Chapter Text
The evening descended upon the Nevermore campus, filling the surroundings with a mysterious twilight. The moon barely pierced through the clouds, casting vague shadows on the walls of the room. The air was filled with the faint aroma of candles, with subtle notes of wood smoke and herbs.
Wednesday sat at her desk, her posture as impeccably straight as always. The soft light of the desk lamp illuminated only her profile, her focused face, and fingers, with absolute confidence, drawing lines on the yellowed paper. Her ink pen sometimes squeaked, as if it were not just writing, but carving the letters out.
On the bed opposite her, Enid lay on her stomach, propped up on a pillow. Her phone brightly illuminated her face, reflecting the endless stream of videos. From time to time, she giggled or tapped her foot against the blanket, but Wednesday seemed not to notice—or was pretending not to.
The silence was broken only by the clicks of the phone and the scratch of the pen. Suddenly, Enid froze, her face lit up with an entirely different emotion. She sat up, then, with genuine excitement, stared at the screen.
Wednesday, sensing the shift in the energy of the room, slowly raised her eyes from her novel.
“You’ve become even more annoyingly emotional than usual,” she remarked dryly, not taking her eyes off Enid. “What’s caught your attention this time? A puppy in a sweater or a kitten dancing to ridiculous music?”
Enid quickly turned around, her eyes blazing with such enthusiasm that it seemed to fill the entire room, pushing out the usual darkness that emanated from Wednesday.
“No! This is so much better than something cute! It’s...” she paused, as if unable to find the words to describe her excitement, “it’s a masterpiece!”
Enid swiftly jumped off the bed, crossed the room with ease, and stood next to Wednesday, who immediately pulled her gaze away from her writing, as if afraid her personal space was being violated. Enid didn’t seem to notice.
“Look!” Enid thrust the phone at her, almost shoving the screen right in front of her face.
Wednesday furrowed her brows before glancing at the video. On the screen, someone was performing a dance that combined grace with hidden provocation. The dancer’s movements were precise, almost predatory, as if every step, every turn of the head had a concealed meaning.
For several seconds, Wednesday studied what was happening on the screen, her face remaining completely emotionless. However, in her gaze, there was a flicker of either confusion or slight irritation. She turned her eyes away, crossed her arms over her chest, and dryly asked:
“And? I don’t understand what you’re so fascinated by, Enid. And why did you decide to show me this, especially by poking that horrendous social device at me so insistently?”
Enid suddenly leaned forward, nearly dropping her phone.
“How can you not get it?!” she exclaimed, her eyes literally burning with excitement. “It’s amazing! Look at those movements, how she carries herself, like the whole world is applauding her! This isn’t just a dance, it’s art! It’s... it’s magic that awakens something special in you!”
Wednesday, as usual, remained unflappable.
“Magic, you say? The only thing this video awakens in me is the desire to pity the poor person who seems to have forgotten that they have joints.”
Enid rolled her eyes, clutching her phone tighter in her hands.
“Wednesday, look,” she said, softening her voice slightly. “This isn’t just a dance. It’s about confidence, about how you can say everything without uttering a word. Like you. You don’t like to talk, right? Imagine you could tell everything about yourself just by making a few moves.”
Wednesday, with her arms folded in her lap, looked at Enid as if she had just suggested getting a shiny poodle.
“My movements are perfectly sufficient to move from room to room,” she replied, pursing her lips. “And I assure you, that’s more than enough for any sane person.”
Enid threw up her hands as if surrendering.
“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re not thrilled,” she muttered, but then her eyes narrowed mischievously. “Although, you know… I’ve been thinking. You could do me a favor.”
Wednesday squinted, as if guessing that something absurd was about to be said.
“A favor? If it’s related to this video, then my answer is categorically…”
“Wait!” Enid interrupted her, leaning slightly forward, her enthusiasm practically glowing. “It’ll just be an experiment. You love experiments! Scientific method, all that stuff. So, how about dancing this for me?”
For a moment, Wednesday froze, then slowly turned her head. Her dark eyes stared directly into Enid's.
“You want me to perform this... pathetic ritual... for your entertainment?”
“Well, you could, if you think about it!” Enid turned to her, her voice shifting to something between pleading and excitement. “It won’t be just for me. Okay, well... a little for me. But you’ll definitely be surprised by what you’re capable of!”
Wednesday raised an eyebrow.
“I’m already surprised at how inventive you are when it comes to getting me involved in your strange ventures.”
