst flying splinters, he hoisted Victor up by the scruff of his neck and tossed him toward the courtyard gate in a perfect parabolic arc.
"Wait, I haven't finished asking—"
Bang!
The gate slammed shut. Victor's face peeled slowly off the wood as he slid down.
Venom emerged from his collar. "Congratulations. You set the record for fastest expulsion from Werewolf Class."
From inside, Enid's voice shrieked: "Victor, are you okay?!"
Followed by Greyback's roar: "Sinclair! Sit down! In the future, you are forbidden from bringing your partner to class."
---
Kicked out of class, Victor wandered the academy corridors with Venom draped lazily around his neck like a scarf.
"Where to now? Peek at the Sirens bathing?" Venom suggested.
"Too lowbrow," Victor waved a hand. "I have a better idea—"
Just then, the door to the infirmary opened down the hall.
Wednesday Addams stepped out. Her bangs were slightly messy, revealing the edge of a band-aid on her forehead. She pressed her fingers to her temple, looking annoyed.
The perfect target for a prank.
Victor grinned, tiptoeing closer, preparing to scare the life out of her from behind—
Then he stepped on his own untied shoelace.
"Waaaaah!"
He pitched forward, his hands instinctively shoving out to brace himself—
Wednesday was shoved violently forward, stumbling several steps before catching her balance. The moment she turned around, her pupils contracted into pinpricks.
BOOM!!!
A massive stone gargoyle plummeted from the roof, smashing directly onto the spot where Victor had been standing—or rather, where she had been standing seconds ago.
Dust billowed into the air.
Wednesday stood frozen, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Did that idiot... just get crushed into paste?"
"I should be happy."
"Why... is it hard to breathe?"
Wednesday stared at the twisted body under the rubble. She realized her molars were clenched so tight they hurt—a physiological reaction not listed in her Human Anatomy notes.
"Wednesday! Look out! Huh?"
Xavier Thorpe rushed around the corner, poised to save her, then froze.
He had also seen the teetering statue moments ago. He looked at the pile of rubble, then at Wednesday. It seemed Wednesday didn't need saving, but the other guy was definitely dead.
"Ow! My ass!!!"
Venom's voice echoed from beneath the ruins. "Quit acting. You didn't scream this loud when those mad scientists sliced you into four pieces for experiments."
The rubble was shoved aside by a mass of black sludge. Victor stood up shakily—his body had been nearly severed in two, his waist twisted at a grotesque angle.
Xavier sucked in a cold breath.
Then, under their watchful eyes, Victor's wounds began to writhe. Bones snapped back into place with sickening cracks, and muscle and skin knit together at visible speed. In less than ten seconds, he was dusting off his clothes like nothing had happened.
"Whoa!" He twisted his hips. "Healed faster than last time!"
Dead silence.
Wednesday's expression was frozen, her lips pressed into a thin, pale line.
Victor suddenly leaned in close, tilting his head. "Were you... worried about me just now?"
"Ridiculous," Wednesday's voice was colder than ice. "I was merely calculating whether the gargoyle's trajectory adhered to the standard parabolic formula."
"Oh?" Victor grinned, pointing at her hands. "Then why are you shaking?"
Wednesday immediately clasped her hands behind her back.
Xavier finally found his voice. "What... what are you?"
"Me? No, no, no. It should be 'us,' my good man. We are—" Victor spread his arms as Venom's terrifying face masked half of his own, "—Venom!"
Wednesday turned on her heel and walked away, her black uniform swirling like storm clouds.
"Hey! Wednesday!" Victor shouted after her. "You didn't answer my question!"
Her steps faltered for a microsecond. Without looking back, she threw a sentence over her shoulder:
"If you ask such a stupid question again, I will personally test the limits of your regeneration."
But the tips of her ears... seemed a little red. Beneath the fabric of her uniform, her fingernails dug into her palms, using pain to suppress a strange, writhing emotion that felt too much like Venom.
She didn't understand this feeling. The burning sensation rising in her chest—like holding a scalpel over a Bunsen burner for too long.
Victor glanced back at the smashed gargoyle. The trajectory was weird. What was the parabolic formula again? Pi r squared? Whatever.
Victor grinned and skipped after Wednesday, clearly in a great mood.
---
Back in the dorm, urged on by Venom, Victor fished a large stash of chocolate out of the toilet tank.
He sat on the floor, pouring chocolates into Venom's "mouth."
"Oh, my head is spinning."
Venom swayed, slowly turning into a puddle of black sludge, occasionally burping chocolate-scented bubbles.
Victor tore open a wrapper and popped a chocolate into his own mouth. His eyes lit up. "Nice! Liqueur chocolates. The Little Wolf Girl has taste."
"Mmm... Vic is an idiot..." Venom mumbled drunkenly. "Every regeneration drains my chocolate reserves... makes me starve..."
Across the room, Wednesday's right hand, flying across the typewriter keys, suddenly stopped.
"So his 'immortality' requires energy replenishment..."
"If he lacks energy after being crushed by a gargoyle..."
Clack, clack, clack.
Wednesday resumed typing, but the pace was much slower. She seemed distracted.
---
In the art studio, Xavier was painting frantically. A horrifying image gradually emerged on the canvas:
Victor chained to a metal operating table, tubes inserted into his chest.
Figures in white coats holding bone saws...
Organs floating in glass jars in the background.
"Dammit..." Xavier covered the canvas with a trembling hand.
Outside the window, a raven flew past, a chocolate wrapper clutched in its beak.