Chapter Text
Suddenly, Wednesday struggled to breathe.
She felt like something had smacked her in the face. Probably looked like it, too.
In love???
Enid was talking about her.
Enid is in love with... me?
By the graves*, she felt like using one of Enid’s insipid little starry-eyed emojis. Grayscale, though.
She was distantly aware of Enid’s voice speaking her name tentatively, but the seer’s mind was busy running through every little past interaction, each text, trying to envision the unfamiliar picture painted by this new light.
She gave up. There would be plenty of time for spiraling later.
But now...
“Enid. Why didn’t you tell me?” Wednesday struggled around the words, aware of their importance.
The former glanced at the latter; but otherwise avoided the seer’s gaze.
“I... I wanted to. For so long. But... everything with Tyler, and then also Xavier last year, and then our fight-” Enid’s breath hitched, and she lowered her head, hiding behind the curtain of blonde, pastel-streaked hair that framed her features.
Heart aching most traitorously, Wednesday reached forward and tucked a golden lock behind the lycan’s ear. A move that surprised them both.
Blue meets brown again.
Magnets. Opposing forces.
“I just didn’t want to lose you.”
The corner of Wednesday’s lips upturned the slightest, cursing Enid with the most wonderful, woeful sight of them all.
Wednesday Addams’ smile.
“Enid.”
The blonde stirred, still entranced by the rare sight before her- but curiosity killed the wolf, and who better to die for than her very own reason for living?
The raven's hands found the wolf’s once more, and the seer leaned forward and brushed a chaste, soft kiss to Enid’s knuckles.
Enid’s cheeks pinked daintily and her mouth sprung open as if to protest, but the raven was quicker.
“Death itself would perish before you are free of me. Gravebound , be it burn or rot or wither.” **
Enid’s cheeks were burning furiously now.
Wednesday had never been more sincere.
And Enid had never flushed brighter.
Wednesday, in a most meaningful display of vulnerability allowed another rare blink to grace her face, and she rested her forehead against Enid’s knuckles. Enid chuckled softly as Wednesday’s bangs tickled the lycan’s skin. Her very own knight-in-gloomy-armour. Whoever said chivalry is dead?
Chocolate-hued eyes lifting at the noise, Wednesday cocked her head fondly (or as fondly as she could express) as she inspected Enid’s amusement.
“You really mean it? Truly?” Enid’s voice was meek. Hopeful.
“Truly. In fact, I have never been so entirely devoid of deceit- contempt, or malice. It should be sickening. But instead, it is strangely ~ a relief.”
Wednesday paused, hummed a little, and continued.
“I spent so long striding on thin, thin, ice – skirting vulnerability’s edges. But the past half-year has taught me that simplicity yields strength. As does truth. And turns out ~ the chilling water i so feared, underneath the ice? Was, shocking, yes ~ but also... refreshing. ”
Wednesday straightened up (ha), sobering, and faced Enid head-on.
“ Amor, If I am to accept that not every soul in near proximity to me has a hidden agenda... I should accept that perhaps, I don’t require one all of the time.”
Her eyes both intensified, and softened, and every shade of complexity imaginable, all at once.
Enid melted.
“You.”
Me?
“You are agenda enough.”
And Enid’s smile widens. Like the rising sun, warm and blinding and proud to be herald to a new age, one day (smile) at a time.
Wednesday leaned forward and rested her forehead against Enid’s, oblivious to the blonde’s swirling (yet somehow impossibly grounded) thoughts.
A smile had always been Enid’s default, for each dilemma. Ever since she was young, and found out that not all smiles worn bear happiness.
She had decided.
For every toothy grin her family had wounded her with, each forced, clinical reassurance from Lycanthropy specialists that did all but reassure, every scathing comment, mocking stare, and hurtfulness.
Enid returned it tenfold.
Not with bitter words, or bitter claws, or even a bitter grudge-
Enid returned each injustice with sheer, determined love.
For every passive stranger. Every dearest friend. Each enemy - (even though she does not hesitate to disclose every cruelty, small or large, in theatrical detail on her blog)
Never let it be said Enid allows any redeemable cause to expire.
It’s the reason she went to Nevermore. Part of the reason she stayed.
The reason she never gave up on Wednesday, until she had truly given all she could.
Until finally, it gave back.
So call her delusional, call her naive.
Call her weak, a crybaby, hysterical-
Call her fucking stupid.
But.