Enid smiled, as if it weren’t sarcasm but a genuine compliment.
“You want me to waste my precious time recreating this absurdity?” Wednesday measured Enid with a gaze that carried both confusion and irritation.
Enid threw her hands up, her bracelets jangling, breaking the silence that hung in the air.
“This isn’t absurd!” she protested, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s art! Look at how stylish and beautiful it is!”
Wednesday slightly raised an eyebrow, as if seeing something particularly odd.
“And why should I care about this... ‘beauty’?”
Enid theatrically exhaled, as if preparing to explain to a child why water is wet.
“Because you could do it perfectly! You have grace, posture, and your gloomy aura... It’s just made for this kind of dance!”
Wednesday tilted her head, her gaze becoming so sharp it seemed it could cut the air.
“Why are you so sure I’d want to participate in this circus?”
Enid hesitated, but only for a moment. Her enthusiasm quickly found a new justification.
“Because it’ll be fun! And it’ll show you that you can be a little... um... more flexible in your views.”
“Fun for who?” Wednesday clarified, her tone as cold as a winter wind. “To me, it sounds more like a form of torture.”
Enid stepped closer, her eyes burning with such enthusiasm that even Wednesday paused for a moment, wondering whether she was dealing with mere stubbornness or actual obsession.
“Please, Wednesday! Just once! For me!”
“And why should I do that?” Wednesday asked coldly, tilting her head slightly as if studying the behavior of an unreasonable creature.
Enid pretended to think, lowering her gaze, but her face immediately lit up with a sly smile.
“Because... if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone that you...”
“That I what?” Wednesday interrupted, her tone now entirely frosty, but there was a spark of interest in her eyes.
“That you absolutely love listening to audiobooks,” Enid blurted out.
Wednesday furrowed her brow slightly.
“And?”
“The ones where actors read romantic novels,” Enid continued, her tone growing increasingly playful.
Wednesday instantly narrowed her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly.
“How cute. Blackmail. Very mature, Enid. But you have no proof.”
“Oh, you think so?” Enid said with a satisfied expression, pulling out her phone as if showcasing some secret recording. “Want me to check? Or...?”
A shadow of annoyance flickered across Wednesday’s face. Her hand slowly moved to her notes, as if she was about to throw them away and end this conversation. But instead, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“If you’re hoping to blackmail me, you might have better luck seeing me call your mother to discuss your ‘interests.’”
Enid immediately bit her lip, stepping back a pace, but quickly regained her composure.
“That’s not fair,” she mumbled.
“Completely fair,” Wednesday countered. “However, your stubbornness... is impressive.”
A pause followed. Wednesday studied Enid as if weighing something. Then, without changing her tone, she suddenly spoke dryly:
"Fine. But know this: if you turn this into a farce, I will find a way for you to regret it."
Enid blinked, not immediately understanding what she had heard.
"What?"
"I said, fine," Wednesday repeated, this time her voice tinged with a theatrical boredom. "If it will make you stop wearing me out."
Enid seemed like she was about to burst with joy but quickly pretended to remain calm.
"You... you really agreed?"
Wednesday pushed away from the desk, tilting her head and staring intently at Enid.
"Consider it a scientific experiment," she snapped. "And let’s get this over with as quickly as possible before I change my mind."
Enid almost jumped for joy but instead clapped her hands quickly and ran to Wednesday’s wardrobe, pulling out what she thought would be perfect for the dance. She sifted through the hangers and grabbed the clothing. A black shirt, perfectly pressed, with a classic collar. Narrow black trousers with sharp creases. And, of course, the black skinny tie that Enid had noticed and added to the set with gleaming eyes. Running quickly to her own wardrobe, Enid pulled out a black long coat with a high collar and lace cuffs.
Meanwhile, Wednesday stood up from the desk, her movements precise and almost eerily graceful. Frowning slightly, Wednesday grabbed the back of the chair she had been sitting at, writing or observing Enid. She slowly walked to the middle of the room, where the dividing line used to be. The chair, which Wednesday had dragged, creaked one last time, as if agreeing with its new place. Wednesday turned the chair around, positioning it with the back facing her side, as though concealing part of the room.
Without saying a word, she walked to the switch and touched it, pausing for a split second. The light in the room slowly dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the garland hanging along the wall near Enid’s bed. A few candles still burned on her side, and she decided to leave them. The warm light from the bulbs and candles created a twilight in which every shadow became alive, and every line of the face—deeper and brighter.
