Chapter Text
Enid first notices it at the end of the day. She comes into her–well, their, now–room to find Wednesday at the window, carefully peeling the rainbow coverings from half of the glass. She looks down to see a line of black tape unfurled perfectly along the middle of the room, slicing the space into two.
On a base level, Enid is offended. “What the hell did you do to my room?” The vast array of color and expression had shoved into the left side of the tape. The right side was occupied by minimal decor, the macabre mood held up entirely by furniture. The only decorations Enid sees are a cello, a music stand, and a typewriter on the desk. All in that same, bleak color.
Wednesday stares at Enid for a few beats longer than she’s comfortable with before finally speaking up. “Dividing our room equally.”
Two notes: One, that was actually kind of fair. Enid shouldn’t have expected Wednesday to leave all the decorations up, especially those on her side of the room. Wednesday was, supposedly, allergic to color. Enid wasn’t sure exactly how far that ‘allergy’ went. But seeing the tool Wednesday was using to slide the tints off the window, she could only guess it was severe.
On that part, Wednesday’s only real offense was that she hadn’t consulted with Enid about any sort of rearrangements. She would’ve been happy to discuss new decorations, furniture, and even the window, had Wednesday brought up the topic with Enid.
Well, at least Wednesday was kind enough to put Enid’s posters, stickers and plushies in neat stacks and piles, impeccably organized (somehow) for Enid to go through on her own.
The second note Enid makes is how forced that sentence is, coming from Wednesday. When she spoke earlier in the day, it was with purpose, but it also came naturally for the girl. Like talking wasn’t putting her in actual, physical pain. Not like how it looked just now.
Admittedly, it caught Enid off guard. She almost forgot that she was supposed to be angry at Wednesday as the shorter girl immediately shushed her and began clacking away at her typewriter.
The second time Enid notices is approximately one week later. Enid had gotten out of her last class early, and resigned to scrolling through various social media on her phone to pass the time. She was laying down on her bed, earbuds on almost full blast when she felt the slight change in the air of her door opening. She looked up to see Wednesday trudging into the room, not even acknowledging Enid’s existence. When Enid offered a small greeting, Wednesday nodded slightly to say hello. She practically fell into the chair in front of her typewriter, Thing carefully climbing up to ‘speak’ to Wednesday.
It wasn’t unusual for Wednesday to offer greetings at a minimum, but the way the Addams girl carried herself – or rather, the way she didn’t – gave Enid the impression that something was off.
Enid wanted to believe it, anyway. She wanted to believe that, in the week she’d gotten to know her roommate, she’d actually become quite skilled at picking up on Wednesday’s mannerisms and moods. There were always some parts that made no sense to her, but she still tried to be supportive in general.
So, when she saw that Wednesday was practically sulking in the chair at her desk, she did the thing that friends do best. “You okay, there, roomie?” When Wednesday didn’t even give a grunt, Thing motioned to Enid and tapped out a response. Not up for talking.
Enid pouted, but didn’t push it. She heard the familiar tapping of Wednesday’s typewriter and went back to her own ‘business’, which was waiting for Yoko to text her. Since Wednesday had arrived, Enid figured it wouldn’t be long before Yoko returned to her own dorm room.
While Enid prepared herself for the outing that would occupy the rest of her day, she realized something odd. Wednesday’s ‘writing time’ was usually reserved for later in the evening, when she didn’t have to worry about as many potential interruptions.
Another note Enid made was the periodical pauses in Wednesday’s typing. They wouldn’t go on for very long, but neither would the periods of clacking. At another pause, she looked up to see Thing beside the typewriter, tapping and signing various words to Wednesday. He was angled in such a way that Enid wasn’t able to tell what he was saying. Once Thing stilled, Wednesday began typing once more.
There was an odd rhythm to it. Just a single beat of silence thrown in here and there, almost exactly how Thing would tap out messages. Wednesday and Thing went back and forth once more, and Enid realized that the two of them were communicating.
Well, that’s… weird, I guess? Enid found it odd, but relatively tame compared to the rest of the ‘hobbies’ Wednesday pursued. The strange part came from the fact that Thing was perfectly capable of understanding people’s speech. Why did Wednesday feel the need to use morse code? Besides, Thing had just said that she didn’t feel like talking- Oh! Oooooooooh that makes sense!
