Chapter Text
"You know if you actually cared about my well-being, your first question should have been 'Are you okay?' and not 'Have you wolfed out yet?'" Enid huffs at her laptop. This felt like it was Wednesday's cue to move her meeting with her parents to the outside terrace. She didn't want to get stuck in between Enid and her mom's scuffle, knowing how it always ends. She wanted to get her affairs in order before being Enid's therapist for the night, unpacking all that trauma . Not that Wednesday was any good with feelings and words, but ever since Parents’ Day, Wednesday had no choice but to be Enid’s teddy bear and tissues any time her mother came in contact with her.
And Wednesday isn't all that great with feelings but she does love hearing about people's suffering. Thing would say this is Wednesday's way of comforting the other girl but Wednesday would promise to kill, stab, and murder any of these notions–were they to come up.
Stepping out into the brash, March winter winds, Wednesday sat against the window and propped the crystal ball on her lap. She rang her parents a couple of times until they picked up, Gomez screaming in the background. "My daughter! My little wreaking havoc! How was it? Are you okay? We heard from Thing what happened—" Morticia cuts him off. "My wretched daughter, please. How are things there?"
The girl in black spoke in detail about everything she had gone through leading up to this moment. Sparing every detail on the mysteries encountered, mistakes made, and even a fellow friend’s death. Morticia procured too much interest in that topic, noting for another time to reveal that Larissa Weem’s body was never found.
The girl pursed her lips, reminiscing on the principal's care. Had that woman believed me in the first place, things would have been much easier for both of us. Perhaps that was Wednesday's way of desensitizing any woes she spared over that woman's life. "But Principal Weems is no longer around to put the school in order so the Nightshades took over."
Morticia's face darkened, sitting beside her husband who comforted her with a warm hand and a loving gaze. Gomez speaks up, "Wednesday, your mom and I are worried about you. Do you want us to come to get you? Do you need anything? More knives? A couple of bottles of cyanide? You know how I feel about showing up to a sword fight with no weapons." Morticia spared a tiny chuckle, reminiscing on their youthful memories.
"Father, the trouble has been well taken care of. I would however appreciate a new pair of boots. These… Are dirty." Wednesday muttered, looking at her bloodied shoes with chunks of the unknown matter still stuck, smiling to herself in pride over solving this ridiculous case. But there was a part of Wednesday that didn't feel at peace with the outcome. I feel like there is more to it. This ended way too easily. Things just... Don't connect.
"We'll bring lots when we come to pick you up for spring break! As a gift for my beautiful oleander and bringing pride to the Addams family. You give me so much joy in mourning." Gomez says, as he looks to his wife, asking for approval to leave their beloved daughter at Nevermore for just one more week. With Morticia's nod, the woman utters her own farewell, and the crystal ball clicks off, leaving Wednesday alone with the full moon.
In crude timing, Wednesday's peace and quiet was disrupted by a dreadful cry, for some reason it felt more abhorrent knowing whose voice it sourced from.
"Fuck off! Don't bother picking me up if all you care about is that!" Enid screeched, as she slammed her laptop shut—followed by another curse word, realizing her newly awakened strength might have broken her laptop.
As Wednesday was climbing back into their room through her window, Enid plops herself into bed, screaming nonsense into her pillow. Wednesday looms over her with an amused but impatient face. If only I could smother her now. Some peace and quiet for a change would be nice.
"Enid, we must rest so your body can recuperate from turning tonight," Wednesday says monotonously, folding her arms. "If you keep crying like that you'll develop more wrinkles than an expiring dead body."
Enid throws an innocent pillow at Wednesday, which the tired girl in black dodges.
"Enid, please. We've both had a long day, you need to rest."
"I preferred if you just told me to shut up, Wednesday."
"Well, I've been told my bluntness can be quite hurtful."
"Since when did you care about people's feelings?"
Wednesday was taken aback by the other girl's hostility. Usually, it's the other way around. "I only care about yours." Wednesday quietly says, truthfully.
Enid sits up, looking at Wednesday with shock in her eyes but tears rolling down her cheek. "Don't say that right now Addams I'm too hormonal and sad for this shit." She yells, while burring herself back into her sheets and crying even more.
