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Loneliness had always fascinated Wednesday for as long as she could remember, the mere thought of having to be in the company of people she barely knew sent a shudder through her body, unpleasant. Addams liked to test her limits, the only way to reach great heights, but people... both living and dead, annoyed her. By her mere presence, no one even had to strain for her to start wasting nerve cells, and their recovery is a terribly long process, rather dreary. She drove everyone away from her in many ways, someone could be embarrassed by her gloomy look, and someone resisted until the moment she got hit in the face, sometimes with her own fist. Revenge for Addams is a cold art, in which a mistake is a failure, and the reward for success is a priceless feeling of victory, incomparable to anything, and without a carefully thought-out plan, Wednesday does not take on any business, impulsiveness is what she fights, along with incredibly stubborn character.
Everyone is unique, but typological in her mind, and she won't bother trying to find her own approach to someone, because directness is a universal way of communicating. When the truth is presented without embellishment, only those who are really worth paying attention to remain nearby.
Enid's attention was taken by Wednesday, so strong that sometimes she doesn't even notice how she can lift someone up when she hugs her, squeezing tightly in her seemingly weak arms. She's a werewolf, and the girl isn't surprised by the fact that she's a lot stronger than she first appears, being such a... dangerously flamboyant personality, she remains deadly. Enid stands out not only for her physical condition, but also for her character, so optimistic that Wednesday would not be impressed at all by finding rainbow-colored confetti in her heart. This girl literally reeked of sweetness, and being in the same room with her was like torture, and for all Addams's love of self-testing, it was too cloying, she could not appreciate this feeling. She needed solitude until Enid left, leaving her too proud and cornered.
At least she was able to put limits on this werewolf girl, two attempts on her life, more than five fainting spells, panic attacks, and, as Enid herself reported, the possibility of PTSD. Wednesday is unwittingly impressed by her tenacity, but does not show it, she is always unflappable, and simple words about how Enid tried to be her friend will not work. Words don't work on her, do they?
Addams does not know how to lie, because she does not hide her uncertainty well. By one hesitation in the movements of the pupils, anyone could understand that she managed to drive her into the corner of the question, and the girl miraculously managed to get out of the dialogue and strain her brains.
Enid was simple, direct, but not like her, she spoke so softly and carefully that Wednesday's stomach twisted with the desire to vomit. Her words were like cotton candy, sweet molasses, and the sight of something colorful and bright persistently referred her name to her memory. Enid. A lover of plush toys, a gossip queen who knows how to find a common language with any person. It doesn't matter if it's a normis or a freak. The complete opposite, who slept in the same room with her.
The loneliness was not as pleasant as she expected. It is a poison that slowly dissolves the boundaries of the mind, and for the first time Wednesday did not understand why the poison was no longer good for her. She had been spitting poison all her life, driving away everyone she could.
The universe knows how to return what they have done, and they pushed it away without even touching it. Addams didn't like being alone.
Enid is so brave and stupid that she rushed into battle, thoughtlessly, absolutely unsure whether she would survive or not. She saved her, fought the monster, risked herself, standing on the verge of life and death, but returned, in blood and tears, On short hair, no longer so perfectly styled - black mud, dried grass and leaves from different trees, she breathed raggedly, forcing a tired body to run, because only one thought hovered in this head: where is Wednesday?
Enid rushed towards her, and realized too late what she had done, the girl in front of her looked no better, covered in a scarlet liquid, frightened, and impulsive.
Then Wednesday herself hugged her, wrapped her trembling arms around her neck, and something clicked in her chest, and not twice, buried her wearily in her shoulder, and felt that she needed it.
Her body reacted before her brain melted by what had happened, and Addams was afraid she would be honest with herself, with her.
A month ago, she would have curled her lips in disgust, how is it that she softens to such an extent that she shows weakness? Softness that would make her grit her teeth, she would deny. To end.
But she was pleased with this feeling, the desire to reach out for someone's touch, and to know for sure that there is trust. She liked the feeling, completely new, it happened so rarely that it is felt for the first time.
Wednesday had to accept the fact that Enid could speak, sometimes better than any siren, that she was easily manipulated by her, so simple they were. Later, the Thing explained that this is called a request, and not a psychological device. Sometimes the hand sees much more than her. Enid loves people, wins them over with her charisma and smile, but they still have one thing in common.
They both don't stop until they get their way.
If Wednesday does it directly and harshly, not ashamed to lie and lie, Enid is smart enough to be able to read people, and experienced enough in dealing with society to be read exactly as she wants. It's a trait of a teenager, it's normal. In her place, Addams would have long ago hunted for something criminal, while a kind person uses her talents only to make acquaintances. If a unicorn jumps out of her smile, probably pink, covered in sequins, or plays pop music, Wednesday will only blink at it.
She really believed that it was difficult to surprise her, she had seen a lot in her sixteen years, and this was true. No teenager at her age has seen or done at least a percentage of the things that are ordinary for her. Then why does she flinch just a little every time she feels the soft touch of arms wrapping around her from behind? The room is quiet, and it's new to her to lie like this on someone else's bed with her eyes closed, because the colors are too bright, it's hard to relax, her jaw won't open, and her shoulders won't obey her orders to stop being so raised. It is unusual for her when her black hair is untangled, spread out on a pillow, but she is silent, trying to accept this position. Thinking about your own well-being is depressing.
“My God, you are such a voltage that you can charge power plants,” a malicious, quiet chuckle comes from behind, “I can literally hear your thoughts.”
“I'm calm.” Wednesday realizes she's not telling the truth, it's so clumsy, she tenses up again from her fingers slowly massaging her scalp. “Absolutely.”
“I believe it,” Enid chuckles, and the sheets rustle softly as she cuddles closer to her, breathing in the pleasant scent of her hair. “You should practice.”
“In what?” Addams wonders, and her voice is not monotonous. There is an ache, and it makes Enid's lips lift into a satisfied smile.
“In lying.”
“Funny.”
“Do your best,” she chuckles at the sullen response, which seemed to contain a hint of sarcasm more than it even has.
Too softly, Wednesday pushed herself into a corner trying to figure out how to react to this. She likes and doesn't, the feeling of confusion makes her think she's stupid. But she doesn't want to leave. She tries not to think too much about it, which comes out in a thoughtful chuckle. It looks like a long attempt at coming up with a biting reply, Enid chuckles smugly, usually Wednesday doesn't waste a second to morally destroy his opponent with a couple of sharp words.
Enid loves it, it definitely feels good to hold her tighter, cold and distant girl, stroking her head, untangling her tight braids, letting her silky hair rest on the pillows. She can.
If it were not so, she would have flown through the window long ago, without having had time to land on her paws.
Wednesday can say creepy and frightening things, show horrible pictures like it's not someone's insides, but some kind of kitten, but Enid accepted her that way. Why? She did not ask this question, because the answer had long been looming in her head. Sympathy.
She hugs her tighter, longer, silent, because Wednesday made concessions, and she should have, too. She no longer complains about the sweet smell, but sleepily runs her palms over the girl's cheeks, blinking slowly, looking straight into blue eyes, so clear. Trying to see something in them ended in failure, Enid constantly turns away, moving the subject to something else.
She nuzzles her neck, breathes slowly and warmly, and Wednesday manages to hide her surprise, and her annoyance too. New feelings attack her too often, how much it confused her and so quickly, almost instantly.
It would be too stupid to throw off the reluctance to move away on banal curiosity.
She loves it, and Addams admits it.
“You annoy me,” she mutters sleepily.
“Well done, it's getting better.” Enis chuckles in response.