After a bit more of conversing with Thing, Enid figured out what the issue was. The day had been particularly difficult for Wednesday to get through, and she practically shut down the moment her last class was over. While it didn’t happen every day, it was frequent enough for Enid to observe Wednesday’s actions during such periods.
So, following some extensive morse code lessons with Thing (and a lot of Google), Enid decides it’s time to be bold. During some math homework, she notes that Wednesday and Thing are once again conversing in their own, unique way. Once she hears the tapping of the typewriter come to a pause, she puts her plan into action, grabbing her pen and tapping it on her own desk.
Hey, Wednesday! How was your day?
The typing paused, and Enid waited for a response with bated breath. She was worried she'd overstepped some boundary. She was just about to turn around, expecting Wednesday to be glaring at her. She stopped when the clacking of the typewriter resumed. It was still a little difficult for Enid to get everything Wednesday said, but the general understanding was something along the lines of:
Dreadful. Not in the fun way, either. The way with too loud pubescent children constantly raving about whatever new phenomenon the internet spread today.
Enid giggled slightly. Naturally, Wednesday retained her blunt, stylized way of speaking even when she wasn't speaking. Thing crawled up onto Enid's desk, giving her a thumbs up. She returned the gesture. Then, she realized that Wednesday was no longer typing, supposedly awaiting a response.
I'm sure it wasn't too bad! Besides, would you rather everyone be completely silent all day long?
The clacking resumed, and Thing offered some visual aid to help Enid get anything she might've missed.
If that would mean that I could get more done, then yes. Silence would be preferred. I could plot tortures, have meaningful discussions, and plan for my novel much more efficiently if I wasn't so distracted.
That gave Enid some insight as to why Wednesday would shut down. Overstimulation. Not something Enid expected, but very fair. A day in Nevermore could occasionally equate to a week at some schools. One could easily be overwhelmed by the sheer everything the academy had to offer. Enid was frankly surprised that Wednesday (or anyone, for that matter) hadn't gone on a massive killing spree.
Well, she tapped, it's only your first week. I'm sure it won't take long for you to get used to it.
I'd rather not, came the response. I prefer to save my energy for important tasks and discussions, not the inane drivel of the masses.
Enid wondered if any of her activities counted as 'inane drivel'. Thing then politely tapped that it did not, in fact, include her. To an extent. Enid smiled, knowing that she only occasionally pushed Wednesday to madness.
Despite Wednesday's words, the two of them actually had quite an enjoyable conversation that was, as far as Enid was concerned, positively meaningless. Not that it bothered her. It was nice, getting to just simply talk with Wednesday.
Come morning the next day, Wednesday approached Enid as the latter was eating breakfast with Yoko. She stared at Enid for a few seconds, then finally spoke.
"I realize that I was somewhat… hostile, towards you in our initial interactions. I’d like to apologize, and make it up to you somehow."
Enid blinked, then smiled brightly. Was this Wednesday's attempt at saying 'I'd like to be friends'? Even if it wasn't, at the very least, it meant that she didn't want to be enemies. She initially stood up to hug Wednesday, but quickly remembered that the shorter girl wasn't a fan of the contact. So, she instead bumped Wednesday's shoulder with her own.
Wednesday's expression changed ever so slightly, almost showing some semblance of surprise. She promptly walked away, ending the conversation then and there.
Even through Yoko's sunglasses, Enid could see the confusion. "What was that about," the vampire asked, "I wasn't aware you two were buddies."
Enid bounced in her seat, excited to share the breakthrough she made the following evening. "Oh my god, Yolk, you are not going to believe this."
<>
To feel things wasn't Wednesday Addams's style.
Hold on, that statement needs to be amended.
To feel things aside from annoyance, exhaustion, anger, murderous intent, and the joy of seeing someone's eyes light up from the electric chair wasn't Wednesday Addams's thing.
It was, according to her therapists, an issue regarding her upbringing. In an attempt at rebelling against her parents to prove that she was her own person, she closed off the parts of herself that so closely resembled Morticia and Gomez Addams.
This wasn’t uncommon. Many children across the world would enter the stage known as ‘teenage rebellion’ for various reasons, but to simply be considered a separate entity other than ‘their parent’s child’ was certainly one of the more common reasons.
In Wednesday’s case, however, this desire for individuality was strengthened by one of the many things that set the Addams apart from the rest of the world; the family’s obsession over their goals amplified Wednesday’s desire into something that she nearly required to survive.
