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Wednesday has elected to reject all forms of touch. Holding hands, long hugs, gentle kisses, none of those basic human interactions. And it's not for any horrible, tragic incident that occurred in her adolescence. She doesn't get repulsed by it or flinch, her nervous system doesn't shut down and her fight or flight doesn't kick in.
No. She simply doesn't want to be like her parents.
Maybe that's a horrible reason. Morticia and Gomez are madly in love with one another. They are affectionate at all times, whether it be her father showering her mother in kisses or just a gentle touch. Their fingers intertwined as they sit at the table, mother caressing his face as she passes by, small moments.
"My little storm cloud, love is the only wonderful and beautiful thing we Addams desire. We feel it from the bottom of our feet all the way through our heads, exploding out of our brains! Ask your mother! She wasn't keen on anyone touching her either, just like you. But love? Makes you do uncomfortable things."
Her father is wrong. She and her mother aren't alike. Wednesday would never let anyone near her. She would never leave herself open to someone else. As much fun as heartbreak and sorrow is, she would never want to go through it with some random person. The thought of someone holding her heart in their hands is just pathetic. No one will ever be that close to her. To ever love her or touch her.
There it is again, touch.
She grimaces as old memories of her childhood rush through her. She was a child that never wanted to be put down, always being held. Her father would carry her around the mansion at all times. Showering her in little forehead kisses, telling her she was a perfect little rain cloud. That she brought an extra dark essence to the home. Her mother would always read her bedtime stories, gently combing through her hair as she did so. Wednesday could never fall asleep if her mother didn't kiss her on the cheek. Even Pugsley would hold hands with her as they would steal stop signs. The simple act was enough to know her brother cared for her.
Touch is, sadly, Wednesday's true love language and it sickens her. So she's been rejecting it.
She doesn't know when it truly started. She was just tired of always being compared to her mother. She is her own person. Not a clone of someone else.
So, she started to shy away. Long hugs turned to a quick pat, telling her mother to stop the bedtime routine, dodging under her father's kisses. She even would slap Pugsley's hand away. Now, she can hardly remember the last time she was truly hugged.
Perfect.
But, there is this gnawing inside her. A want, a need, that torments her and calls out. She feels it anytime her mother sneaks a gentle hand through her hair. The sensation of her nails scraping her scalp makes her head tingle and it shoots down her spine. Or when her father squeezes her shoulder. Her body warms and tension subsides, tension she didn't know she had locked into her muscles. Any touch has her chest swelling, a warmth spreads through her, and her body hums. Her veins are fire as her cold, dead heart seemingly comes to life and that's when the need begins. The needing to be held, hugged, to be loved but-
Her eyes always sting with tears. They stab at her eyes and she has to hurry off after any physical contact. Her cheeks redden and her normally cold body is sickly hot. She would have to lock herself away in her room as these feelings course through her.
Breathe in, breathe deep, breathe through, breathe out. She would tell herself, trying to get rid of these emotions.
The whole sad thing about all of this is, the touches never made her feel bad. Never made her feel disgusted or scared. Never made her feel anything horrible.
No, something more terrible. They made her feel warm, safe, happy, cared for, and worse of all;
Loved.
And she tells herself that she doesn't want that, but there's a problem. A new problem. A colorful and pestering problem.
Enid Sinclair.
Her smile is the brightest thing Wednesday has ever had the unfortunate opportunity to see. Her eyes shine and twinkle like some desperate house dog wanting a treat. And even worse, that pink sweater is the biggest eye-sore Wednesday has ever seen.
"Please! Just this once, it'll be super quick! And you can totally shove me off!" There she goes again, sticking out her lower lip like it would add anything.
Wednesday clenches her teeth and almost wishes she could take back her invitation. She doesn't even know what possessed her to ask!
"Enid Sinclair, I understand that you will not be traveling home for the holiday season. I, unfortunately, will be, and as much as I desire time away from you. Would you-" She stumbled over her words. Dry mouth and an elevated heartbeat. "Possibly, w-would you want-" She's going to actually kill herself. Wednesday Addams does not stutter.
"Would you like to come and spend the holidays with me?" She rushed out, not smooth and calculated, but like a middle schooler asking out a crush.
God, this isn't a crush.
If it was any bit possible, somehow Enid's already nauseating bright smile became brighter.
"Really!? I would love to, Wednesday!" That's where she should've turned away or gone out of the room but Wednesday stilled and couldn't pull her eyes away. She stood too long and gave Enid an opportunity.
"I know you aren't too great with hugs and all, but maybe just this once?"
Now here she stands, frozen in place, and yet, she hasn't rejected the request. A hug. It could be short, maybe a quick side hug. Maybe just a pat on the back. Enid did say she could shove her off, that alone is tempting.
She doesn't realize how long she has truly taken just standing there, staring holes into Enid's impossibly blue eyes, until she sees the light dull out. Her smile slips off, no more teeth showing just a thin fake smile. Wednesday should be ecstatic, a few months ago she would've been. It would have been a victory to knock the werewolf down, to draw out a grimace, to extinguish that obnoxious smile, but-
It doesn't feel good.
"Actually, it's, umm, it's totally fine, Wednesday. It was stupid to ask and-"
Something Angelic has possessed her. Only something Holy and good would cause Wednesday to step forward and easily envelope Enid in her arms.
The first thing she notices is the sickening smell of the absolutely atrocious junk Enid constantly consumes. Wednesday has never seen the girl without a candy bar or some beef stick in her hands. She would never admit it, but she's a bit concerned the girl will die of a heart attack before the end of the semester.
But under it all, the scent of strawberries stands out. It's...nice. An odd mixture of smells but it's something that's completely Enid.
The second thing is Enid, hugging her back instantly. She's strong. Not overwhelming, she's not crushing Wednesday but, it's secure. Her arms are shockingly toned, more than likely from her wolf genes. Enid is also an actual furnace. The second she engulfed Wednesday into her, heat just rolled off in buckets. The warmth makes Wednesday yearn to curl up into the girl and fall into a deep sleep. She can feel her own core temperature rise, her heart thawing out each second. That thought alone makes Wednesday want to push away.
Just as she thinks it, Enid tightens her arms around Wednesday's shoulders, burying Wednesday deeper into her neck. Strawberries suffocate her and shockwaves flow through her.
An onslaughter of tingles and warmth zip down her spine and expand out to every inch of her. Her body buzzes, not the small hums she gets from the passing touches of her parents, no this is electrifying.
Her head pounds and the rush of endorphins is new and surprisingly not unwelcome. It's a bit addictive and she almost understands why Enid insists on hugging everyone. It makes Wednesday remember her childhood again and that, need, gnaws at her chest again. She has to force her body from shaking as that burning sensation starts behind her eyes. Her heartbeat rattles in her ribcage and everything in her tells her to run and lock herself away. It's so much, too much, and all-consuming. And yet, her own grip tightens around Enid's waist, against her better judgment.
Wednesday feels, safe and warm and cared for, and, worst of all,
Loved.
It isn't until Enid releases a deep sigh that Wednesday finally comes out of the fog. She stiffens before pushing away and hurrying to her side of the room. She prays that Enid didn't see her glossy eyes or flush cheeks.
"You smell of stale Twinkies and burnt hotdogs. You're a garbage disposal of a person and I suspect you'll die before the New Year." She says smoothly, thankfully.
Of course, Enid doesn't miss a beat, she never does. "I enjoyed the hug too, Wednesday. We should do it more often."
Enid Sinclair shall be the demise of Wednesday Addams.