Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Finally moving away from her computer, Wednesday spots the time at the bottom corner of the screen- 4:30 AM. Rising from her chair, she blinks slowly to let her eyes adjust to the darkness of her apartment and the moonlight peeking through her window blinds.

After spending the entire night hunched over her desk, diligently writing, to say she is unsatisfied with the result of her efforts would be an understatement. Hours of work and, in Wednesday’s opinion, absolutely nothing to show for it. Her eyes are bleary and her muscles are wonderfully stiff like a body in rigor. She flexes her fingers a few times and twists her back- it gives a very satisfying pop. Already she feels a little better.

However, agitation still sits in the little headache forming at her temple. Her edits weren't coming along as planned. There were too many possible directions for the story to go in, none of which seemed to fit her protagonist’s characterization. It's irritating for any writer to struggle like this, but even more so when you are as meticulous and dramatic as an Addams.

Weighing her options a bit, she considers that perhaps a change of scenery would help her concentrate enough to sort out her thoughts. Even the best of authors occasionally suffers from writer’s block, and unfortunately, not even Wednesday was exempt from this. The frustration was getting to be too much as she thought more about her abject failure. Annoyed and groggy, she succumbs to her desire for caffeine- very well deserved. It was perhaps much too early for anywhere to be open, but she was hopeful. Regardless, she figures she may as well venture out for some fresh air.

And fresh it is.

With her book bag slung over one shoulder, Wednesday trudges through the sparkling inch of snow collecting on the sidewalk, wearing only a light jacket in the crisp early morning air, the frost crunching beneath her black boots with every step. She has half a mind to shovel it up herself. The sun was only just starting to rise in the distance, its reddish rays helping to illuminate her path.

She decided to pay a little visit to the new coffee shop that had opened only a month ago- The Silver Moon. It's just a quick walk down the street from her apartment, and the convenience is too much to resist right now.

Eugene, arguably her only friend (a classmate and sidekick of sorts), had been raving about it recently, having attended the cafe's small opening event. Every time he stops by (which seemed suspiciously often), he tries something new and sends Wednesday an in-depth review in the form of a flurry of text messages with every sip. It’s an incredibly dramatic affair that he takes very seriously.

To be completely honest, Wednesday doesn't care even a little bit, but she's not going to tell him that and crush his little spirit. She might be a little mean, but she's not evil…all the time (she still has a reputation to uphold, after all). If anything, Eugene very likely thinks the drinks are that good because he finds the barista to be exceptionally attractive. Or so he tells her. A lot.

“But Wednesday! She’s so-”

Rolling her eyes, she cuts him off, “I know. Pretty. You’ve only been talking about her for the last thirty minutes…”

“No but Wednesday! You don’t understand!”

“Clearly not.”

He had been bringing up the cafe's barista every chance he got while running into Wednesday on campus, which unfortunately was very often. Needless to say, it was becoming excessively irritating, and Wednesday's tolerance for nonsense was... low. She hadn’t let him finish his spiel and just walked off to her next class without another word. He was sufficiently accustomed to her callous nature to not really feel all that hurt by it.

She remembers that particular exchange very well. She’s not the least bit curious about Eugene's crush of the week. She can only hope the coffee is as good as he says it is, but she fears he perhaps has been a bit biased, all things considered.

Wednesday completes the short trek and, wiping the bits of snow off her boots on the doormat, she enters the café. It’s smaller than she had imagined, and the kind of warm that defrosts you from the inside out.

The contrast between the biting chill outside and the sudden warmth enveloping her now is almost suffocating. It reminds her of being buried alive. Cozy. The lights are slightly dim and the beige walls compliment the dark brown booths and wooden tables well. It is, dare she say, quaint.

The deep, smokey scent of dark roast coffee in the air is indeed very promising. Wednesday nods to herself approvingly and sets her things down at a small booth in the darkest corner of the café.

Given the hour, no one else has yet chosen to partake in a cup of coffee, perhaps a bit too dark out for even the early birds. Or, she considers, it could be business isn't exactly booming, but she'll give them the benefit of the doubt.

Either way, there was no one around to disturb her peace as she worked on her writing. Perfect.

Walking up to the counter, she comes face to face with whom she assumes Eugene has been going on and on about.

“Howdy! First time here, right? What can I get for you?” the barista says, with a bright smile and sparkling eyes.

Wednesday stands there, eyebrows furrowed, almost sick at the girl’s enthusiasm this early in the morning- though at any time of day, it would be a lot to stomach. The barista is…colorful and disturbingly bubbly. It's very nearly more than she is willing to deal with at this hour. But desperate times…

Wednesday says nothing, instead openly staring at the barista long enough to notice her fingers beginning to fidget nervously in the awkward silence. Wednesday’s eyes finally glance past her to the chalkboard menu on the back wall, everything written out in a swoopy font. Not exactly calligraphy, she criticizes internally.

There's even a personified dancing latte doodled in the corner. "Larry the latte," apparently... The rest of the chalkboard displays an extensive list of drinks and pastries, none of which particularly interest her. She decides on her go-to drink of choice: a quad over ice. She figures it's a safe enough option.

Except that’s not at all what she hears herself say.

Grimacing at the drawing, “a latte?,” accidently escapes past her lips, breaking the silence.

"Alrighty, that'll be $3.50!"

Wednesday's eyes widen slightly in surprise at her own slip up, but she has never been one to take back her words.

She doesn’t know why the hell she said it out loud, but she chooses to blame the fatigue... and Larry's stupid little smile. Thankfully, thinking back to Eugene’s reports, Silver Moon’s lattes are supposedly “scrumptious,” as he so eloquently put it.

Alright then. Why the hell not. If it's gross, she'll come for Larry and his entire lineage.

“Okie dokie! It'll be ready in just a sec!” the barista says with a little salute.

It makes Wednesday's eye twitch.

All signs of nervousness gone, the girl returns Wednesday's card and gets to work behind the counter. Wednesday considers her for a moment: a lone barista working both the register and preparing the drinks. Come to think of it, Eugene had never mentioned any other workers here. How strange that this girl is quite possibly the cafe’s only employee.

Wednesday is curious to see how the barista handles a morning rush by herself. Perhaps in a bit as the sun rises further and Wednesday is still taking slow sips, she’ll get to witness that particular disaster first-hand.

Wednesday waits there at the counter and watches the barista at work. She silently observes as the girl measures precisely 19.5 grams of coffee grounds into the portafilter and compacts them with a tamp, as is customary, moving swiftly and confidently. She looks completely in her element. Interesting…

Much to Wednesday’s surprise, the barista moves naturally and skillfully through the process- swirling when appropriate, steaming the milk with care, and humming a tune to herself.

Once finished, the girl sets the latte down on the counter before Wednesday, the milk poured in a classic rosetta on top.

“All done! Please enjoy,” she says with a small smile, rocking a bit on her tippy toes.

Wednesday reaches for the drink, nodding stiffly in thanks to the barista- Enid, her name tag reads.

She settles in with her latte and opens her laptop to continue her writing.

Wednesday herself is skilled with an espresso machine, but it was nice to know that Enid seemed, at the very least, competent. Capable, even. She wasn’t impressed per se, but pleasantly surprised. She will admit, begrudgingly, she may have underestimated her upon first glance. Maybe. Just a bit.

Perhaps the drink would be half decent. 

It’s fucking delicious.

Wednesday can’t lie to herself. It’s damn good. She isn’t going to let Enid know that, of course, but now, after the smallest little taste, she is actually impressed.

She’d been hopeful at best just a minute ago while watching the barista make it, but she is relieved to find that the drink has been perfectly executed- she won’t have to endure an assault on her taste buds. Quite the opposite. Though, by Enid's display of skill behind the counter earlier, Wednesday maybe hadn’t been doubting it all that much (but prepare for the worst and hope for the best, as they say).

Not too sweet, not too frothy, with a deep, rich flavor, and it’s at the ideal temperature to boot.

It’s better than decent… it’s pleasant. And Wednesday respects Enid a little bit more for it. She isn’t about to acknowledge it or anything obviously, but she’s noted it in her mind.

Wednesday stays there at the café for most of the morning, enjoying the peace and quiet while she works on her laptop and drinks her latte.

Pleased with the many revisions she’s managed to make in her writing, Wednesday takes her empty teacup and saucer back to Enid at the counter.

“Thanks,” the barista says, her voice much softer than when Wednesday first arrived.

“Did you like it?” she asks, not with insecurity in her voice but, interestingly enough, an unexpected shyness. Wednesday understood those as two very different things…

Still looking up at her, Wednesday gives her only another nod, not quite as stiff as the one from before.

She stands there for just a beat longer and thinks to herself for a moment, eyes shamelessly scanning over Enid, taking her in completely. Objectively, of course.

Hmm…

Maybe Eugene had been onto something when he talked about Enid…

Admittedly, Wednesday almost sees the appeal…

Looking past the atrocious dyed tips of her blonde hair and her disgustingly colorful nails, Wednesday notes the faint freckles dusting her nose, her bright blue eyes, and the way the corners of her mouth quirk up as Wednesday slowly turns to leave the counter with one last look.

Yes…perhaps Enid is pretty. Maybe just a bit.

Chapter Text

It’s been a week since Wednesday’s little impromptu visit to The Silver Moon. It had left an impression of sorts on her- because of the latte, that is. Obviously.

It had been more than good enough to warrant a second visit.

There’s some kind of feeling building in her belly as she walks over on another early morning. She doesn’t quite recognize the feeling, fluttery and light as it sinks in. But it makes her breathe a little shakier and blink a little faster and walk with a little less certainty.

Through the front windows, the café looks empty again today. She won’t overthink it this time.

“Oh hi! It’s you!” rings out as soon as Wednesday walks through the door.

She freezes midstep, struck by the feeling of being a bit too seen. Too perceived.

It’s uncomfortable to be caught off guard. Not unbearably, but it’s still more than she expected to feel today. She is unprepared.

Flustered.

She doesn’t quite know where to look.

Her eyes flicker up to meet the barista’s and the confusion and surprise must register clearly on her face. She doesn’t want to look freaked out but knows she definitely does, judging by Enid's blooming deep red blush.

Pretty…

“Oh! No, I just- No I’m, like,… just really good with... like, faces and stuff…um… Welcome back! What can I get for you today?” Enid fiddles awkwardly with the hem of her apron, sparkly nail polish glimmering a bit in the light. It’s holographic blue today. Last time, it had been pink.

Wednesday has always spent much of her time silently observing others. Judgmentally or otherwise, she remembers people. Especially someone as colorful as Enid.

But despite her own gloomy appearance- or maybe because of it- Wednesday herself has always managed to blend into the background, drifting by unnoticed everywhere she goes; she likes it that way.

As little attention as possible, as little interaction as possible.

So it’s one thing for Wednesday to remember someone… and another thing entirely for that someone to remember her in return.

Wednesday blinks slowly, walking the rest of the way to the counter, and chooses not to comment on Enid’s fumbling. It was a lot for them both, she thinks.

She wordlessly takes out her wallet, quickly pushing past her initial discomfort. It’s easier to brush off without an audience.

“Same as last time maybe?” Enid offers up lightly, pink still dusting her cheeks.

“Please.”

Wednesday holds out her card between two fingers for the girl to take, their hands brushing lightly as Enid reaches out for it, soft and barely there.

Wednesday looks up with a start at the unexpected touch, and suddenly all she sees is the bright blue of Enid’s eyes looking right back at her.

She can still hear the icy wind rushing against the outside of the building; still sees the frost forming on the windows; still notices the harsh chill from the walk over aching at her bones.