With a discourteous grunt, Wednesday gave in with a more emotional tactic to get the werewolf to stay quiet for the rest of the night. She wasn't up for staying up all night listening to sad dog whimpers when tomorrow was sure to be a busier day.
Wednesday sits onto Enid's colorful bed, right beside the other girl's torso. She pulls her hand and rests it on Enid's shoulder, gently urging, "Do you want to talk about it?" Wednesday felt the other girl tense beneath her touch.
For the first time this semester, Wednesday Addams is initiating skin-to-skin contact with Enid Sinclair— and she hated it . This felt unfamiliar to her, having someone ask for her thoughts on things. It was always 'do this' or 'be more like...' and spending your whole life as if you never belonged to your own pack made this moment even more horrifying—let alone it's Wednesday Addams being concerned. Of all people.
This moment would have been romantic had there not been hormones and howls plaguing the air between Enid and Wednesday. Enid’s ear twitches, feeling the bodily urge to join her people to do the same.
And Enid didn't take into consideration the key changes that occur after turning for the first time; which honestly made 'Wolfing-Out' a nightmare to female werewolves. The werewolf groans. I don't know how I feel about this. She felt a familiar itch covering every inch of her skin as her heartbeat raced to match that of a werewolf’s. The first turn should always be endured alone. If not, whoever gets to witness a female werewolf’s howl will be eaten up along with every memory of it.
In human anatomy, people with a uterus usually experience a menstrual cycle due to their bodily need to ‘reproduce’. If the body isn’t holding a child, the walls of the uterus shed, causing bleeding, cramping, and horrific pain for 3-7 days. But for werewolves, depending on their bloodline whether it be alpha, beta, or omega, their first turn prepares them for their innate need. In the werewolf caste system, alphas are the hunters and leaders of the pack. Their first wolf-outs tend to be the most violent due to their inherent nature as alphas.
Enid’s bloodline is of alphas, which is why wolfing-out is such a big deal to her infuriating mother.
"I need to go." Enid shoots up from bed meeting Wednesday eye to eye, first looking at Wednesday's lackluster eyes which were uncharacteristically not as dead as they usually look, then down to her full lips. Enid panics even more. "Crap. I really need to go."
What makes it even worse is that if she’s around someone she really likes… It makes the hormones worse.
The girl in the pink coat scurries out through the window with her heart right in her throat, not listening to Wednesday's pleads of curiosity about the situation. Without looking back Enid did what she was always taught to do when this time finally came. Ironically by her obsessed mother—which Enid couldn't help but resent for finally having to use the information that's been drilled into her mind since her status as a 'late bloomer' became apparent.
Past the Nevermore property was the woods. Enid sped through the timber and with a pass by another big oak, Enid found herself in werewolf form. She kept running, past the bee keeper's hut, past the docks, until she reached the end of Nevermore's estate—determined by a wrought iron fence, garnished with white stone bases.
Enid laid on the cold, leaf-ridden forest floor and howled into the night sky, then blacking out and letting her inner wolf rise to her consciousness.
Wednesday who had followed her down, rolled her eyes, thinking how the dope was so stupid for doing that. Way to tell me where you're located, you fool.
The girl in black found herself running after Enid, following the howls between the wolf and the moon. Like a cry for help. Music to my ears. Wednesday pushed deeper into the woods, stopping her sprint once she saw the campus edge. Coming to a halt, she waited for another howl.
Standing in the middle of the woods, Wednesday was armed to take on any animal or danger that seemingly hates their own lives enough to even think about harming Wednesday Addams. But one thing she was not prepared for was a werewolf's first heat.
The winds blew into the trees as they whispered a warning into Wednesday's ears. For someone so high maintenance, she sure picked the worst spot to get away from me. Another howl mingled with the wind's songs, leading Wednesday straight to Enid. The girl ripped out of her clothes from turning—besides her pink coat, once. She was shivering, but asleep.
And surrounded by dead carcasses of nearby small animals, as if she drew a safety line in their blood.