Not for a second would Enid tolerate someone calling her anything less than relentless .
And right now? Her immense willpower held no resistance against the urge to burst into heavy, ugly tears.
The blonde’s face crumpled, even though internally she soared, for. This is Wednesday and she is Enid and this is all new and scary and wonderful and- and - she shrunk into herself with a strangely conflicted, choked noise.
What am i doing? She’ll read this all wrong, and I'll regret it for always-
Enid took a discreet swipe at the “allergy” moisture in her eyes, and bit her lip.
Too late.
The raven’s head had snapped up with the sound of soft sniffles.
Zeroing in on the source of the sounds, Wednesday found Enid~ her Enid~ visibly fighting the wave of emotion threatening to overspill. At meeting the gaze of the source for her confliction, the werewolf’s sniffles turned to full sobs and Wednesday, alarmed, detangled their entwined fingers to awkwardly pat the werewolf’s shoulder.
The raven’s intent seared clean through Enid’s resolve.
The werewolf sobbed and attached herself to the smaller girl, crying into the shoulder of the goth’s favourite sweater.
Wednesday, now flushed but still panicking, made for another awkward pat- when Enid caught her wrist, and emerged from the goth’s embrace- smiling, ever smiling - despite the tears streaming ever down. The wolf drew back, retracting from Wednesday’s hold, and took a few deep breaths. Her hands still were placed firmly on Werdnesday’s shoulders, however.
“I- I'm sorry, i don’t even know why I'm crying-” Enid aimed for a self-deprecating chuckle, but somehow achieved the Maniacal Laugh.
Oh well.
At least Wednesday seemed more at ease with Enid’s emotional display now- now that her sanity had descended dramatically from abrupt tears to fits of hysterical, unhinged mirth.
Sighing (even through her tears!) and drawing back fully, the werewolf eyed Wednesday’s Very Comfy shoulder, allowing her naturally formidable puppy eyes to assail Wednesday’s own Bambi-brown ones ( don’t tell her that, Enid! You’ve done enough damage already) .
It was Wednesday’s turn to sigh.
“Fine.”
Enid smiled, still dulled – but a smile. She launched herself into Wednesday’s arms once again. A imitation of their first hug.
As resigned and grudging as she appeared, Wednesday welcomed the familiar feeling of the blonde.
The way she always smells like honey and lemon- with a hint of mint- and home.
Enid’s sporadic shudders faded to muffled whimpers as Wednesday whispered comforts to her, weathering her through the storm.
“It’s alright, mon soleil.”
“You’re alright.”
Gradually, Enid’s tears subsided. Wednesday continued gently stroking circles across the back of her jumper, studying the wolf’s face.
In the aftermath, the werewolf looked strangely small. Vulnerable. Delicate, even more so for her danger.
Faint traces of mascara and eyeshadow stained her underlids. Subtle glitter streaking her face, where tears had trailed down.
Her eyes were distant, unseeing. Lost in their own visions.
Drained.
Usually their silences were comfortable, companionable. Every night they weren’t chasing a mystery or being dragged to some dry party (events more exclusive to one than the other), Wednesday would settle into her writing time, as Enid quietly scrolled through her phone, worked on one of many miscellaneous creative projects, or just lay on her bed, contentedly rewinding with her colourful, self-decorated headphones settled comfortably upon her ears. She always left them on ambient aware mode, though, when Wednesday was around – for the rare occasion Wednesday broke their respective trances with what the raven claimed was merely a writer seeking inspiration in their surroundings. Enid knew better though.
Sometimes, Wednesday even let Enid project soft music from her favourite rose-pink speaker ~ as long as it was under 40 decibels. Wednesday pretended not to notice the time Chappel Roan’s Hot To Go started accidentally blaring ~ most courteously.
In return for Enid’s compliance (totally not because she just liked to) Wednesday would make them both their respectively favoured hot drinks – black, unsweetened coffee for Wednesday, and black, honey-sweetened tea or chai for Enid. Wednesday always gave Enid the mug with a greyscale constellation-style likeness of a soaring raven – and reserved the stylized, pastel silhouette-scape of a wolf pack at dawn, complete with a sinking full moon – for herself.
Each time, she said it was to increase her tolerance of visual torture, and Enid’s of good taste – But, again, Enid knew better. Every time the blonde’s cherished mug would near empty, her roommate would stand and refill it wordlessly.
It had become tradition.
Sacred.
Silence was no stranger to them.