But all she feels is warmth.

She can feel it radiating out from her hand and creeping up the back of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears hot enough to burn, and she can only hope that it’s not half as visible as it feels.

It’s too much.

“Wednesday…”

Enid whispers to herself, now staring down at the name embossed on the card.

That’s a bit invasive, isn’t it? Wednesday starts to think to herself- and it probably would be in any other circumstance. It should be, but it doesn't feel like it is right now. She thinks maybe it’s okay for Enid to know.

“My mother chose it.”

Enid meets her gaze and smiles gently.

More of the same heat bubbles up in Wednesday’s chest.

And she realizes that’s the most she’s said to Enid so far.

“I like it. It suits you, I think.”

A thank you sits on the tip of Wednesday’s tongue.

“I’m Enid.”

I know.

She nearly says it.

But the café door suddenly chimes as another customer walks in.

And just like that, the moment is over.

Enid makes Wednesday her latte as skillfully as before, another rosetta beautifully swirled on the top.

And just like the first time, Wednesday settles in at the booth in the corner and writes until the sky is washed in the yellows of late afternoon.

And if her gaze had occasionally drifted back to the girl behind the counter, that is for no one else to know.

But the same warmth still sits heavily in her chest and lingers on her skin as she collects her things.

“I’ll see you around, Wednesday,” Enid gives a little wave from behind the counter.

“Goodbye, Enid.”

Chapter Text

They’ve built some sort of routine.

Or at least to Wednesday, it’s a routine. She’s not presumptuous. She won’t let herself assume that Enid has noticed it.

She isn’t sure she wants Enid to notice.

Notice how she stops by every other day at exactly the same time, orders the same thing, and sits at the same booth…

It would again be too much.

Surely the café has its flock of regulars, and Wednesday is only one small percentage of the entire collective clientele.

Not to mention that she and Enid have not since shared one singular word more than a greeting and a goodbye…

For reasons unknown to Wednesday, Enid isn’t…

She isn’t the slightest bit irritating. Somehow.

Enid’s outfits are… loud, and her sunny disposition is off-putting for someone like Wednesday…

But her eyes are soft in a way with which Wednesday craves to be looked at.

Which is a stupid thing to say.

Because she hardly knows her.

But she wants to.

When the restlessness at the back of her mind hadn’t worn off by the week following that last interaction with Enid, she had succumbed to the pull she felt to Silver Moon. She might even call it a solid goddamn yank.

Wednesday wasn’t weak, but neither were the flutter in her stomach and the anxiety she couldn’t fight off when she saw Enid. It was irrational and excessive and ridiculous.

But more than anything, she wanted to feel it again.

First with a visit the next week, and then the next, and the next yet again. Then suddenly it was any day that Wednesday had no other plans- which, given her affinity for disliking socializing and most every recreational activity- was quite often.

“Wednesday! So, I heard you finally tried Silver Moon! What’d you think?”

“Eugene. Good afternoon,” she says, with something vaguely resembling a smile. “I wasn’t aware you kept tabs on my whereabouts.”

“Oh, you know how it is! I’ve been stalking you,” he laughs to himself. “No but really, I went for a caramel frappe yesterday, and I mentioned to Enid that I’ve been trying to get my friend- that’s you!- to go.”

“You don’t say.” She quirks an eyebrow.

“I brought up the whole…” he waves his hand up and down, gesturing towards Wednesday’s ensemble that day, “darkish, antique-y, gothness thing you always got going on, and I guess it wasn’t too hard for her to put two and two together!”

She furrows her brows, “I’m not sure whether to be offended by that or not. Regardless, to answer your question, yes. Silver Moon is… adequate.”

“Ooh! That’s some high praise coming from the illustrious Wednesday Addams!”

She almost wants to pat his head. “I don’t think you know what that word means.” If nothing else, Eugene is amusing.

“You might as well have given it a Michelin Star,” he laughs.

He is correct. Anything Wednesday rates even neutrally is likely worth its weight in gold to the average person.

“You knowwww…,” Eugene waggles his eyebrows, “Enid said you’ve been going lately. And that apparently, you’ve gone a bunch of times already.”

“Is that so?” Wednesday does her best to keep a straight face. It doesn’t matter if Enid talks about her.

Eugene tilts his head, looking a bit too smug for Wednesday’s liking. “By the way, when did you start liking lattes? Enid told me it's the only thing you order. I thought you were a black coffee kinda gal. Kinda weird. Kinda really sus.“ He looks at her, playfully narrowing his eyes, gauging her reaction.

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Enid this, Enid that. Don’t you have anything better to do right now other than bore me, Eugene?”

“Oh are you in a rush? Silver Moon doesn’t close until 8,” he says, damn near devious.

“Don’t push it,” and this time she has to fight a smile.

She doesn’t know what he’s implying.

She’s become a semi-permanent fixture at the cafe at this point, and though they still had yet to have a real conversation, she thinks she’s made enough of an impression to attempt to breach the invisible barrier between her and Enid.

Like every other day, Enid passes Wednesday her latte, except this time, instead of the usual rosetta in the foam, the design is of an animal. Or something. Wednesday… can’t actually tell what it is. Damn her unartistic eye.

But perhaps this is perfect. An opportunity. Just something- anything- to break the ice.

“What is this supposed to be?”

That… did not come out the way it was supposed to.

Enid’s smile drops instantly.

Shit. No no no.

“The art,” Wednesday rushes out, trying to save herself from drowning, but she’s already sunk to the bottom.

“Oh, I- it's a bear...” Enid’s voice is small.

She wants to smack her face into the table. Enid’s feelings are clearly hurt, and there’s no way of recovering from that. Wednesday looks down at the cup.

“Oh. I see.”

God, even to herself she sounds like such a dick.

“Yeah… you can see the paws… and that’s his face there so…” and it sounds so wrong. She’s never heard Enid sound anything other than happy… This is all wrong wrong wrong.

Fuck.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

The door dings as someone walks in and Enid throws on a smile in time to take the other customer’s order, but Wednesday can see it drop the moment she turns away to make their drink.

Wednesday’s never been very good at these things. It’s never mattered to her before, but right this second, it’s biting her in the ass, and she hates it.

She isn’t one to cower away, but she won’t stay and risk digging herself into a deeper hole.

She tears off a corner of a page in her notebook and pulls out a pen. She looks up to check that Enid isn’t watching. She’s not. Because why would she?

She draws a little bear, just like the one Enid had probably worked very hard to make her (she refuses to think about the why), with a little arrow pointing to it that reads “Benjamin the Bear.” Fuck it, that’s all she’s got. That’s the best she can think of on the fly, and it’s a little bit stupid but maybe it’s the right kind of silly that will soften the blow of her inadvertant insolence.

She wants to write that she’s sorry, that it wasn’t what she wanted to say, that she promises she isn’t a complete jerk but that she is a complete idiot.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she grabs her things, tucking the corner of the note slightly beneath her cup for Enid to find later.

And she runs.

And maybe it will be enough for Enid to understand. She hopes it will be enough.

She resolves to try again tomorrow.

The next day, Wednesday walks in determined. Ish.

Because she’s carrying the heavy burden of a bruised ego, and she’s uncharacteristically nervous- or well, it’s not very uncharacteristic of her as of late.

There is no “Hi, Wednesday!” when she walks in, and it makes her want to run straight into a fire.

She sits in her usual spot and glances up at Enid from across the room. Once, twice, three times. She weighs her options. She doesn’t head to the counter to order right away. She’s too-

“Can I ask what you’re always working on?”

Wednesday looks up with a start.

When did she get so close?

She can’t mask her surprise because Enid is so very much in her space, and it’s making her head spin. She feels it all over again- how unprepared she is for this. How unprepared she is for Enid.

“Your work,” she gestures at Wednesday’s things scattered around the table. “You’re always typing something up, so...”

“Oh…” Her hands hover awkwardly over her laptop like she doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

“Am I allowed to know?” Enid fiddles with her name tag and leans slightly against the table. Wednesday’s fingers twitch.

She can see it in Enid’s eyes- clemency at the forefront waiting to be given so willingly. She is presenting her with an opening. A chance.

"It’s my eulogy."

What the fuck.

"Oh… Um, are you… sick?"

"Only in the head."

She doesn’t know why or how, but it lands. Enid lets out a laugh, and it’s sharp and strong, and it jars Wednesday’s skull like she’s been knocked with a sledgehammer.

And it’s just as pretty as everything else about her.

Because of course it is.

Wednesday’s mouth is aching to pull into a smile. And she wants to let it.

And so she does.

"I am working on a novel actually. A murder mystery of sorts.”

"Oooh a novel! Can I read it? Please?”

“I don’t-”

Enid pouts in a way that she doesn’t yet know that Wednesday can't say no to.

Well, she could say no but…

Wednesday doesn’t understand what’s happening. It’s going too fast for her socially inept brain to pick up and run with. She tries matching Enid’s pace- to meet her halfway- but she feels absolutely graceless and likely sounds it too.

“I…”

“Pleeeease?” Somehow Enid pouts even harder.

Enid is charming enough for them both. She’s filling in the gaps that Wednesday feels but can’t find. Enid is giving her so much leeway, and she refuses to let it go to waste again.

“I’m- It isn’t finished, but… I mean, I suppose-”

“Yay! I look forward to reading it!”

And that’s that.

Wednesday blinks down at the table. She should be used to the heat rushing her face and the tips of her ears going red by now, but every time, the feeling is… not quite overwhelming, but… not a small amount of whelming either.

Enid is all but skipping away, and Wednesday is left to finish processing whatever that was.

Only later does she realize it was progress.

Chapter Text

Wednesday walks into Silver Moon just as she has so many times now- only to see a man in a suit at the counter, his big ugly bald head nearly purple with anger.

He’s violently screaming at Enid, one arm waving a mug in the air as the other points a finger in her face.

And Wednesday sees red.

She can’t hear what the man is yelling about over the sound of blood rushing in her ears and boiling in her veins. There’s a fire burning deep in her chest, and she’s a bomb waiting to go off on this man. With clenched fists, she marches over in a rage, already thinking of the possible locations in the city to effectively hide his body where he’ll never be found.

The man throws down the mug, smashing it and sending splatters of coffee and chips of porcelain flying across the floor.

Funny. She’ll do the same to his body.

She puts a hand on his shoulder from behind, harsh and heavy and she’s sure to make it painful. She pulls him down to her level, his back bending unnaturally.

“Leave. Now.”

“Wha-”

“Shut up.” She pulls even harder. “Or I'll rip out your spine and use it to beat the rest of your lifeless body like a piñata. I'm sure your children would have fun collecting the candy that falls from your thoracic cavity.”

She looks past him at Enid and it only fuels the fire. Her grip tightens, fingers digging into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“Or maybe I'll disembowel you slowly, and use your intestines to make menudo. You know, my family hasn’t made it in our traditional ways for generations, but I’m sure it would be appreciated at Christmas this year.”

By now, the man is quivering in fear. He’s going to regret waking up today.

Good.

“Better yet,” her voice dripping with malice, “I'll carve out your brain bit by bit with a plastic spoon, stick a candle in your hollowed skull and use it as a jack-o'-lantern. I don't care what happens with the rest of your remains, but I suppose I can mail them back to your wife.”

Then out of nowhere Enid chimes in, nodding earnestly, “USPS priority flat rate box.. If it fits, it ships.”

And it’s ridiculous and silly and sudden and Wednesday is caught so off guard that she can’t contain the choked laugh threatening to escape. And she breaks completely, cackling like an absolute maniac and laughing so hard it burns deliciously in her throat.