Enid, turning around, froze for a moment. In the muted light, her face shone with delight, as if she was already imagining how everything would look. She still held the clothes she had chosen for Wednesday in her hands.
"Did you bring it?" Wednesday asked briefly, turning to her. Her voice was quiet but confident, as though it didn’t require a response, only confirmation.
"Yes!" Enid immediately jumped up, handing her the clothes.
Wednesday took the clothes, briefly glancing at the set. No emotions reflected on her face except for a barely noticeable nod. Then she looked at the chair and pointed at it with her eyes, without saying a word.
Enid hesitated, her enthusiasm slightly fading as she realized what was expected of her.
"Sit?"
"Exactly," Wednesday confirmed coldly, walking closer. "You wanted a dance. You’ll get it. But I will decide how, what, and what it will be."
Enid swallowed, feeling the sudden seriousness of the situation. She sat on the chair, carefully folding her hands on her lap, and lifted her gaze to Wednesday, now shining with not only excitement but also a slight tremor.
Wednesday looked at her for a long moment, then turned and walked to her bed to change. Silence hung in the room, broken only by the faint crackling of the garland and the beating of Enid’s heart, which seemed to echo in every corner of the room.
Enid sat with her back to Wednesday, trying to appear relaxed, although inside she was practically bursting with impatience. The silence in the room was so complete that it felt as if even the garlands on the wall were holding their breath. The only thing that broke the silence was the rustling of clothes. Wednesday was changing, and every movement, every slide of fabric sounded to Enid like thunder in the night.
She wanted to turn around, to catch a glimpse of what Wednesday was doing, to understand what exactly she was up to. But a strange, unfamiliar mix of curiosity and tension held her back.
Then, the sharp sound of music beats tore through the silence. Enid flinched, almost crying out. Her hands gripped the edges of the chair, and her breath caught in her throat. She was about to turn, but behind her, Wednesday’s even, quiet voice sounded:
"Don’t move. Sit still. Be a good wolf."
Enid froze, her body seeming to tense even more, but at Wednesday’s words, something inside her flipped. A wolf? Obedient? Her heart started pounding harder. She pressed her lips together but obeyed, staying in place, even as she felt footsteps behind her.
Then, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. Wednesday's cold fingers brushed her skin, and the sensation sent shivers down Enid's spine. Slowly, Wednesday's hand moved from one shoulder to the other, her nails—short but sharp—gently gliding along Enid's neck, causing a strange, almost ticklish feeling.
Wednesday's fingers moved slowly, as if drawing a semicircle along Enid’s shoulders, with her nails barely touching her skin at times, then pressing slightly harder, leaving a warm trace behind. Enid involuntarily exhaled, her hands tightening on the chair.
"Good," Wednesday's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "Stay like this. You wanted a dance. You’ll get it."
Enid felt Wednesday's fingers disappear, leaving behind the coldness where they had touched and some new, not entirely understood energy boiling within her.
Wednesday moved around Enid in a circle, her fingers lightly brushing her shoulder, neck, and the upper part of her back. Each touch was light as a butterfly's wing, but there was intent behind them, and Enid felt them like electric sparks spreading through her body. Wednesday's hand slid down, barely grazing Enid's elbow, then disappeared, leaving her alone with the sensation.
Enid turned her head, trying not to move, as Wednesday had instructed, but every step, every sound of her heel on the floor resonated in her ears. She heard the slight rustle of Wednesday's coat, the movement of her tie swaying with her body.
When Wednesday circled around her and stood directly in front of the chair, Enid lifted her gaze. The dim light of the garland illuminated Wednesday’s face—her cold but strangely alluring eyes, the faint smile that seemed more like a challenge, and the perfectly fitted black coat with a high collar and lace cuffs peeking from beneath the sleeves.
The music started to build, and Wednesday took a step back, letting the melody fill the space. She moved with a grace Enid could only envy. Every step was smooth, precise, and yet—predatory. She resembled a black panther watching its prey.
When sharp chords rang through the song, Wednesday turned sharply, her coat flaring, revealing black pants that clung to her legs and a shirt tucked neatly inside them. Wednesday's eyes met Enid's, and Enid felt her breath catch.
"You look stunned," Wednesday remarked, taking a slow step forward. Her voice was low, with a hint of mockery. "Is it the music? Or perhaps it's me?"