Being forced into Nevermore only pushed the dial of this extreme from twelve to fifteen. Constantly being suffocated by the legacy of her parents – Morticia especially – pushed Wednesday’s need for her own identity to lengthy heights. Combining all of that with the downright annoying madness that is Nevermore just pushed Wednesday even further and further until–
She, well, broke.
This wasn’t the first time it happened. Though rare, Wednesday would have moments where she was barely able to function come the end of the day. Her immediate family was the first group of people to notice it and start acting accordingly, each developing their own little ways of communicating with and assisting the young Addams.
Outside of family, however, very few people made any real attempts to understand Wednesday when she would shut down. Her therapists would do their best, but it turned out that morse code wasn’t a requirement for getting a doctorate.
This was how Wednesday came up with the idea to save her energy for important things. Her list of ‘important things’ included, but was certainly not limited to: surviving each day of school, finding new and inventive ways to torture her therapists, enacting those plans, defending her brother’s honor, and the sort. Anything that didn’t fall anywhere near those categories could simply be dealt with while Wednesday was at a lower level.
At Nevermore, Wednesday figured that this would be no different. However, it turned out that she was wrong. It was, in fact, different from her previous experiences at school.
It was, in fact, worse.
To take the worst parts of adolescence – teenage angst, school dances, awkward romance, and more – and add in the supernatural was, in Wednesday’s opinion, a punishment that would only be suited for an Addams such as herself. A punishment that not even she could enjoy.
Wednesday found herself being drained of all her energy much easier and Nevermore than anywhere else she’d been. With no one but Thing to truly understand her and her idiosyncrasies, Wednesday came to the conclusion that she was, for all intents and purposes, doomed.
Suddenly, there came a tapping.
Wednesday’s eyes widened slightly. It wasn’t the tapping of her typewriter, nor was it the easily identifiable tapping of Thing’s well-kept fingers. It sounded more like plastic hitting wood. A pen hitting a desk. Wednesday turned her head slightly to see exactly what the source of the sound was.
Enid, in all her colorful terror, was sitting at her own desk, resolutely not looking at Wednesday. She held a pen in her hand, hovering it just slightly over her desk.
Hey, Wednesday! How was your day?
It was a sentence she’d heard from the lycan many times before. Every time she’d return to their dorm room. It confused Wednesday. Why would some random girl she’d known not even a full week care about her personal life? Personal gain and leverage were a couple things that came to mind, but Wednesday wasn’t sure if Enid was that type of person.
The fact that she’d caught on to her favored way of communication was also suspicious. She should’ve known something was amiss when she saw Enid taking notes on whatever she and Thing were conversing about.
And yet…
Dreadful. Not in the fun way, either. The way with too loud pubescent children constantly raving about whatever new phenomenon the internet spread today.
She found herself responding. How this girl managed to coax the words from her fingers was a mystery to Wednesday. Was she secretly a psychic, using elaborate tricks to fool Wednesday? No. Even if that were the case, Enid would have to be better than the best illusionist in the world to pull one over any Addams. Aside from maybe Pugsley.
Soon enough, the two of them were having a full conversation. Wednesday didn’t even realize her blunder until Enid departed to spend the rest of the day with her friends. How could she have let this happen? How was she, Wednesday Addams, japed by some wolf? One with pink and blue in her hair, no less.
“Thing,” she said, the speech sitting unfamiliar on her tongue after almost an hour of nonverbal communication. “What… happened?”
Thing, the smug appendage that he was, signed and tapped only three words. Words that scared Wednesday. She understood you.
That wasn’t something that happened. People didn’t ‘understand’ Wednesday Addams. People feared her. They avoided her. They stayed out of her way, and prayed to whatever god they believed in that the poor soul who looked at her for too long would be shown whatever mercy the girl had. To not be understood was to be feared. To be feared was to have power.
And because of the actions of one girl, Wednesday immediately felt that power slipping. How absolutely frightening.
But then, how did their interaction invoke such a foreign feeling inside Wednesday? One of nostalgia, reminding her of when she and Pugsley made their own little code for when everything became too much for her to handle. Why did it bring such a horrifying warmth to her face?
If not being understood meant being feared, then what did it mean to be understood?
The solution to this predicament was obvious. If Enid was trying to understand Wednesday for her own sick, twisted purposes, then Wednesday would simply need to understand her first.
It didn’t take long for Wednesday to concoct a fool-proof plan to figure Enid out. Unfortunately, it started with the one thing Wednesday hated more than her parents’ constant disgusting displays.
Apologizing.