The man slips from her grasp then and makes a break for it, but Wednesday, still laughing, sticks a foot out and trips him. She pulls him back up to whisper in his ear, “You were lucky this time. Make sure there isn’t a next time,” and she finally lets him go.

He scurries out in panicked fear. Pathetic.

She doubts he’ll ever be back to the cafe. Or even the city. Not if he knows what’s good for him. But she will still consider dealing with him later… She does not grant mercy to those undeserving.

“Thanks for that. Some people are just so… I don’t know.” Enid sighs, annoyed more than anything, and grabs a mop from the back to try to clean up the mess on the floor.

Wednesday stops her, taking the mop herself to help.

“He won’t be back.” She glares down at all the spilled coffee. “I was very close to ripping out his esophagus and using it to hang his body from a flagpole. At least then he wouldn't be able to speak to you that way again.”

And Enid smiles at her warmly, “Really, Wends… Thank you.”

"Your talents are wasted here, you know."

“What does that mean?” Enid giggles, light and airy in a way that leaves Wednesday in a daze.

Enid sets her usual down on the table. It feels strange to have something like this- A new constant in her life.

Wednesday’s eyes flicker down to her latte and back up to Enid's face, as if that is an answer. But Enid knows what she means. She always seems to these days.

“I do make a mean cup of joe, don’t I?” she winks and Wednesday can’t quite maintain eye contact.

She answers with a heavy eye roll.

"I'd like to think I keep a captive audience. I seem to have a lot of…regulars.” Enid says, her expression shifting to something else that Wednesday yet again doesn't know how to interpret.

“And here I thought I was the only one.”

Enid smirks. “You wish, Addams.”

Yes, she does wish… Of course she does…

Wednesday looks at her, then away, but says nothing. She struggles to handle this kind of silence and doesn’t really know how to fill it either, but she tries.

“Well… I do so love chatting with you, but my latte’s getting cold. Off you go now,” she halfheartedly waves her hand, playfully shooing Enid away.

Enid gasps dramatically, a hand on her chest. “Wowwwwww.”

She feigns offense, remarking, “You know, you get meaner every time we talk. It’s a real shame because you used to be so sweet…”

Wednesday doesn’t miss the slight shift in Enid’s tone at the end of that. It’s not one she’s familiar with being on the receiving end of. It sounds like… fondness. Maybe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wednesday says with a smirk.

Enid's eyes narrow but the corners of her mouth betray a smile as she turns on her heel with a hmph and makes her way back behind the counter.

“You work such interesting hours, you know. Do you have nothing better to do?”

“Uh…”

“No- That came out wrong. What I meant was, it’s like you're here all day, every day. And there doesn't seem to be any other employees either. How is that? Not that it particularly matters, but I can’t say I haven’t wondered.”

“Oh well, I mean,” she leans against the table, getting comfortable, “I have all online classes this semester, so I don't really have to be anywhere. And my parents own this place actually, so technically I could take a day off, and they'd probably just send one of my brothers to cover… but I guess I like being here.”

She shrugs and continues, “It keeps me out of the house. Plus, for the most part, when I’m working, my parents just kinda leave me to my own devices.” Enid's face dims a bit. “It’s better that way… Trust me.”

A sore spot. Wednesday makes a mental note not to bring it up again.

It’s nearing closing time and with no one else around, Enid takes a seat across from her.

This suddenly feels intimate.

Enid is so incredibly in her personal space again, and Wednesday doesn't know if she’ll ever be used to anyone sitting this close. But she doesn’t think she minds if it’s Enid. She minds things less and less with each passing day since they met.

“You asked why I’m always here, but you’re always here too, ya know. Why?” Enid’s smile widens, “Do you have nothing better to do?”

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t. It’s either I do my work here, or I do it at home.”

“And you’d rather do it here?”

“...Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not! No, I- I appreciate the company… Your company...”

“Oh.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Enid returns the question just as sincerely.

“No…” and Wednesday has never heard herself sound quite so… unsure.

“You make it a little less lonely here to be honest... And maybe a little less scary.” Enid worries at her bottom lip and looks down at her nails.

“Really?” Wednesday thinks back to the other day with that customer and how she’d threatened his life for her. Enid hadn’t looked the least bit afraid of that man, and interestingly enough, not afraid of Wednesday either and the atrocities she’d spat at him.

“I don’t know. It’s not even that anything bad ever happens here or that I can’t take care of myself. Because I totally can!” She looks up at Wednesday from under her lashes, “But I guess I just feel a little more comfortable when you’re here anyway…”

Wednesday’s laptop dings with a “low battery” warning before she can respond.

“Right, sorry! I’ll let you get back to your work.” Enid shuffles around and makes to get up.

“No! I- Just let me finish this one section.” Wednesday’s voice softens in a way a previous version of herself would have been disgusted by. “Then you'll have my undivided attention…”

She clears her throat and slides over a few blank sheets of paper. “I trust you can keep yourself entertained in the meantime?”

Enid smiles and pulls a gel pen out from her apron pocket. With no hesitation, she begins drawing out little pictures. A penguin here, a snowman there, spongebob’s house for some reason, and- ah… Larry the latte… Wednesday has a bit of a soft spot for him now.

Wednesday concentrates on her screen. It’s stupid; She’s never typed as quickly and carelessly, but she’s desperate to finish as quickly as possible.

“Okay. All done.” She pushes her things over to the side to have an unobstructed view of Enid.

Enid immediately starts up about her classes, and the weather, and her brothers, and her friends, and the new shows she’s watching- anything and everything.

They pass the pen and paper back and forth in multiple games of tic tac toe that Wednesday quietly lets Enid win, then several games of hangman that Wednesday can’t pretend not to be good at.

They talk well into the evening, long past closing hour, their hands slowly inching closer and closer across the table with each passing story and game and shared smile.

Until Enid takes hold of her hand.

She cradles it for a moment, her thumb rubbing slow circles along the back, and then she carefully flips it over.

Enid doesn’t pause in her rambling, still telling her all about a duck she saw at the park the other day… or something. Wednesday isn’t really listening anymore. Try as she might, she can’t focus on anything other than Enid, her grasp gentle as she begins doodling on Wednesday’s hand.

Maybe it's all in her head but the way that Enid is looking at her now is… new.

She is taking it all in- this look in Enid’s eyes and how peaceful her voice has gotten and how she's not even looking while she draws and instead her eyes are flickering across Wednesday's face.

Like she's searching for something.

Wednesday hopes she finds it.

The gel pen trailing smoothly across her skin tickles and it’s taking everything within her to keep from flinching. But she’s not uncomfortable. She’s given her hand willingly, and she won’t ask for it back if Enid wants to keep hold of it forever.

And Wednesday doesn’t see it until after she’s climbed into bed that night, but there on the palm of her hand, in sparkly blue ink:

Chapter Text

Wednesday doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to feeling so out of her element. She is a fish out of water. An Addams without a knife. And she’s defenseless against her own thoughts and emotions.

Because she’s nervous.

Logically, she knows Enid wouldn’t have given her the number if she didn’t want her to use it. But that didn’t stop the gnawing beginnings of doubt from creeping up in her mind and overtaking it.

It had taken her a solid hour just to decide on the contact name- “Enid.” Nothing else. It’s distant and it feels wrong somehow. But to be fair to herself, what else could she have reasonably chosen? Maybe if she puts a little coffee cup emoji next to it…

She hadn’t, however, managed to convince herself to send anything at all that night when she’d seen the number. Not all yesterday either… Nor all today…

Admittedly, she’d spent the rest of that night clutching her hand to her chest, the blue ink smudged and already fading away.

xoxo…

Sleep had not come then and her heart hadn't stopped its pounding until the sun had risen. It was a moment of abject weakness.

And now she lays in bed in the dark once more, curled up on her side, staring at the empty message log on her phone with her silly little drafted text mocking her. And at this point, it feels like it’s been way too long and she should’ve messaged right away and it’s too late and Enid has probably changed her mind by now and it’ll be awkward if she-

She cuts herself off and sighs. She figures it can wait at least until morning.

At this point, what’s a few more hours?…

She contemplates what all she should even say. What does she want to say? But choosing the right words isn’t even truly the most difficult part…

Something about clicking send feels like turning your back to an open room or sleeping with your feet sticking out from under your blanket. Or texting a girl for the first time…

Exposed. Vulnerable.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Wednesday flips onto her back and listens to the buzzing of her ceiling fan and focuses on feeling the air as it flows through the room, trying to calm her nerves. She and Enid know each other now. They’re friendly. They see each other often.

Wednesday has experienced so many of the little things that make up Enid- her smile, her laugh, the way she scrunches up her nose when she doesn’t care for something, how she bites her lip when she’s nervous, and how soft her hands were the other night…

And Wednesday wants to learn even more. She wants to know everything.

She feels that familiar deep-set warmth flooding to the tips of her ears, and she gets that little swooping feeling of butterflies in her belly that she has now figured out is a good thing. She likes it when that happens. She craves it.

Wednesday slowly gives in to the fatigue stinging behind her eyes, finally letting her spine decompress and unwind and the tension in her limbs unravel. She allows herself to be lifted away from the anxiety of trying to say the right thing. She can deal with it tomorrow.

And just as her breathing begins to even out, she hears the swoosh of her phone sending a message.

Her eyes shoot open. She’s still holding her phone and the screen is still very much open and lit and she pleads with whatever deity will listen.

Please no…

But to Wednesday’s horror, it appears her thumb has made the decision for her…

Serves her right.

Her eyes dart up to check the time because there is no possible way it isn’t an ungodly hour of the night.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding…

4am.

She groans and shoves her phone under her pillows, hiding her face under the covers and praying she doesn’t wake up in the morning so she won’t have to see whether her pathetic attempt at contact merits a response at all. And really, maybe it isn’t enough to deserve one. Several days without a word and suddenly she’s texting her in the middle of the night like a freak?

She’s kept Enid waiting, and she must look like a jerk all over again. One step forward, two steps back.

Fuck.

[ Hello, Enid. It’s Wednesday. This is my number.]

She should’ve said “hi” instead. Or something more casual. Maybe she should’ve kept it all lowercase or thrown in a smiley face. Or both.

But then she wouldn’t have sounded like herself...

She closes her eyes-

And her phone unexpectedly dings.

[ hi wends! i was wondering when you’d message me :c ]

Double fuck.

[ Ah, right. I apologize. I’ve been rather busy with some assignments and have only just gotten a moment to relax. ]

At 4am? Liar.

[ ohhhh yeah i get u! its okay, i forgive u :3 wht r u even doing up? lol ]

[ I could ask you the same thing, you know. ]

[ yea but i asked u first >:c ]

[ I am a creature of the night. Your turn. ]

[ fair enough lol i was just thinking i guess. i had some annoying customers today and then my family was kinda a lot when i got home too so i just needed some extra time to like… get over it i guess? idk. but im okay, dont worry! im just wasting time on tiktok now ^^ ]

So she had a rough day…

[ Oh. If you want to talk about it, I can’t say I have much to offer in the way of comforting words, but I am always here to listen.]

And she means it. She hopes maybe Enid would eventually trust her that way.

[ thanks, wednesday. i appreciate it ^^ i think maybe later.. rn i kinda just wanna stop thinking about it. tell me about your day? <3 ]

And so she does. The anxiety of earlier completely drains away as Wednesday recounts absolutely every random thing about it that she can remember. And if some of her stories made Enid laugh, she never has to know that Wednesday made them up.