Enid tried to say something, but her voice failed her. She simply sat and watched as Wednesday moved in time with the music, her body accentuating every sound. Slowly, Wednesday moved closer, her movements seeming to be a part of the melody itself.
She leaned in, her face coming level with Enid's, and whispered softly,
"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm?"
Before Enid could respond, Wednesday suddenly straightened up and spun around, her arms tracing an arc in the air, as though she were painting an invisible picture. She pressed against the side of the chair, her hand gliding along the backrest, and her gaze continued to burn into Enid.
"You wanted a dance," Wednesday said, her voice sounding like a promise. "Now you won't be able to look away."
She made a smooth move forward, her hand again touching Enid's shoulder, and then she slid her fingers down her arm, finishing with a light touch of her palm. Enid flinched but didn't pull away. Wednesday smiled—a predatory grin, tinged with amusement.
The music at that moment intensified the atmosphere. Wednesday moved closer, stepped back, and approached again. Enid felt as if she were in a trance, forgetting to breathe altogether. Wednesday leaned in, running her fingers along Enid's chin, locking her gaze onto hers.
"So?" Wednesday asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the booming music. "Satisfied? Or do you want more?"
Enid merely nodded, her words lost somewhere between the booming bass and the pulse ringing in her ears, while Wednesday continued to move, her dance growing even more captivating.
As the previous song died down, the first sung words and rhythmic beats of a new melody began. The words shook the air, sharp and challenging. The light from the garland and the flickering flames of the candles, glowing with soft gold, seemed to be the only sources of warmth in the room, but even they faded in the presence of Wednesday.
She took a step back, and without a word, removed her coat. It was a fluid motion, as if it were part of her dance, and the black fabric softly fell to the floor at Enid's feet. The shirt emphasized the elegance of Wednesday's figure, the cuffs catching the light, while the pants clung to her so perfectly that it was impossible not to notice how she moved.
Wednesday, never taking her eyes off Enid, took a step closer. Her eyes gleamed like a predator who had caught its prey, and her slight smirk promised something dangerous. She slowly, almost gracefully, sank to her knees in front of Enid, letting her hands glide over her knees, then along her thighs, but never truly touching—just on the edge.
Enid held her breath, her eyes wide, trying to find a hold on reality. But her attention was entirely consumed by each movement of Wednesday. It was as if Wednesday were dancing just for her, moving with precision and confidence, as though she knew how to strike every chord in Enid's soul.
"You have a strange look, Enid," Wednesday remarked, her voice soft but tinged with mockery. "Do you always look like that when someone... is on their knees in front of you?"
Enid opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Wednesday leaned in a little closer, her fingers sliding over the top of the chair's backrest, and her face was so close that Enid could feel her breath.
"Or have you just never seen something so captivating?" Wednesday asked, as if testing her reaction, and judging by the satisfied smile on her face, the result was to her liking.
Enid swallowed softly, feeling warmth spread through her body. She tried to focus on something else, but it was impossible. Wednesday continued to move, her hands sliding along Enid's thighs, never touching her skin, but creating the sensation that her fingers were leaving burning traces near the edge of her skirt.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Wednesday's whisper was full of challenge, but with a hint of amusement. "Or were you expecting... something more?"
Enid struggled to find her voice, but all she could do was shake her head. She wasn't sure anymore what she'd agreed to, but with each movement of Wednesday, she realized she was willing to let her do whatever she wished.
Remaining in that predatory manner, never taking her eyes off Enid, Wednesday slowly rose from the floor. Her movements were smooth, almost feline, and she sat on Enid's lap, confidently capturing her gaze. A faint smile touched the corners of Wednesday's lips—something between mockery and seriousness.
"You wanted a dance," she said in a soft, almost whispering voice. "Then you'll get it... fully."
Her hands slid to the knot of the tie, and with one precise movement, she untied it, removing it slowly, as if for dramatic effect. The black fabric, like an extension of her own movements, gently fell into her palm.
"You know, Enid," Wednesday said, leaning closer so her words barely touched the wolf's ear. "I could read your thoughts right now. If they weren't so... obvious."
Her voice was velvet, but without provocation, tinged with a slight mockery, as if she were merely observing her friend's reaction. Enid felt her cheeks begin to flush, but she couldn't look away.
Without giving her time to respond, Wednesday picked up the tie and wrapped it around Enid's neck. Her fingers briefly touched her skin, leaving behind a barely noticeable coldness that contrasted with the heated atmosphere of the moment. She tied it easily, as if it were something entirely natural.