But now, in aftermath - the atmosphere was strangely unsettled. Almost like their room could pinpoint just what made this moment so different, and has embellished upon it.
(In a different circumstance, the raven would surely begin to wonder if, just perhaps, their room happened to be sentient. Or plagued by a malicious spirit, cursing them to grow comfortable – just to disrupt it most malevolently.)
This... silence... is almost worse than the noise. The tears, the pain, Wednesday thought. A tad worriedly. For her own degradation, not the trancelike werewolf in her arms. Naturally.
Wednesday ceased her soothing movements, stilling.
Externally, at least.
Internally, her mind was racing~ desperate for something, some comfort available to provide.
Almost anything from her admittedly abnormal childhood would traumatize Enid.
And judging from the response Enid had to a (first???) sincere admission of love, the particular flavour of love disregarded, Enid was traumatized enough already.
Suddenly, a memory struck her in particular.
After the death of her beloved scorpion, the young seer had retired to her room, distraught and grief-stricken.
After a few restless, torturous, lonely hours, young Wednesday had received a gentle knock upon her door.
Her mother had entered, all lucent concern and glowing empathy.
Wednesday hated it.
She hated it more for her longing for it. For her willing acceptance of it.
Her mother had held her tight. Sang a soothing song of disgustingly sanguine quality – thankfully balanced with actual themes of sanguination.
A lullaby passed down by generations of seers.
And somehow, for some reason- from the gentle words and familiar gruesome utterings, she had felt a little less volatile. A little less empty.
Hm.
Yes, alright.
She resigned herself to this fate – this – spiritual death.
One of the few things not even competitiveness could wrangle out of Wednesday.
Ugh.
Oh yes, Wednesday knew what to do.
But Enid is not one for blood for blood’s sake. Enid is- is- la luz del sol, a creature of light-
Of the sun.
...
Okay.
Yes, Wednesday knew what must be done.
The raven cleared her throat a smidge awkwardly.
Enid barely blinked.
With only one more hesitation, the raven took a deep, calming breath.
The next time her lips parted, it was to sing with a soft, lilting - if minutely tentative - voice.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”
“You make me happy, when skies are grey~”
Her temporarily catatonic audience raised her head, staring at Wednesday with wide aqua eyes.
The werewolf couldn’t believe her ears.
Wednesday- singing?
SINGING????
Wednesday ignored the werewolf’s bewilderment in favour of stoicism.
She was too far gone now for retreat.
“You’ll never know dear, how much I-” a hitch - “l-love you.”
Enid was transfixed, holding her breath for fear of breaking this trance.
“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
Should I – Should I not -
But luckily, Enid shook herself out of her wonder enough to save the day.
She smiled adoringly and begun singing the next refrain in a sweet, melodious way entirely unique to Enid. Like windchimes, and wind, and a songbird. A flowing river, the smooth rocks that inhibit it.
Like the sting of steel, drawn from its guarding enclosure.
Like freedom.
The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping.
I dreamt i held you, in my arms
But when i woke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head
And I cried
They sang the final verse together. Stumbling, awkward at times – but precious.
Time stretched and warped languorously for their duet ~
And when their shared reverie broke, it was like how honey breaks from a spoon.
Sweetly, slowly, and a tad reluctantly.
Wednesday blinked, noticing the silence was no longer tense.
She smiled slightly, up at her love, noticing the lack of grief marring the other’s beautiful eyes.
And suddenly, Enid was crying again.
W-Wednesday, that was beautiful,” Enid wailed into the ravenette’s shoulder.
Wednesday almost laughed. Almost.
Looks like her plan had both worked, and failed – At this point, improvisation was her real skill.
One most severely underappreciated by all in her life.
The two girls stayed there for a few more minutes, too mutually comfortable to move (even to somewhere more physically comfortable, like a bed- or anywhere that wasn’t hard, wooden floor)
“ I really am sorry,” Enid offered into Wednesday’s shoulder, sounding far too content for what ‘apologetic’ should probably entail. But whatever.
“I don’t know why I'm even crying. Sometimes i feel like my emotions control me more than I them,” Enid gestured vaguely while speaking, the effect greatly reduced by the fact her hands were hovering behind Wednesday’s- and Enid’s own- line of sight.
Wednesday hid a smile with a weary air, and sarcasm. What else? Whoever said her new resolution of honesty excluded the presence of sarcasm???!