Wednesday is slinging her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave, when she hears Enid slowly coming up behind her. Sure enough, she feels the faintest tap on her shoulder.

“Hey, got a minute? Listen, um… A friend of mine is throwing a little party at his place this weekend. Xavier? I think I’ve mentioned him before… He’s a friend from school and stuff. Or well I guess all my friends are friends from school but yeah, there’s not really a reason for the party, like no special occasion or anything, and it’s really just an excuse for us to have fun and get ridiculously drunk and I mean, I’m going and Yoko’s going- you remember Yoko, right? And pretty much our whole group will be there and that’s cool because we haven’t all gotten together in a while because our schedules are super different now and really it’s not like we’ll even-”

“Enid.”

“Right. Um, I guess I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to come? It’s gonna be pretty lowkey. Just a friend thing. My friends.”

“...And you are inviting me?”

“I- well yeah, I just thought maybe it'd be fun if you came. Only if you want to, of course! You don't have to. I know it’s kinda- I don’t know. I guess I want you to meet them maybe... Or I want them to meet you... I talk about you a lot apparently, so they keep asking me when I’ll introduce you to them. So…”

Oh.

“Why?”

“Um…you know… because...”

Because what…?

But Enid doesn’t continue, instead staring down at her shoes, avoiding Wednesday’s gaze.

“I’ll think about it.”

The sparkle in Enid’s eyes suddenly reignites stronger than she’s ever seen it. “Yay! I’m so glad you’re coming!”

“Wh- That’s not what I-”

“Nope! You don’t seem the type for maybes. If it were a no, you would’ve just said no. But you didn’t. Therefore ergo thus it’s a yes!”

Wednesday’s eye twitches, and she lets out a heavy, heavy sigh. She’s got her there…

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I will accompany you.”

“Really? Yay! We’re g-”

“Under the condition…that I can remove myself at any time. If I walk in and immediately wish to leave, I am allowed to do so. And you aren’t allowed to get upset about it. Agreed?”

“Yeahsurewhatever! Oh my god, I'm so excited! Okay okay, I'll text you all the deets right now. It’s gonna be so much fun!” Enid walks off giggling to herself with an extra bounce in her step.

Cute…

Enid turns to look over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Wednesday hopes she isn’t making a huge mistake.

Chapter Text

Frankly, she’d been fully expecting it to be a shitty little apartment. Lo and behold, it’s actually a shitty little house. Bonus points for the dead rose bush smack-dab in the middle of the lawn. Minus points for still having lights up well after Christmas.

As she and Enid walk up the stone porch steps and knock on the door, Wednesday can already hear the loud music booming from inside and see colorful lights bleeding out from the window, the curtains not quite pulled shut. She suddenly wishes she’d had the forethought to bring earplugs and sunglasses.

The door swings open, and they are greeted by a tall boy with long hair: Xavier, she figures. She can see the flush in his face from the alcohol as he welcomes them in- not that the sting in his breath isn’t already a dead giveaway that he’s well on his way to shitfaced.

“Enid! Glad you could make it. And your friend! Come on in, everybody's here already.”

Enid leads the way, and Wednesday tries her best not to trip over her own shoes as she follows closely behind, shuffling her way into quite possibly her worst nightmare.

Loud pop music blares throughout the house. The living room and connecting kitchen are lit only by the shifting colors of several cheap rainbow disco globe lights placed at every corner.

Party City must be having a sale.

This was definitely a mistake. Perhaps not a huge one, but a mistake nonetheless with the growing potential to blow up in her face.

She did say she would leave if she wanted to…

But she can’t do that to Enid. Above everything else, Enid wanted her here. So here she shall be. And it would likely be embarrassing to them both if Wednesday ran out.

She lacks nothing in the way of confidence, but there’s a sprinkle of trepidation that comes with having to be exceptionally mindful of how she interacts with others. She’s never before felt the need for a filter when she speaks, but tonight she must channel an entire fucking Brita.

She knows her dry commentary and dark sense of humor are not for everyone. Plus, she’s a bit of an asshole so…

Best behavior tonight. This is important to Enid.

She wants to cling to Enid like a tether to keep herself grounded in this new, overstimulating environment. There are too many eyes on her, and though she has obviously been stared at before, these were people on which she must make a good first impression.

She won’t allow herself to lash out at the unwanted attention. If anyone were to test her patience, she had to remember that Enid likely wouldn’t appreciate her penchant for violence here quite as much as she might elsewhere.

“Enid, pleasure seeing you here. Fashionably late as always… Who’s your friend?” Bianca, she assumes, asks casually, sauntering up like a lion on the prowl. Something in her voice tells Wednesday she already knows the answer. The quirk of her eyebrow that follows only proves it further.

Enid waves enthusiastically as two others come to join them as well. The party lights illuminate the three from behind, partially shrouding their faces as they meet Wednesday, almost just silhouettes in the dark of the party. And although there are bright smiles on their faces, the slight tilts of their heads betray curiosity and their eyes that look Wednesday up and down are scrutinizing.

“Hey guys! Um, so this is Wednesday!” Enid is all smiles as she introduces her with a little flourish of her hands.

“Hey! It's nice to meet you. Oh, Enid's told us soooooo much about y-”

“Oh my god, Yoko. Anyway!,” Enid hides her face in her hands.

The third girl chimes in, Divina, “Oh yeah! She reallyyyyy hasn't shut up about you si-”

“OKAY! Let's keep this party going, huh!” Enid walks towards Xavier's kitchen, Wednesday in tow, and examines the counter that sits fully lined with bottles of assorted alcohol.

“For real though, it’s nice to finally put a face to a name,” Yoko comments, as she pours an obscene amount of vodka and the idea of cranberry juice into a solo cup.

“Alright then. Pick your poison, kid.” Bianca waves around a bottle in each hand, and it feels like a test.

She’ll ignore the kid part for everyone’s sake. “I don’t suppose you have arsenic,” and Wednesday is only half joking, but Enid laughs for the first time that night and she thinks that maybe this whole thing is going well so far.

“Oof we're all out, I'm afraid,” Bianca plays along with a smirk.

Enid begins grabbing bottles, humming to the party music as she carelessly pours things into her cup.

“Are you as gifted a bartender as you are a barista?” Wednesday watches with mild concern.

“Pffft not even a little bit! I usually just start mixing stuff until it turns a pretty color!”

Ah, that makes a whole lot more sense.

“... Right…”

Yoko pokes at the elephant in the room when she asks, “So you’re all gloom, death, and despair, right? And Enid’s all sunshine and rainbows. How are you guys even friends?”

She knew it was coming. It’s so unserious and rhetorical, and she knows it. But she wants to answer. Because even if no one will ever mean it, Wednesday had asked herself that countless times.

She hears Enid chime in from next to her, “Because we work! We shouldn’t, but we do,” spoken with the confidence and certainty Wednesday wishes she had in regard to what they seem to be. And there goes that familiar heat building in her chest as Enid’s words provide the assurance she didn’t know she kind of needs.

Wednesday notices Enid shiver a little from the corner of her eye, her long sleeve shirt probably too thin to provide much protection from the cold, stale air in the house. Wednesday doesn’t look over, but she quietly slips off her jacket and presses it into Enid’s side for her to take. Yoko’s eyes follow the movement and by the small smirk that forms on her face, Wednesday knows she’s being seen.

She fully expected to be interrogated tonight so it comes as no surprise when she proceeds to get tossed around the living room like a hacky sack from person to person for a series of grillings and q&a’s about herself.

How she and Enid met, what she is studying at the university, where she lives, what her parents do for a living, whether she has any hobbies, and even where she’d gotten her boots from (Yoko is shocked to learn they cost her a cool $1200).

She does her best to respond fully- pleasant does not come to her easily, but she can manage neutral. And they are nice enough to her in return. But there's an underlying skepticism and suspicion in the air when they look at her. She understands, of course- she knows what she looks like.

Wednesday is quickly tiring from all the attention, but if anything, it is comforting to know that Enid has friends who are protective of her in this way.

Just as she and Enid settle along a wall to finally have a second alone, the front door swings open to one more guest- a boy wearing a beanie and the ugliest brown hoodie Wednesday’s ever seen.

Xavier’s voice calls out from the hallway where he’s reemerging from the bathroom, “Ajax! Glad you could make it, man!”

She doesn’t think she’s ever heard Enid talk about an Ajax before.

Stupid name.

But Wednesday doesn’t like the way Enid’s shoulders tense up when she hears his name, too.

“I’ll be right back, okay Wends? Um, I need to talk to Yoko about something really quick.”

She nods and leans against the wall to observe the rest of the room and take little measured sips of her drink. She’s already had three- she’s no lightweight, but she can only continue to loosen up so much: An inebriated Addams is a dangerous thing.

Her resting face is as bitchy as it gets, and she hopes in Enid’s absence, it will discourage any further small talk. Or big talk, for that matter- She can see Bianca still sizing her up from the other side of the room. She’s also continuing to keep an eye on that boy- Ajax. Something about him is… off. She doesn’t like his vibe. And it isn’t just the stench of weed lining his clothing and pervading the air around him in a nauseating cloud. She doesn’t like how his eyes trail behind Enid either.

Her thoughts are interrupted by someone that she’d somehow failed to notice on the way in. And in the entire time since they’d arrived...

He leans against the wall next to her and sidles up closer. She takes a big sidestep to the left before his shoulder can touch hers.

“Hey, Wednesday, right?”

Spare me.

She sideyes him and gives the smallest nod possible in response. Her social skills are lacking, but she’s not stunted enough to miss where this is going.

“Hi, I’m Tyler! Enid’s told us a lot about you.”

“Funny. She hasn’t mentioned you at all.” It slips out without her even thinking about it. Force of habit- she’s never been an appreciator of men. It’s the truth though.

Tyler takes it in stride unfortunately. “Oh really! Haha, she doesn’t talk about her friends much, huh?”

“No, she’s told me all about Yoko, Bianca, Divina, and even Xavier. No Tylers. Doesn’t ring a bell.” She turns to him with a pointed glare.

“I guess she was saving the best for last! Anyway, so, what kind of stuff are you into? Are you watching any good shows right now?”

She doesn’t fight the eye roll that comes naturally.

“I don’t watch television.”

“Wow, that’s cool! How about movies? There’s that new romcom at th-”

“I don’t watch movies either.” She can feel the irritation building up in her throat, ready to unleash itself on this moron. She prays Tyler isn’t that valuable a friend of Enid’s because if she is to blow up at anyone tonight, she has a feeling it’s going to be this guy.

Deep breaths… Go to your happy place… She pictures a graveyard in the dead of night, cold and wonderfully foggy. Yes, lovely. Happy place, happy place. So peaceful.

“Then how about we go together sometime?” And there it is. ”I could show yo-”

“No thank you, Tyler.”

Short and to the point. Good work.

To avoid inevitable disaster should this conversation continue, she walks off without another word.

Enid is finishing up her talk with Yoko and follows Wednesday into the kitchen where she grabs another cup. Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes anymore, and this time, she pours straight tequila into the cup and downs it far too quickly for Wednesday’s liking…

Xavier catches them right as they settle down on the couch. Wednesday doubts he’ll remember a thing tomorrow by the way he’s walking. His voice comes out much too loudly and in a slur, “So Enid, actually I’ve been meaning to ask you. Ajax said he hasn’t seen you in a while. What’s up with that?”

Enid doesn’t answer the question and instead leans heavily against Wednesday’s side. And she’d be overjoyed by the new contact if not for the way Enid is looking at anything but Xavier.