"Now you're ready for this dance," she added, pulling back to admire her work.
And without breaking her gaze, Wednesday began to move. Her knees brushed against Enid's legs, creating a sense of closeness, but not too obvious. She ran her fingertips along Enid's arms, from her wrists to her shoulders, and her touches were both light and insistent.
"Are you surprised by how I can do this?" she asked almost in a whisper, her fingers halting at Enid's shoulders.
Enid swallowed again, her breath a little uneven.
"Don't answer," Wednesday continued, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I already know."
Her hands slid higher, and her fingers gently touched the line of Enid's neck, moving with the same fluid rhythm as her body. Wednesday seemed to study her reaction, watching every tiny movement — a slight turn of the head, a quick breath, half-closed eyes.
"Obedient wolf," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the rhythm of the music. "Do you think you're always like this?"
Enid, mesmerized, couldn’t speak a word. Her heart was pounding wildly. All she could do was allow Wednesday to continue.
Still holding Enid with her hypnotic gaze, Wednesday slid her fingers from her shoulders down along the line of her collarbone. The touches were slow, as though Wednesday was testing how far she could go before Enid's breath would falter.
"You know," she began, her voice low and languid, like sweet poison, "you're always so restless, Enid. Constantly pushing me beyond the boundaries of what I consider acceptable."
Her fingers, cool and assured, glided upward, lightly brushing against Enid's neck. The movements were barely perceptible, but every path her fingers traced seemed to burn with heat. Enid remained still, as if any movement might shatter the magic of the moment.
"But you amuse me," Wednesday continued, leaning closer, her lips nearly brushing Enid's ear. "Even when you do things that irritate me to my very core."
She let her fingers slide upward, tracing the curve of Enid's ear before lingering at the back of her neck. Her fingers tightened slightly, not causing pain, but sending a shiver of electricity down the wolf's spine.
The music approached its final notes, and with each beat of the rhythm, Wednesday moved closer. As the melody slowed, she fixed her eyes on Enid’s face and gripped her hair at the nape of her neck more firmly. Enid gasped as Wednesday gently pulled her head back, exposing her throat under the dim glow of the string lights.
"You got your dance, Enid," Wednesday said, her voice low, laced with a clear warning and a hint of something almost warm. "But remember this: never try to blackmail me again."
On the final note, Wednesday slowly released her, her fingers sliding softly from Enid’s hair. She stood, taking the tie still hanging around the wolf's neck, and with a slight tilt of her head, she added,
"I am merciful only once."
And with those words, she disappeared into the shadows of the room, leaving Enid sitting in stunned silence, her heart still racing and her thoughts scattered like fragments of a broken spell.
Enid sat motionless, as if spellbound. Her fingers brushed against her neck, where Wednesday's cold and insistent touch had lingered just moments ago. Her heart was racing, and her ears buzzed with a silence broken only by the faint crackle of the string lights.
“She… what even was that?” Enid whispered to herself; her voice barely audible.
She could still sense Wednesday’s scent—subtle but so familiar: a light hint of lavender mixed with something darker, like a summer night. Her fingers trembled as she rose from the chair, trying to regain her ability to think clearly.
“Are you still here?” Wednesday’s cold voice came from the depths of the room.
Enid turned. In the dim light, Wednesday stood by her desk, already acting as if nothing had happened. Her fingers, which had just held Enid captive, now grasped a quill, placing it neatly in its holder before confidently moving to the paper before her. It was so… like her. As if the events of the last few minutes were utterly inconsequential.
“Uh… yeah,” Enid mumbled, struggling to collect herself. “I just…”
Wednesday looked up, her dark eyes gleaming in the low light.
“If you’re planning to thank me, I’d prefer you save your breath,” she said coolly.
Enid narrowed her eyes, her voice finally regaining its usual energy.
“Oh really? Well, for the record, that was… incredible. But this isn’t over! I’ll find a way to surprise you.”
Wednesday returned her attention to her writing, the corner of her mouth twitching upward ever so slightly.
“Do try, wolf. But remember: I always have the final move.”
Enid turned away, feeling a strange mix of irritation and admiration. Her lips slowly curled into a grin as she made her way to her side of the room.
“Alright, Wednesday Addams… the game is on.”
Meanwhile, Wednesday paused for a moment, glancing at the chair where Enid had just been sitting. She whispered softly to herself:
“A game, is it? Let’s see who wins.”