“Thank you, Enid. The confessed tenacity of your emotional haunts have instilled a new consternation into the very marrow of my bones.”
As Enid wrinkled her nose at her, most unsubtly, Wednesday relented.
Without the safety net of sarcasm and at a loss, Wednesday decided she must stoop to the dulled “wit” of the assured definition of idiocy.
(She definitely was not conforming to the bewildering adopted language of her generation)
NO.
“I-” An uncharacteristic pause accosted the raven. As well as a (yet another) sigh.
Despite everything, some pains are necessary. Especially for Enid. Wednesday would partake in liquid shots of hellfire to make Enid smile, even once. And considering that in itself is not a difficult endeavor (honestly, readers, Wednesday could be referring to either hellfire shots or making enid smile at this point. I don’t know where this has taken me)***
“... As a certain sniveling gorgon would put it,”
“Ajax?” Enid smiled fondly, resting her head on Wednesday’s collarbone.
The blonde cringed slightly in memory of her childish focus on the gorgon. Not even a crush. Even when they had dated, Enid had known- deep down, he was not the one.
“Yes. Him. I believe he would say: ‘new fear unlocked’ .”
Enid spluttered out a shocked, delighted laugh- reminding Wednesday most acutely of a bark from a startled dog wolf.
Wednesday hid another smile. Small pains indeed.
However, her smile vanished as she saw the glint in Enid's eyes.
The wolf's eyes narrowed further, and Wednesday shifted, a tad self-consciously. If Wednesday was capable of self-conscious.
"What?" Wednesday blurted, rather uncharacteristically.
"Hm. Don't think you still haven't answered for what you did earlier. I believe you owe Ajax an apology, at least,"
Enid did her very best to emulate a stern demeanor.
Wednesday winced, but nodded, acquiescing, albeit plaintively.
They settled again, Enid's temporary ire receding as rapidly as it emerged - making way, again, to contented triumph.
Curious, Wednesday thought.
The raven then shifted, mentally reminding herself of her new commitment to more comprehensive communication.
She hesitated for a beat.
"Enid?"
"Hm?" The blonde stirred, eyes raising to meet Wednesday's.
“Do you wish to talk about it?”****
The reason why you cried when someone said the word love.
A casual question. Vague. But they both knew perfectly well what was being referenced.
(Unlike a certain author that should be omniscent but is barely semi-niscent when it comes to their own writings.***)
Enid let her head drop softly back onto Wednesday’s inviting shoulder.
“Maybe another time.” Enid tilted her head up to gaze enquiringly up at her human pillow.
“For now- stay?”
A swift nod could have settled it – but Wednesday found herself unable to move. She opened her mouth – but found herself strangely lost for words.
So there they sat, in comfortable silence, by the light of the crescent moon and distant stars.
The smaller girl gazed upon her intended once more, contemplated expressing another amorous affirmation- but dallied. After all, simplicity is strength -
And Enid knew the answer anyway.
“Of course.”
~~~
Wednesday had always wondered why people place so much religious, spiritual, and personal significance upon simple spheres of gas, lightyears away~ and most importantly, completely impassive to the woes of humanity. Even if they were not just little suns in the vacuum of space, and in fact sentient entities- the mortal span of homo sapiens- the lives and deaths of human beings- are of no consequence to the stars.
And that is just one ‘bone to pick’.
Why do her kindreds of the hominid family search so particularly for the stars, scatterings upon the backdrop of night?
The stars are there- day, or night-
Calm, or strife-
The stars are still stars.
Just- less.
Less considered.
Less personified, less grand~ just specks in the nothingness.
Suspensions upon the sky.
-
But.
Now, under the stars
With the only person she has ever truly loved
Of her own volition
Her own gravity~
The black hole that orbits a star.
And the star, it
A state of equilibrium.
Now, Wednesday understands~
Or believes, to understand
In the utter chaos of this universe.
The beauty
In the futility
Of everything~
The beauty
In the things
of inevitable eternity
Even death cannot deem futile
Death could not deem this futile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Enid,”
A slight rustle/murmur from the werewolf wrapped around her was the raven’s only response.
Of course. While Wednesday was ruminating, the blonde had fallen asleep.
Wednesday watched her love as she nudged closer, huffing out a gentle breath before stilling once more.
Head falling back against the stained glass window, Wednesday gazed up at the infinity of stars above.
A smile permeated the chill of her face. Tight, but true.
“I don’t wish to lose you either.”
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