Fortunately, he only shrugs at the silence and leaves to dance in the middle of the room with the others.

Wednesday doesn’t want to bring up whatever just happened- whatever is clearly troubling Enid. She has a feeling that asking will only make it worse.

But the moment passes as Enid trails her hand down Wednesday’s arm until their fingers interlock. And as the party continues, Enid closes her eyes and leans her head further against her shoulder, and Wednesday whispers a long-winded story to her about this one time that her Uncle Fester bought a potato launcher and lurked outside a police station for some target practice. And she can feel Enid chuckle a few times into her collarbone as the sound of everything else around them slowly filters out. Somehow, she understands that Enid needs this little moment alone with her right now.

And by the end of the night, she’s still pleasantly buzzed, and no one has been stabbed. And Enid is still wearing her jacket.

Does she particularly like Enid’s friends?... The jury is still out. But she can certainly see herself eventually getting along quite well with a few of them at the very least. Yoko and Bianca, arguably the most important factors in this equation, seem to approve of her in return, even if they clearly remain a bit skeptical.

So Wednesday will tentatively label the evening a successful first audition for the role of Enid’s… companion.

Chapter Text

It’s been a very interesting two weeks since Wednesday’s introduction to Enid’s friend group. The anxiety of that first interaction has slowly dissipated, but it hasn’t quite fully left her yet. It doesn’t help that particularly Yoko and Bianca suddenly seem to be everywhere she goes. All over campus, on her walks home, across the room in one of her lectures that she hadn’t realized she shared with Bianca (to her credit, there are a solid two hundred people in the class).

Have they always been there? Probably. And she’s only now noticing because suddenly it matters.

Initially, Wednesday wondered to herself whether they would pretend not to know her. She wouldn’t have blamed them. Because in any other circumstance, Wednesday definitely would, were they not Enid's close friends.

Those were some questions, amongst many others, that had been swirling around in her head. But she now knows that she’d been overthinking it.

Other than a small acknowledgement in passing, no words are ever exchanged, no further questioning, no stares. It is nice to know that they are probably also unsure of how to interact with her without Enid to bridge the gap. They don’t really know each other after all: they are simply friends of a friend. And Wednesday is a relatively new addition to Enid’s life as well.

They are nice though, and in return, so is she. They smile at her, and she responds with an awkward little nod. She gets a peace sign from Yoko, an eyebrow raise and a smirk from Bianca, and even an attempt at a fistbump from Xavier one time. (That one she had ignored). It’s unlikely any of them would actually approach her without Enid aroun-

“Hey! Wednesday!” She hears someone running from behind to catch up with her.

Oh you’re kidding.

She side-eyes the boy and says nothing, but very obviously picks up her pace and hopes he gets the message this time.

“Remember me?”

Well, it’s not like he looks like every other tall white guy on the planet. She wishes she didn’t recognize him.

And if she pretends not to, she doubts it would discourage him from speaking to her, but she does it anyway.

“No.”

“Tyler! We met at Xavier's the other day!”

He holds out his hand for her to shake, and she ignores it without a glance, but Tyler remains undeterred, “I’m glad I ran into you actually! I thought maybe you and me could hang out sometime?”

She’s growing tired from the effort of her self-restraint. “I wish you would hang.”

He tilts his head in confusion like a stray dog. She’s always been more of a cat person.

“Well anyway, where are you headed?”

“Did your parents never teach you to mind your own business?”

“Hahaha my own business is boring! And you seem cool so maybe we could watch a movie later? Or even right now! If you’re not busy,” he persists.

Is he fucking for real?

She rolls her eyes hard enough to make herself dizzy, “I'd rather dice my own arm and spoon-feed it to the pope with a plastic spork.”

She quickly approaches her destination, Tyler still hot on her heels.

“Oh! You're headed to Silver Moon? I was actually thinking of stopping by today too! Great minds think alike, huh?”

Tyler walks in behind her, but he might as well be talking to himself, because she’s done dignifying anything he says with a response.

“It's my first time so maybe you could recommend me something to try?”

She gets to her usual booth, unceremoniously drops her things on the table and turns to look him in the eye. Their height difference is almost laughable, but her eyes are threatening and would unsettle anyone else.

But to her dismay, Tyler doesn’t shrink into himself or seem afraid of her at all. She’ll be sure to change that soon… But not here. She can hear Enid shuffling things around in the back room of the café, and Wednesday won’t dare risk her coming back out to see her with one foot crushing Tyler’s throat.

“Listen Tyler.” Her voice is ice cold. “Could you do me a favor?”

He nods dumbly.

“Fuck. Off.”

He blinks and after a long moment… he laughs, “Hahaha alright, maybe next time we can chill. I’ll see you later Wednesday!” He leaves with a wink and a dopey smile that Wednesday wants to slap right off his face.

And she thought she was socially inept. It’s like he thinks this is foreplay. Or he’s a goddamn masochist.

She gets the feeling this, again, won't be the last time he tests her patience. Temptation for homicide continues to tease at the back of her mind, but… today, he will be spared. Next time, who knows.

Wednesday sighs, and sets up her things to begin her designated writing time in peace.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Enid walks over as Tyler is leaving. She has her signature smile on her face, but somehow it doesn’t seem as bright.

Shit. How much of that did she see?

“Hi Enid. Good afternoon.”

“I uh.. So Tyler, huh?” Enid gestures toward the window where the boy still stands outside. “You guys must have really hit it off. Did he walk you over?” She’s looking away but Wednesday sees what she thinks is hurt on her face, and she wants so badly to know what Enid is thinking.

Wednesday shakes her head quickly, “No, that’s not- No, he didn’t.”

Wednesday wants to- needs to- clarify that it isn’t at all the way it must look to Enid.

Tyler continues to glance in through the window and waves enthusiastically when Wednesday makes eye contact with him.

“Oh I- I guess he really likes you, huh?” Enid chews on her lip.

“He followed me here from campus. He was, um, he's been trying to hit on me.”

“Oh… that makes sense,” she mumbles to herself almost inaudibly.

“He hasn’t gotten the hint that I’m not interested.”

“You’re not?” Enid blinks a few times.

“Not even a little bit. I don’t even want to be his friend.”

“Oh?”

And this is a strange conversation to be having, and Wednesday is grasping at straws trying to understand what is happening and what it means.

“I have all of two friends, and I guarantee you, he won’t be the third.”

Enid finally laughs at that but something in her eyes tells Wednesday to repeat it just one more time. For good measure.

“So no. I’m not interested in him.”

I’m interested in you.

An awkward lull in their conversation hangs in the space between them until Enid breaks the silence.

“Am I one?”

“One what?”

“One of your friends?”

Wednesday doesn’t know what to say to that. Because yes, but…

“I- Of course…” she trails off.

Enid rocks back and forth on her heels, as she seems to do often, and nods.

“So…the usual?” Enid says and her smile is back as big and bright as always.

[ heyy :3 ]

[ Good evening, Enid ]

[ watcha up to? ^^ ]

[ Take a wild guess. ]

[ ur at church ]

[ What ]

[ u said wild lol ]

[ I am writing. ]

[ as per… how would u spell that? u kno.. like “as per usual” but “yooj.” udge.. uje.. uge?... as per uge. ]

[ What ]

[ i vote “uge” ^^ anyway! ur always writing. god i wish i could read… ]

[ For the third time: What ]

[ hehehe im joking, silly ]

[ Well I mean, it would explain your spelling… ]

[ hey! >:c ]

[ hello ]

Wednesday smiles at her phone in the dark of her bedroom. Like an idiot. A hopeless fool…

[ stoppppppppppp >:ccc ]

She hesitates. Should she?...

[ make me. ]

One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten…

Wednesday’s eyes have bored holes into the ceiling and she’s regretting everything she’s ever done before in her life. She said too much. She said too much and now Enid’s pr-

[ you’d like that, wouldnt u ]

Enid’s going to be the death of her. And it will be slow and painful and wonderful in every way. What a way to go.

[ maybe. ]

Her chest feels like it’s burning. Too much, too much, too much.

Another ten minutes pass by.

[ i have to go now hehe goodniiiight, wednesdayyy ;) ]

Ah…

[ goodnight, Enid ]

Wednesday puts down her phone and takes slow deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. This is fine.

Five minutes later, her phone dings again.

[ oh wait! actually r u busy tomorrow? ]

[ I’m free. Why? ]

[ i wanna go to the library c: i need to find a book for an essay i have to write. go with meeeeeeee? :3 ]

How could she ever say no? Not to an… outing. With her good friend Enid.

[ Sure. Where is it? ]

[ idk! lol ive never been there ]

[ Ah, that makes sense. Because you don’t know how to read.. Or spell. ]

[ >:c ]

“So what kind of book are we looking for?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Something about, like, stuff or whatever...”

“Stuff… What’s your topic?”

“Excellent question. I would also like to know hehe.”

“I- You haven’t even picked a topic yet?”

“Nope!”

“And when is this paper due, dare I ask?”

“Um, Friday night maybe? I can’t remember... I just know it’s worth like 20% of my final grade.”

“Enid…”

“Yes, Wednesday?”

“You concern me,” but it’s playful and Enid laughs.

“Hehehe oh hush, it’s fiiiiiine! I’m great at bullshitting essays. This class isn’t even required. Plus, remember Wends, C’s get degrees,” she says with a charming smile on her face and the confidence of someone who has used this phrase perhaps a bit too frequently.

Yes, I suppose they do. Wednesday chuckles to herself in amusement. Enid is daring and adventurous and unbothered in ways that Wednesday doesn’t think she’ll ever be.

She also doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to this: spending time with Enid outside of the café.

Where it’s just the two of them and Wednesday has all of her attention and she can be selfish and pretend.

And she can keep Enid to herself for just a little while.

By now, they’ve wandered to the second floor wherein lies the majority of the non-fiction section.

“Ooh! This one!” Enid pulls a thick, heavy book off one of the shelves. Wednesday can’t even see what the cover says through the layer of dust caked around the outside. She can’t imagine it’s on anyone’s reading list. No one from this century, anyway.

There are plenty of seating areas for them to choose from- big tables, cozy reading nooks, an assortment of bean bag chairs… But they settle at a small table nestled among shelves in the back corner of the library where it’s quiet and dim and hidden, too far back for anyone else to ever find them. And for the rest of the afternoon, they sit shoulder to shoulder, whispering to each other while the old book lies untouched on the table.

And their hands are brushing lightly, and Wednesday quietly steals shy glances. She turns to look when Enid giggles at something she says, and she sees that gentle smile that has grown so familiar and those eyes that look back at her with the same warmth that she feels. And she hopes.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s mind is trying to understand and process and be rational about what she just heard, but her legs are rushing to get her back to her apartment before her emotions destroy her from the inside out.

She isn’t going to the café today. She’s breaking the routine, ending the cycle, burning the bridge because right now she can’t do this.

So she won’t go today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that.

And it is pure misery to want so badly to see Enid and want so badly to stay away because she doesn’t think she can bear to see Enid and try to pretend that everything is okay and like her body won’t give out the moment she says her name.

But all she wants to do is see her.

And all she can think about is every evil thing she has ever done to possibly deserve this.

Her boots thud against the pavement, each step faster than the last until she’s running and running and running. And she keeps going until she accidentally slams into someone.

And of course it has to be him. Please, not today.

“Oh hey, Wednesday! Are you busy later? Actually, I was wondering if maybe y-”

“Save it, Tyler. I’m not in the mood,” she says, her voice more brutal and venomous than ever, overcompensating in order to conceal her vulnerable emotional state. But the tension in her body continues to build and build and build.