Wednesday scoffs away a blush, trying to respectfully work her way around the genocide before her to cover Enid’s exposed body. Taking her coat off and setting it on Enid, she right beside her and leaned against the wall. Wednesday rests her head on Enid's shoulder, resting for a bit. Between her own recovering heaves and the sound of the forest sweeping the leaves about, nothing came close to how loud Wednesday's mind was.
Why did I run after her? It's not like I care—Naturally, she would be safe. I mean, it's in her very nature to do this during her first turn. Why did I feel the need to come here in the first place?
Wednesday found herself inching closer to Enid and shuffling her body for a more comfortable position.
It's your fault. I don't understand why you were so mad when I brought you with me to check out the Gates' house or why you were so adamant about making me your friend when I've warned you so many times that I do not fancy company. Yet you foolishly risked your life for me. I don't get you, or your dull-witted life choices.
Wednesday realizes her thoughts were contradictory and hummed a pleasant sigh. Your stupid rubbed off on me since I'm out here against my own better judgment. God, you're insufferable, Enid.
"You're so much more tolerable when you're not speaking and making loud noises." Wednesday huffs. "But yet, you make me hate the silence."
Picking up the other girl's hand and intertwining their fingers together, she continued. "Why would you risk your life for me? Why do people let me hurt them..."
Wednesday looks up into the night sky, reminiscing on the events leading up to this morning. "Today I realized that I was a terrible friend. It's just, I have warned the path I'd chosen would be a lonesome one. I was prepared for that. I just wasn't prepared to deal with how much that choice would hurt the people around me."
"Then again, I don't really care for people around me much anyways." Wednesday hums, turning to Enid to examine her. "Yet you are different." She whispers while tucking Enid's loose hair behind her ear. "So different from me..." She trails off, taking a deep inhale of the forest's musk mixed with Enid's perfume.
"My hands are never warm, yet yours are. Very much. And your touch makes me nervous, in the same way, my heart drops when I'm about to die. I look forward to it. I would never admit to it but your hugs are comforting the way coffins and dark spaces are for me." Wednesday was starting to feel ridiculous admitting this all out loud, but she felt so confident her conversation was simply between the moon and her. "And how your presence is the loudest thing in the room even if you're sleeping, I've come to prefer it over the grating sounds of people screaming in horror or the crackles of incinerators burning bodies."
Wednesday cringes. God this probably sounds like a confession. "It's crazy how you've managed to change small things about me in due time. I've been more content with myself—yet you somehow manage to make me feel guilty for being a ruthless, unfeeling bastard."
"I thought I would find peace knowing you'd be safe for the night and I could sleep finally in peace," Wednesday continues, "but why does my heart feel so heavy about leaving you? Why do I feel so many things when it's about you? I hate it."
Enid was resting her eyes when Wednesday sat beside her. She was plotting a plan to figure out a way to flee from Wednesday's grasp until Wednesday started talking. Relaxing her body she let the girl speak her mind, not knowing Wednesday would say the things she said. Enid waited until the girl finished, and sleepily curled closer into Wednesday to keep the warmth.
Wednesday realizes Enid might not have been sleeping and feels embarrassed for the first time in her life. I would not at all mind if she turned into a werewolf and mauled me in my sleep. This is beyond shameful.
The girl in black didn't know what to do. Enid managed a way to get on Wednesday's lap, snaking her arms around Wednesday's waist and laying her head onto Wednesday's chest. Wednesday was frozen into position, panicked by a large amount of skin-to-skin contact escalating in a matter of seconds--Realizing the only thing between their skin were Wednesday's clothes. Swallowing her heart back into place, Wednesday grabs Enid's coat to lay over her bare back.
The two slept in each other's arms, enveloped by the forest musk, Enid’s fruity perfume, and the welcoming scent of fresh blood. To Wednesday, though she would never admit to it, this was pure bliss. That is, until some uninvited visitors finally answered Enid's confusing midnight texts.
Coupled with the sound of a familiar voice and snickers trailing it, Wednesday awoke to the sound of cameras flickering and the words, "Yoko, you better take a picture for blackmail."