She tries to move past him, but he follows. “I was just thinking that maybe we co-”

“You’re getting on my last nerve, and I suggest you get off of it!” She finishes her sentence with a finger pushing angrily into his chest. But the finger is trembling and she knows he sees it.

“Well, I mean-”

And he’s not to blame for any of this really, but she can’t do this right now. She’s feeling too much, and it’s all trying to spill out at once into a sea deep enough to drown her. She’s been trying to power through all the pain bubbling up inside, and the only thing that’d been holding her together was her focus on just getting home. And now he’s in the way and she can’t help but beg him to just let her go.

“Tyler, please!” and her voice is desperate. It crackles where she’s losing control of it, and she can feel the hot tears ready to fall.

But maybe Tyler isn’t so stupid after all.

“Hey woah, are you okay?” He puts his hands on her shoulders, and they’re strong and heavy, and she hates that it’s comforting. He looks her over like he’s checking if she’s hurt somewhere, and he’s worried, even after she’s threatened him so many times. And it’s too much.

“Wednesday? What’s wrong?”

She knows she can’t answer him because if she says anything more, she’ll collapse in on herself.

So she shakes him off and she keeps running.

And when she finally makes it to her building, she’s out of breath, and she can’t keep fighting it.

She throws her things down by the door and crawls onto her bed and pulls her knees up. She shuts her eyes tight until they throb and she sees stars, and she buries her face in her arms and finally lets herself break down.

Her room is so quiet, save for the sounds of her broken sobs and fractured heart trying and failing to stitch itself and endure.

She should have seen it coming.

She tries to focus on the hum of the blood rushing in her ears, and her wall clock ticking, and her pulse pounding in her temples. She takes a deep breath and holds it and holds it and holds it. Until her lungs no longer hurt and her pulse slows and she doesn’t feel the pressure in her chest as strongly anymore.

She wants to run away. She wants to leave. But she has nowhere else to go.

Wednesday forces her eyes open through the growing migraine on her left side. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately after her crying had subsided. It had completely drained her and left her with heavy limbs and a hollow chest.

Her mind is cruel and cares not for her damaged heart when it flashes back to earlier that day. The beginning of the end.

She’d been leaning with her back against the wall, quietly reading, as she waited the last twenty minutes before the start of her next class.

And just around the corner, she had seen that guy, Ajax, still wearing that same ugly ass hoodie and gross beanie, which she suspects hides greasy hair and zero thoughts. He’d been giggling like an idiot with his friends, and she wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Until she heard a familiar name. Her ears couldn’t help but tune in at the mention of Enid.

“Wait Ajax, what!? You have a girlfriend?” a boy she doesn’t recognize asks, evident surprise and amusement in his voice. Oh it’s surprising alright…

Xavier chimes in, “Yeah dude! You didn't know? He's been with Enid for like a year!”

And suddenly her blood runs cold and the walls are caving in on her, and she must be hearing things because… because… what?

“Enid?... OH! Like Silver Moon Enid?”

“Yeah, dumbass!” and Xavier is smacking him on the shoulder like this was obvious, common knowledge.

More obnoxious, sickening giggles fill her ears and shoot poison straight through every vein in her body. She thinks she’s going to throw up.

“Daaaamn dude, niiiiiice! She’s pretty!” the unnamed boy winks.

No no no, you don’t get to say that. She wants to sew their mouths shut and bash their faces in.

And Wednesday can’t take it. She finally cracks when she sees the lascivious look on Ajax’s stupid face when she hears him say, “Right? She’s fine as fuck, dude. You should see her when she’s g-”

Wednesday doesn't stay to hear the rest.

And with the memory, she feels it all over again- how her heart had stopped and sunk and shattered.

Ajax… That son of a bitch.

He doesn’t get to talk about Enid that way. That hadn’t been him expressing his affections in good faith. No. He’d been smirking and laughing, and she knows he’d been about to say the most disgusting, distasteful, disrespectful things about Enid before she left.

And it made her sick to her stomach.

That asshole…

And above all of that, the implications of that conversation…

Enid has a boyfriend. She has for a long time. For the entire time they’ve known each other.

It all boils down to what Wednesday had been avoiding. To what she had been afraid to admit to herself but she already knew to be true: what she feels for Enid.

And what she thought Enid felt for her too.

Wednesday had never thought… She hadn’t even considered… Because she, herself, would never dream of ever giving a man the time of day. She’d subconsciously made the same assumption about Enid…

And she’d been mistaken. And it’s the biggest oversight of her life.

And of course there are others who find Enid as enthralling as Wednesday does. It’s impossible not to.

But why does it have to be him? It doesn’t make any sense.

But she supposes this had never come up for a reason. If Enid wanted her to know, surely she would have said something by now. But she has never so much as mentioned Ajax… Not even after they’d seen him at the party had Enid said anything…

So how happy could she be with him? Surely not very...

There’s no way it could ever compare to how happy she could be with Wednesday instead. Because of course Wednesday would never laugh at Enid’s expense or objectify her in front of her friends or speak ill of her or make her uncomfortable. Never. And she would make sure that Enid felt as cared for as she deserved to and more. She would treat her so well... And Wednesday is certain that Ajax could never even dream of doing that. He will never be worthy of her. No one will.

And these are such dangerous thoughts to have. They verge on possessive and bitter, and she refuses to let her feelings shift in that direction. Enid can do anything she wants to and Wednesday would never get in the way of her happiness.

But Wednesday wishes it would be with her. Of course she does…

Wednesday shifts on the bed to get fully under the covers. She pushes her face further into her pillows, seeking comfort from them and hoping that maybe the universe will be merciful just this once and let her suffocate quickly.

She and Enid… How close were they really? What had been real and what had she made up in her head? What aspects of their interactions had she simply made more assumptions about and interpreted in the way she wanted to see it? The topic of sexuality and dating had never come up in conversation…

Enid’s personal life is none of her business. Wednesday knows that well. She has only ever taken as much as Enid was willing to give. And Enid hadn’t wanted to share this part of her life… at least not with Wednesday.

Maybe at this point, they speak often. And maybe sometimes when no one else is at the cafe, Enid sits at the booth with her and tells her all about her day. And maybe she lets Enid take a little peek at her writing if she bats her eyelashes and pouts a little. And maybe sometimes she wakes up to a good morning text and they continue to talk all day and late into the night like they’ve known each other for years. And maybe Enid introduced her to her closest friends only a few weeks ago.

And maybe Enid maybe Enid maybe Enid…

But that doesn’t make them anything.

The foolish idea that they could be anything more… that they already were anything more… It’s apparently all been in Wednesday's head. She’d wanted and wanted and wanted more than anything else in the world. She knew from the beginning that it was too good to be true.

And she had still let it happen. She should have known better.

Stupid. Delusional. Pathetic.

It's been staring her in the face the entire time, and she’s tried her best to ignore it.

To run away and hide from it and preserve her own feelings.

To not get attached to the idea that maybe she deserved to be loved- hell, even liked.

She’d wanted to believe that someone could enjoy her company and that she would enjoy theirs too. But not just anyone. She wanted- no, she wants (past, present, and future) for that someone to be Enid and no one else. Never anyone else.

She’d wanted to believe that Enid thinks about her as much as she thinks about Enid and that maybe Enid has been feeling the same pull.

The same flutter.

The same urge to hold her hand and go on dates and kiss her nose and-

But she doesn’t. And it stings.

She needs time. She needs time and space to figure out how to drown out the hurt so she can continue to be Enid's friend. She wants to keep being her friend if that is all she can have. She wants to allow herself even that small luxury. As long as she still has Enid, it will be okay. Eventually.

And she can keep hiding her feelings. She can’t make them disappear, but she can keep burying them further and further into her heart and soul, until there’s nothing left to find but the crumbling ruins of the hopes and dreams that she’d built over the last several months. And she will never let them out.

And as she curls up further into herself in some of the worst pain she’s ever felt, Wednesday knows she can never bring this up to Enid. She'll pretend she hadn't heard anything. It never happened. And later when the wound has scarred over and it won’t hurt as much to listen to Enid talk about Ajax… maybe it will be okay.

It isn’t the end of the world… but it sure feels like it.

And even though to her, it had been so natural, so easy to conceptualize, she realizes that she’s never been given any confirmation of what she had believed might have been forming between them. They’d never talked about it and she thought maybe it was because it was so clear and so real that they didn’t need to.

But now she knows it was because there had never been anything to talk about.

She’s an idiot.

And now as she lies here in bed, letting her pillows muffle the sound of her poor pathetic homosexual anguish, she feels a new kind of heat in her chest, and it’s a warmth unlike the rest. It’s a searing ache deep inside that burns aggressively like a house fire that incinerates every prized possession and precious memory. And she hates it. This is all hurt and pain. And she’s just… sad. So sad.

It isn’t anyone’s fault but her own. Enid doesn’t even know... And she can never know. Wednesday’s delusions are her own cross to bear, and she would never blame Enid for them.

It isn’t her fault that Wednesday likes her.

It isn’t her fault that Wednesday loves her.

And it isn’t her fault that she doesn’t love Wednesday back.

Chapter Text

As a child, Wednesday craved tragedy and misfortune. Woe. It used to be fun to feel so broken. But for once in her life, that’s not what she wants anymore. And isn’t that the reality of the curse of an Addams? An Addams knows they are well and truly fucked when the unfamiliar, incapacitating, torturous clutches of romantic affection are suddenly more appealing than the comforting, peaceful embrace of solitude. When fascination begins to feel more like enchantment…

Mr. Darcy said, “You have bewitched me body and soul,” and now Wednesday understands just what that means. She’s intimately familiar with such sentiments… Son of a bitch.

She is an empty shell of her former self. She’ll keep sinking deeper and deeper into this abyss and really, she wants to let herself be dragged down by the ankles just to get her eventual demise over with. Might as well.

God, she’s so dramatic.

Her bedsheets are too warm and cling to her skin like plastic wrap. Her body is sore from how long she’s remained unmoving in this bed, marinating in despair.

And she is loath to admit it, but she could really use a friend right now.

She feels around under the covers for her phone, long-since forgotten. She’s been ignoring any and all text messages and calls from Enid- of which there have been so many.

She unlocks her phone and hits the only number she has on speed dial, though she’s never had to actually call it before. It rings three times before she hears him pick up.

“Hiya, Wednesday! What's up?” Eugene’s voice is cheery and excited to hear from her. Understandable- she’s never been the one to reach out first. In-person or otherwise.

She thought she was all done crying but… clearly not. Because upon hearing Eugene’s voice on the other end of the line, she can't help the tears from pooling again.

She figures Eugene hears her hushed sniffles loud and clear through the phone, and it seems to be all the answer he needs.

“Okay,” his voice is soft and slow when he speaks, “I’m gonna stop to pick us up something to eat and we’ll watch a bunch of movies all night, okay? Hang tight, I’ll be there soon.”

She’s never been this vulnerable in front of Eugene before. But she’s grateful that he understands. No questions asked.

Within the hour, Eugene is at her door holding a big bag of take-out from her very favorite Mexican restaurant down the block and an even bigger selection of snacks. She can see the family size bag of cheeto puffs sticking out from the top of the shopping bag, and she wants to laugh because how does he know those are her favorite too?

She rubs at her tired eyes with the sleeves of her oversized sweater and sinks down into the couch next to him.

“...Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks as he lays their food out on the coffee table.

She wordlessly shakes her head.

He hums and turns on the tv. After scrolling around the different streaming services for a while, he puts on Fleabag. “This okay? I haven’t seen the end yet.”

Anything is fine. Anything to distract from blonde hair and blue eyes and bright smiles.

She nods but she soon realizes that it’s the worst possible thing they could be watching tonight because Fleabag and the priest, who are so clearly made for each other, don't end up together and the knife in her heart twists at the similarity between that and this.

At this point, it’s enough to piss her off because the universe is cruel and it’s mocking her, and she wants to scream and throw the tv out the window and smash her head against the coffee table because how could Eugene put this on…

But she can’t do any of that. Because Eugene doesn’t know. She hasn’t told him anything. Not about her feelings for Enid. She hasn’t told anyone.

Part of her is thankful for that because how much more painful would this whole thing be if everyone else knew about Wednesday’s unrequited feelings. She’d genuinely rather die than be rejected so publically. At least in this case, she can lament and grieve her heart in peace and privacy.

But she called Eugene for a reason. She needs this right now, even if she can’t bring herself to tell him everything on her mind. She buries her chin into the blanket that he had at some point draped over her chest.

In the dark of the living room, she speaks for the first time in days. “Eugene?” She sounds as tired as she feels.

“Yeah?”

Wednesday doesn’t continue right away, so he waits. And he waits and he waits. Eugene doesn’t turn to face her or pause the tv or stop crunching on his chips. He doesn’t pry. He gives her the space to say what she needs to without pressure. And she is again very grateful for him.

She takes a shaky breath and her lips start to tremble from the fresh wave of anguish that it triggers. “I’m really sad.”

Eugene nods his head and sighs in understanding. “That’s okay.” And he tilts the open bag of cheeto puffs towards her in offering. She takes the whole bag.

He puts on a Barbie movie for them to fall asleep to: Princess and the Pauper (another favorite of hers. Excellent choice). He somehow knows her too well these days.

And in the morning when she wakes up alone again, she is comforted by the cheeto dust and oily residue still on the tv remote.

And the little note stuck to her forehead that reads:

On the eighth day of her self-isolation, she finally admits to herself that maybe she needs to get it together. It’s much easier said than done though. Eugene’s visit had helped, but she had never in her life anticipated heartbreak, and she didn’t know it would feel this terrible. And the most painful part of this affliction is the distance she has to put between herself and Enid. She’d grown used to her. She’d let herself indulge and counted her eggs before they’d hatched. Rookie mistake.

It’s unfortunately reached a point where she desperately needs to buy groceries. She can’t keep getting take-out delivered. Or well, she could, but she really shouldn’t. People who are as put-together as she pretends to be usually have at least a gallon of milk in their fridge. She has a singular can of Dr. Pepper left over from Eugene and a packet of string cheese. It’s unbecoming.

Her phone has continued to buzz with incoming texts, and she knows they’re all from Enid. She doesn’t look at it.

She drags herself to her bathroom and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Yikes.

The bags under her eyes are darker than usual: she hasn’t been sleeping much. Her dreams have been filled with nothing but white-picket-fence fantasies and cotton candy perfume. Her lips are chapped and slightly swollen from where she’s bitten at them in anxiety. Dejection isn’t a good look on her. In every sense, she looks like shit.

After a long, long hot shower, she slips on an old sweater, and with what little dignity she has left, she begrudgingly makes her way to the grocery store.

She has it all planned out- shopping list written, exact change calculated and everything- to make it a quick trip. In and out.

But as soon as she turns down the cereal aisle, she nearly knocks into exactly the person she’s been avoiding. Oh cruel fate…

“Wednesday! Wh- Hey! Hi! Um…” Enid steps into her space, and Wednesday doesn’t get the chance to back away. “I haven’t heard from you in a while… Is everything okay?”

“I- Yes. Everything is fine,” but her voice is hollow. Cold. Distant.

“I thought- I mean, you haven’t been answering my texts… Did something happen?”

Nothing except that every time she closes her eyes, she pictures the love of her life with someone else. She’s had not one moment of peace in days.

“No. Like I said, everything is fine.”

It’s a lie and it’s rude. Enid’s eyes are filled with hurt, and it’s all Wednesday’s fault. Everything is.

“I… Did I do something wrong?”

No. I did.

“No Enid. You haven’t done anything wrong at all.” She finally looks up at Enid, and she makes sure her words sound sincere this time. Because Enid hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s been nothing short of perfect. And Wednesday needs to go. She needs to run back to her bed and hide some more.

“Then why-”

“I’m actually in a bit of a rush, Enid. So-”

But as Wednesday moves to walk past her, Enid blocks the way. The aisle is too cramped, and it’s only getting smaller around them.

“No, something happened. Something’s bothering you. If it has anything to do with me, I want to fix it. Because you’re avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

“Enid, it’s not-” She can’t stop her voice from rising as she tries again to push past Enid and run.

Back to where it’s safe.

“Talk to me, Wednesday. Please.” Her eyes plead with Wednesday for an answer, but she won’t meet Enid’s gaze.

She can’t do this right now. Not yet.

Her shopping list is crumpled and twisted in her hands as she tries to force the words to push past her lips. But talking about it would make it real. And she thinks that hearing it all over again straight from Enid’s mouth would probably hurt exponentially more than when she’d first heard it. Pouring salt in the wound, twisting the knife, adding insult to injury…

“Wednesday?”

Please don’t.

“Wends… Please tell me...”

It hurts so much. And unfortunately, Wednesday doesn’t hate her feelings- only that they have nowhere to go. Because it feels good and right and wonderful to love Enid. She wants to hold her affections close to her chest and let them warm her from the inside out. She just wants to cling to that comfort and keep them where they can't hurt her friendship with Enid. But they want to claw their way up and force their way out and make her blurt out those three words that she won’t be able to take back.

Every breath she takes only fuels the fire burning in her heart and every sigh carries with it a silent I love you.

And now she’s cornered in this grocery store, and she has to expose herself and her stupid painful perfect feelings, because she can’t get out of this otherwise, can she? She won't come out of it unscathed regardless. She knew from the beginning that this rift she’s formed will never mend itself. The grave she dug needs a corpse to fill it, and she's tempted to volunteer.

She kept telling herself that she was never going to bring it up and do her best to let her love fade away before Enid ever realized.

She’s remembering what the priest said to Fleabag: It’ll pass.

But Wednesday knows that it won’t…

“On campus the other day…”

“Yeah?”

“Xavier. He um...”

“Xavier?” Enid's eyebrows pinch in confusion. “What about him?”

“I didn't know.”

Come on.

“Know what?” Enid reaches for her hand and Wednesday wants to let her hold it so badly. But she pulls away instead.

Wednesday tries desperately to keep her voice level to keep it from cracking. She doesn't want to keep doing this to Enid.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Wh- I…”

“Yeah…” and Wednesday feels tears prickling behind her eyes and that telltale lump in her throat.

Pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence where all she can hear is Enid chipping away at her nail polish. Wednesday used to find it cute. And now it just hurts to think about Enid’s hands at all.

“I don’t.”

Wednesday's heart stops. And then restarts, beating so fast, she thinks it might burst out of her chest.

Then why-

She’s still looking away, blinking at a box of Count Chocula on the shelf.

“And Ajax?”

Wednesday finally looks up and sees the moment Enid realizes what she’s talking about. “I- It’s not what you think! I don’t-,” she shakes her head like it’s hard for her to talk about this.

And whatever it is, Wednesday is immediately sorry for making Enid do just that. She hates this whole thing.

Enid's eyes are glistening with unshed tears to match Wednesday’s own.

Even tearful, she looks so pretty. Like she always does.

Enid lets out a breath and it’s choked and watery and sad. “Last year. We went on maybe three dates before I tried to tell him that I just wasn’t interested anymore because I realized some things about… myself. And about him. And it’s like I keep having to remind him that nothing’s going on between us. I don’t even talk to him anymore! But he really likes pretending he doesn't understand.”

Enid hugs herself for comfort as she continues. “And even now, he's still obsessive and creepy. And he does it on purpose. The girls know everything… Yoko and Bianca and them. And they're not friends with him anymore either. Neither is Tyler. The only one that doesn’t seem to get it- or doesn't want to get it, is Xavier.”

“But he was there that day. At the party?”

“None of us knew Xavier was going to invite Ajax. Or maybe he just showed up on his own just to spite me. I don't know...”

“Son of a bitch…”

“Everyone kind of helps keep Ajax away from me, but…”

She rolls her eyes. ”Xavier is Ajax’s best friend, so of course he would believe Ajax about whatever he keeps saying we are… But he’s lying. I promise it’s not true.” Enid is begging Wednesday to understand and believe her. And this time when Enid reaches for her hand, she doesn't pull away.

This whole thing is making Wednesday dizzy. There’s so much going on, and she’s struggling to wrap her head around it. She's so angry on Enid's behalf. Some friend Xavier is. And Ajax… she'll be dealing with him later.

She feels horrible for how she’s pushed Enid away all this time and for believing anything she heard without asking Enid about it directly. But what was she supposed to do?... But none of that matters now.

“So...is that why you’ve been avoiding me...?"

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

All Wednesday has the strength to do is nod.

And she doesn’t need to admit the underlying reason why. Surely Enid must have realized by now.

She's vulnerable before Enid and even though she's so relieved that Enid isn't with someone like Ajax, she needs time to process.

“Oh. I thought... I'm sorry." The atmosphere is awkward now. Silence hangs in the space between them until Wednesday can't bear it any longer and, nodding, slowly turns to leave.

She's already halfway down the aisle when Enid's soft voice carries over, “Will you come see me tomorrow?..."

And of course she will. She can't stay away even if she wanted to anymore.

Chapter Text

Anyone else would likely consider the dark clouds and heavy sheets of rain pelting her coat a bad omen. But to Wednesday, the heavy thunderstorm is a comforting companion as she walks to the café.

Chances are today will be... awkward and uncomfortable. Just a little bit. Their conversation yesterday had been heavy, to say the least. There are many things still left unsaid that, in fact, should very much be said. She knows they can get through this. Wednesday wants to think they’re already halfway there.

She just needs to be honest. Honesty has never been difficult for her when it comes to other topics, so theoretically, this should be no different. But of course it is anyway. Because little gay feelings are never easy. Big gay feelings are even less so; and Wednesday’s are in all caps, highlighted, and underlined twice: very big indeed.

If things go the way Wednesday hopes they will, then maybe just maybe… Enid will say that she feels the same. But Wednesday will quiet those thoughts for now. Baby steps.

As she approaches from around the corner, Enid spots her through the window. And she smiles.

Yeah, they’ll be okay.

Wednesday shuffles inside just as the stormy winds pick up. Enid silently gestures towards their booth as she finishes wiping down some tables and Wednesday settles in to wait for her.

Enid comes over a moment later with a latte for them both- a little something to stave off the chill from outside. She goes to lock the door and flip the sign on the window to closed, just in case anyone else is crazy enough to venture out in such wonderfully abysmal weather. They shouldn't have any interruptions today.

Enid sits down across from her and neither of them speaks right away. They avoid each other’s gazes but whether it’s out of awkwardness or nerves, Wednesday is unsure. She considers how best to start this conversation. Where to begin, really…

Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the sharp crack of lightning and thunder shakes the walls and the building goes completely dark.

Pitch black and complete silence.

Until Enid erupts into laughter and breaks it, and her amusement is so full and infectious that even Wednesday succumbs to the ridiculousness of it all.

After a moment, it subsides into soft giggles that spin together in the air, light and carefree.

Enid lightly drums her fingers on the table. “Hi, Wednesday.”

She taps out the same pattern in response. “Hello, Enid. Lovely weather we’re having, huh?”

Enid laughs again and there is no longer any residual stiffness between them. In this little bubble, nothing has changed.

“Oh yeah, totally perfect beach weather, ya know.”

Wednesday playfully nudges Enid's leg with her foot.

“I don't suppose you're afraid of the dark?”

“OoOooOoh spoOooOkyyy!” From the soft fluttering she hears, Wednesday assumes Enid is wiggling her fingers to emphasize her little ghostly lilt. “Lemme see if I’ve got anything in the back.”

Enid gets up from her seat, sliding a hand down Wednesday’s shoulder as she passes. Wednesday sees her silhouette stumbling around in the dark and bumping into a few chairs on the way to the storage room behind the counter. She uses her phone flashlight to start digging through the drawers. Wednesday hears a loud crash as, presumably, Enid knocks things over in her search, and she can’t help but smile again to herself here in the dark where it will remain a little secret. She is painfully smitten.

“Aha!” Enid emerges triumphant, cradling a small matchbook and a collection of tea lights, one already lit in her left hand.

They settle the tea lights off to the side on the table and light a few between them. Just enough to see each other in the dark of the café.

Immediately, the atmosphere shifts.

The roaring rain outside becomes soothing white noise in the background of their shared space. Enid’s features are illuminated by the flickering candlelight and the occasional flash of lightning outside. And a familiar thought comes to Wednesday’s mind as she looks past the shadows dancing across Enid’s face.

She looks pretty like this- in a way where Wednesday is compelled to do nothing but stare, unabashed and unashamed. She watches the way the shadow of Enid's nose moves and the orange of the small flame reflects in her eyes. And she continues to look while Enid begins talking about her day. Wednesday follows the movement of Enid's lips, pink and shiny with lip gloss, as she speaks and as she smiles and as she sighs through her stories.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Enid’s rambling is cut off and her cheeks dust pink.

Wednesday hadn’t planned on saying that out loud, but maybe it was time she expressed it audibly. Because it is the truth. It’s one of those things that she thinks will always be true.

“Oh… really?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Enid is gorgeous, beautiful, radiant- of course she is. Every single thing about her. And she deserves to hear it.

She sets her hand out on the table with her palm facing up in question. Enid takes it without hesitation and squeezes it twice before loosely lacing their fingers together.

Hours later, the candles don’t have much burn left in them, the storm has tired itself out, and the night has cloaked everything in further darkness.

They stand up and silently clear the table of their empty mugs. And with that done, given the hour, it would only be appropriate to part ways.

But they’ve yet to talk about it: the little elephant sitting in the corner of the room, watching and waiting for its turn to speak. To either push them together or tear them apart.

And Wednesday doesn’t want to leave just yet either.

Their eyes meet in the dim lighting. Enid reaches her hand out and gently grabs at the sleeve of Wednesday's sweater.

“I missed you, Wends… A lot.”

“I missed you too… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“Yes, I do. I pushed you away over… things that were none of my business. I reacted negatively. And it hurt your feelings.”

“But your feelings were hurt too...”

Wednesday doesn't know how to respond to that.

She looks down at where Enid is still holding onto her sleeve. She takes a step closer and after a moment, gently leans her forehead down against Enid's shoulder.

Enid doesn't try to touch her further, only tightening her grip. Enid’s breaths are slow and careful, like she's trying not to startle her. Wednesday shuts her eyes tight and tries to calm the beating of her heart. And she thinks she hears Enid's beating just as hard.

Wednesday doesn’t think she can say it. Enid relaxes against her and it helps Wednesday take a deep breath. She takes in the gentle scent of Enid’s familiar perfume and lets it calm her.

She slowly lifts her head and opens her mouth to speak, but she realizes she still doesn't know what to say. She looks back up at Enid, eyebrows just slightly furrowed in quiet determination.

She hopes Enid understands the words that won’t come out. Looking into her eyes, glistening and warm, she knows that she does. Maybe Enid understood from the beginning. She hopes she’s got it right this time.

“I um… ”

Enid smiles. “I know… Me too.”

And it’s enough. It makes her want to cry from the sheer overwhelming relief she feels of finally knowing. Enid lets go of her sleeve and Wednesday nods and backs away. She misses her warmth already. There is more to say, more to express, more to share. But she doesn’t know if she’s capable today.

Wednesday slowly, reluctantly, regretfully, turns to go and reaches for the door.

And Enid, merciful as always, is letting her leave.

But her heart begs her to be brave. She knows now that Enid has been waiting for this for just as long as she has. She refuses to disappoint her again.

Before she can overthink it, Wednesday turns back around and stands face to face with Enid. One hand takes hold of Enid’s wrist and the other comes up to cradle her jaw tenderly. And her hands tremble slightly as her thumb strokes Enid’s cheek when her eyes flutter shut at the contact. They’re so close she can count the small freckles on the bridge of Enid’s nose, so close she can feel Enid sigh against her lips, and with each breath, they get just a little bit closer.

And when she finally kisses Enid, it's full and proper and warm. It carries everything she’s been struggling to admit since the day they met and that silent I love you that she's kept hidden away for months now. And when they break apart, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“I’m sorry." She wipes away at the tears now running down Enid's face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

“I was worried that maybe I was wrong or- I mean, I didn't know if- or when because I-"

So Wednesday kisses her again. So that Enid can be sure.

Later that night when Wednesday is finally dozing off, it is with the scent of coffee still clinging to her sweater and the taste of cherry lip gloss on her tongue. And with her little love already asleep snuggled into her side.

Chapter Text

Enid stares down at her phone, speaking excitedly, “So the girls want to plan a big road trip together for the summer! It would be so fun! They wanna know when we’re free so… hmmm.. Well, I can always ask my brothers to watch the café while we’re gone, so I’m kinda good for whenever. You don’t really have anything planned for the summer, right? What do you think about July-ish?”

“Ah… July is… I was actually going to mention- there is a family reunion scheduled for July. It’ll be a week-long affair...at the least. Most every Addams will be in attendance.”

“Woahhh, isn’t that like… a lot of people?”

“Yes. It is. I don't suppose… you would like to make it one more and accompany me?”

Enid finally looks up from her phone, “Oh! Um…”

“You don’t have to say yes. There is time to think about it, but regardless, there’s no pressure.” Wednesday reaches out for her hand and rubs slow soothing circles along the back. “You’ve mentioned wanting to meet my family… so I thought perhaps I would extend the invitation. And admittedly, my parents have also been suggesting I bring you along. Demanding it, really.” She raises their joint hands to lay a soft kiss on Enid’s knuckles. “But I understand the hesitation. They’re eager to meet you, but it doesn’t have to be soon. Personally, I am perfectly happy keeping you all to myself for a bit longer.”

Wednesday gently runs a hand through Enid’s hair and feels her relax further against her chest. She closes her eyes to think about the last few days spent with her family. Their family.

Not long after their mutual confessions, Wednesday could no longer withhold her newfound relationship from her parents. She’d been speaking with them on the phone with increased frequency, but had continuously avoided mentioning Enid out of self-preservation.

She had known it would only bring a barrage of invasive questions: who she is, where she’d met her, whether she knew her way around a knife. And even more invasive actions, to boot.

Wednesday also knew she would miss the sheer bliss found in enjoying their relationship privately, but it had become progressively more difficult to exclude all mentions of Enid when their everyday lives were intertwining day by day. For every when, where, why and how, the answer was always Enid. Her life was suddenly very different, and it had not gone unnoticed.

Her parents had wanted to meet the object of their daughter’s affections. Preferably immediately.

Such a request had been understandable, of course, given that she and Enid had been seeing each other for some time, and Wednesday had not so much as sent her parents a singular photograph of the two of them together. At the lack of evidence, they may or may not have, on several occasions, suggested she was hallucinating. But she could never in her life make up someone quite like Enid if she tried. Though sometimes, it did feel like a dream. A fantasy she hadn’t known she was carrying that had unexpectedly come to life. It was almost too good to be true that she could have a life companion and for that companion to be Enid. And yet…

When Enid had accepted the invitation to join them for the reunion, Wednesday had felt the final piece of a hidden puzzle in her heart fall into place. It had been confirmation of the significance of their relationship. And it had been a declaration of their continued intentions with each other.

And as expected, the first meeting had gone well.

To no surprise, Enid meshed seamlessly with the Addams family. As soon as Wednesday had arrived with Enid on her arm, everyone had known. Enid was to be an Addams from that moment on, and there she had always belonged. Naturally, they had accepted her fully with open arms and an embarrassing show of celebration, equal parts heartwarming and humiliating for Wednesday. For that entire day, Enid had not let go of her hand.

Wednesday’s parents had taken to Enid like moths to a flame. They had commented how well she and Wednesday compliment each other. And though the girls did their best to avoid any excessive shows of affection between them for the sake of Wednesday’s dignity, her parents had recognized the spark in their eyes.

This love was as apt for an Addams as could be. It was quiet obsession, gentle touches, painful looks of longing, and hushed conversations meant only for each other to hear.

Now they lie in Wednesday’s childhood bedroom, cuddling in a pillow fort expertly crafted for the purpose of “maximum coziness,” as Enid puts it. Huddled against each other amongst the silk sheets and pillows, they giggle and whisper sweet nothings like teenage lovers meeting in secret. The excitement of the past week is slowly catching up to them as a comfortable drowsiness sets in.

Enid snuggles into her like she has every time since the first with an arm wrapped tightly around Wednesday. The warmth radiating from Enid’s body against her doesn't make her skin itch like it would have many months ago. Nothing stings. Instead there is comforting pressure like a weighted blanket after a long day.

It is one of many distinctions between the two categories in which she can catalog her life: pre-Enid and post-Enid. Only one of those appeals to her now.

Enid reaches up to bring Wednesday closer. Looking deeply into her eyes, Enid opens her mouth to speak.

“I-”

Wednesday beats her to it.

“I love you.” The admission comes easily, and though she has shown Enid as much in actions, she had yet to say it in words.

Enid smacks her lightly on the chest. “Heyyy!”

“What?” Wednesday smirks.

“I was literally gonna say it first!”

“That’s too bad.”

“From the bottom of my heart, fuck you.”

“How many times have you told me to express my feelings, huh? I’m just taking your advice.” She pulls Enid in tighter. “So there you have it, Sinclair. My heart lies beating in your hands. Do with it what you will because I. love. you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“How much?”

“So much that there isn’t any room left for anything or anyone else.”

“Your parents?”

“Screw them.”

“Pugsley?”

“He sucks.”

“Eugene?”

“Don’t know him.”

Enid giggles into her shoulder, “I’m gonna tell them all you said that.”

“Go for it.”

Enid doesn’t respond. Her breathing has slowed, her tired eyes fighting to stay open. They relax in comfortable silence for a bit.

Wednesday is playful when she asks, “You aren’t going to say it back?”

Enid mumbles sleepily, “Well, I was gonna and then you interrupted me, jerkface.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“No, now I don’t wanna.”

“Ouch. How hurtful.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Oh woe is me. My beloved doesn’t return my affections and I am destined to a life of misery.”

“Yep, that’s right, woe is you.”

She chuckles and rubs Enid’s back. “I won’t interrupt you this time.”

“Hmm… promise?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…” Enid picks her head up a bit to look at her. “I-”

Wednesday cuts her off again with a slow, tender kiss.

And though she had never imagined her life leading her here, she is content in this little moment shared only with Enid Sinclair.

Enid with her loud laugh and bright smile, warm hands and kind heart. Her Enid who is always pretty.